#he was just running in the sprinkler

[ktkat99]

I was scrolling through funny pet names from 2023 and realized I have mentioned the names of two of my pets before, but not the batshit crazy one I never have a good explanation for.

Damian and his sister were stray kittens my brother found at work. He gave me Damian and kept Scout and they are both spoiled, cuddly little terrors.

Dennis the Menace, who recently passed, was our oldest dog we'd ever had. He was 19, insisted on sleeping with his blankets made up in a nest and flatly refused to stop eating dry kibble. We had to mix it into his wet food or he'd get angry.

This is Thomas and he hoots. He knows how to bark. He just prefers to make hooting sounds to get your attention when he's excited.

And, last but not least, the dog I use as my pfp.

This is Tig. Except, that's not really his name, just what he responds to, because it's easier to call him by his initials. His real name is Tungsten Inert Gas.

[willowser]

lol original anon here😭I wasn’t at all referring to the sir or ma’am or even politeness thing. I guess a better way to put it would be like… I was wondering if there was some reason you don’t usually write Bakugo as the fun parent. Cuz he gets home to u decorating cookies so ig im wondering about what fun stuff do you think he initiates with the kids? When hes not working ofc.

Anyway sorry to cause this whole mess, I hope u don’t feel like I was trying to … undermine your choices

OHHHHHH like fun stuff !!! okay !!! hmm hmm !! well tbh i think the unfortunate reality of him having kiddos would be that he's still working a lot, regardless 🥺 it's such a difficult topic i think i just avoid it LOL but anyway !! i usually write us as doing the things with the little bugs bc i just imagine that we're at home a little bit more than he is, or at least have a more flexible schedule that allows to us go out and do things, or pick up gingerbread houses from the store or board games or whatever !!

as far as what he does with them.....hmm.....ykw i think this stumps me a little too bc. i guess i'm just wondering aloud here what—his view of fun would be for a kiddo ?? bc what i feel like we predominantly see of his childhood, he wasn't with his parents, he was leading his lil bully group LMAO hmm. and idk !! was katsuki getting taken to the zoo and the waterpark ?? or was he training his quirk ?? like what WAS fun for him, at that age ?? at what point in his life would he define what is traditionally "fun" for children ??

i think, when he has time, he's just very hands-on with ??? like he's pushing the couch a little out of the way in the living room and the kiddos are tag-team wrestling him on the floor LOL or—

pause. another thought. i also think it would be hard to do anything public with his family bc i think he's very private with them !! so days out are maybe very minimal ! bc he doesn't want to draw attention !!

—anyway, i can imagine him taking the family on a lake getaway trip somewhere, and they're swimming together and he's teaching his littlest bug how to move around with their life vest and hoisting the older one up in the air and throwing them as far as he can in the water LOL do you know what i mean !!! i think his love language is just—being there. that's fun for him. just getting to be involved in any way. i don't imagine him as the one bringing the gingerbread house home bc i think he's working a lot, but when he does get home, he's tossing the kids around for a minute before letting his daughter sit in his lap so she can finish working on hers. do you know what i mean !!! does that make sense !!!

also you didn't even cause a mess whatsoever !!! i think a different anon started the conversation anyway and it was a fun convo to have !!! omg no worries !!

[bunnyb34r]

Oh... I think the really thick dark tall patches of grass are where I threw fertilizer down last summer thinking it was grass seed when I bought it. I got it to fix the lawn that the stupid lawn care guy destroyed (they've moved onto greener pastures. Commercial private properties) and it seemed to only make it more bald but I guess it just needed time 😅 welp

[sweetnotgentle]

spoilers

[ace-with--a-mace]

LTES GO LESBIANS

[eddiesxangel]

The Nanny | E.M x f!reader

Anon requested :I have an idea for a smut for Eddie. Okay, so the reader is like a babysitter for Eddie, so the reader takes a video of playing with Eddie’s kid and sends it to him. When Eddie watches the video, however, Eventually, his eyes are only on the reader; he becomes attracted to the reader and gets stiff. But the reader did this on purpose for that reason, and so when Eddie gets home, his kid is asleep, and it’s just him and the reader, and they start to get intimate, and one thing leads to another …

Wc: 2.9k

Cw: smut, oral (f&m receving), p in v, unprotected sex, pull and pray

When you got the job about a year ago, you were out of school and desperate for a full-time job to pay the bills. You saw his ad for a live-in Nanny in the paper and jumped at the opportunity.

When you started this nannying business, you never thought you would fall for the handsome dad who hired you.

The family you learned was a father and daughter. Eddie was a widower. His wife had died five years previously, and he had a seven-year-old little girl.

Eddie was a dedicated manager and owner of a construction company in town. His hours were unpredictable, so he asked for your help getting his daughter, Charlotte, ready for school in the early mornings and picking her up. To accommodate your assistance, Eddie has constructed a small house in his backyard for you to stay in, providing you with your own space.

During the year you spent with Charlotte, you formed a deep bond with her, and she became your favourite person. You both shared numerous activities, such as shopping, getting your nails done, having sleepovers, and attending her dance classes.

You supported her at every recital and never missed her soccer games, even when Eddie couldn't attend. Your time with Charlotte became an irreplaceable part of your life.

Your relationship with Eddie grew as the year went on. You became more attracted to him. He was so charming, funny, and handsome. He made you feel welcomed like you were part of the family—the family you wished was real.

Eddie has been away for the last few days; he will be home this evening, but you still wanted to send him some updates about Charlotte. You sent him a video of you guys at the community pool. She loved swimming, and you couldn’t help but want to flirt. Did you wear this specific bathing suit so he would see it? Yes. You can’t help but want to get his attention, to have him look at you the way you look at him.

You were on the splash pad, and thought it would be cute to show a video of you and Charlotte running through the sprinkler. You set up your phone against the wall for balance and click record. You and her squealed as the water was cold on your bare skin. You were smiling and laughing together the whole time. You hoped Eddie found it cute…

Eddie was in the airport lounge when he received a notification on his phone. He smiled when he saw that your contact had disrupted his podcast.

He paused his show and swiped to see what you had sent him. The video began with a scene of Charlotte, soaked and jumping up and down, with her two missing front teeth visible. Eddie smirked at the sight. He loved his baby; he missed her so much. The video continues, and when you come into the shot, his eyes widen as he watches you run toward Charlotte. His eyes can't help but stare. Your ass bounced as you ran back towards his daughter; your tight bathing suit clung to your every curve. The sight of your body so exposed, your wet skin glistening in the sun, Eddie couldn’t help but feel his excitement start to grow.

You giggled and laughed as you picked her up and ran with her through the water. Your smile was so genuine, and Eddie hated that he had developed an attraction to you other than liking your personality.

When the video finished, you sent another text, but this time, it was not what Eddie had expected. When he clicked back to the chat, he almost dropped his phone because he was so shocked. Right under the wholesome video of you and Charlotte was a picture of you lying on your bed, hand draped across your naked chest.

He was looking around. To make sure nobody else saw what he was looking at, he opened the photo, and he could see more of your bare skin than he ever thought possible.

Flustered and confused, Eddie didn’t know what to make of this. Did you mean to send it by accident? Was this meant for someone else? The thought of it supposed to be for someone else sent a pang of jealousy through Eddie’s chest.

The overhead speaker saying the fight Eddie was supposed to be boarding was what snapped him out of his thoughts. The whole flight would feel extra long now that this would be all Eddie would think about. He couldn’t get home fast enough.

Eddie never replied to your video and didn’t respond to the picture you decided to take for him. You’re unsure what came over you, but you wanted a clear message. You didn’t think the video would do anything, so you got bold.

You started to regret your decision about the picture. Maybe you will lose your job. Perhaps you could play it off as an accident, pretending you didn’t know you had sent it to him.

It didn’t matter because it had been hours, and Eddie would be home any minute.

Trying to ignore the feeling of panic by distracting yourself by cooking dinner, you hear the front door click open.

“Honey, I’m home,” Eddie’s deep voice rings through the front hallway. Your stomach turns upside down at the sound of his voice.

“In here,” you try to keep your voice calm. Maybe he hasn’t seen it yet.

“Daddy!” Charlotte leaps off the kitchen chair and charges her way to her father. He’s been gone three days, the longest he has ever been away.

“Hi, handsome.” You smile as Eddie makes an appearance with Charlotte in his arms.

“H-hi,” he stutters, and his cheeks are a rose pink. He totally saw the photos.

“Dinner is almost ready,” you say, turning back to the stove, trying to hide your awkwardness about what you’ve done.

Eddie cleared his throat and took a seat as though nothing had happened. However, his mind was racing. He wanted to discuss it with you but didn’t know how to approach the situation.

Dinner was okay. You both tried to ignore the elephant in the room for Charlotte’s sake. You asked him questions about the trip, and he asked what you guys got up to. You let Charlotte do most of the talking. She eventually got bored and asked to watch a movie with both of you.

The tension could be cut with a knife as you and Eddie stole glances at one another while Charlotte was obviously enthralled by the princess singing about love in the big flatscreen.

After another hour and a half of torture, Charlotte passed out on her father’s shoulder. He smirks and says he’s putting her to bed and you stand to clean up the mess that was left in the kitchen after dinner.

A few minutes after watching the dishes, Eddie returns to the kitchen.

“You don’t have to clean; you’ve been on the clock for three days straight; I can take over. You sit and have a drink, relax.” He approaches you from behind.

“I don’t mind; youve been travelling all day; it’s my job to take care of you.” You look over your shoulder to see Eddie much closer than you thought.

“No, it’s your job to take care of Charlotte.” He raises a brow.

“What if I like taking care of you?” you drop the clean fork into the right side of the sink with all the other clean dishes.

“Sweetheart, about that…”

“Yes?” You turn excitedly.

“I um-you- I saw something.” Eddie didn’t know how to approach this. He sees you looking at him with hopeful eyes as you bite your lip. His heart fluttered in his chest when he saw the look on your face.

“I wanted you to see it.” You boldly admit.

“You- uh? What sweetheart?.” He asked, dumbfounded.

“Did you like it?” You take a small step forward, testing the waters.

Eddie visibly tenses. He knows this is wrong, he knows he shouldn’t be attracted to his kids’ nanny, but he’s also only a man—a man who has been crushing on you like he was back in high school.

“This is wrong”

“Why? It didn’t have to be?” You trail a flirtatious finger down his chest.

Eddie inhales sharply, and he can’t help his attraction to you take over.

“Because you’re you, and I’m your boss-“

“Charlotte is my boss,” you giggle and bat your eyes.

“Sweetheart,” he sighs.

“Eddie, I don’t want to keep pretending that there isn’t something between us. I can’t pretend any longer.”

“Sweetheart…”

“Please tell me it’s not just all in my head. All those late nights after we put Charlotte to bed, how we seek one another out even if Charlotte is not around, I see the way you look at me.”

Your face and Eddie’s were mere inches apart. Your lips were so close that Eddie was leaning in against his better judgment, but he wanted you so badly. You were right; there was an undeniable connection between the two of you, and Eddie didn’t want to ignore it either.

“Please, tell me I’m not crazy,” you whispered.

“You’re anything but sweetheart,” Eddie whispered back before closing the gap between you.

His soft lips formed with yours like they were made to be together.

You wrapped your hands around Eddie’s neck, pulling him in closer.

The sensation of his mouth on you went straight to your core. You needed him so badly.

Naturally, you slid your hands down his torso, up under his shirt, signalling for him to take it off; you needed to feel his skin; you kissed him like it was the last time you ever would kiss him.

You slid your hands down to his belt buckle, undoing it at a speed that wasn’t fast enough.

“Please, Eddie, I need you; let me make you feel good.”

“Sweetheart, you can’t just say things like that to me.” Eddie groans.

“Please, I need this; I’ve wanted this for so long, I can’t-” You both were so desperate, his pants couldn’t come off fast enough.

With a soft thwap, his jeans hit the kitchen floor, and you sink down to your knees.

“Fuck sweetheart, you look so beautiful like this.” he grips your chin before slipping his thumb in your mouth for you to suck on.

You slide your tongue along his rough, working hands, and he watches with lust burning in his eyes. You pop his thumb out of your mouth and replace it with the head of his cock. His thick shaft was heavy in your grip as you took more of him while not breaking eye contact. The weight of his cock resting in your mouth made you drool.

“Fuuuuuck, good girl.” Eddie’s breath became erratic.

Your eyes started watering as you tried taking him all the way down your throat, but Eddie was big.

Your breathing became shallow, but you were in heaven.

“You ok, sweetheart?” He’s looking down at you, a hand cupped on the back of your head, trying to resist the urge to thrust into your mouth as he hits the back of your throat.

You bob your head back slowly as you nod yes. You were finally able to catch your breath, drool coming out of your mouth as you pumped his cock in and out of your slick mouth.

Eddie couldn’t believe this was happening; not twelve hours ago, he was in a different state, jacking off to this fantasy of you on your knees.

He pulled you back up to kiss him, your pussy was throbbing, and the pulse that went directly to your clit was screaming for attention.

Moaning your name Eddie pushed you back so your ass was against the kitchen island, and you saw the hunger in his eyes.

He helps you jump onto the white marble countertop with quick hands.

“Baby, please.” An involuntary whimper came from your mouth, and he went in for another kiss, hands roaming from your inner thigh up until it reached your pussy.

“Oh baby,” he said the second he truly felt how wet you were for him.

Kissing down your neck, leaving purple bruises in his wake, not giving a care in the world right now about visible hickeys, he crept lower and lower until he was kneeling between your legs, forcing your knees open.

He stared into your heat.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.” He spoke, not breaking eye contact with your wet pussy.

He leaned in; he started with soft kitten licks to your clit with the tip of his tongue, gentle and delicate, before he took long deep strokes off his tongue, tasting every inch of you. Eddie moaned at your tase; he wanted to consume you, to make you feel so good you forget about every man before him.

The tickle of his beard was grounding you. This was actually happening.

“Oh!” You cry but quickly cup your hand over your mouth, remembering Char was upstairs.

With Eddie’s face pressed into your cunt your orgasm was quickly approaching. You couldn’t resist it anymore; your hips started gyrating into his face, and you needed more.

“Eddie, please,” you whimpered.

“You want more, sweetheart?” he pulls away and replaced his mouth with his index finger, slowly stroking up and down your weeping slit.

“Yes, Eddie, please.”

“That’s my good girl, asking so nicely,” he said, grinning up at you before standing.

With his hard cock in hand, he rubbed his tip up and down your slit gathering your juices so he could split into you nice and easy.

At this point, you were so turned on you couldn’t think, moaning out as he slowly stretched you open, eyes rolling to the back of your head. Inch by inch, the pleasure mixed with the burn of the stretch was so good, too good.

“That’s it, sweetheart, fuckin’ taking me so well.” He slipped inside of you until you felt the tickle of his pubes against your clit.

You hadn’t even realized he was talking to you, cock drunk off the feeling you were so close, and he hardly started.

Incoherent muffled moans filled the empty kitchen as Eddie's cock quickly started to pump in and out of you, hitting your sweet spot on each thrust.

You didn’t stand a chance, as he had your legs over your shoulders, ankles rolling. He gripped the backs of your calves to hold your legs as wide as they could go.

With each thrust, the pleasure became more and more, your back arching up into the feeling of him filling you up.

The feeling in your belly started to build until he unexpectedly pulled you off the counter, walked you over to the couch, and flipped you so you were on all fours.

Once you were spread open for him, he started thrusting harder.

“Oh god! There! Please don’t stop!” You screamed into the couch cushions.

It was so good your hands gave out, your cheek pressing into the brown leather, only making your ass stick out more for him.

He spreads your cheeks to watch how your greedy pussy swollen his cock each time.

A slap comes down hard on your ass as he pounds into you; you moan out with pleasure. Another smack on the other cheek to even things out.

He’s going at a pace that makes your head spin; his fingers gripped into your hips so rough you’re sure there will be bruising tomorrow.

The noises that are coming out of you are inhuman; you don’t even recognize yourself; he was so big, you were so full, it was too good. 

“shhhhhh, sweetheart, we need to be quiet.” He wraps a hand around your face to cup your mouth to muffle the moans, but that only makes it hotter, so you cry about again. You couldn’t talk; each thrust was getting deeper and deeper at the angle he was holding you in.

Each thrust was building up the coil in your stomach. You were so close when he started rubbing your clit, and you couldn’t take it anymore.

“I’m close,” you seethe through gritted teeth.

“Come, sweetheart, come on my cock.” You were already seeing stars before he finished talking; your body shook, clenching down so tight on his cock while your orgasm filled your body.

“Oh god, yes, baby, milk this cock so good” Your pussy gripped down so hard on his cock that he almost wasn’t able to pull out in time.

You feel his warm seed on your back as his orgasm shoots through him.

Dazed and all fucked out, you roll over to see Eddie beaming down at you after he cleaned you up a little bit.

“Hi, sweetheart.” Eyes glazed over, you manage a

“Hi,” you giggle.

You curled into his neck, leaving soft kisses and kitten licks; you couldn’t help yourself; your boyfriend was just so hot. 

“I think we have a lot of catching up to do,” he throws you over his shoulder. “Eddie, put me down,” you giggle, getting a full view of his bare ass in front of your face. He runs you to his bedroom; you know it is going to be a long night. 

[systemadministratorclu]

Soaked @Sonic

"Aaaugh, hey! What was that for, ya jerk!"

[inkskinned]

yesterday while feverish i wrote about how boats can moor next to each other like pigeons, cooing with the gentle rap of water against their hull. you once said that that the way i see things - birds in the water, feathers in marina paint - was "childish and naive." you said i'd been misdiagnosed - "it can't all be adhd. you might be just kind of stupid and lazy."

i still do certain things like how you taught me - turn the pillow case inside out before putting it on. drive defensively. hate myself entirely.

the prompt for this poem is "mahler's fifth." i wish it wasn't, but mahler's fifth was our song. it ended up in my book. every person that knows your name has promised me they'll give you one swift rabbit punch, right to the face. dean read the book and showed up on my front porch, drenched in sweat from running the 8 miles at 4 in the morning. he was shaking. pacifist and gentle - he works with children - i'd never seen him furious. a punch isn't going to do it, he said, and then said i'm sorry. i had to come to see if you were okay.

mahler's fifth was mine first, like my girlhood. i like the way each movement piles onto the next movement, each instrument bleeding into the next. i like the horn version the best. before i met you, i danced to it on grass still-wet from sprinklers.

later you would tell me that the way you heard it was somehow better. you understood something in it that i couldn't quite wrap my fingers into. once, on our anniversary, you asked the classical music radio station to play it for us. we missed hearing it because we were fighting. one of the things people get wrong about abuse is that sometimes victims are, like, brutally aware of the stupidity of our situation. what do you mean that you thought i wasn't good enough for you? you? you're just... nothing.

sometimes people can pull the poetry out of your life. i watched my words become clothesline, and then thin out into kite twine. i watched you chew through every good syllable of me. so many good songs and places and moments were ruined. i am glad you didn't like most of my music - less to tie back to you.

but still mahler's fifth. the music swells, and i am 21 and throwing up in a bathroom on my birthday. a woman i will later refer to as lesbian jesus runs a cool hand down my back, her perfect pantsuit starch-pressed. she told me to leave you. she said - and this is true, and not an invention of rhyme or fantasy - i'm you from the future.

i am 22, and i got home from an award ceremony, and i remember you telling me - you act so proud of yourself when you're actually so fucking embarrassing. i took you to disney world. you took my virginity. i gave up visiting spain for a week with my family - i instead choose you, to spend the time just-cuddling. you called it "our fuck week." the music swells. it probably should have been a red flag that for about 3 years - i just gave up on crying. my grandfather died and you said nothing. my uncle died and you ghosted me for 3 weeks. you said i need to protect myself from your ongoing tragedy.

every so often i come back to the memory of one of our last afternoons in person. i had just told you that i wasn't going to law school, despite the free ride - i was going to join a creative writing program. master's in fine arts. i was going to finally do it - i was going to follow my dreams. this blog was already internet-famous. however reluctantly, i would occasionally refer to myself as a poet. i got into umass amherst's writing program for fiction authors. it is one of the the top 5 programs in the country.

wait are you seriously considering actually attending that? dumbfounded, you turned completely towards me in your seat. for the 3rd time in our relationship, you almost crashed the car. you actually want to be a writer?

the first time i went viral, it was for a poem i wrote about you:

he wants to say i love you but keeps it to goodnight because love will take some falling and she's afraid of heights.

every time i see that, i want to throw up. you weren't in love with me, you were in love with the control you had over me. a little truth though: i am afraid of heights. you caught a rabbitgirl and skinned her alive.

mahler's fifth still makes me sick.

give me that back. give me back music. give me back everything i had before you. give me back fearlessness. give me back bravery. give me back a scarless body.

give me back what you took from me.

[mediumgayitalian]

“Oh, fuck.”

The clatter of her practice sword on the ground is almost louder than the crunch that rings out from his wrist. He inhales sharply, biting back a shout — no matter how many times it’s happened, he will never get used to breaking a bone. That shit hurts.

“Fuck, fuck fuck. Fuck, Seaweed Brain, is it broken?”

“Think so,” Percy grits out. He tries for a smile, and Annabeth matches it, small and worried. He leans into the hand she cups over his cheek. “Not too bad, though. If I just dump my water bottle on it —”

“Absolutely not. Water healing leaves you achey when it rains, you know that.” Shifting to wrap her arm around his waist, she helps him stand, shouldering some of his weight like it’s his ankle that’s broken. He lets her, reaching down to squeeze the hand resting on his hip — I’m fine. We’re good. She turns her hand to wrap clasp their hands together — Okay. If you’re sure.

They walk together to the infirmary, taking their time. Aside from the pain pulsing from his arm, it’s not too bad — camp is as balmy as usual, and the spring break energy is practically visible, it’s so potent. The Demeter cabin has plants growing everywhere, flowers and fruit trees blooming as bright as a box of new crayons, and the air is filled with shouts of laughter and teasing. Annabeth’s steps fall in time with his, and she’s a comfortable warmth at his side, pressed from shoulder to hip.

“You still okay?”

“Yep.” He catches her eye, smiling crookedly at her. “Doesn’t even make my top fifty.”

She rolls her eyes, hipchecking him. “Don’t I know it, ya klutz.”

“Not sure I would call being flung from the St. Louis Arch being a klutz. Or exploded in a volcano. Or crushed under the sky. Or slashed by giants. Or chased by —”

“You’re talking, but all I’m hearing is Annabeth, please, please pinch me, as hard as you can —”

“Hey! Get those claws off me, gods you’re worse than an empousai —”

“— and when you’re done pinching me please put me in the tightest headlock you can manage —”

“I am injured! You are beating up an injured person right now!”

“— and then please just bite a chunk out of my shoulder —”

“Cut it out or I’m telling Mom!”

“Wimp,” she taunts, finally releasing him. “I don’t go running to Sally every time I lose a fight.”

“Wha — you do so!”

She ducks through the infirmary door, smirking like she can’t hear him.

“You literally — you snitched on me last week! I got grounded for two days!”

“And you deserved it,” she says primly.

He gapes. “I did not!”

“Anytime you two are done,” Kayla drawls, shoving a clipboard at them. They accept it with matching sheepish grins, cowed at her perfectly arched eyebrow and slowly tapping foot. “I got patients to deal with and older brothers to harass. Let’s get this moving.”

She is shockingly good at humbling people for a thirteen year old. The two of them turn to their clipboard, chagrined, letting her stomp away with an exasperated He’ll be with you soon! Don’t set off the sprinklers again!

“That was one time,” Percy mumbles, ears reddening.

Annabeth pats him on the back. “There, there,” she says mockingly. “The fact that it was one time definitely negates the fact that you flooded the entire Big House because you got jumpscared by a child.”

“Harley can be sneaky, okay. Let me live.”

“Literally no.”

Annabeth does most of the paperwork for him, ‘cause she’s a nerd because his wrist is far too swollen for him to write properly, so it takes maybe half the time it normally would. The infirmary is crowded as Hell, though (he knows, he’s been), so they settle in for the wait, amusing themselves by tearing little pieces off of a blank form, balling them up, and tossing them in increasingly harder places. Percy is winning 7-4, although Annabeth might just pull through if she manages to toss her paper ball into Travis’ wide-open snoring mouth.

“Hey, guys. Sorry for the wait.”

Aw. She missed. Percy was looking forward to that.

“Hey, Will.”

He drags his attention away from the son of Hermes to greet his friend, but frowns before he can open his mouth.

“Woah, dude, you good? You look exhausted.”

Will snorts. “Welcome to spring break, man.” He holds his hand out for the clipboard, scanning it briefly. “Sparring injury? Oh, thank the gods. I could use a break. Here, face me.”

He climbs up onto the minimal left over space on the cot, tucking his legs under his thighs. Percy turns to mirror him, hesitantly sticking out his arm — A break? he mouths to Annabeth, meeting her eyes over Will’s head.

She shrugs.

“Just spent four hours putting Jake’s nose back on his face,” Will mumbles, placing a careful hand on his fingertips and his forearm. Percy flinches — his skin is blisteringly hot. Like someone just dropped a hot stone onto him. “I never want to sing a skin cell hymn again in my life.” He prods at Percy’s wrist for a moment, gentle enough not to hurt. “Okay, hold still, I’m gonna fix ya right up.”

Healing hymns are familiar, by now, but Percy will never get tired of them.

The cool thing about ambrosia and nectar is that as pleasure food for the gods, it’s pleasant. It’s whatever taste you want, whatever you need to have most, you get it. But healing hymns are intentional the way nectar and ambrosia aren’t. Ambrosia and nectar happen to be healing for demigods — healing hymns were constructed to knit you back together, like you mother smoothing a bandaid over a skinned knee. They’re warm and sweet and deeply, endlessly comforting in a way most things simply cannot claim to be. They don’t feel like a medical procedure or a hasty patch job, they feel like someone gripping you tightly and promising you’ll be okay. They feel like getting carried to bed when you fall asleep on the couch. They feel like sitting down after hours of standing, like a drink of water when your throat is drier than sand. Healing hymns draw the pain and sick and ache from your body, and they feel like relief.

But this time, Percy can’t focus on it.

With every word, Will seems to get a little duller. Nothing like the horrible ash-grey he went in the war, dragging the poison from Annabeth’s body, but like his usual sunny disposition was dialed down a few notches. Enough that Annabeth frowns in concern, drumming her hands on her thighs, watching him closely.

“There,” Will says, pulling away. Percy turns his now-healed wrist, noticing the slight pant to Will’s breath, the strain to his smile. The shake of his blistered fingertips.

“You look overworked,” Annabeth says quietly.

Will holds his hands up in a what can you do gesture. “Spring break.”

“You said.”

“It’s just busy, is all.”

“Yeah, but —”

“Guys,” he interrupts, smiling tiredly, “there are two hundred ADHD demigods at this camp right now who have been trapped in a classroom for six months. There are three of us. I’m going to be a little drained; we’re all a little drained. But I’m fine, okay?” He gives them a second to scrutinize his expression, eyebrows raised in amusement. “I have been running my infirmary for years. I know how to pace myself, and I certainly know how to make sure my siblings are pacing themselves. If something goes really wrong, Chiron is a whistle away. I can go longer than you guys without sleep, anyway. Apollo kid health.”

“If you say so,” Percy says reluctantly. “I just — I can wear a wrist brace, man. Not every injury needs to be handled when it happens. You can tell people no.”

“I appreciate that, Percy, and I’ll keep it in mind. Anyways, I’ve got more patients. Stay off that wrist for the rest of the day, okay? It might be tender for a bit.”

Percy turns to Annabeth as Will leaves, frowning. He’s has never noticed the so-called spring break stress before (his camp spring breaks are usually a blast, but now that he’s thinking about it, he can’t think of a single spring break where he spent any time at all with Will, which is odd), but it can’t be good for him. There’s gotta be something they can do to ease some of the bruising under their friend’s eyes.

“I could set off the fire alarms again,” Percy suggests. “That’ll certainly get this place cleared out.”

Annabeth snorts. “I think that’ll cause more harm than good, Seaweed Brain. It’ll just fall in him to clean it all up, after.”

“Shoot.”

Percy counts nine of the forty cots currently unused. Will, Kayla, and Austin are rushing from cot to cot, handing out nectar, wrapping bandages, rattling off hymns at light speed. All three of them look exhausted, squeezing shoulders when they pass each other, knocking hips, exchanging tired smiles. This is so clearly something they’re used to.

Annabeth’s head rests on his shoulder.

“It wasn’t always like this,” she whispers. “When it was fully staffed…”

Percy exhales heavily. Yeah. He remembers. There was a lot less complication, once upon a time. The most chaotic the infirmary would get was when Lee would challenge his siblings to Hymn Karaoke — trying to heal with pop songs. There was a lot more laughter, at one point. A lot more people.

Percy sighs, squeezing his eyes shut. It never does well to dwell, but he — gods, he wish they all had more time. To sit with it, to acknowledge…everything. Siblings. Friends. A camp that’s smaller than it’s supposed to be.

Annabeth squeezes his hand again, and he squeezes back, resting his head on top of hers.

“Hey,” she murmurs after a moment, pursing her lips at the front door. “Look.”

Slinking through the entrance like a criminal is Nico, in all his dork ass black camp shirt glory. He looks around shiftily, like he’s trying to make sure no one sees him, and when his gaze lands on Percy and Annabeth his eyes widen. Annabeth smiles at him, but it does nothing to ease the spooked look to his face, back arched like a startled cat. He turns to leave, but before he can slip back out the door —

“Nico!”

The son of Hades whips back around so quickly he brains himself on the doorframe. Percy ducks his head and bites his lip, hard, because he can feel Nico’s glare at the side of his head like the press of hot coal, and if he laughs as badly as he wants to then the infirmary is about to look like a Spirit Halloween.

Will turns back to his patient, squeezing his eyes shut and rattling a hymn off so quickly it makes a burst of light pop from his whole body, and rushes over to where Nico’s standing. He only trips over two things, which is remarkable for him. Percy would be proud if he wasn’t a little embarrassed on his behalf.

“Nico! Hi!”

“He-ey, Will,” Nico says, voice cracking badly on every vowel. Annabeth shoves her face into Percy’s shoulder, body shaking.

“I didn’t know you were coming! I thought you were in the arena all day.”

Nico shrugs, shoes scuffing the floor. “I am. I just — uh, I got hurt? So. Came to see you.”

Will’s beam is so bright it hurts to look at, a little. Percy squints and realises that’s not just the excitement, actually — he really is glowing, faintly. His hands flap slightly at his sides.

“Well, you’re in the right place, then.”

“Yeah.”

Neither of them say anything for a minute, rocking back on their heels. Will watches Nico closely, biting his lip. Nico looks resolutely at the floor.

“We weren’t this bad,” Annabeth whispers, “were we?”

Percy shakes his head. “Nah, there’s no way.”

“Gods. It’s so — I don’t know whether to smile or take a dip in the Lethe. It’s embarrassing and endearing at the same time.”

“Painful to watch, but I can’t stop looking,” Percy agrees.

“What’d you hurt?” Will asks, finally. “Did you pull your shoulder again?”

A look of panic flits briefly across Nico’s face until he smooths it to something neutral, aloof.

“Yep. Totally. During — sword fighting, I swung — I did this really big thrust, actually. Just — hugely powerful, training dummy exploded on impact.” He clears his throat. “Some might say too powerful. If you can imagine.”

Percy cradles his head in his hands. “Oh my gods — ”

“Don’t laugh don’t laugh don’t laugh,” Annabeth chants, “oh my gods, don’t laugh —”

A light flush dusts Will’s cheeks. He brushes a strand of hair behind his ear, fiddling with his earrings. “Woah, really? I’ve never heard of that before.”

Nico smirks, standing up a little straighter. “Well, it’s not the first time. I tend to go pretty hard.” Remembering his supposedly hurt shoulder, he exaggerates a wince. “Too hard sometimes, I guess. Could you do the — the energy thing?”

“Oh — gods, yeah, sorry. Hold on.” He stares at Nico’s shoulder, hesitating. “It, um, works better with skin-to-skin contact.”

“I have seen crystal vases less transparent,” Annabeth says, aghast. “In two years he’s going to remember this and try to drown himself.”

“I will be counting down the days,” Percy says gleefully.

On rare, rare occasions, the gods answer his prayers. Clearly, both Nemesis and Aphrodite are looking at him kindly today. Percy makes a note to scrape some of the good stuff off his plate for them both today. Hell, maybe he’ll skip the portioning and toss them an entire roast chicken each. Or something. They deserve it.

Will places both hands — interesting, Percy notes, his wrist was snapped cleanly in two and he only needed one hand, wonder why that was — on Nico’s shoulder and closes his eyes, screwing up his face in concentration.

“Huh. I’m not feeling much damage. You said it was your right shoulder?”

“I heal quick,” Nico says loudly. “I mean, some of the damage might have — um.” He clears his throat. His face glows a faint crimson. He clears his throat again. “Y’know?”

Will’s face is a similar shade.

“Right, right. Yeah. Um, brace yourself.”

Instead of starting to sing, Will closes his eyes, holding completely still. After a moment, the tips of his fingers begin to glow; soft, ambery yellow, flickering like lit candles. He opens his eyes again and focuses intently on Nico’s bare skin, tracing patterns around every defined muscle, leaving a trail of light behind. He lingers, for a moment, when he connects the last string of light, waiting until it has faded entirely from Nico’s skin to remove his hands and shove them in the pockets of his coat.

“That better?” he asks softly.

Nico swallows. “Yeah.”

“Good. I’m glad, Nico. It means a lot that you — came to me. When you needed it.”

“I trust you, I guess.” Nico looks away. “You know what you’re doing.”

“I think I just threw up in my mouth a little,” Percy says thoughtfully.

Annabeth laughs, shoving his shoulder. “Don’t be mean.” She pauses. “Me too.”

With a sigh that can only be described as besotted, Will steps reluctantly away.

“I have patients,” he says, in the same tone of voice Percy usually says I have midterms. “So I gotta…”

“Yeah, no, go. Do your —” Nico gestures vaguely. “Doctor thing.”

“Right. Yeah. I’m gonna — go.” He turns, walking back towards a group of Hephaestus kids who appear to be tightly entangled in some kind of net. After a few steps, though, he pauses, biting his lip, then darts back over to Nico, pressing a lightning-fast kiss to his cheek — “Um, bye. Thank you for visiting. Bye,” — and then runs back over to his siblings, shy smile on his face.

Nico’s jaw is brushing the floor of his father’s palace. He stands, still as a statue, for four entire minutes.

“I think he just died,” Annabeth observes, eyebrows climbing higher and higher up her forehead with every passing second “Damn. Survived so much only to literally die because a cute boy kissed his cheek. A true hero’s end.”

Percy, because he is a kind, concerned friend, clears his throat loudly.

“Yo, di Angelo, you alive?”

Nico startles so violently he falls right over. Percy shoves his fist in his mouth to keep from cackling.

“Shut the fuck up,” Nico hisses venomously, scrambling upright. “Both of you, shut the — not a word —”

Percy and Annabeth make the mistake of looking at each other and simply erupt. Percy can’t feel his stomach. His lungs have abandoned ship. He’s glad as hell he’s in the infirmary because he is heaving for breath, tears streaming down his face, entire body convulsing. Nico stands in front of them literally shaking with rage, entire body redder than one of Apollo’s sacred cows, trying and failing to string together a threat that will ease any and all of his suffering. Annabeth screeches, almost falling off the bed as she cackles. Percy cannot even find the strength to catch her, his muscles are so weak.

“I fucking — I hate you! Both of you! You’re dead to me!”

“Your face!” Percy shrieks.

“Percy Jackson, I am going to turn you to fucking dark matter! I despise your very essence! I —” He stomps his foot. “I’m leaving, and I’m going to leave a rotting corpse in your cabin! Screw you!”

“Oh my gods,” Annabeth wheezes, digging her nails into his arm. “Oh my gods, that was —”

Percy wipes a tear from his eye. “I love being alive. I love being alive so much.”

“It really is great.” Composing herself, and biting back the leftover giggles that keep bubbling out, Annabeth looks back towards Will. He stands much straighter, now, smile back to full brightness. His siblings, too, look rejuvenated, snickering to each other and making kissy faces behind Will’s back. “So many beautiful things to witness. I’ve never seen his face go that red.”

Percy sighs. “This is genuinely going to carry me through the semester. I think his soul died a little. And Will just — gods, that kid is bold.”

“Oh says you, Mr. Do I Get A Good Luck Kiss.”

“Hey, I earned that.”

Annabeth grins, punching him in the shoulder. He grabs her wrist and tugs her towards him, chasing the curve of her smile. She laughs into his mouth and it taste like strawberries and freedom, and he presses a kiss to her cheek, to her jaw, and the side of her neck, resting there, breathing against her skin. After a moment her hands come up and slide in his hair, gently untangling the knotted mess.

“He is one thousand percent going to put a zombie in your bed, you know,” she says after a moment.

Percy snorts. “Yeah, I know.” He smiles. “Worth it.”

[pricegouge]

Humor Me (Even When it's Ruining Me)

masterlist | taglist: @pricegouged

babysitter!reader x single dad!price

cw: fem reader. implied age gap. nothing specific beyond reader being legal. alcohol. reader is a brat and john's having a lot of fun with it. inappropriate work flirting lmao. also i beefed john up cause i could. MDNI

this is in response to a prompt but i don't wanna publish the ask until it's all done and up. also, i don't think this is recognizable against what she posted, but i do remember reading @ceilidho 's musings on this exact dynamic forever ago and it poisoned my brain so any similarities are in fact her fault cause she's gotta stop being so brilliant

Banner by @cafekitsune

>Running late but the door's unlocked. Feel free to let yourself in.

You read the text again as you park your car alongside the shiniest Lexus you've ever seen in your life. It rubs you wrong, the whole thing. The triple wide garage and the perfectly manicured lawn, the lack of a formal meeting and now this - 'Come on in and meet my daughter unsupervised for the first time, the door to my aggressively lavish home is unlocked just for you.' 

It had your hackles raised, creeping up the drive with caution. Honestly, if it hadn't been for the Laswells hooking you up with this gig, you probably would've backed right back out just as soon as you'd parked, but they'd never steered you wrong before and you doubted they would start tonight. 

Kate Laswell wouldn't tolerate some kind of pervert, and she definitely wouldn't recommend your services to him. 

The door is indeed unlocked, though you have some difficulty finding it at first. The flow of the walkway leads you right to the paneled door, but it certainly doesn't look very welcoming and at first glance you mistake the recessed entryway for just another confusing design element. But then the pathway runs out, bordering up to a lawn so lush it may as well have been planted with a carpet and you chew your lip, contemplating. For a moment you think to look for a back door, but then you take one step onto the lawn and your boot kicks out from under you, the soil beneath deceptively soaked by the automatic sprinkler no doubt. The fall isn't hard, just enough to plant you on your ass and splash some soil up onto your face. You frown at your dirty hands and then frown even harder when you see the trench your trainer has dug into the beautiful lawn. Standing, you try to wipe your palms on your hips and discover yet more mud so you give up, toeing a hunk of grass back into place in an attempt to cover the divot. 

When you turn back to the house, your brain finally makes sense of the broad bands of wood, the lock, and the handle. You pull open the heavy door with a frustrated sigh, finding a moody foyer - pale flooring contrasting nicely with the glossy black wall which stood across from you, subtle inlets suggesting it hid closet space if only you were clever enough to figure out how to open it. Fucking rich people.

You remove your muddy shoes out of necessity, but you leave them in a dirty pile next to the door and head off in the direction of little kid TV noises with your jean jacket still firmly in place. You've had enough hoity toity doors for one day.

Emily is four, and you think at first that her father must be brave to leave her unsupervised while he gets ready in the other room, but you suppose needs must, and she's well enough behaved to be trusted it seems, if the pristine state of the room is anything to go by. She sits placidly on the floor, playing idly with a pile of HotWheels as she zones out to some bubbly princess show on the screen. She jumps about a foot when you call to her to make yourself known, and then watches warily as you introduce yourself. For a moment you think you'd rather face a parent's scrutiny, her dark eyes so intense on your face you briefly wonder if she's got the shining or something, if maybe she's about to tell you how you die -

And then she points at you with a boxcar accusationally. "Why are you so dirty?"

"Oh," you laugh awkwardly. It's stupid to flounder under a child's gaze but you feel a bit out of your depth already so you do, smearing more mess across your pants when you pat your dirty hands over your thighs. "Took a little tumble outside."

"You look silly. You need to clean up."

"I -. You're right, I do. Where's the bathroom, please?"

But Emily is uninterested in helping you, it seems, instead much more entertained by the vaguely rhythmic chanting of 'dirty girl' she sets into, clamoring to her feet in order to run circles around you, pointing every now and again to make it clear who she's singing about.

You sigh to yourself, hoping against hope that she's not another spoiled rotten client. You're getting real sick of rich people and their spoiled kids, honestly. But you don't bother trying to correct her behavior. You are after all a stranger who just wandered into her home covered in mud. Any adjustments made now likely wouldn't be taken seriously by a child and that's okay, you wouldn't take anyone seriously under those conditions either. So you just grumble good naturedly and break free from her little circle, wandering in the direction of a dark, recessed hall off to your left. 

"The bathroom over here?"

"Dirty girl, messy girl!"

"Good talk," you mutter to yourself, socked feet slipping on the polished floor. You were definitely going to Risky Business the hell out of this place once the little shit had gone to bed. In the privacy the hallway offers, you give it a trial run, grinning like an idiot as you overshoot the first door and sidle back, rapping your knuckles on the frame out of habit. You roll your eyes at yourself for it, knowing full well the only other person home is upstairs getting ready, and push the door open just as someone from within grumbles 'In use!'

It's like you've never seen a man before, the way you stand there and gape. Looking at him now, you're not sure you ever have.

John Price is big. And hairy. And wet. And big, meaty fist so thoroughly swallowing the razor he's pulling up his exposed throat that at first you're unsure if he's just feeling himself up, inspecting the thick cords of his neck, maybe. Shaving cream drips down his bare chest in sticky rivulets, matting the thick pelt to his pecs. Water flows into the runnel between them, chestnut hair darkened by the runoff from his task. It drips down his forearms too, at least as far as it can, the hair there so thick it dams up somewhere around his wrists. He wears a towel slung low on his hips, his muscled belly hanging over the hem. It's tied off on the hip closest to you and hanging on for dear life, the breadth of him testing its capabilities. It gapes open high on his thigh, yet more hair and dense meat on display.

In the overwhelming humidity of the room, each breath feels too heavy to take, like your chest is simply too weak. You want to stammer an apology, but your mouth is suddenly much too dry and it comes out as little more than a series of clicking noises in your throat - 

Which are completely drowned out by the litany of 'dirty girl!'s behind you.

Mr. Price huffs a laugh, razor clattering against the sink as he taps it clean. The noise is muted in the dense air but it's enough to break you of your spell and this time when you apologize, your voice is winded and thin but at least audible. You step back, attempt to duck out, but then the man is turning to face you fully, motioning you closer with the hand that still holds the razor and you've never been one to disobey the people who pay you so you do, careful not to slip on the slick tile.

"Think you need it more than I do," John rumbles, deep voice lilting around the edges as if he's in on some joke that you're not. He nods to the sink he still mostly blocks when you shoot him a confused look, clock the open interest in his gaze.

Right, the mud. Some first impression. "Sorry," you chuckle, trying to make light of it. "I took a little spill in your yard just now. Mr. Price, yes?"

John at least nods and has the decency to look concerned but his niceties end there, still standing much too close as you step forward and run the faucet, getting to work on your hands. You keep your eyes locked on your task, afraid to make eye contact with his reflection in front of you. He's only one man but between the sheer size of him and the mirror, you feel like you've been caged in.

"But you're alright, I hope? Not hurt?"

"Nothing besides my ego." Your laugh is still breathless, nodding down the hall where Emily continues singing. In the reflection, you catch John staring down at you shamelessly and you duck your head again before continuing, "Your daughter has a way with words."

John chuckles, scratches his chest absently. You try not to zero in on the sound of it. "Gets her clever tongue from her mum, I'm afraid."

And maybe it's because you're stupid, or it's because humor's never failed to get you out of a bind before - maybe you just like making things difficult for yourself - whatever the cause, the effect's the same. You're an incorrigible flirt. "Well, don't sell yourself short."

The scratching against John's chest stops. When you look up, ears on fire, you find him staring back at you through the reflection, dark eyes so heavy they're nearly a physical weight. Your pulse thrums, whole body primed for a smart retort, but then Emily is in the door, laughing at her own antics. Her voice is bubbly when she asks if you can order pizza and it's hard to stay mad at her even when she calls you 'messy girl' again.

You start to say yes and then bite your tongue, unsure. You don't care how Mr. Price feels about delivery, honestly, but it's possible Emily has a dairy allergy you don't yet know about. This is why you usually prefer to meet parents ahead of time, but Kate had said the man was much too busy for such a thing, and the way he'd been scrambling for a reliable babysitter after his live-in nanny retired had made you sympathetic (see: very open to accepting clients who could afford live-ins), bending your rules for one of the Laswells' oldest friends. It hadn't seemed like a big deal at the time but now you were being guilted into cheesy comfort food, you find yourself ill-prepared

Thankfully, John takes over. "Not until you learn some manners first, munchkin," he proposes, wetting a hand towel and turning you to face him with a big hand on your shoulder. You frown up at him in confusion but he just ignores you, wiping at your temple with his towel as he continues talking to the toddler behind you. "That's Miss Messy Girl, alright? Only polite."

When he releases you, you glare up at him, no real heat. He smirks, taking the towel to his own face now, wiping excess product off his skin without breaking eye contact. "Now ask nice."

You flounder a moment, at a loss, and then have to resist the urge to kick yourself when Emily takes up the queue instead. Of course he meant his daughter.

"Miss Messy, can we please order pizza?" 

John laughs and suddenly you don't care how Mister Price feels about delivery. And if it turns out Emily can't have it, he can deal with her ensuing meltdown. He's already running late anyway. "Of course we can, sweetie. But please, my name is -." 

"MISS MESSY'S THE BEST!" Emily crows, jumping up and down on the spot. 

***

When he gets out of the bathroom, John teases you right up until the moment he heads out the door that pizza was your idea so you'll have to pay for it. He also throws a stack of flannel and henley at you, tells you to stop tracking mud all over his house or he'll add cleaning to your job description. You tell him you charge extra for that and he gives you a look like he's famished, like you're the first slice of meat he's seen in years.

It only gets worse when you emerge from the bathroom moments later with what can only be his pajamas hanging off you, but he never says anything inappropriate and he keeps his hands to himself. You try not to think about why that disappoints you. 

Resisting the urge to take a big whiff of his thermal is far more difficult. 

(Past the scent of fresh laundry, he smells like cedar and smoke and in the crease of the seams, something muskier lingers. 

You decide you're going to steal it right then.)

He shows you to the laundry room, shuffling a load of brightly colored girl's clothes from the dryer before giving you the rundown on how to use them. You're not sure what about you gives him the idea you don't know how to operate a washer, but you decide not to comment on it when it means him standing too close, the warmth of his body seeping into your back.

The spiel about Emily's schedule and needs is delivered as he shoves his feet into a brown pair of loafers. They match his belt perfectly, visible where he keeps his fitted button up tucked into pressed blue slacks. It's hard to pay attention to what he's saying but you're fairly certain you catch the gist of it. No strawberries or house parties, bed by ten at the latest and only if she's well behaved. He knows you have his number saved because he texted you about your availability this evening earlier in the week, but that doesn't stop him from standing over your shoulder to ensure he's still in there. You think you hear him snort when he sees he's saved as 'Mr. Price' with a money bag emoji but you steadfastly refuse to think too hard about it.

When everything finally meets his expectations, John scoops Emily up in a big bear hug and peppers her in kisses which leave her squealing in ticklish delight.

Emily hangs from him happily, little arms wrapped around his neck as if she'll never let go. You hear him whisper something conspiratorial directly into her ear which makes the girl giggle in delight before shooting you a wink which has your stomach fluttering with a strange mix of excitement and apprehension. Likely, he's just telling her to behave for you and being cheeky about it, but he's far too handsome to be running around winking at young ladies like that and you've half a mind to tell him.

Maybe you'll pencil that in after your sock sliding. He does say you're allowed to text for any reason, after all.

"And I mean it. Don't want to waste my evening there anyway," he grumbles, setting his daughter down. 

"So stay here with me, daddy!" she implores. "I'm much cuter anyway." Little shit even strikes a pose.

John chuckles, hand heavy when he pets her hair. "The company here is much better," he hedges, and for a split second you think you see his eyes flick to you. "But unfortunately a man's gotta endure some boring business dinners from time to time if he wants to get ahead in life."

A beat passes while Emily seems to think that over. John starts his car from his fob while he lets her digest that, the very picture of placating indulgence. Vaguely, you want him to look at you - or through you - like that and then immediately decide that's a desire best left uninspected. 

"You're out every night!" Emily gripes, no real heat. It's the kind of thing you know will bug her later in life but for now she's too busy reveling in all the late night pizza parties and gifts he no doubt showers her with to mask his own guilt.

You've been there before.

"That's true," John allows, brief flick of regret across his face. "Which means you gotta be good for Ms. Messy so she'll come back."

Emily gives you a look as if she's not very excited by that prospect and you're so offended you forget to correct John about your position being regular. 

John laughs when you scoff, a harsh bark that stops your snide remark in its tracks. "Behave, you two," he says by way of farewell. "And try to get along."

Shrugging, Emily bounds away in search of better entertainment. John's big hand is on his ridiculous doorknob as he waves absently and then you're remembering so quickly there's no time to dress up your request when you call after him for pizza money.

A beat passes, Mr. Price blinks at you. You sheepishly tack on a please and he hums, digging in his back pocket for his wallet. "Suppose I can't expect you not to ruin my reputation as a good tipper," he grumbles and you gape when he hands you a crisp hundred note.

"That's way too much," you blurt, not even reaching to take it from him.

John just shrugs, tucks it into the hip pocket of his own pajama pants while you're still stiff as a board, winks as he tells you it's just a tip.

It's only after the door snicks shut on silent hinges behind him that your brain catches up enough to catch his double entendre 

***

Emily is a sweet girl, if a little catty at times but she's endlessly amusing to tease so you're honestly surprised when bedtime sneaks up on you both. Despite your chosen profession, you don't usually get along with kids as well as you do with her. She even carts herself off to bed with little complaint, an absolute unheard of when it comes to first nights with a new family. 

It's how you end up on the couch with too much time to spare, bored in a house that's smarter than you and unsure when you'll be relieved. You flick through the endless list of streaming services briefly, settling on some mindless comedy because you don't want to watch any girly romances and mess up Mr. Price's algorithm. 

Well, the messing it up part sounds endlessly entertaining, but not worth the embarrassment of him knowing the kind of stuff you blubber to at home. 

It's a fine enough distraction until you settle into the couch, the collar of John's shirt riding up until you can comfortably cover your face with it. It still smells like him, enough to deter you from going downstairs and swapping it for your own clothes. It's not a problem until the masculine scent and the boring movie have you reaching for your phone, scrolling through steamy romances until you find something to fantasize about. And even that's not a problem until the author earns their rating, the depiction of the female lead's satisfaction so explicitly rendered it has you rubbing your thighs together, head on a swivel lest you be surprised by a sleepless little girl.

By the time your face feels aflame and your panties feel soaked, you're debating texting John to see if he'd mind you crashing in a guest room when you jump a foot at a noise behind you, turning to find that very same man not two feet behind you.

That fucking door.

"Could've texted," you accuse, and Mr. Price holds up two hands in mock surrender.

"So could've you," he drawls and then smirks at your confused look, drawing in a rather pointed breath through his nose. "Told you to text if you needed help with anything."

It's just subtle enough you're not sure you would have gotten it if not for the graphic descriptions of heady scent your nose had just been stuck in. You stammer something that might be an apology, though you're not entirely sure why. Suddenly you feel like the frog being boiled alive.

He's kind enough not to let you flounder for too long, moving on like he's the picture of innocence with a heavy hand on the back of the couch, muscles of his forearm bunching when he leans over the back of it, just this side of too close. "Everything go okay, then?"

"Yes, Mr. Price," you recite, the fight to keep your legs uncrossed and neutral a conscious thing. You do not need to prove him right by overacting the blushing virgin.

"And Emily behaved?"

"Well," you hedge, voice high and humorous. You're desperate to get to familiar ground and it's the quickest path, unfolding before you well-trod and welcoming. Parents love when you can joke about their kids and John's no exception, eyes crinkling in delight as he conjures up whatever image he has of his daughter in mind.

"She can be a handful," he agrees even though you never said that. "Not so bad you'll refuse me for Wednesday though, I hope?"

You balk. "Wednesday? Day after tomorrow?"

"Aye, sorry for the late notice - again. But you'd be getting out of here a little earlier, at least."

"Mr. Price, I have…" A paper due, a social life that's slowly dying, responsibilities. "I'm busy that night. The Laswells -."

"I've already fixed it with Kate. You can bring Colin here for the evening, Gina will pick him up when she gets off work."

"But… Wait, I can bring him?"

"Well they'll need you for the morning, right? I won't need you until Emily's due back from preschool." He shrugs, the motion carrying him down until he leans both forearms on the back of the couch. "It just makes the most sense."

"But that's clear across town?"

"Oh, I'll pay for your gas, of course."

"Hang on. Am I picking up Emily, too?"

"Oh, would you? Thanks, you're such a dear."

You blink, overwhelmed. This was only supposed to be a one time favor for Kate's friend, you can't juggle school and two part time babysitting gigs. But you don't know how to tell him that in a way Kate hasn't already. "I'm not sure how I feel about watching both kids at once."

The look he gives you is borderline lecherous, though you're unsure why. "I'm sure you can handle it," he rumbles, voice suddenly much deeper. He clears his throat. "And we'd both pay you full rate, of course. Only fair."

You scoff. "Well yeah, I don't offer a group rate." 

Your jaw clicks closed audibly when his gaze turns hungry again. "Our loss."

Swallowing past the nerves in your throat, you eye him over openly. Technically, John hasn't moved any closer but the way he looms over you now feels somehow much more imminent than it had only moments ago; threatens to pin you in place lest you move out from under him. "I have to go get my clothes... I'll think on it?"

John smiles, just slightly forced. "'Course, kiddo. Need me to walk you downstairs? Basement can be a bit scary after dark."

"Um. No. Thanks."

He breaks away when you do, unfolding to his full, impressive height. "I'll be in the kitchen," he offers and then he lets you get away with no further comment.

Outside of Mr. Price's vaguely concerning influence, it's easy to see you'd be stupid not to take the job. You don't like how pushy he seems, but if you've already given up your day to work anyway, it's a no-brainer to take on the second income while you're at it. Besides, the beauty of under the table jobs like this was you could back out any time you wanted so there really wasn't much harm in taking the man who tips delivery drivers one hundred percent on for a few jobs, see how well it panned out for you. Even if you're fairly certain he's flirting.

Like, extremely certain.

But he was still annoying about it and you didn't like being taken advantage of or being teased like that, so you don't feel bad when you leave his comfy henley on under your sweatshirt, march back upstairs with your spoils well hidden.

In the kitchen, John inspects the label of a golden scotch you can't pronounce, thick fingers drumming on the counter silently. His watch catches the pendant light, a thick stripe of silver nestled in his dark hair. He's got his shirt unbuttoned like a whore, just far enough you can see a spot of the matching pelt there, your brain helpfully supplying you with memories of how he'd looked earlier, shirtless and dripping with cream. 

Shaving cream. Dripping with shaving cream.

"Are you old enough to drink?" He asks bluntly, pointing at the matching tumblers before him when all you manage is a blink in response.

"No. No, thank you!" You clarify when the man looks like he's about to choke on his tongue. It's enough to settle your nerves a bit, get your footing back underneath yourself. About time he's the one left floundering. "Sorry, I am old enough, but I gotta drive in a minute here."

John's quick to recover, pouring himself a neat glass as he shrugs. "Could spend the night."

"Well," you hedge, still worrying you're reading too far into all this. If it's too hot in here, you blame the three layers of tops you have on. "Wouldn't want to wear out my welcome. You'll see me again on Wednesday, after all."

His smile is just as honeyed and warm as his drink. "There's a good girl," he rumbles and it's a physical fight not to let your knees buckle when he comes close, another hundred note tucked into your front pocket. 

"That's way too much again, John," you breathe and his grin turns patronizing.

"John, is it?" He makes as if to snatch away the money and you take a step back, out of his range. He just grins at you over the rim of his glass, lets you keep your distance.

"S-sorry, Mr. Price." After a moment's deliberation, you ask if he'd like the money back and he snorts.

"Cute." Placing his drink on the counter with a clatter, he steps close and guides you to the door with a hand on your back. Part of you thinks your dismissal is a bit sudden, but you can't be too upset by it when you just want to hide under a pile of blankets until your nerves settle, maybe replace your pillow case with his shirt. "No, kiddo, I don't want that back. Just teasing. Over tipper, remember?"

"Right. Um. Thank you."

"My pleasure," he says magnanimously, drawing to a stop next to your shoes and pushing them toward you with socked feet. He does nothing to hide his slight distaste at the sight of so much mud and you try not to let shame make you meek again, remembering instead how annoyed you'd been about his stupid door and his stupid lawn when you'd left them there. It's hard to maintain the feeling when he offers to walk you to your car, your weak little thank you just as pathetic as the one that came before.

John's the perfect gentleman, his hand returning to the small of your back as he ushers you down the drive. He tells you to text him when you get home safe and checks for fingers before closing the door. He even watches as you pull out, waving at you happily as you drive off. You spend the whole commute wondering what you've gotten yourself into and if you'll ever be able to look Kate in the eye again if you fuck her friend.

John calls you kiddo again when you text him that you've made it home safe, tells you to sleep well.

In the morning he asks if you've stolen his shirt.

Next>>

[xxanaduwrites]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ a residue series installment ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

sweet talkin’

main hive 🐝 | next part here: honey, are you comin’?

��� elementary-teacher!reader (miss.honey) x biker!benny 🏍️

summary: in which “uncle benny” picks up johnny’s girls from school and finds some honey along the way ;)

warnings: not much of anything besides talks of danger & some side eyes from on-lookers. an absolute fluff cake of a piece really. enjoy! x

author’s note: ngl there is some inaccuracies. i fully made up locations & such. never been to chicago or illinois even, but maybe someday :)

word count: 2.8k

💌 requests are open, send ‘em honey 💋

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You remember it like it was yesterday, the very first time you met Benny Cross. Ironically, it was one of those sticky sweet days in June, just before the start of summer ‘65. The Chicago heat was hard to beat in the cramped little classroom you worked in on Phipps Avenue. Your third graders were all flushed faces with curly cues frizzing about, and their red little cheeks burned in exhaustion. It was no surprise that you lost their ears to the tsk tsk tsk of sprinklers swirling about on the school grounds. Even though the principal was against it, you were rather relieved to see your students running about the wet grass come dismissal.

It was a lovely reprieve, truly to be out of the shoe box you worked in at the end of the day. Sure, the heat hadn’t let up. It was awfully sweltering passing clammy hand to clammy hand to their designated pick up person. But you loved being a teacher. Moreseo you loved those sweet turned up smiles that graced those baby faces of your students as they chatted about their after school plans. Heading down to the local pool or picking up a firecracker pop at the corner store was such a sweet treat. It made you miss being that young again, finding hidden treasures through the little bits of life.

You moved like clockwork during dismissal, attentive as you made small talk with parents and hugged your students goodbye. The pick of the cycle was usually smooth on your part. You knew who tended to be retrieved right away and who was left hanging, so it took you by a hint of surprise when you found yourself still hand in hand with Mr. and Mrs. Davis’s little girls.

You knew the Davis’s well — as well as anyone could holding residence in the quaint village of McCook, Illinois. Mr. Davis and his wife Betty were perishoners at the local church you frequented with your Ma and Pa. St. Caron’s on the corner of Rose and Dawn. You’d see them all together in their Sunday best, the kids in puff pastry kind-of dresses packed together in a pew with their Ma, while their Pa was mulling about in his pressed suit and tie. There was no trace of the Vandals you’d come to know, the Johnny that would be amplified under that some-what imposterous clean cut demeanor. You’d see him solemn as ever ushering pew to pew with the collections basket for the poor and at communion during the mass.

Yet, if you had to name one thing that complimented Johnny to Mr. Davis, it had to be his consistency with being on time. Never once was he ever late to church. 12pm sharp he’d be looking at his watch, waitin’ for the priest and deacon to do their thang. The same applied for his children and their respected school schedule.

It took you a moment to remember the note from the office that was sent up in the afternoon. In your defense, mastering concentration in this heat proved almost impossible. Until it wasn’t. You could see the lovely writing of the secretary with that neat cursive of hers in the back of your mind, reminding you that the Davis girls would be picked up by their Uncle Benny come dismissal.

That would explain it, you thought. But would it really? Fathoming a member of Mr. Davis’s family not being as meticulous as him? You momentarily wondered how the man would react to such a thing as being late. You were sure it wasn’t in his vocabulary by any means.

Your fingers, engulfing the petite ones of the Davis girls, squeezed their hands reassuringly. “M’sure your Uncle Benny will be here any moment.” Neither of them said anything as you glanced between the two flanked at your sides, little eyelashes blinking up at you without a care in the world. And here you thought they would be just as anal-retentive as their father.

They weren’t.

Since the school yard was becoming less compact with people, and the principal put an end to the fun with the sprinklers, you figured some chit-chat wouldn't hurt to keep them occupied. “You girls have any fun afternoon plans?”

The Davis girl on the right, taller, darker hair, lookin’ far too much like her father — a carbon copy if you will — spoke up then. “Yes! Uncle Benny is takin’ us to a picnic. Gonna see Daddy race his bike, Miss. Honey.”

A bike race, huh? You couldn’t remember seeing anything in the McCook weekly papers ‘bout an upcoming cycling event. But, hey maybe you happened to miss it on your skim of the thing, when your Pa just so happened to put it down for a second durin’ dinner.

“Well, ain’t that sweet!” You chirped, smiling brightly at the girls with genuine excitement in your eyes. “Sure it’ll be tons of fun.”

“S’not when Daddy gets all muddy.” The smaller girl, the one that looked more like her mother. Lighter hair and lighter eyes said. Her tiny face contorted into a grimace.

Muddy? Weren’t cycling races on the roads?

Surely the town would block off the streets like they did for those celebratory parades. The little one was probably exaggerating.

“Aw,” you hummed, a frown dousing your features. “M’sure your Pa is just real dedicated, y’know?” You tried to bring out the bright side for your student. “S’like when you buy a fresh book and worry about those pages dentin’. Y’won’t know if you like it if you don’t read it, right?” The girls nodded. “Dentin’ the pages just goes to show all that love you had for that book while readin’ it.”

“I guess…” The Davis girl shrugged, tiny fingers wrapping about the strap of her pretty pink backpack. Seemingly, she wasn’t as impressed as her sister to the right.

You were gonna change the subject. Gonna start chatting ‘bout something else, when a twist of tiers against the pavement sent a squeak across the air. Your mother-hen instincts kicked in instantly, protective hands pulling the girls behind you without a second thought. All heads turned simultaneously to the intrusion on the road, expecting the worst. Expecting a crash of sorts. But no, there was no crash, just a slick car pulling abruptly up against the sidewalk and jerking to a startling stop. One that could only be equated to the driver going far above the speed limit in a school zone.

It went quiet. Far too quiet as the lot of remaining faculty, students, and parents alike kept their eyes peeled back sharply at the reckless driver. Funnily enough the attentive stares of onlookers could have very well been just as bad as those witnessing an actual crash.

You weren’t any better than the rest, collecting snap shot after snap shot like a roll of consecutive film. You could still hear the engine cutting out, the door swinging open and closing with a solid flick of his wrist. A wrist that would do far worse to you in the bedroom. Far worse in the eyes of your religious upbringing, but would feel too holy to you to be considered a sin.

You only caught a glance of him for a second until his back was facing towards you, thick white letters staking his claim with a skull and crossbones for the Chicago Vandals on his cut down vest.

You’d heard a thing or two about those motorcycle men. Your father ranting and raving about the disturbances near route 95 and police chases. But never, had you ever seen one of them in the flesh up close and personal. A shrill of unprecedented delight shot up your spine at the colorful sight, no longer reserved to those blurry black and white paper cuttings.

Stopping in his tracks, you figured his car must have broken down or somethin’ – but no. He was putting out his cigarette with his worn down boot before making his way over to you, and oh he had his eye on you alright.

A relative unease wahed across the school yard, harder than the obvious heat wave as he sauntered across without a care in the world. As if dozens of heads weren’t makin’ disgusted faces and whispering about. Yet a clear intimidation set over them, people stepping out of the way without a word as if he was a Bible figure. Like Moses parting the red sea.

“Uncle Benny!” One of them chirped. Who you didn’t know, couldn’t know with the sudden flush creeping against your cheeks. Your heart dropped to your stomach once you realized who it was and that the man himself with dirty blonde scruff, calloused fingers, and a black inked layer over a honey toned canvas was makin’ a beeline to you. A beeline to you and the girls.

It was the taller Davis girl that must have called out his name, cause suddenly she was pulling you and her sister forward to meet Benny half way. You almost tripped down the stairs within the broken bubble of her excitement. Barely having a moment’s notice to collect yourself, you found your pristine baby pink ballet flats toe to toe with some scruffed up biker boots that had seen better days. You managed a breath before you looked up and boy were you glad you did.

The wind was practically knocked clean out of you when you were caught face to face with the Benny Cross. It wasn’t because you were scared of him — no. You were more taken aback with how pretty he was. How his deeply set ocean eyes managed to speak volumes without saying a word.

And suddenly, on the front steps of Phipps Avenue School you felt seen. More seen than you had ever felt in your life. He wasn’t the only one sticking out like the sorest of thumbs. So were you with your baby pink tank to match your shoes with your signature embroidered denim overall dress. Hair up and out of your face, loose honey curls frizzing about. Your kitsch tastes and unpolished attire were rather baffling for the picturesque depiction gracing the magazines your Ma read at the salon.

Some would say you were lost somewhere in Neverland. Lots of your fellow teachers would crack jokes here and there ‘bout it too. Sure, on a bad day a jab or two could get to you — but hey you liked what you liked and you weren’t gonna change that. Not for anybody. Not even for your Ma or Pa who grimaced at your bedazzled pins wedged into your messy curls during Sunday mass.

So Benny, well who were you to judge him?

“Hi, you must be Uncle Benny,” you greeted the brood of a man in front of you, flexing a sweet-like-honey smile that was just oh-so-you. You let go of the Johnny look-a-likes hand then, allowing her to wrap her small self around Benny’s leg in pure delight to see him as you outstretched your hand in a shake. To your dismay, he didn’t take it. Instead, his free hand that wasn’t mushing up Johnny’s girls dark locks as he patted her head fished for his pack of Marlboro reds in his vest pocket. That didn’t stop you from introducing yourself though. “I’m Miss. Honey.”

He gave you once over, eyes tracing you from head to toe before the edge of his lip tweaked up in a sly smile. “Honey, huh?” He mused, that deep set voice of his, thick and smokey sweetin’ up something deep inside you.

Dropping your hand back down against your dress, the material felt rather rough on your clammy skin. “Yuh-huh.” You nodded, that tight smile of yours making your eyes twitch just a bit.

A fresh cigarette materialized between his teeth then, unlit. A strange courtesy you found rather charming on the midst of educational grounds. “Hm,” he hummed, the narrow cylinder vibrating against his lips as his eyes devoured you a second time. Yet, you figured he was more unimpressed. Most were anyways.

“Benny! Benny! Can we go see Daddy now?” The girl wrapped around his leg yanked his belt loop with a small finger. The little one was still at your side, hand in hand with you. It was kind of amusin’ how different the two were. It was simple figuring out who was the bigger Daddy’s girl of the two.

“In a ‘inute, sweet-art,” he mumbled, that cigarette of his disrupting any fully coherent sentence from spillin’ out. “C’mere ‘ittle one,” he motioned to the shorter girl who was rather uninterested in leaving. In the midst of your conversation, she managed to keep her hand raised, keeping herself conjoined to you as she sat down on the bottom step in complete and utter protest.

“Don’t wanna.” She pouted down at her bunny tied saddle shoes that matched her pretty little pick-tails.

In a sense, you couldn’t blame her. Now it was all adding up. What was really going on. This wasn’t just some run of the mill village cycling marathon. This was a Vandals bike race.

Any other teacher would have probably made a stink, called the parents in for a sit down with the principal over infiltrating their kids in a biker environment infused with criminal records. But, you weren’t like that — no. Especially when you’d see a child’s eyes light up with so much delight. It was clear that Mr. Davis’s look-a-like was really proud of her father. Who could blame her? Respected throughout the community, a family man who put his all into a trucking' job.

A picnic with some bike racin’ wouldn’t be so bad, right?

Not with Mr. Davis involved.

So, you gave the benefit of the doubt. Sure, it could have been for all those reasons that were swarming about your head, but in actuality your heart was working double time over your mind. The image of the Davis girl clinging to Benny’s leg had teddy bear written all over it, giving you all the sweet talkin’ you’d need. Ironically enough, in due time that soft side of him would turn into plushy lovin’ reserved just for you.

“Lemme,” you mouthed to Benny before getting down to the little one’s level. Flattening out your skirt you took a seat next to her and rested both hands over her own in her lap. “Remember when we were talkin’ about a good book? Dentin’ the pages?” The girl nodded, but didn’t meet your eye. Instead, Benny doing the opposite, his eyes practically grilled onto your peripheral vision. “Well, sometimes if we are too protective of it. Too keen on keeping it all in tack, we’ll never learn not to and we’ll just be more and more disappointed when we come across a little crack we never created in the first place. We may not like it, but it’s there, and there is so much love there.” You squeeze the little girl’s hand. “Just like your old man racin’. You may not like it, but he does, and that’s quite alright. You know why?”

“Why?” She looked up at you then, little doe eyes attentive as ever, clinging onto your every word. It was times like this that reminded you why you were a teacher.

“‘Cause you love him, no matter what” You replied, tilting your head ever-so subtly to observe her reaction.

And oh did Benny love you. He didn’t know it then. Couldn’t fully compartmentalize it until later. Yet, unbeknownst to you, it was one of the first of what would become many of Benny's thoughts on how damn good of a teacher you were, how fine of a wife you’d make, and how sweet of a mother you’d be.

Thankfully, your words must have resonated with the little girl. It only took a moment for those delightful dimples of hers to grace those little features before her lips turned up in a sweet smile. “We gotta go Uncle Benny!” The girl declared suddenly, standing up straight with a whole new attitude. You were glad to supply the optimism. That’s what you were all about. That was the lesson you hoped to instill to your students the most.

You couldn’t help but smile yourself, feeling like a warm blanket was being draped over your shoulders soundly. Not uncomfortable. Not contributing to the intolerable heat wave. You’d only been in your second year of teaching, but hey — small victories like this made it worth it. Made you proud of yourself, even if you couldn’t find such gratitude from others.

Little did you know, Benny — he was so fuckin’ proud. Proud to see you spreading such honey-coated wisdom to a youngin’. And there on the steep steps of Phipps Avenue school as the little one wrapped her arms around you and thanked you profusely before grabbing Benny’s hand and heading to Johnny’s car, he found his mission.

You were gonna be his wife.

He was sure of it.

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this was so much fun to write! i hope you liked it :) i’m thinking of also including some honey interviews curtesy of danny ! stay tuned for “from the hive” 🎙️🐝

also to note, my requests are open for any miss honey x benny cross works + any convos about these two in general. don’t be shy honey, i’m all for yapping in the asks.

+ don’t forget to comment if you’d like be added to “da bee hive” (my version of da tag list)

smoochies. all da love xanadu 💋

da bee hive 🐝🍯:

@nervousnerdwitch

@sunnbib

@rose-deathman

@austinbsblog

@thegabbyh

@jihyowrrld

@bellesdreamyprofile

@superemobitch

@m00npjm

@imusicaddict

@astrogrande

@alana4610

@cynic-spirit

@mariaenchanted

[rafedarling]

𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐮𝐬

pairing: drew starkey x reader

summary: you and drew have been best friends since childhood, sharing everything-until drew's acting career takes off. as odessa enters drew's life and their on-screen chemistry blurs the lines of their friendship, you feel the deepening void between you and the boy you once knew. invited to a family bbq at the starkey, you hope to reconnect with drew. however, you soon find yourself on the sidelines, watching as odessa captures all of drew's attention. a devastating scene in ‘hellraiser’—a film that stars both drew and odessa-sends you spiraling into the realization that drew may never see you the way you see him. over the course of a painful night and the aftermath, long-buried emotions rise to the surface, culminating in a heart-wrenching confrontation. will drew finally realize what you mean to him, or will you be forced to let him go for good? | words count: 7,3k (sorry!!!)

warning(s): NO HATES TOWARD ODESSA OR ANY ACTORS/ FRIENDS OF DREW! english is not my native language. severe emotional turmoil, themes of unrequited love, detailed internal conflict, intense feelings of isolation, push-and-pull dynamics, emotional abandonment, moments of painful rejection, and slow-burning angst.

au: like, reblog and comment are much appreciated. i actually listen to THIS SONG while writing this, discussion can be send through my ask box, please feel free to send in anything. taglist | tagging: @rafeyslamb @tracymbcm @drewstarkeys-world @maybankslover @akobx @rubixgsworld @enjoymyloves @xoxohoneymoongirl @rafecameroncoke @httpsdrewstarkey @tiaamberxx @wxn-drlst @ratatioulle @zizuras @flvredcas @abrmscline @noobmazter69 @wearemadeofstardust0 @xoxosblogsblog @saviorcomplexrry

The summers were always the best part of your childhood. You and Drew Starkey had been practically inseparable since you were six years old, running through the wide backyard of the Starkey home, laughing until your stomach hurt and your lungs ached from the chase. Your families were close—so close that your mothers, Jodi and your mom, would joke that you and Drew were "destined for each other."

"Y/N and Joseph," Jodi would say with a smile as she watched the two of you playing in the grass. "They’re going to get married someday. I’ve always known."

Your mother would laugh, glancing over at you, sweaty and carefree as you chased Drew through the sprinklers. "I’d be happy with that, Jodi," she’d reply, "It would be perfect."

You didn’t think much of it then. To you, Drew was just Drew—your best friend, the boy who pulled you out of the creek when you fell in one summer and got scraped knees trying to rescue you. You couldn’t imagine life without him, but back then, you were still young. The idea of growing up and getting married seemed like something distant, almost laughable.

One summer, when you were about six, you had a moment that defined your bond. The sun was setting, casting a warm, golden light over the Starkey backyard. You and Drew were sprawled on the grass after an afternoon of playing tag, breathing hard but smiling at each other.

“Joseph,” you began, turning your head toward him as you lay beside him, “can I call you something else? Like a nickname?”

Drew raised an eyebrow and rolled onto his side, propping his head up on his hand. “Like what?”

“I don’t know... Drew? It sounds cooler.”

He blinked, then laughed, as though the idea of you giving him a special name was the best thing he had heard all day. “Sure,” he said, grinning. “Call me Drew.”

From that day on, the name stuck. Only you called him that, while the rest of the world called him Joseph. It was your little secret, a bond that made you feel like you shared something special. And you did.

Every summer, you counted down the days until you could visit the Starkey family. It was tradition—long, lazy afternoons spent playing outside, followed by evenings watching the stars come out. The best part, though, was the mornings.

Drew knew how much you loved watching the sunrise. Each summer, no matter how early it was, he would wake up with you before dawn, just so the two of you could sit on the hill behind the house and watch the sky change from dark blue to shades of pink, orange, and gold.

“Think we’ll always do this?” you had asked one morning, your knees pulled to your chest as the horizon turned golden.

Drew looked at you, the early morning light reflecting in his eyes. “Yeah,” he had said simply. “We’ll always be friends.”

At that moment, as the sun bathed you both in warmth, you believed him with all your heart.

When you were twelve, your family made the big move to Asheville, North Carolina, to be closer to the Starkeys. At first, it was a dream come true—you’d see Drew year-round now, not just in the summers. But as exciting as the move was, it came with its own challenges. A new school, new classmates, and a feeling of unfamiliarity that settled deep in your bones.

You weren’t exactly the social butterfly Drew was. He thrived in new environments, easily making friends with his magnetic personality. He was taller than most boys his age, athletic, and undeniably charming. He played basketball, acted in the school plays, and it seemed like everyone was drawn to him. You, on the other hand, were quieter, more reserved. Drew was your anchor, the one person who made you feel like you belonged.

Despite being in different classes, Drew always made time for you. He’d wait for you after school, leaning against the fence near the basketball courts, a crooked smile on his face as he waved you over.

“Come on, slowpoke,” he’d tease. “I’ve got snacks for us before practice.”

It became a routine—him waiting for you, you showing up at his basketball practices with snacks or a drink to keep him going. Sometimes, you’d sit on the bleachers, watching him run drills, marveling at how easily he seemed to fit into this new world. You were happy for him, of course, but there was always a small, nagging feeling inside you, something that whispered that you were being left behind.

You brushed it off. After all, Drew was still Drew—your best friend, the boy who stood up for you when some kids at school made fun of your appearance. You’d never forget the day one of Drew’s classmates, a girl from the drama club, sneered at you during lunch.

“How can someone like you even be friends with Joseph Starkey?” she had said, her voice dripping with disdain.

You had felt a hot flush of embarrassment creep up your neck, your fists clenching at your sides. But before you could respond, Drew had appeared out of nowhere, stepping in front of you protectively.

“What did you just say?” Drew’s voice was low, dangerous, his eyes narrowing at the girl.

The girl faltered, shrinking under his glare. “I— I didn’t mean—”

“You don’t get to talk to her like that,” Drew snapped, his voice ice-cold. “If I ever hear you say something like that again, you’ll regret it.”

The girl had stammered an apology before scurrying away, and Drew had turned to you with a reassuring smile, as if nothing had happened.

“Don’t listen to people like her,” he had said softly, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. “You’re worth so much more than their words.”

From that day on, you never doubted that Drew had your back. He was your protector, your confidant, the one person who made you feel safe in a world that often felt overwhelming.

When Drew turned seventeen, he became more serious about his future. You spent countless nights together, talking about his dreams, about how he wanted to pursue acting full-time after high school. It was clear to you that he had the passion, the drive, and the talent to make it big.

The day Drew landed his first acting role was a day you’d never forget. You were sitting in your living room when Drew burst through the front door, grinning from ear to ear.

“Y/N! I got the part!” he shouted, holding up a script in triumph. “I actually got the part!”

Your heart soared with pride as you jumped up from the couch, wrapping him in a tight hug. “Drew, that’s amazing! I knew you’d do it!”

The two of you celebrated that night, just the two of you. Drew asked you to help him practice his lines, and for hours, you sat on the floor of your living room, reading through the script with him. He was nervous, pacing back and forth as he recited his lines, but you were there, steady and patient, helping him work through every scene.

Before his first day on set, Drew had come to you, his usual confidence replaced with anxiety. “What if I mess up?” he had asked, his voice wavering. “What if I’m not good enough?”

You had smiled softly, reaching into your bag and pulling out a small, crocheted keychain—a little dog with floppy ears that you had made yourself. “Here,” you said, handing it to him. “Consider this your good luck charm. Keep it with you, and I promise you’ll be fine.”

Drew had chuckled, pocketing the keychain with a fond smile. “Thanks, sunshine. I’ll keep it with me, always.”

That first role was just the beginning. After high school, Drew went off to college to study acting, and though the distance was hard, you made sure to keep in touch. Late-night phone calls, long text conversations—Drew made sure you were still part of his life, even from miles away.

And when he landed his breakout role on the Netflix series Outer Banks, you were the first person he called.

“Y/N! Guess what?” Drew’s voice had crackled through the phone, filled with excitement. “I got a role on a Netflix show! Can you believe it?”

Your heart had swelled with pride, even as a small, selfish part of you wondered what this meant for your friendship. “Drew, that’s incredible! I’m so proud of you!”

You meant every word, but as Drew’s career took off, the distance between you began to grow—not just physically, but emotionally. His life was changing, and you weren’t sure if you still had a place in it.

The first time Drew mentioned Odessa A’zion, you hadn’t thought much of it. She was a fellow actor on Outer Banks, and Drew had talked about how they had become fast friends on set. But as time passed, it became clear that Odessa was more than just a friend to Drew—she was someone important to him.

At first, you tried to brush off the feeling of unease that settled in your chest every time Drew talked about her. After all, he was bound to make new friends in the industry. But it became harder to ignore the way he talked about Odessa—the way his eyes lit up when he mentioned her name, the way she seemed to occupy so much of his attention.

The first time you met Odessa was at Drew’s birthday party. He had flown back to North Carolina to celebrate with friends and family, and you were excited to see him in person after months of only talking through texts and phone calls.

When you arrived at the restaurant, your heart raced with anticipation. It had been so long since you’d seen Drew, and part of you hoped that things would feel just like they used to. But as soon as you walked in, you saw him sitting with Odessa.

They were deep in conversation, laughing together as if they were the only two people in the room. You felt a pang of jealousy, something you hadn’t expected. Drew had always been your person, your best friend. But now, watching him with Odessa, it felt like he was slipping away.

When Drew finally noticed you, his face lit up with a smile. “Y/N!” he called out, standing up to wrap you in a tight hug. “I’m so glad you’re here!”

You hugged him back, but something felt off. The easy familiarity that had always existed between you was strained, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed.

Odessa greeted you with a polite smile, introducing herself, but the way she looked at Drew—like he was the center of her universe—only made the knot in your stomach tighten.

The rest of the night passed in a blur. Drew introduced you to his castmates, and while everyone was friendly, you couldn’t help but feel like an outsider. Drew and Odessa were inseparable, their laughter filling the room as they shared inside jokes you weren’t part of.

Later that night, as the party began to wind down, Drew pulled you aside. “I need to take Odessa home,” he explained, his voice apologetic. “She had a little too much to drink.”

You forced a smile, even as your heart sank. “Yeah, of course. Go ahead.”

As you watched them leave together, something inside you shifted. You couldn’t ignore it anymore—the distance between you and Drew wasn’t just physical. It was emotional. And it hurt more than you were willing to admit.

Months passed, and while you and Drew still kept in touch, things weren’t the same. The texts were shorter, the phone calls less frequent, and every time you tried to bring up something personal, something about you, the conversation somehow always shifted back to Odessa or Drew’s new life in Los Angeles. It wasn’t that you didn’t care about his success—you were proud of him—but it hurt to feel like an afterthought, someone on the periphery of his increasingly glamorous life.

When Drew invited you to his family’s annual BBQ, you hesitated. Part of you wanted to turn down the invitation, not wanting to face him and Odessa again. But the other part of you—the part that still longed for the closeness you once shared—couldn’t say no. This was the Starkey house, the place that had always felt like a second home to you, the place where your friendship with Drew had blossomed.

The afternoon sun was just beginning to set as you arrived at the familiar Starkey home. The front porch was adorned with string lights, and the smell of grilled burgers wafted through the air, mixing with the sound of laughter from the backyard. It should’ve felt like a homecoming, but instead, all you felt was a growing sense of unease.

As you stepped into the backyard, the knot in your stomach tightened. Drew was there, sitting beside Odessa, his arm casually draped along the back of her chair. They were laughing, their heads close together as if they were sharing some private joke. For a moment, it was like watching strangers—people you knew but didn’t recognize anymore.

Before you could retreat, McKayla spotted you. “Y/N!” she called out, running over with a grin. Her hug was warm, and it reminded you of why you had come. The Starkeys were still like family, even if your relationship with Drew had changed.

“I missed you so much!” McKayla said, pulling back to look at you with a beaming smile. “It’s been forever.”

“I missed you too,” you replied, your smile softening as you hugged her again. If anything, McKayla had always made you feel welcome, like you were still an important part of their family.

Just as McKayla let go, Todd walked over, his familiar grin lighting up his face. “There’s my favorite little girl!” he boomed, wrapping you in one of his signature bear hugs. “How’ve you been, Y/N?”

“I’ve been good, Todd,” you said, your voice a little quieter now. “How about you?”

“Oh, you know, keeping busy,” Todd replied, his tone warm. “We’ve missed you around here, you know. This place isn’t the same without you.”

Jodi joined the group, pulling you into a soft hug. “Y/N, it’s so good to see you again,” she said, her smile kind but tinged with something deeper—an understanding, perhaps, of the distance that had grown between you and her son. “How are your parents?”

“They’re good,” you answered. “They’re actually in Rome right now, celebrating their 35th anniversary.”

“Ah, Rome,” Jodi sighed wistfully. “Lucky them. They always did know how to celebrate big.”

You smiled at the familiarity of their banter, grateful for their warmth, but it wasn’t enough to stop the tightening in your chest. Every few minutes, your eyes would drift back to Drew and Odessa. The easy way they sat together, the way Drew’s hand occasionally brushed her arm as he spoke—it was hard to ignore. Even harder to accept.

“Let’s get you something to drink,” McKayla suggested, sensing your unease and pulling you away from the crowd. As you followed her inside, you passed Drew and Odessa. Drew glanced up at you, a smile briefly crossing his face.

“Hey, Y/N! Glad you could make it,” Drew said, his tone casual, but there was a distance in his voice that hadn’t been there before.

“Yeah, wouldn’t miss it,” you replied, trying to keep your tone light, even though your heart ached.

You could feel Odessa’s eyes on you, though her smile was polite. “Nice to see you again,” she added, her tone friendly but not warm. You nodded, but the knot in your chest tightened as the conversation shifted back to something between her and Drew.

As the night progressed, Drew suggested watching Hellraiser—the movie he and Odessa had filmed together. It was the project he had talked about non-stop for months, and while you had been happy for him, you had avoided watching it. The idea of seeing Drew and Odessa on screen together, so intimately connected, made you uneasy.

“I think you’ll like it,” Drew said as the group settled in front of the outdoor screen. “It’s one of my favorite projects.”

You sat between McKayla and Todd, grateful for the distance between you and Drew, but as the opening credits rolled, the familiar knot in your stomach returned.

At first, you tried to focus on the movie, telling yourself it was just another role for Drew—just a job, nothing more. But as the film progressed, your discomfort grew. Drew’s character, Trevor, and Odessa’s character, Riley, had an undeniable chemistry, one that felt far too real. Every glance, every touch between them on screen felt intimate, too personal.

And then the first love scene played out.

You had prepared yourself for it, but nothing could have braced you for how raw it felt to watch Drew and Odessa in such a vulnerable, intimate moment. The room around you seemed to fade, and all you could focus on was the way Drew looked at her on screen, the way their bodies intertwined in a way that felt too real to be acting.

Your breath caught in your throat, and you fought to keep your expression neutral, but the weight in your chest was growing unbearable. You hadn’t realized how much it would hurt to see him like this, to be confronted with the reality of how much you were no longer a part of his life.

A lump formed in your throat as you forced yourself to stay seated, but when the second love scene began, you couldn’t take it anymore. The emotions you had been pushing down for months suddenly overwhelmed you, and without a word, you stood up, muttering a quick excuse to McKayla before making your way to the front porch.

As soon as you were outside, you collapsed onto the porch steps, gasping for air as the tears finally spilled over. You had been trying so hard to keep it together, but seeing Drew and Odessa like that—so close, so connected—had broken something inside you.

“Y/N?”

McKayla’s voice was soft, and you quickly wiped at your eyes as she stepped outside, sitting down beside you. She didn’t say anything for a moment, just sat with you in the quiet, the sound of the movie still playing faintly in the background.

“Are you okay?” she finally asked, her voice filled with concern.

You shook your head, your voice trembling as you spoke. “I don’t think I can do this, McKayla. Watching them together... it’s too much.”

McKayla sighed, her brow furrowing in sympathy. “I get it, Y/N. It’s hard. But you have to talk to him. He doesn’t know how much you’re hurting.”

“I don’t think he even cares,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “He’s so wrapped up in Odessa and his career... I don’t think I matter to him anymore.”

McKayla shook her head firmly, turning to face you fully. “That’s not true, Y/N. I know my brother. He still cares about you—he’s just blind to everything right now. But you need to tell him how you feel. You deserve that.”

You wiped at your eyes, trying to steady your breathing. “I don’t know if I can.”

“You can,” McKayla said softly, her hand resting on your shoulder. “You’ve been there for him through everything, Y/N. He needs to understand how much you’re hurting.”

You nodded, but the thought of confronting Drew still terrified you. You weren’t sure if you were ready to face him, to lay everything out on the table. But one thing was clear—you couldn’t keep pretending everything was okay. You couldn’t keep carrying this hurt on your own.

The next morning, you woke up with the same heavy feeling in your chest. You had tossed and turned all night, replaying the movie over and over in your mind, each scene only deepening the ache in your heart. You needed to leave. As much as you loved the Starkeys, being here—being around Drew and Odessa—was too painful.

You packed your bags quietly, leaving a note for McKayla and Todd, thanking them for their hospitality. Slipping out of the house before anyone else woke up, you drove home, your heart heavy with unresolved emotions.

Back at the Starkey house, McKayla sat at the kitchen table with Todd, sipping her coffee as the morning sunlight streamed through the windows.

“She left early,” McKayla said quietly, setting her mug down with a frown. “She didn’t say goodbye.”

Todd looked up from his newspaper, his brow furrowed. “That doesn’t sound like her. Did something happen?”

McKayla sighed, glancing out the window. “I think things are worse than we thought. Y/N... she’s been really struggling, Dad. Watching Drew and Odessa together... it’s been breaking her heart.”

Todd’s face softened with understanding, his eyes clouded with concern. “She’s been a part of this family for so long. I hate to think she’s feeling left out.”

Before McKayla could respond, Drew wandered into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes groggily. “Morning,” he mumbled, heading straight for the coffee pot. But when he noticed the tension in the room, he paused, frowning.

“What’s going on?” he asked, looking between McKayla and Todd.

McKayla exchanged a glance with her father before turning to Drew. “Y/N left early this morning,” she said, her voice heavy with worry. “She didn’t say goodbye.”

Drew’s frown deepened, confusion flickering in his eyes. “What? Why?”

Todd sighed, folding his newspaper as he looked at his son. “I think you know why, Drew. Y/N’s been feeling like you’ve pushed her aside for a long time now. Last night... watching you and Odessa on screen... it was too much for her.”

Drew paled, guilt washing over his face. “What? I— I didn’t mean to—” He trailed off, his voice cracking with emotion.

McKayla crossed her arms, her tone gentle but firm. “Drew, she’s been there for you through everything. But you’ve been so caught up in your own life that you didn’t realize how much you were hurting her.”

Drew’s face fell, the weight of his sister’s words hitting him like a punch to the gut. He had known something was wrong between you two, but he hadn’t realized how deep the hurt ran.

“I need to fix this,” Drew muttered, setting down his coffee and running a hand through his hair. Without another word, he grabbed his keys and headed out the door, determination written all over his face.

You weren’t expecting Drew to show up at your door. After the overwhelming emotions of the previous night, all you wanted was some distance—some space to breathe, to think. The moment you opened the door and saw Drew standing on your porch, his expression filled with a mix of regret and urgency, your heart raced with a mixture of anticipation and dread.

“Y/N,” Drew began, his voice soft but strained. “Can I come in? We need to talk.”

You hesitated for a moment, gripping the edge of the door, your mind torn between letting him in and closing the door on everything you’d been feeling. Part of you wanted to push him away—to protect yourself from the pain that had been eating away at you for so long. But another part of you—a much deeper part—wanted answers. Needed them.

With a reluctant sigh, you stepped back and motioned for Drew to come in.

He walked into your living room, the air thick with tension. As you closed the door behind him, you couldn’t help but notice the way he looked around, as though searching for something familiar to hold on to. His eyes briefly landed on a photo of the two of you from years ago, sitting on the mantle—a reminder of better times, of the friendship that had once been your anchor.

Drew stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, his hands in his pockets, his eyes downcast. It was clear that he was struggling to find the right words, but the silence between you was too much to bear.

“You left without saying goodbye,” Drew finally said, his voice almost a whisper. There was a vulnerability in his tone, something you hadn’t heard from him in a long time.

You crossed your arms, trying to keep your emotions in check. “Yeah, I did. I couldn’t stay, Drew.”

He glanced up at you, his eyes filled with guilt. “Why? Why didn’t you talk to me?”

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head as you looked away. “Talk to you? Drew, when have we really talked lately? Every conversation we’ve had for months has been about Odessa or your career. You barely even notice I’m there anymore.”

Drew flinched at your words, the weight of them hitting him hard. “That’s not true, Y/N. I care about you—I’ve always cared.”

“Really?” you shot back, your voice trembling with anger and hurt. “Because it sure doesn’t feel like it. Do you even realize how long I’ve been feeling like this? How long I’ve been watching you slip away, trying to convince myself that I wasn’t losing you?”

Drew opened his mouth to respond, but you didn’t let him. The dam of emotions you had been holding back for so long finally broke, and the words came tumbling out before you could stop them.

“Do you know how hard it’s been, Drew? To sit on the sidelines, watching you live this new life, while I feel like I’m not even part of it anymore? I’ve stood by you through everything—every audition, every role, every milestone—and when it was my turn, when it was something important to me, you weren’t there.”

Your voice cracked as you continued, the tears you had been holding back finally spilling over. “You missed my graduation, Drew. Do you know how much that hurt? You promised you’d be there, and you didn’t show up. I waited for you. I waited for you because I thought, ‘This is Drew. He’ll come. He’ll be there for me like I’ve always been there for him.’ But you didn’t. And when you said you’d make it up to me, I thought maybe, just maybe, we’d have one night where it would just be the two of us, like old times. But you brought her.”

Drew’s face fell, his expression filled with regret. “Y/N, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize—”

“You didn’t realize because you never asked,” you interrupted, your voice trembling with the weight of all the unspoken pain. “You were so caught up in your own world, in your new life with Odessa, that you didn’t even notice I was falling apart.”

Drew’s eyes were filled with anguish, his voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“But you did,” you said, your voice cracking with the weight of those words. “You hurt me, Drew. Every time I saw you with her, every time you talked about her like she was the only thing that mattered to you, it felt like a knife in my chest. And I tried to be okay with it. I tried to tell myself that you deserved to be happy, that you deserved to have someone who understood your world. But it didn’t stop the pain.”

Drew took a step closer to you, his hands trembling as he reached out, but he stopped short, his voice thick with emotion. “I didn’t see it. I didn’t see how much I was hurting you. I was selfish, Y/N. I got caught up in everything—my career, Odessa—and I didn’t stop to think about how it was affecting you. And I hate myself for that.”

You wiped at your eyes, trying to steady your breathing, but the hurt still sat heavy in your chest. “You forgot me,” you whispered, the words so quiet you weren’t sure if he even heard them. “I was there for you through everything, and when I needed you, you forgot me.”

Drew’s face contorted with guilt and pain, and he stepped closer, his voice pleading. “I didn’t forget you, Y/N. I swear, I didn’t. I just... I got lost. I let everything else consume me, and I pushed you away without even realizing it. But I never stopped caring about you. I never stopped needing you in my life.”

You met his gaze, your heart aching at the raw vulnerability in his eyes. Part of you wanted to believe him—to believe that he hadn’t meant to hurt you, that he was still the same Drew you had always known. But the pain was still too fresh, too raw.

“You didn’t need me, Drew,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “You needed her. Every time I saw you, it was like I was just... there. Like I was some ghost from your past, watching as you built a new life without me.”

Drew shook his head, his voice breaking. “No. No, that’s not true. Odessa was just... she was just a friend. I never saw her as anything more. But you—I’ve always seen you. You’ve always been more than just a friend to me.”

Your breath hitched, the weight of his words hitting you like a tidal wave. “What are you saying, Drew?”

“I’m saying that I love you, Y/N,” Drew said, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ve loved you for so long, but I was too blind to see it. Too blind to realize how much I was hurting you by pushing you away. But it’s always been you. It’s always been you, and I’m so sorry I didn’t realize it sooner.”

You stared at him, your heart racing, your mind struggling to process what he had just said. “Don’t say that, Drew. Don’t say that unless you mean it.”

“I do mean it,” Drew insisted, stepping closer to you. “I’ve been an idiot, Y/N. I let everything else get in the way, and I lost sight of what really mattered. But you—you’re what matters. You’ve always been the one who’s mattered the most to me.”

Tears filled your eyes once again, your heart warring with your mind. You had waited so long to hear those words, but now that they were finally being spoken, you didn’t know what to do with them.

“How can I believe you?” you whispered, your voice trembling. “How can I believe that you won’t hurt me again? That you won’t forget me the next time something else comes along?”

Drew’s eyes filled with desperation as he reached out and gently cupped your face in his hands. “I won’t forget you. I swear, Y/N, I won’t. I’ve already hurt you once, and I will never make that mistake again. I’ll spend the rest of my life proving to you that you’re the most important person to me. Just... please, give me another chance.”

You closed your eyes, the warmth of his touch sending a shiver down your spine. You wanted to believe him. You wanted to let go of the hurt and let Drew back into your life. But trust wasn’t something that could be rebuilt overnight.

“I need time,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “I need time to heal, to figure out if I can really trust you again.”

Drew nodded, his thumbs brushing away the tears on your cheeks. “I understand. I’ll wait. I’ll wait for as long as it takes, Y/N. Just please... don’t shut me out completely.”

You opened your eyes, meeting his gaze, and for the first time in a long while, you saw the Drew you had always known—the Drew who had stood by your side through everything, who had been your rock when the world felt too heavy.

“I won’t shut you out,” you said softly, your heart aching with the weight of it all. “But this... it’s going to take time.”

Drew nodded again, his relief palpable as he let out a shaky breath. “I’ll be here. No matter how long it takes.”

With that, Drew slowly stepped back, giving you the space you needed. The air between you was still heavy with unresolved emotions, but for the first time in months, there was a glimmer of hope. A possibility that maybe, just maybe, things could be repaired.

As Drew turned to leave, he glanced back at you, his voice soft but filled with quiet determination. “I love you, Y/N. And I’m not going to give up on us.”

You watched him go, your heart conflicted but not as heavy as it had been before. There was still so much to work through, but for the first time, you felt like maybe—just maybe—you and Drew had a chance to find your way back to each other.

The days after the confrontation felt different. Lighter, but still uncertain. The emotional heaviness lingered between you and Drew, but there was something else now—a shared understanding that things needed time, that rushing back into the past wasn’t an option.

Drew kept his word. He didn’t push you, didn’t try to force himself back into your life as if nothing had happened. Instead, he started with small gestures—things that reminded you of the Drew you had known before everything changed.

Each morning, you woke up to a text from Drew. Simple things, like: "I saw the sunrise today and thought of you. Miss those mornings." Or, "Found an old photo of us. Remember this day?" They were small messages, but they carried the weight of years of shared history and memories you had thought were forgotten.

One evening, about a week after the confrontation, Drew showed up at your door with coffee in hand. The sight of him standing there with your favorite caramel macchiato, looking uncertain but hopeful, stirred something inside you.

“I thought you could use this,” Drew said, offering a small smile. “And I... was hoping we could talk. Just for a little while.”

You hesitated, but then nodded, stepping aside to let him in. Drew walked into your living room, his movements tentative, like he wasn’t sure where he stood anymore.

As you sat together on the couch, sipping your coffee, the silence between you was less suffocating than before. There was still a lot to work through, but at least the distance wasn’t unbearable. Drew glanced around the room, his eyes landing on the framed photo of the two of you from years ago, taken on a family trip to the beach. The both of you were grinning wildly, arms around each other, as if nothing in the world could break your bond.

“I remember that day,” Drew said quietly, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “We spent hours building a sandcastle. It collapsed after five minutes, but we didn’t care. We thought it was the best thing ever.”

You chuckled softly, the memory warming something inside you. “Yeah, we were so proud of it.”

Drew shifted in his seat, his expression turning more serious. “I miss those days, Y/N. I miss us. I know I messed up, and I know it’ll take time, but... I want to get back to that.”

You turned to look at him, your heart aching at the sincerity in his voice. For so long, you had felt like you had lost Drew—the Drew who had been your best friend, your confidant, the person who knew you better than anyone. But now, sitting here with him, you realized that maybe he hadn’t been lost forever. Maybe he was still there, waiting for you to let him back in.

“I miss it too,” you admitted, your voice soft but full of emotion. “But... I need time, Drew. This isn’t something that can be fixed overnight.”

“I know,” Drew said, nodding. “And I’m not going to rush you. I’ll take as much time as you need.”

For the first time in what felt like forever, you felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe things could be different this time. Maybe you could rebuild what had been broken.

The weeks that followed were a slow process of healing and reconnection. Drew made an effort—an effort you hadn’t seen from him in months. He started texting you every morning, checking in to see how your day was going. The texts weren’t long or overly sentimental, but they were consistent. They were proof that he was thinking about you, even in the midst of his busy schedule.

Some days, the texts were simple:

"How’s work going? Thought of you when I passed by the old park today."

Other days, they carried a heavier weight:

"I’m sorry again, Y/N. For everything. I just want you to know that I’m still here."

And as time passed, you found yourself replying more. The walls you had built up around your heart began to slowly crumble, brick by brick. Drew wasn’t just making promises—he was showing you that he meant them. He wasn’t rushing you or pushing for more than you were ready to give. He was patient, and that patience made all the difference.

One afternoon, Drew surprised you by inviting you to lunch at the café you both used to frequent when you were younger. It had been years since you’d been there together, but as you sat across from each other, sipping coffee and talking about nothing in particular, it felt like you were slowly returning to a version of yourselves that had been lost.

The conversations were lighter, more comfortable. Drew listened intently when you talked about work, your hobbies, the things that had filled your life in the time you had drifted apart. And for the first time in a long time, you felt like you weren’t competing with Odessa or his career for his attention. Drew was fully present, and that made all the difference.

A few weeks later, Drew showed up at your door with something unexpected—a small gift bag in hand, looking both nervous and hopeful.

“I, uh, thought I’d bring this over,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “I know it’s not much, but I saw it and thought of you.”

You raised an eyebrow, curious, and took the bag from him. Inside was a small journal, the cover embossed with the words “For Every Sunrise.” Your breath caught in your throat as you pulled it out, your fingers tracing the delicate lettering.

“I know how much you love watching the sunrise,” Drew explained, his voice soft. “I thought maybe... you could use this to write down your thoughts. Or even just to keep track of the sunrises you’ve seen.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you looked up at him, overwhelmed by the thoughtfulness behind the gift. Drew had always known how much sunrises meant to you—those quiet moments when the world was still, when everything felt possible. And now, here he was, reminding you of those moments in a way that felt so personal, so deeply connected to the history you shared.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “It’s perfect.”

Drew smiled, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “I’m glad you like it.”

For the first time in a long time, you felt like you were being seen. Not just as someone in Drew’s life, but as someone important. Someone who mattered.

As the weeks turned into months, you and Drew continued to rebuild your relationship—slowly, carefully. There were still moments of doubt, moments when the hurt resurfaced and threatened to pull you back into the past. But Drew was patient. He never rushed you, never pushed you to move faster than you were ready for. Instead, he met you where you were, showing up for you in the ways that mattered most.

One day, Drew suggested a walk through the old park you used to visit as kids. It had been years since you had walked those paths together, but as you strolled through the park, side by side, it felt like you were reclaiming a piece of the past that had been lost.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about us,” Drew said as you walked, his voice quiet but steady. “About how much we’ve been through together.”

You glanced over at him, your heart tightening at the vulnerability in his voice. “Yeah, me too.”

Drew stopped walking, turning to face you fully. His eyes were filled with a kind of determination you hadn’t seen in a long time. “I don’t want to take you for granted anymore, Y/N. I’ve been thinking about everything, and I know I hurt you. I know it’s going to take time to earn back your trust, but I want to be the person you can count on again. The person you deserve.”

You stared at him, your heart pounding in your chest. The sincerity in his voice, the way he looked at you—it was different now. There was no hesitation, no uncertainty. He meant every word.

“I want that too,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “But I need to know that this time... this time, it’s real.”

“It is,” Drew promised, his voice thick with emotion. “I swear, Y/N, it’s real.”

And in that moment, as the sun began to set behind the trees, casting a golden glow over the park, you knew that maybe—just maybe—you and Drew were finally on the right path. It wasn’t going to be easy, and there were still wounds that needed time to heal, but for the first time in a long time, you felt like you could trust him again. Trust that he wasn’t going to let you down.

Months passed, and the slow process of rebuilding trust continued. Drew didn’t let up on his efforts—he made time for you, prioritized you, and showed you in small, meaningful ways that he was committed to repairing the damage that had been done.

The two of you began to fall back into an easy rhythm. Movie nights, long conversations over coffee, quiet walks through the park—it was like rediscovering an old friendship, but with the added depth of everything you had been through. The love you had for each other was still there, but now, it was stronger, more resilient.

One evening, Drew invited you to his house for dinner. It was just the two of you, and as you sat together on the back porch, watching the sunset, you felt a sense of peace settle over you—a peace you hadn’t felt in a long time.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about the future,” Drew said softly, breaking the comfortable silence between you.

You turned to look at him, your heart skipping a beat. “Yeah? What about it?”

Drew’s eyes softened as he reached out and took your hand, his fingers gently intertwining with yours. “About us. About what we want.”

You swallowed hard, your pulse quickening at the intensity of his gaze. “And what do you want, Drew?”

“I want you,” he said, his voice steady but filled with emotion. “I want you in my life, in every way. I don’t want to lose you again, Y/N. I love you. I always have.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as his words washed over you. It had taken so long to get to this point, to rebuild what had been broken, but now, sitting here with Drew, you knew that it had all been worth it.

“I love you too,” you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion. “I’ve loved you for so long, and I don’t want to lose you either.”

Drew smiled, his eyes filled with relief and happiness. “Then let’s not waste any more time. Let’s be together.”

And as he leaned in to kiss you, the weight of all the past hurt and pain seemed to fade away, leaving only the promise of a future—together.

THE END!!

i was thinking about writing a drabbles for this, hehe maybe their future together, if you have any suggestion, ask box are always open!! and i hope you all enjoy this imagine 🖤

[cherrycolored-punk]

can you keep a secret?

pairings: modern! brother's best friend! Steve Harrington x fem! Reader

author's note: ok, ok, ok. I've had these two in my head since I first wrote it. I needed to repost it and decided to make it a one-shot instead. These two were too horny for a second part, let's be so for real.

w/c: 5.1k

warnings: SMUT, unprotected p in v, fingering, oral (reader receiving), praise kink, sorry if I forgot anything 💙

Pool water trickles down your spine, summer heat almost suffocating as you lay out to dry. The air is filled with the buzz of cicadas and crickets, the sound of sprinklers running on nearby manicured lawns. Music plays faintly from the radio on the side table, and you hum along. The sky was a watercolor blue with a stroke of tangerine and cotton candy pink; cirrus clouds were brushed delicately into the vast canvas. 

Being home from college meant you finally had time to lose your head in the clouds and get lost in the stars once the sun had set. There wasn’t the constant worry of a term paper or an early morning class you swore you’d get to despite all the warnings from the student advisors. There was only possibility. You could feel it—the turn of a page, the change of a season. Things would be different. You just didn’t realize how different they would be.

“Hey, Punky,” a familiar voice calls out, drawing closer as it did. You didn’t need to open your eyes to know who it was, the sound of his steps and the smell of his cologne giving him away. Bergamot and cedar, a slight hint of tobacco.

“Hi Stevie,” you greet around the lollipop you’d been sucking on, eyes still closed, enjoying the sun. 

You could feel his eyes on you, gaze roaming over the expanse of your legs and up to your chest. The seconds pass like minutes, silence settling between the two of you as he takes you in. The way your bikini hugged your curves and the way your nipples were pebbled beneath your skimpy top. He swallows hard, words getting lodged in his throat. You did your best to hide the way his gaze affected you, the way your breathing sped up, or the way you squirmed in your seat.

“Have you seen your brother?” He clears his throat, shakes his head, and hopes you don’t question the time it took him to ask a simple question. 

You smirk to yourself, a cherry lollipop pulled out of your mouth with a loud pop. You open your eyes and tilt your head. Gaze trained on him so they didn’t linger on the swell of his biceps.

“Probably inside setting up for the party,” you shrug, completely casual and not at all having palpitations from how he looked at you. 

You press the lollipop to your lips, swirling your tongue over it, and watched his adam’s apple bob as you did. It had always been cat and mouse, a game of boundaries and lines never crossed. You turn onto your stomach, head turned away from him as you do. He looks at the curve of your ass, the way your bikini bottoms got lost in it. Steve’s shorts feel tighter, strained. He clears his throat again, pointing towards the sliding glass door even though you weren’t looking.

“I’ll go see if he needs help,” he vanishes behind the door, eyes lingering before disappearing into your home, and you could finally breathe.

—————

Music pulses through the speakers, overwhelming and all-consuming. Your welcome home party was full of people you didn’t know or didn’t talk to, strangers that your twin brother was acquainted with. You eye the mass of people over your cup from your corner of the room. Watch as they dance to an early 2000s Spotify playlist, get lost in the sound, or play tonsil hockey on your couch. Tequila settled in your chest, warm, and you felt like you were floating. 

Mingle. Mingle. Mingle. Your inner voice screams, clawing its way to your cerebellum so that you’d move. So that you’d do anything besides stand on the wall at another house party. But you walk past everyone, through the crowd, and to the pool house that sits on the edge of your yard. 

The moon was bright, light illuminating everything around you in a glow. Lightning bugs buzzed around you. You could still hear the music, the sounds of the party muffled by the sliding glass door. You take another swig of your drink before placing your plastic cup on the table next to you and reclining on the cushioned seat.

“Having fun?”

“A totally rad time,” you nod, words laced with sarcasm, watching Steve as he approaches. 

He gives you a sideways smirk; eyebrows raised as he takes another sip of whatever fills his red solo cup and sits near your feet on the edge of the chair. Steve had always been attractive in an obvious way. His hazel eyes bore into yours, and you avoid his gaze focusing on the new freckles that dotted his cheeks and created a path to his jawline. His caramel-brown waves were shorter, sat just above his ear, and defined his cheekbones in a way that made you want to trace them. He is wearing a dark blue t-shirt that clings to the muscles of his arms and black jeans that accentuate the meat of his thighs. 

You want to sink your teeth into them.

“You’ve never been a good liar, Punky,” he’d caught you, watching as you took him in, and did the same in return. Steve works to keep his jaw from going slack and takes too many sips of beer as he eyes the way your hips flare under the satin of your red dress. You nudge his shoulder lightly, ignoring how the brief contact felt like electricity, and grab your cup to take another swig of your drink.

“You look really pretty tonight,” he manages, the roll of your eyes making his smirk grow wide.

“Not pretty enough for anyone to flirt with me,” you sulk, and takes a few more sips of the amber liquid.

“That’s because Derek would actually kill anyone who touched you,” he laughs as he thinks of how often he’d be warned not to go anywhere near you. He had his King Steve reputation to thank for that.

“Perks of being Derek’s annoying little sister. No one even sees me,” you huff with a dramatic sigh.

“That’s not true,” he tiptoes around a confession, the truth that lingers between the two of you but was never spoken.

“Oh please, I am a pariah in my own house.” You lift a hand towards the two-story tudor, your welcome home party evidence that no one necessarily gives a shit whether you were there. You play with the lip of the cup, rubbing your thumb over the sticky lipgloss left there.

“We can have a little party of our own out here,” he wraps a warm palm against your knee.

“Don’t throw me a pity party,” you pout.

“Ms.College Elite is the only one who has my attention tonight,” he urges.

“What do you say, Punky?” And you debate, mouth twisted to the side as you look at the hot tub and back at him.

“We’ll need more beer,” you shrug. What was better than a party of two?

“Atta girl,” he gives your knee one last squeeze before sneaking back through the glass door and towards the kitchen. 

You stand and strip out of your dress, staying in just your bra and panties. The summer night feels cold against your skin and sends a shiver through your spine. You sink into the hot tub, wincing slightly as your body adjusts to the temperature before lazing back and watching the stars. Steve returns moments later with a six-pack in hand.

“You got in without me?” He teases, eyes focused on your face and ignoring the way the water made the fabric of your bra just a bit more translucent.

“Sorry about it, King Steve,” you mock, splashing water at him as he pulls at his shirt and flips off his shoes. He hesitates as he unzips his pants, suddenly unsure and looking back at the house.

“Is this a party of one?” You tease, hiding the way the possibility stung.

“Not a chance,” he pulls his pants down, green boxers clinging to his sun-kissed skin, and you try not to linger at what they reveal. There was truth to the whispers around school and you giggle to yourself as he climbs into the jacuzzi.

“Not what a guy wants to hear when he’s stripped nearly naked,” he pokes at your side before grabbing a beer. He holds one up as a question, and you nod as you reach for it, his fingers brushing yours.

“I promise my giggles have nothing to do with the way you look,” even though they kind of did, you just don’t want to talk about his endowments.

“Sure thing,” he chugs his beer, red blossoming in his cheeks the longer he sits in the warm water.

“I mean it, I promise. Scouts honor,” you hold up four fingers.

“It’s three fingers, you dingus,” and he splashes water at you as you laugh.

“Watch my beer,” you whine and try to block it from the onslaught of water. 

You press one palm against his chest, turning your back to him as he continues. His chest flexes under your hand, rough hairs rubbing against your palm. Steve tries to reach around you, big hands grabbing for the can of beer as you lean in to take a sip, back flush against him and ass pressed to his center. You feel his arms wrap around your waist and pull you closer, lifting you in the air until your beer can slips from your hands and plops into the water.

“My beer!”

“Way to go, Punky,” he laughs, warm breath fanning your ear, and you turn to look at him.

“It’s not my fault. You’re the one who attacked me!” You push away from him, palm pressing into his pec once more.

“Only because you laughed as soon as I took my pants off. Talk about a blow to the ego,” his hand presses where yours just was.

“Oh please, Harrington. Like you haven’t always been told you’re something out of a Calvin Klein ad,” you roll your eyes, back pressing into the side of the jacuzzi. 

Steve’s cheeks darken to a shade of red, the tips of his ears crimson at your words.

“Something out of a Calvin Klein ad?” He teases, inching closer until he was floating in front of you.

“Like you don’t know you’re some kind of beautiful, Stevie. I’m sure all the girls you’ve dated said as much,” you ignore the way your heart races being so close to him, the way his gaze makes heat pool at your center.

“Maybe cute, sometimes hot, but never some kind of beautiful,” his words come out lower, nearly a whisper. You lift your shoulder, attempting to bring levity to the butterflies springing free and taking flight in your abdomen.

“Well, now you know, don’t let it go to your head,” you nudge him, a small giggle escaping from between your lips as you turn to the side to put distance between you so that you can breathe, but he holds onto your hand and pulls you towards him, chest to chest. 

Your breaths come out shallow, eyes searching his for an answer. He shakes his head, words lost, as he takes you in and looks at you how he’d always wanted to. 

He was cast in a glowy haze, string lights shining orange and yellow against his sun-kissed skin. Steve eyes the pout of your lips, debating, adam’s apple bobbing as he throws all caution to the wind. He closes the small space between the two of you, watching as your eyes flutter close as an answer to an unspoken question. Do you want this too? 

Your noses brush, breaths shaking as his lips hover over your pout before he takes the plunge. His kiss was softer than you had imagined as his lips eased over yours. Tasting like beer and a hint of spearmint mixed with the taste of your strawberry lipgloss. Your hand brush against his bicep and up to his neck, twisting into the waves of his hair. You pull lightly, bringing him closer, lower, swallowing his gasp of surprise as the kiss becomes hungrier, more urgent. 

The world around you disappears, the noise of the party ignored as you focus on the way he felt pressed against you. The way his hands explore the skin of your abdomen, the curve of your ass, and the lines of your thighs. His touch consumes you, leaving a line of electricity wherever the two of you are connected. He kisses you like he’d wanted this, like he’d wanted you, for years. 

He rubs your face with his hand, thumb pulling at the side of your lips so you’d open up for him. Steve slides his tongue over yours, lifting you onto his lap. You wrap your arms around his neck, anchoring yourself to him as the kiss turns filthy and his fingers dig crescent moons into your sides, pushing your center onto his arousal. He sucks at your bottom lip, swallowing your moans as you begin to grind against him. The water sloshes against your hips, the sound covering his groans and your sighs. 

You wanted him, needed him. Steve pulled away, hands firm and stilling your hips as he looked at you with glassy eyes. The realization hung in the air, lines already crossed, and boundaries breached.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” he says it like a question. Like he needs convincing, but you were just as lost, lips bruised and a little dazed as you took him in. Your chest heaves, breaths coming in shallow as you shake your head. You shouldn’t be doing this.

“Can you keep a secret?” You ask, and he nods, his lips back on yours rougher than before. 

Steve’s fingers dig into your flesh, jutting his hips up to meet yours as you rock against him. He swallows your whines, nose pressing into your face as he tries to get closer. His fingers trail up your thighs, slip under the fabric of your panties, and rests them on the fat of your ass. Steve pulls away and eyes the way your lips are pouty and bruised.

“Is this okay?” He asks, eyebrows raised, and you nod, needy for more. For him.

“Don’t stop,” you plead, and he presses open-mouthed kisses to your neck, nipping at the tender flesh as he trails to your cleavage. 

Your chest arches under his touch. Head tilted back as his tongue dances along the line of your bra, nipples hardening under his warm breath. 

You are lost in the moment, head under water, electricity coursing through you like a live wire wherever Steve touched. You want to blame the alcohol, want an excuse for making out with your brother’s best friend in your hot tub as you circle your hips against his length and swallow his groans. You kiss a trail from his jaw to the space between his neck and shoulder, sucking a bruise and kissing it sweet. Steve tilts his head, giving you more space to make your mark, eyelashes fanning his cheekbones as he watches you.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” he admits, breathy and eyes a little hazy. 

You pull away from him, hands resting on his shoulders as you took in his darkened gaze. Questions swirl in your head, the answers found in how he still holds you close, almost like a plea.

He opens his mouth to say more but a loud bang from the house had the two of you scrambling, heads turned and looking for the source of the noise. Afraid you’d been caught, and your chests heave as you wait, moments passed in shared silence, watching as people began leaving the house.

You weren’t ready to stop. Needy to feel his lips pressed everywhere they could reach. Your fingers pressed into his jaw until he faces you.

“Pool house,” you instruct and climb out of the hot tub, pulling him along. He follows without question, the sounds of his wet footsteps trailing right behind you as you push the door open. 

The moment that it closes, he turns you around and pins you to the door. You suck in a breath as his lips hover over your skin, warm breath causing goosebumps to sprout in anticipation. 

Steve chuckles, enjoying how affected you are by him. His knee slots between your legs, balancing you against him as his teeth graze your exposed shoulder. He runs one hand over your hip and the other twines with your hand above your head. Electricity shoots through you, hips rolling back against him as you search for the friction you desperately need. 

He tugs at the strap of your bra with his teeth, pulling the fabric down before switching sides and doing the same to the other. You feel his absence as he pushes off of you to unhook your bra, his fingers making quick work of the hook. The lace loosens from your body, and you allow it to fall onto the floor before turning to him. 

You watch as he swallows hard, his eyes dancing over your exposed skin, highlighted by the moonlight streaming through the curtains, painting you in a pale glow. 

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers, fingers itching at his sides to reach out and touch you. 

Slowly, you approach him and reach for his hand guiding it up to your supple flesh. He cups you with a groan, his thumb brushing over your perked nipple. You push on his chest, guiding him backward towards the couch at the center of the room until he plops onto the cushion with a huff. 

His hands automatically reach out when you straddle him, one leg on either side of his lap. He wastes no time, his mouth creating a hot trail along your naked flesh, making your brain melt. 

Steve’s tongue swirls over one of your nipples, and he sucks it between his lips, watching you with hooded eyes as your head falls back in bliss. Your hands curl in his hair automatically, holding him against and tugging as you swirl your hips against his hardening length. It drives him wild, watching you like this. An image he’d always pictured, but his imagination definitely didn’t do it justice. 

His fingers push under the fabric of your panties once again and grip your ass, spreading your cheeks apart as he begins to meet each swirl of your hips with a rut of his own. He needs you, wants you, in a way that he’s never wanted anyone before.

“Baby-” he groans against your skin, releasing your nipple and pressing his face between your breasts.

The nickname makes butterflies swarm at your center.

“Steve,” You whine, desperate for there to be fewer layers separating him from where you need to feel him most. 

He flips you onto your back suddenly, caging you between his arms and kissing down your body. 

“I need to taste you,” he groans against your skin, dragging his tongue against your abdomen and to the tops of your panties. He hooks a thumb underneath the fabric, and you lift your hips so he can take them off, watching as he discards them absently. 

You’re completely exposed, every inch of you revealed to him, but the look in Steve’s eyes has never made you feel more beautiful. He watches you with an intense regard, almost reverently, as he takes in every inch of you.

“Fuck, honey,”  he breathes and swallows harshly, “so fucking perfect.” 

Steve kisses over your hip bone and down the tops of your thighs, savoring the feel of your soft skin beneath his lips. The stubble along his chin rubs against you just right, and you reach out to curl your fingers back into his hair. 

He’s trailing kisses back up your legs and to your inner thighs, creating an agonizing pace. Teasing, licking, sucking. Leaving his mark. Your hips rise involuntarily, seeking the release you need, desperate for his touch, and he obliges with a swipe of his tongue along your slick folds. 

“Oh,” you gasp, hips falling back against the couch. His chuckle against your sensitive flesh sends vibrations straight to your core, and before you can protest, his tongue is dragging against your slit. Pushing deeper until his nose is pressed against your bundle of nerves.

“Taste so sweet,” he murmurs, sending another wave of vibrations through you, and your cunt clenches at his words. Lost in the feeling of his movements and what was to come. 

His tongue pushes at your entrance, dipping into your center and humming as he tastes more of your essence. 

“Steve,” you grip his hair as his tongue darts in and out of your cunt, creating a lewd noise that fills the pool house. 

He groans against you, nearly losing his mind at the way you moan his name. Watching as you buck against him with each swipe of his tongue.

You whine as he pulls away from you and raise yourself onto your elbows to look at him, jaw falling open when you see his chin glistening with your arousal. 

He watches you as he traces his middle finger over your slit, gathering your slick before pressing it against your cunt. You stretch over him, sucking his finger into your sopping hole until he’s knuckle-deep inside you. 

The sensation has you falling back against the couch, head swimming with need.

Steve bends down and flicks his tongue against your clit, curling his finger inside you as he does. His pace is slow at first, gradually picking up speed to match the flick of his tongue and you’re already close to coming undone. 

The sound of his fingers sinking into your center is vulgar, his pace making your breath quicken.

Every nerve in your body is on edge, and you feel close to combusting. Each lap of his tongue sends a jolt of electricity through your body. He adds another finger, stretching you more, and you hum at the sensation. Your hand cups one of your breasts, fingers pinching your nipple, as your breath quickens and you approach the edge.

“Oh, fuck, Steve,” you moan again. 

Steve’s lips wrap around your clit, and he sucks, making you jolt against his face. You hold him there, grinding as you chase your orgasm.

“That’s it, baby,” he groans against you, eager to make you come undone. His words sending you ever the edge.

Your hips lift as your center unfurls, your body stiffening as it courses through you. A feeling that takes your breath away, makes your toes curl, and is felt through every inch of you. Your screams are trapped in your throat, focused on the feeling as you clench around Steve’s fingers and grip his hair. 

Seconds drag on like minutes, and your legs begin to shake. A guttural moan escapes your lips, and goosebumps sprout along your skin as you continue to hold him there.

“Steve,” you keen, and he swears you’re driving him crazy. His fingers don’t stop, and his mouth doesn’t slow as he laps at your release. Groaning as he licks you clean. 

You’re panting, core sensitive, and aching as his fingers continue to drive into you. 

“Please-,” you plead, and he smiles against your skin, his fingers slowing before pulling out of you. You watch him with half-hooded eyes as he licks your spent from his digits, groaning as he tastes your sweetness.

He kisses your bud, the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs, and creates a trail up your body. Taking his time to savor the way your soft skin feels underneath his lips. You gasp when they press into your neck, when his tongue swipes before his teeth graze your pulse. 

“So fucking pretty,” he whispers and kisses your jaw, his hard length pressed into you.

Your hand reaches between your bodies, and you run a hand over his boxers, gripping his cock - slowly stroking him through the fabric. Satisfaction thrums through you as you watch his jaw go slack, his hips bucking to meet each of your movements.

“It’s my turn,” you whisper and kiss his jaw, but he shakes his head, swallowing hard.

“Next time,” he insists, and your heart thuds at the thought—next time.

You continue to stroke him, dragging your tongue across his lower lip and humming when you taste yourself there. 

It’s all too much and not enough.

“I need you,” you whisper and pull his lower lip between yours. 

“Baby,” he groans, one hand gripping your hip and the other cradling your face. 

“Are you sure?” He asks, pulling away and meeting your gaze. Measuring your sincerity. 

You nod rapidly and move your hand to the top of his boxers, pulling at the fabric. Holding his gaze. He springs free against your center, and you inhale deeply, hand running along his hard flesh. You stroke him once, running your thumb along the vein on the underside of his cock before swiping it over his tip coated in precum. 

You yearn to taste him, to feel his length against your cheek as you pull him into your mouth, but he’d said next time. You bring your thumb to your lips and lick the precum from it, your gaze never leaving his as you suck it clean.

“Fuck-” he shakes his head, and you push at his chest until he’s seated. You straddle his lap, one leg on each side of his, and reach between your bodies to line him up with your entrance. His tip pushes at your entrance, and you gasp at the pressure, anticipating the stretch that he’s going to be. 

You sink onto him slowly, and he watches your face as you take every inch. The way you gasp, how your eyes squeeze shut, and the grip you have on his shoulders is enough to send him over. He lets out a groan when he’s feeling seated in you, his fingers gripping your hips and leaving marks.

“So fucking tight,” he breathes, jagged and affected, “So perfect.” 

You’re hyperaware of every place you’re connected; his naked chest pressed against yours, his hands on your hips, and his throbbing cock deep in your center. It drives you wild, makes you feel a little drunk on his touch, and slowly you lift your hips. He cups your ass to help your movements, guiding you up and down his shaft. 

“Oh my god,” you moan as you increase your pace. 

He drags a tongue over your pebbled flesh and kneads your breast as he pumps up into you. The sound of your skin slapping against each other intertwines with your breathy moans spilling from your parted lips, and your nails dig into his shoulders. He ruts up to meet the rhythm of your hips, pumping into you at a brutal pace, and watches how well you take him with hooded eyes.

“Take me so good, honey,” he mewls against your breast, and your grip on his shoulder tightens. His hand leaves your tit and traces over your abdomen until his fingers meet your clit. 

“Fu-,” you breathe, words lost as he begins to draw mean circles against your sensitive bud. 

“I’m gonna,” you try to say between moans.

“Come for me, baby,” and the desperation in his voice makes it sound like he’s begging. 

Your legs squeeze shut, hips faltering, but he pumps himself into you. He watches the way your tits bounce with each thrust, the way your head falls back, and your mouth falls open as you come undone. 

“Holy shit, Steve,” you cry, and a strangled groan leaves his lips when he feels you clench around him. 

The orgasm rushes through you, even more intense than before. Heat creeps into your chest as your walls flutter around him, and you dissolve into pleasure. He grips your hips, continuing to pound into you as he chases his own release.

“I’m so close,” he grunts, his hips stuttering and abdominal muscles tightening. He lifts you off of his lap as his release spurts onto his stomach in white streaks, and you moan at the sight of it. Wishing you could feel him fill you. His fingers press into your flesh, his breaths shaky as he holds onto you.

He looks beautiful and disheveled, his chest red from the intensity of his orgasm. Unable to form a coherent thought, let alone speak. 

Steve taps your thigh and you move off of him, watching as he disappears into the bathroom. You sit there, suddenly nervous, suddenly feeling exposed, and begin to look for the little clothes you wore when you led him inside. 

When Steve returns, he finds you pulling your panties back on near the door. Your bra already pulled back into place.

“Running off?” He laughs and reaches down for his boxers near the couch. You spin around to face him with a nervous smile.

“I just thought you’d want to,” you pause and wave your hands around, unsure of yourself, “y’know?” 

He can’t help the chuckle that escapes his lips as he pulls his boxers into place and approaches you, his hands wrapping around your waist.

“Making me feel a little cheap, honey,” he teases and kisses your cheek, holding your face between his hands. Surprising you with how tender he was being.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, and he catches the way your brows furrow. 

“What is it?” He asks you softly, studying your face.

“I just didn’t know if you meant what you said and thought I’d spare you the awkward conversation,” you sigh deeply and meet his gaze.

He doesn’t speak but presses a kiss to your lips, softer and slower. Sweeter. You follow the path his lips create, sighing at the feel of them.

Steve pulls away and smiles at you, his hooded gaze dancing between your tired one.

“I mean everything I said,” he states and rubs a thumb over your cheekbone.

You nod, trying to hide the wide grin that threatens to overtake your face.

“Next time?” You repeat and rolls his eyes, affectionately.

“Next time, I’m taking you on a date,” he promises and leads you back to the couch. He pulls you on top of him, rubbing circles against your arm.

“Oh, a date with King Steve?” you tease and poke him. Just like before. 

“Shut up,” he responds, his voice thick with fatigue and something that sounds like affection. 

He pulls you closer, tucking you between his arm and his chest. His head pressed to the top of yours and the sound of his soft snores lulls you to sleep. 

[bluesidez]

Can’t get Firefighter Miguel out of my head because of the Miggy discord.

content warning: nothing but fluff...for now 😗

word count: 1.3k, not proofread

Next ‧₊˚ ⋅ 𓐐𓎩 ‧₊˚ ⋅𓌉◯𓇋 Masterlist

Imagine you’re trying to get into baking or something and you’re not used to your oven AT ALL.

Cherry pies? Ruined.

Apple fritters? Apple crisps.

Chocolate chip cookies? Charcoal chip cookies.

Brownies? More like burnt brownie brittle.

Your process would be going so well until it was time to actually put your dessert in the oven and it was like your oven plotted against you.

You set the right temperatures. You pre-heated. You even placed things in the right part of the oven. How is it that everything goes wrong?

The only desserts that saw the light of day were the no-bake ones. You’re not sure how much more no-bake cheesecake you could take anymore.

The day that really sets it off is the day that you attempted to make a simple vanilla birthday cake. Your friend’s birthday was coming soon and you wanted to gift her one of those cute bento cakes.

Your icing is finished and delicious. You’ve been practicing the decorations all week and they were pretty cute! The cake just a few more minutes left to bake, then you could take it out to chill.

As you’re piping a bag of baby pink icing, you look up to see that the room is a little foggy. You turn in a panic and notice puffs creeping from the oven.

“No, no, no!!!” you cry as you turn to open it.

You can’t do anything but cough as a ton of smoke hits you in the face.

Your cake on fire. Orange and yellow light illuminating the oven.

You panic as the fire seems to grow brighter once it hits the air.

“Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god!”

Where was your fire extinguisher? You tried fanning at fire with a towel, but to no avail. You couldn’t even get to the knobs to switch the oven off.

You step back, terrified. You felt like sobbing watching the flames take over. Why aren’t the sprinklers on?

By the time you run out of your house, the fire alarm decides it can sing its tune. You call 911 with a shaky voice, hoping they can get here faster than your alarm decided to make itself known.

You stand outside peeking through your eyes as you could see the flames grow near your kitchen window.

Thankfully the firetruck makes it in time, the firefighters working quick to get inside.

One of them asks is anyone else inside and you shake your head no, thankful that it was just you.

It doesn’t take long for them to put it out and come back outside.

“Are you ok?,” one of them comes to ask you. You look up to this tall, dark, and handsome man. He’s sweating a bit obviously from the summer heat and the fire as he takes his helmet off. His hair is curly and dripping. You ogle him a bit, watching his chest move up and down.

“Do we need to call you an ambulance?” he says, placing a heavy hand on your shoulder.

“Oh! No! So sorry, I’m still a little…winded from everything,” you say, embarrassed.

“Ok, well as long as you’re fine. Do you mind telling me what you were doing?” he asks.

You cast your eyes down. Here was such a fine man standing before you and you had on pajamas and a frilly maid apron with flour splattered on top.

“I was trying to make a birthday cake. As we can see, it completely failed,” you reply. “I don’t know what happened. I followed every instruction. The oven was set at 350 degrees.”

He tilted his head at you as you whined away.

“Is this the first time that something like this has happen?”

You shake your head no, “This is the 3rd burnt dessert in a week.”

“Hm. Well I’ll have the crew here check it out.”

An hour and some change later, one of the firefighters tells you and the tall glass of water, who learn is a captain named Miguel, that you have a damaged gas line.

“You’re really lucky that you were only getting blackened sugar. One more cake and that could have been the end,” Miguel says to you with hand on his hip and another on your shoulder. “And also, never open the oven if there’s a fire. If this happens again, turn the oven off and wait until it dies down.”

You felt your head nodding, heart beating at how awkward everything felt.

Miguel looked down at you again, “Do you have anywhere you can stay over night? Or until I can get someone up here to get this gas fixed?”

“My grandma lives a couple of streets down,” you say, cheeks heated at his intense eye contact.

“Tell you what, how about you settle there for the night and I’ll come back personally to help you grab your belongings tomorrow morning?”

“That would be amazing! Thank you so much. I’m sorry for all of this,” you gesture to your house.

“It happens. Nothing you did here was your fault. Besides, I’m the captain. Fighting fires is what I do. Now, how about a ride in the truck to your grandma’s?”

You feel giddy when he practically pulls you in the truck. No seats are left so you have to settle for sitting on Miguel’s lap, heartbeat racing.

The other firefighters try to hide their smirks and snickers watching their captain hold you so softly in his arms. One big bump in the road has you clinging to him to not fall off.

You straighten back up, embarrassed by the little slip. Miguel chuckles at your actions.

You pretend not to hear their wolf whistles as he guides you to your grandma’s front door.

Miguel knocks firmly, waiting with you until she opens it.

She’s about to fuss at you for not stopping by sooner until she looks up at Miguel.

“And who is this?” she says, a bit shocked.

“My name is Captain O’Hara. I just wanted to drop your grandbaby off. Had a little baking accident.”

Your grandma listens to Miguel as he explains the situation calmly and professionally. It doesn’t stop her from fussing over you, grabbing and turning you to check for any damage.

“I’m ok grandma. I just have to stay here while my gas gets fixed.”

She thanks Miguel profusely, “Son, what’s your favorite food? I’ll have it made and sent down there for you.”

Miguel laughs heartily. You’re about to tell him he doesn’t have to answer that until he beats you to it.

“Whatever your specialty is, I’ll take it,” he says with a sweet smile on his face and holding your grandma’s hands.

“Cap! We gotta another fire at the college dorms. Someone burnt noodles in the microwave again,” a firefighter yells from truck.

“Well if you all can excuse me, duty calls!” he says and runs back to the truck.

“I can’t believe you burnt a cake! Haven’t I taught you better? And you know you’re making him that food, right?” your grandma says as you step inside.

“Grandma,” you say, affronted. “It was the oven, not me! And he might not want to even eat what I make after this.”

“Hmph,” she says, with a click of her tongue. “Well, you better get ready to use this kitchen here. You need that man as a husband.”

“Grandma.”

“I have some ham hocks in the freezer, some turnip and mustard greens. I think the church sent me some potatoes. We need to go to the store too. You gotta get him through his stomach.”

“Grandma!”

There was a silence as you and your grandma stared at each other.

“So are you thinking pork chops or catfish to go with the side dishes?” she said, grabbing a pencil and an empty envelope.

You just groaned and crumpled in your chair.

divider by: @benkeibear ❤️‍🔥

the grandma convo is heavily inspired by my own grandma lol. tagging @miguelhugger2099 @kit-and-wolfe @huniedeux @ugh-ok-fiyn because I want y’all to see this 😗

[jeonqbunny]

do it slowly

suguru geto x f!reader smut ♡

summary: your childhood friend suguru geto comes home for summer break after 2 long years of being away at college <3

content warning: soft dom!suguru x sub!f!reader, smut, porn w a plot, hair pulling, oral m!receiving, unprotected sex (he pulls out), uses of petnames (pretty girl, sweetheart, princess), biker suguru implied, quite a bit of fluff included.

word count: 6.1k (yappatron 6000 jesus christ </3)

today is my bday and i rlly hate this, but it took me so mf LONG to write.

about a year and a half have passed since you last saw suguru; the heat of the summer bringing back childhood memories of you two playing outside, be it in the trees around your house or running through the sprinklers in the lawn. you can’t help but sigh lightly, you miss him. he went out of state for college after graduation while you decided to stay back at home with your parents, it’s been lonely without him.

despite the air conditioner going full blast your forehead is still damp from the humid air of summer, reminding you of a fan you have on your desk that you could probably bring over to your bed. sitting up, you feel the immediately recognizable buzz of your phone on your thigh as you quickly snatch it up and see you have a text. it’s from satoru.

your prior mission of using the fan completely slipped your mind as you swiped the notification away rather quickly, readjusting yourself to lay down before opening it. your eyes narrowed at the message, your nerves immediately rising to the ceiling and beyond. “suguru is coming back for summer break?” you asked yourself out loud, chewing on the tip of your index finger as you reread the text over and over again. it was exciting, to say the least. seeing him again this soon was not something you exactly expected, but you weren’t complaining.

you read further to find out satoru was going to host a surprise “welcome home” party for him. this didn’t surprise you, though. satoru is suguru’s bestfriend, and ever since he left it’s just been you and him. the idea of all of you being back together again excited you, and you were curious to see how much suguru has grown. if he aged even half as well as satoru did, then he would be more than a little attractive.

you replied to satoru, informing him that you would be attending and helping him set up for it. after all, suguru was your beloved friend too. though you haven’t seen him since he left, unlike satoru who flew out quite often to see him with his daddy’s money. the last you heard, suguru had a girlfriend and was doing very well in his studies. 

you got ready to head over to satoru’s place to set up for suguru’s surprise party, picking up streamers and other corny party decorations on your way. you walked up to satoru’s front door, pretty much buried in all the decorations you bought as you struggled to hold yourself upwards. you let out an annoyed grunt at how long satoru took to open the door before you finally heard the door unlock and fling open. there he stood, his tall lanky figure resting against the door frame with an amused grin pulling at his lips.

“wow, you look like you’re really struggling there y/n.” he chuckled deeply, reaching forward and grabbing a couple boxes before stepping to the side to allow you space to enter his house. you let out a relieved huff when you set it all down on the table, finally being able to stand up straight. you glared at the snowy haired man, the urge to slap his cocky ass grin off of his face nearly consuming your entire being, but you decided on mercy.

“so what kind of party is this gonna be anyway? just a kick back with all of our friends or are you going to be extra like you always are?” you queried with a mocking tone, your gaze fixing up into satoru’s cerulean eyes through your eyelashes. 

satoru simply reached up and rubbed the back of his neck, a weak smile plastered on his glossy lips. “of course it’s going to be extra. you already know i wouldn’t have it any other way.” he snickered, his large hand coming up to his mouth in a mischievous manner. you couldn’t do anything but sigh and laugh along while shaking your head. the time passed quicker than you thought, the house slowly becoming decorated with balloons and streamers along with letters that spelled out “welcome home suguru” along the wall.

as the time draws near, you can’t help but chew the edges of your fingers a little raw in nervousness and anticipation to see suguru again. satoru catches this and smacks your hand away from your mouth, “you know suguru doesn’t like you doing that. stop it. go get a drink or something if you’re really that nervous…” he trails off with a look of ‘oh shit’ forming across his face, prompting a look of curiosity and confusion from you as you sneakily try to nibble a bit more on your pinky, eliciting another smack from him as a slight yelp fell from your lips.

“why’d you get all cold when you mentioned the drinks?” you ask, reeling slightly from the smack he laid on your hand. satoru sighs and ruffles his snowy shaggy hair in an exasperated fashion, “i forgot the damn drinks.” he grumbles lowly, his bright blue eyes shifting to the floor in disappointment. you stood there, absolutely dumbfounded by his utter stupidity.

“how the hell do you forget the drinks for a party?” you exclaim in a tone laced with annoyance and panic. “i don’t know! i just got lost in everything i guess.” he scraped the back of his neck in embarrassment for a moment before turning to you with a confident grin on his face. “look, can you go run out and buy a couple cases of beer or something?” he says, rustling around in his pocket before tossing his wallet at you. “nuh uh, no. i don’t wanna miss suguru’s arrival, someone else can go.”

“you and i are the only people who can drive here, plus what kind of host would i be if i were gone when he arrived? anyway, he won’t be here for like another thirty minutes. just don’t drag your ass and you’ll be fine.” he spits back in an irritated manner before you begrudgingly grab his wallet from where it landed beside you on the couch and head out to your car.

the drink run goes smooth enough, but then you hit traffic on your way back. shit. you are going to be late. the idea of being late because of satoru’s horrible planning only pissed you off even more. “how does that little idiot always convince me to do the work for him?” you sighed out loud, your hand reaching up to tug at your hair as the situation fully settled in. you tap at your steering wheel eagerly, your eyes rolling into your skull as you sit completely still in traffic. after a while of sitting and plotting satoru’s death, the cars finally started rolling. but by then it was already too late, the party had started well over fifteen minutes ago and suguru was most definitely already there.

you pulled up to satoru’s party, the street and driveway already significantly more filled than it was when you left. that’s when you saw it, a sleek black motorcycle sitting in the open garage. it caught your eye, and you were growing more curious to know who it belonged to as you wobbled your way to the door. you lugged the packs of alcohol up the small stairway leading to the front door, your arms struggling to reach the handle under the weight of the bags hanging off of them. 

finally, you managed to get the door open with a loud grunt and a deep breath following in your wake. you panted a bit, your chest heaving as you carried the heavy load of alcohol to the kitchen. you tossed them on the counter not so carefully, desperate to get the heavy weight off of your arms. you hissed, sucking in air through your teeth as you rubbed at your arms for a bit of comfort. 

you were busy soothing the ache in your arms when a familiar voice called your name from behind you. you immediately pivoted on your foot and spun yourself around to see a very tall suguru. you immediately pulled him in for a hug, holding onto him tightly as you rocked on your heels in excitement. he cackled under his breath, a dramatic ‘oof’ catching in his throat from your tight embrace. still, he returned the embrace just as tightly.

soon enough, you pulled away from the hug and shot him a look of amazement. his dark jett black hair now reached down past his mid back, and it was tied messily into a half up half down bun. it was quite the dramatic change in contrast to when you last saw him. his demeanor even felt the slightest bit different, and you couldn't quite place your finger on it. as you were lost in the view that was suguru geto, you felt your face heat up immediately as his lips formed a knowing smile. you knew you were caught checking him out, and you weren't exactly sure what to say in that very moment.

“you look good, y/n. i’m happy to see you again after so long, seems you’ve grown too.” he remarked breathlessly, his dark obsidian eyes grazing over your figure with the same amazement you looked at him with. you nodded to his statement, your eyes fluttering slightly as you offered him a polite smile.

“yeah, not as much as you though, clearly.” you muttered back, gesturing to his height with your arms in a teasing manner. he chuckled at your response, reaching forward to ruffle your hair with his hand. “why were you late? satoru said you were gettin’ drinks?” he quizzed gently, his voice low and smooth like honey and it was enough to make you feel like you were going to melt. you nodded your head in response, carping about how satoru forgot to buy drinks. he shook his head, tsking with a weak smile as his eyes remained fixed on you. “sounds like satoru, dude would lose his head if it wasn’t attached.” he quipped in a defeated tone, before your conversation was oh so rudely interrupted by satoru. “speak of the devil.” you muttered in annoyance, reluctantly pulling him in for a side hug as your gaze remained on suguru.

satoru chortled, his blue eyes rolling as he pulled you in a bit tighter, giving you one more extra affectionate squeeze before letting you out of his grasp. “i told ya to not drag your ass y/n, don’t be angry at me.” he shrugged, his face plastered with the mundane shit eating grin he normally wore. you simply crossed your arms and rolled your eyes, turning back to pour yourself a cup of liquor to ease your nerves as suguru and satoru chatted it up. 

you sipped slowly, your face turning in with disgust at the taste before nudging satoru on the shoulder. “i don’t want this, you have it.” you requested in a dramatically appalled voice, holding the red solo cup out for him to grab. satoru didn’t hesitate in the slightest, shrugging before throwing his head back and gulping it down with ease. the idea of doing it yourself making your stomach turn as you shivered at the thought.

suguru looked over satoru for a moment, but his gaze was primarily fixed on you. after nearly 2 years, you grew taller, your body grew to be womanly, and your voice even lowered a bit. it was quite a lot to take in, especially after not seeing you for what felt like so long. the house was buzzing with chatter and music, the smell of sweat and alcohol filling the air from all the people gathered around to celebrate suguru’s return. your eyes met suguru’s again, your breath hitched in your throat and the pounding in your chest made you a bit nervous. you weren’t entirely sure exactly why you felt the way you felt.

maybe it was the fact that you were seeing him again for the first time in two years. or maybe, it was just the way he looked now. it had you astonished, for lack of better words. not once within your ten years of friendship did you see him like that, but the way he looked at you with his nihilistic smile made that change in an instant. you were lost in thought before satoru nudged your arm, pointing at the crowd that was dancing; with an irritated looking suguru in his grasp. you nodded, waving them off to go have fun as you turned on your heels to exit out of the garage door. you drew in a deep breath, closing your eyes momentarily to gather your thoughts and calm your breathing.

that’s when you saw it again, a black motorcycle standing on it’s peg in front of your eyes. you stepped closer, observing it in curiosity of whose it could be to be sitting in satoru’s garage. you continued looking at it, checking for any signs of it being someone you know. and just as you were about to give up, suguru entered the dimly lit garage with a bashful smile gracing his lips.

“i see you found my bike, it’s nice huh?” he revealed that it was his bike, and it made your head spin in perplexity. just who was suguru now? “i- yeah actually it is nice. i didn’t know you rode one until now.” you admitted in a breathless mumble, your eyes darting between him and his bike. “your girlfriend into biker guys or what?” you puzzled playfully, fully unaware of what he was about to tell you.

“satoru didn’t tell you?” he laughed out loud, his large hands tucking into his pockets as he took a few steps closer to you and his bike. “we broke up, i found out she cheated on me a couple months ago.” he informed simply, his lips pursing into a thin line as he looked you up and down. well fuck, that’s awkward. you sighed in response, resting your hand on his shoulder briefly before letting your arm fall back down to your side.

“i’m sorry, satoru doesn’t tell me much about you these days so..” you looked up at him and smiled sheepishly, an apologetic look written all over your features. he shook his head, pulling his hand out of his pocket and wrapping his arm around your shoulder reassuringly. “no big deal at all, i know how satoru can be.” he replied shortly, a weak smile tugging on his lips as he looked down at you.

“i’m about to head out, you know i hate when satoru throws these over the top parties.” the idea of him taking off already made you feel a bit sad, but you weren’t going to stop him. especially because you were just as overwhelmed by them as he was. “you want a ride home, y/n?” his question made you jolt in shock.

“uh, n-no i’m fine, i drove here. thank you though.” you blubber out, still reeling from the shock of the question. “oh, alright then, no worries.” a definite look of disappointment crosses the otherwise stoic face, making you feel as if you need to back peddle. “but!” you shout almost a bit too loud from nerves as you try to salvage the situation, “we could always meet up at my house, just like the old times, huh?” a slightly unnerving smirk flashes across suguru’s face, making your heart beat all the faster, “sure, i’ll see you there.”

you wasted no more time in heading home, making it there quicker than you’d like to admit. you didn’t even think of saying goodbye to satoru as you pull into your driveway. your headlights shined on suguru who was sliding off his helmet in front of your car, his dark bangs falling into his face messily before he straightened them out. you swallowed thickly, enjoying the view

before pulling your keys out of the ignition and stepping into the warm night air. you let out a deep exhale, the sounds of crickets and your footsteps filling your ears.

you offered suguru a gentle smile, reaching forward to grab at his hand and drag him along with you to the front of your house. he chuckled from behind you, accepting your warm hand into his and enjoying the sense of nostalgia that you brought to him. you fumbled with your keys, doing your very best to unlock the door with your shaky hands. at once, you finally unlocked the door, pushing it open and stepping inside with suguru almost glued to your back.

your parents were gone on vacation for the summer, so the house was empty and looked quite desolate as you made your way up to the bedroom with him. when you reached your bedroom, your hand smacked the wall on the inside of the door and slid around in an attempt to find the light switch. the lights finally flickered on, causing you to squint from the sudden intrusion of light. suguru stepped into the room in front of you, looking around with a bright smile.

“i see your room hasn’t changed very much. it’s cute, i like it.” he murmured, the smile on his face evident in his voice as he spoke. you nodded along, turning on a lamp and shutting off the over powering ceiling light. “yeah, didn’t have much of a need or want to change anything.” you replied with a tint of blush dusting over your cheeks as suguru took a seat on the edge of your bed with his legs spread apart.

“really? even these dumb little things?” he quipped snarkily, grabbing one of your teddy bears in his hand and squeezing it. you let out a whine, as if to protest against him before snatching it from his hands and stroking it’s head with your finger. “i’ll have you know that mr. teddy is not some dumb thing.” you growled back, your finger still tracing its plushy fur as suguru chortled under his breath. 

“nothing about you has changed, y/n. you’re as feisty as ever.” he stated firmly, his dark eyes flickering into yours as he awaited your response. you let out a soft sigh, setting the teddy bear back down onto the mattress before taking a seat next to him on the edge of the bed. “yeah, kinda have to be to hold my ground around satoru when you’re gone.” you provoked teasingly, a toothy grin spreading across your face as you looked back at him. “i’ve missed you, sugu.” you added, this time sounding a bit more sentimental.

“yeah i’ve missed you too, sweet girl.” he hummed, wrapping his arm around your shoulder to pull you in and press a tender kiss to the top of your head. he closed his eyes for a moment, his chin now resting there as he inhaled the scent of your shampoo. he let out a soft exhale, the sound of his own heart pounding in his ears. “how long are you gonna stay? i assume just over the summer, yeah?” you quizzed as your eyes fluttered shut, your head still pressed firmly into his shoulder. 

“just for the summer.” he confirmed in a more somber tone now, his back eyes remaining closed as he pressed his lips on the back of your head once more. he pulled you fully into his lap, slotting you in comfortably in between his thighs with your back against his chest. he slid your hair to the side, revealing the back of your neck. he pressed another delicate kiss there, trying to gauge your reaction to it all.

your breath caught in your throat, your thighs pressing together in a desperate attempt to soothe the aching that was building up in between your legs. suguru took note of this, his arms now wrapping around your waist from behind. his lips moved from the back of your neck, his arm reaching up to hook his fingers around the collar of your shirt to reveal your shoulder. he peppered hot sloppy kisses to the sensitive skin, his tongue darting out every now and then to leave wet spots in his wake.

this elicited a small whine from you, your eyes slamming shut from the sensation as your body began to heat up and squirm in his lap. Your responsiveness mixed with your hips squirming against his groin caused his cock to stiffen against the fabric of his jeans, a low guttural groan falling from his mouth and sending vibrations into your shoulder. “s-sugu..” you whined, your head rolling to the side to give him better access.

“so you do want this, sweetheart?” he asked sweetly, his hands falling to your hips to hold you firmly in place as he moved to suck on the side of your neck. you had little to no way to form words at this point, however deciding to go with a simple nod wasn’t enough. “use your words, baby. i want to hear you say it.” he chuckled deeply into your skin, his lips grazing across the soft and sensitive surface teasingly.

you mewled in desperation, your hips bucking into his throbbing member that pressed against the small of your back. “i want it.. please.. need you sugu..” your voice was wobbly and laced with desperation. you were really exposing yourself at the moment, revealing that this is something you’ve been longing for for quite some time now.

he reached up with one of his hands to wrap your hair into a makeshift ponytail, tugging it around his knuckles harshly to force your head back as he sucked on your skin more feverishly now. “i thought so, you wouldn’t stop fucking me with those pretty eyes of yours all night.” he purred, his voice velvety and full of undying lust as he squeezed your hair in his hand even tighter. you cried out from the sting, your eyebrows knitting together at the painful sensation. your hand reached up to grip at his hand resting on your hip, squeezing it tightly in an attempt to ground yourself.

this caused him to laugh sadistically as he traced small affectionate patterns on the soft skin of your hand. his grip on your hair never faltered as he pulled you up by it and stood to his feet, gently forcing you to your knees in front of him. he muttered a small ‘sorry’ for the way your exposed knees smacked against the hardwood. you immediately know the drill, urgently reaching up to unbuckle his belt as you feel your wetness seep from your panties and onto the floor below. he tugged back your head by your hair firmly, clicking his tongue before he spoke. “slow, sweetheart. do it slowly, i wanna see how pretty you look when you swallow my cock. make sure you look at me while you do it, or i’ll make you stop.” he ordered sternly, his light and gentle voice strongly contradicting the harshness of his order, but you obeyed regardless.

you wanted nothing more than for him to just fill your mouth, so you happily obliged. you looked up into his dark hazy eyes, slowly unbuckling his belt and unzipping his jeans. with one small tug, his bulge was now visible through his wet and sticky boxers. you let out a needy moan, your eyelashes fluttering up at him as you pressed your tongue to the stain of precum at his tip, lapping and sucking at it through the fabric.

suguru sucked in air through his teeth, a moan coming out with his exhale as he looked down at you. his hand reached down to grip you by the chin and stroke your cheek with the rough pad of his thumb, a gentle smile resting on his lips. “not so feisty now are you? you’re such a naughty girl, didn’t know you had it in you to obey.” he teased, his abs rippling under his shirt as his body tensed up from the feeling of your pretty lips against the clothed tip of his cock. 

you let out a slightly annoyed groan at his statement, gently nibbling on the tip with your teeth to discourage him from teasing you like that. this caused him to tug at your hair roughly, ripping your mouth away from his throbbing cock. you shrieked at the sudden tug, your head reeling with pain before he spoke. “if you bite my dick like that again, i’m not gonna let you cum. and if i’m not mistaken– that’s definitely not what you want, is it pretty?” he grumbled, his voice a lot less gentle and a lot more hoarse. he dragged your head back to force your face into his cock once more, letting out a breathy giggle as his hips pushed forward to press his stiffened member to your cheek.

you definitely didn’t want to be denied the pleasure of cumming all over his cock, so you decided to comply this time around. you reached up and hooked your fingers around the waistband of his boxers, slowly dragging them down his muscular thighs as you looked up at him with an apologetic look in your eyes. he let out a soft hum of approval, his cock finally springing free from the tight fabric of his boxers.

the sight alone elicited a wanton moan to bubble up in your throat, his heavy and girthy member twitching in front of your face with precum dripping from the tip. you lapped at the tip of his cock, the salty taste of precum swirling around your taste buds. a normally unpleasant taste

became something you enjoyed, it sent a rush of arousal straight to your core. you savored it for a moment before wrapping your lips around the tip and swirling your tongue around it slowly. you allowed a full moan to come up your throat, sending vibrations down his shaft as your wet hot tongue slid over his slit. this alone caused his hips to rut forward further into your mouth, his hand that held your hair trembling slightly as he gasped.

the sudden rut of his hips caused you to gag, finally committing to taking him as far as you could down your throat. one of your hands gripped his toned thigh, digging your nails in as you tried to steady yourself, while the other reached up to cup his balls in your hand. suguru got needy enough to start thrusting into your mouth full force, pulling your head forward by the hair to match his pace. you gagged and whined around him, hot tears welling up in your eyes and streaming down your rosy cheeks as his heavy balls smacked into your chin.

"so good baby, your throat grips my cock so fucking nicely." moans of profanities and your name fell from his pretty lips, his voice growing to be more airy and hoarse. all the sudden he pulled his cock from your throat, letting out a loud groan from the loss of contact on his throbbing length.

you looked up at him as you coughed and tried to catch your breath, a long thick string of saliva connecting the tip of his cock to your lips. you sat on your knees for a moment, waiting for his next move as saliva and precum dripped down your chin and onto your chest. he was staring down at you, his thick veiny member coated in your saliva twitching right in front of your lips. "you look stunning when you struggle to breathe, angel. you look like such a cock hungry little girl." he wanted to enjoy this view for as long as he could, taking in the way your saliva soaked the white blouse you had on as your saliva dripped from your chin in a very lewd way.

he crouched down to your level, finally letting go of your hair, and it was immediately sore and achy from how tight he was holding it. but that thought quickly left your mind when he pulled you in for a delicate but heated kiss, his large hands cupping your dainty face as he began deepening it. his tongue slid across your bottom lip, tugging it in between his lips before plunging his tongue into your mouth. your tongues tangled together naturally, your lips melting into one another's as you moaned into suguru's mouth. the kiss was dirty, sure. but it held a feeling that felt like much more than just lust. 

with no warning he pulled you to your feet with ease, letting you rest against his chest momentarily to stabilize your wobbly legs before bending you over on the desk. your hands rested flat against the cold wood surface, shivering as he lifted up your skirt and grazed his fingers along the swell of your ass. “you’ve got such a nice ass princess.. don’t remember it looking this pretty last time i saw you.” he gritted his teeth, leaving a harsh smack on one of your

cheeks before tugging your panties off in one swift motion. you shrieked, the sting of his hand lingering on your ass caused your arousal to splatter down your thighs.

“already wet and all you’ve done is suck my cock a little.. that’s cute baby.” he hums, his large hand kneading on the flesh of your ass while the other one slides in between your folds, rubbing harsh circles on your clit and watching the way your body tenses up from his touch. his chest filled with pride, seeing you so fucked out for him already from just a couple brushes of his fingers.

he dipped two thick digits into your aching hole, holding still for a moment to really feel the way you fluttered around his fingers. you bucked your hips against his hand, desperate for him to give you even the slightest bit more. doing this caused his cock to throb painfully, hardly able to focus from his imagination of what it would be like to have your gummy walls wrapped around his cock. he took his fingers out slowly, a wet pop following before he licked them clean with an airy grunt. “i’ll have to taste you another time, i need to be inside you, now sweetheart.” he aired breathlessly, his hand gripped his thick cock and he moved forward to press the tip to your leaking entrance. 

he slid it up and down your slick folds, enjoying the lewd sound it made before pushing the tip inside of you. your body jolted forward as if to escape from the sudden but long awaited intrusion, a slight pain creeping into your cunt from the stretch of his dick nearly tearing you open. this causes suguru to yank your arms out from under you and pull you against his chest, shoving his cock all the way in. you yelped in pain, your pussy sucking him in desperately despite how much you were stretched as you began to moan and whine his name.

“it’s okay baby, just take it. i’m sorry for being so rough. but i mmhh– i need to fuck you.” he apologized briefly through broken moans before starting to thrust into you from behind. he held your arms behind your back tightly and shoved you face down onto the desk as his hips snapped into your ass. sounds of slapping, your mixed moans and the creaking of the desk underneath you filling the otherwise quiet room. he leaned down from behind you, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder before bullying into your cunt even further.

you squeal and squeeze your legs together as the tip of his cock pounded against your cervix repetitively, your mouth falling open and your eyes fluttering to the back of your skull. “s-sugu.. fuck meee oh my god–” you babbled on and on, you couldn’t even breathe, couldn’t even speak properly to tell him how much you loved him and the way he ruined you. his hand let go of one of your arms, reaching forward to grip the base of your throat and coax your head back before placing a kiss on the tip of your ear.

“i am fucking you, sweet girl.” he chastised with a chuckle, his other hand reaching down to slide under your shirt and raise it enough to roll your nipple in between his thumb and index finger. your body visibly shuddered from the pleasure, his hand leaving your throat to let your head fall back against the desk before reaching down to rub quick circles around your clit. immediately you felt your high creeping up on you, the pressure in your abdomen building and close to unraveling. 

suguru took note of the way you fluttered around his length, the way you gripped him causing him to clench his jaw. he didn’t want it to be over just yet, making quick work of flipping you onto your back against the the desk. he pushed your knees up to your shoulders, spreading your legs wide and admiring the sight of your dripping cunt before pushing back into you with ease.

he set the pace again, pressing his forehead to yours before capturing your lips into a deep kiss. it didn’t take long for you to get close again, the bottom of his navel rubbing into your clit with each deep thrust he took inside of you. you whimpered into his mouth, lapping at his tongue sloppily in desperation before he broke the kiss. “i’m close sugu.. so so close.. please–” she cried out as she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him in impossibly deeper than before. he groaned out, one of his hands reached forward to hold your face in it while his other took care of your sensitive bud.

his dark raven bangs clung to his forehead as a bead of sweat dripped down his temple. “i’m close too baby, it’s okay. you can cum.” he reassured gently, stroking her hot cheeks with his thumb affectionately. as he chased his high, he felt his muscles tense up, feeling you lock up underneath him made his hips move more feverishly, determined to pull your orgasm out of you harder.

you wrapped your arms around his neck, gripping onto his back and sinking your nails into his sweaty tanned skin. you panted, finally mustering up the courage to say what you’ve wanted to for so long. ‘i love you suguru, i love you s– so much..” and just like that, you came undone as a white heat rushed through your body. your back arched off the desk, your eyes slammed shut and your mouth fell slack as your insides pulsated around him. your clear sticky cum formed a ring around the base of his cock, coating his pelvic bone and his balls as he thrusted into you.

your confession certainly caught him by surprise, but he accepted it wholeheartedly as it threw him into an orgasm of his own. “i love you too, y/n. fuck– always have, my pretty girl.” he huffed out, his hand drifting from the skin of your cheek and down to your throat to squeeze it tightly. he pulled out and pumped his swollen length a couple of times before cumming all over your tummy.

he fucked his own hand a bit more as he rode out his high, a couple more thin ropes of his hot white seed following behind. a guttural moan jumping up his throat as his eyebrows knitted together. fuck, he looked so pretty. 

he leaned in and moved your hair out of your face before pressing a delicate kiss to your temple. the back of his index finger ghosting down the edge of your jawline before he pulled away to look for something to clean the both of you up. he wiped away the mess, a gentle and almost unreadable expression gracing over his handsome face as he focused on taking care of you. 

he straightened out your skirt, his large veiny hands that were decorated with black nail polish sliding along your hips as if to worship the view a bit more before picking you up and laying you down on the bed. he caged you in underneath him, taking a good look at your face before kissing the tip of your nose.

“so you love me huh? maybe i’ll just have to stay here.” his expression softened, and a smile grew on his lips to reveal his pearly whites. the sight of his smile made your heart swell, it wasn’t the kind of smile you saw very often, but when you did it could like up an entire room. “i suppose i do, sugu.” you teased back, pressing a kiss to his lips gently before you both laid down together on your twin sized mattress.

[agentmarcuspike]

dave york x babysitter!f!reader

summary: the kids you babysit have a hot dad. you want him. but he's married... cws: unfaithfulness (dave is married to carol), power imbalance (employer and employee), fainting, thigh grinding, fingering, reader wears a skirt, dad!dave and his kids, nicknames (baby, honey), reader sits in dave's lap, mention of blood, frottage kinda, one (1) shoulder bite word count: 2.7k divider by @thecutestgrotto thank you and shoutout to my cheerleaders on this, liv @5oh5 and han @swiftispunk <3 and my love @joelsversion for helping with the header <3

"Without touching his skin, How can I be guilty as sin?"

You hate being alone with Dave York.

There’s nothing wrong with him. He’s a perfectly pleasant, well-mannered man. His daughters, Molly and Alice, are angels when you look after them (mostly), and nothing Dave has ever said or done has made you uncomfortable. Your interactions are innocent and professional. And that’s exactly the problem. 

There’s nothing wrong with him.

Because when you’re left alone together, in the evenings when his kids are asleep and he offers to drive you home, or in the mornings on the days he doesn’t work  from home and he pours you a cup of coffee in the kitchen while you make the girls breakfast… you can’t stop your mind from wandering.

You’re not entirely sure what Mr. York does for work, but you know he must look good doing it. Prancing around the house in his fitted dress pants that hug his front and back just right. His loose dress shirt hiding the body you suspect is strong and strapping, based on the sounds coming from the garage when he tells you he’ll be working out. And those are just the parts you don’t get to see.

His hands, however, are always on full display. When they curl around that mug he hands you. His palm brushing the small of your back as he opens the door for you when you leave. Fingers tapping, sometimes only one on the steering wheel, when he drives you home. When he’s typing away at the computer in his home office, or brushing the hair out of his girls’ faces before kissing their heads goodnight on the nights that he makes it home in time. Oh, those fingers… and that ring.

The ring he wears as a promise to Carol, his wife, that he’ll always be faithful to her. You should know how much a promise like that means. Someone once promised you the same. To always be there, to never stray. But stray they did. And the pain of that is something you don’t wish on anyone.

So yes, you hate being alone with Dave York. Because he’s so close. You spend more hours in his house than your own, basically raising his kids. And he’s right there… but he’s not for you.

It has been a very long day, and yet the clock on the kitchen stove shows only 11:27. The girls have run through the garden sprinklers all morning, worn out and down for a nap already, a combination of heat and exhaustion making you wish you could do the same. The heat wave has lasted for days now, only alleviated by a few minutes of clouds during the worst hours. 

Your bare thighs cling to the chair as you get up to clean up your lunch. It’s quick work, so you do the rest of the dishes too, even though it’s not your job. Warm soapy water prunes your fingers quickly, the only parts of your body not already damp with sweat. The house is rarely this quiet during the day, only the distant sounds of traffic from the main road blocks away filling the room, joining the splashing of water and clangs from dishes as you put them back into their cabinets. Some mornings you can hear Dave talking in his office, the sound carrying through the house. You can never make out what it is he’s talking about, only the low rumble of his voice sometimes plaited with other voices through computer speakers. He’s quiet today. 

This heat is unbearable, you think, as you wipe your forehead with wet hands. Leaning on the counter, you take a deep breath. For a second your eyesight falters, and lightheadedness washes over you. Have you even had a glass of water today? You can feel your legs start to wobble, vision turning static, and you’ve just started swaying when–

“Hey, hey!” 

A strong hand grabs your arm as you topple over, and you lean into Dave’s solid chest, letting him support your weight as you focus on your breathing. 

“There you go, honey,” he soothes. “Deep breaths.”

His shirt smells crisp and clean, the scent interrupted by whiffs of soap and cologne from his skin underneath it, as you inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

“You okay?” His big hand draws circles on your back, still holding you up with the other.

“Just hot…” you manage, lifting your head up to see a concerned Dave look down at you with furrowed brows. 

“Come lie down in my office for a bit, the AC is better in there.”

He supports you on your unsteady legs with an arm firmly around your waist, guiding you to his work room at the other end of the house. You’ve never really been in there, only stuck your head through the door to let him know you’re leaving at the end of the day.

The room is huge, especially for a home office. Floor to ceiling windows cover the far wall, his desk in the middle of the room, facing the door. Bookcases line the other walls, filled with mostly folders and what looks like heavy encyclopedias. In front of one of them is, of all things, a chaise lounge. What is he, a shrink? You’ve never seen him have anyone else in there, but for all you know he might as well be. He’s got the calm and steady presence you imagine one would need to be any kind of doctor.

“Here,” he says as he guides you over to the chaise, one big hand engulfing yours, the other supporting your neck as you lower yourself down.

“Let me get you some water.” 

As he leaves the office again, you hurriedly smooth your skirt down, suddenly very aware of how much skin you’re showing. If you lift your knees your entire ass would be on display for him when he returns, but you know keeping your feet up will be good for the dizziness. You settle for an in-between, only one leg raised, and the other straight out, just as Dave returns, bottle in hand. He twists the cap open before he hands it to you.

“Thanks,” you breathe as you accept it, gulping down half the contents in one go. You hand the bottle back to him and he chugs the rest. Your eyes are fixed on his plush lips around the bottle opening that was just between your own. You wonder what they would feel like on your warm skin.

As he drinks, a stray droplet escapes from the side of his mouth, trickling down to his chin. It runs down the length of his throat, Adam’s apple bouncing when he swallows, and then the drop disappears underneath his shirt collar. Your mouth waters, yet you feel even thirstier. You’d like to rip his shirt off and lick the droplet off his chest, as if only that could quench your thirst. And you can’t help but feel… No, you can help it. You should. It’s completely inappropriate. He’s your employer, your boss, and he’s… so Goddamn good looking. Shit.

He crumples the empty plastic before throwing it away in the bin next to his desk. Slumping down in his office chair he turns his attention to the computer screen.

Typing away at his keyboard, you watch him. Doctor York? Professor York? You try to imagine him; teaching a class, doing paperwork at an office, running a store, being someone’s strict and authoritarian boss. The latter thought makes your legs clench together involuntarily. 

“What do you do?”

The question escapes you before you can help it, and you cringe slightly at your own sudden bluntness. 

“Sorry?”

“I just realized I don’t know what you do for work.”

He doesn’t look up from the screen when he speaks, but a subtle smile plays on his lips.

“If I told you I’d have to kill you.” You laugh.

“That would suck. Who would look after your kids?”

“I’d be on the run, so not me.”

“Carol, then. All alone. Poor Carol.”

“Yeah. Poor Carol…” he agrees, voice suddenly grave.

A few minutes pass, comfortable yet somehow charged silence surrounding you. When he speaks again, his tone shifts—still dark, but less grave.

"Ever been to Europe?" he asks, breaking the stillness.

The unexpected question leaves you momentarily flustered.

“Uh, yeah, I, uhm… I went backpacking there a million years ago,” you stutter.

His eyes narrow slightly. "Really?"

“Why is that so hard to believe?" you challenge, squinting back at him.

“Just a little surprising, I suppose.” 

He meets your gaze without flinching, a spark of something unreadable flickering in his dark eyes.

“I’m actually planning a trip to Belgium. Come have a look at this.”

He beckons you closer with two fingers, the gesture innocent and yet, paired with your clouded judgment and current state of mind, borderline obscene.

Carefully, you put your two feet down on the floor, taking a moment to test your balance. Once confident you won’t topple over again, you step over to his side of the workspace. You lean over his desk, one hand on the table and one on the armrest of the office chair he’s seated in, squinting at the screen. It’s probably very interesting, pictures and lists of things to do and see abroad, but the only thing you can focus on is the sliver of ass you know is revealed when you bend over in this particular skirt. You’d usually wear something more work appropriate, even just a pair of hot pants underneath. But this weather… This heat…

Dave’s gaze is just as scorching as he awaits your reaction, and you can tell he’s working hard not to let his eyes wander. Just like you do, when from the corner of your eye you spot his hand moving absentmindedly up and down his thigh, resting a little too long at the top, thumb grazing his groin.

“Want me to bring you something back?” he asks, voice low, close to a whisper, as if worried someone could hear him. 

You shift your weight from one leg to the other, giving your feet a little more space between them, making room between your thighs. Suddenly, his fingers graze the insides of your thighs and his hand trails upwards, coming to rest over the wet patch of your underwear, damp from your excitement or from the temperature you’re not sure. An audible sigh escapes you at the contact. He responds with a groan of his own as he starts drawing circles over your clothed clit.

“I’ve heard they have great chocolate,” you stutter in response to his question.

“Yeah? You got a sweet tooth?”

You wish desperately he would touch your skin, and try to angle your hips so he can slip a finger under your panties, but he just follows your movements, touching you through the fabric. You only hum in response.

“God, this isn’t right…” you hear him whisper to himself. You don’t disagree, yet neither of you make a move to stop.

His hands move to rest on your hips, and he slowly turns you to face him. Soft fingers grip you tightly. The insides of his legs brush the bare skin of your own, making you shiver despite the heat. Your eyes flutter shut.

“Look at me,” he says, pleading. So you do. The darkness of his eyes pull you in, and you’re almost taken over by the urge to lean down and kiss him. As you start to bend down, one hand resting on his shoulder, his hands on your hips keep you in place. At a distance.

“Tell me we shouldn’t do this.” His eyes rake over your body, taking you in, short fingernails digging into your skin. “Tell me this is wrong.”

It wouldn’t be a lie. It really is, and you really shouldn’t. So you’re not sure why throw one leg over his and straddle his thigh. A buzz shoots through you as your swollen core meets the tight muscle of his leg. You’re so close to him like this. So close you can feel the warm puffs of his quickened breath fan your skin, with a faint scent of coffee, toothpaste, and something else, indistinct but distinctly Dave.

Details of his complexion you’ve never noticed before become clear. The worry lines between his brows. The sharp curve of his cupid’s bow. The few hairs he’d missed while shaving, probably in a hurry, that morning.

Almost unwillingly your hips start drawing small circles, chasing release. Dave’s hands haven’t moved an inch, still gripping your hips, following your movements. His eyes are fixed at where your legs clasp around his own, soft movements growing erratic as your pleasure pulls you further.

Under his clothes he’s fully hard now, the fabric of his dress pants stretching around his erection. You imagine the weight of him in your hand, how your fingers would barely meet around his shaft when you jerk him off. You shift forward, thrusting, wanting desperately to feel him, but he holds you in place, pulling his own hips away from you.

“Nuh-uh.” One of his hands releases its grip on you and rises to gently cup your face. The tips of his fingers barely brush your skin. “Not like that.”

“What?” you breathe.

“Just…” Dave’s face contorts slightly as he sighs. “Just take what you need. What you want.”

You continue to grind on his thick thigh, drenching his trousers with each movement. Back and forth, clenching around nothing. As your breath quickens, you hunch over more and more, forehead eventually landing on Dave’s shoulder. Your teeth come down on the soft flesh of your cheek, and you chew, molars slicing through the skin until you taste blood. 

“Come on,” he purrs, his voice hoarse and vibrating in your ear. “Come on, baby, give it to me.”

“I’m gonna–

Your mouth falls open in silent moan, and you bite down on his shoulder to keep from making a sound, soaking his already damp cotton shirt in saliva and drops of blood from the inside of your mouth. His grip on your hips is relentless, and he groans through his gritted teeth as you fall over the edge.

“Fucking… come… on.”

And you do.

Your thighs clench around Dave’s, and you can feel him tense up as well, sending new waves of pleasure through your core. The buzzing vibration runs from your middle, through your spine, and sets off another spark at the very top of your skull. Your hairs stand up, goosebumps. The blood pumping in your ears deafens you momentarily. 

With your nose buried in his neck, nuzzled behind his ear, you take a few breaths to restrain yourself. His hands are looser on you now, thumbs drawing small circles on your hip bones. His chest rises and falls underneath you, slowing in time with yours.

And just as you’re about to lift your head from his shoulder, not quite ready to face the reality of what has just happened, what you’ve done, someone else breaks the silence.

“Daddy!”

Molly’s sleepy voice is unmistakable from down the hall. Dave’s hands are off you in a second, and you barely have time to react before he’s on his feet.

“Dave, I’ll take her–”

But he’s already out the door.

Once you’ve flattened your skirt and straightened up in the hallway bathroom, you find them in the kitchen. Molly is blabbering, Alice yawning, while Dave is listening and laughing, arranging their lunch in funny shapes on their plates. Cucumbers for eyes, a slice of bell pepper for a pair of red lips, a piece of mushroom becomes the nose. The children giggle at their Dad’s shenanigans. 

You stand in the doorway, observing. Domestic bliss. They’re not your kids and he’s not your husband, and this moment is not for you. As the kids’ laughter and the clang of kitchenware reverberates through the open kitchen, you catch yourself wondering how Dave will explain the stains you made on his clothes to Carol.

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