#hundred doorknobs

[cakechako]

there’s no feeling like being obsessed with a character that’s completely fucked up. psychotic. off the rails if you will. it makes me questions my own mind like…is this supposed to be therapeutic?? cathartic?? like there’s so many things wrong with them but it’s all so compelling

[cherrygirlfriend]

pillow play pairing: perv!rafe x thornton!reader synopsis: perv!rafe jerks off to his best friend's sister who is humping her pillow. warnings: smut! male + female masturbation, voyeurism, MDNI! - wc: 1.2k originally posted 12/03/2024

if topper knew the kind of thoughts his best friend had about his sister, rafe knew topper would make sure he never even caught another glimpse of you. if only top knew that whenever he passed out during a party or just a casual hangout between the two, rafe would slip upstairs, walking down the hall until he reached the door to your bedroom, he'd twist the doorknob, some light filtering into your dark bedroom, making you move around in bed in a way that caused alarm bells to go off inside rafe's head, hearing his own heartbeat fill his ear as he stopped in his tracks.

but as soon as you stopped moving and continued to breathe softly as you slept, rafe would slip further into your bedroom, looking down at your serene, sleeping form with a mixture of fondness and guilt; he knew that this was something he absolutely shouldn't be doing, but the more he tried to resist it, the more he craved to do it; the more he craved you.

rafe would pull open the drawer he'd gotten to know so well, sneaking a pair of your lacy panties and slipping them into his back pocket, before making his way to your bed, kneeling next to it, the blonde watching as your chest rose and fell with every breath you took like it was the most fascinating thing he'd ever seen, captivated by the sight.

he pushed a strand of hair away from your forehead, before connecting his lips with your forehead, causing you to let out a content sigh in your sleep. he hoped you were dreaming about him; even if it wasn’t likely. "goodnight, sleeping beauty."

this was another one of those nights; topper was passed out on the couch in his living room after the two had decided to drink beer and play call of duty, only for topper to pass out after rafe challenged him to a drinking game. rafe stood up and lightly shook his sleeping friend, but when topper simply mumbled something in his sleep like nothing had happened much like you did, rafe knew he was good to go.

slowly, he walked up the stairs, taking slow, quiet steps down halls that were lined with family pictures along with ones of you and topper when you were younger up to graduation, pictures he was sure he had passed a hundred times when he was making the trek to your bedroom, but as he looked at your bedroom door, decorated with a sign that had your name on it that had been there for as long as he could remember, rafe noticed that something was different.

the light was on.

usually, you were long asleep by this time; but as rafe got closer to your door, he could heard noises that were muffled by the hardwood door. he couldn't process it at first, but when you were just a little bit louder, he had a guess about what the cause of those little noises was, and so rafe pressed his ear against the door to make sure that he was hearing what he thought he was.

and there it was; you were letting out beautiful, breathy moans, the noise slightly muffled by the thickness of the door. carefully, rafe twisted the doorknob and pulled the door open just a crack, already hearing your pretty little noises much better, his jeans starting to feel tighter just from that. he had no idea how you had that big of an effect on him.

opening the door only slightly more, rafe peeked into the room, feeling like he might blow his load just from the sight displayed in front of him.

you were perched on top of one of your ruffly decorative pillows, your laptop open on the bed next to you, playing something less-than-appropriate, your face contorted in bliss as you rode your pillow, seemingly unaware of your surroundings, and seemingly unaware of who was watching you.

your body was covered only by a pair of panties that were all too familiar to rafe, having been a pair he'd seen in your drawer before, as well as a flimsy tank top that you were palming your tits through greedily, and the blonde couldn't resist bringing his hand to his belt, swiftly unbuckling it and unzipping his jeans as he watched you, your head thrown back in pleasure, rafe palming himself through his boxers.

he licked the palm of his hand to help slick it up, taking his cock out of his boxers, already standing at attention.

rafe watched as you pulled your tank top up slightly, showing a sliver of your tits, and even that was enough to make a small whimper escape his lips as he stroked his cock, the tip glistening with a drop of precum that he spread around his shaft as he continued stroking himself, wishing he could use your arousal to help lubricate him.

you hadn't heard the small sounds escaping him, or the slight fapping noise coming from his hand as he stroked himself, the man so infatuated by the sight of you getting yourself off on your pillow, your features contorting in pleasure, as he pictured that it was your hand stroking him, dreaming that he replaced the pillow you were grinding your pussy against, using him, rubbing your clothed cunt against his bare, hard cock.

this was the first time he had done something like that, watching you while getting himself off, but rafe knew that after he got a taste of it, he wouldn't be able to stop. it felt too good.

"unnghh..." you moaned breathily, feeling yourself get closer as you continued using the pillow on yourself, pressing it against your clit, the lacy pair of panties you wore covered in the arousal that had pooled around your legs, slowly causing even the pillow to get drenched as it dripped down your thighs.

rafe couldn't get himself to think about how wrong it was, about how topper would kill him if he found him in this situation; the only thing on his mind was you, and the way you'd look on his lap, riding him, those perky tits right in front of his face as you took all of him, your nails digging into his shoulders, how your smooth thighs would feel under his hands...

when you let out a particularly loud moan, rafe felt the pressure in his stomach snap, coating the inside of his jeans with his white, sticky cum, your movements stilling as you keeled over on the bed, completely out of breath and panting, while your laptop still replayed moans and sighs, and as he tucked himself back into his boxers and jeans, rafe knew that once you were dead asleep, he'd be paying you another visit and going through your laundry basket for the pair of panties you’d just soaked.

[sanguineterrain]

holiday spirit | jason todd

Summary: Stuck at a shitty office party for your shitty job on Christmas Eve Eve, you’re at your wit’s end. The last thing you expect is to play vigilante for a night with the Red Hood.

Pairing: Jason Todd x fem!reader 

Word count: 7.2k

Warnings/tags: panic attacks, reader has anxiety, creepy coworkers, office party shenanigans, canon-typical violence, jason being both a menace and a sweetheart, attempts at humor, fake relationship, silliness!

the divider

You’re grateful for a reason to escape. Someone announces that the lights on the obnoxious eleven-foot Christmas tree are burned out and you’re already on the elevator, volunteering to find spare lights. 

You hate these office parties. They’re just a way to play politics, show off fiancés, and reaffirm cliques. You wanted to skip it all together. But Mr. Emerson, your boss, had insisted that attending tonight’s party was mandatory.

Alma had told you about a hundred times to skip tonight, but Alma’s worked here since the Reagan administration and has too much pull to be fired. You, conversely, have been here eight months, and if you get fired, your next job is going to be as a henchman for a B-list Gotham villain. 

Being painfully ordinary and anxious is a toxic mix. Your doctor still thinks all your worrying is because of your menstrual cycle. He doesn’t believe in work-related stress.

So anyway. You’re just trying to get through tonight. And find some tree lights that work. 

You unlock the spare office where all the holiday junk is stored and turn on the light. 

The motherfucking Red Hood looks at you, one leg dangling outside of the window and one leg inside the office. He unclicks his harness. 

"Oh my God,” you say, hand frozen on the light switch.

Red Hood pulls his leg in from the window and steps into the office. He puts the harness in a duffel bag and roughly zips it, then tosses it unceremoniously onto the floor. 

"Oh my God.”

He glances at you, helmet eyes glowing. "No God here, just me.”

"Oh my God," you say again, near hysterics. "Oh my God, Red Hood."

"Always nice to meet a fan," he says irritably, brushing snow off of his jacket, flashing his holsters. Oh, fuck. That's a lot of guns.

"What, um��" You close your eyes, lick your lips, try to find your sanity. "To what do I—why—are you gonna kill me?”

"The fuck? You think I'd sneak into an office and kill someone in cold blood? What kinda operation you think I'm running?"

Your mouth opens and closes in horror. "Wh–I... I don't—I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you, Mr. Hood."

"Please, Mr. Hood was my father."

He laughs. You taste bile in your throat. 

Hood sobers. "Damn. Tough crowd. Look, sorry to freak you out, but I got shit to do. If you'll just point me to Hershel Emerson's office, I'll be on my merry way."

"That's m-my boss. Are you gonna kill him?" You can’t handle murder tonight. You’ll have a breakdown for sure. 

"Literally, what did I just say?" Hood throws his hands up. "Not one minute ago. I'm not killing anyone!"

"Yet?" you ask weakly, mind inundated with too many mob movies to watch your manners. You know what the Red Hood is all about. Everyone does. 

"No. I'm not killing Emerson. But he is a bad dude, so I gotta take care of business. Actually, I should kill him. He deserves it."

You squeak in horror. He raises a hand.

"But I'm not!" he says gruffly. "Respectfully, get a grip. You live in Gotham."

You swallow. "What're you gonna do to my boss if not kill him?"

Hood shrugs. "Eh, maybe scare him a bit. Mostly get intel to take him down. He's currently sitting on five million dollars of stolen life savings from clients."

You blink. "What?"

"Yup. What I really wanna know is which of his employees are in on it. He didn't do this alone."

Hood takes out a small roll-up pouch of what looks like lockpicking tools. You release your sweaty death grip on the doorknob, causing it to squeak. Hood doesn't look up.

five million dollars is ringing in your head. That happened here. Where you work. Your boss is even scummier than you thought.

“Is that a lockpicking kit?” you ask.

“Yup. Good eye.”

"This seems... illegal.”

"Well, I won't lie to you, most of what I do is. You won't be implicated though.”

He looks at you. You flinch. Even with the lights on, the Red Hood is scary as shit. 

"Yeah..." he says, shaking his head. "You wouldn’t do well in prison. I can tell."

Your chest hurts. "I don't think anyone does well in prison," you say, eyebrows scrunching. "Have... you been to prison?"

"Only to break out a friend. You ask a lot of questions."

"Sorry. Um, Mr. Red Hood—"

"Ah-ah. Call me Red. Or Hood. No Mister-ing."

"Okay.” You lick your lips, hoping he doesn't go back on his temporary no-kill policy. “Hood, do you think you could come later? After the Christmas party?”

He tilts his head at you. You keep talking. 

“Not that I don't admire what you're doing! Because I think taking down my boss for stealing money is great, eat the rich and all that, but, um, I came up here to get lights to replace the ones that burned out downstairs because that's a normal thing that happens and now you're here, at my job, and I'm freaking out. Oh God, oh my God—”

You grab the wall for stability, feeling like you've been rocking on a boat for hours. Sweat beads on your forehead. This time, you really do feel like you’ll throw up. Throwing up in front of the Red Hood would be humiliating. 

“Look, I got shit to do, okay? I'm sorry you're freaking out but your boss is gonna cash out in a few days and then I lose him and that five million. It's now or never."

You should've just stayed home and baked cookies. Fuck being social! This is what happens when you're social: you meet morally gray vigilantes who force you to be complicit with their crimes.

Your cheeks feel wet. Are you crying? Maybe it’s sweat. 

Hood points to the hallway. "Is there a camera outside?"

"Y-yeah.” Your voice is weak. “I think I’m having a heart attack. Can you call security on your way out?"

“Does your left arm hurt?”

“No, but—”

“Are your limbs stiffening?”

“No, but—”

“You’re not having a heart attack. Your speech is fine.”

Hood takes out a few more things from the duffel, then kicks it under a desk with his foot. You wheeze and grab onto the doorknob again. 

It’s quiet for a second. Then— 

“Shit. You're having a panic attack,” Hood says.

"Mm, probably," you say, hunched over like an armadillo. Fuck your stupid doctor. 

There's silence as you wheeze quietly. Then something small hits your head. You flinch and squeal.

"You don't need to throw things at me!" you say, beyond defeated, near tears.

"No, I wasn't—sorry. It's a Warhead. I have one when I'm feeling… not my best. They're s’posed to help occupy your other senses so the panic disappears."

You stare at the candy, confused and suspicious at once. "Is it spiked?"

"Again, what sorta operation do you think I'm running? It's not drugs. Look." Hood unwraps a Warhead and sticks it in his mouth underneath his helmet. You hear him suck on it. "Eesh, that's sour. Okay? No drugs."

So you take the candy from the floor, unwrap it, and pop it into your mouth. The sour taste immediately overwhelms you. It's like your brain resets. You pant through the sour.

"Ough," you say, face scrunching from the taste.

"Yeah, right? Life changing hack."

You suck on the candy desperately and close your eyes, trying to find your breath. 

“It’s okay,” Hood says, stilted and awkward. “Just, uh, focus on your breathing. Exhale longer than you inhale. Breathe through your nose.”

It takes another few minutes, but the feeling passes. Your chest lightens. It’s the quickest you’ve ever recovered from a panic attack. 

“I was just kidding about the prison thing,” Hood says. “You’re not gonna go to jail ‘cause of this, I promise.”

Yeah, but what if you lose your job?

You spit the Warhead into a trash can and smack your tongue a bit. “Are you sure you can’t come back tomorrow night?”

“No can do,” Hood says. “Your boss will be gone by then.”

“It's just that I'm really bad with keeping secrets and according to Google, that's how ulcers form and I really can't afford any sick days off, so—"

You yelp as the door suddenly swings open, hitting your shoulder. You spin around.

"Hey," Bill says, squinting at you. "Where have you been?”

"No!" you yell, and turn off the light. 

Bill stares at you, illuminated by the hallway light. “Uh…”

You clear your throat. "Ahem. I'm fine. It's just taking me a moment to sift through all these decorations. Please return to the party.”

You hate Bill. He’s a sleaze and doesn’t do any work. More than once, he’s trapped you by the water cooler in a conversation about his “smokin’” imaginary lawyer girlfriend.

“If you wanted me to come help you, you could've just said so," he says, reaching for the light, way too close. You don’t like his tone either.

"No!" you yell, blocking the light switch with your hands.

"What the hell? Why not?"

"Because—"

There's a creak from the back. You wince. 

Bill immediately whips his head toward the sound. "Is someone here? Hello?"

He reaches for the light. Again, you block him, swatting his hands away.

"Would you stop—is someone here?"

"My boyfriend!" you blurt.

Bill stops, looking at you. "Your boyfriend? You've never mentioned a boyfriend."

"Well, I have one and he's here."

"Okay. Why can't I turn on the light and see him?"

"Because he's... um..."

You spot the red Santa suit out of the corner of your eye. 

Oh, this is a terrible idea.

"He's changing! He's our Santa for the party. Surprise!" You make weak jazz hands.

Bill looks into the dark where you're pretty sure Hood is hiding. You hope, anyway. Otherwise Bill is going to tell everyone that you're making up boyfriends. "Really?"

"Yeah, really," comes Hood's unmodulated, deadpan reply, and you jump. "Don't turn on the light. I'm naked."

"Oh..." Bill looks queasy for a moment. "Uh—" He looks at you and suddenly grins. "Oh, I get it. You two were having fun before going to the party, huh? Didn't know you were such a wildcat."

"That’s disgusting,” you say. “I would never do that in the office.”

Bill wiggles his eyebrows. "Me-ow. Does the Santa thing turn you on?"

"I'm right here, Bill, and naked or not, I'll kick your ass," Hood says.

Bill pales and quickly backs out of the room. "Right. Sorry. Uh, carry on."

He closes the door. You push your back against it and exhale, heart racing.

"Bill is a shithead," Hood says. 

“How… do you know his name?”

“Employee background check,” Hood says mildly. 

"Oh… yeah, he's been written up a bunch of times for inappropriate behavior, but he's close with Emerson, so he never gets fired."

"Want me to kill him for you? Free of charge."

"What? No! Hood—"

"Oh, relax. I was kidding."

"Uh-huh." You turn on the light. Hood has his helmet on, and his voice is modulated again. "What're we gonna do?"

"Well, I'm gonna go make sure Hershel doesn’t fuck off to Bermuda. The lights you wanted are here, by the way."

Hood tosses you a box of multi-colored tree lights. Then he walks toward you. You plaster yourself across the door.

"Wait! You can't leave. I said that my boyfriend is going to be Santa. Bill will tell everyone. They’ll expect you.”

"I appreciate your quick thinking, but that's a hard pass,” Hood says.

"You can't leave now! Bill's gonna tell everyone I'm a liar and they'll think I was up to something worse in here, like snorting coke."

"I mean this gently: I think you should look into anti-anxiety meds. My brother swears by Xanax.”

“My doctor won’t prescribe it to me,” you say glumly. “He thinks my anxiety is made up.”

“Huh. Want me to kill him? I know a better doctor.”

"Well…” You hesitate, then shake your head. “No! No. Hood, please. They’re all gonna expect a Santa. And when I don’t show up with Santa, they’ll remember that I didn’t participate in White Elephant or any of that other office nonsense that I don’t want to waste my money on. I need this job!”

“They’re not gonna fire you for not doing White Elephant,” Hood says. 

“You don’t know them! It’s a popularity contest.”

But Hood is indeed disinterested in the fact that you'll be the office pariah. Probably because he’s never worked in an office. 

Instead, he ushers you aside without a struggle. Then he turns the doorknob.

"Wait! Wait, listen. If you dress as Santa, you'll have access to the party and offices. You won't have to sneak around. And people get really drunk at these. They'll talk. You can figure out who's helping Emerson steal money."

His hand pauses. He looks at you. You look back, wringing your hands.

"You're pretty crafty," he says. 

"...Thanks?”

Hood releases the doorknob. "Alright, fine. I'll do the Santa shtick.”

“You will?”

He tilts his head. “Should I not?”

“No! No, you should. It’ll be a good disguise.”

He hums. “Sure. But we're in this together now, got it? You blow my cover and we both go down."

"Y-yeah, got it."

Hood heaves a gusty sigh. "Next time, I'm sending Roy in to do this shit."

"Who's Roy?"

"Ah." He holds up a finger. "Too many questions."

He makes a beeline for the Santa costume and then looks at you expectantly.

"Yo. Boyfriend or not, you're not watching me change. Guard the door, Mrs. Claus."

"Oh, right. Sorry."

You turn off the light and go into the hall, shutting the door behind you. It's empty, luckily. You rap your fingers on the box of lights, leg jiggling. 

This is insane. You should just tell Hood you can't do this and let him figure out his own plan.

But then... this would make it easier to find Emerson's crime partner. And you're really sick of Bill being a jerk. You don’t want to be called a liar, or get iced out for the rest of your time here because you didn’t bring Santa. Maybe having Hood be your Santa-boyfriend would make people leave you alone. Which is a crazy reason to stick to this plan, but still. You're trying to find the bright side.

And all those people that Emerson stole from... surely, you have a responsibility to help get their money back and bring him to justice, don't you?

The door swings open. You turn around.

“You wear a mask under your helmet?” 

“As a precaution.” He sounds defensive. “Lots of people in my profession do it.” 

You doubt that. “Don’t you think it’ll be weird if Santa has a mask on?” 

He hesitates, evidently debating between protecting his identity and arousing suspicion.

“Fine.” He carefully peels off the mask and tucks it into his pocket. The surrounding skin is slightly pink from irritation. His nose and cheeks are dotted with freckles. 

And wow. The Red Hood has beautiful eyes. So vibrant and clear, like seafoam. And young! How old is he, anyway? He doesn’t look much older than you, if at all. 

His eyes are framed by thick, dark lashes, and it makes sense, Hood being a brunet.

“What?” he snaps, glaring.

“Nice eyes,” you blurt.

His brows furrow. You remember the guns.

“Um, anyway. Should we go?” you squeak out, backing away.

Hood huffs through the beard. It flutters. "We need to have some ground rules."

"Okay."

"First, you should know that I will shoot if there's a physical threat at this party. Two, you're gonna call me Todd at the party. Three, if you try to tell anyone that I'm Red Hood or that I'm taking down Emerson, I will make your life hell. And if you're his partner, you'd better tell me now or I'm gonna be a lot less jolly."

"I'm not!" you say. "I would never do that. And I won't tell anyone you're Red Hood."

"Good. Let's go. Keep your ears open for hints about Emerson's partner."

He takes off in long strides. You hurry to keep up. The Santa costume doesn't slow him down.

"So how did you find out that Emerson's stealing?" you ask.

"Got a tip. You really didn't know he was stealing?"

“I don’t have access to the finances. I work in user interface. Website design.”

"Yeah? That's pretty cool. I got a brother who's into that stuff," Hood says.

"The same one who takes Xanax?”

“Would you believe it?”

You try to picture Red Hood with a regular family. With a brother or a sister or a father. It's hard to imagine.

“How come you don’t take anti-anxiety medication?” you ask. 

“I have Pit Madness Syndrome, and it has a weird chemical reaction with that stuff.”

“Oh.” Subject change. Quickly! "Do you celebrate Christmas?" 

"Not really. I'm not a believer or celebrator of much. You can see what my plans are two days before Christmas."

"Your family doesn't celebrate?"

Hood just grunts, eyes suddenly stormy. You take the hint and stop talking.

The room where the party is isn't particularly special. It's big enough to fit about a hundred people. For all the money the company makes, you'd thought that they could afford to splurge a little and rent an actual hall. Now you know what the profits have been going toward. But the decorations are decently lavish.

"Oh, wait." Hood leans in to speak in your ear. Lightning shoots down your spine. "I don't know your name."

You give it. He repeats it, and you shiver, like your boyfriend just said your name.

"'Kay. Stay in this room. We don't know how much Emerson or his partner knows, but assume they’re willing to do anything to get away with the money."

You nod. “Got it.”

“Hey, it’s Santa!” Bill shouts from across the room. “He made it!”

You smile tightly. “As promised.”

A few people wave. Others cheer. 

“These people really like Christmas, huh?” Hood asks.

“You have no idea,” you say, hyperaware of his hand brushing your back.

“Don’t think I got your name, man,” Bill says as he approaches. He sticks a hand out. “Bill.”

“Todd,” Hood says, taking his hand and shaking. Bill winces at the handshake. You hide a smile.

“Ah, Todd. Right.” Bill looks at you, trying to subtly soothe his hand. “You’ve never mentioned him.”

You shrug. “Never came up.”

“I’m pretty private,” Hood says, putting an arm around your shoulders. “But we’re very much in love. Ain’t that right, baby?”

“Th-that’s right… honey,” you say, face going hot.

“So what do you do for work?” Bill asks. “My girlfriend’s a lawyer.”

You roll your eyes. Hood snorts.

“There’s no way you’re dating anyone. You look like you got dressed in the dark, Billy.”

You cough your laugh into your arm. Bill’s eye twitches.

“Enjoy the party,” he says icily. He glares at you, then stomps away.

“That was amazing, but I think Bill might retaliate,” you say. 

“Don’t worry ‘bout him,” Hood says. “I’ll take care of it.”

You look at him with big eyes. “Hood—”

“Not like that. Just… it’ll be handled. Okay?”

You nod. Maybe it’s insane, but you trust him. “Okay. Want some punch?”

Hood hums. “No alcohol. Thanks.”

You go to the punch bowl, a little relieved to escape Hood’s piercing ocean-eyed stare. He’s intense. Whoever dates him for real is in for a ride. 

Then again, you can’t imagine Hood meeting someone for coffee or dinner. You giggle at the image of him showing up with his guns and helmet. 

“Hey, IT.” A woman in a white sweater you’ve seen maybe once waves at you. “Cool idea, bringing a Santa.”

“Yeah, Emerson’s too cheap to,” the man next to her says. They laugh.

You smile. “Glad you like it.”

You serve yourself two cups of the alcohol-free punch. Then you turn. 

Your smile falls. Across the room is Hood and Tanya Donaldson, resident shit-stirrer. She’s trying to cozy up to him. You sigh and walk over, bracing yourself.

“Hey, baby,” Hood says, practically dragging you into his side. He takes a cup of punch. “Just met Tanya.”

You can guess exactly how he feels about that.

"Oh, is he your boyfriend?" Tanya asks, eyeing Hood like he's a slab of steak. “I had no idea!”

"Uh-huh," you say. "This is Todd."

She wiggles her fingers, grinning. “So how often do you go to the gym, Todd?” She rests a hand on Hood's arm. "I didn't know Santa was so big and broad."

Your gaze drifts to where you're pretty sure Hood has a gun strapped to his ankle, and the temptation does appear, you won't deny.

But you need this job and it's going to be really hard to explain why Santa's armed and dangerous, so you just grit your teeth. Tanya's the worst for this kind of behavior and she doesn't respect you, so bringing your hunky boyfriend is like dangling a bunch of carrots in her face. 

And it’s not like Todd is actually your boyfriend. 

"Are you flirting with me in front of my girlfriend?" Hood asks, prying her hand off of his arm.

"Flirting?" She claps a hand over her mouth, the movement slightly delayed from all the wine. "No, oh my God! I was just saying—"

"That's really pathetic," Hood says. "Don't do that."

He walks away and you follow, leaving a wobbly Tanya on her own. You smile to yourself.

"Thank you for that," you say.

Hood gives you a thumbs up. "I can plant evidence on her and get her fired if you want."

"No, I don't want to feel damned for eternity. Thanks anyway."

"You have a lot of assholes at your job," Hood says. "But you're not one. I admire that.”

You sigh. "They're not all bad. Alma is cool. She keeps me from quitting.”

"And where is she?"

"At home. She's a sixty-two year old accountant who doesn't care about these parties. Her hip aches when it's cold."

"Mm. Maybe you should follow her lead," Hood says.

"But then who would help you with your spycraft, Hood?"

He allows himself a tiny laugh at that. You wonder how often he laughs. If ever.

“Well, suffering Tanya wasn’t in vain. She said this whole party cost twenty grand.”

“So?”

He gestures grandly. “Does this look like it cost twenty grand to put this together?” 

It's true. The alcohol is the most expensive thing here. No food, except for some people that participated in the potluck, but you don't trust anybody's food here. The decorations are old. Not to mention the Red Hood as your Santa. Your boss might have spared a thousand for tonight. No more. 

“So where did all that money go?” you ask. 

Hood snaps his fingers. “Bingo.” 

“That is so shitty. I got a chocolate-covered pretzel as my Christmas bonus,” you say. 

“A bag of ‘em?” He shakes his head. “Pretty cheap.”

“Ha, no. No, I got one big pretzel. In a box. The box cost more than the pretzel, I think.”

His eyes widen. “Jesus. Even I give more than that to my guys.”

“Got any openings?” you ask, half-joking. 

Hood snorts. “Don't think you'd like what we do. Why d’you stay?” 

You shrug. “Nowhere else to go. I have to eat somehow.” 

“Crappy boss, crappy coworkers, no Christmas bonus. Hell, I feel sorry for ya.”

The Red Hood feels sorry for you. Perhaps you've reached a new low. 

He drinks the punch and coughs. “Ahem, wow. Did you make the punch?”

“No, some people mixed it here.”

“Oh, then I'll be honest. Tastes like a flavor that's not found in nature.” He throws his cup away. You trust him and set your still-full cup on a table.

“I won't even mention the potluck,” you say. 

“Yeesh. Can't eat at everyone's house.” 

“That's what I say!” 

He winks at you. You look away, flustered. 

The crazy thing is, you could get used to this. Well, not specifically Red Hood, but having a boyfriend to bring to these functions, who’ll warn you against gross punch and defend you against Tanya. 

And Hood is surprisingly good at this. If you forget the past hour, you can almost pretend that this is just another office party that you happen to be spending with your new boyfriend. 

"Hey, look! It's Santa! Dude, check me out with Santa!"

One of the finance guys who's very drunk—you want to say that his name is Matt—bounds up to you and Hood. Hood tenses, reaching for his hip (gun!) and you touch his elbow, reminding him to relax. He drops his arm. 

Matt reeks of alcohol, the front of his shirt stained with bourbon. He laughs, forehead shiny with sweat.

"Santaaa, hey, Saint Nick, take a pic with me, man!"

Matt throws his arms around Hood. Hood does not like that and shoves him off accordingly. But Matt doesn't seem to notice and holds up his phone, camera facing front. Hood slaps the phone out of his hand.

"No pictures," he says.

You wince. The guy stares and blinks, taking three to five business days to process what just happened.

"What the fuck, man? That was my phone!"

"Sorry. I'm drunk." Hood sighs like he's physically in pain, then leans back and makes drinking motions with his fingers. "Fuckin' wasted! Did you try those rum shots? Lit, dude!"

The guy cheers up, forgetting all about the phone. "Oh, yeah, for sure! I'm gonna go get one right now! Thanks, Santa!"

"You do that!" Hood says cheerily.

As soon as the guy leaves, Hood returns to his resting scary face.

"Wow," you say.

"I know. I threw up in my mouth a little."

You laugh. Hood grins. Then it fades.

"Damn it. We're getting no closer to finding Emerson's partner. I should just interrogate Emerson until he tells me."

Interrogate makes you feel woozy. You're pretty sure you know what Hood's idea of an interrogation is.

"Wait! We just need to lure them out. If they think their money might be in jeopardy, they'll sneak out of the party to go check on it, right?" you ask.

"Potentially, yes. But how do we lure 'em?"

"There's an alert if someone withdraws more than ten thousand dollars from the company. But I don't have access to the accounts," you say.

Hood smiles slowly. "You don't need it. Remember I mentioned my computer whiz brother?"

"Yeah…” You grimace. “This sounds illegal again.”

"Hell yeah it is. He owes me a favor too. Lemme call him."

You two go off to the side while Hood dials.

"Yeah?" comes a voice on the other end. He doesn’t sound at all like Hood, more like a one percenter from the Diamond District. This is Hood’s brother?

"Aliases only. I need you to withdraw fifty grand from Emerson Corp,” Hood says. 

"Why?”

“‘Cause you owe me a favor. Just do it.”

“Zombie breath.”

“Shortass,” Hood says, voice taking on a distinct older brother tone. 

“You’re such an asshole,” the voice says. He yawns. “B’s wondering if you’re coming tomorrow.”

“I’d rather die again,” Hood says. “And you can tell him I said that.”

“The broody emo bullshit is getting old, dude,” the voice says.

You giggle. Hood looks at you sharply. You press your lips together, properly chastened. Sorry, you mouth.

"Who's that?" the voice asks.

"No one," Hood says. "Did you do it?"

"Chill out. I'm getting past their firewall. So who is that?”

“It’s the TV,” Hood says.

“No, it’s not. That was a lady's laugh, IRL. And you wouldn’t lie if it was someone we know…”

“Mind your damn—”

“I’m helping him with a case,” you blurt. 

Hood throws his hand up, glaring at you. It’s silent on the other end of the phone for a solid ten seconds. Then…

“Holy shit,” Hood’s brother says. “You do have a girlfriend. Wait. Hold on. This is wild. You don’t even have a social security number.”

“I do not have a girlfriend!” Hood snaps, drawing the attention of some coworkers. You nudge him. He exhales through his nose.

“I don’t have a girlfriend, you little fucker,” he says, quieter. “She’s telling the truth.”

“Can I ask your girlfriend a question? Respectfully, what were you thinking? You can do so much b—”

“Text me when it’s done,” Hood growls and hangs up.

You look at each other for a moment. 

“You didn't hear any of that,” Hood says. “Got it?”

“Got it.” 

“Good. Let's see who gets scared. He should do it right about…” 

His phone beeps. You look around the room. 

Soon, your culprit reveals himself. Matt!

Holy shit. 

"He didn't want a picture," Hood says slowly. "He was frisking me! Motherfucker."

"But isn't he drunk?" you ask.

"No." Hood sighs in disgust. "How did I miss that? Br—someone I know does that all the time, spilling alcohol on himself so he smells like he's been drinking. God. Oldest trick in the book!"

"Do you think he knows you're the Red Hood?"

"No. But he might suspect something. Let's go.” 

You follow Matt out of the party. He's walking fast. Yeah. Definitely your guy. 

Down the hallway, Matt turns around and makes direct eye contact with you. You panic. 

“Hood!” you whisper. 

“I know,” he says. “Follow my lead.” 

Loudly, he laughs and puts an arm around your waist. “C’mon, baby, no one’ll know.”

And then you're being herded into a janitor’s closet. 

You stumble in, confused and reeling from how easily Hood plays the affectionate boyfriend role. He follows you in, shuts the door, and pulls the chain dangling from the ceiling. The single light bulb turns on. 

You take care to not knock over any cleaning supplies. You don't see the mop on the floor, however, and you trip backwards on the handle. 

Hood's reaction time is impeccable. He jerks forward to catch you, tugging you back on your feet with his hands on your arms. 

“Y’alright?” he asks. 

“Uh-huh,” you say, mildly mortified. “Thanks.”

He lets go. You shift on your feet. 

“How long are we gonna stay here?” you ask. 

Hood checks his phone. “Well, he should've moved on by now. Let's—”

The doorknob jiggles. You look at Hood in fear. His expression is similar. 

“Pretend!” you whisper, and that's all he needs to understand and move. 

You're expecting your arms around Hood, maybe exaggeratedly feeling him up. You are not expecting Hood to hoist you up by the backs of your thighs and press you against the wall. You squeal, arms shooting out to hold onto his neck. Hood's beard ends up in your mouth and you spit it out. 

The door swings open, revealing a very tipsy couple. 

“Oops!” the woman says, grinning. “Sorry. Carry on.”

The guy gives a thumbs-up. “True love.”

You smile awkwardly. Something is pressing into your hip.

“True love,” Hood deadpans. “Rock on.”

As soon as the door closes, you're squirming. 

“What is that?” you hiss. 

“My gun! Oh my God, it's my gun,” Hood says, quickly setting you down. “It's not…”

He trails off and backs away. You stand there, processing what just happened. 

“That wasn’t—”

“I didn’t—”

You both stop. Hood adjusts his beard. 

“You're really strong,” you say, wringing your hands. 

Hood nods. “Sorry about the, uh…”

“Yeah, let's just not talk about this.”

“Yup. Find Matt?” 

“Absolutely.” 

You open the door and peek out. The hallway is empty. Glory be.

“All clear,” you say, and Hood is on your heels as you sneak out. 

“Any ideas on where he'd go?” Hood asks. 

“Matt works in a cubicle like the rest of us. Emerson’s office is on the twelfth floor.” 

“Fine. We'll hit Emerson's office first. More privacy, and maybe they'll both be there. Two birds.”

“Emerson's office is protected by a password lock. He changes it every night,” you say, scurrying to keep up with Hood. 

“That's fine. I got a key right here,” he says, patting his holster.

“Wait! If the lock is tampered with, it sets off an alarm and security will come. You can't shoot it, Hood.”

He stops and sighs. “Why is everything so goddamn complicated? Alright, new plan. I'm gonna get my stuff from where we were and I'll break in the old-fashioned way.” 

Fifteen Minutes Later.

“This seems really unsafe!” you say, watching Hood dangle outside a three story window on a wire. He's attached to a grappling hook but still. Still! 

“Eh, I died once. Didn't stick. Hold the hook.” 

“I am!” As if you'd do anything but. You don't want the Red Hood to become Red Goo. 

Chilly December wind makes your eyes water and your nose cold. Still, you hold on. 

“Almost there!” he says. 

“Hey! What're you doing?” 

You whirl around and close your eyes due to the flashlight shining at them. Even though the lights are on. 

An elderly security guard glares at you. It's a good thing you're not an actual criminal… though after tonight, you're not so sure. 

“Um.” You try to hold onto the hook while hiding it behind your back. “Bird watching?”

The guard turns off the flashlight and tucks it into his belt. He slowly walks to you. 

“If you're doing something illegal, Miss, you're in big trouble.”

Well, this is fantastic. Of course it would be you that gets caught. 

The guard is getting closer. Your grip is sweaty. He peers over your shoulder. You let go of the hook, praying to every spirit out there that Hood is as good as everyone says he is. 

The guard looks around and scratches his head. You shrug, heart in your throat. 

“See?” you say. “Bird watching.”

He frowns at you. “I've got my eye on you.”

“And I commend you for that.” 

“Are you sassing me?” 

Are you? You might be. You've been spending too much time with Hood. 

Hood! You turn and look out the window. You don't see any red goo below, but it's also cold and foggy. Shit. You hurry to the elevators. 

“Okay, happy holidays, bye!”

The elevator doors open. You press twelve and close the door before the guard can consider getting on with you and shooting you a hairy eyeball all the way down. 

You hurry out and run down to Emerson's office. The door has been left ajar, which is good, right?

Bang!

You throw yourself against the wall. Shit. Maybe not. 

Ugh, you told Hood no shooting! Son of a bitch. 

“We're doing this tonight!” That's Emerson's voice. “I don't care if I have to shoot my way out.” 

Shoot? Oh no.

You carefully peek through the crack. Hood is standing with his hands behind his head. His beard has blood in it. Emerson is in front of him, gun to his head. 

Hood catches your eye. He gives you the tiniest head shake. You swallow. 

You can't just leave him there. 

Okay. Think. Emerson's back is to you. You can't see Matt, but you figure he's far enough away to not immediately shoot you. Hopefully. 

Anyway, what's your other option? The feisty relic upstairs? You can't risk any civilians getting hurt. 

Technically you're also a civilian but not tonight. Tonight you might as well be Batman. 

You slowly pull the door open further. You sneak in, then hide behind the secretary's desk.

“Is it done?” Emerson snaps.

That's when you see Matt in the corner on a laptop. 

“It takes time,” Matt says, obviously stressed too. 

“Well, hurry up!” Emerson looks at Hood. “Then we'll dispose of Santa here.”

Hood shrugs. “You can certainly try. Many have. ‘M still here.”

“Lots of bravado for a man in a costume,” Emerson sneers. “What are you, police?”

Hood groans. “As fucking if! I'm not a cop.” 

He hums. “Perhaps not. Otherwise this place would be crawling with them already. But you're alone.”

“How d'you know I'm alone?” Hood asks. 

You're glad he's calm because you're feeling the beginnings of another panic attack. But you can't panic, not now. The adrenaline pulsing through you is the only thing keeping you from going catatonic. 

You have no weapon, no plan. How the hell are you supposed to help Hood?

“You're bluffing,” Emerson says. 

“He has a girlfriend,” Matt says. “Some IT girl. She might come looking for him.”

“Then we'll take care of her too.”

Matt looks uncomfortable but he doesn't say anything. Hood is still cool as a cucumber. 

“She won't look for me. We had a fight. I forgot to buy the candy she likes.”

Candy? Why would—oh!

On the secretary's desk is a glass bowl filled with mini candy canes. You wrap your hands around it. 

“She knows my favorite,” Hood says, locking eyes with you.

You throw the bowl with all your might. Emerson is too slow—Hood grabs the bowl one-handed and swings it, knocking the gun from Emerson's hand. The candy explodes into pieces. Hood swings again, this time into Emerson's head. The bowl cracks. Emerson crumples to the floor. 

“Are you o—”

Bang! Bang! Bang!

In a blink, Hood wraps one arm around your waist and yanks you to the floor, covering your body. You curl into him on instinct. 

“I got you, I got you,” he says, patting your shoulder. “You okay?”

You nod, words not coming right now. You squeeze his hand. Hood seems to understand and he scoots you both behind Emerson’s desk. Then he loads his gun and cocks it.

“Stay here,” he says, then fires six shots. 

“Goddamnit!” Matt yells across the room. “This wasn't the plan! You're not supposed to be here!”  

Hood laughs, which is absolutely terrifying. “Don't talk to me about ruined plans, buddy. I've been waiting all night for an excuse to shoot somebody. Please make my night.” 

Matt fires four more shots. 

“Fuck you, cop!” 

“What the fuck? Fuck you more! I'm not a fucking cop!”

“Maybe it's the way you stand,” you say, teeth chattering from anxiety. 

Hood squeezes your shoulder comfortingly. “I stand like a cop? Gross. I gotta work on that.” 

“You're somebody!” Matt yells. “You're not just some guy, Todd, don't lie to me. You and that chick from IT are in cahoots.”

You huff. “He knows your name but not mine?”

“I’d take it as a compliment.”

Matt fires again. Hood tucks you behind him. 

“He won’t kill anybody,” he says, with way too much confidence, in your opinion. 

“Oh, is that why he's peacefully shooting at us?”

“He's scared, sure. But he can’t kill. Trust me, I know. Hey, Matt!” 

“What?”

Hood stands up. Your eyes bug out of your head. 

“Hood!” you hiss. “Hood!”

He ignores you, of course. 

“You won’t hurt anyone,” Hood says. He starts walking toward Matt. “You're not a killer, Matt.”

And all this time you thought Hood was sort of sane. Nope. 

“I will shoot you!” Matt warns. 

“Aw. You wouldn't shoot Santy Claus, would you?” 

Matt pulls the trigger. You gasp. It clicks. The magazine is empty. 

Hood closes the distance between them and grabs the gun, then elbows Matt in the face. Matt sprawls onto the floor. 

“Yeah, I don't risk my life on human emotion,” Hood says, loud enough so you can hear. “People can be so unpredictable. I will take a chance on a gun that only fires seven rounds, though. For a guy in finance, you're not very good with numbers, Matty.” 

You sigh in relief, slumping against the desk. After tonight, you're retiring. 

“Y'okay over there?” Hood asks. 

“Yeah.”

It's quiet for a bit. Then Hood returns and offers you a hand to help you stand. You do so on shaky limbs. 

He's got a cut on his eyebrow and a bruise on his cheek. You frown. 

“I'm sorry I let go of the hook. I thought—”

“You let go of the hook?”

You stop. “Um. No?” 

Hood squints at you. “Choosing to forgive you for that.” 

“I knew you were inside the office!”

“Yeah, sure.” 

“I'm not the only one taking risks,” you say. “Matt still fired at you.”

“Eh.” Hood shrugs. “He’s a crap shot. And I counted the rounds. I maintain my point. Factually, he could not shoot me.”

“You could've told me the gun was empty,” you say. 

“I wanted you to think I was cool and brave.” 

You laugh. “I already think that.”

Hood looks at you for a moment, like he’s trying to see right down into your soul. Intense. You cross your arms.

“So, um, ready to ditch this party?” you ask. 

“With pleasure.”

“What about them?” you ask, pointing to Matt.

“I have backup arriving soon. Let's get your coat.” 

You get your things while Hood changes back into his usual garb. He meets you at the back exit, the one that leads to an alleyway, Santa suit gone. The party's winding down and most are getting into their cars. You're grateful no one stops to ask where you disappeared to. 

There's police outside, but they're not here for Emerson. It's Bill that's being questioned by Commissioner Gordon. You stop short at the sight. 

“Hood… what did you do?” 

“Hm? Oh! There might have been some discrepancies in Bill's finances and he might have committed fraud to pay off his gambling debts. All circumstantial, though.”

“Please don't tell me you framed my coworker because he's a jerk,” you say. 

“No, but I'm not above that, for the record. I recognized Bill from when I was casing the Iceberg Lounge. That's where he racked up all that debt.”

You nod slowly. “That's how you knew his name.”

“Yup. He was a nobody, so I didn't bother with him. Had I known he was such a menace at work, well…”

You grin. “It's okay. I appreciate it now.” 

Hood nods. The silence is awkward for a few seconds. 

“So—”

“You don't have to keep working here,” he says. “You can leave if you wanna.”

“Hood…”

He puts up a hand. “Hear me out. I have a contact at Wayne Enterprises. I can get you an interview. Hell, I can get you the job.”

“And what would I owe you?”

He shakes his head. “Nothing. Think of it as a thank you for tonight. You didn't have to help me but you did.”

You open and close your mouth. “I don't… I don't know what to say.”

“Don't gotta say a thing,” Hood says quietly. “If anyone deserves a new year, it's you.”

“Oh.” Your throat feels tight suddenly. “Oh, Hood, that's really—that's nice of you.”

“It's been known to happen. Don't spread it around though.”

“But I don't want the job without interviewing!” you say. “I want to get it on my own.”

Hood nods. “Deal.”

You want to hug him but that seems like too much, even with all you’ve done tonight. So you take out a candy cane instead.

“I salvaged one from the bowl,” you say. “Merry Christmas, Hood.”

He takes it, tucking it into his pocket. “Merry Christmas. Need a ride?”

You shake your head. “I'm fine. See you around?”

“Maybe, maybe not. Stay safe, alright?”

“Oh, I will. Will you?”

He laughs. “No promises.” 

Then you blink and he's gone. You shove your hands into your coat pockets. 

In each pocket, there's a handful of Warheads. You smile.

[notanactressyayy]

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗ 𝐬𝐡𝐡... 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞

pairing . Natasha Romanoff x virgin! fem! reader

summary . when she decides to make the move and discovers you had never experienced anything like that ever before, she plans the perfect way to put your fears away and get to see that side of yours for the first time.

warnings . smut! i am not responsible for your content consumption! — implied sexual abuse (from Dreykov), virginity loss, foreplay, nipple play, strap on usage, fingering, multiple orgasms, lots of praises, Natasha's incredibly hot russian.

notes . english is not my first language (🇧🇷) so i apologize for any spelling errors. feedback is highly appreciated! <3

divider credits: @anitalenia

you had been waiting for Nat to come home from the avengers compound all day. she had told you Tony was making some updates on FRIDAY and needed the team's opinion on everything, so she stayed there a little longer than the usual.

you had to admit — it was never the same without her in the house. wearing her clothes didn't help as much as you thought, neither did Liho meowing all day as if telling you she missed her.

so your eyes perked up to the door as you heard the doorknob turning, eyes sparkling at the sight of Natasha. she was smiling.

most of the times she came back from the compound she had bruises and cuts from missions, and looked down and tired. so knowing she had fun with her team made your day a hundred times better. even if it was already midnight.

"hey, kitten," she chuckles and crouches down to pick the cat up as she runs to her, immediately nuzzling against her and meowing. "i missed you too,"

"i missed you too." you say quietly, Natasha's eyes immediately following the voice. she drops her bag on the floor and runs towards you, sitting on the edge of the couch where you laid.

"hi, dorogaya!" she places her hand on your cheek and pecks your lips, coaxing a little sigh out of you. her mouth then travels to your forehead to plant a kiss there. "i'm sorry for making you wait. but it was so fun. all i could think about was coming home and telling you!"

you giggle, seeing her so enthusiastic. you shift to make room for her on the couch and she adjusts herself so you're leaning on her chest now — Liho laying comfortably on both of you. "okay. tell me!"

"so," she begins, taking a deep breath as she became selfconscious about how happy she was. "Ant Man was there, and he was struggling with his pym-particle blasters and he became very very tiny. more than he should. and then, when Tony opened FRIDAY's device, he decided to tease all of us and entered there, tickling the artificial intelligence! she pretended to laugh, and Tony couldn't understand why everything he was trying to do wasn't working."

her laugh was so sweet, so genuine, that a sense of calm washed over you, everything was okay now, you were both okay. and knowing Natasha, having her happy was the best gift you could ever have. your arms wrapped around her neck, and you kisses the tip of her nose. "i'm glad you had a great day with them,"

Natasha's lips parted as she felt the kiss, her gaze locking with yours. she realized she had finally gotten rid of that feeling that something bad could happen anytime. she wasn't alert 24/7 anymore. now, she was home. with you. "i did.. and i have you now."

she carefully picks the sleeping cat and place her on the little bed next to the couch, then returns her attention to you. her hands travel down to your waist, fingertips sliding under the thin shirt you wore. you gulp, fingers tangling in her red locks and pulling her closer.

"i have you, now." you repeat quietly, before crashing your lips on hers.

the russian immediately melts against you, a faint groan echoing from the back of her throat, the vibrations going straight to your core. she carefully lifts you up and pulls you onto her thigh, allowing your weight to rest on her. you usually didn't have make out sessions, since she was with the others most of the time, doing missions. but you wouldn't let that opportunity slide.

the tip of your tongue darts out and licks her bottom lip, a silent plea for something more. she was surprised. she didn't usually see you making the moves. her lips part fully, welcoming your tongue in her mouth, as she returns the action. her tongue mingles with yours, slowly, wanting to make the moment last, but it wasn't enough.

her hand slid up your back, pulling your chest flush against her own. you whimper as the kiss deepens, body shifting and molding perfectly with her. this was getting further than you thought it would.

Natasha broke the kiss with a small gasp, shifting your positions and carefully laying you down on the couch. her body hovered yours, and her lips trailed kisses down your face, your neck. your eyes widened — in surprise, but also in panic.

"Nat," you breathlessly whisper, weakly grabbing her shoulders to hold onto her. her lips didn't stop, only seeming to be hungrier and hungrier for you. "wait,"

"no, krasivaya, (beautiful,)" she mumbles against your skin, pulling your body even closer to her. she didn't want to stop. "just let me, please,"

you take a deep shaky breath to try and calm yourself down. you knew Natasha, and that she'd never hurt you, so this helped. you carefully took her face in your hands, and pulled her head which was tucked on your neck back. she took a great look into your eyes, and frowned. "what's up, baby?"

"nothing, it's just.." you sigh. her eyes narrow for a brief second, then, a small chuckle comes out of her mouth. damn it, she saw the soft pink creeping up your cheeks.

"are you shy?" she inquires, raising her eyebrow. you got relieved as she suddenly got off you and sat on the couch properly, pulling you onto her lap again and wrapping her arms around your waist.

"it's not that." you shake your head and look down, begining to pick on your nails.

it wasn't shyness. you just had a feeling that would lead towards sex. and not that you weren't ready, you just never had it before — other than pleasuring yourself — and Natasha didn't know that fact, until now.

"oh..." she suddenly realizes what's going on. instead of getting angry, a smile tugs on the corner of her lips again. she looks at your face for some good seconds, before wrapping her arms completely around your frame and pulling you to her chest.

that reminded her of all the times she was forced to do something she had no idea of what it was, all the times she felt scared, felt dirty, doing something she didn't want to. god, she didn't want you to feel like that. she never wanted anyone to feel like that, ever.

"are you a virgin, lyubovmoya? (my love,)" her voice sounds extremely calm and tender that it makes you a little surprised. "tell me,"

"yes, yes i am." you exhale and lean your head on her shoulder, eyes fluttering close.

"okay. do you wanna keep it like that?"

that. the question you've been most fearing. usually, if it were anybody else, you'd say no. but Natasha just made you feel so safe, so loved. you wanted to take that step further with her.

"no, i don't."

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

"just keep 'em closed,"

your soft giggle melts Natasha. her hand covers your eyes as her hand maneuvers you by your hip, inside the bedroom. she had decided to keep everything natural for you this day. no rushed things. but she couldn't be happier. you were trusting her with that.

"did you feed Liho?" you whisper as Natasha carefully places you on a specific spot on the room.

"i'm about to fuck you and you're worried about the cat?" she laughs, making you gasp. you playfully smack her shoulder.

"you!" you smile. her hand gets removed from your eyes. they immediately get dreamy at the sight in front of you.

Natasha was only in a set of lingerie. for the first time ever, you saw her. it was something she thought — in order for you to feel safe, she'd have to show you she felt safe with you herself. because deep inside, she was just another broken, insecure person.

your eyes scanned her body, trying carefully not to stare too hard, seeing the scars and marks that engraved her skin. your fingertips shyly reached for her, and she didn't stop you. in fact, her hands hovered yours as she slid them up her skin.

a quiet 'wow' leaves you, followed by a genuine smile of yours. you pull her closer, looking all doe eyed at her. "you're beautiful,"

"i wanna see you too," she looks down at you. "can i?"

"you can," you hum, raising your arms, a silent invitation for her to undress you.

Natasha's fingertips gently tug at the hem of your blouse, before pulling it over your head. you were the complete opposite of her. smooth skin, no battle scars like hers. she was quick to kneel down and tease the buttons of your jeans, wanting to see if you would stop her or not.

"please, Natasha."

she does as you ask and undo the jeans, letting them pool around you on the floor. she helps you step out of them, and hum as you're both now half naked. everything felt otherworldly romantic and.. safe. even if Natasha was trying her best not to ruin you right there, just by seeing you so soft, so.. vulnerable for her like that. she liked being in control for once.

so your eyes squeezed shut as she suddenly pressed her body against yours and pinned you back against the wall. "shh."

your breath hitches in anticipation, her fingertips slowly tracing up your spine and allowing her palm to rest above the clasps of your bra. Natasha's free hand moves up your stomach, her knee sneakingly trapping you against the wall between your legs. she tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. "let me, malyshka. (baby). i know what i'm doing, just relax."

"mhm," a little whine comes out of your throat, which makes her smile. she nods in encouragement and moves her mouth close to your ear, pressing a kiss on the spot under it.

"ya ne khochu, chtoby ty zhalel obo mne, detka, (i don't want you to regret me, baby,)" she whispers in your ear, and you have no idea of what it means. but something was right — the thin fabric of your panties felt extremely soaked right now. "so, i'll make you feel so, so good."

"please," you wrap your arms around her neck, pressing yourself closer. her skin felt better than you could have ever imagined against your own.

"i'm here." she reassures you, then carefully spins you around and lay you down on the bed. her hand that ghosted over your back undid the clasps of your bra, and tossed it somewhere else on the floor.

you're absolutely sure that it was not the cold air that made you shiver and that got your nipples hard. you gulp, breathing coming out in soft pants as Natasha's hands gently handled you, cupping your breasts as her lips pressed a trail of kisses on the valley between them. "you're gorgeous, my girl."

"you feel so good," you breathe, subconsciously leaning towards her hands. her thumb pinches your nipple as she suddenly latches on you, slowly sucking on your other breast, giving both of them the same attention. "Natasha."

the way you moaned her name, breathlessly like that coaxed a sound of her own. your fingers tangled on her hair to makeshift a ponytail, so her hair wouldn't get in the way. she released your skin with a pop and claimed your lips, kissing you like she never did before — as if trying to pour all the love she had for you in the kiss. you slowly got a handle of the whole thing. you reached up to take off her bra, and yet she didn't break the kiss. only when you got impatient, whimpering as the ache between your legs became unbearable.

"i need you," you murmur, clearing your throat, lips tingling due the intense kissing. "please, Nat. make me yours."

god, yes. she was never letting you go. not before, and certainly not now.

"i will." she says huskily. she moves, so she's straddling one of your thighs, but not putting her weight on you. "tell me to stop whenever you want to,"

her pointer finger put your panties aside and jeez, that was torturous. you didn't want that fabric there anymore. but she was teasing. but that all flew away from your thoughts when you gasped, her middle and ring finger suddenly entering your hole — thumb lazily rubbing your clitoris, all of that with one hand, her other arm resting next to your head to support her weight on the bed. you instinctively reached out to hold her arm, eyes embarrassingly rolling to the back of your head. being masturbated by someone else was so perfectly good, nothing compared to doing it alone.

"oh, my.." you coo, head falling back against the pillow as your breathing quickly got laboured.

"you like that, detka?" she asks, eyeing you down almost possessively, silently promising herself she would never allow anyone to see you like that, touch you like that ever again. she curls her fingers against your g-spot, making you nod desperately.

"yes, yes yes." you gasp once more, biting on your lip and bucking your hips up towards her hand. she could tell you were getting close, you made it obvious. "don't stop,"

"my, my princess. already gonna cum for me?" she gently teases and increases the pace, doing her best to get through your clenching walls — getting another pleasured moan from you. "that quick?"

"i can't.. can't hold it, Nat," your body suddenly shudders forward, shuddering gasps coming out of your mouth as your juices coat her fingers, as they fuck you through your orgasm. it was nothing new, yet sharing it with her was definitely something else. "fuck, fuck.."

"good job, baby." she carefully pulls your panties down and throw them aside, leaning down to kiss your forehead. "that's it. i'm so proud,"

you just laid there, feeling the whole adrenaline from the new experience, letting yourself be pampered by her kisses and praises.

"hold on," your eyes snap open as she suddenly leaves you on the bed and grab something on the closet. you could've never had imagined she had it before, nor that she'd use it with you, in you, someday. a strap on. "i'm not done with you yet."

what was supposed to make you scared, the size, just got you more excited. watching her put it on was the hottest thing you ever saw, made your heartbeat go to the moon and back. and it was already hammering since the start.

"do you want to back off from this?" she whispers, now sounding genuinely concerned. you shook your head, grabbing onto her shoulders and pulling her closer.

"no, no. i trust you." you weakly confirms and she smiles. she takes one of your legs and presses it against your stomach, knee to your chest, revealing your totally drenched cunt to her. she grabbed your hip with the other hand and positioned herself.

the first inches were just fine, but you could saw it did hurt as much as she pushed inside you. you did your best to suppress your groans, but she saw it hurt. she knew it did. "shhh.. just a little bit more."

her stomach and breasts pressed against yours and she leaned her head down close to your own, pressing her cheek against your cheek, nuzzling gently, giving you all the time you needed to adjust to the size.

you felt so.. complete. filled up, by the woman you trusted the most. your arms wrapped around her shoulders when you got ready. you were so lubricated that it didn't bleed, it was just a discomfort that was soon over. "move."

with the green light, all of Natasha's self-restraint disappeared as her hands held your hips, then she began giving you slow, tiny thrusts. to introduce you to the whole thing — which you quickly became addicted.

moans surely echoed on the room when the feeling registered. it was good. it felt amazing.

"go faster," you plea, holding her body tighter to yours as your hips tried and matched her movements.

"so eager," she hisses and quickens the pace, to a point the headboard was already hitting the wall. her strong arms hold you in place as she fucks the little remains of purity out of you. "all mine now."

the tip of the fake cock brushes deeper each time she pounds into you, as you both discover the depths of your body together, as just as this new way of coming you never experienced before.

the familiar pit in your stomach slowly built tighter and got ready to snap, and she recognized that. her hand slid between your sweaty bodies to stimulate your clit a little bit more, and you were sure you moaned a little too loudly.

"Natasha!" your nails dig into her skin, as a toe curling wave of pleasure washes over you, once again.

"that's it, dorogaya," she nods, slowing down and allowing you to savour the feeling, watching you fall apart. your cum soaked the silicone material of the strap on, and honestly, the wet sounds it made got you a little embarrassed.

you weren't aware of your surroundings anymore, only that Natasha leaned her weight on you and held you close, still inside you. she rolled over to pull you on top of her, and stroked your hair, hearing the little moans you made.

"you're so perfect for me.." she coos, carefully pulling out of you, making you hiss as the material dragged across your extra sensitive walls. "you took me so well, my girl."

"thank you..." you mumble, shifting just to bury your face in the crook of her neck.

Natasha didn't want to talk right now. and she wouldn't. she just pulled the blankets over the two of you, giving you time — to feel, to think, to recompose. she sighed, and a wide smile showed on her face. she was glad you couldn't see it, she looked so giddy, so happy and so proud. she did something right. once.

[bittylildragon]

Your immune system is getting enough of a workout even if you wear a mask

For those of us who are still wearing masks to reduce the spread of diseases like covid-19, if you're like me, you've probably heard or been told some variation of "Your immune system is use-it-or-lose-it" or "a strong immune system is one that is regularly exposed to things" or whatever. It's scary, being told that protecting yourself from diseases short-term might weaken or destroy one of the core systems of your body long-term!

But there are a lot of reasons this is nonsense, starting with the fact that it's an idea which comes originally from antivax eugenics thinkers, so I'm not going to go into all of the arguments against eugenics and antivax thinking here. What I will instead say is that it demonstrates a fundamental misunderstanding of how human life works. So, for those of you who wear masks and are vaguely worried that your immune system will get decrepit because of it (or, for those of you who WOULD mask if you didn't think it would somehow weaken your immune system long-term), listen up.

If you don't wash your hands every single time you use the bathroom (yes, every time) your immune system is getting a workout.

If you don't regularly disinfect all of the countertops, doorknobs, light switches, and other commonly-touched surfaces you interact with, your immune system is getting a workout.

If you don't regularly disinfect your phone, keys, wallet, and other things you touch a lot while out and about, your immune system is getting a workout.

If you kiss people, especially on the mouth, (or if you do other more intimate things to them with your mouth), your immune system is getting a workout.

If you have certain types of acne, your immune system is getting a workout.

If you have pets and you don't wash your hands every time you touch them, your immune system is getting a workout. (Especially if you kiss their cute lil heads, your immune system is getting a workout.)

If you have kids or are around children regularly, your immune system is almost certainly getting a workout.

If you receive packages in the mail and don't disinfect them before touching them, your immune system is likely getting a workout.

If you don't actively disinfect fresh fruits and vegetables after buying them from the store (rather than just rinsing/scrubbing them), especially if you eat them uncooked, your immune system is likely getting a workout.

If you have allergies, your immune system is getting a workout probably way more frequently than you would wish.

Plus a hundred other small parts of daily life that are the same!!

My point here is that there are SO MANY WAYS that you're constantly being exposed to things that your immune system reacts to in big and small ways that you have an active immune system no matter what. You don't need to be afraid that you will get weak or whatever if you protect yourself and other people from the spread of airborne diseases by wearing a mask!

[deceitfuldevout]

Until Death (Part 1)

Arranged Marriage AU: Dark!Husband!Rafe Cameron x Wife!Reader

Word Count: +1,524

Warning(s): +18, Non con, Non consensual photographing, Domestic Violence, Humiliation, Forced breeding, Unwanted orgasm.

Author's Note(s): I wrote this cause I really wanna get married and find someone to love me but I don’t think it’s possible so here’s a fic instead 🥲

You never would've imagined being married to the Kook king himself, Rafe Cameron. But here you were, almost a year in. From the beginning you felt like an outsider. Even in the new home that Ward had gifted you. It was decision made by both of your fathers. Ward wanted someone from a family he knew very well. Your fathers were childhood friends and trusted each other enough to make the right decision. Whether their children were willing to or not. An arranged marriage between a Kook and a Pogue. One of the first of its kind.

Ward needed an heir from his only son. It was about time Rafe learned some responsibility. Ward needed to find a family with no authority or power. So, what better decision than to contact an old friend from the cut? Ward managed to pull himself out of there, your father on the other hand, wasn't so lucky. However, by Mr. Cameron's gracious offer, your father had been given a position in his company. Ward would handle the paperwork, while your father handled construction and remodeling.

It was enough to get by, but not enough to get out of the cut. That's why your father made the brash decision. Ward didn't see a problem with the arrangement given your family had no name for themselves. In a way it benefited the Cameron family. To Ward, having a family with no name or status is better than being involved with a tarnished one. It would avoid any unwanted attention for the Cameron family.

All your father wants is to make sure his only child would be taken care of once he's gone. You've only met Rafe during family events/outings, and when you did meet, he'd always tried tormenting you. Growing up, most of your time would be spent clinging to Sarah for safety.

You hadn't known about the arrangement until a week prior. You defiantly hadn't expected Rafe to get on one knee in front of everyone. Your engagement was a nightmare, Rafe had decided to ambush you during the Kook's annual midsummer event. A few months later you married into the Cameron family. The event being of the most lavish, expensive, and largest weddings in the history of the Outer Banks.

Rafe made the decision that your honeymoon would be spent ‘setting up home’. You bid your family and friends a farewell before leaving with your husband. It was awkward enough that he'd been drinking for most of the night. What was supposed to be a beautiful ceremony quickly became a frat party. It was awkward enough when Rafe (who'd been drinking most of the night) tried carrying you across the threshold of what was your new home. He stumbles a few times, almost dropping you on the front steps. All you wanted was to go to bed after a long and eventful day.

In a fit of rage you rush up the stairs and into the master bedroom. You hadn't even changed out of your wedding dress. Deciding that it would be done tomorrow, as would everything else. It was tiring, putting on an act in front of hundreds of people. You were relieved for it to be over with. Until the harsh turning of the doorknob catches your attention. In came a very intoxicated Rafe Cameron, stumbling in with his tie already undone.

His hair was a mess from wrestling his groomsman, his expensive cologne overtaken by the stench of alcohol. All you want now is to sleep after being anxiety ridden for the past few hours. But the shuffling on the end of the bed made your stomach churn. Maybe if you pretended to be asleep he would leave.

Rafe reaches down to brush the back of his hand on your cheek. He couldn't help but chuckle at his fiancee--no, his wife. You're his wife now and he couldn't believe it. He grins from cheek to cheek, hovering over to study your features. You could hear Rafe talking to himself, "You're even prettier up close..."

Rafe was fine with the wedding day being for his wife, but it was the wedding night that belonged to the husband. 

He gets on his knees, preparing to strike. He pulls you but the ankle, dragging you across the bedsheets. He locks his arms around your thighs to pull you in. It was futile trying to fight back. Rafe rips away at the fabric, revealing what was for his eyes only. He doesn't waste time getting to work, suckling, lapping, and teasing at your sex.

When he starts to dip his tongue inside that's when you crumble beneath him. Your thighs shake when coming undone. A gush of arousal splashes his face. Rafe doesn't stop there, instead he keeps going until you're brought to tears cumming for the second time. He retreats with a triumphant look on his face.  

"Hey...." he whispers followed by a harsh grip on your jaw that turns your attention back to him, "Hey," his voice boomed. He held you in place, looking you right in the eyes when he states, "Look at me," a small pause follows, "No one is coming through that door to save you," he readjusts his grip, digging his fingers into your jaw, "No one is coming through that door, we're the only ones here," leaning in, "And if they heard they wouldn't care, they know their place," before lifting your skirt up, "It's about time you did too," Rafe held his cock in one hand, his other held your hip in place. He pumps his shaft a few times before rubbing it against your slick. He moans, "Oh fuck...can't wait to stuff you with it..." Rafe dips his head into the crook of your neck, his lips find that sweet spot. He suckles until he's certain there would be bruising.  

"You can scream all you want, no one’s gonna stop me,” he presses his leaking tip against the small opening, pushing it in without hesitation, “Not you…” he just his hips, “Not our families,” thrusting his cock inside, “No one…” fastening his pace. He’d been waiting for this moment for a long, long time. You had no idea that Rafe had willingly entered this marriage.

Can’t you see? He’s been in love with you for as long as he can remember. Yet you kept denying him repeatedly. Now Rafe has everything he’s ever wanted. He’s inherited the Cameron family fortune, gained the trust of his father as well as yours, and now he has you.  

He doesn’t stop thrusting his hips back and forth. Reveling in the feeling of you squeezing his member. It was exactly how he’d fantasized about. No more having to spend late nights wondering what you would feel like. He has you right where he wants. Rafe pulls down your top, exposing both breasts. He nips and suckles at them until they’re nice and bruised. He takes pride in being able to do so. Rafe squeezes your mouth open before pressing his lips against them. He sucks your tongue into his mouth, swirling it around his. The taste of liquor makes you nauseous. His presence is suffocating.

This wasn’t how you wanted to end the night. In the end you never had a choice. Your entire life revolving around men in power. A lamb sent to be slaughter, given only the right to live. Even if it meant living for someone else. Rafe presses his sweaty forehead against yours. He snarls, "You're my wife until I fucking die, do you hear me? Until death," his teeth sink into the flesh of your shoulder, digging hard enough to break skin.

A howl escapes your body as pain shot through it. Rafe held you close to him until he finally reached his limit and finishes inside. A deep, guttural moan is muffled into the bite mark. For a moment the two of you stay together until finally Rafe draws back. He’s a panting mess. He could practically feel how slick you became. He lets out a satisfying huff of victory. Rafe had won.  

A part of him wants to remember the day he finally got to take you. Then it hits him, “Wait…don’t move,” rummaging through a cabinet. He retreats down the hall. You could hear him searching for something in the unopened boxes. He then returns to you with a Polaroid in hand. He straddles your waist, aiming the lens at you. Rafe smiles, “Something to remember this moment...” he aims it right in your face, “...our first time as husband and wife,” before clicking it.

You could only give a startled look as you stare back at him. Like a deer caught in headlights. Rafe inspects the photo of you. He whistles at the beautifully captured moment. There you were, staring back at him with smudged lipstick and running mascara. You only blink as he stood there, snapping pictures like it was some heartfelt moment. What was supposed to be the most important day of your life, ended in the worst way imaginable.

"Smile for me Mrs. Cameron..."

Rafe was fine with the conditions of inheritance. In order to stay in his father's will, he would have to settle down first. But if there's one thing Ward taught him, it's to negotiate. Rafe remembers striking the deal in his father's office. For the first time ever, the young Cameron man put his foot down,

"No," Rafe states,

Ward looks up at his son, "I'm sorry?"

"I'm not getting married, not unless it's her," he's dead serious too. Ward sighs, he leans back in his chair, "Do you really want to marry this girl?" questioning his son's authenticity. Rafe nods, "It's always been her,"

Ward understands now, his son's mind is made up. Not even he could stop it, "Rafe...you have to understand that her father is a very important member of my company..." he starts, "...he's a bit of a... traditionalist," he pushes himself off the desk, approaching his son, "He expects a certain price for her hand, that I’m not worried about…” he held Rafe's shoulder.

Ward looks his son dead in the eyes to show how serious this situation was to both of their families, “Do not fuck this up, you only get one shot and then you're done, do you hear me? Done," he expects an answer. Rafe looks him in the eyes, there’s a spark of determination in the young Cameron man’s eyes, hope, “I won't,” sealing the deal. Ward immediately dials up your father’s number, "My friend, you're needed at the office, it's about time we discuss family matters,"

The best decision Rafe made was making you Mrs. Cameron.

[mockerycrow]

Love your works! May I please get a "don't worry, i'm not going anywhere." with Ghost? Take your time, I love what you write!

400 Follower Celebration

—“Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.”— With Ghost

Summary: You’re apart of the 141 and Ghost recently had a near-death experience. You’ve been plagued with nightmares about the situation, but you try to hide it from him, feeling selfish about your night terrors. One night, you’re thoroughly convinced Ghost had actually died.

A/N: THANK YOUUU I KEEP BLUSHING ILY AND TYSM FOR 500 FOLLOWERS

[WARNINGS: vomit, detailed nightmares, panic attack, gore, fake-death, angst, hurt/comfort.]

It was always the same nightmare. It was a repeat of that one mission months ago—nearly a year ago by now, where you and your team went to grab some important intel about a new uprising cartel that was showing some dangerous potential. It was a large compound, four floors including the basement, wide rooms with many blind-spots. Using your rifle equipped with a heat signature sensor, you swept room to room, leading your team through the building, putting anyone down who dared fired a bullet at you or your team.

You turn that familiar corner and your heart sinks. You’ve tried many times to change the course of this dream, but no matter how frantically you try to scream about what is waiting on the other side of that door, your mouth refuses to work until Ghost rumbles out, “I’ll take point.” You try to fight every muscle in your body to stop this, but it’s like the dream freezes until you continue down the.. “right path”. Quite literally is a living fucking hell for you, and there’s absolutely nothing you can do to stop it except do what it wants you to do.

“Roger.” You mutter, backing up behind Ghost instead of staying in front of him and leading him the others. The others are always blank faced soldiers in this nightmare, but you know who is who. You pat his shoulder, aimming over him as you walk down the hall close together, hugging the wall. You’ve been through this so many times, you know to eye the floor and you watch the moment happen—Ghost steps on a pressure plate and—BOOM.

You’re always forced to watch it in slow motion; the wall being blown open right next to Ghost, watching the debris scatter everywhere, scraping yourself up as well as Ghost. He raises his arm to shield his face from whatever is happening, unable to process in time that a man wielding a sharp combat knife is pulling his arm back and comes down with it.

You watch the way the knife so easily slides into his rib cage, and it’s almost like you could hear it penetrating his lung like it did—but this time, the man rips the knife out and does it again and again and again—this has never happened before—Ghost’s falling to the ground, his blood splattering everywhere, fuck, it’s like the guy is trying to gut him—but you can’t move. You have to sit there and watch this man. plunge a knife in and out of Ghost’s chest until he finally decides to stab him deep and yank downwards, spilling his intestines and stomach—yet, his lifeless eyes keep eye contact the entire time.

Your eyes fly open, dizzy from your heart pounding and unable to focus, you throw the blanket off of you and you make your way out of whatever room you’re in—you’re too freaked out to know. Your chest aches and feels like there’s a hundred tons sitting on your rib cage, restricting your breathing. You keep walking until you bump into something and you manage to focus enough to notice it’s the bathroom door. Your hand shakily grabs the doorknob and opens it, and you already feel the vomit traveling up your throat.

You end up bent over the open toilet, body heaving with every exile of the contents of your stomach, which by this time of night is mostly just bile. Your head is spinning and your hands keep shaking and by this point, you really don’t care how clean this bathroom is. You lean your elbows on the toilet rim and hold your head in your hands, trying your best to stifle a sob, even though all you can smell and feel is his blood on your fingertips. Your tears drip down your cheeks and collect at your chin before dripping off.

You keep one arm on the toilet seat to keep your head propped up and the other goes around your stomach, which is twisting painfully inside of your gut, ripping another sob from you. You gag into the toilet, but you’ve already thrown everything you had inside. Your throat and nose burns from the stomach acid, but it doesn’t compare to the emotional pain of losing Ghost. You just stood there and watched him get gutted—why do you deserve to grieve when you could have prevented it in the first place? Someone killed the Ghost, and you let it fucking happen.

A large hand sprawls across the flat of your back which is accompanied by a low, gritty voice. Whoever it is says something, but you don’t quite hear them. It’s probably Price, trying to comfort you, trying to say there’s one thing you could’ve done to stop it, but you know there was something you could do, anything you could’ve done.

Price calls your name and you go to shove him away, but his hands wrap around your wrists, and the voice is more insistent. You choke on a sob and shake your head, struggling against him until you hear it—his voice. “Fuck, [Name], can you hear me?” Ghost’s voice. It’s his voice.

No. Your mind is playing tricks on you and you won’t fall for it, you won’t let yourself go through this horrendous grief for a second time. You try to curl up into a ball, wanting to grab at your hair or your clothes, just anything but be here. “Look at me.” His hands grab your face and force your face to look at him and..

It’s him. It’s Ghost.

All of your noises stop for a moment as you stare with wide eyes that are full of unfallen tears, eyes full of grief, all for him. Ghost stares back at you with uncharacteristically wide eyes, and you can see the way his hands are slightly trembling—he’s worried about you. Ghost’s eyebrows furrow when he sees your expression of anguish. “Hey—hey, what happened?” Ghost’s voice is so quiet, like he’s afraid you’ll break if he speaks any louder. Your hands come up to his mask and touch it and you burst into a harsh sob again, throwing your arms around him.

Usually, Ghost would hesitate. He would be reluctant to reciprocate such personal touch, such desperation, but he pulls you close into his arms without a second thought. Your hands grab his shirt and you breakdown into his chest, wetting the fabric with your tears. His heart slipped a beat because he’s never seen you like this—has never seen you break down this horribly.

He’d be here when you were ready to talk about it, but for now he’ll stay to hold you until your shoulders stop shaking. Ghost moves to sit on his bottom and you whimper in fear, like he’ll leave. “Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.”

[heartfullofleeches]

how do we feel about brie x obliviously cute reader—similar to the cheerleader reader except tthis reader is a total goody two shoes nerd walking into brie wanking his thing on stream and reader is basically like

“🧍 what the sigma”

Brie with a cute, nerdy Roommate Reader who somehow has zero clue the nice guy they're bunking with is a streamer of a different kind.

Poor Brie- Making all that noise in his room. The games he's playing much be really hard. Reader isn't totally oblivious to Brie's occupation. He did tell them he was a streamer before they moved in- he just happened to leave out the fact he does his recordings nude for viewers hundreds if not thousands at a time. His bedroom walls are pretty thick and he's good at keeping quiet when he has to so it's not like any roommate he has will know unless they're into that kind of stuff.... until he ends up falling for his dorky roommate and can't keep his mouth (or legs) shut when he thinks about them.

Reader ready to burst Brie's door down when they hear him whimper their name one night at a time they'd normal be asleep, fearing he'd fallen and hurt himself. Brie scrambling to throw a sweatshirt over whatever skimpy outfit he had available for the late stream as Reader jostles the door handle. His embarrassment is quickly replaced by annoyance at chat members calling Reader's voice attractive and wondering if they're here to join the fun.

-

"Brie?! Answer me! If you don't open this door right now I'll.... I'll do that something to help you!"

"S-shit!.... I'll be out in just a sec!"

Brie frantically claws at the neck hole of his sweater as the rattling of the doorknob continues. He practically swam in the accursed thing everywhere else, but the collar just shrunk more and more with each wash. Dusting strings out hair out of his face, a message scrolling across his screen catches his eyes. In the sea of chat members, some curious as to what's going on and others saddened over their loss of content the message could have gone unnoticed. If Brie had blinked in that exact moment he would've missed it.

He wished he had.

"They sound pretty cute ;) Can we get a peak?"

Brie slaps a hand over his mouth. He wheezes- substituting the gag caught in his throat with violent, exaggerated coughs. The thought of this being how he confesses his feelings for you makes him sick. You aren't even his yet and these people already wanted you. They'd never have enough of you if they saw your face - saw you for even a faction of what he sees in you. He couldn't allow it.

The clacking of his keyboard tunes out the incessant knocks on his door.

"Not now, not ever. Sorry! ^.^"

[2tcs]

I love your content so far from what I read and I had a crack I did just hit me

After a while the bat family finally decides to get rid of Ra al Ghul like take him down and take his position from him as the leader of the League of assassins to dismantle it

Ra al Ghul never warned anyone if they want to actually become like the main watcher over the Lazarus pits but they have to go to a 2000 door haunted house run by the ghost King who is 15 years old

So I'll be entire bat family is practically being put through spooky's haunted house 1000 doors except it's Phantom haunted house 2000 doors

Danny believes that anyone that wants the Lazarus pits is undirectly like a bad person so he kind of uses it to a trauma dump on people and be mentally tortured these people so they drop out of taking it

He's getting help from Ghost like Ember Techn, Poindexter, Wulf even cujo

Like they put Ra al Ghul through hell and now they're going to put the bat family to that because they have no idea or not if they're good people

So it's just Danny traumatizing them by making with the horrors and some of the deaths of the ghost the last shocker is at the last door they have to relive Danny's death then Danny will come out and hand them a key and then proceed to give them the whole feel about being the new owners of Lazarus pits

I just enjoy the idea of Danny and the ghost being terrifying

I don't think Danny knows enough ghosts to pull off 2000 doors but he does know Ghost Writer. As well as several ghosts who could make them relive each other's worst/most traumatic moments. Ras probably went alone when he did his trial. But if the whole batfam is going in? So much ammo.

It could start out simple. Lure them into a sense of ease.

---

"Huh. When the scary voice said we would be facing trials to prove our worth. I didn't expect sentient, cuddly blobs." Duke said petting one of the blobs that was chirping happily. Not noticing as his fellow vigilantes and friends also began to cuddle the blobs.

It takes them three hours before they realize that they've lost time and begin to fight the calming effect that the blobs exude and head towards the door on the other side of the room.

---

And maybe embarrassing.

---

"Once upon a time."

"WHY THE FUCK AM I WEARING TIGHTS!"

"I don't know. I think they look good."

"Shut up dickface."

---

Even a bit annoying at times.

---

"I AM THE BOX GHOST!"

"WTF! This guy is more annoying than Condiment King!"

"At least he isn't dumping ketchup on us!"

---

The first few hundred doors could even be called easy for people like the bats.

---

"Quit hitting yourself. Quit hitting yourself." Jason said after he ripped off the robot's arm and started to use it to beat the robot.

"Hay. Don't you think you're going too far Hood?"

"Stop your incelence! For I. Skulker. The greatest hunter ever. Shall be the one to skin you alive and use your pelts as a rug in my den!"

"You were saying Dickolase?"

"Give me the other arm. I want to break this pinata open."

---

But that ease does not last long. Soon they are faced with the suffering of others.

---

"What was that. What was that!" Steph shouted as she clung to Tim. Trembling from the adrenalin rush.

"I think. I think we just died? In a motorcycle crash? Did we just get hit by a CAR while on a MOTORCYCLE?!"

"That motorcycle crash was quick compared to how I died! So shut the fuck up!" Jason yelled before stomping toward the next door. And if his hand was shaking as he reached for the doorknob? No, they weren't

---

And even faced with the consequences of their failures. Failures that nearly tore them apart. Failures that could still tear them apart.

---

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I didn't know."

"Shut up old man! You never asked! You weren't there! You're Never There!"

---

And temptations.

---

Dick looked around as his family piled into the living room of the manor. Everyone was laughing at something Duke said. Jason laughed the loudest as he slung his arm over Tim's shoulder for support. (Wrong, this is wrong, why is this wrong?)

---

And nightmares.

---

"Give them back! GIVE THEM BACK!" Bruce screamed to the sky as he clutched his kids as close to him as he could. Falling into despair as their bodies, their corpses, grew colder. The echos of their own cries of pain and anguish ringing in his ears.

---

They still manage to fight through the physical and psychological horror. Even when they are pushed to experience torture that not even their most vial villain would do to them.

---

"I'm alive! I'm me! Mom! Dad! Please! Please!" "Shut up you freak! Honey, get the muzzle. I don't want to hear its lies anymore." The woman, the monster, in the teal hazmat suit said as she pulled out their intestine and hung it on a rack for further examination.

---

They persevered. And when they leave the last door behind? And are faced with a young boy, no older than 14, who looks like an amalgamation of all of the Robins when they were that age?

---

Danny watched as the would-be-owner of the Lazarus Pits stumbled through the door. Only for an entire group of Kevlar waring fruitloops to fall out of the door.

"So you are the fools who think to control the blood of King Lazarus. So far you have seen many facets of the horrors that can come from..." Danny started his monologue before he was interrupted by the one wearing a cloak reminiscent of a bat falling to his knees.

"Please. Please say we don't have to fight you. I can't. I can't." He said before breaking down in tears as several others joined him in his cry fest.

"Shit." Danny said as he looked at the people before him. Panicking over what he was supposed to do.

[zorrasucia]

this mess was yours (now your mess is mine) - Part 1

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

Reader x Carmy Berzatto (The Bear FX)

Rating: Explicit (6.4k)

Tags: Smut, Set two(ish) years before the present aka the New York years, Porn with a little plot, Virgin!Carmy (my beloved), Mutual Masturbation, P in V Sex, Thigh Riding, Handjob, Fingering, Oral Sex (F receiving), Friends with Benefits, Both Carmy and Reader have a bit of a praise kink

Summary: Carmy is your front door neighbor. You fall head first into a friends with benefits situationship. What could possibly go wrong?

"You know, I had never met someone so committed to ghosting. Leaving the city... That's a whole other level," you said, the words leaving a bitter taste in your mouth. Not as bitter as the sight of Carmy, though. He looked beautiful still, eyes wide with surprise and face red with embarrassment. You were in the alley behind the restaurant, where he had dragged you away from the staff mumbling something about "an old friend from New York."

"I've been uh-" his hands were fiddling with a spoon somewhat manically.

"I know," you interrupted. "I read your spread in Food and Wine. I was at the dentist and they had the magazine. Imagine my surprise when I saw that my neighbor, sorry, ex neighbor and ex friend with benefits, was the main story of a culinary magazine."

You were being melodramatic, you knew. But you had earned it. It had been months, fucking months, and not a word - he could be dead for all you knew.

"I told you I was a chef," he said sheepishly.

"Fuck you, Carmy."

"Yeah. Yeah, that's fair," he admitted with a deep sigh. "Do you, uh, wanna talk?"

"Yes."

2 years earlier

The elevator of your shitty, overpriced building was out of order for the third time this year. Fuck. As you climbed up the stairs you started hearing someone on the phone, his voice gruff.

"Sugar called. She is worried about the restaurant, she's worried about you..."

As you got closer you started to make out the voice on the other side of the phone, rougher, defensive, and very loud.

"My baby brother is worried about me? Well, fuck me. I must be a real goddamn mess, huh?"

"Don't be like that, Mikey. If you need me to come back, just fucking say it."

It was your front door neighbor, you realized. He was leaning on the wall by his door, rummaging through his backpack, his face scrunched up and red.

"Don't bother coming over, hot shot, everything's under control," the voice on the phone said, a little condescending.

"That your stupid little brother? Tell him to go fuck himself, will you, Mike?" a second voice chimed in, followed by the defeaning sound of a hundred knives and forks falling to the ground. "Fuck me!"

And the line went silent. You stood awkwardly, hand on your doorknob, waiting. You glanced at your neighbor and found his gaze vacant as he stood in front of his apartment door, keys in hand, standing still. He honestly looked on the edge of a meltdown and your heart ached for him.  

"It's Carmy, right?"

Your voice woke him up from his daydream - probably more like day-nightmare.

"Yeah. Hi," he managed, absent. He was still fiddling with his keys.

"No offense but you look like shit," you said and it made him huff half a laugh - he looked pretty when he smiled. "Wanna come in for a drink?"

"Uh, yeah. Sure," Carmy replied and followed you inside the apartment.

"So what do you want?" you asked, head inside the fridge. "I have beer-"

"Actually, uh, I don't drink," Carmy said like he had just remembered.

"Oh, so coffee? It's a little late but I think I have decaf somewhere..." you offered gently, moving towards the pantry.

'It's- never mind," he said, looking conflicted, walking backwards, to the door. "I just didn't want to be alone tonight," he winced and your heart skipped a beat. "That sounded awful. Sorry, I- uh- I'll leave."

"It's okay," you said, a shy smile curving your lips. "I've been trying to hit on you for months so it's more than okay."

"Oh!" Carmy froze, eyebrows arched, stunned.

"Yeah," you looked down at the floor, face flushed. "Gave up for a minute there. Thought you had a girlfriend or boyfriend so I-"

"No, there's nobody," he rushed to say. "I'm just busy."

"Workaholic?" you guessed.

"Yeah," he admitted.

You moved towards him, slow, Carmy's blue eyes following the movement of your hips. You stood right in front of him, one hand raising to touch his arm, up his shoulder and then holding his face.

He blurted: "You're pretty."

"You're cute too," you replied, smiling.

You leaned forward and kissed him. Carmy returned the kiss, gentle, soft, your hands tangling in his hair. You parted for a second, eyes searching his, finding him flushed. It was only a second of hesitation before he grabbed your waist and pulled you close, kissing hungrily, his tongue touching yours, holding you tight like you were a lifeline - like he needed this as much as you did.

"Bedroom?" you asked breathily the moment he started kissing your neck.

He nodded and pushed you gently past the kitchen. It was a good thing he had a vague idea where it was.

You hit the edge of the mattress and leaned backwards, dragging him into bed with you, opening your legs to let him settle there. He kept kissing your jaw and collarbone, tickling your skin with his curls, humming while you raked your nails through his scalp. Suddenly, his hands moved from holding your waist to squeezing your ass; you tugged at his hair in surprise and Carmy let out a sound between a yelp and a moan. It made you melt and giggle, bringing him closer still.

Your hands moved down, tickling as they reached the hem of his shirt; Carmy sat up and removed it, desperate.

"Fuck," you muttered, your fingers tracing the lines and planes of his torso for a moment. He was gorgeous.

It had gotten way too hot inside the room and his touch was making you dizzy, so you got rid of your shirt too, a plain beige bra underneath. His fingers traced the edges of the cups, leaving goosebumps on your skin, making you sigh with pleasure. It wasn't enough, though.

"Wait," you gasped and he froze immediately.

"You alright?" he asked, looking up, like he was scared he had done something wrong.

You cupped his face gently. "I'm just taking it off," you giggled, letting go of his face to open the clasp and tug it down. "This isn't even a nice one," you lamented, thinking of a dark lace ensemble, used only once and with someone less enthusiastic about you than Carmy. Still, his eyes became impossibly wide once your bra was off.

"Shit," Carmy whispered, burying his face in the valley between your breasts, eager, leaving kisses everywhere, carefully sucking on your nipples. You arched your back and held him tighter, urging him to get closer - you wished he was a little rougher but the tender way that he was going about things was nice. You felt cared for.

Your hands went down his stomach, fingers hooking in his belt loops, tugging with need. He stopped for a moment, looking straight into your eyes.

"Do you want me to-?" he hesitated.

"We can just keep making out but I'd like you to fuck me," you said plainly. "If you want."

He nodded, dazed. "Yeah. I think I'd like that."

You tugged at his trousers, fighting with the belt buckle for a moment in your haste.

"Hold on. Let me," he said, getting rid of his slacks while you took both your jeans and underwear off at once. He gave you a wide eyed stare as he finally threw his boxer briefs carelessly to the floor.

The atmosphere was charged as you laid down facing each other.

Almost as if to break the tension, one of your hands reached out for his cock, caressing it, making him groan.

"So soft," you mumbled.

He rushed to touch you too, cupping your pussy. His fingers were shaking a little, which gave you pause. You touched his wrist, rubbing your thumb on his tattooed skin. He looked at you.

"Sorry, I'm uh-"

"Nervous?" you prompted and he nodded. "Yeah, same. I've had a dry spell of... Almost eight months. You?"

"Years," he said, clearing his throat.

"Fuck. That's tough," you said with a sympathetic smile, your hand letting go of his cock to caress his shoulder blade instead, reassuring. "How are you at following directions?"

"Honestly, pretty fucking great," he said with a nervous chuckle.

"We can work with that."

You grabbed his right hand, and took his middle finger in your mouth, sucking on it thoroughly, a shiver running down Carmy's spine. You guided his hand back between your folds, dragging it up the length of your cunt until the tip of his finger was right on your clit. You closed your eyes in pleasure, his long, calloused fingers feeling delicious on you.

"There," you said breathily.

"How?" Carmy asked.

"Circles."

Your eyes fluttered once he started moving, slow and feathery. Your hand caressed the head of his cock and the sudden touch made Carmy's hand stutter and then stop completely.

"You first," he mumbled, taking your hand and placing it on his chest instead.

"A gentleman," you joked breathily, tracing one of his tattoos with the tip of your nail. You were getting flustered again now that his finger was moving faster. "A little to your right... Fuck, that feels good, Carmy."

He offered you a wicked smile in return.

"Faster?" he asked.

You nodded, biting your lower lip.

"Keep doing it just like that. Don't change a fucking thing," you pleaded, moving closer, your leg over his hip to give him more access, holding tight to his shoulders. "Fuck, your hands! So good, so good, so good," you mumbled nonsensically into his ear and Carmy smiled wide. You started kissing him frantically, getting closer and closer. "Oh!"

You stiffened in his hold, legs shaking a little, and a long moan leaving your lips. His finger was still moving, helping you ride the aftershocks of your orgasm.

"You okay?" he asked after a minute.

"Yeah," you sighed, and leaned to kiss him, all tongue, lust drunk. "Thank you."

Your hand reached for his cock, finding it achingly hard, Carmy's eyes rolled back at the touch. He moaned. There was a lot of precum on his tip. Was all that from just hearing and seeing you?

"I'll probably fucking embarrass myself but I really wanna be inside you," Carmy managed breathily.

You smiled and grabbed a condom from your bedside table.

"Do you want me to put it on?" you asked when you saw him hesitate to take it out.

"Go ahead," he watched your hands roll the condom on, eyes wide as you held him. "Fuck."

He grabbed your leg and hoisted it back over his hip. "This okay?"

"Yeah," you sighed, guiding his cock inside you with one hand and holding his arm with the other. "I know it's been a while so don't worry if you don't last," you said.

Did you want Carmy to fuck you hard and long? Yes. But you were reasonable.

He nodded sheepishly, moving gently until he was completely buried inside you.

"Fuck, you're so warm," Carmy said, eyes closed in concentration. "So tight."

You chuckled against the side of his face, flushed and hot.

"You feel amazing too," you said, the stretch of your pussy delicious and satisfying. You kissed his temple and his cheek, already a little sweaty and salty. "You can move now."

He didn't need to be told twice. The slam of his hips was frantic from the beginning, feral sounds coming from his chest, it was exactly what you needed. You realized Carmy was probably working his shit out while fucking you but it didn't feel like he was using you at all. He was completely present: his eyes on your face, his mouth on your skin, and his hands caressing you.

"Are you good?" he asked.

"So fucking good," you replied, your recent orgasm leaving you sensitive and electrified. "You're already lasting longer than I thought you would," you said with a giggle.

"Fuck off," he said lightly.

Suddenly, you went back to the third or fourth time you had seen Carmy, crossing paths in the staircase, the primal part of your brain fantasizing about what it would be like to have sex with him, you on top, his strong hands holding your hips possessively. If this was a one time thing, you should make the most of it, right?

"Can I-? Fuck. Will you let me ride you, Carmy?" you said.

His pupils dilated with desire. "Yes. Fuck," he blurted out, rolling over almost immediately.

You settled on his hips, the angle doing wonders for you - his tip brushed your G spot and your clit touched the hair at the base of his cock.

"Fuck."

You took his hands and placed them over your hips, while you pressed your palms to his sculpted chest.

"You're so fucking hot. It's ridiculous," you said, wild with need. It made him blush down to his collarbones.

You kept your eyes on his as you lifted your hips, then sat back down on him.

"Holy shit," he gasped.

"Yeah?" you checked in.

"Yeah. Keep going," he pleaded.

And you did. You started building an undulating rhythm, Carmy's mouth was open and his brows were furrowed. His blue eyes took you in completely: the bounce of your breasts, the curve of your stomach, the way your torso arched with every stroke. His hands moved upwards, cupping your breasts, thumbing your nipples, unconsciously making you go faster and squeeze your cunt around his cock.

"Please," Carmy keened.

You felt him struggle, he was close.

"Hold on just a little bit," you whispered. "I'll make it good for you, Carmy."

He nodded, red in the face.

You began riding him hard and fast, the bed squeaking underneath you.

"Oh, fuck!" he moaned. "Fuck, shit, Jesus Christ..."

You went faster and faster until the string of curses leaving his lips became completely unintelligible and his body tensed underneath you.

"Come on," you leaned forward, your hair caressing his chest and your lips grazing his cheek. "Let go."

He came with a series of guttural groans, holding you tight as your hips kept moving, rutting into his, chasing the last remnants of pleasure you both could get.

He let out a long exhale and you dismounted, your thighs shaking at the effort.

"You okay?" he asked. He looked slightly embarrassed as he took off the condom and tied it up.

"Just a little sore," you reassured him, settling next to him on the mattress.

His hand caressed your thigh, trying to soothe the ache in some small way - the gesture made you melt inside a little. You ran your fingers through his hair, his face was sweaty and beautiful.

"What do you do for a living?" you asked.

"I'm a chef," Carmy replied simply.

"Huh. I would have guessed tattoo artist," you said honestly, a finger tracing the ink on his forearm.

"I get that," he gave you a soft smile. "You?"

"I work at a bookstore."

"Makes sense," he hummed, eyeing the packed bookshelves in your room and the small piles of books on your bedside table. You stayed in silence for a while, just caressing each other, his fingers tracing pictures on your thighs. "That was amazing," he said.

"Yeah," you agreed, giddy. Your orgasm must have given you courage because you heard yourself saying: "Wanna do it again sometime?"

Carmy turned to look at you, slightly alarmed, like everything that had happened was a dream and he was suddenly awake. For a second, you were scared that he would bolt out of your bed and your apartment.

"I'm not good with relationships," he said in the end.

"Oh! No, I meant the sex bit," you smiled. "I'm not looking for a relationship either."

You weren't. Your life was enough of a fucking mess without some guy that could upend it by cheating on you or knocking you up.

"Hey, no need to say yes. I'm a big girl, I can take no for an answer," you reassured him.

He rolled over and kissed you hard.

"Yes, I want to do this again."

~

Carmy had left without waking you the morning after you fucked, scribbling a note on a napkin: "Early morning at the restaurant. See you soon? C."

You didn't see him for a few days though, not even a glimpse as you crossed each other in the hallway, but you hadn't stopped thinking about him - his hands, his eyes, the feeling of his cock buried deep inside you... You thought about him while you touched yourself late that following night, gasping his name as you came.

It was a relief then to see him about to knock on your door two nights later, takeaway container in hand, as you climbed up the stairs.

"Carmy," you said fondly.

"Oh!" He turned with wide eyes. "I just wanted to- Would you like to come over for some food?"

You beamed. "Did you make it?"

"Sort of," he shrugged. "It's- uh- leftovers from the restaurant. They're good though."

"Well, how can I say no to leftovers?" you teased and followed him inside his apartment.

It was the same floor plan as yours, only mirrored, and with less stuff - a lot less.

"You sure you live here?" you asked, eyeing the empty, stark rooms.

"Yeah," he chuckled. "I don't spend much time in it, though."

Carmy warmed up the food and placed it carefully on two plates, it looked like he was making an effort to be casual about it.

"What kind of restaurant do you work in?" you asked as he handed you a plate. "It smells delicious, by the way."

"Uh, fine dining," he said absently, guiding you to the couch. "You like risotto? Didn't think to ask, sorry."

"It's okay," you shrugged, taking a forkful and almost immediately moaning in delight. "Shut the fuck up! You made this?"

Carmy blushed and looked down. "We never do portions this big but I figured you'd be hungry," he said.

"You thought correctly," you said, swaying a little from how good the food was. It made him give you an endeared look. "Thank you."

"It's nothing," he insisted.

You kept eating in comfortable silence.

"Truly one of the best meals I've had," you said earnestly once you were finished.

Carmy took your clean plate and his half finished one to the kitchen, coming back to sit beside you.

"How was your day?" he asked.

"Fine," you said, half turning in your seat to take a good look at him. "Sales wise it was shit, according to my manager, but one little girl told me I was cool, so..."

He smiled wide. "Did she get anything?"

"Well, she wanted a book on planets and space. Her parents wanted to buy her an encyclopedia of some sort. It was for kids but still..." you scrunched your nose. "It took some convincing but her parents finally caved in."

"I think she was right," he said softly.

"Mmm?"

"I think you're pretty cool," he said, leaning over to kiss you.

It was gentle, measured, lovely.

"And you?" you asked when you parted. "How was your day?"

Something dark clouded over Carmy's face. "Let's not talk about my day," he rasped and then kissed you hard.

It was wild, hungry, needy.

You scooted closer to Carmy, running your fingers through his hair, humming in pleasure as his tongue touched yours. The angle was weird, and so you climbed over the couch, aiming to straddle his hips but settling on his thigh by accident. He bit on your lower lip and you moaned into his mouth.

"Fuck, Carmy," you blurted out.

His lips started kissing the length of your neck, down your collarbone, over your shirt. You took the hint and took your shirt off, proud that your bra was a little nicer than last time.

"Shit," he mumbled, kissing your breasts, up the cup, and through the lace.

You started grinding on his clothed thigh to relieve the ache between your legs, moaning every few thrusts.

"Is that good?" he asked breathily.

"Yeah," you sighed.

You could feel every seam of your jeans against his muscled thigh. If you weren't so horny, maybe you would feel a little embarrassed about dry humping your neighbor like a fucking teenager but Carmy didn't seem to mind - if anything, he seemed to like it. He held tight to your hips and angled his leg upward so that it would rub against your crotch easier, his eyes marveling at the way your body moved.

"You look so fucking hot," he mumbled into your skin. "Been thinking about you for days... About fucking you again... Making you feel good..."

You had always been a sucker for praise and there was something about Carmy saying nice things on that dirty tone that made you melt.

"Yeah?" you held his face, tilting it so he could look at you. "I've been touching myself thinking of you. Been making myself come thinking of your fingers on my clit and your cock inside me."

"Fuck," he uttered, mouth agape. After a moment of just staring at you, he surged forward and kissed you, mouth open, passionate. The crotch of your jeans was soaked with your arousal, wetting Carmy's slacks too. His hands on your hips urged you to go faster, to get your release.

"Close?" he asked.

You moaned needily into his mouth as a response.

Carmy slid the straps of your bra downwards,

not bothering to open it, and he took one of your nipples in his mouth and the other between his fingers.

"Shit! Fuck!" you cursed, the tightness in your belly snapping while you kept grinding on Carmy's thigh. He left soft kisses on the skin of your chest and caressed your waist while you came down from your high.

"So hot," he mumbled. "So fucking hot."

You giggled, and caressed his face not knowing what to say. You moved to straddle him properly, eager to feel his hardness against your core. He groaned.

"Do you wanna fuck me?" you asked flirtatiously, your palm touching right over his erection.

Carmy rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, I do," he panted. "Fuck."

You leaned downward, kissing the side of his neck and face. "Where do you keep your condoms?"

He froze.

"Shit."

You sat back, an incredulous look on your face.

"Carmy, really?"

He was flushed with embarrassment. "Even if I had one, it would be expired."

"I'll go get one from my apartment," you said. When you tried to get up, his strong hands kept your hips in place.

"Stay," he pleaded.

"Carmy, you're cute as fuck but no," you declared, rearranging the straps of your bra. "It's just across the hall."

"Wait, wait. I didn't mean we should do it without-" he searched for your gaze. "I meant I don't want you to leave, that's all. We don't have to do anything tonight."

"Oh."

"Yeah," he exhaled, arching his neck to kiss you sweetly.

You giggled. "Next time I come over there better condoms."

"Definitely," he agreed.

You kept making out for a while, his calloused hands tracing pictures on your back, and his tongue touching yours gently. You moved forward a little and pressed on his erection accidentally. He let out a loud groan.

"Sorry," you apologized. "There's something we can do," you said softly, undoing his belt and the buttons of his slacks. "Can I touch you?"

"Yes."

You took his cock in your hand, spreading his precum down the length of it. Your other hand went inside your jeans, gathering arousal to use as lube. Carmy shivered underneath you.

"What do you like?" you asked, pumping his cock slowly, watching Carmy's chest move quicker as you did.

"The tip, with your thumb," he managed. You did as he asked, swiping over his slit, once. He nodded, biting his lip. "Yeah, when I'm close I do that. And just fast. I like it fast."

"Would you let me start slow, though?"

He smiled, running a hand through his messed up hair. "Yeah."

You tortured him a little, to be honest.

You caressed every ridge and vein on his cock, lovingly, slowly, and you kissed his lips through it, swallowing his moans.

"Fuck, it never feels this way," he praised. "So good."

"I'm going to go faster now, the way you like it, okay?"

He nodded desperately. "Please."

You pumped him as fast as you could, watching him become a mess under you, rolling his eyes and shaking.

"Fuck, I'm close," he keened.

You kept on that frantic rhythm with one hand and caressed his head with the other, like he told you. In seconds he was coming all over your hand and forearm, some droplets falling on your belly and chest. You were a goddamn mess but so was Carmy - his eyes unfocused and an absent smile on his face.

"Good?" you asked proudly.

"Tremendous," he chuckled and moved to kiss you holding you tight to his body.

"Careful, I've got- uh-" you giggled, gesturing at the stripes of cum all over your right side.

"Fuck, didn't think about that, wait."

He took his shirt off and wiped you clean with it, kissing you deeply once he was done. He dragged you to lie on the couch with him.

"Sorry about the mess," he apologized.

"Sex is messy," you shrugged.

"Guess I don't have much experience on the subject," Carmy said absently.

"I find it hard to believe with the way you look," you flirted, caressing the muscles of his arm.

"What if- uh- what if I told you you are my first?" he said.

"As in the first person you had sex with?" you confirmed.

He nodded.

"I'd find it even harder to believe," you said, tracing the contours of his face with your finger, the arch of his nose. "But I'd thank you for telling me."

Carmy smiled with relief and kissed you again.

"Can I ask you something?" he said softly.

"Sure."

"When you came thinking of me, what were you doing?"

You blushed and covered your face, the reality of what you had said hitting just now.

"Uh," you hesitated, "well, I was fucking my fingers."

"Would you show me?"

You turned to look at him, his eyes were dark and dead serious.

"Fuck, Carmy," you exhaled. "I thought you were wiped out and this was your idea of pillow talk."

"Oh, I'm wiped the fuck out," he agreed. "It just seems like you aren't," he added with a smile.

You smirked. "Alright."

With your eyes on his, you unbuttoned your jeans and dragged them down your legs along with your underwear, both still wet with your arousal. You opened your legs, one dangling over the edge of the couch and the other pressed against Carmy's body. His hand hooked under the bend of your knee, holding you, his thumb drawing circles on your skin. You shivered.

Carmy's eyes followed your hand as it rested on your mound, your middle and ring fingers going easily inside your cunt with how wet you were.

"Fuck," he said, entranced, watching your fingers go in, knuckle by knuckle.

You arched your back and moaned. Every feeling was heightened by having Carmy watch you. You started curling your fingers inside you, brushing your G spot, gasping. Then, you began thrusting your fingers in and out, your hips chasing the feeling too. Before you could get too carried away, Carmy touched your arm, his fingers closing on the wrist that was giving you pleasure.

"Can I?" he asked.

"Yes," you panted, your cunt clenching at the thought of his calloused hands.

You took your fingers out with a wince. His middle finger traced the contour of your clit, making you shiver and giggle nervously.

"Tell me if I'm fucking up," he said shyly.

"Yes." You kissed the side of his face, encouraging him as his index poked at your entrance. "Little lower. Yes."

He had no trouble fitting in one finger with how wet you were. The second one was a tighter fit.

"Slow, slow," you instructed him, humming with pleasure at the stretch, grabbing at his bicep once every knuckle was inside you. "Fuck..."

He curled his fingers inside you, caressing your walls gently. You let out a loud moan when he touched your G spot.

"Oh! Is that-?" he asked. "It feels different."

"Yeah," you whined because he stopped. "Keep going, Carmy, please."

"Right, right, sorry," he chuckled and continued, his long fingers reaching the depths of you, growing more confident and bolder in their movements.

One of your hands was leaving crescent moon imprints on his bicep - your nails digging in his flesh as your pleasure grew.

"My clit, touch my clit, please," you begged and he rushed to press his thumb on it, circling it, your body responding immediately, arching and clenching.

When you opened your eyes, something proud was coloring Carmy's features.

"Keep going, you're doing so good, making me feel so fucking good, Carmy," you mumbled, burying your face in his neck, panting. Your words made him go faster and a little rougher. "Fuck, you're gonna make me come."

Your voice was so whiny you didn't recognize it but you couldn't concentrate on that, not when Carmy was three knuckles deep inside you, hitting your G spot with every stroke, breathing hard against your skin.

"Are you gonna think about this the next time you touch yourself?" he rasped and you unraveled, seeing stars while you rutted against his hand, drowning your moans on his shoulder, grabbing the cushions of his couch like they were the only thing keeping you grounded.

"You okay?" Carmy asked after what felt like a long time, though probably it only was a couple of minutes. Your cunt was still throbbing deliciously around his fingers.

"I'm perfect," you sighed, grabbing his face for a messy kiss.

"Wiped out?" he asked.

"Not sure I'll be able to walk back to my apartment actually," you giggled, eyes half lidded. "You are truly incredible at following instructions," you teased.

"Told you," he played along, kissing your shoulder gently as he took out his fingers. "You can sleep over if you want," he offered.

"Nah, I need to take a shower," you sighed, a little sad that you had to get rid of the smell of Carmy and sex. You grabbed your shirt and underwear from the floor. "I'll sleep here next time," you promised.

"Next time?" Carmy asked, watching you get up and get dressed.

"Yeah, next time," you insisted flirtatiously. "When you buy condoms."

He laughed.

You leaned downward to kiss him sweetly.

"Thank you. It was good, so good," you said earnestly.

"Fuck. You were amazing too," he replied.

You walked to the door. "Good night, Carmy."

"Good night."

~

You were brushing your hair in front of the bathroom mirror, fresh out of the shower, warm and relieved after a long day. An insistent knock on your door made you roll your eyes in irritation.

"Who is it?"

"Carmy!"

Your heart raced a little and you smiled. You opened the door and sure enough, there he was, disheveled and beautiful, wrapped up in his wool coat.

"Hello," you said with a shy smile.

"Didn't mean to interrupt," Carmy said, gesturing vaguely at your wet hair and bathrobe. You rearranged it and he blushed a little - which was terribly endearing considering he had seen your pussy up close not even a week ago.

"You're not interrupting anything," you replied. Before you could stop yourself, your hand reached out and touched his cheek, red from the cold. "You're freezing. Want to come in? I can make us some tea."

"Yeah, that would be nice," he walked in behind you, toed off his shoes, left his coat on the couch, and followed you inside the kitchen.

"Chamomile?"

"Sure."

You went through the preparations in silence, there was a sigh of relief once he grabbed the mug you were offering and held it between his hands.

"You okay?" you asked, leaning on the counter and taking a sip of your tea. "Bad day?"

"Always," Carmy replied and some part of you knew he wasn't joking.

"I'm sorry," you said softly. "Is it really that bad inside a kitchen?"

"Whatever you're imagining, it's ten times worse," he rasped. "Twenty if you have an asshole for a boss."

"And do you?"

"Oh, yeah. The worst," he took a big gulp of tea - you were almost certain he had burnt his tongue with it.

"Then why do you do it?" you tilted your head, searching for his eyes.

"It's- It's- " he hesitated. "It's everything. It's a way of communicating, it's taking care of other people, it's beautiful and complex..."

"And you love it," you concluded.

"I do. Yeah," Carmy ended with a heavy sigh.

"Wait here," you said, handing him your mug, padding to your bedroom and coming back with a coffee table book. "Here," you exchanged your mug for the hardcover and sat on the counter.

Carmy took it and looked at it carefully. It was a book on fine dining - pages and pages of beautifully plated dishes from different restaurants in Europe.

"This is so cool," he flipped through the pages. "I worked here," he said, beaming.

"Did you learn how to make that dish?" you asked.

"Yeah, must have the recipe somewhere... Thanks for showing me this," he said after a while, taking the book and handing it back to you.

You shook your head. "That's yours."

"I can't take it," Carmy refused.

"Yes, you can," you insisted. "A friend gave it to me as a house warming present and I never even opened it. You would be doing me a favor," when you saw Carmy was about to argue some more you doubled down. "Do I look like I need more books in here?"

He chuckled and shook his head, placing the book on the table, giving in.

He walked towards you. "Thanks. I mean it."

"You're very welcome," you said earnestly when he leaned in to kiss you.

Carmy nuzzled the side of your face, then down your neck.

"You smell amazing," he said softly. "Coconut."

"That's my conditioner," you smiled and held him closer.

"Lavender, rosemary," he mumbled into your collarbone.

"My body wash."

He already had you gasping for breath as he kept kissing you, standing between your legs, pulling you closer by the bend of the knee. He ran his tattooed hands up and down your thighs, his finger tips still a little cold.

"Can I taste you?"

"Yes. Please."

Carmy knelt before you, something dark and hungry coming to life in your belly as he pulled you closer to the edge of the counter. He opened up your robe and found you bare. Then, he started peppering kisses up and down the insides of your thighs, kneading your ass in his hands, getting you flustered without even touching your cunt.

"Let me know when it's good, alright? Like last time," Carmy said against the skin of your thigh, you could feel his face warming up.

"Yeah. Though you're already doing better than my last two boyfriends, Carm," you said lightly, caressing his hair.

He chuckled against your skin and the whisper of air between your legs made you shiver.

The tip of his tongue caressed your folds, gently, teasing. You hummed softly, closing your eyes. Then, he flattened his tongue, going up your cunt several times, faster and faster, lapping at your entrance, getting a taste of your arousal and humming in response.

"Shit," you managed.

"Mhmm?" he checked in, not letting go of you.

"Yes," you moaned louder. "It's good."

He kissed his way up your clit, rubbing his nose on it before he started licking at it diligently.

"Suck on it, please. Oh, fuck. Fuck," you arched your back. "Can you- Shit, Carmy- Can you put your fingers inside me?" you pleaded.

He let go for a moment, his mouth and your arousal making a lewd sound as he parted. His middle finger traced around your cunt, gathering wetness before going inside you in one swift thrust.

"Yes. Perfect."

"Another?" you looked into Carmy's eyes, he was flushed and giddy.

You nodded and his index finger joined the middle, a smirk curving his wet lips when he made you moan with a simple curl of his fingers.

"You're a menace," you teased and he laughed.

"Keep looking at me," he said, going back between your legs, eyes on you as he continued sucking your clit.

"Fuck, that feels good," you were breathing hard, fingers tugging on Carmy's curls, your bathrobe completely undone. He moaned hard when your pussy clenched on his fingers, the vibration making you shiver with pleasure.

"You're making me feel so good, Carmy," you praised breathlessly, one of your hands squeezing your breast unconsciously. "I'm close." He arched an eyebrow, questioning. "A little faster. Fuck me with your fingers."

He started pumping his fingers in and out of you, fast, while his lips sucked on your clit frantically, wet noises turning you on even more.

"Just like that, just like that," you moaned. "Keep going, please, please, please..."

You kept looking at him, seeing his eyes shut in pleasure when you fluttered around his knuckles. Your orgasm hit you hard and had you screaming and thrusting against his face before you could stop - his strong arms kept you in place.

"Oh, my God," you keened as he kept going, prolonging your orgasm until it was almost too much to bear, senseless praise flowing freely from your lips. "You're so fucking good, Carm. Make me feel so good."

Everything was warm, white and fuzzy.

Carmy stopped his movements abruptly. You felt him groan needily against your cunt, turning his face to bite on the flesh of your thigh. Looking down, you realized he was palming his cock over his slacks. He had come to the sound and the taste of you.

You tugged on his hair to get him up on his feet and kiss him. His lips were red and swollen, and his tongue tasted like you. When you parted, you saw a satisfied and sedated look on his face.

"Never had a guy do that."

"Eat you out?" he asked, disoriented. His hair was a fucking mess.

You ran your hands through his curls lovingly. "No. Make me cum that hard. Enjoy eating me out that much."

"It was hard not to," Carmy replied. "The fucking sounds you make..."

You hid your face in his shoulder, cheeks burning red.

"I'll try to be quiet next time."

"Please don't," he rasped, tilting your head to kiss you hard.

~

[Part 2]

[cakechako]

you could say I’m a big kniveswood connoisseur

[nats-firefly]

mommy? sorry

wanda maximoff x reader

summary: you ended things with your girlfriend and her mom wanted one last goodbye.

warnings: mommy kink, strap-on use, oral (r giving), smut 18+ only

a/n: another repost!

🚩 warnings are clearly stated please do not report/flag :) 🚩

words: 2.0k | feedback is always welcome | masterlist

header made by wickussy (rip) | divider source

You walked up the step’s to your now ex-girlfriend’s front door, already looking above the doorframe for the extra house key. You knew she wasn’t in the house, she made sure to text you so you could go grab your stuff. Things didn’t end well between the two of you and so you both wanted to avoid each other.

You were fumbling with the doorknob when the door swung open, Wanda stood there with a smile, greeting you with just as much warmth as she did before you broke up with her daughter. 

“Y/N,” She greeted with surprise, her eyes raking down to your shoes as her lips turned up into grin. “Didn’t think I’d see you back so soon.”

“I just came here to get my stuff, Ms Maximoff,” Her eyes met yours then, before releasing a piercing giggle.

“Ms Maximoff? Why the formality?” Her hand touched your shoulder and ran down your arm, pulling you into the house. “You haven’t called me that since you and Lucy started dating.”

You gave her a tight-lipped smile as the older woman’s eyes drifted down your body again with a predatory gaze. “May I?”

“Of course,” She said, flashing you a bright smile. Your eyes dipped down to her lips before going back up to her eyes then towards the stairs. Did she do something different? Has she always been this hot?

Her eyes followed you up the stairs, and you chose to shake the feeling of wanting to see her riding your strap. You walked through the doors of the room you’d been in hundreds of times before, but now everything felt somewhat different. Your mind wondering how many times Lucy had other girls over while you were together.

You sighed, shaking your head as you made your way to her dresser. You opened the bottom drawer, taking the couple toys you left at her place and placing them into your backpack. You looked further through the drawer, finding the strap and almost dropping it when you turned back around to Wanda leaning against the doorframe, her crossed arms pushing her breasts up into view.

“I- I’m almost done Ms Maximoff,” You stuttered, fumbling to pick up your bacg when she stopped you.

“Are you sure you’re done with that, baby?” She asked, running her hand down your arm and gripping the strap over your hand. “Don’t you wanna use it one last time?”

You felt her hand push the strap closer to your body before your pants were suddenly discarded and you felt the weight of the strap between your legs. Wanda stepped closer to you, her lips close to your ear as she pressed her body against you.

“Don’t you wanna get back at her?” Her voice filled your ears, making goosebumps appear on your skin as her hand started sliding up your shirt. You stepped away from her, dumfounded at her suggestion but not completely dismissing it. Her hand remained under your shirt, making her smile. You could’ve stepped all the way back, but you didn’t. Her head tilted to the side with a grin when you brought your hand onto hers under your shirt, and pressed it against you rather than pushing her away.

“You’re a terrible mother,” You said, your other hand snaking around her waist before your head dipped into her neck.

“Step-mother,” She corrected, moaning when your teeth grazed her skin as her nails dug into your scalp. Your hands slid down to cup her ass, pulling her hips flush against yours, Wanda’s eyes rolling to the back of her head when she felt the strap rubbing against her. “Just shut up and let me ride you.”

She pulled your head back, turning the two of you around and pushing you back onto the bed before you could come up with an answer. You raised yourself up onto your elbows, looking down at her as she shimmied her lacy underwear down her legs, the fabric sliding down from under her skirt. You raked your eyes back up her body, her hands tugging her short dress over her thighs as she straddled you. 

Your hands slid up her thighs, gripping her hips as she lined the toy up with her entrance. Her cheeks flushed as the tip easily slid into her, her pussy already soaked by the sight of you wearing the strap. 

“Already so wet for me,” You said, pulling her hips further down the strap. She moaned, clawing at your chest for balance. You started moving your hips up into her, her hips grinding down onto yours as her moans became more high pitched. “Fuck Mommy, you’re so hot-”

You bit your lip looking away when her hips faltered, her head leaning down as she looked at you. A smug grin covered her features as she smiled down at you, her hips starting their pace back up as she took your hands into hers and slid them up her body to cup her breasts through her dress.

“Call me that again,” Your fingers pressed into her as you pushed her breasts together, making her roll her hips with a moan.

“Does that feel good, Mommy?” You asked pinching her nipples between your fingers and bucking your hips up into her making the redhead whine and sink down further onto you. You lifted your hips into her a couple more times, her moans interrupting her every time she tried to respond. “I’m gonna take that as a yes.”

She grunted, almost growled at that, her hand coming up to your throat as she started bouncing up and down your strap, taking control of the pace. “Don’t be a smartass, honey, that’s not gonna end in your favor.”

For a second then you thought about what you were actually doing, but as you looked down at your strap disappearing inside Wanda while her hand around your throat applied just enough pressure to give you a head rush, you didn’t care. And if you were honest with yourself, ever since you met Wanda there was just something about her. You’ve wanted to do this for a long time.

“So you’ve wanted to fuck me for a while now huh?” Wanda said, making your eyes snap up to her now glowing red ones. Her pace picked up, her breasts bouncing under the thin fabric of her dress. Your eyes widened, realizing she was reading your mind. Your hands slid back down to her hips guiding her movements as you fucked her harder.

“How could I not?” You asked, moving your hips and fucking her deeper, her hands settled back on your chest for balance, deep moans emanating from her chest. “Don’t think I didn’t notice the way you always wear low cut clothing around me,” She moaned, the muscles on her stomach tightening as her orgasm approached. “Or how you always make an excuse to be alone in a room with me,” Your nails dug into her skin as you fucked her up and down the strap, her breaths getting heavier. “Or how you touch yourself to the thought of me.”

Her eyes widened as another moan ripped its way through her body. “I almost walked in on you, but decided to just let you do your thing while I watched,” Wanda’s hips desperately moved against you, the redhead chasing her orgasm as she remembered that day - she knew you were watching. “You sounded so pretty moaning my name. I wanna hear it again.”

“Fuck, Y/N, please,” She moaned, her grip loosened around your throat, her mouth forming into an O as you bucked your hips into her. “I wan- I need to cum.”

“Cum for me, Mommy,” You gripped her hips and planted your feet on the mattress, thrusting into her at a new angle and completely sending her over the edge. She screamed out, her nails dragging down your chest as she came on your strap, her arousal easily coating the toy.

You fucked her through her orgasm, giving her soft praises while she kept moving on top of you. You guided her hips, slowing down as she regained her composure, her hair sticking to her now sweaty skin. Your eyes drifted down to where your bodies met, smirking at the way your strap glistened as you lifted her off of it. 

“Fuck,” She breathed out, laying down next to you. “That was so much better than I was expecting.”

“If you think it’s over, it’s not,” You turned you head to look at her before settling yourself between her thighs and leaning over her body. “I like to be very thorough.”

Your lips met her neck, leaving a couple marks in their wake. “Watch it,” Wanda hissed through her teeth as she felt your soft bites on her neck. You continued kissing down her body, your hands cupping her breasts as you took her nipple into your mouth. She arched her back into you with a moan, her fingers entangling in your hair pressing you harder against her. 

Your tongue circled the hardened nub, your hand playing with the other. Wanda moaned, shutting her eyes and throwing her head back as you sucked her nipple while pulling your head back, smirking up at her. Your eyes never left her face as you moved your mouth to her other nipple, gently sinking your teeth onto the soft skin of her chest.

You flicked her nipple with your tongues, making her buck her hips up, her still soaked center rubbing against your clothed stomach. You smirked against her skin, releasing her with a pop and simply massaging her breasts while you looked up at her.

“Don’t-” She whined, “Don’t stop.”

“I wasn’t planning on it,” You said smugly. “Just wanted to see you get a little desperate.”

You felt yourself being pushed down to her pussy before you saw the rest mist surrounding you, making you release a low chuckle. “If you wanted me to eat you out you could’ve just asked, Mommy.”

“Are you gonna put your mouth to better use or are you gonna keep being a brat?” Her hand buried itself in your hair and pushed you into her, you tongue immediately sipping into her. Her taste clouded your senses, making you groan into her. Your tongue circled her clit, her hips bucking into your face. 

Your arms circled her thighs and pulled her closer as her second orgasm of the night started building. Your tongue dipped into her making her hold your head on her as she used your tongue to get off, your face getting completely soaked as she came for a second time. You softly licked her folds, giving her clit one last tease before pulling your mouth away.

“What. The. Fuck.” You heard your ex-girlfriend’s voice ring behind you. You looked over your shoulder back at her while Wanda’s chest rose and fell as she caught her breath, a grin on your lips as you brought your hand up to wipe her arousal off your face.

“Sorry, Lucy, didn’t see you there,” You said, walking over to pull your pants back on over your strap. Wanda had very kindly discarded them over the open drawer on the dresser. “I’m all done over here.”

You gave Wanda one last look before picking up your backpack from the floor and slinging it over one shoulder. You walked over to the door, where Lucy was standing and looked back at Wanda over your shoulder, sending her one last wink before looking back at your ex-girlfriend one last time. 

Not only did you get back at Lucy, but you also got to fuck the hottest milf you’d ever seen. Win win.

It wasn’t until a few weeks later when you heard from Wanda again. The events of the last time you saw her being one of the only things on your mind for the past however many days. 

And with just a few texts, you found yourself driving back to the house you never though you would go back to.

Lucy’s out of town. 

And I can’t stop thinking about your mouth between my legs.

Among other things ;)

[lordprettyflackotara]

summer of sam || sam golbach

SMUT. MINORS DNI. 18+. wooo it’s getting hot in here. tw: subby sam, stripper/dom reader, humiliation, degrading, overstimulation, sub/dom dynamics in place, dry humping, choking, etc this is just complete and utter filth. ps: this is my first time writing the male to be submissive on this blog. W? L?

You were a professional at what you did.

Every summer in between college semesters you’d work the same strip club, earnings thousands of dollars all summer long. Ohio wasn’t known for its popularity in exotic dancers what so ever, your presence spicing up an otherwise dead club.

Over time you had grown a consistent fan base of men who awaited your return every summer. You were now on year five, your degree so close to being obtained you could practically taste it. It’s what kept you motivated to keep coming back. You had to pay for your degree somehow even if it was deemed shameful by your peers. Which is why you traveled to a town in Ohio far from your hometown, determined to make enough funds to scrape by the semester.

It was only week two of your return, word of your arrival spreading through the town. In an odd way it made you all jittery, feeling like a little celebrity. You were in your dressing room, pampering yourself with makeup before your set time on stage. Your eyes flickered to the door opening behind you, continuing to pat your brush across your cheek. Your body guard was the sweetest man alive, his chocolate eyes meeting yours.

“Hi Tommy, big crowd?” You asked. You had met Tom during year two of your ‘career’, the man fully dedicated to protecting you from creeps. “I’d say so, but I have an offer from a new comer. Wants a private dance,” He informed you. You set your brush aside on the vanity, grabbing a tube of lipstick. “As if, that crowd out there will provide me ten times whatever he could,” You replied. Tom cleared his throat, your gaze straying away from your plump lips to him. In his hand sat two wads of cash.

“This is fifteen thousand. He offered more if you come.”

You never did private dances. You had admittedly become egotistical over time, your time precious during the hotter season. The private dances were no where near as cash filled as public ones were. Undoubtedly you were the star of the show in this little town and you belonged in the spotlight. Your eyebrows had furrowed at the wads of cash, quickly sliding out of your chair. Your heels clicked as you grabbed one, running your thumb through it.

“They’re real?” You questioned. You already knew the answer, the tiny bumps across the blue band of the hundred dollar bills giving it away. “Every single one. He’s in room six,” Tom answered you. You nodded, handing him back the wad. “Stand outside of the room if you don’t mind. I want to see what this guy is all about,” You say.

You had almost forgotten what the hallway to the private rooms looked like, new purple led lights illuminating the dim hallway. Finding room six was a breeze, the numbers in bold letters hammered to the doors. You glanced over at Tom, nodding affirmatively for him to stand by its side. You shook off your nerves, remembering who you were. How many men would die to be in this one’s position. Your slender fingers gripped the doorknob, pushing it open.

The sight before you was not one you expected, a clean cut blonde sitting on the middle of a circular couch. His legs were spread, thin framed glasses sitting on his nose. His blue eyes met yours instantly, an undeniable intensity flooding the room. Tom closed the door behind you, giving you some privacy. The blonde awkwardly stood up, adjusting his tie. “Hi, i’m Sam,” He greeted. You watched as he held out his hand to you, waiting for you to shake it. You tried to conceal your confusion, shaking his hand. Your stage name fell off of your lips with ease,

“I’m Kailani.”

Sam cleared his throat. “Here um, sit sit,” He said, gesturing to the purple velvet couch. You followed his request, sitting down. “So Sam, what exactly did you request me here for?” You asked. Sam sat down as well, visibly nervous. He ran his fingers through his hair. “For a private dance..?” He replied, his tone sounding as if he was asking a question more than answering. You raised an eyebrow. “Sweetheart no one around here pays fifteen thousand just for my consideration. What do you actually want?” You asked. Sam gulped, his adams apple moving as he fidgeted with his hands.

“It’s kind of a long story,” He began. You could feel your patience thinning. “Time is money and unless you plan on beginning to pay me for this I will not-” You began. Your words were sharply cut off as Sam reached in his pocket, setting another wad of cash on the clear coffee table in front of you. “That cover it?” He asked you. Affirmatively you nodded.

“My name is Sam Golbach, i’m a famous youtuber with an obsessed fanbase. I’m from here and heard through the great vine about you. Might I just add you’re even hotter in person,” Sam began. His name didn’t ring a bell, but his face did look vaguely familiar. “I’m here because you’re just as discreet about your line of work as I am about what I do in my spare time in the bedroom,” He continued. You arched an eyebrow, questioning his words. “You’re very obviously not from here, only here during the summer. My guess is that you’re in college or something similar, probably in a different state,” He answered.

Your stone cold expression fell, your face visibly telling Sam everything he needed to know. You felt the urge to get up and leave, the blonde seemingly reading your mind. “No no listen I totally get it, i’m not here to judge you or anything,” He rambled. Your eyes shot daggers as they met his blue ones. “Get on with it. What do you want?” You questioned.

“It is extremely hard for me to get laid without the media making a big deal out of it, I have some things I want to uh, try in the bedroom that the media would have a field day with,” Sam told you. You audibly scoffed, rising to your feet. “I’m not a goddamn prostitute. So what was your big idea? To come here and have me call you daddy and beg for your cock? Fuck you,” You snapped. Hastily you turned towards the door, Sam’s large hand grabbing your waist. You began to protest, Sam’s meek words cutting you off.

“Quite the opposite,” He said. He was practically shaking with nerves, his cheeks flushed pink. You froze in your tracks, looking at the desperate blonde. “I-I want you to use me. To treat me like a slut or something. I don’t want to be in control,” Sam explained. His cheeks were turning a deeper shade of red, his hand dropping from your wrist. He reached into his back pocket, pulling out a black credit card. “If we make this arrangement for the entire summer, this is yours. It’ll pay off anything you need it to. Until next summer, where I’d like to do all of this again,” He offered.

You took the tiny piece of metal between your fingers. You had never held such a heavy credit card before. “What are your conditions?” You questioned. Sam lowered himself back onto the couch, rubbing the back of his neck. “No stripping while i’m around, which will be all summer. Obviously no telling anyone you ever saw me and um, I want it rough,” He answered. The offer was tempting, the boy in front of you practically a puppy dying to be played with. “Any hard limits I need to know about?” You asked.

“No anal, nothing too weird, I guess. I just want you to use me. I want to be your submissive who you use to get off.”

“And you want to start now?”

“Please.”

Fuck, his desperation was making your core throb. You slowly approached him, straddling him as you looked down at his flushed face. “Safe word is red if you want to stop for any reason,” You whispered, leaning close to his ear. Your breath was hot against his skin, a small groan escaping his lips. You rolled your hips against his, the blonde below you audibly whimpering. “There we go, keep making those pretty noises for me,” You cooed. You brought your index finger and middle to his lips, pulling them down teasingly.

“Open your mouth,” You purred. Sam opened his mouth, flattening his tongue out on display for you. You grinned devilishly as you shoved your fingers into your mouth. He groaned as you grinded down against him. “There we go, now the harder you suck them the faster I grind against that hard cock of yours, hmm?” You offered. Sam nodded profusely, groaning around your fingers as you rolled your hips against his. Your thin red panties bottoms creating the perfect amount of friction against your clit. You moaned as he swirled his tongue around your fingers, his hands placing themselves on your hips.

They slithered to your ass, massaging the mounds of flesh as you grinded against him. His whining noises were music to your ears. “Such a good boy for me, aren’t you?” You say. Sam’s eyes began to roll into the back of his head, bobbing profusely on your fingers. “I’m gonna cum,” He moaned around your fingers, his words muffled. You grinned, a sadistic idea coming into your mind. If he wanted to be treated like a fucktoy, you’d treat him like a filthy fucktoy. “Go on, cum for me you pathetic thing,” You ordered. His hips stuttered, loud groans muffled by your fingers as he came in his pants.

You took your fingers out of his mouth, bringing them to your own. You licked his saliva off, his blue eyes blown with lust. Sam swallowed as he admired you. “Let me taste you, please,” He whispered. You grabbed his face, teasingly dragging his bottom lip downwards. “Get on your knees and keep begging. I’ll think about it,” You ordered. Sam quickly slithered out from underneath you, dropping to his knees without a second thought. He looped his fingers around your panties, your hand stopping him.

“Oh baby boy I didn’t say you could use your hands,” You chuckled darkly. Sam was in a state of euphoric bliss, your degrading words making his cock grow harder in his cum soaked boxers. You spread your thighs, the blonde nuzzling in between them. He put his hands on your knees, his submissive mind trying to figure out how to obey you. You frowned at his hands on your knees. “You just can’t stop using those hands of yours,” You noted. You leaned forward, the blondes breath hitching as you undid his tie.

He could smell your perfume as you leaned over him, grabbing his hands and tying them behind his back with his own tie. Sam gulped nervously as you sat back, giving him a mischievous smile. “Go on baby boy, put that tongue of yours to good use,” You cooed mockingly. Sam brought his head in between your thighs, biting the hem of your panties with his teeth. You bit your bottom lip as he dragged them down your thighs, your core throbbing in anticipation. This is what you deserved, a rich submissive man who was willing to do whatever you wanted.

Sam dragged your panties down to your ankles, watching you slowly step out of them. He nuzzled himself back in between your thighs, flattening his tongue against your folds. He groaned at your taste, your cunts sweetness an addicting sensation. “You taste so sweet,” He mumbled into your slick, his eyes fluttering shut. Your hips had a mind of their own, grinding shamelessly against Sam’s eager tongue. He sucked and lapped at your clit, before teasingly sticking it inside of your entrance. Your fingers raked through the roots of his hair, tugging at the roots.

The pain only made Sam moan louder, his cock growing fully erect in his pants. You could feel the cord inside your stomach tighten. You’d never had a submissive partner before, your core on fire from the pleasure the eager blonde was giving you. You’d never felt more empowered. “You’re doing such a good job Sammy, just like that,” You moaned. Sam whined as he shifted awkwardly in his pants, seeking any sort of friction for his own throbbing needs. He latched his lips around your clit, sucking harshly as you finally came.

Once the blonde saw your legs tremble, he began lapping up the juices you had produced. It was like a reward. “Just like that. Lick me clean or I won’t touch you,” You threatened, swallowing to regain your authoritative tone. Once you were satisfied with Sam’s performance you grabbed him by his button up, switching places with him once more. Your fingers played with his belt, your doe eyes meeting his. “May I?” You asked. He nodded profusely, licking his lips.

“Please.”

He lifted his hips, the two of you managed to slide his pants and boxers down to his ankles. In front of you was his hard cock, his cum covering the sides. “Such a filthy little boy, making a mess like this,” You commented. You straddled his hips, lining yourself up with his cock. Your eyes met his blue ones, studying his face carefully. “This okay?” You whispered. You leaned closer to the trembling man, his face flushed pink from lust. “More than okay, please,” Sam whined. You smirked as you lowered yourself on his cock, biting your bottom lip to hold back your own moans.

His cock was stretching you much wider than you had taken before, your walls fluttering around his cock. “Oh my God,” Sam groaned, throwing his head back. Once you sank fully onto him you grabbed his throat, your slender fingers applying pressure to the sides. “Look at me while I fuck you slut,” You ordered sternly. Sam forced himself to look at you, his hips attempting to move upwards to fuck you. He needed you. He needed you now. “Awe are you really trying to fuck me? Like the filthy whore you are?” You asked mockingly. Sam groaned as you applied less pressure, your hand still settled on his throat.

“N-need it. Need you. So bad,” Sam whimpered. He wished he could touch you, his hands still bound behind his back with his own tie. It was so demeaning, so humiliating. Yet he adored every second of it. He knew from the moment he saw you that you were the one for him. The one he wanted to give control to. To dedicate his body to. As you rolled your hips against his you could feel the vibrations of Sam’s whimpers against your hand through his throat. Sam was a panting mess, your hips bouncing on his cock faster by the second.

“My fucking God- you are so tight,” Sam panted. You squeezed his neck tighter, his vision becoming hazy. “Yeah? Fuck you’re such a cute little thing,” You huffed, his cock abusing your g spot with each roll of your hips. Your hand released his throat, his lungs immediately gasping for air. You wouldn’t ever admit it, but he felt fucking amazing. Far better than any other man you’d ever had. You weren’t proud to admit your career didn’t start off on such a high note, your legs having been opened for one too many creeps.

You’d had all kinds of affairs and arrangements, ones that fizzled out immediately. But Sam? The whimpering mess beneath you? You wanted to ride him like this forever. You felt yourself getting close to the edge, taking his cock as you pleased. “Mmm i’m close,” You murmured, biting your bottom lip. Sam was convinced he hadn’t seen anything near as sexy as you cumming on his cock. Your walls spasming around him sent him into a frenzy, his dick twitching and cumming inside of you. His face was beet red, his mouth dry as he panted below you. You were a slice of heaven, one he wanted to experience every chance he could.

You grinned as you leaned back, before lifting yourself off of him. Sam had foolishly expected it to be over, before watching you drop to your knees. “W-what are you doing?” He questioned softly. He watched in fear and lust as you licked up the side of his shaft. “I’m cleaning you up silly, i’m not rude you know. I have manners,” You answered. You began bobbing your head up and down his cock, his shaft growing harder in your mouth with each passing second. He squirmed as you swirled your tongue around his shaft, sucking both of your juices off of him. His body trembled as you licked his slit.

“Holy fuck that’s t-too much I-” Sam babbled. You pulled off of his cock, a string of saliva connecting your lips to his tip. You pumped him with your hand, giving him a devilish smirk. “You can handle it. Let me clean you up. Be a good boy for me and take it,” You told him. Sam threw his head back as you began to deep throat him, your gagging only turning him on more. “I didn’t say you could look away Sammy. Look at me. Watch as I suck out your soul,” You purred. The blonde forced himself to look down at you, his legs trembling as you resumed sucking his cock.

His moans were incoherent babbles. “Fuck fuck fuck i’m so close,” He whined. The pleasure was becoming painful, your devious tongue and sinful lips showing no signs of stopping. You wanted to milk him dry. Sam’s hips jerked upwards as he came, his cum painting the inside of your mouth. You swallowed it with ease, before teasingly licking his slit. “You taste good,” You praised. You pulled away from his cock, the blonde shaking from euphoria.

You could feel his cum leaking down your upper thighs, an unholy idea popping into your head. You stood up, grabbing him by his shirt and forcing him to lay back on the couch. You straddled yourself over his head, your cunt inches away from his face, his blue eyes meeting yours, awaiting instructions. “Go ahead, why don’t you find out how you taste Sammy?”

[justalittlelilac]

Three days.

You had three days to tell Qiu Lin you were in love with them.

Part 1, Part 2 Word Count: 4,045 CW: Subtle references to depression and drug use

You rounded the corner of the Lin residence, feeling slightly worse for wear. Sleep had been the enemy after last night's interaction with your best friend. You had tossed and turned like a ship in a stormy sea, waves of thoughts crashing against the fragile hull of your mind until fatigue dragged you under its murky waters around 5 a.m.

Even now, your mind was still anchored in the hideout, replaying the moments over and over like an old, silent film on repeat. You shook your head, trying to dispel the lingering fog, and pushed onward, kicking at the blanket of autumn leaves under your feet as if somehow that could bolster you.

It did not.

The crisp air nipped at your cheeks, sharp as a knife, and the earthy scent of decaying leaves filled your nostrils, a bittersweet reminder of the season slipping away. You inhaled deeply, but the cold air only seemed to tighten the knot in your chest.

The front door of the Lin house loomed before you, and your hand hesitated on the doorknob, fingers curling around the cold metal. From inside, you could hear laughter echoing through the walls, and the warm, savory scent of cooked food seeped through the cracks, filling the air with the comfort of cinnamon, sage, and roasting turkey.

This shouldn't be so hard, you thought. For years now, you and your mom, the Baumanns, and the Lins had shared Thanksgiving together. It began that very first Thanksgiving after you moved to Golden Grove when you'd confided in Qiu that it would be just you and your mom for the holiday—no one else. No distant relatives, no friends from before.

Qiu, being Qiu, had taken it upon themselves to make sure no one felt left out that Turkey Day. They always felt responsible for everyone's happiness back then, as if their arms were wide enough to gather the whole world in a hug, always feeling like it was their duty.

Luckily for you, that kindness had extended to your small family.

You still didn't know how they had convinced their parents, but the three families gathered around a shared table every year since then. Your mom had expressed her gratitude a hundred times, but you always felt a quiet relief mixed with something more—something you had never quite dared to name.

With a steadying breath, you turned the knob and stepped inside, the warm air embracing you immediately like a soft blanket. From the entryway, voices drifted in from the kitchen, mingling with the soft drone of a TV playing in the background. Your eyes traveled to the couch, where Mr. Baumann, Tamarack's grandfather, was already snoozing—his head tipped back, mouth slightly open, newspaper on his lap in a nap born of habit now that he was actually retired, not turkey-induced drowsiness.

You began to take off your shoes, your gaze wandering toward the dining room. The table was already set, the plates gleaming under the soft light of the chandelier, the silverware perfectly aligned. The Lins were hosting this year, just as you and your mom had hosted last year, and the Baumanns the year before that.

Everything seemed as it always was—perfectly in place—but something felt off-kilter, like a picture hanging slightly askew.

Suddenly, a voice cut through your thoughts.

"You're late!" Before you could even register the words, you were pulled into a warm hug, the familiar scent of vanilla and cinnamon wrapping around you like a favorite old sweater.

"Tamarack!" you exclaimed, pulling back just enough to look at her. "I thought you were going to be in Florida for Thanksgiving?"

Tamarack smiled faintly, her fingers nervously tugging at the cuff of her cardigan. The sight of her made your heart swell. She'd cut her hair, and it fell in soft waves just above her shoulders, the vibrant red catching the light in a way that made it glow like embers in a fireplace. You'd always loved how her hair seemed to blaze like that, and seeing her now, you realized just how much you'd missed her presence.

"I was, but… Dad had this academic convention thing, and—" she paused, her eyes flicking downward. "Well, you know how it is."

You gave her a tight-lipped smile, understanding all too well. You rested a hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently, offering a silent reassurance that you knew she needed. Tamarack had heard enough complaints about her parents from you over the years. You'd save it this time.

"Well, their loss because I get you all to myself then," you teased, lightening the mood, and Tamarack laughed softly, fanning your hand away with a mock frown.

"Hey, not true! I'm here too," came Qiu's voice, clear and bright, cutting through the air like a sunbeam as they emerged from the kitchen at the end of the hallway. Your heart stumbled in your chest, further tangling your thoughts with last night's almost-confession.

You found a crack in the entryway tile incredibly interesting as they approached. "I've been waiting for you," they stated casually, and your eyes snapped up.

I have been waiting for you, not we. You couldn't help the little giddiness you felt that, in turn, made you cringe internally.

"Well, here I am," you said coolly, shrugging and fanning your hands at your sides sarcastically.

Qiu laughed, "Yes, I can see that. Your mom said you were up late? Did your test go okay?" Their dark eyes widened slightly as if in concern.

The expression sent your heart leaping into your throat. Damn it. What would normally be an easy response escaped you in a choked grunt, and you mentally kicked yourself for being such a baby.

"Oh, uh, yeah! It went fine, just stress—y'know," you stammered lamely. From the corner of your eye, Tamarack's gaze oscillated between the two of you. Then, her red eyes narrowed as if trying to read between the lines of a page that wasn't meant for her.

You could practically feel her thoughts buzzing, and it took everything in you to not pinch her to keep whatever she was about to say to herself. She had an uncanny ability to sniff out your lies from a mile away. You were sure she'd known how you felt about Qiu for a long time, even though you'd never explicitly discussed it.

"You three going to loiter about or make yourselves useful?" Granny's voice rang out from the kitchen, halting Tamarack in her tracks. All three of you tensed like deer caught in headlights.

"Coming!" You answered in unison before all but running down the hall to help. The moment you crossed the threshold, it felt like you'd stepped back in time.

The warm, familiar kitchen space was bustling with activity. Mrs. Lin stood at the stove, expertly maneuvering pots. Mr. Lin stirred gravy on the other side, his brow furrowed in concentration. There was even a small army of Tupperware and bowls covering every spare countertop.

Your nose twitched at the scent of rosemary, sage, and basil swirling together. They made space for your mom, who was removing her homemade rolls from the oven heat with a pair of bright red mitts. You smirked slightly.

The Lins' kitchen had always been a place of warmth and comfort, even from the first moment you stepped into it so many years ago. It was a living memory, a scrapbook filled with laughter and the smells of comfort.

The walls were painted in a soft, buttery yellow that glowed under the warm overhead lights, and the cabinets were made of rich wood that matched the worn, well-loved floorboards. The windows were always open, letting in fresh autumnal air and fading light that reflected off the various mahogany accents scattered around the room.

It was a kitchen you associated with homework at the counter, with secret snacks during sleepovers, and with being shooed out of the back door by Mrs. Lin as she cooked. You'd snuck in that same backdoor on late nights as much as you and Qiu had been chased out of it. There's a reason why some people say the kitchen is the heart of the house.

As silly as it sounded, it felt like your own heart was beating in sync with every bubbling pot and crackling pan.

"You sure you even need help? Seems like we'd just be in the way," you chuckled. Sitting at the counter, Granny turned and wagged her finger at you with mock sternness.

"Nonsense, you kids—excuse me, adults—need to be put to work," she insisted. "Here, egg duty for the three of you. I need to make sure Opa isn't sleeping again. I swear, he'd miss the whole day if it wasn't for me," she grumbled before rising and making her escape.

"She knows Opa is going to be asleep. She just did that to get out of her own work," Tamarack murmured with a sigh. For a moment, she looked like a younger version of Granny—her expression, the way she crossed her arms, her wry smile. You'd heard it a thousand times before—how Tamarack had more of Granny in her than either of her parents. You couldn't help but smile at the resemblance, preferring it.

Tamarack grabbed an egg from the bowl, tapping it lightly against the granite counter before beginning to peel it. You and Qiu shared a look and, with a resigned shrug, formed a makeshift assembly line. Tamarack peeled the eggs, Qiu sliced them in half and scooped out the yolks, and you mixed the filling, stirring in mayo, mustard, and paprika before spooning it back into the waiting whites.

The three of you slipped into an easy rhythm, light conversation flowing between you. You laughed over things you'd seen on the internet, movies you'd recently watched, and memories of past Thanksgivings. For a moment, it was easy to pretend that nothing had changed, that you were just three friends, laughing and working side by side, just like before.

But every so often, someone would mention college—an anecdote, a funny story, a new friend—and the illusion would shatter like glass, the reality slicing your skin. You had nothing to offer in these moments, nothing to relate except a smile here, a nod there, and every so often a shared huff of annoyance in reference to studying.

The eggs were finished, and so was the rest of the food. After a chaotic setting of the table—filled with jostling, teasing, and Granny's laughter echoing from the doorway—you all finally sat down to eat. The table was overflowing with dishes—classic Thanksgiving staples like turkey, stuffing, and cranberry sauce, but also foods that reflected your friends' heritages.

Things like mooncakes that Qiu's family would get for the Mid-Autumn Festival, but always again for this special occasion, each one delicately shaped and filled with lotus paste. Granny had brought her famous kartoffelsalat, a potato salad recipe passed down from Mr. Baumann's mother and her mother before her, all the way back to Germany.

And, of course, your mom's pumpkin pie sat in the center, much to Qiu's noticeable relief.

The table buzzed with conversation as everyone ate, voices overlapping in a warm, familiar sound. You reached for one of the rolls, but your hand collided with Qiu's at the exact same moment. They swatted your hand away with a playful grin, snatching up the last one.

"Hey!" you exclaimed, feigning outrage. Qiu just laughed, eyes twinkling with that mischief that was oh-so-them.

"Gotta be quicker than that," they teased, but in the same breath, they were tearing the roll in half, offering you a piece with a soft, almost unconscious gesture of affection.

Cheeks flaming, you took the role without even a quip, which was unusual—normally, you never let Qiu have the last word. Beside you, Tamarack chuckled, and you nudged her gently with your elbow.

"I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you've still got it bad, huh?" Tamarack whispered, her tone teasing. Qiu was busy explaining to Granny again what they were studying at school; their animated voice faded into the background.

"Sh-shut up!" you hissed louder than you intended. It was the first time she had ever blatantly referred to what you both knew. "Don't… don't make it obvious," you murmured in a pleading tone, and you busied your hands by cutting into your food.

Tamarack's giggle was light and knowing, her eyes dancing with amusement. "I don't think you need my help to do that," she whispered back with a smug grin. This time, you actually elbowed her, but she just laughed, clearly enjoying your discomfort.

Eventually, the conversation shifted, and you knew what was coming before anyone even opened their mouth. The topic of college and futures turned, unfortunately, to you.

"How's school?" someone asked, and you braced yourself.

"Fine," you mumbled through a mouthful of mashed potatoes, hoping the food would muffle the sound of your anxiety.

"Enjoying your classes?" Came the next question.

"Yeah, they're great!" You stated a little too brightly.

"Make any new friends?"

"Well…yeah, actually a few!" you replied, the lie sliding out of your mouth as easily as the rest.

"How's work going?"

"Livin' the dream!" you quipped, flashing a smile that felt more like a grimace.

The table laughed, but it was the same polite laughter you'd heard a hundred times before—the same interview questions, the same rehearsed answers, a tired script playing out on an endless loop.

Then Granny's voice broke through the noise, unexpected and sharp.

"So, what can you even do with that? Your degree?"

"Dorthea…" Mr. Baumann sighed beside her, his tone laced with a familiar exasperation.

"Omi!" Tamarack chided, her eyes wide with disbelief.

"What? It's an honest question!" She defended herself. "You hear about these college kids studying things they can't even live on, saddled with debt. I'm only a concerned guardian. What, especially with everything that's gone on in the past, I only wanted to make sure they're thinking it through, is all."

Her words hung in the air, cold, like someone had left the dining room window open. It sliced through the warm buzz of the room, and suddenly, it was like the Hallmark golden veneer of the moment faded to the washed-out greys you knew too well.

The table went silent except for the soft clinking of silverware against plates. Granny looked around, realizing too late that she had put her foot in her mouth. "Oh, there I go again," she murmured, sighing. "I'm not trying to be the bad guy…"

You stared at your plate, feeling…nothing. Of course, no one spoke up. They probably thought she was right, and you didn't have the energy to defend yourself. Not like when you were younger and would have reacted in venomous anger.

It wasn't like you even could defend yourself if you wanted to. School, your job, even the act of getting out of bed some days—these were all just formalities you performed so people wouldn't pry too deeply.

You didn't care what she thought. What anyone thought. To hell with them. To hell with all of it. You didn't care… so why was your stomach churning, and why couldn't you look up? Why couldn't you meet anyone's gaze?

"Whatever they want," Qiu's clear voice broke through the tension. Your eyes lifted to see them giving Granny a flat, unyielding look. "They can do whatever they want with their degree. Besides, it's not really your business at the end of the day," they finished gently but with a tone of silk over steel.

The table watched quietly as the two stared each other down. Qiu then shrugged and took a drink from their glass, dismissing it like Granny had asked about the weather.

You'd almost forgotten there was this part of Qiu. That biting, 'you're either with it or you're not' attitude. The fierce, unwavering protector, the one who was just as much the mediator as they were the one who stood their ground and didn't flinch. To bite their thumb in the face of authority when it really mattered.

It was the side that reminded you why you'd fallen in love with them in the first place.

"Qiu, that's not—" Mrs. Lin started, but Granny raised her hand, a look of contrition crossing her face.

"No, no, Qiu is right," Granny nodded, seeming to understand the unspoken line she had crossed. "I'm sorry," she said, turning back to you. "That wasn't polite of me to ask, and even if it was, I went about it very ungracefully. I know you all must think I'm full of sage wisdom at my age, but even I still make mistakes." She chuckled, and a few others followed suit, but the awkward air lingered like smoke in a closed room.

"The tree farm!" Tamarack suddenly blurted out, snapping the tension like a wishbone. You raised an eyebrow. The tree farm?

"We're going tomorrow, right?" she continued, her eyes darting around the table with earnest hope in them. Your brain finally caught up with her words. Every year since you were ten, your three families piled into cars and drove out of the city to a family-owned tree farm to cut down your Christmas trees.

It was a whole day event—an unofficial ceremony that marked the true beginning of the holiday season. When Tamarack Baumann was finally allowed to relish in and shower her Christmas cheer on everyone around. Your cul-de-sac's very own holiday cheer meister and Santa Claus.

You could almost hear her humming Christmas carols under her breath and see her grinning from ear to ear as she dragged everyone through rows of trees taller than the sky. You'd almost forgotten about it…how was that possible?

The memories flooded back, of snow-dusted laughter, steaming mugs of hot chocolate, and Qiu's smile beneath a mist of frosty breath. The moments you cherished—the warmth that filled you from the inside out, even on the coldest days.

But now, thinking about it only reminded you of how much had changed, how there was no guarantee this would happen again. How much more complicated things felt. If Tamarack hadn't said anything, would this have just been another memory that remained just that? You swallowed, trying to clear the lump that had formed in your throat.

"I don't see why not if the Lins and the Seconds are for it. It is a tradition, after all," Granny interjected, seeming to try and make up for her previous fumble.

"A tradition! Yes!" Tamarack exclaimed, her eyes lighting up as she turned to you and Qiu as if the two of you were her last hope.

Qiu gave a quick nod, their smile warm, "Yeah, we definitely can't miss that."

"Great," Mr. Lin chimed in. He clasped his hands together, that quiet enthusiasm he always seemed to carry filling the air. "Us older adults can take our car. Would you be okay chauffeuring on the other end?" Mr. Lin and the rest of the table's attention fell back onto you.

"Uh, yeah, sure." You nodded, feeling a small surge of pride. It almost felt good to be old enough to be depended on, to have some small responsibility that made you feel trusted.

"I'm getting the perfect tree this year. I can feel it," Tamarack declared with confidence, eyes closed like she was already picturing the evergreen tree.

"Tamarack, last you picked a tree so tall you guys had to put it in your backyard and get another one," Qiu teased.

"That's why this year is going to be perfect. I've learned from my mistakes." She quipped back with a smirk. The table burst into laughter, and the tension that had hovered in the air just minutes ago seemed to melt away, dissolving like sugar in hot tea.

With bellies full and plenty of leftovers, the group began the ritual of cleaning up. You and Qiu were assigned dish duty while Tamarack busied herself with loading food into Tupperware for people to take home.

The kitchen had a quiet busyness about it. Every so often, you'd hear Granny or your mom laugh aloud. You and Qiu stood side by side at the sink, the warm water flowing over your hands as you washed and rinsed. Tamarack hummed behind you, working on her own task. For a moment, it was just the two of you again, the rest of the world fading into the background.

"Thanks for earlier," you mumbled, barely louder than the water, as you scraped at a stubborn piece of food on a plate. "You didn't have to—y'know—say anything."

Qiu glanced at you, their expression softening, a small smile pulling at the corners of their mouth. "Of course I did. Granny will just keep going if no one stops her, and what she said wasn't cool."

They paused for a moment, thinking about their words before speaking; their dark eyes were searching yours. "I just don't get why you always look like you're in trouble when someone brings up that kind of stuff. You're…doing great."

You handed a plate to them to be rinsed without meeting their gaze. Of course, they'd think that. You'd damned yourself to make it so.

"Right…" You only offered in response. Their hand brushed yours as they reached for the dishcloth, and your heart gave a little leap.

The contact was brief, fleeting, but it left a spark in its wake, an electricity that hummed between you like a live wire.

The dumbest thing, you thought. This was a person you'd spent the night within each other's rooms for years, sharing beds, and now you acted as if you were a Victorian who'd touched someone's hand without a glove.

Your cheeks burned, heat rushing to your face as you quickly returned to the dishes, scrubbing harder as if trying to wash away the emotions rising to the surface. The room seemed to shrink around you, the silence thickening. Qiu, usually so effortlessly chatty, was suddenly focused on a single spot on a wine glass, rubbing it over and over as if it might reveal some secret if they just polished hard enough.

It was then you noticed the absence of Tamarack's humming. Glancing over your shoulder, you saw her watching the two of you, her eyes wide, caught in the act of witnessing something unspoken.

"Oh! All done here! You guys need any help?" She stammered, scrambling to place a lid on an overfilled bowl of mashed potatoes.

"Nah, this was the last glass. I'll get the bigger stuff later," Qiu replied too quickly. Even though you offered to finish, Qiu would not be swayed. You felt the evening slipping away, an ache in your chest at the thought of it ending.

"Well…" you started, searching for an excuse, any excuse, to hold onto this moment a little longer. "I'd say we've earned ourselves a little walk, don't you think, Qiu?" You raised your eyebrows, a devil-may-care smile forming.

Qiu immediately caught your undertone and nodded with a knowing smirk. "I think you'd be right. A nice nature walk. We've earned it."

Tamarack looked between the two of you, suspicion narrowing her eyes. "A walk? I don't wanna go for a walk. Why—" Then she stopped, her eyes narrowing further. "Oh. A walk. Really?"

Qiu shrugged, playing innocent, and you simply gave a mischievous smile. "Exactly; what better time for a walk than after so much food."

Tamarack rolled her eyes with a long, exaggerated sigh. "Fine."

With a shared conspiratorial grin, the three of you slipped out the back door as if you were still teenagers sneaking away, even though you were past the age of needing anyone's permission. The forest loomed ahead, shadows thickening beneath the trees. The air felt cooler, sharper as if it were holding its breath in anticipation. Waiting for the three of you to return under it's branches.

Qiu slung an arm over your shoulder, their laughter light and carefree. You felt yourself stumble, caught between the want to lean closer and the fear of falling.

Tomorrow, you told yourself. Tomorrow, I'll say something. But for tonight, you let yourself pretend that time wasn't marching on, that it was just you and your two best friends sneaking out into the dark for a relaxing walk like nothing had changed at all.

Part 4

[only-lonely-star]

hi! Can you do a Curtis sister imagine (she's older than pony but younger than soda) and the boys are sooo protective over her and scare away any boys who look at her so they think she's never even kissed a guy. Then she's at home alone and thinks the boys won't be home for a while and is making out with a guy in her room when Darry bursts in with the boys and they all lose their minds

୨୧ Not What It Looks Like ୨୧

~ Curtis Brothers (Curtis Sibling Reader)~

Warnings - Kissing, mild shouting and cursing, mild violence

Summary - You thought you had hours…

Author’s Note - Hii! I won’t be as busy this week so I’ll be sure to finish more requests as the week progresses, so sorry for the wait! Thank you so so much for the request, this one was fun to write, enjoy! 😽🫶🏼

Word Count - 2.4k.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄☆ ⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂

(Quick A/N || I decided to name the boy’s character ‘Thomas’ just because I find it easier than saying ‘the boy’ a hundred times or something 😭)

The Curtis residence was always a busy place. Whether friends were over, or it was just another chaotic night - there was never a dull moment. Tonight, however, you were declared as '(Wo)Man of the House' by your oldest brother, Darrel. Ponyboy and Sodapop didn't seem to mind lending you the title for the night, you did most of the housekeeping and whatnot anyway.

Ponyboy could be found slicking his hair back, standing in front of the bathroom mirror attempting to look tuff - or so he thought. Sodapop was occupied with Darrel, the pair pacing around the house as they rallied themselves up for the night. They were all going on a ‘guys night out’…whatever that meant. You were standing around, waiting to wave them off for the night.

Ponyboy emerged from the bathroom, a look of excitement in his eye as he approached the others.

“You ready?” Darrel asked, giving him a firm pat on the back, smiling down to him. Ponyboy nodded and hooked his fingers into the belt loops of his jeans, admiring Sodapop who stood beside him.

“Finally, took you ‘bout an hour to grease that hair up,” Sodapop chuckled, gently grazing his fingertips along the swoops of Ponyboy’s hair, combed back to utter perfection.

You let out a small sigh, a knowing grin creeping up on your face. You dismissed it as relief that your three rowdy brothers would give you some alone time. “So, are you guys…leaving…yet?”

Darrel raised an eyebrow, slowly stepping for the door as the other two followed. “Boy, someone sure is sick of us,” he snorted, the doorknob in the palm of his hand.

You sarcastically played along, shoving Sodapop and Ponyboy by the back of their shoulders with a scoff. “Sure am, get out.”

They exchanged small glances, Ponyboy holding up his hands in defense. “We’re goin’, we’re goin’…”

It didn’t take long for the two to file out, Darrel staying behind to have a word with you. He popped his hand on his hip, the other moving a stray strand of hair to rest behind your ear. His eyes met yours, a look of concern etched on his face. “Listen, you know I don’t like leaving you home alone,” he began, sensing your rebuttal a mile away.

“I’ll be fine, you ain’t gotta worry,” you assured him, your voice a rather gentle one. You knew that was the key to fooling him - it always was.

Darrel took your word for it, wrapping up his lecture before it even began. “No boys, no cookin’, no driving,” he spoke with finality, his index finger pointed to you as he reinforced the rules he set since the loss of your parents.

“I know!” you exclaimed, mildly frustrated with how protective he was acting. It would only be a few hours before he, Ponyboy, and Sodapop returned. It wasn’t like you were about to cause a disaster home alone - you’d done this countless times.

Darrel shook his head, wrapping an arm around the small of your back as yours wrapped around his chest. “Be back at eleven,” he murmured, pulling away and stepping outside the front door. You stepped outside as well, your feet kept on the steps as your brothers began to cruise on down the road. Waving them off with a smile, the boys reciprocated before disappearing into the horizon of the night sky.

You leaped for the side of the house, looking around frantically with a giggle of excitement. Your voice echoed, a mix of a whisper yet a beckon. “Thomas! Thomas, where are - …”

A hand grabbed your forearm, the boy hoisting himself up from within the small bushes along the side of your house. “I’m here.”

You leaped into his arms, picking away at small twigs and leaves that had fallen into his messy brown hair. Your legs wrapped around his waist the gentle feeling of your body against his, the boy’s hands holding you up from your hips. You chuckled, feeling the sweat practically dripping from his hair as you pecked his cheek. “How long have you been out here? I told you seven p.m!”

Thomas spun you around a few times before walking towards the front door that still stood wide open. “I left my place around six-forty, got here a minute ago,” he replied softly, carefully setting you down on the soft, beige sofa.

Your arms still yearned for him, even as he took a seat beside you, resting his arm over the top of the couch. He had only love in his eyes, admiring you from head to toe. “So, what’s the verdict?” he posed, grinning down at you, his free hand running through his hair.

“No boys,” you restated, remembering Darrel’s rules with a small sigh of annoyance. You’d gone this far anyway - so what did it matter? “But Darry said he’ll be back ‘round eleven with Soda and Ponyboy.”

Thomas’s grin only widened from there, settling himself into the couch further. “Oh so we got lots of time, hm?”

You tilted your head to the side, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Somethin’ like that,”

This felt a little too risky, sneaking a boy around in the living room of all places. They wouldn’t be home for a few more hours, but it still felt strange. Standing from the sofa, you tugged on Thomas’s wrist. “Let’s go to my room, I don’t feel safe here,” you joked, a small shake of your head as you glanced to the unlocked door. Thomas was more than happy to oblige, following you to your very empty yet feminine bedroom.

“So this is the little hide-out, huh?” he spoke teasingly as he glanced around, taking in the sight of clothes everywhere and a small vanity pushed to the corner of the room, across from your bed. He shut the door behind him, hesitating on whether to lock it or not. You sat down on the edge of the pink, ruffled bedding, clutching a pillow into your arms tightly.

“I guess it is,” you smiled softly, his charming gaze reeling you right in to where he wanted you. He stood in front of you, his hand moving to cup your jaw. You didn’t mind the touch of course, you were addicted to any touch from him.

Thomas removed his hand before sitting on the bed beside you, reaching out for the pillow. You reluctantly let go of it, knowing Thomas was about to make a bold move of some sort. You two were alone and absolutely infatuated with each other. He set the pillow aside, pressing his hand to your waist as he leaned his head closer to yours. “You’re beautiful,” he grinned, closing the distance between the two of you as his lips met yours.

Your eyes darted shut, one hand holding you propped up, the other resting atop his shoulder. This was no short peck, this was a deep and almost passionate kiss. You obviously reciprocated, the situation of being home alone too good to go to waste. You doubled his passion and added force to your kisses. Thinking fast, Thomas began to lean back as his head rested against the mattress. His hand found your waist, pulling your body flush against his. Thomas could feel your grin against his lips, his other hand moving to keep your jaw in his palm, ensuring your kisses didn’t stop any time soon. You pulled away panting, your smile never once faltering. “I think we should stop, I hear a car…” you began to say, a car door shutting nearby. The sound was eerily close - but then again your brothers weren’t scheduled to be home for a few hours.

Thomas gave a firm head shake, pulling your jaw closer. “Nope, it hasn’t even been an hour,” he reminded you, locking his lips onto yours once more.

You weren’t about to turn him down, so you did as told and continued, your head moving up and down with slight movements. Thomas’s tongue slipped in between your lips, the sensation was both new and a bit alarming. A small groan left your now parted lips, running your hand through his hair.

The sound of shuffling feet outside your bedroom door should’ve been a dead giveaway to stop - but your mind was cloudy and only focused on Thomas. It was far too late to stop now, even as the doorknob turned and you were aware someone was home, you didn’t have the time to stop.

“I forgot to bring my w-…” Darrel began, the door opening in a swift movement as he stood in the doorway absolutely baffled. His knuckles were now white as he squeezed onto the brown leather wallet in the palm of his hand. His instincts led him to toss the wallet with all of the force he could muster, landing directly on the boy you were laid atop of.

You pulled away in an instant, a small trail of shared saliva being wiped away using the back of your hand as the soft groans came to an immediate halt.

Your other brothers, Ponyboy and Sodapop, stood behind Darrel with displeased looks. “Come on, it doesn’t take this long to -…” Sodapop was quickly hushed as he too caught sight of scene.

Darrel stomped forward, his hands shaking with anger as he shouted at Thomas - the boy unbeknownst to their early arrival. “Get the hell out, the fuck are you doing with my little sister-?!” he shouted, his fists unraveling themselves to tug at Thomas’s shirt, stretching it out as he yanked him closer for answers.

You had never heard Darrel shout like that ever. You sprinted off the bed and stood in the opposite corner of the room as you watched Thomas nearly get a beating for the kiss.

Sodapop caught you off guard, his hand firmly grasping your bicep as his eyes bore into yours. “Who’s this boy?” he asked, his tone filled with utter disappointment - but at least it wasn’t anger like Darrel’s.

“It’s not what it looks like - Thomas and I just…” you began sheepishly, your eyes unable to make eye contact with him out of guilt.

Your eyes flickered over to Darrel briefly, watching him holler like you’d never seen before. Thomas nodded his head along vigorously, his eyes wide with fear as he desperately tried to free himself from Darrel’s grasp. Ponyby’s annoyed voice snapped you out of it, your attention directed towards him. “That boy from school? Really?”

Sodapop spoke up again, shoving your shoulder slightly as his expression held a stern look. “It don’t matter where he’s from, you know you ain’t allowed to have boys over.”

You glanced between Sodapop and Darrel, watching as he had to drag Thomas out of your bedroom, the yelling not yet ending. You swallowed the guilt down and nervously chewed the inside of your cheek. “I’m sorry~” you began, your hands fidgeting as you thought about the hour long lecture you’d receive from Darrel.

Sodapop began mumbling words of annoyance under his breath at the newfound information you’d had some secret boyfriend going on. None of your brothers ever would have expected such a thing from you - hell, the last thing they would suspect from you was to be caught kissing some boy while they were gone. “Can’t trust her… we just can’t…” he mumbled to Ponyboy who looked equally as pissed.

Moments later, Darrel had his jaw still clenched with Thomas now long gone. He made his way to you with his fists balled up and resting by his sides. “You’ve got explaining to do,” he grumbled, his voice thick with anger. You’d betrayed his trust, Sodapop’s, and even Ponyboy’s.

Exhaling deeply, you took a step back, your hand trembling in fear. “I just thought -…” your voice was interrupted by Darrel’s.

“It would be fun to sneak a boy around? Behind our backs? Especially after I said no boys?” His arms crossed as his stern gaze seemed to deepen further.

You didn’t reply, you stood there matching his stance only yours was out of shame. You knew you were going against their set rules.

Darrel shook his head as he let out a sigh he’d been holding in for way too long. “We just wanna protect you, that’s all. That’s all I want,” he said in a somehow gentle tone, wrapping an arm around your back, the other gesturing for a group hug.

Sodapop and Ponyboy circled around you, hugging you tightly. It felt as if the mood had lightened a bit now that Thomas was gone and you were back in the protective arms of your brothers. Sodapop nuzzled his forehead against the top of your head, chuckling softly. “So you’ve had some boyfriend all along?”

Darrel stiffened but held back from lashing out yet again. Ponyboy grimaced and swatted your back with a teasing snort. “Him of all people too?”

You broke the hug off, having to pry off their arms as you finally cracked a sheepish smile. “Not anymore - I think Darry traumatized that poor guy,” you giggled, the guilt subsiding to a feeling of amusement. Sure it was a messy way to break the ice with your brothers - but it was bound to happen eventually.

Darrel gave your back a firm pat, Ponyboy and Sodapop stepping for the door to your bedroom, snickering and cracking jokes. “I forgot my wallet, I came back and thought I’d check on you,” he explained, picking up the wallet he used on Thomas.

You winced at the memory of it hitting him upside the head, the shock initially hitting you as you scrambled off of him. “I was wondering why you came so early…” you remarked playfully.

“I know why you were tryin’ to kick us out so bad now,” Darrel shot back, an equal amount of sarcasm laced in his voice. He shoved the leather wallet back into his pocket.

He stepped for the door to your bedroom once more, glancing back at you. “No boys. Ever.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, stepping closer to him to argue on the topic. Darrel was already down the hallway as you chased him down. “You said when i’m eighteen - …”

Darrel cracked open the front door with a head shake. “Eighteen, but I better not catch you and *Thomas* again,” he huffed, hopping down the stairs, his feet on the white cement, “or any boy for that matter.”

You sighed and waved him off for a second time, this time with the intention of following the rules. You vowed you’d never risk something like that again. “Eighteen!”

[mattsobvimyfav]

neighbors (Matthew Sturniolo)

pt.4

It had been two weeks since everything with Matt’s text, and things had thankfully settled back into routine. Charlie had gone home for her mom’s birthday, leaving me with the house all to myself. At first, it felt strange not having her around, but I quickly leaned into the quiet.

By Saturday night, I was curled up on the couch in my comfiest sweatshirt and shorts, binge-watching an old show I’d seen a hundred times before. 

The knock at the door came out of nowhere.

It was sharp and deliberate, startling me enough to pause the show. I froze for a second, wondering if I imagined it, but then it came again—louder this time.

I glanced at the clock. Almost 10 p.m.

The knock startled me out of my comfortable haze.

I froze on the couch, the faint sound of the TV filling the silence as I strained to listen. It came again—a firm, deliberate knock at the door.

The house was eerily quiet without Charlie, and suddenly, the silence felt heavier. My stomach twisted with unease as I stood, moving slowly toward the door. My bare feet padded softly against the hardwood floor, and my pulse quickened with every step.

I paused a few feet away, staring at the door like it might explode. Another knock, louder this time.

I hesitated for a moment before finally unlocking the door and opening it. Standing on the other side was Nick, his hands shoved into his hoodie pockets, looking surprisingly…nervous.

“Nick?” I said, confusion clear in my voice.

“Hey,” he said softly. “Can I come in?”

I stared at him for a second, debating. My first instinct was to slam the door shut, but something in his expression stopped me. He wasn’t cocky or smug like I half-expected—he looked almost apologetic.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I said firmly, crossing my arms.

“Look, Y/N,” he started, his voice calm, “I know this is weird. But I… I just want to talk. Please?”

I sighed, my grip tightening on the door. “Why now, Nick? You had years to talk, to fix this, and you didn’t.”

“I know,” he admitted, stepping back slightly. “I know we screwed up. Big time. And I’m not here to justify it or even try to make things better. I just wanted to see if you’d hear me out.”

I leaned against the doorframe, unsure what to do. Part of me wanted to tell him to leave, to walk back to his perfect life next door and never bother me again. But another part of me, the part that still carried the weight of the past, was curious.

“I don’t know, Nick…” I said, my voice trailing off.

“I’m not asking you to forgive me or any of us,” he said quickly. “I hate the way things ended. And I hate the idea that we’re going to keep living next door to each other like strangers who pretend not to know each other.”

I frowned. “That’s not my problem. You guys made your choice. You left us.”

Nick's shoulders slumped slightly. “You’re right. We did. And I’m not proud of how we handled it. I’m sorry, Y/N. For everything.”

His voice cracked on the last word, and for the first time in years, I saw a glimpse of the old Nick—the one who used to make me laugh until I cried, the one who was always the peacekeeper between his brothers.

“Why are you doing this now?” I asked, my voice softer.

“Because it’s been eating at me,” he admitted. “seeing you just living your life without us—it hit me. You were family to us, Y/N. And we broke that. I can’t speak for Matt or Chris, but I needed to say something. Even if it doesn’t change anything.”

I bit my lip, torn. My heart ached at his words, but my walls were still firmly in place.

“I don’t know if I can do this, Nick,” I whispered.

“You don’t have to decide anything right now,” he said quickly. “But if you ever want to talk, I’m here.”

I hesitated, then nodded slightly. “Okay.”

Nick gave me a small, sad smile and stepped back. “Thanks for letting me say my piece.”

I didn’t respond, watching as he turned to walk back toward his house. 

I hesitated, my hand still gripping the doorknob as I watched Nick step away. Something in me softened, though I wasn’t entirely sure why. Maybe it was the vulnerability in his voice, or maybe I just didn’t want to sit alone with my thoughts for the rest of the night.

“Nick,” I called out, my voice barely above a whisper.

He stopped in his tracks and turned back toward me, his expression unreadable.

“Do you… want to come in? We could watch a movie or something. I was about to order food anyway,” I said, the words surprising even myself as they left my mouth.

His eyes widened slightly, and he looked at me like he was making sure he’d heard me right. “Are you serious?”

I shrugged, trying to play it off like it wasn’t a big deal. “Yeah. Just… nothing too heavy, okay? No more serious talks tonight.”

Nick nodded, a small smile forming on his face. “Okay. Deal.”

I stepped aside, letting him walk past me into the house. As he entered, he looked around, taking in the space. “Your house looks great,” he said, genuinely impressed.

“Thanks,” I replied, shutting the door behind him. “We’ve been working on it nonstop since we got here.”

He followed me into the living room, where I grabbed the remote and plopped down on the couch. Nick hesitated for a second before sitting on the opposite end, keeping a respectful distance.

“So, what are you in the mood for?” I asked, scrolling through the streaming apps.

“Something funny,” he suggested. “We could use a laugh, right?”

“Agreed,” I said, landing on a grown ups. “How about this?”

“Perfect,” he said, settling into the cushions.

As the movie started, I pulled up a food delivery app on my phone. “What are you feeling? Pizza? Chinese? Burgers?”

“Pizza’s always a safe bet,” Nick said.

I nodded, quickly placing an order for a large pizza and some sides. By the time the food arrived, we were both laughing at a ridiculous scene in the movie, and the tension from earlier felt like it had melted away.

We ate straight out of the pizza box, the movie playing in the background as we traded comments about random things—funny memories, favorite movies, the chaos of moving. For the first time in a long time, things felt… normal.

“Thanks for letting me stay,” he said softly.

I shrugged, trying to act casual. “It’s just pizza and a movie, Nick.”

“Yeah, but it means more than you know,” he said, his tone serious.

I didn’t respond, instead grabbing the remote to queue up something else. For now, that was enough.

The pounding on the door startled me awake. My neck ached from the awkward angle of sleeping on the couch, and it took me a second to realize where I was. Nick was sprawled out on the other end, snoring softly.

The knocking grew louder and more insistent.

“Jesus,” I muttered, rubbing my eyes as I sat up. “Who the fuck is pounding on my door this early?”

Nick stirred, groaning as he rolled over. “What’s going on?”

“Someone’s at the door,” I said, getting up and making my way toward it. The knocking hadn’t stopped. Whoever it was, they weren’t giving up.

I swung the door open, ready to snap at whoever it was, only to be met with Chris and Matt standing on my doorstep. Chris looked agitated, pacing back and forth, while Matt’s face was a mix of anger and disbelief.

“What the hell are you two doing here?” I asked, crossing my arms.

Matt’s eyes flicked past me to the couch, where Nick was sitting up and rubbing his eyes. “What the fuck is this?” he demanded, his voice low but angry.

“Morning to you too,” I said dryly.

“Nick didn’t come home last night, so we came to check on him,” Chris said, his tone sharp. “And now we find out he’s here? With you?”

I rolled my eyes. “Relax. He came over, we watched a movie, and we fell asleep. It’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal?” Matt repeated, stepping closer. His jaw was tight, and his voice was rising. “You forgave him? Just like that? After everything? But you won’t even hear us out?”

My stomach dropped, but I didn’t let it show. “This isn’t about forgiving anyone,” I said, keeping my voice steady. “Nick didn’t lie to me for months and rip my life apart. So, no, it’s not the same.”

Chris threw his hands in the air. “You’re seriously holding onto this? After four years?”

I glared at him. “Four years doesn’t erase what happened. You don’t get to just show up and expect everything to go back to normal.”

“Nick was part of it too!” Matt shot back, his voice loud now. “He knew what was happening. He didn’t stop us.”

“And yet he’s the only one who’s apologized,” I snapped. “He’s the only one who actually accepted it was his fault, not just blamed it on something else.”

Chris looked like he wanted to argue, but Matt cut him off, stepping closer to me. “You think you’re so above it all, don’t you? Acting like you’re the only one who got hurt. You don’t even know the whole story.”

“Because you never told me!” I shouted. “You left, Matt. You left, and you didn’t care what it did to me. You don’t get to play the victim now.”

The tension was suffocating. Chris looked like he wanted to punch something, and Matt… Matt just looked at me, his expression unreadable.

“You’ve got it all figured out, huh?” he said finally, his voice cold.

“Yeah,” I said, my voice trembling with anger. “I do. Now get off my porch.”

For a moment, neither of them moved. Then Chris grabbed Matt’s arm, pulling him back. “Come on,” he muttered.

Matt didn’t resist, but he didn’t take his eyes off me as they walked away. I slammed the door shut, leaning against it as I tried to steady my breathing.

“That was intense,” Nick said from the couch, his voice hesitant.

I didn’t respond. I was too busy trying to push down the knot of emotions in my chest. Too busy trying not to think about the way Matt had looked at me, like he was still holding onto something I didn’t want to face.

I glanced over at him. “want to grab some breakfast? I’m craving pancakes, and we’ve been cooped up here long enough.”

Nick sat up, running a hand through his hair. “Breakfast sounds amazing. Let me grab my shoes.”

We drove to a cozy diner a few blocks away, the kind of spot where you could smell the coffee before you even opened the door. we settled into a booth, chatting about everything and nothing.

Halfway through our pancakes, a girl approached our table, clutching her phone nervously. She looked between us with wide eyes. “Hi, I’m so sorry to bother you, but… are you Nick and Y/N?”

Nick and I exchanged a glance, smiling. “That’s us,” I said warmly.

The girl grinned, looking like she was trying not to scream. “I love both of you so much! Your videos always make my day. Could I maybe get a picture with you guys? It’d mean the world to me.”

Nick leaned back in his seat with a grin. “Of course. Let’s do it.”

We slid out of the booth, and the girl handed her phone to a nearby diner employee. After snapping a few pictures, she thanked us profusely, practically bouncing as she walked away.

“That was sweet,” Nick said, taking a sip of his coffee.

I nodded. “It’s always nice to meet people who actually enjoy what we do.”

A few hours later, back on the couch, Nick and I were going through some unreleased video footage. “This one is hilarious,” I said, pointing to a clip of me and Charlie trying—and failing—to build furniture. “I still have a bruise from that stupid shelf falling on me.”

As I reached for my phone to show him another clip, the notifications started rolling in. My screen lit up with likes, comments, and tags, all flooding my feed.

“What’s going on?” Nick asked, leaning over to peek at my phone.

I opened Instagram and saw it immediately—a post from the girl we’d met at the diner. The caption read, “Met my faves today! @nicksturniolo and @y/n are so sweet 🥰.”

Nick raised an eyebrow. “Wow, that blew up fast.”

Nick and I sat side by side on the couch, my phone balanced on my knee as we scrolled through the comments under the post. 

The first few comments were sweet and positive:

“OMG, I love them both so much! Glad to see them together!”

“Nick and Y/N hanging out?? My heart can’t take this.”

I smiled. “Okay, these are nice. People are excited.”

Nick nodded. “Yeah, but keep going. The internet’s always got something to say.”

I sighed, swiping down further. The tone shifted quickly:

“Wait, is she back with Matt??”

“This better not mean she’s getting back with Matt. He’s mine.”

“She better stay away from Matt. He doesn’t even want her.”

I groaned, leaning my head against the back of the couch. “And there it is.”

Nick laughed dryly. “Welcome to my world. People love to make assumptions. They think because we’re in the same room, it’s some secret plot to reunite you and Matt.”

I swiped again, hitting the truly rude comments.

“Nick deserves better than to be hanging out with her again.”

“She’s so fake. Watch her run back to the triplets when it benefits her.”

“LMAO, didn’t she say she wanted nothing to do with them? Guess she changed her mind real quick.”

Nick shook his head, taking the phone from my hands. “Alright, enough of that. Don’t let these keyboard warriors get to you. People love to create drama where there isn’t any.”

Nick gave me a reassuring smile. “You don’t owe anyone an explanation, least of all the fucking weirdos online. Let them talk.”

I nodded, feeling a little better. “Thanks, Nick.”

He grinned, leaning back into the couch. “Anytime. Now, let’s focus on something that actually matters—like which of these unreleased videos is going to blow up next.”

I laughed, pulling my laptop onto my lap. “Deal.”

Later that evening, a few hours after Nick left, as I was lounging on the couch scrolling mindlessly through my phone, Charlie’s name popped up on the screen with an incoming FaceTime call. I quickly answered, propping the phone up against the armrest.

“What’s up?” I greeted, noticing that Charlie looked a little hesitant, which wasn’t like her at all.

“Hey,” she started, biting her lip. “So, I need to tell you something.”

I tilted my head, instantly curious. “Okay… what is it?”

She sighed, looking down at something off-screen before meeting my gaze again. “So, I saw that you���ve hung out with Nick, and it kind of made me feel like I should be honest about something.”

My stomach tightened. “What do you mean?”

Charlie winced but continued. “I’ve been texting Chris. For a little while now.”

The words hung in the air for a moment as I processed them.

“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to upset you,” she added quickly, her voice almost pleading. “I know how you feel about everything that happened, and I didn’t want you to think I was choosing him over you or anything like that.”

I took a deep breath, surprised at how calm I felt. “Charlie,” I began softly, “you don’t have to hide something like that from me. I’d never be upset with you for texting Chris.”

Her eyebrows shot up in disbelief. “Really?”

“Of course,” I assured her, leaning back on the couch. “Look, I know what happened between me and Matt and even with Chris back then was messy, but that doesn’t mean you can’t have your own relationship with him. If you trust him and he makes you happy, then that’s all that matters to me.”

Her face softened, relief washing over her. “You mean that?”

“I mean it,” I said firmly. “Charlie, you’re my best friend. I just want you to be happy. If texting Chris feels right for you, then I’m happy for you. No judgment here.”

She let out a small laugh, her shoulders relaxing. “I was so worried you’d be mad or think I was betraying you or something.”

“Never,” I promised. “You’ve always had my back, and I’ll always have yours. Plus, it’s not like I’m holding a grudge or anything. I just… haven’t gotten to where you are yet, and that’s okay. We’re different people.”

Charlie smiled, her eyes shining with gratitude. “Thanks, Y/N. That really means a lot to me.”

“Of course,” I said with a grin. “Now, tell me—what’s he been saying? Has he finally learned how to be a decent texter, or is he still sending one-word responses?”

She burst out laughing, and just like that, the tension melted away. We spent the rest of the call talking and laughing, and for the first time in a while.

“I cant wait for you to come home” I told her before we were about to hang up 

“Two more days, survive two more days” She said 

“I think I’m gonna see if Nick wants to come back over. We had a lot of fun” She smiled wide 

“Maybe have him bring Chris? So that I can be all out with him. reconcile with him. We can work on Matt.. maybe never!” She giggled. I thought about it for a minute. Maybe it was a good idea if he was going to be with my best friend. 

“Okay” 

Charlie looked at me surprised. “Really?” She asked wide eyed 

“Yeah, I mean if you two are going to be together mine as well make up with him” Me and charlie finished our call and I decided to text Nick. 

After hanging up with Charlie, I sat on the couch, still processing everything. She was texting Chris, and it wasn’t as earth-shattering as I thought it might be. If Charlie was happy, I’d make peace with it, but it was time to address the elephant in the room.

I opened my messages and quickly typed out a text to Nick:

Me: “Hey, can you come over? Bring Chris. Just Chris. I need to talk to him.”

It didn’t take long for Nick to reply.

Nick: “Sure. Matt’s out, so it’s just us. Be there in 20.”

I put my phone down and took a deep breath. This wasn’t going to be easy, but if Chris was going to be in Charlie’s life, then I had to figure out a way to deal with him.

Twenty minutes later, there was a knock at the door. I opened it to find Nick standing there with Chris slightly behind him, looking nervous.

“Hey,” Nick greeted with his usual easygoing smile.

“Come in,” I said, stepping aside to let them in. Chris glanced around awkwardly as they entered, his hands shoved deep in his pockets.

We all moved to the living room, and Nick plopped down on the armrest of the couch while Chris stood there like he wasn’t sure where to sit.

“You can sit,” I said, motioning to the chair across from me. He hesitated before lowering himself into it, his gaze flicking between me and Nick.

“So, what’s up?” Nick asked, breaking the silence.

I took a deep breath, my eyes locking on Chris. “Look, I’m going to be straight with you,” I began. “Charlie told me you two have been talking, and I’m not here to fight about it. I just want to set some ground rules if you’re going to be in her life.”

Chris looked startled, his mouth opening to respond, but I held up a hand to stop him.

“I’m not going to pretend like we can just go back to how things used to be,” I continued. “We’re never going to be best friends again, and I’ve accepted that. But for Charlie’s sake, I’m willing to be cordial with you. As long as you don’t hurt her.”

Chris’s shoulders slumped slightly, relief evident in his expression. “I’d never hurt her,” he said quietly, his voice steady but filled with sincerity.

I nodded. “You did. Just don’t do it again.”

Nick snorted from his spot, and Chris shot him a glare. I couldn’t help but let a small smile creep onto my face.

“I’m serious,” I said, leaning back on the couch. “I don’t trust you completely, but Charlie does. And if she’s willing to give you another chance, I’ll respect that. But you need to respect me too. Don’t expect us to be friends, Chris. I’ll be nice, but that’s it.”

Chris nodded, his face serious. “I understand. And… Thank you. For even giving me this chance. I know I don’t deserve it.”

I shrugged, standing up. “It’s not about you, it’s about Charlie. Don’t forget that.”

Nick clapped his hands together, breaking the tension. “Well, that went better than expected. Anyone else hungry, or is it just me?”

I rolled my eyes, but a small laugh escaped me. “You’re always hungry.”

Nick grinned. “Guilty as charged.”

Chris stood up, glancing at me. “Thanks, Y/N. Really.”

I nodded, crossing my arms. “Just don’t mess this up.”

With that, the tension eased, and the three of us settled into a surprisingly comfortable rhythm, chatting lightly while Nick raided my kitchen. It wasn’t perfect, but it was a start.

The peace didn’t last long. A couple of hours later, while Nick was still rummaging through my snack cabinet and Chris was sitting awkwardly on the couch, we heard another knock at the door.

Before I could even get up, the door swung open, and there was Matt, standing in the doorway with an expression that could melt steel.

“Seriously?” he snapped, his voice sharp and accusing as his eyes darted around the room. “So, what? Everyone gets to come back into your life except me?”

I froze for a moment, startled by his sudden appearance, but then I straightened up, crossing my arms. “What are you doing here, Matt?”

“Checking why my brothers are over here,” he shot back. “And now I see why. You’ve forgiven them, but not me?”

Nick groaned, rubbing his temple. “Matt, this really isn’t your business—”

“Stay out of it, Nick,” Matt interrupted, his focus locked on me. “Why, Y/N? Why am I the only one you’re still shutting out?”

I took a deep breath, my jaw clenching as I tried to stay calm. “Because it’s different, Matt,” I said, my voice steady but firm.

“How is it different?” he demanded, stepping further into the room. Chris stood up, but I waved him off.

“Because,” I said, taking a step toward him, “Nick and Chris weren’t my boyfriend. They weren’t the person I trusted the most in the world. They didn’t promise me forever.”

Matt flinched like I’d just slapped him, his eyes narrowing. “You think it was easy for me?” he said, his voice rising. “You think I didn’t hate every second of it?”

“You made your choice, Matt,” I snapped. “I’m so fucking over having this same conversation with you.”

Chris looked down, guilt written all over his face, but Matt didn’t back down. “And you think it was a walk in the park for me?” he shot back. Matt’s jaw tightened, his fists clenching at his sides. “And what about now? I’m here, aren’t I? I’m trying, but you won’t even let me in!”

“Because I don’t owe you that anymore!” I shouted, my voice breaking slightly. “You don’t get to waltz back into my life and act like everything’s fine. It’s not fine, Matt. I moved on. You need to do the same.”

The room fell silent, the tension thick and suffocating. Nick looked like he wanted to disappear, and Chris was staring at the floor, avoiding everyone’s gaze.

Finally, Matt spoke, his voice low and raw. “I never stopped loving you, Y/N. Not for a second.”

I closed my eyes, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Well, that’s too bad,” I said quietly, my voice trembling. “Because I did. So, please, just leave me alone.”

Matt’s face crumpled for a moment, but he quickly masked it with anger. “Fine,” he spat, turning on his heel. “Fuck you.”

He stormed out, slamming the door behind him, and the sound echoed through the house. For a moment, none of us moved or spoke, the air still heavy with the aftermath of the argument.

Finally, Nick let out a low whistle. “Well… that was intense.”

I sank down onto the couch, burying my face in my hands. “I can’t do this,” I muttered, my voice muffled.

Chris hesitated for a moment before sitting back down. “I’m sorry, Y/N,” he said quietly. “For everything.”

I didn’t look up, just nodded. “It’s fine. Let’s just drop it, okay?”

The three of us sat there in silence for a while, the weight of Matt’s words lingering in the back of my mind. 

It had been a whirlwind of a few days, but the house finally felt settled—and more importantly, Charlie was coming back tonight. Since she and Chris had been texting but hadn’t seen each other in person yet, Nick, Chris, and I thought it would be fun to surprise her. We decided to throw her a mini “welcome home” party, just the three of us, and vlog the whole setup.

Nick took the lead on decorating, and by the time we were done, the living room was covered in colorful signs that said things like “Welcome Back!” and “We Missed You!” We’d also ordered snacks, stocked up on drinks, and set up a playlist for the night. Chris was surprisingly into it, helping hang streamers and even insisting we bake cookies.

As we set up, the camera was rolling. “Alright, everyone,” I said into the lens, holding up a tray of freshly baked cookies, “Chris and Nick may have a future in party planning because this place looks amazing.”

Nick snorted. “Don’t lie to them. We’ve been winging this the whole time.”

“Speak for yourself,” Chris chimed in, carefully adjusting one of the signs. “I’m an artist.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Okay, Picasso. Anyway, Charlie should be here around 9:30, and when she walks in, we’re going to scream and scare the crap out of her.”

“I’m excited to see her,” Nick added with a grin.

By the time 9:30 rolled around, the anticipation was killing us. We sat on the couch with the camera ready, waiting for the sound of her car pulling into the driveway. When the headlights finally appeared, we jumped up and got into position by the door.

As soon as the front door opened, we all screamed at the top of our lungs.

“WELCOME HOME!”

Charlie shrieked in surprise, her hand flying to her chest before breaking into a huge grin. “MY BEST FRIEND!” She screamed, dropped her bags and immediately ran toward me first, picking me up and spinning me around. “I missed you so much, Y/N!”

“I missed you too!” I laughed, holding onto her tightly.

“Wow, you literally live with her” Chris said, crossing his arms pretending to be mad. 

Finally her eyes landed on Chris, and her smile widened even more. She bolted toward him, and he caught her effortlessly, lifting her off the ground as she wrapped her arms around his neck. Without hesitation, he kissed her, and we all cheered obnoxiously in the background.

“Okay, okay, get a room!” Nick teased, throwing a pillow at them.

Charlie finally let go of Chris, turning to Nick with a mock glare. “Oh, shut up. I’m just happy to be home!”

We all laughed, the room filling with the energy that had been missing for years. The rest of the night was a blur of catching up, snacks, and laughter as we celebrated Charlie’s return.

The morning light filtered through my curtains as I groggily opened my eyes. Charlie was still beside me, her hair a messy halo on the pillow. We must’ve crashed around four after the boys went home. It felt like we hadn’t had a night like that in years—laughing, talking, just being carefree.

I stretched and yawned, ready to get up, but Charlie turned to me, propping herself up on one elbow. Her face was serious, which immediately put me on edge. “Y/N,” she started, her voice soft but firm, “do you think you’ll ever forgive Matt?”

The question hit me like a punch to the stomach, and before I could stop myself, tears welled up in my eyes. “I don’t know,” I whispered, voice cracking as I sat up and wiped at my face.

“Hey,” Charlie said quickly, sitting up beside me. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I just… I see how much this is still hurting you.”

I let out a shaky breath, the dam breaking as tears spilled over. “He killed me, Charlie,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. “When he left, it wasn’t just that he broke my heart. It was like he shattered this entire part of me I didn’t even know existed. He didn’t just leave me behind, he left everything—us, you, the friendship, everything we built. And I just… I don’t know if I can ever forgive him for that.”

Charlie’s face softened as she pulled me into a hug. “Y/N, I get it. I do. And I’m not saying you need to forgive him. But… maybe you should talk to him.”

I pulled back, looking at her like she was insane. “Talk to him?” I asked, incredulous. “Every time I try, it ends in a fight. He doesn’t listen, I don’t listen—it’s just a mess.”

“Maybe because both of you are so busy fighting, you don’t actually say what you need to,” Charlie pointed out. “Look, I’m not saying it’s going to be easy, but maybe if you sat down and told him everything—how you felt, how you’re still feeling—you’d get some closure. Even if it doesn’t fix anything, at least you’d know you said what you needed to say.”

I stared at her, tears still streaming down my face. “What if I do that and it makes everything worse?”

Charlie smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair out of my face. “How could it get worse? You’re already carrying all this pain. Maybe letting it out will finally help.”

I sighed, wiping at my face. “I don’t know if I can do it, Char.”

“You can,” she said, her voice filled with conviction. “You’re the strongest person I know, Y/N. And if anyone can handle this, it’s you.”

I nodded, though my heart felt heavy. The thought of facing Matt and opening up all those wounds terrified me. But maybe Charlie was right. Maybe it was time to stop fighting and start talking.

As I sat there, trying to gather myself after spilling everything to Charlie, the weight on my chest felt a little lighter. It wasn’t gone, but it was manageable—like I could breathe just a bit easier. Charlie gave me one of her signature warm smiles, the kind that always made me feel like everything might just be okay.

Then, out of nowhere, she clapped her hands together and grinned. “Okay, enough tears for one morning. I have an idea.”

I sniffled, looking at her skeptically. “Should I be scared?”

“No,” she said, her grin widening. “You should be excited. How about we go on vacation? Just the two of us. Like… Hawaii or something!”

I blinked at her, caught completely off guard. “Hawaii? Just like that?”

“Why not?” she said, already grabbing her phone. “We’ve been through so much lately—new house, the boys, everything with Matt. We deserve a break. Just picture it: beaches, fruity drinks, no drama, and relaxation. Doesn’t that sound amazing?”

I couldn’t help but laugh at her enthusiasm. “It does sound amazing,” I admitted, a small smile tugging at my lips.

“Then let’s do it!” she said, practically bouncing on the bed. “We’ll book flights, find a cute little Airbnb by the beach, and just disappear for a week.”

I sighed, already feeling a bit of excitement creeping in. “Alright, let’s do it. But you’re handling the planning. My brain is still fried from everything.”

“Deal!” she said, beaming as she started scrolling through her phone for flights.

As I watched her, a warmth spread through me. No matter what life threw at us, Charlie always found a way to remind me that there was still good, still joy, still something to look forward to. And right now, the thought of sandy beaches and crystal-clear water sounded like exactly what I needed.

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