#i told her i want to have a talk with them about their excuses for firing me bc this is bullshit. still haven’t fucking heard about that.

[devilish-cherry]

ᨳ♡₊➳ jjk men with a s/o who has social anxiety

ᨳ♡₊➳ feat. gojo, geto, nanami, choso, toji

ᨳ♡₊➳ crack, fluff

₊⊹. Satoru Gojo

Gojo is, hands down, the worst person to have around when you have social anxiety because he’s the human equivalent of putting your phone on max brightness in a dark room. Subtlety? Never met her. He thinks the best way to help you “get over” your anxiety is to throw you directly into situations that terrify you—which is objectively the worst way to handle it, but he’s Gojo, so logic does not apply.

“Just talk to them! What’s the worst that could happen?” he says, as if your brain hasn’t already created 19,294 possible worst-case scenarios in the last three seconds.

But if he sees you really panicking, he does become your ultimate human shield. He will talk so much and so loudly that no one will even notice you’re in the room. He’s like a one-man hype squad—dramatically introducing you to people, telling fake stories about how you once saved a baby from a burning building (??), and physically spinning you around like a confused sim to “showcase” you to others.

He also thinks he can fix your anxiety with money. You’re nervous? BOOM—he just bought the entire café so no one else can be there while you order. Scared of talking on the phone? Don’t worry, he hired a personal assistant to do all your calls. You get anxious at big events? Guess what—you’re now watching the concert alone in a VIP skybox, courtesy of Satoru “I Have No Concept of Boundaries” Gojo.

₊⊹. Suguru Geto

Unlike Gojo, Geto actually listens when you say you have social anxiety. He’s your calm, soothing presence who always has your back. If you’re at a social event, he stays close, and does all the talking for you.

Someone pressures you into talking? Geto immediately places a protective hand on your shoulder and effortlessly takes over. “Ah, they don’t feel like talking right now. You understand, don’t you?” (Read: You better understand, or you will be dealt with.)

Geto has zero problems with being your designated spokesperson. If you need something from the waiter but are too anxious to ask, Geto just lifts a lazy hand and orders for you like it’s second nature. And if you ever need an excuse to leave somewhere, he straight-up lies for you.

He always notices when you start getting overwhelmed, even when you try to play it cool. “Do you need a break?” “You wanna go home?” “I can fake an emergency if you need an out.” He has 10 different exit strategies prepared at all times.

He also gaslights you into confidence (in a good way). If you say, “Ugh, I was so awkward,” he immediately replies, “No, you were mysterious and cool.” He refuses to let you spiral.

₊⊹. Kento Nanami

Nanami takes your anxiety very seriously and does research to figure out how best to help you. He probably has a folder of PDFs titled “How to Support Someone With Social Anxiety,” and he reads all of them.

He notices you struggling in conversations and subtly steps in, redirecting attention away from you without making it obvious. He also has the unique skill of making excuses for you so smoothly that even you believe them. He never forces you into situations that make you uncomfortable. If you don’t want to go somewhere, he’ll just stay home with you—no questions asked.

He also takes over any “adult” interactions you dread. Need to call and schedule an appointment? Nanami’s already dialing. Don’t want to talk to a stranger? He steps in like a well-paid lawyer. You once told him that you hate making returns at stores because the confrontation stresses you out. Next thing you know, he’s standing at the counter, receipt in hand, calmly saying, “This item was defective. We’d like a refund.” The cashier is terrified. You’re in awe.

At restaurants, he’ll call the waiter over if you’re too nervous. At events, he’ll stand in front of you like a personal barrier so you don’t feel exposed. And if someone talks too much or makes you uncomfortable, he stares at them until they wither away into dust.

Nanami never makes you feel bad for being anxious. He just accepts you as you are and adapts accordingly.

₊⊹. Choso Kamo

Choso, bless his soul, does not understand social anxiety, but he understands you—and that’s enough for him. The first time you explain it, he just blinks slowly. “So… you feel like dying when you talk to people?” You nod. He nods back, solemn. “Okay. I will protect you.”

He takes this very seriously. If he senses your discomfort, he physically puts himself between you and the offending person, staring them down like a guard dog. Someone talks too much and won’t let you leave? Choso suddenly appears behind you like a horror movie villain, towering and unsmiling. “They don’t want to talk anymore.” You swear you hear boss music.

He thinks hand-holding is the solution to all your problems. If you’re anxious, he just grabs your hand—even in situations where it’s unnecessary. Grocery store? Holding hands. Walking through a park? Holding hands. Sitting next to each other in silence? Holding hands. It’s like his instinctual support system.

He also never pressures you to be social. If you don’t want to go somewhere, he just stays home with you. You could literally say, “I’m too anxious to go outside today,” and he’d nod and say, “Understandable. We stay inside forever now.”

Choso also becomes way too invested in your coping mechanisms. You once told him that looking at your phone makes you feel less awkward, so now, if you ever get anxious, he just wordlessly hands you his phone. No explanation. No context. Just here, take it. It’s always open to some weird Google search like “How do birds know how to fly if nobody teaches them?"

You love him so much.

₊⊹. Toji Fushiguro

Toji has no clue what social anxiety even is. You try explaining it, and he just squints at you like you’re speaking another language. “You’re scared of talking? Just don’t talk.”

You sigh. It’s a lost cause. Despite this, he is somehow still your biggest protector. His solution to your nervousness? Make you feel like you own every room you walk into.

If you hesitate before going somewhere, he hypes you up. "What do you mean you're nervous? Look at you. You’re hot. If anyone even looks at you wrong, I’ll break their kneecaps."

That being said, Toji lives for watching you suffer (affectionately). If you get flustered in social situations, he finds it hilarious. You mumble your order at a restaurant? Toji leans in, smirking. “What was that, sweetheart? Speak up.” You turn red. He grins.

But if anyone else makes you uncomfortable? Oh, they’re dead. Toji has zero patience for people who push you too hard. If someone tries to force you into a conversation, Toji just slings an arm around your shoulder and leans in, voice deceptively casual. “They don’t wanna talk, dumbass. Walk away.” They always walk away.

If you’re anxious in public, he distracts you with absurd nonsense. “Bet you ten bucks I can steal that guy’s drink without him noticing.”

Toji also loves using you as an excuse to leave events early. You both hate being around people for too long. If you’re nervous at a party, he just physically carries you out like a sack of potatoes. If you get overwhelmed in a crowd, he bulldozes a path through people like an unhinged linebacker.

And despite all his chaos, he always makes sure you feel safe. Because at the end of the day, Toji might be a menace, but he’s your menace.

[wbbpls]

Platonic Plus One

Chapter 8-Azzi POV

Word count: 3.2k i can't wait to hear all your thoughts on Azzi's pov. don't hate me guys

Azzi is even more confused. This whole fake dating thing has opened up a door Azzi isn’t sure how to close. She isn’t even sure if she wants to close it. How can fake dating someone feel more natural than any date she’s ever been on? And this isn’t just someone. This is Paige. This is her best friend. Her best friend who holds her every night until she falls asleep, who brings her favorite snacks, who knows when she is overstimulated, who tries so hard to make her laugh, who protects her from gross guys, and who buys her little gifts just to see her smile. Her best friend that she is totally and completely in love with. Fuck.

Azzi has Paige telling the story of when she fell in love with her on repeat. That weekend was so special to Azzi because it was the moment when she knew she wanted to be in every part of Paige’s life. She knew that life wasn’t complete without her. But it’s not just the story Paige told; it’s how she said it. Her voice was so tender and vulnerable. That can’t be fake. Yeah, Paige has a lot more experience with dating, especially when it comes to girls, but there is no way someone can fake that level of affection. When her mom asked Paige that question, she expected Paige to say some sarcastic comment making fun of Azzi. From that moment on, the craving Azzi had to touch Paige was more than ever before, and Paige let her. If anything, Paige touched her back just as much. 

When they fixed their hair and makeup before the party, Azzi noticed that Paige kept looking at her. Specifically her shorts. Azzi is fully capable of picking out her own clothes, but then she’d miss out on all this fun. There have been times over the past few years that she has noticed Paige looking at her, but Azzi always made up some excuse as to why. But after the drinks started flowing, the boundaries left the room, and Azzi decided to put the power of her shorts in motion, literally. After hours of Paige’s hands getting lower and lower on her hips, she was desperate to feel those hands even lower, especially after Paige had the audacity to call her babygirl. Jess promptly teased Azzi about this for the next three minutes. 

Once they started dancing, Azzi kept grinding on Paige’s front, thriving under the sound of Paige’s wavering breath each time Azzi pressed down harder. Paige began to grip harder on her hips, adding a layer of control Azzi wasn’t expecting but gladly welcomed. Paige peppered soft kisses across the back of her neck, and Azzi lost any semblance of control. Were the boundaries ever in the room with them in the first place? 

Azzi thinks she might be dreaming and slips out a moan and the words, “Fuck, P, you feel so good.” If it weren’t for Paige's harsh bite and suck in response, Azzi probably would have panicked. 

Then Paige finally spoke, “I love these shorts on you, fuck, Az.” Mission accomplished. That’s when Azzi finally broke as she spun around, pulling Paige in for a passionate kiss. It feels like no one is in the room but them. All Azzi could feel was the warmth of Paige’s tongue and her hands pulling her closer. Paige finally moved her hands down to squeeze Azzi’s ass, a feeling she was praying for ever since she put those shorts on. Azzi can confidently say, she’s never been so turned on in her fucking life. 

Azzi has always avoided talking about her sexuality. Everyone else just seemed so confident and comfortable with theirs, and people assumed she was straight anyway, so she never corrected them. But after that kiss? There’s no way in hell Azzi can ever say she’s straight again. 

What Azzi didn’t expect was for Paige to whisper how beautiful she was in her ear before kissing her neck again. The tenderness in her voice was somehow more powerful than the lust she just saw in her eyes. Azzi was immediately brought back to dinner, reliving how Paige said she fell in love with her. This has to be real. Azzi pulled hard at the nape of Paige’s neck, desperately trying to get closer to her, and Paige received the message loud and clear. Her kissing, nipping, and sucking got more intense, almost like she was the one on a mission now. Azzi wouldn’t be surprised if there were a mark later, and maybe she should be upset about needing to deal with a hickey in front of her entire family. Still, the thought of Paige claiming her so publicly makes the hassle worth it, even if it's a reminder on her skin of what she can’t have. 

From there, Azzi stopped thinking. She let herself enjoy being with Paige. They were still best friends, and there was something almost reassuring about how easily they fell back into their banter after a heated makeout session. Anyone else would think that happens every day. Even when Jonathon came to speak to them, it still felt like Paige and Azzi. When Paige so easily answered about Azzi taking her last name, no one else mattered. Azzi let herself imagine that happening, something she had never seen with anyone else. It felt like everything was finally starting to line up. Everything felt perfect.

Until it wasn’t. 

One of the girls had to ask Azzi about sex, probably trying to get her to talk about Paige. This shouldn’t have been hard, but ironically, Azzi is a pretty bad liar, despite her fake dating her best friend. She is especially bad at lying to Paige, making her night with Jonathon so difficult to not tell Paige about. 

Azzi remembers it all so clearly. Not because of Jonathon, but because all she could think about was the blonde-haired girl she had left behind the entire time. When Jonathon asked her to prom, she said yes. He was nice, and they were in the same friend group, so she thought it would be fine. When Azzi called Paige on Facetime to tell her she was going with him, she saw a flicker of something in Paige’s eyes she had never seen before. She said she was happy for Azzi, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. Maybe it was because she lost her prom to the pandemic? Azzi started to ask her about it, but Paige quickly ended the call. Considering that they usually fell asleep talking to each other, Azzi was left to fill in the blanks by herself. The following weeks, Paige was distant. Azzi tried everything to get the girl to open up, but nothing worked. Did something happen at home or school? Was she mad at Azzi for something she said? Paige has always been charming and easy to talk to, making her even more skilled at talking herself out of a conversation she doesn’t want to have. Even with the distance between them, Paige never said no to talking to Azzi whenever she wanted. Azzi took the chance and asked her to come visit her at the end of the school year. Although hesitant, she said, “Of course, Az.” in a soft voice that feels like it's reserved only for Azzi. Hearing that was reassuring because she was starting to wonder if Paige didn’t care about seeing her anymore.  

Once visiting, things were awkward but better. However, Katie invited Paige to come over before prom. She was shocked when Paige said she’d be there. Getting ready with Paige was honestly really fun, and it was such a relief. When the doorbell rang, silence loomed over the two girls. Paige’s face tensed, and there was a quick pulse in the back of her jaw. Finally, almost as if someone heard us, everything would break, she whispered, “You look so beautiful, Az.” She believed her.

The photos were awkward. Azzi couldn’t figure out what was wrong. Shouldn’t this be fun? Once Azzi got to prom and saw her friends, the night felt a little more at ease, but she knew she was missing a certain blonde that night. Jonathan told her how beautiful she looked, too. She didn’t believe him. 

Her friends kept encouraging them to spend time alone together. They sat outside in the courtyard, discussing basketball, something Azzi always knows how to talk about. The issue is that it just made her miss Paige more. Unexpectedly, Jonathan moved in for a kiss, her first kiss.  

You’re supposed to do that with the nice cute boy in high school, right? It was a fine kiss, if anything a little awkward. Then he asked Azzi to be his girlfriend. Azzi said yes because what reason does she have to say no? Her friends kept pressuring her to date him, so she must be the problem, right? All her friends have been on dates, and she’s just been too scared to do anything. 

When she told all her friends that they were official, they were over the moon excited for her. Paige would react that way, too, right? Then, they all asked Azzi if she was going to have sex with him that night. Her heart dropped. They all said that now that they’re dating, of course they’d have sex, and how romantic it is to do it on prom night. When Azzi hesitated, they all reminded her she was going to regret not losing her virginity before college. 

Once the after-party was in full swing, Azzi could only think about how she would tell Paige about her new boyfriend. But then he asked if she wanted to go for a drive together. Once they stopped, he played music and asked if she wanted to move to the back where they could chill more. Azzi’s heart was racing. He made the first move, and Azzi didn’t have it in her to stop him. She is supposed to want to have sex with her boyfriend. She’ll regret it later if she doesn't get it over with now. That’s what she kept telling herself the rest of the night. 

It was painful and uncomfortable. Isn’t sex supposed to be this life-changing, amazing experience with sparks flying? Azzi thinks she might regret having sex with him more than regretting waiting until college. He was so nice to her, so she convinced herself she wasn’t being fair to him. 

When she got home, she was relieved to see Paige fast asleep in her bed. And then guilt washed over her. She just had sex with her new boyfriend, and she is coming back to share a bed with Paige. The bigger issue is that sharing the bed with Paige is what she’s wanted all night. She feels guilty for not telling Paige. Guilty for wanting to be with her in bed more than Jonathon. Guilty for having sex with him. The guilt of Paige telling her how beautiful she was on repeat in her mind all night, while Jonathon saying the same thing went out the window. The guilt of saying yes to being his girlfriend when she realizes now she wants to be Paige’s girlfriend. 

Azzi slipped into bed, wrapping her arms around Paige’s stomach. She immediately cuddled into Azzi’s neck and sighed as Azzi started to rub her back. 

“I love you, P.” For a moment, she had Paige back.  

====================================

The following day, Azzi woke up first, anxious about the conversation she needed to have with Paige. Paige slowly woke up, and with her bright blue eyes, she said, “Good morning, Princess. How was last night?” She earned the term princess during Team USA and hadn’t heard it in a few weeks. 

“Uh, it was good. Fun.”

Paige looked at her curiously as she got up and dressed for the day. “That it?”

“I need to tell you something.” Azzi’s heart started to race. Paige looked at her with so much concern that it practically broke her heart. “You okay, Az?” 

She struggles to get it out. “Azzi, you’re scaring me. Did something happen last night?” 

She held it until she just burst it out. “Jonathonaskedmetobehisgirlfriend.”

“Oh.” There is no emotion on her face. What is she thinking? What isn’t she saying? 

“That’s it? Oh?” 

“Did you say yes?” 

“Yeah.” Azzi almost couldn't be heard with how quietly she responded. The guilt came over her again. She isn’t cheating on anyone, and she told Paige right away. There’s no reason to feel guilty. 

“Cool. Happy for you guys.”

“Oh, uh t-thanks.” 

“For sure, you’ll make a perfect couple.” Paige couldn’t meet Azzi’s eyes when she said that. “Anyway, I’m gonna head out.”

“Wait, you’re not staying to hang out?”

“Nah, I got stuff to do,” Paige spoke so nonchalantly, as if Azzi said nothing of importance, but she has still yet to make eye contact until she stops at the door. “Bye, Azzi.”

Something about the goodbye felt permanent. It was a goodbye to what could have been. That day, Azzi knew Paige didn’t want her the way she wanted Paige. 

===============================

“So Azzi, tell us all about it. Who have you had sex with at this party?” Why would anyone even ask that, like go get laid or something. Azzi freezes because prom night comes rushing back to her, reminding her of the Paige that didn’t want her. The Paige that distanced herself all summer. The Paige that doesn’t know she had sex with Jonathon. 

“Uh, yeah, I have.” Azzi can feel eyes on her from the left side of the room, and she glances over at Jonathon, accidentally making it so obvious.  

“Wait a minute. Did you have sex with Jonathon, too?” Azzi felt the perfect night being ripped to shreds each time this girl asked another question. Azzi kept rubbing Paige’s arm around her stomach, trying to ground herself. It was almost like she was trying to remind Paige she was there with her. She stuttered, trying to get any words out, scared to look at Paige. 

Thankfully, Jonathon answered for them both. “Yeah, but it was a long time ago. Old history.” Azzi offers him an appreciative smile for helping her deal with the awkward moment. Everyone moves on, and Azzi shifts to look at Paige, but suddenly, she pushes Azzi off her lap.

“I, uh, I n-need to go to the bathroom.”

“You okay, Paige?” Paige looks pale and emotionless. It was almost the same face she had made when she had told her Jonathon was her boyfriend. But this time, something else was there. She just can’t put her finger on it. 

“Just don’t feel great.” Maybe Azzi is overthinking this, and Paige had too much to drink. 

“Can I come with you?” 

“No,” Paige snapped. It startled Azzi because Paige was rarely ever anything but sweet to her. Sure, they make fun of each other or play fight, but never like this. 

Azzi began to go after Paige, but then Jonathan stopped her. “Hey, Az, I’m really sorry about that. It was pretty shitty of them.” 

“I mean, it’s not your fault. Thanks for bailing me out at the end there.” 

“Do you, uh, mind if we talk for a minute?” God, he has the worst timing. 

“Sure, what’s up?” They move to sit on the same couch Paige was just occupying, suddenly cold without her. 

“I don’t know what has been said or not, so I’m just putting it all out there. That girl Bailey came up to me after talking to Paige and starting saying random shit about all of us. I think she overheard me talking to Brandon about maybe hanging out with you later and that it’s been a while. When she came up to me, she told me Paige was angry at me, and I swear, Azzi, I didn’t mean anything by asking you to hang out. I just don’t want either of you to think I’m disrespecting your relationship.” 

“Wow, I don’t even know what to say. For starters, that girl is clinically insane, so none of this surprises me.” They both laugh, breaking the ice. “And I really appreciate you saying all of that. I don’t think Paige is mad or anything. We honestly just moved on.”

“Okay, good. I genuinely mean it when I say I mean no disrespect. I miss when we were friends without all the complicated shit, you know?” 

“Life does have a way of complicating things, doesn't it?”

“Seriously. But when it comes to you and Paige, man, you guys have always been inevitable. Life can’t get in the way of that, at least.” If only that were the case. 

“Wait, what do you mean inevitable?” 

“I don’t know. I guess it’s just always been Paige and Azzi. No one could ever get you to smile or open up like Paige does. It’s not like I didn’t try to be that for you. But I remember this one day at the end of the summer, your parents threw that going-away party before you left for school. I’ve just never seen you light up like that with anyone but Paige. You couldn’t keep your eyes off of her, and I just knew something was different between you guys.” 

“I’m so sorry, Jonathan. I didn’t fully understand my feelings for Paige at that time. I never meant to string you along in any way, I promise.” Azzi tried so hard that summer to stop thinking about Paige as anything other than a friend or teammate, but apparently, it was something she had never been capable of.

“Dude, I know you didn’t, you’re Azzi Fudd! You’re like the nicest person ever to exist. Plus it was the end of high school, we were all trying to figure our shit out. I’m just really happy that you guys figured out yours.” 

“Yeah, me too.” 

The two kept talking, reminiscing about funny stories and weird teachers, but Azzi was stuck in her head. All these years later, Azzi is talking to the same boy, wishing she was with the same girl. She’s tired of it. She needs to talk to Paige. 

“It’s been so awesome talking again, really.”

“It really has. I hope we can keep talking. Paige too!” 

“Of course! I’m actually gonna go to the bathroom to check on her. She said she wasn’t feeling great.”

Azzi made her way to the bathroom and knocked a few times. On the last knock, the door opened, but it wasn’t Paige. Confused, Azzi looked around the room desperately for her tall blonde. Then, she pulled out her phone to text her, seeing a missed text from Paige.

Paigey 💗: went back to the room to lay down.

Princess 💗: Paigey? Are you okay??

Princess 💗: I wish you got me, P. I’d go with you in a heartbeat

Princess 💗: I was waiting for you to come back out. I’m leaving the party now.

Princess 💗: Paige??

Azzi runs back to their room, opening the door to darkness. Paige is fast asleep. Maybe Azzi was exaggerating, and Paige was being honest, and she didn’t feel well. Azzi changed into sleep clothes and slipped into bed. Just like the night after prom, Paige cuddled into her neck, and Azzi rubbed her back. 

“I love you so much, P.”

[justmeinadaze]

Take It Out On Me: 5 Years Later (Steddie X Plus Size Y/N)

A/N: I usually don't post this late (Pfft Late. Its like 9pm.) But I'm going to because I can. Idk why I've been attached to these weirdos as of late so I wanted to write a little thing. Please enjoy <3

Warnings: Daddy Steve/Sir(Master) Eddie & Sub Fem Plus size reader, SMUT, smacking, light dirty talk, DP, very light degrading, semi public (no ones there), light spanking, light choking. FLUFF, mentions of steddie and Y/N with their kiddos.

ANGST, the boys travel a lot for work and Y/N feels lonely. Mentions of her missing them and how she sees it affecting the kids. She struggles to voice her concerns because she knows they work hard. Mentions of feeling unappreciated, mentions of some insecurities (Y/N briefly mentions how her body doesn't look how it did before they had kids; also brief talk about feeling like a burden.) Y/N does kinda disappear but not like the times before. She's trying to get their attention.

Word Count: 6447

Series Here/Donate to me <3

1999

You sigh lightly under your breath before smiling at the sound of your ten and soon to be six-year-old playing in the pool outside. 

The cold weather had begun to dissipate with spring just around the corner which meant it was about time for that feature of your two-story home to be utilized. After putting your things down, you quietly watched by the back door as your kids laughed at each other’s antics. 

Molly was an incredibly smart girl who exceled in almost all of her classes. Like you, she decided to play basketball and was actually pretty good at it, winning trophies that you displayed in the living room next to the pictures of her fathers embarrassing her while she showed off her triumph for the camera. 

Steve rarely if ever missed a game, cheering her on enthusiastically from the sidelines, clapping his hands and shouting her name even while still wearing his suit after his long workday at the office with Robin. 

“That’s my girl! You got this, Mol! Don’t let them pass on you!”, he shouted extatically before placing his hands on his hips as he watched her play. 

Because of their experience with you, both men would visibly panic if she got hurt on the court, sometimes even running to her to make sure she wasn’t hurt. 

“Are you alright, sweetheart?”, Eddie asked kneeling down to pet her head. 

“I’m ok, dad. I just tripped.”, she giggled, taking the hand he offered her to help her get to her feet. 

Steve dusted her off while the metalhead checked her over to make sure she genuinely was alright. 

“Gentlemen, we’re going to need you to sit back down.”, the referee instructed. 

“Excuse me while I make sure my daughter is ok! What did she even trip over? It’s your job to—”

“Ok, ok, guys. Come on.”, you coo softly as you grab both their arms to tug them back to the stands, turning to wink at Molly who chuckled at her dad’s overprotective nature.

Eddie did his best to be there at as many events as he could but struggled when he was on tour or promoting Corroded Coffin’s new album. Ozzy seemed to gravitate towards music as well even at his young age having you constantly finding him fiddling with one of his father’s guitars. At his preschool, his teachers always told you they found him in the corner strumming the tiny ukulele like it was an electric guitar. 

Your son gasps as he tears open his wrapping paper on Christmas morning to find a guitar that was just his size. 

“Mama! Is this for me?”

“No, we just thought we’d mess with you before I use it on tour.”

You narrow your eyes Eddie’s way as you playfully hit his arm. 

“Yes, baby, that’s all yours.”

You were thankful that neither man never missed a holiday given how busy all three of you were but where your schedule was consistent as a teacher, theirs moved all over the place. While Eddie was dealing with things band related, Steve and Robin traveled from place to place either looking for new investors or providing support with their non-profit. Their office and the rockstar’s label were both in Indianapolis where you moved to have more space for your growing family but you missed them terribly every time they were away especially when they were gone at the same time.

“Mommy!”, your son shouted as he waved his little hand in your direction. 

Beaming wide, you stepped outside where your best friend was sitting along the edge of the pool as designated babysitter. 

The first few months after your move were rough because your family and Wayne were no longer close by so when Masie and her boyfriend moved to your town, you were so elated. Since her designer business was run mostly through her home, she offered to watch the kids until you or one of the boys got off work. 

“Hey Oz. Are you two having fun with Aunt Maze?”

“Yeah! She won’t swim with us though.”, Molly jokes, selling out her aunt.

“Look, I’m here to tan not be a mermaid.”, she replies regally as if she’s royalty. “How was your day?”

“It was good.”

Your best friend narrows her eyes skeptically over her sun glasses and yanks on your wrist so you can sit beside her. 

“Don’t act like I haven’t known you since kindergarten and can read you like a book. What’s going on?”

  She waits patiently while your eyes flick to your children who were now once again preoccupied playing in the water. 

“I don’t know why but this whole long-distance thing has been really hard lately. I miss them both so much.”

“Have you talked to them about it?”

“I can’t do that, Maze. This is their careers. What? Am I going to ask Eddie to give up touring and Steve to not talk help those kids with what that do?”

“No but, sweetie, it’s not selfish to ask for more time with your husbands.”

You grin at the title still loving the sound even after all these years. For your ten-year anniversary, the rockstar surprised you and his friend with a trip to a tattoo parlor to get a more permanent ring inked on your fingers just above the rings they bought you and each other. 

“Oh, don’t be a baby, Harrington.”, Eddie teased as he watched Steve close his eyes and wince. “After this you’re going to want more, right sweetheart?”

You giggle from your spot in the chair knowing he was right. You yourself had surprised them with their initials on your chest near your heart a few years earlier. 

In casual conversation, they referred to you as their wife especially the rockstar who let it flow freely from his mouth during interviews and corrected anyone who said otherwise. 

“We’re here with Corroded Coffin guitarist Eddie Munson on Total Request Live. How are you, man? How’s the girlfriend?”

Eddie chuckles sassily as he places his palm on the man’s shoulder.

“Wife, Carson. I’ve known and been in love with Y/N since our junior year of high school. Come on, dude. I shouldn’t have to remind you every time.”

Steve had actually turned down an investor not only because he referred to you incorrectly but disrespected you as well. 

“Wife…Yeah, alright, Mr. Harrington, I’ll indulge your little fantasy.”

“It’s not a fantasy, sir. She’s the mother of our children, she saved both our lives, and we love her. Y/N is our wife.”

“Hm, ok, sure. Whatever you say.”

Steve sighed as he smirked and rose to his feet. 

“Come on, Robin. We’ll look elsewhere.”

“Mr. Harrington, be reasonable!”

“Honestly, sir, our entire non-profit is about taking care of children and people who have been bullied, demeaned, and cast aside by society or their parents because of who they love. We protect them from people who mock them or are dismissive of who they are and who they love. People like you, Mr. York. Thank you for your time.”

“Just talk to them, Y/N. When are they coming home?”

“Tomorrow. Eddie’s flight connects to where Steve is so they will both board there and come home together.”

##############

“I don’t see them, mom.”, your daughter whines as she pushes up on her toes to search over people’s heads. 

“They’ll be here, babe. The lady said their flight had a bit of a delay so it may take a bit more time.”

After a couple more minutes, a hat came into view you immediately recognized as the one Eddie wore so he wouldn’t be easily recognized walking side by side with a fluffy head of hair that could only belong to Steve Harrington. 

“Is that them?”, you ask as you point towards the figures walking down the hall and as soon as Molly confirms she sprints towards with her brother close behind. 

“Hey…hey guys.”, Steve greets in a gravelly voice filled with sleep deprivation as he lifts his daughter off her feet to hug her tightly to his chest while an equally tired Eddie bends down to pick up Ozzy. “Oh my God. We missed you so much.”

“Hey sweetheart.”, the rockstar whispers as they switch kids and he presses her head to his shoulder. “You definitely got some sun yesterday.”

“We, we went swimming yesterday cause Aunt Maze said it was ok cause it wasn’t so cold.”, your son declared making the pretty boy smile as he tried to place him on his feet. “No, dada!”

“I know, buddy, but I want to give mommy a hug to.”

“Ah too late.”, Eddie jokes as he wraps one arm around you and pulls you into his embrace. “Hey, pretty girl.”

You smiled as you craned your neck to kiss his lips before leaning over to do the same with Steve as he wrapped his arm around your neck. 

***

You kept your arm looped through Eddie’s as you rested your head on his shoulder, inhaling his smell that you missed so much. 

“This is amazing, honey, and you made this all by yourself?”, Steve inquired as he took another bite of the spaghetti on his plate.

“No.”, she giggled, blushing at his praise. “Mom and Ozzy helped me. We’ve been talking about me taking some cooking classes over the summer though.”

“Yeah, then Robin can hire you as her personal chef since she hates using the stove.”, the rockstar joked making his son cackle with the same wide smile that mirrored his own. “What about you, Oz? Taking a carpentry class so you can build us stuff we don’t have to pay for?”

“Noooo. T-This summer I’m going to play Spyro on the PlayStation with you daddy.”

Eddie beamed with pride at the notion that his son wanted to spend so much time with him. Both men loved being fathers and were grateful for every moment they got to spend with them. 

Steve absolutely adored reading with Ozzy and while on trips would call him on the phone so he could hear him read out loud. 

“The princess…sc-screamed in t-t-ter…”

“Terror.”, you help as he looks at you with wide, expectant eyes.

“…terror when the witch apurd…”

“Close, bud. Appeared.”, Steve guided as he continued to follow along with his own copy of the book he bought before he left. 

“…appeared but suddenly the kite…”

“Knight, baby.”

“That’s fair, Oz, but remember the K is silent. You got the sound for the I-G-H-T right though.”

One night when Molly was eight, the school was having a father daughter dance and she was utterly devasted both of her father’s weren’t allowed to come with the school claiming only one parent could go. Mirroring what they did for your prom, you took her dress shopping insisting she wear it home. 

When she walked through the door, the lights were low and some soft music was playing on the stereo. Above the fireplace was a banner that read “Daddy/Daughter Dance” with both boys standing underneath it in their suits. 

��May I have this dance?”, Eddie asked as he offered her his palm which she eagerly took before Steve did the same with you as you watched them sway. 

The rockstar lifted her by her hands so her feet were on his and she laughed as he led while trying to make sure they both didn’t stumble.

“You look gorgeous, princess.”

She beams as she wraps her arms around his waist, hugging him tightly to her. 

“I love you, dad.”

“Alright, freaks, get out of here so we can talk to mommy.”, Steve instructed. “We’ll do the dishes, sweetie. You guys just go watch some tv.”

Once they were out of earshot, the pretty boy shifted his gaze back towards you both to find his friend smirking as you nuzzled your face deeper into his bicep. 

“Everything ok, baby?”

“Yeah, I just miss you guys so much but it hurts even more when you’re both gone.”, you whisper trying to control the urge to cry. 

“I know, sweetheart.”, Eddie sighs as he lifts his arm to pull you closer to his side. “We talked with our agent and supposedly we won’t be traveling for a while so I’ll be here.”

“Robin and I don’t have any meetings coming up any time soon so I’ll be here as well.”, Steve cooed before getting up to sit on your side of the table. “I know, baby girl. I hope you know we appreciate everything you do and how supportive you’ve been when it comes to all this.”

You softly smile his way as silently nod. 

This isn’t normal for you but they both know how hard it is for you when they are away so both men let it go. 

***

That night you stared at the men you loved, running your nails down Steve’s back while playing with Eddie’s hair, as your mind went into overdrive which was nothing new for you. Being a full-time teacher and full-time parent wasn’t easy for anyone. Thankfully thanks to Eddie and Steve’s careers, money wasn’t something you needed to worry about but trying to make sure your kids had everything else they needed filled your mind. 

You desperately needed Daddy and Master but you had zero idea how to ask for them. You knew they were busy working around the clock to achieve their goals they worked so hard for and quite frankly you didn’t want to be a bother. 

“That I’m a burden damage.”, Eddie’s voice echoed in your brain. 

You knew Maze was right; if you just talked to them and told them how you felt everything would be ok but the little subby girl inside you kind of wanted them to take notice without you having to tell them what you need. 

“No, no, no. That’s selfish and not fair to them.”

“Eddie…Steve…”, you whispered, gently shaking their shoulders to no avail. Something inside your chest cracked as a few tears began to involuntarily fall. “Daddy…Sir…please…”

“Hmmm…what-what’s going on? Baby, are you crying?”

At his friend’s question, the metalhead promptly pushed up on his elbow to scan your features. 

“Hey, hey, hey. What’s wrong, sweetheart? Did you have a nightmare?”

“I…miss you w-w-when…you’re away.” As you really began to sob, both men sat up, bringing you with them before Steve reached beside him to turn on the bedside lamp. “I’m sorry.”

“Y/N, honey, it’s alright. Calm down and talk when you’re ready.”

They’re kindness was hitting your heart in the best way making you cry harder while the boys exchanged a worried glance. 

“I’m sorry…I don’t know why I’m acting like this…”, you breathily laugh at your expense. “I just… when you’re both gone I miss you so much and I feel like these trips are coming closer together… I get worried that this will be the trip that you miss something important with Molly or Oz. I know how much being alone hurt you, Steve, when your parents were gone.”

“Then…I miss…us. I miss hanging out with you two and talking to you about everything without a phone being in the way. I miss Daddy and Master. It’s been over a year since we played like that. I’m scared—”

“Ok, sweetheart, breathe.”, Eddie tries to comfort as he scoots closer to you and continues running his palm along your head. “How long have you been feeling all this?”

“A while. I know you guys are working and I can’t ask you to give that up—”

“But that’s not what you’re asking for right, honey?”, Steve inquires, wiping your eyes with the tissue he retrieved. “You’re asking for time.”

You aggressively nod your head and both men can’t help but chuckle. 

“We understand, Y/N. I love, LOVE, being on stage and playing my guitar especially after everything we went through to get here but in our tour bus or hotel, I’ll pull out pictures of you guys and keep them by side.” Pausing, he grabs his wallet and pulls out the little laminate where he keeps his photos. “I always have these on me.”

You smile at the images of him holding baby Molly and Ozzy. There’s another of you in your wedding dress at the reception you planned for them and another with the three of you at your makeshift prom with them kissing your cheeks as you grinned. 

“Ah you bastard. You took the prom one.”, Steve teases, taking out his wallet to hand you his own set. “These are the ones I carry.”

His first two are the same except with him holding his children but the one he has of you is from New York where you posed in your dress in front of the theater at the play you went see with your arms open wide towards the sky. Behind that was the picture you had taken when they took you to the beach for the first time almost 15 years ago. 

“Which ones do you carry with you?”, the pretty boy asked just as Eddie came back to bed from collecting your own wallet from your purse. 

Steve beamed at the newborn photos they took of your kids that day they were born along with one you had of him holding Molly as she blew out her candles on her cake at her first birthday. The rockstar smiled and kissed your temple at the image you snapped of him and a two-year-old Ozzy sitting on the floor while he strummed his guitar. 

They weren’t surprised when you flashed the photos they had found in your room when they went to get your things after your parents kicked you out senior year; Eddie asleep after the Dio concert and Steve kissing your cheek after a date. The last picture was from prom night as well except it was the one they took right before it started to rain with Steve holding the camera high in the air to get all 3 of you.

“I love being able to save all these kids and traveling with Robin but, baby, I wouldn’t even be doing it if it wasn’t for you. You inspired me to be a better man and those kids are my everything. If you need us here more, honey, then we can do that.”

“Yeah?”

“Of course, and I know it’s been a while since we got to play but remember what you told me, sweetheart, at Molly’s baby shower?”

“Those titles never go away even when I’m saying your name.”

“Good girl.”, Eddie praises comforting you immediately. “Maybe, the three of us can go on vacation…like a second honeymoon or something. I know Wayne wouldn’t mind watching them.”

“I’d like that.”

Their smiles widen as they pull you back under the covers and hold you to them as you drift off to sleep. 

#################

You were angry.

Both men said they wouldn’t be traveling anytime soon yet neither had been home that much the last couple of weeks. Eddie had suggested planning a vacation but nothing had been set in motion and you were getting antsy. 

Grabbing your children, you left a note and headed back to Hawkins. 

“Gran-ma!”

“Hey, Oz. How’s my little man?”, your mom cooed as she lifted him into her arm while your father hugged Molly.

“Are the guys coming later on?”

“Most likely not.”, you growled causing your parents to exchange a look. 

“Well, I was about to watch that movie about the volcano that destroys the town on tv. Wanna watch it with me?”

You son cackles almost devilishly while his sister nods and your dad shakes his head with a smile following them to the living room. 

“Ok, talk to me, sweetie. What’s going on?”

You sigh as you sit with your mom at the dining room table and tell her your woes. She listens patiently occasionally nodding her head while allowing you to finish. 

“I can see why you’re upset but why don’t you talk to them?”

“I tried, mama, and look where that got me.”

The phone in their kitchen blares but for some reason it feels louder than normal as if scolding you to answer. 

“Hello?” Your mother listens to the person on the other end before her eyes flick your way. “It’s Edward.”

“I’m not here right now.”

“Y/N, come speak to the man you love.”, she scolds eliciting an eye roll from you as you get up and take the receiver from her grasp. 

“Eddie.”

“What the fuck are you doing?”, he asks with an edge as if he’s trying to control his temper. “How dare you take them out of town without fucking telling us.”

“I’m surprised you noticed. You two have barely been home.”

“We’ve been working, Y/N. When we talked, you said that’s not what you were asking us to stop doing.”

“You’re right. I was asking for time which I or the kids have yet to receive. You promised me!”

“So what, little girl? You thought you’d just punish us by disappearing to Hawkins for the weekend?”

“I didn’t disappear. I left a note.”

The chuckle that left him paired with the soft echo of Steve’s beside him had a pleasurable chill running down your spine. 

“Is that really the game you want to play right now, Y/N? You think semantics are going to save you from the punishment you’re going to get for what you just did?”

“I’m not afraid you or Steven, Edward. Daddy and Master are gone and you both are too fucking busy for us so who cares.”

“You think Daddy and Master are gone? Oh, baby.”, he laughs. “Trust me, they’ve been right here watching and taking in everything their little whore does. It’s been a while since she’s needed to be put in her place.”

“Hm. Well, she’s been practically screaming for your attention but you never seemed to notice that.”

“You wanted our attention, babe, you got it.”

“Yeah and with how things have been you won’t fucking do anything so I’m not scared. I have to go. We’ll be home by Sunday.”

“Don’t hang up that phone, Y/N Y/L/N. We are not done here.”

“Yes, we are.”

***

You told your parents after your kids went to bed you were going to go for a little walk. To no surprise, your feet ended up taking you back to Hawkins High. 

You dragged your feet through the parking lot where Carol had spray painted your car and in return you punched her. Steve shouted at them to leave you alone almost getting into a fight himself. Your fingers grazed the lockers as you heard yourself telling your tormentor she had no ass; the act landing you in detention where your life was forever changed. 

Part of you expected to find them waiting in the classroom you met them in and your heart broke when they weren’t. You sat on the teacher’s desk as your eyes ran along the entirety of the room, sifting through memories good and bad. You could still feel Steve’s intense stare as he watched you talk to his friend and Eddie’s even stronger personality as he tried to get you to talk. 

Laying back flat, you could still see the metalhead’s belt buckle in your peripheral before he knelt down to talk to you in that husky tone that drove you crazy. Shifting your gaze to the ceiling you could still feel Steve’s fingers digging into your hips and the taste of his lips when you surged forward to kiss him. 

As the feelings began to overwhelm you, you slid off the furniture and continued your journey around the school, passing the lunchroom where you smiled at the memory of Eddie on top of the table telling the students you were theirs. Finding the stage in the theater, you sat in the same spot the three of you had sat in while you were painting. 

The first time Steve threatened to spank you making a heat rise in your bones you had never experienced before. Five years later, you would have your roleplay here making you cum harder than you ever had.

After a while, you knew you needed to get back home but on your way out, you noticed the gym remembering where you became jealous and threw a basketball at where they were in the stands. You entered the girl’s locker room and leaned against the lockers where you felt Eddie for the first time. When they were done, they took you to the showers where you talked about Stephen King and they invited you to dinner. 

Sighing, tears began to fill your eyes and you hastily dried them as you powerwalked back to the gym. 

“It’s kind of amazing how in almost 15 years this school has yet to get better security.” Eddie’s voice startled you as you squeaked, your gaze finding theirs from their place on the bleachers. “Or at least a fucking lock.”

The metalhead rises to his feet and his shoes bang loudly against the wood as he makes his way to the floor. 

“It’s also amazing how in that time some of your habits haven’t changed, little girl. Running away, hanging up on me, coming here…you not listening.”

“YOU not listening.”, you hissed his way. “You said you appreciate everything I do but you have no idea what that actually entails.”

“I see we’re doing this the hard way. Steve.” 

The man himself silently stomps down the bleachers and strides towards you before reaching for your forearm. You try to fight back, pushing at his chest but he’s much stronger, lifting you off your feet and slamming you down against the hardwood.

Keeping one palm firmly on your throat, he utilizes the other to pull down your sweatpants and underwear but when your hand flies, hitting him across the face, he raises his own to do the same. 

“I told you this isn’t a game you wanted to play.”, Eddie sneered leaning down with his palms on his knees beside you where you and Steve were glaring at each other. “Now, where were we during our phone call. Ah yes, you said Daddy and Master are gone and we’re too fucking busy is that right?”

“Yes.”

Again, Steve’s palm rears back and smacks you hard across the face. 

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, SIR!”

This time when his hand connects with your cheek, you moan at the sensation. 

“Yes, Sir.”, you answer with zero sarcasm. 

“I told you, little girl. Daddy and Master are always watching and taking note. They fucking notice how hard you work when we’re out of town. How you and Maze work together to get things done.”

“We hear how much you all miss us when we call.”, Steve added. “And we feel how lonely you get when we can’t fall asleep with you. We feel it to.”

When your eyes roll, Eddie kneels down and replaces his friend’s hand around your throat.

“Do we need to use the fucking belt, Y/N!? Has it really been that long?!”

“You don’t understand!”

“Then help us to!”

Your bare feet push the pretty boy off you and even as the metalhead tightens his grip, you manage to flip him over on to his back where you straddle his waist.

“Molly started reading Lord of the Rings because she knows you like it, Sir. Sometimes she waits up hoping to talk to you more about it but by the time you come home from the label she’s already in bed.” Eddie blinks as he rests his hands on your hips while you turn your attention to Steve. “Ozzy has been practicing his swim time and wants to try out next year for the community team. He asks if when you’re not busy with Aunt Robin if you could give him some pointers, Daddy, but your never home in time.”

“They tell me they don’t care because ‘Dad and Dada’ are singing or saving people but I care. I care that I see that sad look on their faces when you’re not there. I care that they get their hopes up and you disappoint them! Just because you’re home doesn’t mean your home!”

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

Eddie sits up and firmly pinches your cheeks with his fingers. 

“I know you know what he’s asking, Y/N. Don’t play coy. What about you?”

Your head starts to hang but his grip won’t allow it. 

“We…we’ve spent almost everyday together since senior year when our parents kicked us out and we moved in with you and Wayne. After your careers took off i-it was hard but you both made up for it, taking us on vacations or just being home more in general. These p-p-past couple of years…you’re just…gone.”

“Sweetheart.”, the rockstar coos as he pets your head and dries your eyes. 

“I don’t care about dates, gifts, or any superficial stuff like that when it comes to me. When you aren’t there to hold me at night, Sir, I feel so alone. I miss your smell and the way your lips feel against mine.”

Guiding you with his hands, he brought your mouth to his and you reveled in the taste. 

“What else, baby, tell us.”

“I miss choking on your cock while Daddy’s tongue plays with my pussy—”

Steve’s hands yanking you down Eddie’s frame has a smirk flickering across your lips as he positions you on all fours over his friend’s waist. You make quick work of the metalhead’s belt as he lifts his hips to help you pull down his pants allowing his dick to spring free. 

As soon as your mouth enveloped him, one of the former jock’s palms held on to your lower back as he utilized his other to allow his fingers to slide into your entrance while his tongue flicked along your clit. 

“Fuck, sweetheart, I missed this to.”, Eddie groans as his fingers run through your hair. “W-When I jerk off in our hotel room before I crash, I see those big, beautiful eyes looking—shit—looking up me while your mouth is full.”

You gag as your throat constricts around him and his head falls back against the hardwood as he grunts in pleasure. Your lips come off him with a smack as a string of drool follows you and you continue to pump him with your hand as you whimper at the feeling of the man’s motions behind you. 

“P-Please, Daddy. It feels so good!”

A sudden warmth encases you as your hair is tugged back and Steve’s fingers hasten between your legs. 

“No one told you to stop sucking his dick, did they, little girl?”

“N-No, Daddy.”

“So why did you fucking stop?”, he growls in your ear. “Open.”

At his command, you do what he says before he pushes you down onto his friend’s cock once again. 

“Fuck! That’s it, Steve. D-Don’t let her up till she fucking cums.”

Felling your pussy clench around his fingers, he lets you go and you cry out as the coil snaps. 

“Atta girl. Daddy’s good girl.”, he murmurs, praising you as he lifts your shirt and uses it to wipe the spit from your face before fully removing it to toss near your other clothes. “Come here, honey.”

Effortlessly, Steve lifts you and carries you to the bleachers, placing you on top of him to straddle his waist. 

“I m-miss your warmth when I hold you and rest my head on your chest.”, you whimper, watching as he fumbles with his own belt while struggling to keep his composure over his own desperate need to feel you. Cupping his face in your hands, you lean your forehead against his and he heavily exhales at the notion. “The way your fingers bruise my waist while you’re fucking me. You both hold me so tightly still…l-l-like I’m gonna disappear.”

As you push up against him, his palms glide along your back to support you while his lips open mouth kiss along your chest. His breath warms your skin as you gradually sink down onto his cock and he grunts at the sensation. 

“Shit, baby girl, I dream about you on top of me like this. I wake up in the middle of the night in my hotel fucking hard as a rock wishing I-I could feel your—mmph—gorgeous body against mine.”

His amber irises glance behind you before he swivels his body around so his back is lying flat on one of the wood benches. A palm takes hold of your shoulder and you crane your neck just in time to see Eddie’s jaw drop as he guides himself into your ass. 

It was absolutely euphoric feeling them both again after so long. They thrust their hips in sync as if no time had passed and every emotion hit you simultaneously as your body went limp against them allowing them to take over. 

Steve grabbed your limbs and bent them behind your back and the metalhead seamlessly took hold of at your wrists using them as leverage as he slammed into your harder. 

“Hey, hey… look… look at Daddy, baby.”

You whimpered as you struggled to do what he wanted but when you did your eyes locked with his, silently begging for them to push you over the edge. Eddie’s free hand tangled in your hair, pulling firmly while the other boy spanked your behind.

“I love you, Steve.”, you whispered.

“I love you to, baby. Oh f-fuck.”

His lips crashed to yours as you felt his spend warm your insides. Pressing up with one of his palms, he pushed you into the metalhead’s chest so both their foreheads could rest against your skin. 

“I love you, Eddie. Fuck, I’m coming.”

As your orgasm washed over you, ringed fingers gripped your chin and turned you so he could kiss you as he thrust his release into your behind. 

“FUCK! I…I love you, sweetheart.”

The three of you pant heavily as you hold each other, you with one arm around Steve’s neck and the other reaching behind you to do the same with Eddie as your fingers thread through his hair. 

“I miss Eddie making me laugh or just sitting on the counter talking to me while you watch me cook. I miss Steve pulling my legs over his while we watch tv or you comforting me after I have a bad day. I miss the little touches, soft kiss, and whispers in my ear… We used to handle everything together and lately… I feel like…it’s just me…”

Steve’s thumbs caress your cheeks as Eddie kisses your shoulder. 

“And I know things are different. I know you’re both handling your careers and we have two little monsters to handle… I know…I’m…physically not the same…”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. What does that mean?”

“I just…I’ve had two kids—”

‘And?”, Eddie cuts you off before spanking your ass. “Are you implying that you aren’t still as fucking gorgeous as you were when we first saw you?”

“Look. I’m not like you two, ok? Mr. Popular Jock and I’m in a rock band—”

“Alright, well, that’s enough of that.”, Steve replies with a mocking tone as they rise to their feet and he throws you over his shoulder. “Seems like pretty girl has lost her mind.”

You laugh as they take you to the locker room and turn on the showers to clean you. 

“If I suddenly turned into Wayne and lost all my hair, would you still love me?”

“Oh my God. Wayne has hair.”, you giggle. “And of course I would.”

“Pfft suuuure he does.”, he teases as he runs the soap along your skin. “What if Stevie got like a beer gut and lost his luscious head of hair?”

“Why do I get the gut, Mr. Rockstar? You get drunk way more than I do!”

“I would love you both no matter what.”, you coo as you keen into his chest and kiss his cheek making him smile. 

“Then, honey, why do you think that would be a factor when it comes to you?”

Once you were clean and they collected your clothes, you allowed them to dress you before Eddie suddenly paused taking in your shirt. 

“Not that I’m complaining but your drool is still clinging to this thing. Um…” Snapping his fingers, he grabs his own shirt and tugs it over your head, startled him when your arms wrap around his neck and you passionately kiss his lips. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. You’re right. We’ve been working too much and we promised you we would do better.”

“But we didn’t. I guess we thought since we still came home at the end of the night, it evened things out…I’m sorry to, Y/N.”, Steve apologizes and you lean forward to kiss him as well.

***

You smile as you hear your son’s loud footsteps bang around upstairs telling you he was awake. 

“Yup, he’s got your genes, Edward.”, your dad joked with a grumble as he sipped his morning coffee. 

“You know, sir, as much as I would love to have the nature vs nurture debate…” Right as he points towards the ceiling above, Molly laughs loudly as her feet bang against the floor before following her brother into the bathroom to brush their teeth. “Yeah, they’re both awful.”

Steve lightly hits his arm while he and your mother laugh. 

Halfway down the stairs, both children gasp in excitement at the sight of their fathers making you grin wide as they jump into their arms. 

“Ay, it’s too early for so much love. Love me in like…”, Eddie pauses as he looks at his watch, subtly winking your way when your daughter giggles. “…two hours.”

“Hey after breakfast, why don’t we go to pool and I can show you guys some tricks I learned on the swim team.”

Ozzy’s eyes widen as he claps his hands. 

“Yeah! I was thinking…dad…about joining the swim team like you did. I’ve been practicing!”

“No way.”, Steve feigns shock as his own wide eyes shift your way. “Well then let’s finish eating the food grandma made and then you can show us all some of your new moves.”

“I’m surprised with how late you came back, you’re awake enough to do anything.”, your mom addresses you with that faint hint of sarcasm that has your dad rolling his eyes. 

“Yeah, Bev, those aren’t insinuations Grandpa needs to hear about at any time of day.”

“What insinuations?”, Molly asks. 

“Nothing.”, all five adults respond in unison causing your children to erupt in a fit of giggles. 

###############

@manda-panda-monium @eddiesguitarskills

@needylilgal022 @local-stoner-bitch @katethetank @nailbatanddungeon

@sidthedollface2 @justanotheryn @pedropascalslilbaby

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@chelebelletx @perdopascalslilbaby @shayeddie @anaibis

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@siriuslysmoking @raptorbait529 @miarosso @micheledawn1975

@paleidiot @mrsjellymunson @dashingdeb16 @hardladyheart

[literary-illuminati]

2025 Book Review #11 – Deadhouse Gates by Steven Erikson

Introduction

One of my reading goals for 2025 is to get through the entire Malazan series at a rate of one a month or so (a commitment I made thinking Gardens of the Moon was representative and not the shortest in the set, but I digress). I went into Deadhouse Gates knowing almost nothing about the plot, but having had it talked up to me relentlessly as the point where the series hits its stride and gets really properly good. On one level I can absolutely see this – Erikson’s craft absolutely improved immensely between writing Gardens and Gates, and the characterization work is (on the whole) so much better the returning characters barely even seem like the same people. But – while it’s certainly an excellent book overall – it had some weaknesses and irritating ticks that had me wishing it was more like Gardens at several points.

The novel is set on the (sub-)continent of Seven Cities, a rich and ancient land lately conquered by the Malazan Empire, and now a restive project afflicted with moments prophecies and on the very edge of rebellion. With a decadent and incompetent governor uninterested in preparations or an organized response, the rebellion will see colonists and officials slaughtered wholesale across the land, with only the capital city of Aren itself able to hold out and await the relief of an imperial punitive expedition from the metropole. By cosmic coincidence, just as things come to a head the wastelands in the continents heart are overrun with shapeshifters of all kind – mages and skinchangers driven rabid with lust for power, seeking the mythical Path of Hands and it’s promise of Ascension and dominion over all their kind as a new god of beasts.

Amid the anarchy and bloodshed, the book follows five different points of view, each on their own variably ill-fated journey across the continent. By far the most detailed – and the one acting as a spine for the whole book – is the imperial historian Duiker, acting as witness and chronicler to the epic death-march of the 7th Army and the tens of thousands of refugees it protects across the continent, to hoped-for sanctuary beneath Aren’s walls. He’s a window rather than a protagonist, allowing the reader a close and personal view of the imperial general Coltaine and the 7th ‘s struggles and valour fighting the impossible odds arrayed against them.

Around the edges of that narrative (and, to my mind, in the main far more interesting) are our other points of view – a disgraced noble heiress-turned-penal-slave and her fellow escapees from a brutal imperial mine, an itinerant warrior walking the earth alongside his immortal friend in his quest for his lost memories, an outlawed legionary and assassin on his way back to the capital to kill the Empress for her crimes, and a similarly outlawed sapper and his ragtag band of travelers caught up in the plots and whims of gods they want absolutely nothing to do with.

Across just under a thousand pages, they give first-hand views of the rebellion’s initial stages and hints of what seem likely to be the actual plot of this whole ten-volume saga. And suffer. Mostly the suffering, really.

History and Worldbuilding

The very first thing anyone ever talks about with Malazan is the setting, and the real sense of depth and history that Erikson brings to it. Which is pretty much entirely deserved – this is a series where the setting and metaphysics came first, and the actual plot is at least kind of mostly just an excuse to explore and share it with people. Whether you find this interesting or charming or think it sounds like the most tedious reading experience imaginable is probably the first filter on whether you will actually enjoy this book (and the series as a whole) or not.

Now, that was always the promise of the series, but this is an area where Deadhouse Gates lives up to it far better than Gardens did. Erikson is, I’m told, an archaeologist and anthropologist by training and of but you can tell. Not always for the better with the anthropology bit, but the sheer enthusiasm with which the book regards broken shards of pottery and the impact of prehistoric tells on geography is really incredibly charming.

The book manages the effect a lot of fantasy tries for but very few succeed at – a sense of real deep, mythic history, of layers of ruined cities and dead gods whose memory still weighs upon and affects the world of the living and whose tragedies and dramas can be seen in the shape of the world wherever you might look. Very nearly every single one of the book’s most affecting passages and pieces of imagery are from a point of view exploring (or at least wondering through) some ancient ruin of a fallen or forgotten civilization, or else being haunted by their ghosts and the ways the present now rhymes with the past.

Far more than Gardens, Gates really does sell the feeling of a vast, wondrous, terrible world – full of unseen actors and only barely glimpsed conflicts that nonetheless shape the field of play our actual protagonists are acting upon. This is probably best expressed with the whole shapeshifter highlander that’s happening slightly off to the side of the plot for 90% of the book but still causes absolutely no end of problems for all the most interacting characters, as well as the sheer number of bizarre and near-lethal encounters with strange and ancient creatures the different traveling parties have by apparently random chance.

The less commendable expression of this is the sheer number of dei (and diaboli) ex machina Erikson keeps throwing into the plot whenever he’s not quite sure where to go or how to get a specific beat he wants to. The sudden appearance of a never-before-mentioned magical courier company crashing through dimensions to give Coltaine and (separately) Fiddler’s party exactly the resupply they needed to lift their spirits on behalf of interested parties on a literal different continent who had apparently somehow been following the drama of this remote death march with baited breath very nearly made me throw the book down in exasperation (and it’s hardly unique here).

Nuance and Characterization

All that said, by far the biggest improvement between Gardens and Gates is the quality of character-writing. Not necessarily in terms of giving distinct internal monologues (there are more than a few passages of Kalam’s narration you could put in Duiker’s mouth and no one one would blink), but the arcs and internal conflicts of every point of view character are far, far better written and more compelling than in the previous installment (not least because the book is far less likely to outright explain what that arc or internal conflict is in pseudo-objective monologue). Most (with a few very notable exceptions I’ll get to later) of the major supporting characters are similarly improved, seeming far more like people and less like the plot mechanisms or broad fantasy archetypes a decent chunk of Gardens secondary cast tended to default to.

The love and quality are admittedly a bit unevenly distributed, though. Felisin is by far the most psychologically interesting and nuanced character we spend any time in the head of – basically entirely because of her complete and total lack of self-knowledge as she tries (badly) to cope with all the horrible, life-ruining trauma. The fact that her sections lacked any sort of moral authority figure – there’s no character whose ever signposted as being uniquely enlightened or perfectly informed or even just usually right, everyone is a massive asshole in one way or another – too.

Though if Felisin’s is the best narrative running through the book, Mappo and Icorium get an easy second place. Again, in large part off the strength of their characterization – their relationship is really compelling! Their friendship feels real and sincere, and the genuine tragedy underlying it all both works and adds real poignancy (though frankly, having the destroyed village used to motivate Mappo be a false flag feels like an immense and unneeded cop-out here). It also helps that the pair of them are so thoroughly part of the setting’s deep history and still affected by and chained to the world’s ancient past in a way none of the others are – in a way they like the most purely Malazan characters, the arc that mostly perfectly expresses the series’ strengths.

As for the others – Fiddler is generally inoffensive as a point of view to the plot, though deeply generic and uninteresting as a character in his own right. But he gets partial credit for all the screen-time Pust gets, whose just a delightful cartoon character on the page and the only genuine comic relief the book has to break up the grim monotony (Apsular is also a good character with interesting ties to the wider setting. Crokus feels like the thinly sketched generic kid hero you kill off at the end of chapter one in a satire or deconstruction). Kalam is a decent action-adventure hero, and much more engaging for the fact that he’s genuinely makes mistakes and falls for tricks compared to a lot of the series’ legendary badasses, but crippled by a) a complete lack of internal reckoning or rumination over the fact that he literally kicked off the rebellion he spends most of the book wading through the atrocities of and b) an incredibly unsatisfying and bathetic where his book-long revenge quest is entirely resolved by five minutes of unconvincing platitudes from the women he was trying to kill.

Duiker, meanwhile – Well, as a character he was great. The two best passages in the whole book are him philosophizing. The issue is-

The Chain of Dogs

I have a rather limited tolerance for straight-faced heroic military chronicles, and the spine of this book was a story that for most of its length felt like it was making it a mission to hit every tired cliche in the genre I can think of. Or okay, that’s harsh. It isn’t all bad – the lead-up to the rebellion was full of intrigue and promise, the side-plot with the Senk god was very good, the ending was (if a bit clumsy and extremely bluntly done) compelling tragedy. As for everything else – well, let’s say there were a lot of time where resisting the urge to skim down to the next POV was a downright heroic effort.

The biggest issue is Coltaine. He, far more than Duiker, is the actual protagonist of the plot thread, the character whose efforts and struggles determine the plot and who virtues define the whole tragedy it ends up being. Which is unfortunate, because he only barely escapes being a complete cliche right out of central casting. For basically the entire book, he’s nothing but a caricature – the grim, taciturn military genius, the stoic badass who wins the undying loyalty of his troops speeches or grandstanding because he’s just the good, the strategic savant whose victory against impossible odds is assured unless he is undercut by treachery or incompetence from those around him. His plans always work, his gut calls always turn out for the best, his harsh sacrifices are always in the end perfectly justified.

God but he is one of the most boring characters I’ve ever had to sit through however many hundreds of pages trying to convince me of how impressive he is. The only historical figures that come close are the ones only remembered through their own propaganda. Which would be not great but fine if he was a secondary character or a plot device, but again he really is the functional protagonist of the entire narrative. Did we really need two different chapter-long battle scenes where Duiker is sure they’re all doomed but Coltaine’s clever plan that was never communicated to any of his subordinates works perfectly and the legendary valor of the Malazan army defeats impossible odds? Did they have to both be river crossings?

Which also does a lot to drain the tension and interest out of the politics and interpersonal drama that is the actually interesting part of war – with basically no exceptions of any consequence, Coltaine is right and whoever is arguing against him (especially if they aren’t also a hard-bitten professional soldier) is wrong. For a story ostensibly about the heroic effort to protect this chain of refugees, the only actual refugee characters who get names and lines are a trio of nobles – of whom one dies early and the other two are portrayed as some of the most thoroughly contemptible characters in the whole story. You could have replaced the entire refugee host with an equally large and ungainly herd of sacred cattle and lost remarkably little.

The High Fist comes off even worse, of course – as the single and ultimate cause of every fuckup the Malazan forces make through the entire book, really. It undermines the whole trap and destruction of the army at the very end of the book when it seems less due to any particularly clever stratagems on the rebels part and more because he’s a blithering idiot who can be relied upon to make the single worst decision in literally every situation. I kept waiting for the book to give him some bit of interiority, some hidden depths or even self-serving justifications for his actions – and it just never arrived.

And then there’s the matter of the opposition.

Conflict and Culture

I give D&D-inspired fantasy a lot of leeway for having some, let’s say unfortunate subtext. It’s buried deep into the bones of the genre and digging out is not a project that will at all fit a lot of stories. But a) this is a thousand-page-long tome that’s incredibly interested in invented culture and sociology and b) my god every bit of the book’s description of Seven Cities and the rebellion feels like its from a 19th century London tabloid competing to have the most lurid and exaggerated ‘true tales of the outrages in the colonies’. Seven Cities is obviously and deliberately patterned off west/south Asia (the rebel messiah is almost literally named Sheik, there are nearly as many talwars as potsherds), but it feels less inspired by any actual culture or history than by colonial propaganda and 1001 Arabian Nights. (The Wickans are not nearly as bad – they do feel like a real culture with texture and internal divisions and tradition. But everything about them is just entirely in thrall to what Brett Devereaux calls the Fremen Mirage – more based off the mythology of the terrifying and masterful nomadic warrior-civilization than any particular historical referent.)

It is not that I have any objection to depicting the brutality and atrocities of (especially civil) warfare but like c’mon – the book literally contrives to have fanatical child soldiers forcing the 7th to slaughter them to protect the refugees. Functionally every rebel we see at any point is either a bloodthirsty religious zealot or a child-raping murderous bandit pretending to be one. Their only halfway competent general in a traitorous Malazan commander who ‘went native’ - and in any event in battle they’re all bloodthirsty savages whose only hope of victory is sheer weight of numbers of shocking brutality and treachery. I’d say they might as well all be orcs, but I legitimately think orcs in LOTR might have been depicted with more nuance and more moments of humanization.

And it’s not like there’s any nuance here – the book is quite explicit that with one exception the Malzann conquest of the continent was humane and restrained. Which entirely tracks with the functionally-inhumane discipline the 7th Army shows throughout the book. On one hand an endless horde of decadent, treacherous city-dwellers and bloodthirsty horse nomads, on the other the least predatory- or -atrocity inclined premodern army in the history of creation. For a book that everyone talks about the grimness and moral ambiguity of, it seems incredibly and exhaustingly one-sided – like Duiker has already gone through and edited out all the awful shit Malzan soldiers did to captives and the refugees under their charge to make the story sufficiently edifying for posterity.

What Gardens had, and Gates very much does not,is a conflict with humanized, compelling characters on both sides, a sense of the horror and brutality war inflicts – the quirky, likeable and heroic band of misfits stopped from leveling half a city and slaughtering thousands to enable an easy occupation by nothing but chance and circumstance. Maybe I’m coming in with my expectations set too high, but the series is always talked about in the same breath as A Song of Ice and Fire – it’s disappointing to see it so totally lacking Martin’s signature strength (though I suppose given all the foreshadowing I’ll just need to wait for the next book and a punitive expedition full of less inexplicably paladin-like Malazan soldiers for that).

Length and Breadth

I wouldn’t even mention a lot of the above if it was a shorter book, honestly. But it’s literally almost a thousand pages, you cannot possibly say there wasn’t space for these things (see also: it was I think literally 700 pages in when two women with names spoke to each other for the first time).

At a certain point, the book’s sheer length becomes a core part of the experience of reading it. I’m really fairly sure that a sufficiently mean editor could have cut this down to the same length as Gardens without dramatically changing the plot – but that’s kind of missing the point. The sheer weight of the thing – the amount of time you spending in characters heads, and just marinating in the world – is a key part of the appeal in its own right.

It’s an appeal I do absolutely get, too. The lengthy tangents about (literal) ancient history and abstract metaphysics or theology, the loving descriptions of monsters that show up for two or three scenes at most, the whole episodes where some weird magical shit intrudes on the plot and the protagonists just have to deal with it for a bit – these are by far some of the best parts of the books, and not ones that could possibly be justified through any strict economizing of word count.

Still, though. The book is basically a cube. A hardcover edition would be a worryingly practical murder weapon.

Death, Legacy and Vengeance

For my money the best passage in the book is not actually the one monologue from Duiker about children dying that everyone always quotes (though it is very good, to be fair) – it’s one a bit later on, as he (if I remember right) considers the ancient Jaghut graves they are passing and hopes that when he dies, he is unmourned and forgotten. It’s a fascinating sentiment to hear from a man who so thoroughly identifies with his role as a historian, first of all, but it’s also the purest expression of what is for me easily the most interesting theme running through the book.

Seven Cities is oppressed by the past, and so are very nearly everyone we spend any time with at all. The Seventh Army marches past the memorials of a myriad-old genocide against the Jaghut and feels the touch of its ghosts and half-buried collateral damage (which is entirely unrelated to the much more recent slaughter they rouse the victims of to fight for them), Mappo and Icorium’s whole friendship is (at least at the outset) instrumental, a way to keep Icorium ignorant of what he’s done and unable to do it again, Felisin Kalan and Fiddler all spend most of the book suffering for the sake of machinations that predate and will outlast them, and seeking blood vengeance for the sake of what they’ve lost. And there’s an undercurrent running through the entire story that every atrocity inflicted by the rebels is a bloody debt that the coming punitive expedition will repay ten times of, and the cycle will only ever grow more and more dire.

And through it all there’s the sense that it’s the remembering that’s the problem. That if Icorium gave up his obsessive search for his path (and through it his father) he really could be happy. That all the souls still trapped in the mortal world to bear witness to some ancient tragedy are suffering for no real reason. A tragic sense that forgetting all the vicious prophecies and vendettas and starting with a clean slate is the only way to possibly fix things

It’s hardly the story’s biggest or most consistent theme – it’s outright contradicted more than once – but for a book that dwells on the past with such loving detail, it’s probably the one that struck me most.

In Summation

I’d apologize for how incredibly long and meandering this review is, but given the subject it really just seems appropriate. Deadhouse Gates is a mammoth of a book, big enough to include more both good and bad than I could hope to recount in detail. Despite finding the most prominent and largest plot thread more than a little tiresome, and wishing dearly for a bit for nuance and complexity in the presentation of the overarching conflict, on balance I definitely enjoyed it. The character work is far better than Gardens, and the worldbuilding (and presentation thereof) is an absolute delight. I am now incredibly invested in where Felisin and Mappo & Icorium’s stories go from here.

Recommended if you find any appeal in sprawling multi-POV dark/epic fantasy Tomes (much have a high tolerance for both exposition and extended battle scenes).

[witchygagirlwrites]

Kelly 😏😏

When you started dating Kelly you almost expected him to bolt when he found out you had kids. Instead he did the opposite. The man took to the role like a fish to water. Your kids adored him and he adored them. When your teenager let it slip that one of the teachers at her school was talking to the girls inappropriately you wanted to handle it. Unfortunately Kelly overheard.

“Matt, I’ve got a stop to make” Kelly told Matt and as soon as he filled him in on why Matt was more than glad to ride along with him. Your daughter was in the cafeteria when she spotted Kelly and her eyes got big “Uh oh” she muttered and her friends twisted around to follow her line of sight, all of them spotting Kelly and Matt. “Isn’t that your mom’s boyfriend?” Kiara nodded “Yup”

She watched as Kelly went up to the teacher in question “Excuse me. Are you Mr Franklin?” Mr Franklin turned around and nodded “Yes, and you are?” Kelly pointed back to Kiara “Someone who cares about her. Can we talk?” “I don’t think now’s a good time” Kelly smiled “I didn’t mean to sound like I was giving you an option”

He put his arm around Mr Franklin’s shoulder and walked him out of the cafeteria with Matt following the two of them. Kiara watched with wide eyes. A few minutes later Mr Franklin walked back in, pale as a ghost and Kelly walked in behind him. Kelly walked over to her “Come on sweetheart, you’re coming with me” 

She gathered her things and followed him, watching Mr Franklin “What did you say to him Kelly?” Kelly shrugged “Just a warning that if wants to say certain things to teenage girls he better make certain as to who those teenage girls have backing them and what those people are willing to do” 

A few days later Mr Franklin quit and it was pretty much made known not only for Kiara but for your other two kids that if you messed with them the entirety of fifty one was coming too. You’d never found yourself even considering proposing to a man but for Kelly Severide? You might just be thinking about it.

[stressedbeetle]

I was watching Jessie Genders video "how Hollywood corrupts trans stories" and at one point she talks about how people search for direct confirmation of a character being queer and/or trans through trans flags or them directly saying it misses how a characters entire being and actions can be informed by their queerness. Like the character of Nimona: she is obviously a trans character, her actions throughout the movie are informed by her experiences as a trans character even though the movie never says this out loud it's easy to see if you are familiar with what Nimona is going through and ND Stevenson did create Nimona when figuring out their own gender being non binary and trans masc.

I think the search for direct confirmation is understandable since we've been burned by so much media before and being made fun of for reading it as a queer story (we still are today). Being continuously told by cishets that a story or character cannot be queer unless explicitly stated to be queer in the story is gonna make you want that hard confirmation. (Also it is just nice to have that confirmation)

But I was thinking about how this relates to the captain from bbc ghosts. A lot of people wanted him and Havers to kiss or for him to come out to the other ghosts (me included), but I think it makes us somewhat miss all his other characteristics or actions that are probably motivated by him being queer from a time where being queer was illegal. He is uptight, he rarely speaks about his emotions, he tries everything to seem like a good soldier and a strong man but as we all know he is just a very silly man. But he can't be that, if he is himself he might be found out and if he is found out then he will be ostracized from society, so he tries everything to hide that part of himself even in death. But throughout the show he opens up more, he participates in the silliness and in the fith episode he finally opens up. He tells the others that he is not the strong, brave soldier he tried to make them (and probably himself) believe he was and in the last episode without trying to find an excuse or deflecting he openly thirsts for the weatherman.

Even if he didn't kiss Havers or didn't explicitly tell the Ghosts he was gay he still very much came out to them. He told them he was not a brave man, that it was all a facade, a performance. Which coming from him when he grew up in a society where if you weren't perceived to be strong and brave you would be thought of as gay, he might as well have told them he was (from his point of view at least).

And then Fanny tells him he is a brave man not because she's oblivious but because she knows him being gay and silly doesn't make him any less of a brave man

[81pastrys]

Their Mechanic

Part 5 / 10

Summary— When she’s late and in her backup car, Oscar shows up with her keys and Lando gets a call to drive her to get it.

Warnings— bad flirting

A/N— I’m still tweaking this one

Series List

The next day, I woke up and checked the time. “Shit!” I’m 3 hours late for the shop. I get up, throw my hair in a bun, and change my clothes. I wash my face and don’t see my keys. “Ruby Red it is.” I sigh.

I stop for coffee on the way and then arrive at the shop. My dad’s face contorted towards anger as I pulled in with my ruby-red Carrera. I get out and rush into the lockers. “Where’s your Taycan?”

“I was too drunk to drive it home last night,” I say. The headache resonated while he spoke loudly within the lockers. “I’ll get it later, Pa, don’t worry.”

“I don’t want that pretty car damaged.” He warned. Even though I’d be the one fixing it. I walk back out and see Oscar leaning up against my pink toolbox. “Damn McLarens.” My dad whispered, walking past.

Oscar dangles my keys from his finger. “Forgetting something?” He asked. I don’t have the energy for his ditsy-ness right now, so I roll my eyes.

“Ollie brought me home.” I sigh. “I was way too drunk to think straight.” I grab the keys, and he pulls me closer.

“Could’ve stayed the night with us.” He whispered. Chills ran through my veins as he spoke, and my breath hitched in my throat. I back away, and he sets off to his car.

I focus on the shop for the rest of the day and then head home late. When I get home, I call Lando. “Hey, trouble.” He answers.

“Hey Lando, I was wondering. Care to give me a lift to Oscar’s?” I ask. He came over, and I took a shower. I left my front door unlocked in case he’d arrived before I finished freshening up. He did, and I texted him to say it was unlocked.

“Trouble.” He dragged out.

“I’m drying off. Give me about 3 minutes.” I respond. I dry my hair and then throw on sweats and a tee. I walk to the main room, and he sits at the bar. “Sorry, I had to shower.”

“No worries, ready to go get your precious car?” He teased. I’ve mentioned my love for the car so many times.

“Yes, let’s go.” I usher him out and lock the door. We drive the streets and talk. We get to the parking garage for the complex, and he gets out. “Woah, where are you going?”

“See my teammate?” He smiled, and I almost crumbled to my knees. “I told him I was bringing you to your car.”

“Oh, okay,” I respond. I didn’t realize they were teammates. “I’m gonna head back home; it’s kinda late.”

“Sounds good, trouble.” His smile widened. “I’ll text you later.” He doesn’t usually ‘text me later,’ but I smile and feel the blush forming on my cheeks.

“Keep that car of yours out of my shop, Norris.” I giggle. “I love working on her, but you need to stop making excuses to see me at the shop and ask me out.”

He fakely laughed at my comment, but I could see the blush on his face. “I might.” He shrugs.

“If you don’t, I might have another driver under my arms soon.” I tease, knowing damn well he’s the only driver I want out of all of them.

“Oh please, they wouldn’t be able to handle you trouble.” He’s flirting back now, noticing my tactics. “The attitude you have and the independence, they’d crumble after one date.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I smirked, knowing exactly what he was talking about.

“Well, I’m sure you almost refused at least one of the guys I sent you.” He scoffed. I scrunch my face in admittance. We laugh. “Who was it?”

“Oscar and Max..” I say as if it was guilt. “Oscar, Max almost denied me the chance to work on his car.”

“Oscar?” He asked, raising his eyebrows. “The introverted man upstairs?”

“He’s very cocky,” I say. “Acted as if I didn’t know what I was doing.” Which I did.

“Well, what made him believe that trouble?” He smirked, knowing the answer would be mumbled.

“I touched a hot spot on his McLaren.” I tilt my head and drop my arms from being crossed. “I did the same on yours.” However, he laughed it off in the moment. He didn’t doubt me when I made a simple mistake.

“Yeah, but I already knew there were hotspots.” He chuckled again. “I can fix my car trouble; I just noticed you do it better.” He winked at me.

I blushed at the compliment. His teammate called, and he motioned for me to follow him. I rolled my eyes with a smile and followed the man upstairs.

Where is this going?

[montanamp3]

tatimaxxing (something big just happened to me but i can't talk about it on this blog because ive posted face)

[swagging-back-to]

god the amount of hoops one of my coworkers jumps through for this violent autistic male is insaneeeee

[lizardho]

When I came out, I was SO scared I was gonna get disowned. I wrote a letter to my parents, sent it to their emails, put a physical copy on the counter, and left the house for a few hours to give them time. In that time I tried coffee for the first time, which was a dreadful idea, and got all jittery. I kept waiting for a text or something but nothing happened.

After a few hours, I didn’t hear back from them so I went home. My parents were home and had stacked a bunch of groceries on top of the letter without opening it. They said “hi” and I said “hi” and went down stairs to the basement. I held my dog and panicked about what to do. My sister, who knew that I had written them a letter of great importance, told me they hadn’t read it yet. She also told me she could ask them to do so. I consented to this and stayed in the basement. A few minutes later my dad knocked on the door and poked his soft smooth little nerd head in and said “hey buddy” and I started crying so hard I almost vomited. He came over and gave me a BIG hug and said that it was gonna be OK, he was OK with this, he knew it must have been hard but he was here for me. He told me he and my mom had already talked years before they had me about how if they had to pick between their faith and their child they’d pick their child. It was a very sweet moment. I came out to my mom later that evening and we were both bawling the whole time.

The day after I came out to my parents, I came out to my brother @inbabylontheywept at a Mexican restaurant and he took it like a champ. That evening my mom took me for a walk and looked almost angry - she said she wanted to make sure that I didn’t use being a woman as an excuse to not go to grad school. I told her I wouldn’t and she instantly looked relieved and happier.

My dad, on the other hand, seemed to struggle with it. He kept asking me if I had a boyfriend, and I told him I did not. He kept asking me if I wanted to go clothes shopping with him and I did not. He kept asking me if I would let him go to some of my shows, and I had NO idea what he was talking about.

Finally, 6 months after coming out, of awkward misgendering and questions that didn’t make sense from my dad, he excitedly pokes his soft smooth little nerd head into my bedroom again and says “I found a movie about Your People.” My people. I was absolutely bewildered, but he was so excited and I knew he had been trying SO hard so I watched it with him. It was The Birdcage, and it was amazing. It also was revelatory in that I finally realized why my initially-supportive father seemed to be having such a hard time with my pronouns and stuff - he didn’t know what the difference between trans and doing drag was. After the movie he again asked if I would invite him to one of my shows, and I said, “Hey dad, you know how about half the world is women?” And he said “yeah,” and I said “Well, see, I’m on that half now. I’m not doing drag.” And it was like a switch flipped in his brain. He was like “omg that’s so easy? I was so confused about what to call you when?”

Anyway, my parents are charming and my family has been so kind and patient with me, I like sharing the stories of my little wins with them.

[nezuscribe]

there’s been a couple nights where you and arranged!gojo have had to host little dinners at the estate to show face and let people know you two are still alive.

it’s before the big confession, when the two of you were becoming closer, so it was just pretend niceness hiding the tension for a couple hours.

you tried to talk to the people around the large dining room table, sitting near gojo as you listened in on the conversation, but it was better to just be a part of it rather than the center of the spotlight. gojo had become increasingly aware of the long looks people gave your way, the hushed talks behind the women’s hands. you didn’t notice, maybe you’d been jaded to it, but he did, and he was becoming more tense under their stares.

he noticed how you’d try to jump in and say something, but was instantly cut off by somebody else. gojo had told you before the dinner started that the two of you should hold hands, but you hadn’t let go of his, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to let go of you either. he’d give you an encouraging squeeze, one which you gave him a little smile to, but still clammed up, sitting back in your seat.

"want me to tell them to shut up?" he whispered to you, dropping his head near your ear so that nobody else could hear.

"no it's okay," you say with a laugh, waving it off, "i was just going to ask what cashmere is," you say, in relation to a previous story one of the girls was telling about cashmere moth, and how her entire closet was chewed to bits because of the creatures.

"it's a type of fabric," he explains gently, his eyes searching yours, "very soft," he adds with a little smile and yours grows wider.

"i'd like to see it," you comment, leaning a little bit closer to him.

"i'll have your closets full of cashemere by the morning if you'd like," he says, but you know deep down it could be a promise if you simply said yes.

but you giggle, shaking your head.

"no," you're looking up at him in that way that makes his tongue feel heavy, "the moths, they must be huge," you murmur and he snorts, squeezing your hand a little bit tighter in retaliation.

to be honest, gojo hated these dinners. these people he grew up with were dull and annoying, their conversations full of lame gossip and cheap jokes, and he’d much prefer your lively stories with just you, but they were a necessary evil.

when the servants had cleared the meal away and had begun setting up for dessert, he could feel the stare of one of the girls, anya, and the way her eyes squinted when he caught her looking. he saw the way she sneakily tipped her head back, chin pointing to the opening near some of the stone columns, and excused herself a couple seconds later, looking over her shoulder at him before she disappeared.

gojo knew anya. he’d fooled around with her a couple of times long before the two of you got married, but he found her a bit shallow and dim, nothing he found interesting. he looked over at you to see if you had seen her, but you were looking at your plate, moving some grains of uneaten rice around with your fork.

curiosity got the better of him, wondering what it was she wanted, and so he stood up, his chair scraping behind him as you let go of his hand, you, along with everybody else, looking at him as he excused himself to the washroom.

he walked briskly past the table, leaving through one of the openings of the stone columns, looking around until he say anya at the end of the hall, waiting for him.

“what?” he bit out, hushed, looking behind him to make sure that nobody had followed him out.

anya smiled, her teeth glimmering as he neared her, standing a safe distance away as she pouted slightly.

gojo winced. he forgot how her smile up close was unnerving, the way it wasn’t as soft or full of emotion like yours. her eyes, a deep hazel, glimmered as she took a step closer, her fingers reaching for his collar.

“i missed you,” she whispered, lips glossy as she peered up at him, her lashes batting against her cheeks as he felt his mother dry up, feeling a sudden air of nausea overtake him as he swatted her hand away.

he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“is that all you wanted to tell me?” he hissed out, knowing how stupid he sounded seeing how he had followed her out, surely expecting this.

“what?” anya tilts her head, “thought you’d like to hear it.”

gojo rolls his eyes, crossing his arms across his chest.

“i thought you had something important to say,” he shrugs, looking away, focusing on a crack, getting ready to leave until she laughs, shaking her head.

nobody said he was the brightest soldier in all the land. he’s not above some actually good gossip, but he had a feeling this ain’t about to be that.

“you’ve always loved gossip,” her eyes glimmer as she takes another tentative step closer, “is that why you married the center of it?”

his eyes narrow slightly, but she just sees him listening to her.

“come on,” anya snorts, her hand coming up to his face until she stops at his cold gaze, pulling her hand away, “we all know it’s not rank or looks that made you marry her.”

gojo feels his arms tighten, a vein bulging in his neck as he swallows thickly. he doesn’t say anything, wants to see how she continues, wants to see what everybody else thinks without saying it.

"i mean, your mother keeps saying it was reciprocal," she rolls her eyes, laughing mirthlessly, "but i know that's a lie. you look miserable whenever you're around her."

gojo feels his eyes twitch, his ring shining in the slivers of moonlight through the large, overarching windows.

"did you call me here to talk ill of my wife?" gojo bites out, but she can't sense his tone, giggling as she shoves him, his body not moving.

"drop the theatrics 'toru," he feels bile in his mouth at her sweetened words, "it's just me," she says, biting her lips as indiscreetly as she can, eyes raking over his toned body as she looks back up to his face, "but regardless, no, i had something else i wanted to tell you."

she sighs, her voice a little higher as if he wouldn't notice.

"i'm staying at the hostelry in the town near here for a couple of nights," she bats her eyes again, and suddenly gojo wonders if he had been insanely ill when he had slept with her those months ago because now he feels sick just looking at her, "if you wanted...i'm there for you."

he raises his white brow slightly.

"gods anya," he breaths deeply through his nose, his eyes darkened, "you have audacity if nothing else."

she smiles brightly, taking it as a compliment.

"i know," she winks, "i looked around the area, and nobody of import comes near there. i know you need it as bad as i do," her voice drops a little, eyes falling slightly to the ground, "people are talking. i know how lonely you must feel."

his nose wrinkles slightly in confusion.

"what are you talking about?"

anya looks at him briefly before looking away, shrugging.

"everybody knows you two don't share a room," she explains, "and how she's not even showing signs of pregnancy. is she frigid in bed? you know, some people are saying she's infertile."

gojo straightens up, a new look taking over his face that makes her voice die down.

"what? who's saying that? who's talking?" he presses, and she feels her mouth dry up, suddenly picking up on the fact that he doesn't seem to be at all interested in the deal she's trying to make.

he feels a sudden wave of mixed emotions washing over him.

are the maids taking? gods, that makes him feel even worse. it surely couldn't be yours, they care for you too much. but it must've been somebody who knows your situation, somebody who sees the way you live on different sides of the estate. gojo feels a sinking pit in his stomach. these rumors that are growing because of his own selfish actions, rumors at your own expense, ones you have no control over, by people you've been trying to befriend for ages.

he knows people look at you whenever you enter a room, hears their awfully concealed whispers. and despite the fact that you try to hide the hurt on your face, he sees the way you avade their glances, hide into yourself to act like it doesn't bother you.

are these whispers now because of him?

"i don't know," she mutters, annoyed, "everyone. you barely look at her. did your parents pay you to marry her? she must've been-"

"stop it." gojo warns, and she shuts her mouth, eyes shimmering with shock.

she looks like she's about to say something but stops, looking over his looming body at something.

"gojo? is that you?" another voice calls out, and he turns around, all the anger melting off of his face when he sees it's you, standing near the pillars as you try to find him.

you smile when you see him, still not seeing anya who's hidden behind him, and wave for him to come back.

"they're about to serve dessert," you say, trying to be as quiet as you can, "oh, are you with someone? sorry, i didn't mean to interrupt..." you trail off, your smile falling when anya shuffles around, making sure you see her behind him, your eyes widening.

gojo feels his world slipping beneath him as your shoulder drops, looking at him and then at anya, a somber look taking over your features. you look for another second, not knowing what to do. gojo feels like a fish, gaping silently at you, never looking back at anya, but you excuse yourself, going back to the dining hall without saying another word.

gojo stares aimlessly at the wall in front of him, not sparing his energy to look at the girl peering up at his face.

"get out," he murmurs, his voice low with timber.

"w-what?" she stammers, brows furrowing in confusion.

"get out before i call the guards," he snaps, looking at her from the side of his eyes, "fucking now anya, leave."

she looks up at him, swallowing thickly, but gets the memo that he's being serious. she scammers away, sniffling dramatically as she disappears through another hallway.

he drops his head into his hands, massaging his temples.

his eyes fall to his ring, the one that seems to be growing cold on his finger.

he feels his heart burn in his chest, every step feeling like he had stones tied to his feet as he makes his way back to the hall, hearing the edited clammer of the people welcoming him back, but there was only one person he cared about.

and you weren't looking at him.

in fact, you didn't speak to him that entire night. nor that following week.

gojo has almost bled to death before and has had arrows pierce his back and exit through his chest, but he'd rather experience that ten times again than feel the agonizing silence of the woman he's starting to love.

(second part)

[star-anise]

Disclaimer: I like Anita Sarkeesian.

But also, I just saw a writeup of a Youtuber whose content has come a long way from his Gamergate days, and to explain that, the wiki says, "Anita Sarkeesian is a radical feminist who created a webseries about sexist tropes in video games"

AHAHAHAHAHA ANITA SARKEESIAN, RADICAL FEMINIST

HOO HEE EXCUSE ME THAT'S A GOOD ONE

Radical feminist. Feminist extremist. Anita Sarkeesian.

Anita Sarkeesian did her Master's Thesis in Social and Political Thought in 2010 on the trope of the "Strong Woman" in fantasy and science fiction TV shows, and produced Tropes vs Women, a series of online videos breaking down her work in a way that was accessible to a lay audience. She found a ready audience in geek feminist circles, since this was exactly the kind of thing we wanted and needed right then.

Tropes vs Women was extremely bog-standard cultural critique, what you'd find expressed in discussion between scholars of literary theory or media analysis anywhere, and exactly what 99% of feminists were saying at the time. It certainly talked about patriarchy as the complex system of sexism fused into our cultural matrix, so it's not like it wasn't radical feminism from that viewpoint, but it wasn't "radical" by way of being especially militant. Sarkeesian frequently pointed out how individual occurrences of a trope weren't harmful in themselves, but that a media landscape completely saturated with only that trope and nothing but that trope is, in the aggregate, a big feminist issue.

And the internet

HAAAAAAAATED

her for it.

Like, geek feminists got flak a lot anyway, especially when we wanted things like properly enforced policies against sexual harassment at science fiction conventions. And yeah, there totally were toxic keyboard warriors who said stuff about all men being scum - but Sarkeesian wasn't one of them.

It's probably because of her succinct, matter-of-fact, "this is not a debated issue, feminists have decades of theory and research to back this point up, sources abound if you google for thirty seconds so I won't stop to baby you through all the fundamental concepts" approach that she got such a big reach. She was calm, concise, coherent, and rational, everything feminists are told we need to be.

Unfortunately that just made her seem... attackable, I think. A good target, not actually scary or impassioned, unlikely to respond to violence with violence. The perfect kind of person to play five seconds of, and then spend the next five minutes yelling into your mic because IF ANITA IS RIGHT ABOUT VIDEO GAME SEXIST YOU MIGHT AS WELL SAY THAT EVERYTHING IS SEXIST AND SEXISM IS SYSTEMIC AND ENDEMIC TO ALL OF WESTERN CULTURE AND OTHER CULTURES TOO, WHICH IS CLEARLY RIDICULOUS, ANITA LADY BAD.

She literally spent five solid years as Enemy #1 in online geek spaces. It was completely insane. I am so sorry she had to take the brunt of it, and yet grateful that she did. She held the line and took the shit and kept doing good decent feminist work for years after, though she did admit to burnout and closed up shop on her nonprofit org Feminist Frequency in 2023. I hope to hell she's having a good day.

But even now, more than a decade later, dudes talk about her as though she were Geek Feminist Godzilla, the biggest baddest woman in the universe, off to lay waste to downtown Video Games and cut everybody's balls off.

When people (mostly dudes, but not all) talk like this, it's just very funny and unintentionally revealing because of the absolute averageness of her third-wave, trans-inclusive, western-centric, intersectional feminism. It makes them look absolutely pathetic.

Because it just makes it clear that she is probably the first and last self-described feminist the speaker has ever paid attention to.

[niwaart]

FAMILY WITHOUT LIGHT

[#part1 #part2 #part3]

Dick panicked, he gripped his phone tightly, his knuckles turning white from the force of his grip.

《This number is unreachable, please try again later.》

Dick let out a scream of anger and impatience, he had been trying to call Y/N for over 5 hours, just to get an answer. Why did she leave the house?… All this happened when he was in his Nightwing costume doing a normal nighttime mission after tying up criminals, a newspaper with Bruce’s picture caught his attention, Dick wondered what new drama the journalists were talking about this time, as soon as he grabbed the newspaper he felt like the air was being sucked out of him. It took him over a minute to process what was being said…

##Bruce Wayne and Y/N Wayne divorced after more than 15 years.##

No... that's a lie, just another rumor, it can't be true, maybe Bruce doesn't care about Y/N but Y/N wouldn't leave the house... after all he saw her love for Damian and Tim, and how she cared for them... so this is just a rumor... right?....

Dick took the newspaper with him and quickly ran to his apartment... He needed to make sure.. He had to get to his apartment to call Y/N.. She would tell him the truth, reassure him, tell him that everything was okay.... As soon as he got to his apartment window, he opened it and entered after entering the access code. His dog Haley approached him, he gave her a few pats before he reached his phone and called Y/N... But she didn't answer his calls.... He tried and tried and tried... But no answer... Could it be true?... Did Y/N leave the house?... Why?....

He was going to call Bruce but he was mad at him for not stopping Y/N from leaving and that he might be the reason Y/N left. So he decided to call Alfred who immediately answered, "Mr. Dick, how may I help you?" "Hello Alfred... Sorry to bother you now... The thing is... I..." Dick hesitated... He was afraid to hear the answer...

“I just called Y/N and she didn’t answer… so I was wondering if everything was okay…” Dick answered, praying with all his might that there was an excuse other than the divorce… “Oh… Mr. Dick… I don’t know how to tell you this… but… Y/N and Bruce have been divorced for three months now…” Alfred’s answer was like a knife slicing into his chest… well maybe deep down he knew the divorce was real… but… three months ago?… and no one told him?… “How… why?… why the divorce, and why didn’t anyone tell me?” Dick’s voice was muffled, he tried not to cry, he tried to control himself a little… “I’m sorry Mr. Dick… it was such a shock to everyone that I forgot to tell you… as for the divorce, Y/N chose that herself… unfortunately…” Alfred’s voice was filled with pain, making it even harder for Dick to hold back his tears… Y/N had left them… she had left them…

Dick hung up the phone after thanking Alfred and collapsed on the floor crying… His dog Haley was beside him trying to comfort him… But it didn’t work… It took Dick maybe half an hour to calm himself down… He tried to take deep breaths in and out… Then he hugged his dog Haley who had already settled happily in his lap. Dick was sitting on the floor leaning his head on the bed behind him while looking at the ceiling of his apartment. He couldn’t help but remember all the memories with Y/N. Dick may not have said it out loud before, but he considered Y/N as his mother… She always took care of him, he still remembers the first time he came to Wayne Manor after his parents died, he was full of anger and wanted revenge, Bruce was trying to channel his anger in a good way to fight the bad guys, but Y/N allowed him to vent his anger, by crying and getting all his feelings out and not holding them in, he remembers that he was mean to her at first, thinking that she was trying to be his mother, but after a while, it turned out that she was just trying to help him, she helped him decorate his parents' grave, buy new things, and when he fought with Bruce she took his side… and even now she still against Bruce and side with Damian, he loved the stories she told, she helped him and encouraged him to speak his mind and thoughts and not hold them in… even when he had a big fight with Bruce and decided to leave the house to be independent… She called him every night, asking him how he was, and if he tried to lie she would know and ask him to tell the truth, which he actually couldn't resistance, so he was always honest with her, Dick was used to being a leader and a good big brother, everyone depended on him… and Y/N was the one he could count on, she was the light of his life, she was family, until recently she used to call him and check on him, now he knew why she hadn't called in three months… He sighed and looked down to see that Haley was asleep, he picked her up and put her in her bed. Even if Y/N had left the house, she still loved them, he was sure, maybe if he went back to Gotham and talked to her he would understand, yeah, maybe she had left the house, but she wouldn't leave them, she still loved them. He was sure

In Gotham... specifically at Wayne Manor, Tim was suffering from a headache and back pain, he was lying in his bed... well maybe not his bed, but in Y/N's bed and room. His work and the pile of papers were almost competing with the towering mountains... when did paperwork become so stressful and tiring? He didn't remember this ever being a problem for him, he wouldn't lie to himself, he knew that Y/N's departure was the reason for the work to be doubled, the sleep to be less, and the pain to be more, Y/N used to do almost all the work for him, so he could rest, but now he couldn't balance his sleeping time, eating, doing all the work, solving cases, and becoming Red Robin, it was too much, Y/N was managing it so well, she did his work, made sure he ate and drank enough before she literally dragged him from the Batcave to the palace to sleep against his will, she always carried him like a baby, he always wondered how she could carry him so easily, okay he'd admit that when he first came to the palace he was a very skinny baby, but he grew up and became muscular, maybe not like Dick or Jason but he sure wasn't light, anyway that didn't concern him now... The problem here is that he hasn't slept in... two days? He doesn't know, maybe it's been three days... He hates that Y/N used to carry him to his room and stay by his side until he fell asleep, and he hated that she knew that sometimes he pretended to sleep, so she wouldn't leave until Tim was completely asleep... Sometimes Tim couldn't sleep easily, like when there was a mission or a case on his mind but Y/N carried him to his room before he could finish it, so he would complain and sometimes beg Y/N to finish the case, that it wouldn't take long, but Y/N always refused... And he couldn't sleep because of the case that consumed his mind, so Y/N would sometimes tell him stories... And it worked to make him sleep... He wondered if Y/N's stories were real, because they didn't seem imaginary at all, her stories were strangely realistic, to the point that all Tim's attention was only on the story until he fell asleep. And so Tim became forced to sleep because of Y/N, food and water, when he should take a break and when he should finish the case, Y/N was organizing his life, he didn't remember getting tired or exhausted from this organization, on the contrary, he was getting enough sleep and food to renew his energy, and even after he came back from his break he would come back with more energy and his solving of cases was at an amazingly higher rate than before, it was very useful, Y/N was the only one who knew how to organize him amazingly with all the work he had. But Y/N wasn't just organizing his life, she even hid his mistakes. Sometimes he would come back from missions with some wounds. Tim didn't like to say that he was injured, it made him weak, and he didn't want to be weak, but Y/N would discover every wound he had, even if it was hidden. The good thing was that she never told Bruce about the injuries, and if the injuries were serious, she would make an excuse for Tim not to go on the next mission. She would cover up all his failures and mistakes in silence... and he was grateful to her. He still remembered when Damian first came and took the Robin costume from him, she would comfort him and stay by his side and tell him that Robin wasn't the one wearing the costume, Robin was the one who protected the children of this city.

It really helped him… he remembered when he asked her advice about his new costume and name, and she encouraged him… she was proud of him, he saw it in her eyes, and when Batman disappeared and everyone thought he was dead and Dick was about to put him in Arkham, Y/N was the first to protest and the first to hit Dick… well that problem was solved a while ago and Y/N was so mad at Dick, it took Dick over three weeks to try to get her to forgive him… it was funny to Tim. She got mad for him. For him… he missed her… she was his whole life, now he couldn’t sleep or work, even his appetite was gone… he could barely survive on coffee now. That’s why he moved into her room a few weeks after she left, he wouldn’t say he slept well, but at least he did, now her scent, her warmth, even her voice and her look at him were gone. When he moved into her room he had a fight with Damian about it, that was the first and last fight they had since Y/N left. Damian wouldn't like it if Tim was the one taking over Y/N's room, and it was a long, tiring fight, in which Damian gave in for the first time ever, letting Tim sleep in Y/N's room. Tim knew very well why Damian was angry, that he missed Y/N too, Damian had changed dramatically after her departure, he barely spoke inside the house, and even on missions he didn't have the same enthusiasm as usual, and he didn't blame Damian for that, he missed her himself... but he had to thank his position as CEO of WE for that which helped him see Y/N a lot, he had multiple meetings with Y/N's family company under the pretext of resuming relations again, just to see Y/N, and one of the meetings was always cancelled due to circumstances, whether from his side or Y/N's, and the first meeting that finally happened was last night, and after more than three months he saw Y/N again, when she entered the meeting room she automatically patted him on the head and asked him how he was and that his appearance looked bad and he should eat and sleep well... Tim was silent, he felt a lump in his throat, if there weren't other people in the room he would have collapsed and hugged her and asked her to come back, but he remained silent looking down Trying to breathe slowly, after the meeting ended he wanted to catch up with her, and talk to her alone and tell her that he needed her back, he hadn't slept in a long time, but because of some old businessmen that Tim was planning to throw out who blocked his way with some questions, invitations and failed offers that caused Tim to be late to catch up with Y/N, but it's okay, he will have another meeting with her, and he will ask her to go home.

Tim sighed as he tried to sleep for the sixth time and was about to fall asleep this time but the knocking on the door woke him up. He grumbled and cursed under his breath at the person at the door unless that person was Alfred, Tim got up lazily and opened the door to be surprised by Damian standing at the door... "Oh? Damian? What's wrong?" Tim noticed Damian's eyes were puffy from crying, he wasn't surprised, ever since Y/N left Damian had been crying a lot, not that anyone would tell him that was obvious. "I want you to find me two people, they're from my school, and they call Y/N my aunt." Damian said calmly without any arrogance. Tim looked at him in confusion for a while, could it be that Damian was after Y/N now? "And before you say anything I know that you're trying to get Y/N back through the meetings you request from her family's company." Damian continued crossing his arms. Tim tensed for a moment, he didn't know that it was obvious, then sighed in surrender. "Okay, come in."

@itsmadamehydra @sirenetheblogger @insomniaccorner @nommingonfood @supernaturalmarvelfan @moe-moes-stuff @stickyricewithmangosauce @emeraldcutie44 @randomlyappearingartist @type-ink @kittzu @west-c0ast-00 @hjgdhghoe @sweetconnoisseurgardener @bat1212 @wassupbroski55555 @purplelady22 @c4xcocoa

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@pink-jello-fish @kore-of-the-underworld

@00hellohello00 @superstarbucks

@rue-eru @middevil465 @devils-blackrose @crazycaoticsimp

[7kh]

༉ sevika destroying your insides (real nd true!!).

cw — wlw, strap usage, strap is referred to as ‘cock’, husband sevika/wife reader. sevika is a meanie :(. title is exactly how it goes lol. men and minors dni. (ty for 700! <3)

you’ve been pent up all. damn. week. and it would be idiotic to assume that sevika didn’t catch up on what’s up with you, especially considering that she was the cause for all of it. when she first confronted you about it, you brushed it off, excusing it for your nerves and anxiety. nerves for what? you wouldn’t tell her.

the cycle continued for the rest of the days, until sevika decided she was done playing around in circles with you anymore. she was going to figure out what the fuck’s wrong with her wife.

you sat on one end of the couch while she was on the other end, counting money she earned from some washed up goons in one of her recent gambling fiascos. the shuffling and cackling of money filled the uncomfortable silence of the room before she was the first one to speak, “so you don’t got nothing else to say?”

you swallowed nervously, your palms slowly getting more hot and sweatier on your lap. “i have no idea what you’re talking about. i told you ’m fine.” you shrugged.

she looked and raised an eyebrow at you, “bullshit.”

“what’s wrong. tell me.” she says in a stern tone, one that you absolutely had to obey, one you couldn’t just scurry out of.

after a long moment of uncomfortable silence, you sighed deeply, bringing your head down so it faced your lap. “sevvy, i’ve been really… pent up, recently.” you say, so low that you were surprised sevika even heard you. but she didn’t say anything further, just a low hum to indicate that she was listening. like she already knew what was up with you from the jump.

the room fell silent again, only sevika’s coin filling up the room. you were sure that you were going to go insane, another moment of this. she put the coins in a pouch, and set them on the table. “if you wanted something, you could’ve just asked in the first place.”

—

“mm fuck— sev, baby, slow down!” and there she was. fucking you right there on the couch, your knees practically digging into your chest as she gave you everything. “slow down? i thought this was what you wanted?” she raised an eyebrow at you again. you didn’t respond to her—more like you couldn’t. only drunken babbles of praises and her name fell of your mouth, and she smirked. she got her answer.

the ridges of her cock kissed and scratched the deepest parts of your pussy, and so effortlessly too. strong hands holding your knees up to your chest (that were definitely going to leave a mark later) tightly as she took long, deep and fast strokes, barely even giving you time to breathe a little.

she thought you were always so cute under like this. the way your eyebrows furrowed together, the way you gritted your teeth together, the way your head tilted back some as your knuckles turned almost white gripping onto nothing. “ah w—wait, fuck! wait..” you whined, begged. but it only spurred her on more, going so deep a little bulge peaked out with each thrust, earning a squeal out of you.

“yeah? you like that? this what you’ve been waiting for?” she bends down to you, her lips brushing against your skin. you could feel her smirking against your cheek. you whined and nodded your head, but that only earned you having her pull out a little, having you writhing at the loss. “your words.” she says firmly, her voice low and even. “mmmyess, yes, baby! love it so much, please—“ you let out before sevika slammed into you once more, knocking the air out of your lungs. “good girl.”

the lewd wet skin slapping that filled the room, your juices dirtying the couch and her thighs. god that was going to be a pain to clean up afterwards.

but you didn’t worry about that right now. you couldn’t. not when your beautiful husband was giving you the best dick of your life after a whole week of waiting. and of course, her beautiful wife took it like a champ.

you reached your hands up to put it behind her back, long nails subconsciously scratching her back hard to the point where she had instant deep red marks, earning a growl from her. her human hand slid down to your drenched pussy and started to rub delicate but rough circles on your neglected clit, the exact way she knew would drive you crazy. “sevvy, gonna—“ you sobbed, but she didn’t relent her pace at all. “gonna cum? c’mon. cum for me.”

with blurry eyes from your tears, you picked your head up a bit. sevika immediately noticed what you wanted and dove in for a searing kiss as you came. your thighs shook around her, sevika fucking you through your orgasm as your juices sloshed everywhere. she swallowed up your moans, your tippling praises, your cries, responding with low moans and groans of her own.

but, unfortunately for you (moreso your pussy), sevika has all the stamina in the world for you. she’s gonna the entire night fucking allll of the frustrations out of her cute wife. that’s what a good husband does, after all. maybe even make a nice meal after.

© 7KH 2024, all rights reserved — do not claim, modify, copy or translate my content.

[lovegasmic]

 ᰋ. HOW TO GET THE GIRL ? : jujutsu kaisen ᰍ 

request : [ them ] being the “other man” showing reader they won’t give up on her even though she now wants to be loyal. alt : just pretend there is no boyfriend and it’s exes trying to win you back.

‘ toji fushiguro, kento nanami, satoru gojo, suguru geto, choso kamo, sukuna x fem!reader ’ ୨୧ taglist

cw. slight mentions of sex◞ Sukuna gets in a fight ◞ other than that it’s all fluff / crack and probably a bit ooc.

˙ . ꒷ toji . 𖹭 ˙ — is the type that would purposely frequent the places he knows you’re going to be at, and to make it worst, when he knows you’ll be with your boyfriend.

the mall, that one restaurant you told him about, your favorite hair salon and that one clothing store, all places Toji attempts to find you at, calling you on the phone? that’s weak.

until you do ‘accidentally’ bump into Toji at the club where you first met, and he has this wide grin while nonchalantly approaching, eyeing your boyfriend up and down as if the sight was insulting, “oh, look who is here” he chuckles and you’re about to scream.

“do you know him?” your boyfriend asks, a bit taken guarded, no one could blame him really, that menacing look on Toji’s eyes plus the size of the man is just a perfect combo for disaster.

pissed is mild, you’ve already told Toji to stay away yet he never listens, “just briefly, he is not important”

the black haired man’s eyes glint with what looks like anger, but still masked under a smirk and crossed arms to purposely bulge his arms, “is that a way to talk to an old friend?” he tuts, mocking, “i’m hurt”

“let’s get going” you mutter in a rush, tugging your boyfriend to leave as soon as possible, but of course, Toji is not having it, holding onto your wrist to tug you instead towards another corner and quite fast, just to push you against a wall.

“what a fuckin’ pathetic man you got” he huffs, noticing how your boyfriend just stood there frozen, “i can’t believe you chose that”

“i chose no one, he was my first, you’re just a fling” that shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did.

“you didn’t say that when you were screaming my name” his hands are a bit firmer on your arms.

and your face burns slightly, “that’s different”

“how so?” Toji’s voice is demanding and gruff, “we had so much fun together, I can take better care of you than that pathetic excuse of a man you have..., please” he does not need much, really, just a single chance, and by the way your eyes drop slightly, he knows you’re seconds away from giving in.

˙ . ꒷ kento . 𖹭 ˙ — to begin with, finding out you were using him all along was like a punch in the gut, him who thought your relationship was going smooth and steady, only to be crushed down within minutes was not something Kento was willing to go through again. so, he just let’s you go, his ego hurt and heart shattered in pieces.

but then again, if you were with him, it was for a reason, right?

he acts mature, something you quite expect from a man like Kento, yet unable to deny the pull that still lingers, a whole gentleman he is, and in a city like yours finding him again was not impossible.

“hello...” his voice is steady and cool, making your tummy do a flip at the nonchalant and deep tone, “how have you been?” it’s quite obvious his words are forced, and by the way his hands are in his pockets, he wants to leave as soon as possible.

“um, good, yeah” so awkward, and to make it worse, you can’t just stop the way your eyes trail up and down his body, looking as handsome and manly with those khaki pants and blue fitted shirt.

Kento nods again, tapping on the ground with perfectly polished shoes, “good, then, goodbye”

“wait!”

your words come out before you can even stop them, awkwardly fidgeting with the hem of your top, “can we... grab some coffee? if you’re free, of course”

truly meant to be, how weak you are and how weak Kento is to accept immediately, hopefully, now knowing the whole story, he can convince you to break up with your boyfriend.

˙ . ꒷ satoru . 𖹭 ˙ — another gift left on your doorstep? this is the third that week, a cute yet simple black box with a white bow around it, perhaps another expensive necklace to join the collection your ‘ex’ or better called, fling, left.

the box creates a soft thud as you toss it on the last drawer of your closet, unable to even consider throwing it away, so you better keep them, there were no more reasons behind it, you tried to convince yourself.

then another beep, you have a new voice mail that plays, “hey, sweetheart!” Satoru sounds as nonchalant and fake as ever, “you left a t-shirt at my place, ahaha, don’t you want to come grab it?”

another poor excuse.

“why don’t I better drop it at your place?” silence, “just..., let me know if your boyfriend is there...”

something he was not willing to do was drop by knowing the other man could be there, one to save himself from heartache, and another, to not murder the man with his own bare hands.

another beep, another voice call, “let me talk to you, baby, please, just once, can we talk?” he sounds a bit pathetic but who cares, you managed to get under his skin, wrapped around your finger in such a way that he was not letting you go that easily, “call me”

you couldn’t deny that he was really sweet and attentive, checking one of the anklets he got you now sitting on your skin, perhaps... giving him one call can’t hurt, right?

˙ . ꒷ suguru . 𖹭 ˙ — Mr. nonchalant, you call him, having a grin on his face that makes his eyes wrinkle on the sides, barely raising a hand to greet as you approach — although you tried to avoid him by crossing the road, thing Suguru did too, now face to face while the only one who feels awkward is you, “oh, hi” he says your name as if it was the most common thing he has ever done, rolling off his tongue way too smoothly, “i did not expect to see you around”

what a liar, if you didn’t know him, you could have overlooked the way his fists were clenched and jaw slightly tight, “and who is this?” he points at the man next to you, who Suguru knows every detail of thanks to social media.

“this is my boyfriend...” why were your words so stiff? “what are you doing here?”

“oh, me?” he shrugs, “walking around, buying some groceries, life is amazing” the sarcasm and way his eyes trailed up and down your boyfriend in such disgusted way did not escape your gaze.

“oh, that’s great, yeah... we better get going...”

“wait” there is that smile again, “why don’t you join me for dinner?” you genuinely fear for your boyfriend’s life at that suggestion.

“i don’t think—”

“ah, you wound me” so dramatic, holding a hand to his chest, “aren’t we friends?”

sure, hopefully your boyfriend will make it out in one piece.

˙ . ꒷ choso . 𖹭 ˙ — although his mind screams for not to call you, he still does. the phone feels heavy on his hand the moment he picks it up, dialing the number Choso has began to memorize from how many times he’s type it just to delete it.

straight into voicemail, just great, “doll, we have to talk...” his voice is gruff and low, trying to mask that frustration by sliding his open palm across his face, “...call me”

it’s a little pathetic but he does not care in the slightest, fuck, how much he misses you, your laugh, your smell, your voice, everything, utterly in love with you.

even his brother told him to find someone else, to let you go but he could not, at least not on his own, dragged to a bar by his friends where he oh, so coincidentally finds you again, looking as gorgeous as ever and his chest tightens.

“hey” Choso is even a little flustered to approach you, hoping you don’t push him away, he just wants to chat, really, smiling and ignoring the flutter in his stomach as you actually continue the conversation, perhaps the drinks making everything go smoother, perhaps it’s the atmosphere or just how extremely beautiful you look.

Choso can’t look away, can’t take his eyes off you, and without realizing you’re dancing again as if nothing happened, as if you’re still his, and he really, really prays that you don’t slap him as he leans for a kiss under the bar dim light.

˙ . ꒷ sukuna . 𖹭 ˙ — this was a bad idea, a horrible, terrible idea, who in their right mind even thinks about taking their boyfriend to the club their side piece is a frequent at?

you, you did.

“so this is the guy, huh?” a few drinks in and Sukuna was ready to fight without a care of the show he was putting in, that mean, wicked smirk of his in place as he taps your boyfriend’s shoulder hard enough to make him wobble slightly, “you changed me for that?!” his eyes never left yours, demanding an answer.

“i did not change you! you were not even an option ”

a deep and quite menacing laugh echoes through the now embarrassingly silent club, everyone ready to jump in if things got worse, “oh yeah? that’s so sad, babygirl, because you are mine”

“hey” your boyfriend chimes in, stepping in between you and Sukuna whose hands were on your shoulders, “keep your hands away from my girl”

“listen, pal” Sukuna retorts, his face turned into a sly smile that screams danger, “this is between me and her”

“she is my girlfriend”

and, that did not sit right with Sukuna, as the next thing you see is your boyfriend stumbling back from the pink haired’s punch on the face, and the club bouncer jumping to pull him outside, almost happening in the blink of an eye.

that was just perfect, well done.

and as your hands clean up your boyfriend’s bloodied cheek, and your thoughts trail down to Sukuna, you know you’re fucked.

[dark-fics-4-you]

Angel

dark!stepbro!Rafe Cameron x f!Reader

Warnings: noncon (rape), somno, incest (step siblings), loss of virginity, unprotected sex, unwanted creampie, drugs, drinking, possessive behavior, controlling behavior, mentions of previous male masturbation

A/N: in my mind, Rafe is like 2-3 years older than Reader (everyone is 18+ and college aged)

Rafe’s knuckles were turning white as he gripped the steering wheel. The speedometer was flirting with triple digits but his eyes still flicked back and forth between you and the road.

He should have known better, he did know better, and still he let you walk out of the house wearing that sad excuse of an angel “costume.” In reality it was just tiny white ruffle shorts paired with a white corset along with angel wings and a halo top headband.

Any other night if you had tried to walk out the door in lingerie in front of your step brother, he would have told you to change, but because it was halloween, and seeing you dressed up like that made him so hard he couldn’t think straight, of course he had said ‘yes’ knowing he’d be walking into the party with the hottest girl on the island on his arm.

What he hadn’t anticipated however, was the number of guys (especially his friends) who had the balls to flirt with his little step sister right in front of him.

Even Topper and Kelce had been eyeing you differently and it pissed Rafe off to no end.

You followed him to the kitchen where he grabbed drinks for both of you and he tried to ignore the eyes that were raking up and down your exposed body.

“Are any of your friends here yet?” He asked as he passed your drink to you.

“I don’t think so,” you answered, fishing your phone out of your purse to check your texts.

He hadn’t planned on letting you out of his sight, much less 5 feet from his side, but when he felt someone tap him on the shoulder, he spun around to see a blond girl in a Tinkerbell costume.

“Are you one of Topper’s friends?”

“Yeah.”

“Hi, I’m Tiffany,” she flashed a smile as she drank him in with her eyes.

“Rafe.” He responded dryly, taking a swig from his solo cup.

“What’s your costume supposed to be?” Her voice annoyed Rafe and he looked down at his blue jumpsuit for a second to remind himself before answering.

“Cornelius Snow, I think? Um, from the Hunger Games? I don’t know, it was Y/N’s idea.” He mumbled, looking past the girl to check on you, but when he realized you were no longer standing beside him, or even in the same room, he quickly brushed past her without a word.

Luckily you didn’t travel too far, but Rafe’s relief upon finding you was short lived.

Two kook guys were standing next to you, practically eating you with their eyes, and sweet, oblivious you were none the wiser.

“I love your costume,” one said.

“You look fantastic tonight.”

“Aw thanks!” You beamed.

“Looks like your cup is getting empty, you want me to grab you a refill?”

“If you don’t mind-” you had begun handing your solo cup to the guy but you stopped yourself when Rafe appeared to your right, snatching the cup out of your hand and wrapping his arm around your waist possessively.

“It’s okay, I can take care of her,” he snapped at the two guys, shooting a deadly glare at them as he led you away.

“Rafe, what was that about?” You complained, completely confused by his behavior.

“Are you stupid or something, Y/N? Because I just watched you try to hand your drink over to two complete strangers at a fucking frat party.”

“They were just being nice-”

“They could have been trying to drug you for all you know,” Rafe chided you sternly and you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was talking to you like you were a little kid. “Rose put me in charge of taking care of you tonight, and you’re not exactly making it easy on me by disappearing without a word and accepting drinks from frat brothers.”

The two of you arrived at the kitchen and you silently handed your cup to him to refill your drink.

“Just… be careful, Y/N/N, okay?” You had turned away from him and he couldn’t help but eye the way your corset showed off your perfect tits, and he dryly swallowed, hoping that his hard on wasn’t too obvious.

You turned to look at him, sighing like you were annoyed, but you nodded your head as you grabbed the drink from him, “I know, Rafey, I know.”

“Where are your friends at?”

“They should be here by now, but I haven’t seen them just yet.” You looked around the room you were in, still not finding them. “I need to pee, where’s the bathroom?”

He took your drink, pointing towards the hallway where the restrooms were.

“Come right back here, okay?”

“Mm ‘kay,” you responded, heading to the bathroom.

Rafe didn’t want to be so worried about you, he didn’t want to be so over-protective, but he couldn’t help how possessive he felt over you, and the thought of any other man talking to you, much less touching you, was enough to have Rafe itching to grab a gun.

He hadn’t realized how long it had been until he checked the time and realized you had been gone for almost 10 minutes, which seemed unusual.

Rafe went to the bathroom, knocking on the door only to find that it was empty.

He cursed under his breath, angry that you had snuck away from him again, and he closed the door behind him as he anxiously pulled out his small bag of coke, using his key to bring a bump to his nostril.

Shit like this was the reason he did so much blow.

Rafe left, slamming the door before turning to look throughout the large house party.

You weren’t in the first crowded room that he checked, or the second, or the third; and by the time Rafe finally found you with Topper, watching him set up a line for you before handing you a rolled up dollar bill, he was seeing red.

He watched as you leaned over the table and sniffed the white powder into your nose, his knuckles curling into fists when Topper draped one arm over your shoulders.

When you looked up and locked eyes with him, your face dropped in an instant.

“What the fuck are you doing, Y/N?”

“Rafe-” Topper jumped in his seat, removing his arm as his face turned red when he realized how pissed off Rafe really was.

“Shut the fuck up, Top.” He snapped, never taking his burning gaze off of you. “What the fuck are you doing, Y/N?”

“I- Top was just showing me how to…”

“No.”

“What?”

“No, you’re done. Party’s over.” Your step brother stalked closer, wrapping his hand around your arm and harshly yanking you up off the couch.

“Rafe, you can’t be serious, you do it all the time!” You protested, trying to pull against his tight grip as he forced you through the house and toward the front door.

“I said, no. We’re going home. Now.” His voice was practically shaking with rage at this point, the effects of the bump he took in the bathroom settling in.

“You’re being so unfair! My friends aren’t even here yet!” Your voice slurred and Rafe realized how drunk you were.

“Did you have another drink?”

“Topper made me one,” you answered, and now Rafe really wanted to kill him.

What the fuck was he thinking getting his little sister drunk and giving you coke? Apparently Sarah wasn’t enough for him, he wanted another Cameron sister as well.

He could have Sarah for all Rafe cared, but you were his.

“Are you even sober enough to drive?”

“Yes,” he snipped, pulling open the passenger door of his truck and roughly pushing you in before loudly slamming it shut.

The drive back to your house was filled with a tense silence, and you were too drunk to realize just how fast Rafe was driving.

Rafe just stewed in his anger and frustration, equally pissed off at you and all of the jackasses who had been hitting on you.

Especially fucking Topper.

He should have known better.

Rafe pulled into the driveway, mentally preparing himself for the explanation he was going to have to give Rose if she was still awake, but when he glanced over at your seat, you were fast asleep. He sighed, partly in relief that he wouldn’t have to explain himself, but also frustrated that he couldn’t chew you out more.

He got out of the truck, coming around to your side to scoop you into his arms and carry you inside. Rafe cradled you in his arms, careful not to wake you as he brought you up the stairs and to your room, closing the door before softly laying you onto your bed.

Rafe leaned over, his fingers found the straps of your shoes, undoing them before pulling your heels off your feet and laying them onto the floor, where he took off his own boots as well.

When he turned his attention back to you, you looked so peaceful and beautiful it made his cock throb and Rafe suppressed a groan as he brushed a stray hair out of your eyes.

His gaze landed on your soft lips, and before he could stop himself, before he even knew what he was doing, really, Rafe leaned down, pressing his lips to yours for the very first time.

Rafe’s hand came to your face, softly stroking your cheek as his lips moved against yours. You tasted like alcoholic punch and cherry lip gloss, and Rafe could feel his hard on straining against the material of his jumpsuit.

He pulled away, head spinning as he mindlessly unzipped the top of his jumpsuit, pushing the fabric off his shoulders before reaching for the zipper on his pants.

All he could think about were all of the frat guys at the party eyeing you like you were a piece of meat they couldn’t wait to sink their teeth into. Like you were some prize to be won.

At the same time, the thought of someone else being your first ignited a blind rage inside of Rafe, one that festered in his brain and mutated into an ugly, twisted desire.

He wasn’t going to let his sweet angel of a step sister get taken advantage of or corrupted by any of the awful guys on the island, kooks or pogues.

If anyone was going to be your first, it was going to be him.

Rafe looked down, surprised when he realized he had been leaning over your sleeping form, pumping his hard cock with his hand.

He stopped himself for a moment, afraid that you might wake up, but you barely stirred, too deep in sleep to register your older step brother leering over you.

The blond took a shaky breath as he reached out towards your hips, his fingers brushing along the soft material of your shorts before finding the waistband and slowly pulling them down your legs.

“Fuck,” he softly groaned as he took in your matching white, lacy panties beneath.

Admittedly, Rafe was no stranger to going through your underwear drawer and stealing a pair of your underwear to jack off into as he fantasized about hate fucking you every time you did something to piss him off.

These were unfamiliar to him. You must have bought them just for halloween, he thought, a new wave of possessive jealousy coursing through him.

Were you seriously thinking about fucking someone tonight? Maybe your friends were never even coming to the party, and it was all a ploy for you to slip away from Rafe and hook up with some asshole.

Rafe’s large hands came to your hips, grabbing your panties and yanking them down your legs. His heart was beating so loudly in his chest he was afraid you might hear it, but he couldn’t stop himself.

He had to know how good you felt, he had to make sure he was your first.

He guided himself to your core, cursing under his breath as he rubbed the tip of his cock along your messy slit. You already felt so wet, he barely had to touch you, and he wondered if there was some part of you that subconsciously knew what was going on, that wanted this to happen.

His hands found the back of your thighs, spreading your legs further apart so he could get closer to you.

When he rubbed his cock against your clit, you squirmed a bit and a soft hum that sounded suspiciously like a moan fell past your lips.

He felt his cock twitch, aching to fill you up, and Rafe finally lined himself up with your slick lips before planting his arms beside your waist and pushing his leaking tip inside of you.

You felt so warm and tight, and the feel of your silky walls squeezing around the head of his cock was better than anything he could have possibly imagined. He slowly began moving, not going any deeper, but just creating a friction that made his jaw clench as he held back groans.

“Shit, Y/N,” he whispered, leaning over to press his feverish lips to yours again, the feeling of your cunt pulling him in making him feel dizzy.

He hadn’t intended to go any further, that’s what he told himself. He thought if he just got a taste, he could be satisfied and he could wait until later to have all of you.

But when his eyes flicked down to where your bodies connected, he was surprised to find half of his length disappearing into you.

You whimpered in your sleep as your walls pulsed around him, distracting him from his moral quandaries. Rafe reached a hand to your chest, cupping one of your tits over your corset as his pace slowly increased.

“God you’re fucking perfect,” Rafe murmured, his lips finding yours again. All the while, he pushed himself deeper and deeper inside you until his tip kissed your cervix.

Far too gone to turn back now, and spurred on by your soft whimpers and gasps, Rafe’s hips were snapping against yours faster now, channeling his frustrations into punishing you for the way you acted tonight.

You wanted to lose your virginity so badly? Fine, Rafe thought, he would take it from you to insure he would be your first and only.

He knew it was wrong, god, it was sick how deeply he needed to ruin you for daring to disobey him. Rafe was well aware that he crossing every boundary in the world, that you would hate that he had robbed you of this experience if you ever found out; but maybe that’s why he was so painfully hard as he rutted into you over and over.

And imagining sitting across from you at the dinner table, knowing that his sweet, innocent sister would have no idea that her older step brother was her first was almost enough to make him cum.

But the thing that really sent him over the edge, what had him spilling himself deep inside you and filling your walls with his hot, sticky cum, was your soft, angelic voice moaning his name in your sleep.