#it is okay to hate your early twenties

[hyunebunx]

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 ⏖ ’ early morning moments with skz !

⁺ 𖹭 . genre: fluff! jisung's a tiny bit suggestive

⁺ 𖹭 . a/n: since i've done late night moments with them, i think it's only fitting i write this as well! enjoyy <33 pls let me know your thoughts by reblogging or leaving a comment <3 (inspired by some of these prompts <3)

𝜗୧ chan 𝜗୧

You’ve been awake for a while now, snuggling and holding each other close as half of your body was on top of your boyfriend’s, almost latching onto him like a koala bear without shame. And he didn’t mind, Chan never did, content with being glued to you in every situation, hugging you so tightly like he wanted you to morph into one, the same entity kept alive by the beating of a singular heart.

“You fell asleep in the first 20 minutes of the movie last night.” You whisper, drawing random shapes on his exposed pecs, laying in the crook of his neck. Chan makes an apologetic sound before he’s interrupted by a yawn, stretching his arms above his head and letting one fall to curl around your middle. “Sorry, baby. I guess I was pretty tired.”

Tired is an understatement, and you laugh, lazily reaching for your phone on the nightstand to show him exactly what you’re talking about, with him tugging you right back to his chest when you stretch too far. There is a picture of Chan, sitting on the couch with his head thrown back and mouth open, snoring away while the movie he’s been begging you to watch together was rolling in the background.

The laugh he lets out is quieter than usual, the remains of sleep obvious in his half-closed eyes and deeper voice. “Damn, I was out like a light.”

You continue cuddling for a while before agreeing it’s time to start your day, reluctantly separating and sitting up at the end of the bed, adopting the same stance.

He’s still mumbling about something when you notice his hair sticking out in every direction, reaching out to tame the curls before stealing a kiss which only makes your boyfriend want another, and another until twenty minutes have passed and you’re still in bed, snuggling and making out like the world outside your bedroom did not exist.

𝜗୧ minho 𝜗୧

“Minho.” You whisper, tossing and turning under the blanket to face him, peering at his sleeping face. Your boyfriend was on his back, resting peacefully, unaware of the godly beauty he possessed, one people would surely go to war for, chest rising and falling rhythmically.

He doesn’t respond so, you try again. “Minho!” this time, he scrunches his nose cutely and rolls over, away from you and your antics he was too tired to be a victim of this early in the morning.

“Minho, are you awake yet?” You know what they say, third time is the charm because your boyfriend responds instantly, voice loud and clear, the opposite of your soft tone which takes you by complete surprise. “No.”

“Oh, okay.” you whisper, feeling bad for disturbing him. “Sorry.” you almost turn on your side and succumb to slumber before it hits you. Without warning, you swing a leg over his torso before rolling yourself over him to land on the other side of the bed, ignoring all his groans in protest.

“Liar!” You’re nose to nose now and Minho barely gets to open his eyes before you push his shoulder, causing him to fall on his back as you climb to straddle him. You waste no time leaning down and connecting your lips in a sweet kiss, cupping his cheeks and squeezing affectionately. As much as he wanted to complain, Minho couldn’t help but smile against your lips, body melting into the mattress while one of his veiny hands moved to rest on your exposed thigh, needing to feel more of you.

He should lie more often if this is the reward he gets.

𝜗୧ changbin 𝜗୧

“Binnie.” You’re gentle as you brush curly hair strands from his forehead, smiling when he instantly leans into your touch. “My love, I know you’re awake.”

“Then you should also know I hate waking up to an empty bed.” He pouts, eyes still closed stubbornly. With the same fond smile, you roll your eyes, hand dropping down to slowly trace his every feature, knowing he could never resist you.

“I had a good cause, I promise.” When he doesn’t budge, you reach for the tray on the nightstand and place it across his lap, over the blanket, careful his smoothie doesn’t spill over. “I made breakfast.”

Just like magic, his eyes snap open and he sits up so quickly you wonder if he got whiplash that was instantly cured by the smell of his favorite breakfast. His eyes sparkle as his gaze moves back and forth from the tray to you, so touched and grateful as he takes it all in, noticing the effort you put in so early in the morning just to cook a feast and surprise him with breakfast in bed. Nobody’s ever done something like this for him, love him so deeply and openly. Is this what being the luckiest man in the world felt like?

“I love you.” The words stumble out without second thought, eyes misty, forgetting all about being upset and giving you attitude. When you laugh, he does too, carefully leaning over the food to kiss you, the love of his life that adored him in the exact same way he adored you.

Love is the greatest gift he’s ever received and as selfish as it sounds, Changbin hopes you’ll continue loving him this way for the rest of your shared lives, that you’ll always remain by his side. He promises to continue eating your cooking even when you’re both old and grey, impaired taste and all.

𝜗୧ hyunjin 𝜗୧

The early hours of the morning found you in the arms of your beloved, sleeping away, undisturbed by the outside world and its people who were already hurrying around to get to work on time. You won’t be joining them today, nor will the man whose warmth was currently engulfing you whole, creating a safe love bubble you never wanted to burst.

Your face was buried in his chest, the soft material of his t-shirt moving with each breath he took, his heartbeat rocking you to sleep every time your eyes opened to check the time. Old habits die hard, but Hyunjin always manages to calm your racing mind even from dreamland.

Half an hour later, when the sun starts to peek through the drawn curtains, you’re awakened by tiny paws jumping on the bed, breathing and barking loudly. So much for sleeping in. Hyunjin’s eyes open with a smile, arms tightening their hold on your middle as he brings you even closer, resting his chin on top of your head while squeezing tightly. Morning cuddles were a must, even if your boyfriend’s other baby was too impatient to be let out to allow you to enjoy them to the fullest. 

“Good morning, love.” He greets you with a kiss, lingering there for the briefest moment before finally tearing himself from you, giggling down the hallway as he quickly goes to allow Kkami on the terrace.

He comes back rambling about something that happened at a schedule the other day, blinking the sleep away as he hands you a water bottle, yawning here and there. Unfortunately for him, you’re not listening, too distracted by the way his plump lips move and his husky voice, the words going in one ear and out the other as your inner monologue takes over.

“Your morning voice is so hot.” Hyunjin stops mid-sentence, momentarily taken aback before he bursts out laughing, dramatically collapsing back into bed and reaching for your hand to hold. “What?”

You nod, now sitting up against the headboard, eyes still zoned in on his pink and wet lips, enthralled. “Tell me more, baby. What did Chan do?” “He wasn’t even there!” See, not paying attention at all. But who could blame you when your boyfriend couldn’t take the hint and finally kiss you again?

𝜗୧ jisung 𝜗୧

“I had a dream about you.” Jisung perks up from his place on your chest, the TV running idly in the background, showing a random cartoon. “Was I hot?” “You cheated on me.”

He gasps dramatically but doesn’t move, too comfortable as you continue running your fingers through his freshly dyed hair, almost lulling him back to sleep. “Asshole move, dream me. Off with his head!.” 

You chuckle, kissing the top of his head and turning into a puddle once he begins leaving wet kisses on your neck, apologizing or most likely trying to distract you from how he’s been acting in your dream. It was working, because you lost your train of thought a couple of times before managing to speak again, eyes fluttering shut.

“You were very mean, actually.” Jisung hums against your neck, licking the skin before his kisses move downwards, to your collarbones, warm hands holding you down by the waist, touch burning pleasantly through your thin clothing.

“I’m sorry, baby.” He props his head up, chin resting right above your chest as his eyes bore into yours with a familiar intensity. “Please let me make it up for you.”

That’s what he says but ten minutes into making out and caressing each other’s bodies, his head falls tiredly to his previous place on your chest and you’re both out like a light, the warmth and cloudy weather of the early morning casting the spell of sleep on your forms and trapping you in bed for another three hours.

𝜗୧ felix 𝜗୧

You were not a morning person, it was a well-known fact by everyone in your life. Especially by your boyfriend who usually stayed up to keep you company, talking the hours away and giggling under the blankets until you both passed out just as the moon was retiring for the day.

So, you’re more than perplexed when one very early morning, you feel a warm hand caressing your cheek, followed by soft lips peppering feather-like kisses on every inch of your face, coaxing you awake.

“Baby,” his deep voice calls, barely above a whisper to not scare you, leaving a kiss on the corner of your mouth this time, “wake up, angel.”

You make a face, eyes still closed in protest and make to turn over, away from him until you feel the bed dip and his hand in your hair, massaging the scalp gently. Was Felix trying to wake you up or lull you back to sleep? Pretty sure he was just as confused.

When he leans down again, hovering over your face, your arms spring up and lock at the back of his neck, quickly bringing him down and bumping your noses together. You see his eyes widen, inhaling sharply as he realizes what you’re about to do and dodges your kiss last second, lips landing on his cheekbone instead.

Groggy and grumpy from being woken up this early, you pout, relaxing under his weight as his chest presses yours down. “Kiss me!” Felix chuckles and shakes his head, hands on either side of your head holding him up. “Not until you wake up and join me in the kitchen.” Once he sees you shake your own head and move to try and kiss him again, he adds. “I have a surprise!”

Now why didn’t he say so from the beginning? You release him but he doesn’t move away immediately, smiling from ear to ear before kissing your forehead and scooping you out of bed in one swift movement, strong arms under your knees as he giggles and jogs towards the kitchen, face brightening up when a smile finally graces your features.   

𝜗୧ seungmin 𝜗୧

Every single morning, Seungmin was the first to wake up without fail, reaching for you to bring your body to his chest and cuddle until you also did, just laying there since he never wanted you to wake up alone. 

That’s why when you woke up earlier than usual, with his chin resting on your shoulder and hot breath hitting your cheek, you didn’t hesitate to move around and bring the blanket further up your bodies, making sure you were both covered and comfortable among the many pillows.

“Your feet are cold.” But Seungmin doesn’t respond, legs intertwined and body still glued to yours like he never wanted to let go, couldn’t. You sneak a glance over your shoulder and find his eyes closed, long eyelashes kissing the top of his cheeks as he rested, sleeping deeply. For the first time since you’ve known him, Seungmin didn’t smile in greeting as you woke up, still sleeping soundly like it was the most normal thing in the world.

It felt a bit strange, but your heart only grew as you watched him, admiring his side profile and the peaceful look on his face, the furrow between his eyebrows absent as dreamland took care of him.

You never got the chance to do this, wake up first and let your thoughts run wild as you resist the urge to squeeze his cheeks and plant kisses all over his face, love pouring out at a dangerous pace, threatening to suffocate him at any moment. Not like Seungmin would mind, adoring you too much to not allow you to do whatever you pleased.

As careful as you can be, one of your hands trails down and intertwines your fingers, gently bringing your connected hands to your chest as you curl further into him, content with getting more cuddle time, loving every single moment.

𝜗୧ jeongin 𝜗୧

“Did you know you talk in your sleep?” You mumble into his neck, squeezing your eyes shut as you try to hide from the obnoxious sunlight that is threatening to take your lover away with the start of a new day.

Jeongin laughs, incredulous. “No way! I’ve had countless roommates and none of them have ever complained about me randomly rambling in my sleep.” He headbutts you affectionately, almost like a cat, and snuggles closer, also bothered by the sun but too lazy to get up and close the curtains he forgot about last night.

“I’m not complaining.” Looking up, you share a breath as you move to plant a small kiss on his nose, smiling when it scrunches up in fake annoyance, knowing your boyfriend loved morning cuddles as much as you did. “I actually think it’s kind of endearing.”

He rolls his eyes, big hand drawing circles on your back under the blanket, soothing you in an attempt to get you both to fall back asleep. Mornings were not his thing, and he really didn’t want to leave you, clingier than usual. The bed was so warm, and you were so soft and smelt so good, how could he ever think about leaving? Not like he’d ever admit it out loud.

“What did I say?” He chooses to entertain you, stretching his whole body before bringing the blanket over your heads and moving his arms to hug you, turning on his side so you’re face to face. You pause, momentarily mesmerized by his beauty, messy hair and puffy eyes only making him look even more adorable in your eyes. Tracing his bottom lip, he puckers them to gently kiss your finger. “I don’t know, I don’t speak gibberish.”

He groans, regretting he asked and hiding his face in his pillow. “You also snore.” “I do not!” 

[hyunsvngs]

𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚! - stepdad!bang chan x fem!reader

wc: 10.2k

cw: chan is your mother's boyfriend and you want to fuck him, chan is 30 and reader is described to be younger & in college, lix is a menace, changbin is a moral compass, you do not care about morals, SMUT MDNI.

synopsis: you're home for the holidays, and your mother - who you can't stand - has a new, young, hot boyfriend. it's such a good idea trying to seduce him.. right?

a/n: it's so here <3 my first commission! i hope u all love it <3 smut warnings under the cut ofc. i also tried a new format with this fic so pls let me know what u think?!?

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

sw: dirty talk, breeding kink, mutual masturbation, daddy kink, unprotected sex, creampies, degradation, cumplay if u squint?, humiliation if u squint?, anal fingering (f rec), oral (f rec), edging maybe briefly, sex with feelings

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You hated going home for the holidays.

You were a rich kid, to put it simply. Your mother loved to leech off the men that she was with, marrying them quickly and trying to suck as much money as she could out of them in gifts and straight up cash before they eventually clued on and left her. It had been why your father had left when you were a mere infant, but you’d always lived in luxury due to the incessant payments that he was forced to give. You’d never met him, but there was a plus side - he was paying your college tuition, where you met your best friends.

Perhaps if you thought about it a bit more you’d realise that the only reason you went to college was to get away from your mother. She pissed you off, sauntering around the house in silk kimonos with a maid trailing behind her, pausing to look in mirrors so that she could choose where her next round of botox would hit. She frustrated you beyond belief, but you still had to go home for Christmas. Annoyingly early, too, because she had a surprise for you.

Okay, well, it wasn’t a surprise. She’d FaceTimed you a week earlier, an irritatingly wrinkle-free face popping up on the screen as she sipped mulled wine and revelled in your absence. She had a new boyfriend, she said. You’d love him, she said. Your opinion matters most to me, she said. The last one you knew to be a lie. God, you hated her. 

Still, you lugged your suitcase through the front door and huffed, booting the side with your foot to try and shake some of the snow off. No surprise, she hadn’t helped you in from your taxi. She hadn’t even come to get you from the airport a mere twenty minute drive away. You dropped the suitcase on the floor, giving it another kick just for good measure, and then you were trudging into the kitchen. You’d heard voices from there, so it had to be them.

“Oh, honey!” Your mother chirped upon seeing you. You couldn’t see the face of the man washing dishes behind her, his white shirt sleeves rolled up and back facing you. You didn’t care anyway. “You made it home safe, then.”

“Yeah. The taxi driver was super nice and let me call him mum,” You quipped. She furrowed her eyebrows, lips pursed. 

“Okay, you’re being weird already,” She mumbled, and then shook her head, shrugging it off. She walked to the man by the sink, spinning him around by his slender waist to display him to you. “This is Chan!”

You felt silly, stood in the kitchen doorway in oversized clothes and covered in ivory snow. The man’s eyes found you, shocked by your mother’s harsh manoeuvring, and he blinked with surprise at your figure. You blinked with surprise, too.

Chan was hot. Incredibly so, actually, and he looked young. Younger than your mother, with a big nose you wanted to ride and plush lips parting as he raised one hand to wave at you, still wet with soapy dishwasher. You wanted to lick him clean. The white shirt he wore stretched across broad shoulders, and the sleeves were fit to burst around incredibly toned biceps. You allowed your gaze to wander down, eyes focusing on the thick thighs in the black dress trousers he wore. 

There was no way this was real. “Okay,” You burst out laughing, eyes darting between Chan and your mother. “And, who is Chan? A friend? A colleague? He’s not your boyfriend.”

Chan’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “No, I am. I’m your mother’s boyfriend, sweetheart.”

His voice was deep - too deep, deep enough to haunt your dreams and those late night sessions you had in your bed with your trusty vibrator. This was going to be trouble. You were going to be trouble.

“You’re shitting me,” You couldn’t get the amused smile off of your face. No fucking way. Your mother hadn’t bagged that. “You’re fucking with me. You have to be. Mum, he’s closer to my age than he is to yours.”

“I’m thirty, actually,” He mumbled, looking sheepish. Your mother stared at you in shock, jaw dropped at your brazenness. 

“I rest my case,” You concluded, nodding decisively. When the two of them just continued to stare, you bristled slightly, starting to hop from one foot to the other. Awkward. “You… are you actually together?”

“Yes, honey,” Your mother confirmed, still looking shocked. You scoffed.

“Okay, I really need to go, actually,” You gushed, turning around to leave the kitchen. “I’m- I’m going to my room. Really nice to meet you, Chan, really.” 

Shooting upstairs, you completely ignored your suitcase still leaking snow all over the hardwood floors and darted into your bedroom. It still looked exactly how you’d left it, band posters all over the walls and teddies littering the end of your bed. You threw yourself on top of the mattress, fingers yanking your phone out of your pocket and clicking the button on the most recent group call on FaceTime. Immediately, your college best friends picked up.

“There’s already a problem?” Felix scrunched his nose up, face way too close to the camera. Changbin was on the other side, face looking confused in the little square designated to him on your phone screen.

“I just met my mother’s boyfriend.”

“Oh, right, how did that go?” Changbin questioned, tilting his head to the side. You caught sight of your face in your own little square, flushed and appalled.

“He is thirty years of age, Changbin,” You began. Felix gasped, tiny hand moving to cover his mouth. “He is thirty years of age, and he is really fucking hot.”

“Oh my god,” Felix mumbled, muffled behind his hand. “Oh my god, you have to fuck him.”

Changbin choked on air. “She has to- No, Felix, no!”

“No, I can’t do that. It would be fucked up,” You mused. Or.. “Wait, would it even be that fucked up? He is closer to my age. I hate my mother.”

Felix’s hand fell, and he giggled before speaking in his trademark goblin voice - “Fuck him.”

“Don’t!” Changbin shrieked, his phone shaking in his hand. “I really think this is a bad idea.”

“I think it’s a great idea,” Felix grinned, looking smug. “I’d do it.”

“There’s not a lot you wouldn’t do,” Changbin retorted. Felix stuck his tongue out at him. You, however, were silent, musing on the situation and staring at your wall. Could you do it? Changbin noticed, sighing. “Baby, please no.”

You licked your lips, nodding. You could do it. You wanted to do it - needed it, even. Those biceps were going to plague your life forever otherwise. “Operation fuck my mother’s boyfriend is a go.”

Felix screamed in delight. Changbin ended the call.

SATURDAY

It was time. Your mother was out at brunch with some friends, and you had plans to invade Chan’s personal space because you had a feeling he’d be too polite to tell you otherwise. You knew he’d set up the spare room as his own home studio, because your mother had delighted in telling you how Chan was a super successful music producer and was often tinkering away in there these days. You were going to let yourself in, try to get to know him a bit.

The knock you landed on the door was anything but subtle. Your fist rapped on the door and you heard a little hum in response, so you swung open the door, eyes landing on Chan hunched over his desk. He looked even younger like this, beanie pulled down over dark curls and headphones positioned on his head. He continued to stare at the file on his computer, head bobbing absentmindedly, so you strode up to him and tapped him on the shoulder.

He spun around on his computer chair, blinking confusedly at you. “Oh, hello.”

“Hi,” You beamed. “Sorry about last night. I was rude. I was feeling kinda weird, y’know, with the travelling.”

“No, I completely get it,” Chan put his hands up as if to diffuse the atmosphere. You nodded, still smiling. Chan stared at you when you didn’t respond instantly, and you crossed your hands behind your back, pressing against the plaid pattern of the dress you’d chosen for today. It was all part of the plan - the tight, short dress was perfect for seduction. He looked down at your chest, before clearing his throat, reverting his gaze to your eyes. “Um… did you need something, by the way?”

You gasped, as if remembering. “Oh, yeah! I did. My mother told me you were a music producer, and I was really curious. I was wondering if you’d show me some stuff…?”

It was Chan’s turn to smile, nodding excitedly. “Of course. Here, put these on.”

He linked two fingers around his headphones and handed them to you, to which you obediently put them over your ears. He was quieter now, but you could still slightly hear him mumbling as he found a spare chair for you to sit on. Your eyes scanned the files, eventually fixating on a file titled Drive. That one had to be dirty.

“Okay, so. I have this one, it’s my most recent one, and-”

“I want to listen to that one,” You cut him off, pointing at the song. When you turned to look at him, he was biting his lip nervously, pink tinting the ends of his ears and his cheeks. “What is it, Chan?”

“You- that one is a little, uh… heh. A little inappropriate.”

Unsurprisingly, you darted over his desk to grab the computer mouse and double click on the file. Chan squealed, but you ignored him, listening to the song. You were right. It was dirty, the two singers crooning about something that was a thinly-veiled innuendo about driving. It took you a second and then you clicked. One of them was Chan. This was Chan singing, on a song about sex. God, could he get any hotter?

You slid one of the ear cups off of your ear, turning to Chan with a shit eating grin. “This is you singing? You’re really good, Chan.” You weren’t lying. He was really good, and it had you wondering why he was a producer and not singing.

“Yeah, well, it was just an experimental track. Me and my mate were just messing around,” Chan mumbled shyly, hand scratching the back of his neck. You tried to avoid staring at the way his biceps tensed in his tight t-shirt at the movement. He was still blushing, but you had to kick it up a notch.

“It is kinda inappropriate, though, isn’t it?” You chirped excitedly. Chan’s lips parted, as if he was looking for something to say. His eyes stared into your own, piercing and dark and all-consuming. “I think you’re a little dirty, Channie.”

Chan’s eyebrows furrowed at your use of the nickname. “That’s- you can’t say that. That’s inappropriate.”

“What?” You feigned shock-horror. Play dumb. “I can’t call you Channie? Why not?”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” Chan groaned, pointing an accusing finger at you. You giggled anyway, jumping up and slipping the headphones back onto his head. You made sure to trail your fingertips down his neck after doing so. He shivered noticeably. You smiled.

“That was super good, Channie, thank you.”

You didn’t miss his groan of disbelief as you bounded out of the room. You had him, and it was easier than you’d expected it to be.

SUNDAY

Something was happening. You weren’t sure what, just yet, but something was happening. Chan was acting a little weird after what happened the day before, and you’d already caught Felix and Changbin up on the nonsense plan you had. 

“I think you need to accept that this is just down to you having a fat crush on him and severe daddy issues,” Changbin mused, and you gasped. He was right though. This wasn’t completely about getting back at your mother in a sick, twisted way. You wanted him.

Phase two of your plan was underway as soon as you caught sight of him on the sofa. He was watching some cheesy Christmas movie, your mother tinkering away in the kitchen - when had she ever cooked? - so it was prime seducing time. He had one of the thick throw blankets over his lap, fingers playing with the fluffy fabric absentmindedly. You hopped into the living room in your short pyjamas, frowning at Chan when you felt the goosebumps on your legs.

“Whatcha watching?” You asked, making him jump when he realised your presence. He smiled nonetheless, motioning to the seat next to him, and you took it. You perched and ensured that you left no room between you both.

“Some cheesy film. The woman’s marrying a prince, I think.”

“Sounds awful. I can’t wait to watch it,” You smiled, and Chan chuckled, relaxing on the sofa. You managed to make it five whole minutes before you were rubbing your hands up your legs, trying to create a semblance of warmth. 

Chan turned to you, frowning. “Are you cold, sweetheart?”

“Yeah,” You whined, pulling your legs up into your chest. “‘S cold in here, right?”

“C’mere,” He mumbled, reaching for the end of the blanket and throwing it over your lap. You hummed contentedly, inching a little closer under the guise of the cold weather. The blanket was warm. You were kind of jealous he’d been in such comfort this whole time while you’d been thinking of ways to get his cock inside your mouth. 

“Thanks, Channie,” Chan only nodded, continuing to watch the film. You had a feeling he was pretending to be so focused on it, given you weren’t sure he even knew the plot before your arrival. 

You squirmed on your seat, thrashing each way until you found yourself comfortable, hand splayed over Chan’s knee. He tensed under your touch. 

“You’re touching me, sweetheart,” He warned, his voice low and deep. You shivered, turning to him.

“Am I?”

“You are. You’re touching my leg underneath the blanket, aren’t you?”

You hummed. “Is that okay, Chan?”

Chan turned to you, his eyes not even holding any sign of shock. He knew what game you were playing, you realised, and maybe he was playing along. He licked his lips, head back against the sofa, and then he shrugged dismissively. 

“It doesn’t bother me.”

You left your hand there for the whole film. 

MONDAY

The showers at home were something you’d missed. The ones in college didn’t quite cut it - not even now that you lived with Changbin and Felix in your own student home. All three of you were young adults, after all, and that came with you being a little too messy.

At home, you didn’t have to worry about mess. Your mother had cleaners employed with your dad’s money anyway. Admittedly, you realised you were being a little spoiled, so you’d learned to clean up after yourself. The showers were still better, though. Bigger, and the water pressure hit you just right. 

Especially when you detached the shower head and pressed it to your clit. You felt pathetic. You’d only tried to seduce Chan for two fucking days, and there you were, legs shaking at the thought of him. Maybe it was the chase that got you feeling hot, or maybe it was the fact that you might actually be getting somewhere - you might actually be getting close to fucking him, muscles bulging as he ploughed into you. 

It had you pressing the shower head harder, your spare hand coming up to pinch your nipple. You whined, bucking your hips into the water stream. The steam was all over the bathroom by now, staining the shower with condensation and making your skin feel pruned and flushed. Or did you feel flushed from the thoughts of Chan? Maybe he’d fuck you the way you liked. He must have experience, you assumed, being a few years older than you. You thought about how he’d make you feel, how he’d touch you, and how you’d feel in his arms. You thought about how you’d feel when you came, and what it would be like to be with him. You wanted to feel him so badly.

Was he as big down there as he was everywhere else? Sure, he’s not too tall, but he’s every part a man. That much was clear. Would he bend you in half, pushing you into a mating press and fuck you raw the way you liked, cumming inside and letting you call him daddy and-

You wailed, legs trembling with one last buckle before you were cumming. You felt wet, too wet even just from the shower, and you belatedly realised you’d have to wash again. Ugh. This plan needed to end, like… yesterday. 

Coming out of the shower freshly washed, you wrapped a towel around your figure and checked the time on your phone. Your thumb slipped around the screen from the condensation in the bathroom, but the plan was going well. If you left the bathroom now, then hopefully Chan would be heading to bed, and he’d catch you in your towel. Ideally, he’d be so hot for you that he’d just have to have you, and then you could get the thoughts of him out of your head.

You burst out of the room in a flurry of steam and movement, almost tripping over your own feet when you noticed that it had actually fucking worked. Chan stood stock still at the other end of the hallway, his eyes fixated on the way the towel wrapped tightly around your chest, at risk of falling. You smiled, waving innocently, and he stalked towards you. He was seeing red. You could tell from the way he cornered you, crowding around you with the small advantage he had on your height.

“You need to stop this,” He mumbled, eyes looking at your mother’s bedroom door. He was playing a dangerous game. You were, too, and you both knew it. “I’m dating your mother. You need to stop this, sweetheart.”

“Stop what?” You tilted your head, acting confused. “I just had a shower.”

Chan scoffed, shaking his head. “I fucking heard you in there.”

Oh. You couldn’t hide your smirk that time. “Yeah, I missed that shower head. Why were you perving on me, Chan?”

Chan rubbed his temples. He wasn’t wearing a beanie today, only a hoodie and baggy joggers. You liked it. You could see his hair like this, dark and curly and frizzy on his head. He looked cute. Wait, what?

He took a deep breath. His eyes moved to fixate on you, tongue running over his teeth. “Why would I be perving on you?”

“Oh, don’t lie,” You crossed your arms over your chest. Chan’s eyes moved down to stare at where your tits bulged over the towel. “I bet you stood there for ages, cock hard in your cute joggers, listening to me moan in the shower. That’s a little fucked up, no? Thinking about your girlfriend’s daughter like that-”

You were cut off by him pushing you to the wall, lips slamming into yours. He bit into your mouth instantly, letting out a deep groan and hands moving to grab your ass through the towel. You let your lips part in a whimper, pushing your tongue into his mouth and running your hands through his hair. It was a filthy exchange of tongue and teeth, and by the end of it, you were gasping, grabbing him by the waist and trying to pull him closer. You pulled away, breathing heavily and your eyes still locked on each other. You both stood there, not speaking, as you both processed what you had just done. You both knew it was wrong, but you wanted it so bad.

Chan stepped back, breathing out a heavy sigh. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

You watched in shock as he turned around, walking into your mother’s bedroom and leaving you there. You were wet again. This was getting ridiculous now. 

In your room, Felix screamed so loud you had to turn the volume down on your phone. Changbin choked on air again. 

TUESDAY

You hadn’t seen Chan all day. You presumed he was in his studio, working away on another track while your mother was in work. You were bored. Felix had been spending time with his family, and Changbin was out doing rich kid things that you could sympathise with. Thrashing around on your bed, annoyed and huffing, you decided you were just going to go and annoy Chan. It was your newly favourite pastime to get under his skin.

Stalking down the stairs to his studio, you paused when you heard a voice. Not just one voice, two voices. Was your mother there? No, no way. She never goes into that room, it’s his work room. You’d been in there though. You tried to suppress a grin at that realisation. 

The other voice was a man’s. Chan had a call on speakerphone, judging by the tinny effect covering the unknown male’s voice and Chan humming every so often. Who was the other man? A colleague, or just a friend?

“It’s fucking ridiculous, mate,” Chan groaned. You could barely hear him, and you held your breath, coming closer to the closed door. “I want her so bad, and it’s so wrong. I- I kissed her last night, Minho.”

There were a few yells from the other end of the phone. “You kissed her?! Chan, you fucking animal. You want her so bad, just fuck her. She’s clearly hoping that’s the outcome here.”

You grinned. You were.

“She’s- it’s outrageous. She walks around in practically nothing, and she’s got such a tight fucking body, man. She makes my dick so fucking hard, I’ve never felt anything like it before. Even when I met her, in the kitchen, she was-”

Chan cut himself off with a sigh. ‘Minho’ hummed, waiting for him to continue.

“She’s so bratty. She’s exactly the type of girl I would’ve gone for, before I met her mother.”

“Seriously?” Minho questioned, and Chan agreed. “You have to do it.”

“Minho-”

“No, Chan. I’m serious,” Minho’s voice was firm. “If she’s fucking you up this bad, you can’t have liked her mother that much, yeah? Just do it. You know it’s going to happen anyway.”

“It’s-” Chan began. You could imagine him rubbing his temples in distress behind the door. “She’s younger than me. I don’t want her to feel as though I’m taking advantage, y’know? The ball’s in her court.”

The ball has always been in your court.

“It sounds like she wants you to take advantage, to be honest,” Minho erupted in a fit of giggles, and you found yourself almost laughing along. Minho was annoyingly right. You only hoped he could get rid of that stick up Chan’s ass and get you a good dicking down.

It meant it was time for the next phase of your plan. You assumed Chan had wanted you, embarrassingly so, but you weren’t quite sure until he’d kissed you the day before. After hearing this conversation? Well, you had to do it.

You returned to your room, scribbling a quick note on a piece of paper. If Chan found this, which he would, it meant that he’d come to your room tomorrow night and you could maybe talk about what the fuck was going on. The sexual tension was too much for you, and now you knew he felt the same. Why were you beating around the bush? You had to make something out of this.

You ignored the stuttering of breath you heard when you slid the note under his door, and returned back to your room with a cocky grin.

WEDNESDAY

Chan hadn’t mentioned the note. You didn’t think he would, but you felt disappointed nonetheless. You’d woken up in the morning, eaten breakfast with him and your mother - cringing when he kissed her on the cheek when she left for work - and you’d even done the dishes yourself, letting him slip off to do some work in the studio. It was prime time for him to mention what you’d written, and he hadn’t. It was pissing you off.

Still, good things come to those who wait. You were confident. Felix had been egging you on all day over text, Changbin had been sending random upset emojis. It was perfect. 

Settling on your sheets at night, you felt a little pathetic. You’d lit a few candles, left the curtains just right on the window so that the moonlight billowed in, and Chan hadn’t arrived. Maybe he hadn’t received your note. No, there was no way - you practically heard his response through the door when he saw it slid under. He got the note. Perhaps you’d made him uncomfortable, made him withdraw from you despite all the progress you’d made. Why had you put in so much effort? You didn’t like him, not like that. Or did you? You felt ridiculous, almost like a child waiting for-

A knock on the door brought you out of your self-loathing thoughts, and you jumped up, swinging the bedroom door open. Chan immediately crowded inside of your bedroom, pressing the door shut softly. You stood there in silence, taking him in. He looked cosy, in a baggy hoodie and plaid pyjama bottoms. It was hard to believe he was dating your mother, especially when he looked so vulnerable like this - dark, curly hair still slightly wet from his shower, and his eyes blown wide with an unreadable emotion while he looked at you.

Chan sighed. “You’re really playing with fire. Do you know how this could look, me coming into your room at night? Do you know how wrong this is?”

You faltered. For the first time since meeting Chan, you felt as though he was angry at you. “I- I heard you on the phone, Channie. I thought you wanted me too.”

You watched in awe as Chan crossed your bedroom, groaning and throwing himself onto the bed. He was hard, erect in his bottoms. You blinked confusedly. He was hard just from being in here?

“I do want you,” Chan said, but it was muffled, hidden behind his hands that he had placed over his face in distress. He let them fall to his sides, staring up at the ceiling. “I want you so bad that it’s pissing me off beyond belief. I know what you’ve been doing too, trying to seduce me. It’s so pathetic it makes me feel hot, y’know?”

You giggled, following his journey across the room and settling next to him on the bed. You sat cross legged, comfortable in your long pyjamas. The candlelight flickered, casting a glow over his face, and he turned to look at you. He licked his lips, and then he let out a laugh, shaking his head in disbelief.

“This is ridiculous-”

“It’s ridiculous that you haven’t fucked me yet,” You responded, quick as a flash. Chan leaned up on his forearms, raising an eyebrow at you. Now was the time. You had to say it. “You know how bad I want you. I touched you up on the sofa, and you let me. You wanted me to, I think. Correct me if I’m wrong, and I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, but-”

“You didn’t make me uncomfortable, and you’re not wrong,” Chan admitted. You could see the blush on his cheeks despite the dimly lit room.  He took a deep breath before continuing. “I want you, too.” 

Chan shot across the bed, leaning in and kissing you deeply, his hands tangling in your hair. It made you wet beyond belief that he just felt like he knew what he was doing, hands travelling down to your waist to softly press you into the sheets. His tongue swept into your mouth, pressing against yours and you whimpered, making him groan into the kiss. When his hands went up to your hair, he intertwined his fingers in the strands and pulled, making you gasp and let out a heady, hot breath. He pulled away, lips parted when he stared at you. 

“You are such a horny little thing, it’s so hot,” He mumbled, lips pressing to your neck. He bit your skin sharply, making you keen and spread your legs, allowing him to position his hips between your thighs. The movement pressed his bulge into your core, and you tried not to shift and move your hips in a rhythm of pleasure. His fingers traced over your skin, and he chuckled, a low, sexy sound that made your heart race. He pulled back, leaning back on his legs and staring at you, eyes blown wide with lust. “I want to see you touch yourself.”

You paused. “What?”

“I want to know what you like. Show me how you make yourself cum, and I’ll fuck you tomorrow night. How’s that sound?” He was propositioning you, teasing you, and you were falling for it - hook, line and sinker. 

You gave him a nod. Right. Touching yourself for him - that was something you could do. This was just another Wednesday for you, you loved putting on a show, especially for a man who was rock hard and obviously desperate for you. But with Chan… why did you feel so fucking nervous all of a sudden? You'd spent your whole day waiting to fuck him, and he’d taken back the power, thrown a wrench into your plans.

You leaned back on your bed. How did you sit sexily? You were stuck in your own head.

Chan moved backwards, hand moving over his clothed erection. He’d spread his legs, thick thighs parted for you to see the promising bulge between them. "Pretend I'm not even here, sweetheart," he said, eyes blown wide with lust. You almost rolled your eyes. Easier said than done, when he was sitting there with his dark curls and his thick, kissable lips and his impossibly huge bulge. “Touch yourself like you’ve done before. Show me how you make yourself cum, and I’ll fuck you tomorrow, I promise.”

Fuck it. You'd never let an attractive man break you down yet, and that wasn't going to change. You nodded timidly, hands moving to grip your breasts through your shirt. It made you sigh, and Chan responded with a noise of his own when you impatiently rucked the fabric up to above your chest. Sucking two fingers into your mouth, you whined when you traced the wet digits around your pebbled peak teasingly. 

“Ah, ‘s- I’m sensitive there, Channie,” You mumbled, and he nodded as if he was making a note for it for later. You trailed your fingertips across your nipples, pinching and twisting them almost painfully just to make your hips cant up into thin air. You were too impatient to do this how you normally would, so you scratched your fingernails down your tummy and shoved a hand in your pyjama bottoms. You were met with slick, wet folds, fingers sliding around in the mess you made. 

“Show me,” Chan said, eyes trained on where your hand disappeared beneath the fabric. “Show me that pussy. You’re meant to be showing me everything, remember?”

“Show me yours and I’ll show you mine,” You huffed, and Chan shook his head in disbelief, grinning. You were shocked to see he actually listened, though, pushing his joggers down to his thighs and letting his erection spring out. It was impossibly hard, pearlescent drops accumulating on his cockhead and you licked your lips subconsciously. “I wanna-”

“No,” Chan cut you off, hand moving to wrap around his cock in a tight fist. He was long, thick and heavy between his thighs and you felt your pussy clench sadly around nothing. “Show me your pussy. I’m not asking again, let me take a look at it.”

You whined, pushing your pyjama bottoms down to reveal your slick core. Your clit was swollen, throbbing with need just from a few kisses and Chan’s general presence, and you could feel a rivulet of wetness sliding down between your lips. Chan groaned in approval, hand quickening on his cock just slightly.

“Spread it, show me your hole,” Chan said, and you moved your thighs further apart for him. Reaching down with two fingers, you moved them into a v-shape and spread your folds for him. Your hole quivered under the inspection, leaking more wetness and Chan’s eyes were hyper fixated on it. “Oh, baby. That looks tight. Has no one ever fucked that little pussy right, huh? Tell me.”

“N-No,” You shook your head, thighs quivering when you finally let two fingers rub over your clit. You started with a blistering pace immediately, making your toes curl into the sheets and your back arch upwards. “No, I- it’s only boys from college, I don’t-”

“Ah, I see. You need someone older, yeah? More experienced?” Chan questioned, his breath coming out heavy with every tightly fisted movement on his cock. You whined, nodding, and then you were breaching your hole with two fingers immediately. The stretch made you groan, head falling back against the pillow. “Is that why you tried to seduce me, yeah? Wanted to have my cock stretching you out just right, wanted to call me daddy while I made you cry?”

God, he’d got it. He was right on the mark. “Yes, y-yes, I- I wanted to, oh, I wanted to call you daddy, and- and feel you inside me, and oh, Channie, please-” You cut yourself off with a moan, perhaps too loud as you curled your fingertips up against your g-spot. Chan threw his head back, letting out a grunt as he pinched his cockhead almost painfully. 

“Say it then, baby. What’s stopping you?” He polished the head of his cock, moaning before he took it into his tight grip again. His precum served as lubrication, his hand now making wet slick sounds on his thick length. You gasped when he moved his free hand to his balls, rubbing calloused fingertips over them and letting out his own gasp. “Beg me for my cock. I know you want it, look at you. Fuckin’ desperate, yeah? Beg daddy for his big cock.”

“Oh, daddy,” You whined, moving your free hand to rub over your clit. Everything was so wet, sliding around your pussy and you were honestly surprised you could feel anything - but it felt so fucking good, having him watch you like this, learning what you liked so he could replicate it. “Fuckin’- daddy, daddy, please, can I have it? Been good, doin’ what you asked, I- hnnng, daddy, oh my god-”

“No,” He smiled, a cocky grin while he rubbed one hand over his cock and the other over his heavy balls. “No, baby. Not tonight. Make yourself cum tonight, and daddy will help you tomorrow.”

“I- need more, need more, I-'' Chan surged over the bed, leaning over your figure to press his lips against yours. His tongue dominated your mouth again, and you could feel his closed fist hitting your stomach as he worked himself to his orgasm. The sensation had you whining against his plush lips, fingers thrusting quicker into your pussy and your other hand sliding around your clit messily. When he pulled away, lips digging into your bottom lip teasingly, his lips were quick to move to your neck to suck some dark purple marks into the skin. You felt yourself trembling, your body tense as you felt yourself getting closer to the edge. Your fingers stroked your walls faster, pussy fluttering around your digits in delight, and your mouth opened in a gasp as you felt your body tense and tremble with pleasure. “I’m g’na- g’na cum, gonna cum, please, can I? Can I, daddy? Can I cum for you, please?”

“Yeah, baby,” He huffed, eyes rolling back into his head. He was practically drooling onto your skin, lips parted against your neck as you whined and thrashed on your bedsheets. “Cum for me. Been good for daddy, haven’t you? You can cum, baby, c’mon. Show me how pretty you are when you cum.”

You fell apart around your own fingers, your orgasm crashing through you like a wave. Your thighs tensed with your orgasm, your pussy clenching down impossibly tighter around your hand and flooding down to your knuckles with your cum. You begged and pleaded, your voice a barely audible babble as your body shook with the sensation. 

Finally, when you’d just felt like you were coming down, Chan pulled your wrist away from your pussy. The movement left you empty, your walls still clenching down except now it was around nothing, and you whined, bottom lip quivering in need. 

“Hands off,” He sighed, hand slowing down on his cock. He was trying to last longer for something - you weren’t sure what, but you let your other hand drop from your clit obediently. “Daddy’s gonna cum on this wet little hole, baby, okay? You gonna let me cum here, mark you as mine?”

“Yes,” You moaned, nodding. You couldn’t think of anything better, actually. “‘M yours, I’m yours, daddy, gimme.”

“Dirty thing, perfect little girl,” He grunted, and then he was positioning his cockhead at your hole. With a few more movements, increasing in speed, you watched as his face screwed up in pleasure. His hips bucked, and with a final thrust, he came. You felt his cum drip down your hole as he groaned through his orgasm, thick white cum plastering your pussy. It was definitely the sexiest thing you’d experienced, but you still felt a little disappointed - why couldn’t he have just done it inside you?

“Wan’it,” You whined, pulling your legs back. Chan chuckled upon seeing the pout on your lips. “Why couldn’t you- in me, wanted it in me, daddy.” 

“Greedy bitch,” He mused, and then he was delving down to your core. Your mind went blank when his tongue licked fat stripes up your folds, collecting all of his cum and your wetness in his mouth. You briefly thought you could cum from this, very quickly judging by the way he knew what he was doing, but he simply leaned over you and grabbed your jaw. 

Oh. You let your lips part, tongue lolling out of your mouth obediently, and he spat the mixture of your cum into your mouth. You felt him lick into your mouth again, groaning at the taste of your pussy and his load. He smiled against your lips and pulled away, your eyes wide as you tried to process what had just happened. 

Chan’s lips curved in satisfaction at your state, your chest still heaving with a blotchy rash that bore the truth of what you’d been up to. He ran his thumb over your bottom lip, and then he was standing up and leaving the room, bottoms barely pulled over his hips. You laid there, feeling an intense mix of pleasure and confusion.

What the fuck just happened?

THURSDAY

You hadn’t even processed what had happened last night. In all honesty, you’d run out of the house in the morning under the premise of a coffee date with friends you didn’t even have. You just sat in the cafe on call with Changbin and Felix and screamed way too loudly for a public area. The whole cafe knew of your predicament by the end of it.

Upon your return home, you’d beelined to your room and kicked the door shut as quietly as you could. Unfortunately, your foot slipped on the floor and you’d ended up face down with a groan.

Turning over onto your back, you huffed at the offending item that had caused your decline to the ground. A piece of paper met your eyes, neatly folded and written on with what looked like black Sharpie when you’d finally unravelled it.

Three words. Three words that changed your life and let you know that what occurred the night before had really happened. No, not ‘I love you’ - it was simple, a scrawled ‘your room, tonight’. It did happen. You touched yourself in front of Chan, and he was planning on coming back to your room to continue what you’d discussed.

You wanted to squeal and kick your feet, but beneath it all, you felt panicked. This plan had gone too far, and you’d perhaps started to think about spending time with your mother’s boyfriend - actual time, not just sexually charged meetings. It hurt a little bit, a pang in your chest when you remembered that what was happening really was just sexual. Your little arrangement being anything else just wasn’t fathomable.

Chan was interesting. He was a fucking music producer, for god’s sake. That was just straight up cool. That, and he was older than you - you did have raging daddy issues like your friends had said, after all. His friend had sounded funny on the phone, which meant he had to be funny, too. 

All things serious, you didn’t really know much about him, but you wanted to know. Felix had encouraged you to find out, and you felt like you owed it to him - or yourself, you weren’t sure. 

The knock on your door once the evening fell brought you out of your reverie. Chan didn’t wait for a response, swinging your bedroom door open and walking straight in as if he owned the house. You huffed at his demeanour, yet your eyes were still fixated on the way he walked over to your bed with intent. You threw your phone to the side. Felix would have to wait for your half-typed text message. 

“Back again so soon?” You quipped, and he raised an eyebrow. He was only in grey joggers, the thin material highlighting his thick dick imprint between his legs. The fabric hung low, showing off the body that you knew he worked so hard for. His chest was honey toned, yet covered in light, sparse freckles - you wanted to make yourself acquainted with every single one. You felt a little overdressed in just an oversized t-shirt and shorts.

Seeing the frustrated expression on your face, Chan’s own face fell. “Do you not want me here?” He said, voice no more than a whisper. “I can go, if you don’t want to see me tonight. I just thought-”

“I do,” You nodded, finally raising yourself from your position lying down to sitting up cross legged. Chan laid on the bed in front of you, one arm propping his head up. He gazed at you for a few moments, and you could see the relief in his eyes at your words. “I do want to see you tonight. I want to see you like… a lot. Don’t you think it’s weird though? I’m your girlfriend’s daughter, Chan, and we’ve kissed and- and done other stuff, and-”

He scooted over so that he was next to you, and you leaned into him subconsciously. He pulled you in with his arm around your shoulders, broad and muscled. You felt content, comfortable and most of all safe. It was a feeling you’d never felt before.

“I don’t think it’s weird,” Chan hummed, his chest vibrating beneath where you’d landed when he pulled you in. He chuckled, then, his hand moving to your hair comfortingly. “Okay, maybe it is a little weird. I’m just very interested in you. I know you heard me on the phone to Minho, and yes, you are my type - I want to know more about you. Like, even beneath the sexually charged tension, heh.”

Oh. You licked your lips, eyes fixated on a random spot in your wall. “You do?”

He nodded. “I do.”

You couldn’t help yourself. You raised your head, surging over Chan’s body to press a kiss to his lips. His hair was soft when you ran your hands through it, despite random curls getting caught in your nails and causing him to groan at the pain flooding through his scalp. His hands went to your waist, licking into your mouth while he effortlessly pulled you on top of him. The show of strength had you whimpering into the kiss, hands moving down to his jaw. It clenched and unclenched while he had full control over your mouth despite you being on top. 

You pulled away with a wet sigh, moving downwards to kiss at his neck. He groaned underneath his breath at the sensation of your lips on his skin. Your bed squeaked awkwardly as you moved down it, too quick for the old springs to handle. It felt naughty, kissing him like this in your childhood room - it felt even dirtier than the night before had, and you hadn’t done anything yet.

“I need you, Chan,” You whispered, nipping at his collarbone. “Need you. Please.” 

He gasped as he felt your tongue trace the outline of his collarbone. He flung one bicep over his dark eyes with a deep sigh, allowing you to kiss and bite all over his skin. He looked like he was trying to control himself. You didn’t want him to.

Your hips started to grind against him, and you placed your palms flat on his chest. Both of Chan’s hands moved back to your hips with a surprised noise, but he didn’t stop you. His dick was hardening in his joggers, and it was providing the best clothed friction to your aching, needy clit below your pyjama shorts. You saw how big it was before, yet the length of it still shocked you when you slid your clothed core up and down the shaft.

“Daddy,” You whined, hips starting to buck frantically. You were sure that you had never felt this needy in your life. “Daddy, daddy, I want you so bad. You turn me on so bad, make me feel so hot, please-”

“Baby,” Chan groaned, his head falling back against your pillows. The soft pink bed sheets juxtaposed completely with what you were doing, and juxtaposed completely with him - Chan, the muscled man with dark hair who wore black and grey clothes constantly. It was as if he was corrupting you, and he was in a sense, being so much older. “Baby, c’mere, come and lay on the bed. Let daddy eat you out, yeah?”

“No,” You shook your head, hips still moving on his erection. Chan’s chest had started to accumulate a thin layer of dewy sweat, slick on his skin and making you want to lick it off. “I want your cock. I don’t wanna wait, I don’t wanna wait, please, just put it in, I’m wet enough, I promise.”

He knew you were babbling, incoherent in your haze of lust, but he still entertained you enough anyway. You spread your legs wider when his hand met your thigh, and then he was pushing two fingers beneath your shorts. He was met with your slick folds, and you gasped at feeling the touch of his fingertips, calloused from years of working with music.

“Oh, fucking hell. Dirty girl, dirty fuckin’ girl,�� Chan moaned, his eyes almost rolling back into his head. “This pussy’s so fuckin’ wet, baby. All we did was kiss. Are you that much of a slut for me? Are you that much of a slut for your mother’s boyfriend? That’s filthy.”

“Yes!” You wailed, nodding. You reached down, canting your hips backwards a little bit so you could spread your thighs wider before hooking your fingers in your shorts and pulling them to the side. The movement revealed your pussy, clit swollen at the top of soaking wet folds, covering your drippy hole. “I wan’it so bad, so bad, so bad, please, please. Just push it in, make it hurt, I don’t care-”

Chan shoved the fingers of his spare hand between your parted lips, effectively shutting you up. “Shut up. You’ve got to prove to me you deserve it, baby.”

With those words, he was pushing a finger past your entrance. It breached your hole easily, the digit sliding through your wetness and curving up past your g-spot. Chan shook his head in a mixture of disbelief and shock, and then he was pulling his finger out. With a quick movement, he’d yanked his joggers down and let his cock spring out. The coarse hair was trimmed above his long, thick shaft and you couldn’t help but imagine the type of friction that would give your clit - you couldn’t wait.

“You were right. That slutty pussy is wet enough,” He mused, pulling your hips over his bare cock. Your pyjama shorts were slightly in the way, and you pulled them aside even more, letting your folds leave wetness over his shaft. “Lower yourself on it. Stretch yourself out. Slowly.”

You did as he asked, lowering your body onto his length. You felt the stretch immediately. You moaned, loud and ringing off of your walls. You didn’t give a shit if your mother heard. Fuck, you needed this. You wanted to bounce all over his cock until there was nothing left and your hole could do nothing but remember the tight fit. Trying to sit down quicker, Chan grabbed your hips, stopping you while only half his length was in you.

“You're gonna hurt yourself like that, sweetheart. That hole is so tight around me.”

“Please, daddy,” Your head fell into the nape of his neck. You wriggled yourself in his tight hold, trying to get more of his length in your pussy. He shook his head against you, chuckling.

“You want it? Fine, but don't fucking cry to me when it hurts,” Chan said, letting go of your ass. You realised he'd been holding you up, and within a millisecond you'd slammed down onto him. You wanted to scream, the stretch more than you could take. He laughed again, raising his eyebrows at you mockingly. “Too big?”

"N-No, perfect," You retorted. He moaned, spreading his legs and placing his feet flat on the mattress. More. More. Fucking more. You began to raise on him, expecting to ride that perfect cock, but he started to thrust up into you at an unrelenting place straight away, his balls slapping against your ass. You moaned incoherently, almost babbling, hands digging into his toned biceps. He leaned up to nip at your neck, and then he was pulling your t-shirt off of your body.

“No fucking bra?” Chan laughed in disbelief. His mouth went straight to your nipples, biting and sucking on the hard peaks. You jostled on his lap with his thrusts. You wanted to rub your clit, but you felt like he probably wouldn't let you. “Knew you were fucking filthy, sweetheart. You didn't even care about me going raw, did you? You want my load in that dirty hole. And now I find out these pretty tits were only one layer away from me…”

His voice trailed off. You whined, leaning down to try and kiss him again. He shoved his two fingers back in your mouth, making you suck on them. His bruising sucks caused your nipples to hurt, and you fucking loved it. You knew he was marking you up and you'd just have to deal with it.

You tried to start riding him. He didn't let you, manhandling you off of his cock.

“Daddy!” You whined in protest. Chan chuckled. He lifted you and manhandled you so your back was facing him on your bed, and you immediately repositioned yourself so you were face down, ass up. He reentered you in one swift thrust, causing you to jolt in surprise.

“Fucking tight pussy,” He groaned, thrusting into you with the same vigor as before. You almost screamed, but managed to just moan incoherently. The mattress creaked, the sound of old springs ringing around the room. “Fucking dirty hole. Listen to that, sweetheart. Can you hear how wet your cunt is for daddy's cock? For your mother’s boyfriend’s cock?”

You tried to stop whining and moaning to hear what he was pointing out to you, hearing wet slaps. Your cheeks burned with humiliation, fingernails digging into the mattress. You knew you were dripping for a fact now. You could hear it, you could hear everything, his balls slapping against your clit as well as the wet noise of his heavy cock reentering you. 

You threw your ass back against him, trying to get the tip to hit that special spot inside of you. 

“I think that asshole needs me too, sweetheart,” Chan laughed mirthlessly, his hands resting firmly on your ass, encouraging your bouncing. You moaned in response, clenching your pussy tight. He was going to ruin you for everyone. You'd have to just keep coming back for more. “You want daddy's finger in there? You want me to finger your asshole?”

Oh, yes. “Please, daddy, need to be full,” You said, wiggling your hips against him. You vaguely registered him reaching around you and making you suck on the fingers that had previously been in your mouth. He was going to fill both of your holes, and he moaned loudly at the sight of you sucking his fingers. There was no way that the whole house hadn’t heard you both by now. You hoped they were sleeping.

You sighed in ecstasy, feeling the fingers begin to move inside your ass. His thrusting was now hitting your g-spot in your pussy, given the added pressure from being full in both holes. You felt the orgasm finally begin to build. You liked the way he wasn't rushing you to cum, not like those younger college boys. He was taking care of you and just having good fucking sex. “Feels so fucking good, daddy. Feels so good.”

You were now semi-incoherent, your words all joining together in one long moan. Chan loved it, judging by his moans. His cock was pulsing inside you. You wondered if he was close. You wanted him to fill you up to the point where it was dripping out of you. 

He pulled out of you again, grabbing your leg with one strong hand and flipping you onto your back. You were out of breath from the exertion, despite him doing all the work, and he looked fully composed save for the thin sheen of sweat on his body.

“Feels good, baby?” He asked, looming above you. You squirmed feeling your sweaty back rubbing against the blanket uncomfortably, but you nodded anyway. You wanted to please him. He looked down at your writhing body, letting out another groan. “So fucking sexy. You don’t know how much you fucking killed me, teasing me like that. Touch that pussy for me again, show me.”

He started pumping his shaft quickly, still staring down at you. You reached down with one hand and immediately pressed two fingers against your entrance, collecting the slick gathering outside before diving straight in. You curled your fingers against that spot inside of you, whining out. It wasn't enough. Not after having that fat cock in you. He definitely had ruined you for everyone else, including yourself. Nothing was ever going to feel the same again. 

“Mmm. Looks so wet, sweetheart. Daddy wants a taste, is that okay?” Chan questioned, moving back onto his knees. You pulled your fingers out and tried not to cry at the loss.

“Please, daddy. Wanna cum in your mouth,” You slurred out, pushing his head towards you. He moaned into your pussy, taking his fat tongue and licking one wet stripe up your slit. He pulled your pussy back, exposing that throbbing clit to him, and placed one lick directly onto your button. "Fuck, daddy, feels so good! Suck it, please, suck it. I - please - need to cum so bad!"

“Need to cum, huh, sweetheart? I'll make your little pussy throb for me and then I'm putting my cock right back in that tight hole, where it belongs,” He spoke. He thrust two fingers into your slit, much thicker and longer than yours. You spread your legs, holding them up against your chest. You literally almost purred when he started moving his fingers, curling them up into that spot and sucking on your clit whilst he did so. It wasn't going to take long. The man was clearly amazing at every part of sex. 

You focused on the feeling of his wet tongue rubbing up against your clit and writhed, feeling closer and closer to the edge. He knew what he was fucking doing. Your thighs started to shake, taking everything in you not to just let them go from your hold and clutch around Chan’s head. You wanted him to permanently live between your thighs. Your eyes clenched shut, a deep sigh leaving you. 

“Fuck, I'm g’na cum,” You mumbled out, chest heaving and flushed a shade of crimson. Chan pulled away, causing you to whine. You pouted, reaching up to grab his shoulders. "No, no! You said I could. You said you would help me.”

“What I said was that I'd make it throb for you and then I'm sliding back right in here, sweetheart. Be good for daddy, you'll get to cum,” He positioned his length at your core again, sliding right back into home. You both moaned, and he was fucking you in a mating press this time, almost as if you were a couple in love. You wished you were, and realised this was definitely your favourite position so far. The man fucked like an animal and now he was fucking you like he was going to breed you, and you loved it. He reached down with one hand to rub your clit rapidly, trying to bring you to the edge. “This is my fucking pussy. My favourite fucking pussy, my only girl, the only pussy for me, okay?”

“Fuck!” You cried of overstimulation, hands still wrapped around your legs. “G’na... getting close again, gonna-”

“Cum then, sweetheart, flood my cock. Make a mess for me, come on, do it," Chris encouraged, breathing heavily next to your ear. His eyes were focused on where he was entering you over and over again, taking note of the white ring of slick that had formed around the base of his cock, soaking the hair that rested there. You scrunched your eyes shut, feeling overwhelmed with bliss. “That's it. That's my good girl.”

White hot ecstasy overtook your body. You wanted to squirm, but with the pressure of the muscular man on top of your body, you had nowhere to go. You focused on the feeling of his slick chest rubbing against your sensitive nipples, whining and moaning as the orgasm coursed through your body and made it feel like you were being electrocuted. 

“Fucking clenching on my cock, shit,” Chan groaned, his hand falling away from your clit once your breathing had began to calm slightly. His hands went down to grab your hips, and before you knew it, he was lifting your hips up and fucking you senseless, treating you like a toy. “W-Wanted to be soft with you for our first time, sweetheart. I'm not normally like this, not at all, but this fucking pussy is driving me insane, fuck... I need to fill you up. Will you let daddy fill that pussy with my cum, sweetheart? Let me breed you, make you mine?”

You nodded quickly, unable to speak at this point. Your hole felt raw, sensitive and fucked open, but you needed his cum in you. You thought you might die if you didn't get it soon. His tip jabbed into your g spot incessantly, almost causing you to cum again, but you subconsciously knew you couldn't take another orgasm at the same level as the previous one. You might die. 

“Fucking- g’na breed you, sweetheart. Gonna make you mine. G-Gonna give you a baby, g’na fill you up, fuck!”

With an animalistic growl, Chan’s head dropped to your neck, biting into the skin there and definitely leaving a mark. You felt his hips still and cum flooded out of the tip of his length, flooding your hole with a new sense of wetness. You sighed with content and laid there until Chan’s breathing calmed, his body weight fully on top of you and yet not uncomfortable. 

“I have to be honest about something,” Chan sighed. You looked up at him from your position on his chest, and he looked down at you with an apprehensive look. He looked a lot shyer than he did moments before, when he was fucking you senseless and calling you a slut - he was blushing now, embarrassed. You were sure that’s what you liked about him. “You’re- it’s like you were made for me. I don’t know what the fuck to do, heh. I’m falling for you, I think.”

You blinked, leaning up to rest inches away from his face. Got him. You’d got him. “Well, that’s okay, Chan. You’re closer to my age anyway, right?”

[torasplanet]

❝𝘿𝘼𝘿’𝙎 𝙂𝙁.ᐟ❞

D. WAYNE + BRUCE’S GF!F. READER

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 ; damian doesn’t particularly like his dad’s girlfriend but soon, she ends up being his favorite family member.

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨; fluff, platonic obvi, age gap between reader and bruce (mid 20s and early 40s), rude damian lmao and skin tone not mentioned

It wasn’t necessarily a secret that Damian did not like you. You were Bruce’s girlfriend and that wasn’t something that would’ve made him not like you but instead it was the age gap that made him not like you. I mean you were in your twenties and his father was in his early forties, you can’t expect him to not see anything wrong with that. It didn’t really surprise you per se because although the others never hated you for it, they did tell Bruce it was weird for him to date you.

They would always make sure to tell you that they meant no offense to you and that you were a sweetheart but still said it was weird. So Damian not liking you for that reason was not surprising, especially considering the number of people that told you how uhm… let's say ‘stuck-up’ he was before you went to meet him for the first time. Of course, you were still bummed out but it wasn’t a surprise. You tried everything to get Damian to like you but nothing really made him budge.

He’d still make the same snarky remarks, rude comments and sometimes it’d make you a little upset but not all the time. “Dude chill.” “You don’t have to be rude damian…” “Don’t talk to her like that.” They’d all tell him even though you brushed it off and would tell them you didn’t mind. For someone who was just like Damian at first, Jason was very unhappy whenever damian would make his comments.

But maybe it was just because the two of you have never had a time to actually talk before, you thought. And you would prove to be right one late night at the manor.

Damian walked down the long stairs only in his pajamas with a yawn escaping his throat. He had been awoken to a rumbling stomach just begging for a midnight snack so he was going to fulfill that need but he did not expect to see you in the kitchen when he got there.

You sat at the long table very obviously crying your eyes out. Damian didn’t say anything and only stood at the other end of the table staring at you while you sniffled. He wondered why you seemed so upset, Bruce was home from patrol. He hadn’t said anything rude to you all day, actually, he’d barely seen you today. Maybe that was just because he had school but still.

Damian had no idea what was going on. He did not like being in the dark.

With the floorboard uncharacteristically creaking under his footstep, his presence was known to you. Your head snapped up immediately and he was able to see your red eyes more clearly. “Oh, hi…Is everything okay?” You asked, trying to go back to your cheerful mood, but he saw through your facade.

“Everything is alright. I suppose I should be asking you that question.” The younger wayne said walking closer to you and undeniably, it made you quite nervous. “I’m okay, just…uhm.” You muttered not able to come up with a lie quick enough which made Damian quite suspicious of you.

He eyed you up and down before making eye contact once again “Excuse me for asking this but, are you pregnant?” Damian asked out of pure curiosity. In his mind this was the only logical answer.

I mean you were crying in the kitchen at one in the morning and got extremely nervous when your boyfriend's son walked in. Not exactly pointing to pregnancy but the hints are there. “No!” You whisper-shouted out of embarrassment.

“Then why are you upset?” Damian asked now standing by your side and you knew you couldn’t lie to him. He was too smart for that. “I-I just had a hard day, it’s nothing.” Your response only earned blinks from the boy. “You stay home all day. What possible could be hard about that?”” He questioned and it made you feel a bit worse but you didn’t show it. Tim told you not to show weakness to the “demon child” and he was probably right about that.

You glanced side to side awkwardly as you tried to find your words. “Erm…Damian that’s not exactly true but okay. It was mainly about the other people I was around instead of the day itself.” You told him and Damian plopped down on the chair to your left now intrigued with this conversation. Or maybe he was listening to tire himself out you know…because of boredom.

“I was just out buying food for Jason because he’s sick and…he doesn’t exactly have edible things in his fridge.” Damian nodded at your sentence as he observed your expressions whilst you talked. “Graysons place has a better selection.” The boy muttered under his breath before urging you to continue your talking.

“And there were these women in the store talking about me like I wasn’t even in there…saying awful things about me not really loving bruce.” You admitted. It was weird to be confining your feelings in a twelve year old but Damian was hardly a child, he was probably smarter than you. So it wasn’t all that horrible.

You made eye contact with him for the first time in a while and Damian’s cold expression softened at how tears were brimming at your lash line all over again. You were really beat up about this. “I know I shouldn’t because people say it all the time but it’s not like that. If I was with Bruce for the money, I would’ve quit my job a long time ago. It doesn’t even pay that much anyway.” Damian didn’t even know you had a job.

He was rarely home with school and patrol but when he was, you were always there too so he just assumed you stayed at home all day. Damian didn’t really know much about you up until now. “But I really do love Bruce.” He hummed in response not knowing how else to reply.

You became aware of the situation and grew stiff and awkward. “Uhm sorry…I’m keeping you up.” Your words were mumbles as you stood from your chair prepared to leave the room and let Damian be alone. You were probably a bother to him.

Then you were stopped by his voice “Not yet.” You turned around and he was now standing by the fridge and pointed up at the cabinets that contained the breakfast items. “I need you to get cereal for me.” Damian requested and you smiled at him before obliging and grabbing his favorite cereal and handing it to him.

“Goodnight Damian.” Damian hummed in response as he watched you start to walk away “…Have a good night [Y/n].” He told you, making you grin. It wasn’t much but it meant a lot to you.

Little did you know, that was the start of it all. After that night, Damian stuck to you like a koala but not as if he was hugging you but everywhere you went, he was right next to you. Everyone (including you and Alfred) thought it was super weird. It was literally overnight that Damian started to take a liking to you.

You may have thought it was weird but you enjoyed it. It made you feel like you were truly part of the family. Damian only took a liking to you because he saw the real you, not the cheerful one that put on an act for cameras and paparazzi. You had feelings and he realized that he was hurting them for no reason.

I mean you weren’t like the others. You didn’t treat him like a child, you treated him just how he wanted to be. Not babied and not having his intelligence insulted because of his age, you treated him with the respect he deserved and saw his points of arguments like not needing school. He liked that and now that he had realized he was hurting you by saying the same things those women said, he felt bad. So he accepted you, a little too accepting for everyone else’s comfort.

You thought it was weird but you enjoyed it. It truly made you feel like part of the family because now everyone liked you. Damian seemed to like you a bit more than the others though mainly your presence.

“Oh hey, we’re about to watch a movie. Come sit.” Dick said, inviting Damian over as he reached the living room. A frown formed on his lips at the spot next to Bruce that was empty. You weren’t here.

His gaze traveled to his father “Where is [Y/n]?” Damian asked, tilting his head slightly. “In the room. She wanted to catch up on her reading.” Bruce said and without a word, Damian started to make his way back up the stairs and toward you and Bruce’s shared bedroom.

Opening the door, there you were sitting on the bed reading but your focus turned to him when you heard him approach the bed “It’s movie night.” Damian spoke before you even asked what he wanted “Oh I wanted to finish reading this book.” You replied carelessly but Damian did not like that answer.

“But I want you there…you protect me from Grayson’s popcorn when he gets excited.” Damian said, growing a bit flustered mid-sentence after noticing that he had just aired his feelings out. You looked at him as you sighed “I can still read my book, right?” You questioned and Damian nodded as he reached out to grab your wrist.

You allowed him after putting a bookmark in your book. Damian dragged you down stairs, book in hand and everything while you tried not to trip and fall. “You actually went and got her?” Jason asked as you and Damian sat side-by-side next to Bruce while Tim sat at your feet on the floor.

Jason wasn’t here often, honestly he only came here for Alfred and your cooking and to spend time with you. You were probably the only one he could actually stand for longer than five minutes. “You didn’t have to bother her.” Stephanie said from one of the armchairs but you waved your hands in defense of the boy who did not care whatsoever.

“I don’t mind.” “So mind your business Todd.” Jason scowled at Damian’s rude comment after your kind one that wasn’t even directed toward him but stayed quiet and just continued to watch the movie. You continued to read through your book with Damian sometimes leaning over to catch a glimpse at what you were reading.

Movies that Dick picked out didn’t particularly interest him that much. He could usually fish out the plot twists from miles away and it was the same with books but more often than not, books were more interesting.

Halfway through the movie, Damian got intrigued in a certain page he had read through “What book is this?” He asked, blinking up at you with his large green eyes and you thought they were so adorable but you didn’t say anything. “Gone girl, I think you’d like it actually. I found it in the library.” You whispered to him but somehow, with his dog-like hearing, Dick overheard the conversation.

“Oo! Gone girl? I love that movie, we should watch it next.” The oldest boy said and Cassandra and Tim were quick to shush him and he did so but not without rolling his eyes. “It’s a movie?” Damian whispered to you, who nodded. Bruce almost cooed at how cute the two of you were.

Damian considered sticking around for the rest of the night to watch this movie but when less than twenty minutes passed and popcorn went flying everywhere, he was questioning that idea. “Holy shit! Why would he do that!?” Dick shouted as everyone complained about the popcorn in their hair and on their clothes.

Damian, of course, had nothing on him because you shielded his body “How could you be so careless? You got popcorn all over her.” Damian said snarkily while crossing his arms against his chest. Dick rolled his eyes “Oh please, you just started liking her. I was the first to like her!” Dick shouted in defense, making you and Bruce sigh.

Somehow, always, movie nights ended up in arguments that almost always involved Dick. “Whatever! You still put this filth on her.” The young boy cursed while the others merely groaned in annoyance. “Uh, can you guys keep watching the movie? I’m still trying to read.” You said a bit quietly trying not to get in the middle of their argument.

It happened every time. You’d get in the middle and they’d start asking you questions which you’d have no answer to because you didn’t want it to look like you were playing favorites. “Oops. Sorry.” Dick apologized and Damian nodded in agreement. “I’ll be quiet too.” He muttered before beginning to watch the movie again.

You sighed in relief as you leaned against Bruce’s arm. He thought it was so cute how the two of you were finally getting along, it made him so happy. Until you started backing him up even more on stupid shit like the topic of school and patrol.

A few days after movie night, Bruce was getting ready to walk out of the door for work when he spotted you and Damian on the couch still in your pajamas watching Criminal Minds while eating toast. “Um, what are you two doing?” He asked, buttoning his suit as the two of you looked up at your boyfriend.

“We’re watching Criminal Minds father. It is quite an interesting show.” Damian said, shrugging. Initially, he had planned to just jump straight into training after you told him he could stay home but you asked him to watch at least one episode and that episode turned into almost half a season watched.

Bruce sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose before pointing at Damian “You need to be at school.” He then pointed at you, “And you need to be at work.” Bruce finished earning an irritated sigh from his son and a loud whine from his girlfriend.

“Damian doesn’t need school and the shop is closed for today.” You said sitting up while Damian continued to lay down while humming in agreement. “Okay well Damian still needs to be at school.” The older man said fairly tired with how Damian upright refused to go to school everyday and now you were helping him.

“No need. I think I’m well off on sex education, slope and how to understand The Lord of the Flies.” Damian said passive-aggressively which made you chuckle a bit but when Bruce gave you a slight glare, you shut your mouth and looked away.

Bruce sighed once more and you grabbed Damian by his shoulders and hugged him close to you. Damian still was not used to your affectionate side but he could live with being hugged by you now. “Please! Brucie, I’ll make sure he doesn’t train too much and Criminal Minds could help him on his patrol and stuff!” You shouted and Damian nodded in agreement as usual despite not exactly agreeing with you.

There wasn’t anything on Criminal Minds that he hadn’t already learned except for maybe the occasional Spencer Reid comment but it’d make his case of staying home better. “Okay fine.” He said putting his hand on the doorknob but then he looked back at you and pointed “I’ll deal with you later.” You looked away awkwardly feeling a bit embarrassed but wished him a goodbye as he left the Manor.

Damian scoffed and continued to eat his cereal “He’s annoying.” He muttered and you looked at him with a shocked face but he only looked confused. “Hm? You say that all the time. I remember when you said that about Kent.” Damian responded and now it was your turn to look confused with a small laugh.

“Which one?” You asked and Damian hummed “You said it to his face.” Yet again you seemed confused and Damian smiled. He loved how mean you could be sometimes “Clark.” Damian responded plainly. You laughed, making him chuckle a bit.

It seemed that life was a bit more pleasant for him because of his and your alliance. He can’t wait for when you start tagging in his arguments with Dick and Todd while you were just happy that your boyfriend’s son finally likes you!

©torasplanet .ᐟ reblogs and likes are very appreciated! pls do not repost!!

[luveline]

𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐭

part one | chapter list 

You find yourself drawn into Remus��� life after an awful night you can’t remember. He does his best to hold onto you. [10k]

cw: heavy themes, implied sexual assault of the reader [with no graphic scenes but it’s a continuous theme, so please be careful when reading], pregnancy, eventual friends to lovers, friendships, hurt/comfort, james makes a lot of soup, found family

𖦹

The pharmacy on Wilmand Street is always deathly quiet. The boy behind the counter reads and occasionally picks up the phone to put it back down, his hair in his eyes, a waxiness to his pale skin that never fails to perturb. 

Your shoes creak over the hardwood floor. He’s noticed your entry, signalled by a golden bell above the door and your muffled panting, but he hasn’t looked up. 

Your eyes slide past pads, nighttime, ultra-long panty liners, searching with a poorly restrained desperation for something in particular. 

The phone rings —dark-haired boy picks it up and puts it back down again as you recalled, silencing the ring. You watch him from over your shoulder and he looks up from his book to stare. 

“Pregnancy tests?” you ask.

His expression doesn’t change as he pulls a drawer open behind the desk with a metallic clink. “What kind?” 

“The most reliable. Please.” 

He gives a nod, black curl bobbing under his chin. He grabs a blue card box and places it on the counter. “Sixteen fifty.” 

You open your purse before you’ve reached him, extracting the change exactly and tipping it next to his book. “Thank you.” 

“Are you alright?” 

Your heart squeezes in your chest like a tightening fist. “Why?” 

“I have to ask. I’m a mandated reporter.” 

“I’m not a child.” 

He levels your look with his own. “You don’t have to answer. I’m only asking because you look upset. Are you alright?” 

You don’t think you’ve ever heard him say more than three words at a time. His voice is reminiscent of someone else’s, half-remembered. You want to ask him, then. The questions you’ve had since it happened. Why does it hurt so badly, still? But the boy, while seemingly well-intentioned, isn’t one you trust to care nor keep it to himself. 

“Fine,” you reply, pressing the blue-boxed test into your pocket, pulling the hood of your coat up to brace against the December rain. You’re fine. 

The door opens before you can get to it, another lovely dark-haired boy letting himself inside. His stare is blank as the one at the desk’s is, but you smile on instinct and he smiles back warmly after a moment, holding the door for you to leave. 

“Okay, Reg?” you hear him ask as you pass.

“Close the door,” Reg says. “You’re letting in the cold.” 

—

It’s even colder the next time you go. You throw on another hoodie and wrap a scarf tightly around your neck, face ducked, nose tickled by flyaway fibres. The walk to Wilmand Street takes seventeen long minutes where your hands hurt, then shake, chapped by hateful winds. 

The pharmacy’s newspapered window comes into view. A poster for the local pub leaks ink on the outside, wet by the rain, its font blooming like fungus across purple paper. Live music event: December 31st. 

The dark-haired boy —Reg?— is behind the counter again. The first one. Are you alright? boy. He looks twenty so or near that, but there’s something wilfully young about the skin under his eyes, despite a more haggard pinch to his brow. You were hoping it would be the second one, or the sandy-haired boy who mans the till in the very early mornings. He has a more natural smile than the other two. Perhaps not more authentic, but quicker to perk up when you slink in for whatever before work, Mondays and Fridays if he’s there. 

Reg doesn’t lift his head. You push yourself toward the back of the pharmacy. It’s a small shop slotted between two others, one wall touched from the next in thirty seconds should you walk it. It makes pretending you’re there for other things useless and embarrassing, but you do it anyway. Another test won’t change what you wanted the test to say, but you can’t take one single test and trust it was right. 

“Reliable?” Reg asks when you finally approach. 

“Yeah. And the five strip box, too, if you have it.” 

Reg takes them from the drawer and adds their prices seemingly in his head. “Eighteen eighty-nine.” 

You pass him a twenty pound note and wait for your change, not bothered that he counts it slowly, or that he puts it down flat on the counter away from your outstretched hand. “Thanks,” you murmur. 

He noticeably bites his tongue. 

“I want to be sure, is all,” you say. 

“If you go to the doctor’s, they do it for free. And it has a ninety nine percent rate of accuracy.” 

You hold the tests to your stomach. “I’m not… really sure what I’d want them to tell me, right now.” 

“They’d tell you the truth, at least.” Reg seems to decide this line of conversation isn’t one he wants to continue, and he lets his mouth flatten into a thin, white line. You get the sense though that he isn’t done talking, and are rewarded for your patience with an inkling of an almost-smile. “Please know that I’m bound by duty of care while I work here, so if you are concerned about something, I can listen and offer advice. And if you don’t want to tell me private information, my uncle is the acting pharmacist, and he is more strictly bound by patient confidentiality law.” He looks you in the eye. “You’re only as alone as you allow yourself to be.” 

“Who says that?” you ask, poked by the way he lays it out. 

Reg doesn’t like your question and doesn’t answer. He picks up his book, murmuring, “I hope they give you the result you want.” 

A different dark-haired boy is standing outside of the pharmacy when you leave. With a nice nose, eyes like a puppy, he’s handsome but hidden behind black frames. He stands from his car where he’d been leaning when the door swings out, sits back again when he realises you’re not who he’s looking for. “Sorry, lovely,” he says, pulling at a loosely-knotted tie. “I thought you were someone else.” 

“Sorry,” you say back, holding the tests to your chest. 

Your hand covers the boxes. His eyes flicker down to them regardless. You wait for disdain or embarrassment but see neither. Really, the only thing this new boy wears is pleasantness. 

“Don’t stay out too long, will you?” he asks, smiling genially, “You’ll freeze.” 

“I’m–” You clear your throat, caught off guard to have a stranger care about you so openly. No reluctance to his well wishes, and no strings. “Sorry– I’m going home now. I won’t stay out.” 

“Good, shortcake. Have a good night.” 

You should say you too. The wind chases you back to your flat, where you head for the bathroom, and, despite living alone, lock the door. 

—

You take your pregnancy test and sit on the floor, too weak-legged to stand at the sink, waiting for two pink lines. 

Sure enough. Control, result. One solid pink line, and one much lighter. It doesn’t matter —a positive is a positive, no matter how weak. The strip tests say the same thing. 

In TV and movies, people always paint the test as the ultimate moment. As though the result is the result, and that everything after is fixed, but the result now is only a signifier for another decision to be made: will you keep your baby, or foetus? Do you feel as though it is a baby, or a foetus, or both? Is it welcome, or a foreign object? There is no right or wrong answer, only how you feel. 

The migraine you get then is debilitating. Like toothache in every tooth, pain behind your eyes half-psychosomatic, half physiological stress. You’re not sure how long you’re in the bathroom holding your forehead, but it’s dark when you manage to stand again, and the tests have only gotten more obviously positive. You throw them all in the bin. 

—

The third day you go back to Wilmand Street pharmacy, the desk is manned by your unfamiliar, smiling boy. He looks up when the door opens, his eyes browned honey set in a face that recently saw the sun, but not too much of it. Kissed by it. His cheeks are pinked. He must be the first person who’s worked here to bother turning on the heating. 

“Morning,” he says.

“Morning,” you say back. Voice croaky, you remember to be polite. “You okay?” 

“I’m great, lovely, thank you. How are you?” He gives a nod toward the street. “It’s so cold out, are you gonna be warm enough in your jumper?” 

You find yourself struck as you were the day before, so startled by genuine kindness that you can hardly work your mouth. “I’m okay. I’m going right back home after this.” 

“Aw, good.” 

You nod. What are you here for today? Not another test. You aren’t stupid enough to believe a third round will give you a different verdict, but you‘d felt an urgent need to move. 

You grab a rounded basket from near the door and make your way to the haircare. There’s a handful of shampoos to choose from. You take the usual. Beneath them are baby shampoos and soaps. On a whim you pick one up, the words Tear and fragrance free stuck like a bad swallow at the back of your throat. 

Babies need so many things. At the supermarket they have these great walls of baby food and it’s expensive enough to take your eye out every time. A quarter of an hours wage for every organic, soft meal, and sure, they don’t need organic, vegetables are organic intrinsically, whatever, but if you don’t buy organic pre-made meals you have to make the baby food yourself, how long does that take? You put the baby shampoo down and turn to the conditioners. 

Unhappy, you scour them for nothing and turn on the spot. Why is Dr. Black never here? How are you supposed to ask him your questions if he doesn’t show up to work? 

You’ll have to ask the brown-haired boy. Nice eyes, nice smile. He probably won’t judge you, at least not out loud. 

He stands up from his rickety chair, soft leather seat worn and creaking as he pushes it away. “Yeah?” he asks. 

“Do you have to do that patient-confidentiality thing?” 

He smiles rather gently. “I do. A condition of my employment is to protect patient information. Legally, I can’t share private or sensitive information about you to anyone else in the world, unless I believe you’re in proper danger.” He holds his hands behind his back. “Is there something you wanted to ask me?” 

Wind roars outside. Your eyes start to the door. 

“There’s a private room in the back,” he adds. 

“I don’t want to waste your time.” 

“It’s not wasted. Even if I weren’t legally obligated to keep whatever secrets you may have, I’m worried you look a bit poorly.”

He speaks oddly. Or not odd, but different to any of the other men you’ve met. It’s friendly, and yet somehow he’s quiet, too. His interest feels real, so you cross the room to the desk and put your basket on your shoes. 

You try to find a way to say it. “I know you’re not a doctor.” 

“No, I’m an apprentice pharmacist.” 

“Right. I know I should go to the doctor, and not you.” 

“That depends. We’re here to help. Doesn’t matter if you should go somewhere, you can ask me first.” 

You struggle. He waits. His hands lay steady on the edge of the desk, his face nearly blank besides a hint of warmth.  

“Is it alright if it’s a question about, um, sex?” 

He nods emphatically. “Of course that’s alright. I can’t promise I’ll know the answer, but you’re welcome to ask me anything and I can always get back to you if you’re not willing to ask someone else.” His smile turns wry. “I know it’s uncomfortable, but it’s only sex. I don’t mind.” 

“I just…” You hold your hands together. “I wanted to know, if pain after… if it’s supposed to hurt so much after.” 

His wry smile is quickly subdued, though he remains friendly looking. “It depends,” he says, measured, “on a few things. You probably know that the first time you have sex can be painful because of the initial perforation of the hymen, but usually sex isn’t supposed to be painful at all.” 

“At all.” 

“No. If sex hurts, it’s likely from a lack of preparation, bruising of the cervix, or it could be a condition called vaginismus. That’s where your muscles tighten suddenly when you attempt penetration. Having sex with vaginismus can be extremely painful.” 

Something on his chest catches the light. A name tag. 

He follows your gaze. “Oh,” he says. “I’m Remus. Sorry, it might’ve been nicer for you to know that before I started talking.” 

Remus… You shake your head at him. “Um… Remus… Well, I’m not really sure what happened.” 

“Right.” 

“I wasn’t–” Your heart jumps before you can confess, horrible secret stuck to the roof of your mouth. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, “are you sure you don’t want to go sit down in the quiet room with me? I can make you a cup of tea.” 

“I can’t have caffeine.” 

“I have night time tea. Is that alright?” 

“The shop?” 

“It’s okay, I’ll ask Sirius to come down. You really aren’t doing anything wrong.” 

“I feel like I shouldn't ask you.” 

“That’s a consequence of our great British society,” he says, lightly teasing as he lifts the counter to come from behind it and presses a small red button on an intercom box by the inside door. It’s an attempt to make you feel better, and it nearly works. “You feel embarrassed about something you have no reason to feel embarrassed of. Everybody has sex, and everybody has bad sex, sometimes, and needs advice.” 

The intercom crackles before you can speak. “Moony?” a voice asks. 

“Sirius, I have someone who needs to talk to me. You’ll have to come on the till for a bit.” 

“Kay. Down now.” 

Remus smiles. “That’s about as obliging as he gets.” 

“Sirius, is he the– is he the one who reads?” 

“Not often. You’re thinking of Regulus, his brother.” 

Regulus, of course. “They look so similar.” 

“They do.” He gestures for you to stand beside him as the inside door swings open, unveiling one of those dark-haired brother’s, the taller of the two. 

“Oh, hi,” Sirius says, wet hair on his shoulders, his t-shirt sodden at the front like he’d swept it back, “okay? There’s biscuits in the left cupboard, Moons.” 

Remus, Moons, Moony, holds the door back and lets you inside. 

The walk to the quiet room is strange. Sitting down at the table with him as he passes you a box of biscuits, kettle boiling, he doesn’t put you on ends, but it doesn’t feel good. You slip your hand under your t-shirt where he can’t see and feel the hot stretch of your stomach for something that isn’t there. 

“So,” he says, grimacing, “I’m going to ask you some precursory questions. You don’t have to answer any of them if you don’t want to.” 

“Okay.” 

“Are you in any active danger?” 

You shake your head slowly. “None.” 

“Is someone close to you hurting you?” 

“No.” 

“Are you alright?” 

You twist your hands together tightly. “I don’t think so.” 

“No?” He slips his chair closer to your own. “Are you hurt now?” 

You look down at your lap. This is awful. This is why you didn’t want to go to see your doctor. “I don’t know. I’m not hurt, but it does hurt. I move and it feels like something sharp is digging into me.” 

“I see.” He frowns. “This can happen sometimes with penetration. It’s like I said before, if your body isn’t, you know, prepared? If you aren’t using lubrication, if you aren’t relaxed, it can be as simple as friction having hurt you, but it’s possible you’ve got cervical bruising, or an issue with your pelvic floor. It could be that you have a UTI. If we go through a couple of questions together I might be able to suggest a solution, but I have to tell you to see your doctor if you can. Alright? Pain after sex can be normal, but it doesn’t have to be. When we go back out, I’ll give you some paracetamol as well.” 

He looks as though he might have something else to say, but he stops when you open your mouth. “I don’t know what happened.” 

Remus frowns again. “Right.” 

The cellophane on the biscuits is shining under the light. 

“I don’t really know what to do.” 

“It’s a stabbing pain?” His frown gets impossibly deeper. “I have some ibuprofen. Off the record, you can have some of that with your tea. Here.” He procures a blister pack from his pocket and hands it to you, jumping up for the kettle, carrying it back to your mugs to set with the pint of milk. “It will probably go away soon, lovely, I would try not to worry, but it’s good to keep an eye on it too, and to book with the doctors if it gets worse. There are so many things that can go wrong in the body, but we’re also such good self-healers, it’s hard to know what to do.” 

“It’s… something else, too.” 

“Yeah?” 

“I was wondering if the pain is maybe because I…” 

Your face goes hot as coal embers, a furious sweat on the back of your neck. Remus doesn’t prod. He pours water into your mug until it’s a little over half full, the tea bag at the bottom staining it sepia. 

“I think I’m pregnant,” you say, not sure why it hurts to say so much. 

“Right.”

“Do you think it hurts because of that?” 

Remus bites his lip as he pours his own mug of tea. He’s looking at you as he puts the kettle down. “No, I wouldn’t think so, but it’s not an impossibility. How pregnant were you thinking?” 

“It was two weeks ago, so… so however long it takes to get pregnant.”

He looks alarmed, then. “Lovely, that was the last time you had sex?” 

“Yeah.”

“And it still hurts now?” 

“Only sometimes,” you say nervously. 

He ignores his steaming tea. “Right. Well, I think I need to advise you to make an emergency appointment today. I can make it with you. You shouldn’t still be hurting after two weeks, pregnant or not. Ectopic pregnancies don’t tend to hurt until further along, so…” Remus slows, looking at you with that too-kind frown, brown eyes darker back here behind the fog curls of his tea.

You feel caught on something. 

“I wasn’t awake,” you say quietly. “Just woke up hurting. I guessed what happened, ‘n now I’m pregnant. It could only have been...” You shrug it off, even as heat blooms behind your eyes, nose already hot and sniffly. 

“You were assaulted.” 

“Yeah, I guess so.” 

Remus seems to freeze up. “I’m sorry.” He takes a few seconds, and then he meets your eyes. “I can’t imagine how scary that must have been, and how scary it still is.” 

Your eyes line with tears. “I mean, it’s less scary now.” First tear tips forward as your voice falls to pieces. “I just don’t know what to do. Every day I’ve come here this week I’ve tried to ask about it, because I saw that poster, if I’m hurt then I can– then I can come to the pharmacy, but I’m not hurt, I’m fine now.” 

“Oh,” he says gently, pushing his chair over a little to bring himself closer, his hand coming to rest on your hunched shoulder, “even if you weren’t in any pain at all, you’re more than welcome to come here and speak to us, to me. This residual pain, I imagine you must’ve been quite injured when it happened. You didn’t have any help at all?” 

“I didn’t think there’s anything they could do.” 

“That’s okay, it’s not your fault,” he says, rubbing your shoulder kindly. “I just want to know as much of the details as you feel alright giving me, so we can move forward in the best way possible.” His hand slides across your back, nearly hugging. “I’m sorry. Really. And I’m sorry for talking so much about ‘bad sex’, I didn’t realise what you were telling me.” 

“I’m sorry for telling you.” 

“What?” he asks, a soft incredulity to him, “You have nothing to be sorry for. You can tell as many or as few people as you like, but I’m extremely glad to be told, because no one should ever have to face this sort of thing alone, should they?” He rubs your back when you nod, again when you sniffle. “Alright. It’s alright. You’re okay.” 

You don’t cry as much as you worry you might under a soft touch. The memory of waking up paralyses you for a bit, that confusion, the pain, the bruise across your neck. All of it makes you feel sick, but Remus shushes you under his breath, not to really shush you, but to calm you down. 

“I’m okay,” you say, shamed. 

“Try and drink some of this tea. Can I leave you alone for a minute?” 

“Oh, uh– yeah, of course. I’m fine.” 

His hand lingers between your shoulders. “Just for a minute, I’m going to find some bits for you–”

“I don’t need anything–”

“No, no, it’s okay, it’s just stuff I have to give you, and some things you might need.” Remus’ hand traces carefully to the front of your shoulder. He meets your eyes, nothing but compassion in the line of his mouth. “Okay?”

You say okay. Remus uses the door you came in through to head back out onto the pharmacy’s shop floor, letting it shut quietly behind him. You press your hand to your teeth. 

—

To Remus’ credit, he apologises for both pamphlets. Abortion Explained. What to expect when you’re expecting. “For you to know your options,” he’d said. “Whatever you decide, it’s your decision.” 

He can’t know you’ll spend a week pouring over them all, that you’ll worry at the corner of the STD clinic card, or that you’ll shove the RapeCrisis one down the side of your bed, desperate to throw it out, but terrified you’ll need it, too. 

And some of the stuff he gives you. You don’t even know what to do with it. Painkillers, lavender oil, discreet pads for incontinence. You’d tried to pay and he’d touched the back of your hand without explanation. “No, it’s okay,” he’d said. Nothing else. 

You spend days again wrapped in your own nausea, until Thursday evening, when you make your way to Community Support. 

You honestly weren’t considering it when Remus first gave you the card, but he said his friend worked there, “My best friend, James,” he corrected, ”and his wife, Lily, too. She talks to people about all kinds of things. I just wonder if you might feel happier talking about it with a woman.” 

Which was a nice sentiment, and possibly true, though Remus had been the first person you told. To be met with his sympathy in such a boundless capacity made it easier. Made you think, Maybe I’m not stupid for hating that it happened. 

“I’m here every Monday, Thursday, Saturday and Sunday,” he‘d said when you made up a lie about needing to leave, scared of overstaying, “seven ‘til three, but you can ask for me if you ever want to. Sirius usually knows where I am.” 

And you had wanted to, but you knew you couldn’t. Being so desperately alone that you craved the comfort of a stranger’s hand is fine, but it didn’t feel okay to hold him hostage like that. Of course he feels sorry for you, of course he wants to make you feel better, how heartless would he look otherwise?

You’d chide yourself for thinking cynically about someone who’d only ever been nice if it would make a difference. Lonely, wrecked, you end up at the Community Support Group at the local leisure centre, wavering behind the swing doors. 

A face appears on the other side of the door. Deep skin, eyes like cherry pits and lips painted a cheery red, a woman smiles at you and pulls it open. 

“Hi! Are you here for the support group?” 

“Uh– Yeh–” You swallow roughly. “Yes. Is that here?” 

“That’s here.” She puts a thumb through the belt loop on her jeans. “Why don’t you come inside?” 

You take a tentative step.

“I’m Mary,” she says. 

“I don’t have to sign anything, right?” you ask. 

Mary leads you into the room without stopping. “This is off the books only. Do you want some tea or coffee?” 

“I can’t have caffeine.” 

“Decaf?” 

“Can I have water?” 

Mary has a good smile. Like she knows you, like you’re already friends. She cups your shoulder and guides you to the refreshment table, an impressive splendor of coffee, tea, individually wrapped biscuits, and sandwiches. There’s a box of protein bars with a handwritten red felt note that says: Take me home if you want to! 

“Aren’t hungry are you?” Mary asks. 

“Not really.” 

She ducks down at the table and pushes aside tablecloth to grab a crate of water from underneath.

“You haven’t been here before, then?” Mary asks as she stands. “I remember most faces, I don’t think I’ve seen you here.” 

“No, I’ve never… um, someone at the pharmacy told me I can come,” you say tightly. 

“Oh, you can! Of course you can. I wondered if you were new, that’s all.” She presses a bottle of water into your hands. You look down at her fingers, confused at their odd texture, your neck snapping up once you realise what you’re doing.

Mary has scars all over her hands, her wrists, and you’d been gawking at them by mistake. “Sorry,” you mumble. 

“For what? Do you want me to stay? Or would you rather be by yourself?” 

“We don’t sit in a circle, do we?” 

Mary laughs lightly. “No, no circle yet, you can leave if you don’t wanna stay for the group talking therapy. For the first hour people just say hello to one another. There are a ton of counsellors here, okay? I’m just gonna wander, but if you want to talk to me, come and find me, yeah?” 

“Okay, thanks. Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome, hun.” She smiles at you, a little softer than before. “You can sit down if it makes you feel less awkward, but be warned, the sofas are James’ territory. He loves to talk.” 

Don’t wanna get stuck with James, you think. Though really, you’re here to talk. Or to turn around and go home with a pocket full of protein bars. 

The community room is an emptied dance hall that’s been made nice. There are big boards of fliers, of last year’s trampolining club, and another of the Community Support Christmas club, whatever that had been. It looked busier then than it does tonight —there are a ton of sunny looking counsellors dotted around the room and talking in triangles, half as many people like you. 

Someone random catches your eyes and you fluster, making your way to the terracotta sofas in the corner of the room on impulse. A man sits with an arm across his eyes, glasses on his chest, looking so sorrily tired for a second that you forget you’d come looking for help of your own. 

“Are you okay?” you ask, stilted. James’ territory, and you’d walked straight in. 

The man sits up starkly. He looks right at you, but you don’t recognise him until he puts on his glasses. It’s one of those pharmacy men. 

No, it’s not, you’d just seen him outside. 

“Hello,” he says, sliding his glasses up a strong-bridged nose. “I’m okay, I’m just resting my eyes,” —he laughs— “you alright?” You nod. “Yeah? Here for the support club? Or the sandwiches?” 

“I–” Will you stammer every time someone asks you about it? “One of the– the pharmacy, one of the pharmacists told me to come.” 

“That’s good,” he says earnestly. “I like those guys. Did you want a sandwich or something? I must’ve made a hundred. My hand still aches from the butter knife.” 

“I’m okay.” 

“Okay. Well, did you want to sit down? I promise I won’t hold you hostage or anything.” 

What am I doing? you think miserably, taking a seat in the sofa adjacent to his. 

He crosses one leg over the other. “Please don’t look so upset. I swear I genuinely won’t make you talk. I’m just here for the biscuits and lovely Lily, I promise. And lovelier Remus–” He laughs to himself. 

“You’re James?” you ask. 

“The last time I checked.”

“Remus– he mentioned you’d be here. I forgot.” 

James only smiles. “He’s brilliant, isn’t he?” he asks, wriggling in his seat to procure one of those biscuit packets from his back pocket. 

“He said that I might like talking to Lily.” 

It feels weird calling her by her first name without knowing her, but James agrees, “I’ll introduce you when she gets here, if that’s what you want.” 

“I just… I don’t know.” 

“She’s just as nice as Remus is. Remus was nice to you, wasn’t he?” 

You nod and look down at your clenched hands. “Yeah. He was nice to me.” 

“That’s good.” 

A tepid silence pervades for a moment. 

“Do you want a biscuit or something? Or we have noodles and soup and stuff in the storage room, I’m happy to make you something warm if you want that.” 

“You guys are like a restaurant,” you say, still not willing to look at him. 

“It’s nice to have options.” 

You nod hurriedly, sick to your stomach all over again. Options. Decisions. 

Somewhere in the room, they turn on a radio. Shoes squeak on the waxed floor, a boy laughs like he’s being tickled. It was a mistake to come tonight. You desperately want someone to hug you and you know it’s too much to ask for, staggering to your feet with a headrush to be blinked back. 

“You okay?” James asks.

“Yeah. Um, where’s the toilet?” 

“Back out of the double doors, they’re right in front of you, okay? Straight in front and then to the left, you can’t miss them.” 

“Okay.”

“Wait, Y/N?” he says. 

You shoot him a look that betrays your surprise. 

“Sorry, Remus told me to keep a look out for you. I just wanted to say, I know this is different, and it’s weird, I get that, and I have no idea why you’re here tonight, but I promised Remus I wouldn’t upset you, and I think I already have.”

“He didn’t tell you why I’m here?” 

“Of course not.” James blows a breath that makes his hair fly away from his face in a wave. “It’s none of my business why you’re here. My job is to make sandwiches. I mean, some people come here just for the sandwiches or the warm room, and that’s fine.” 

“The sandwiches are that good?” you ask. 

“They’re great. We don’t fuck around, I use the real salted butter in the foil wrappings and the thick bread and everything. Proper ham, not the wafer thin stuff. And there’s veggie bacon too, if you don’t eat meat. I don’t know, could you please just let me feed you something? Remus won’t forgive me if you came here and you didn’t even eat.” 

“I think you’re using Remus as a ploy,” you say quietly. 

“I am! So let’s go have a sandwich or a biscuit or something.” He waves his biscuits at you. “They’re Border’s. Butterscotch Border’s, you literally can’t ask for better.” 

Just try. Be brave for a bit. “I like the uh– the lemon ones.” 

James shoots up onto his feet, grinning. “Amazing taste. Let’s go find you some.” 

—

James takes you to the refreshment table. He finds you lemon drizzle biscuits, two packets, and he pushes two more into your hands with the command to take them home. He offers to make you dinner again when Lily arrives in a tizzy, with a chubby baby on her hip. 

Harry, she says. Just turned three. Scandalised everyone at home, Lily’s sister kicked her out, disaster. Harry, though, is beautiful. James and Lily are beautiful, and happy. James takes Harry into his arms the moment he sees him murmuring about his boy, and the sensation of guilt under your skin grows worse than ever. 

How are you liking group? Lily asks. Would you come back next week? That’s great! I’m so glad to hear it. 

—

You’re walking through Wilmand Street to the corner shop a few days later when you see him. Brown hair wet with snow, ashing a cigarette into the brick wall by the library. Remus cringes as he does it, blowing smoke from the side of his mouth in a call, “Y/N!” he says, “Hey, lovely, how are you? Sorry about the smoke,” he adds. “I was hoping I’d see you this week.” 

“Yeah?” 

“I wondered how you were doing.” 

“Well, don’t worry about me, I’m okay. I…” You cringe, pulling a hand down your sore chest. “I owe you an apology. I’m sorry for the other day, for dumping that stuff on you, you don’t even know me and I told you such a horrible thing and made you worry, and your friends were so nice to me at the community group and I just didn’t say thanks or anything. I’m genuinely ashamed of myself.” You smile a weird smile, clunky, attempting to brush everything away like it didn’t mean anything, silly little you. “All the time.” 

Remus’ expression goes odd, a wall you can’t read, left searching his winter jacket for clues as to how he’s feeling. “I don’t think you have anything to be ashamed of,” he says, finally and simply. 

“It was rude of me.” 

“I have some experience with feeling ashamed for the things other people have done,” he says, flakes of snow kissing his shoulders, a white dot coming to rest and melt on his cheek. “I understand why you’re feeling this way, and it’s expected, but… How do I put this?” 

You watch his eyes. Remus struggles to say anything more. It’s the first time you’ve ever seen a flicker of insecurity on him. He always seems calmly settled, as though he’s thought about the world and found what it is he was looking for in it a long time ago. 

“Just because we think something doesn’t make it true,” he says, hiding his hands in his coat pockets. “You might feel like it was wrong to tell me, but it wasn’t, and you might think you were rude to my friends, but you weren’t. They didn’t have a single bad word to say about you. Not that either of them tend to say anything disparaging about anyone,” he adds as an afterthought. 

“I wish I didn’t tell you, is all.” 

“I’m sorry. I can go on as though you didn’t, if that’s what you want, whatever you want.” 

You look down at your chest, nodding. “Okay.” 

Which isn’t a yes or no to his suggestion, but he doesn’t pull you up on it. “Okay. Are you going to the pharmacy?” 

“I– no. But I did hope to ask you something.” He nods, as if to say, Go on. “It’s about the sex clinic.” 

“What about it?” 

“I don’t really know what it is.” 

Remus looks around the street and then up and down your arms. The jumper you’re wearing is thin, your teeth aching to chatter, and he’s noticed it already. “Do you want to have this conversation over tea, lovely?” he asks. 

“Decaf?” 

“Yes, and biscuits, if you’re interested.” 

You follow Remus up the marginally steep hill that makes up Wilmand Street and enter the pharmacy behind him. It’s wooden front and newspaper clippings give way to the starker insides, where you find Sirius sitting at the front desk. Or rather, sitting on it, corded telephone held between his ear and his shoulder. “Oh, he’s just come in, but he has company. Yeah, he said.” Sirius presses the phone to his shoulder to give you both a small but earnest smile. “Hey, you’ve been snowed on. Turn the heating up before you catch your death.” 

“It’s been caught,” Remus says with a wave. “We’re going to sit in the kitchen. Tell Reg not to interrupt us.” 

Your mouth falls open, but Sirius only salutes his —friend? coworker? “James says he’s giving the phone a sloppy one for you.” 

“Lovely.” Remus laughs brightly, his hand slipping behind your shoulder. “Alright?” he asks. 

You give a nod and continue following him past the inside door to the kitchen you’d sat in before. Remus flicks the kettle on and sits down, forcing you to take his cue and sit opposite of him. 

“Much warmer in here,” he mumbles, stripping out of his coat. “Alright. What did you want to ask me about the sex clinic?” 

“Um… I don’t know. How do I go there?” 

“We’ll make an appointment. It’s not far from the leisure centre, so you can walk, or I can book you a taxi, give you a lift. We'll work something out.”

“And they… won’t mind that I– that I don’t really know what I’m doing?” 

You almost miss the dissatisfied noise he makes over the rising sound of the kettle. “They won’t mind.” 

“Do I have to tell them what happened?” 

“No. I mean, I assume it’s better if they have a clearer picture of the circumstances, but then again, you’re entitled to your privacy. You could just say you’re concerned about your intimate health.” 

“But they’ll ask questions.” 

“Yeah, they will. I know you don’t want to answer them, and that’s okay. You don’t have to answer them. Doctor’s, pharmacists, we just ask about stuff because we have to, but there’s no law that says you have to answer.” 

Now you’ve had time to think about things beyond the aching and the angry horror, a new fear has curdled. “What if he gave me something?” you say under your breath. 

“Then we can get you whatever medicine it is that you need and we can work toward you feeling better again.” His head tips as the kettle clicks. “Did you still want tea?” 

“Yes, please.” 

Remus makes you each a cup of decaf tea, bringing sugar and milk to the table for you to add yourself. 

“We can go now, if you want to.” 

“To the clinic?” you ask. 

Remus nods slowly. “Mm-hm. It’s an emergency.” 

“You’d come with me?” you ask, not breathless, but almost. 

“If you’re okay with it and you want me to, I’ll come with you. It might not be so scary. Or I can ask Lily to take you.” 

It’s not Remus’ fault that the person who assaulted you was a man like he is, but it does sound less intimidating to go with a girl. You’re not sure why. It’s not like he hasn’t been kind since the minute you asked him about confidentiality or that he deserves your distrust, but even sitting in this room with him now talking about the clinic has made you uncomfortable again. “Would she mind?” 

“Lily would love to take you. I know that sounds strange. She wouldn’t love that you need to go, but she wouldn’t want you to go alone if you’re worried about it.” 

“And she’ll go now?” 

Remus pushes your mug toward you. “You have some tea and I'll go and ask James if she’s around.”

“I don’t want to be a burden.” 

“You’re not,” he says. “There’s biscuits in the cupboard, lovely. If you want some, you can help yourself.” 

Things don’t pass that day in much detail after that. When Remus returns ten minutes later, you’ve finished your tea, and Lily is with him. She was on her way here already. She’d be happy to take you to the clinic. 

So you go, and you get checked out, and you submit to their tests and their invasive, well-intentioned questions. Lily takes you to a cafe afterward and buys you a pastry you can’t do more than poke. She takes you home. You feel guilty for not saying thank you in the car, but you can barely speak. A few days later you get a phone call with your results. You take a course of medications. You cry yourself to sleep three days in a row, because, as they’d tested for STDs, they tested for something else, and they’d told you what you‘d already known. 

You’re as pregnant as your home tests said you are. Despite everything, you feel an emotion you hate, and you push it down again. 

—

The door to your flat shakes with a sharp knock. 

You startle and stand, not sure what you’d been thinking, a hole burned into the floor at your feet. You’re in no state to answer the door, wet hair dripping a river down your back and your pajamas old. There’s nothing for it. 

You take the handle into your hand and squeeze. 

Dark-haired Regulus is standing in the hallway. You let the door close just an inch between you. 

“Regulus,” you say, unsure if surprise will help or hinder you. 

“Hello.” 

“How can I…” 

“Remus asked me to check in on you.” 

You’re not sure you like what he’s saying. “How do you know where I live?” 

“Remus didn’t ask me to come to your flat, if that’s what you’re asking.” 

“No, it’s not. I’m confused that you know where I live when I didn’t tell you.” 

He holds a deft hand up in surrender. “I live across the street, I’ve seen you come into the building, and your last name is on the postbox downstairs. I’m not doing anything illegal.” 

Just weird, then. 

“Remus asked me to keep an eye out for you,” he says, “but you haven’t been to the pharmacy, naturally.”

“So your solution was to come to my house?” 

“I don’t think there’s any need to get twitchy.” 

But there is. There is. He might not know what it is, and you might find thinking about it feels like a serrated blade end squeezed in your fist, but there is a need. You don’t want him to be here. It doesn’t matter that he’s small and skinny and has a sweet nose. This is your place to be by yourself, and to have nobody know where you are. This is the locked door. 

He has the sense to soften his bravado. “Sorry. I’ve made you uncomfortable.” 

You try to relax your shoulders. Your ribs ache with the tension. “Please,” you say gently, “tell Remus that I’m alright. Thank you for worrying about me.”

Regulus looks to the stairwell leading to the foyer. “He’s going to Community Support tonight if you want to tell him yourself. I am, too.” He doesn’t look at you again. “See you later,” he says to the stairs. 

 —

You go to Community Support despite yourself.

“Can you forgive me for not flirting with you?” 

You surprise the urge to flinch hard, turning to the voice with a half-smile. Sirius is standing beside you suddenly, your faces reflected in the plexiglass covered notice board just outside of the community hall. “What?” you ask. 

“I don’t mean to be offensive. I haven’t flirted because I thought Remus might have his eye on you, and I don’t want you to think it’s because you’re not beautiful.” 

You have to turn to see him to realise he’s teasing you now to be friendly. “I’d be offended if you did flirt with me,” you say. 

“Marvellous, then I won’t.”

“Remus doesn’t have his eye on me, though. He’s just been giving me pharmaceutical advice, I suppose.” 

“Oh, I see. I thought maybe you’d… Well, never mind. Forget I said anything.”

He’s handsome enough that you’d be shocked if he actually did flirt with you, clear-skinned as his brother, but with a warmer smile, almost mischievous, like he knows something you don’t know and he’ll tell you for the right price. His shoulders are slim, his biceps particularly solid as he crosses his arms over his chest. He notices you noticing and gives a flex, to your laughter. “Like what you see?” he asks. 

“Sorry.” 

“We’re on the rugby team, you know.”

“You and Remus?” 

“As if, Remus doesn’t like sports. He’s more of a walker. James and I are the sportsmen.” 

Sirius didn’t strike you as somebody who plays anything either, but it’s not polite to say. 

“Well, aren’t you coming inside?” he asks. “We could use a face like yours in there tonight. Beautiful girls are great for overall morale.” 

You shake your head. “Don’t think so.” 

“You came all the way here. You could at least come in for a bit of cake or something.” 

“Community support or community kitchen?” you mumble. 

“Everybody gets hungry. The best part of being in a community is making sure nobody goes hungry for long, right?” 

You give him a sideways look. Somehow, someway, you’ve become acquainted with a circle of philanthropists. Normal people aren’t so generous. You’re too tired to be this kind. 

“What kind do you have?” 

“Carrot, red velvet, Victoria sponge, and plain chocolate, I think. Maybe a bit of walnut sponge if Marlene hasn’t mauled the whole thing.” 

You’re not sure you can stomach it, just he’s looking at you so nicely that you want to go in with him. “Okay.” 

“Okay?” he asks. 

“Yeah.” 

Sirius slips a hand behind your back, letting it hover an inch from your skin as he shepherds you through the double doors and into the main hall. It’s far more crowded than it had been on your first visit, a small circle of people already in chairs talking a ways from the crowded food table, pilfered, more sandwiches in hands than hands to hold them, and enough brewed coffee to scent the air. James is immediately noticeable crouching at the table, having pulled a crate of juice boxes from beneath it, laughing about something someone is saying to him —something Remus is saying, the tallest man in the room and somehow completely non-imposing, his voice more colour than sound as he talks. 

It must just be because Remus is attentive. Must be the memory of his nice hand on your shoulder, squeezing, that makes you pay special attention to his shaking. “Is he laughing?” you ask. 

Sirius tunes in quickly. “Yeah. He’s done that since we were kids. He can laugh like normal, but when something really has him it’s like he can’t get the sound out.” He chuckles himself. “Idiots. Come on, let’s get you your slice of cake.” 

You can’t help staring at Remus as Sirius takes you over to him and James. James is so happy to see you he almost loses his glasses. 

“You’re back! I thought my shitty impersonation of a counsellor might’ve scared you off. Don’t want some soup, do you?” 

“Don’t say yes out of pity,” Sirius says. “Nobody ever wants James to make them soup.” 

“You like my soup.” 

“I like Effie’s soup. She makes the best bowl of lemon chicken I’ve ever tasted, and you make a mediocre imitation of her recipe, which is as good as it gets while I’m away.” 

“Effie’s my mother,” James explains, clambering to his feet with the crate of small bottles of juice held to his chest. “Euphemia. And she does make the best lemon chicken soup, but mines just fine! And anyways, tonight I made winter vegetable because all the Christmas veg was 8p and I have a fuckton. It’s delicious. I cut the swede up so thin it melts in your mouth, I got fresh thyme from the garden, little bit of spinach, all of it cooked in a metric ton of butter.” 

Remus snorts softly. He meets your eyes, which has you smiling on automatic. “James is a bit of a soup addict.” 

”I–” You feel hungry for the first time in weeks. “I’d quite like to, uh, try some. If you really don’t mind.” 

James glows, shoving the case of juice onto the refreshment table next to the hot water towers. “Yes. How about toasties, lovely, d’you want a cheese toastie with it? You’ll love it.” He doesn’t wait for an answer. “Anyone else while I’m warming it?” 

Remus meets your eyes again, like you’re sharing a secret. “I’ll have a bowl, Jamie.” 

“Yes.” 

“Alright,” Sirius acquiesces, “and me. And Reg will, too, wherever he’s gone off too. But he won’t have cheese–”

“Just toast, I know.” 

James gets a look on him like he’s found the secrets of the universe. “I’ll make a garlic butter cheese toastie for all of you. Mm?” 

Sirius waves him away. 

Sirius grabs you a slice of cake even as you mumble about the soup and how it’s dessert before dinner. Doesn’t matter, he murmurs back, not worried about why you’ve gone shy, I promised you a slice.

You take an apple juice and follow him to a table. Remus comes with you. He looks sunnier today than the last time you saw him despite ever-cloudy weather. Maybe he’s just a bit golden. Steady, he sits at the table across from you with Sirius taking a seat perpendicular, the three of you three sides to a square, nothing to look at besides your hand squeezed around the handle of a plastic fork. 

“I’m sorry about Regulus,” Remus says. “I didn’t mean for him to visit you at home. He told me you weren’t thrilled about it, and I can’t blame you.” 

“I’m sorry too,” Sirius says, wrinkling his nose. “I have no clue why he did that.” 

“And Regulus would be sorry, he just has a hard time realising when he’s overstepped.”

You nod at the table. “It’s okay. I mean, it did make me uncomfortable, and I– wasn’t super polite to him. I just wasn’t expecting him to be at the door, that’s all. And he said sorry, actually. So it’s forgiven.” 

“Oh.” Sirius perches his hand in his head. “That’s unlike him. He doesn’t tend to be sorry.” 

“Neither do you,” Remus says. 

“It’s a family trait.” 

“Can I save this for after soup?” you ask, shuffling your plate to the side. It’ll be easier to eat your cake when everyone else is eating as well. 

“Course you can,” Sirius says, leaning back in his seat. “But if you don’t eat it, I’ll assume you don’t like me. I’m sensitive like that.” 

Remus rolls his eyes, again gifting you with a great feeling, as though you’re in on a secret with him. He’s wearing an aviator jacket that looks incredibly soft, worn but not tattered, sherpa insides flattened but clean. The sleeves warp as he crosses his arms in front of him on the table and leans forward, conspirator. 

“So, how was your morning? Besides Regulus’ unwelcome intrusion,” he says, almost drawling as Sirius does when he gets that playful look in his eye. 

You’re not sure how to handle these boys. But you want to try. You’re sick of having nobody, of being nobody, even if it’s a little discomfiting sometimes to be with them. “My morning was fine. Tries to get through all my washing but it’s a mountain, so I left it and had a long shower instead.”

“How long is long?” Remus asks. 

“Too long.” 

“Like Remus’, then. I’m a one and done man, wash and go.” Sirius peels forward, “And Remus takes hours. Uses all the hot water.” 

“You live together?” you ask. 

“We did for a bit, didn’t we?” Sirius says. 

“Six very long years,” Remus says. “But I have a flat, and Sirius lives on Wilmand Street now, thank god.” 

“Thank god indeed,” Sirius says, “now I can actually wash my hair on a semi-regular basis.” 

“Can you?” Remus asks. 

“What are you implying?” 

“Only that your hair seems distinctly unwashed lately, don’t worry.” 

“He’s showing off ‘cos you’re here,” Sirius says, smiling despite the accusation as he takes a hand through his hair and pushes it back from his face. “I wash plenty.” 

“Do you? I was almost hoping you’d stopped. Maybe that would explain the weird thing you have going on right here.” Remus scratches his upper lip. 

“Fuck off, you just don’t like a scratchy kiss–”

Remus laughs suddenly. After a moment, it tapers into silence, though his shoulders still shake, and you can hear his laughter in his voice when he says, “That charming thatch of stubble would be the last of my worries if I wanted to kiss you, Sirius.” 

“What’s top of the list then?” 

“The smell, obviously. I’m getting top notes of wet dog and a headier dampness–”

“You sick bastard,” Sirius says, sounding absolutely delighted at his friend's insult. 

“You just need a good wash, is all.” 

You don’t mean to, but you laugh. Giggle, really, entertained by them and shocked a little by the way they snip and snap at each other. You pitch forward, face angled down, eyes tempted to shut completely. Sick bastard, you think, laughing still. 

It only makes you laugh more when Sirius nudges you. “Hey, thought we were getting somewhere,” he murmurs. 

You giggle some more. “Sorry,” you squeeze out eventually. 

“Don’t be. He can take a hit. Even if he’s sensitive,” Remus says.

Sirius sniffs. “I’m not that sensitive. Can’t make a joke anymore without being entirely misrepresented.” 

— 

James’ soup becomes a staple for you over the next couple of days. Community Support is a daily occurrence, though some nights are more popular than others. The weekends are busiest, Friday and Saturday night, but Wednesdays have an uptick you aren’t expecting, sitting at one of the plastic tables with another cup or winter veg soup and a garlic buttered toastie. You blow on melty cheese as James brings the hot plate out to the refreshment table, making it easier to serve the many who want it. He’s gleeful, promising that they’re gonna love it, and then tacking on an amendment that anyone who doesn’t like it is more than welcome to something else from the kitchen. 

With payday for most at midnight Friday, or some time after, it’s the hump of the week that hits hardest. You don’t come for the soup, but some people do, and they can’t be blamed for it; stretching money out isn’t easy. 

Your stomach clenches. Your spoon wobbles in your hand. 

From across the room, Remus sends you a warm smile, a kid in his arms and another at his thigh, chattering away as their mam takes a well-deserved breather by the terracotta sofas. 

The next day is the same. James makes soup and ham sandwiches, ham off the bone, made it himself, and you pick at the crusts at a plastic table. Sirius keeps you company for a bit, and then Remus rags on him until he leaves. They’re both too smiley to believe any animosity. 

On Friday, James isn’t there. 

“Harry’s poorly.” 

“I thought he might’ve had a day off.” 

“He and Lily like the group too much for days off.” Remus scratches a hand through his hair. It’s the most boyish thing he’s ever done in front of you. “Are you liking it here? You haven’t missed a day all week.” 

“James makes a good soup.” 

“He left plenty, if you want it.” 

You’re not sure you can stomach it. You give a small shake of your head. “Will Harry be okay?” 

“Fine. He gets ear infections, James used to get them too, even when we were teenagers. He’s on antibiotics already, it’s just the crying that’s the worst. Makes him sick.” Remus smiles sympathetically. “Makes James sick, too. But they’ll be okay.” 

“That’s good. It’s too quiet here when James isn’t around.” 

The hall is practically silent. There are a few people milling around on the sofas and another handful drinking tea by the refreshment table. Mary is patting a crying woman with pink hair on the back. A two year old sits at her feet, staring up at her sullenly. 

“I could go turn on the radio.” 

You perch your chin in your palm, elbow on the table. Tired today. “That’s okay. It’s nice.” Quiet, but not lonely. 

“You feeling okay?” he asks. 

“Yeah.” You fight the urge to let your eyes shutter closed. “I’m okay. You okay?” 

“I’m great. I’m really glad you’ve been coming. I know you don’t stay for group therapy, and you don’t have to, but… I don’t know, I think it’s just good to be around people.” 

You feel like he meant to say a particular but dodged it at the last second. He hesitated. 

He said he wouldn’t bring it up if you didn’t want him to, but maybe you do, just so you know it was real, and bad. It was awful, wasn’t it? 

“I don’t like being alone,” you confess, scratching the back of your neck. “For a while…” You scratch scratch scratch, sounds of your nails over skin, then let your hand drop with a thump against your thigh. “I wanted to be alone. But now when I’m home by myself I feel awful.” 

“It’s normal to want company.” 

“Even after what happened?” 

“Especially after what happened. I think the stereotype is that people… experience something bad, and that they retreat into themselves, and that’s based on a real process of emotions,” —he talks quietly but surely, without a lick of condescension— “and a real sort of phenomena. Everybody needs time to lick their wounds, to put it heavily. But it makes sense that you’d seek out company when you’ve just had a really, really horrible thing happen.” 

You did retreat into yourself at first. Wasting days away in bed without an appetite, crying yourself sick and to sleep, hating yourself and the world and him, because it hurt so badly. But then you didn’t get your period when you were expecting it and it was like holding the times of a fork to a plug socket, a nasty shock flaring through your entire body from the tips of your fingers. And now you have decisions to make and a life to live after, it’s happening now, quickly. You aren’t feeling any better than you were that morning when you first woke up and realised you’d been attacked without fully knowing, but time is moving forward regardless. You don’t know why you crave other people, but you do. You like seeing Remus every night, even if he only talks to you once or twice. You like eating James’ home cooked food, like watching Sirius and Regulus bicker as they lean against one another, and you like seeing Lily press her nose to her baby’s. You wonder what that feels like. How soft is a small nose? What does it feel like to hold the person you made out of love and a little bit of every part of you in two hands? 

You’re still so lonely it’s palpable. There are moments throughout the day where you can’t face it head on, but the support group is genuinely helping, if it’s just to spend an hour outside of your head. 

Lonely, and with nobody to confide in. 

Remus watches you think for a while. He’s waiting patiently for you to speak again. 

“Can I tell you something stupid?” you ask softly. 

“Sure.” 

“Don’t laugh at me.” 

“I doubt I could.” 

You let out a deep sigh. He’s all browns tonight in his old jacket. Brown hair, brown eyes, brown jacket. “I was thinking about keeping the baby. I don’t know if you’d consider it a baby right now,” you murmur, staring at the corner of his mouth, “but I think I want it to be one. And I can’t stop thinking that it’s a bad idea.” 

“It’s your decision,” Remus says. When you sigh, he looks chastened, and you hadn’t wanted it to be a chastening. He clears his throat. “You already know that, don’t you?” Not expecting an answer, he leans back in his chair and levels you with a smile more friendly than you deserve. “Keep your baby if you want to, lovely. The point of– Well, of having the choice, is being allowed to choose yes, to choose to keep your baby, even if it’s a bad idea. Or looks like one.”

“I know, but…” 

But it’s a bad idea. But it happened because somebody hurt you. But you’re completely alone.

“I’m not upsetting you, am I?” he asks. 

“No, you’re not. You’ve been really nice to me,” you mumble, letting your aching eyes close as you lean into your hand. “It’s not you.” 

Remus settles for a few seconds. “Can I put my arm around you?” he asks finally. 

“Okay.” 

So he does. His voice drops to match your own, his elbow right between your ribs as his thumb skirts across the top of your shoulder, “I’m sorry I can’t fix it for you, I wish I could tell you what to do that’s going to make you the happiest. I can’t, though.”

“I know.” 

He rubs your shoulder. “I know you know.” 

There’s a lot to think about. You aren’t pregnant by a miracle. Something bad happened to you, and the choice is yours now to take, and no one would blame you for wanting to forget the whole thing. At least, nobody here at the support group would. It’s not like you haven’t thought about it; lately, it’s the only thing on your mind. But the guilt of wanting it won’t go away. 

“Sorry you have to do this again,” you mumble. 

“What, give you a hug?” Remus’ voice turns softer. It feels less like the kind words of a stranger and more like a friend. “I don’t mind it.” 

You try to stop feeling guilty. The most you can be right now is looked after, at least for a while, for as long as Remus will hold your shoulders. 

“It’s not your fault,” Remus says. “You know that, too, I’m guessing. What happened to you wasn’t your fault.” 

You’re not so sure. It’s a different guilt to look at in whatever light finds you when it happens. “I know,” you say, half a lie. 

“And I know you have no reason to trust us with something so huge, but we’re here for you. That’s the whole point of the group.” 

You sigh heavily. “I know,” you say under your breath. You’re just not sure it’s going to be enough.

𖦹

hi thanks for reading the first part! this is a heavy one but it’s also a fic I’ve wanted to write for a long time, or rewrite <\3 some of you may have read my first go at this years ago and I’m hoping to tie in some of the old stuff but it’s also its own story hopefully, it’s shaping up well! 

https://rapecrisis.org.uk rape crisis UK — they have a support line! and many many articles

information about rape crisis https://247sexualabusesupport.org.uk/faqs/

[jheyjette]

Chilchuck is such a fascinating character, because every time you learn something new about him, it’s like you’re being punched in the gut. Like, the first time you see him, you’re all “Aww, look at this lil’ guy. Isn’t he cute? Aw, he hates being treated like a kid. He’s probably already in his late teens or early twenties or something. One of those Older Than They Look type characters right?”

And then you find out that he’s almost thirty. He’s older than Laios. And you’re like, okaaaaay, that’s a little older than I expected, but that definitely explains why he hates being treated like a kid so much.

And then much, much later you find out that he has a wife and kids. And you’re just sitting there like, huh, okay. Okaaaaay. Well, this really, really, really explains why he doesn’t like being treated like a kid. He’s a dad. He’s experienced the ups and downs of parenthood. He’s the only character in the group that’s canonically had sex. Okay. Yeah. Wowza.

And then shortly after you find out that he’s his race’s equivalent of a middle-aged man, and it’s like, okaaaaay. That recontextualizes a lot of things. He’s a middle-aged man trapped in a twelve-year-old’s body. Okay. Yeah. Wowee. Gee willickers.

And you think that’s it. You think that nothing else could top that. And then the bicorn chapter comes rolling in with a steel chair and you find out that his wife left him and all three (count that, three) of his daughters are fully grown adults. And as you’re reeling back from all of this new information, they deliver one last final slap to your face.

Chilchuck was a teen parent.

But what makes this all so funny, so fascinating, is that Chilchuck arguably has the most normal backstory out of anyone in the group. And if he was literally any other race, tallman, elf, dwarf, whatever, this information would still be surprising, sure, but it wouldn’t hit the same way it does when he’s a half-foot. Ryoko Kui really said, You know what would be funny? If I made the party’s token grumpy middle-aged man, father of three, look like this:

And she's right. It's very funny.

[everyonewooeverywhere]

NSFW | MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED

summary: you can't fail this class or you won't graduate on time, and you'll embarrass your parents. you could go to the tutor that your school so graciously provides...or you could just fuck your prefessor

pairing: professor!yunho x female student!reader

genre: smut | non-idol au | university au

rating: 18+

word count: 3.3k

content/warnings: female reader, pet names (sweetheart, baby, sweet thing), sir/professor kink, unprotected sex, squirting, spitting (spit swallowing), infidelity, age gap (mc is in her early twenties, yunho's in his early 40s), dubcon (coercion), spanking, light bondage, breeding kink, copious amounts of dirty talk

notes: this got out of hand really fast... (and i didn't edit it at all)

"professor—" you gasped, fingers digging in to his linen suit.

his office was dark. the only light coming from the green desk lamp situated behind you. it was well past office hours, but you didn’t see yourself leaving this spot anytime soon.

you’d come to his office after receiving a notification that you were failing his class, a class you needed to pass in order to graduate on time. and you’d been studying so hard and working so late to try and get your grade up but nothing was working.

and when you walking into his office he smiled softly at you, "what seems to be the problem miss l/n?"

a few tears fell from your eyes as you explained to him that you can’t fail this class because then you’d have to take another semester, and you were mortified at the idea of disappointing your parents who were expecting you to start working at their company in a few months.

he looked at you with concern deep in his gaze, "oh sweetheart, why didn't you come to me sooner?" he looked up at you from his desk chair and gestured for you to stand in front of him. "i hate to see one of my favorite students struggle." he reached out for your hand and you slid it into his with little hesitation.

"one of your favorites?" you asked, flattered by the idea that he enjoyed you in his class so much.

he smiled, "of course, sweetheart." his thumb brushed over the tops of your knuckles, "i'd be stupid not to cherish such a bright and beautiful young woman in my class."

the tips of your ears flushed at his flattery, "thank you professor jeong."

"i'm always here to help if you need it," and when he stood up out of his chair he loomed over you. his closeness making you take a step back. your thighs consequentially pressing up against the back of his desk. your hand still in his as he brought it up to his mouth. kissing the backs of your fingers to your palm to your wrist. closing his eyes and taking a deep breath amidst every kiss. "you are so beautiful miss l/n."

"y/n. you can call me y/n." you whispered.

he raised an eyebrow at you. "yeah?" he took another step toward you, making have to grab his arms not to fall backward onto his desk. he leaned his face down to your ear, his breathe soft on your neck, "you seemed to like when i called you 'sweetheart' though."

"professor—"

his lips grazed your ear, "call me 'sir.' you can do that for me, right?"

you nodded, eyes welling up with tears at the anticipation, "yes sir."

a low growl rose out of his chest from you compliance, "god you're so perfect." he pulled back and looked you in the eyes again resting his forehead on yours. his hands started tracing the edge of your skirt, letting his fingers graze your upper thigh, "just a good girl who will do anything to impress her professor and get a good grade, right?"

you averted his gaze, suddenly ashamed about what you were doing here.

"oh sweetheart don't be embarrassed. you're just putting in the effort that your other classmates won't. you came to me for extra help, and i'm gonna give it to you, okay?"

"okay..."

you let yourself melt into the touch of his hands. the soft pads of his fingers caressing your inner thigh. he watched your face intently as you took in his little touches. how you clearly waited in anticipation for him to finally brush his fingers over your pretty lace panties.

he pinched the white frills of your underwear between his fingers. “we’re all alone here sweetheart,” he ran a finger under your jaw, “so you can be as loud as you want. i want to know what feels good.”

“yes sir.”

he leaned back from you for just a moment. hooking a finger under his black tie and pulling it loose. you bit your lip as you watched him unbutton the top few buttons of his shirt and roll his sleeves up around his forearms.

when he leaned back in, he pressed his forehead to yours. "fuck i wonder what you taste like," his hand cupped the fabric over your already dripping pussy, and you rolled your hips to grind against it. "i bet you taste like fucking heaven. what if i just..." he pulled your panties aside, running his middle and ring fingers through your folds. he hummed in delight, "oh you feel so perfect, sweetheart." he kissed your cheek, "i can't wait to sink my cock into this perfect pussy."

a pathetic moan rose out of your throat, "please—"

he smiled softly and let his lips brush over yours. the tips of his fingers pressing into your soft cunt. "oh you sweet thing," he finally lifted you up onto his desk, letting your skirt rise up on your thighs, "be patient, and your professor will give you just what you need baby."

he pulled his fingers out of your pussy and brought them up to his lips. looking deep into your eyes as his licked your wetness off of them a string of his saliva sticking to the tips when he pulled them out. "oh i was so right. you taste like heaven sweetheart." he pressed a long kiss to your lips. letting his tongue pass over yours so you could taste yourself on his mouth, "you taste like you were made for me."

he eyed the white button-down you had tucked into your little skirt. his fingers delicately popped open the buttons. unwrapping you like his perfect, pliant little toy. his hands brushed over your shoulders as he slid the shirt off your skins. he pulled it out of your waistband and tossed it behind him.

"you're so fucking beautiful," he cupped your breasts. that were still partially covered by the white sheer lace of your bra. his thumbs lightly circled your nipples that were fully visible through the mesh. you watched as his tongue came out and licked his lips. like he was on the edge of eating a meal he'd been waiting on a long time.

"you dressed up for me today, didn't you?"

you nodded, biting your lip to try and hold yourself together, "do you like it, professor? i picked it out just for you."

"oh you're just the sweetest thing aren't you?" his hand slid around to your back, "it's so beautiful but i think—" he pinched the clasp and let in come undone and fall into your lap, "i like you much better without it."

the cold air of his office caressed your chest, making your nipples harden. you shivered at the sudden feeling.

he placed his hands on your knees, "play with them for me, sweetheart."

the request threw you off guard, your eyebrows scrunched in confusion, "huh?"

"play with your tits for me. i wanna see how you touch yourself," he leaned in close to you, "do this for me, and i reward you, okay sweetheart?'

"yes, sir," and you hesitantly cupped them in your hands. massaging them as he watched your chest intently.

"that's it. roll your nipples for me," his hands slid up your thighs. your back arched into him as you pinched your sensitive nipples between your fingers. you let out a soft moan. "good girl." he hooked his fingers into the waistband of you panties, "lets get these off of you."

and you lifted your hips so he could slide them down your legs. he slid them into his back pocket, and you didn't even try to stop him.

you reached for the button on your skirt, but he grabbed your hand, "keep the skirt on for me, baby. it looks so cute on you."

he flipped it up, though, and revealed your desperate pussy dripping all over his desk.

finally pulling his tie over his head, he let his shirt hang halfway open. "give me your hands, sweetheart."

you looked at him confused, but obeyed nonetheless, giving into his every demand with blind compliance. he slipped your wrists through the loop in his tie and tightened it, wrapping it a couple times into an inescapable knot. "perfect." he breathed. taking in the sight of his favorite student tied up and naked on his desk, just shaking with the anticipation of him actually fucking her. "my pretty plaything..." he muttered to himself.

his hand slipped between your legs, letting his fingers tease at your folds. playfully spreading them and letting the cold air hit your sensitive pussy. you shivered at the contact, "please professor..." looking up at him desperately, "i need you."

"oh, you sweet thing," he playfully pouted at you, "you've been so patient, haven't you?"

you nodded, resisting your urge to grab his wrist and grind into his hand. he positioned his ring and middle fingers at your entrance, "well let me reward you, sweetheart."

and he slipped his two fingers inside you so gently. letting your warmth surround them. slowly pumping them in and out of your prefect pussy. he found it endearing how you struggled to find a spot for your hands. your hands flexed and twitched trying to resist the urge to reach for him. he was going to tell you to hold onto his dress shirt, but he much preferred watching you struggle to hold yourself together.

he finally got a soft moan out of you when he pressed his thumb into your clit. rubbing slow circles on it and watching as your back arched into him. he kept a steady pace with his fingers, not letting himself lose control to his own desire. but he couldn't help but let his pointer finger slip inside.

you sucked in a sharp breath, "ohhh..." one of your legs wrapped around his waist. tears pricked at the corners of your eyes.

"how does that feel, baby?" he muttered against your ear. his breath on your neck making you shiver.

"it hurts.." he sunk all three fingers inside and curled them, "sir!" you gasped.

"shhhh..." he ran his other hand over your hair, "just breathe, sweetheart. breathe. i got you." he kissed your temple, "your professor's gonna take such good car of you, okay? i'm not gonna stop until your little pussy is squirting all over my desk." you moaned loudly at the thought, "oh? you like that? you're dirtier than i thought, baby. have you thought about this?" he loved how you trembled under his touch, "do you have dirty thoughts about your professor during class? maybe that's why you're failing. because you can't stop imagining me bending you over my lap in the middle of my lectures."

you tightened around his fingers at the idea. imagining laying over his knee with your skirt flipped up as he spanks you like the little slut you are and fingers you until you can't even thing straight. "well, we'll have to try that sometime, won't we? want me to fuck you in the lecture hall? where all your classmates and instructors can hear just how pretty you moan."

he smiles at the little nod you give him, but he notices how little you're comprehending his words. "you close, sweetheart?" you just hum in acknowledgment. "hmm, what about now?" he curls his fingers and pressed them directly into your g-spot. pumping in and out making sure to hit it every time with his fingertips.

"oh...oh!" you throw your head back, "i'm gonna cum! oh fuck.."

"cum for me pretty girl. make a mess baby. all over my desk."

your tied hands gripped onto his dress shirt, the pleasure from his fingers making you lightheaded. you let out the prettiest moan as your orgasm hit your. pleasure wracking through your body as he continued to fuck you with his hand. hitting your g-spot over and over again. determined to make you squirt all over his desk.

he dragged his fingers over the spot one last time before you felt it. your orgasm washing over you in messy spurts as you came all over his hand. you juices spilling all over his desk. he chuckled as he kept his fingers inside you. letting your pussy pulse around them. his lips graced your hairline, "i knew you could do it, sweetheart. you listen so well. what did i do to deserve such a perfect toy?"

"thank you, sir," you looked up at him, your pride obvious in your eyes. oh that little praise kink of yours made his life so fucking easy.

"of course my sweet thing," he brushed a thumb over your cheek. "you think you can take more? i think you would look so pretty on my cock."

"please, sir..." you leaned into his hand, "i'll be good. i promise."

his hand slid down to your neck, "oh i know you will." you watched as his tongue slid out of his mouth and wet his lips, "you'll do anything for that passing grade, won't you? even let your professor fuck you in his office after hours. that's a little pathetic don't you think?" he smiled as your expression changed into one of shame. "couldn't get anything into this dumb little brain of yours, so you had to come visit me in this slutty little outfit and just beg me to fix your grade? yeah?"

the fingers on your neck squeezed lightly, "i can imagine how mortified your parents would be if they knew how their perfect little angel got her good grades. just whoring herself to a professor twice her age. because she's not smart. she's just a dumb little whore who lets her pussy solve all of her problems."

tears pricked at your eyes, "i tried professor jeong! i did! i just—" you choked on a sob, "i just couldn't get anything. i'm a good student i promise! and i study hard."

he hummed, "like you did in professor park's class?'

your breathing stopped, "wha—"

"oh baby," he kissed the tip of your nose with a touch of his own condesending sweetness, "i know i'm not special. you should know that mr. park and i are really good friends. and when i told him that you were failing my class, he let me in on your little secret."

"professor please," a tear fell down your cheek, mortified that he was telling you this.

"my sweet thing...messing around with older bachelors is one thing," he swiped at your tears with his thumb, "but i can only imagine how mr. park's wife would feel."

you choked on a soft sob, trying desperately to hold it together, "oh god, please don't tell her. i didn—" you shook your head, "it was just a one time thing. and i really needed to pass his class."

"hmmm i'm sure you did, sweetheart." he leaned in and let his tongue wipe up a tear on your cheek, "and don't worry, i won't tell anyone. it'll be our little secret, okay?"

you nodded hesitantly, "thank you professor jeong."

"of course. but i do ask for something in return," he threaded his fingers through your hair, "you're such a sweet, submissive little thing. i don't think i can let you go so easily. i'm gonna need a couple more..." he looked you up and down hungrily, "favors from you."

"favors?"

"mhm..." he tightened his hold on your hair, "favors." he yanked your head back, "i wanna see how far i can go until i break you."

you whimpered.

"i know that you're a filthy whore deep down, baby. you just haven't found the right guy to try and slap you around a little bit." he forced your mouth open with his free hand, "you're gonna take ever little thing i give you." a wad of spit fell from his mouth and onto your tongue. you fought the urge to swallow it, waiting on his command. he smirked at how easily compliant you were. "swallow."

you let his saliva trail down your throat.

finally, you watched as he unbuckled his belt. instead of letting it drop he set it on the desk next to you before unlooping the button on his pant and letting them fall to the floor. he grabbed your tied wrists and pulled you off of his desk. "turn around."

you obeyed without hesitation, turning toward his desk. he pressed his hand to your back and pushed your chest down onto the desk. you heard him shuffle out of his boxers before grabbing the belt next to you.

you heard the leather snap against itself. "we're gonna play a little game, okay?"

"yes, sir," you nodded with your face pressed into the desk.

"good girl," he trailed the belt along your spine and you shivered. "we're gonna play a little game. i'm gonna fuck you on my cock. and i'm not gonna hold back. but you aren't allowed to cum until..." he snapped the belt against your ass. you yelped in pain, your hips jerking forward in surprise, "you count thirty spankings."

"thirty!?" the belt made contact with your ass once again.

"yes, baby. thirty. and if you can't do it, then your gonna have to go home and cum all alone in your bed. because i'm not gonna give you anything you don't deserve."

his cock slid through your folds, and he ran the tip along your clit. delighting in how you shuddered under him. you gasped when he finally sunk into you. filling you up in ways that you weren't sure were even possible. "perfect little pussy," muttered to himself.

he pulled out and thrust into you, hard. his tip smashing into your cervix. but you couldn't even catch a breath because he immediately brought the belt down onto your ass.

"one!" you choked out. followed by a "two! three!' and the leather snapped against your skin again.

"good job, baby. you're doing so perfect."

you whined, "thank you, sir."

"four!" you felt the sting again. this time much harder than the last. and five, six, seven, and eight felt like they were burning into your skin.

he already had you sobbing into the wood. after nine and ten, he let your skin breathe, but he continued to fuck your pussy relentlessly. and you could already feel your orgasm creeping up on you.

the next spank surprised you, "eleven..." you sobbed into the desk. and he kept going, keeping his relentless pace on both fronts. surely bruising your ass and your cervix.

by the time he hit twenty-five you were desperately trying not to cum. your legs were useless, no longer holding you up at all. and your ass was going numb.

"you're so close, sweetheart. count five more for me, and i'll let you cum so hard, okay." he kissed the nape of your neck.

before bringing the belt down again two more consecutive times, and you counted between sobs. and you were already tightening around him, on the verge of your release.

and maybe he was feeling gracious, because the last three strikes were much softer and his thrusts started becoming much more erratic. "fuck! i'm close baby." he grunted in your ear.

he pressed his chest into your back, the buttons of the dress shirt he still wore digging into your back, "oh god i'm gonna fill you up so good. gonna breed this dumb little pussy so you know it's all mine."

"all yours," you cried, "it's all yours." your whole body shook under him, "oh i'm coming! shitttt sir i'm coming."

"yeah, baby," he growled, "cum with me. cum around my cock while i breed you so good. ahh shit! yeah there we go baby. there we go..."

his cum filled you up as you came together. seeping out of your pretty little hole when he pulled out to admire his handy work, your pulsing cunt pushing his cum out in little spurts.

he kissed your shoulder and leaned into your ear, feeling you breathing heavy under him, "we are gonna have so much fun together, sweetheart, just you wait."

general taglist: @swimmingkpopblog @oddracha @drinkingrumandcocacola @minaateez @funnyvxlentine

@sunnysidesins @skzdust @princelingperfect

ateez taglist: @certifiedmoa @wooyoungmybelovedhusband @curiousgworge @hyukssunflower @hotteokisms

@sushiinmidnight @atiny-dime-p1ece @mismatchfluffysocks @vic0921 @vampzity

@breadpuddingboys @woolysium @desirehorizon @im-ovulation @pommelex

@dancingwithdeities @maidens-world @jycas @kirbrary @aftertherain-atr

@staytinyinmybpack @m4n4-s4m4 @jjcanwrite @yvnhoos @uninterested-ghost

@yizhou-time @shinyj3lly @kyeos4ng @prettygirlslietoo @miriamxsworld

@tiny2018 @ttdogsworld @kejingken @fandom-freak-geek @painted-hills

[georgeclarkesgf]

shush, it's a secret | george clarke

it's not unusual for you to be over at george's flat considering you and him met at university and both moved to london around the same time. but about four months ago, your relationship changed from close friends to just that, a relationship.

you'd both decided to not tell anyone, despite how difficult it was proving to be to not be all over each other 24/7. the fans knew of you, to an extent. you'd appear in the backgrounds of videos or tiktoks posted by the boys. your social media was public, however, none of your accounts included your name, making it less likely for fans to find you.

tonight, you're over at the flat again, legs strewn over george's lap and eating some of the dominoes he'd ordered. a movie chris had picked out plays on the tv, but was now long forgotten about since a debate has broken out amongst the boys. over what? you don't know. you're too focused on the way george's hand is subconsciously trailing up your thigh, dangerously high for a 'close friend'. he honestly hasn't noticed that he's doing it, too engaged in the ongoing debate. so, you pick your phone up from your chest and message him.

too high x

his phone dings and he leans forward, grabbing it off the table before noticing it was from you. you watch as his brows furrow in confusion, before sending him another message.

your hand x

realisation hits george and he squeezes your thigh gently as an apology, moving his hand back down to rest above your knees. he mouths 'sorry' at you, to which you can't help but giggle and shake your head. arthur (hill) looks between you two in slight confusion, going to say something but deciding to keep his mouth shut.

it wasn't that you didn't want to tell people, you'd both just agreed it would be easier figuring things out and adjusting to this shift in dynamic without other people prying their noses in. it didn't make the thrill of getting caught any less exciting though. even the simple things such as him wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing your shoulder made you get an adrenaline rush.

you can feel your eyes growing heavy, despite it still being relatively early, and decide to call it a night.

"sorry guys but i'm gonna head to bed," an echo of boos fill the room while you shrug, laughing, "i'm tired guys leave me alone. mind if i crash in your bed george?"

it feels weird having to ask your boyfriend if you can sleep in his bed, but it seems to be doing the trick of keeping the relationship a secret. there are only three bedrooms and you've known george the longest, so it makes sense you'd stay in his room.

"no go for it, i probably won't be long." you give him a smile and climb off the sofa, heading to his room.

george's eyes widen when he next checks the time, not realising it was so late.

"shit." he mumbles to himself, gaining a weird look from the boys.

"you alright george?" arthur (hill) questions.

"yea i'm fine. just didn't realise it was so late that's all, got stuff to do tomorrow. i'm gonna go to bed though, night guys." he was lying right through his teeth, he had nothing to do tomorrow.

what george had meant to be ten minutes or so had turned into an hour and a half. arthur (tv) ended up coming over and they'd gotten so caught up in conversation that time seemed to fly by. he knows that you hate falling asleep without him and feels guilt seep into his skin. especially since he knows you won't ask for him to come to bed, not wanting it to come off weird since to the others, you're 'just friends'.

you're staring at the ceiling when he shuts his bedroom door, having fallen asleep for all of twenty minutes before you woke up to an empty bed over an hour ago.

"i'm so sorry baby, i didn't realise it had been that long," you turn to look at him, enjoying the way he starts stroking your cheek with his thumb, "have you been waiting for me?"

"mhm, fell asleep for about twenty minutes and been awake since. it's okay though, kept myself busy," george's jaw drops slightly, clearly misunderstanding your words, "oh my god george, no! i meant by reading some more of my book you perv. get your mind out the gutter."

he laughs and goes in to kiss you but you push his forehead away before he can. you scrunch up your face in disgust.

"ow, what was that for?" he's rubbing his forehead like you just hit him with a bat, making it much more dramatic than necessary.

"brush your teeth, you have pizza breath." he tries to do it again and catch you off guard but fails, "i mean it george."

"yes ma'am."

he disappears into the bathroom and returns a few minutes later. his teeth are brushed and he's wearing a pair of grey joggers. your arms open wide, inviting him to lay on top of you so you can run your nails through his hair and up and down his back. a feeling both of you love.

"can i kiss you now?" he teases, grin widening when you nod your head.

several kisses are planted on your face and you know he's purposefully missing your lips. you frown, wanting him to kiss you properly, not having felt his lips on yours in what felt like years. realistically, it's been a few hours.

"george, kiss me properly." you whine.

and he does just that. one hand holding himself up to hover over you, the other stroking your cheek and bringing you in closer until your lips finally meet. the kiss starts off slow and loving, until he presses you further into the mattress, his hands beginning to roam your body. every ounce of sleep you were feeling disappears, suddenly becoming hyper aware of what's happening.

pulling away, you mumble, "we can't, everyone's here. they'll hear us."

"never stopped us before." george whispers against your mouth, connecting your lips once again.

well touché.

a/n don't ask where the inspiration for this came from at 2 in the morning cause i don't have an answer. not proofread either sorryyy. shall i make a part two? i feel like i'll end up doing it anyway but what do you guys think??

[littlexdeaths]

eddie munson x shy fem reader

warnings: lots of cute first date jitters, reader is clumsy, also a lot more cheese 🧀 — take your lactaid besties.

part one | part three

let’s go, don’t wait masterlist

a/n: i’m honestly blown away by all the sweet comments on that first little blurb. shy reader is 1000% me, so this is very near and dear to my heart. i hope y’all like this one just as much! also big kisses to my lovely angel @undead-supernova for looking this over for me <3

“This looks stupid.”

You huff, glancing at your reflection before rushing back over to your closet for the 3rd time in a span of twenty minutes.

But Nancy grabs your wrist from before you can make it there, pulling you down onto the bed beside her.

“Everything you’ve tried on has been cute… I don’t see the problem here.”

You groan and flop back onto the mattress, covering your face with your hands.

“I wasn’t exactly trying to go for cute, Nance.”

Your words are muffled behind your palms, but she gets your message loud and clear.

“I know you want to impress him, but my best advice is to just be yourself… that’s why he asked you out in the first place, right?”

You sigh, uncovering your face to look up at her. She has a brow raised, and as much as you’d hate to admit it— you know she’s right.

“Do you always have to be right about everything?” you puff out a small laugh and she beams, nudging your knee with hers.

“Of course, I am the brains of this operation, remember?”

You roll your eyes fondly before returning to your feet, smoothing over the denim of your skirt when you meet your reflection once more.

“Oh god, what about make up?!”

You only managed to change your shirt one last time before Nancy had to practically barricade your closet door shut with her body. Reminding you that, once again, you looked great.

It doesn’t help much to soothe that little voice in the back of your head that disagrees— but the rumble of an engine and a blaring guitar riff distracts from those thoughts momentarily as the panic finally starts to set in.

“Shit, shit, shit! He’s here already?” you squeak, glancing over at your beside clock.

6:45 pm.

He was 15 minutes early.

“He’s early… color me impressed.” She grins before peeking out your curtains.

“I’m… I’m not ready, Nance.”

Your heart is about to pound out of your chest and your palms are beginning to sweat. She steps away from the window to put her hands on your shoulders, face full of determination.

“Just breathe, okay? I’ll go down and let him in, you just take a minute and come down when you’re ready.”

You nod dumbly, eyes widening further when the doorbell rings.

Eddie’s here… actually standing on your front porch. Bouquet of flowers grasped tightly in his own sweaty palms.

“Thanks, Nance.”

She just gives you a reassuring smile before starting down the stairs and opening the front door. To say Eddie is surprised when Nancy Wheeler appears at your front door instead of you is an understatement.

“Uh… please don’t tell me I’ve got the wrong address,” he steps back to take a look at the number on the house again.

“No, you’re at the right place. She’s just finishing getting ready, come on in.”

Nancy can see the way his shoulders sag in relief before he steps past the threshold. Dark eyes wandering around the interior of your entry way in utter curiosity. Pictures of you and your parents line the walls, but one in particular catches his attention.

You’re smiling up at the camera, eyes scrunched closed behind the round frame of your glasses— with your two front teeth missing.

The sight has him grinning despite himself, already catching more of a glimpse of the girl that’s been on his mind for the better part of that year.

“So… where are you taking her?” Nancy asks casually, leaning against the doorframe of your kitchen.

Eddie turns then, still clutching the flowers tightly in his fist.

“The Palace… and then Benny’s. But don’t worry, I’ll have her back before 11 pm. Scout’s honor.” He grins, raising his other hand in a mock salute.

You can hear their voices floating up the stairs, which only seems to worsen the butterflies fluttering around in your stomach. You take one last look in the mirror to straighten your top and make sure your eyeliner wasn’t smudged before you turn the knob and make your way down the hall.

The creak of the floorboards alerts them both to your presence when you slowly begin to descend the stairs. Your hand grips the railing tightly, eyes finally lifting once you reach the landing.

“Wow,” he whispers in dumbstruck awe.

You can feel your skin warm under the intensity of his gaze, tucking your lower lip between your teeth to hide a grin.

But the sweet moment is quickly squashed when your foot catches on the edge of the step, and you go tumbling forward. Eddie drops the flowers in his haste before closing that short distance between you to catch you in his arms. Your bodies collide, much like what happened earlier in the cafeteria.

Only this time he doesn’t let you go right away.

“Steady now,” he chuckles, and your eyes can’t help but drift lower to stare at his lips. “You okay?”

You nod, not fully trusting your voice when he’s so close like this, you swear he must be able to hear how fast your heart is fluttering beneath your ribs.

“Oh goddammit, the flowers.” Eddie groans, making sure you’ve got your footing before he bends down to pick up the crumpled bouquet.

“Uh, I promise they weren’t like this when I got here...”

He hands them out to you with a sheepish grin, the apples of his cheeks now flushed a soft shade of pink. And from this close proximity you can see the faint freckles dotted along the bridge of his nose.

Man, he sure is pretty…

“They’re beautiful,” you smile, finally finding your voice. “Thank you.”

“… well, you two should probably get going, right?”

You had almost forgotten Nancy was even there.

“Oh what about—” you gesture to the bouquet in your hands, but she quickly cuts you off.

“I’ll put those in some water and lock up for you, sound good?”

You don’t have much time for protest when she carefully takes the flowers from your grasp and nudges you right into Eddie’s chest. You apologize between small giggles when he steadies you again, and Nancy disappears into the kitchen.

His eyes are almost sparkling in childlike delight at the sound of your laughter, and it’s something he’d like to continue hearing for a long time. Eddie guides you both toward the front door. His rings clink against the knob when he swings it open, taking a slight bow before motioning you forward.

“Your chariot awaits, mi’ lady.”

The Palace is packed by the time you arrive, but for a Friday night in Hawkin’s— that’s no surprise.

Young teens dart between the different games with renewed excitement while Keith watches on with a bored expression. Eddie’s hand is held loosely in your own, fingers intertwined while you decide what to play first.

You both agree on air hockey, allowing him to tug you toward the table with a newfound pep in his step. He hands you the blue paddle, teasing telling you that red is always his color before he crouches down to slip two coins in the slot.

“Prepare to be demolished, sweetheart,” he grins cheekily.

Your stomach flips at those seemingly innocent words, and Eddie silently pats himself on the back for how flustered he’s already made you. That’s not something he’s used to, making a pretty girl fumble over her words. But it’s something he’s decided he wants to see a lot more of tonight.

Eddie ends up winning two rounds of air hockey, but his victories were entirely due to the fact that you were so distracted. Poised across from him, you spent more time admiring the way his tongue poked out from between his lips in concentration— or when he had to pull his wild hair back into a bun when it kept flying into his face.

Not that you would ever mention that little fact to him.

“What’s next?” you ask, unable to hide your glee when he takes your hand without hesitation this time.

“Have you tried Dragon’s Lair?”

He nods his head over to the game that was just recently abandoned in a fit of rage by short boy with dark hair. If you were being honest, skee ball and air hockey were more your speed when it came to arcade games. But the look of absolute delight on his face has you willing to try regardless.

And just as you suspected, you’re terrible at it.

You’re barely able to get past that first level without dying repeatedly but Eddie continues to give you an encouraging smile while he leans against the machine. He adores the way your lips are pouted in a slight frown when the dragon engulfs the knight in flames again.

“Here,” he mumbles, sliding in behind you. “Let me help.”

His arms cage you in against the machine, and you can feel the heat from his chest seeping through the thin cotton of your blouse. Ringed fingers gently hover over where yours are stationed on the controls, and in your nervous state you don’t notice the way his fingers tremble slightly.

Eddie guides your hands with ease, all but playing the game for you at this point. But your focus is no longer on the dragons and knights. They instead settle on his hands, and how they completely engulf yours in size. And the way his chain bracelet rattles against your skin with each flick of his wrist on the joystick.

They continue to travel a little higher, noticing how the muscles in his forearms contract each time he pushes that red button in rapid succession. It has your mind wandering to places that it definitely shouldn’t be…

Like how his hands would feel gripping your hips…

Stop that.

When you take a shuddering breath, you get another whiff of his spicy cologne when he leans his head forward. The faint hint of tobacco and mint still lingers on his lips when he blows a breath out in frustration when he finally looses that round.

The words GAME OVER flash across the screen in brightly colored letters, and you feel a little disappointed when he begins to remove himself from you. But you’re suddenly feeling a little bold, gently turning to grab his hand before looking up at him.

“Show me again?” you mumble, chewing nervously on your lower lip.

Eddie grins down at you, eyes flicking down to your mouth for a fleeting moment. But his next move has your brain about to melt out of your ears.

He takes your lower lip between his thumb and forefinger, carefully removing it from between your teeth. He allows the pad of his thumb to graze over your lip while the other slips around your waist. Eddie guides you back around by your hips, quickly resuming his position behind you.

“Sure thing, sweetheart.”

taglist: @sheneedsrocknroll92 @blckbrrybasket @your-nightmaredoll @missmarch-99 @fandom-princess-forevermore

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

Walking the Road for Her

Wanda Maximoff x Gray Witch!Reader

Word count: 1.2K

Summary: You can't live without Wanda and you've tried everything else so when Agatha comes knocking on your door you accept immediately, but the teen that's with her...he seems so familiar

Warnings: SPOILERS FOR EPISODE 3 OF AGATHA ALL ALONG! Grief/Loss, hallucinations, death/mortality, emotional distress, supernatural elements, implied self-sacrifice, character death, reunion with a deceased loved one

Authors notes: Thank you @scarlethexelove for indulging in my random Wanda thoughts.

When Agatha asked for you to walk the witches road, you didn't hesitate. She was put off by your eagerness, but never told her why you were walking. You kept that part to yourself she didn't seem to mind. Everyone had a reason, and everyone had their secrets, so no one asked, and you weren't about to tell them you wanted, no needed Wanda back.

You would give up anything and everything to have Wanda back. If it meant to team up with Agatha, you would do it.

So you did. You met up with her and put on the cheery smile she hated. You always assumed she hated you for being a younger witch still full of life, but since Wanda died, you felt like you died too. You got along well enough with the others. You knew Jen the best being closer in age, though you didn't care for her products.

The teen seemed eerily familiar, but you can't put your finger on it. Why does he remind you of Wanda of a life you can't seem to remember.

You're overly protective of him. You don't let him have the wine, and when you hallucinate from said wine, you blink, and suddenly, you're looking at Wanda. Back in her early twenties with the eyeliner, ripped stockings, painted nails, and rings on every finger. You cry over it, cupping her face until it turns back to his.

“Are you okay.” He looks at you with concern. You pull away quickly and wipe your eyes.

“S-Sorry.” You quickly run the ingredients back, trying to escape the feelings. You need to stay strong. You need to get Wanda back.

You end up getting through the trail. Not without its costs. Losing Sharon wasn't something you had in mind, but the witches road is treacherous and has no place for mortals. You never should have let Agatha do that, but hindsight and all that. You knew you had to press on and on the road Teen asks,

“Are you sure you're okay? You and Sharon called out for the same person.” You swallow hard.

“Yeah I'm fine. We all had hallucinations about things. I'll be okay.” You tell him and then mumble under your breath, “Not like I don't deal with it every morning...” his head swivels.

“What was that?” He asks.

“Nothing, just mumbling to myself.”

The further you journey, the harder it gets. Sometimes, you want to give up, to give in, and join Wanda another way. But something stops you every time. You almost think you can feel her, feel her all around you. In the trees, the air, the leaves beneath your feet. With a quick turn of your head, you think you so the soft auburn color you miss so much. The road is playing tricks yet keeping you grounded to your goals.

You make it to the end. Finally passed the last trial everyone who had made it. Their prize awaited them. You waited, didn't see her, and then you heard a whisper in Sokovian.

Your name.

You looked around everywhere. “Over here milaya.” You hear her call. You whip around and see her. She doesn't look like the Scarlet Witch anymore. Back before that. Like when you were on the run. You run into her arms without a second thought.

You can't help as you cry. Burying your face in her neck as your body shakes with sobs. Her vanilla scent invades your senses. “Shhhh sweet girl, I've got you.” Wanda holds you close. Your heart feels whole again now that you're back in her arms.

Your sobs turn into sniffles. “I've missed you so much.” You mumble against her. Her nails lightly scratching at your back. Something she's always done to sooth you. Kissing the side of your head and letting her lips linger.

“I know Detka. I'm so sorry. I'm here now. I'll never leave you again.”

You held onto Wanda tight, afraid to let go as if she'd disappear again if you stopped.

Wanda opened her eyes, looking past your shoulder her eyes widened in surprise and then softened as she saw him.

“Bi-Billy?” Wanda's voice shakes slightly. You pull back but not fully letting her go. You follow her gaze that lands on the teen. Your brows furrow before you look back to Wanda.

“Wanda?” You question her.

She lets go of you when Teen responds to the name. He tries to say something, but the sigil protects him. A wave of Wanda's hand changes that. “Billy?” She asks again.

“Yes, that's me.” You're really confused as you see Wanda's red tendrils come out sending red waves through his eyes before disappearing. “M-mom? H-how did you...?”

Billy runs towards Wanda, slamming into her, but she doesn't budge. She holds him tightly in her arms. “What kind of mother would I be if I didn't know my own son?” Wanda whispers. It's just loud enough for you to hear. Confusion morphs into realization as you look on.

The reason he looked so familiar, the reason he reminded you of her. Of course, it was one of the twins. Sure you hadn't been a part of the hex, but you had seen the recordings of it. Last you had seen the twins, they were 10 inside the hex.

Your heartbeat quickens when you remember what you had seen next as the hex fell the you Wanda had created was destroyed along with the twins. She had held you tightly until you were no more.

It's a shock to see him in the flesh. To understand who he really is. He pulls away from Wanda and turns to you. “Mama?” He's cautious having been giving the memory from Wanda and realizing that you had never got to meet him. Do you even know who he is? Will you accept him as your own?

Your breath catches. It's like waves of memories flood through you as if they had always been there. Everything from the hex coming to life as tears fill your vision and spill over. “Oh my sweet little boy...look at you!” Your arms wrap around him tightly. It had been there, blurry when you thought about it. Of this being your son. “Mama is sorry you had to go through all of this.”

“Mama don't apologize. I'm happy to have you back.” He pulls away slightly keeping an arm around you and opening his other for Wanda. She joins into the hug.

“I'm happy to have both of you back.” You can feel the tears pricking your eyes.

You hug them both tightly. This still left you without one son, but you knew you'd find him. If Billy made it out somehow, then Tommy must be out there, too.

Wanda cups both of your cheeks and looks between you. “Moya lyubov i moy syn (my love and my son).” Tears in her eyes she can't believe she is back and that she had both of you. Her heart is almost complete, but there is still a missing piece to the puzzle.

You didn't need her powers to know what she was thinking, “We'll find him, milaya.” She smiles at you, giving a soft peck on your lips.

“We will. Now that I have you two I know we will.”

This was more than you could have asked for at the end of the road.

[jlheon]

𝓒𝐀𝐑 𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐒 ୨୧ 𝐒𝐉𝐘

(𝓹airing) — sjy x fmr ꣑୧ 𝓷eighbors to lovers ; fluff & hs au (𝔀ordcout) three-thousand one-hundred 𝓹eng's note. america core oops 🦅 𝓫ookshelf

𝓼ynopsis. a sequence of events from your and jake’s senior year

꣑୧ 𝓶𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬

01. new hair

it’s the first day of the new school year. you’re tired but less than what you’ve been in previous years.

this year, you can finally say goodbye to the early bus rides and even longer rides home.

your neighbor, sim jaeyun, has a car and parking and is willing to bring you to and from. you’ve never been so thankful for the blonde boy.

blonde? more like brunette boy now.

“you dyed your hair back?” you say as you walk up to the driver’s side of the car, he rolls down the window.

“yeah,” jake nodded. “what do you think?”

“it looks good…” you admire his new hair color and cut. “still a little dead though,” you reach through the window to touch his hair. his hair is still soft but there’s a hint of frailness from the rounds of bleach he’s been doing for nearly a year.

“maybe you could use that hair mask you always use on me?” he suggests.

“maybe.”

02. amusement park

this is the first and last time you will ever skip school. especially with sim jaeyun.

it’s his idea to ditch school and drive to the nearest amusement park, two hours away from your town.

“come on ____ie,” jake says as you buckle your seatbelt. “it’s SAT day for the juniors… we won’t be missing anything!”

“still! our parents are going to be called!” you argue.

“if they get mad at you, i’ll deal with them,” jake reassures you, putting a hand on your headrest while reversing out of your driveway. “the tickets are on me.”

“tickets?” you raise an eyebrow.

you and jake spend the whole day until sundown at the amusement park.

once you finally accept the fact you should be more laid back for senior year, you drag him from ride to ride. despite him being scared shitless of roller coasters he goes on them with you since he knows how badly you want to ride them.

the only condition is that he gets to hold your hand if he gets scared. which is inevitably the whole day, which he gets to use the excuse to hold your hand in queues.

he also holds your hand while walking around the park with the excuse of not wanting to lose you in the crowd.

as if there are a bunch of people on a random weekday. the only ‘crowd’ is just the families with children no older than five.

the only thing jake can confidently do is get you a giant plushie at one of the scam-like carnival game stands. which he carries around for the remainder of the day.

you hate to admit it but skipping was a good idea even though when you two return home both sets of your parents are waiting furiously on your front porch.

“it was my idea,” jake takes the blame as you peek out from behind him, holding his hand for comfort.

you both get grounded for a week and are forced to take the bus to and from school. that didn’t matter though because you both had fun that day.

03. sick day

one morning jake is surprised to see that when he pulls into your driveway that you aren’t waiting for him.

you’re so punctual and on time so it makes him worried. but he gives you the benefit of the doubt and sits in his car for ten minutes. maybe you're just running a little late.

when you don’t respond to his texts jake becomes more worried. he caves, gets out of his car, walks up your front steps, and rings the doorbell.

when you come to the door with messy hair and a pale face jake can already sense you’re sick and miserable.

“woah, are you okay?”

“sorry for not texting,” you sneeze. “i’m staying home today.”

“are your parents home?” jake asks, looking around your house behind you.

“no,” you yawn, rubbing your eyes.

“let me in.”

“but school starts in twenty, you’ll be late,” you try to push him out the door, though he’s stronger than you.

“let me take care of you,” he wraps his arms around your waist and carries you upstairs towards your room.

jake spends the day in your room giving you medicine, soup, and under the covers next to you. making sure he’s with you as you rest incase you need anything. not letting you get up at all unless you really must.

your parents come home to you and jake cuddled up on the couch.

to no one's surprise, your parents call jake’s parents and inform them about their son's whereabouts for the day.

jake does not get grounded for skipping that time.

꣑୧ 𝓪𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐥

01. after school nap

after a long day of test after test, each teacher trying to get one in before winter break, you’re exhausted.

walking up to jake’s car with dark circles and messy braids. ready to go home and crash on your bed to start your week-long break.

the frigid weather has you shivering as you approach the vehicle. your nose and cheeks flushed red from the cold.

“cold outside?” jake asks as you quickly shut the door and sink into the passenger’s seat. his car had been running for a couple of minutes now as he got let out early by his teacher.

“super,” you yawn, snuggling into your jacket.

the car is taken over by a comfortable silence. the only noises being the car engine and the wind outside. keeping his eyes on the road jake asks you a question.

“how were your tests?” he asks while turning the corner.

he gets no response, at the red light he glances over to see you sleeping soundly in the seat next to him.

when arriving at your house jake decides that you look too adorable and comfortable to wake you up just yet. he knows you’ve been studying hard the past week and barely sleeping. ten minutes is what he tells himself, he’ll wake you up in ten minutes.

ten minutes later jake has also fallen asleep.

you both nap in the heated car for god knows how long. then when a continuous taps on the window register in jake’s brain he opens his eyes to see it is already dark out. the digital clock reads three-quarters past five.

your mom is currently knocking on the driver’s side window.

“hi jaeyun,” she greets when he rolls down the window. “i think you two have been sleeping for too long.”

“yeah, i’m so sorry!” he apologizes. “i guess i fell asleep while i was waiting for her to wake up.”

“that’s alright,” your mother smiles at him. “just making sure you weren’t doing anything else in here!”

jake can’t help the heat creeping up his neck in embarrassment at the suggestion you two were doing something other than sleeping.

“how about you join us for dinner tonight!”

“i’d love to,” jake scratches the back of his neck. “i’ll bring her inside.” he looks over at your peaceful expression wondering how you didn’t wake up in the past couple of minutes.

02. passenger princess

“get out,” jake says when sunghoon climbs into the passenger’s seat of his car.

“what do you mean?” sunghoon replies, furrowing his bushy eyebrows. “you said you’re taking me home!”

“i am!” the australian boy retorts. “but you have to sit in the back.”

“why!” the younger boy whines, crossing his arms childishly.

“because the front seat is for ____,” jake explains, unlocking the door so sunghoon can exit.

“not fair,” sunghoon groans. “last time i checked she didn’t call shotgun.”

“well, she always sits next to me-” he’s cut off by the back door opening and you setting your backpack on the middle seat. “hey, don’t sit there. sunghoon was just about to move.”

“oh! okay!” you get up, looking at sunghoon innocently.

“fuck you,” the black-haired boy says under his breath. “i’m supposed to be your passenger princess.”

“hi hoon!” you sweetly greet him, he suddenly doesn’t feel too betrayed anymore.

“hey,” he says as he goes to the back seat, switching places with you.

you all buckle into the car and as jake backs out of the parking lot you reach over the console to plug your phone into the charger.

jake never lets me do that without asking! sunghoon thinks to himself.

you start fiddling with the car plane on his screen. selecting yourself as aux and playing your shared playlist with jake.

sunghoon notices that his phone is no longer an option for bluetooth on jake’s car and feels even more offended.

jake hums along to the songs you queue as you sing along while reapplying your lip tint in the pull-down mirror.

jake said he hates this song! sunghoon thinks again, cringing at how down bad his friend is for you.

when the trio arrives at sunghoon’s house he quickly gets out and bids goodbye to you only as you wave through the window as he walks up the steps to his front door.

jake soon receives a text from his best friend.

penghoon 🐧 : that was disgusting GET UPP i am your PASSENGER PRINCESS NOT HER ☹️☹️☹️💔💔💔

03. corsage

the friday before prom on the way home school school, jake can’t shake off the sad pout on your face. he feels as if there’s a small rain cloud thundering above your head that’s making your lips droop.

“what’s the matter?” jake asks gently as he sees your sad state.

“i don’t have a date to prom anymore,” your frown becomes stronger.

“what?” he asks with wide eyes. “did you just find out? prom is tomorrow night?”

“i know,” you slouch into your seat. “her boyfriend surprised her by flying in last night and now i don’t get to have a corsage like everyone else! neither do i have a ride…”

“i’ll pick you up,” jake offers. “i don’t have a date either.”

“thank you,” you say with a slight frown still on your face, though inside your relieved to know jake is going alone.

the next morning jake rushes to find a place that has a corsage just perfect for you and for him to match with.

unfortunately, he doesn’t know your dress color so he brings as many different colored ties with him when he picks you up. picking a white corsage so it can match with any color.

when you answer the door jake feels all the air being knocked from his lungs. you’re breathtaking. literally. he starts coughing and you pull him into your house and pat his back.

“where’s your tie?” you ask when he finally starts breathing normally again.

“i have multiple in my car,” he says bashfully. “i wanted to make sure we matched.”

jake quickly leaves to retrieve the ties and corsage.

when you spot the clear box with the pretty white flower that matches the one on his blazer you’re quick to nearly tackle him.

“oh my god! you got me a corsage!” you squeal hugging is neck tightly.

“anything for my prom date,” pats your head, careful to not mess up the hairstyle he knows you spent a good hour on.

04. third-wheel

“are we waiting for someone?” you ask as jake scrolls on his phone after you two have been sitting in the car for a couple of minutes now.

“yeah,” jake’s eyes drift from his phone to the back exit of the school, finally seeing the tall black-haired boy making his way towards the car. “we’re bringing riki home.”

“hey guys!!” the younger boy grins as he slides into the backseat.

“hi ki!” you smile at him in the rearview mirror. “do you want to come with me and jae to the café downtown? or are you busy?”

“i’m not busy!” riki has a shit-eating grin plastered on his face, knowing that jake had told him to not get in the way of your study date.

alas, you’re the one who invited him, so jake cannot protest.

“oh! haha great!” jake says as he grips the steering wheel hard enough that his knuckles turn white. luckily for him, that’s the least of your concerns as you stare at the way his veins have become more prominent. “the more the merrier!”

the three of you sit in a booth in the café. thankfully jake had kicked riki out of your side of the booth while you were in the bathroom. now jake was by your side doing his own homework as you both shared a slice of strawberry shortcake.

riki on the other hand sits at the opposite side of the table with his straw conveniently next to his mouth as he plays games on his phone.

“riki, don’t you have any homework?” you ask him as you look over at the gaming underclassmen.

“i did it in study hall,” he clarifies, eyes still glued to his screen like a giant ipad kid.

“i find that hard to believe,” jake whispers in your ear.

“be nice,” you nudge him, to which he shrugs.

you both go back to doing your work for a while until jake sees that you have one bite's worth of cake left. he knows you’ll argue with him and insist he eats it. so instead he silently picks it up with his fork and turns to you.

“____,” he says as he brings the utensil to your lips, waiting for you to get the whole piece before retracting his hand, “good?” he asks.

you nod your head as you finish chewing the cake. jake notices that some icing got stuck on the corner of your lips and wordlessly brings his thumb to your face to clean you.

you both stare at each other. the way your eyes sparkle when jake makes eye contact with you is mesmerizing. he dares to almost lean in until riki clears his throat.

“um, my mom says i have to be home for dinner soon.”

“oh yeah,” jake says as he awkwardly backs away. “let’s get you home.”

05. driver switch

you’ve been sitting around in jake’s car for about an hour now. you didn’t know he had practice today and he had only gotten to tell you after the buses left.

instead, he had you walk to the soccer field so he could give you his keys so you could wait in the car for him.

his teammates looked at him suspiciously when you approached.

“since when did you have a girlfriend?” heeseung, the soccer captain asks.

“that’s ____,” riki, an underclassman, interrupts, “jake’s neighbor he’s secretly in love with.”

“shut up,” jake shoves his shoulder as you were still walking close by.

“is that why you wouldn’t set me up on a date with her?” sunghoon pops up behind jake, startling him.

“maybe,” jake mumbles, taking the ball and kicking it along.

once practice is over jake walks to the parking lot with sunghoon and jay. he spots you from afar sitting in his car while reading a book.

he says goodbye to his friends who are quick to tease him and walks over to the car. knocking on the window so you let him open it.

“hi! how was practice?”

“tiring,” jake sighs, placing his bag in the back seat.

“seems like it,” you comment, “i’ll drive us home!”

“nah, it’s fine.”

“please! i never get to drive because i don’t have my own car,” you whine, “you’re clearly tired anyways.”

“it’s my car,” jake argues.

“but i have the keys!” you pout.

“just this once,” jake says while you both switch seats.

06. the date

after your almost kiss at the café, jake musters up the courage to bring you on a real date. the near kiss did everything to confirm that the pining he had been doing for you since the beginning of high school was mutual.

waiting for him to pick you up was seriously nerve-wracking. you kept telling yourself that this wasn’t new at all, which is true, and that it was just jake.

but that was exactly the problem.

you haven’t seen jake since he confessed to you and asked you out on a real date.

that was three days ago, the last day of school when he dropped you home after getting celebratory ice cream.

you’ve been in jake’s car with him more than a hundred times but today was different. you weren’t just driving to school or around town, you were going on a date with him.

at that fancy place, you both discussed going to back when you were just friends. scrolling through the menu on the website for a hypothetical meal turned into reality now.

“you look beautiful,” jake says when you walk downstairs.

of course, he went inside to talk to your parents beforehand. jake was nothing but a gentleman. he reaches for your hand and twirls you around once your feet touch the floor. he admires your dress with lovesick eyes and you think you might as well be dreaming right now.

you bid goodbye to your parents and walk hand in hand down to his car. jake reached to open the passenger door for you and made sure you were inside before closing it.

you fiddle with your necklace as jake starts the car, which he catches onto the awkward atmosphere quickly.

“are you nervous?” jake glances over at you.

“kinda- a lot actually,” you chuckle awkwardly. “it’s just kinda weird being in your car for the first time after we told each other we liked each other.”

“i get it,” jake nods his head before reaching over the console to take your shaking hand into his. “it’s just me.”

“that’s the thing,” you say. “of course i’m nervous jae, i like you, and now you know.”

“i like you too though and i’m also nervous,” he squeezes your hand. “this shouldn’t be any different from when we hang out! just don’t overthink it.”

“okay,” you feel yourself getting flustered, interlacing your fingers with his as he starts driving.

“at least we already know what we want to order!” jake laughs, recalling your late-night menu scrolling two weeks ago before either of you knew about the reciprocated feelings. “one less thing to be worried about.”

you finally let out a genuine laugh.

that night when jake walks you back to your door he does what riki interrupted you from doing. kissing you softly under the dim light provided by your porch light.

when you both finally pull away to see jake cutely pouting at the fact your night together is coming to a close.

“what’s wrong, yun?” you giggle, resting your hands on his chest.

“i don’t want to go home yet,” he says with a pout on his face. bringing you closer so your head rests on his chest as he holds you.

“maybe you can come inside?” you look up at him with hopeful eyes.

at the end of the night, you end up in your boyfriend’s arms.

[feefivefoe]

need to see Jason showing up at reader’s door. Or Damian’s attempts at befriending reader.

I legit think Damian shows up at their front door first. Jason acts a little like a creep at first, only sneaking through their window at night bc he's scared of their reaction.

I mean. He's supposed to be dead. And he had forgotten about you for like, 2 years! Will you be mad at him like you are at Bruce? Because he did do the same thing that he did...

There's also how he's changed, too. Sure he wasn't the easiest kid to deal with, ever, but now he's...he's kinda fucked up. Night terrors, reactions to sudden movements, more violent in general...of course he'd never hurt you, and he's better than he was at first, but you aren't dirtied like the rest of the family is.

You've never raised a genuine weapon. Your child self was fine being pushed around. Preferred it, even. Instead of blowing up at your brothers and father, you'd chosen to take the quiet way out. Hell, you don't even hate them! You're softer and sweeter than the rest of them, especially him, could ever be.

Maybe he gets too complacent, letting himself in night after night. Feeling overconfident in his ability to not wake you up. Forgetting that you also have trauma that gives you night terrors, causing you to wake up in a fit only to see Red Hood standing in your room.

It isn't pretty. You're convinced he's there to kill you, at first. As some sort of vengeance for the actions of your mother, given she wasn't here to take the divine punishment.

It's a bad move. He knows it is. He knows from experience that it isn't going to help, and will just make your panic attack worse.

But...damn it, that's his favorite sibling! It's ripping his heart in two to watch them crying.

So, without thinking twice, he ends up technically restraining you in his arms for the time it takes for you to stop struggling. It's less that you eventually gather your bearings, and more that you run out of energy to keep struggling.

Of course you don't recognize his form, or his voice. He had died while you were in high school, and now you were in your early twenties. Puberty had hit him like a truck. Or a crowbar, either or-

"Pleasepleaseplease- I'm sorry, I'm so sorry- I didn't- I didn't know, I'm sorry-"

His grip tightens, pulling a whimper of pain from you. His face cracks beneath the cowl.

"Nonononono- you don't need to be sorry. I fucked up, you're okay. You didn't do anything wrong." He tries, but you're still too far gone.

He doesn't even mean to reveal himself, but slips up when he calls you by a childhood nickname. Maybe your friends also use it, maybe it was exclusive to him. But even in your haze, you start piecing things together.

Known vigilante aligned with Batman...who knows Nightwing, Red Robin, and the new baby Robin that recently has become attached to you. Sure, maybe Bruce had picked up an older orphan you missed, but they wouldn't know to call you that unless...

"...Jay?"

He BREAKS at that. Losing grasp of his strength, keeping you so trapped against him you're half convinced you'll meld together.

There will be words exchanged later. Explanations, regrets, and even more anger directed at the rest of the family. But it takes a few...hours to get through all the conflicting emotions.

[gutsby]

Wingman

Pairing: Himbo!Joel x Reader

Summary: Your bestie braves the tampon aisle for you.

Warnings: 18+. Period crackfic starring Himbo!Joel—don’t take it too seriously. R has a uterus that hates her. Mentions of blood, cramps, & hangover-induced puking. Dirty talk, f!masturbation. One (1) Mean Girls reference.

Word count: 1.7k

You were fucked ten ways to Wednesday if you didn’t get your hands on some soap, a steamer, and a supersized box of maxi-pads in the span of the next eleven minutes.

Joel Miller moved like molasses on a flat slab of granite.

“WILL YOU HURRY— THE FUCK— UP?”

Your cheeks were hot. The night air was cold.

Every other word that managed to claw out of your throat was punctuated by a breath—your stomach clenched, and the sex organ below it was in hysterics.

Joel continued to lace up his loafer, clumsy as ever.

“O-kay, okay,” he hummed, “Steamer, soap, and, uh…”

“Pads!”

“Uh-huh. Right. So what kinda…blood stuff is it, again?”

The words were like an aspersion on his tongue. At the ripe old age of forty-seven, Joel still hadn’t quite learned to jibe with the menstrual product lingo, and it showed.

“Heavy flow. Any brand. With wings,” you hissed.

“Boneless or traditional?”

And if he hadn’t been standing outside the truck, foot propped up against the driver’s seat while he tied his shoe, you likely would’ve smacked him upside the head. The glare you gave him was sufficiently vicious to extinguish the smirk, though. Your hand made a fist in the front of your dress, and you groaned, leaning inward.

Joel got the picture and finished his bunny ears quick.

“Sorry.”

Then, a little more sheepish as he straightened up,

“I’m goin’. Be just a minute.”

And he was off.

Your body curled into a ball as soon as he left. It cried in pain, to nothing and no one around but that fugly slut, the nastiest skank bitch you’d ever met, your uterus.

There was no way you and Joel were making it to this rehearsal dinner. You needed to be at the venue by 7:00, the clock on the dash read 6:11, and you were, currently, twenty miles shy of Fredericksburg with a rag between your legs and your best friend scouring the local H-E-B.

That afternoon you’d been running late, so of course you’d thrown on your thin, satin, pre-wedding-ready dress before you left—and forgotten a change of clothes. Joel had been hungover from all the batshit bachelor party antics, so of course you’d had to stop three times along the way just so he could throw up on the side of the road. And, though your friend was many, many things, discreet was not one of them, so of course he’d told you, point-blank, when he saw you reaching for something in the backseat with your butt sticking up:

“You been pissin’ tomato juice or somethin’?”

And you’d looked back in abject horror.

Of course your period had come a week early and made you bleed straight through your bright yellow dress.

Maria was your best friend. You were her maid of honor. Tommy’s groomsmen happened to be the most fuckable bunch you’d ever seen—save for Joel—so there was no way you’d be caught dead at that dinner with the flag of Japan on your ass. And Maria had bought the dress just for you, so you felt like you had to get this bloodstain out.

You lifted your head to peer out the window. Even with the help of a fistful of ibuprofen, you could barely move.

6:29

“Dude, where are you?!”

It was like your phone and the FaceTime call to Joel had just materialized on their own. The man on the screen was blinking slow. Ogling something in front of him.

“So ‘L’ stands for…long?” he said after a beat.

“No, that’s light, Joel, I need a heavy one.”

“This one’s got cardboard in it, I think.”

“That’s a tampon applicator, dipshit.”

In a blink, Joel’s eyes flitted to his phone. His nostrils flared, and he met your gaze with a scowl of his own.

“Well how the hell am I supposed to know that? Only stuck two— three things in a pussy before and it sure as fuck wasn’t cotton,” he griped, and if he were any less mature he likely would’ve rolled his eyes. Drama king.

You winced as another cramp rolled through you. You shook your head and tried to regain your composure.

“Just find a heavy-flow. pad. with wings. for me. Please.”

Joel sighed and turned back to the shelf, eyes searching.

It shouldn’t have been this hard, but it was. You had no doubt Joel had never willingly touched a pussy product before in his life, so the road ahead was treacherous. Silently, you felt the urge to tell him he had no business being in pussy at all if he didn’t bother to learn what came out of one every month, but you let him cook.

His dark, greyish brows drew together in concentration. He leaned forward and reached for a box. Then stopped.

Went low to grab another, before pausing to show you.

“Very close, Joel. That’s a pantyliner.”

You felt somewhat like a mother showing a headstrong four-year-old how to copy shapes onto paper. No, darling, that’s a diva cup—and be careful with that crayon. Joel stood and he stewed and, by the look in his eyes, you’d already resigned yourself to another ten minutes of this back-and-forth rummaging at least.

Then you shifted in your seat, pushing your legs down a bit. They rubbed, of course. In spite of the pain that had seized your whole lower half, you felt a sweet, dull pulse.

You stared hard at Joel’s face on-screen to make sure he hadn’t seen it in yours, but damn that friction felt nice.

Sensitivity elevated with the influx of hormones, no doubt, you sat tight and tried to enjoy the feeling on purpose for a moment. You slowly sucked in a breath.

“Aw, hell, there’s just too many’a these damn boxes.”

You flexed your thigh muscles and let out a sigh.

“I don’t know how y’all do it,” Joel grumbled.

Keep looking, Miller. Just keep looking.

Slowly, your hips began to stir, and one small grain of pleasure gave way to a jolt—a twist in the pit of your belly that made the pain less grating. You leaned into it more.

Holding your phone, you could feel when Joel let out a frustrated groan. The sound low and almost enticing.

Wait.

Wait.

“Gross,” you said out loud, half-whispered.

You couldn’t help it. Joel was one of your closest friends; a man who loved beer die, Pall Malls, and Keith Whitley like nobody’s business and gave suffocating bear hugs whenever he was sweaty just to gross you out. You weren’t supposed to find men like that attractive.

But when the grit of his voice was just so nice…

“What?” Joel stopped to look down again.

“What?” you shot back, instantly.

A frown tugged at his lips.

“What’s ‘gross’? Me?”

Not…exactly, no.

More disgusted with yourself than anyone else, you clamped your legs together and shook your head. You tried to swallow, as if the action might suck the pleasure down with it, but the hot, throbbing sensation only grew.

You were practically grinding into the towel that had been stuffed between your thighs when you heard:

“Wings!”

An exceptionally proud Joel displayed a box of extra heavy-duty maxi-pads, with wings. He was grinning.

You weren’t sure if you thanked him next, congratulated the man, or what. You probably strung some words together and tried to return the smile as best you could, but who knew? The next thing you saw was that the line had gone dead, the truck was silent, and all that could be heard above the hum of the engine were your moans.

You braced yourself against the seat and rolled your hips even harder. Out of habit, you caught your lip between your teeth to prevent a louder sound from escaping, but then you remembered there was no one to hear you but you—for now. Your palm pressed flat on the dashboard, your knees squeezed even closer, and your vision flooded with soft, minuscule pinpricks of an all-too-familiar hue.

The only thing new to you here was Joel—the thought of him had never crossed your mind in moments like these.

But now you were closing your eyes, humping the seat with nothing between your body and the old, weathered upholstery but a scrap of fabric. And you were moaning his name. Imagining a face that was littered with coarse, grey stubble—you might’ve teased him for that once or twice before—and lips that were soft. So soft against your own that you wouldn’t think twice if he tried to slip his tongue inside and hold the sides of your face as he filled your cunt to the brim. In fact, Joel’s mouth would be a welcome distraction. Knowing how foul he was in even friendly confab, he’d undoubtedly be whispering the most vile things in your ear while he fucked you.

Reminding you, quietly, that you made such a pretty cocksleeve for him—why didn’t we try this sooner?— and how you’d be the sweetest thing if you just gave his cock another squeeze and made yourself cum all over it.

The mental image of that alone was inducement enough.

You felt a hot, euphoric band of something start to give way inside you. It tightened up, twisted—then snapped. Your mouth fell open and your thighs clenched tighter, grinding desperately in tandem with a pace you’d hoped Joel might’ve set if he were laying there underneath you. You clung to one last thought of him gripping your hips and bruising your walls with the force of his cock driving in and out, over and over again until, eventually, his cum was leaking out through each fluid thrusting movement. It was all your body could take, conjuring thoughts of his load spilling into you and onto him in warm, wet, sticky—

Whistling.

Someone was whistling outside. Walking up to the truck.

You were still coming down from the staggering heights of your climax when the driver’s side door swung open. You blinked furiously, as though to drive all the filth and depravity and need from your eyes before he could see.

It didn’t matter.

Joel was too amped up off a white plastic baggy to be concerned with much else as he plopped down beside you and smiled—beamed, really. Completely oblivious.

Your extremities were still twitching with the residuum of bliss when he reached for your hand. His eyes somehow warmer than they’d been all that day, they sparkled and shone and crinkled at the corners in a way that seemed to say the words before his mouth had uttered a sound.

“I got three boxes to be safe…”

Joel was really too sweet.

“…and some chocolate for your cramps…”

Always so considerate.

“…and you look real pretty when you cum, by the way.”

This motherfucker.

[annievrse]

skirt

satoru x reader —ᡣ𐭩 blurb c/w: reader wears a skirt, best friend gojo, everybody's in their early twenties (pretending nobody died or went astray, so suguru + haibara are here!!))

"When are the boys getting here?" Utahime asks, smoothing out one of the picnic blankets on the sand.

Shoko throws you a look, one you hate, and you check your phone. Your messages with Satoru are a mix of flirting and faux hatred shared between best friends. "5 minutes."

"Okay," Utahime mumbles, standing on the blanket. "I'll go get the extra snacks from the car."

And then she's gone, walking up the sand. The night is quiet, the only sound being the crackling of the bonfire a few feet down the beach.

"You know he's gonna freak out, right?"

You jump at the deadpan words of Shoko, and you turn toward her. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Your friend rolls her eyes and gestures to your outfit. "You know exactly what I'm saying. Gojo's gonna lose it."

With hot cheeks, you look down at your mini skirt. I mean, yeah, it's rare for you to wear such an item of clothing in the Jujutsu world, but you didn't think of it as such a big deal (you did).

Shrugging smugly, you place your drink in the cupholder of the camp chair. "Not like I planned to wear this since we made these plans."

But Shoko catches the smirk on your face and laughs. "Yeah, okay."

"Hey!" Haibara yells from the carpark. You and Shoko turn to see the boys making their way down the sand, Utamine in between Suguru and Nanami with bags of chips in her arms.

"Hide me," You giggle, grabbing Shoko by the shoulders to force her in front of you.

"You're joking," She whispers, rolling her eyes.

"Can you believe the nerve of these guys?" Utahime grumbles. "They had the great idea to get fast food instead of eating our prepared food!"

Shoko moves to lecture Suguru, who's holding a large paper cup in his hand, and soon rips into the other two. Satoru, however, pays no mind to her ranting.

As soon as his eyes land on you, he's looking at the sky and cursing under his breath. The glow of the bonfire on his face makes his hair orange, which makes you smile while you give him a twirl.

His strides are long as he stalks toward you, hands full of takeout. Your palms rest on his cheeks, and he refuses to look down, his sunglasses on the bridge of his nose and gaze on your lips pulled into a smile.

“Can I just kiss you right here?”

You throw your head back in laughter. "No!"

Satoru groans and looks down at your legs where the skirt ends. “You’re gonna fucking kill me.”

“Good. Might save Shoko from a heart attack.”

“When you two are done, we'd love to start eating,” Nanami calls, eyes narrowed at you.

"Hold on, Negative Nancy," Satoru chirped. "I'm admiring the love of my life."

Shoko scoffs and groans. "Make her your girlfriend before you start yapping."

Satoru shrugs one shoulder, hands hovering at your sides. You roll your lips between your teeth, legs shaky and heart pounding.

"Okay! I'm hungry, I'm eating," Suguru says, the rustling of paper bags following his sentence.

At the sound, the rest of the group start unpacking their dinner, choosing to ignore you.

Satoru sighs, moving his takeout bag to a spare finger on the hand holding his cup.

"Come on," He whispers, his hand low on your back. "Sit with me. I wanna get a better look at you."

[vickiee-mcmuffin]

Just a little lie

Word count: 3k

Pairing: Stephen Strange x Stark female reader

Trope: Explicit smut, Daddy kink, Age gap (18+ warning, minors dni)

Summary: You join the mystic arts after your dad, Tony Stark, suggested the idea. You hated the idea until you met your teacher, Doctor Stephen Strange.

A/N: Hope you like this fic…

You were in your early twenties and had never really been one for hobbies. Most of the time, you felt pretty content just laying on your bed, your phone in hand as you scrolled through app after app. But your dad seemed to be obsessed with pestering you about doing something. Anything. To go outside, to maybe help him and the other Avengers, or to just try anything different. Truthfully, you never really paid all that much attention to him.

And it was a day just like any other when he entered your room, sighing when he got sight of you. “You’re not gonna stay in here all day, are you?”

“Hm?” you let out, your eyes stuck on your phone.

“I think you spend far too much time in your room.”

You shrugged. “It’s a nice room.”

“Y/N…” He placed a hand on your phone before pulling it from your grasp. “I have an idea. You might not like the sound of it, but I really think it’ll be good for you.”

Frowning at him, you slowly sat up. “What is it?”

“I want you to try something different.”

“How different?”

“Does the mystic arts interest you at all?”

“The mystic arts?”

“I may know a very good teacher. It took a bit of convincing, but he told me he’s willing to teach you if you want to try it out. Don’t you think it’ll be fun? You’ll learn a lot?”

Slowly, you laid back down on your bed. “I don’t know. What kind of whack job teaches mystic arts?”

Your father let out a little chuckle. “He’s a very reliable whack job. What do you say?”

You snatched your phone out of his hands and gave him a little shrug. “I don’t know. I’ll have to think about it, I guess.”

You could hear your father sighing at that, but your eyes were quickly back on your phone, your focus on the video you had been watching before he came into the room. Mystic arts sounded more strange than fun…

******

There was a knock on your door, and you looked up from your phone with a raised eyebrow. Your father stood there with a sly look on his face.

“Yes?” you asked.

“There’s someone here who wants to meet you.”

“And who might that be?”

“Your new mystic arts teacher.”

Your eyes rolled. “I don’t feel like meeting him.”

“Please,” your father pleaded. “Just do this for me. And if you aren’t interested, I’ll leave you alone. Okay?”

You blew out a breath of air and lifted yourself off the bed. “Alright, okay. Since you asked so nicely.”

“I’ll wait for you in the meeting room.”

You moved extra slowly, already fully convinced that your father was wasting your time. But when you walked into the meeting room, you almost stopped right there in your tracks when you got sight of one of the most handsome men you had ever seen. Tall and dark-haired with grey streaks tucked behind his ears, the man tilted his head as he looked at you. You couldn’t help it when you smiled at him, noticing how he sent you a small smile right back.

“Y/N, this is Dr. Stephen Strange,” your father said, gesturing between the two of you. “Strange, as you know by now, this is my daughter, Y/N.”

“Yes, Stark, I know who she is, because you wouldn’t stop pestering me to teach her,” Stephen said, rolling his eyes before he focused all his attention back on you.

All of a sudden, the mystic arts sounded a lot more interesting.

******

It had been a whole month since Stephen Strange had become your teacher. And he was a good teacher indeed. Thorough and clear and communicative, but there was something else he was much, much better at. Something you couldn’t tell anyone about, especially your dad.

There just had been something about Stephen that you couldn’t get enough of. His voice, his touch. The way he looked at you. It all drew you into him, and before you knew it, the two of you had more than just a student-teacher relationship. It became something better and wilder and dirtier and forbidden. You fell for him hard and fast, and you had spent the past few weeks lying to your dad when you left the Avengers compound. You’d tell him you were going to hang out with your friends when really, you were darting over to the New York Sanctum to meet up with Stephen so he could take you and make you all his.

It was what you were doing at that very moment. Looking over your shoulder, you gave your dad a little wave. “I’m going to meet up with the girls now!” you called out. “I don’t wanna be late for dinner!”

“Have fun, sweetheart!” he replied.

After quickly opening up a portal right to that familiar building in New York, you stepped inside, instantly spotting Stephen.

“Hey,” he said lowly. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too,” you said with a little giggle.

He stepped over to you and quickly closed the gap between the two of you. “I need you so bad.”

Still giggling, you tilted your head at him. “You only saw me a few hours ago…”

“That’s too long.” Stephen laughed, pressing his lips to yours. He gave you a long, deep, wild kiss, his big hands on your hips. “What lie did you tell your dad today?”

“I said I was going out to dinner with friends.” You pressed your lips to his again, loving the feeling of Stephen gripping your hips tighter. He pulled you up against him and it was like he couldn’t get enough of you, like he was just as eager to have you as you were to have him. Your legs wrapped around him as he carried you, and you knew exactly where he was taking you. It was a place you had been to many times before, and that was his bedroom.

Stephen threw you to the bed before covering your body with his own. He was all big and broad as he pressed his lips to yours, his tongue darting right into your mouth as he grabbed your hands and pinned them to the bed. You could feel him getting hard from behind his pants as he ground into you, your hunger for him growing so fast. Your lips and tongues were clashing together as you pushed your hands through Stephen’s locks, tugging at them as you felt yourself getting wetter and wetter. God, you wanted him. And from the feeling of his hard cock pushing up against you, you were pretty sure he was craving you just as bad.

“Please, Stephen,” you said when you pulled away from his lips, making sure your voice was light and teasing. “Please, I want it.”

He let out a deep grunt above you. “You want it, sweetheart?”

“Mhm.”

“What do you want, huh? What do you want me to do?”

“I want you to take me,” you whispered. “I want you to take me and make me all yours. I just wanna be yours. Please. Please, Daddy.”

And you knew that nickname was gonna make him lose it. A second later, his hands were on your top, pushing it over your head before he tossed it to the side. Eager, big hands yanked your jeans down, leaving you in nothing but your panties.

“God, you’re so gorgeous,” Stephen said, tilting his head at you. “Such a gorgeous fucking girl.”

“Please…”

“I’ve got you.” His hands found your panties before he gave them a harsh tug down your legs, and then you were completely exposed for him, every part of you utterly on show. “You’re so fucking beautiful. Mm, what would your dad say if he saw me staring at you like this? He’d be so mad if he knew I was looking at his daughter all naked for me.”

“Yeah, he’d be pretty angry,” you said with a little chuckle.

He ran a thumb against your slit, moving it up towards your clit where he gave the little bud a rub.

“Very angry,” he continued. “Especially since I’m your teacher. Your much, much older teacher. Ooh, that feels good, doesn’t it?”

He was working your clit just right, rubbing and rubbing as his eyes scanned all over your body. You wanted to feel him, wanted him to fill you up already, but you let him circle his thumb against your clit, your toes curling as your hands yanked and pulled at his sheets.

“So close,” you whispered. “So close, Daddy.”

“Cum for me. Cum for me right now.”

You were pretty sure only Stephen could make you cum on demand. You writhed underneath him as your orgasm took over, pure pleasure and heat taking over your body as Stephen undressed before you. Soon, he was all bare, his hard cock on show as he pulled you right onto his lap, your pussy hovering right over his tip before he pulled you down onto him, the swollen head pushing into you with ease thanks to how soaked you were.

“Oh my God,” you let out, your eyes quickly shutting. “God, feels so good.”

“Good girl. Take it. Take my cock,” Stephen murmured below you. His hands landed on your hips, holding you in place so you could work your pussy along his length.

With shaky hands, you rested them against Stephen’s chest. Pleasure was already pumping through your body as you lifted yourself up and firmly pushed back down on his cock, letting him fill you up to the brim.

“Oh, Stephen,” you cried out, your nipples hard and your pussy soaked, and your need to cum once again rising.

“That’s it. Ride my cock,” Stephen said. “Your poor father is back at the Avengers compound, waiting for you to get back to him, huh? But here you are on my cock screaming out my name.”

You gasped as you began to bounce on his cock, that swollen tip hitting that sweet spot so deep inside of you. You threw your head back as you worked your pussy up and down, up and down. It all felt so good. So filthy and bad, but so good at the same time.

“Feels so nice, Stephen,” you let out. “Your cock feels so nice.”

“Yeah? Keep riding it. Don’t stop until you cum around my cock. Come on. Don’t stop.”

You whimpered and worked your pussy up and down his cock faster, letting out little squeals every time the swollen head of his cock hit that spot so, so deep inside of you. Your pussy was stuffed with his cock, your little hole all soaked and dripping as Stephen pushed his cock so deep inside of you.

“I’m so close,” you said with a whisper. You could feel your orgasm blossoming. The delicious feeling that you were chasing. It was right there for you to grab as you bounced more and more, your nails almost digging into Stephen’s chest as he thrusted into you deep and hard from underneath. It was too much for you as you came around his cock right then and there. “Daddy, fuck. Oh, God. Please don’t stop.”

“I’m not gonna stop. I won’t fucking stop until you cum.”

“Mm, Stephen. Please. Please, please, please.” You weren’t even sure why you were begging or what you were begging for. All you knew was that Stephen felt so good buried deep inside of you. He always took you so good. Every single time. But you were always taken aback by how well he knew your body.

“Good fucking girl.” Stephen’s teeth were clenched as he flipped you both over, his cock pulling out of you. His scarred hands found your hips as he turned you around, your stomach on the bed. He grabbed at your hips, maneuvering your body so that you were on your hands and knees. “There we fucking go,” he said. “You think I’m done? Not even close.”

With that, you felt the soaked head of his cock brush up against your entrance, and then he was slamming his cock into you a second later. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you felt him stretch you out, the sensation drawn out and oh-so-delicious. It was filthy, but you couldn’t get enough of him.

“You feel so good, Stephen,” you said as Stephen pushed into you from behind. Deep. He was so deep. So deep you could feel every inch of him, his heavy balls pressed right up against your pussy. Your fingers clawed at the sheets beneath you, desperate to cling on to something as he took you and made you all his. “Feels… Feels so nice, Daddy.”

“I know. I fucking know,” Stephen muttered. “Mm, your dad would be so mad if he saw you like this, huh? He’d be so pissed off seeing you bent over with your ass in the air like this. With you taking my fucking cock.”

“He’d be so mad,” you said with a little sigh. “He’d be so angry if he saw what you were doing to me.” 

“Yeah, he’d be real fucking pissed, wouldn’t he?”

“Mhm,” you said, your eyes half closed.

You were getting lost in the pleasure of it all. Stephen was pumping his cock into you deep and fast and hard and rough, stretching you out so perfectly and taking you in a way only he could. He was balls deep inside of you, your little hole completely stuffed to the brim with his cock as he pulled out and slammed back into you with a deep, masculine grunt.

“Stephen,” you whined. “Mm, you’re so big.”

“Yeah?” he muttered. “You like that big, hard cock, sweetheart?”

“I… I do. So much!”

“That feels so good, doesn’t it?” Stephen mumbled. “I want you to cum for me. I want you to cum right around my cock. You’re so close. I can tell you’re close.”

He was right. You could already feel yourself clenching around his cock, that pleasure growing inside of you so fast you could barely take it. He kept sliding his cock deep inside of you, fucking you so deep that you were certain you could feel him in your stomach. Eyes rolling into the back of your head, you let him fuck you. You let him take you and make you all his, his length stretching you out and the swollen tip of his cock hitting that spot again and again. The feeling was so intense and wild, your pussy dripping wet and your need to meet your peak growing by the second. Your shaky fingers grabbed the sheets below you as you desperately cried out, your pussy being fucked and stuffed and pounded from behind. It was all too much. Too good. You couldn’t hold on much longer. You could feel how close you were, how wet you were, how hungry you were to cum.

“Stephen,” you cried out. “So close. I’m so… I’m so…”

“Cum for me,” he muttered from behind you, his fingers digging into your ass. “Cum for me. Cum right around my cock. Do it. I know you wanna do it. I know you’re close. Just fucking cum for me.”

It was with one more deep, long thrust of his cock that you lost all control. It just felt too good and soon you were cumming right around his cock, your pussy gushing and soaking his length as he carried on pounding into you from behind. You screamed out his name and fell to the bed, and then a second later, you heard Stephen let out a deep grunt as he pushed into you hard and fast. He was cumming too. You could feel him emptying himself inside of you, the liquid hot and sticky as he coated your walls with his seed. It was filthy and wrong. You both knew that. Stephen was so much older than you and he was one of your dad’s friends, but God, you just couldn’t help but love being so raw and dirty for him. You were pretty sure he loved it just as much as you did.

“Mm, Stephen,” you said softly. “So good.”

He was panting from behind as he flipped you over and got you settled on your back. Your mind was all hazy as he moved into the bathroom and came back with a washcloth, cleaning you up gingerly. It was funny that he could be so rough and animalistic when fucking you but then so sweet and gentle when it was all over and done with.

“Are you okay?” he asked as he got into bed, sliding up next to you.

You nodded. “I’m okay. Tired, but okay. Who wouldn’t be tired after all of that?”

He pulled you close to him, your head on his broad chest and his arm wrapped around you. You laid there in pure silence, with you listening to the sound of Stephen’s heartbeat in your ear. It was a comforting sound.

“You know, your dad would kill me if he saw you in bed with me like this,” he murmured. “He’d strangle me himself, or set his entire team onto me.”

Looking up at him, you gave him a playful roll of your eyes. “You say that all the time.”

“Well, he’d be pretty mad, don’t you think?”

Craning your neck, you gave him a little kiss. “Well, we better hope that we never get caught. That won’t end too well.”

“No, it won’t.” He laughed before his eyes landed on the clock. “How long do we have until you need to get back home?”

You followed his gaze to the clock. “Um, about an hour.”

“So, that means we have enough time for round two then, huh?”

Giggling, you looked back into his eyes. “At least let me get a little bit of rest first.”

He hummed and held you closer, and you couldn’t help but nuzzle your nose into his neck as you got lost in the feeling of him. He was right about your dad being pissed. There was no way he’d approve of you being with Stephen, but at that moment, you told yourself to forget about the consequences and focus on the wonderful feeling of being there in Stephen’s arms. You were pretty sure there was nothing better than being tangled up with him.

[talesof-old]

breaking | j.p.

pairing(s): james potter x gn!reader

warning(s): angst, breakups, leaving long term relationships, implied unfaithfulness (james doesn’t actually cheat), other woman lily evans, reader deserves better, idk this isn’t proofread or edited, they could never make me hate you lily

word count: 1.2k

a/n: sorry this took me so long, i’ve been teaching myself to crochet and i’m also trying to leave my current job

masterlist

james potter + relationship breakup + no happy ending

It used to be easy, saying James Potter was the best boyfriend you’d ever had.

He’d gone out of his way to shower you in affection and prove himself a capable partner. He’d remembered every important date, what your favorite things were, and why you hated the things you hated. James had been perfect.

You leaned back in your chair. Pieces of parchment littered the desktop, ink staining the expensive wood. You’d given up on caring. A glance at the clock on the wall gave you the time.

22:15.

You huffed. Date night, James had said, like that would fix whatever this was.

This, really, was a wedge driven in unknowingly by one Miss Lily Evans. You couldn’t blame her, really. If you’d asked, she would back away from her friendship with James and be perfectly content. That’s what made it so hard to hate her. She liked you, and would do anything to maintain your friendship.

Instead, like a fool, you’d believed James when he said he’d be home early to have dinner with you. After an hour had passed you’d changed out of your nice clothes and into a pair of pajamas, choosing to work to pass the time. About twenty minutes later, you heard the front door open.

In shuffled a weary James, glasses askew and hair messy. Your heart clenched. Here stood the boy (now man) you’d given your heart to years ago. Here he was, breaking it.

“Hey.” Your voice filled the dimly light room, echoing in the bare corners like some evil spirit.

He looked up at you, eyes blinking owlishly as he tugged off his shoes. It took just a second for the image of you to register. His lips twisted into a guilty grimace, though you weren’t sure he was genuinely regretful.

As he approached, you were hit with a wave of floral and ink perfume. You sighed. Lily’s perfume, which she’d found sometime during your time at Hogwarts and stuck to, was far from unfamiliar. It suited her beautifully, though currently it clung to your skin like aa unwanted disease.

“I’m sorry, we got caught up at the pub.” You nodded. The boys night Sirius had proposed. To forget everything going on for one night. Perhaps you should’ve told James just to stay at your friends’ flat tonight instead.

“We had plans.” Your voice wavered, the telltale sign of tears burning your throat. James nodded solemnly. He made to reach for you, but seemed to second guess himself as you shied away.

“I’m sorry, honey, but Pads wanted to stay-“

“Okay.” The finality in your tone had him pausing, brow furrowed. You moved then, gathering up your papers as tears pricked at your eyes. The rational part of you knew that you needed to speak up about your feelings in order to make a change, but you also didn’t feel like you should have to. James made plans with you, his partner; surely that was just as important?

“I’m going to bed.”

Defeat swirled in your gut. Tomorrow, you’d call Mary. If she couldn’t give you advice, she’d at least help you pack up your things.

“Honey, please.” Something desperate filled his tone. You clicked your tongue to distract yourself from the heaviness in your chest. James stepped forward.

“I just lost track of time, promise. I’ll make it up to you.” You shook your head. This was the make up. This was the second chance. Not a single bone in your body wanted to give him a third. It wasn’t fair to expect you to continue to shatter your heart just for him. You cared more about yourself than that to let it continue.

“You already made a promise like that James, don’t lie to me.” Irritation flashed across his face.

“I’m not lying.” You huffed, clutching your papers in your hands. You’d leave the ink. He’d probably need it more than you.

“Merlin, You told me that the last time, James. What else am I supposed to believe?” He ran a hand through his messy curls. “I don’t understand.”

An incredulous expression took up residence on your face. You blinked furiously as you looked at him.

“What don’t you understand? You come home to me after missing an apology dinner, smelling like another woman. Lily Evans no less.” Venom laced itself through the words as you spoke them. His jaw clenched and he crossed his arms. Muscles tensed as he took in the anger in your eyes. You didn’t often get angry, not like this.

“Lily is my friend, I won’t let you make me feel like shit for spending time with her.” You threw your hands up in the air. The clock down the hallway ticked away, eating at you as you turned away from him.

“I never asked that of you, don’t you dare put words in my mouth.” Tears finally spilled over your cheeks. He scoffed.

“At least look at me.”

You whirled around, eyes glassy and lip trembling. Frustration rose. Here you were, crying over the loss of a relationship that hadn’t even ended yet. You swiped at the tear tracks.

“Why? I can’t do this anymore James. I love you, really, but it isn’t fair for me to have to keep asking you to occasionally put me first.” James wore an expressionless look as you spoke. Your heartbeat thundered in your ears, an unsteadying drum to your own heartache.

“I do. I don’t understand where this is coming from.” A forlorn feeling took root in your stomach. He didn’t understand. Maybe you were fooling yourself, thinking you could work through this one. After everything, it was too much to bear.

“Alright.” He furrowed his dark brows.

“I’ll ask Mary if she can swing by tomorrow and help me pack up my things.” He startled, reaching for you once more. A sob caught in your throat as he gripped your shoulders. The soft florals of Lily’s perfume engulfed you.

“What? No, what are you talking about?”

Something undecipherable had leaked into James’ words, panicked and shaky as he searched your face. All he found was resignation. You were giving up. James shook his head, licking his lips and leaning down to stare directly into your teary eyes.

“You’re leaving me?”

You let out a breathy laugh, humorless and cold as it curled around your ears.

“You spend more time with Lily than me these days. I won’t fight for someone who isn’t doing the same.” You watched as his face fell. His lips parted as though to speak, but no words fell from his lips. You knew he couldn’t defend himself from the truth; at the very least, he couldn’t defend himself from this truth.

You spoke again. “I love you.”

You pried yourself from his tense grasp and made your way back to the bedroom, locking yourself in the bathroom for privacy. After tomorrow, you’d no longer be in a relationship. James would no longer be your boyfriend, and peace would have to be made. You shared too many friends for the opposite to be an option. You sighed, pressing the palms of your hands into your eyes to keep the tears at bay.

When did it all go wrong?

[joelmillergirl]

Forbidden From You

Part 2: Illicit Arrangement

Word count: 3,193

Warnings: spanking (only a few times nothing extreme), p in v x2 (unprotected, please be safe!), rough sex, dirty talk, Joel is dominant, there's some degradation, possession (be safe), exhibitionism, they get caught, oral (f receiving).

Author's Note: Dudes, the forbidden love trope is the hottest thing I will ever read.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

You never thought you'd get another chance at love. Not twenty years deep into the apocalypse, and especially not with Joel Miller. You had been there when Jackson had first started building itself up, standing alongside Tommy Miller, whom you had fought with as a Firefly for a few years. You were attached at the hip, only feeling truly safe when he was by your side. It was never anything more than platonic love, with Tommy acting more like your older brother than anything else.

When Joel Miller had arrived in Jackson one early morning, you knew you were destined to fall for him. With Tommy now off dating Maria, finally getting the life he had always talked about, you had been wandering around alone. You found yourself seeing Joel around more often, seemingly all alone. He was never with anyone else, always talking with someone for a brief moment before politely leaving the conversation. Lonely like you.

"I think you should get out more." Tommy casually mentioned once, dragging his arm over his girlfriend's shoulders. "Plenty of guys that'd be lucky to have ya."

"Where did that come from?" You question him, raising an eyebrow at him. You had tried dating before; only one guy ever came close to a second date. "No one is very interesting here."

Maria shrugged nonchalantly and said, "Joel's interesting. I know you're into the mysterious guys."

Tommy sat up, removing his arm. "No, no way. Anyone but Joel." He laughed, oblivious to the pink hue that spread from your nose to your cheeks. "What about Mikey?"

Mikey was the exact opposite of Joel; you cringed. "Think I'm happy being single." You spoke instead.

A few days later, you were sitting in Tommy and Maria's kitchen, drinking their scarce amount of coffee, when their front door opened, none other than Joel walked in, not yet noticing you. You awkwardly look down at the table, bringing your mug to your lips. When he did notice you, however, he paused.

Over the past few days, your run-ins with Joel had increased. It seemed as if you were running into him around every corner, always making eye contact with him. You never spoke to each other, never smiled. You only stared at each other for a few seconds before continuing on.

Tommy smiled next to you, gesturing for Joel to sit down. "Have you two met? Obviously, this is my brother, Joel." He mentioned, looking at you.

You stop drinking and put the mug down, looking up at Joel, who had slowly sat down in front of you. You offer him your name, "I work at the little daycare here."

Joel slowly nods, "Nice to meet you." His short response didn't shock you. After all, you had never seen him willingly interact with anyone but his brother.

Maria sent you a glance, looking at Joel for a second before looking back at you. Tommy, oblivious as usual, carried on talking to his brother, who seemed to look very uninterested. Throughout the half an hour you had been over there, you and Joel had looked at each other a hundred times. Only fleeting glances, the type where you looked straight away when you caught his eye.

When you were finally ready to leave, Tommy stopped you at the door and said, "Why don't you let Joel walk you home? You're on the same street, I think."

How hadn't you noticed? You hesitantly looked at Joel, who stared right back at you. You nod, "Okay. See you, Tommy." And you were off. The walk back was quiet, not uncomfortable, it seemed as if you shared the same harmony as Joel, not needing to say anything.

You hated how you were feeling as you walked alongside him. How you were feeling so worked up over nothing; a few glances between the two of you had you practically dripping through your underwear. "This is me." You break the silence, halting to a stop. You watch each other for a second before you speak again. "I have more coffee if you want to come inside."

Joel hesitated, looking away from you and up to your front door. "Yeah... Okay." He followed behind you as you made your way up your porch and you started feeling a little self conscious about the state of your house.

He was onto you the second you closed your door; the strength behind his kiss pushed you back onto the door, and he lifted his knee, pushing it between your legs. He nodded as your head flew back, your hips subconsciously grinding down against him. With your neck now exposed, Joel moved his head down, leaving a trail of messy kisses from your chin down to the middle of your neck, making sure not to leave any noticeable marks.

"Shouldn't be here." He muttered into your skin, "Not allowed." Contradicting his words, he stayed still with his knee still pressed against your clit, his mouth continuing its assault on your neck.

"Don't tell, then." You breathe out, using your nails to gently scrape across his scalp, tugging at some of his hair. He groaned out, his hands tightening on your waist, before moving up to grope your breasts.

A few minutes later, he had you bent over the kitchen table, your pants and underwear left at the bottom of your feet. Joel's belt scraped against your thighs with every hard thrust he delivered. The sounds of your skin colliding echoed through the room, alongside your loud moans. Your breasts moved against the cool counter every time his hips moved, the sensation of the temperature on your nipples becoming almost unbearably arousing.

"Fuckin' tight." He groaned, delivering a harsh slap on your ass before smoothing the skin out with his large, warm hand. The sweetness in his touches couldn't compare to the intensity of his fucking. It was hard, quick, and messy. Arousal spilled out of you and down the length of him, some managing to drip onto the floor. "You liked that, did you?" Joel asked, smacking your ass once more, analysing your reaction.

You moaned out louder, your head falling between your shoulders. You could just incoherently hear yourself repeating 'yes', over and over again. "I'm going to cum." He didn't say anything in response, instead, he pulled you up by your shoulders, using this added leverage to fuck into you harder. He pulled you back onto his cock with every thrust, his mouth right by your ear.

"Want you to come around my cock, make me feel it." Joel muttered, one of his arms moving to the front of your bare chest, holding you in place as his other arm moved down your body, his fingers brushing against your clit. "Makes it feel better, you being off-limits. Fuck, made me want ya even more." Joel rambled, using his fingers to slowly circle your clit, a jolt of electricity burned through your abdomen, and you were coming.

"Yes, yes." You whispered, your hands pathetically moving to the sides of the broad man behind you, gripping onto the sides of his shirt in an attempt to ground yourself. Your cunt tightened around his cock as you came, helping him reach his own orgasm. Suddenly, you feel empty, his body moving away from yours as spurts of his cum shot out onto the crack of your ass.

"Stay there." Joel muttered, pulling up his jeans. After securing his belt, he moved over to grab your kitchen rag, wetting it slightly before using it to clean up the mess.

When you turned around and put on the majority of your clothes, he was already heading to the door. You hesitated before speaking. "Please don't tell Tommy about this. Dunno why you would... but. He'd probably kill us both."

Joel slowly nodded, looking at you for a second before opening your door, "Just a quick fuck, won't tell anyone." He clarified, sending one last glance your way before heading outside, gently closing the door behind you.

You had assumed that would be the only time with him and that after a taste, your craving would be fulfilled. You couldn't be more wrong. Every time you saw him out after that night, your need refuelled for him. It didn't help seeing him be so polite and handy around Jackson.

Your guilt, on the other hand, was eating you alive. You could barely look Tommy in the eye anymore, knowing that you had gone and fucked the one person he hadn't approved of. It's not as if Tommy had any control over your decisions, it was the trust and strong bond you had with him that made him protective of you, and you respected that. You were protective of him as well.

Joel lasted a week before he was back at your doorstep, a pure look of desperation plastered on his face. "This can't happen again." He muttered, stepping away from you after fucking you on your couch. You had instantly agreed, thinking back to the suspicious glances Tommy had started to send your way when you were deep in thought about the way his brother would hold you and treat you.

A few days later, you were sitting in the Diner, face-to-face with a man whom Tommy had set you up with. He wasn't ugly; he let you talk about whatever you wanted, listened to you, and asked questions when it was appropriate; but he wasn't Joel. This man was kind- almost too kind- you knew that there wouldn't be any passion in a potential relationship.

Mike, or Mikey, was talking about his patrols when your gaze wondered off behind his head. Joel was standing by the entrance, his eyes already watching you when you looked over. It was very obvious what you were doing with Mikah, you were at a secluded table in the corner on a date. With a nod so subtle you questioned whether or not you had actually seen it, Joel was walking back outside, disappearing to the side of the building.

“I’m so sorry.” You interrupt Miles, standing up. “God, I’ve just forgotten. I need to finish something! This has been great… you’re great. But I need to go.” With a small smile, you left your date at the table, rushing off outside in the general direction you had seen Joel wander off in. As you were looking around for him, a hand shot out and grabbed you, taking you down the small alleyway next to the Diner.

Joel looked down at you, his left hand pressed against the wall by your head, “Why were you with Mikey?”

“Ah, that’s his name.” You mumble back, thinking back to the time Tommy had suggested you’d go out with him. “Your brother set us up.” You shrugged, daringly looking right back into his eyes. "He's kind of cute."

Joel chuckled dryly, tilting his head slightly, "Oh, yeah? Were you gonna take him home? Let him fuck you across the counter? On the couch? Wouldn't feel the same would it?" He questioned, bringing his right hand up to tilt your chin further up. "He wouldn't feel as good as I do, wouldn't he?"

You could do nothing else but shake your head, agreeing with his words. "You gonna let me eat your pretty pussy here? Let me have a taste?" Joel asked, leaning his head down to kiss your cheek gently, nuzzling your skin with his nose. Your head was nodding before you could realise it, and then he was already lowering himself to his knees.

The skirt you were wearing was lifted up over your thighs; you held it up for him, leaning your pelvis forward as your shoulders and head rested against the bricks behind you. Your panties were tugged from you and shoved to the bottom of your foot as Joel lifted one of your legs over his shoulder. His breath fanned your exposed pussy, tingles of nervousness and arousal shot through you.

"Gonna be quiet for me? Don't wanna get caught." Joel looked at you, watching as you slowly nodded your head. Once satisfied, he leant his head forward and made first contact with your clit. His tongue flicked out of his mouth, teasing your body as your eyes flickered shut, fighting off the need to shove his tongue right into you.

After a few teasingly slow licks, his whole mouth closed around your throbbing pussy, not giving you a moment to get used to the new sensation as he started taking. He ate you out like a starved man, slurping up all the juices that escaped the proximity of his mouth. You struggled to keep quiet, having to use your hand to silence your breathy moans.

You knew you weren't going to last long; with Joel moving his mouth against you like a professional and the risk of being caught, it had you on the edge of your orgasm pretty fast. Your leg shook against his head, your pelvis subconsciously lifting up to further take in Joel's movements. Knowing how close you were to coming, his tongue only sped up its pace, now inserting into your pussy as his nose tickled your clit. In just a few seconds, you came, tugging on Joel's hair and pushing him away from your oversensitive body.

Seeing Joel act jealous and possessive made you feel warmer; obviously, those feelings had to be coming from want or care. These questions and thoughts had you daydreaming all day, wondering whether or not Joel actually cared for you or if he just wanted to be the only man having sex with you. In usual Joel fashion, he had stayed clear of you the next few days after he'd eaten you out in public, his head always down.

Tommy sat on your couch, drinking from the glass of water you had given him. "So... I heard about your date. Mikey said you ran off during it? What happened?"

You exhale deeply, bringing your hand to your face. "I don't know, Tommy... Mikey is kind, but I just wasn't interested. I dunno what to say."

Tommy watched you for a moment; an awkward silence lingered through the air. "Is there someone else?"

"What?" You scoff, laughing gently. "No."

"That was the most suspicious answer you could've given me." He argued, sitting up straight. His foot gently colliding with the tool box he had brought over after his working day. "If there is someone, that's fine! I'll tell Mikey some lie, get him with someone else in Jackson."

You smile slightly, "Uh, yeah. That would be great... If you could tell him that," A small pause. "You should probably get home to your girl, Miller. Tell her I say hi."

Tommy nodded, taking his empty glass to your kitchen sink before heading out, sending you a final goodbye before he was off. You had just closed the door when someone started knocking at it. Quick, heavy knocks. You knew it was Joel before you opened it, and you started mentally preparing yourself to lecture him about ghosting you after fucking you.

You didn't get that far, however, for as soon as you opened the door, your lips were being devoured by his. "Been waiting fucking ages for him to leave." Joel muttered against your lips, backing you into your house and closing the front door with his foot.

"Why do you fuck me and then ignore me?" You asked him, ripping his belt out of his jeans before shoving them down. You jumped up onto the kitchen counter, wrapping your legs around him as he took off your dress, tugging your panties off your body after.

Joel practically growled out a response as he hungrily kissed your breasts, palming them with his large hands, "I keep trynna stay away. Tommy warned me not to touch you. Can't help myself."

"Please fuck me." You moan out, your head falling back as he pulled himself out of his boxers, already hard and dripping with pre-cum. His body fit between yours like a puzzle piece, his cock bobbing up to his stomach as he lifted a finger to your slick pussy.

"You wet enough for me?" Joel asked, smiling softly to himself at your breathless 'yes'. With your consent, he fisted his cock, jerking it off a few times before bringing it to your dripping entrance, easily slipping in. The feeling of him entering was a feeling you were sure you'd never get used to, his thick length stretching you out and reaching places that had never been touched before.

He started off slow, more so grinding into you than thrusting. He held eye contact with you, one hand on your waist and his other hand holding one of your legs to his hip. You moaned softly, lips parted as he moved down, his abdomen brushing against yours. With time, his thrusts got harder, his pace moving from loving to unforgiving. His balls hit your ass every time he fucked into you, his eyebrows furrowed with concentration.

Over the passionate sounds, you could just barely hear a knock on the front door, Tommy's voice soon calling out. Your eyes widened as you sat up further, your forehead gently colliding with Joel's. He shook his head at you, "Just ignore it. Focus on this."

Easier said than done.

Tommy's voice called out through the door once more, "I left my toolbox inside! Can I come in and get it?"

You panickily shouted back, "No! Uh, not right now!" You groaned in frustration, clinging onto Joel's biceps, his pace not once slowing down. "Fuck, Joel slow down." You whimpered, your legs tightening around his hips.

"Are you with someone right now? Is this the guy?' Tommy shouted back, knocking on the door again. Joel shook his head, mumbling something to himself before reaching down and fingering your clit, making you almost shout out.

You shoved your hand to your mouth for a few seconds, breathing in deeply before answering, "Please, Tommy- fuck- Come back later!" You could hear Tommy laughing on the other side of the door, clearly oblivious to what was actually happening.

When the door handle attempted to turn, Joel snapped, leaning back straight. "Go away, Tommy!" The silence outside was deafening, the realisation hitting the younger Miller like a ton of bricks.

"It's Joel? You're fucking my brother? Oh god!" Tommy yelled, his footsteps moving away from the door and down the steps of the porch. Your orgasm hit you out of no where, a loud moan slipping from your lips as your body fell limp, succumbing to the pleasure.

Joel's hips came to an uneven and unsteady pace, his cock pulsing inside of you as he stumbled to his release. Your legs weakened their grip around his body, expecting him to pull out, but you were shocked when he instead pulled your legs back into place, holding them tightly against him as he came inside you. His cum leaked out of you as he pulled away, a truly suggestive sight.

"Whoops." Joel muttered, gesturing to the front door where his younger brother had finally come to the realisation.