#legal tiny house

[tinyhouseexpedition]

Single Mom builds $30k Tiny House on Foundation ($60k w/land) + Yurt

Meet Lupe, a single mom who lives in a beautifully imperfect & permitted tiny house on foundation with her 9-year-old son Apollo. She built it mostly by herself over 4 years with help from loved ones. Originally, Lupe wanted to live in a yurt, but due to city rules, she pivoted to a building code-compliant tiny home. It cost $30k due to her resourcefulness and was built on family land on a rent-to-own basis (another $30k)--soon to be paid off! 

Her beloved tiny yurt is next door. It's used as a flex room for hanging out, working out, making art & a guest room. When Apollo becomes a teenager, he has the option to use it as a bedroom. Becoming a first-time homeowner means a lot to Lupe after experiencing poverty as a kid. She's made her 1st-gen American immigrant mother very proud!

[lostinthewalls]

sigh. it's been three DAYS

As I work on my next oneshot I bring you this concept as an appetizer.

Giants...they're known for eating people, usually. Usually rumors, sometimes true but...I bring you this as a rebuttal.

Giants...instead of eating people.....they eat things. Like...say there's some destruction nearby or something? Call one of them up and they'll just munch on the metal scraps like aluminum foil while all the Little Guys™ work on rebuilding.

Think about it...they would be AMAZING in modern construction sites. Enough with man-eating beasts, give me concrete munching MACHINES. YES Mr. Giant™ is big and scary with big fangs but...he helps with remodeling buildings and he gets free snacks out of it

(OH MY GOD this is so stupid...../pos)

[slav-every-day]

[thepandalion]

so I finally have. 2 pages planned. for court of the weather. which has been now renamed (for english specifically) as the council of the weathers. because thats what their intro page calls them

anyways. I need more weathers. like the only actual scenario I wrote is the me-based one about a little humanoid who grows strawberries and wants "gentle rains" to help them grow. however I don't share her pronouns and shes also a witch (for art reasons. she's gonna have a straw witch hat with a strawberry pin in it)

I've been thinking of a beekeeper who wants the loud winds to stop and then they learn hes actually weirdly lucky and the winds are a hurricane that his house and beehives are just in the center of where things are usually just very scary and somehow the thing hasn't. moved. so the house and bees are fine but "this loud wind is scaring my bees!" or whatever

also thinking of an archeologist who keeps dropping things and cant find them in the sandstorm bc has to keep their eyes closed

the stories are all gonna be lighthearted though. like by definition. also gonna have reoccurring characters. like strawberry witchling who is gonna start dating summer drizzle after their first meeting in that passage I wrote. like theres gonna be stories of her bringing in strawberry muffins made with the muffins shes growing, or her sitting in drizzles lap in the background of a random page all cutesy. or her making up random issues just to come to see her girlfriend

[aurorawritestoescape]

A STEP INTO HELL

Stepdad!Joel Miller x f!reader || Word count: 3k

Summary: after you move into his house, Joel finds himself possessed by the idea of having you. Trying to quench his lustful thirst he decides to get his hands on your nudes. To his surprise he finds something even better.

Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, step-cest, Joel’s pov, dub con but reader’s into it, legal age gap, dark!Joel, perv!Joel, obsessed!joel, darkish!reader, unprotected piv/dvp (wrap it up), sex toy usage, blackmail, sex audio recording, creampie, degradation, slutshaming, praise kink, daddy kink, mention of f/m masturbation/f!oral/anal/food play, slapping (1), cum eating, swearing.

A/n: huge thank you to @megangovier for this ask and the idea!💖 I had a blast working on this story. Hope you’ll like it, lovely!🌸 Kisses to @milla-frenchy for beta-ing😘 Dividers by @/enchanthings and @/saradika-graphics 💕

MASTERLIST || SERIES MASTERLIST || more step family naughtiness

Joel wasn’t a good man. He wasn’t moral, ethical or rational. The only thing Joel seemed to be recently was horny. Horny for his stepdaughter.

It wasn’t a gradual obsession. Not at all. It took over him suddenly and overwhelmingly. You had lived with your dad after your parents’ divorce, but then moved into Joel’s house to stay closer to your college. He had barely seen you before and then you were in his house all the fucking time.

Was his attraction out of the blue? Not really. You were a hot young woman. Every man’s dream. But the maddening desire took Joel by surprise. Like a tsunami it put his life upside down, taking away any sense he might have had before. The lust for you was like a poison, coursing through his veins, pumping blood to his big cock more often than it was expected for a man of his age.

In hopes of getting rid of the toxic passion, Joel jerked off regularly like a horny teenager. He watched tons of porn, choosing the ones with women that looked like you. To his distress, it seemed to entice him even more. Like a dog he couldn’t stop salivating every time he saw you.

Joel would often get lost in his thoughts at the breakfast table, sitting right in front of you and thinking about the shape of your pussy. ‘Did you have a little clit hidden behind your lips or could he see it right away if he took your shorts and panties off at that moment? Did you shave your cunt or could he tug you lightly by your soft pubes?’ He’d be happy with anything, a pussy was a pussy, especially if it belonged to a sweet thing like you. He couldn’t help but daydream of eating you out on the table right next to the pancakes your mother had made, your sweet pussy served with maple syrup on top, or melted butter all over your folds. He’d slurp it happily with your slick and cum and chase it with his black coffee. Breakfast of champions!

Joel ground his teeth. He had to keep himself from acting on his desires. Not because of your mom, fuck that nagging bitch! His dick barely reacted to her anymore. Divorce was what really terrified Joel. He’d hate to deal with all of that— too much paperwork, too much hustle. That was the last thing Joel needed.

The first thing was you. After a month of pumping his cock after every encounter with his stepdaughter, Joel got really frustrated and decided to act. He worked out a plan. Surely you had some juicy selfies on your laptop, he thought, so one day he knocked on your bedroom door with a secret motive to get his big paws on them.

You sweet voice let him in.

Joel stepped into your bedroom, his brows furrowed, the shoulders square, trying to intimidate you with his steel gaze and dominant tone so you’d agree faster.

“I need your laptop. Mine broke.”

You were lying on your bed with your phone in your hands, wearing your tiny shorts and a crop top and his dirty mind immediately drew him a picture of your naked body splayed and offered to him, head hanging off the side of the bed with his cock plunging in and out of your mouth. He could bet he’d be able to feel his shlong inside your tight throat. He’d probably come so fast like that and discharge his cum right into your belly. Bon appetite, baby!

“Hmm,” you hummed, blinking at him. You seemed hesitant and it made Joel even more excited—you definitely had something to hide. His jeans got strained with the might of his growing dick.

“C’mon. I’ll just pay the bills and give it back to ya.”

“Oh. I don’t know. Ehm—ok.”

As soon as you agreed Joel snatched the laptop off your desk and went to the master bedroom. His wife was working late that night so it was a perfect opportunity to find your nudes and jerk off to his heart's content.

Joel plunged on the bed and began his horny search. Let’s help Joel find his stepdaughter’s nudes!

Are they in this folder? — No!

That one? — Look better!

Here? — Fuck, no!

He was growing hopeless. No way a girl with an ass like yours wouldn’t want to have it in a photo. Your perfect tits were asking to be jerked off to. So where the hell were the goods?

He was searching everywhere until he stumbled upon a folder with a few tracks. He didn’t care about them at first but his thick finger accidentally double clicked one of them and to his surprise he heard his voice.

“No, wait— fuck—spread wider—yes—yeahhh.“

He increased the volume and his jaw dropped. Yes, he was sure now. It was his voice.

‘When was it recorded?’ Joel asked himself, listening to his groans. Suddenly it dawned on him. It was a couple of weeks ago when he was fucking his wife. His grunts and growls were the only audible noises, which was not surprising -your mother was always silent like a corpse when he was fucking her.

Yet Joel’s voice could be heard clearly. He listened to a few tracks and all of them were recordings of his voice— him talking to his clients on the phone, him discussing the last game with Tommy.

‘What a dirty slut!’ flashed in Joel’s mind. He wasn’t thinking anymore. With his cock already hard, Joel knew what to do and acted immediately.

He rushed back into your bedroom.

“Done?” you asked when he barged in. With your arm stretched, you were waiting for him to return your laptop, but he was still holding it.

“Fuckin’ slut.” Joel’s smirk was dark and triumphant.

Your face fell and you looked like you’d seen a ghost.

“Yeah, exactly! I found your little spy audios, baby! Why were you recording me and your mom having sex, little perv, huh?”

You pulled your knees to your chest, squeezing into yourself, and mumbled,

“I’m not— I—no—please—I wasn’t recording her.”

“Oh? But you recorded me! Wanted to hear your stepdad’s groans, dirty slut?”

You were quiet, with your gaze downcast, looking scared to death. That was exactly what Joel needed.

“Imma tell your mom.”

“No! No, please, Joel, no! I’m begging!”

“Unless—“, he mused.

“Yes! Anything! Please!”

Here we go. He had you where he wanted. Finally.

“Unless you become my fuck toy.”

You looked gobsmacked.

“What?”

“Don’t act shocked, babydoll. Bet you want it more than anythin’. What were you doin’ with those tracks, sweetie? Listenin’ and thinkin’ of our lord and savior? Fuck no! Were probably fuckin’ yourself silly, moanin’ my name. Your stepdad's name, little slut!”

He shook his head and tutted at you while you were shaking like a leaf.

”I’m givin’ you a way out, baby. But only if! If I can have my way in. In all your holes.”

“All?” Your voice was so small and trembling, it made his cock twitch.

“All, babydoll! I wanna fuck your mouth - yes, please, Joel! Wanna fuck your ass? you’ll let me! Pussy right after? Of course, sir! That’s what antibiotics are for.”

You sniffed loudly and burst into tears.

“Please Joel— I can’t—we shouldn’t!”

Joel smirked and walked to the bed, stopping right in front of you. He cupped your wet cheek and cooed, “I know we shouldn’t, babydoll. That’s why it’s so damn hot.”

You sniffed and leaned into his touch, your big teary eyes looking up at him.

Joel couldn’t believe his luck. The little slut was melting. He was going to have so much fun!

“Get undressed, sweetie. Let’s get right to it.”

Joel didn’t believe in God. But right at that moment he swore that someone above had blessed him. Or someone below for that matter. You were taking off your shorts, top and then panties, wiping tears off your pretty face with the back of your hand. He immediately snatched your underwear and shoved it in his jean pocket.

“On your back. Spread your legs. Let me see what daddy’s gonna play with.”

You widened your eyes at what he called himself but did what he told you. You lay down and slightly parted your bent legs.

“Don’t shake. I won’t hurt ya,” Joel growled, rolling your chair to the bed and making it squeak under his weight when he got comfortable ready to enjoy the view.

Your pussy was hotter than anything he’d seen or imagined and his cock was thumping hard in the confines of his jeans. Joel unzipped them and pulled his boxers down. Your glossy eyes immediately snapped to his bobbing stiff manhood.

“Yeah, sweetie, take a good look. Ya gonna learn every rim and vein of this dick pretty soon. Its taste too,” Joel added and shook it in his hand. He wasn’t leaking yet but when he pushed your legs wider apart and your folds opened up to his view, his slit began crying happy tears.

“Fuck, babydoll. She’s even better than I imagined. And believe me, I thought about your snatch a lot.”

Your breath hitched when Joel leaned closer and his thick fingers spread your lips.

“Look at this hole. Tight. We need to get ya ready first. This bad boy—“ he jiggled his cock again- “can damage you and we don’t want that, yeah?”

You shook your head and Joel’s hand glided over your mound, his digits slipped between your folds in a perverted examination.

“Ya have a dick?”

You were blinking up at him, confusion swimming in your blown out eyes.

“Rubber cock? Dildo? Jesus, ya slow.”

“Ohh… yeah,” you nodded and averted your eyes in shame.

“Aww, don’t act shy and shit. I think we’re past that, little slut.”

He got up with a smirk on his lips and, after following your line of vision, opened your nightstand drawer.

“Where is it? Ah!”

It wasn’t long until Joel found your toy - a pink dildo.

“Damn, sweetie, I see you’re not adventurous at all! Look!”

With a chuckle Joel lined the dildo up with his own cock which was longer and girthier than the toy and shot his brows up at you.

You closed your eyes, probably not believing what was happening in your bedroom, but then snapped them open when you felt a cold tip of the toy prod your tight hole.

”Joel! Lube!” you exclaimed, trying to push away the dildo. Your stepdad was looming over you, standing by the bed, his smile devilish.

“Of course. A little slut like you deserves the best lube. Daddy’s spit.”

He leaned down and gathered some saliva in his mouth before opening his lips and letting it drop right on your slit. You jerked.

”More?” Joel asked and not waiting for your response spit on it again, with force now. You moaned when a glob of liquid hit your clit and Joel’s fiery gaze found yours.

”You want it, yeah? That’s why you recorded me. Do you want me?”

He didn’t know why he was asking that. You were already lying in front of him on the bed, pussy out and ready to be fucked. But a possessive part of him wished for you to want him back.

You tried to avert your eyes but he leaned closer and took your cheeks between his fingers, keeping you facing him.

“Tell me!”

Your quiet, shaky ’yes’ rang loud in the bedroom and in his head. After your confession Joel’s flannel covered chest expanded with pride and triumph. He still got it. He had blackmailed you but he totally could have gotten you all by himself.

Drunk on the ego boost he kissed you with vigor and hunger, swallowing your mewls and whimpers. Then he ripped his mouth off and hovered over you, watching your eyes roll back when he pushed the dildo between your saliva-coated folds and inserted it into your hole. You moaned his name and Joel started leaking like a faucet.

He began fucking you with the toy, groaning and drinking in your sweet sounds.

“Ya love it, little slut? Bet you were dreaming of this. Your stepdad fuckin’ this pink cock into your hungry hole. Listenin’ to my voice.”

He leaned closer and growled right into your ear,

“Daddy’s here now and he’s gonna claim all your holes, sweetie.”

When he changed the angle of the dildo, you tilted your head back into the mattress with a loud whimper, biting your lower lip. Your pleasure drove Joel insane.

”You’ll be my fuckdoll in no time. I’ll train your pussy, your ass, your mouth. Ya gonna take me. Take me so good. Gonna tity-fuck you. Bathe you in my cum. You won’t need anything except my huge cock. And my voice. Give it to me now, baby! Come!”

“Daddy!” you cried out and your body began shaking and trembling under Joel. He didn’t stop moving the toy inside you until your limbs fell weakly on the bed and your face relaxed. Your eyes closed by themselves, body and mind spent after an emotional and physical climax.

Joel’s poor dick was engorged and leaking, demanding the warmth of your wet cunt. And he was absolutely sure that you were drenched.

He threw your legs wider apart with his knee and with a wolfish smirk stared at your clear juices sliding from under the pink cock, which was still sticking out of your cunt.

Suddenly Joel got an idea. His horny mind wanted nothing else but to spear you with his manhood. But he felt generous that day. You deserved so much more than just his cock!

Not tearing his dark gaze off you lying with your eyes closed and breathing fast, he took his jeans and flannel off. He was still wearing his white undershirt when his eager lips latched onto your exposed tits, his hot tongue swirled around your hardened nipples, one after the other. Joel’s hands were roaming your body, squeezing and pinching it lightly. Like a starving animal he couldn’t get enough of your submission, your skin, your curves and crevices. He was pulling little moans out of you and, with your eyelids still closed, you looked inebriated, drunk on his touch and your ecstasy, until Joel slightly slapped your cheek.

Your eyes fluttered open and you mewled, looking up at him, gaze foggy.

“My dick’s achin’, baby. Get ready to take it,” he warned and then got another bright idea. “Let’s record our first time. I’ll share it with you, baby, don’t worry. I know how much you love hearing daddy’s voice.” Joel laughed and took his phone out of his jeans lying on the floor.

“Smile, sweetie,” he commanded but you covered your face with your hands when he took a few nudes. It was good enough for him.

He started recording and threw the phone on the bed. Your sweet moans were enough for him too.

When Joel brough his tip to your already stuffed hole, your eyes widened.

“Joel, the toy—“

“Yeah, I know —I know — lemme do it.”

“Are you recording us?”

”Yeah, baby. Daddy needs something to jerk off to when you’re away.”

“Oh—ok, I guess.”

“Ya being such a good girl for me. Ain’t I lucky?”

“Joel, it won’t fit.”

“It will, babydoll. Tilt your hips a little. Yeah, damn. I’ll use my thumb to push it in. Jus’ a tip’ll do for today.”

“Ahhh—oh my god—your cock’s so big.”

“I know, right? But—Ya jus’ need to relax. Lemme stroke you—fuck, you’re wet, my hand’s soaked. Ya like it when I rub your clit like that?”

“Ahhhh—yeahh–yeahh—“

“Good little slut. It’s already in, baby. Lookit! My tip’s in.”

“Oh, fuck, Joel. I feel so full—ahhh.“

“Don’t curse, baby, or I’ll spank you.”

“Joellllll—”

“That’s better. Moan my name when I’m fuckin’ you. Your hole’s stretched so good right now. Taking both cocks. Wish you could see what I see. Greedy little cunt.”

“Ohhhh, Joel. I’m gonna—“

“Call me ‘daddy’ if ya want. i know you do—hngggg”

“Daddyyyy!”

“Fuck— fuck—aahhhhh.”

Joel was shooting his hot cum into you, rope after rope. He didn’t plan on coming inside but the lust clouded his mind. He wanted you full with his load, his cock and the dildo. The sight of your pussy swallowing everything he gave you, stretched to the limit, pushed him over the edge and into the pits of hell. He didn’t care. He was growling, his head down, watching his balls twitch, pumping his jeez into your core. They were resting on the toy, which was half pushed out of your hole by his own cock and your pulsating walls. He could believe that he made his stepdaughter come on his dick while she was moaning like a whore, accepting his cum like the greatest gift. What a perfect little slut!

When the last drop of his load was discarded into your sloppy cunt, Joel pulled his cock and the pink toy out. Both were glistening with his and your cum.

“Clean us up,” he growled and made you get up on shaky legs. You immediately fell on your knees and Joel grinned.

“Good girl. Now get to work.”

He brought the toy to his still hard manhood and watched you lick the cocks clean. At one point you took both dicks in your whimpering mouth.

“Fuck, ya hot! All your holes are hungry for two dicks, huh? Your pussy, now your mouth. Ya know what hole’s next, yeah?”

You pulled away with a scared expression and Joel barked a laugh.

”Don’t fret, sweetie. All in its time.”

He pulled you up by your arm and held your body tight when his lips crashed against yours. The taste of you and him made his cock twitch. He kissed you hard and you welcomed it. Perfect little slut indeed.

”Get some sleep,” he ordered, tucking you into bed. You looked fucked out of your mind and your tired smile made him smirk. “You need rest. So daddy could have lots of fun with you later.”

He turned the lights off on his way out.

Joel wasn’t a good man. But he was a happy one.

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!<3

MASTERLIST || SERIES MASTERLIST || more step family naughtiness

Tag list: @milla-frenchy @harriedandharassed @iamasaddie @nervousmumbling @bbyanarchist @stevie75 @puduvallee @auteurdelabre @mountainsandmayhem @senoratess @flamingochick55 @theoraekenslover @schnarfer @mermaidgirl30 @staywildflowahchild @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @evolnoomym @keylimebeag @joelmillerisapunk @pascaltesfaye @fruityreads @itwasntimethatdidit40

Special tag @toxicanonymity

[scorpiosbite]

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 ────୨ৎ──── INTRODUCING POUGE!READER

POUGE!READER grew up on the cut, spent basically all her time at the chateau before it burnt down because she was neighbours with john b, her parents died when she was 13, so the pouges are her only family and big john became her legal guardian, but when big john died she and the pouges all moved in together into the maybank house turned pougelandia. she has a lot of trauma and sadness that she buries deep below. unable to deal with her heavy emotions.

POUGE!READER is an earthy girl, she loves the beach and is often wearing a bikini under her long skirts and tiny tops. she has dainty tattoos littered all over her body, whether it be song lyrics down her spine or star like symbols on her sternum or flowers on her hip. more often than not she’s done them on herself and the pouges. she works at the local tattoo place on the cut.

POUGE!READER loves art, she paints pieces for the house and is always drawing in her sketchbook. she is a ride or die kinda girl, and she’s so sweet, so easy to fall in love with. but don’t ever cross her or come after her friends or family, cause then she has no problem getting her hands dirty.

POUGE!READER loves music, specifically sade, erykah badu, ms lauren hill, the paragons, led zeppelin, frank ocean and jimi hendrix, but she gets down to all kinds of music, she is constantly blasting music in her bust down car that she inherited from her mechanic dad or at home while cooking or painting. loves going on long drives with the top of the car down.

POUGE!READER loves smoking weed and occasionally drinks at parties, but she doesn’t have the best tolerance so weed and alcohol make her super giggly and horny. often leading to the pouges taking care of her.

POUGE!READER is everyone’s parents favourite pouge due to her sweet disposition. heyward often tells her that she’s too sweet to be dragged into the pouge’s bullshit, but don’t think that her sweetness is all she is, more often than not she’s the one getting her hands dirty or talking shit to the kooks.

POUGE!READER who has never had a boyfriend because she’s waiting for the right guy, many have tried their hand time and time again, pouges and kooks alike, but she doesn’t give them the time of day.

POUGE!READER is the prettiest girl on kildare, with her pretty plump lips and big almond shaped eyes, she oozes natural sex appeal but is completely unaware of the hunger she causes, especially in a specific kook. being the youngest in the group, the pouges are extremely protective of her especially the boys who see her as their little sister, but the girls know how dirty minded she really is.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ fics coming soon

about time i wrote for rafe, let me know if you wanna be added to the tag list for these fics!! and let me know what you think of pouge!reader!!

[luludeluluramblings]

Smalltown!Neglected! Meta!Reader x Yandere!Batfam ☁️ Part Seven

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Part One ☁️ Part Two ☁️ Part Three ☁️ Part Four ☁️ Part Five ☁️ Part Six ☁️ Part Eight

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

A/N: I’m not sure if I’m satisfied with this. But, I doubt I’ll ever be satisfied with this. I want Reader to come off as more Bruce like with the emotional suppression and planning. And, this was my actual first and third attempt at dialogue. I’m gonna need some practice. But, I tried.

A/N: Up next we get some yandere!Bats vs. yandere!Smalltown action. (Holy frick is that gonna be hard to write.) I’m also going to start work on the Dick Obsession now. Gotta fight the temptation to write the Vigilante!Smalltown!Reader story while this is still in the works.

Warning: Yandere Themes.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

As the coming months passed by, Reader could feel Gotham starting to wear on them. Or, they at the least Wayne manor starting to wear on them. They haven’t been given permission to leave the manor since the kidnapping. Not even to drive their truck for some unhealthy, but soul healing fast food. Of course, that doesn’t stop the other residents of the house from leaving whenever they wish. 

They see the Bat Burger wrappers in the trash the morning after another soundless night in the manor. God, how they’d love to try it one day. 

But, as time moves on something draws closer. An important date. Reader’s legal eighteenth birthday. They’re excited, by all means. But, there’s something significantly more important coming sooner. 

Reader’s Younger Brother’s Birthday was just a week before Reader’s. There had been many fond memories made while growing up with the week between the two different dates being filled with fun and excitement. (And love.) 

With such an important date coming up, and with Momma and Daddy no longer being here, Reader had plans to make it a fun week. 

They just have to convince Bruce to let them go back to Smalltown. Just for the week. They’re all too busy to spend time with Reader anyway, besides this is important to them. They’ve stayed in the manor like asked. They’re grades are good. They do their chores. They don’t ask for much. It should be perfectly reasonable to request to let them visit back home. 

But, just in case, Reader approaches Dick next time he's in the manor and is smothering them in affection before he goes to disappear into the library. 

“Can you help me convince Bruce to let me go, please, Dick?”

It’s a simple request. And, it makes Dick’s heart melt a bit. Reader’s the only one in the family to easily give into his affection and to have them finally ask him for help in such a sweet polite voice was heart melting.

Wholeheartedly, he agrees and he is rewarded. With Reader bouncing into his arms with an impressive amount of enthusiasm that he hasn’t had a chance to see previously. Probably due to always being so busy. Maybe he should make more time for Reader if they shower him with such genuine gratitude and affection like this. 

The thought lingers in his head as he makes his way towards the Batcave. A spring in his step despite the glares he receives as he makes his way down the stairs. 

The manor cameras had caught the entire thing, leaving the occupants in the cave to get a front row seat to Reader being sweet on Dick. 

He can’t stop the tiny smug smile from forming on his lips as Barbara gives him a disapproving ~~jealous~~ look. Or, the look of straight bitterness on Damian’s face. The mild satisfaction from Duke’s face being as blank as Cassandra’s. Stephanie’s forlorn expression. The way that Jason looks like he wants to shoot him with the gun he’s cleaning that makes him want to laugh with glee.. 

Tim doesn’t even look at him. Too annoyed with Dick as he sits at the Batcomputer furiously clicking and typing away on something. 

Bruce had been out at the moment for League Business. But, the entire family now has a competition forming. Whoever could convince Bruce for Reader would win. The prize being the winner possibly getting showered in Reader’s affection. And, the hope of visiting Reader’s hometown with them. The very idea of it makes some of them shudder with some particular emotions. 

The bombardment of pleading and puppy-dog eyes began almost as soon as Bruce stepped back into the cave. It was nearly comical how everyone petitioned Reader’s case. 

Hell, Bruce was nearly convinced they should all make the trip when Tim threw his bid in.

Pulling up all the research on Smalltown and how apparently harmless it was. He even managed to remotely bug Childhood Friend’s Brother’s phone just to double check. 

That’s when things spiral. 

Right at that very moment, a call comes through to the phone. It seems harmless at first. The guy talking to his boss. The two had immediately talked about Reader returning to town. As if the two knew without a doubt that they were coming back.

That sparked suspicions, but it's not what ignited the fire.

The fire came when the two started talking about Reader's time in Gotham. The whole kidnapping incident. Childhood Crush admitted that Reader tried to down play the incident to Nana. After which his boss ask a horrifying question.

"Do you and Grand Daddy need some help killing this guy? It might be a bit harder than the last one y'all killed."

The last one.

Immediately the phrase makes questions arise. But, once again things get worse.

"Nah, we'll let him live. He's from Gotham. He'll probably never come out this way. And, if he does them we'll drag him out where we drowned the last sorry son of a bitch. He was just in it for the money."

"That's right. The other guy just wanted to kill Reader to keep 'em for himself. Still..."

It was difficult to give the rest of the conversation their full attention after that.

It was like the blood had crystalized in their veins. Both cold fury and hot rage filling them till it seemed to shred their minds apart.

There was no way in heaven or hell or high water that they were possibly going to let Reader go back to that vile little town filled with monsters. As if Gotham wasn't filled with abominations of it's own designs.

Without a moment to delay Bruce Batman jumps into action, barking orders for Tim, Barbara, and Cassandra to start digging up everything imaginable on Smalltown. Every resident, every social media post or mention, every single person that has ever lived there, visited, and gone missing. "Find me the name of the bastard that nearly took my child to the grave. I want the memory of them wiped of the face of the earth as their bones rot in it."

The other's are ordered to cover his patrol and redouble their efforts to capture the remaining Gotham Rouges by any and all means necessary The Court of Owls is low priority until more is uncovered about Smalltown and what the hell happened.

Reader's usual pacing around the unoccupied halls of the manor conversing on the phone is interrupted by Bruce Batman stalking towards with a violence simmering under the surface of an obsidian mask. Easy to shatter and sharp to the touch. Before a words is even spoken the phone the lifeline is ripped from their hands and shattered under a pair of designer loafers.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

You could only stagger back as you watched his foot trample over the well used phone. You hadn't even chance to hang up the conversation you were having, when Bruce had come barreling down the extravagant hall way you roamed so often you 'd already practically memorized the brush strokes on each painting and the pattern of the wood grain on the walls. Not even the chance to put a hold on the plans you were making before it all came to an abrupt halt without your blessing.

For a moment your just baffled. Looking at the shattered phone screen with pieces of glass and plastic on the ground before looking up at the shattered facade your father Bruce wore.

His face was deathly still. Not even a twitch. It gave him an inhuman like visage that set off the same warning bells that Jason Red Hood had made you hear.

So that's where he got it from.

You can't help put think, trying to form the words to question his actions and confront him. It isn't long before he gives you the excuse explanation for his unwarranted action himself.

"You're not going." Is all he says. His voice was cold enough to burn.

It doesn't take a genius to know what he's talking about.

"If this is about me getting Dick to help convince you-"

"Dick agrees. Everyone agrees. You are not going." The interruption is rude, but the words sting. They thought that everyone else would be on board with it. Even the members of the family that didn't care for their presence should have been on board with it.

"I'm not asking for a vote. I was asking for your permission and yours alone." Another attempt.

"I am saying no. I am your father and you will listen to me about this." The totality found in his icy voice makes them finally feel that helpless. Like nothing they say will improve this situation. That continuing to smile will not solve a damn thing.

"What did I do?" The resentment that has locked up tightly inside beings to swirl. Ire churning into gales. The long withheld temper becoming a tempest. "What the hell did I do to make you treat me like this?"

"This has nothing to do with you. This is my decision on the matter. You need-" The sound of a notification going off interrupts his words, but they don't stop the ringing in you're ears. Even after Bruce abruptly dismisses himself, muttering about getting you a new phone, before moving towards the library. Again.

For once, you don't bother cleaning up the shattered pieces on the floor. Leaving them on the ornate carpet in the lavish and deserted hall. You have planning to do. Restraint is gone. Holding back is over. It's time to take things into your own hands. They want to ignore you, fine. You'll leave and you'll fucking live without them.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Consequently, incoming weather reports start showing some unusual patterns on the news that week. Meteorologist say there's a massive possibility of a potential hurricane brewing off the coast. Everyone is on edge. (Gotham is already a disaster as is. No one wants another one on top of it.)

Reader's not to worried. They grew up with Hurricane parties. Besides the manor has it's own power grid says Alfred. Gotham's power grid is a bit more vulnerable, but luckily the Hospitals and Arkham are on different power grids. Everything should be alright. (Everything should also go according to plan.)

The next time Dick comes by, Reader is a bit short with him. Giving him a disgruntled look that breaks his heart a little and makes it melt. Try as he might he gets nothing other than their annoyance. Even when he finally admits it was Tim's fault they had been denied the chance to go home. It does make them pout even more, how cute. Even when he gifts them a newer phone. Their not stupid, the damn thing is probably bugged to high heaven. And, it's missing all their old contacts since Bruce slammed the SD card under his big bat toe.

Their clearly in a foul mood and everyone is being subjugated to the silent treatment. As their birthday, and their younger brother's birthday, draws closer and closer, a dark cloud seems to hang over them and Gotham.

In a moment born from guilt and ignorance, Bruce buys them a car as an early birthday present. A grandiose little luxury model. With all the bells and whistles. It's even in their favorite color. Not that anyone in the family asked what it was. (Tim might have had something to do with it. After all he did get them banned from traveling. Not that he feels guilty. No way in hell was he letting you go. Especially without him or the others.)

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

"It seems kinda wasteful." You can't help saying it. To tired of putting on that pleasant people pleaser mask for once.

"I know it's a bit extravagant, but since everyone has their own car I thought you should have your own too." Bruce had such an eager smile on his face. Like the whole incident with the crushing your hopes and your phone never happened.

To bad you haven't forgotten nor forgiven.

"Still a waste. I'm not going to get to drive it anywhere." Vinegar coating your tongue as you look at the sleek design.

You can hear everyone around you stop cooing and praising the gift. There's no need to further elaborate your point. He gets it. The family gets it. The very earth you stand on gets it. You're not leaving this house. There's no need for the tank of gas to be filled. Or the damn thing to be charged since its some fucking electric hybrid, and probably filled to the brim with all sorts of nasty little tracking bugs.

You could have left it at that. But why not sink that needle deeper into his chest. Not a knife. Never a knife. You want your words to sting and stick. No taking the cut and letting it heal overtime. Let it be tattooed on the skin.

"Besides I already have Daddy's old truck. I don't need this." Don't those words hit like a strike to the soul. Bruce grows visibly still at them. That practiced mask going up and hiding the tells from all of them. Except Cassandra. There's no hiding things from her. They're all laid bare in front of her and she can tell everyone has somethings to say. While you have something to scream.

"You could at the very least be grateful for Father's gift" Damian spoke. He had been so well behaved to far. Keeping quite and watching with attentive green eyes. He could tell this wasn't going to go in the family's favor. He didn't necessarily blamed you for being disgruntled. But, would it kill you to give them a smile. They missed those. Hell, he missed those.

Something in you crackled, but you managed to hold you're tongue. The side-eye you gave him, however spoke enough volumes for you instead.

Astonishingly, it was Duke that set off the electric charge.

"I mean, it is a really nice car. You sure you don't want to take it for a spin?" You can here his attempt at trying to defuse the static in the are, but as fond of him as you are compared to the others, it just sets you off.

"Oh, and where to exactly?" You can't help but snort. "Down the driveway and back?"

"You're acting like a brat." Jason throwing in his two cents. Of course he would say that. And, he's rewarded with a voltaic look from you eyes and a snarl from your lips.

"I. Don't. Care." The words echo in the massive car garage. Bouncing of the walls and the other sleek fancy model cars in it. Your apathy and anger is reward with quiet.

It doesn't last long.

"Let's all just calm down." Dick steps between them, trying to play reconciler. All it serves to do is make you feel more isolated. The way he steps between you cuts you off from the rest of the group and makes it seem like he's singling you out.

"I am calm!" The words coming from your clenched jaw.

"They're the one acting like a spoiled little-"

"Jason, enough." Bruce finally steps in. That stoic look still on his face. Internally, he knows he miscalculated. He made a mistake, and it's humbling to know he can still make them at his age and with all his experience. Still, he wears the mask. He's too busy recalculating and coming up with another plan. Perhaps he was putting to much focus on the wrong thing. That didn't stop him from glaring at that classless truck in his garage.

"Of fucking course Daddy's princess gets away with acting like a brat." Jason doesn't stop though, looking directly at you. Always looking at you. Everyone is always looking at you. But never speaking these days.

"Fuck you." You whisper. Caution and hesitance thrown into the stirring winds.

"Uh-oh, looks like the princess finally snapped." That sickly green look appearing in his eyes. God, does he love this. He knew they had some fucking bite in them. Some spice. Something that made them even more delicious. That just enhanced their sweetness tenfold.

"Jason. Knock it off." Barbara murmurs after Cassandra places a hand on her shoulder. Signaling the direction this could easily head in.

"No, I don't think I will." He sneers, making an attempt to step around Dick and get in your face. It's Tim and Stephanie that try to stop him this time. Both muttering to him and trying to get him to calm down.

You can clearly see it. Their family dynamic. Clear as day. It's right in front of you for you to watch unfold while you stand on the outside looking in. Only getting stray remnants of it when they deem you worth it. You're always worth it though, silly little sugarplum. They’re just terrible at showing it, you poor poor thing. That'll change soon, don't worry. Actually, you should worry.

There's no need to stick around any longer. No fucking need at all. Your feet echoing as you leave the room filled with strangers family and cars. You're leaving. You're going home. And you're going home tonight.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

That night, the news is blaring over Gotham. A sudden hurricane off the coast is set to hit by nightfall. People are being asked to evacuate, already there is panic in the streets.

As much as they don't want to leave things unresolved, the family has no choice, but to respond. Making sure evacuations go smoothly. Keeping the mobs at bay in the stores. Checking that the Arkham inmates are both secure and safe.

It gets worse when the reports further come in. There was lightning spotted off the coast. A lightning storm predicted to hit before the hurricane. That would double the difficulties everyone in Gotham was dealing with.

Most everyone, but Reader.

With the family busy they had plenty of time to pack a few belongings and necessities for a long drive. Glowing eyes taking inventory as the electricity crackled under their skin and the distant skies. Brewing excitement in their chest as the skies filled with dark clouds. Some might think it ominous. But, for Reader it was freedom.

In Gotham that ominous feeling continued. It was as if Gotham itself knew what chaos was about to unfold. Chaos that it would have reveled in if not for the impending feeling of loss found not only in the empty streets, but in Wayne Manor.

As the wind started to wail, nightfall seemed to come earlier with how dark the clouds made the sky. Rain poured in sheets. Most of the Bats took cover, but when the lightning began to strike is when things really when to hell.

By luck or something else, the Gotham power grid was hit. Shutting down over half the city in the first moments of the storm. The downpour hadn't even soaked the concrete when it struck.

The darkness washed over the city and the family knew it was going to be a long long night.

Barbara, in Oracle mode in the Batcave, was focused on keeping everyone updated on new alerts and any looting. She didn't have a chance to glance at the manor cameras and see Reader walking through the halls with a bag on their shoulders before. Multiple strikes of lightning reverberated through the manor. They could be heard echoing all the way down in the cave.

And, they caused the power to go out.

It was only out for twenty minuets. Twenty long minuets of Barbara and Alfred trying to fix the power and get everyone back in contact with each other.

A lot can happen in twenty minutes. Like a garage door opening and closing manually. Like someone driving down the long driveway out of the security gate without being noticed. Like someone could escape without notice in those twenty minutes.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

@starsdotalk @sleepyghoster @maicenitas @box-of-kinderjoy @yandereheros @skwunkler @cl0esblogg @delias-stuff @rosecentury @lilyalone @addie-r-u-ok @space1crow @imaginarydreams @dhanyasri @rosalietodd013 @rissareader @rando2509 @h0rr0r-10ver-69 @interobanginyourmom @heyitsaloy @myanyan-me @animegoddess15 @resident-cryptid @schaarfyx

[is-this-yuri]

help me move out of my tiny car and into a vehicle like this!

i'm disabled and homeless, and while i'm in the process of getting approved for disability, i need more safety and stability.

with a larger vehicle like these, i could have enough space to install a kitchen, bed, electricity, shower, etc, and essentially make a home out of it. if you've ever wanted to help house a homeless person, please consider donating to my fundraiser!

the goal is 10k, but vehicles like this sell for much cheaper! as soon as i can, i'll purchase a suitable vehicle and start the project immediately. i'll use whatever i don't spend buying the vehicle for maintenence it might need, the tools and materials i'll need to convert it, plus the legal stuff surrounding registration, first year of insurance, etc. anything still left after that will be used to just allow me to live longer and have a safety net while i get income.

this is something i've been dreaming of for a long time, and as the housing market gets crazier i've realized it's probably the only way i'll have a stable home. i've been researching this project for years and i'll have some helping hands, so your money will be used well to create a home for me.

we're on pace to get me into a van by the end of summer or early autumn, and i could finish the conversion before it starts snowing! this is way sooner than i ever expected. please consider donating, and/or boost this post to keep up the momentum!

GFM

$733/10k

[artdcnaldson]

i want older dilfy art to call me kiddo while he fucks me... IM SORRY

-🐞

🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ you get it!!

TW: Dubcon due to no verbal consent given, but both parties are VERY enthusiastic

But yeah… being the cute little babysitter he and Tashi hire!! He calls you kiddo conversationally, just a way he tries to remind himself how young you are. He’s all hey, kiddo, and how’s college, kiddo? You really are so young— in college, can’t even drink legally yet. That doesn’t stop him from wanting you so bad. For waking up hard and drenched in sweat beside his wife after he’s dreamed about fucking your sweet pussy.

You’re a fan, you watch his matches. After you’d been working for them for a month, you shyly brought out a shirt for him to sign. He fantasized about you wearing it to bed with nothing beneath for fucking days after, jerked his cock raw imagining your body beneath the oversized fucking merch.

But he shouldn’t. You’re a kid. You’re too young. You're begging for it.

There you are— sitting on the sofa while you wait for Art to call his driver to take you home. He coddles you too much, wastes his own resources on you. His driver, his black card, anything you want. Your pretty legs are tucked under your body, beneath the hoodie of his you wear.

Sorry, Mr. Donaldson, I just got cold and you said to help myself to whatever I need.

It makes sense that you're freezing. You show up in tiny little athletic shorts and big tee shirts. Kind of like Tashi used to wear, back in college. He supposes some things don't change. It also makes sense because he keeps the house frigid so he can leer at the hard bud of your nipples poking through your shirts. Also like Tashi. Whatever, it's his house, he can do what he wants.

You look so tiny in his clothes, pretty and young. Swamped in the fabric, letting your scent mingle with his. He wants to bury his face in the fabric, breathe deep. He wants to fuck you with his hoodie on, pin you down on the couch, tug your panties to the side, and sink right in. You’d get so wet, he’s sure of it. Cream around his cock so much that it would sound fucking obscene.

“Mr. Donaldson?” You break his train of thought, smiling pretty over at him. “Are you calling your driver?”

No. “Yeah,” he says, and grabs his phone from his pocket. His thumbs fumble with his passcode, and you laugh softly as you watch him struggle. Like it’s a game, like you know exactly what you’re doing to him.

He feels the soft weight of your hand on his thigh— timid, testing. Your fingers flex, dimpling his thigh through the thin fabric of his pajama pants. He looks down before he thinks to look at your face. Pretty, manicured nails, a purity ring that’s clearly just for decoration. Only inches away from the spot where he’s tenting the fabric of his pants.

When he finally tears his eyes away to meet your gaze, you look at him through wide eyes and pretty lashes. “Do you have to?”

Words fail him. He swallows hard, tries to think of the many things he should say. I’m married. You’re the babysitter. You’re too young for me. I’m happily married. I’m married. Your pretty hand palms him through the cotton fabric of his pajamas and he lets out a helpless groan.

“Fuck, kiddo—“ It slips out like nothing, and you smile wickedly at the words, taking it as encouragement to keep going, coaxing him to full hardness. “You’ve gotta— ngh— stop—”

But thinking that doesn’t stop him from bucking up into the warmth of your hand, seeking that friction as you smile softly up at him. “Do you want me to?” You ask, grinding the heel of your palm against his cock. He groans, head falling against the back of the couch as his dick kicks in interest.

He doesn’t want you to stop, but he needs you to, so badly. “I’m too old for you,” he pants. He lifts his hips so you can tug his pajamas and briefs down his legs. “I’m— mmm— I’m married.” He can’t stop himself, he needs you to get a clear head and realize that fucking the married father of the kid you’re babysitting is wrong.

But you won’t. God, you won’t. You’ve been fucking aching for it since the first night on the job, when he handed you a check and patted your back and thanked you for taking good care of his girl.

You knew he was married, you didn’t care. There were plenty of movies about married men fucking their nannies, plenty of stories in gossip magazines about rich and famous guys doing it. Besides, Tashi’s away, Art’s lonely. Look how hard he gets just from sitting next to you! Someone has to take care of him while she’s gone.

He’s hot in your grip— pulsing and dribbling precum. When your thumb sweeps over his tip to gather it, he groans and bucks into your grasp. You smile like you’ve won a prize and continue the persistent glide of your hands along his length.

“You’re so big,” you say, like you’re surprised by it. He’s definitely bigger than your ex boyfriends— longer, thicker. An insistent heat pools between your thighs, slick and dampening the cotton of your panties. His cheeks flush when you compliment his size, and you follow his half-lidded gaze to where he’s watching your small hand pump along his cock. Oh. He’s so easy.

“I don’t know if you’ll even fit, Mr. Donaldson.”

Jesus fucking Christ. He slings an arm across his eyes, like covering them could change what’s actively happening. “Fuck, kiddo, you can’t say things like that.”

You draw your lips into a pout and sling your leg over his lap, so you’re settled firm and warm and alive, right above where he wants you. “Why not?” You ask, leaning in to nuzzle right at his jaw. He pants hot against your ear. “You wonder about it, don’t you? How you’d ever manage to stuff your cock inside of me when I’m so small and tight down there.”

His hand is fisted into the sofa cushion— you have to pry it off, and up. His hand fits between your legs easily, like it belonged there. Thick fingers pressed against the damp cotton shielding your pussy from him. He moans pathetically. “Jesus,” he groans. “Fuck, you’re so wet.”

His gaze fixes on the tug of your bottom lip between your teeth, the coyness in the tiniest action. But your mouth falls open as he presses his fingers a little harder, feels the saturated fabric mold against your cunt. “Ah— yeah— just… to the side—“ You gasp. Your thighs tremble where you hold yourself up, as he hooks two fingers in the damp cotton and pulls it to the side to reveal your pretty little pussy.

A pretty gasp escapes your lips as his thumb traces the line of you, from your twitching hole, desperate to be filled, up to your aching clit. All of that youthful bravado disappears the second he touches your cunt where you need, replaced with an all-consuming, primal need. “Please, please—“ You gasp.

He could say no. He should say no. He should pull your panties back into place, fix your shorts, and send you on your way with his driver. But he doesn’t. “Hold your shorts to the side,” he says, and you obey immediately, like you’ve been compelled to. Your pretty fingers hook into the nylon fabric, gather up the cotton of your panties too, and you tug them so he can have full access to your cunt.

“C’mere, kiddo,” he coos, tugging you closer,so you’re just barely hovering over his cock. You’re panting, breath shaky from anticipation as you grind your hips down, eyes fluttering at the tiniest bit of stimulation. “That’s it. Just relax for me.”

The press of his cockhead against your entrance makes you whine softly. Your hole twitches, pulsing, begging for more. The sound that you make when the first inch sinks inside is like pure fucking music— the way your brows knit and your free hand grabs at his shoulder to stay grounded. He stops moving, he lets you do the work.

And— Jesus— you’re fucking tight. He feels you squeezing around him like a vise, like your pussy was made to milk him dry. Soft, whimpery gasps fall from your lips alongside your staccato breaths, your face a vision of something along the lines of pain and pleasure. He mouths at your jaw, mumbling against your skin. “You’ve almost got it, kiddo, just a little more.”

You whine at that, brow furrowed in concentration as you finally take him to the hilt, so you’re fully seated on his cock. You look drunk on it, on him. He glances down and looks at where your pussy flares open to accommodate him and feels dizzy with the need to hold you in place and fuck into the wet, sucking heat of your cunt.

“Fuck, I’ve gotta move,” he groans. You nod breathlessly. “Can you take it? Tell me you can take it.”

A moment’s hesitation, but you nod. “I can— I can take it.”

He plants his feet and holds you by your waist, keeping you where he wants you, as he pulls out and drives back in, burying himself deep. Your moan is strangled, muffled in the fabric of his tee shirt as you bite down. He relishes in your pretty noises with each rough thrust back in, in the wet smack of his balls against your pussy, and the slick sounds of dripping, sticky arousal. Your body jostled each time he bottoms out, eyes rolling back.

This is what you’ve wanted, what you’ve been craving. Art Donaldson all to yourself, if only for the night. He’s not going to last long— not when it’s you and you’re so tight and hot around him— but you aren’t either. Clumsy, shaking hands toy with your clit as he drives himself in again and again and again. “That’s it,” he groans. “Touch yourself like that. God, you’re squeezing me so fucking tight, kiddo, fuck—“

You cum with a muffled cry into his shoulder, walls spasming and gripping his cock tight as you finish. Slick, creamy arousal circles the base of his cock, makes everything sound stickier and more obscene. He fucks into you, panting and groaning the most delicious sounds as he lets your walls milk him for all he’s worth. One, two more deep thrusts and he’s done for— balls drawing up as he spills hot and thick into your cunt.

You’re limp in his arms, all tired out. A soft whine escapes your lips as he pulls out, leaving you empty and dripping with his spend. He’s quick to pull your panties and shorts back into place, making sure that nothing drips and makes a mess before he tugs up his own clothes. You laugh breathlessly as he lets you wrap yourself around him like a koala, nuzzling into his shoulder.

“Can I go home tomorrow?” You mumble, nosing at his throat.

He rubs your back. “Whatever you want, kiddo.”

[demilypyro]

Quarantine was a bad time for everybody, so far be it from me to imply I had it worse than anybody else. But man.

I was 3 years into college.... and I could tell it wasn't working. Grades were getting worse, assignments were late, internship opportunities were looking dire. I was all set to become a failure. I was gonna flunk out, and unless I found a job, my dad was eventually gonna kick me out onto the street. But I got lucky. Quarantine hit. The world went on pause. I had an excuse. I had time. I could find a solution, and work my ass off to push it through.

I started streaming full time almost immediately when quarantine went into effect. Mostly out of desperation. If I couldn't make this work. If I couldn't take advantage of the meager audience I'd amassed by spending my entire teen years shitposting... I didn't have a plan C. So there I was, for four years. In that room. As much as I could, as much as my health would allow, I'd be streaming. That tiny room, not even 80 square feet, with a single, tiny window. That was my entire world for those four years.

After a year and a half, it felt like I'd made it. I was making money. I was saving money. Deciding to stick with streaming, I formally quit college, and started looking for my own place..... It took me almost two years find one. The housing market was in the shitter. There were few addresses available, and prices were high. And nobody was interested in renting an apartment to some nobody with no degree and almost no provable work history. The only thing I could do was keep trying. Keep working. My income was all there: I was registered with the chamber of commerce so I was legally a self-owned company. I had a stable income. I just needed more time to prove it. It had to go through the system. It had to look stable. I had to look reliable.

Those last two years, I felt so hopeless, all the time. I had no idea when I would finally get lucky and find a place to live. No idea when I'd finally be able to be someone. No idea when I would finally get away from my dad, who I was fighting with more and more. Every time I went to a place for an interview but didn't hear back afterward, I felt crushed. Every time I would get depressed and become sick. As long as I was living with my dad, I didn't have any future to look forward to. Four birthdays had passed since quarantine started. My body was growing older, but I wasn't moving forward. It seemed endless.

That tiny room was all that existed. I had the feeling I would die there. It was my coffin.

It's been six months now, since I moved out. I'm very happy with my apartment. It's pretty large. At least five or six times larger than that room I spent those years in. I have a large bed. I have a large corner where I work. Work is going pretty well. I'm going out more. I'm trying to find out who I am. My therapist says I'm doing very well.

I never want to be in that room again.

[steeltwigz]

Silver but he goes back to the future and the Chaotix HQ has been turned into a Taco Bell

DO YOU EVER THINK ABOUT SILVER AND ESPIO BEING IN A RELATIONSHIP AND THEN SILVER HAS TO GO BACK TO THE FUTURE AND WHAT IT WOULD BE LIKE TO HAVE TO SEE THE CHAOTIX AGENCY IN RUINS AND THINK ABOUT WHAT HAPPENED TO THE PEOPLE THAT LIVED THERE OR MAYBE ITS A WHOLE DIFFERENT BUILDING AND WHAT HAPPENED TO THE PEOPLE THAT LIVED THERE AND AUGH

[rafesplaymate]

Off to the Races

Chapter ii

Older!Rafe Cameron x Stepdaughter!Reader

ੈ✩‧₊˚ navigation. ੈ✩‧₊˚ masterlist ੈ✩‧₊˚ series masterlist

warnings: emotional infidelity. pseudo / stepcest. dd/lg dynamics. dark themes.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Rafe didn’t think much of it when he came home one day to his living room full of cardboard boxes and pretty pink suitcases. The details of his stepdaughter’s arrival being handled by his wife all on his dime. He didn’t mind, he was more than happy to provide for what would be his family. Yet, he struggled to accept that he would have a 19 year old girl in his house who was suppose to be under his guidance. He could handle babies or toddlers, maybe even a young teen but she’s practically a young woman already. Legal enough to vote and 2 years away from being legal enough to drink. He throws his suitcase on the dining room table as he runs a hand over his face with a sigh. Shrugging off his jacket on the top of one of the chairs of the table and rolling his sleeves up. Rafe walked to the kitchen ready to shout his wife’s name, and look for her when the sight he saw made him stop in his tracks.

Now this, was a nice little surprise. Rafe knows he’s a married man fuck —he knows. If the gold wedding band on his left ring finger was anything to go by. But he’s only a man and he can’t help but stare at the pert little ass spread out in front of him in tiny pink shorts as the top half off whoever was in his fridge rummaged through. His eyes ran down the pretty legs exposed to him and locked on the way her ass was so spread out that he could almost practically see the imprint of her pussy. He cleared his throat and the figure jumped a little, immediately standing up and turning around. The face that came into view made Rafe’s heart stop.

A sweet little angel was standing in front him, a gorgeous face that glowed with youth. Her pretty eyes accentuated by wispy lashes, her plump pout accentuated with a shimmery gloss slathered across. Her wrinkle free complexion dewy with natural makeup and the way she batted her lashes as she took him in as well made him want to groan under his chest. His eyes quickly moved down her half-turned position. Taking in the side swell of her breast in the matching tube top, down to her pinched in waist and pert ass. Fuck —so fucking beautiful. That’s all he could think as he felt his cock harden. His brain racked as he could only come up with one conclusion as to who this is, dread filling in his chest and he told himself this better not be- “oh! You must be Rafe. I’m y/n… your stepdaughter.” Said a sweet voice that sounded like music to his ears, her words registering in his short-circuiting brain. Fuck. His stepdaughter.

Rafe cleared his throat as she turned her front to him and stepped fordeward, plump chest bouncing with each step as her hardened nipples poked through the light pink fabric. Pretty tummy looking so soft and nuzzable as she reached out a pretty manicured hand. Rafe quickly shook the sinful thoughts building in his mind as he finally acknowledged her, his large hand encasing hers as they shook in each other’s grasp. Both their chest tightening and eyes stuck on each other’s as they refused to let go. Sparks were flying, so many fucking sparks that it made a small gasp fall from her pretty lips and his grip on her hand tighten slightly. His cobalt eyes cutting into her as she cowered under his strong gaze. He was so handsome. The years doing good by him and she could not believe this was her stepdad. Why was heat building quickly inbetween her legs for a man who was almost 20 years her senior, a man who was again her stepdad.

When Rafe finally made the move to speak, he dropped her hand quickly before the overwhelming tension that built suffocated him. Running the hand over the back of his buzz-cut as he gave her a warm smile. “Welcome y/n. It’s uh-it’s nice to meet you, your mom hasn’t stopped talking about your arrival.” He drawled, his voice making her want to whimper from how sexy it was. Everything about his was so sexy and she wanted to feel sick at herself for finding him so attractive but how could she? How could anyone? She bat her long lashes at him as she gave him a shy smile before biting her bottom lip. Looking down bashfully at her pedicured toes which Rafe immediately took notice of. He loved a well-pampered girl. Especially one that looked as sweet as her and smelled like creamy vanilla that was hitting his nose. His sweet little stepdaughter who he only just met but all he wants to do is devour her whole.

“Oh, I um.. I guess.” She sighed out, looking back up at him as she shrugged with an ironic smile. “I wish she felt the same way when I was born.” She admitted with a shy whisper, immediately looking down again as she realize she said it to the man her mother was married to. Hoping he didn’t take any offense to her mommy issues. Rafe sighed, stepping forward and reaching his hand under her chin. He pushed it up with his index finger and pinched it with his chin as she looked into his piercing gaze one more. “I know sweetheart, but be happy she’s making the effort now. You’ll be so happy here, I know it. We’re gonna take care of you. Don’t let a thing worry that little brain, you’re home now.” He comforted her, his use of a pet name making her insides turn into goo as she gave him a sweet smile which he immediately returned. He pinched her chin lovingly then pulled it away. He then knocked her chin lightly with his index finger making her let out a sweet giggle that he wanted to hear all the time. His heart already making space for her as she made his insides warm up. Sweet babygirl, I’m going to take such good care of you. Their sweet moment being interrupted by a voice he knew all too well.

“Oh great! You guys have met already I’m so glad! Honey..this is my babygirl!” Gushed his wife as her heels clacked over to her scantily clad daughter, hugging her as the younger girl tensed. Patting her back awkwardly as she looked at Rafe over her mom’s shoulder. Rafe reassured her with a wink and smile, that made her body loosen immediately and return her mother’s embrace. The older woman pulled back with a big smile as she turned to her husband, walking over to him and sliding her hands up his chest as she greeted him with a long peck. “Hi honey, m’so glad you’re home.” She drawled from the back of her throat, closing her eyes and kissing him once more as he stared at the girl behind her. Her pretty lips turning into a small frown as she looked down once more, arms crossing over her chest while she brought one out to inspect her manicure. When his wife pulled back from the kiss he was still staring at his stepdaughter. His gaze quickly moving to his wife’s as he gave her a warm yet not all genuine smile. Her smoothed her hair back as he greeted her with a, “hi honey.” Her smile widened as she turned to her daughter while looping her arm around Rafe’s waist. The two intertwined as they stared at her. Only in different ways. While his wife stared at her with giddiness, ready to build a relationship with her neglected child. Rafe stared at her with a slight frown marring his perfect face. He hated the way she caved in on herself, keeping her gaze down on her toes while she fiddled with her fingers.

“Baby, do you need Rafe to help you put your stuff in your room?” Her mother said softly, stepping forward and reaching out her hand to caress her daughter’s upper arm. The younger girl looked up at her mom, sadness still lingering in her eyes as she nodded slightly. Moving her gaze to Rafe as she cowered under his eye contact, moving her eyes down again immediately. Rafe hated seeing her this way, already feeling so protective of the little princess that landed in his home and was carving out her place in his heart. “Of course. C’mon princess show me where you want it.” He reached out his hand, waiting for her to place hers in his open palm. The younger girl looking at her mom for reassurance, her mom gave her quick nod with a warm smile. Only then, is when she placed her pretty hand into his. The use of a nickname once again settling in her as she smiled at him once more; Rafe immediately returning it with satisfaction settling in his chest. He guided her out of the kitchen and helped her move everything she had with her guidance and soft voice pointing out where she wanted her things to be settled.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

After less than an hour Rafe brought the last of her things to her room. Watching as her eyes took everything in, moving to the balcony doors and opening them. She walked through excitedly and giggled to herself as she took in the lowering sun, leaving a warm orange haze over Kildare. She sighed as she leaned on the railing, not believing she gets to call this grand room and beautiful view her home. So different from the small apartment and bustling city she used to live in. Rafe shuffled slowly behind her onto the balcony, coming next to her as his eyes stared at her. He watched as she took everything in, her eyes shining with happiness. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” He broke the silence, watching her pretty eyes look into his as she nodded. “I’ve never seen anything like it.” She shyly admitted, looking back at the sun kissing the ocean. Like two lovers meeting again in a warm greeting. Rafe’s eyes still holding onto her as he took in her glow in the lowering sun, his new sweet little angel who he was liking more than just in a fatherly sense.

He watched as her eyes welled up and a single tear dripped down her cheek, more following after from both as her lips pursed in a frown and her chin wobbled. Rafe’s brows furrowing in concern as he took in her the melancholic energy radiating off of her, immediately grabbing her in his arms. She immediately latched onto him, his hand pushing her face into his neck as a sob fell from her lips. Tears wetting his skin as he brought his hand to caress her head, laying his cheek on her as his other arm wrapped around her. “Hey princess,” he cooed to her. “What’s wrong, huh? C’mon sweet girl,” he urged her to answer as her hands curled into his button up and she buried face harder into him. His natural scent, cologne and warm skin immediately soothing her. He smelled and felt like home. His big arms around her as she felt safe in a way she hasn’t in so long. Her dad never held her like this, he never comforted her pain.

Rafe rocked them side to side as her sobs minimized into soft sniffles and whimpers, her arms coming to wrap around his waist as she pulled back to look into his eyes. Her head craning up to look at him as he craned his down. Taking in her red-rimmed eyes, long lashes clumped with tears, and red-tipped nose as he cooed at her once more. So precious, a little doll who needs to be taken care of and protected. He would do just that, he would do anything for her. It’s been only just a couple hours since they met and he’s already completely enamored by her, his feelings walking the tight line of paternal and something romantic. He didn’t know and he didn’t care to figure it out right then. All he knew is that she was his now, under his roof and he was going to ensure his angel was well-taken care of. Rafe brought the hand that was caressing her hair and used his index finger to wipe away her tears, “what’s wrong, hm? What’s got you so down? Aren’t you happy?” He cooed to her once more, cupping her cheek as he urged her to speak. Her lips still in a precious out and swollen from her crying. All he could think is how kissable they look, and as much as he liked how pretty she looked with tears streaming down her cheeks he hated it being from a negative emotion.

“I-I am,” she croaked out, voice raspy from her sobbing session as she nuzzled her cheek into his hand. “I just feel so overwhelmed, so much to take in. I-I’ve never..” she trailed off, looking down as she pushed her forehead onto his chest. Rafe immediately put his hand under her chin and pushed her head up to look back into his eyes, urging her to continue. “I’ve never had anything like this before. I’m so grateful, I’ve never been held so tightly this way or cared about. My dad was… let’s just say he wasn’t always nice an-and we lived paycheck to paycheck in a tiny apartment. For all this to be mine an-and you being so sweet to me. It’s all so much, and m’sorry for crying.” She whispered the last part, Rafe taking in her words as his arm tightened around her and his thumb and index finger pinched her chin. He gave her a sad smile as his thumb caressed her. The tip of it grazing the bottom of her lower lip. Anger building in his chest at the thought that she’s been living like that for so long, she deserves everything. All the luxury he was going to provide for her and he doesn’t even want to dwell on what she said about her father. He can’t imagine anyone treating her less than the princess she is. His princess now.

“It’s okay, baby.” He felt her hands fist the back of his shirt as he granted her a new nickname. Something way more intimate than the one he’s been calling her. “I’m gonna take care of you okay,” he spoke seriously, holding her eyes with his piercing gaze as he urged her to understand his words. Watching hers soften slightly, “You don’t need to worry about him anymore, or worry about that life anymore. You’re here now, with me. With your mom.” He added the last part for the sake of some normalcy, watching her deflate slightly as she remembered this was her mother’s husband. A woman who gave her up so easily and lived a beautiful life while knowing her daughter didn’t. “Maybe one day, you’ll tell me everything. For now, I want you to get some rest and sleep in the big bed that’s all yours now.” He pinched her chin once last time, using it to bring her closer as he guided his lips to her forehead. Kissing it softly with small pecks as both their eyes closed.

Warmth radiated over them and encased them in a small bubble. The orange haze of the lowering sun a physical representation of such. Deep inside they both knew this was crossing a big boundary, they should feel sick at being so touchy with each other so early on especially under the circumstances. He’s her stepdad, she’s his stepdaughter. Though they can’t find it in themselves to care, because it felt so fucking good and neither of them wanted it to end. They could stay in each other’s arms forever it felt like. The intense spark between the two beginning to build into a flame that neither would yet realize, would eventually grow and explode into something grand. Something that would blow up a lot of things, damaging them to no repair. Only they together would survive the explosion.

“Daddy’s here now, and I’m not letting you go. Ever.”

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

a/n: PHEW! they’re soulmates in case yall couldn’t catch that! i wanted it to be an instantaneous love kind of thing. let’s see where this relationship winds up. please let me know your thoughts it would be so appreciated! and if you’d like to be added to the taglist pls let me know as well! thank you all so much for the support!!! much love, enjoy!

taglist: @xcinnamonmalfoyx @dreamygirli3 @littlelamy @ghoslyethastaryn @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysbebe @enjoymyloves @ineedtosusoutmyreadinglist @starkeyboyismine

[juletheghoul]

lesson

a/n: Okay - so I sort of ran with this one, his gentle nature comes out for Girl of course, and his anger is for the fact that despite him having this elevated station, he still has things he must do, things that he hates and along with that he has this woman that will not take the fucking hint that he is not interested in a union between them. Hopefully you like what I did with your request, and that the Lavinia haters (fuck that hoe), do too! (this is before chapter IX)

Warnings; 18+ no minors, vague but big-legal age gap, piv sex, dirty talk, hand stuff 🤤, Marcus' very into how possessive girlie is, exhibitionism, *feelings- declarations of love?*, master / slave dynamic (power imbalance), Marcus calls reader Girl, reader calls Marcus Dominus - let me know if I missed any!

Pairing: Marcus Acaciusx F!Reader

word count: 2.2k (😅)

reblogs are appreciated

Masterlist series masterlist

--

Chaos, the whole house was in utter chaos. High ranking officials and important contacts were all on route to the villa, and Marcus was feeling the pressure. His mood was dark, his frustration clinging to the edge of every word he spoke and everyone who served under his name was on high alert. 

Your stomach was in knots for another reason, Lavinia would be showing her face after her endeavour to ensnare him in her web. The Gods had seen it fit to intervene and save him from falling under her spell during her attempt but would he be so lucky this time? What about Marcus himself? The thought of him confronting and embarrassing her in front of all dropped stones into your belly.

Thoughts spiralled and your imagination raced with unsavoury repercussions at how he might react to seeing her, how you might react to seeing her as you went about with your preparations. With your chores and duties keeping you away from him it was hard to gauge where his psyche was, hard to anticipate just what he would need from you, or if he’d need you at all. 

When the guests started to arrive, the house was perfect. Food and drink had been laid out, the decorations were pristine and he had managed to reign in his reluctance to have his house filled with people he had no wish to see. He greeted them all, a smile that never quite reached his eyes plastered on his handsome face, offering everything he had with grace despite the low-simmering anger you could feel even from your place in the shadows. 

You served, and watched. Head-bowed in deference to those in attendance, silent in your obedience, in your service and efficient as was your way until you saw the cascade of blonde curls in your peripheral. Your stomach roiled at the sight of her, the easy, unbothered way she sauntered through his house, seemingly free of guilt for her feeble attempt at beguiling your Dominus. 

He noticed her too, and something inside you preened at the way his eyes turned cold. There was none of the warmth that always greeted you in private. She didn’t seem to notice it, her gaze drifting to him constantly, devouring him unabashedly whether he welcomed it or not. 

You kept your vigil as the night wore on, invisible to all except him. Your heart swelled everytime his eyes met yours, whether you were filling his cup or serving a guest, the anger in his gaze dispersed when your eyes locked. The warmth you’d come to crave poured out from him, it crawled through your veins and warmed you from the inside with every tiny, true smile he gifted you. 

Service came easy to you, it was what you did day in and day out. Despite how forgiving, how patient your Dominus was with you and the rest of those who served in his house, servitude was servitude. Pouring for men and women who did not see you was nothing, preferable, truly. 

Pouring for, and tending to Lavinia was a distinct torture. 

She held out her goblet to you and you did your duty, ignoring the fire burning in your belly at her audacity. Your eyes kept drifting to her face, your expression kept twisting into a disgusted scowl, until you’d remember yourself and arrange your features into the appropriate blankness that was expected of one in your station. 

He caught you though, his eyes pulling yours to his with a raised eyebrow. A soft reproach, a gentle reprimand, followed by a knowing–forgiving–wink. 

The night wore on–the food was eaten, the wine flowed, and Lavinia was relentless. 

Marcus did his best to avoid her presence, excusing himself from where she stood to tend to other guests, walking away when he saw her approaching him. To anyone else, to anyone with any wits about them it was obvious that he had no wish to spend any amount of time with her. To her, it was a challenge, one she ran at full speed and without a care to how desperate she looked. 

That sense hit you again, of an errant toddler, unable to accept no as an answer to something she desired. Something she felt she was owed.

His face was flushed in anger when he found you clearing empty platters, nose flared in frustration while his guests laughed loudly, soft music filling the room and candlelight burning in his eyes. 

“Follow me, Girl.” It was an angry whisper, and you rushed to obey. 

You had to take two steps for every one of his and when he finally arrived at his study he closed the door behind you. The caged animal in him reared its head again, waves of frustration, of poorly concealed aggression poured off him strong enough to paint gooseflesh across your skin. 

“Dominus?” You approached him slowly, tentatively hoping to calm him with soft words and gentle touch and he allowed it. Let you get close, let you press your hands to his chest. His eyes closed tight, but his breathing settled as he pressed his forehead to yours. 

“How can I be of help, Dominus? Shall I tell the guests you are ill?” You cupped his face, sweeping up to run your fingers through his grey waves in the way you knew always soothed him. 

“No Girl, I must face them. I just needed a moment of peace. I just needed your touch.” He pulled your hand to his mouth, pressing his lips to your palm. “Lavinia is relentless, I do not know how to be diplomatic, I do not know how to remain civil and pleasant without reverting to the darker aspect of my nature.” He sighed, hands landing on your hips to hold you close and you ignored the way your heart swelled to know your touch brought him peace. 

“Would that there was something I could do, I would do it Dominus, I would fix this for you had I any power to do so.” He breathed into your neck, a softer sigh. 

“Gratitude, Girl.” He placed a kiss at your shoulder, resigned to return to the frey. “If Lavinia knew all of the things I wish to do to you, I promise you she’d give up her chase.” He smiled, hands lowering to grab at your backside. Something mischievous, something wicked whispered in your ear and you smiled at him. 

“That look is trouble if I ever saw it Girl, what mischief are you plotting?” He smiled, eyes narrowed in curious delight. You chewed at your lip, eyes darting behind you to the still closed door. 

“Well Dominus, perhaps if she were to see the things you like to do to me, the things I dream about you doing to me–” Your own hands travelled down the expanse of his chest, towards his manhood. He groaned when you cupped him, a warm, conspiratorial smile lighting up his face. “Perhaps then she will finally understand that you do not desire her.” You stroked at him, relishing the way he stiffened in your palm. 

“You will be the death of me, Girl. Leave it to me. I will go back, and walk towards this room slowly. If I am right in my assumptions about her, she will follow.” His own hand slid down under your tunic, slipping between your legs to find the arousal collecting at the mouth of your cunt. He smiled, eyes on the way your mouth opened in a sharp gasp when he slipped two thick fingers as deep as he could get them. 

“Naughty, possessive Girl. All wet thinking about her catching me take you hm? Excited that she will finally know that this is the only cunt I want–” He found the secret place only he’s ever touched and you let out a moan. 

“Yes Dominus, I want her to see, I want her to know that this, that you are mine.” You squeezed him and he let out a punched out groan. His lips pressed to yours in a rough, breath-stealing kiss, his tongue claiming you before pulling away and leaving you almost dazed. His eyes lust-blown when he removed his fingers from between your legs, and stuck them into his mouth. 

“Wait for me here.” He adjusted himself in his robes, and walked out in a swirl of white fabric. 

By the time he came back, your arousal was something with teeth and claws and it was with an almost inhuman ferocity that you crashed into his arms. He groaned, joining in your frenzy and all but lifting you onto his desk. 

“Please Dominus, hurry, I need you–” He cut off your words with another toe-curling kiss, tongue insistent and commanding in your mouth. His hands were rough where they all but ripped your tunic up, barely giving you a warning before stuffing himself to the hilt inside you. You didn’t care how loud you were, you didn’t care how desperate you sounded, he felt too good to concern yourself with anything but him. 

He showed his strength, pulling your knees over his forearms to spread you wide, making you clutch at his neck and the arousal only grew. It filled your stomach with butterflies and made your nipples hard as pebbles. There was a creak just down the hall and the butterflies swarmed again, the thought of Lavinia following him and finding him fucking you made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. It made your cunt flood him with slick. 

“I think she approaches Dominus–” You whispered in his ear, nails clawing at his good robes despite the fact that you’ll be the one to mend them. 

“Let her, let her see me with you, deep inside you, the only place I want to be.” He presses his face into the crook of your neck and speeds up, fucking you harder, faster. 

When she finally pushed the slightly ajar door open all the way the expression on her face almost made you laugh. Her eyes were wide as plates, her mouth open in what could only be described as naked shock. Too surprised and stunned to move, she watched as he thrust inside you, his pace brutal. 

“I want your gift Dominus, may I have it?” You sung into his ear in your sweetest voice, smiling at her as he moaned into your neck. 

“It’s yours Girl, my cock, my come, only yours.” He speaks clearly, loudly, and pulls your face away from her direction with a kiss that was lewd enough to shock even you, tongue indecent, one hand moving up to hold onto your neck. She ran out of room but you couldn’t bring yourself to care, not when he held you like that, not when he kissed you like that. 

“I’m yours too, Dominus–” He moaned, the sound between your legs so loud, so wet, “Make me yours Dominus, love me Dominus.” You whispered the last little bit, so low you didn’t think he heard. His hand moved down, fingers swirling around your clit. 

The climax that had been building in the base of your spine and in your core swelled, growing and growing with every delicious swirl until you seized up, frozen in ecstasy as he chased his own end within your body. It was with a filthy groan, and a dirty grind that he painted your insides in his gift. The spurt of it made you laugh with happiness, pressing your lips to his face as he squeezed at the meat of your hips.

He let out a breathy laugh at your reaction. 

“Happy to have her see you claim me? Claim what drips out of you even now?” He wrapped his arms around your ribs, grabbing at every inch of you he could reach. 

“Yes Dominus, I am happy at the thought that you might have peace now, because of me.” You kept pressing soft, chaste kisses despite his cock softening inside your ruined cunt. 

“Hmmm. Very territorial, my lovely Girl.” He smiled his rare, relaxed smile, accepting your affection with good grace. After a few minutes, he sighed.

“Much as I enjoy your touch, much as I enjoy you showering me with these soft, devastating kisses I must go back to the gathering.” He took your hands from his face, pressing his lips to both in a gentle apology before pulling out of you and tucking himself away,

“Take your time adjusting yourself before rejoining.” He fixed his robes as best he could, running a hand through his hair before closing the door behind him. 

By the time you made your way back to his guests, Lavinia was gone and he was himself once more, his smile genuine, his body relaxed and it was difficult to stay humble. 

You poured for the guests as his gift dripped out of you and onto your thighs, a pleasant ache blooming there as you moved around and completed your duties. 

He caught your eye and you took your place behind him, when he turned his head you approached, ready to obey and tend to his wants. 

“Try to keep me inside, I want you to be wet when I love you tonight.” With a raised eyebrow and a knowing grin, he turned to continue the conversation with his guest. 

All you could do was smile and nod, clenching and obeying as best you could. 

–

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[just-jordie-things]

we weren’t just friends - okkotsu yuuta

word count: 11.9k warnings: heavy second base action (no tops, dry humping) but no smut, swearing, drinking but it’s legal summary: their friends think that if there’s tension between new roomates (y/n) and yuuta, then they should just act on it.  more info: college!au, aged up characters, roommate!au, childhood friends, unrequited(?) love

part one: “face it, you want it, you crave it” ___

Having Yuuta as a roommate was never all that weird for (y/n).  Things sort of just worked out that way, and honestly she was so relieved that she didn’t have to scramble to find a stranger to split the rent with- or face homelessness- that she hadn’t really given it much thought until a few days after he’d moved all of his things in and had settled into their now shared space.

On paper, he was the perfect candidate after all.  They’d been friends for years, having known each other since childhood it was easy to trust him in her space.  He already spent so much time in her dorm when she still lived on campus that having him in her living space didn’t seem like it’d be that much different anyways.  Not to mention she knew him to be tidy and a pretty good cook, so as long as he was able to supply half the rent every month, she was content.

The day he’d moved in she’d been so happy that she’d hardly focused at all on helping him unpack.  Most of her time was spent dancing around to the moving playlist she’d made, and she insisted they jam out while they- he- unpacked his things in the empty room adjacent to hers.  When she wasn’t dancing, she was rambling on about how delighted she was that he agreed to move in with her.  Looking back it was probably a little much, but Yuuta wasn’t overwhelmed by her excitement in the slightest.

As soon as she’d mentioned being on the hunt for a roommate he hadn’t thought twice about offering himself.  They both just so happened to decide to move off campus to find cheaper, and steadier housing.  The market wasn’t all that great so living alone wouldn’t have been possible even if either of them had interest in the roach infested studios in the area.  Even the two bedroom apartment they shared was rather tiny, the living space and kitchen was essentially all one room, and there was only one bathroom, but they made it work.  It was still more affordable than living on campus, and that’s all they cared about.

For the first two weeks it had been fun, even.  It felt like a sleepover with their best friend, but every night.  They spent most nights in cozy pajamas curled up on the couch sharing their favorite movies and swapping snacks.  (y/n) couldn’t believe how lucky she was to have him, and she was happy to tell him so every chance she got.

Yuuta couldn’t believe how lucky he was to get to spend all his free time with her.  No longer did he have to coordinate around both of their schedules in order to have quality time with his favorite person.  If she had to study for the evening and couldn’t hang out, he’d happily sit on her bed scrolling on his phone or reading.  When their friends were free they’d come over unannounced, because either (y/n) or Yuuta were bound to be around to hang out with.

It was just so easy, it almost felt like a dream.  The beginning of having their own space as young adults to do with as they please.  

Yuuta bought a fish tank for their living room, a whole ten gallon aquarium for a pretty betta fish that (y/n) helped him pick out.  They spoiled it with plants and cool rocks for decoration.  They took turns feeding him every three days, and regularly sat in front of his tank to admire him.  If one of them weren’t present, the other would spam their phone with photos and videos of it swimming around, doing next to nothing, with captions full of hearts and emojis to swoon for their pet.

(y/n) spent her freedom a little differently.  

At first it was decorating her new room with a maximalist aesthetic.  Posters, tapestries, string lights, and any strange pretty thing she’d taken a liking to covered her walls so thick that most of it began to overlap.  It could be overstimulating to some- as Maki had remarked when she first visited the place- but she loved it that way.  It took her a full three days to collage a whole wall full of her favorite photos.  Ones from childhood, some from grade school, most from her most recent experiences and adventures through college.  If she were to pull out her phone and snap a photo to make a proper memory of the day, it was likely getting printed out the next day and taped up to the wall.  Soon, those too began to pile up and overlap, but again, she loved it that way.  Even Yuuta began to take pictures for her, printing them out when he found the time and sticking them to the fridge to surprise her.

Once the project that was her room had been tackled and she was satisfied with the home she’d made for herself, her desire for freedom took the form of heavy drinking.  It might have been concerning, Yuuta certainly panicked a little bit when he’d come home from a late study group session and find her dancing around the kitchen with her favorite handle in her clutch and the belting of her favorite song echoing in the small space.  Eventually her time of drinking alone proved to be just a phase, one too many hangovers having taught her a lesson on time and place for drinking hard alcohol straight.  But he did come to learn that she was quite comfortable as a social drinker.  So if the Zen’in twins and Toge were coming over, it wasn’t odd to find a drink in her hand.  At least she started taking his advice and ending the night with a full glass of water and an ibuprofen.

All in all, living together hadn’t been too strange of a milestone for them.  It was fun, it was easy, and they really couldn’t have asked for more out of a roommate.  Being best friends was an added perk that just made it all the more smooth.

Until recently. ___

“I’m tellin’ you,” 

(y/n) huffed as she pulled the straw from her mouth as she spoke.  A signature vodka cranberry mixed to perfection after months of honing the skill of a perfect pour.  Her movements are a little delayed and awkward as she leaned back into the kitchen counter, her elbows coming to rest on it to hold herself up as she leaned her head back dramatically.  Maki, who had only been semi listening to the girl’s ranting, remained silent as she raised a brow at the display.

“I think he’s doin’ it on purpose” (y/n) finished with a mumble.

It was difficult to hear her over the game of mariokart that Yuuta and Toge were currently playing in the living room- they got quite competitive when it came to that game in particular- but Maki caught enough of it to understand where she was going.

She looked over at her sister with only mild interest in her expression.  Mai touched her fingertips to her mouth as she chuckled to herself, finding the situation far more amusing than Maki.

The situation began as simple as this: In order to save time in the mornings when both (y/n) and Yuuta had class, they’d been working on a bathroom schedule in order to optimize their time.  For example, (y/n) had started doing her hair and makeup at a mirror in her room, where she’d sit on the floor and go through her skin care routine, and any other beautification and styling she’d felt inclined to for the day.  That helped a lot with cutting back on hogging the shared bathroom.

Yuuta’s idea of helping to cut back on time, is to go back to his room directly after a shower to dry his hair and get dressed for the day.  It was a great idea in theory, and would definitely save an extra five to ten minutes.

However twice now (y/n) had run into him in the short hall from the bathroom to his room.  She shouldn’t have been so flustered.  Realistically, she wasn’t seeing anything she hadn’t seen before.  There had been plenty of times she’d seen him without a shirt.  In the backyard of the home she’d grown up in they’d often set up a sprinkler to run through.  In high school they’d gotten their volunteer hours in through lifeguarding together.  In their freshman year of college they’d gone to just about every frat party, bonfire, and beach day that was thrown, just to be able to say they had taken on the party scene in their younger years.  Seeing Yuuta shirtless was nothing new.

But twice now she’d practically run into him, with nothing but a towel held around his waist, damp hair sticking to his forehead and falling around his eyes, pale skin still littered with droplets of water, and had he started working out-? 

Even thinking about it now she felt her face heating up.  She shouldn’t have committed that image to memory- but it happened twice already so it couldn’t have been more than her mind staying sharp, right? 

“If he’s doing it on purpose,” Mai’s voice had (y/n) snapping her head up as she crash landed back in reality.  Her blush was obvious to the twins, but she hoped to play it off as the alcohol in her system.

Certainly not the thoughts that had started littering her mind, thoughts that you just don’t have about a best friend and roommate.

“Then why don’t you just do something about it?” Mai finished with a small smile on her face that suggests she has quite a few ideas in mind on how she could fix this problem.

(y/n’s) eyes widen, and she brings her drink back to her lips to ease her racing heart and spiraling thoughts.

“Like what?” She mumbles, as if there was a chance the guys could possibly hear their conversation.

Nothing could compete with the sound effect of a blue shell incoming, and Toge’s defeated screeches.

Maki scoffs before laughing, finally finding entertainment in this whole ordeal (y/n) had gotten herself so worked up about.  The last ten minutes of their girl talk in the kitchen had been for nothing, it seemed, if she wasn’t going to act on her obvious infatuation.

“Just bone?” She suggests with a small laugh.

(y/n) swears her eyes were going to bulge right out of their sockets, and what was meant to be a small sip of her drink turned into a gulp as she sucked a little too harshly on her straw.

“Maki,” Mai hisses, smacking her sister’s arm, before turning back to (y/n).  “She’s not wrong though, that would definitely solve everything” 

“I can’t do that!” (y/n) squeaks.  “I just- it’ll pass, it’s just a little crush, right? That’s normal, right?” 

She looks between the twins for confirmation, validation in her silly feelings that were bound to pass with time.  Mai winces.  Maki rolls her eyes.  This wasn’t looking promising.  But perhaps they were just too eager to set up their friends and see some drama to unfold, so (y/n) decides that their advice might be a bit on the biased side.

“Just test the waters a little first,” Maki suggests, shooting Mai a look as she tries to telepathically tell her to reel it in.  “Dip your toes in a little.  No harm in that, right?”

“You live together, how have you not experimented a little already?” Mai mumbles, her brows furrowing together as her eyes glaze over, as though trying to process how it could be possible.  The calculations simply weren’t adding up.

(y/n) gnaws on the inside of her cheek, and her fingers begin to tap on her glass.

“I guess…” She says, but her uncertainty is obvious.  “Well… how much is a little?” 

The twins burst into laughter, and they’re looking at each other like there’s an inside joke she’s not in on, and (y/n) pouts at them for teasing her in their silent twin way.  This wasn’t the first time, she should be used to feeling like an odd man out when it came to hanging out with these two, but they were her last hope for guidance, so she took what she could.

For now, she determined that Maki and Mai weren’t going to be of much help as they snickered and muttered to one another.  (y/n) couldn’t make out what they were saying exactly, but she gathered enough to realize they were slights against her, and she had enough of the bordering-on-friendly fire.

“I’m playing mariokart” She huffs, strutting out of the kitchen space and across the floor to the living room.  In this small apartment it was an open floor so the couch was only ten feet away, but it was far enough that she couldn’t hear their laughter anymore, and for now that was enough.

Yuuta and Toge were sitting on the sofa, both heavily concentrating on the competitive game.  Their wrists are flicking the switch controllers with precise movements as they steer, but when it comes to using items and drifting, their fingers are smashing buttons viciously.  As she rounds the sofa she eyes the screen, seeing that the pair are battling it out for first place, with Yuuta currently claiming the spot.

That is, until (y/n) plops onto the cushioned armrest right beside him, and he glances up at her out of habit.  The two seconds that he takes to smile up at her- even though she’s watching the screen- is all Toge needs to creep up Yuuta’s character and throw a green shell directly at his kart.

The remote tingles in his hands with a familiar vibration, his character having taken a hit.  Yuuta’s head swivels back to the screen, as he desperately tries to make a comeback, but two other characters have already passed him, and now he’s in fourth place.

“What the hell!?” He groans as he realizes his demise is inevitable.  It was the third lap of the game, and Toge’s Yoshi was about to cross the finish line.  “That was so uncool!” 

Toge’s cackling to himself, proud of his sneaky attack.  He had a feeling it would work, all he needed was the perfect distraction.  And nothing distracted Yuuta like (y/n).

As Yoshi crosses the finish line, Yuuta drops his controller to his lap with a defeated huff.  He leans back into the sofa, head hitting the cushion as he glares at the screen displaying Yoshi’s victory dance, before he turns to (y/n), who gives him a sympathetic smile, before offering her drink to him.

“That was a dirty move,” She sides with him- typical, Toge rolls his eyes at the two of them, which goes unnoticed- “You’ll get him next time” 

Yuuta takes the glass from her hand, sipping from the straw experimentally.  There had been a period of time where her drinks were so strong he was about ready to cut her off from alcohol altogether.  When a perfect mixture of vodka and cranberry juice hits his tongue, he’s pleasantly surprised that it’s not too bitter.  His eyes light up at her before he swallows.  She giggles at the obvious reaction.

“Yeah yeah” She mutters before he could even say anything.  He didn’t have to for her to understand exactly what he was thinking.

Yuuta chuckles at her, before scooting over on the sofa, closer to Toge, so that there was some space for her to sit next to him.

“You want in?” He asks, holding his controller out to her.

She squeezes awkwardly into the small space, her legs still hanging over the armrest, and her back almost completely pressed into his side.  Toge had shifted completely to one side of the couch, giving Yuuta more than enough space to also move so that (y/n) could sit properly.  But neither of them seem to notice the blonde boy’s silent offer.  Or, if they did, they didn’t pay any mind to it.

(y/n) takes the controller with a grin and a nod, and Toge starts up the next round.  Yuuta had chosen Rosalina as his character, a favorite between them that they often fought over so much she was usually off limits when the two of them played.

Despite having a delayed start because Yuuta had finished the last race somewhere in the middle of the lineup, (y/n) makes a good comeback for the both of them.  He cheers for her, leaning forward in his seat again as though he were still focused on the game for his own win.  (y/n) remained in a relaxed position slumped back against him, her fingers moving with swift ease over the controller.

She giggled at the way Yuuta was on the edge of his seat, literally, sipping down the rest of her drink as he watched her play.  He threw out advice when she picked up items, and winced for her when she took a hit.

“Use that! Throw it! Throw it at-!” 

“Yuuta you’re being a backseat driver” (y/n) said calmly, keeping the red shell in her inventory despite his demands.  

Toge barks out a laugh, still coasting in first place without much competition from the computers.  But (y/n) was quickly gaining on him, drifting and gliding past the other spots with ease, and Yuuta began to realize her strategy.  With a knowing grin on his face he leans back into the couch again, and puts his faith in her abilities.

She kicked his ass most of the time when they played one on one anyways.

Soon enough she was in second place and Yoshi was in sight.  Yuuta’s hand happily tapped at her shoulder, giddy with his excitement.  Toge had gone eerily silent as he put all of his focus in remaining in first.  But his efforts were wasted, without an item to defend himself, (y/n) was able to take him out with one blow, stealing first place for herself and crossing the finish line on the final lap shortly after.

She raised her arms victoriously, but even more excited than her was Yuuta, who bragged in Toge’s face before wrapping his arms around his roommate and congratulating her on her win.  She laughed, her head falling back on his shoulder as she laughed at his antics.

He beamed at her, and even though it was silly, there was no doubt in her mind that his pride in her was anything but authentic.  Yuuta was just like that.  He celebrated even the most minor of conquests.

Toge tossed the controller onto the coffee table with a string of curses muttered under his breath.

“Good timing,” Maki calls, dangling her keys in her hand and catching their attention.  “Are you crashing here or are you leaving with us?” 

(y/n) lifts her head up from Yuuta’s shoulder, peeking over the back of the couch at the twins who suddenly had their shoes on.  She gives them a pout.

“Leaving so soon?” 

“We’ve been here for eight hours” Mai giggles.

“It’s one in the morning you maniac” Maki rolls her eyes.

“You could just spend the night,” (y/n) offers, her features brightening up at the idea.  “Sleepover-!” 

“No,” Maki shakes her head firmly, despite Mai’s excited expression at the idea.  “We have class in the morning, we’ll do it another time, okay?” 

(y/n) nods, satisfied with that answer.

Toge shuffles off the couch, giving a bitter congratulations to the winning pair of mariokart, although he made it clear to Yuuta that he only won because (y/n) took over.

They bid their friends goodbye, promising to meet up again at some point soon, knowing fully well they wouldn’t make a plan, and someone was bound to show up on their doorstep without invitation tomorrow or the next day.

And then it was just (y/n) and Yuuta.

She was still tucked under his arm, he was still drinking the remnants of the drink she’d made for herself but had conveniently forgotten about so he could have the last of it.

“Are you going to bed, too?” She asks him, and he chuckles at her desire for staying up late.

They’d always been opposites in that aspect.  

(y/n) was a night owl through and through, whether party mode was on or not.  She was most productive when the sun went down.  It wasn’t odd to find her studying or doing chores at odd hours of the night.  He’d actually had to tell her she couldn’t vacuum in the middle of the night, claiming she was going to make their neighbors complain.  But it was a treat for him to wake up and find the apartment spotless and organized.

Meanwhile Yuuta was an early to rise kind of guy.  He had a decent morning routine for himself that involved an alarm going off at eight in the morning every morning, and it wasn’t often he broke that routine.  He’d be up for a few hours before (y/n) would drag herself out of bed and into the kitchen for breakfast- which was usually waiting for her on the counter.

“It is the middle of the night now,” He tells her, before checking his phone.  “Actually it’s not technically night anymore, it’s Friday morning”

(y/n) frowned at him.  He chuckles again.

“Fine, fine” (y/n) starts to sit up, but doesn’t go too far.  She pulls her legs onto the cushion beneath her, and then turns to face him properly.

For some reason when she looks up at him again, she’s brought back to her conversation with the Zen’in twins, and she can’t help but wonder what they would have advised her to do if she’d stuck around for the rest of their conversation.  She wondered if Yuuta had ever experienced this dilemma, or if she was the only one creating the tension in the apartment.  She wondered if he even felt it.

“Som’thin’ on your mind?” Yuuta asks after a few beats of silence pass.  His eyebrows furrow in the slightest, and (y/n’s) expression eases into something calmer.  She must’ve been thinking too hard, she supposes.

“Not really, just had a weird talk with Maki and Mai” She tries to brush it off as not a big enough deal worth talking about, but for some reason, this seems to catch his interest.

“Oh yeah?” He muses curiously.  “Don’t tell me they want to move in-” 

“No!” (y/n) let out a burst of laughter as she shook her head.  “Where did that come from? Where would they even stay?” She asks, gesturing to the small space around them.  Yuuta laughs with her, shrugging his shoulders.

“My thoughts exactly,” He agrees quietly, as though they were keeping it a secret just between them.  “But everyone hangs out here all the time, I don’t want them getting any ideas,” He says, half seriously.  “This is our sweet deal,”

Yuuta laughs again, but this time when she laughs along with him it’s soft, almost unsure.  Her heart flutters in her chest at the sentiment he shares for having this place with her.  Even after all this time, she feels relief in waves of warmth when he voices his happiness here.

“What is it then?” He asks.  He leans back into the couch cushion, but keeps his eyes on hers.  She tilts her head and hums in question.  “Your weird talk,” He reminds her, “What was it about?” 

“Oh,” (y/n) drops her gaze from his, her face warming up at the idea of admitting to him what they’d been talking about.

I’ve just been thinking about you shirtless a lot lately, and sometimes I can’t sleep over it just doesn’t seem to be an appropriate thing to say to a long time best friend who she now lives with.

“They were just asking questions about what it’s like to live together” She settles on a half lie.  They had been curious about the living situation.  She didn’t necessarily have to disclose that Mai found it unthinkable that they were able to share a living space and not tear each other’s clothes off… right?

“For us to live together?” Yuuta raises a brow.  (y/n) tucks her hands into her lap and nods.  

She tries to get comfortable leaning her back against the arm rest, but everytime his gaze falls on her, it feels heavier than usual, and she struggles to sit still.  Her hands fiddle in her lap, she squirms in her seat, and she can only hold his eye contact for a minute at a time.  Did he always look at her like that? She wondered when she dared to meet those deep blue irises again.  Was it the few drinks he’d had that made them look darker? Or was she seeing things? 

“Why was that so interesting?” He asks.  “I mean, it’s been six months,” 

Again, her heart flutters at the thought of him knowing exactly how long they’d been living together.  Or maybe she was being stupid and he was just keeping track of the rent.

“What’s so interesting about now?” 

(y/n) shrugs, a small smile on her face that she can’t help.  “I don’t know” 

But he sees through the statement, especially with that smile on her face that tells him there was more she wasn’t telling him.  Curiosity gets the best of him, and he raises a brow at her.

“Well,” He ponders, “What were they so curious about?” 

(y/n) drags her bottom lip between her teeth as she narrows her eyes at him, proving that she could read him well, too, and she could tell that he was trying to pry even though she’d been repeatedly dismissing the subject.

“Nosy tonight,” She scolds him as she kicks her legs out to throw them over his, stretching the sore muscles from sitting on her feet for too long.  “Were you eavesdropping, Okkotsu?” 

“No,” He lets out a small laugh.  “Though now I wish I had been, since you’re being unusually cryptic about it” 

“Unusual?” She repeats the word in a drawl, tilting her head and pretending to think it over.  “I wouldn’t say unusual,” She argues softly.  “I don’t tell you everything” 

“Yes you do” Yuuta replies matter of factly, his expression doesn’t even flicker.  (y/n) blinks at him.

“No…” 

“Oh yeah? Tell me something you haven’t told me then” He challenges, his lips curling into a smile.

She huffs, and quickly tries to rack her brain for something she’d kept from him.  Secrets and embarrassing moments fly through her train of thought as she tries to latch onto a memory that she was sure she hadn’t shared with him.

Her eyes light up as she finally remembers something she’s sure he didn’t know.

“Oh!” She leans forward with eager anticipation to prove him wrong.  “Remember my first boyfriend? In middle school?”

Yuuta raised a brow, but nodded in confirmation.

“On our first date, he took me out-” 

“Mhm,” Yuuta hums, recalling the details of that date without much thought at all.  “Bowling” He said calmly.

“Right,” (y/n) chuckles, flustering a bit that he already seemed to remember the event as easily as she had.  “Well, at the end of the date, when we were waiting outside for his mom to pick us up, he’d asked if he could kiss me while we were alone, before she got there,” Her words are a little slurred, which she was quick to mentally blame on the few drinks she’d had.  “But I told him n-” 

“- you told him no because you ate chili fries while you were bowling and you didn’t want him to taste it and then he kissed you anyways and you slapped him on instinct and he was a little whiner about it and said you did taste like chili fries and you smacked him again” Yuuta filled in the rest of the story, his head rested back against the cushion again, as though he was bored just from retelling it.

(y/n) blinked, her lips parting into an ‘o’ shape as she realized maybe he did know everything about her already.  Should it have been obvious to her from his confidence on that matter? Probably.  Did she still feel a determination to find something, anything, that he didn’t know? Definitely.

At her lack of response, Yuuta rolled his head to the side, a lazy smirk tugging on his lips when he regarded her soft surprise.  Her eyes narrow in the slightest at him, playful mockery of his know-it-all attitude.

“Well, then,” (y/n) scoffed as she took on a refreshed attitude when it came to rubbing in his face that she knew something he didn’t.  “I suppose you already knew that the twins were curious about how you and I seem to manage living together without some kind of netflix-romcom-level sexual tension” 

The teasing tone in her voice and eager gleam in her eye seem to disappear as soon as the words come out and she realizes what she’s just said.  In slow motion, and as her face falls into one of regret, she realizes two things.

One, that by addressing the sexual tension, whether it existed or not, it instantly thickened in the air.  All at once she’s aware of it.  Suddenly the weight of her legs in his lap is so heavy she feels a desire to curl up into him completely.  Yuuta has one arm draped over the back of the couch cushions in her direction, his hand hangs loosely just in front of her shoulder.  If she were to lean forward in the slightest movement, his fingers would graze her sweater.  His other hand lays on her knee, and sporadically he taps his index finger against it.  Sometimes she thinks he’s playing a familiar beat that’s been stuck in his head, too, but then he pauses and she loses track of figuring out what song that is.  Even her breathing is suddenly manual, and she’s afraid if she sucks in a breath too sharp, he’ll question it.  So she takes slow, shallow breaths, barely filling her lungs with oxygen.  Was that why she was getting so dizzy? 

Two, now that she’s admitted what her and the twins had been talking about earlier, (y/n) fears that she’ll have to confess that the reason they were talking about the sexual tension was because she’d created the sexual tension- and yet she had gone to them to blame him for it.

Yuuta blinks, his brows furrowing at first, as though to process the information, but he just as quickly relaxed his face and pursed his lips, giving her a small nod.

(y/n) doesn’t dare utter a word.  Instinct claws up her throat and begs her to take it back, make a joke and apologize to smooth it over and hopefully they’d never mention it again.  The words die before she can utter them.  She remains frozen beside him, focused on his every microexpression, hoping to figure out what he was thinking before he voiced it.

“I see,” He says, a small smile gracing his features that has her relaxing just a little bit.

Yuuta can feel her weight shifting as she sinks further into the couch cushion.  He could sense her nerves from a mile away, so he spoke carefully, hoping not to spook her into retreating early.

Comfortingly, his hand smooths over her knee, long fingers grazing her thigh from the short caress.

“I don’t think I would’ve guessed that,” He admits with a chuckle through his nose.  His eyes flicker over to hers, watching her closely.  Her cheeks are pink, and her gaze shifts between his eyes at a faster rate than usual.  She’s still anxious.  “But I can’t say I’m surprised” 

Her lips twitch with a curious emotion Yuuta can’t read as well as before.  Her brows pinch and then relax.  She’s reading him, he thinks.  His mind is a little hazy from the few drinks he’s had, so he might be seeing things that aren’t there, but he’s equally intrigued by the conversation.

“You don’t think it’s weird?” She asks.  Her voice is quiet, but he doesn’t mistake it for uncertainty.  In fact, he can tell just how genuinely interested she is in obtaining his thoughts.  Just as he is, she’s on the edge of her seat, and only pushing further to see where this new line of thought would lead them both.  “Living together, I mean” She clarifies, unnecessarily.

The pad of his finger taps against her knee, once, and then twice.  His lips purse and she watches the movement with her breath hitched in her throat.  The room was getting hot from the thickening tension that she’d created.  It was almost uncomfortable, her body screamed for her to get up from this couch, pull herself from where she was half draped over his lap and put as much distance between them while she still could.  She was approaching a line between them that she’d never even tiptoed across before, and she wasn’t sure what lied on the other side, but god, she was just dying to find out.

“Weird? Not in the slightest” Yuuta murmurs honestly.  She can tell from the way his eyes lock onto hers that he does mean it, and relief flooded her.  Before it came back in the form of excitement, and now her skin was buzzing everywhere that their bodies were touching.

“You’re not just saying that?” She double checks, leaning forward off of the arm rest to study him up close.  

They were already close enough, but there was a quiet desire in the back of her mind longing to push closer, until she could make out the individual swirls of blue in his irises.  Her lips curve into a soft, lovely smile as she admires him, and Yuuta fights the way his own breath chokes up in his throat.

“You really don’t think it’s weird we’ve never…” She trails off, her head shaking in a small movement, just enough to make a few stray hairs fall into her eyes.  “I dunno, like, even kissed or anything?” 

His eyes grow rounder at the question, widening just a little bit, but enough for her to notice.  She knew such a blunt question would make him nervous, Yuuta always grew nervous at any sort of romantic prospect.  He’d been that way since they were kids.  If he had a crush on someone it was obvious, but as soon as (y/n) would press about it, he’d get red in the face and begin to stutter.  It had always been cute, if not a little silly.  But now it had her curious as to why.  They’d been friends for so long, and even now that they were older, it was like his initial response to such questioning would make him shut down.

‘You could bring girls here, you know,’ She’d told him once, shortly after they’d settled into the apartment.  ‘I could even leave for the night.  Stay with the twins, or somethin.  That way it’s not weird’ 

He’d laughed, and given her a puzzled look, like the mere idea was ridiculous, like he didn’t even understand what she was suggesting.  The pink in his cheeks told her he knew fully well what she was saying.  She’d returned the confused look at the time.  ‘Don’t you want to bring girls here?’ She’d asked point blank.

‘N-no, well, maybe,’ His response was immediate but he had no clue what he was saying.  ‘I just haven’t thought about it’ He’d said instead.

She’d teased him for it, but dropped the subject.  It might’ve been entertaining to watch him squirm, but she didn’t want to make him uncomfortable.  So she’d simply reminded him that it was alright with her.  Followed by, ‘I mean, you wouldn’t mind if I brought someone here, would you?’ 

He’d stared at her for a minute, his answer not as instantaneous as the last.  His heart lurched to his throat, or perhaps it had been bile, and he found himself biting down on his tongue to keep from speaking too quickly.  His expression hadn’t flickered even for a moment, remaining neutral as she stared at him, awaiting his response.

Yuuta hadn’t said a word.  He simply shook his head, and then left the conversation completely by returning to his studies, hoping that giving his attention back to his textbook would drop the topic.  It had worked, she’d moved on right away, and it hadn’t been brought up since.

Neither one of them had brought a visitor to the apartment, besides their friends who frequented regularly.  There were no dates, no lovers, no visitors of the night snuck in, or even mentioned.  Pondering it now, Yuuta supposes there were very few things she didn’t tell him.  Then again, he didn’t exactly have an interest in knowing those things.  In fact, the mere idea of it had bile rising in his throat.

Yuuta arched a brow at her, silently questioning her train of thought.  Since that conversation early on in their roommate-ship, (y/n) rarely brought up this sort of topic.  Occasionally she had a date, but nothing seemed to last longer than a couple of weeks, and she didn’t talk much about those events in detail.  Always beginning with a simple ‘I have a date tonight’ and later followed up with ‘it didn’t work out’ and a shrug as she’d cozy up to him on this very sofa.  Yuuta never met any of the people she’d go out with.  (y/n) never offered him to.  They left it that way, unspoken, and simple.

Well, it wasn’t all that simple at all.  The nights she’d spend out of the house on these mystery dates Yuuta found himself sitting frozen and staring off into space, letting time lapse slowly as he waited for her return.  A part of him hoped no one ever lingered at the door, so he wouldn’t have to see who it was she spent her time with, who it was that was her type.  

But another part of him, the part that he tried to bury deep down, longed to look one of these men in the eyes, just once.  He wouldn’t even say anything, he was sure he wouldn’t need to.  If he could get one good look at them, he was sure he could make it clear just how undeserving of her time they were.  Because at the end of the day, she had him, and she had him in every way that mattered.  Since they were children, he’d been there, showing her what true love really looked like, felt like.  He was there for every important event and milestone.  He was here now, sharing a living space with her.  And he’d be there for everything that came next.  Because he cared about her.  Because he loved her.

And when she had him the way that she did, wrapped around a perfectly manicured finger, how could anyone else be remotely deserving of her? 

The gears in Yuuta’s mind are operating as fast as they can, spinning and whirring as he tries to decipher where exactly she’s going with this.  But the alcohol in his system has him under a haze, and he realizes he has yet to give her an answer to her question.

He clears his throat, and his lips twitch into an amused smile as he locks eyes with her.

“Is kissing the true evaluation of roommates?” He asks, a teasing lilt to his voice that has her blushing and rolling her eyes at him.  

A chuckle rumbles from his chest as the back of her hand smacks into his shoulder, the action soft, as though she were trying to be gentle with him, as though he were fragile, even with his broad shoulders and lean muscle built into his body.

He can’t help but tease again, for the sole purpose of seeing her continue to fluster before him.  The idea of making her forget how to behave around him after all this time has his heart skipping a beat, and a mischievous glint flashes in his eyes.

“What exactly are the Zen’ins feeding you, hm?” He asks, and she struggles to look him in the eye now.

“I wasn’t trying to suggest- they just- they got in my head…” She huffs defeatedly, her bottom lip sticking outwards in a small pout.  Yuuta’s eyes catch the plump pink skin, and they linger there for a moment longer than they should’ve before meeting her gaze again.  Her eyes have noticeably widened, proving he’d been caught, but he doesn’t feel as much anxiety about it as he should have.

“So what,” He speaks curiously.  “Are you asking me to kiss you?”

A small laugh escapes her, a tinkly little sound that is exhaled with the breath she’d been holding.  Yuuta’s lips quirk upwards at the nervous response, his excitement getting the best of him the longer he watches her shift her gaze and fluster.  Why this had been on her mind, he didn’t quite understand, but in their current predicament, he didn’t care too much to peel it back layer by layer.

“I didn’t-” (y/n) starts to shake her head, but her uncertainty overcomes her and she tries to switch gears.  “I don’t know… I guess they made me sort of… curious” She admits bashfully.  Her eyes focus on her fiddling hands in her lap before turning the question onto him.  “Is that weird?” Her voice is quiet again.  “Have you ever… I dunno… thought about it?” 

The hand that he had resting before her shoulder reached out then, fingertips barely grazing along the soft material of her cable knit sweater.  His gaze followed the motion as his fingers twitched and moved further on their own accord, stopping at the hem of the neckline, just before skin could touch skin.  He looks back at her, surprised to find her attention locked on him again.

All of the fucking time, his brain is so loud it almost overpowers the heartbeat pouding in his ears.  I don’t think I’ve ever truly stopped thinking about you.

“I suppose you’ve got me thinking about it now” Is what he says, quiet and smooth, although the blush on his cheeks betrays him and makes him appear a little softer than he was going for.  (y/n’s) lips twitch into a smile nonetheless, relieved again that he hadn’t made a fool out of her for admitting such a thing.

When she leans closer to him, his fingers finally graze against the side of her neck, and he wastes no time in sliding his large hand around the nape of her neck, not quite pulling her any closer than she’d already brought herself, but the presence of his hand is firm, making sure she won’t distance herself too soon.

“Do you want to?” She asks, her eyes lighting up with an excitement he’d sparked as soon as he’d validated her curiosities.  Her voice holds the silly eagerness of a girl much younger than she is.  A schoolgirl with a crush, Yuuta thinks to himself as he eyes her bright eyes and slowly growing grin.

The hand on her knee flexes with anticipation, giving her leg a slight squeeze.  He wants to say all the right things, he wants to do all the right things, because jesus christ this was a once in a lifetime opportunity and Yuuta could not afford to waste even a second of it.  He wanted to commit it all to memory, her soft voice, the smell of her perfume, the curve of her lips, the stars in her eyes- there was so much of her to take in, and not nearly enough time for him to adore it all properly.  With hooded eyes he studied every feature as best he could, wishing he could slow down time, or even freeze it altogether.

“Yeah,” He mumbles, and the word drawls out of his mouth in a long sigh as his eyes move between hers and her lips with a longing she’d never seen on him before.

If she didn’t know any better, (y/n) might have thought that look was desperation.

“Yeah, I want to,” He repeats a little louder, and he moves closer to her then, invading her space and clouding all of her senses with him.

His eyes, dark from how blown out his pupils had grown, his low almost raspy voice, the lingering remains of his musky cologne, the way his tongue barely poked out of his mouth to wet his lips- her heartbeat was racing, and her hand trembled as she reached out to place it against his collarbone.  Her touch was feather light, almost experimental despite having touched him on plenty of occasions before, just never quite like this.

Her long lashes flickered quickly as she too struggled with where to look.  When their gaze caught in passing, Yuuta gave the back of her neck a gentle squeeze, silently instructing her to hold his stare.

“You’re sure?” He asks softly, and she almost laughs at how thoughtful the question is.  How thoughtful he is.  But she doesn’t.  Instead, she gives him a sweet smile and a shrug of her shoulders.

“It’s just a kiss, right?” She murmurs, blissfully unaware of just how worked up Yuuta’s gotten himself over the prospect of just a kiss.  

He doesn’t wait for further confirmation.  He simply draws her closer by the back of her neck.  Her eyes flutter shut and she tilts her chin forward in the most miniscule of movements, and yet he can read her anticipation with ease.

Her breath hitches in her throat, and Yuuta’s closing the rest of the distance as his lips touch hers.

For half a second they’re both frozen, paralyzed by the sudden fear that there was no taking this back, there was no going back from this.  (y/n’s) blood ran cold in that brief moment, worried that Yuuta also realized this was a grave mistake.

But then his mouth moves over hers.  His warm lips catch hers with a soft yet determined kiss, and she gives into every temptation that consumes her.

Her hand presses into his chest a little harder, before her fingers are curling into the soft cotton of his tee shirt.  Her other hand falls against his shoulder when he tugs her closer in a moment of thoughtless desire.  Yuuta pulls her by her knee, sliding her closer until her legs drape completely across his, the curve of her ass flush with his thigh.  As soon as he does it he panics again that he’s made a mistake and taken this experiment of a kiss too far, but she responds so eagerly, with a quiet hum against his mouth and her hand curling around his neck as she deepens their kiss.

For a kiss on a whim between friends, (y/n) kisses him with the fervor of a woman starved, and Yuuta internally struggles on where the boundary between them currently lies.  His hand twitches on her thigh, squeezing the plush of her leg and aching to move, to explore the rest of her warm and inviting body, to touch her everywhere he could reach.  He has to hold her a little tighter just to fight the urge.

(y/n) is less worried about taking strides across the gray area of a boundary between them.  The hand on his neck slides into his hair, scratching at his scalp before her fingers tangle into the dark tresses.  She gives it a small tug, and his lips part against hers as he gasps, before chuckling quietly at her curiosity.  He feels her smile against him before she’s pressing closer again.  Her tongue darts over his swollen bottom lip, and she gives him no time to react to the hot and wet sensation before she’s capturing his lips again.

Yuuta wasn’t sure what he should’ve predicted when they’d drunkenly admitted to sharing a curiosity for kissing one another, but he hadn’t expected this.  Her hands have a tight hold on him, on his shirt and in his hair, and her sweet, cranberry flavored lips feel relentless as she slots them into his again and again.  He supposes he’s treating this little experiment the same, meeting each of her kisses with the same amount of heated excitement.  He tries not to think about when he’s supposed to stop, when he’s supposed to pull away and say ‘well that answers that.  Goodnight!’.  So for now he pretends that moment won’t come.

On the other hand, (y/n) knows she should stop.  She knows she should pull away from his addictive lips and release her shackles from him before she gets carried away.

But she’s already too far gone, isn’t she?

Shakily, she releases his shirt, and her hand blindly maps across his shoulder, then down his arm.  Her touch is light but the tips of her fingers burn across his skin.  His muscles are taut, and she wonders if he’s flexing to be impressive or if he’s filled with so much anticipation he’s fighting the urge to go further.  When her hand reaches his it stills, and she presses her palm into the back of his hand where it lies on her leg.

A shudder escapes her and she pants softly into his mouth, breaking their kiss as she grabs his hand a little tighter, and moves it.

Yuuta breaks away instantly, wide eyes meeting hers and an apology on the tip of his tongue.  But before she can pull his hand away from her, he realizes she’s holding it to place it somewhere else, not to pull it away.

She blinks her eyes open lazily as she sits up further, curving one of her legs across his lap, setting her knee down beside his hip.  Yuuta follows her movements in a daze, his hooded eyes flitting across her body as he watches her straddle his lap and settle back into him carefully.  She’s slow, agonizingly slow, giving him ample time to halt her, to say the word that he was done and his curiosity had been satiated.

He doesn’t.

Her hand pushes his again, guiding it up to her waist, and then down over her hip.

“This okay?” She mumbles, and his gaze moves from where she’s still lowering his hand.  He tilts his head back as he looks up at her, and the look in his eyes has her melting right in his lap.  Her free hand spreads out over his chest, fingers stretching as far as she can reach to feel as much of his heated skin through his tee shirt as she could.

He looks at her with his pupils so blown they almost eat up every last splash of blue in his irises.  His lips are swollen and parted as he takes in quiet, heavy breaths.  He nods at her lazily, drunkenly, and she wonders if it’s from the alcohol or from her.

When she pushes his hand under her ass, she doesn’t have to guide him any further.  He squeezes into the supple flesh right away.  She giggles quietly before his other hand is pulling her into him again and smashing her lips against his.

They’re much closer now, it had taken little to no effort for him to pull her into his chest, and their hips collided at the sudden movement.

All she thinks about as she tangles her hands in his hair and parts her lips for his tongue to lazily explore her mouth are those couple of times she’s caught him in a towel fresh out of the shower.  How she’d scurried into her room and tried to ease her mind of the dark thoughts he’d made blossom.  She thinks about how there hadn’t been anything to quite satisfy those thoughts.  Ignoring them did nothing, acting on them in the safety of her room and her hand down her panties made them worse, and even now she feels tortured by the image, making her ache for more, more, more.  Nothing was quite enough.

His teeth sink into her bottom lip and she whimpers, her brows pinching as her hips stutter against her will.  She feels as though she should apologize for grinding on him so shamelessly, she could feel what this makeout session was doing to him after all, but he doesn’t seem to want an apology.  His hands grip her hips and he pulls her down again, dragging her slowly over the growing hardness in his pants with a low groan.

The guttural sound reverberating from his chest only spurs her on, and she complies with the rhythm he sets on her hips, slow and painful.  Their kiss breaks as she lets out a few soft pants, but she never fully catches her breath as she grinds into him.

She can’t help but peek her eyes open at him, falling in love with the way his eyes are screwed shut and his lips are parted as small moans fall from his mouth.  The sight makes something spark send a jolt of pleasure down her tummy and to her core.  She knew she should’ve given him a quick peck of the lips and called it a night, because she’s not sure she could muster the strength to stop where she so desperately wanted this to go.

As though annoyed that she’d stopped kissing him for too long, Yuuta pulls her in again, his hand curling around the back of her neck as his lips plant hot kisses down her throat.  A high pitched gasp escapes her as his mouth drags along her skin between each kiss, and her hands are curled into his long hair again.  Her hips stutter in their pace, but he has no issue with grabbing them tighter and guiding them back through his favorite rhythm.

His mouth lingers at what little of her collarbones are exposed, leaving wetter kisses there as he appreciates them as fully as he could, before traveling up the side of her neck.  His teeth barely graze the sensitive skin, and he’s dying to mark up every inch of her, but he restrains himself from doing so, instead compromising for lingering nips and gentle sucks against her skin.

“So fucking beautiful,” He praises in a husky murmur, biting down on a particularly sensitive spot just under her jaw.  He’s rewarded with a sudden rut of her hips and a pretty little moan as she angles her head further back to expose more of her neck to him.  He soothes the spot with a painfully slow drag of his tongue before kissing it sweetly.  “So perfect, so perfect f’me” 

The praise sends her into a dizzy spell so strong she’s not sure she’s still on earth with him.  This must be another universe, maybe heaven, maybe a dream.  Her fingers fall from his hair, tugging at the collar of his shirt with an irritated whine.

When she tugs a few more times and he doesn’t get the hint, she throws her hands against his chest defeatedly.

“Yuu” She whines, and the sound of his name has his dick twitching in his pants, which he’s certain she could feel.  His face flushes with embarrassment, but she just as quickly grinds into him with a roll of her hips.

He hums questioningly against the side of her neck, before tilting his head and kissing his way to the other side to give it attention too.  She sighs, half irritated, half pleasured, as he sweeps her hair to the other shoulder with one brush of his hand.  (y/n) continues to paw at his shirt, bunching up as much material at his shoulders as she could, her desperate attempts were weak, barely exposing the skin of his abdomen.  When he still didn’t comply with her unspoken desire, she opted to reach for the skin that she could get her hands on.

Yuuta’s abs tensed and he shuddered as her fingers ghosted over the exposed skin.  At first she barely trailed her fingertips over the muscle, but watching him twitch and shiver had her eager to slide her hands up his stomach, eagerly mapping their way up his chest, and pushing the rest of his shirt upwards on their mission.

His face is completely red as he watches her heavy gaze admiring his body.  He wants to laugh and remind her that she’s seen him without a shirt many times before now, and he’s never seen her look at him like this, but her eyes are darkened with lust and his voice is stuck in his throat, so he doesn’t say anything.

Instead, when the hem of his tee shirt is bunched up at his chest, he leans forward off the couch cushion, and takes his hands off of her hips so he could grab his shirt from the back, lifting it over his head in one quick yank.  (y/n) watches with her lip between her teeth as his hair falls back in his face, and he’s left shirtless before her.

The idea of slowing this down now is far from either of their minds.  She hums with appreciation as her hands smooth along his collarbones, fingers drawing loopy shapes into his skin as they travel down his chest, slowly exploring the skin she’d been fantasizing about for weeks now.  His blush runs down his neck and stops just short of his collarbones, and (y/n) admires every inch of it.

Eventually her stare is too intense and Yuuta begins to stir, wrapping his hands around her hips once more to pull her against his chest before his lips meet hers.  It’s a slow kiss at first, and her tongue brushes over his in a way that almost feels sweet.  He could still taste the vodka and cranberry juice in her mouth, and he swears it's enough to get him buzzed.  But as his hands climbed her hips and dipped below the hem of her sweater, she picked up her pace, and he could feel quick puffs of air from her nse hitting his cheek.

She’s getting worked up again, and he’s eager to see just how far he could push her before she gives in completely.

He pulls her in close enough that her hands dart back into his hair, gripping at the back of his head tight enough that he couldn’t tear his lips from hers if he wanted to.  Not that he’d want to, with how drunkenly she’s sucking at his lower lip and whimpering into his mouth with every roll of her hips.

Learning she’s so vocal when she’s turned on was a mistake on Yuuta’s part.  Because now all he longed to do was find all the right things that made her tick and do it more.  Every strained whine and whimper was music to his ears, wordless praise that he was doing something right, and he’d be damned before he found every spot that had her making those sweet noises for him.

Calloused hands roam over her abdomen, feeling it dip as she inhales sharply, and smirking against her mouth when he reaches higher, skimming the hem of her bra.

Unlike him, she wastes no time at all.  Leaning back from their kiss abruptly, and grabbing her oversized sweater from the bottom and pulling it over her head with great urgency.  Yuuta’s eyes fall to her chest instantly, wide and eager as they take in the simple red bra and how pretty the color makes her tits look.  The thin lace on the edges complimenting the swell of her chest so beautifully he hopes he commits this image to memory.

Now it’s her turn to fluster and blush while he unabashedly stares.  And she could tease him, remind him that he’s seen her in a bikini, that this was the same amount of skin he’s been gifted to see before, but she finds herself growing bashful under his heavy gaze.  She can feel the way his eyes take a mental picture of her before he finally leans forward to enjoy the exposed skin further.

“Fuck,” He mumbles, lips brushing over her clavicle before kissing downwards, between the valley of her breasts.  “You really are s’fucking beautiful, y’know that?” His words are slurred as his hands roam up her sides and hesitate just before reaching her chest.  “Can I touch you, pretty girl?” 

The praise and pet name swirl in her mind in a sweet haze that gets her high.  She gives a soft mhm and a nod of her head before his hands gently cup over her chest, squeezing with a surprising softness into the warm flesh.  Yuuta continues to kiss along the exposed skin he could reach, her collarbones, the swell of her tits, her shoulders, his lips dragged over every inch, making sure to disperse his attention diligently.  

“So beautiful,” He sings praises between each kiss, noticing the way it has her squirming in his lap.  “So perfect, every part of you” 

He grabs her hands by the wrists, pulling them up to his shoulders, until her fingers twitch and reach for his hair again.  Her hips roll over his with a quiet moan.  He lifts his head at the noise, a lazy smirk on his lips as he gazes up at her.  She furrows her brows at him as she moves her hips again, trying to get more friction between them.

His hands squeeze her tits simultaneously, before his left thumb drags over the thin material covering them, finding her hardened nipple with ease and rolling over it teasingly.

“Yuuta,” She sighs, tilting her head at him as her gaze drags slowly down his body, the desire in her eyes obvious.  

It made the room thick with sexual tension, and they both only grew hotter in temperature the longer this was dragged out.  When her eyes met his again it was undeniable what she was thinking.  Her every want and desire was clear solely from her eyes focused on his, and how her fingers tightened in his hair, pulling him close to her face, but not quite kissing him.

His hands slid up her chest, fingertips prodding at the lacy cups of her bra until it gave way and he could slide his hands over the soft skin beneath.  Her bottom lip quivers with what she wants to say next.

“Yuu, I-” 

A sharp rap of a fist against their door has them jolting back to reality with a harsh swivel of both heads turning towards the sound.  Without thought Yuuta’s hands fall to her waist and he pulls her into him, instinctively covering her barely exposed body if someone was to let themselves into the apartment.  But the door doesn’t move, and the knocking persists.

“What the- it’s two in the morning,” (y/n) mumbles with a brow furrowed in confusion.  “Who could-?” 

The pair lock eyes as realization floods over them at the same time.  Oh.

“Shit” Yuuta curses, and (y/n) quickly scurries off of his lap as she begins searching for their discarded articles of clothing.  

Yuuta’s faster, tossing her a shirt and pulling one on for himself as he gets up off the couch and quickly heads for the door.  He glances down at his pants with a wince, trying to adjust the obvious hard on, but to no use.  He tugs as far as he can at the hem of his sweater to cover it.  It’s a half decent job, and as he approaches the door he hopes it’s enough to hide it.  He gives (y/n) a quick look to make sure she was decent.

She’s still sitting on the couch, her head peeking over the cushions curiously as he goes to open the door.  Her hair is a mess, and her cheeks are flushed, both obvious giveaways to what she’s been up to for the last fifteen minutes.  Yuuta’s sure he doesn’t look any better, and his hands rush to his head to smooth his hair down before he finally grabs the door knob and swings it open.

“What?” He greets Toge with more annoyance than usual, and the blonde on the other side of the door raises a brow at the tone.

Lavender eyes sweep over Yuuta’s flushed face and messy hair.  He points into the apartment, vaguely towards the living room.  Yuuta steps aside, letting his friend in for whatever it was he’d forgotten.

Toge gives (y/n) a friendly smile and waves as he strides into the living room.  She returns the smile with weak lips.

Their visitor grabs a hoodie off of the arm chair to the left of the couch, something neither (y/n) or Yuuta had noticed left behind.  He shrugs it on and stuffs his hands into the cozy fleece-lined pocket with a satisfied smile before waving goodbye to (y/n) and walking out of the room just as quickly.

“Sorry I didn’t notice it sooner,” Yuuta says sheepishly as Toge passes.  “I could’ve brought it to you tomorrow” 

Toge waves a dismissive hand, before twirling his finger around and shrugging.  He must’ve still been in the area, Yuuta realizes.

He’s about to step out the door and leave without a catch, but he hesitates just as he steps over the threshold, his eyes doing a double take as he notes the dark green cable knit sweater Yuuta’s wearing.

His eyes linger on the article of clothing, brows pinching with familiarity, before he lifts his gaze to Yuuta’s, who’s also suddenly aware of the shirt he was wearing.

Before he can stop himself, Yuuta’s head is swiveling to where (y/n) was still watching them both from the couch.  She’s sporting a tee shirt too loose on her frame to be hers.  Toge follows Yuuta’s gaze, his eyes widening with realization.

“Anyways!” Yuuta clears his throat as he turns back to Toge with a grin so forced his cheeks hurt.  “I’ll see you later?” 

Toge opens his mouth, a grin of his own forming and a small laugh coming from his throat, but before anything could be said, Yuuta was ushering him through the rest of the doorway, already trying to shut the door in his face.

“Yeah, later, goodnight, Toge!” 

The door closes a little harsher than he meant it to, the frame shaking as the latch clicks into place.  Yuuta locks it just as quickly, before groaning and hitting his head against the wood.  It felt like his heart was beating in his throat.  He worried he might throw up from the anxiety coursing through his veins.

“That was close,” (y/n) says quietly, just loud enough for him to hear.  

He’s too anxious to look at her.  He squeezes his eyes shut and stays put against the door.  Distantly, he remembers his dick is still hard.

He can hear (y/n) stirring, getting up from the couch and padding closer to him.  She pauses just before she reaches him.

“Do you think he noticed the shirts?” She asks quietly.

Yuuta sighs, finally lifting his head from the door only to throw it back and stare at the ceiling.  He doesn’t want to see how worried he’s sure his expression looks.  He doesn’t want her to get the wrong idea about the regret pooling in his stomach.

“Probably” He admits in a quiet groan.

(y/n) shuts her eyes as she winces, covering her face with her hands.

The tension in the room is no longer due to sexual desire overtaking their inhibitions.  It was awkward.  Painfully awkward.

“I feel so stupid,” She mumbles into her hands.

Yuuta’s head snaps towards her, taking in the shame in her body language.  His heart sinks towards his stomach.  Had they made a massive mistake? (y/n) drags her hands down her face before looking up at him, her brows drawn together with a knot of worry between them.  Had he made a massive mistake? 

“I am so- I’m so sorry,” She tells him weakly.  “I shouldn’t have- that was- I was-” 

She can’t even finish a thought, much less an explanation on how ridiculously impulsive and embarrassing that was.  Her face is growing pale and she feels sick to her stomach.  She couldn’t believe she’d just ruined one of the greatest friendships she’s ever had over a silly conversation with the Zen’in twins about a silly crush.  She couldn’t believe she’d just ruined the perfect living situation with the perfect roommate over a crush that probably would've gone away on it’s own had she just handled it maturely.

“It’s okay-” He starts to say, trying to find the right way to explain to her that he wasn’t upset in the slightest about what happened between them.  He’d only been embarrassed about practically getting caught.  He knew their friends well, and he was sure that Toge wasn’t the only one to notice the swap of shirts.  Surely Maki and Mai had already been given an earful about the whole ordeal.

Before he can say anything else, (y/n’s) cutting him off.

“I should go to bed,” Her voice is too soft to overpower his, but he shuts up as soon as she speaks.  “I’m… I’m really sorry, Yuuta,” 

His eyebrows furrow as he takes in her sad, apologetic eyes.  She really meant it.  She really felt guilt over what had happened.  His stomach twists with disturbance, and fear.

“Please forgive me, I… I hope you can forget about… that” 

Forget? No…

But she’s turning away from him, running her hands through her hair in a stressful manner as she quickly darts for her room.  Yuuta’s left standing at their door, wide eyed and open mouthed in his shock.

Did that all really just happen? 

His palm comes up to cover his mouth, the realization settling into his bones and making his blood run cold.

God, it did, it really did.

He’s slow as he puts the switch remotes back on the console to charge, before turning off all the lights and going to his own room.  He unzips his pants and kicks them off somewhere in his room before crawling into bed, not bothering to change into something proper to sleep in, or take off the sweater he’d accidentally stolen.  He lays on his back, eyes focused on the blank ceiling of his bedroom as he replays it all over and over in his mind.

(y/n) also sits awake in her bedroom.  But she’s far from frozen.  She repeatedly kicks the covers off herself before tugging them back on, undecided on if she was hot or cold.  She’d abandoned her pants and laid awake in Yuuta’s tee shirt, the scent of his cologne and something else that was distinctly him still clinging to the fabric.  Tears welled in her eyes as she curled in on herself, hugging her pillow to her chest in a desperate attempt to seek comfort.

Neither one of them gets much sleep. ___

xoxo ~ jordie

[writerunnamed]

note: This is something I've wanted to write for a while but I am well aware that not everyone will be into it. There are a few stories I want to tell that aren't the norm so I decided to start this nameless blog to tell them. I am not tagging anyone, if you find it then you find it. xo Joel(stepdad), significant age gap, female reader. 18+ legal, reader is 20 (warnings: pov sex, Joel spits on the 😸, boobie play, really inappropriate dirty talk, an unused sex toy [will make an appearance in another chapter], female masturbation, daddy kink, unfit parent) 5.6k word count masterlist • series masterlist • part 2

He takes up so much space, and it wasn’t just physically. He took up space emotionally, mentally. Mentally most of all. Your thoughts always drifted back to him. Cyclical. An elliptical pattern making him the top of every list you’d go through in your head. He seemed to know it too, in a stoic, quiet, largely unsettling way. Older, attractive men tended to do that. 

It started during that in-between time, when summer, losing your job, and having to move back home pushed you to figure out what the fuck you actually wanted to do with your life seemed to come together like the planets aligning. The precipice of a turning point, a ticking clock counting down the days until your childhood bedroom would be turned into a gym, or an office, or a guest bedroom. The lukewarm welcome from your mother would ice over and you’d really have to get your shit together. 

Your mother was what people who didn’t know her would call ‘a free spirit’, what you called her, was a fucking mess. 

Your earliest memories consist of having to remind her to buy milk or to pay the bill because the electricity had turned off while watching cartoons in front of the tiny, living room tv. You’d had to remind her, in not so many words, that she was the mother, and you were the child. 

To your friends, she was the cool mom. The party mom. Your house was the place to be because she didn’t ask questions, she left her cigarettes unattended and didn’t mind if a few went missing. She kept the bar cart stocked, even if there was nothing but flies in the cupboard and nothing but half-empty condiment bottles in the fridge. Your friends loved it. 

She flirted with the boys your age, she gave sex tips to the girls. 

You smiled when they congratulated you on having the cool mom, and when they all went home, you retreated and pretended to be happy. 

Joel settled her down. Met her in a bar and moved in quick. He came into the picture when you were fifteen and you were almost sure he’d be just like the rest of the lovers she’d taken over the years. You’d given the whole thing six months. Half a year for him to see what a fucking disaster she was. Six months to be a fucking creep, to cheat or get cheated on. 

The only differences you could clock at first were that he was self-employed, and marginally better looking than his predecessors.

He was firmer though, less malleable than the others she’d brought around, he seemed immune to her charms and that only inflamed her. It made her desperate for his approval and his attention. She would throw a tantrum, or play one of her mind games but he’d never rise to her bait. He was patient for the most part, until he hit his breaking point and his temper reared its head. A temper only she seemed to bring out in him. 

To you, it was pathetic. 

He didn’t try with you though, there was no flattery or strong hand, only a silent respect. In a sense, he treated you as the adult, and her as the child. It worked for you, if he’d expected you to call him dad he would have been laughed at mercilessly and he seemed to know this. 

The disturbing part was his respect and his healthy avoidance of you worked its own kind of magic. It made him an enigma, made you curious as to what he got out of the whole thing. A home, sure. A woman who was obsessed with him, yes. Sex–yes. You heard it enough for it to turn your stomach. By the sounds of it, he knew what he was doing.

The thought sickened the healthy part of your brain. The other part though, the part flooding your body with hormones, making it come to life with curiously intense sexual feelings, that part wanted to know what it was he was so good at. How could he pull those sounds out of anyone? It was easier to imagine him with some faceless woman. 

It was shameful to imagine yourself. 

The thought–although enough to fuel a desperate journey of self-exploration–always filled you with an insurmountable guilt. 

For those first few years you could barely look at him. Your mother took it as a healthy dose of teenage rebellion. That only aggravated you more. She never asked questions, never dug to see what the cause of your obvious distaste for her partner was about and so again, you retreated. He, however, kept to the outs of your path. He followed your lead, he let you control any and every part of all of your interactions. He didn’t ask questions. He kept the lights on. He kept the fridge full. 

He burrowed his way in, whether you liked it or not. 

When you turned eighteen, you moved out. He helped, did his ‘fatherly’ duties and moved you into the apartment, he urged your mother to take you on an extensive grocery trip, spoke to your landlord about the safety of the building. You supposed you should have been grateful, you should have said thank you, given him some sort of acknowledgement that you appreciated his help but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Instead you said your mumbling goodbyes, and promptly closed the door on them. Neither of them complained. 

The euphoria of venturing out on your own had lost its shine depressingly quick. A string of chronically unserious boyfriends came and went, the rent climbed higher than you could keep up with, and while already living paycheck to paycheck, you lost your job. Your cellphone had taken the brunt of your frustration at having to call your mother, begging her to let you come back home while you got back on your feet a little more than two years after you’d left. 

Your teeth gnawed at your lips, your fingernails dug into the skin around your cuticles in the attempt to keep your voice sweet and pleading, in the end it was his voice that you’d heard in the background, telling–no, commanding her to say yes. That he would be your champion twisted at your insides. Maybe a small, healthy part of you hoped he’d put up a fight, tell you that you were too old to be coming back home and that you had to figure it out on your own like an adult. 

A healthy part of you hoped that he’d save you again, only from yourself. Hanging up with a heavy, resigned sigh, you set about starting the trek home, ignoring the swirling mess of annoyance, confusion, and perverse glee in your stomach. 

-

The first few days were spent in a depressive episode, a seemingly inescapable loop of sleeping in late, leaving your room only when the house was empty to raid the kitchen for something to eat, scrolling mindlessly–blindly–on your phone and then staying up way too late only to do it all over again. 

They didn’t bother you, but if the annoyed sighs and narrowed eyes from your mother were anything to go by, the talk was coming soon. After the third day of the cycle, you circumvent it and wake up early-ish to shower and dress in something other than ratty old sweats long forgotten by an ex you couldn’t quite remember. 

You came down to find Joel sitting at the kitchen table. His eyes tracked the lines of you, raising an eyebrow inquisitively. 

Your heart leapt. He should have been at work by now. 

“Good morning.” It came out croaky, your voice almost reluctant to come out. 

“Mornin’.” His hair was slicked back, the gray almost sparkling in the golden light. You fiddled with the hem of your shirt. His eyes were so intense, you found yourself stuck in place, like a deer in headlights and that ever present, deep-seeded anger reared its head. It was irrational that he should frustrate you so much with his calm presence. 

“Coffee’s fresh, if you want some.” He jut his chin out to the pot, lowering his eyes to his paper once more. Once his gaze had shifted, you found you could breathe again. You mumbled a thanks and moved to pour yourself a cup, thankful, if unsure why, to focus on something concrete instead of abstract self-reflection.

“Your mama’s gon’ be late tonight. I thought I could pick up a pizza on the way home.” He says it offhand and again, your heart races. 

“Whatever.” You scrunch your face up in annoyance, it sounded like such a bullshit, teen response. He doesn’t comment on it, and that somehow makes it worse. You beat yourself about it as you root around in the fridge for the milk. The cereal you liked was in the top cupboard, and you’re not quite tall enough to reach it. 

You heard his chair scoot back and then suddenly he’s there, beside you, pressed up tight. You follow the long line of his throat as he stares up, reaching the box with ease while one big, warm hand lands on your lower back. He smells like the laundry detergent your mother insists on buying mixed with something else. Manly, smoky, with coffee laced through. Your cunt clenches nonconsensually as he stands there and stares down at you, his whole front pressed against your side, his hand still holding your lower back. Your mouth hangs open, stupidly, and he raises an eyebrow again forcing something to kickstart deep in your gut. 

“You okay there babygirl?” The endearment feels unwholesome.

It triggers something strange, strengthening the underlying conflict for him. There’s a lilt in his tone you don’t like, maybe because deep down you like it too much. Maybe you don’t want to admit that, or analyze anything about what the fuck is happening in your body. In your psyche. 

“Yeah.” You step out of his bubble, barely managing not to trip over yourself in your haste to get away and put a healthy distance between you. 

“Yes. Thank you.” You take a deep breath, pressing your lips together tight in what you hope to God is a neutral expression. 

He lets out a bemused huff through his nose, a mischief in his eyes shining out at you that you’ve never seen directed at you. You’ve seen it used on your mom. You’ve seen her go giggly and flirty whenever he looked at her like that. A half-formed escape plan starts to form but he saves you from the need, he puts his things in the dishwasher, and nods his head in goodbye. 

You practically hold your breath until you hear his truck rumble out of the driveway, and down the street. 

-

You manage to avoid him for a few days, staying out late catching up with friends, or feigning a need for rest. You’ve convinced your mother that your days are now spent job hunting, and for the most part they are. You leave in the morning, avoiding any and all contact and you get home late, creeping up the stairs much like you did in your teens even though you’d really never needed to. Your mother never enforced a curfew, and when Joel joined the picture, he didn’t pry. 

The luck didn’t last though, you got over-confident. He was sprawled out on the sofa, up uncharacteristically late one night when you padded through the house. 

“You’re up late.” You quickly check the accusatory tone, “Don’t you have to get up early?” Better, it comes out more concerned than annoyed and he nods. He wore a threadbare t-shirt, the fabric of it having been through the wash too many times to keep its shape. Light, gray sweats were stretched almost obscenely tight over his spread thighs, pooling at his crotch from being shoved up by the couch. 

“Couldn’t sleep. Come sit, we can watch some tv.” He pats the seat next to him and despite the deep desire to retreat into the Joel-free haven of your bedroom, you cannot seem to disobey him. 

You settle beside him on the couch, a little further away than was necessary. He chuckles softly. 

“I ain’t gonna bite you, girl. Not unless you ask nicely.” 

You pretend you don’t hear it, choosing instead to compartmentalize whatever game he’s playing and stare at the screen. He flips through the channels, settling on one thing for a few minutes before moving to something else until he finds a movie that’s already close to midway. There’s an electricity in the air, something about him galvanizing the space between you, charging it enough to make the hairs on your arms stand on end. You frown to yourself, barely paying attention while fighting an increasingly confusing mental battle. Why is it so hard to be around him? Why does he inspire such scorn? Is it scorn at all?

You rub at your eyes, scrubbing your hands down your face in a feeble attempt to wipe the slate clean. 

He’s just a man, a man your mother had chosen and for better or worse they seem to work. She is happy with him and he is seemingly happy with her, why then is it so hard to accept him for what he is? Something slithers around in your brain, something that laughs darkly, something pulsing through the network of thoughts and ideas that threatens to crack open your subconscious and throw it right in your face. 

“Well now, ain’t that somethin’?” You pull your hands away from your face to see a very explicit scene playing out on the screen. Heat floods every inch of your body. 

“Almost looks like she’s enjoyin’ herself.” He leaves it on, and you feel stuck, your body betraying you yet again to see the way the woman on screen moans wantonly while under a very handsome man. You let out a non-committal sound, teetering on the edge of madness. You scold yourself, you are an adult, an adult that has had sex before and this isn’t even real. 

“Looks like fake bullshit to me.” The strength in your voice lends credence to the illusion that you aren’t affected. He laughs, calm and completely at ease and that only pulls the anger to the forefront again. 

“They can’t show the real stuff on these channels. If it were real, he’d be doin’ what she needs.” 

“And what’s that?” It comes out before you can stop it. 

“Well,” He smiles to himself, winning a duel you hadn’t even known you were fighting. 

“If it were real, he’d be pressin’ on her clit, he’d be makin’ sure she felt every inch of him and make her take his cock like a good girl.” You let out a heavy breath, half shocked, half grateful it wasn’t a whimper. 

Warning bells go off in your head, just as a heartbeat starts in your cunt because you can see it. You can see him. His face twisted up in pleasure but cocky, his hips moving, his thumb dipped into your mouth and then swirling around your clit. He smiles at catching you looking at his hands and you want to yell at him. You want to smack him across the face and kick him in the balls for saying something like that to you, his partner's daughter, but you don’t. 

Your body almost catapults you out of your seat. Barely unintelligible words come out, something about needing sleep, about being tired and then you hightailed it out of there like a bat out of hell. 

The shower was cold enough to make your teeth chatter, but it did nothing to cool the heat blooming in your core and it was with a terrifying desperation that you ground against your fingers. The slick pooling at the mouth of your pussy was enough to feel even with the water washing everything away except your shame. 

You bit your tongue to keep from moaning out the taboo and entirely inappropriate name you were dying to say out loud. His firm thighs spread on that couch filled your mind, the calloused, work-roughened hands you could practically feel on your hips, on your thighs. You could feel them holding and spreading your legs open so he could make you make those same noises you’d heard over the years. Make you take it like a good girl, his good girl. 

You came with a shudder, sagging against the chilly tile. You warmed the water with a sigh, disappointed and ashamed with yourself, trying, and failing, to put the whole thing out of your mind. 

-

You doubled down on avoiding him after that. 

Your mother worked most of the time but when she was home, things were easier. He reverted to the healthy avoidance, the proverbial disinterest that she didn’t seem to have a problem with. You still heard them some nights, the bed creaking, throaty cries, deep grunts but now they haunted you in a different way. Now you heard his words on that couch and couldn’t help but picture all manner of unsavory things that both disgusted and thrilled you. 

Being unemployed didn’t help. There was nothing to keep you out of the house most of the day, and there were only so many places that would accept you looking for a job in person. 

There was only so much time you could spend with friends too, they had their own lives and jobs and relationships. Too busy to save you from unwanted free time. 

Old habits resurface, and you retreat within yourself while pushing yourself harder. A job would fix things enough to help, you could save up enough money to leave for good and take yourself out of the equation. 

-

The powers that be momentarily take pity on you, and after what seems like a lifetime's worth of job hunting you blessedly get a call back. It’s a part time job, but at this point beggars can’t exactly be choosers. It’s a steady, if insufficient source of income that hadn’t been available to you before. Determined, you buckle down, you channel every guidance counselor you’ve ever had and ace the fuck out of that interview.

It’s not taxing work, but you put your head down and focus with the hope that if you worked hard enough, if you made a good enough impression, made yourself indispensable they’d throw you enough shifts to make up a full time job. 

It helps. Time spent away from the house, from your mothers dried up welcome, from Joel altogether genuinely helps. You feel a bit lighter, less guilty, less prone to imagine the unimaginable. You find comfort in the absence of self-imposed temptation. There is peace in the mindless work, in the life outside of the house that no longer feels like a home. 

It's a double edged sword though, because at the end of every shift, the luck–the peace–runs out. If being at work and out of the house is a respite, returning home only thickens the tension. Time spent outside the house only sharpens the discomfort, clarifies the glaring wrongness of it all when you enter it at the end of the day. What it all is, you won’t name. That way madness lies. Issue is, with every interaction, with every chance encounter in the hallway, or living room, every second spent with him in the kitchen watching his lips touch the rim of his mug the thing inside grows. Parts of him fill the corners of your mind. The curve of his shoulders filling out the flannel shirts he favors. The fullness of his bottom lip when he purses them, something he does while squinting at the paper that you’re almost sure he isn’t aware of. His neck, his hands, the dimple in his cheek when he laughs at something really funny. 

These things jump out, innocent as they may be, but other not so innocent things start to creep in. The bulge in his jeans is a mental mine, it lies in wait and every so often when you think you’ve avoided it, it detonates and you catch yourself staring, both ashamed and so inappropriately curious it eats away at you like acid. 

What you needed was something to fill the emptiness, both emotionally and physically. So you did what any modern, adult woman would do; you bought a sex toy. 

Nothing too crazy, or expensive. After perusing the site for a while you finally settled on a plain, non-threatening dildo. Nothing too big, nothing noisy, just something to be able to focus on, something to use while imagining someone giving you what you need. You ignored that dark thing inside that hissed his name, shooed it away and ordered the package for express delivery. With your mom constantly working, and Joel keeping to himself you figured it wouldn’t be an issue. Neither of them would question a package addressed to you. 

You still aren’t sure whether or not you’d do it all over again had you known the Pandora’s box that little package would open. 

You all but rushed home after work. All day, you’d imagined the relief that toy would bring. You imagined yourself using it in the shower, steam swirling as you took your pleasure. You imagined yourself laying in bed in the safety of the dark, setting a towel down on your chair and riding it to your heart's content. 

Joel’s truck is in the driveway when you pull in, but it’s secondary to the excitement at the chance to sequester yourself with your new best friend and so when you walk into the house, you don’t give him much attention. Until he opens his mouth. 

“You got a package today babygirl. I put it on your bed.” He sits on his spot on the sofa, a funny little smile on his face. A bad feeling swells in your chest, and you look up the stairs before meeting his eyes again. 

“Thanks.” You drop your bag on the little bench near the front door, trying, and failing to keep the nervous feeling out of your voice. He nods, and you make your way up, stopping yourself from taking the stairs two at a time. 

Ice flows through your veins when you see the package is open. 

He’d opened your package, he knew what you’d bought. 

Blood pounds in your ears as you stand there, limbs cold and numb at the realization that he saw it. He saw it. He opened it, and he placed it here, on the very place you fantasized about using it. Sweat beaded on your brow, the bottom of your stomach fell out of your ass as you stood there, barely feeling the soft, worn carpet under your feet. 

“Little small, f’you ask me.” His voice at the mouth of your room made your head twist fast enough to hurt your neck. You hadn’t heard him follow you up the stairs, hadn’t heard him open your door and lean against the frame, arms crossed in haughty amusement. 

“Why would you open my package?” You clutched at it, as though he could forget what he’d seen if you held it tightly enough. 

“I didn’t open it on purpose, I’m expectin’ somethin’ and I didn’t read the name.” He pushes away from the door frame, making his way closer and it’s like the air thins as the space between you shrinks.

“I mean, I could tell you been frustrated, but this doesn’t seem like it’s gon’ help much.” He reaches out, and takes the package from you. You watch him do it, watch him, frozen as he plucks it from your hands and takes the toy out. 

“This all you can take?” He holds it, contemptuously–pityingly. 

You wanted to snatch it out of his hands, the dimming voice of reason urges you to push him out of your room and remind him that he needs to keep a healthy distance but you say nothing, you stand there, and watch him. He puts it all down on your dresser, before stepping a little closer, close enough for you to have to crane your neck up to look into his eyes. 

“No boyfriends around to give you what you want?” His hand comes up, the tips of his fingers sliding across the apple of your cheek, slipping down until his thumb pressed against the cushion of your bottom lip. 

“No one around to give you what you obviously need?” He steps a little closer, until your bodies meet. This is wrong, your mind screams it but your body is frozen under his eyes, under his touch. That part, the frozen part is cheering, it’s running victory laps as it floods your cunt with slick in preparation for something unholy. 

That same, writhing, traitorous thing whispers that this is your chance, the house is empty and your body obeys. You look your fill, you take in the curve of his nose and the furrow in his brow. His eyes are black as a crow's wing, lust-blown and completely focused on your parted lips and your shallow panting. 

Adrenaline spikes and you do something you cannot take back. You rise on your tip-toes and press your mouth to his. 

He hums into it, smiling and once again you get that feeling that you’d made the exact move he’d expected you to. A vague, but fleeting inkling that you were just a pawn on his chessboard. 

At any other time you would have stepped away and repented, ate yourself alive with guilt but his hands pulled you closer, his tongue swiped at the seam of your mouth and you opened up for him. That only made it all the more real, the taste of his tongue in your mouth, feeling his hands lower to hold onto your ass. 

The rational part of you shrinks down to nothing, and that other part, the wrong part–it swells and preens under his hands. He pulls away, and embarrassingly, you chase his mouth in a daze. 

“Oh honey, you’re just dyin’ for it aren’t you?” He herds you towards your tiny bed, the twin mattress that has been the stage for every taboo fantasy about this man, your stepfather. You shoo the word away with a shiver. 

“It’s wrong-” You almost whisper, but you don’t push him away, you let him lay you down in that bed and he laughs. 

“It is, isn't it?” He pulls at the hem of your shirt, you raise your arms for him and the picture of it is wrong, daddy taking off your clothes. The thought, the word,  should disgust you but it only pulls your hands to him. You join in, and pull his shirt up and off, biting your lip at the broadness of him. You take in each freckle, the sprinkling of hair on his chest, the dip of his throat calling out for your tongue like a siren. 

He presses his lips to yours again, licking into your mouth obscenely. Unseemly. 

“You been wantin’ this for a long time, haven’t you babygirl?” He pulls your bra off, and the shock of cold air hardens your nipples. He bites his lip to see it, unable to stop himself from flattening his tongue against a hardened bud. A sound you’ve never let yourself make out loud in this room fills the space between you and that slithering thing luxuriates. 

He moves, languidly, unhurried to the other breast and holds the plump of it in his big hand and sucks at the second bud, sucks as much of the peak as he can into his mouth, breathing through his nose while you slowly spiral into madness.

When he lets go, he presses a kiss to your nipple and his facial hair tickles your skin. 

He pulls your leggings off along with your underwear in one go and the reality of it all hits you when the air hits your soaked core. That’s when the urge to put a stop to it is the clearest, when he kneels between your legs and spreads them wide, stares at the place where he’s already filled a million times in your mind. The place that’s drenched at the mere thought of him. 

“Joel-” You start, but he pushes your legs up, folding you and then he lets a glob of spit fall from his mouth slowly, aiming it, a bullseye right on the lips of your cunt. It’s too much, too filthy and you let out a whimper. 

“I think you wanna call me somethin’ else right now.” He undoes his belt and his jeans, keeping his eyes on where his saliva slides down over the open mouth of your cunt, down towards your asshole. He pulls his cock out and part of you shatters. Your eyes flit to the toy sitting on your dresser, your eyes flit to the open door of your bedroom. 

“Don’t worry, your mama ain’t gonna be home for a while.” He smiles, conspiratorially. It's too real, it’s too hypnotic, seeing him there with his cock in his hand while your legs already ache from holding them up and open. He slides the blunt end of it through the mess he’s caused, through his spit and he groans at the sight of it. 

Your heart races so hard to feel him there, that you see the pulse of it in your vision. 

“Deep breath baby.” he warns before slipping inside the tight fist of your pussy, the size of him making you gasp. This is it, there’s no coming back from this and right now, with him seated deep, his groin pressed up tight and the tip of his cock kissing your womb you cannot even think of why you’d ever care.

This is where he's meant to be. This is where you need him. 

“Oh baby, that’s so good huh?” He thrusts shallowly, pulling out a little more than halfway before shoving his hips forward again. You don’t really know how to form words, you don’t know how to take in what’s happening. This is Joel, your step-dad, fucking you in the bed you grew up in. One hand sits heavy on your shin, holding it, the other slides up and holds onto your breast. 

“Look how fuckin’ wet this little pussy is for me,” he moans the words, “you like daddy fuckin’ you?” He thrusts harder and you moan despite the word hitting you in the stomach like a big drop on a rollercoaster. He shouldn’t say that, shouldn’t call himself that, not now. 

“No-” it doesn’t come out like you mean it to, it sounds wrong, like a caress. 

“No? But I think you do-” He leans forward, keeping his pace while pressing his chest to yours, his mouth all but lining up and despite your bullshit protest, you hitch your knees high on his ribs to make room because if he stopped you’d probably die. 

“I think you want me to be your daddy, don’t you baby, it’s okay, I want to be.” He speeds up and the sounds between your legs are so wet, so filthy. 

“You can say it, I want you to say it.” He holds himself up, his elbows caging in your skull and before you can complain or moan or cry he sticks his tongue down your throat again. Your hands finally join the fray and you wrap your arms around his neck, holding him tight to you. 

“Come on baby, say it for me, tell me how good daddy fucks you.” You moan, closing your eyes while your cunt floods him with wave after wave of slick, enough to drip down your ass and onto your bed, down his balls. Enough for it to soak the curls at the base of him. 

“Look at me when I’m fuckin’ you honey.” His hips speed up and it's hard now, his thrusts making your bounce, hitting a part of you that toy would never touch in a million years. 

You open your eyes, and look at him above you, sweat beading on his hairline. Never has he looked more fucking appealing than he does right then. The word is there, in your mouth and you know it’ll taste sweeter than anything in this world. 

The wrong thing wins.  

“Yes daddy.” You moan it, and the shameful thing sets off fireworks in your being, he smiles, and tucks his head into the damp crook of your neck, feeding his lovely filth right into your ear. 

“That’s my babygirl, that’s it, fuck baby you take it better than your mama.” Something inside recoils at that, but something else, another facet of that fucked up thing inside rejoices.

“Let me hear you say it again, say it when you come.” He licks a hot stripe up your neck. His words are a filthy groan, something to tuck away for later.

He reaches down, pressing his thumb to your clit just like he said on that couch and you keen, the slip and the pressure enough to toss you over the edge with an almost painfully intense orgasm. 

“I’m coming, daddy.” It’s a shuddering whisper as your cunt clenches around him. 

He moves quickly, kneeling between your legs to pull out and then he’s stroking himself over your cunt. It’s still pulsing when he paints it in his come. You catch your breath as he tugs at himself a few more times, milking himself against you with a disturbingly familiar groan. 

The fog clears altogether too quickly. The lights are too bright, you’re naked, and he’s still got his jeans around his thighs while the guilt creeps into your veins, replacing the euphoria. 

What have I done? What have you made me do?

[eph-em-era]

well all i can say about HBO's anti-union message in that bts video is that AS A KIWI ACTOR/STAGE/SCREEN INDUSTRY WORKER who isn't being strongarmed by a corporation into saying shit that they agree with

the hobbit laws suck. peter jackson is universally despised. what that man did with warner brothers and the national government to make our laws worse for workers so he could film his bad films here in the late 00s is akin to several crimes.

we WANT union protection! we WANT to be able to strike! i'm a member on the Equity NZ (union akin to SAG-AFTRA) committee for Wellington and the amount of work that's going on behind the scenes at the moment to claw back worker protections from our fucked up local laws is immense.

most of us aren't allowed to strike. most people working at wētā (the big screen production house), as well as on most screen/stage jobs are employed as contractors, so they're taxed exorbitantly, have no sick leave, have no holidays, have minimal protection from harassment or being taken advantage of.

long hours? being burned out? that's the kiwi way of living in the screen/stage industry and it SHOULD NOT be celebrated.

The Screen Industry Workers Act of 2022 has fixed some of that but there's still so much to go. yknow how SAG-AFTRA is fighting over residuals? here, we don't even know her.

i know all this personally and intimately.

i was taxed 39% on my contractor income last year.

only now that i'm a salaried worker can i afford to get my teeth fixed.

i had to get a legal action from a lawyer from ANOTHER UNION to get paid for one of my contracts in 2021 because the production team didn't like how i spoke up about their lax health and safety rules (this was a contract I was nominated for one of the most prestigious awards in the country for my work on, fyi)

sexual harassment is rife. what support is there? basically none. we hope it comes out in the media, or it doesn't change and there's nothing we can do cause we'll get sued into oblivion.

ive worked multiple 12+ hour days with only a tiny break in the middle or none at all. friends of mine have done 10-16 hour night shoots.

i've burned myself out multiple times in five years of professional practise cause that's the expected thing. that's what you do. if you're not working at 150% the entire time then you're a bad arts industry employee.

in conclusion, fuck off with your anti-union message, fuck you for utilising our weak-ass laws and HBO i'm in your walls

if you're in the US, support the Entertainment Community Fund! if you're a screen/stage worker in NZ, join Equity!