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acid-ixx · 2 months ago

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ch.4: again &. again (platonic! yandere batfam x neglected! gn reader)

directory: preq, chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter four, chapter five pt 1

read until the end for an author's note.

tw: self-esteem issues, alcohol abuse, allusions to self-harm.

"baby bird, i know i haven't been talking to you much as of lately. but i just want to let you know that we miss you alright?"

not delivered.

"i really regret ignoring you, we all do. i'm-"

he hesitates, then deletes the last word of his message.

"—we're the ones in the wrong for everything, alright? you blocked me, i'm sure you did for everyone else too, i get that, but we care for you now and that won't change anytime soon. please remember that."

not delivered.

"and it pains me seeing that you're not replying to my messages at all, baby bird. but i promise i'll-"

dick bites his lips at the mistake of addressing himself only rather than that of the family, but a greedy part of him wants you to read the messages and to see only him in spite of everything rather than them, feeling a sense of... need to be the first and only one you see when you think about accepting their apologies, even if he's writing to you whilst simultaneously trying to get his family in your good graces.

dick doesn't know it. why he's suddenly obsessed with you. you? yes you, his stupidly precious sibling, the one who looked up to him, frail and wronged by the world, with so much drive behind that stare. third child of bruce, yet second youngest in the family. the one that got away, the one he has never once saw outside that one memory of glinting, awe-inspired eyes that told more stories than poets, drew more emotions than artists.

nobody saw you outside of your status as the manor's ghost— but compared to your other siblings, he knew you the most. he wants to be the only man good enough to be considered your brother, your oldest brother; an obligation he's willing to uptake just for you. he wants to be the only one with the authority to call you his baby bird. he doesn't know why, despite the thirteen and a half years, it's him wanting, no, needing to see you again.

you, just you.

every bits and pieces of you.

in his mind, it's just him and you. in your tiny little bedroom, with your dozens of sketchbooks and diaries, with only your brother, dick, to accompany you. in your own little world, as you speak to him of your dreams and passions with nothing else in your mind. you'd look up at him with sparkling eyes, look at him like he means everything in the world to you, and he'd see you as his world.

when he thinks of that, the more he hopes of the possibility of you reading his messages; his declaration of never leaving you alone anymore. and with hope comes along this dread that you'd reply with a nasty reply, or that... you'll never bat an eye him anymore.

dick doesn't take a second glance to correct his mistake again this time.

"i promise i'll be better for you baby bird. my little hatchling, my little one. i discarded you, someone so precious. you must've felt hurt, no? i get that, i'm so sorry you have to go through that because of me. but look! you have me now, we have each other now! and that might not be enough yet to mend the bridge i left to fall, but if you just, please reply to me, or anyone else, then we can fix this. i promise, baby bird."

not delivered.

"you won't ever feel hurt anymore, or sad or lonely. hell, even bruce is getting you a new bedroom fixed up, isn't that great!? i'll even convince the old man to make sure your room is close to my old one so you can visit me anytime. i'll even stay over at gotham for even longer, just for you! and i'll spend my time with you, with just the two of us, okay? nobody else can disturb us. i'm sure you'd like that too."

not delivered.

"and we can hang out anytime you want, no? sleepovers, movie nights, journalling— all the cool stuff you wanted to do with me in the past, we can do now! and it'll be fun with you, i can see it happening alrrady, i just know it. you can't convince me otherwise, baby bird."

not delivered.

"that's why i'm begging you to unblock me, little one, or to at least read all my previous messages, please? :( i'm still so sorry over how i treated you in the past. i've nothing to defend myself over how i acted towards you. i was so delusional, ignoring you when all you clearly wanted was to spend time with me, with the family."

not delivered.

"we can even have that dinner together, remember?! at that fancy restaurant you talked about, yeah? my treat, of course. you can order the entire damn menu and i'll leave you room for seconds and desserts. i can even make arrangements to get bruce to rent out the entire restaurant so it would just be the two of us plus the family, but mostly just us— that would be good! then you can sleep at my room after we get home to the manor since we're turning your old one into an atelier just for you! i'll even carry your cute little figure up any flight of stairs whenever you get tired."

not delivered.

"i promise i'll really make it up to you baby bird!!! <3"

not delivered.

"for all the times we neglected you, left you thinking you didn't deserve a spot in the manor (which you truly do, it's us to blame for never seeing it that way), made you feel negative emotions towards us— i'll take your pain and turn that into joy, i promise."

not delivered.

"and if you do manage to read through all this, please remember..."

not delivered.

"i love you so much, alright? we'll find you soon, and you'll be happier with us, i'm sure of it. i love, love, love you so much my baby bird."

not delivered.

he sighs, resigning his thoughts all to himself as he checks his phone every minute for a simple ring of notifications just from you. he prefers to leave his phone in silent mode from the multitude of other contacts bothering him, but god forbade if that means he'd scroll past to a single reply of yours, then he'd rather burn in hell.

and anything is better than the pain inflicted on him when it comes to the thought of you ignoring him.

because after all, he does mean it when he says he loves you, his baby bird, his adorable little sibling.

he'd rather hell than you seeing him any less of an older brother.

what takes longer? is it a seed growing into a bud, a bud into a bloom, or a flower to fully shrivel and die?

how long does it take for it to be considered worthy? deserving of attention and the rightful spotlight to attain its needs for life?

what takes its time? what other variable does it need for it to survive in such harsh conditions? if it's forcefully pried open as a seedling, as a bud growing in a field full of weeds sapping, draining it of its nutrition, or in a scorching, desolate desert, or pestilent lands; would it still be considered a flower?

what does a seed need to grow into a flower? beautiful, treasured, with vibrant colors reflecting off the surface of each petal, growing pollen for every pollinator to spread its bountiful success you call development?

what does it require?

everyone knows the answer, some could only be ignorant enough to turn the other way and reject the idea altogether.

it needs care, nourishment — healthy soil building a strong foundation, its home with roots carefully embedded in the ground, then it also requires water, a source of life given to it in specific times with just the right dose, and sunlight kissing its stems and petals warmly — and finally, love.

lots of love, attention, and patience from mother nature herself and its caretakers we call humans.

but how could a flower receive any, if not, all it needs, if it's raised under a marshy, overgrowth rainforest that speaks of death and cruel poachers that could step on the bloom of any moment?

how could a flower live, let alone survive, if its careless caretakers who took it away from its fertile lands neglect it of its requirements to grow and bloom into its rightful imagery?

just how?

you are a flower.

and you will wilt soon the longer you live in what you once thought was your home.

growing in cracked, dry soil, with no water nor sunlight aiding your growth.

you are a flower.

who had been loved by your creator, mother nature herself; your mother. but you've never once felt the care nor love of your cruel humans you call family, your father had never once saw your budding petals, kissed it, patiently watered or spent time outside in the sunlight with you. your brothers don't notice your dehydrated pets, shriveled leaves and bent stems, nor do they tend to it. your sisters don't decorate the pot you reside it, they don't talk to you every time you sag down in loneliness and isolation as you are forced to stay in the same place and witness the same scenarios over and over again.

not much knows it, but flowers, much like any plant, can communicate, they can feel. and when they do, they do deeply.

and you are a flower. a flower worthy of being pressed into books, storing your beauty forever. a flower worthy of being situated into a stunning arrangements of bouquets, worshipped through birthdays, dates, weddings, and even funerals.

you're a flower, and you're beautiful and deserving of praise and honor from your stages in life as a seed, from a bud, to a blooming flower. yet you're neglected the same way ignorant trespassers would step on growing blooms, uncaring for sabotaging their life completely, and oh-so easily.

you're a flower, a symbol of nature's fertility, resilience, and tranquility.

you symbolize your mother's long standing determination to care for a child whose father looked other ways but her. who raised her seedling with care, watered them with stories of fairytales: fantasies about prince charmings who take their flowers away from barren lands to spoil them with rich soil and neverending sunlight, about princesses who stop by flower shops to awe at the arrangements of bouquets, eyes glazing with fervor as they recount each and every symbolism every unique flower shares.

your mother places you in your favorite, decorated pot: your shared bedroom with her, and she kisses your cheeks, your forehead, your chubby little fingers, the same way the illuminating sunlight kisses at your flushed body whenever you two would go out for your walks.

she was your mother nature, and you were her precious flower.

you were once a blooming bud then, and you wished you would still bloom now.

how could you grow into what you're worth, when even you couldn't grow without the love that was taken from you?

what about the care, the patience, the determination she once held in her warm gaze, now cold and fading with life the last time you saw her; would it all be a waste?

how could you grow now?

and yet you don't even need to ponder for solutions. the answers were clear, clear as the water your petals used to bathe in, clear as the rain that pitters against alfred's car windows the same day you were taken away from your mother's hold—

you simply wilt.

8:31PM.

your friend said she'd pick you up quarter to nine, so you'd at least have the time to prepare and make yourself look good. but right now...

god, right now, you don't feel anything good, not even a wee bit of it at all. ever since he texted you, you feel like shit, utterly repulsed. vile, like the image of you vomiting every contents of your stomach— and now you're going out drinking with an empty one. you can already feel the bitter taste of heavy alcohol mixing in with the acids of your stomach.

you can already feel the breakdown you're having right now as you remember how fucking broke and useless you are for having to ask your friends to treat you to drinking because you have nothing left to offer beyond the fucking taxes you have to pay and the nearly due rent and bills.

you have nothing to offer. you're so shitty. you deserve to die.

the more you stare at the mirror, the more your eyebags seem to deepen, your lips began to dry, and the pit in your chest sunken.

and that makes you exhale even deeper, ignoring the way your throat constricts on itself in instinct.

your eyes flitter to your fingers, nails bitten, skin ripped at the seems with dry blood staining chipped cuticles.

when you looked back at your reflection, you want to cry even more, seeing an image of a moving pile of flesh. all puffy skin and sagging eyes.

you don't remember the last time you felt pretty about yourself.

whether it was in the manor, or back when your mother was the only one raising you— it seems like your memories are in shambles right now.

you don't remember the last time you looked in a mirror, looking healthy, fresh, and proud of yourself for dressing up in your style. in the back of your mind, there will always be hatred, resentment for how you look. and right now, you hate how you every bit of your appearance because...

because you look exactly just like an image of your mother and bruce wayne. a reminder, your punishment for your parents' beautifully tragic affair with one another. a billionaire who courted the lowly dirt-class slut of gotham.

yet you're uglier because you're not them, you couldn't be them. you're not picture-perfect brucie with slick-black hair and a face like fine-aged wine, or the image of your sultry, "man-eater" mother in her lingerie. you're just, you— you've inherited all the stupid flaws you wished you could shave off your damn body.

you remember seeing your father's face in television with your mother beside you by the couch, combing your hair and giggling when your eyes had lit up at the sight of the rich man. you haven't once took your eyes off the news channel whenever he appeared, looking at bruce, always enamored with his aesthetics, only to never notice your mother's tired eyes, or how shaky her fingers would sometimes become.

"momma, that's daddy, right?!" you asked her whilst the side of your body was pressed against hers, with all the enthusiasm a child could muster. your grin was wide, eyes peeled to the screen, enough to ignore the flinch in your mother as you had once thought it was her igniting with the same excitement as yours.

she simply leans down and kisses your cheeks, her eyes, a beautiful shade of your eyes color, albeit lighter in hue, never once left the crown of your small head, ignoring the headline for the news about 'brucie's new fling caught on camera!'.

your mother was so glad you were still illiterate at your age. she wish she could never break off the illusion that it was her who simply birthed to you, with no face for a father. maybe you would've never ask her about why he had never once came to visit your small family, why you could never meet your other siblings, or why he's seen with multiple other women by his side every time you open the television.

you ask at frequent intervals; it makes her wish to strip away the past in which she chose to tell you who your father was. you would've experienced less heartbreak, she would've never seen the way your eyes would dim at her every excuse, or the way she felt your heart crack at the seams, only further breaking hers.

yet after a while, she replies and buries her thoughts, ignoring the tears that lid her eyes. with not so much enthusiasm in her light voice, with the undertones of guilt and sorrow digging deep throat her throat, but it was enough for young, little you to jump on your springy couch with her response.

"... oh, yes, that's your papa...! isn't he so nice looking—?"

"and handsome! i'm so lucky to have such beautiful parents! i wish i was as pretty as you, momma, and daddy too!"

when you had looked up with haste, glinting eyes staring up at her with a wide grin, some baby teeth still present, others absent from your gums, yet you displayed admiration no less; your mother just as quickly wipes her red eyes and sniffling nose with the worn sleeves of her sweater and reciprocates your beaming energy with a small smile.

she wishes you'd dismiss her previous melancholic expression, replacing it with the same fond, yet tired gaze she always offers you, wishing you'd be as oblivious to the pain it brings her to see your hopes and dreams of meeting a father you could only admire through a screen or article. yet you're always so perceptive, so interlinked with her reactions that she's sure that one of the few positive traits your father had given you. she should've expected your words, yet her broken heart finds a path to heal whenever you sense her pain and soft a bandage to the cracks of her bleeding scars with your kindness.

you would always be her little flower. the one she'd nurture in a garden filled with rosy bushes and scarring thorns.

"—you're so beautiful, momma, even if you cry because daddy isn't here with us, or you're too tired taking care of me. you're beautiful because you're my mother, and i'll take you over everything in the world..."

and you tell her, an inaudible whisper to your voice, with eyes that were once wide, beaming with joy, now gazing at her with softness like the wind kissing blades of grass in a gentle dance. you look at her, and she stares back, eyeing your chubby cheeks and lips the same shape of hers, the ends of your lashes curves the same way as hers, and your voice matches her like a lullaby when you speak every vowel in a soothing lilt.

you calm the hurt in her chest, replacing it with a mellow warmth. she even forgot the tears that slowly dripped her eyes, all replaced with the comfortable softness of her precious child's palms, smooth and cozy, resting on both of her cheeks as you pepper her crying face with kisses.

she holds both your palms caging her, and allows the your hold to linger for longer. the silence ensues, yet you both embrace the unsaid assurances.

it's times like these where she realizes you encapsulate the beauty of both worlds.

it's moments like this, she sees herself in you, and maybe she could lead herself to believe that she is beautiful, because she sees her beauty through her child, her grace.

the memory only further deepens the guilt in your heart.

if there's one word to describe you now. it would be disgrace. to your father's honor, and your mother's legacy. for easily letting yourself go, for being so weak, for being the line that jumps between two polar opposites of one another; trying to traverse their path of belonging.

you're a disgrace, a mistake, and you deserve to be treated as such.

it was why you never find yourself beautiful. a person such as yourself would always find allure, worth in all things chaotic - you live in gotham after all - but never find that same value in yourself as you look at your reflection that distorts your image even more, making you uglier and uglier the longer you look.

split ends everywhere, hand tangled, reddish eyes from nearly crying again.

even if you beat at yourself, erratic and impulsive, even if your skin is colored an ashen blue and purple, rotten shades of yellow and red, you think of yourself ugly and repulsive.

no matter how much color you try to bring into your bleak, repulsive life, at the cost of hurting yourself to become pretty— every part of you will always be that ugly, little duckling in comparison of your siblings who always outshone you.

dick with his playboy body, jason and his towering one, tim with soft boyish features, damian's silky tan and smooth skin, and duke's baby face.

you couldn't even have your hair frame you as perfectly as steph's light blonde hair does, or share barbara's proportionate face, or look as gracious yet deadly like cassandra.

you're nowhere near as special, you're not like them. you have features too unique, yet out of place, and you couldn't bring yourself to be conventionally good-looking.

you hate yourself so much. you hate every little mole, every little pimple, every damn imperfection that litter your body, making you even lesser than what you already are.

your family; mother, father, brothers and sisters, god, even your fucking friends! every time you sit by them side-by-side, you'd feel insecure, imperfect, an eyesore and you just want to strip away every part of your limbs one by one if that meant replacing it with even better ones; all for the sake of at least feeling pretty.

you remember the first time you tried to find a sense of style, and damian's comment and– god fucking damn it—!

your hands found its way to your brushed hair, tangling itself through already fragile strands to rip at the seams. you don't care, you don't fucking care, you pray to any god out there to get them out of your head, pleas unheard, you're always left to hurt.

"what are you trying to achieve with that, huh? what even are you trying to think with that horrendous color combination? what are you, a clown? even that damned joker has more coordination than you think you could achieve."

in front of his friend, jon kent, with a scowl on his ever-so angry face and his hand already making a way to grip his sword; an absolute threat to dice you up shall you ever bother being in the same room as him.

he said that to you... you're older, you could've been stronger, could've at least found a semblance of fight in your bones. but no! god, no. your life was ruled with fear with damian wayne being the demon haunting you in the manor, always making living harder, making breathing a heavy task.

how could you ever fight back? not when you've conditioned yourself to tear up at the slightest bit of noise, feel goosebumps prick your skin when you hear someone raise their voice at you, and your heart rate hasten at the slide of a knife against any surface?

you! you who's so fucking weak to even make a comeback. you, who ran away with wide, traumatized eyes. because you're scared, so fucking fearful of an even bigger cut to your skin marked by damian— even if you're accustomed to cutting yourself with even deeper gashes.

because it's him that you fear, not the pain, not anymore. just him and his contempt at you for ruining his pure bloodline just by you being his half-sibling.

you don't want a repeat of your first meeting, or any meeting with him at all. not when you'd drown even deeper in a pit of fear every time you stare at his glaring, emerald eyes. one that tells you he chose to merely not kill you out of the goodness of his heart. but he will, god he will if he feels you've been too comfortable in his presence.

every damn time, everytime you feel fear, you see green. you hate green, any literal meaning of it, every implication of itx even seeing it, and fuck! your outfit has green embellishments.

you feel even uglier, yet the twinge of fear immediately overpowers any concern your had with your appearance. it's as if eyes were suddenly on you, and it's not only yours staring at you in the mirror.

your lips wobble, snot began blocking through the passage of your nose.

fuck, fuck, fuck.

why?! why can't you just forget about them all. why, why, why?!

you bite your lips harshly to conceal the pained whimpers from the back of your throat, but it doesn't work. it only makes the fear worse.

tears rim at your eyes, you merely wipe them away. your heart attempts to beat out of its gilded cage, yet you swallow your quivering chokes and proceed to continue staring at yourself in the mirror, dressed in a rush, with nothing to conceal your ghastly eyebags and sunken skin.

and green. you'll see it everywhere now. fuck, would dick send out damian to kill you now? you don't know, you're scared but you can't chicken out, not when your friend is already near to your apartment. god you wish you had beer in your cabinets instead, but you're broke and unprepared for life and your hair's all in a tangle and you just fucking want to die.

your hands grip at the edge of your sink, you look at your mirror and see the blood on your already bitten lips.

not even concealer can cover the damn scars all over your face all through the neck.

calm down.

you stare even deeper at yourself and ignore the green, trying to think of something else—

something less emotionally scarring, like your appearance. even if it brings you great pain, too, you'd rather that than your family. no more of them, fuck, no more. even if you stare at your eyes and see that familiar mix of colors of your mother and bruce's eyes. the shape of your face, even the curve of your brows all resembled your late mother— and you miss her, her captivating beauty that you never saw aged like fine way before she was taken away from you. you see bruce in the strands of your hair and the way it sometimes fray when too stressed. you see them in every image you wish to erase of yourself.

yet your genetics are nothing to them, not when you can't even care for your tangled hair or ashen skin.

even the dead looked more lively than you ever could.

with a pale complexion, with scars that litter all over your shoulders, wrists, and hidden parts of your body, one you're too ashamed to show anybody— it was no doubt that you looked pathetic and erased the beauty that both your parent's cultivated. and it makes you wonder; would it really be worth it?

would it be worth it if the people around you see you?

you with your melancholic eyes, trying to find an escape in a maze you call your mind? you can picture yourself drinking alcohol until you reach the domain of death, sitting in a stool, alone, as you nearly empty the contents of your stomach remembering the sole reason why you're there in the first place.

would it be worth it if all eyes suddenly were on you? they turn to you to gaze at the ugly bruises on your body, they mock your appearance, call you names, look at your sniveling, red nose and warm cheeks intoxicated from all the heavy liquor you'd down, and whisper. they'll whisper insults, slurs, and every known jab until it's all their words that pierces through your eyes, until the loud bass becomes mere background chatter for all the gossips that ensue.

are you actually going to do this right now?

you don't know, you don't know and you wish never cared as much.

all you could really focus on was your eminent goal of getting out of your stuffy apartment, to rid of the paranoia that somehow, you're being watched over in the confines of your four walls and that the familiar image of green will come attack you. the more you think, the more the hairs on your skin start to raise with every known intention to signal you of your anxiety.

eyes, they may be everywhere.

eyes, eyes, eyes. as you stare at your eyes, you try to ignore emerald eyes, they dilute even further. you gulp, yet your focus remains distorted. images flash at the mirror, and suddenly they're here, with you, with their eyes. bright blue for some, dark green for another, and they all gaze at you with contempt. one's hand claws at your throat, the other pins your wrist down on the edge of the sink. the eyes glare, and they never soften. yours merely shook, unblinking as your breathing becomes heavier; trapped in the cages of their wanton staring.

you yelp, then blink. when you did, they're gone. and you're back to looking at the same image of yourself. you grimace slowly.

ugly, with dry skin and falling hairs. the worst version of you, the normal version of yourself— there was never a best version for you.

as long as it's you, you'll never be enough.

all you wanted was to drink with your friends at a club; some working nightshifts at the location you're going to— yet you want to back down. want to take your phone by the corner of your vision and cancel your sudden plans.

but you're scared, you're so fucking scared of any new messages.

hell, even finding the contacts for your friends was a task in itself you wish to never repeat. with jittery fingers trying to type of messages and blurry eyes navigating through the screen of your slippery, glass screen protector.

you're scared, rightfully so.

you're scared to find his message once more suddenly popping up, your fingers accidentally pressing on it like the clumsy swine you are, and rereading that damn heart over and over again.

you slam your dominant hand against the tiled sink, hard and uncaring for the pain it induced all throughout your body. the tremors of the impact shook you to your core, yet you seethe in your breath and don't allow yourself respite to let the tears flow freely from your already red eyes. you feel your heart beating erratically through your chest, the shivers controlling your body, the shrieks that you contained within you— and you enchain them all with no respect for yourself.

you deserve this. you deserve to be hurt, to be punished for your actions, for your mistakes, for your sins.

even if your hand became swollen, splotched with varying shades of disgusting purples and yellows, you won't treat it with medicine. even if the sharp edges of the sink broke the fragile layer of your already scarred palm, and bled profusely with that familiar shade of red; you won't rush to wrap it with gauze or even spare a droplet of betadine. even if by the next day you'd have to write out your overdue assignments with that specific hand, then you'll force yourself to learn through the other and punish yourself again if you fail once more.

you deserve this.

and as your phone pings, lighting up to show you a notification of one of your friend's messages about being ready to pick you up by the lobby of your apartment's ground floor, you ignore your injured hand and the bruises on your knees from falling so abruptly on tiled floors just moment's ago. you dismiss the ache of your head, the soreness of your eyes and the disgusting beat of your heart.

you ignore the pain that wrecks at your entire body, in favor of destroying it even more, just as you deserve.

you don't recall how many shots you had before you're nearly passed out by the bar, sitting on its stool with your head leaning on one both your arms crossed, drool close to slipping out of the corners of your mouth and heavy eyes lidded, about to fall into the depths of sleep.

you're sure you looked wasted, absolutely drop-dead drunk with no thoughts circulating in your head other than the pleasant buzz in your ears and the flash of colors in the disco balls blanketing the entire room with its neon lights. your face must've been an unearthly shade of red, and you can already feel just how blazen it is, and how your fingertips are ice-cold to the touch (probably colder than the marble you lay your arms upon). in other words, you're actually wasted.

and it's so worth it if it means it gets you to forget. and forget you did, because you can't even dig deep into your head to even remember a single memory of whatever grief you went through earlier in your apartment. not even the throb of your head from when you pulled your hair from its roots, all to the way you slammed your dominant hand on your bathroom sink, bruising it with unnatural shades of purples and yellow.

it makes you omit every type of pain, both physically, mentally, and emotionally. it doesn't cure you of your ails, but god forbid you if you just want to savor moments where nothing but a mind numbing headache is the only feeling present in your current state.

the remix of songs were long forgotten in your mind, they all become an amalgamation of miscellaneous sounds. your body is so inclined towards the flat, rectangular cool surface of the marble glass of the bar that you can guarantee you could sleep here, especially since black behan to cloud both your vision and your mind.

everything feels so hazy, and pleasant, and straight-out peaceful that the screaming tandems of equally drunk clubbers and the occasional sobers holding up their friends who sang along with whatever remix the dj comes up with, or the forming crowd as people began to rock and dance to the bass that shakes up the entire floor to the point you can feel vibrations run along your spine— didn't register within the crevices in your mind.

all you can focus on, is the gratifying pleasure ll alcohol induces in your body. gone is the feeling of fear that emanates off of every inch within your body. your bones don't feel as if it's locking up everytime you feel eyes on you, and your throat doesn't certainly feel constricted with the lack of flow of blood anymore.

god, this is why you've never once regret drinking right after the moment you turned eighteen— not when it's positive effects outweighs all the negative emotions that rule over your body.

you couldn't even notice a man with shades (seriously, who wears that to party? isn't the club dark enough?) sitting beside your drunken form in the corner of your eyes, raptured in the thin line between focusing on reality and drifting off to dream world. you don't even bat an eye to his muffled giggles and the way he twisted his stool just to admire the view: you.

you're oblivious to the entire commotion happening within the depths of his mind because you couldn't feel any aptitude to danger right now— thanks to the effects of the hard liquor overtaking whatever fear you've felt being watched long ago.

or maybe you just felt safe beside the stranger. or, you're merely drunk. you don't know.

fuck, you're so close to passing out.

you don't know where your friends are, where they came running off to but you know you won't be getting out her sooner or later and you definitely don't have a ride home. so your only way back without getting ambushed as a completely vulnerable citizen of gotham, is by a safer, more convenient means of a ride— but that certainly wouldn't be safe if your friends are as equally drunk, or even more so, as you. but does your hazy mind care? no. not when you flip your head to rest on the other side once the other side became hotter that you notice a conveniently attractive man staring right back at you with an entertained grin.

as if your existence alone makes him happy. as much as your mind keeps blanking out, that mere implication made your heart pang just a teensy bit. of pain, or pleasure, or mere joy, you don't know. but you do know that it triggered some unknown feelings and you don't want to feel.

you want to drink some more, feeling solemn all of a sudden just from staring at him. you're sure the obvious frown on your quivering lips and the heavy, hot sigh

and it doesn't help that his face seems similar. the longer you stare, the more his grin seems to sharpen. confidently? or shyly? you can't seem to gain a clear image of him; what when rainbow lights are blazing out through the holes of the disco ball and your eyes recently just opened to your near journey to traverse through sleep.

all you can make out to be is his jet-black hair, side bangs framing the left side of his face, a faint outline of an eyebrow piercing

you also took note of his spiky jacket— yet what draws you the most to him are his sunglasses that he chose to wear conspicuously in a damn club of all places.

he's attractive, to say the least, but he triggers a set of emotions deep into the cages of your imprisoned heart that sets itself free. he gives you a sense of nostalgia, of familiarity that you can't pinpoint but feel; like you've seen him before but don't know when. your eyebrows furrow in and your eyes squint at him, unknowing to the judgement you're subjecting him in. your lips wobble, though, because his presence just makes your heart feel something, akin to pain but not quite, and makes your head buzz that you just want to cry as a reaction.

he, the stranger, don't know it, but he makes you all sad, primal emotions overtaking any drunkenness you feel as deep tremors buzzed into the confines of your chest, until all you're doing is staring at him with pouting, downturned lips and sad, puppy eyes; rimming with salty tears.

you don't know why you feel sad all of the sudden, and you can faintly see through blurry, watery vision how his face shifted from entertained to worry, eyebrows raised and eyes wide open at your sudden mood shift.

maybe you or him could've spoken up, you more so, but you're just so emotionally drained and overwhelmed today that you began sobbing silently without breaking eye contact with the man.

despite you wanting to say anything: an introduction, a question opening up as to why he's staring at you, or even a mere phrase telling him to "back off"; the only words that came out from your parched throat, all from trying to reason in your head on what a proper sentence should be, were:

"you're hot," and if you were sober enough, you would've felt sheer embarrassment and shame from eyeing the boy, but you're not— and because you're not sober, or any bit sane, the next few sentences you spewed out were all coherent, yet wonkily pronounced utterances paired with teary eyes and sniffling nose, as you can't seem to control the feelings of melancholy in your heart and the sudden emotional burst from your ramblings.

"thank you, you too, actually— but are you alright-"

"you're so hot, god, please. i don't know..." you gave him no time to speak as you hiccupped, lips wobbling even more than you can imagine. and you're trying your damn best to rid of the urge to punch at your chest as a coping mechanism through the multitude of emotions eating you up and away. but you never realized you were trying for an absolute stranger, palms fisting into itself as he stares at you worriedly all of a sudden.

"like... you're familiarly attractive, i—" the next few sentences were incoherent as your words bubbled around you like detergent soap. your fingers found itself into your face as you try to wipe off both tears and nearly dripping snot as you continued rambling drunkly.

"you just! you're hot, for me, i don't know... i'm just, we all—eughh... i don't know, i'm so sad..." and you truly are, for no reason at all other than seeing the man. poor him, must've felt so ashamed that he's the reason you're crying but at the same time... nothing can really stop you from ceasing your tears.

at least, that's what you've convinced yourself to believe in. that you're truly incurable of the ailment of being constantly depressed with nobody to aid you with your troubles. not even your friends, nor past therapists that you've consulted.

you've nothing to comfort you, and that makes you even more solemn than ever.

the simplest of emotions felt, the deeper and complex you take it out to be. sadness, or moreover depression, the horseman of apocalypse that destroys any hope you've tried to kindle with your life.

it makes you all the more burst into a wave of even more tears.

"... okay, okay, wait here for me, alright?" he suddenly stood up, hurriedly, probably unsure, or disgusted by you. you're unsure about what he's saying, too caught up crying that you simply nod to whatever he said and continued on with your episode.

as you're left alone, you allow your tears to dry only cry once more. when he left you, you weren't aware but you just felt even more lonely. at pushing away the only company you had after your friends left you in the dust, you feel depressed and regretful and all emotions related to grief and you just want to drink some more but you don't know if you can take it anymore!

god, it all returns to pain. pain you thought you could bury deep once you took multiple swigs of alcohol.

pain that makes you want to bang your head against the marble of the bar—

and you're so close to doing so, but only stopped when your blurry vision sets itself on the man returning with a handkerchief and a cold glass of ice water. at his kind gesture, you simply teared up even more, pouting when he walked your way and looked at you with a sheeping grin.

when he sat right back up on the stool seated to your right, he hesitated with his hold on the handkerchief near your face. but the moment he gathered up his pride and pressed it against the unnatural blaze of your cheeks, you merely leaned closer to his palms, eyes closing as you can feel the tears cease itself finally at the blind comfort he's unknowingly providing you.

"there, there... be careful, 'kay stranger?"

he mutters, a light chuckle accompanying him. it's only now you can finally focus on the cool churn of his voice and the , with your eyes close and the haze of your thoughts washing away, leaving you breathless in your respite— not restrictive, nor lonely, but still short of breath.

this reminds you of the times alfred had to hold you in his arms everytime you threw a tantrum at the manor.

it made you realize that the months, a near year even, after leaving the manor, made you crave physical affection. making you feel like a husk of yourself when not given. you feed off of the scraps of physical lovez to the point that even this man who's wiping away the tears from your cheeks makes your heart beat faster, in a comfortable manner.

sensations. he once told you that if you feel too deeply within, then to ground yourself you must feel beyond interior ranges of emotions.

and that's the technique you've been willing away from your head for so long. because it always requires another person in the room to comfort you, to simply touch you softly, gently like you're porcelain the same way the stranger is pressing damp fabric against your tearstained cheeks and hollowed out eyes.

the pain you've felt was because you're merely touch starved. alone, in a space where everyone has someone, and a no one can't have anyone.

but now that you do have a someone, no matter how dangerous he could've been outside of your impression of him, you feel the pain lessen, the heavy burdens become featherlight at his kind gestures of wiping all the salty tears from your face, the runny snot from your nose with no rush whatsoever.

"feel better now, hon?"

"mhm..." a long, drawled out yawn emits from your mouth, yet you're too comfortable with him to even care, suddenly feeling a wave of drowsiness after your emotional episode.

after he finished wiping your face, and felt it considerably cool down from the damp fabric, he placed it on the bar, one hand on your face keeping you stable. yet his other hand promptly went back to your cheeks.

he chose to do this of his own volitions, even leaning closer as your head finds itself slowly dropping to his clavicle (careful to avoid the spikes from his peculiar designed jacket), looking up at him and staring at his gray eyes.

the man looks down at you as you now realize he's cupping your face. at the implication of your entire ordeal with him, you might've felt flustered sober, but you're just so drunk that any spacial awareness for the proximity between your bodies just disappeared and left you with the need to sleep within the confines of the safety this man left you with.

you don't know it, but yet again the man smiles down at your adorable antics, finding the way you're absolutely trusting of a stranger both stupid, yet endearing. because he's no more stranger, and heaven bless him because he's so glad he's the person who approached you rather than anyone else because you looked so cute, and his crush on you may have lead him to stalk you occasionally just to ensure you're safe— that doesn't erase the gesture that he did it purely because gotham is too dangerous for your own good. and he's glad he trusted his human side of intuition, rationalizing with himself that today just seems to be the day you'd bump into danger if he's not there.

you're so stunning up close... how come tim never once found interest in someone as admirable as you is a mystery. but you trusting a stranger in your vulnerable state is much more.

and he's grateful he's that stranger.

because he may be a stranger to you, but a familiar one. and you feel safe, a feeling you haven't felt in so long that you simply just melt against him like clear putty; because you're transparent with what you feel right now.

and right now you feel warmth. not the uncomfortable one that blazes through your (now) cool face when you were drunk, nor the burning one whenever you thought of your family— but a pleasant one. like sitting near a fireplace as you watch the embers crackle, drinking hot cocoa whilst a quilt covers your body from the cold of the winter. you feel this way at his kindness, at his efforts to help you contain your emotions to a reasonable degree.

"what's your name, kind stranger?" you mutter on his chest (how come your head is laying on it, actually?) hearing the soft thumps of his heart. it's warm, he's warm and every bit of comfortable, as he does his best to move slightly back to remove his jacket and drape it over your body before he could reply to you, chuckling whilst doing so because you looked up at him with your eyes conveying every damn emotion that made you feel soft.

"it's conner, conner kent. call me kon, though. or yours if it's you." he purrs. it took you a minute to register his obvious flirting but what comes after is an absolute flush on your body and you recoiling from his hold as you look back at him, mouth agape. the tips of your ears were warm, and every bit of

an overexaggeration to his flirting, sure. it makes you look less appealing in your eyes, extra sure! but it's been so long since someone last attempted to flirt with you; but most were under the guise of when you were still a wayne and... and not as yourself. you! you who sports so many imperfections that—

"haha! is it strange to say that you look so cute whenever you look at me with wide eyes in the short span of time we just met?"

he slides in through your train of thoughts before you could delve even deeper through self-deprecation. and you're glad that he did because... god, he makes you want to shamelessly gloat as a reply. you've never had someone complement your eyes before, actually...

"i'm..." you look back at him after you stared down at your palms, heat overtaking your entire body. yet again it wasn't uncomfortable, and just the right temperature. you stutter your name afterwards, making sure it's your mother's last name that you highlighted implicitly and not bruce's.

he seems to grin even wider when you introduce yourself. that's when his next reply generally warranted you to nearly burst off your seat out of sheer diffidence.

"well," he says your name, tasting every syllable in his pierced tongue. "your name tastes sweet, dove. but i think your face is even sweeter now that you're not crying — not saying that isn't cute too but you're so stunning now that i look closer at you without any barriers. your eyes, especially, they're like some mix doe and siren eyes, or whatever my other friends talk about in social media. point given, you're drop-dead gorgeous in my eyes."

it all comes naturally from him that your brain merely shortcircuited and fried itself comprehending his message, forgetting you were drunk in the first place replacing it with a flush in your heart, the pit of grief and despair replaced with the lighthearted need to banter or reply meekly at his shameless flirting right after he comforted you.

this is the first time you felt something for someone's romantic gestures, instead of that wave of nausea that accompanies you.

he makes you feel... pretty about yourself. in a good way, in a way you don't feel the need to hide your insecurities for once and instead allow his eyes to flitter around your entire face, analyzing your features because... because he simply makes you feel pretty the more he stares at you.

yet all you did was take his hand on your own, a sudden burst of confidence even you couldn't explain, and played with it, as you pouted in reply before thinking— using his hand-now-turned-fidget-toy — of a good enough response.

you simply said, coughing before continuing, "i don't take back what i said moment's ago. you're hot too, even if my vision was obstructed by my tears."

"oh, really?" he smiled gently and allowed your hands autonomy to play with his. it's like telepathy, he knows it's automatic that you crave physical affection and attention and he's willing to provide you that solace.

"now that you're not crying— you think i'm even more handsome?"

you snort at his question, then took a step back with your thoughts to properly study him. neat, yet messy hair, piercing on the eyebrows and on his tongue (hot), sunglasses and spiky jacket draped upon your shoulders— goddamnit, of course he's hot! and you made it efficiently clear that he is, with your hands fiddling pattern against his soft, yet calloused hands, by squeezing it.

"yes, you are even more handsome, kon..." brief and concise, just how you like it. even if he gave you an entire essay describing you in his eyes, for you, you prefer actions; and you did so by simply being affectionate with the stranger, now acquaintance you have a slight crush on.

you'd never expected this turn of events, but it was a pleasant one and one you'd never really want to trade with anything else now that you've met kon.

so when he opened his mouth to spew something else, your ears perked up to listen and your mind, albeit slowly sobering up, prepared itself to reply to whatever flirting, conversation topics, and anything random it is that he wishes to talk about to you.

you smiled at him whilst he talked, he reciprocates as always.

yet this time, you weren't afraid to hide just how joyous you feel, for once, having a person interested in you not only physically but with your interests, too, as your conversations kept shifting to things about you.

it made inclined to learn about yourself, too. and that makes you happy, and fuzzy in the insides the more he asks you questions beyond your favorites. like in movies, he didn't simply just ask your favorites and you replied with an answer and moved on, no! you both discussed the emotional depth it impacted you with, why symbolism matters so much, and why in the near future you'd both inevitably meet up, you'll both watch it together.

that makes you feel excited.

you even forgot the main reason why you're here in the first place; to drink. now, though, it seems like you just wanted to talk to kon all night long.

fortunately for you, that's how the rest of your night went. with a pleasant buzz in the background, the sounds of remixes all drowned out in your ears as you favor the chatters of the man beside you, with the tremor of his voice a comfortable volume and his tone laced with freshly made honey.

when your friends finally ran back to the bar where you all collectively agreed to meet up at once everyone's shenanigans were finished, they giggled drunkenly whilst some sober ones whistled at seeing your hand unknowingly massaging his palms like a stresstoy and the jacket draped upon your shoulders.

the moment you returned it to him, he joked about wearing it every second now since it reminds him of you, and how it's his favorite piece of attire now beyond all his other clothing. you merely blushed and ignored the cooing of your friends behind you.

you didn't feel concerned over not seeing him anymore, as he had given you a slip of paper with his number on it in through a tissue with paracetamol pills wrapped around it (like the thoughtful gentleman he made himself out to be when he excused himself a second time to get those items, since you'd left your phone with one of your friends; you swore you felt a blush creep into your cheeks and heating the tip of your ears), you instead felt a pang of longing and furrowed your brows, looking at him as if asking if you'll see him around anytime soon as he reciprocates with a sure grin that makes you feel a wave of feather like affection.

he left shortly after, striding to you as your group recollects all your stuff and whispering a, "text you later, dove. stay safe for me, alright? don't let any other strangers get to you."

you're glad this night would end on a good note, willing away any prior doubts towards spending the night in a completely foreign street and expecting fir criminals and thugs to break in but no! you can't help but admit that your new... interest, conner, made your night a thousand times better.

and his little nickname for you... haha, you're so flustered thinking about texting him tonight. you'd neglect your assignments for now if it meant messenging him right after you get home, safely, for his sake.

when your group all came outside though, that's when things shifted.

time is a construct. it's complicated and structured like that as well. it can either be too fast, or too slow. when your friends had taken their sweet time to spend the night dancing about the dancefloor, when you'd taken the precious time to flirt and talk to kon; that's when you all collectively realized that their damn cars were stolen.

the air suddenly shifted to this thick atmosphere when you all stepped out, one that can be sliced through with a sword, and you swore—

god, you swore this night couldn't have been any better with the turn of things, but now. right after you got out the club, it all took a turn for the worse.

this is it.

you're going to die today.

you're going to die, in some dirty ditch, your friends nowhere to be found, with nobody to save you.

nasty bruises already began to form on your skin, one with harsher colors of purple, blue, and yellow on your wrists and other patches of skin; way harsher

the man in front of you was gnarly, but you've no time to judge as he kicks you in the guts.

matted brown hair lay atop his head like a bird's attempt at a near, he has an odor that reeks of sewer rats, piss, and feces, and an unruly beard that houses bits of his leftover.

he holds a weapon whose shape you couldn't make out with your hazy vision, body nearly cramping in on itself once he kicked you again.

straight in the abdomen, with brute strenght accompanied by his worn leather boots decorated with glinting spikes that sparkle under the moonlight's glow.

in the abdomen, spikes.

blood first, then curdling pain next.

no noise rips through your ears, only wringing ever present, but your mouth opens, and you can feel its tender chords crack as a scream erupts from your throat, shrill and resounding from the deepest depths of the cockpit your mouth has to offer you; uncaring for the man in front of who who suddenly covers his ears and grits his teeth, who looks at you like you're mad, yet unlike same way his two other lackeys from behind look at your like you're the creation of carnage itself.

pain shot throughout your body, most especially at the core of the holes that pierced through your clothes and right inside your skin. and as your bulging, teary eyes try to look down with an agape, whimpering mouth, his shoes still connected to your body; you could only hold off so much of that familiar taste of acidic bile paired with that lingering scent of cheap booze.

tears were a byproduct of the misery, as it began to escape from your already puffy eyes. when the man released his legs fron pinning you down, your sobs only worsened as your unpinned, shivering arm try its damned best to cover the already leaking blood.

six holes, the diameter of the more than half of your finger, was what you could make out in your line of sight. the blood that leaked from them looked black, you couldn't find where the gradient of black and red connects, your only certainty in this situation was that you'd bleed to death before help could come to you.

the spikes were as long as a toothpick, a crimson puddle lay dripping on the floor.

your legs were shaking against your will, your eyes frantically search around you yet your pinned once more, his larger body framing against your own, providing no room nor qualms for an escape.

but the only escape you wanted was one from the pain of his pressing against your injury, even more blood spilling out of its confines. your tears only hastened its descent from your shaky eyes.

when your mouth opened for the nth time to wail out, he seethed in a breathe and threatened you, with his breath as vile as his entire being, that smells like every mix of synthetic chemicals from cigarette flavors, all expired, with teeth rotting and sporting yellow and black wallpaper.

gross, so gross. you want to die when the stench hits your nose. you shrivel in yourself, you couldn't breath.

"listen here, little bitch, you quiet down or i kill you. and 'ya either give me everythin' you own in your damn possession, or i'll kick you even more until a thousand little holes will fuckin' make you bleed to death, hear me?"

hearing his statement only made the adrenaline pump even more fight of flight into your heart. but you can't do either, you can't, not when you're still hazy from the fucking alcohol and the self defense tools in your tiny pouch were thrown a few feet away from you.

you've nothing to defend yourself.

oh god, oh shit, fuck.

you want to die, you want to so fucking die than go through the same pain of nearly being abducted or held hostage again.

yet your eyes could only close, your teeth kissing your bottom lips, biting hard to drown out another pained scream. whimpers, god, they're so loud yet you can't help the whimpers and the broken faucet from your eyes. even if you beg your own body to stop, it doesn't listen to the pleas of your mind.

the only thing it can focus on is the pain. recreant, volatile pain.

a moan escapes you, shaky and prolonged. the only other emotion that you could experience after is sorrow.

you didn't expect your pleasant night to end off in such a tragic note, but as your attacker held you by your throat with one hand, a knife pointed against your face, the next that happened was your head slammed roughly against the wall; a dull, beating ache lulling the back of your head after the momentary spark of pain— you're reminded that this is reality, and you're close to losing consciousness quick.

you're going to die.

bloody, a sobbing, dissociating mess, with your thoughts spinning around the same way the stranger and his lackeys laugh — bared yellow teeth, with the smell of ichor prevalent in their clothes, predatory eyes leering at you like you're prey — at your drunken moans of pain.

you're going to die.

"well, you gonna answer me or what, bitch? you wanna die!?"

he shouts you with spit that sprays all over your face, flashing you a grin and by extension flashing you his ugly, bared teeth. some missing were in his gums, others were artificial, most rotten like him.

you're going to die.

alone, in a ditch. bloody, laying in a pool of your own crimson the same way you saw your mother drowns in a puddle of hers.

you'll die like her—

what an honor.

the more you think about the situation, the more you're led to believe that the only way to solve this was through death alone, with no restrictions, no buts or ifs. you've no fight left in your body, or any weapon to fight. you're drunk, defenseless and if you actually managed to escape, you'd still bleed to death in some unknown alleyway. if you're lucky, a stray police may find you and give you a proper burial. but you remember you're in the living incarnate of hell in america, you'll never have a proper death.

this was night in gotham. your death alone only adds to the already astounding high percentages of all the other lives lost to the same twisted fate. you were no different. and to die early than to suffer from torture is better.

i mean, who would give a shit if you die tonight, right? your family— wrong! alfred would panic at your disappearance, but he'll forget about you like he did others, you're sure of it. that's why he still chose to fucking serve the wayne's instead of fully taking your side. if he had to choose between saving you or the people he swore his loyalty onto, he wouldn't hesitate. you're sure. even if the thoughts made the doom in your heart heavier. even if you know your story would never be covered nor acknowledged, you still year

but life is unfair, everything is. that's why you're here now, in a dark fucking alleyway with men who'll more than take advantage of your dying body and leave your corpse in the dump after. life is unfair, yet it's even more cruel in gotham. you should've expected this, should've known that a turn of events could be possible. you'll feel regret in the afterlife, only for a life that could've been well-lived, but never for the choice of living through the torture you call being a wayne.

so you came to the conclusion; confident for once after living for thirteen and a half years walking on eggshells around a manor.

this is not as bad as their neglect.

you smile in response to the guy, genuine and filled with grace as your heart that once pounds against your chest now slows down to a calm pace, finally at peace. with no other intention than to rattle him even more, to the point of choosing you to kill with his own hands as brutally as he likes— so you finally take a well deserved rest from life.

you gather saliva at the center of your tongue, ignore the taste of blood that swirls, nor the soreness of your throat and the crimson dripping down your nose.

when he looks down at you, disoriented at what you're doing, you spit at him, all the beating in your heart hastened, yet slowed down as quickly as you heave in a final breath.

... you're finally going to die.

"FUCKING HELL, YOU DAMN CUNT—!"

you close your eyes, bracing yourself for the knife that would hopefully stab you in the face, or the chest, and think of your last thoughts. you thank alfred for caring for you for those thirteen years, you hope you win your mother's graces in the afterlife even if she discovered your deliberate choices for killing yourself in the spur of a moment, and you wish your old family a happy life living without you, even if they already did so for so long.

all you needed was seconds to conclude your prayers.

but they weren't answered as you wanted them to be, not when you open your wide eyes to what was supposed to be a glint of silver piercing through the middle of your face was replaced by a bullet, quick and precise, shooting through his cranium without mercy, body immediately laying limp within those seconds.

the other two behind him were good as dead, too, your savior not wasting any moment to end their lives then and there.

and as you stumbled from the grip released from your body, your torso nearly crumpling in on itself, a flash of familiar, metallic red enters your vision when you'd look up from your savior who's huge form now meticulously acts as your shield from the brutal carnage that lays upon your line of sight and a pillar of protection trying to help you stand from the pain that shot through your lower abdomen.

but you don't want to stand, you want to drop dead right now. you don't want this, you didn't want this to happen.

instead of gratitude, dread fills your lungs with water and your fingers were left to tremor.

he looks down at you, you couldn't make out his expression, but you could feel the anger coursing through his body, the same as the day you first met him when he was still newly rebirthed, like it's telling you of his unadulterated rage at witnessing the scene before him. his body shakes, heavily, and his grip on your hands tighten, a mechanical groan drawling deep from his automated voice banks that changes his voice.

yet all you feel was fear overtaking your entire body prior to the comfort at the prospect of death.

you'd rather die than this.

even you couldn't believe the whimper of his name from your wobbling lips, as your body, out of instinct despite the pain, tried to push itself against the wall, away from him.

he only moves to hold your waste protectively, like a... brother suffocating his younger sibling with blankets when they complain it's cold. overbearing, disgustingly affectionate; you don't want it.

you feel cold.

this day could've been any worse— and it took a turn to the all worse scenarios you could imagine.

"jason...?"

"angel..."

a single familiar name was spoken, yet a new nickname was introduced. angel: the same way jason swore what you looked like when he sped through his motorcycle after hearing a shriek from all across the streets, finding you, bleeding and beaten to a pulp, with your attacker almost stabbing you.

of course, who wouldn't hesitate pulling a gun against someone trying to kill your precious? jason doesn't even need to choose.

and whether he did it in the name of justice and respect to his moral code, or because finding someone with a familiar face, sharing the same hopeless, yet death-accepting expression as he did back when he died— it all doesn't matter in the heat of the moment now.

what matters is that his angel is hurt and the madness in him festers the longer you bleed out in his arms, defiant and fearful all the same.

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

PLEASE READ: 11,000+ words. AND I LITERALLY HATE THIS CHAPTER (new least favorite fr) �� this decision is so impulsive i gonna regret it soon. chapter 5 will be released after a few days and i promise it has more action than this I SWEAR. first parts are always boring. anyways, there're so many song references in this chapter and for the next chapter. if any of you could guess what they are, i'll be rewarding all of you with something special. otherwise, please leave comments for this chapter! what motivated me to write was reading everybody's comments and inputs, about the love they have for this series as much as i do. interactions, asks, comments, they're all important and dear to me and i heavily appreciate it. so more interaction = more content. after all, i'd rather a post with little likes but with no interaction than a post with no interaction but all likes.

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gay-dorito-dust · 9 months ago

Text

Would they or would they not catch you…

Dick: yes. 100% yes but he’s -no pun intended- a little bit of a teasing dick about it.

He will catch you but then act as though he’s going to drop you by loosening his grip, making you scream out of surprise and cling onto him tighter, all the while beaming that bright and beautiful smile of his as though he wasn’t about to willingly let you fall flat on your ass on multiple occasions.

‘I fucking hate you!’ You whined, smacking Dick on the bicep.

‘Oh do you now?’ Dick inquires as he slowly begins to losses his grip on you, smirking.

‘Did I say hate you? I meant love you, a lot! Please don’t drop me.’ You cried as you tightened your grip on his neck whilst struggling to keep your feet from touching the floor. ‘Awww I love you too gorgeous.’ Dick coos as he pressed kisses into your face as you could only glare at the cheeky bastard.

You hate him sometimes but you weren’t going to complain about the affection you were being given. So you guess you’ll suffer for now.

Side note: he might even try and see if you can catch him. 💀

Jason: He will catch you but makes it a big deal whenever he can. He loves holding you in his arms.

He could keep you in his arms forever if he could but knew that he can’t, so he settles for going about his day carrying you throughout the apartment instead.

‘You can put down any day now.’ You’d tell him but that only makes Jason tighten his grip on you as he moved in his makeshift library for a book to read.

‘No.’ He simply replied, scouring the many book titles in front of him in the hopes that one might speak to him. You pout. ‘What do you mean no?’ Jason then looks at you and says. ‘No means no. As in no I will not put you down because I do as I like and will not be told otherwise, so the cutie currently in my arms has to deal with it.’ He then smiles as he presses a kiss to your forehead before looking back towards the bookshelves.

You end up falling asleep in his arms and Jason couldn’t help but smile at how cute you were, even if you did look like the living dead.

Damian: says no but will in fact catch you without hesitation.

However if you do try to tease him about it, then he will drop you without a second thought. ‘You can catch yourself next time.’ He would say as he walks away, leaving you with a bruised ass. Titus -who saw the whole thing- would come up to you to make sure you weren’t genuinely hurt and encourage you to get up by nudging you with his head.

Don’t test him because he will do it and then act like the whole thing didn’t happen if you were to bring it up.

‘Dick.’ You’d say as you stood up.

‘I heard that.’ He’d call back, his voice echoing off the walls. ‘You were meant to.’ You reply. ‘And at least Titus came to check up on me to see if I wasn’t hurt.’ You’d add while scratching Titus behind the ear.

Needless to say you were more cautious when choosing Damian to catch you. However he does apologise for dropping you on your ass by gifting you something he himself drew by hand; He secretly doesn’t like it when you’re upset with him and will do anything to rectify it.

What a sweetheart.

Bruce: he’s too use to you pulling this type of shit that it’s basically muscle memory for him to catch you as you’re running towards him, all with a straight face mind you.

Be grateful because he risked a much needed bowl of Mulligatawny soup just to catch you in his arms, but then again the kisses you bombard his cheek is more than reward enough, a small almost missable smile appears on his lips as he then proceeds to carry you for the rest of the day as “punishment.”

( this only occurs when Bruce is feeling particularly affectionate or playful)

Much to your batkids -Dick, Jason, Tim, Damian, Duke, Cass and Steph- dismay. They’d want to use this as blackmail, but they know that it will backfire as you’ll probably hang the photo on a wall somewhere in the manor, reminding them of how disgustingly their parents can be when given the opportunity.

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aurorawritestoescape · 2 months ago

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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 || more stepdad Joel || 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 || more stepdad Joel || 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

#pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal characters #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #the last of us #joel miller x f!reader #stepdad!joel #joel miller tlou #tlou hbo #dark!joel miller #tlou fanfiction #tw dubcon #a step into hell fic

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thebestofoneshots · 9 months ago

Text

A LITTLE BIT OF PAINT | wolfstar x reader

Pairing: R.L. x S.B. x Reader

Word Count: 9.9k

Warnings: smut, threesome, finger fucking, oral (male receiving), handj*b, dry h*mping, thigh ridding, p in v, Remus is a mess, mild Dom!Remus (if you squint really hard), he might also have a praise k!nk, Sirius is a flirt (danger to humanity honestly), homoerotic scenes(?), you and Sirius can’t take your eyes off Rem, Rem can’t take his eyes off you either, consent is sexy!

Prompt: Sirius and you are art students and you’ve got an assignment, a nude painting, but you can’t paint each other. Trying to convict Remus to model for you was hard enough, but painting him, while he looks so damn stunning, might prove a harder endeavour to accomplish.

♡ NSFW: Smut under the cut

“So?” Sirius asked as he leaned onto Remus, “would you do it?”

“Pretty please?” you asked with a small pout and a few blinks.

Remus sighed, “Why don’t you just paint each other?”

Both you and Sirius had been trying to convince Remus to be your nude model for an assignment for the last 20 minutes. He was your best friend, and both you and Sirius had always wanted to use him as a model, but had never been too keen to do it, not even clothed. But you needed him now.

“We can’t do someone we’ve fucked,” Sirius said with a sigh, “We’d already done it otherwise.”

“Just use each other and draw a face from a magazine,” Remus offered.

“It won’t work either,” you responded now, “We’ve both been models for the class, they know our bodies.”

Remus tried not to blush at the thought of Sirius and you, naked in the centre of a room for hours on end while people stared and drew all the small details of your bodies. The details that he assumed had only been seen by the other, now he regretted not taking the class, but scolded himself out of those stupid thoughts.

He sighed, “Ask James?”

“Regulus’ gonna do James,” Sirius responded, “He was obviously more than thrilled to oblige him.”

“We wouldn’t be asking you if we didn’t need you, please Moony!”

Remus looked to the side, licking his lips before biting on the bottom one and sighing, however could he say no to the two of you. “Okay,” he whispered.

“Wait, really?” you asked in disbelief, a huge smile dancing on your lips, it made you look stunning.

He nodded, “But you’ll owe me, big one.”

You leaned in to hug him and then Sirius did the same, both of you sandwiching Moony in between the two of you.

“Anything for Moony,” Sirius added.

Just a few days later, you were outside of one of the classrooms. It was a smaller cosy one that tended to be used for models, with huge windows but near the top of the building so no one would be able to look inside. You had rented it for the rest of the day since both you and Sirius were determined to finish in one sitting, and neither of you was sure if Remus would subject himself to more than that either.

“You think he’ll come?” you asked as you looked at your watch for the third time that day.

“He’ll come, luv. Don’t worry about it.”

You sighed, Remus was seldom late. And it took you some time to convince him, you were scared he wouldn’t want to anymore.

You were fumbling with the keys to the room, and just as you inserted them inside the keyhole, you heard a fumbling at the end of the corridor.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said, his bag hanging on the side and a coat hanging on the other side. I got held up by the traffic, “I brought the car since it said it was gonna rain, thought I could give you both a ride back, when we were done.”

You smiled when you spotted him and flipped the keys as Sirius gave you an “I told you so look”.

Remus was breathing heavily when he reached the two of you, “and then I couldn’t find the room, this place is a bloody maze.”

Both you and Sirius chuckled at that. “We arrived late to our first class,” Sirius said. “The teacher told us we’d have to find our own model for being late and we made a deal to model for each other, that’s how we met.”

“I know,” Remus said. He remembered when Sirius and you became friends, first Sirius didn’t shut up about you, then he introduced you to each other, and he understood why Sirius couldn’t shut up about you. Remus and Sirius went way back, they had been friends since elementary, along with James, Peter, Lily, Marlene and Mary. You had quickly gotten along with all of them, and they had made you a part of their little group.

Finally, the door clicked open and you pushed on it, allowing both boys to get in before shutting it down and putting both the hand lock and the latch bolt. Remus threw you a look. “We’ve heard stories of people walking in on people painting and ruining their stuff by knocking things out. I doubt you’d want someone walking in on you.”

Remus nodded and moved to sit on the small coach on the side. Thankfully the room was designed in a way to make models feel at ease. There was a music box where you could play tapes on the side, a sofa for them to feel comfortable, and then there was a table in the middle of the room. Both you and Sirius walked to the closet and he pulled on the easels while you went for the props you were planning to use. A small basket filled with fruits. “You brought the sheet?”

“On my bag,” he said as he nodded to the side.

“Kay,” you said as you leaned down to get it.

“You may start changing Moons,” Sirius said, as the boy moved to help him with the easel. They had one in their apartment, and Remus already knew how to set it up from seeing Sirius do it so many times before.

He swallowed and made sure to finish setting up the easel before nodding and walking towards the table. Sirius was taking off his leather jacket, and Remus attempted to ignore the way his friend’s muscles bent as he did. Sirius had always been beautiful, but this attraction he felt for his best friend was relatively new, he could barely stand it.

You were still looking for the props when you turned around and spotted Remus pulling his soft brown jumper over his head. He wore a soft beige cotton shirt underneath it that was just a little tight over his arms. You tried not to bite your lips as you stared. Both Sirius and you had talked about how pretty you both thought Remus was, what a shame it was he wasn’t into either of you, if only you knew.

Sirius gave you an amused look, his lips curling into a mocking smile and his brows shooting up and down. You pushed him lightly with your shoulder and walked toward the table before your cheeks warmed even further.

“We’ll do mine first,” Remus explained, at least my sketch, Sirius’ next and then we’ll alternate.

“You’ll do different poses?” Remus asked as he looked up at you, pulling the other shirt over his shoulders little after. Sirius tried not to laugh at the way you were looking at his friend. He had already seen how ripped Remus was, they were roommates, after all.

“Yeah,” you responded as you got a hold of yourself. “We are gonna make it seem like we drew different people.”

Remus nodded in response. He was slightly self-conscious about his scars, he’d gotten them as a kid in an accident. His parents were zoologists and worked with wolves, they had taken a puppy home since he was hurt, and Remus thought it was a dog. He pulled the hurt animal out of the cage to “play with it” but accidentally grabbed him from the part he’d been hurt, the animal retaliated by slashing him, face, torso, back, and legs. Remus had been 4 and had no way to defend himself, he also didn’t want to hurt the puppy so he allowed it to happen. When his parents found him, he was crying in a pool of blood, and the wolf pup had hidden somewhere in their garden.

There was apprehension in your eyes as you stared at his scars, not because they were ugly, you thought Remus was beautiful, but because you thought of the pain they had once caused him. You cleared your throat. “I got this for you,” you explained as you showed him the basket of fruits, you had bought them all yesterday and left them in the small fridge in the room. “You’ll be holding in both of your arms, it’s like a recreation of an older painting,” you explained.

Remus nodded, taking in the information as he fumbled with the button of his trousers. Half focused on what you said, half mortified over getting naked in front of you and Sirius.

You pulled the basket in your hands again, “Kind of like this, okay?” you said as you grabbed the basket in the way he would be grabbing it, giving the fruits one last arrangement and taking a picture for reference in case they moved around. He gave you an understanding nod and you gave him a thumbs up in return. Sirius walked over to take Remus’ clothes from the table, and hastily dropped them over the smaller sofa, bringing over a bottle of wine, a decanter and an empty cup.

“Our concept is based on gods, she’s going for Bacchus,” he explained, Remus was fumbling around with the trousers at the end of his feet, taking longer than he normally would to take off his clothes, Sirius obviously noticed. “She wants to capture the youth and lust of winemaking.”

Remus gave him somewhat of a stern look and Sirius smiled cheekily in return. “And yours?” he asked.

“Eros and Psyche,” Sirius responded with a slight tilt of his head.

“And Psyche?”

“Don’t worry your pretty head with it yet,” Sirius added condescendingly and got a shove from Remus in return.

You were looking at the two of them with a smile, you’d always loved the relationship with the two, there was never a time they were more at ease than when they were with each other.

Sirius sighed, and you smiled. Remus still felt nervous, taking his socks off and keeping his boxers on as he waited for new instructions. Sirius gave him a look as he sat on the window just behind you, and your easel, looking at how you sharpened your pencils and charcoal for sketching. “Would you help me pose him?” You asked, turning your head slightly to Sirius before focusing again on your pencils and canvas, taking a ruler to break down the piece into smaller squares to make sure you got your proportions right.

Sirius nodded, jumped down from the window seal and picked up the white sheet he’d brought from his backpack.

“Time to take them off, mate,” he said. Remus swallowed and nodded, taking off his boxers carefully and throwing them in the same direction Sirius had thrown the rest of his clothes. Then he placed his hand over himself and stared in between you and Sirius nervously. You were still focused on your canvas, so you didn’t quite see the interaction, but Sirius did and smiled. He had the inkling little feeling that maybe Remus was into you. He had told you about it but you had shrugged it off, Remus had become something like your best friend, there was no way.

But Sirius had known Remus for longer than you did, and he knew his friend like he knew the back of his hand –and boy he knew that one well from seeing it so much while painting. And the nervous glances Remus kept throwing your way, made him feel a little more confident of his theory. Perhaps all the two of you needed was a little push, and then that one recurring dream he had could become a reality.

Sirius extended the sheet over Remus and placed it on his arms, just falling off the shoulders like some kind of shawl, he then accommodated the sheet covering one of his legs and his private parts. Remus seemed reassured by that, and Sirius again, tried not to smile knowingly. He then passed Remus the basket and helped him accommodate it in place.

“It's not too heavy is it?”

“Not right now,” Remus said as he held it between his hands. Sirius then proceeded to place his hands on Remus’ bare back and traced his fingers over his friend’s muscles in a reassuring and discreet manner, giving a light squeeze near his neck.

“Relax,” he said as he looked at the boy. Sirius had no idea how little relaxing that devious smile of his was, Remus’ skin burned at his touch. “Lean your head back a little bit, would you?” Remus swallowed and did as told, anything to have Sirius step away before he noticed the things he was actually doing to him. “A little bit more,” Sirius insisted and placed his hand on the boy’s neck. Allowing it to linger as he moved him around as he pleased.

“Hey Angel,” he called, and you looked up, smiling at the sight of the two boys, “Is this all right?”

“Come here,” you told Sirius, he finally let go of Rem and walked towards you, standing just behind the easel just at your side. “What do you think? Isn’t he a little too stiff?”

“Yeah,” Sirius responded.

“Thought so,” you breathed and left your pencil and charcoal on the easel before walking towards Remus. “Close your eyes, would you?” you asked softly. Remus hesitated before doing what told. “Take a deep breath for me, good, that’s good… Remember that time you told me about your trip to Dover? You told me you climbed to the very top of the castle, that it was freezing cold and that no one but you had been brave enough to climb up to the roof. It was empty but there was a thin layer of snow on the ground. So thin that when you pressed your feet, it melted away allowing you to see the stone.

“You mentioned you leaned over the edges and got to see the castle, the grounds and then, then you got to see the ocean.” Remus' tense self was slowly starting to subdue. “You said you could hear the distant waves, and then you felt a small prickle in your cheek.”

“It started snowing,” Remus said softly.

You smiled, took a grape from his basket and placed it near his mouth, pushing it in between his lips. He opened his mouth when he felt the fruit and ate it with a frown, opening his eyes to look at it, and then at you. You were so bloody close to him.

“There you go,” you said with a smile. “Much better now, keep that relaxed face of yours so I can paint it, will you?” you added teasingly. Remus was munching on the grape with a confused and yet amused face. You gave him a short wink and then went back to your spot, missing the slight flush that coated his cheek.

“Comfortable?” Sirius teased.

Remus threw him a look and you swatted Sirius with your pencil softly. “Stop teasing him, he’ll tense again,” you scolded. Remus couldn’t help but smile at the small interaction between the two and you finished up with the sharpening, picking up the pencil and starting to sketch. Remus let his head fall back as you traced, closing his eyes and changing his stance every once in a while, pulling his head off and watching you knit your brows together as you moved your pencil over the canvas.

“You’re getting the proportions wrong,” Sirius said. “His hand is bigger than that.”

You grumbled in return, “I know! I just–“ you pulled an eraser and started to furiously move it over the canvas, Remus was looking at the two of you carefully. “I can’t get it to work out.”

“Want help?”

“You can’t keep helping me when I don’t get the hands right…”

“Why not? You always help me with light and shadow, you’re an expert.”

You sighed, “It’s not the same Sirius.”

“Yes it is,” he said in a no-nonsense kind of way, then he placed his hand over yours, and started guiding your sketch. “Come on, loosen up.”

Meanwhile, Remus was looking at the domestic scene between the two with a mix of admiration and longing. The two of you looked stunning as you painted him, both deeply focused on the canvas, with a casual glance straight at his hand holding the basket, he smiled as he saw Sirius lean even closer to you, obviously unnecessary but something Sirius did often anyway. He had never seen his friend as smitten with a human as he had seen him with you.

Eventually, Sirius let go of your hand and you added a few other touches. “Do you want to start painting or should I start with my sketch first?” he asked.

You turned your head and stared at the cloudy sky, “I’ll use the sunlamp for my lighting, we can do yours if you want, that way you take advantage of natural light for your drawing.”

He nodded, “Okay, get ready, I’ll work on the canvas.”

You sent him a short wink and he walked behind his easel. Remus took the time to put down the basket and accommodate the sheet around him a little better. “Cold?” you asked, “we can turn off the AC.” He shook his head. Just self-conscious then, you realised. Well, he won’t have to worry too much about that.

You took your hoodie off and then, but it wasn’t until you took a hold of your shirt and flipped it over your head that Remus realised what was going on. Your hands were behind your bra when he averted his gaze to the side completely blushed. “Sirius, If you’re painting her, can I leave?”

“Of course not,” Sirius said simply, “I’m painting the both of you.”

“You what?”

“Eros and Psyche, remember?”

“But you said you couldn’t paint people you’ve fucked,” he retorted in a rather accusing manner.

“Yeah, that’s why I’ll switch her hair colour and you’ll cover her face.”

“You never said I’d have to pose with your naked girlfriend!”

“It’s okay Rem, I don’t mind, I’ve been a nude model for the class a couple of times.”

Remus, as he would naturally turn to look at you when you spoke, but quickly turned his head to the side when he realised you were now completely naked.

But I do! He thought as he tried to think of anything other than the curve of your breasts. Naked grandma, naked grandma.

You eyed Sirius, “Maybe we can–“ you started, biting your lip.

“Nonsense. We’re all adults, go on.”

You gave Sirius a stern look and he gave you back an equally determined one, nodding towards Remus, a clear indication for you to walk his way.

You took a deep breath but did what he wanted anyway. Walking towards Remus and gently placing a hand on his shoulder, “Hey, If you really don’t want to do this-“

Remus’ head snapped your way, he focused his eyes on yours as best as he could, “No, I– I just– I wasn’t mentally prepared.”

You smiled and tilted your head. You could see the self-restraint he was using not to look at your chest, Sirius was really trying not to cackle behind you as he sharpened his pencils, “You can look,” you said, “you’re gonna see them anyway Rem.” He gave you a frustrated frown. You smiled teasingly in return.

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and looked. He was about ready to just stare for half a second and then move on with his life but he couldn’t quite look away. Not when he saw them perk up for him, his warm breath so close to you causing such a reaction.

“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” Sirius said with a smile from behind the easel. The kind of confident smile of one who knew he could touch them whenever he wanted.

Remus cleared his throat and looked at Sirius. Naked grandma. NAKED GRANDMA. “Go on with your painting, yeah?”

“You haven’t even posed,” he retorted with a smile. You turned your head over your shoulder to look at your boyfriend, “where do you want me?”

Remus tried not to think of those words, and not to memorise them either. He didn’t want to have dreams about it. Sirius on the other hand, smirked and walked over to the two of you, “Alright mate, time to lose the sheet,” he said as he pulled the one thing covering Remus’ body. While Rem shot to cover himself, Sirius gave you a look and then winked.

You narrowed your eyes at him as you tilted your head, what the hell are you up to, pretty boy?

“Okay, Moony. I need you to sit on the table.” Remus did as told, “Now open your legs a little bit.” Remus gave a stern look to Sirius but did as told, still using his hands to cover himself. “Please Rem,” he added, “I’ll show you mine and you’ll show me yours? Take those hands off, would you? We’ve both seen plenty of dicks already.”

You were looking at Remus’ clavicle as he did, trying to avoid the spot that made him so self-conscious, but Sirius was way bolder than that, and he stared straight at his friend’s cock instead. Was that a twitch? Sirius smiled, bit his lip, and turned back to you.

“You’ll be in between his legs, he’ll have his arms around your arms and his head on your shoulder, is that okay?”

“Okay,” you said simply. Now, had it been any other person, perhaps you wouldn’t have accepted the pose, but this was Remus, you trusted Remus.

Remus, who realised there was no use in arguing, did what Sirius had described, leaning forward so you wouldn’t have to stand so close to him. He tried to avoid his chest brushing into yours, ever the gentleman. Anyone else might have just taken advantage.

Sirius nodded and walked behind his easel again, “Luv, hide your head on his neck, okay?”

“Mhm,” you said and did as told. Being so close to Remus was making you feel things. He was really warm and strong. You enjoyed the way he held you, Sirius could tell. He also knew you as the back of his hand.

“Would you mind leaning in a little closer to him?”

You nodded and did as told. Now your chest was brushing against his, Remus could feel your hardened nipples against his chest, the tip of his ears was now red, even if a good deal of blood was going south. You assumed it was due to embarrassment.

Sirius had already started to draw, and you decided you’d try and ease him, you bent your elbows and wrapped your arms around his shoulders, allowing his grip to become a lot more secure, “It's okay,” you whispered. “Sirius is way faster at sketching than me, he’ll be over in a second. I’m sorry for making you uncomfortable.”

“No, I’m sorry for making this so awkward,” he said softly. “I bet you are used to this and I’m making it weird.”

“Not really,” you said honestly, leaning your head on his shoulder a little more, that was something you had done often, with clothes, though. “I’ve never modelled with anyone other than Sirius. I only said I would because it would be you.”

“You what?” Remus asked, you accommodated and your lips accidentally brushed against his neck, he felt the blush spreading, he was losing control. He couldn’t keep thinking of a naked grandma when he had you pressed against him, whispering on his neck, your warm breath against his skin igniting him like a match against dry leaves.

“I only agreed to Sirius’ pose when he proposed it because you’d be the male model. I don’t like modelling so close to other people.”

Remus sighed, closing his eyes, his cock was already half hard, and here you were talking to him about trusting him to be the male model, he was a total dick.

“Luv, lean in a little closer would you?” Sirius asked.

Remus didn’t even have enough time to give Sirius a warning glance since you confidently did as told, and that’s when you felt it: hard, brushing just under your belly button. You pulled apart just for a second and looked down.

He is huge.

Remus was beet red and staring at Sirius with a mix of exasperation, embarrassment, and anguish. But neither of you seemed to mind, you just pulled your hips slightly back and went back to the previous pose, your nipples brushing against his chest again and making his boner grow even more.

“It’s okay,” you reassured, “It’s actually quite normal, you’d be surprised how many times it happens.”

Remus had his eyes closed shut and was trying not to think, not of your soft chest against him, not of your soft breath fanning against his skin, and certainly not of how close your pussy was to his dick.

You could tell how much more tense he was now. “Do you want to take a break?”

“No,” he said quickly. “Let’s just get over with it.” The last thing Remus needed was to take a break only for it to happen again the minute your skin came into contact with his.

“Are you sure? You’re a lot more tense now, Moons,” you said with a frown as you gently brushed your hand on his soft back, tracing a finger over one of his scars without quite realising you were doing it.

He shook his head, “No, it’s okay.”

“Remus–“ Sirius started.

“It won’t work,” he snapped a little harsher now.

Sirius’s perspicacious look turned into a smirk, he knew he wasn’t imagining things. He gently placed his pencil on the easel and walked over to Remus. “Why not Moony?”

“Sorry?” He asked, nervous. You felt him tense even further and pulled back, he got a glimpse of your breasts again and he only became harder.

“Sirius, you’re making him more nervous,” you added with a frown, your hand still brushing reassuringly on his back.

“No,” he replied, and focused his gaze back on Remus. “I want to know why it wouldn’t work.”

Remus grabbed the basket that was still lying around and placed it over his lap, covering his ever-growing boner.

“You don’t have to respond to that, Rem.”

“He does,” Sirius insisted.

Remus looked at Sirius in disbelief before huffing. “You’re making your bloody gorgeous girlfriend, pose with me and hug me, and lay her head on my shoulder, all while naked. And you’re looking at us, with that, piercing fucking gaze of yours while you do. A break is not going to help because you’ll make us do it again!”

Sirius still had a stern face on, but you noticed the small twist on his lips, he was holding back a smirk.

“Sirius,” you warned.

“No,” he said and focused on Remus again. “Remus, you think my girlfriend’s gorgeous?”

“Everyone thinks your girlfriend’s gorgeous.”

“No, Remus. Do you think she is?”

Remus avoided Sirius’ gaze, red with embarrassment and anger. More at himself than anyone else. His jaw was clenched and his eyes squeezed shut.

Sirius threw you an amused look and you gave him an impatient one. You could tell he was playing with Moony and you didn’t like it one bit. Sirius, though, wasn’t one to stop things so easily, and he pulled you softly from your spot in between his legs and took it, placing both hands on Remus’ shoulders who just tensed even further. He leaned closer to his ear, “I’m asking you something, Remus.”

Remus didn’t reply, the muscles of his jaw clenching and unclenching. You were about to pull Sirius back but he spoke again, “I’m asking because–” he tone was softer, the threatening tone from earlier fading into a more lewd one, “It’s okay of you do,” he whispered, and then pressed his lips to Remus’ tense shoulder. Remus’s eyes snapped open and he spotted you, you gave him a short smile, and then he felt Sirius’s lips pressed against him again, “because we both have the hots for you as well,” Sirius mumbled against his skin.

Remus swallowed thickly at that, and you could feel a familiar pulsing between your legs.

Remus pushed Sirius off, the other boy just stared at his friend with a smile, “don’t play with me, Black!” he warned, angry and steady.

“He’s not,” you interceeded. Sirius was a flirt, it was hard to believe him sometimes, but for you, who had been with him for a while, it was easy to see the shine in his eyes when he saw Remus, it wasn’t there when he saw other men. You walked over to Sirius and took hold of his arm, laying your head gently on his shoulder and allowing your entire front to be exposed to Remus. “The question is, Remus, do you like us back?”

Remus’ breath was caught in his throat, he wasn’t sure what to respond, could he even?

“And what does that mean?”

You shot Sirius a glance, there was a silent understanding between the two of you, a small nod from Sirius, and you walked closer to Remus, “It means we like hanging out with you,” you said softly and took a step towards him, “It means we like having you around, It means we like it when your eyes brighten as you speak of a new book you love and it means we love the way your hair falls on your face when you forget your umbrella and you borrow one of ours.” You were dangerously close to him now, “It means we like it when you stand close to us, it means we would like to touch you,” you placed a hand on his leg, and traced from his knee to the thick of his muscle, and left it there while making soft circles with your thumb.

“It means when we invited you to model for us we were being selfish, we wanted to have more of you than we normally did,” Sirius said, also walking closer, “It means I specifically had to wear bigger pants because I knew the moment I saw you naked along with her, my mind would roam, and take me back to my dreams.”

“Your dreams?” Remus asked as he gulped, gaze darting between your hand on his leg and Sirius approaching both of you.

“Our dreams,” you interceeded, having him turn back to look at your face. “The question is, Remus–“ You grabbed onto the basket and started to drag it away from him. “Do you want us? Or is this just a natural reaction?” you asked, nodding back to his hard cock, trying not to lick your lips as you did.

Sirius still hadn’t touched Remus, but he was standing so close he’d only have to lean in to kiss the boy’s neck. “I–“ Remus hesitated, and looked at Sirius, trying to find confirmation. He could barely believe what was going on, perhaps he had fallen asleep on your shoulder and this was just a figment of his eager imagination.

Sirius smiled and nodded down. His pants were big, but not big enough to hide the tent that had formed in his pants. Remus swallowed again. By now you had already discarded the basket of fruit, a couple of them rolling out and scattering on the floor with a loud thud. None of the three seemed to hear it, all of your gazes were firmly set on each other.

“It is real, Remus,” you said and leaned close enough to kiss his neck near the spot Sirius had kissed initially. You had wanted to do that while Sirius was sketching the two of you, and you took the chance to finally do it. Still, neither you nor Sirius had touched Remus’ cock, you wanted him to say yes before you did something irreparable. But unlike Sirius, you didn’t leave your kiss as a small innocent one, instead, you opened your mouth to his skin and started licking and sucking lightly.

A strangled moan escaped Remus’ lips. and you smiled, continuing to kiss him in the same way, eager to hear the sound again.

“Should we take that as a yes?” Sirius asked, voice raspy and low from how turned on he was at the sight of the two of you.

Remus let out a soft scoff, and then he pulled you from his neck, he hated the disappointed glance you had as he held your face in between his hands. Your eyes were blown with lust and your lips were wet from the kiss.

You swallowed, ready to pull apart but Remus dragged your head towards his and leaned in just enough to plant a desperate kiss on your lips. You were surprised at first but quickly melted into him, moaning as he dragged his demanding tongue over your lips, which only fueled him further, he wanted to hear those sounds, he wanted to hear the both of you make those sounds over and over again until he was deafened by them.

“Yes,” he whispered as he pulled apart, panting for air and dropping smaller kisses around your face, “bloody hell yes!” he insisted.

Sirius leaned in, and whispered on Moony’s ear, “Should have told us earlier.” He pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, but quickly moved down to kiss the boys jaw, “We’ve been dreaming about you for months.”

“Imagine my surprise when Sirius woke me up, panting your name,” you said, “I thought it was a nightmare until I felt how hard he was.”

Remus sighed and leaned his head on your shoulder as Sirius continued to kiss him, you took that as an opportunity to place your hand on his back again, allowing your fingers to feel and touch every single part of him that you hadn’t been able to touch earlier, and that you found absolutely stunning.

Another moan escaped Remus’ mouth when he felt your hand on his back, and Sirius smiled, the wicked smile of his and he pulled apart from his neck and easily sat on the table before moving behind Remus in a kneeling position, taking both of his shoulder and pulling him back from the hunch he’d been on. The sight of both boys almost set you on fire, Sirius noticed, he noticed almost everything.

“Moony, love,” he said as he leaned into the boy’s neck and allowed his hand to softly massage Remus’ back muscles, “Isn’t she stunning?”

You threw Sirius an inquisitive look and he just winked, he seemed to always know what to do.

“She is,” Remus breathed, eyes hooded as he allowed Sirius to touch him, clearly lost on him.

Sirius smiled, “I want you to touch her,” he said with a smirk, “touch her like you wanted to touch her when I was drawing the two of you behind the easel. I saw you looking at her, I saw the way your hands fought to stay in place.”

“Sirius,” Remus warned.

But Sirirus’ smirk only grew wider, he knew his words were sending both you and Remus into a state of absolute frenzy, all he’d have to do was push you into each other, “Touch her, I know she wants it as much as you do.”

Remus was hesitant, but he placed his hand on your shoulder and dragged you closer to the two of them in a soft pull. You looked up at him and smiled, squaring your shoulders and allowing him to see your almost throbbing nipples, desperate to be touched, and to be held by either of the two.

He was slow and hesitant, allowing his hand to fall from your shoulder to your arms, and then to your waist, and to the small of your back. Sirius placed a soft kiss just over Remus’ ear and then whispered, “Touch her, Remus, touch the place you’ve wanted to touch since you saw that little black bra of hers that makes me lose my mind.”

Remus breathed, he remembered the little piece perfectly, he allowed his hand to drag up, and let his thumb rest right under your breast, feeling the soft bounce of it and gently rubbing underneath, an innocent touch, almost a graze, nothing in comparison to the way Sirius would sometimes grab at them, and yet, it was just making you wetter. “Remus,” you whined as you leaned your head on his free shoulder. That seemed to be the fuel he needed to drag his hand even further up and allow his thumb to brush against your nipple. You clenched against nothing as he did, and moaned. He had a small scar tracing just around his thumb, the feeling of textures against your skin dragging you to heaven.

Sirius smiled at your reactions and started to kiss his neck. Which had Remus’ head tilt back in pleasure. That’s when you leaned your hand down again, eager to feel him, you were gentle and decided to give him enough time to stop you if he wanted, but the slow massaging of your hand towards his cock was only making Remus grow harder, a small droplet of precum already coming from his tip. He hadn’t even dared to dream of such a moment, and here you were, making it happen. When your hand finally wrapped around him he let out a breathy moan, his hand on your breast tightening. You smiled and pressed a soft kiss to his shoulder.

“May I?” you asked softly.

“Please,” he managed to say, Sirius chuckled at his neediness but Remus was quicker and pulled on his hair to drag him to his mouth. The longer-haired boy was surprised at first but quickly smirked into Remus’ demanding kiss, swallowing all the moans that would leave him as you slowly brushed your fingers over his cock. First, tracing a thin line from the bottom to the top, right over the pulsing vein. And then you wrapped your hand around him, firm but gentle, and rubbed the tip with your thumb.

Sirius pulled from the kiss that Remus chased into just to let you hear his moans and whispered, “Do you hear that, love?” he said as he placed a hand on Remus’ neck to keep his desperate lips from crashing against his mouth again. “You’re turning him into an animal.”

“We are,” you responded and tightened your grip around him, starting only now to gently stroke. You got to hear another moan from Moony before Sirius returned to kiss him. You leaned your head on Remus’ shoulder again, that place proving to be one of your favourite sports of the night, and started to trace kisses up his neck. You could feel his reactions in the way he would sometimes squeeze your breasts a little harder, or when he moved his hand down your waist. “And he makes such lovely sounds, doesn’t he?”

Sirius hummed in return, not daring to tear his lips away from the kiss.

Then you reached Remus’ ear. “If only you knew how wet you’re making me,” you whispered, a sly, fox-like smile appearing on your lips. Sirius threw you a side glance in between kisses and raised one of his eyebrows at you.

“Show him then,” he said before going back to kiss Remus, but using one of his hands to place it on the boy’s waist. “Pull back a little, Moons.”

Remus did as told, giving you enough space to be able to climb into the table as well, both legs on either side of one of his, and then slowly you let yourself down onto him, sighting at the feeling of his muscles against your sex. Remus gave you an encouraging squeeze on the waist, and that was enough for you to start grinding yourself onto his leg. Somehow, you managed to maintain the strokes on his cock as you rubbed onto him.

“Do you feel that, love?” Sirius asked as he broke the kiss to have the two of them look at you. You had your eyes closed and were focused on both your hips and hand movements. You felt Remus’ cock twitch, but you didn’t know it had been because he was looking at you. “Do you feel how wet you’ve made her?”

Remus looked at his glistening leg as you slid down and then up again, firmly pressing yourself against him, even if it was hard with the position you were in. He flexed his muscles and he felt your hand tremble in his cock, “She’s so pretty, Pads. You get to see her like this all the time?”

Sirius chuckled and decided to kiss Remus’ neck, so they could both continue delighting at the sight of you riding his leg. Remus seemed hesitant at first, but he dragged his hand down to your waist and towards your leg. Clearly giving in to the temptation to touch.

“Go ahead, she likes it,” Sirius encouraged in a chuckle and Remus didn’t think twice. You stiffened when you felt his hand brush against you as you pushed yourself into him, now opening your eyes to figure out whose hand had been bold enough. You smirked when you realised who it had been.

“Still curious?” you asked and pushed yourself towards his hand again.

Remus didn’t speak, instead, he focused on brushing his fingers over your folds which had you sight in content. But Remus was slightly hesitant as if he wasn’t sure how to touch you properly. When Sirius realised the lack of moans, he decided he’d help. He placed a quick kiss on Remus’ temple and then moved behind him again. Allowing one of his hands to rest on Moony’s neck and then using the other to trace his arm until he reached the hesitant hand still brushing against your sensitive spots.

“Like this,” he said as he took hold of his hand and started making his movements more determined. You moaned at the new, more purposeful touch, and Sirius’ smirk grew. “Slow and determined,” he instructed. Remus himself found your clit after that, and he gently pressed his finger over it, testing.

“Fuck do that again,” you managed to whisper as you leaned your head on his shoulder again, Sirius placed a soft comforting kiss on your temple, your hands on Remus’ cock becoming dumber as the pleasure consumed you.

Remus did as told, and you moved your hips towards his fingers almost instinctively. “Such a fast learner,” Sirius praised, and you’d swear you saw Remus inflate slightly at his words.

“Yeah, Moony!” you sighed, voice mellow, something in between words and a moan. “You’re amazing,” you added as you kissed his neck, chasing all the way to his mouth. The hand that Sirius used to teach him, had long forgotten its purpose and had somehow found its way to your breast, pinching and squeezing like he knew you loved. His lips glued to Moony’s neck in the meantime.

Moony pressed a tentative finger to your entrance, you smiled into the kiss, and pushed into him, he bit your lips as his finger dug inside you, “Fuck,” he whispered into your mouth, “so tight.” You clenched around him, as you pulled from the kiss and brushed the tip of his cock with your thumb, you were eager to hear another one of those melodic moans of his. And you did, reeling on the power he had given you before going back to kiss him.

“She is Moony, it’ll feel insane around your cock too, I promise,” Sirius whispered to his ear. If you had been thinking properly, you might have swatted him for assuming how things would end, but the idea of having Remus’ cock inside of you only made you wetter, your hips chasing his finger a little more desperate as you used it to chase your own pleasure.

Remus used his free hand to take yours from his cock and placed it on his shoulder since he knew that would help you be a little more steady, he missed your touch, but the moans he pulled from you were enough compensation. He went for another finger and you moaned at how much more full you felt. Remus had longer fingers than Sirius did, and the scars added a layer of textures that you had never felt before but that you could easily get used to.

His touch was much more curious and soft than Sirius’ had been the first time, and you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t aiding you into a state of absolute bliss. Sirius, ever the clever, figured out you were close in a second. He pulled Moony deeper into the table, pulling you along with him, took off his shirt and moved behind you. Both of his tights around yours, Moony’s in between. He pressed himself onto you allowing you to feel his warm and slightly sweaty skin. You could feel his boner pressing onto your ass which had you sight in pleasure.

“How’s that, my love,” he said. “Do you like having Moony’s hand all over you? His fingers inside?”

“Sirius,” you sighed. His hands were now on your hips, helping you ride Moony’s fingers with much more ease. Moony’s fingers got faster, and you could feel Sirius holding back from dry humping you from behind, his hips sometimes chasing against your ass, you had neglected him a little. “Like that,” you managed to whisper once Remus did a particular movement, a flick of his finger, and he instantly repeated it.

“She’s close Moony,” Sirius warmed as he felt you tense, he moved his hands on your body reassuringly, but in the way that he knew you loved, you tensed, tightening around Remus’ fingers, and then let out a long, and quiet moan. “There you go,” Sirius added softly as he brushed his fingers over your leg, both of them helping you ride down from your high. Eventually, Remus took his fingers from inside you and placed a reassuring hand on your leg. You closed your eyes, head still pressed onto his shoulder as you breathed in, Remus had always smelled delightful, but you’d swear he smelled even better today.

You then reached your hand down but Sirius beat you to it, “My turn,” he said as he pushed you closer to Remus and took a hold of his cock. “You don’t mind, do you?” he asked Remus with a smile, knowing well his answer.

Remus gulped and shook his head, which had Sirius smile like a wolf and start playing around with his friend’s cock. He clearly knew what he was doing much better than you did since he had Remus panting and moaning a lot faster than you had. He also had you firmly pressed against Remus as he touched him, if you had wanted to –which you obviously didn’t– you wouldn’t be likely to get out in between the two. Still, you busied yourself with kissing Remus’ neck again, that spot that you seemed to be addicted to.

Remus sighed, and you started to brush your hands all over his body, moaning and grunting growing louder. Sirius felt his friend’s cock twitch in his hand and he knew he was close, so he stopped. Remus gave him a pleading look but he pulled his hand back completely and the you along with him. You didn’t realise what was going on until you saw Remus’ throbbing cock and confused look.

“Sirius!” you reprimanded. Remus seemed to be struggling to form proper words.

“He won’t get to fuck you if he comes into my hand,” Sirius responded then leaned his head into your shoulder and looked at Remus with a knowing pout. “Would you rather come into my hand than feel her tight little pussy around you, Moons?”

Remus scoffed. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting by getting sexually involved with Sirius Black, but he should have fucking expected this kind of behaviour.

Sirius smiled, “How about we help him cool down a little but keep him hard, darling?”

You leaned your head back onto Sirius, opening your legs a little for Remus to get a better view of your glistening sex. “What do you like, Remus?” You asked in the most innocent tone. As if you were asking about the taste of ice cream he preferred and not the kind of shit that turned him on.

But frankly, neither you nor Sirius would have to do anything special to turn him on, he already pretty much worshipped you. Remus was still at a loss of words, he stared at both of you, then down between your legs and then up at your faces again.

“Do you want me to eat her out?” Sirius asked as he tilted his head.

“Or would you rather see me blow him?”

“Cowgirl?”

“Doggie?”

Remus was sure that if you didn’t stop you, you might just list the entire kamasutra before he made a choice, “anything.”

You tsked and shook your head, “No, Moons, that’s not the deal,” you replied. “What do you want?”

Again, he saw you tense and relax between your legs as you asked him, and he didn’t miss the smirk that drew on your lips when he started. “I want” –he hesitated– “touch him.”

“Your wish is my command,” you said with a smirk and instantly turned to Sirius, making sure to have him spin around enough so that you wouldn’t have Remus just look at your back, although he would have been more than happy staring at the way your ass moved.

“Did you hear that, Pads?”

Sirius hummed in response as he helped you accommodate, you were now cradling him. You first went for a kiss, soft, but demanding, as you two kissed, you lowered one of your hands and gripped Sirius over his pants. He moaned into your mouth and you pulled back from the kiss, no matter how addictive his lips were, you wanted Remus to hear his precious moans as well.

Remus’ hands were itching to go back to his cock when he heard Sirius’ moan. He was too pretty, both of you were, he could still barely believe what was happening, but he sure loved every bit of it. “Help me get this off,” you said as you turned to Remus and pressed your hands onto Sirius’ belt.

He raised his eyebrows amused and you gave him a short wink. He did as told. Leaning in closer and unbuckling the belt before sliding it off Sirius who was a moaning mess since your hand was still on him. Once Remus managed to move the button off, you were quick to digg your hand in and Sirius raised his hips a little to take it off along with his boxers.

Remus’ cock twitched when he saw Sirius’ hard and proud. He wanted to touch it as much as he wanted to see you touch it, but he wasn’t sure Sirius would want him to touch it so instead he moved his desperate hand to the boy’s neck. You smiled at that and brushed yourself against him, passing his cock over your folds a few times to coat him with your wetness before gripping at him securely.

“Sto–p teasing,” Sirius managed to say, and you laughed, placing a soft kiss to his cheek before wrapping your hand around him and starting to stroke. Remus seemed fascinated by the way you moved your hand on Pads, like you knew exactly what he wanted when he moaned or moved his hips slightly to the side. At some point Sirius started to chase your hand with his hips as well but Remus placed his hand on his legs to keep him down. Sirius turned to the boy with a frown and Remus smirked.

“I said I wanted her to touch you, not for you to fuck her hand,” he replied in a low tone.

You giggled at the stifled moan that left Sirius’ lips when Moony said that, and continued with your strokes, turning your wrist so you had a bit more control and toying with the tip whenever your thumb got close enough to it.

“Close,” Sirius breathed and you smiled, looking at Moony with a small smirk before pulling back a little from both of them but still stroking. Then you pulled further down and Sirius almost came in your hands at the mere image of what you were about to do. You pressed a kiss to kiss your stomach, and gently lowered down, allowing your nipples to brush over his cock causing him to shudder.

You licked your lips before going down and pressing a soft and gentle kiss over his tip, you could feel the blood rushing and his cock twitching. You then pressed your tongue to him and Sirius let out a low, almost imperceptible groan. The first, soft splurt of his cum fell on the outside of your mouth before you wrapped your lips around him and sucked the rest of him dry. By the time you were done, Sirius was panting and gripping onto Remus’ leg as he attempted to catch a breath. You raised yourself back up to look at them both.

You opened your mouth to show you had yet to swallow it all and then turned to Remus, “Want a taste?”

Sirius was already sore, and yet when Moony nodded and pulled you in for a desperate kiss, he swore he felt himself twitch again. In a matter of seconds, you had climbed onto his lap, leaning into the kiss and only pulling apart to see his reaction, a line of spit still connected the two of you as smirked.

“Fuck,” Sirius said in a low moan at the sight.

“How was it?” you asked as you bit your lip.

Remus tilted his head and dragged your hips to his, “Is not over yet, is it?”

“I meant the taste,” you replied as you rolled your hips on his cock.

He licked his lips, and laid his head on your shoulder as he looked at Sirius. “Fucking delicious,” he said.

You pressed a soft kiss to his neck. “Bet,” you added before rolling your hips against his again. “Ready?”

“Mhm.”

“Good,” you said, and then lifted yourself, brushing on his cock a couple of times before bringing your hand down to it, brushing his tip on you, making sure to brush your clit, and then slowly, sinking yourself onto him.

You breathed out as you did, getting used to his size, and he waited patiently for you to finish.

“You all right?” he asked softly.

You let out a breathy “Yeah.”

“Tell me when I can start moving.” You squeezed your walls around him. “Fuck–“

Sirius laughed from the side and placed a hand on Remus’ arm, “Did I not mention she has a tendency to do that? I almost came the first time she did it to me.”

You squeezed again and then started to move, slow and steady at first, Remus was a groaning mess again and it only fueled your resolve to continue moving and squeezing, eventually, his hips started thrusting up into yours and your movements seemed to synchronise.

“Touch her too,” Sirius suggested and Remus did as told, quickly bringing one the hands that rested on your waist to your clit. You started to roll your hips so you could increase the pressure and he helped by moving his finger closer.

“Is that good?”

“Fuck yes,” you responded.

You continued for a while, and you felt Remus get extremely close, if his moaning indicated anything but then he stopped thrusting into you and you slowed your pace with a questioning frown.

“Can…” he panted. “Can I try something?”

You nodded in return and Remus smiled, he pulled you up with his hands on your waist –his cock still inside you– and flipped you around, now your back was laying on Sirius’ chest and you could feel his semi-hard on your ass.

“Moony what are you–“ he started but was shut up by a kiss as he thrusted into you. Both the kiss and your asscheeks brushing onto him had Sirius harden even more as Remus thrust in and out of you.

“Touch her the way she likes,” he said to Sirius in between kisses and the other boy did exactly that, chasing in between the entanglement of bodies until he found your clit, tentatively, he brushed his hand down to feel where Remus and your body connected and Remus moaned at the feeling of Sirius’ hands on him again. “I said touch her,” he added with a sigh, “I want her to come again.”

Sirius smiled and pressed a short kiss to Remus’ lips. “Your wish is my command.”

Seconds later Sirius’ expert fingers were on you, brushing and circling your clit the way that made you brainless, your ass pressed onto his cock and Remus rutting into you quickly made you feel absolute bliss.

“I’m about to–“

“She as well,” Sirius said as he felt the way you moved on top of him.

Remus reeled at the thought and groaned out as he started to come, he tried to pull out but Sirius was quick to keep him in place. “She’s taking something,” he said simply, and that was enough for Remus to allow your walls to milk him. As he did, Sirius was fast with his hand and you were cumming on Remus’ cock, squeezing him even more as his pace started to slow down.

Sirius, who was already sore, came for the second time that night a little after, surprising you since you were not expecting to feel the sticky wetness against your ass.

Remus felt it too, since part of it spluttered all the way to his legs and he looked at Sirius with a mildly impressed stare.

“You two are fucking hot,” he said, unapologetically. Remus pushed into you a couple more times and then he allowed his weight to fall on both of you.

“Too heavy?” he managed to ask.

“No,” you said as you accommodated your head next to Sirius’ and pressed a soft kiss to his jaw. He sighed in contentment.

Eventually, Remus drew himself out of you and then pulled back from his position on top and instead laid with his back against the table. He bit his lip, “I guess you’ll have to find another model.”

“No way in hell we’re ever gonna look for another model,” you said with a laugh, also rolling from Sirius and letting yourself fall right in between the two of them, “Moony’s just perfect, isn’t he?”

“Thought you couldn’t paint someone you’d fucked…” he breathed.

Sirius laughed, “Well, they don’t have to know we’re a thing…”

Remus felt so many emotions at once, you were a thing, but also Sirius doesn't want people to know.

“…until after we’ve handed in the paintings, and gotten our grades,” he added with a cheeky smile.

“Besides, the sun is gone,” you added. “We’ll have to come back another day.”

“Didn’t you mention a sunlamp or something?” Remus asked.

“We’ll have to come another day,” you repeated with a smirk. And Remus gave you an impressed look.

“Do you guys have anything to do?” Sirius asked.

You shook your head and Remus said a quick “No.”

“Why?” you asked.

“I think Prongs is sleeping over at Reggie’s.”

“Is he now?” Remus questioned.

“I thought we could have a sleepover of our own.”

You scoffed a laugh, of sleep, it wouldn’t have much.

Want to support me? Like and reblog this post. Comments are my life fuel, so send them out if you have any.

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chleem · 15 days ago

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Close to you

One shot; bf drew x gf yn

Summary: after a night out, drew comes home seeking comfort in your warmth.

Genre: established relationship, fluff (cuddling with drew)

⋆.˚ please dont copy my work, if inspired please tag me

⋆.˚ this is entirely fictional, if uncomfortable then don't read

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The bed dips under Drew's weight, as he tries his best to stay quiet.

It’s an hour past midnight, and after partying with his friends, he’s finally made it back home safe.

The warmth of his body against the sheets sends a shiver through you, but you keep your back turned, your breathing steady. His movements are slow and deliberate, but the bed still shifts as he adjusts himself.

He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you close until there’s no space between you two. When Drew breathes you in, you take him in too; the strong smell of alcohol hitting your nose.

“You smell good,” his deep voice rumbles softly against your ear.

You turn your head back, and in the soft glow of the dim light, you catch a glimpse of his face—eyes closed, flushed cheeks, lips pressed into a quiet line.

“Because I showered,” you whisper, bringing your arm up to his face. Your hand comes in contact with his features, running a finger along his cheek. He leans into your touch, a soft moan leaving his lips.

After a few seconds, Drew hums absently, “you’re suppose to be asleep.”

“I couldn’t,” you softly reply. Your brain has stopped you from resting; as it races with thoughts of how his night is going, or why isn’t he home yet. You know he's a grown man; yet, you still worry.

He leans down and presses soft kisses on your shoulder, letting his lips rest against your skin. The action sends shivers down to your spine, paired with the close proximity of Drew.

You turn your entire body around, now fully facing him.

You watch as his eyes only open halfway; peeking at you. The blue of his eyes shimmer through, and with his lips slightly parted, it almost knocks the air out of you at the beauty of his face.

You’ll never get used to how pretty he looks.

The two of you spend seconds just staring at each other’s features; as if trying to memorize every detail there.

And without breaking the comfortable silence between you two, he slips his leg over yours, the roughness of his jeans gently pressing against your legs, creating a new kind of closeness.

His face buries itself deeply into the crook of your neck, his hot breath hitting the skin there. His hands rub slow, soothing circles around your waist, and with the weight of his body, warm and solid, he cages you in, fully into his embrace.

You smile at his touch, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. As your fingers brush against the back of his neck, you can feel the muscles there tense for a split second, then gradually relax under your touch.

The alcohol on his skin is almost forgotten, replaced by the familiar scent of him that’s always comforting, always grounding. You realize, in that moment, that it doesn’t matter when he came home or what he’s been doing —it’s this closeness, this connection, that occupies your thoughts now.

“I love you.”

Every time Drew says those words, it brings a giddy flutter in your chest, like hearing them for the first time all over again. The weight of the confession, the sincerity in his voice, never fails to make your heart race.

“I love you more,” you whisper, the words slipping out of you that feels more natural than breathing.

A soft and tired laughter leaves his chest, low and content, as if this moment, cuddled under the sheets with you, is all he needs.

“Impossible,” you hear him mutter against your skin, his arms tightening around you. His words hang in the air, like a quiet promise. “Impossible.”

You smile even harder at the thought; your stomach twisting in an uncomfortably, fluttering way. Love can’t be measured; but somehow, Drew always insists his love for you goes beyond anything.

And now, wrapped in his embrace, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingertips, the warmth of his skin pressing against yours—it almost feels like he’s right. Maybe love can be measured, not in grand gestures or promises, but in moments like these. In the soft, quiet silence of being with him, in the feeling of being held, cherished, and completely safe.

In this space, with him, it feels like everything has finally fallen into place.

-------------------------------

word count: 0.7k

ִ ࣪𖤐 a/n: something short and sweet for you! hope you enjoyed this short fluff! And I want to officially announce that I'm currently working on a new series called In Between, featuring my fav star, Drew Starkey ofc. it's going to be friends-to-lovers, so look forward to it! My progress is rllyyyyy slow, so im begging for some patience 😭🙏 And yes, not a big deal is currently in progress, with pt4 as soon as next week (hopefully

#drew starkey #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey x you #fiction #fluff #one shot #oneshot #relationship #love

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art · 8 months ago

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Creator Spotlight: @themetalhiro

Hi, I’m Metal! I’m a freelance artist from good ol’ New Jersey. My favorite things to work with are a lot of bright colors, exaggerated poses, and candid scenarios. I try to farm sensible chuckles whenever I can, so I’m also big into comics. I love making them about my life, and the media I’m into, and one day I’d like to publish my own series! Thank you to everyone who has gotten me this far!!

Check out Metal's interview below!

Did you originally have a background in art? If not, how did you start?

I guess so! It’s funny, I don’t remember a single time in my life that I wasn’t drawing as a hobby… somewhere in middle school (a little late, I know.) I put the pieces together that animated movies were made by artists, and that it wasn’t just for fun, they were paid to do it. The moment I discovered people could be paid to make art, I decided I would do that, too. Now I’m here!

How has your style developed over the years?

I think the best way to answer this would be with an example! Over the last few years, I have made more of an effort to draw more intentionally, which sounds silly. Now, I put more thought into my poses and step out of my comfort zone with shape language and composition. I had a phase where I drew everyone with a huge, perfectly circular head and no nose. That definitely did not lend much variety...

Which 3 famous artists (dead or alive) would you invite to your dinner party?

Ack! I’m so terrible at history! I’d love to give a well-thought-out answer about fine artists of old, but I don't think we’d have much in common… Most artists I admire and who have driven me forward creatively are the people behind comics I’ve read. Andrew Hussie, Bryan Lee O’Malley, Eiichiro Oda... these guys have inspired me greatly and had a heavy influence in developing my art style and sense of humor. I’d love to ask them questions about their processes and upcoming projects. I think it would make for an entertaining night!

Over the years as an artist, what were your biggest inspirations behind your creativity?

Outside of pure aesthetics like searing bright colors, layered clothing, and loud noises…. the best and most inspiring moments in my life were those surrounded by friends and loved ones! I cherish the hell out of memories of hanging around in fun locations, trying weird food together, and impromptu midnight walks... so I try my best to capture that atmosphere and my own memories in my work when I can, even if I’m imposing fictional characters on top of them. That’s always the core of it.

What is a medium that you have always been intrigued by but would never use yourself?

I would never permanently refuse a medium, but every time I pick up clay, I’m like a baby using its hands for the first time. Absolutely dreadful. If one day I could make and paint a figurine like the ones I admire in videos, that would be awesome... But for now, I’m not counting on it.

How do you want to evolve as a creator?

I’ve had an absolute blast drawing fanart over the years, and it’s certainly played a massive role in my growth as an artist. But my dream has always been to publish my own stories for y'all to enjoy! I have lots of worlds I want to introduce to you before I’m old and gray. I want to get faster, work harder, and get better at drawing interesting settings so I can get the wheels turning as soon as possible. I also want to stop avoiding the color blue like a coward.

What do you wish you knew when you first started out creating art that you know now?

Pay your taxes quarterly. Tablets will break at the exact moment you need them most, so have a spare. Wear your blue light glasses. You’re going to need to wear a brace on every joint on the right side of your body. It can be lonely sitting at your desk all day. The car on the side of the road that costs $1000 cash….. don’t trust it!!!

Who on Tumblr inspires you and why?

@cranity—They use absolutely beautiful colors and weighty line work. Everything looks so sharp and clean! I wanna put it all up on my wall!

@vewn—Their ability to crank out quality short films and illustrations packed with detail is incredible. The off-kilter perspective they use really sells disorientation and catches your attention like nothing else.

@nelnal—They have absolutely banger character designs again and again, I can’t believe one person’s mind can come up with so many creative ideas!

@jinx88kc—They have a beautiful and recognizable style, and the way they incorporate animation into their illustrations sometimes is SO cool!

Thanks for stopping by, Metal! For more of Metal’s work, follow their Tumblr, @themetalhiro! If you haven't seen their Meet the Artist piece, be sure to check it out here!

#creator spotlight #artists on tumblr #themetalhiro

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itsthecline · 1 month ago

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older chapter one

younger actress!reader x drew starkey smau

summary in which you and drew run into some fans and it only fuels the rumors

next chapter

ynupdates posted photos!

liked by starkeyluvr , tsitpfan and others

ynupdates got to meet y/n and drew when i was out last night! they were with the rest of obx cast and chris but i didn’t get to meet the all of them! y/n was so nice and drew is so hot i love my life

tagged yourusername drewstarkey

view all comments

username omfg omfg omfg

username i knew the casts became friends after hellraiser came out with y/n and drew but seeing it changes things

↳ username they were friends before hellraiser because lilah introduced them!

username are they dating?

↳ username goodbyeeeee men and women can be friends

username y/n living our dream

username first chris and now drew? seems like y/n is just trying to date whoever she can from work

yourusername ope— not the bad angle!☹️

↳ ynupdates omF I LOVE YOU SO MUCH THANK YOU FOR TAKING PICS AND TALKING TO ME I LOVE YOU DREW TOO OMFG

↳ yourusername i love you more<3 i loved being able to meet you!!!!

↳ yourusername drewstarkey found her!

↳ ynupdates you were talking about me?!?? OMFG IM SCREMAING

↳ drewstarkey hey!!! we found her!😁

↳ ynupdates OMFGG AGWIKWUS

username no bc why do i ship y/n with chris and drew at the same time??

username they have to be dating! i saw them hanging out alone last week!! i didn’t want to bother them because they were having dinner , but it didn’t look friendly!

↳ username i need to know everything

username i need season three of tsitp right neowwww

↳ username bc why do we have to wait so long😭

yourusername posted to their story!

drewstarkey replied to your story!

no photo credit is crazy

also a premiere throwback when the next season doesn’t come out until next year is ridiculous. you’re edging us at this point

ilydrwstrky tweeted!

the fact that y’all are saying there’s so many signs pointing to drew dating y/n is ridiculous! y’all are delusional and reaching atp. they met thru lilah ( her dad is drew’s boss and her coworker is y/n ) and so the two casts of tsitp and obx hang out. that’s it! y’all are sad!

35 replies | 107 retweets | 439 likes | 10 favorites

load replies

↳ username i fear you’re being more delusional than the shippers queen

↳ username we’ve been over this people! stop shipping real human beings!

↳ username personally , i’m going to stay in my yndrew bubble while you stay jealous that drew’s never going to pick you

↳ username there’s so many threads on x alone that support and feed into the rumor of them being together , but i seriously hope not. they met when she was 19 and he was 27. did somebody say leo dicaprio?

an first chapter out. first social media fic out. so pls tell me u love it before i crash out💋

taglist @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account

#younger actress!reader #drew starkey outer banks #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey smut #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey x you #drew starkey #social media

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yourfavoritewitchbitch · 6 months ago

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Desire, I'm Hungry

Summary: You and Steve happen upon a strange flower and suddenly find yourselves separated from your friends in the Upside Down. An unrelenting desire overtakes the both of you, taking your friendship past the point of no return.

CW: Porn with plot. Sex pollen (so this could be considered forced intimacy). Underlying idiots in love. Mutual pining. AFAB Reader. Steve's canon S4 injuries. Steve's a little mean. Fluff ending. Biting. Blood. Fingering. Makeshift gag. Unprotected P in V. Reader has a vagina. Small breeding kink (it is Steve, after all). Creampie.

This one would not leave my brain until I got it out! Enjoy!

WC: 10.4K

In all the years you had come to know Steve Harrington it had its ups and downs. Being his best friend came with firsthand experience with all things Upside Down that ultimately led you into some pretty precarious situations.

Demogorgans, demo-dogs, Russians and a monster composed solely of melted people were the least of your worries because HE had always been there.

Until this very moment you saw him as untouchable. An invincible protector, the one person who came when you needed to be saved, not the person who needed saving.

He'd reached for your hand in desperation as he disappeared under Lover's Lake. The tips of his fingers slipped through yours, leaving you grasping and screaming out in panic and shock.

“Steve! No, no, no, no!” You scrambled next to Robin, pulling off your jacket about to jump in when she suddenly caught your wrist.

“Hey Y/N! No! You can't just jump in there!” She yelled. Before you could get a word of protest out, you heard Eddie yell behind you.

“Woah, Wheeler you're not going in there, are you?”

“Just wait here.” She replied, briefly cutting her eyes to you before the sound of splashing water drew your attention.

“Holy shit,” Robin breathed out, clutching a hand over her mouth.

“Robin, we can't stay here. Not with both of them down there! Let's go!” Reaching out to her, as you turned back to look at the metalhead. “Eddie?”

“What? No. You can't go. What the fuck man!” He wailed. “She said wait.”

“Yeah, we heard her.” Robin finally nodded, squeezing your hand reassuringly as you both leapt from the boat.

You'd never been a strong swimmer, even with all the summers spent by the Harrington's pool. Much more interested in getting some sun instead of swimming laps.

Only now you were regretting never listening to the boy when he tried to give you those life preserving pointers, as you swam to the pulsating gate beneath Lover's Lake. Your lungs were on fire by the time you made it to the opening, Robin extending her hand to help you through.

Eddie surprisingly followed a moment after, while you were still trying to catch your breath.

Suddenly, ear splitting screeching noises and Nancy's voice pulled your focus in time to see Satan’s own flying hell spawn attacking Steve on the ground, as she attempted to fight them off.

“Oh my God! We have to help them!” You shouted, taking off in a sprint toward your friends, Eddie and Robin hot on your heels. All regard for your own safety was quickly forgotten.

A weapon was the furthest thing from your mind but as you drew closer, you realized just how dire the situation appeared.

Steve was being strangled by one of the creatures, with its tail wrapped around his neck and another making a meal of him. Nancy had successfully pried one off and was in the midst of fighting it back.

“Steve! Just hang on!” You shouted, stomping a foot down directly on this thing's back as it shrieked out in pain releasing its jaw from his side, immediately turning its attention toward you.

“Oh fuck.” You hissed, as it leapt up taking flight. You turned to run but Robin was right there with an oar.

You ducked as she bashed into this thing, splintering the wood as it fell to the ground. Rushing over you began to stomp on it repeatedly until it stopped moving.

You all turned in time to see Steve holding this creature by the tail and whip it around hitting the ground until it lost consciousness. Stepping on it with his bare foot and pulling until he ripped it apart with his bare hands.

“Fuck,” you huffed, stunned. He was bloodied and bruised, as he spit blood from his mouth, but he was alive.

Robin leaned over slightly, whispering low enough for only you to hear.

“Might want to pick your jaw up off the floor.”

You shut your mouth and shot her a sideways glance, as she snickered.

The joy of a victory was short lived as you rushed over to Steve’s side.

‘Steve, are you okay?” Suddenly hurdling yourself into his chest with a thud as he grunted out, throwing your arms around his neck as he wound his around your back, holding a little too tightly and maybe a few seconds too long before letting go to give you a proper answer.

“Well,” Looking down at his torso, when you stepped back. “They took about a pound of flesh. But, other than that, yeah, never better.”

Robin began ranting about rabies, but you couldn’t take your eyes off of Steve as your own set of worries began to seep in. Completely lost on the conversation around you until you heard Nancy yell.

“The woods. Come on!”

“Y/N, c’mon!” Steve frantically tugged at your arm before you all made a run for cover.

You were huddled under skull rock pressed in like sardines, waiting with bated breath until the bats finally dispersed.

Everyone grumbled, and voiced concerns as you stood. Steve took a few uneasy steps before he fell against the rocky surface opposite of you.

“Oh shit,” coming out on a shaky exhale, as he tried to upright himself.

“Steve?” Your head whipped around as you stepped into his space, reaching out to help steady him.

“I'm fine. I'm fine.” He huffed out, still a little dazed.

“No, no you're not. You're bleeding. Sit down.” Worrying over him.

He slid down, as you knelt in front of him, guiding his wrist to take his hand away from his oozing wound. Nancy began to tear the bottom of her shirt, quickly handing you the fabric.

Robin started rambling about rabies again before you glared at her.

“Rob, not helping!” You hissed before she mumbled an apology and backed away from the two of you.

“You ready?” Asking him as he looked down at you, poised with his makeshift bandage.

“Yeah, just do it.” He pinched his eyes closed, bracing himself, wincing once you pulled it taut against his abdomen and began wrapping.

“Too tight?” Chancing a glance up at him but he was already staring down at you, with a scowl plastered across his features.

“Why the hell are you down here?” He suddenly blurted out.

“What the hell do you mean? We all jumped in for you.” His question genuinely bewildered you, eyes drifting back down, concentrating on the task at hand. Wouldn't he do the same for any of you?

“You should have stayed in the boat. Like I told you to.” He chides.

You work to finish covering his wounds, ignoring the sting of his words. Scolding you as if you were a petulant child who didn't listen to their father.

“A thank you would be nice.” Mumbling out as he winced when you tightened it to begin tying it off.

“A thank you?” Scoffing down at you. “Well instead of me dying, now we all might die. Don't you get that? Jesus, Y/N you don't lis— Fuck!” He hissed out.

You made sure to pull the last knot even tighter, effectively cutting off the rest of his little tirade.

“Oops.” You smirked, finally standing and stepping away from him.

You were drenched and cold, suddenly all too aware of your grim situation. You sure as hell didn't need a lecture from him right now after saving his ass.

“Fuck off Steve! We were all trying to save you!” You shouted, leaving the rest of the crew to stare around awkwardly, shifting gazes amongst each other.

“I didn't need to be saved! You should have stayed on the fucking boat!” He yelled back.

“Hey, guys,” Nancy cleared her throat, trying to break the tension between the two of you before it got any worse.

“What?!” Shouting in unison, turning your heads to look over at her.

“Maybe we should get going, yeah? And uh… stay a little quieter?” Her eyes drifted to the treetops overhead, scanning a moment.

You'd both been so fixated on the other, the horrors of the upside down had slipped your minds. She was right, you were trying to avoid attention, not bring it directly on top of you.

“Let's all just calm down and get through this together.” She hummed, satisfied with your nods of agreement taking off ahead of you once more as Robin followed.

Eddie's wide eyes met yours and then Steve's.

“Right, I should, uh…” he said, thumb pointed in their direction. “But uh, here.” Shrugging his vest off before forcefully tossing it toward Steve's chest.

“For your modesty dude.” Smirking before he darted away to follow after the girls.

Steve sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, voice coming out quieter this time but still laced with annoyance.

“C’mon. Just stay close and don't wander off.” Before taking a few steps to catch up to Eddie.

“Don't wander off.” Mocking under your breath, staying a few paces behind, not wanting to be near your ungrateful so-called best friend.

The forest got darker the further you went. It felt like eyes were on you the entire time. You wrap your arms around yourself, suddenly feeling chilled and uneasy, closing the gap between yourself and the boys.

You were close enough now to catch bits and pieces of their hushed conversation, more Eddie talking than not. You knew Steve well enough that he was still brooding about the entire situation. He didn't hate you, quite the opposite. His harsh tone only masks his own worries and fears.

You caught him more than once glancing over his shoulder to make sure you were never too far away.

“Dustin… said I was badass?”

“Oh yeah. Shit. Kid WORSHIPS you, man. Like, you got no idea. It's rather annoying to be honest.”

You smirked at that. Dustin never told Steve anything like that, coming off as an annoying little brother all the time.

“Those ladies jumped in after you and I was too damn ashamed to be the one who stayed behind. Wheeler there, she didn’t waste a second. I mean not a split second. She just dove right in. I don’t know what happened between you two, but… I’d get her back, man. Whatever it takes. ‘Cause that… that was as unambiguous a sign of true love as these cynical eyes have ever seen.”

Steve stops at Eddie's spiel, looking over his shoulder once more, as you roll your eyes. Of course it was always about Nancy. The one that got away. Not like you tried to dive in first, right? Eddie was too freaked out to notice back there.

Before Steve had the chance to respond the ground began to shake once more, as everyone tried to hang on. You lost your footing, tripping over a stump and thankfully not landing on one of those damn vines, losing sight of everyone behind an overgrown thatch of bushes.

The rumbling slowed to a dull roar just as something caught your eye in a small clearing up ahead, emanating a small bluish-purple glow through the trees ahead. It was faint but while everything in the Upside Down was muted and dull it stuck out like a sore thumb.

As if it was pulling you in, you stumbled forward, quickly righting yourself and heading toward it. It was pulsing slightly; a steady, slow rhythm like a heartbeat.

You stopped at the center of the clearing, as you stepped closer, you realized it was a flower or at least flower shaped. Something akin to a Dahlia back home but it was a glowing azure color, petals almost transparent.

There were a few unopened buds that were also pulsing. The closed pods thumped, not taking notice of the way the pulses quickened as you stepped closer.

Your mind was clouded as you watched them. Beauty in a barren landscape, so mesmerizing you didn't hear Steve calling out for you.

As if on autopilot, your hand began to drift toward it as he jogged up beside you.

“Hey, did you not hear me calling for you? What're y—” He trailed off, feeling helpless watching your fingertips graze the pod as he tried to yank you back, but it was too late.

You were both too close when the thing practically exploded open, releasing a cloud of pearlescent powder into the space between you.

The dust landed on everything in a five-foot radius, as it invaded your lungs causing you both to choke on what you could only think of as its pollen. He grabbed the back of your shirt, dragging you away.

“What the hell was that?” He asked in between coughs and a few sneezes.

“I don't…” before you could properly form a response, screeching could be heard from overhead once more.

“Shit!” He hissed, before shouting back to the others to run for it. The hive mind. Everything was connected down here, it only made sense the flowers were too. The flying bats were back.

You and Steve took off the opposite way that you entered the clearing, dodging vines and low hanging branches in the process. He was trying to slow down so you could keep up.

“C’mon y/n. I think I see a building up ahead!” He shouted.

It was a dilapidated looking cabin, but it would have to do, as he took the steps two at a time reaching the porch with you right behind him.

He barreled through the door, thankful it wasn't locked as you rushed past him, slamming it shut in time to see some of the creatures flying low, unsure if they'd spotted you.

His hands quickly moved to the deadbolt, looking around the small space grabbing a chair, wedging it under the door handle.

You both stood there a moment facing the door, trying to catch your breath as a loud thump echoed overhead as it landed on the roof. It let out an ear-piercing screech that had you covering your ears. Steve hovered his finger over his lips as a shushing motion as a few more thuds and mirrored screeches followed.

He was trying to think, shining the flashlight this way and that, finding an open door near the edge of the kitchen, spotting a set of stairs that were leading down.

He quietly shuffled over to it, shining his beam ahead. It looked like it led to a small basement or at least a root cellar, as he nodded for you to follow as he began his descent.

You sighed, but reluctantly walked over as quietly as possible and trailed behind him, closing the door softly behind you. There was no lock, but it did latch shut.

It was dark, the only light emanating from his flashlight, as he shined it back to the stairs for you to climb down.

“I think we'll be safer down here.” He whispered. “There's a cot over there.” Pointing to the corner.

It was a small room. No other outlet, looking more like a bunker than a cellar. Shelves lined the wall with food and various supplies. At least you were covered if you had to stay a while but hoped it wouldn't come to that.

“Steve,” You began but he immediately cut you off holding his hand up.

“If you hadn't gotten distracted, we wouldn't be in this situation.” His voice is a little louder, but still barely above a whisper.

“It's not my fault Steve, I saw something glowing, like it was pulling me in. You didn't have to fucking follow me!” You knew he was right, but you were feeling attacked.

“Yeah, I did. I'm not leaving anyone behind in this fucking place. Even if you can't follow simple directions.” He huffs, throwing a hand to his hip as he surveyed the room. “Not enough you get us separated, but you have to go and touch that weird ass flower. God knows what the hell that shits going to do to us.”

He was venting more than yelling toward you at this point, frustrated with the entire situation.

“You knew you weren't supposed to touch shit… that hive mind…”

“Steve.”

He continued to mumble over in the corner, with his back turned, throwing his hands around in dramatic fashion.

“But no! You touch it and now we're contaminated…”

“Steve!” Hissing out more forcefully, finally knocking him from his train of thought and little rant.

“What?!” He spun around, throwing the beam from his flashlight directly in your face. “What Y/N?”

You threw a hand up shielding your eyes with a grimace before he quickly lowered it, mumbling an apology.

“Can you just stop pacing? It's not helping anything. You're just giving me a headache.” You grumbled, sitting down on the cot. It slightly squeaked under your newly added weight, as your elbows landed on your knees, bringing your hands to cover your face with a groan.

“You're giving me a headache…” he mumbled slightly under his breath, but you still caught it. He found a small chair in the opposite corner, plopping down with a sigh.

After about ten minutes of total silence, you laid back on the cot, unwilling to give him any more attention. Though he continued to mutter under his breath occasionally, you ignored him.

“Hey,” he finally spoke up. “I'm going to give it a few more minutes and see if they're still on the roof. Maybe we can make a break for Nance’s place and regroup.”

“Yeah, fine.” Huffing a reply with an eye roll.

It was then you noticed a strange tingling on the skin around your neck, kind of like a cold chill. Shaking your head as you sit up, to rub the back of your neck.

“You ok?” He asked, watching intently.

“Fine. Just… a chill.” You shrugged, as he nodded.

Another drawn out silence before either of you attempt to speak.

“Hey, are you… do you feel itchy?” He asked, scratching his exposed shoulder.

“Um, well now that you mention it, yeah. This spot on my neck is itchy.” Your hand absentmindedly reached up, scratching at it again.

“It's that damn flower. I knew it!” He exclaimed, standing up. “Look, we need to see if we can get out of here.”

You watched him carefully retreat up the stairs, his footsteps creaking across the floorboards above your head, stopping for a few moments before making their way back over to the door as he came back into view.

“Ok, looks like we might be here for a while. They're still moving around up there, and when I looked out the window there's a few in the surrounding trees.” He slid back down into the chair, spreading out as much as he could to make himself comfortable.

“Fuck, isn't that just great?” You huffed out, taking your turn to pace the small room. Was it getting hot in here? A bead of sweat rolled down your back. When did it get so muggy?

“Just calm down, we'll get out of here. Okay?” He sounded so sure of himself; you almost believed him.

You sat back down, stretching your legs out onto the cot and finally laying back. The situation was looking bleak, your own mind filling with anxious stress. At least Steve’s here. You don’t have to die alone.

You watched him from the corner of your eye, wiping his brow several times before finally rolling your head toward his direction.

The vest Eddie gave him hung open, revealing his chest, the thick smattering of hair slick and matted down. Was he sweating too? His toned chest moving up and down, a steady rhythm with each breath he took. His head was leaned back on the wall behind him, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed.

You pulled your lip between your teeth, before letting go as he picked his head up looking at you as if he could feel your eyes on him. You didn't look away, holding his gaze.

“Steve?” You finally asked.

“Yeah?” His eyes shift away from your face, trailing down your body before looking back up as his tongue darted out wetting his parched lips.

“Is it hot in here?” Sitting up, fanning yourself. “I feel like I'm burning up.”

“Yeah… yeah, no. I thought it was just me.” Letting out a sigh. “It could be the close quarters, but I don't think we should go upstairs yet.”

“No, yeah. You're right.” You laid back down, eyes to the ceiling. You could ignore the heat if it meant survival for at least a bit longer.

He turned the light off a little while later, trying to conserve what little battery life it had left.

At some point you drifted off to sleep because you were roused by him touching your arm. It felt like ice touching your flushed skin as you sat straight up trying to catch your bearings.

“Hey! Woah, it's just me.” He soothed, as you flinched away from his unusual cold touch. He pulled his hands back, giving you some space. “I wanted to check on you. I don't think it's hot down here. I think it's us.”

You felt dizzy sitting all the way up, throwing the back of your hand to your forehead. You were on fire. Your nearly dry clothes were sticking to the dampness of your flushed skin, making you cringe. There was also an overwhelming feeling of an unquenchable thirst in the back of your throat.

“Fuck, Steve. I really did it this time.” You folded over yourself, head in your hands, groaning at the way you almost felt drunk or drugged, wondering if he felt as bad as you did.

“No, hey. Look, I'm sorry about earlier. It's not your fault. I shouldn't have yelled at you like that. I’m the reason we’re in this situation.” You moved your head to look up at him, willing your bleary eyes to focus. A thin sheen of sweat covered his exposed skin, hair sticking against his forehead. His eyes are what caught your attention the most.

His usual golden flaked, honey hued irises were a mere fraction of a ring around a black abyss. This pollen was affecting him the same, he just had a better poker face but he couldn't control the truth his eyes showed you.

“Hey, you okay?” He asked, as you sat there unblinking.

“Yeah, I…” Shaking your head to look away. “Yeah, no. I don't fucking know right now.”

He shuffled over to one of the shelves looking for some water or anything to help alleviate your symptoms. Pausing for a moment, wondering if anything could be trusted from the Upside Down but there wasn't anything of value he could find in any case.

“Fuck!” He hissed, turning back around.

“Steve, it's ok.” You croaked out. “Just sit down.” You patted the small space beside you on the cot as you scooted over. He hung his head and skirted back over, sitting down carefully trying not to touch you.

He didn't want to tell you that while you were sleeping this overwhelming urge started to come over him. An ache low in his belly, and groin. It started out dull but began to grow, radiating through him as a spiked sense of arousal began thrumming through his veins.

Shame began to wash over him. How could he be so turned on at a time like this? A few more minutes passed when he was hit with the most intoxicating scent. It was faint at first. When he took in another heavy exhale it invaded his nostrils and filled his lungs.

He didn't understand where it was coming from, but he felt light, almost high, as he continued to breathe in and out, letting it wash over him. He could only describe it as a familiar, yet exotic thing, wrapping him up in a warm hug. It was almost irresistible, in the way a bakery or candy shop lures you in with promises that, yes it tastes just as good as it smells.

He turned the light back on, shining it toward your still sleeping form, shifting his hooded and heavy eyes over you stretched out on the small cot. There wasn't much skin showing, aside from your exposed arms but then you turned toward him as your shirt rose up slightly, exposing a sliver along your hip that suddenly had him drooling.

He felt his cock stir in his pants, with an ache that was suddenly all consuming. He hadn't realized when he'd gotten up, but he was suddenly standing over you, reaching out, fingertips grazing your arm.

You stirred slightly, as he watched your lips part with a soft breath settling back down.

He placed his palm to your arm, fingers wrapping around your soft, pliable flesh and an instant feeling of relief flooded his senses but then you'd woken, startling him out of this sudden trance.

You stretched and yawned beside him, shedding the last bits of slumber from your small nap. You couldn't have been out long, but you were so tired and thirsty.

Had he been awake the whole time? A sudden pang of guilt overtook you at the thought.

“If you need a nap, I'll move so you can take the cot.” Saying as you slowly stood, stiff on unsure legs, as you swayed just a bit plopping back down, your arm brushing his. It was brief but the feeling was cool against the searing heat radiating from you.

“Woah, just take it easy, yeah?” He turned toward you, hands at the ready but just hovering. He didn't trust himself right now.

“How… how are you so cold? Your skin, I mean? I thought you were hot too?”

“I am, look at me. I'm fucking sweating.” He gestured toward himself, a thin sheen of sweat still covering his face and body.

“Can I…” You couldn't get the question out before your hand was already reaching up, suddenly gripping his wrist.

Your brain is flooded with endorphins. A dopamine hit that had you suddenly searching for more. Your eyes closed at the contact, missing the way Steve’s mouth parted slightly releasing a shuddered breath.

As if you had no control of your body, your other hand moved up, planting itself firmly on Steve's chest, eliciting a small whimper from him that made your eyes shoot back open.

“Do you feel that?” You asked, watching his eyes flutter closed. All he could do was nod, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth.

You moved his wrist up, as he opened his hand, already anticipating what you were thinking, as you placed his palm to your chest.

“Oh my God,” it slipped out, almost a moan more than words. His hand immediately soothing the patch of exposed skin that had your eyelids lazily closing once more.

“It feels so good, Steve.” You breathed out.

Your words were doing nothing to quell his ever-growing arousal. He took in a heavy breath and there it was. That overpowering aroma was suddenly surrounding him once more, too heavy to ignore.

It was you.

When you opened your heavy-lidded eyes, the pupils were blown wide, full of lust and desire. Your lips parted slightly, releasing a small exhale you had been holding. All he wanted to do was lean in and press his lips to yours, letting his tongue explore and taste all that you had to offer.

“No.” He hissed out, jumping up and stumbling back, putting a little space between the two of you.

“What? What's wrong?” You asked, mourning the loss of his contact.

“This. This isn't… Jesus!” He whispered out, trying to maintain his composure. “Can't you see what's happening? It's the goddamn flower, that powder. It's making us… whatever this is.” Gesturing between the two of you.

Of course he had an attraction to you. He'd been harboring, what he thought, were unrequited feelings for the better part of two years.

“Yeah, I know, but it feels so good when you touch me, Steve.” Your voice was dripping with seduction, even if you hadn't meant it that way. Your head was getting all fuzzy again, swaying a little.

“Goddamnit, we need to get out of here.” He hissed, wiping his forehead. “I'm checking upstairs again.”

You watched him go, leaning back on the small cot once more.

Aside from the dizziness, there was something stirring just under your skin. An itch you couldn't quite scratch, a buzz or a hum starting at the base of your neck, traveling down your spine sending a sudden spark to your lower abdomen like when you were… Oh God. Your legs closed as if by their own volition when that spark suddenly had your core clenching around nothing just as he descended back down the stairs.

“I think we're almost in the clear. The ones in the trees are gone and… hey, are you okay?” Finally noticing the almost pained expression etched across your face.

“I… I'm… Steve, what the hell is wrong with us?” You sat up quickly, getting to your feet with a gentle sway. He didn't think this time reaching for you.

His touch both soothed and electrified you. Cooling hands on hot skin but an even hotter feeling pooling between your thighs, making a small whimper escape you.

He closed his eyes as your cheek hit his chest. He was trying to think of something, anything else other than the way you felt against him.

You inhaled deeply, his woodsy musk surrounding you entirely. It was illogical. You'd both been in the lake and running through the woods, yet his scent was mouth watering.

“God, Steve, you smell so good.” You murmured, feeling intoxicated, grabbing onto Eddie's vest with clenched fists.

“Yeah, s—so do you.” Dropping his hands to rest on your hips, your head lifting at his admission.

“Yeah?” You asked, almost breathless. He nods, licking his lips, your eyes landing there as your hands slip under the vest smoothing over his chest, the coarse hair tickling your palms as a shiver ran down his spine.

It's like you couldn't stop yourself, stepping closer into his space as his grip on you tightened, pulling you fully into him, your lower stomach meeting his hips.

“Steve?” Asking as you inch forward, calves beginning to strain as you stand on the tips of your toes.

“Yeah?” He asks, holding his breath.

“I really want to kiss you.”

No sooner than the statement left your lips, he surged forward closing the gap.

Parched from the day's activities left his usual plush, soft looking lips chapped and dry but you didn't mind.

An immediate feeling of relief washed over you. It was like finding an oasis in the desert, drinking the taste of him down, briefly quenching that immeasurable thirst.

He tilted his head, bringing his hand to the back of your head, tangling his fingers into your hair as his nose pressed further into your cheek. You worked in tandem until his tongue dared to slip out, silently begging for permission.

You parted your lips with a soft moan as they met, slowly circling and entangling but you were hungry for more. Your hand slid up his chest and wound around the nape of his neck, finding his usual soft strands of hair, dirty and matted, pulling on the ends before pulling him closer, earning you a moan that you eagerly swallowed down.

The hand on your hip traveled south, snaking its way to the fat of your ass, suddenly groping and kneading your pliant flesh through your jeans pushing you further into him. His now very prominent hard cock pressed into the softness of your lower abdomen, taking you by surprise when you felt it twitch between you as he groaned.

At some point the two of you had begun moving, only realizing it when your back hit the far wall, knocking you from your trance. Your lips separated but still momentarily connected by a thin string of saliva as you pant into each other's mouths.

“Fuck, I need you, Steve.” You hissed out, pushing at the shoulders of the denim vest he still wore.

“Wait,” A moment of clarity for him, grabbing your wrists to halt your movements making you pout, as he looked around the dingy, cobweb infested space.

“Shit I— we can't do that down here.”

“Why not?” Asking, as your lower lip jutted out, eyebrows crinkling. The ache in your lower abdomen was getting worse, your clit was throbbing, practically begging for any kind of stimulation.

He shouldn't have looked at you. Your eyes were glossy in the dim light, looking as if tears were about to roll down your cheeks. He wasn't any better off. His cock was throbbing painfully against his pants, a wet patch of precum visible where his head laid.

“Goddamnit!” He hissed, pausing for a deep breath, tilting his head toward the ceiling. “Because I don't want the first time with you to be on a filthy basement cot in the upside down!”

You couldn't help the grin that lifted the edges of your lips into a smirk, as you continued to stare at his bared throat. Wondering for a moment what it would be like to sink your teeth into him. This deep primal hunger was overpowering your senses, overtaking any other basic needs.

“Fuck me upstairs then.” You blurted out.

“Wh—what?” As if he'd misheard you, whipping his head back down.

“I said,” leaning closer to him. “Fuck. Me. Upstairs. There's a bed up there.” You nip at his nose and giggle when he pulls back, grip moving, holding firm to your shoulders.

When it disbursed, you had taken the brunt of the pollen, if you could even call it that, apparently it was affecting you more severely, unable to concentrate on anything else for more than a few seconds at a time.

“We can't— you— don't know what you're saying, and those things are still up there.”

“Stevie, please?” Your voice drips with desire, sultry and sweet. Looking up at him with your best doe eyes had all manner of his resolve quickly fading.

“I can be quiet. I promise.” You whispered with a pout, as your fingertips dance along his exposed chest. “What're friends for, Stevie? We need to help each other out.”

“Fuck,” he groans, slipping his hand into yours, turning without saying another word to grab the flashlight pulling you along. He wasn't going to be able to hold out, suddenly driven by the unwavering need in his pants, it seemed better to give in to your advances than try to fight them. Your sweet tone, seemingly needing him just as much as he needs you, he couldn't resist.

His mind was flooded with the vivid image of how your tight cunt would feel wrapped around his shaft, he quickly ascended the stairs looking back once holding his finger to his lips when he reached the door, easing it open. The rush of cooler air hit you as soon as the door opened for a small reprieve.

“I'm going to check out the windows, go down the hall. Quietly.” Nodding toward the right. “The first door on the left has a bed and no windows.”

You nod your understanding as he lets go of your hand, letting you go your separate ways. Tiptoeing down the hall, it was quiet, aside from the errant clap of thunder that echoed through the walls every thirty seconds or so.

The room had been exactly where he had explained. It seemed small, but the only light filtered in from the hall, illuminating only a portion of the bed. As your eyes adjusted, the bed came more into view, a little dusty but bigger than the cot downstairs.

You threw the quilt back, revealing surprisingly pristine sheets underneath. You decided to discard your muddy, lake soaked shoes as he came into view.

He had turned his light off, a silhouette of broad shoulders illuminated against a dusky red backdrop as another bolt of lightning split the sky outside. He stood there lingering in the doorway, eyes briefly running over your form. Your breath hitched in your throat drinking him in when he finally took a few steps forward.

He stood before you without saying a word, quickly finding your hips and wasting no time pulling you flush against him once more as you let out a small squeak of surprise bracing yourself against his chest.

“Steve, I—”

You were quickly cut off when he sealed his lips over yours. His intoxicating scent once again surrounded you as your brain began to shut off, driven only by your primal desires.

Your hand trailed down his abdomen, fingertips grazing his bandages finding the exposed skin low by his waistband. He shuddered at your soft, lingering touch. Going lower still, he hisses and pulls back from your kiss as you palm at his erection over his pants.

It felt like you were on autopilot. The only thought in the forefront of your mind was the overpowering need for relief. The need to be as close as possible.

He was taken by surprise when you grabbed the lapels of his vest and quickly pulled him around. The back of his knees hit the bed, as he fell rather ungracefully.

The springs groaned under the sudden pressure of his added weight as he let out a grunt, uttering a “shit,” under his breath.

You quickly straddled his legs, giving him no time for protest, crawling up and sitting flush on his bulge trying to be mindful of those raw wounds fresh on his sides.

A chorus of expletives left both of your lips the moment your hips grind down searching for friction with your hands pressing firmly to his chest holding him in place. Your aching clit gets some relief, the stiff denim pressing into you sliding down the rigid length of him and back up. A fresh wave of arousal flooding from your core adding to your already ruined panties.

In any other circumstances, you would feel embarrassed rutting up against your best friend like a wild animal in heat, but seeking out and taking what you needed was first and foremost.

You leaned forward, burying your face in his neck, breathing him in.

“I could eat you up.” You whisper, lips grazing just below his ear, teeth nipping at his sensitive skin before your tongue rolls out, languidly licking at his jugular, his pulse thumping wildly against your muscle.

You whine, relishing the salty, earthy and coppery mixture as it settles along your taste buds, feeling him shutter beneath you taking a ragged breath only adding to your desire.

His hands find the plush of your hips, pulling you down to meet an upward thrust that has you leaning back up and moaning out without any regard for his earlier warnings and your promise.

His eyes shot up to you, barely illuminated in the dim light but you were a sight to see.

Your head is thrown back as if you were already in the throes of heady pleasure. Your mouth hung open slightly, another breathy wine escaping as you dragged your hips against his cock once more. Any and all of what was left of his will power was gone. His imagination ran rampant with the thought of you coming undone, falling apart only for him.

In one swift motion, he bucked his hips, gaining momentum to flip you over. Your back hits the mattress, making you gasp sharply as he seated himself between your parted thighs.

Your eyes go wide with surprise when his hand quickly shoots to your mouth, his large palm stifling your sounds.

Leaning further into your space, his lips ghost the shell of your ear as he spoke.

“I'm going to give you what you want but you've got to be quiet. Can you do that for me?”

You nod, fisting the vest in your hands, letting out a small whimper as he slowly took his hand away.

“Use your words, honey.” He scolded.

“Yes, I– I can be quiet.” You breathed out, beginning to feel faint.

“Good girl.” He purred, his words sending your mind into overdrive.

You pawed at his chest, pushing the denim at his shoulders. He sat up, finally pulling it free from his body and tossing it across the room. Your hands roam across the expanse of his chest and broad shoulders.

He reached the hem of your shirt, fingers skirting up your tummy, cool fingertips sending goosebumps across your flesh. You nodded as his eyes caught yours before he quickly pulled it over your head.

He sucked in a sharp breath, watching intently as your chest rose, pushing your breasts against the cups of your bra with each steady inhale, threatening to spill out all on their own before you reached behind, deftly unclasping it and lifting it away.

“Fuck, honey.” His eyes go dark, one of his large hands immediately finding its way to your soft skin. His calloused palm engulfing you as he kneads timidly, at first. You keen into his touch, arching upward, searching for more.

His mouth meets your pert nipple on the other side, swirling his tongue and roughly squeezing the breast under his palm. He nips at the taut bud as if testing the waters, teeth grazing before applying more pressure and immediately soothing the mild sting, laving the wet muscle back across your skin.

To keep from crying out, you bite down on your lip, whimpering as his touch sends shockwaves of pleasure down your body, shooting straight to your core.

He pulls off of you with an audible pop, eyes darting to your face when he feels you trying to push his pants down.

“Please, Steve. I need you! I can't wait.” You hiss out, still trying to maintain a whisper but the longer this keeps getting drawn out the more desperate you become, aching to be filled. An ache that was growing so strong it was boarding on painful.

Dipping your way past his waistband just a moment later, he shudders when your fingertips graze the soft skin of his shaft, wrapping your hand around his girthy cock.

“Oh fuck,” he breathes out, ducking his head into the crook of your neck, trying to muffle his own sounds as you stroke up and back down at an agonizingly slow pace.

Your thumb finds his head, a steady stream of precum already leaking from the tip, swirling your digit in the mess was almost too much as he sinks his teeth into the juncture between your neck and shoulder.

Your mouth fell agape with a silent gasp, a cry caught in your throat as your other hand flew to the back of his head, fingers digging into his locks and tugging harshly. He quickly unhinges his jaw, peppering kisses where his teeth had just been.

“M’sorry,” he mumbles out, pulling back and swatting your hands away from his pants as he sits up.

Your thighs go slack, as he blindly pops the button on your jeans, pulling the zipper down harshly, digging into the denim waistband before you lift your hips aiding in him hastily tugging them and your panties down your legs.

He tosses them somewhere behind him, before standing up and shedding his own pants and boxers, letting them unceremoniously pool at his feet.

Your eyes quickly rove over as much of his naked body as the dim lighting would allow, licking your lips. His cock was standing at full attention, curved slightly upward as he wrapped his own hand around it, pumping it lightly a few times.

His knees find the mattress, planting his hands on your thighs, spreading them apart to accommodate his frame.

Pausing a moment to appreciate the site before him, his fingertips trail the inside of your thigh, inching closer to where you yearn for him the most. You let out a small yelp of surprise when he tightened his grip and pulled you toward him.

“Steve,” you plead, as he ghosts over your slick lips, his thumb and forefinger spread you apart with a sticky release before he finally presses his thumb pad down onto your puffy clit making your hips buck up.

Sensing your urgent need, his finger begins to tease your aching hole, your arousal drips out, as he finally dips in, your hips rising up in time to push his digit further in.

Your head falls back into the pillow, the hand at your hip pushes you flush against the mattress holding you there as he pumps in and out of your tight pussy, quickly adding a second finger to help stretch you out.

“I can smell your needy cunt.” He hisses, practically salivating. Both of your pheromones were in overdrive, your scent wafting through the air like honey, luring him in. A feast begging to be devoured. “I bet you taste just as sweet.”

His words mixed with his current ministrations left you teetering on the edge, his digits stroke up, finding that sweet spot along your frontal wall and just when you were about to fall apart, it suddenly disappeared. Feeling as though it was subdued by some unseen force, leaving you whimpering and unsatisfied, as tears spring to your eyes in frustration.

“Steve, I— it's not working, I need more.” You huff out. It was then you noticed he was fisting his cock, searching for his own release alongside you.

“Fuck, yeah, okay.” He let out a little breathless. “It's not working f’me either.”

You immediately mourn the loss as his fingers slip from you before he promptly shoves them past his lips, humming around the taste, the potent elixir bursting on contact with his taste buds flooding his senses, igniting his insatiable hunger even further.

“Jesus Christ, I fuckin’ knew it.” His pupils dilate, high on the taste of you, a drug he suddenly realized he'll never be able to fully detox from.

He grips the base of his cock with one hand, leaning over and lining himself up with your soaked entrance, pressing the tip in, feeling your gummy walls start to mold around him, as your hands fly up to grip his shoulders.

“Please.” It was a breathy thing, as your muscles instinctually constricted around the welcome intrusion.

He groans, unable to hold himself back any further, snapping his hips and burying himself in one fluid motion. Your pussy gives little resistance between how wet you are and the unrelenting desire to be completely filled.

“Oh God!” Biting back another loud moan being ripped from your chest, digging your teeth into your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood this time, as his thick cock splits you open.

There was a slight burn, as he sat snugly inside your tight channel that quickly gave way to overwhelming pleasure when he pulled back, withdrawing almost completely leaving just his leaking tip before plunging back in, somehow feeling deeper than before.

You muffle your cries the best you can, as he begins to set a near brutal pace. Every thrust pulling little ah, ah, ahs past your lips as your legs tighten around his waist, heels digging into the fat of his ass pushing him further into you.

He hisses and stills when your legs gripping a little too tight, pull his focus from fucking you to the searing pain at his sides. The wounds had been forgotten from the pure ecstasy he was feeling.

“Shit, I'm sorry.” It was enough to knock you from your lust fueled haze momentarily as he pulled out.

“Flip over.” He grunts.

“Wha—” A sharp smack to the side of your thigh has the words dying on your tongue with a gasp.

“Flip. Over.” Repeating himself a little more forcefully. The soft boy next door being replaced with a rougher version, that suddenly had your pussy clenching around nothing at his harsh demeanor.

You rolled onto your stomach, as his hands came to grip your hips with a bruising force, pulling your ass up.

He wastes no time shoving his throbbing length back between your glistening lips, bumping your clit once before slowly guiding his ruddy tip past your entrance, as your cunt flutters around him practically sucking him in.

He's trying to contain his grunts to a minimum, when your noises start to fill the air he brings his palm down hard against your ass, making you jerk away, burying your face in the sheets below with a whine.

“Giving you exactly what you want, and you still can't keep that pretty mouth shut?” He hisses, grinding his hips slowly, to properly scold you. “Feels too good, huh, honey?”

You merely mewl and nod, before another smack echoes around the room, his palm smoothing soothingly over your reddened cheek.

“I asked you a question, honey.” His voice is lazy, dripping sugary sweet condescension.

“Yes, Steve, mmph— it— you feel so, so good.” Finally able to mumble out a coherent sentence.

He smirks, letting a hand slide down the length of your spine, fingers coming up to tangle in the hair at the back of your head before hauling you up, back flush against his sweaty chest.

Winding his arm around your midsection, the other detangles from your hair to cover your mouth as he places a soft kiss to your temple before his hips snap harshly, the new angle making you cry out, but it's muffled with his palm securely placed over your lips.

“Gotta be quiet, remember honey?” He huffs, breath hot against your neck, unrelenting in his conquest to see your demise.

You grip his forearm, nails digging crescents into his skin, hanging on for dear life. Each outward stroke and upward thrust, punching the air from your lungs as your eyes roll back, suddenly careening you toward the edge of oblivion.

His hand helps stifle your moans, blunt fingertips digging into the apple of your cheek, but you can't help the involuntary sounds that continue to slip out.

“Fuck, y—you feel good.” He stutters out, right in your ear. “Pussy feels like it was made f’me. Mmmm. Gripping me so fuckin' tight.”

The hand around your waist starts drifting south, coming to caress your mound momentarily before delving between your folds finding your puffy, neglected clit with expert ease, drawing swift circles against you causing your cunt to constrict around him sending another wave of arousal flooding out, soaking his balls and dripping down your thighs.

“That's it, honey. I promise we'll get there this time.” His cocky demeanor was doing it for you. You'd never seen this side of Steve, taking control, fucking you better than anyone ever had.

“You're going to cum on my cock while I stuff this cunt full.” You whined out at his words, high pitched against his palm. “That's what you want, huh? Fill you up and make it stick? F—fuck I think I'm close.”

You try to nod, letting him know you were too.

The heat that had been simmering for the last hour in your abdomen was finally reaching a boiling point. Pressure was building, as he continued to pound into you, his cock hitting at just the right angle.

Your grip on his forearm tightened, fingernails beginning to draw blood, but he didn't show any signs of distress, never ceasing his movements solely focused on you and the way you felt around him.

You close your eyes, as the flames begin to lick up your spine, spreading further and growing hotter. It was an all-consuming pleasure, your cunt begging for release, begging for his release.

Whatever this pollen had done to the both of you, it was clear it had a driving force with one thing in mind. Procreation. Unsatisfied and unsatiated until you were bursting full of his life giving fluid.

You're finally able to pry his hand away from you to let out one more breathy plea.

“Cum in me, Steve. I— I can't cum, I need you.” Your voice was low and raspy, but he heard you loud and clear.

He fully removed his hand, suddenly pushing you forward. Too weak to fight, your body fell onto the mattress with a small groan as he quickly withdrew himself and manhandled you around to lay on your back.

No matter what this pollen had done to him. He was still Steve deep down and he could never imagine not looking at your beautiful face as you fell apart for the first time. All for him.

He slips off the bed momentarily, picking something up from the floor before crawling back between your legs.

“I'm sorry, honey. You can't stay quiet.” He whispers.

“Wh—,” your question was cut off when he stuffs your filthy panties past your lips for a makeshift gag, kissing your forehead before grabbing the backs of your knees, practically folding you in half.

His palms push you down and hold your thighs open for him as he ruts his cock up through your folds, the tip grazing your clit before catching at your entrance. His head tips down to watch himself slowly disappear into your tight heat.

Your head flies back, feeling every ridge and vein upon his deliberate reentrance, fisting the sheets beneath you as muffled cries echo across the room. He pauses to take delight in the way your face is screwed up with pleasure as he buries himself to the hilt, suddenly wishing he could hear all the pretty sounds you were making unhindered.

He starts to move again, eyes drifting back down to where the two of you connected to watch himself plunge in and out of your soaked pussy, seemingly mesmerized by the way your greedy hole takes him so well but he tears his eyes away when he hears a pained whimper from you, pausing to search your face.

Your eyes were closed, tears flowing down the side of your face, feeling anything but pain as you looked up at him, eyes glazed over, begging him to continue.

Suddenly twitching at the thought of his impending release, he grinds his hips back into yours. The wiry thatch of hair at the base of his cock catching your clit just right, wrenching another moan from you as you nod at him to keep going.

He starts to thrust again but can tell he's close as his balls begin to draw up, and lower stomach tightens. Skin to skin doesn't seem to be enough when there's a sudden overwhelming need to be closer. He wants to crawl under your skin and embed himself there.

He releases the hold on your legs, letting them ease back to the bed as he drapes himself over you, caging you in. The hair on his chest grazes your nipples with each thrust only adding to your sensations as your hands find purchase on his back.

Holding himself up on one elbow his palm finds your breast, pressing and kneading before his mouth finds the other, sucking a little harshly leaving the top of your chest with a dark reminder as your body arches upward, craving more. His tongue moves over your pebbled nipple before he latches on.

It suddenly feels like he's everywhere all at once. Hands roaming, mouth hot as his cock continues to carve its way into your guts.

He pops off momentarily, sensing a shift in you because he can feel it too.

“You gonna cum with me, honey?” You look up into his eyes, a black abyss. The familiar hazel irises are nowhere to be found. Your best friend now hell bent on ruining you for any other man.

You nod, with a muffled “mmhmm” hoping to God you can finally crest over the precipice.

“Wrap your legs around me.” He hums, hiking your thigh up his hip. Your brows marry with confusion because of the day's earlier blunder.

“It's ok.” He soothes your worry away, large hand gripping your ass as he continues to grind down.

You do as he says, wrapping them around his torso, locking your ankles at the base of his spine. He winces only once before focusing all his concentration on pumping in and out, in and out. Making sure to tilt his pelvis on the upward thrust, simultaneously stimulating that spot deep within you and brushing your clit.

This was it. Fading embers reignited as flames slowly fanned across your lower abdomen. Your brain is all but mush, yearning for a release that only he can provide.

“I'm close.” He hisses out with a grunt, burying his head into your neck. His breath fans hot across you as he starts to whine and mutter. “M’gonna fill this pussy full. F–fuck my goddamn load so far into you. Mmpmh, is that– that’s what you want?”

A few more erratic thrusts before he pushes in so deep that his head is kissing the crown of your cervix. Your walls clamp down around him, holding him in place before his cock twitches and begins to spurt his release into your greedy womb.

Your body reacts suddenly, hot white heat floods your core with the hardest orgasm you've ever experienced. Everything around you seems to fade, as a blinding white light bursts behind your eyelids. Your cunt spasms around him, milking everything he had to give, he groans almost painfully but the sound seems so far away. If you weren't lying underneath him you would have sworn you could float away.

Your chests heave against one another as his body goes limp, crushing you in the best possible way. The lust fueled haze was extinguished with your release, leaving you tired and spent.

His softening dick kicks up a few more times making you whimper as your legs and arms fall away from him, utterly and completely exhausted.

You're pulled out of your blissful afterglow when he pulls your panties from your mouth. Humming as you close your mouth, dry and parched, smacking your lips together softly.

You still had your eyes closed, as his hand comes tp to caress your jaw, thumb running tenderly across the apple of your cheek as you both came down from your highs.

“You ok?” He asked timidly, as you nod with a “mmhmm.”

“I didn't hurt you, did I?” The sweet, caring best friend returning to his senses, as you reply a low “no.”

“Good.” He whispers back, pressing a kiss to the side of your mouth.

“Steve?” Managing to croak out, voice hoarse and rough.

“Hmmnh?” He manages, eyes fixated where the two of you were still connected, finally pulling his softening cock free, your mixed fluids flooding from your spent hole. He had the urge to shove it back in, but stopped himself.

“I was going to jump in first,” you whispered out, as his head shot up to look at you. You were completely dazed, on the verge of sleep.

“What?” He asked, easing himself back, eyes roving over your body littered with bruises and bitemarks. Proof that he hadn't experienced some sort of upside down drug induced hallucination.

“The lake.” You hummed. “Robin stopped me.” Yawning before continuing. “I would've jumped in first.”

“Yeah?” He asks, smiling softly to himself, easing beside you, brushing the loose strands of hair from your face. Spending a few more minutes tangled up in you, before the weight of reality would inevitably come crashing back down.

“Mmhmm. I'd go anywhere with you.” You confess, wrapping your arms around his middle as he pulls you into his chest. If he's being completely honest with himself, he's been in love with you for years. He would've jumped in head first if the tables were turned, he just didn't want anything to happen to you.

“I know, honey. I'd—,” a loud banging at the front door startling you both from your daydream, as he rose up ready for anything.

He hurried to get his clothes back on, throwing your bra and shirt up to you as he walked out into the hall leaving you to get dressed.

He could hear muffled voices behind the door. Your friends had circled back to find you.

Everyone stopped talking as soon as he threw open the door looking a little worse for wear.

“Oh thank God!” Robin was the first to speak, reaching out and grabbing his shoulders. “What the hell happened to you?”

“We're fine Rob,” Stepping back and letting them enter the small space, hand rubbing the back of his neck. “The bats chased us here, stuck around a while but we're fine.”

They were all chatting when you finally walked into the room clearing your throat as everyone whipped their heads around, eyes all going a little wide at your appearance.

Robin's gaze flitted your neck, as she sent you a knowing look, raising her eyebrows causing you to pull the collar of your shirt over the exposed skin as your cheeks heated.

“Seriously?!” She smacked Steve's arm, looking wide eyed back to him. “Down here? I mean, it's about time. You've only been dying to confess your feelings for wh—”

“Robin!” He hissed out, cutting off her rambling. “Stop!”

She slapped her hand over her mouth, looking over to your confused expression.

“Can uh, you guys give us a minute?” He asked, hands falling to his hips, as they all looked between each other before heading back out the door. Robin mouthed a “sorry” your way, shutting the door behind her.

“Feelings, huh?” Toeing at a small rock on the floor instead of meeting his gaze.

“Fuck. Well, yeah. It's you. How could I not?” He sighed. “But, we seriously don't ever have to talk about this again. Pretend it never happened and feelings aside, you're still my best friend.”

“What if I don't want to forget?” You bit the inside of your lip as your mouth curled into a shy grin. “And…” Taking a step toward him. “What if I told you I had feelings for you too?”

“Yeah?” He asked, reaching out to haul you in close, as you took another step.

“Yeah.” Your hands taking hold of Eddie's vest, curling into his chest. “And, once we get out of here, maybe we can try all of this again?” His face lit up, as you smiled at him. “Without the raging, horny sex pollen?”

You both huffed a laugh, relaxing into each other.

“Yeah. Yeah, I'd like that.” He nods, excitement blooming in his chest.

“C’mon handsome, let's get out of here.” Your hand found his, sending him a small giggle as you pulled him toward the door to rejoin your friends.

Despite the dismal cloud looming above he had a feeling that everything would work out this time.

Tagging a few mooties that might be interested (and please let me know if you don't want to be tagged!): @thecreelhouse @teen--marvel @bunnyhargrove @xxbimbobunnyxx

And also: @crybabyddl (since you asked!) 🙂

#steve harrington #steve harrington sex pollen #sex pollen #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #joe keery #steve harrington fic #stranger things #steve harrington x y/n

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iamred-iamyellow · 3 months ago

Text

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ Don’t Prove I’m Right - [Part 4]

♥ prev

♥ series masterlist | main masterlist

♥ pairing: lando norris x fem!reader

♥ series synopsis: you didn't think twice about the dj you hooked up with until you found out you were pregnant. turns out the man wasn't just some dj but a famous formula 1 driver.

♥ chapter synopsis: after his reckless decisions, lando attempts to make it up to you. it took some convincing from oscar but you eventually gave in and had a conversation with him.

♥ smau + written - fc: girls on pinterest - none of the pictures are mine

♥ warnings: swearing !!!

♥ a/n: its been MONTHS since the last chapter I am so sorry lovelies!

liked by logansargeant, lilyzneimer, lilymhe, and 120,538 more

yourusername ever since @/logansargeant and @/oscarpiastri got camila these plushies she’s been obsessed with them

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yourbestfriend please don’t tell me the deer is being replaced 😔

yourusername camila would never

lilyzneimer shes just too cute to not spoil

user1 haven’t seen lando in any of her posts recently 😕

user3 they did JUST get back to Monaco so I wouldn't be worried

user6 they're not dating either so I don't see why he would be

user4 we need a godfather reveal

logansargeant it’s me

oscarpiastri its me

carlossainz55 … it’s probably not me 😕

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It had been a couple of days since your last conversation with Lando and a knock on your door drew your attention away from your phone.

A giant box was sitting on the doorstep alone with no sender information. You hesitantly brought it into the living room and grabbed a pocket knife to cut through the clear strip of tape. The box quickly burst open from the pressure of the deeply packed objects—about a dozen jellycats and an apology note placed on top.

It was clear to you that this package was from Lando, and it was a very sweet gesture. He’d clearly seen the post you made the previous day and was trying his best to make up for his mistakes. You sighed and folded the note up, setting it on your couch. You pulled out a soft pink bunny from the box causing Camila to squeal and hold her arms open.

You still hadn’t checked your texts from Lando, but Oscar was right. You couldn’t ignore him forever. Lily offered to take you out for the night in order to clear your head. You were extremely grateful for Lily’s support and generosity ever since you met her. She had truly become one of your best friends throughout this experience.

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liked by lilymhe, carmenmundt,, and 102,843 more 102,473 more

yourusername girls night

tagged; @/lilyzneimer

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lilyzneimer <3

user1 we love a self care queen

user2 she’s so pretty

alexandrasaintmleux we should all hang out together <3

francisca.cgomes i second that

yourusername i’m so there

user7 i love that the wags include her 🥹

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You sat next to Lily with a glass of white wine in your hand, conflicted. Of course you were. Like Oscar said, you had to confront him at some point, but it was going to take a lot for you to trust Lando again. You pulled your phone out of your purse.

You got the response pretty much immediately.

You sighed and turned to Lily, "I'm gonna go talk to Lando."

"Good luck," she said with a smile, and took another sip of her drink.

You picked Camila up off the couch and bundled her up in a small yellow blanket.

You were at his apartment in about twenty minutes. You knocked hesitantly, tapping your nails on the case of your phone and jangling your keys in attempt to reduce your anxiety. Lando opened the door in silence, letting you into the room. He sat back down on his couch and you followed, cradling your daughter in your arms and choosing to stand up as you spoke.

“Listen Y/n, I know what I did was-“

"I'm not going to take your child away from you,” you stated, cutting him off. “You said you want to be in her life, but you have to keep that promise."

He nodded and ran his hands across his face. You wanted to get straight to the point with no excuses. You had heard all of his apologies already.

"Lily talked to Kmag and found her a babysitter, so we're good on that end. But, you still have to earn back my trust to be alone with her and if anything like this happens again I won't be nice."

He looked back up at you, “It won’t ever happen again, I swear. It shouldn’t have happened in the first place.

”I agree.”

There was some awkward silence as you gently sat on the arm rest of the couch.

You looked down at your daughter, “She may not fully get it yet, but you’re her dad and she loves you,” you locked eyes with Lando again. “You chose to raise her with me, so you need to take responsibility.”

He nodded, “I understand.”

"Good," you responded, standing back up and stepping towards the front door. You paused without turning your head back towards him, "Good luck in Imola.”

With that you were gone.

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end notes: this was short, I am aware! there was originally supposed to be more to this chapter but I decided to turn it into its own whole part lol :) I've already started working on it so stay tuned!

taglist; @hc-dutch, @papaya-twinks, @2pagenumb, @formulaal, @erin-odonnell04, @drunkinthemiddleoftheday, | @kissesandmartinis, @ironmaiden1313, @six-call, @wolflover384, @tremendousstarlighttragedy, | @ilivbullyingjeongin, @celestialend, @silentreader128, @wolflover384, @ellesssssxzxz | @clowngirlsstuff, @ln4smiamitrophy, @whoneedsgeorge, @chezmardybum, @warlike-morning, | @gigicisneros, @hard4ndsoft, @eveninggstar, @jolixtreesunn, @acesofspadess,| @formulaonebuff, @notpeachybby, @shesmugirl, @mxdi0, @ririyulife, | @kravitzwhore, @bellinghambby22, @helaenatargaryensfavoritebug, @maplesyrupsainz, @harrysdimple05, | @pippyth3hippy, @noneofyourfbusinessworld, @littlegrapejuice, | @majx00, | @si1ver06 | @weekendlusting | @landossainz,

@jxnellat, @minkyungseokie, @evie-119, @mxryxmfooty @tvdtw4ever, @ivegotparticulartaste, @taylawillson23,

@mountvesuvu, @arteme, @plotpal, @landorris, @mbioooo0000,

@heavy-vettel, @loganmay19, @formula1-motogpfan, @herexpertcollector, @teti-menchon0604,

@ysabay, @cleopatrick-123, @nichmeddar, @glai1023-blog, @sltwins,

@harrysdimple05, @toriiez, @theonottsbxtch, @fastfactory

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unboundprompts · 15 days ago

Note

Hii!! I came across your blog and immediately followed since I thought I might needed some help with my fanfics, and if there's one thing I'm bad at is describing fight scenes with like guns or magic, I've been struggling to write it and did some practices and didn't like how they came out, I'm hoping if you can do some fighting prompts, I hope this isn't too much!!

How to Write Fight Scenes

-> check out @howtofightwrite , they are an excellent resource for writing realistic fight scenes.

Set the Stakes Early

Why are they fighting? Establish the stakes of the fight clearly before it begins. If the reader understands what’s at risk, they’ll feel more invested. Stakes could be personal (revenge, survival), emotional (protecting a loved one), or strategic (achieving a mission).

Use the Environment

Incorporate the setting to add depth and realism. Are they fighting in a cramped alley, an open field, or a crowded city street? Describe how the environment affects movement, line of sight, or weapon use.

Vary Sentence Length for Pacing

Short sentences create tension and speed, while longer sentences allow for brief moments of reflection or description.

Incorporate Sensory Details

Highlight the senses beyond sight to ground the reader in the fight. Describe the smell of sweat, the metallic taste of blood, the weight of a sword, or the deafening roar of a gun.

Example: “Her ears rang as the blast reverberated around the alley. Smoke filled her nose, thick and choking, but she ignored it, tightening her grip on her weapon.”

Focus on Key Moments, Not Every Movement

Avoid blow-by-blow descriptions. Instead, highlight critical moves, reactions, and turning points to keep the scene flowing and avoid overwhelming the reader.

Show Physical Strain and Fatigue

Fights take a toll, especially over time. Show characters struggling to keep up, panting, sweating, or even stumbling as exhaustion sets in.

Example: “Her arms ached, each swing feeling heavier than the last. Her breathing came fast, ragged, but she couldn’t stop now.”

Capture Emotions and Mindset

Mix action with glimpses of your characters’ thoughts and emotions. This adds depth and reminds readers why the fight matters.

Describe Injuries Believably

Injuries impact the pace and intensity of a fight. Showing injuries realistically adds tension and makes victories feel hard-won.

Example: “She hissed as pain flared in her side where his blade had grazed her. Her vision blurred, but she forced herself to stand, one hand pressed to the wound.”

Build Up to a Climax

As the fight progresses, increase the stakes and bring tension to a peak. This could be a devastating blow, a risky last-minute decision, or a surprising twist.

Example: “He was backed against the wall, nowhere left to run. She raised her hand, a final spell crackling in her palm, the light casting a fierce glow in her eyes.”

Conclude with a Realistic Aftermath

Show the immediate aftermath of the fight: physical exhaustion, injuries, and the character’s emotional response. If they won, are they triumphant, relieved, or traumatized? If they lost, what happens next?

Fight Scene Prompts (with Magic)

-> feel free to edit and adjust pronouns as you see fit.

As they crept down the dim hallway, the flash of gunfire exploded from behind, forcing them to dive to the ground, bullets ricocheting off the walls around them. She barely had time to pull her weapon, pressing her back to the wall as footsteps drew closer. With a steadying breath, she waited for the right moment, then spun, firing off two rounds that hit their marks with surgical precision. The hall fell silent, the smell of gunpowder hanging in the air.

Electricity crackled around his hands as he stalked toward his opponent, energy building in his fingertips. She mirrored his stance, blue flames licking up her wrists as her gaze narrowed. He made the first move, sending a bolt of lightning in her direction, but she countered with a quick flick of her wrist, sending the flames forward like a living shield. Sparks flew as their magic collided, the force of it rattling the metal beams around them.

He ducked behind the dumpster as gunfire erupted, bullets pinging off the conjured barrier that surrounded him. He gritted his teeth, feeling the strain as his shield flickered with each impact. His opponent advanced, shouting taunts over the noise, but he focused, raising one hand to push the barrier outwards, turning it from defense to offense. With a growl, he flung the shield forward like a battering ram, the force slamming his opponent back against the alley wall.

They ascended into the night sky, wind whipping around them as spells flew between them like streaks of fire. He could barely keep up, dodging her relentless attacks as the city lights twinkled below. Finally, he unleashed a burst of energy from his hands, the force spiraling outward in a shockwave. She managed to deflect it just in time, retaliating with a beam of light that sliced through the night like a comet, forcing him into a desperate mid-air roll to avoid it.

#writing prompts #creative writing #writeblr #dialogue prompt #story prompt #prompt list #ask box prompts #how to write #how to write a fight scene #fighting prompts #fight scene prompts #fight scene #writing advice #writing tips #writing resources #writing help #writing reference

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rafesbabygirlx · 2 months ago

Text

A Lot of Time has Passed |Part 1

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

Season 4 Rafe x Maybank reader

Summary: Beginning at the time jump, the Pogues seemingly succeeded at something, Rafe is struggling with making amends and being a better person. JJs sister left the island after returning from South America. Returning after 18 months with a secret.

A/N: Writing this with inspiration from season 4 part 1. Rewriting plot lines. No mention of Y/N but is written in her perspective. Was inspired of Rafe’s new character arc which I love but thought I’d make it a bit more interesting and messy.

Also- you have to imagine that Maybank reader is intertwined in the previous seasons. And was involved with Rafe. She understands him more than Sofia. She is JJs half sister, takes after her mom, brunette brown eyes tanned skin.

Not really proofread

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: smut (fingering) tough discussions, loss of life (Ward, Big John) Rafe can get a little mean, sorry Sofia lovers.

It’s been 18 months since you returned to the island. While you’ve stayed in touch with your half-brother JJ and the rest of the Pogues, you only saw them once in a while since you had made them travel to the mainland. You relished the escape from the chaos of the Outer Banks. Although you maintained a connection with your mother, it wasn’t until you decided to move in with her that you saw her again. You never imagined you’d come back, but hearing about the Pogues’ long-overdue success and newfound wealth drew you back to celebrate.

Once you arrived, you made an effort to keep a low profile. You headed straight to the old house you and JJ used to share. You couldn’t help but feel annoyed at how much he paid for it, but the joy of being back with your little brother overshadowed that irritation. Everything felt just as it had in the past, and you slipped seamlessly into your role as their ‘older sister.’

You found yourself speaking with Sarah down by the docks, where she asked how you were doing and how things were going—just the usual small talk. Then came the question you dreaded: “Have you seen him?” You stared out at the water, trying to push thoughts of him aside while enjoying your time with the Pogues. Subconsciously, you gripped your gold necklace by its 2 charms, one a ‘V’ initial and the other a baby rattle as you replied, “No, I haven’t, and I’m hoping to keep it that way.”

You hadn’t planned to stay long, just a week or two at most, with hopes of hanging out in the Cut, grabbing some groceries, and indulging in shopping at boutiques you never go to do before. You wanted to avoid anything that might draw attention to you. Living with your mom—who was now clean and remarried—had been a breath of fresh air. She shielded you from worry, allowing you to focus on taking care of what you needed to and building a decent savings while working a stable job, free from the burdens your father had imposed.

After chatting a bit more, you hugged Sarah and rejoined the group. They were deep in conversation about a bike race happening the next day. Glancing at JJ's bike in the yard, you felt a mix of confusion and admiration for his confidence. Although you hadn’t planned to join them for obvious reasons, he managed to convince you to come along. With such a big crowd, you thought you could easily blend in and suppress the anxious flutter in your chest at the thought of running into Rafe. Confident, yet now he’s all you can think about.

————————————

The last time you saw him was when you returned home from South America. While you were glad to see him, you dreaded the conversation about his father. After leaving the group at the airport, you headed to Tannyhill. As you entered, he greeted you with a warm hug, lifting you off your feet and showering you with kisses. He set you down, his face bright with a smile, contrasting sharply with the sadness that clouded your own.

Before you set out for South America to help John B with his dad, Rafe had stopped you just before boarding the plane. He promised he’d be a better person for you and wanted you to return from the trip to him. With that, he slipped one of his silver rings onto your finger and kissed you, giving a nod that it was okay to go.

There was always a powerful connection between you two, despite the class divide and his intense disdain for Pogues. You were the exception. Everyone adored you—both Pogues and Kooks alike—especially when you worked as the favorite bartender at the Country Club. You and Rafe bonded over the absence of your mothers and the shortcomings of your fathers. It was a match made in an unlikely paradise.

Though you were never officially together, largely due to his ego, you often went out publicly. Despite JJ and the group’s disdain, you convinced them—and yourself—that it meant nothing, even though deep down, you knew it did. The same could be said for Rafe with Topper and Kelce. No matter what happened, you both struggled to fully pull away from each other. Until that night.

You led Rate to the living room of Tannyhill and gently broke the news of his father's death. The color drained from his face, and his breathing grew rapid and heavy. In an attempt to console him, you placed your hand, adorned with his ring, on his arm, but he abruptly yanked it away and stood up, clearly overwhelmed. Before you could fully explain the circumstances surrounding the tragedy, Rafe erupted in anger. "This is what happens when people get close to someone like John B! Pogues are nothing but worthless pieces of shit, I trusted you all with him!" He lashed out, placing the blame on them as if Ward's insatiable greed hadn't played a role in his decisions. It was bewildering that he believed any of us wanted his father there in the first place. This wasn't any of ours fault.

"Rafe..." you pleaded, desperation lacing your voice. "I don't want to hear it! I can't even look at you right now. All those things I said to you, and you let this happen?! You got my father killed?!" His voice thundered with rage, his eyes dark and wild, veins bulging in his neck.

"You really think we wanted this? John B lost his dad too, you know that?! This was NEVER supposed to happen. I'm so sorry." But Rafe didn't want to hear your apology. "Get away from me! Don't come back! I never want to see you again," he shouted, the finality of his words slicing through you. You felt the tears streaming down your face, sorrow intertwined with disbelief. How could he say this after all the loving promises he had made before leaving? You sat in stunned silence for a moment, then carefully slid the ring off your finger and placed it on the coffee table. With a heavy heart, you turned and walked out of Tannyhill. Rafe didn't even glance back; he couldn't. Deep down, he knew he didn't mean any of it, but his anger always got the best of him.

————————————

As you emerged from your thoughts, everyone decided to head inside for the night, giving JJ some much-needed rest before the race the next day. You settled into your old bed, replacing the dust-covered sheets, and despite the whirlwind of emotions flooding your mind about being back, sleep quickly overtook you. Before long, JJ was shaking you awake, urging you to hurry and get ready.

When you arrived at the racecourse, you kept your distance from the group, sticking close to Cleo to avoid any potential confrontations.

JJ understood what was going on without needing to ask, and he respected your space; having you there, after all this time, was what mattered most to him. It was a relief, allowing you to watch from afar as Rafe interacted with Topper, their tension palpable from a distance.

As the race began, excitement surged through you. Ju took the lead, but then Rafe unexpectedly tapped him, sending both of them flipping over their bikes, igniting a chorus of cheers from the crowd.

Once the race concluded, you made your way towards the group. Topper walked by, not being able to help gloat saying something to Sarah. He then caught your eye, a smug smile on his face, but he chose not to say anything, merely walking away while shaking his head. You refused to let it bother you; Topper's opinions meant nothing, yet you knew that this would undoubtedly reach Rafe, and you hoped to slip away before that happened-at least, that was what you hoped.

As the crowd began to thin out, you felt exposed among the remaining Pogues and Kooks. Seeking a bit of refuge, you decided to head towards the shack that stored drinks and equipment for the track, needing a breather from the charged atmosphere. Just as you turned to leave, your eyes locked with Rafe's.

Your heart raced as a heavy silence enveloped you, and for a moment, neither of you could look away. In that instant, you noticed Sofia slip her arm through his and plant a kiss on his cheek. Another dark haired, brown eyes Pogue you knew from the cut and worked with the country club. He clearly had a type. She playfully pulled his attention back to her. Seizing the chance, you quickly resumed your path to the shack, desperate to put distance between yourself and the turmoil of emotions that Rafe always seemed to ignite within you.

You stepped into the shack, the sunlight streaming through the windows casting long shadows across the floor. Your heart raced with nervousness, and you weren't sure if you wanted to stay or leave. With your back to the door, you pressed one hand to your chest and the other to your forehead, trying to steady your breathing, when a low voice broke the silence.

"Hi."

You spun around to find Rafe's imposing silhouette framed in the doorway, his tall figure looming over you. "Rafe, please, just go. I don't need this. I'm here for my brother," you insisted, your voice unsteady. He chuckled, stepping further into the room, the warmth of his presence engulfing you.

"I've missed you, Maybank."

"Don't say that to me," you retorted, backing away as he moved closer. Soon, you found yourself pinned between him and the table, his blue eyes piercing through the dim light, sparkling with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. He studied you with an expression that was both longing and mischief, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear before gently cupping your face.

It left you bewildered, and you instinctively tried to push him away. "A year and a half ago, you couldn't stand me, and now you're all over me. You can never make up your mind."

A smile crept across Rafe's face. "I could never hate you. I never hated you. I was angry, sure, but I took it out on you-and you never gave me a chance to apologize. You vanished, changed your number, and everyone who knew where you were would never tell me."

"Rafe, please just go," you pleaded, feeling trapped. But before you could protest further, he lifted you effortlessly and set you down on the table.

"I can't stay away from you. Please, let us have this moment," he murmured, his voice low and earnest. He leaned in, inhaling your familiar scent-the coconut and mango shampoo mixed with a hint of jasmine perfume. Then, without warning, he pressed soft kisses against your cheek. You let out a slight moan, unable to suppress the spark of electricity that coursed through you at his touch.

He smiled against your skin, his face inching closer to yours. Then, before you could register the moment, he pulled back slightly to gaze into your eyes once more before crashing his lips against yours. The shock of the kiss momentarily stunned you, but as the reality of what was happening sank in, you found yourself responding, moving your lips against his as if you had been waiting for this moment all along.

His hands began to explore your soft skin, gliding down your arms to intertwine his fingers with yours. You felt the familiar weight of the ring that once adorned your finger. He released your hand, gripping the nape of your neck and pulling you closer as his right hand traced down your torso. You wore a thin, cropped strapless top and a mini skirt. His fingertips teased the upper hem, grazing the tops of your breasts while he moved lower, grasping your waist as if afraid to let you go.

Both of you fought for breath, pulling away to look at each other, laughter escaping your lips. “I’ve been waiting to do this again for so long,” he admitted.

“Do you think your girlfriend would appreciate you saying that to me, Rafe?”

“What?”

“Sofia, the girl outside who kissed you on the cheek?” You sarcastically remind him. “Do you think she’d appreciate this? I may be many things, but I won’t be an accomplice to cheating.”

He sighed, “That means nothing to me. If anything, she’s just a distraction while you were gone. It’s always been you I’m meant to be with. I ruined it and forced myself to move on. And now you’re back.”

You bit your finger, feeling conflicted. “But—” Before you could interrogate him more, he captured your lips in another kiss, drowning out your thoughts. His hands ventured lower, teasing the hem of your skirt. Looking into your eyes for confirmation, you nodded, giving him permission to explore further. He slipped his fingers beneath your clothing, pressing against your core, and groaned as he felt your wetness.

He swirled his fingers before moving to your clit, rubbing in deep, rhythmic motions. You broke the kiss to moan, your head thrown back, exposing your neck and chest. He kissed a trail from behind your ear to the tops of your breasts, and then, with a practiced ease, slid a finger inside you.

You gasped, leaning into the crook of his neck. “That’s a good girl. You can take a little more, right?”

You whimper a soft yes, and he added a second finger, igniting a fevered kiss filled with passion and frustration. Despite your anger, desire overwhelmed you. He pumped in and out quickly, his thumb working your clit, sending you into a frenzy. Your breaths quickened, and you were amazed that no one could hear your moans.

“That’s right, baby. Let me make you feel good. Let me make it up to you. Come for me.”

As waves of pleasure washed over you, your head spun, heart racing. With a gasp, you reached your peak, surrendering completely as he rode out your orgasm, his unoccupied hand brushing your cheek. After a few lingering pumps, he withdrew, licking his fingers clean before adjusting your panties and gazing into your eyes.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he said softly. You struggled to find your voice, lost in the moment until the door slammed open, revealing JJ. Rage simmered within you at the thought of a confrontation between him and your brother, but Rafe turned to you. “We’ll talk more another time, baby.”

You smiled and nodded, but as he walked out, JJ turned to you with a look of disgust. “What the hell did he want?”

“Nothing. We were trying to talk before you interrupted,” you replied. “I didn’t know he saw me come in.”

“Are you going to talk to him about her?”

“I don’t know, J.”

---

I hope you like it. My first of many stories. I decided to break it into parts. Stretch it out over the month before part 2 of the season drops.

#drew starkey #drew starkey smut #drew starkey x reader #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe obx #rafe smut #rafe x reader #outerbanks rafe #rafe outer banks #rafe x you #rafe fanfiction #rafe x pogue #rafe imagine #rafe fic #rafe x maybank

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