#nice note to pause on c:

[blackjackkent]

After the meazel fight, the group definitely comes to the tacit decision that it is Time For Bed. Shadowheart de-clown-curses Rakha for the second time in three hours and they slog back to the camp near Last Light, and Rakha immediately retreats to the furthest edge of camp and just sits by herself.

This is not, strictly speaking, unusual for her - she often keeps to herself and sits in silence, thinking things over, processing the latest things she's learned about the world and putting them into place in her overall understanding.

Today, though, she's really just brooding. It's been an awful day, one of the most miserable she can remember experiencing. And at the end of it, after completely melting down and losing control in the most humiliating fashion possible, nothing has really gotten any better - the urge to kill, and to kill Isobel specifically, is not one iota less strong than it was this morning.

She stays out there a long time, listening as the muted sounds of conversation in camp dwindle into silence, watching as the cursed darkness deepens with nightfall. The pixie's blessing - hard-bought as it was - has at least eased one thing; it shields her a little from the corrupted magic of this place, and it does not bite quite so sharply on her skin.

Eventually, when she's sure everyone else has gone to bed, she slowly uncurls herself from her huddled position and trudges in the direction of her bedroll.

Wyll, however, is still up.

She stops, fascinated and curious in spite of herself - as usual, a moment's puzzlement and a handful of questions does more to draw her out of her dark thoughts than a thousand comforting words.

He too has stepped a little away from the camp, under the "shade" (if it can be called that) of a gnarled tree heavily spread with dead leaves. And he's dancing.

She has seen dancing only once before, at least in the memory she has accumulated since the nautiloid. Many of the teeth-lings danced at the party after the goblin encampment fell. It was movement set to music, then, or to singing, or at least to a rhythmic clapping to set a beat. And Wyll has told her a little about the dances of his youth as a noble - more extravagant affairs with multiple instruments.

But there's no music here. He is dancing in silence, except for a soft humming - almost inaudible - from his own lips.

Why?

Stay quiet and watch Wyll dance.

The dance increases in pace as she watches, his feet moving faster, his arms taking lithe, practiced motions. She can see the occasional hiccup in the rhythm, a stumble from a lack of practice - but this is something he's done many times before.

He startles as he turns and catches her eyes on him. And then, almost more surprising than the rest, he smiles.

"Oh!" he says brightly. "I didn't see you standing there. Lost in the steps, truth be told."

She realizes suddenly that on some level she hadn't expected a smile from him. He smiles all the time - at her, at everyone they aren't fighting - but after today... she didn't expect a smile, maybe never again.

Why are you not afraid of me?

"I need them to be just right," he goes on, drawing a few steps closer. His smile twitches nervously in a way she doesn't know how to interpret. "I wouldn't want to fail my new partner."

She stares at him; her bafflement deepens abruptly. Partner?

As usual in moments of confusion - the retreat into logic, into fact and fact and fact... Partner. Dance partner. He expects someone to dance with him. Someone whose opinion he values. Someone he wants to impress.

*New* partner. Something has changed. Something is different now, that Wyll is now concerned with this. Something has drawn his attention, in the midst of the shadows, while Rakha has been busy falling apart at his side.

Of course. Karlach. Dammon fixed her engine yesterday. She and Wyll are close friends. She has seen them talk extensively since she ceased to be his hunting target. He can touch her now. Dance with her.

Rakha should have expected this.

It shouldn't be a surprise.

It shouldn't hurt. But it does. An explosion of entirely new agony blooms in her chest, unrelated to the beast or the darkness or the cult of the Absolute, and in that moment she realizes with brutal clarity how much she has come to depend on Wyll in the few months they have traveled together. He has been her guidance, a touch of gentleness against the daggers in her head. He has made her feel worthwhile when her every instinct has said otherwise.

On top of everything else that she has suffered today, this feels like a misery she doesn't know how to bear. She squeezes her fingers into fists at her side, squeezes her eyes shut. She can feel how the beast could rise on the crest of this emotion, and she does not want to hurt him...

"Trust me," she mutters. Her voice is strained with the effort of keeping it even. "I don't think you could fail anyone if you tried."

It's true, after all. He has always given more than she deserved.

He tilts his head to the side. "I know a few people who might beg to differ. But the only one that matters is here with me now."

He makes an elaborate bow and extends a hand in her direction. "May I have this dance?"

His eyes fix on hers, and his smile widens slowly as he watches the understanding work its way onto her face.

He doesn't mean Karlach. He means her.

If there were any justice in the way her brain worked, the pain of a moment earlier would be replaced with joy. But somehow instead it is only replaced with fear. Today has been the lowest day of her life; she feels as if she knows nothing at all, least of all what it means to act on any feelings besides rage.

"Dance?" she hears herself say, the only question she can articulate out of all those swirling in her mind. "But there's no music."

He steps forward and - as he has so many times before - rests a hand gently on her arm. "Our hearts can keep time," he murmurs.

(A/N: This scene requires a little mental juggling in order to make it work properly for Rakha. There are several available skill checks to not suck at the dancing, but LBR, Rakha absolutely sucks at the dancing and is also not the slightest bit demonstrative, so the most character-effective option is actually to tell him no at first here.)

She watches as he demonstrates a quick step before her, his feet moving in a practiced rhythm. She tries to follow it, but her thoughts are too jumbled to even begin to absorb enough to replicate it herself.

This is pointless. She is going to make a fool of herself - more than she already has.

Stay still and shake your head.

She feels locked in place. She's more acutely aware of him than she has ever felt before, and certainly at any moment this is all going to shatter apart - she can't do this. She doesn't know how...

But his smile softens, seeing her discomfort, and he lets his hand drop back to his side.

"Bashful tonight, are we? Perhaps you will take to a more... relaxed style."

That sounds better than the quickstep he was doing, certainly - but her thoughts still feel thick with doubt. "I don't know," she mutters. "I'm... not much of a dancer."

She has never danced. Perhaps she could play something for him - but all she has ever achieved on Alfira's lute is dissonant scratchings used to produce light...

She's so tired. So lost and broken.

And yet, as always, in spite of her failings, he reaches out anyway, as he always does. As, perhaps, she wanted him to from the beginning.

"You don't have to," he says gently. "Just follow my lead."

She always has. Whenever she has not seen a path forward, he has lit one for her - or, perhaps, shown her how to light it herself. Broken as she is, he looks at the pieces and sees someone worth dancing with.

She takes his hand and lets him guide her forward.

(A/N: Wyll and the PC then go into an extended little dance sequence here which is super sweet but also super out of character for Rakha; whatever dance they do together here is SUPER simple at best, absolutely not what's animated in game. Also, hilariously, this all takes place with our other party members snoozing about two feet away, which we are definitely pretending is not the case. This is absolutely happening out of sightlines of the rest of the party or Rakha wouldn't even entertain the idea to be honest.)

His hand is warm, his grip soft. He guides her the way she watched him train the children in the grove - gently and without pretense or mockery. The step is simple, but even so, she fumbles it more than she does it correctly - in part because her attention is pulled by the smile on his face and the general air of reassurance. Perhaps he hears some music in his head to which the steps are set, but she does not, and only follows his lead and the steady rhythm of his boot heels in the dirt.

It is such a strange note to end on, after such a terrible day. He has seen the absolute worst of her, the panic and chaos and rage - the threat she has offered to his own life as well as those around them. And he is telling her, in no uncertain terms, that he is not backing away, but without forcing her to answer aloud.

Gradually, with each set of steps, he draws them a little closer together, until at the finish he lowers himself to a kneeling position, drawing her down to an even level with him.

Press your lips against Wyll's.

It happens before she's fully conscious that it's going to, and she isn't sure if she is the one who leans in first or not. All she knows is that suddenly his hands are on her waist and his are pressed to his chest and their lips are together and everything is bewilderingly warm. Her heart thuds in her ears and for once it is not from blood-rage and fury.

She feels... safe. She feels quiet. The Weave swirls around them with a surge of energy that shivers into her bones.

It's long enough that she has to gasp for air when they finally break apart. Wyll lets out a slow, shuddery exhalation as he draws back, his eyes closed.

"So much shadow around us," he whispers. "To think I almost missed the light..."

He has said that before... that she makes her own light. Here, for this brief moment, she can almost believe him.

He pulls away, stands up; chill rushes in where his body sat close to hers. "Well," he says, and his voice cracks just slightly. "It's getting late. We can't face the morrow if we don't bid farewell to the now."

She stands as well - and moves forward, catching her hand at his neck and pulling him back to her. As she has before from other, less palatable sources - she chases that moment of peace with eager desperation.

Move in for another kiss.

He makes a soft noise against her mouth. One of his hands fists into her shirt and he leans into the kiss, holding himself against her for another moment that feels like an eternity.

"Ah..." he mumbles unsteadily against her mouth. "I've drunk wines from Daggerford to Cormyr, but I've never known a taste as rich as yours."

She doesn't answer. She has no poetry, no eloquence. He tastes like nothing in particular that she could describe. It is not like kissing Lae'zel, which is her only point of reference and which was rough like battle, a fight for sensation and dominance. Instead, with Wyll, everything is soft - safety and warmth and comfort, everything he has always offered her multiplied tenfold.

When the kiss breaks again, she groans low in her throat with a strange eagerness she has no name for. This time, though, he backs up out of reach.

"Gods damn it..." he mutters ruefully. "You almost make me forget myself. But I still keep faith in the old tales of love, the once-upon-a-times and the happily-ever-afters." He takes her hand, squeezes it gently, rubs his thumb over her knuckles, then lets it fall. "I'd... like to do this the proper way - the way of the old romances sung by the bards."

Rakha doesn't fully know what that means - but the implication is clear. This is all for tonight. Which is as it should be. She needs time to think. They both do.

But as she nods, she is conscious of a slight, giddy smile that she is sure has never touched her face before. For a moment all the dread and horror of the past two days feels more distant. And Wyll is looking back at her with a light in his eyes that she could look at for a long time.

"Till next time," he says softly. He takes a step away, then another, seemingly reluctant to fully turn his eyes from her. "Good night. And... dream sweetly."

[softspiderling]

god, it's brutal out here | r.c.

summary:

“And yet you’re still thinking of your ex,” Barry finished the sentence, rubbing his chin. “Why don’t you get back together with her?”

“She doesn’t want me.”

“God, fucking Country Club,” Barry snickered. “You’re fucking dense.”

OR; 5 times your friends share their unsolicited opinions about your and Rafe’s break up.

pairing: rafe cameron x reader

warnings: mention of c*caine

word count: 5,4k

author’s note: the long awaited sequel of so obsessed with your ex! this can be read as a standalone fic, but there are little easter eggs hidden all over, which will be more fun if you read the first part! it's a little bit longer than I had planned, but there was no way around it. I hope you enjoy it so so much!!!!

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

I Wheezie

“Hey Wheeze.”

You had accepted the facetime without looking at your phone, keeping it rested on a shelf while you were halfway into your closet, trying to find a dress.

“Does Rafe have a new girlfriend??”

Pausing, you shut your eyes, letting out a silent exhale before you picked up the phone, giving Wheezie a wry smile through the camera.

“Nice to see you too.”

The girl only looked at you, unimpressed and her arms crossed. You sighed, running a hand through your hair, knowing you didn’t have a way out of this conversation. Grabbing your phone, you sat down on your bed.

“Yes, Rafe has a new girlfriend.”

“I knew it!” Wheezie shrieked, throwing her arms up, and you only shook your head in exasperation. The tendency for drama clearly was in the Cameron genes. Wheezie frowned, getting closer to your phone as she looked at you.

“Why am I more upset about this than you are?”

You bit back another sigh. “Because Rafe and I are broken up, Wheeze. He’s allowed to date other people, matter of fact, I’m really glad that he has moved on.”

“Bullshit!”

“Wheezie!”

Wheezie rolled her eyes, but she sat back down, crossing her arms over her chest again. “I don’t like her.”

“You don’t even know her,” you sighed, rubbing your temple, feeling a migraine coming on.

“This is crazy!” Wheezie exclaimed. “You and Rafe never should’ve broken up in the first place! Rafe is probably only dating her to make you jealous so you’ll take him back.”

You couldn’t help but snort at that, Wheezie clearly watched way too many rom-coms. She frowned at you.

“Why are you laughing? This isn’t funny, this is, like, super un-funny.”

“Because, Wheeze,” you started, plucking a feather out of your pillow. “This isn’t some 90’s rom-com where I see Rafe with Rebecca and suddenly a sad song is playing. This is real life. We are broken up.”

“I still don’t understand why.”

“Remember when we used to fight all the time? And I was just always sad?”

Wheezie was quiet, her lips still pursed. “Yeah. But that doesn’t mean anything. Couples fight all the time, doesn’t mean you just have to break up.”

“Yes, couples fight all the time and they don’t have to break up, but it was the right decision for me and Rafe,” you said, your tone final. Wheezie looked at you, her frown slowly smoothing down.

“If you say so,” she muttered, not quite convinced. She stared down at her chipped finger nails, before she looked up again. “Can we still talk?”

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Of course we can still talk, why wouldn’t we?”

“I don’t know… I mean, you’re gonna find a new boyfriend and maybe he has a younger sister as well and then I’ll just be your ex’s younger sister.”

“Wheeze,” you said, fondly, knowing where she was coming from. You had been in her life for most of her teenage years, it must be weird not having you around anymore. “We’ll still talk, no matter if I get a new boyfriend or not, even if he has a cool younger sister, or even three.”

Wheezie smiled, rolling her eyes at you. “You’re so dumb.”

“Yet you still want me around,” you teased. “How about you, Sar and I go get some ice cream and then to the movies this weekend?”

“Sounds good,” Wheezie replied with a big smile. She paused when someone called her name from somewhere in the house, before she turned back to her phone. “I gotta go, Rose needs me. I’ll text you later.”

“Alright, Wheeze. Talk to you later, be good.”

Wheezie waved into the camera, before the facetime ended. Your smile dropped and you tossed your phone on your bed with a sigh, letting yourself fall back on your bed. Even six months after the break up it was still hard to talk about Rafe, and now that he had a new girlfriend, you thought it’d be easier to get over him, but all it did was hurt more. It didn’t help that Rafe was still texting you every now and then. Nothing scandalous, just small texts, but you never replied. You both agreed on no contact after the break up, because you thought it’d give you a better opportunity to heal. You should’ve known he’d break it. Picking up your phone, you unlocked it, swiping to your messages.

Rafe [11/30/23: 1:43 am]: couldn’t sleep. remember when we took out the boat at two am bc we both drank a red bull at ten?

Rafe [11/30/23: 11:22 am]: sorry, i was drinking. didn’t mean to text you. hope you’re doing good

Rafe [12/25/23: 2:44 pm]: merry christmas. it’s weird without you.

Rafe [01/01/24: 01:02 am]: happy new year’s.

Rafe [01/05/24: 9:56 pm]: are you really not gonna text me back?

Rafe [01/27/24: 3:07 am]: i miss you

Rafe [02/12/24: 12:05 pm]: saw you at the party last night. you looked so fucking pretty. took everything in me not to talk to you.

Rafe [03/01/24: 7:12 pm]: idk if you care or not, but i still wanted to let you know. i’m seeing someone

You never replied to any of the texts, knowing it was for the better. You could block him, but you never brought it over your heart to do so, telling yourself you wanted him to reach you in case of emergency, but deep down, you didn’t want to block him.

Just incase.

II Barry

“Want some C?” Barry asked as greeting, presenting Rafe a small baggie with white powder in it as soon as he walked onto the lot.

“Nah,” Rafe declined, already feeling jittery enough without it, “Won’t say no to a beer though.”

Barry let out a grunt, tossing the baggie on the table, disappearing inside the trailer. Rafe took a seat in one of the chairs, running his hand over his buzzed head, bouncing his leg nervously. He had needed to get out of the house for a while. Ever since Rebecca pulled the picture out of the drawer, he couldn’t stop thinking about you. Again.

Which is fucked up, really. He thought he got over you, he didn’t want to be the guy who thought about his ex while having a whole ass girlfriend. The door to the trailer opened with a slam, Barry exiting with two beer cans, handing Rafe one of them. The can was ice cold in his hands, and the cold liquid helped with his racing heart. He let out a sigh, rubbing a thumb over his eye brow. Rafe took another gulp of the beer, almost drinking the entire can in one go, while Barry watched him, assessing.

“You good?”

Rafe nodded, setting the can on the table.

“Yeah, jus’ stressed.”

“Work, or…?”

Barry trailed off without finishing his sentence and Rafe didn’t answer, wiping a finger over his jaw, which was clenched to the max.

Barry eyed him skeptically, leaning back in his chair. “How’s Mrs. Country Club?”

Rafe let out a loud sigh, tipping his head back, like he always did when he was annoyed with Barry.

“Barry, I don’t know if all the drugs you’re taking are starting to get to your memory, but we broke up.”

“Don’t be fucking rude,” he said, kicking Rafe’s chair. Not hard enough for it to tip over, but hard enough for Rafe to grip onto the arm rests, glaring at his friend. “How’d you know I wasn’t talking ‘bout your new girl?”

“Because you always call her Becky,” Rafe pointed out, giving him a look.

Barry shrugged, taking a sip from his beer. “You still know who ‘m talking about, so what’s the problem?”

“Problem is, it’s disrespectful. You know that’s not her name.”

“You’re still hung up on your ex while dating Becky, so who’s really disrespecting her?”

Rafe’s head shot up and the glare he sent Barry was deadly.

“Fuck this shit, and fuck you,” he snapped, pushing himself up from the chair, but Barry grabbed his wrist, stopping him.

“Boy, sit down.”

Rafe scowled at him, before sitting back down, crossing his arms over his chest like a petulant child. He did not come all the way out to the cut to get called out like this.

“If you came here to be coddled, you went to the wrong person.”

“I don’t need to be coddled,” Rafe muttered with an eyeroll. “Just wanted to let off some steam.”

“So?” Barry snorted, waving his hands around. “Steam away.”

Rafe scoffed, scooting down in his chair, shaking his head. “Do you think I want to think of her? I fucking hate feeling like this. Bex is nice, and she’s hot. And yet-”

“And yet you’re still thinking of your ex,” Barry finished the sentence, rubbing his chin. “Why don’t you get back together with her?”

“She doesn’t want me.”

“God, fucking Country Club,” Barry snickered. “You’re fucking dense.”

“Nah, you don’t fucking get it, “ Rafe sneered, leaning his head in his hands. And he didn’t, not really. Which really wasn’t his fault. Rafe just didn’t want to talk about the break up with his friends. Physically couldn’t. Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t told anyone why you broke up. Just made it feel all to real, he guessed.

“Nah, you’re right, I don’t,” Barry said, shaking his head. “All I know is, one day you’re all fucking sunshine and the next you’re more emo than that Friday girl.”

“What?” Rafe asked, lifting his head to stare at Barry in confusion.

Barry waved him off. “You know, that freaky girl from Netflix with the black lipstick.”

“Do you mean Wednesday?”

“Yeah, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, all the same to me,” Barry huffed. “Point is, life’s too fucking short to do things that don’t make you happy.”

“Bex makes me happy.”

Barry gave him a long, hard look, squinting his eyes at him. “Yeah, right. Whatever makes you sleep at night.”

Rafe stared back at him before shaking his head, finishing the last of his beer before crushing the empty can in his hand, declining to answer, because he knew he couldn’t convince Barry.

He wasn’t even convinced himself.

III Topper

top [05/03/24: 4:06 pm]: gonna be at alex’s later tonight with rafe and rebecca just fyi if you wanted to come

mrs. rafe [05/03/24: 4:57 pm]: k, thanks for letting me know

—— NEW MESSAGE ——

top [05/04/24: 1:37 am]: can you pick me up?

It was Saturday night, a little past your bedtime for a night in. You were getting ready for bed, exiting the bathroom when your phone buzzed in your hand. Lifting it, you read the new text, not quite believing he’d make you do this. What the fuck was he thinking asking you to pick him up? Shaking your head in disbelief, you typed out an answer.

mrs. rafe [05/04/24: 1:41 am]: topper no

Before you could put the phone away, your phone already buzzed with an answer, and you nearly didn’t want to read whatever lame ass excuse he came up with, your hand stilling when your eyes flit over his text.

top [05/04/24: 1:41 am]: please, i don’t want to get a ride with rafe and rebecca

top [05/04/24: 1:41 am]: she asked me so many questions about you and i can’t be around rafe rn or i’ll tell him

mrs. rafe [05/04/24: 1:45 am]: … fine

mrs. rafe [05/04/24: 1:47 am]: you’re so annoying

Cursing Topper and yourself for not going to bed sooner, you put on a sweatshirt and grabbed your keys and purse, typing out another text before you headed out of the house, getting into your car.

mrs. rafe [05/04/24: 1:49 am]: be there in ten

top [05/04/24: 1:50 am]: omg i owe you <3

Barely ten minutes later, you pulled up in front of Alex’ house, looking out for Topper, before you spotted him underneath a tree. You rolled to a stop next to him, giving him the most unimpressed look.

“You’re a lifesaver,” Topper groaned, getting into the car, shutting the door behind him.

You rolled your eyes, pulling off the curb without another word, driving towards Topper’s house.

“I’m really sorry for asking you to come get me, but Rafe was looking for me and I had too much to drink already to lie in his face,” Topper said, leaning his back against the headrest, shutting his eyes.

You desperately wanted to know what Rebecca had asked but you didn’t want to come off as the nosy ex, even if this was Topper. So as nonchalantly as you could, you asked: “What did you talk about?”

“Jesus,” Topper said, running a hand through his hair. “She asked me how you guys broke up and wanted details, too. Was super insistent, I was kinda scared actually.”

Okay, so just normal sussing out the ex, you could deal with that.

“What did you say?”

“That it was a mutual break up and I didn’t know why you broke up, just that you suddenly disappeared from each other’s lives.”

You sighed. That was the vaguest answer you’d ever heard.

“Why didn’t you just tell her why we broke up?”

Topper glanced at you, his brows knitted together.

“How can I tell her something I don’t know?”

“What?”

You slammed on the breaks, nearly sending Topper flying through the windshield because the idiot hadn’t buckled up, while you stared at him.

“What do you mean you don’t know why we broke up?”

“I don’t!” Topper exclaimed. “Rafe refuses to talk about it and you never told me either.”

“Because I assumed Rafe has told you! It’s been like six months!”

Blinking at Topper, it took you a few seconds to process, jumping when someone honked their horn at you, when you remembered you had stopped in the middle of the street.

“Shit,” you muttered, shifting gears to keep on driving, eyes flitting to Topper repeatedly.

“So…” he started. “Why did you guys break up?”

You gripped the steering wheel so tightly your knuckles turned white, letting out a deep breath. When you had left to come pick Topper up, you hadn’t expected having to tell him why you and his best friend had broken up.

“I was getting so worried about him. He was so stressed about the company every day, took home so much work and Ward was breathing down his neck to keep the numbers up. I told him that I thought he should take a step back, maybe take a break or something, tried to convince him of going on a trip or something, but the more I said, the more he seemed to be pushing himself into work. It got so bad that we were fighting basically every day, and it just wasn’t working anymore. It felt like we were going in circles.”

You cleared your throat when you felt yourself getting choked up, vision turning a little blurry from the tears in your eyes.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Topper exclaimed, patting himself down, looking for some tissues.

“Don’t worry about it,” you snorted, wiping your tears away with the sleeves of your sweatshirt. You were so wrapped up in trying to retell the break up, you hadn’t even noticed that you already reached Topper’s house. “I shouldn’t even still be getting so worked up over this after all this time,” you sniffed, turning your car off.

Topper looked at you, with that typical look on his face and you rolled your eyes.

“Don’t look at me like that. I can’t believe Rafe hasn’t told you.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Honestly? I think he might be in denial about it.”

You scoffed at him, shaking your head. Why was everyone so hung up over your break up?

“It’s been six months.”

Topper didn’t reply, his hand on the car door and you expected him to bid you good bye, but that was too easy.

“… Do you think you guys will get back together?”

“He has a girlfriend, Top.”

“Still. I don’t think that Rafe and Rebecca are gonna last very long.” Topper looked at you, pressing his lips together, before shaking his head. “Sorry. Thanks for coming and for getting me home. Text me if you need anything, okay?”

You nodded, giving him a small wave, and waited until he got out of the car, shutting the door behind him, before you turned your car on, pulling off.

“What the fuck,” you muttered to yourself, wiping the rest of the tears off as you drove home.

IV Kelce

“Kelce!”

Kelce looked up from the pool table, a smile growing on his face when he saw Rafe come down the basement, his friend wrapping an arm around him for a brief hug.

“Happy birthday, man,” Rafe said, handing Kelce a bottle of the expensive whiskey he always drank when he was at Rafe’s but too stingy to buy it for himself.

“Ah shit, you didn’t have to,” Kelce uttered, though his eyes were sparkling as he looked at the bottle in his hands. He handed the pool stick to one of the guys next to him, leading Rafe to the bar. He grabbed two glasses from the shelves, pouring Rafe and himself a good amount, offering one of the glasses to him.

“Cheers to you.”

The two clinked their glasses, before sipping on the whiskey. Kelce really enjoyed it, too, with the way he closed his eyes, and Rafe only snorted in his glass. Kelce peaked his eye open, shoving his friend fondly with a grin.

“Rebecca here?”

“Yeah, upstairs.”

Kelce hummed in thoughts, nodding absentmindedly. He stared into his glass, swishing the amber liquid around before he spoke up again.

“You know she’s here, too, right?”

Rafe tensed, knowing exactly that Kelce was talking about you, but he had expected it. Firstly, because you and Kelce had always been friends, and secondly because he had heard Sarah making plans with you to go together. Didn’t mean this felt any less of a punch to the gut. He really hoped he wouldn’t run into you, because he wasn’t quite sure what he’d do; all he knew was, that Bex wasn’t gonna like it. Rafe cleared his throat, forcing himself to sound nonchalant.

“I figured, yeah.”

“That okay?” Kelce asked, and Rafe was starting to get annoyed, rolling his eyes. Why was Kelce questioning him about you on his damn birthday? He tried to dampen his anger though, not wanting to ruin the night.

“Yes. It’s your birthday, man.”

As soon as those words left his mouth, Rafe knew he did a shit job of hiding his emotions, and Kelce eyed him suspiciously.

“I don’t get you guys,” he sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. “You got a new girl, but you still haven’t gotten over your ex, clearly, but every time I mention her, you act like it’s the worst thing in the world, but neither of you have said a bad word about the other.

Rafe scoffed, though his heart started to race at the thought of you talking about him. He wondered what you had said, if you cared enough to ask about him, or if you had long moved on.

“Are you ever gonna tell me why you guys broke up?”

“Maybe next time.”

Kelce gave him a wry smile, knowing this was Rafe avoiding the topic again. He lifted his head when more people starting coming down the basement, curling his hand around Rafe’s shoulder to give him a squeeze.

“I really hope you figure it out bro, because this right now is not it.”

He then excused himself to welcome the new arrivals and Rafe gripped his glass, before downing it in one go.

“Alright, who wants to get destroyed in a round of pool?” he asked, clapping his hands together as he approached the pool table. Anything to stop himself from going upstairs to look for you.

V Sarah

“Oh my god, I thought you were gonna keep talking to her forever!”

You gave Sarah a look. She hadn’t even waited a minute after you left Rebecca on the couch before she started talking about her.

“I don’t have a problem with her.”

Sarah groaned, linking her arm with yours as to not lose you in the crowd that has formed in Kelce’s house. You were glancing around, hyper aware that you could run into Rafe any second, but you didn’t want Sarah to notice.

“I don’t understand how you can be so chill. Did you not see the picture she had in her purse?”

You sighed, brushing your hair back over your shoulder. Was this ever going to stop? “Sar, please.”

“Hello?? That was super freaky.”

“Maybe she was just cleaning up and wanted to throw it in the trash and forgot it in her purse.”

Sarah laughed dryly, shaking her head. “Bullshit! Admit that you find it weird.”

“Okay, maybe it is a little weird,” you admitted. “But don’t you do things that are a little weird sometimes? Maybe she’s just a little insecure. Which I wouldn’t blame her for, you’re so mean. Shouldn’t you try and be her friend or something?”

“Why? She’s not gonna be around much longer anyways, and I already have a friend.”

You rolled your eyes, fishing your keys out of your purse to unlock your car. Again with the sentiment that Rafe and Rebecca weren’t gonna last much longer. You decided against deeming that statement with an answer and got into your car, with Sarah getting into the passenger seat.

“Do you want to grab some burgers?” She asked, buckling up, like you hadn’t just told you that your ex and his new girlfriend weren’t gonna last.

You gave her a look as you tossed your purse to the back.

“What do you mean do I want to grab burgers? I thought you wanted to leave because you’re meeting John B early in the morning.”

Sarah blinked at you, before she reached out to give you a shove on the forehead. “I was lying so we could get away, stupid.”

“Oh my god,” you groaned, starting your car as Sarah protested.

“What? I was getting weirded out by you being all besties with Rafe’s new girlfriend. I don’t even understand how you can be so nice to her knowing she’s all up on your man.”

“Pray tell, who’s my man again?”

“Don’t even,” Sarah huffed. “You guys dated forever, I know you still love each other. And let me tell you one thing,” she said, raising her eyebrows at you. “If you got a new boyfriend? Rafe would not be this nice to him like you were to Rebecca.” With that, Sarah crossed her arms over her chest, settling back against her seat.

You only sighed, starting your car in silence.

“Do you want to get burgers now or not?” you asked, extending a peace offer while looking over at Sarah. She glowered at you, before nodding with an eyeroll.

“Yes.”

BONUS + I Rafe

“I did, at the party last night… She said she’s happy that you have me, that she was worried about how you work too much.”

Rafe pushed the pasta on his plate around with his fork, too engrossed in his thoughts to even think about eating. He didn’t even notice how Dennis had stopped talking. Rafe looked up from his plate, only to see Dennis look at him intently, an amused grin on his face.

“Sorry, were you saying something?”

“I was saying a lot, but you seemed like you were on a completely different planet,” Dennis noted, wiping his mouth with a napkin. Rafe winced, putting his fork down.

“Sorry, I have a lot on my mind.”

“I can tell,” Dennis mused. “Trouble in paradise?”

“Something like that.”

Rafe sighed, leaning back in his chair. Ever since you broke up, Rafe has been assuming that you didn’t care about him anymore, that you had long moved on from him and your relationship. He thought that you resented him, blamed him for the break up, which was honestly the main reason why he went back to the dating scene so quickly; to get over you. But hearing that you still cared about him? Enough to be nice to his new girlfriend and even ask about him? He wondered if there was still a chance for him and you to be together again.

If it weren’t for the fact that he already had a girlfriend.

“Can I give you some unsolicited advice, son?”

“Do I have a choice?” Rafe asked with a wry grin and Dennis only let out a belly laugh, shaking his head.

“Rafe, most relationships these days end because of your own ego, from both parties. No matter how big the fight or problem seems, will it really be that important in hindsight?” Dennis asked him. “How long have you an your girl been together? Almost 5 years, no?”

Rafe nodded, not daring to correct Dennis. He had never outright told him that you had broken up in the first place.

“See, that’s half a decade. I can assure you, in another half, you’re not even gonna remember this fight.”

Yeah, I don’t know about that, Rafe thought.

“Do you love her?”

Turning his ring on his finger, Rafe let out a soft exhale, before nodding. “Yeah, I do.”

“See. Problem solved.”

Rafe lifted his head to grin at Dennis.

“Thanks. Is it okay if we cut today short?”

“Sure,” Dennis said, waving Rafe off when he reached for his wallet. “Lunch is on me. Go get your girl.”

“I will,” Rafe promised, pushing his chair back to stand up. “I just gotta take care of something else first.”

BONUS + II You

You were staring at your phone, text thread with Rafe open. It was Saturday night; you and Sarah had went out to a small beach party. Sarah had gone to fill her drink back up and you had used that time of solace to overthink. About Rafe.

For the past few week, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. And you blamed your friends for it, really. First Wheezie, then Topper and then Sarah? Somehow all of them said that the break up was the worst idea, and even though you had always second guessed the choice to break up, this was the first time you actually actively regretted it.

The way Sarah seemed so sure that Rafe and Rebecca weren’t going to last long. Maybe you were wrong and they weren’t as happy as you thought. But then again, it wasn’t any of your business, was it? Who were you to put your nose into their relationship?

God, you shouldn’t be doing this.

“How long does Sarah need to fill her drink back up?” You muttered to yourself, finishing your vodka soda and burying the cup in the sand next to you, when you heard foot steps approaching.

“Finally! I was about to send a search group out for you!” you exclaimed, standing up and dusting the sand off your lap. “Seriously, how long does it take for-”

You froze when you turned around just to see Rafe standing in front of you, instead of Sarah. Swallowing thickly, you blinked at him, caught off guard.

“Rafe, hey,” you said, opting for casual. “Sorry. I thought you were Sarah.”

The corners of Rafe’s mouth twitched. “Yeah, I could tell.”

You looked at him, sighing a bit wistfully (mostly) internally, before you shifted on your feet nervously. “It was nice to see you,” you said, and it was true. “But um… I think I’ll go look for Sarah.” You gave him a small smile, before walking towards, and then past him.

“You’re still worried about me.”

You let out a startled laugh, pausing mid-step to turn back to him. “What?”

“You told Rebecca that you were glad that I had her and that you worried I work too much.”

“Of course I’m still worried about you,” you huffed, brushing your hair back. “You can’t be surprised about that.”

Rafe looked at you, and you could tell that this was news to him.

“Rafe.”

Rafe let out a sigh, rubbing his forehead. “You didn’t reply to any of my texts. I thought you were mad at me or somethin’.”

“I didn’t reply to any of your texts because we said we’d do no contact for a while.

“Still,” Rafe muttered, kicking a rock. “I didn’t think it would be so easy for you-”

“And because you were happy with Rebecca, do you think it’s easy for me to see you with someone else?”

“I broke up with Rebecca last week.”

“What?!”

Mouth agape, you stared at him and Rafe only rubbed the back of his neck. “She… Wasn’t what I wanted.”

“Oh,” you only said, letting out a soft exhale. “I’m sorry about that.”

Rafe sighed, stuffing his hands into his pockets. His gaze was trained on the floor for a bit, before he lifted his head to look at you.

“I want to try again… I want us to try again.”

“Rafe…”

You swallowed thickly, your eyes wide and you didn’t move as Rafe took a step towards you, reaching for your hand. Your fingers were cold in his but they quickly warmed to his touch, and the way he laced his fingers with yours, felt all to familiar.

“I love you. I never should have agreed to breaking up. It was arguably the second stupidest thing I’ve ever done.”

“And what’s the stupidest?” you asked, corners of your mouth lifting.

“Not listening to you when you were just trying to help,” he answered, looking down at you, so vulnerable like you hadn’t seen him in a long time. “I rearranged my schedule at the company so I could take on less work, take more time off and relax. Take the time to get us to where we were before it all went shitty.”

Your heart was in your throat as you listened to him talk, unsure what to say.

“Rafe, I don’t know… “

“Baby, please,” he begged, squeezing your hand. “Do you love me, still?”

You scoffed. “That’s not fair.”

“Why? Because you do?”

“Of course I still love you,” you mumbled, looking up at him through your lashes. “Do you know how hard it was for me to ignore your texts? To see you with another girl, so happy?”

Rafe shook his head, lifting his hand to tuck your hair behind your ear. “I wasn’t. Not really.”

You let out another sigh, looking at the way your hands were intertwined, how your heart had stopped racing, before you nodded, looking up at him. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

A smile spread across Rafe’s face, so big it was so uncharacteristic for him.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

It was like that word switched a flip inside of him, as he grabbed you by your nape gently, to kiss you, slotting his lips against your, and as your lips touched, it felt like you were finally home again. You only pulled away to breathe, both of you staring at each other like you couldn’t quite realize this was happening.

Sarah [05/11/2024: 10:45 pm]: (sent to 4 contacts) [picture attached: blurry photograph of you and Rafe kissing at the beach]

Topper [05/11/2024: 10:46 pm]: thank god.

Kelce [05/11/2024: 10:51 pm]: FINALLY!

Wheezie [05/11/2024: 10:59 pm]: !!!!!!

Barry [05/11/2024: 11:02 pm]: read at 11:02 pm

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

author's note: sooo.... what are we thinking?

[angelbarelywrites]

♡ slashers scenarios | you’re almost a victim..

♡ fandoms; Halloween, Texas Chainsaw Massacre (2006), Black Christmas, Dead by Daylight, slashers (general)

♡ characters; Micheal Myers, Thomas Hewitt, Billy Lenz

♡ reader; gender neutral

♡ cw; very suggestive content

♡ note; i wasn’t sure how to word the title/concept of this one?? but essentially you’re almost a victim, but you’re a little to okay with it/something they do and it throws them off?? idk just read ‘em

also only 3 little meow meows in this one, i wrote most of this on break at work uwu

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•

Micheal Myers

> he’s been stalking you for months

> in his mind you’re the perfect victim

> clueless to his presence, adorable and vulnerable

> he’s drawing it out as long as he can

> but he’s practically twitching the night you come out onto your porch in your tight pajama shorts, relaxing with some tea

> he’s got you pinned to the wall before you can even scream

> he wants to savor this, so he keeps his knife tucked away and has a massive hand around your throat

> he doesn’t miss your breath catching

> and he takes a moment to watch your chest heaving, your cheeks all flushed

> but he’s not that easily impressed. could be the lighting. maybe you’re quick to panic.

> “…you’ve been watching me.”

> you knew?

> you knew, and you still played his game

> interesting. very interesting.

Thomas Hewitt

> Tommy boy is already giving you special treatment

> something is different about you

> he’s not sure what, you’re pretty, but he kills plenty of pretty people

> maybe something about the way you look up at him through your lashes?

> and you’re terrified now, but you weren’t scared of the initial sight of him..

> he doesn’t put you on a meat hook, instead rigging you somewhat kindly, your hands chained above your head but your bound feet on the ground

> whatever he decides on, he knows that you’re special. you deserve to be honored.

> he takes extra care in examining you, feeling you shiver as he grazes your exposed stomach - a side affect of your position, but a welcome sight

> he roughly grabs your face and pushes it left and right, pausing to rub your cheek with his thumb

> you would be a pretty face to wear

> he shoves two fingers into your mouth as he’s mentally measuring

> and he practically startles at the noise you make

> he’s never heard a sound like come from a victim- especially not his victims

> when he pushes a bit and you whimper around his fingers it confirms his suspicions. you’d given a choked moan at the initial intrusion

> he stares down at you, breathing heavily through his mask

> oh you were very special

Billy Lenz

> you were renting a spare room in the sorority house

> while you were good friends with the girls, you valued your alone time

> you quickly became Billy’s favorite to watch, mostly because you were always home

> when he calls he always tries to time it so you pick up

> but usually the girls downstairs still answer- you’re never expecting calls so why bother?

> this evening however, he’s lucky- there’s an on campus event and you’re home completely alone

> you answer on the second ring and he’s delighted, immediately babbling profanities and filthy threats

> “gonna fuck that pretty piggy c—“

> to his surprise you giggle at him

> not a nervous sound, but genuine giggling

> before he can snap, or really even process you laughing at him, you stop him

> “yknow if you want phone sex, you can just ask nicely mister”

> he hangs up in a panic

> that was certainly the last thing he expected

> but now he’s beyond fixated on you

> he barely sleeps just to peep through your wall

> and it’s just about time he paid you a real visit

[thesassypadawan]

Birthday Boy (Hayden x FemReader)

Summary: It’s your man’s birthday! A day filled with all the love, presents, and…special ‘treats’.

Warnings: 18+ (mdni), because there sooo much of the smut. Birthday head and, as always… Hayden’s big, fat dick.

Notes: Happy Birthday, Hay! 💙🤍

And also Happy Hayden's (And Mine) Birthday Event! In honor of the man, the myth, the legend; I will be posting nothing but Anakin, Vader, and Hay stories all April long!

- It’s Hayden’s birthday! One of the few days during the year when you can spoil him totally rotten…and he can’t object or complain.

- You always make it into a big deal. Showering him with love and affection. Making his fav foods. Getting him so many thoughtful presents. Planning all sorts of little surprises and special ‘treats’…that you just so happen to enjoy too.

- The sound of your alarm fills the air, and your arm flies out from underneath the covers. Hand fumbling for your phone, trying to silence it before a moose starts to stir.

- Luckily, you’re successful and no harm was done. Because you can hear the soft snores echoing out from behind you.

- Yawning, you try to blink yourself awake. You had set it with the intention of getting up early enough to prepare him breakfast in bed. But having that deliciously warm body pressed up against and those strong arms wrapped around you…

- A sleepy smile spreads across your face and your eyes begin to close. Until you feel a very hard, very familiar something poke your backside. And suddenly you’re no longer going with the original plan. Instead you’re opting for the new, amazing one you just thought up.

- Somehow you not only manage to untangle yourself from Hay, but you’re also able to get him to lay on his back. From there you make quick work of removing the sheets and pulling down his sleep pants. Cock springing free and standing proud.

- Positioning yourself between his toned legs, lips hovering barely a few inches above his dick. You pause a moment, making sure he’s still asleep by whispering… “Oi, Big Dork; Leafs suck.”

- Nothing. Not an angry grumble or eyes cracking open to glare at you. Nothing.

- Boldly you kitten lick his fat tip, happily lapping up that first salty bead of pre. Before popping it into your mouth, rolling your tongue around and sucking gently. Teasing at and playing with his slit until more of that bittersweet goodness explodes across your taste buds.

- Moaning softly, the vibrations cause Hayden to shift a bit. But you chose to ignore this, taking more of him in. That slight, pleasant ache in your jaw making you pant through your nose, your own arousal spiking. Cunt clenching around nothing, dripping…soaking through your panties.

- Bobbing your head up and down, you set a steady pace. Lips and hand wrapped tightly around his impressive length, adding more friction as you pump. Teeth nipping and grazing at him lightly.

- You’re so caught up that you don’t hear the low groan, but you certainly feel the big hand coming to rest on the back of your head. Those long fingers lacing through your hair, tugging.

- With his cock still nice and warm in your mouth, you not so innocently gaze up at him. Hay’s blue eyes are blown so wide, a lazy smile on his face. “Happy Birthday to me,” he chuckles, voice raspy from sleep.

- Humming, you swallow him greedily. Head brushing and hitting the back of your throat. Trying your best to not choke, fighting the urge not to gag.

- “That’s it,” he grunts. Pulling harder, hips starting to slowly buck. “Keep Going.”

- Driven by his words and that wonderful burn on your scalp, you double your efforts. Picking up speed, you match his rhythm. Baring down, letting him slide deeper with each thrust. Squeezing and playing with his heavy balls.

- First you feel his dick twitch, then his thighs begin to tremble, and…

- Growling, Hayden shot his hot cum down your throat. Curses falling from his lips while you hungrily drink every last drop.

- Releasing him with a wet sounding pop, you eagerly crawl on top of and straddle him. “Happy Birthday, Hay!” You giggle, grinning and wiggling like crazy…some of his ‘frosting’ trickling down your chin. “Today it’s all about you and-”

- A squeak escapes you as your suddenly flipped over. Back pressed against the mattress, caged in by his arms. Tip pushing at your drenched core.

- “Thanks for the gift, angel,” the birthday boy smirks, hand slowly trailing down your hip. “I’ll open it right now.” And with one quick movement, tares off your panties.

Tag List: @espinathena-17, @myheartwillgoon2022, @wifeofasith, @princessswifie, @kenobiskywalker16, @loverforoldermen

[lcriedlastnight]

Enemies to lovers with Oscar

"i'm sick of playing this game with you." "what game?" "the game where we pretend we don't like each other."

ooo okay anon!

tw: fem!reader, me not knowing anything rlly, swears, me heart rhetorical questions tee hee, lmk if there's anything you want me to add, swears.

w/c: 1.4k

daniel had called you nosy but you really didn't mean to overhear oscar and logan's conversation, honest! you were just walking by where both boys were standing and you just so happened to overhear oscar call you annoying.

ever since you had heard those words fall from oscar's mouth you had avoided him like the plague. and it had worked, for two months.

every time you and daniel met for lunch it was just one of those topics that you just had to bring up. even though there had been no new developments because as you had told the older australian boy "oscar was never getting the time of day from you, ever again." daniel just nodded with a knowing smirk. what he knew? beats you. you did not dwell on it too much because that was just a daniel thing to do, always knowing shit that you had no clue of.

daniel had begged you to come to his next race, which happened to be in italy. you said yes, mostly for the gorgeous scenery in italy but if anyone else asked it was to see daniel and support him during the race.

daniel had ended up doing media with oscar on thursday, so both aussies walked in alongside each other while you managed to wrangle a seat in to watch. (you had promised the VCARB team that you would take notes of the media session and that had in turn convinced their media manager).

you hang back a little as you do not want to walk with oscar, just thinking about his stupid face makes you mad so god knows what would happen if daniel forced you both to talk to each other, which everyone knew that was one hundred percent something he would do, just bring bring some drama to the day.

both boys laugh as they make their way inside. oscar lets daniel go in first as the door is pretty narrow, which means you are left behind him. oscar pauses in the doorway as he hears your footsteps approaching.

"hey!" oscar turns to greet you. he always does this. he acts so nice and greets you any time he sees you around the paddock. it confused you to no end for the first month until you realise that oscar must be really fake. sometimes you wish you never overheard his conversation at all because you did really think, before all this happened, that you both could be very good friends.

you do not even acknowledge at the boy as you push past him. you very rarely entertained him. you refused to make a fool of yourself. once your inside you take a seat up the back and take your notebook out, ready to take notes.

you have no idea why daniel even asked you to come and watch, this was so boring. and the worst part was that you actually had to pay attention because you would for sure get a telling off at the very least by the teams media manager and you did not do well with that.

soon it was finished and the drivers head out before the media personnel. you pack your things up and stand up, ready to meet daniel for the usual media day routine, but oscar has other plans and gets to you before you even had the chance to think about avoiding him.

"can i speak to you?" he asks, a little hushed despite the bustle of the room. you look up surprised he was actually talking to you, you really thought that you had made it clear you did not want to speak to him. you hesitate, eyes unconsciously flitting over to daniel who just wiggles his brows back to you. so he was no help in getting you out of this.

"sure, make it quick." you sigh. your arms cross over each other, wanting to let oscar know that you really did not want to talk to him.

"in private?" the aussie tries again, eyes showing hints of desperation and maybe a little nerves? you were not too sure.

"okay, whatever will get this over with quicker." you reply, following him out the room, letting him lead you to what seemed like an empty hallway halfway across the paddock from where the interviews took place.

once oscar stops you stop behind him and lean up against the wall. oscar repositions himself to make sure he is standing in front of you, wanting to make sure he had your full attention for whatever he was going to do or say next.

"well? why did you drag me all the way across the paddock, oscar?" you press, clearly annoyed with him and you want it to show. oscar only huffs then takes a minute step closer to you. really, you would never have even noticed it if you were not staring at oscar. come to think of it why were you staring at him anyway? you have no time to dwell on it though because oscar is speaking.

"i'm tired of playing this game with you." oscar says, it is as clear as day but it was like he was speaking in riddles. were you supposed to know what he was talking about?

you scoff at him. "what? what game?".

"the one where we pretend we don't like each other." oscar frowns as he speaks and you come to find that you do not like it when he is doing anything but smiling. the unhappy expression does not suit him well.

"well you aren't very good at that game. you're always trying to talk to me." you retort and oscar takes another tiny step forwards, towards you again.

the space between you was still big enough to be considered friendly but you seen him move, twice. he wanted to be near you even when you were being horrible to him. the thought sent a shot of something, you cannot decipher what, through your spine.

oscar laughs. he literally laughs at your words. what is wrong with him, one minute he looks like he could start crying and the next he is laughing? you worry for his mental health for a second, maybe the stress from the races had finally tipped the most level-headed guy on the grid over the edge.

"don't know if you noticed but it's pretty hard to stay away from you." oscar is still smiling from his laughter. can he not just say something that does not confused you to end of the earth? what was it with him and wanting to confused the fuck out of you.

"we haven't had a proper conversation in two months.." you trail off. oscar smirks at you. "you been keeping count, honey?" he teases. it sadly works and bring a light flush of embarrassment to your face. how did call you out, why were you keeping track anyway?

"i could tell you didn't want to speak to me so i tried to stay away." oscar tells you, wide eyed and all pretty looking. it makes you mad a little.

"well.. well you called me annoying to logan, so!" you scramble for a reply because you do not really have a come back and do not know what, or even how, to reply to him. especially when he was getting sweet with his words. you are not good with affection. you would much rather avoid any type of romantic feeling towards anyone than fall head first into them.

"i didn't i said that it was annoying how pretty you were. if you're gonna eavesdrop then at least listen to the whole conversation." oscar is teasing you again. you had never seen this side of oscar before but honestly, you kind of liked it. you groan and oscar laughs.

"we'll take it slow, hm?" he mutters to you, like an after though as he takes that final step that has you both standing toe-to-toe. his hand comes up to hold you jaw in a gentle hold.

"how do you know that i even like you back?" you sass, wanting the upper hand back so desperately. oscar just hums and pulls you up ti meet his lips is a sweet kiss.

you have to pull away earlier than either of you would have liked because daniel's giggles could be heard from a mile away.

"knew it!" he shouts up the hallway to you. oscar's cheeks are matching the red on your own. he pulls your head into his chest as he laughs through the interruption.

[dumplingsfordays]

the phone call

pairing - Megumi x fem!reader

genre - smut

summary - you call Megumi one night in hopes of changing your relationship from being best friends to lovers and it ends very unexpectedly.

cw!: nsfw (sexual themes), mutual masturbation, pet names (sweetheart, baby), bffs to lovers, reader has female genitalia, swearing, timeskip to all characters 18+, one (1) mention of voyeurism + hair pulling + tummy bulge

note - back (sorta?) from my hiatus but I won't post content as frequently. sorry to all you beautiful people who submitted asks 😭😭 I'll make sure to do those fics asap b/c y'all are honestly lovely and overall really respectful and I appreciate it! thank you sm for being patient w/ little old me <33

art credit!

and as always, thank you for reading :))

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Quiet sighs escaped Megumi's lips in tandem with the soft breeze outside, whistling against the glass windowpanes. Moonlight drifted across his fair cheek like a silvery veil, making his pale skin glow slightly, and his long eyelashes, a trait that wasn't his favorite but one that almost every girl constantly pointed out with jealousy, fluttered when they met the edge of the light. And then, in the peaceful summer night-

Bzzt. Bzzt.

The raven-haired man sat up in his bed with sudden urgency, hand moving quickly to his phone on the nightstand and picking up.

"Hey, 'Mimi," your sleepy, half-awake voice came from the speaker. "Sorry to bother you but it's kinda important."

Upon hearing your voice, he relaxes - he lays back down and stares at the blank, white ceiling. "Yeah?"

"Uhm, I just wanted to talk to you about something..."

God, your sleep-laced voice was so gentle, sweet, alluring, even. He couldn't help but sneak a hand towards his abdomen to lay it on his stomach.

"Hey, 'Mimi, you there?" You ask all of a sudden.

"Oh, uh, yeah, I'm listening, don't worry."

You must be at your desk working, then, he thought, since you're up this late. Wait, no -- he heard the shuffling of bedsheets or something similar a moment ago. That was you, right? Were you also in bed? Did you also have the ghost of a smile dancing on your lips? Was your hand also laid down on your abdomen? Was it slowly creeping further and further down, until-

He shakes his head, rousing himself from his thoughts.

God, Megumi, what the hell are you thinking? They're your best friend, nobody thinks about their best friend getting off!

...Well, something about that scene was... arousing, almost, to him. The mere thought of you, laying on silk bedsheets and rubbing your clit to his voice, sent a shiver up his spine and he snaked his hand under his boxers. Well, guess he was doing this.

"So, um..." you continued, sighing, "I was thinking. I know that it's probably too late into the night to even be discussing this, but..."

"Yeah?"

He lets out a small grunt afterwards as his fingers come into contact with the sensitive skin of the tip of his semi-erect length.

"...are you okay, 'Mimi? Are you working out or something?"

"Ah, no, I'm just..."

Just, you know, casually touching myself to the sound of your voice. Nothing wrong with that at all. There's definitely nothing wrong with jacking off to your best friend's voice.

"Just, um. Moving my, uh..." His eyes glance around the room and lock onto the bedside table. "My table."

There's a small lilt to your voice as you laugh softly and clear your throat before speaking, and Megumi swears that he just got lightheaded from the rush of blood to his nether region.

"Okay... I was just thinking about, well... this. Our friendship."

He tries not to sound too strained and breathy when he replies, starting to slowly move his fist up and down his leaking cock. "What about it?"

"Well, I think that, um.. you're a really nice person. And I really like you. And recently, I was thinking about what it would be like if we, um..."

You pause, biting your lip. Should you really finish your sentence? What if he takes it the wrong way?

"You can say it. I won't judge, y/n."

"Thank you..." you laugh briefly and breathlessly, fidgeting with the skin on your torso. His words were innocent, but it was the tone in which he was speaking that made your thighs twitch slightly and your mouth dry up. Christ, Megumi always made you feel things that you knew you shouldn't be feeling towards a friend who probably only liked you as one. "I, well... I was thinking that it would be nice if we hung out at some point. Maybe, like... go out on a date, or something... I understand if you don't like me in that way, or if you're too sleepy to decide yet, but I just wanted to put that out there..."

His eyes widen a bit as he hears the word "date", and he subconsciously tightens his grip around himself, Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he swallows. So you were interested in him, too.

"I'd... I'd love to."

He forces down a quiet groan as he hears the pitch of your voice rise slightly in excitement. Unbeknownst to him, your hand slides down your lower abdomen, gliding across your upper thigh.

"R-really? You're not kidding or anything, right? I mean, like... please don't worry about making me feel good about myself or anything, just..."

You hear him laugh softly on the other end, which makes that spot between your legs throb even more intensely.

"Of course," Megumi replies, trying to sound as put-together as he can. "I won't lie to you about stuff like that."

Smiling, you sigh in relief and your hand comes into contact with your inner thigh. After a brief pause, he speaks up again, his voice a little deeper.

"So.. anything fun happen recently in your life? Any new books you've read, or interesting gossip you've heard?"

Your head tilts to the side as a scenario pops into your head at his words. Him, laying next to you, whispering into your ear as his fingers caress your--

"Nope..." you laugh, a little shakily due to the intrusive thought. "But there was this one thi--"

He makes a quiet noise of pleasure and you choke, your fingers finally touching your slick cunny and rubbing it gently.

"...M-Mimi, did you... are you...?"

"Christ, I'm sorry, I-- fuck. I'm sorry, y/n, I didn't-- God, I..." he sighs, regret clear in his tone as he apologizes. "You probably think I'm some creep or something now. Feel free to cancel the date, I don't deserve it anyway after all this."

You swallow and you feel your face redden in embarrassment before answering, whispering.

"Actually, I... I, um, I'm not mad. I-I'm doing the same."

"What?"

His reply is instantaneous, his voice a mix of nervousness, shock, surprise, with the undeniable tinge of arousal. You were going to be the death of him someday.

"I-I'm doing the same. I know it's weird, I..." you trail off, sighing. "I'm sorry too."

"Can we..."

Megumi's trembling all over now, his cock unfathomably hard and standing up at attention in his fist, which begins to pump up and down a little more rapidly. You can hear it very faintly from your phone and you practically gush at the sound.

"...can we, um... keep doing this? And talking? I just... I think that since you're interested in me and I in you, we can satisfy our urges, I guess..."

"Please," you shiver, voice getting softer and more desperate as he talks.

"Fu-uck..." he groans out, biting his lip and looking down at himself. He decides to finally remove his boxers and strokes himself under the blanket, leaning into his phone's microphone as he pants softly.

You, in your own bed, whimper at the expletive -- you knew his voice was attractive, but this? Him swearing, and in that rough yet pleading tone, too, made you unimaginably wet.

"Can you... can you describe it? Please?" you choke out, toes curling as your fingers press against your clit slightly.

You hear him groan at your words again before he replies.

"I-It's standing up real tall 'n warm, sweetheart... it's fucking throbbing, all for you... God, I just wanna bend you over and... shit... just shove my cock into your tight pussy..."

You moan quietly as you imagine the absolute filth of the scenario, how deep his thick cock'll reach inside you... he'll probably be thrusting into you so hard that people on the street will hear the rhythmic slaps of skin on skin from the window of your bedroom all the way up on the fifth floor. And, oh, God, what if he grabs your hair and pulls on it, twisting your back and pulling his face closer to yours to meet you in an intense kiss, teeth clacking and tongues intertwining in this passionate dance for control?

"You're gonna feel so good around me, baby... maybe clench as I play with your clit and press my hand to your stomach to feel that little dent of my cock... you're gonna feel so fucking warm and wet around me..." Megumi groans loudly as his hand does a particularly satisfying stroke around his length, smearing slightly sticky precum in his fist. "Christ, I can already imagine it... I'm so fucking close..."

"Me too," you cry out, rubbing tight circles around the sensitive skin and thighs quivering from the electrifying pleasure. "I'll feel so good, 'Mimi, so full..."

His fist travels up to his tip, continuing the up-and-down motion as he moans shakily. "y/n-- I-I'm gonna-- fuck, think I'm gonna come--"

You whimper in reply, toes curling and forearm flexing. At long last, that wave of heat crashes down on you both, him groaning shamelessly as thick cum spurts from the red tip and onto his fist, and you gasping for air, moaning as you reach your respective peaks. Your body trembles as you're thrown around mercilessly by your orgasm and he can tell very clearly by your voice -- it's high-pitched, desperate, and borderline wanton.

As you both calm down from your highs, the movements of your hands and arms gradually slowing down, you giggle breathlessly.

"This was... ah, certainly something..."

You hear his voice, deep and comforting as he chuckles, through your phone speaker.

"Indeed it was."

"...But we're still going on that date, right?"

Megumi laughs. "Obviously."

[slut4thebroken]

Second Chances

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Emmett x reader

Summary | Emmett takes advantage of your kindness and hospitality.

Warnings | Smut, 18+, non con, emotional manipulation, praise, guilt tripping, very large age gap, painful sex, first time, breeding, crying, bro has hella trauma fr.

Words | 2.5 k

Notes | Direct result of my Emmett brain rot (Also two fics in one day??🫣)

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

“Here you go.” You smiled, handing the steaming mug to him. 

“Thanks.” His voice was quiet as he took it from you and held it in his lap. 

“What’s your name?” You asked, sitting down next to him, hoping you weren’t intruding too much. He paused for a moment, seemingly debating if he actually wanted to make conversation with you and give you “personal” information about himself. 

“Emmett.” He finally said. 

You gave him your name and watched as his eyes dragged down your body, taking in every inch of you. With a blush, you cleared your throat and looked away for a moment to gather your thoughts. “Are you sure you don’t need anything else? Are you warm enough?” He looked over you again with a neutral expression that made you squirm a little. 

“Actually I’m still a little cold. Is there anywhere I could go that’s inside?” 

“Oh- yes! Of course.” You said quickly as you got to your feet. “My parents will be out of the house for another couple of hours so you can use some extra blankets and maybe lay down on the couch for a while.” You smiled. He didn’t return the expression as he stood up and followed you for a couple minutes until you finally walked up a porch to the front door. 

“Okay, let me just grab another blanket and then I’ll start the fire place as well.” You ran off to retrieve a blanket and when you came back, he was sitting on the couch looking around the room. 

He gave you a small “thank you” after you handed him the blanket and you could feel his eyes on you as you walked forward, then kneeled down in front of the fireplace. “You live here with your parents?” He suddenly asked, almost startling you. 

“Yeah. Since there’s three of us, we got our own place. A lot of other people had to share.” He hummed in acknowledgment and you finished up with starting the fire before turning around to face him, finding his eyes already on you. “Can I get you anything else?” 

“This is more than enough.” He said softly. 

“Okay… Well, I’ll let you rest. If you’re hungry I can try to make something?” You offered with a kind smile. 

“Actually I’d rather talk with you.” 

“Oh-” You said, eyes widening in surprise— He didn’t seem like the kind of man who would want to make small talk with a stranger. “Are you sure?” 

“Yes. It’s been a while since I’ve talked to someone like this.” You hesitantly got up and sat down next to him on the couch. 

“Like what?” You asked curiously. 

“So loud… and about things other than survival.” His voice was still quiet, but this time there was a bit of a solemn undertone to it. 

“Oh.” You bit your lip, trying to think of what to say, but not really knowing how to approach this. “You never… had anyone to talk to about normal stuff? Surely it wasn’t all survival.” You can’t even imagine what he must have experienced. When he suddenly looked away and clenched his jaw, you realized that you might’ve over stepped. “I’m sorry, that was— I shouldn't have pried…”

“It’s fine. I had a family, but they’re gone now.” He still wasn’t looking at you. Taking one last sip from the mug, he leaned forward, then placed it on the coffee table. 

“God, I- I’m so sorry.” You said quietly. 

“It’s silly, but… I miss being able to hug them— to hug people.” He finally looked at you again, this time with a sad smile. “I remember the last time I felt someone’s touch… 11 weeks ago.” That must have been when his family died…

“Would you like a hug?” You offered nervously, hoping you weren’t too bold again. He studied you for another moment before nodding. 

“That would be really nice.” Once you had his approval, you moved closer and wrapped your arms around him, letting him do the same even though his wet clothes were starting to dampen yours. He let out a quiet breath and relaxed into the embrace. “Thank you… I’ve been so lonely.” He whispered, making you frown. 

“You won’t have to be anymore. The people here are very kind, you’ll make plenty of friends.” 

“I can tell.” His voice was a little amused now and he pulled back just enough to look at you. “If it’s not too much trouble… could I hug you a little more?” 

“Of course.” You said instantly, then let out a startled sound when he lifted you onto his lap so you were straddling his thighs. You thought he meant more as in for a longer period of time, not.. this…

“Thank you.” He said again, pulling you closer and burying his face in the crook of your neck. You were stiff for a few seconds, still trying to process this new development, but finally you relaxed into him and hugged him a little tighter. “I’ve almost forgotten what it feels like.” He whispered against your neck. 

“To hug?” You wondered, trying to understand. 

“Yes. But also the gentle touch of a woman.” A blush took over your face and you cleared your throat awkwardly. “You know, my wife… I was with her when she passed.” He said quietly. You were already dreading where this was going, not sure you could handle learning about any more of the pain he’s suffered since the start of everything. “I had a really hard time understanding and accepting this… but she said she wanted me to move on. To be happy again.” One of his arms stayed wrapped around your upper body, but the other moved a little lower, pulling you closer so your hips were also flush with his. 

“Emmett…” You said quietly, trying to pull away, but he just tightened his grip and you finally felt the bulge pressed up against your heat. You tried not to gasp at the realization.

“Shh… It’s okay. I just— You look so much like her…” You had no idea what to say. You’ve never been in a position like this before. “I’m sorry.” He suddenly pulled away and you stared down at him in confusion. “I’m sorry. I don’t deserve this. Not after everything I’ve done— everything I didn’t do.” Your lips parted, but no words could come out for a moment.  

“You deserve feeling safe and cared for. Everything you had to do was for the sake of staying alive.” At least you assumed it was. Honestly you have no idea what he’s done. “And it’s not your fault— what happened to your family. You did everything you could.” You said softly and he started shaking his head. “Yes. You can’t blame yourself, Emmett. Maybe that’s why your wife said that to you before she passed… because she knew how much you’d struggle with it.” 

“You remind me of her so much.” He said through a choked sob, making you freeze. You had no idea he’d get so emotional. Not knowing what else to do, you just pulled him back into the hug and held him tightly. “That’s exactly the kind of response she would’ve given.” He croaked. In response, you just hugged him even tighter. 

“It’s okay…” You whispered. “I’m so sorry, Emmett. No one deserves to go through what you have.” 

“It hurts.” He cried, making your heart ache for him. 

“Tell me what you need. How can I help?” You said quickly, not wanting to see him like this any longer. 

“Can I— can I kiss you?”

“What?!” You choked out, making him pull back to look at you. The tear tracks on his cheeks were far less than what you thought they’d be, but maybe they just wiped off on your dress. 

“Please. I miss her so much and… god you look exactly like her.” He whispered, bringing a hand up to cup your cheek. 

“I…” You’ve never kissed anyone before. Are you really about to give it away to a stranger you just met less than an hour ago? “Emmett…”

“I know I don’t deserve it— I know. But I just… it hurts so bad, I can’t take it.” He all but whimpered, making your hesitant expression melt into something softer and more sympathetic. 

“…I’ve never kissed anyone before.” You admitted quietly and you swore his eyes darkened, but it was too hard to really tell. 

“I know I’m asking far too much of you— I know I don’t deserve your kindness,” 

“Stop saying things like that.” You frowned. “You deserve kindness, you deserve to feel loved, just like everyone else.” He stared at you for a moment, his eyes still glossy with tears, then he was suddenly leaning forward and capturing your lips in a kiss. You let out a muffled sound of surprise and brought your hands to his chest, trying to push him away. In response, he snaked his hand around your head to grasp your hair, holding you still as he moaned quietly. 

“I’m sorry.” He mumbled against your lips. You let out another startled sound when he suddenly threw you off of him so you were laying on your back on the couch. Before you could move away, he was crawling over you, kissing you again as his hands roamed your body. 

“Emmett-” You tried to say as you continued pushing his chest, but he was too strong. “Stop!” 

“I know.” He panted before snaking his hand down your stomach all the way to the apex of your thighs. He slipped under your dress easily and roughly cupped your sex, making you whimper. 

“Emmett, please stop.” 

“I will. I will— I just need this. I haven’t been with a woman in so long…” He whispered. “I promise I’ll be fast.” 

“Please don’t,” You whimpered, already feeling tears brimming in your eyes. 

“I know. I’m sorry.” His hand suddenly left your body to open his pants and free his cock, then he was pulling your panties to the side and lining up. 

“Please! I- I’m a..” You sobbed, trying anything to get this to stop. 

“I’ll be gentle.” He promised, then faltered and added, “At least… I’ll try to be.” When you felt the head of his cock drag through your folds, your body went completely rigid. 

“Please! Emmett, please don’t,” You cried, still trying to push him away. 

“Shh…” The blunt head of his cock was against your entrance now, pushing as hard as possible, trying to fit inside you. When he finally breached your opening, his hand slapped over your mouth, muffling your shrill scream. “Oh— fuck… I'm not gonna last.” He moaned loudly, letting his head drop down for a moment. The tears in your eyes were finally falling and you sobbed almost violently behind his hand. Your crying only got worse though when he continued pushing in. 

“Almost there.” He whispered and you let out an anguished sob in response. It felt like you were being ripped open as he continued pushing deeper, a lot farther than what you could comfortably take. “Good girl… Just a little more.” Your body was trembling from the pain and you started clawing at him, trying anything to get this to stop. But he was undeterred. When he finally bottomed out, he let out a low groan that was overshadowed by your cry of pain. 

“I know… I’m sorry. Fuck, you feel so good. Just like how she felt.” He whispered. “I think she’d be happy that it’s you.” He gave you a small smile, then slowly pulled out until only the tip was inside before forcing it back in. 

“Please!” You cried, the word coming out muffled from behind his hand. 

“God- your cunt is so good.” He groaned, picking up the pace, making you cry harder. 

“Stop! Please…” You whimpered brokenly. 

“I know, baby. I’m almost done, I promise.” He said breathily. You tried kicking your legs, thrashing under him, pushing him away, but he was too strong. “Just a little longer, you’re doing so good.” He removed his hand, but before you could scream, he was kissing you again. This time, he shoved his tongue passed your parted lips, licking into your mouth in a desperate, almost feral manner. That, along with the fact that you couldn’t focus on this kiss because of how hard you were crying, made it incredibly messy and sloppy and wet. 

He snapped his hips into you, chasing his orgasm as he kissed you like he’d never be able to kiss anyone ever again, making it feel like you could barely breathe. Mostly because of the kiss, but also because of how overwhelming the pain of the stretch was. He continued kissing you and his facial hair felt scratchy against face, only furthering your discomfort. 

“I’m close.” He whispered against your lips. At least it was almost over. “I haven’t filled up a cunt in over a year.” He practically growled, making you stiffen again. 

“N-no… Emmett, please don’t. Please pull out.” You begged desperately, trying to speak coherently through all of the crying. 

“I thought you said I deserve this? That I deserve to finally be happy after everything.” He frowned, making you falter. 

“I didn’t mean… this.” You choked out, not sure what else to say. 

“I know…” He said quietly, letting his eyes flutter shut. “I’ll try to pull out.” 

“Emmett, please. You have to,” He leaned down and cut you off with another kiss as his thrusts became even rougher. 

“You’re such a good girl…” He murmured against your lips, breathing heavily as he neared his release. “So good. I’m gonna make you mine. I’ll take care of you, just like I took care of her. But we’ll be safe this time...” You shook your head, unable to do anything else. “No monsters, no illness— It’s gonna be perfect. We’ll even have some boys, yeah?”

“No,” You sobbed, quickly feeling defeated. You couldn’t stop this no matter how hard you tried. “Please, Emmett… I just turned 18, I- I can’t…” He moaned quietly when you said that. 

“Shh. Yes you can. I’ll help you, baby, we’ll do it together.” You shook your head in disagreement as you continued to cry. “Fuck,” He choked out, eyes closing again. “Ready?” 

“No— no, Emmett… please. Please pull out!” You yelled, making him curse under his breath. With one final groan, he forced his cock all the way in, pushing up against your cervix uncomfortably. 

“Oh, good girl.” He moaned, lazily rutting into you as he rode out his high. “So fucking good. So tight… milking every fucking drop.” He said proudly, making you cry harder at the verbal reminder that he just came inside you. 

“Emmett…” You whimpered, feeling his cock twitch inside you. 

“Thank you.” He said through a breath. “Thank you so much.” He almost sounded like he was about to cry in relief and that made you falter. This man has been alone for weeks, just haunted by the memories of his family with no real outlet or source of comfort. So when someone finally offered him some… he jumped at the chance immediately. You probably would’ve done the same, had you lost your entire family. 

“And I meant what I said. I’m going to keep you safe this time, I promise.” He said quietly, reaching down to feel where his cock was bulging your stomach— where a baby would be growing soon enough. “All of you.” 

[catch1ngmoths]

๋࣭⭑: GROAN 𖦹๋࣭⭑:

♪ ༘⋆“And yeah, I wanna spend the night with you. Yeah, I wanna feel a beating, bleeding heart, don't you? Because I've never really known but I pinky-promise you I'm grown, and I wanna know what it feels like” -dazey and the scouts ♪ ༘⋆

SUMMARY: Basically just a joost Klein x Fem!virgin reader fic

WARNINGS: Smut, PIV sex, female anatomy, joost is a flirt, very soft, reader is a virgin, pantie stealing?

NOTE: oh my god…I AM SO SORRY FOR MY 4 MONTH ABSENCE!! I HAVE MISSED YALL SO MUCH, I’ve just been so busy but this concept with this song has been rent free in my head, so here yall go! Also there are 34 requests in my inbox so idk if I’ll make all of them but I might finish some of those, IDK!

‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹ ‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹ ‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹ ‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹

Party’s. You hated most of them, they were always too loud or there were too many people. Too much going on. Too much. Which is why you were sat on a random couch in the middle of a party that your friend dragged you to, picking at the skin around your nails. You let out a wince as you peal away some of the skin you relentlessly attacked, furrowing your brows. At least this was an excuse to get up and do something, you thought as you get up to stumble your way through drunk people into the kitchen.

As you look around for a napkin, paper towels, something, you hear someone clear their throat behind you. You turn around with slightly widened eyes to see a tall guy towering a few feet behind you, he had a whitish - blonde short mullet and piercing blue eyes. “Er - are you looking for something?” His accent made your knees weaken. “Oh! Well is there any bandages or paper towels? Something like that?” You ask with a polite smile

“Ah yes, come come, follow me.” He responds, with a smile that calmed any nerves about being here in the first place. You follow him through the drunken crowd of people, trying to be as close behind him as you could. He finally leads you to a small bathroom, looking through the cabinets before smiling back at you and pulling out bandages for you to pick from. Of course you pick the y/f/c one, and wrap it around your finger. “Thank you…..” you trail off, waiting for him to say his name

He chuckles, sitting himself on the edge of the bathtub, motioning you to sit down as well. “My names joost.” He says, resting his chin on the palm of his hand. “That’s a nice name.” You say with a small smile, following his motion and sitting next to him. “And yours?” His accent just makes you weak, mentally cursing yourself for the way you’re reacting to this man you only just met.

You tell him your name with a smile, he repeats your name and mumbles a quiet “mooie” under his breath. You swear your heartbeat is so loud it could be heard through the music that’s thumping through the walls. “Why do you seem so upset? I noticed you earlier… you don’t seem to be enjoying this party too much?” Joost questions, shifting to turn more in your direction.

You smile at him, playing with the bandage on your finger, “I don’t do well with parties, there’s always too much going on for me” you respond, looking back at him and his intoxicating features. “Ah.” He says, his smirk turning into a small smile. “Not one for crowds then?” Joosts eyes scan yours, taking in how much smaller you are compared to him, more fragile. As if one wrong touch and you’ll break into tiny pieces, he’s pulled out of his thoughts with the sound of your voice again.

“What about you, how are you liking this?” you say with a smile and a head turn. “Me? I don’t enjoy it either, I’m only here because the host is one of my friends.” He replies with a shrug and a smile. Joost takes a second to look you up and down, noticing your outfit, how cute you look. “I like your outfit, by the way.” He comments, tilting his head slightly.

You light up at the compliment, a small smile playing on your lips. “Thank you, I wear things like this often.” You say softly, “It suits you, you look….” He pauses to look you up and down - he knew what he was doing, a sorta familiar feeling finding its way to your stomach. His eyes darting to your lips, not as subtly as he thought.

“Is that my turn to give you a compliment?” You tease, noticing his eyes. He looks into your eyes, his smirk never faltering. “Sure, hit me with your best shot, schat.” You hum, seemingly thinking of a compliment. Then after a beat, you speak. “You have really nice lips.” The words come out before you can stop them, it wasn’t really a lie though, but you curse your inner voice for having no filter. His smirk turns into a full on grin at the compliment, his eyes flickering to your lips once more before looking back at you. “You think so?”

“I do.” You say, trying to sound nonchalant about it. A shiver runs down your spine as his gaze lands on your lips, you could feel how he was eating you up just with his eyes. One of his legs was almost pressed completely up against yours, you could feel the heat from him as he leaned slightly closer to you. The air suddenly felt too hot in the room, his eyes never leaving yours.

“You know…you’re very easy to make nervous” he teases as he puts his hand on your knee. You try to speak but it comes out as a stutter, too distracted by his touch. “Y-Yeah?” You say quietly, your heart starting to hammer in your chest as he rubs your knee. He hums in response, his hand moves up further before resting on the inside of your thigh, the touch making your breath hitch again. “Yeah, just look at you getting all worked up by one little touch.”

You could feel heat rush to your cheeks at his words, how true they were. Your thighs instinctively close around his hand as it slowly starts rubbing your inner thigh. “Can’t help it.” You murmur. The only response he gave was a small smirk as he moves to face you completely, his hand now moving to your hip and grabbing it lightly.

You and him are now facing each other, you’re basically sitting on his lap with how close he has you. His hand is on your hip, the other one grabbing your chin, forcing you to look at him. His eyes are dilated and staring straight into yours, your body is practically on fire and on edge with how close he is to you. Before he could speak your lips are on his, the drinks you drank earlier making your judgement fuzzy.

As quick as it started you pulled away with wide eyes, “oh god…I’m sor-“ you go to speak until his hands pull your face to his, smashing his lips onto yours. Strong breaths leave both y’all’s lips, whimpers, and moans as well as y’all grab at each other. It’s a desperate tango of lust, “you wanna get out of here.?” He asks against your lips between heated kisses. “Uh huh..” you mumble, not trusting yourself to say words.

Before you knew it, you both were stumbling through the crowd to the front door. Joost was already on the phone with the taxi place as he walked out with you. Some people gave weird looks, some smirked in knowing, but most were too focused on themselves to care about the two pushing past forcefully. As you and joost got outside his lips were on yours once more, it looked like the beginning of a sex scene in a movie.

His hands roam your body feverishly like if he slowed down you’d disappear, while your hands were busy tugging and pulling at the hair on the back of his head. Lips were working on overdrive, a tango of lust and desperation bottled into harsh kisses. Finally the taxi pulls up and both of you part ways, getting in the taxi.

It was a ride full of tension, both you and joost looking over to one another every now and then. His fingers rubbing circles on your thigh, it was odd. You both felt a sense of longing towards one another, for only knowing each other for not even 30 minutes. It was a feeling that both of you felt in your stomachs, a feeling of not just lust but affection.

For you it was multiple feelings deep in your stomach, feelings of excitement, nervousness, awe, and lust. It made your head spin and your brain feel foggy but you didn’t have time to think too deep into these feelings since the taxi had pulled up to what you assumed to be joosts house. You both got out and as soon as your feel hit the floor, joosts hand was interlocked with yours.

You giggle as you get pulled to joosts front door, legs making long strides as smiles paint both y’all’s lips and laughs leave y’all’s mouths. He fumbles with his key as you stand with excitement and fear, you’d never done this before and felt everything inside you yelling to run away from this but your body craved his touch. He opens his door and pulls you inside, you smile against his lips as he connects them again.

You both stumble towards his bedroom, taking off clothes in a frenzy as y’all go. You finally reach the bedroom and are placed on the bed delicately like you were made of glass, I work of art that couldn’t be broken, not in his eyes at least. He leans down to kiss you once more but you furrow your brows and pull away, “joost…wait..” you mumble against his lips

He breathes heavily as he looks down at you, his eyes now flashing concern, “are you ok, do you wanna stop?” He asks, holding your face in his to get his point across that this can stop at the sound of a word. “Yeah - I’ve just, I’ve just never done this before..” you say as you bite the inside of your cheek anxiously, your eyes half lidded. His gaze softens tremendously as he smiles softly at you, “if you don’t want to do this then it’s no problem at-“ you cut him off with the vigorous shake of your head.

“No! I do…I just - you know.!” You blurt out, you had no idea what you were doing, how this would feel, what would happen. He sensed this as he nods at you, pressing a soft kiss to your head, “I’ll be gentle and walk you through it if you’d like..?” Your heart melts and nerves turn to giddiness, you nod and flash him a thankful smile. “I’d really like that..” you mumble against his lips as you press his glossy lips to yours

His shirt is already off and so is yours, you feel his lips licking and kissing at your neck, then the valley of your breasts, your soft tummy, and down until he reaches your skirt. He looks up at you and you swear you can die right here, right now in paradise. “Can I take these off schat?” He asks softly, you give a hum and nod but he doesn’t take that as an answer. “I need a yes or no baby” he smiles at you, he was gonna make sure you were sure about this the whole way through. You squeak out a weak, “please..yes”

He smiles and pulls them off with excitement, licking his lips at the sight of your clothed pussy. He kisses your clit through the fabric, admitting small sounds from you. He kisses and licks through the lace as he groans at the visual of your outlined pussy. He looks up at you once more for confirmation, your voice is shakey as you nod your head. He slowly pulls them off, teasing you before stuffing them in his black jean pocket. He breathes against your cunt before licking a proud stripe right up the center, you let out a whine and grab at his hair. He moans against your pussy, the vibration making your eyes roll back.

He works like he was starving, eating you out like I’d be his last meal but still finding a way to be gentle. His free hand rubbed shaped into your hips in a soothing manner, you could feel his smile against you as you let out a particularly sweet moan that makes him want to stay between your thighs for eternity. You soon feel an unfamiliar sensation in your stomach, grabbing harsher at his hair as you blabber words he couldn’t make out. He knew what was about to happen but didn’t want to make you too sensitive on your first time, he kisses your clit before pulling away.

You whine and shake your head, tears threatening to fall from your eyes in pleasure and frustration. He takes multiple visual pictures of you in this state, hoping to remember this forever. He kisses your cheeks as a not-so-guilty look fills his eyes, “I’m sorry honey, don’t want you to be too sensitive” he mumbles as he pulls off his belt and pants, leaving him in his boxers. You practically droll at the sight of his cock through his boxers, he was huge and you didn’t know how you’d be able to take him.

He sees your wide eyes and whimpers and chuckles, “don’t worry baby, I’ll be slow” he says softly before pulling off his boxers and climbing over you, cooing as he kisses away the sneaky tears that spilled from your eyes. “Are you okay; we can stop right now if you want to” he says cautiously, looking at you seriously. “No no, I want to - just be gentle please” you say softly making him look down at you in awe

“Wouldn’t be anything else with you” he says as he kisses you sweetly, pumping himself a few times before grabbing a condom and slipping it over his dick before asking you if you were ready and kissing your head. After you give him one final confirmation he pushes into you slowly, you wince at the pinching feeling, your eyes watering. He coos and rubs your cheek with his thumb, “shh shhh it’s ok, I’ve got you” he says, nothing but affection in his accent filled voice. He stays still for a few moments, kissing all over your face and mumbling words of encouragement and reassurance in your ear.

He finally speaks up with a genuine tone, “can I move now?” You look up at him and nod, he raises his eyebrows and smiles at you. “Y-yes, you can” you confirm verbally, he lets out hum of approval before slowly moving in and out. A shakey groan leaves his lips as his mouth falls open as he holds onto your waist, pressing soft kisses on your nose, forehead, and closed eyes. You whine and squirm under him as the feeling of pain slowly disappears and turns into pleasure.

His touch, his eyes, even his voice is gentle, as his dick moves softly inside you. The sound of skin slapping together along with moans and groans fill the room, he whispers words of praise in your ear and makes your heart feel full along with your body. “Your taking me so well Schatje, so so good” he moans out as he interlocks your fingers with his, his body embracing you in every way he could. Your moans get more high pitched, making him smile down at you, kissing your head. “J-joost I-“ you can’t find the words as you feel a weird sensation throughout your body before your eyes squeeze shut, tears flowing from your eyes

Joost thrusts a little faster and deeper, making you whine at the feeling of being so full. You feel a spark of pleasure fill your body as you squirm under him, letting out a loud moan. His thrusts continue but gently making you dumb on his cock. He follows shortly after, the hand that interlocks with yours squeezes as he cums, his brain short circuiting at the feeling of you around him. He mumbles words in his language you can’t make out as he holds onto you tightly.

He holds you in his embrace for a few minutes, both of you trying to catch your breath as you look at one another with adoration. “Are you okay baby?” He asks, making you smile at the pet name, “m’okay” you mumble quietly as he pulls away from you, your body suddenly felt empty and cold at the loss of warmth. “I’ll be right back” he speaks as he heads to the bathroom to grab something to clean you with, he returns with a washcloth and wipes you clean. His lips find your clit once more as he presses soft, loving kisses all over the swollen bud. You whine and he chuckles, “sorry schatje, couldn’t help myself” he speaks as he lends you some of his oversized clothes to wear

You both dress lazily before he pulls you into his warm bed, his arms wrap around you as your face is buried into his chest. His fingers rub your back soothingly as he whispers loving words into your ear, but the only thing you could think about was where this relationship would go from here. You wanted to see him again after this, you didn’t want this to be a onetime thing - neither did he….

‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹ ‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹ ‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹ ‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt behind the cut; "Tim's free cloning lab". (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“Red Robin’s commitment issues are his own problem, not mine. I’ve got a schedule to keep,” Luthor replies dismissively, then knocks back the last of his hopefully-actually-a-protein-shake-and-not-Bane-venom-or-something and gets to his feet, picking up his tablet again as he does. He does not seem concerned to be alone in a lab full of sharp objects and computers with two only negligibly-restrained Bats. Admittedly Luthor doesn’t tend to seem concerned during literal multiversal apocalypses, but Tim is vaguely insulted on principle. A multiversal apocalypse couldn’t do any worse than uncreate Luthor and everything he’s ever done in his life, after all. He could tank his stock prices and drive up all his insurance rates, and then make him have to live with it. 

A little respect isn’t that much to ask, is it? 

“Wow, called out by the supervillain,” Steph mutters to him under her breath. “The Metropolis supervillain, even.” 

“I do not have commitment issues,” Tim mutters back to her. 

“Yes you do, the issue is you commit yourself to somebody and then become an insane person about them but never actually mention the existence of said commitment to them,” she retorts frankly. 

“I do not–” 

“When did you go for the red and black suit again and how long did you stick with it?” 

“. . . we’re in a supervillain lair in Connecticut, I don’t have to answer that right now.” 

“Oh, so you will later?” 

“So anyway, new supervillain trap, how’s that going for you?” Tim asks Luthor. Steph snorts at him; he ignores her and all her baseless, ridiculous, baseless accusations that are definitely not currently reading him for absolute filth. “All coming together nicely, no tech issues? Because we could troubleshoot those for you while we’re waiting for extraction, no charge.” 

“The chemical breakdown of the necessary stabilizer you missed when you were cleaning out my old labs is laid out in file B-2.13, speaking of ‘troubleshooting’,” Luthor mentions, and Tim . . . pauses. 

“‘Stabilizer’,” he echoes carefully, and then glances around the sunroom lab. The sunroom cloning lab. 

The sunroom. 

Ah. 

That is probably a connection he should've made, like . . . literally instantly, yeah. 

“Oh my god, do you think you can actually convince Red Robin to make you another–wait, why do you even want Red Robin to make you another Superman or whatever, you did it better than he ever did,” Steph says, squinting in bewilderment at Luthor through her mask. Tim’s much more insulted this time, even if it’s objectively true that Kon is objectively–never mind. Luthor just looks dubious. 

“I don’t want another Superman, there are already far too many of those running around and being an issue as it is,” he snorts dismissively, waving her off. “And I’m willing to provide a useful little resource or two, of course, but it’s hardly traditional to have to make my own grandchildren, now is it. Besides, Supernova won’t be as annoyed about it if they come from you. Though I did include some potential design notes for your consideration in the C folder, of course. Streamlined the tactile telekinesis a bit, for starters. It really didn’t come out as effective as intended, unfortunately.” 

“Of course,” Tim echoes, perfectly aware of that one time that Kon took apart every single gun inside the exact city limits of Los Angeles and nothing else without even meaning to, and also that one time last week when he very much did mean to disassemble a bomb immediately after its trigger mechanism had been tripped, and did it so fast that it didn't detonate. 

So as politely as possible, that makes Luthor’s use of the word “effective” slipped in there a little mind-numbingly terrifying to consider. 

More than anything else, though, Tim really hopes that he’s just gone insane and hallucinated all this, because otherwise he’s going to have to write all this down in a report, and Steph will not lie for him about this one. 

Case in point: she is currently laughing her fucking ass off at him.

[ghostarii]

ECSTASY, FULL OF FREEDOM, PIERRO & CHILDE

ʚɞ unbound in the throes of ecstasy; free from strenuous morality and worldly tethers, you are where you belong. he knows your heart is strung on another, but he also knows that he can’t please you the way he can.

WARNINGS ݈݇- fem!reader, stepcest, AGE GAP!!!, stepdad!pierro, ft. boyfriend!childe, ddlg themes, daddy kink, spit, possessive!pierro, infidelity, fingering, exhibitionism, face - fucking, dacryphilia, breeding, dry humping, manipulation, corruption kink, finger - sucking, cum eating / swallowing, spanking, praise, degradation, pet names, orgasm ruining / control, just.. just icky pierro, minors & dc antis do not interact.

NOTE ݈݇- ummmm 😅😅😅 welcum back me i guess ! ! !this is prob the most debauched thing ive ever written so nice comments n reblogs would be happily appreciated :3 this went a totally different way than i planned toward the end n it got pretty rushed but i hope u guys like it anyway

WORD COUNT ݈݇- 10.2k

BURNING, WHITE, HEAT. A surge of hellfire courses through your veins and it takes every semblance of power in you to not explode. Your thighs are tightly clenched, attempting to crush his ministrations but dexterous fingers are lengthy enough to continuously tease you. A featherlight brushing against your folds is enough to make you shiver against the warmth. You damn near slam your elbow on top of the table and bash your forehead against your palm, hiding the pleasure on your face as best as you can.

Pierro thinks you must figure him as a fool. He must be stupid to you—a blind idiot—if you think you can get away with this. He stifles down a grunt of disbelief with a sip of his water, deciding to no longer pay attention to the slight quakes of your body.

His eyes are instead fixed on the source of your tremors: the smug redhead who thinks he’s so clever. His left arm lightly jitters behind the table and if he were an idiot, Pierro might have ignored it. He might have ignored how close you two got. He might have even ignored the moans you quietly let slip. But he is no idiot. He is perceptive and right now, he is very angry.

He tries to hide it, to keep the daggers he stares at bay but his patience is thinning by the minute. Ignorance cannot be bliss when it is infiltrated—Pierro tries to turn a blind eye to your deeds but he is not allowed to. When the quiet of the upscale restaurant meets its lowest and your conversation has briefly halted for the allowance of enjoying your meal, his ears can pick up the leaking, sticky path your boyfriend’s fingers take. The sudden hitch in your breath and the calm slosh, slosh from between your legs is a dead giveaway and he can't help but look. He can't help but chew the inside of his cheek instead of his steak and grunt. Anything but, and he might blow the lid off his pristine demeanor.

Those eyes are sharp and you narrowly avoid their threat. You keep your eyes straight and only rarely do you spend a glance at Ajax. He finds pleasure in the way you tighten around his fingers when he presses that spot, right when your mother inquires about another insignificant detail about his life. He likes how you scratch the denim of his pants instead of the table, wordlessly begging him to stop as he brings you closer and closer—

It feels too good; the edging, the twirling, the danger—it births a reward too precious to sacrifice and that's why you don't stop him. You soil your panties and make a fool of yourself, making your mother pause the conversation one too many times to clarify your well-being. It’d be humiliating if it didn't feel so good.

With your thighs tightly clasped around his wrist and your heartbeat pounding through your clit, your orgasm just teeters at the edge, stray streams leaking to be caught on Ajax’s hand. He sends you a look of faux concern and you can just barely fight the urge to bare two rows of teeth at him menacingly.

With your thighs tightly clasped around his wrist and your heartbeat pounding through your clit, your orgasm just teeters at the edge, stray streams leaking to be caught on Ajax’s hand. He sends you a look of faux concern and you can just barely fight the urge to bare two rows of teeth at him menacingly.

Pierro, who has utterly capped his limit on how much of this shit he can take, opens his mouth to spew a question that may just humiliate you if you don't play your cards right. He’s a jest—his fun derives from the toil of others and you are his perfect target right now. Serves you right.

The words are quickly snatched from his mouth to his wife’s as soon as the words form on his tongue. A look of disdain is fought off as she tenderly asks you for the nth time, “Are you sure you’re feeling well, sweetie?”

You can lie to her with no problem. To him is where the difficulty arises and this moment, where your eyes have glossed and your body has folded, he could have blown up your whole spot. Ajax plays off the hand between your legs as though it’s on your stomach, using his right hand to gently rest against your shoulder and slowly pull you up.

She’s the idiot Ajax thinks Pierro is. The kind, not-all-there, and not wholly caring idiot who lets dirt build right under her nose—it’s no surprise that she lets you off with that pitiful “I’m okay…just some bad cramping,”.

“I’m sorry,” you breathlessly apologize, presumably coming down from your high. “I should…I think we should cut this short. I’m honestly not feeling too well…”

“Are you sure? You don't..wanna finish..?” Ajax asks you. The smile he hides peeks out behind his feigned frown and the innuendo immediately dawns on you.

Flustered and more embarrassed than you thought you would have been, you lock in your eyes a pitiful stare of Enough. As if that would stop his torment.

His hand slides from between your legs and rests against your thigh, sticky, wet fingertips tapping against your thigh…taunting you. Questioning you.

Your mother patiently awaits your answer as her eyes swivel around in search of a waiter while Pierro continues his glaring assault. There's a narrowing of his eyes that he continuously enacts, as if to warn you, to beg you to try it if you dare. Disobeying him is a thing you've never done but this sly motherfucker beside you has pushed you to try your luck.

“I mean…I do want to—but, I don't think I can. At least, not here, not right now…” you slide your bottom lip between your teeth gingerly, pleading eyes boring into Ajax’s. A look that’s commonly reserved for Pierro, and for the first time, angers him to see it.

Ajax fights back his grin but fails desperately. He nods, turning to face your mother and stepfather. “Well, we should get the princess home and taken care of, shouldn't we?”

Your mother takes the time to gush, drawing out an amused awwww at the pair of you, wrapping around her husband's arm and leaning against it. “How sweet! Isn't he sweet, Pi?”

Staring directly at you, with nothing but a blatant grimace, Pierro nods. “Very sweet.”

Timidly, you avoid his gaze. It does you no favor, either way.

She continues her rambling and all of it goes in one ear and out of the other. Pierro cannot stop staring. Ajax whispering in your ear and the grip you have on his shirt. The glisten that’s wiped off his fingers and thrown haphazardly atop his meal scraps. The devious, wide smile that hasn't been shaken this entire encounter…

Pierro has never wanted to slap someone more. Even more so, he’s never been this angry with you.

“You got the bill, right, hon?” Your mom asks him, the first one of her sentences to penetrate his thoughts.

You and Ajax are standing beside the table now, his hand comfortably resting low on your hip and your body slotted against his. From where he sits, Pierro can smell you. The familiar, decadent sweetness wasted against your thighs calling out to his memory and begging the perversion to rise from the dark recesses and take you against the table— and it only gets worse when he raises his sight to look at you, only to be able to catch the slightest glimpse of your soaked panties pushed to the side.

He looks you in the eyes, a look you hate to see awaiting you when you return the favor.

Pierro nods, turning to your mother with an almost pained smile. “Of course.”

Back to the two of you, gaze sharpened and narrowed, he continues, “You two should go on ahead.”

Ajax is quick to take the dismissal with a cheery grin. One that—more than anything else tonight—pisses Pierro off. “Ah, thanks, Mr. A! Here,” he takes a minute to fish his wallet out of his pocket, “For our part and the tip,”

To you, his attention turns. “Are you ready to go?”

You say nothing but nod instead. Your eyes can't help but surf to your stepdad and you almost offer him a look of pity—a gleam of sorry in your eyes. He spares you not a single look, and with Ajax’s upbeat parting words, the two of you slip away hand-in-hand.

Your mother’s smile is proud. It’s proud, and certain, and genuine, and it makes Pierro angry. Right now, he could expose you to your mother and make everything worse.

“I like him, hon. For her, especially…I’d say it’s perfect but I don't wanna jinx it,” your mother giggles. Pierro’s eye twitches. It takes everything in him to relax because, truly, Ajax has done nothing wrong.

He might be nothing short of perfect and possibly the best thing that could ever happen to you and yet, Pierro can't find it in himself to be happy. That anger is a gnarled form of envy that paints him green. And it’s by the grace of God that nobody but the only one who matters can see that fervent shade on his skin.

He keeps up the charade with your mother with another strained smile. “Yeah, good for her.” He sounds less than enthused but for her sake, she does not pry.

Pierro wants to hate Ajax. It makes it so much harder that he cannot.

━━━━━━

Pierro’s eyes are a beautiful shade of blue. A crystalline gleam—meant to light up under the sky and shimmer like a star of hope. Looking into his eyes gives a cool mystique that urges you to get lost in them. Oftentimes, you do, finding that at the end, awaits you is a warmth far too comforting.

It’s different when those eyes glare back at you. Boring into your very being with a scrutinizing narrowing over every little mistake. The dimness of the house intensifies their stare to the point that you can feel them before you see them.

Your breathing is almost shallow as you trek up the stairs and your eyes are wide and shifty. Your heartbeat has turned irregular and is skipping beats—the mere uncertainty he imposes working overtime in unnerving you. Pierro is not nice when things don't go his way. Even worse, he’s unpredictable. Mostly, he’s vile.

What awaits you is only a mystery that you wish to leave boxed.

Approaching him at the top of the stairs, you slide your hand into his gingerly, hoping that the kindness will grant you some leniency. “I’m sorry I’m late..” you gulp. “I— We— Ajax had stopped to—”

With your hand in his, Pierro has power over your autonomy. He pulls you into him, using his left hand to slot against your waist and hold you against him. Everything he does is in complete silence and it unsettles you.

His eyes rake over you time and time again in the same span of seconds. Your face, near fearful and apologetic, to your upper body, stiff and unsure, to your lower half, turned in on itself and now, of all times, prioritizing modesty. Now, you seem to have an ounce of shame and Pierro can't call it anything but pitiful.

He lets a beat of silence pass with you in his arms. “You’ve disappointed me.”

You part your lips in a silent gasp, wholly surprised that he hasn't tossed you around yet. To his statement, you respond with a light clutch of his button-up — and to that, Pierro huffs. He’s not hearing your crocodile tears and unenthused excuses so you can save it.

“I’m upset that you let that happen. You let him touch you like that in front of me…” His fingers tickle up your back and you instinctively press into him more. A frown stretches over your face - mostly out of concern for where this is leading. Partially because his words genuinely do hold weight.

Raising your head to meet his eyes, “I’m sorry, Daddy,” leaves your mouth incredibly timidly.

His eyes are softer when meeting yours. It almost seems as though he’s immediately forgiven you and in the wake of that thought, you feel better. You feel like leaning into him further is no longer a gesture of fear but comfort. So you lean impossibly closer, nuzzling your head against his chest comfortably. His feigned sense of security has you under his palm like an idiot — a blind fool in the lion’s den.

“Did you like it? Did it feel good…better?” He purrs, lips moving against your head as he kisses you. That's enough to muffle his words but you hear him clearly. The tenderness he exudes works to juxtapose against his instigating words.

“Well…”

“Well?” He catches your trail. He tightens his arms around your body and traps you against him.

It’s almost oppressive; you’d say so if it wasn't for the familiarity it brings. But it contrasts with the grit in his tone — a sharpened edge prodding at you menacingly, just waiting for you to say the wrong thing to impale you.

With a gulp too audible coming from you, you shrug warily. As much as you want to, you can't lie to him. “It wasn't better…but it wasn't bad…”

Humorous. What a humorous attempt at trying to not anger him further; Pierro has to stifle a laugh at your expense but you can feel the humility.

“Did you cum?” He asks straightforwardly. His left hand trickles down your back and brushes against your waist. His fingers brush the hem of your skirt out of the way and slide to grope your ass, using one finger to slip between your thighs and collect the wetness. At that, he notes the lack of underwear. You, so daring, so racy, let that asshole take your panties as a souvenir. His voice grows deeper—angrier—as he inquires further. “Did you cry his name? Maybe you called him baby. Maybe daddy—”

“No!” You interject, a bit too loudly, at that. “No—I didn't. I would never.” Because you’re my daddy—you choose to omit that part.

He only laughs. Somewhat menacingly, but brightened when your eyes catch his grin. “Do you want me to praise you for that?”

“Do you think you deserve that?” There’s no escaping his questioning; you're trapped. He knows you hate being talked down to—you hate the confrontation, the disappointment, the dissatisfaction with you and he does it on purpose. He catches the way you avoid looking at him and blink rapidly, airing away the mist that comes to paint your eyes.

It takes you a moment to shake your head no, your entire face dropping at the action. You were wrong, you were bad, and now he won't be nice to you. He's going to use you, he's going to fuck you up and make you wish you'd denied Ajax altogether.

“I’m glad you know that.” He says, condescendingly. “I’m going to show you what you deserve.”

With his gruff admission, the hand on your ass grips tighter and you gasp silently. When your eyes meet once more, he sends you a look that you know all too well: one you can't say no to, and one you’ve grown to not ever want to say no to.

Your toes are bent as you push yourself up to meet his face, arms naturally sliding up and around his broad shoulders.

Lips closer than they've been in weeks and eyes locked more seriously than this entire night, you two fall into a pit of risk, leaning closer and closer. You try to lean in and he only offers you a ghostly peck. Breaths fanning each other and lips gingerly caressing the other, Pierro utters out one last request: “Say you deserve it.”

He controls your body spiritually — a carnal desire is unleashed within you that makes you stupidly want him, pressing your lips against his softly, wantonly, “I deserve it.”

It’s obvious that you give into him. Stumbling into that bed of forbidden desire, tangling in the sheets of lust.

Pierro wastes no time in pulling you into your bedroom, covering your tracks with the hallway light flickered off and your door locked. He’s overzealous and nearly rips your clothes off of you, every touch housing a raging, impassioned fire.

You let it happen — letting him guide your way and taking control. Your mouths slot and move alongside one another disgustingly perfectly and if it didn't feel so fucking right, you’d grimace and scream your head off. Instead, you take him down with you, gripping the collar of his shirt and pulling him on top of you, needing him more than you should.

The world becomes a mere distant memory as he licks into your mouth, finding your tongue to dance with and suck on. Your legs stretched around his body allows him to bunch your skirt up, grinding his clothed hard-on against your bare cunt. Kisses are subsequently broken by squeaky moans and you, a puddle under his touch, can do nothing but that—leaning your head back when the friction overcomes you and kissing back is no longer a priority.

Sloppy, wet kisses trail from your mouth to your cheek, then to your ear, then down your neck, then to your collarbone. Your somewhat modest neckline is then pushed out of his way, allowing him to lay a barrage of kisses against your skin.

No words are exchanged verbally but in every action they’re screamed. Pierro wants to lay claim on you, to purify your body after being defiled by the redheaded miscreant you call a boyfriend. You went out of his sight and returned with a pest on your hip and nothing besides anger overcame him. In all its jagged forms: envy, bitterness, resentment, desire—Pierro had been waiting to take you down again, to remind you who you truly belong to.

He sucks and nips fervently at the skin until you whimper and wince and unknowingly confirm the existence of a mark there. An uneven, ugly blotch to claim you as his.

This is repeated across the expanse of your neck and chest, an uneven pattern drawn in his wake. When he pulls off of you, your face is knitted in shocked pleasure and your body chases him: hips bucking toward the air in desperate search. He hangs over you, using one hand to grab your cheeks and squish them up. You're so fucking cute, he could chew you up—among other things—but right now, he coos menacingly at you. “Cute.”

When he fully removes himself from you, sitting beside you, you know what awaits you. When the clattering of his belt hits your ears, you know what you need to do.

What you need to do is show your daddy his place in your world; so, begrudgingly, you sweep yourself up onto your knees.

His hand comes to the back of your head to softly cradle you and you lean into it, fluttering your lashes at him in hopes of receiving his leniency. He, however, is a punisher, and your knife in his back won’t be forgiven so easily.

“You’re so lucky I even touched you,” he grits. His thumb strokes your cheek and creates this sense of security. It’d be calming if you didn't know him. “Am I not enough for you anymore?”

“You are,” you pout. “It’s just—I like Ajax, too. I’m confused…”

He sits up slightly, capturing your glossy gaze in his. “Do you like Ajax or love me?”

His eyes flicker to your clutched thighs and you cower slightly, feeling the regret caving in your chest. The pout you sport curves wider and Pierro almost smiles at how easy it is to dig at you.

You open your mouth to answer but he shushes you, shaking his head no. The hand on your cheek runs to your backside and palms your ass, slapping the flesh with intensity. The sound rings off of the walls and the impact resounds in your body, rippling through with an itching sting left in its wake. You whimper and look up at him, watery eyes meeting a merciless crystal blue. Tenderly rubbing the spot, he continues, “Show me.”

You do what you're told and that's what Pierro cherishes about you. That's what makes him red in anger at the pure idea of you showing this to anyone else—being this for anyone else.

Ajax doesn't deserve a sweet girl like you. He can't take care of a sweet girl like you.

And you can't take care of a man the way you take care of Pierro. He won't allow it.

You manage to pull his cock from behind the waistband of his boxers. He’s pulsing furiously in your palm and the weight he carries makes how feverishly he’s been needing you painfully apparent. He leaks a creamy stream of pre and it awaits your attention. Just the light hold you keep on his shaft elicits a groan from the man and his hips involuntarily buck upward, wordlessly signaling his need for you.

The slightly salty bead swims onto your tongue as you kitten lick the tip, gingerly beginning to stroke half circles around his cock.

He clears his throat, slamming his palm against your cheek again, “Don’t tease, baby. Take it in.”

You oblige his request and slide him onto your tongue. You hollow your cheeks and grimace as you try to fit as much of him into your mouth. Slobber dribbles out of your mouth and cascades down his length, creating a moat above the hand you keep tight around his base.

The longer you keep him there, the harsher your gags get — you sputter around his girth before pulling up for air, gasping in a dramatic heap of air. He chuckles at you and uses his thumb to wipe away a string of spit on your cheek.

“You can do better than that,” he coos. “Go deeper.”

Again, you pull your lips as wide as they can stretch around him. You try to swing your tongue around his girth as skillfully as you can accomplish, swiping at the prominent vein that beats for you.

He groans out a curse, throwing his head back while simultaneously gripping the back of your head. “Deeper,” he growls.

You try to slink deeper, but he presses at your reflex, a messy series of gags slopping around his dick. Still, you persevere: unfolding your lips to wrap around his girth and suck harshly.

“Shit,” he drawls, pushing your head down further. “Just like that; you’re so fucking good for Daddy.”

Your hands move to his thighs and attempt to claw at them, but you're left gripping his slacks. Your mouth quickly becomes tired as you try, and the light bob you facilitate grows weak. Subsequently, Pierro takes control: placing both hands on your head and pushing you down.

You swallow around him but it doesn't subdue the echo of your gagging. He bottoms out in your mouth and you can do nothing but sputter and choke, letting a lake of slobber spill down his length.

It becomes messy extremely fast with Pierro on the reigns. He thrusts into your mouth in tandem with pulling your head down, creating a nasty rhythm that you can only be a variable to.

“That’s it, princess,” he praises breathily. The smile you try to make goes unnoticed, but the swarm in your stomach doesn't.

He’s relentless and desperate, only offering reprieve when your eyes grow foggy and your breathing shallow. His hips stutter and his balls throb—Pierro is on the brink of pleasure that no amount of imagination can give him. Your mouth is a warm piece of heaven that warms and leaks all over him, soiling his pants in a mixture of spit bubbles and precum. It’s nasty, but it’s your nasty: something only you can do for him. He has you in the palm of his hand, doing exactly what he wants, being exactly who he wants you to be, and he couldn't ask for you to be more perfect. His palm cracks down again on your ass, almost as a sign of commemoration.

Gray brows are furrowed and knitted and the struggle to keep his eyes trained on you is real. Every time the back of your throat squeezes around his cock head he chokes on a guttural moan, your praises gliding off his tongue like butter. The arrangement is near perfect and it’s doing its weight in placing pleasure upon the man. He’s at pleasure’s mercy and finds himself in the pits of thought, stumbling upon the feeling of love. Pierro has found true escape in you and everything you can do for him and that is why he can't let you go.

He can't let you go—not when you whine around his dick and send him the most perfect vibrations, pushing his orgasm over the edge.

“Oh, shit,” he hisses. He holds your head tightly in place, not allowing you a bit of space to move as he cums. “Take it all…yeah—”

A series of hushed, deep, groans escape from his mouth as thick splashes of cum spill into your mouth. The spurts pool on your tongue and the fullness of your mouth becomes too much to bear. Your warning slaps on his thighs let him know to let you come up, and with your cheeks bubbled to hold his release, you breathe your first breath of cool air.

He chuckles at your expression, holding out his hand for you to lean into once again. “Open up.”

You take a moment to swallow before brandishing your tongue to him. He grins proudly, glaring at you with a soft expression. You wrap your hands around his arm, kissing the heel of his palm before nuzzling your cheek against it again. Fluttery eyelashes are passed at him as you gingerly inquire, “Did I do good, Daddy?”

“Great, baby.” He confirms, sitting up. “I knew my girl could do it. You always can, always so good for me.”

The praises go straight to your core and reawaken the unfinished business he left you with. He knows what to say to make you melt and unfortunately, you do. Melting in his palm makes you susceptible to anything he says. It's only a given that when he asks you again, “You’re going to be my girl forever, right?” you answer immediately with a strong nod.

At that, his confident grin grows and he leans forward, pulling you into a kiss.

The taste of his cum is prominent on your tongue and he sucks the flavor off, gathering it in his mouth before distributing it back into yours. It's nasty and he repeats it until your head is hazy and you're chasing his lips. His hand around your neck is able to hold you up just centimeters away from his lips.

“Don’t forget who you belong to.”

━━━━━━

Yellow is your color.

Pierro thinks the color compliments you beautifully—like you were meant to bask under a golden kiss of sun. He likes the way it snugs in your curves, unable to hold back your supple skin with its thin tethers. It’s too much for the world to see — a sight supposedly for Pierro’s eyes only — but you trot around without a care in your bubbly head. That, in itself, does not bother him; Ajax on the other side of the door, does.

Ajax catching you in his arms bothers Pierro. The man can't help but stare from his viewpoint, following Ajax’s wandering hands from the small of your back to the curve of your ass. He unabashedly palms the skin and you only giggle, smothering his face in welcome kisses and strawberry lipgloss.

When your feet are back on the ground, you're nuzzling against him as if you’re scared of detaching from him, and he wears that same coy grin as always, wrapping an arm around your body as you begin to lead him toward the backyard. You speak indistinctly and Pierro’s envious glare seems to have no effect on you. Ajax senses it, however; and as though he is throwing it in Pierro’s face, he pulls you closer as his free arm raises to wave at your stepfather: “Hey, Mr. A!” Leaves his mouth cheerfully.

The grimace Pierro wears is only half-stifled and he doesn't care to fix his face. He nods at the young man, “Hello to you too, Ajax.”

You avoid his gaze skillfully but that look of guilt is not missed. That only irritates Pierro further: his thick eyebrows furrow and his lips waver downwards. If you know it's bad, why do you keep doing this?

It must be a beckoning of his attention—and if that’s the case, you have it wholly in the palms of your hands.

Again, you speak hushedly to your boy toy. Pierro’s eyes hone in on the movement of your lips: so soft, so tender, so kind as they murmur against Ajax’s ear. Whatever you say is undetermined by Pierro — but judging from the stiffly excited mannerisms Ajax thereafter enacts, he can only imagine.

“We were going to head out to the pool…” Finally, you address him.

Confidence is strongly prominent in your voice despite your trailing off. Compared to the soft, undefiant tone you usually direct toward your daddy, your strength is all-telling: Ajax has built up an over-confident backbone in you. Not so luckily for you, Pierro has no qualms about breaking it down.

So, instead of shooting his ire through glaring daggers, Pierro smirks. He smirks and shrugs with one shoulder, following the action by gulping down the final swig of his midday pick-me-up. “Alright then,”

“Have fun.” The words are supposed to be encouraging but, if anything, they're daunting.

The air gets tense, noticeably so. Ajax awkwardly clears his throat and the intense staring match you and Pierro hold is severed. Your eyes shift to the ginger and you force a convincing grin to pull at your lips. “Let's go.”

Ajax lets you lead the way, purposely avoiding looking at Pierro. In your thirty-second trek to the backyard door, his gaze only intensifies. Holes are burned into your back and you shoot straight up when his voice calls out to you again. You act as though you're in a horror movie: slowly turning your head over your shoulder for fear of what awaits your back end.

“The guests’ll be arriving soon,” he informs. “Your mother’s going to be back and finish setting up out there.”

His information seems to be his acknowledgment of your transgressions. You plan to defile his claim on you in the very home he takes you down in—he’ll be damned if you cross that line.

You’re playing a dangerous game with no incentive for you. As he departs, stalking away upstairs to get a clear view of your actions from his office, the thought that maybe, just maybe, his frustration is your incentive, brings a smile to his face.

That thought dawns the idea on him that he has created an insatiable, debauched monster, and it's in his hands to tame her.

To you, you don't know what you're doing.

You like Ajax. You like the way he treats you, the way he talks to you, the way he touches you, the way he kisses you—you’re chasing his lips desperately as he pins you against the wall of the pool, wanting to take him under the water and drown with him. Maybe then, that icky turmoil brewing in your stomach would subside.

You like Ajax; you want him. But you need Pierro. Even as your boyfriend kisses you feverishly, your eyes are wide and glued to the second-story window that you know Pierro is watching you out of.

He gives you something that you hate to require. Those big, buff arms wrap around you, and those chapped, experienced lips speak words of comfort to you that all your life, you've only ever wanted. Pierro promises to love you forever, be there for you forever, and protect you forever — he promises to be the sole male constant in your life: the only man you’ll ever need. You're inclined to believe him because he’s made everything you've ever wanted come true. But—Ajax; those things can come from him, too.

His kisses are softer than Pierro’s but just as impassioned—if not more. He’s receptive to your impatience, licking his way into your mouth and tangling his tongue with yours messily. Moaning into your mouth to let you know that the tugs on his hair feel good, gripping onto your waist to grind your clothed cunt against his knee, pulling apart and cracking a smile at the connected string of spit that hangs from your puffy lips, telling you in a hushed whisper “I missed you,” to butter you up and melt you in his palms. Ajax is nicer with how he treats you. He kisses down your neck to punctuate his sentence. His kisses halt their trail at the apex of your collarbone, leaving his eyes to peer up at you wantonly.

“I missed you too,” you breathe out. You did miss him and his delicacy. Your eyes flash up to the window and you feel relief at the unmoved curtains — returning your gaze to your boyfriend and smiling at him. Inviting Ajax to your parents’ pool party was your way of convincing yourself. What happened between you and Pierro can be replicated with someone who you can be with and someone who can be with you.

What you want is that trophy love: that pedestal in someone's heart for every envious eye to watch you atop of. You want to be loved loudly and proudly, and Ajax can do that and so much more, for you.

You tangle your fingers in his hair and he leans into your touch, craning leftward. He looks at you with wide, beating hearts in his eyes, and you bite your lip to hold back a smile. “I think we have a few minutes alone…”

Those hearts turn into a mischievous sparkle, “I can work with that.”

Quickly, he’s reconnecting your lips as his right hand wanders from your waist to beneath the fabric of your bikini bottoms. You gasp into your kiss as his middle finger surfs through your folds, immediately prodding at your entrance.

“Don’t tease,” you whisper, briefly looking over his shoulder. You catch a glimpse of movement behind the curtains and it halts your breath. “We don't have time,”

He laughs against your face, smooching from your lips to across your cheek and to your ear. He nips the lobe just as he pushes the tip of his finger in and you move your hold onto his shoulders, gripping tightly. His tongue flicks gently at your ear as his finger slowly inches in, and with its slender length, beats of quiet breathing and airflow pass before he’s knuckle deep. “You wouldn't mind getting caught,”

The digit is swiveled around before he presses the rough pad of his finger against your gummy sweet spot. You hold in a moan by biting your bottom lip but the sound leaks out in weakened whines. “You never have before.”

Anyone could see what you're doing and that thought births nothing but excitement coursing through your veins. Your pleasured scowl quickly stretches into a grin— and Ajax catches it, kissing your chin.

Soon, your hole is accommodating the entrance of his ring finger. The digits are thereafter scissored inside of your pussy and the water around the two of you ripples furiously. Your boyfriend has never been particular about being discreet and this occasion is no different—if anything, he’s showing off. At least, Pierro seems to think so.

Pleasure blinds your eyes so the man standing in the window is missed by you. Every bit of your awareness is being fingered out of you; Ajax’s agile fingers dancing around in your hole seemingly spooning out your senses. Nothing, save for the hot source of ecstasy pooling in your core, matters to you. You're grinding down on his fingers, whining out wantonly as low as you can but it's in vain—your sweet, pleasured hymns can be picked out by Pierro’s ears.

It irritates him but he does not stop watching. He can't—not when you're about to cum and you're gripping so tightly on Ajax. You're leaning over the edge of the pool and scratching your back against the rough gravel with desperate abandon. The movement of your lips is unidentifiable from his distance, but knowing you, you're probably pitifully begging for him to make you cum.

Ajax has the liberty of controlling your pleasure and he does so amateurly. When you plead once again, babbling out his name, Ajax obliges. He says to you, unheard by Pierro, “I’ve got you, baby. Cum on my fingers.”

His fingers curl and roll against your spot and your moans are ringing out unabashedly. If your mother or the guests were to arrive and stroll up your driveway, there’s no doubt they wouldn't be able to hear your laments over the bushes. Carelessly and blissfully, you sing your boyfriend’s praises as he presses you toward your climax, wriggling his fingers inside of your tightened hole through your orgasm.

Pierro watches you shake and jump under his touch and his eye twitches. Here you are, parading your freedom in front of him again. He’d turn you out and worse in that pool if it wasn't for your mother. She is his way to get to you and if she were to find out how he defiles her daughter in ways he doesn't dare do to her, he’d be deprived of his vice.

He doesn't notice the white knuckle grip he keeps on the window sill until his fingers begin to ache. Pierro is envious of a red-haired prick half his age and size and he couldn't be more embarrassed. It would be you—only you—to make these juvenile feelings rise so fervently within him.

The way Pierro feels for you is skewed and indecent and so, so raw. It’s unexplainable in simple words and he doesn't dare waste his breath on telling you sugary things to make you stay. He claims you, bares all of his imperfections to you as you do him, and anchors you to the bottom of his endless pit of debauchery alongside him. Yet, you can still swim out of his grasp and into the slimy hands of another like-minded, perverse predator and that won't do.

His body is moving before he can scramble up an excuse to intrude on the two of you. Unaware of his appearance, you're slipping your hand into Ajax’s swim trunks, passing your thumb over his slit featherlightly.

He sighs out shakily, grabbing your forearm. “We shouldn't start something we can't finish.”

You, full of confidence and arousal, flash your signature, convincing doe eyes up at him. “We should’ve thought about that earlier then.” You rebut, leaning in to kiss him just as you begin to pump his length.

Pool water is terrible lube but the softness of your hand makes up for it: Ajax is moaning into your kiss and lazily bucking into your hand. God, everything is so perfect right now. The warm sun, the cool water, the sweet breeze, the—

“You two already got in?!” Suddenly, the back door is sliding open and your mother steps out, hauling two large shopping bags in each hand. You and Ajax jump apart, trying your best to turn around and meet her inconspicuously.

She seems to not notice, but Pierro, who comes out after her, has that knowing look that when it greets you, all nervousness centers itself in your bones. Your mother had beaten him to the back door by a mere second. Had it gone his way, the two of you would be pissing yourselves shamefully.

Ajax picks up the slack of maintaining your cover: picking his feet up off the pool floor and kicking off the wall, swimming toward your mother. “Yeah, sorry, Mrs. A!” He apologizes, hoisting himself out of the pool to assist her. “We just wanted to test the water,”

He nods at you to come join and you quickly follow the notion, hopping out of the pool and walking around to where they stand. Your mother pulls floaties and noodles and boxes of miscellaneous decorations out of the bags, setting them down on the ground and table. With her gaze focused downward, you and Ajax are able to share looks over her back: his eyes sending you an assured glare and wink and yours sending back worried gleams.

“We’re good,” he mouths, and before you can give him a response, your mother stands up.

“How was it? It’s not too cold, is it?”

This time you answer her. “No; it was perfect.” You say, giving Ajax a look that tells him your words were meant for him.

Unbeknownst to your games, your mother cheers. “Great—I’m gonna freshen up and get changed. Can you…” she trails off and motions her hands around the abundance of new items. You catch her meaning and confirm her request with a nod.

As quickly as she appeared, she walked off and back into the house. Her missing frame gives Ajax the space to step closer to you, inching his hands around your waist as he rests his chin on your shoulder.

It's a gesture that, in all of its inherent sweetness, carries a suggestiveness that has you giggly and ticklish. You're unable to focus on the task in front of you and are instead fighting off the needy kisses from your boyfriend.

“Stop…” you laugh, your voice sounding wholly unconvincing.

He ignores your request, instead nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck and kissing the skin tenderly. “I can’t stop,” he says, muffled. “You got me started—”

He squeezes you tighter and deepens the kiss on your neck. His tongue flicks and flattens against the skin and your smile flattens as you sigh out, instantly melting into him. Ajax knows just how to weaken you, a power he shares with Pierro, and you are too weak to fight it. Those kisses are targeted at the perfect spot that fogs your brain and withers your standing. Your mouth wavers as he marks a hickey on your skin, and the smallest, weakest moans tumble out of your mouth.

“Ajax…” you whisper warningly, “We can't.”

“We can.” He argues, moving from your neck to behind your ear. He knows just how to tempt you and just as susceptible as you are, you fall for it. “Where’s your room?”

You go to answer—but the sight of him in your peripheral has your mouth drying up.

Pierro finally takes his first step outside and the sight he beholds is sickening. His left cheek is balled around his tongue and his eyes are as critical as ever. You have to pat Ajax’s thigh to alert him and he’s pulling off of you, his pale complexion flushing a blazing red. “M-Mr. A! Uh—”

Uninterested in his haphazard excuse, Pierro cuts him off. “Your mother is asking for you.” Eyes boring into you elicit every bit of shame to course through you in hot embarrassment.

Without another word shared, you scurry off into the house, passing Pierro with only a brief brush of your skin. You can feel the irritation radiating off of him and you shudder under that realization.

You've made a mistake. A very, very big mistake.

━━━━━━

All you want is to be with Ajax. Wrapped in his muscular arms, under the crisp sun and the chill breeze—sipping on homemade lemonade and biting into flaky club sandwiches—it is all so perfect, so right, for you. With him, nothing goes wrong—and yet, nothing ever goes right.

Pierro never seems to lag too far behind the two of you. After assisting your mother in picking which sundress to slip into, returning to blissful, summer day peace with your boyfriend proved difficult.

You find him beside the grill with Pierro, awkwardly chatting it up with his hard-on painfully raging against the inside of his blue swim trunks. And just as you appear to pull him away, Pierro magically fishes up a task for him to do.

“You can't go with him,” he says. “The kids are getting antsy. Why don't you bring out some popsicles?”

And so you do. Returning with a bag of popsicles and handing them out to the numerous children running around your backyard. And when you finish, Ajax returns, huffing out deep breaths and dripping sweat. Luckily enough, one cherry popsicle was left over.

You’d finally managed to get Pierro off your back—your mother and her girlfriends required his immediate attention in the kitchen and drew him away from the backyard. So you and your lover are offered a moment of reprieve.

You straddle his lap, peeling the plastic off of the popsicle and tapping the treat against his lips. He’s receptive and takes the popsicle in, collecting the flavor on his tongue. You watch him intently, locking eyes with him and keeping that contact as you pull it away, leaning in to catch the taste of his mouth.

The cherry flavor is abundant and even sweeter on his tongue. Keeping it PG is out of the question when you're sucking on his tongue so feverishly—no longer chasing that cherry taste but instead him. You need him bad and judging from the twitching in his cock, he needs you just as bad.

“Baby,” he grunts, using one hand to cup the small of your back and the other to bring the popsicle back to his mouth. He tries to halt the subtle gyrating of your hips but you are determined to slot his shaft between your folds through your layers of swimwear. “It's too risky out here. Let’s go to your room.”

You laugh, beating him to it and briefly wrapping your lips around the top. “I never thought I’d hear you say it's too risky,”

“But, okay,” you sigh out, pausing your ministrations and sitting flat on his lap. “Let's go, then.”

Eager as could be, the two of you gather your things off the lounge chair and race to the inside of the house.

Successfully, Pierro’s attention is missed, and you make it up to your bedroom. Once the door is closed, you're jumping onto the bed with abandon and begin making out feverishly. Hours of built-up tension come crashing down upon you as he pins you down, wedging between your legs and rutting desperately against your pussy.

“Ah,” you moan out, arching up into him. His head is buried in the cavern of your chest, suckling and smooching along the valley. Your skin is supple and easy to latch onto—he’s losing himself in your scent and softness and taste. You pull at his hair, jerking your hips upward for more. “Please, ‘Jax; give it to me—”

Unbeknownst to you, Pierro is on the prowl. Hours have passed like minutes and soon the sky has melted into a rosy yellow and the guests have slowly begun to peel out.

His eyes search for the pair of you and upon coming up empty, his attitude is tweaked.

“Honey?” He calls out to his wife. As he returns to the inside of the house—sparing brief dismissals to the parting guests—he feigns sweetness toward her.

She, still occupied in the citywide gossip among her girlfriends, only lazily pays mind to the inquiry of her husband. “Um, hold on, dear—Tiff did what?!”

The group of women laugh and continue explaining the messy affair of some woman named Tiffany and Pierro could not care less. He doesn't care about Tiffany’s affairs; it’s yours that calls monopoly over his mind.

You must have been able to sneak off with your boy toy. Curse your attention-hogging mother. Had it not been for her, you wouldn't have been stripped from beneath his palm so stealthily.

Once he gets his hands on that ginger brat—

“I think I saw them go upstairs earlier.” She says it so passively, so dismissively, Pierro almost digests the information normally. Almost.

He doesn't even know which question to pose to get the answer he wants. So, he doesn't. He lets an irritated grumble fall from his mouth as he turns on his heels. Useless. She is ultimately useless and it’s times like this where Pierro wishes he’d met you first.

His footsteps echo up the stairs but to your jaded ears, they're nonexistent.

You sit atop Ajax now, rocking feverishly back and forth along his cock. Your hands are planted on his chest and his hands are on your waist, aiding you in your grinding. This is more passionate and needy than any other experience you've had with Ajax thus far, and the weak babbles of his name tumbling out of your mouth prove that.

Friction builds furiously in your heat and sends electric waves splashing through your veins. It’s what you've been looking for all day: a climactic, ardent affair to invoke the most needed orgasm of your life.

Maybe with this one, how you feel will be solidified.

You're rocking hard, knocking your headboard against the wall. Pierro can hear it as he approaches the top of the stairs and he wonders how much audacity you have.

The next few seconds are a blur: his footsteps approach, and so does your orgasm. You cry out your boyfriend’s name as he encourages your climax, and Pierro wraps his hand around the doorknob. You throw your head back as your orgasm seeps through the floodgates and the door swings open.

So far gone, so unaware in your blissful paradise that Pierro’s looming figure behind you doesn't matter to you. His presence is intense and suffocating and over your shoulder, Ajax catches the sight of him and stiffens up. Their eyes lock and every daring bone in his body is snapped to hustle you off of him. “Babe—”

“What?” You huff out, breathlessly. “I-I’m so close, ‘Jax—please…”

You peel your eyes open against their heavy will, looking down at your boyfriend. That shadow cast on the wall ahead of you catches your attention first. You recognize the silhouette but it isn't until you peer over your shoulder and catch that icy glare that you're all too fearful of—now, anyway.

In your shocked jumping off of Ajax, you manage to roll off the side of the bed and collapse to the floor with a screechy yelp. Ajax struggles to get himself together: fumbling around with his clothing and jaggedly standing up. “M-Mr. A—! I—”

The look Pierro sends has him clamming up and nervously laughing. There's no need for excuses or coy innuendos—you’ve been caught. Now, you need to be punished.

Without a second glance back, your boyfriend scrambles up his things and takes his leave. You want to call him back in, but all courageous function ceases to work before him. With Ajax gone, it's just you and Pierro, and never has that thought scared you before as it is now.

He closes the door and takes short, heavy steps toward you. You stay on the floor, folding your legs behind you and using your planted hands for stability. At this, the difference between the two of you is exaggerated: he stands tall and big over you, the curled bambi caught between a rock and a hard place.

Dense silence hangs in the air. Your lips quiver and shift, as though a jumble of words wish to spill but you don't allow it. You don't allow those tears that mist your eyes to fall out either, rapidly blinking back the flow of guilt. Just the unsure air he imposes makes you want to burst into tears and plead your case.

He continues to say not a word; taking a seat on your bed and only using his hand to direct you onto his lap. The motion is so small and insignificant but it terrifies you no less. Pierro is a jest: a jack of unforeseen trades and when he is ticked off, every nasty card up his sleeve comes out to play. You find yourself obliging with your head hanging low, saving yourself the intensity in his eyes.

When you sit, his arms embrace you. They slink around your waist and hug you into place but they are anything but comforting. It’s suffocating, it’s tense.

A moment is taken to breathe you in. Burrowing his nose against your neck and scrunching the feature distastefully at the overwhelming spicy scent atop your soft skin. Ajax— you smell like Ajax.

“I thought I made myself clear the last time.” The deep timbre of his whisper rumbles in your spine. It startles you straight and the confrontational air pulls out your weakness. You hate trouble, you hate being bad, you hate how he does this to you.

His breathing is soft on your neck. It tickles but it doesn't make you want to laugh. You want to cry and beg for his forgiveness. I’m sorry, Daddy, I really am! You think to cry. I’m yours, your good girl, Daddy!

Nothing comes out of you, so he continues. “I give myself to you because I care about you. Everything you could ever need is right here with me, so answer me: why?”

Your expression is pained and guilty. He knows you better than you do and he knows how to sucker punch your heart. You thought your day with Ajax would clarify the conflicting feelings in your heart, but your time with Pierro unwinds all assurity.

Tears roll down your cheeks and you struggle to put together a sentence. “Daddy…I—” you hic, a sob tumbling over your words. You turn into him and string your arms around him, weeping onto his shoulder and soiling his shirt. “I-I'm so confused…”

“What are you confused about?” His question holds not an ounce of sympathy. Still, he soothes your back with his palm, ushering out every guilty tear you weep. “I do everything for you, with you, to you—what could he be that I couldn't?”

Kind, gentle, tender, freeing. Ajax is the silk breather in your synthetic cage. He gives you a bright, lightening feeling that, against Pierro’s uncharted depths, saves you. You can't tell him that you’re finding love in Ajax. He’ll raise every dead flaw right out of you.

“Tell me what to do to make it better.”

You don't even notice his hands slipping under the cups of your bikini top. Your nipples are caught between his fingers, softly being tweaked and pinched until the tight pebbles stiffen the bud. Your cries gradually subside until you're sniffling and hiccupping, noticing his absent-minded ministrations and pulsing cock under your ass.

The worst part about realizing your position is that you don't want to escape. Maybe letting him have his way with you again will lessen the load on your shoulders. Anything to blur the confusing lines.

“Has he ever seen you cry like this?” He asks. You shake your head no. “He wouldn't even know what to do to make it all go away, would he?” No—you shake your head no. “What would you do without me? Huh?”

“I don't know.” You’d be normal, maybe. You wouldn't depend on him to fix what's always breaking inside you. You'd love and date and experience life without the debilitating crutch of your daddy there to hold you back.

With Ajax, nothing goes wrong but nothing goes right. With Pierro, everything goes wrong but everything feels so right.

So skewed, so lost, so unfounded, your relationship is the pinnacle of gnarled. He is the leader of your abyssal path and yet, also your savior from it. A world without him in it is hard to imagine — and when you're on his lap, in his arms like this, it’s hard to want to imagine it.

“You don't ever want to know, do you?” Again, no—you’re shaking your head no as though it’s the only motion you know how to do. “Then stop driving me away. Let me love you.”

He’s kissing over your skin, palming your boobs softly. It’s familiar and safe and you know that in the end, he’ll still be there. Etched in your skin and mind, reminding you that there's someone to fall into when life becomes too much. You can lean into Pierro with security—and just like that, all of your valiant agency is melted away.

“Okay,” is the only word you say, and it's the only word he needs.

━━━━━━

Nine days. Pierro has called you twelve times, texted you thirty-seven times, and has lost his mind three times in the nine days that you've been gone.

You're mad at him, he understands that now. He pushed you and drove you away, he understands that now, so why can't you answer his calls and talk to him?

“She needs space,” your mother says. She wraps her arms around him from the back and smoothes the wrinkles in his shirt. “She’s grown and in love and needs her space to flourish, Pi. Don't suffocate her.”

Okay. He would have left it alone at that. When you need him, you’ll come back; you always do.

But your mother could not let well enough be. “Besides, she’s with Ajax. They’ll be keeping each other company while we…”

The rest of that was lost in his head. Evidently, Pierro is not getting across to you. When he spoke to you that evening of the pool party, that was to be the last time that redhead’s name was thought of, and, yet, here you are, running into his arms.

It wouldn't drive him crazy if he didn't have you first. If everything you've ever known and done wasn't by his hand. You are his little girl, his prize at the end of a tiring marriage, his happy ending after a long day, his.

His instant joy— Ding!

Pierro’s phone is in his hand in seconds. The deep snores of his wife let him know that tiptoeing away won't be necessary. Your name, decorated in a sole red heart, pops up two more times, and before he unveils the messages, his mind swirls with the string of excuses you're probably typing out.

The texts are short and insignificant when he lays eyes on the attachment. A three-minute and forty-eight-second video with your glossy, smiley face in the thumbnail. He swings the door of his office shut and sits down, immediately pressing play.

You're giggling in the immediate beginning before your laughs are morphed into a string of moans. The angle fixates on your face, downturned and droopy in pleasure—a face Pierro is all too familiar with. Catching sight of it on the other side of a phone is angering, to say the least.

Wet slopping is heard in the foreground, competing with your moans for volume. It’s slow and romantic—in and out, in and out, in and out—each thrust eliciting a shallow hiss from behind the camera and a pleading whine from in front of it. The angle shifts just as he breathes out, his pale hand drifting from the side of your waist to massage your clit. “Like that, baby? That good for you?”

You hum in confirmation, bucking up into his hand. “S-so good—mmfh, ‘J-Jax—!”

He laughs behind the camera, zooming into your sloppy cunt. You're dripping: thick, glossy beads of slick pooling in your slit and spilling around his dick. It shines a gleaming reflection under the light of the flash and Ajax is quick to rapidly rub through and splash your arousal around. The clicking sound that elicits is viscid and resounding but the pleasured sobs you choke out are louder. He moves the camera up to your face, streaks of tears splashing down your hot cheeks.

His fingers intrude between your parted lips and you immediately slurp your arousal off his fingers. “So nasty…what if daddy saw you like this?”

The tone in his voice is teasing- patronizing, as though the total wreck you are before him is a joke. You open teary eyes to stare into the camera, a wide grin pulling at your lips around his fingers. Your pupils are wide and blown: an endless, dark pit of lust that when appearing on the phone seems as though it’s entrancing Pierro.

Your hands wrap around Ajax’s forearm—and you moan one last time around his fingers, swiveling your tongue around the digits before pulling them out. You bring his hand to wrap around your throat, grinning wide. Those lustful eyes leave the camera and presumably to Ajax behind the camera and your lips part slowly. “You are my daddy.”

“Oh, fuck,” Ajax mutters behind the camera, and the stability of the angle wavers. The pair of you share breathless laughs.

That motherfucker, Pierro thinks, gripping the phone tighter. In the final twenty seconds, Ajax curses under his breath, putting your pussy in view. His pace is a lot sloppier and desperate now and his voice cracks as he moans your name. “‘M gonna cum—”

You draw out a sharp whine, using your fingers to pinch and feverishly flick your clit. “Please..” you breathe out. “Cum in me, Daddy.”

The video ends. Pierro cannot believe his eyes nor his ears—you—he can't believe this.

He doesn't bother reading the next incoming messages. He’s already racing downstairs and yanking his keys off of the hook.

Pierro’s a jest and the joke is about to be on you.

[spaceshipellie]

easy mode (smut)

ellie williams x reader

minors do not interact!! 18+ content

brief summary: smut with plot. reader is terrible at video games but gf ellie offers a ‘reward’ if you complete it.

cw: ellie being a tease, fingering and eating out (r receiving)

note: this is the first smut i’ve ever posted so please be nice lol i hope you enjoy!

faintly beneath the sound of music coming from the speaker that sat beside you whilst you painted, you could hear ellie’s curses and game rage from the next room. 

she was probably playing that apocalypse game again. you really wanted to try but knew you were shit at any video games involving shooting and aiming. 

however, you couldn’t distract yourself from her voice, and after staring at the same corner of your artwork, you decided to give up and pack the stuff away. you were in a restless mood for some reason. you either needed to move and go for a walk or get some attention from your girlfriend. if you were being entirely honest, right now you’d rather have the latter. 

after packing away the paints, you crept quietly to the door of ellie’s game room. hearing you come in, she quickly took a glance at you before averting her eyes back to her screen.

“hey babe,” she said. you were right. she was playing that game. 

“hey.” you took a seat on the sofa next to her set up, scrolling aimlessly on your phone. engrossed in the game, she continued playing, under the breath curses filling the room. 

after a few minutes you hear the creek of her chair as she turned to face you, game paused. 

“you okay?” she rolled her chair forward slightly so she could poke your leg with her foot. 

“yeah.” you adjusted how you were sat to sit forwards, pulling her closer by her knees, leaning on them and looking up at her. she smiled down at you and brushed a piece of hair behind your ear.

“what’s up, baby?”

“nothing, i just got bored of what i was doing and wanted to see you.”

she leant down and kissed you. she had that little smirk on her face before pulling your arms up to wrap around her neck, subsequently pulling you up from the sofa all together so she could hook her hand around the back of your thigh and pull you onto straddling her lap. the way she sits back in her game chair and looks slightly up at you like this was ridiculously hot.

her hands find their place on your hips and she leans into you to kiss you again. slightly more heated than the one before. 

“you wanna play with me?” she says after you both pull away, fingers toying with the hem of your jumper, slipping under it. 

“you know i’m crap at games like that.” you laugh.

“i’ll help you.” 

“you’ll get frustrated at me.”

“no i won’t,” she pretended to be offended. “come on, babe, it’ll be fun.” she pulls you tighter to her, arms fully wrapping around your waist.

“okay.” you kiss her. hands on her cheeks. “okay fine, but i’m warning you, i’ll be stuck on the same part forever.”

she laughs and playfully pats your ass as you get off her to sit in the chair next to her. the arms of your chairs bump into each other as she picks up the controller and leans into you. 

“okay so this is to move, crouch, run, look around, aim, and shoot,” she says, pointing and toggling with the various buttons. she looks at you and smiles at your slight wide eyed expression. 

“you got it?”

“uh, yeah,” you take the controller from her. “so move, crouch…”

“that’s run.”

“okay, run, crouch?”

“yep.”

“look arou- no, shit that’s move.. look around, aim, and shoot,” you beam looking up at her, excited that you got it right, and she’s already looking at you. 

“well done, babe. now you have to play,” she says putting a hand on your knee that’s touching hers. 

“okay okay okay,” you repeat, sucking in a breath.

“you don’t have to be nervous.”

“i know! i just get stressed, everything happens so fast, i can’t coordinate my hands.”

she laughs at your rambling and gives you a quick kiss on the cheek.

“right, ready?”

“yes-no! wait,” you say abruptly before she can hit ‘play.’

“what?”

“can you put it on easy mode?”

she smirks at you.

“to start with at least?” you give her a pleading look.

“sure. right, ready now?”

“yeah.”

she hits play and immediately you start making the character run around aimlessly, not really sure what to do.

“do i want to be looking for stuff right now? or is someone going to come out and shoot me?”

“you wanna explore this bit and find supplies and ammo and stuff,” she explains.

“will someone come out and attack me?”

“maybe.” 

“fuck.”

“it’s okay,” she laughs again.

you played for a moment just running around exploring the abandoned buildings. 

“you missed some stuff in there,” ellie pointed.

“oh, how do you know?”

“when you get kinda close to stuff it shimmers a bit meaning you can interact with it, see?” she says as you get closer to the items.

“oh yeah, i see, thanks.”

“now you should be able to craft some stuff if you press this button.”

“okay, what should i do?”

“bombs are helpful and arrows.”

“how do i know when i need to craft stuff?”

“you see up here,” ellie points on the screen, “it says how many items you need of what to make something, so after you’ve picked up a few things or if you’re about to be fighting some guys then check if you can make anything.”

“okay, thanks,” you smile, feeling like you’re getting the hang of it and make the character walk through a crack in the fence.

“this is fun–oh fuck fuck no,” you blurted out seeing that this new area was covered in people. 

you hear ellie laughing next to you. “okay you’re going to have to probably stealth and kill a few guys through here.”

“what do i do?”

“first go behind that car or something and crouch… yep, good, now figure out how you want to go about it.”

you looked at her a bit dumbfounded and panicky. she looked at you, a mischievous glint in her eye.

“i have no idea how to go about it, help.”

“you’re so cute.”

you shoot her a sarcastic smile. “ellie… help.”

“okay, if it were me i would stealth around as much as possible and try and take out a few of them like that. sometimes you can do the whole thing like that but no offence, baby,” she looks at you, “i don’t think you will be able to do that. but it’ll take out a few of them first before you get spotted and they start firing.”

“oh my god, okay. what about the bombs i just made?”

“yeah you can lay some around and hopefully they’ll walk into them.”

“okay.”

“you got this,” she said, hearing the nerves in your voice. she’s enjoying this too much.

you started to sneak up behind one guy.

“okay okay okay, don’t fucking move,” you muttered. you pressed the button to stealth kill and succeeded without being caught.

“ahh i did it!”

“good job babe.” you blushed at ellie’s praise. she was leaning back in her chair but moved a hand to rub your waist briefly.

you managed to kill another guy in stealth mode but at the last second got caught and the other guys started firing. 

“fuck me, fuck no, no, shit, shit,” you yelled, desperately trying to run behind a wall. 

“am i saf– no! oh god no,” you said as shots came at you from another angle and you got hit a few times, your health flashing red. 

ellie leaned forward in her seat. “you need to run away, babe.” 

“i’m trying.”

you ran but in your panic you kept bumping into things and getting hit with shots.

“there’s too many of them, i’m-oh my god, fuck this shit.”

“hide behind something to heal yourself.”

“i can’t, they’re everywhere, stop, oh my god,” you slammed pause in a panic, “ellie i can’t.”

she laughed at your struggling. “you can, i mean you’re probably going to die here but it’ll start at the beginning of the fight.”

“so those two guys i killed i’ll have to do again?”

“yes.”

“that’s so unfair,” you pouted.

“that’s the way it goes,” she was still smiling devilishly at you.

you laughed, putting the controller down and leant your hands on her knees. “i don’t know why i get so scared, like it’s actually happening to me.”

she leant forward and kissed you. “it’s fine, just try not to get caught so quickly.”

“oh thanks, that’s so helpful,” you said sarcastically. 

“i know, i am.”

“okay, right, i’m going again.” you said, getting situated back in your seat. “i’m going to just let myself die and try again because i’m fucked.”

you tried again and got further than you did last time before dying again.

pausing, you turned to look at ellie, who once again had leaned back in her chair, watching you. her eyes just shifted from the screen to your face, the corners of her mouth twitching upwards.

“you’re doing good, i swear.”

“i think i’m getting the hang of it,” you said looking back at the screen. 

“well, you are on easy mode,” she teased. you snapped your head around so fast.

“fuck you,” you laughed, playfully pushing her arm. “i’ve never played this before.”

“you’ve watched me play a hundred times.”

“yes but that’s not the same,” you said, leaning back in your own chair, level with her.

“you’re saying you never learnt anything from that?” she said in mock horror. 

“probably paying too much attention to you,” you smirked to yourself.

“oh yeah?”

“you’re sexy when you play video games,” you looked at her, trying to stop your smile from widening so much as you leant forward again, ready to press play. 

her tongue poked the inside of her cheek, eyes looking over you. suddenly, you yelped as you felt her grab you and pull you back, slightly twisted due to the chair arms but the top of your back pressed into her chest and she buried her face into your neck, attacking it with kisses, arms wrapped around you. 

“you’re sexy when you game too,” she mumbled, smiling at the sound of your laughter. 

“sorry i thought playing on easy mode wasn’t good enough for you,” you teased. 

she groaned into your neck before bringing her lips up to your ear. “if you get through this fight scene, i’ll reward you.”

your stomach flipped. “reward me how?”

ellie kissed behind your ear and slid one of her hands down to your inner thigh. “however you want, babe.”

“right, this is serious now, don’t distract me.” you ordered, reluctantly pulling yourself out of her grip but oh god did you want that reward.

she laughed at your change in demeanour, enjoying how wrapped around her little finger you are.

you were extra frustrated now when you died again.

“fuck,” you muttered under your breath. 

“you can do it, baby. go on,” you could hear the smirk in ellie’s voice without even looking at her.

“shut up.”

you were trying so hard not to die. you didn’t even care if you were severely injured by the time this section was cleared, you just had to clear it. ellie was mostly silent through this, obeying your “don’t distract me” statement. eventually, the music shifted and the character on screen said “i think that’s it” and your stomach flipped again.

“i did it,” you said to yourself before whipping around in your chair to look at ellie. “baby, i fucking did it.”

she was already looking at you, her smile playful and wicked. she leaned forward, keeping her face close to yours. “you fucking did it.”

“can i have my reward now?” you asked, not realising that your voice was going to quiver like it did.

“you can. what reward would you like?” 

she’s such a shit. she knows exactly what you want but she’s going to make you ask for it.

“i think you know.” 

“i think i do,” she said, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, “but i’d like to hear you say it.”

“i fucking hate you.”

“i love you too.”

“ellie.”

“yes, baby.”

“i want you to touch me.”

you could cut the tension with a knife. her tempting lips were just inches from yours, but you knew she was in a teasing mood, which you didn’t mind. 

“how do you want me to touch you?” her voice was more hushed and lower than before. you couldn’t help but shift in your seat.

you gently took her hand in yours and played with her fingers, lifting them and kissing them. you looked straight into her eyes. “with your fingers, please.” 

you could tell how the ‘please’ made ellie feel immediately. two could play at this game. although, she’ll probably still win.

you kissed the pad of her thumb, knowing she would push it gently between your lips. her hand found its place on your jaw. she ran her thumb over your bottom lip, eyes looking between your lips and your eyes. 

“anything else?” she asked. 

“maybe your mouth, too.” you said sweetly. her eyes darkened at your deliberate innocent tone and she took a moment before slowly closing the small space between you. her lips met yours in a soft, plush kiss, hand still holding your jaw.

“like that?”

“yes please.”

she laughed darkly for a second and kissed you again, hungrier than before, her hand sliding from your jaw to the back of your head. 

“come here,” she mumbled into the kiss. you moved out of your seat, and climbed onto her lap. her other hand eagerly pulled you as close as you could be to her. your hands found themselves running between her shoulders and her hair. 

you moaned into the kiss. she let out a “fuck,” as she stood up, carrying you with her, your legs wrapping around her waist. she hastily moved towards the sofa you were sat on earlier and laid you down, never breaking the kiss. her body weight on top of you, lying in between your legs was delicious, no matter how many times it happened. 

one arm supported her weight, the other glided up under your top, fingers teasing the curve of your boob. she started to kiss down your neck whilst also shoving your top further up, until she was kissing your bare stomach up towards your chest. 

“lift up,” she whispered, yanking your top off. her hand immediately went to your boob as she started kissing and playing with the other. 

“you did so well, baby.”

your back arched into her. 

“my good fucking girl.”

your hand went to her face. “ellie.” 

“what is it?” she looked up at you.

“i need you.”

“you have me, don’t worry.”

she kissed you again before shuffling down, hands never not touching you somewhere. lips grazing your skin. she hooked her fingers into your sweats, kissing your skin at the hem. you squirmed beneath her and she looked up at you.

“you worked up, baby?”

“yes,” you stuttered out.

“good.” she simply said before continuing leaving wet kisses on your exposed skin, slowly pulling your sweats down. she peeled them off your ankles and tossed them across the room.

she knelt on the floor and wrapped her hands around your thighs, pulling you to the edge of the sofa. she held your legs open, leaving kisses on your inner thigh.

“so pretty.”

ellie took her time touching and kissing everywhere but there. your hand went down to run through her hair lightly, getting impatient. 

it made your body jolt when she licked a line up your cunt. her fingers rubbed gentle circles on your thighs whilst she worked her tongue on your clit. 

your hand tightened its grip in her hair and you moaned, your body writhing. her hands tightened trying to keep you in place and keep your legs open for her.

she sucked on your clit, leaving it sensitive and admired her work before glancing up at you, smirking at the sight of your hands now pinching your nipples. one of her fingers delicately ran a length up your cunt, circling your clit slowly. your body jolted again at the new form of touch. her finger played around at your entrance.

“you did such a good job at the game,” ellie said sweetly, “although i also enjoy watching you struggle.” she laughs to herself. her finger traced up to your clit again. the mix of her praise and teasing was torture. she was enjoying just sitting there, having your legs spread so she could play with your pussy. 

“i like you helping me.” 

“you do?” she added slightly more pressure. 

“yes.”

“i like teaching you.”

she pushed two fingers in, the abruptness making you whimper. her eyes were glued to your face for a moment whilst she moved her fingers in and out, deep and slow.

“oh fuck,” you moaned. 

“that’s it, good girl.” ellie said before attacking your clit with her tongue, the combination driving you insane.

her tongue flicked and her fingers continued the way they were, the rhythm making your stomach knot and your toes curl. 

“fuck ellie,” you moaned. your back arched and she held your hips down firmly with her free hand.

she kept going until you could feel yourself about to cum. your moans and whimpers got louder and you let out a cry before your body softened and went limp. ellie continued licking and moving her fingers at a slower rhythm to make sure you were definitely done.  

your hand moved some hair out of her face and she withdrew and looked up at you, slowly removing her fingers.

she came up to kiss you, letting you taste yourself on her lips mumbling suggestively, “what game do you want me to help you play next?”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

the girl next door 28

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, manipulation, chronic illness, noncon/dubcon, coercion, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: A new neighbour moves in and upends your already disarrayed life.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself.

This lewk but silverfox

As you come outside, your mom sits on the deck, under the umbrella with a pair of sunglasses over her eyes. You can hardly tell if she’s awake. You hug yourself as you come into the summer light and look around. There’s a bottle of sun lotion on the railing of the deck. 

You cross the wooden planks and grab the bottle. As you pop the cap, your mom mutters. You turn as you squirt some into your hand. You look at her. 

“Do you need some?” You ask. 

“What in the lord’s name are you wearing?” She snarls. 

“Um,” you look down, once more shocked by the sight of your own body. “A swim suit. I... I’ll put a shirt on.” 

“Hey, Hol,” Steve comes out in a pair of lilac coloured trunks, “what do you think? Got the kiddo a swimsuit so she can enjoy the pool.” 

“Oh, you did?” Your mom hums as she leans her face in her hand, “how nice.” 

“Too bad you can’t join us,” Steve approaches and stops between you and your mom’s chair. “Got myself some new shorts.” 

He turns to her as you’re left watching his back. His muscle is thick and you can see it tense with his movement. He’s tall and his shoulders are broad, his arms burly too. Age has only seemed to add to his strong form. 

“Those are nice,” your mom says without much conviction, “I got a suit somewhere but... the water makes me sick. It’s these damn meds.” 

“Yeah, but they keep you going,” Steve nears her and bends to kiss her forehead. “You can be our lifeguard, how about that? Been a while since I’ve been in the deep end.” 

“You’re so...” she pauses and measures her words, “silly.” 

“It’s a nice day,” he booms, “did you try the smoothie? I put some vitamin C in it, too. Should help you feel a bit better. Oh, kiddo,” he claps and turns to face you, “did you want a smoothie? I got fresh raspberries.” 

“Erm, no thanks, I’m good,” you affirm and back away, focusing on spreading the lotion up your arms. 

“Towels are down on the chairs,” he says, “Holly Berry,” he gives your mom a strange nickname, “you sure you don’t wanna move closer?” 

“I needa stay in the shade,” she fans herself and reaches for the bright orange smoothie, “that damn inhaler. I told the doctor take me off it--” 

“Now, he’s just doing his job--” 

“I know. Don’t gotta keep saying so,” she slams the cup down and you glance over as her hand shakes violently. She’s worked up. She sits back as she tries to still herself, only for the tremor to quake through her. 

“Right, well, chill out,” Steve shrugs and backs off, “we’ll go cool off in the water.” 

He turns to face you and nears, “can I get some of that?” 

You offer him the bottle then work at smearing the lotion along your collar bone and around the top of the suit. You bring your hands to your tummy, rubbing the oiliness into your skin as Steve takes the lotion. You notice his eyes linger on you for a moment. 

“Come on, gotta check the temperature,” he waves you down the steps. 

You follow as you continue to work the lotion into your skin. You still need to get your legs and face. You continue across the lawn to the pool and Steve dollops a health heap of lotion into one hand before giving back the bottle. He slaps his hand against his chest and rubs in the sunscreen, his fingertips pressing into his muscles as he works down to his softer tummy. 

You bend to your legs. You would’ve rather a one-piece just so you wouldn’t have to use as much. As you put a light layer on your face, Steve grabs the bottle from where you left it on the lounger.  

“Here, turn around,” he squirts out the lotion into his palm. “I’ll get your back, you get mine.” 

You can’t argue. Besides, you can barely look at him. You’d rather stare at the fence. 

You turn and drop your arms. He puts his hands over your shoulders, jolting you, kneading harder than you expect. You feel his breath fan over the back of your head and he traces his thumbs around your shoulder blade, catching on the tail of the tie behind your neck. For a moment, you think he might pull it free. 

He spreads his hands, dragging them down, working in the lotion around your hips and sides, sending shivers through you. A trickle of sweat rolls down your spine and you draw away. His fingertips trail along your lower back wistfully.  

“Here,” he snatches up the lotion and hands it to you, smiling. You nod and take it. 

He turns his back to you and you gulp. Oof. You don’t know what’s worse. Being touched or touching him. It all seems so... strange even if it’s completely innocent. You’re just helping him. He does have a lot of back. 

You squeeze out the cream and rub it between your hands, hovering them before his back before you make yourself touch him. You swipe your hands up and down and side to side, working around the lotion to full cover his back. He groans and twitches as you come along the back of his ribs. 

“Careful,” he turns his head to speak over his shoulder, “old college injury. Don’t think it ever really healed.” 

“Oh,” you ease up, “sorry.” 

“Nah, you can’t hurt me, sweetie,” he insists and leans into your touch. 

You finish up and retract, trying to absorb what’s left into your palms. The greasy sensation irritates you. He turns as you reach to fix the tie behind your neck, making sure it’s tight as it feels like the suit is slipping. He blinks and his eyes flick up and down. 

“Well, are you gonna dive in?” He asks. 

“Erm, uh, I can just use the ladder,” you say as you tiptoe around him to the edge. You look down into the crystalline water, “it looks cold.” 

“Got the heater going,” he says, “shouldn’t be too bad.” 

He stands beside you and extends his leg to dip a toe into it, “not bad at all.” 

“Mm, maybe in a few minutes,” you cross your arms again, “I’m not a great swimmer.” 

“Well, I can keep an eye on you,” he reaches to tickle along your upper arm, goose dumps rising across your skin. 

“Sure, uh,” you edge away from him and run your fingers along where he touched. His hands are always on you. At least that’s how it seems to you. “Just... gotta build up my nerve.” 

“Mm,” he backs up, “sure, well, there’s the diving board and... I guess you could just sunbathe.” 

“Yeah, mayb--” 

Before you can finish, you’re scooped off your feet. You cry out as Steve lifts you up and launches himself into the pool. He keeps you in his arms as he splashes into the water and you flail wildly. You’re swallowed up as the chlorine floods your mouth and nostrils and you choke beneath the surface. 

You writhe against him, his thick arms around you, and try to free yourself. The knot at the front of your bikini catches your pinkie and you struggle to untangle both your hand and your body at once. You finally come up above the water and gasp as Steve follows, laughing as he keeps his embrace loosely around you. 

“Sometimes you just need the extra push,” he beams, “isn’t it refreshing?” 

You push the water away from your face and cough. As you do, he goes quiet and you spit up behind your hand. You can only taste the chlorinated water as you hack. You look up at him as his hands slowly creep up your sides. His blue eyes are fixated on you but not on your face. 

You look down at your chest, the knot on the front of the suit barely clinging together as you spill out from the fabric. The top merely acts to frame your nudity and you sputter as you try to cover yourself and his hands continue to ascend. You back away from his grasp and turn away. 

“Sweetie, it’s fine, all good,” he assures you. 

“Why would you do that?” You sniffle. 

“It was only some fun. I didn’t know... I’m sorry. I didn’t know the suit didn’t fit right.” 

“It’s not the suit,” you stretch the wet fabric across your tits as best you can, keeping your back to him. “I said... I told you... I wanted to wait.” 

“Ah come on, what good is having a pool if you don’t go in it?” 

“It’s your pool,” you snap, your cheek on fire as the rest of you buzzes. You wade through the water with effort. “I never asked for it.” 

“Now sweetie, don’t be like that.” 

“Please,” you pull yourself up the later, the water slaking off you and threatening to drag down the top once more, “leave me alone.” 

You cross your arms over your chest, hooking your hands over your shoulders, and rush away from the pool. You glance up at your mother as you pass the deck, hooking around to the gate instead. She doesn’t react as her head lolls over the back of the chair and her feet are splayed wide. You should get her inside but you can’t stop. You’re too humiliated. 

You race through the gate, not bothering to close it behind you. You clammer around into your mother’s yard and storm up the steps, crashing through the front door. The tears spring the moment you break the threshold as it sets in. You can’t believe that happened. You can’t believe he saw it. You just... can’t. 

[chrissdollie]

strawberries - m.s x reader

a/n: hihi!! do we like the cute layout ? (idk what to call it 🙈) warnings/notes: sweet fluffiness + barely any plot. thats it C: (and sweet nicknames ofc!!) word count: 544

"this is so cute!!" you coo, eyes shining brightly as you stare at the cute picnic your boyfriend surprised you with. you pull out your phone from your purse to take photos when he comes up behind you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders before kissing your cheek. a pretty red and white checkered blanket lays under a tree with a spread of food... including your favorite dessert, strawberry shortcake. so thats why matt asked you to wear your 80s strawberry shortcake baby tee!

you hear him sniff your neck causing you to giggle from the light tickle. he grins back and comments, "you smell like strawberries." he lets go of your shoulders and steps towards the blanket to sit down. "well, it's just a strawberry filled day..!" you adorably cheese, following your boyfriend when he pats the open space next to him. he picks up a chocolate covered strawberry and brings it up to your mouth. he leans forward with his other hand under the strawberry to keep from making a mess on the blanket. "open!" he exclaims in the cute squeaky voice you love.

your smile widens as you bend closer and open your mouth so matt can feed you the sweet fruit. as anticipated, the juice drips onto his hand, you grinning at the messiness. you wipe your lip, chewing the berry while matt grabs a napkin to clean his hand. the breeze is cool-- not chilly. it's comfortable and nice. he picked the perfect day.

things like this were what made being with matt fun. he's always planning something behind the scenes for you. not just for anniversaries, holidays, and birthdays. simply for the reason of "why not? i love my girl." it's sweet and so romantic! you stare at the boy of your dreams with cartoony hearts in your lovesick eyes. "okay, big piece or little?" matt cuts into your hazy thoughts, looking up at you with a strawberry shortcake rested in front of him with a knife in hand. "mmmm, medium." you answer, pointing to a big strawberry you want on your plate.

minutes later, you're halfway through your slice of cake and matt's finished, watching you eat after putting on a sweet tune on his phone to have playing in the background. he chuckles at your slow speed. "i'll eat whatever you don't want baby, don't shove it down your throat." he rubs your thigh, popping a grape into his mouth. you playfully pout. "but it's soo good!!"

he brushes his hand through his middle-parted hair, leaning his back against the tree trunk. he sighs dreamily, realizing he doesn't want to be anywhere else besides here. with you. you pause mid-chew, raising a teasing brow. "hm?" you hum, dropping your plastic fork into your plate. he shrugs, "i just love you a lot." he awkwardly smiles, breaking eye contact shyly. you cheese, pushing your plate away and crawl to your boyfriend's lap. you lean your back against his chest as his hand comes up to rub your arm. you two watch the sun begin to set-- like a cheesy romance. "yeah well i love you more." you grin, playing with his fingers. he rolls his eyes with a cheeky smile before blowing a raspberry with his tongue.

@star-sturn @junnniiieee07 @mattsneezing @freshloveee @freshsturns @emma4eva @r6diosturns @matthasmywholeheart @donthugmeimhot @blahbel668 @joanofarcily @mattscoquette @slutsturn @imsosillygoofylol @sturnioloremarker @ashley9282828 @jnkvivi @sturncakez @lanasturn @riasturns @st7rnioioss @mattsfavbigtitties @mattttypooh

[glitterjay]

hi! can you write some smut where y/n jokingly calls jungwon 'babygirl' and he gets kinda mad and shows her who the real babygirl is

⭒ dom!jungwon, sub!reader, cussing, pet names, agoraphilia, masochism(?, mention of alcohol, minors dni

⭒ c's note: he is babygirl sometimes though 😞

⭒ taglist (open): @hollyoongs @fertilizedtoesw

your boyfriend and you were on your way to a friend's party. it had been a while since you've last been to one, and it was exciting to think about.

but on the other side of your head lingered the thought of how cute jungwon looked. it was as if this sudden dominant side had taken over you, seeing him so shy around his group of friend with that sleeveless shirt he was wearing, the necklaces hanging from his neck, and the other accessories complementing the outfit.

as the night went by, you had drunk enough beers to make you do and say stuff you normally wouldn't, but not enough to be concidered "drunk."

so there you were, dancing with jungwon to whatever song was playing, purposely touching his exposed arms causing his muscles to flex from time to time. every time he smiled at you the whole world paused. he was extremely cute and nice.

that thought would soon leave your mind when the latter started dragging you to the nearest bathroom, his gaze becoming dark and serious, not the jungwon you had been admiring most of the night.

"babygirl, huh?" he said as he bent you over the sink of the bathroom. "i'll show you who the real babygirl is."

-

the thoughts drowning your head throughout time had completely discarded the fact that jungwon was the dominant in your relationship, and despite your attempts to make him submit to you, it always ended with you under him.

it was the case in this exact occasion. he had gotten you wet just with making out with you. your body was bent over the sink, face looking back at him as he kissed you messily. your skirt and panties were long gone, whereas jungwon was still fully clothed. his boner was rubbing against your ass as he rocked you back and forth on the corner of the furniture. he was in charge.

you looked back when the weight of his body lifted off yours, seeing him unbuckle his belt and getting his cock out of his pants and boxers. it was hard and red, precum already leaking from the tip. "babygirl, you're drooling," he said, but you didnt care. you wiggled your ass as a way to invite him to take you.

to your surprise, there was no prep like there usually was when there was intimacy between the two. every thrust jungwon was giving you stung, but it turned you on more despite it hurting, and jungwon knew well.

"look at you, so cute. taking it like a good baby girl."

you nodded frantically, tears welling in your eyes threatening to fall. you looked at yourself in the mirror, moaning at the sight of jungwon hitting you from behind.

"look over there," he ordered, grabbing a handful of your hair and turning your head to look at the door. "the lock is not on." he added. "anyone could walk in at any second."

in all honesty, this turned him on more than it did you. just the risk of someone opening the door and seeing you take him like a good girl. see him clearly make you his, and his only.

the friction of the sink on your clit and jungwon abusing your hole had caused a massive wave of pleasure to take you over. your moans had become higher and louder, almost as loud as the music. you could hardly keep your eyes open, and it was hard to keep yourself steady.

"since you're being such a good girl, i'll let you cum on me"

and so you did.

he was close himself, and your body shaking uncontrollably which caused your walls to clench on him, drove him over the edge. he pulled out quickly and came on your asscheeks. grabbing some of his seeds and force feeding them to you.

"next time know your plce, babygirl."

© glitterjay | tumblr

[ataliagold]

But My Heart Is Just A Little Boy

Pairing: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson

Rating: Teen (swearing)

W/C: 2012

Tags: Established Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, hurt/comfort, Steve Harrington has dyscalculia, Steve Harrington has self esteem issues, Steve Harrington needs a hug, fluff, light angst, DnD, Mike and Dustin are a little mean here

Notes: Just slowly posting some of my AO3 stuff here as well :) Title from Rattlesnake by Jack Van Cleaf.

___

Steve joining in on Eddie’s campaign was supposed to be a nice surprise for his boyfriend.

And it was; Eddie’s face had lit up with joy when Steve had walked in and sat down with the kids around the table. Steve had taken the dice Dustin had loaned him and lined them up in front of him, from the D4 (the funny triangle one) up to the D20 (the one with heaps of sides, Steve reminded himself.)

If he kept them in that order it would help him pick the right dice quickly, he’d decided.

Because he wanted this to go to perfectly.

Eddie had been asking him to join in on a game for months, but Steve had so far refused, only coming along sometimes to watch quietly. There were parts of it that piqued his interest – namely the combat and the creatures Eddie planted into the game, because some of them were so damn cool even if Steve wouldn’t readily admit it out loud. A small part of him, a much younger part that had loved fairy tales and stories about knights and dragons and sword fights before his father had confiscated those books, deeming them too childish, watched with a quiet giddiness as the kids battled all manner of beasts.

But much of the game was so complicated - there were so many numbers, and Steve had no idea how Eddie and the kids managed to keep track of everything, how they added dice values together so damn quickly and kept track of a seemingly endless list of stats and bonuses and modifiers, whatever the hell they were.

Eddie knew about his difficulty with numbers. He’d seen the way Steve had to count with his fingers, how it took him far too fucking long to do a simple equation, how he stood in Melvald’s staring at the price of something just trying to make the numbers make sense so they wouldn’t blow their grocery budget.

And Eddie was patient, always. But D&D was Eddie’s realm, his place to shine, and Steve was so worried about holding him back and ruining the game every time he had to pause to add two fucking dice together.

Finally, he’d caved. Secretly, with Dustin’s help, he’d put a character sheet together. He’d made a paladin because Dustin had told him it suited him. Steve made him strong and lawful good, just like the knights he used to read about as a little boy. Dustin had rolled his eyes a little at that but Steve had been quite proud of what he’d put together.

Plus, Dustin had promised to help him with the math.

But here Steve was, well over an hour into the campaign, and he was struggling.

Cheeks burning, he turned to Dustin yet again.

“Wait, which one am I rolling?” he whispered.

Dustin rolled his eyes. The kid had been patient at first, but it was beginning to wear thin.

Steve was beginning to wear thin.

“The D10, Steve,” Dustin hissed.

“Right,” Steve nodded, grabbing for one of the dice.

“That’s the D8, Steve,” Mike said wearily.

Steve’s cheeks flushed even hotter, and he grabbed the other dice, rolling it quickly.

“Ahhh...seven,” Steve announced.

“You slash at the goblin, your blade cutting deep into its chest, the creature gurgling and reeling backwards…” Eddie leant over the table, giving a dramatic recount of events.

Steve smiled, unable to help it. His boyfriend was having such a good time, and even if Steve wasn’t enjoying himself so much, well, that was ok. He could do this, for Eddie.

“…but it scrabbles back to its feet, weak but alive,” Eddie finishes.

Mike groaned and slapped the table.

“It has to be almost dead,” Lucas announced.

“Yeah, but there’s still four others,” Mike pointed out.

“This one must be on two hit points or less,” Will surmised.

How did he know that? Steve frowned, let the kids talk amongst themselves. His gaze wandered over to Eddie, watching him lean back in his chair, eyes shining. He shot a wink at Steve when he caught him looking, then frowned a little, obviously noticing Steve wasn’t looking all that comfortable.

You ok? He mouthed at him.

Steve nodded quickly.

But he felt small.

Grow the fuck up, you’re fine.

“…Steve!” Mike groaned.

Steve’s attention snapped back to the kids. “What?”

“Stop staring at Eddie and tell us how many hit points you’ve got left.”

“Um…” Steve glanced down at the piece of paper in front of him. He’d scribbled some numbers down like Dustin had told him to every time his character had taken damage, but there were a lot of numbers there and he wasn’t sure they all actually related to his hit points…

“Give it here,” Dustin snatched the paper from him impatiently, peering down at it.

Steve waited while Dustin assessed his work, the feeling vaguely reminiscent of being back in school, his teachers reading over his work with a disappointed shake of their heads.

“This can’t be right, Steve,” Dustin sighed. “It says you’re on twelve hit points…is that a twelve? Your writing’s messy.”

Steve nodded. “Yours isn’t much better, pea-brain,” he mumbled, just to shoot something back at the kid.

Dustin narrowed his eyes at him. “You must have less than that because of the damage you took in the last round. You’re probably down to…eight at the most, by now.”

“Just make it eight, then,” Steve grumbled.

“Eight it is, big boy,” Eddie agreed.

“It doesn’t work like that, though,” Mike huffed. “You actually have to keep track of this stuff Steve, there’s no point playing if you just make the numbers up.”

“It doesn’t matter, really,” Will tried to intervene quietly. “It can just be eight.”

Dustin picked up his pencil, drawing some columns on Steve’s paper. “Ok, so just use this one column to keep track of damage, don’t write all over the page. There’s your total hit points at the top, and every time you take damage, write it down under there, ok? And then just take it off the total. Simple.”

Like it was that fucking easy. Maybe for them, it was. They didn’t get every number mixed up in their brain, they didn’t stare at a single digit trying to put some numeric value behind it and coming up with zilch.

Dustin was trying to help, Steve knew. But his tone of voice was so fucking condescending that it had Steve squirming in his seat, wishing he was anywhere else.

He felt Eddie’s eyes on him.

“Come sit by me, Stevie, I’ll help you keep track.” Eddie said gently.

“You’ll just go easy on him, and that’s not fair!” Mike whined.

“Can it, Wheeler,” Eddie snapped at him.

“Just because he can’t do basic math.”

“Right, you get to roll with disadvantage now, just for that,” Eddie told him smugly.

Mike was retorting with something, but Steve didn’t hear it.

His pulse was thumping in his ears, his cheeks on fire. The years were stripped from him, the sensitive child he’d tucked away inside a long time ago forced to the surface.

“Look, just carry on without me,” Steve muttered, and stood up quick enough that his chair scraped on the floor.

“Steve -” Dustin started, but Steve was finished, striding towards the stairs and blinking back tears.

He wasn’t going to cry in front of the kids, not over a fucking game, not over something his boyfriend loved so much.

But they were coming faster than he could blink them back as he headed out of Mike’s stuffy basement and out to the driveway, the cold night air caressing his flushed face.

This was supposed to have been a treat for Eddie. It was supposed to be fun, and Steve had ruined the night by being fucking stupid.

A tear tracked down his cheek , Steve losing the battle against them. He’d just drive home, he decided. Steve had come straight from work that day, so Eddie had come separately in his van, he wouldn’t be inconvenienced.

And then they could finish their game in peace, without having to treat Steve like a five-year-old.

He was getting in the driver’s seat when Eddie ran to him, both hands reaching for him.

“Stevie…” Eddie murmured softly.

“I’m sorry,” Steve mumbled, dragging his sleeve across his face, smudging the tears there.

“Why? The kids were being assholes, I’ve already yelled at them.”

Steve shook his head. “I was just slowing everyone down, they were getting frustrated, I get it.”

“No, sweetheart, they were being rude,” Eddie corrected him. “Especially Wheeler.” Eddie brushed his thumbs across Steve’s cheeks, crouching down beside the open driver’s door. “I’ve told them to pull their heads in. Do you…do you want to come back inside?”

“Eds…” Steve leant into his hands a little. “I’m no good at it. I really wanted to try, for you, and I’m so sorry I ruined it, but there’s too many numbers and I can’t keep track of everything and it takes me so fucking long and it’s embarrassing because I can’t even keep up with a bunch of kids, and I just feel like I’m back at school again.”

Eddie cupped his cheeks again, tilting Steve’s head to look at him. “Hey. You haven’t ruined anything, they did. I’m so happy you came along tonight, because I know you did it for me. But look, D&D doesn’t have to be your thing -”

“But -”

“It doesn’t,” Eddie cut in. “Just like…your balls in laundry basket games aren’t mine. But I like hanging around while you and Wayne watch them, and I love how excited you get about it, and how you sit there with that fucking pretty smile…”

Steve huffed out a small laugh, and Eddie grabbed his wrist to press a kiss to the inside of it.

“But I don’t know what’s going on most of the time,” Eddie continued. “It makes you happy, and that’s enough for me. So, I don’t want you to feel like you have to play D&D just for me if it’s not something you enjoy. It’s more than enough that you listen to my ideas, that you help me write -”

“I don’t really,” Steve said quietly.

“You do! Or have you forgotten who came up with that fucking amazing twist with the elven prince?”

“I got it from a movie,” Steve argued.

“So? I didn’t think of it, and it had the little shrimps completely stumped.”

Steve managed a small smile. “I do like some of the stories,” he admitted quietly. “But I think…I just wanna go home, ok? You can carry on.”

Eddie shook his head. “I’m gonna get them to pack up in there. I’ll drop them home, then follow you back, ok?”

“Steve?” came Dustin’s voice from behind Eddie, small and hesitant.

Steve quickly straightened up in his seat, wiping a hand across his face.

“Yeah, buddy?” he replied, his voice a little hoarse.

“I’m…I’m sorry. That we weren’t more patient. It’s ok if you struggle with numbers, and we should’ve helped more.”

“It’s ok, Dusty,” Steve told him.

Eddie frowned, reached down to squeeze Steve’s hand, then turned to Dustin. “It isn’t ok,” he argued. “But it was nice of you to apologize.”

Dustin nodded. “If you want to try again sometime, I promise I’ll help more. I…I really liked having you play.”

“Thanks,” Steve managed.

“Tell Wheeler to start crafting his apology too,” Eddie said firmly, still cradling Steve’s hand in his own. “Otherwise he’s rolling with disadvantage for the whole next session.”

Dustin’s eyes widened a little before he nodded.

After packing up, the kids waited sheepishly by Eddie’s van. Eddie stayed crouched next to Steve a moment longer.

“Go home, get comfy on the couch, and pick out any movie you want to watch, ok?” Eddie murmured to him. “When I get home I’m gonna order us some pizza, and I’m gonna cuddle the shit out of you, understand?”

Steve laughed softly. “Sounds perfect.”

“Good. I’ll see you soon, sweetheart.”

___

[solarsa1nt]

𐚁֙࿐ LOVER GIRL

uraume x fem!reader

Tags — fluff , king (queen) of curses reader , simp reader , established uraume/reader

Notes — this takes place during that one scene is s2e22! also, i use they/them pronouns for uraume!

"Yuu-chan, look! Look! Look!" Y/N orders her vessel abruptly, leaning forward on her throne so hastily she's almost sent tumbling down the pile of skulls; E/C eyes lit up with sparkling excitement.

"Huh?" Itadori pauses, surprised to hear the queen of curses suddenly speaking to him— her having been completely radio silent since she gave Itadori back control earlier.

Y/N blinks open the second set on eyes on Itadori's face— still looking through the main golden set to watch their lover with rapt attention.

Their brief meeting earlier in the ruins of what used to be Shibuya unfortunately had to be short, but Y/N hadn't expected the monk to show up again so soon.

"Yuu-chan! Look at my lover! Aren't they just the coolest?!" Y/N admires, resulting into a sputtering cough from their vessel— eyes blown wide in shock at the queen of curses admission.

"Itadori?" That kid from the Kamo clan (Y/N truly didn't bother to attempt to remember his name), who was standing next to the vessel, questions; unsure of what caused Itadori's sudden look of shock.

"Sorry, uh..." Itadori trails off, opting instead to speak through his head towards the curse rather than flail about trying to come up with an excuse.

'You had a lover?' Itadori questions, the disbelief in his tone making Y/N frown.

'Haah? Why do you seem so surprised?!' Y/N huffs, leaning back against her throne with her eye twitching in annoyance. 'And I have a lover! They aren't dead!'

'Why would anyone want to be with—' Itadori starts to reply but gets cut off.

'Finish that sentence, brat. I dare you.' Y/N scoffs, still looking through Itadori's eyes at their lover as they and that curse with the blood technique fight.

'Anyway! Isn't my lover just the strongest?! Heh~ just look at them!' Y/N laughs to herself, a blush spread across her face. 'They're so pretty!'

Itadori's lips part slightly in sheer disbelief at hearing the lovesick tone dripping off Y/N's voice— sounding completely besotted with the white-haired monk.

'Maybe I should've gotten a ring for them while I was free... Yuu-chan! Gimme control! I need to get something nice for my love!' Y/N demands, mentally hitting herself over the head for not getting anything for Uraume earlier.

'Now is really not the time!' Itadori counters, still in shock about how infatuated Y/N sounds.

'Hmph! Whatever, you're no fun!' Y/N complains, sinking back onto her throne with a childish huff.

Itadori goes to say something— likely a snarky comment, knowing how the brat is —but Y/N cuts their connection off with no more than a lazy wave of her hand.

Maybe once I wring control over this brat's body, then Uraume and I can go on a date~ Like Yuu-chan did that one time! Y/N fantasies, smiling to herself giddily at the idea. Then we can—

Ah. Wait. A frown tug's on Y/N's lips, remembering the demolished state of Shibuya. Fuck.

Maybe she shouldn't have leveled an entire prefecture...

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