#no one hates on my girlie without catching these hands

[nellandvoid]

every time i draw mabel smiling in any capacity i start smiling with her she's just such a cutie patootie and it's like her happiness is infectious she just makes me go :DDDDDD

[andvys]

Dancing with our hands tied | S.H.

Chapter twelve ⭐︎ When the curtains call the time, will we both go home alive?

Warnings: 18+ minors don't interact! angst, jealousy, misunderstandings, mutual pining, mentions of unrequited feelings, mentions of cheating (not on reader), mentions of past stancy, jealous!Steve, slightly mean!Steve (kinda?), smut smut smut, bathroom sex, car sex, fingering, squirting. I like to picture Jacob as Drew Starkey hehe

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: Steve had never handled his jealousy very well, but being jealous over you, brings out a new side in him. He would do anything to keep you, anything.

Word count: 17.4k+

Author's note: I've been waiting for this chapter since forever, jealous men are always my jam, and @hellfire--cult took these ideas to a whole new level, enjoy this filthy chapter. This one is for all my Steve girlies who haven't given up on me after my last story ♡ Roe, I should grant you a thousand wishes at this point, you keep me so hyped for this story. Also this chapter wouldn't have been this good without you, don't even try to fight me

Series Masterlist ⭐︎ Previous Chapter ⭐︎ Next Chapter

♡

Nancy’s brows are furrowed in concentration, her pink lips pursed as she looks through the many dresses to find the perfect one, her curly hair is pulled up into a bun, held together by a white scrunchie with pink polka dots, she’s wearing one of the outfits she had gotten on your last shopping trip together, this is only your second time, but it’s fun, you like hanging out with her. 

You drove to Indianapolis since Hawkins doesn’t have all too many clothing stores, especially after the ‘fire’ at the mall, you prefer it here anyways, the big city has much more to offer than the small town. 

“What do you think of this one?” Nancy asks as she shows you the yellow sundress. 

You tilt your head, pressing your lips together as you eye it, not quite liking the way too bright color. You walk around the clothing rack to get to the other side, holding the clothing items that you threw over your forearm a little tighter as you take in the different colors of the dress she’s still holding up. 

“Mmm… No, maybe the blue one, Nancy?” You ask, as you point your finger at the baby blue color, when your eyes widen as you catch sight of the purple one, “or, the purple one! That one would look cute, it matches the color of your eyeshadow!” 

She smiles at you, nodding excitedly. She puts the yellow dress on the rack, and looks through the purple ones to find her size. 

“But you should go for the yellow one if you like it more.” 

She shakes her head, looking back at you, “no, I trust your judgment,” she smiles and picks out the dress, “besides, this color is way cuter.” 

You nod, a smile tugging at your lips, “yeah, it’ll look amazing on you.” 

Her dimples show and her eyes light up a little. 

Nancy has been nothing but kind and sweet to you, and you can’t help but feel guilt and regret growing inside of you for the way you once felt about her. 

You weren’t only jealous of her because she had Steve, you also hated her for having him, and you’d spent your shared classes with her, staring at her and comparing yourself to the girl he loved so dearly – the girl he still loves. You were never rude to her or mean, you never glared at her or threw comments at her the way other girls did, after Steve had humiliated her in front of the whole town, despite your feelings for him, you did feel disappointed for what he had done, even when you didn’t even like her, at that time. 

“You should try this one on!” Nancy pulls you out of your thoughts, a grin on her face as she holds up a black dress – a daring black dress. It’s short and flowy, the straps are thin, it’s  low cut with a dainty bow on the front, the back very exposed. “You could wear this one to Vickie’s party.”

A smile tugs at your lips, you step forward and slowly reach your hands out to take it from her. 

“You will look hot in it,” Nancy wiggles her eyebrows at you, nudging her shoulder against yours as she brushes past you to look for more dresses, “I’m sure I won’t be the only one who thinks that,” she says in a sing-song voice. 

Nancy had been very persistent in trying to get you to go on dates. The last time you went out together, the Barista at your local coffee shop had put his number on your takeaway cup after giving you the order for free. She tried to convince you to give him a call, gushing over how sweet he was to you and how he looked at you, and yeah, he was sweet, he was very good looking too, and maybe you would’ve given him a call if things were still the same they were months before this. Yeah, you would’ve definitely given him a call, but only to forget about the certain someone who woke up in your bed this morning. Whose bed you will go to sleep in tonight. 

As you stare at the dress, all that you can think about is Steve, and how he will react to seeing you in this. 

Will he think that you’re pretty? 

Will you look irresistible to him?

Will he want to tear it off of you? 

After all, he does like your dresses, your sundresses especially, you see the way his eyes darken whenever you step into his house with a new one on your body, like he is ready to rip it to shreds and devour you for the next few hours or so, and he usually does, sometimes he doesn’t even take it off, and only pushes it aside, bunching it around your waist.

This sundress is by far more revealing than any of the other ones you have worn before. Excitement bubbles in your stomach as you think of his reaction to it. 

You are definitely getting it. 

After taking forever to pick out what clothes to keep in the dressing room, you both make your way out of the store with full bags, stuffed with new summer clothes. You stroll around town for a while, looking for new jewelry and shoes to go with the dresses you both bought. 

You never realized just how much you missed having a girl friend to do these things with, until you sit down at a cute café to eat some late lunch. It’s something you always used to do with your childhood best friend, that you always try not to think of, too painful are the memories of Chrissy and how you couldn’t be there for her, how you couldn’t save her. You always wondered if things would have gone differently had you both not drifted apart the way you did when you both went separate ways.

But it’s no use to overthink about it, you won’t ever find out. 

“Funny how we’re shopping for clothes, when a few weeks back we were fighting for our lives against something the whole world doesn’t even know about,” Nancy says as she looks over the menu. 

“Yeah,” you nod with wide eyes, glancing up from your own menu to look at her, you realize that you never asked how she got involved in all of it, in the first place. 

You clear your throat, “I never asked… how did you get involved?” 

She raises her brows at your question, taking a deep breath before she puts down the menu. 

“I–It was when Barb went missing, right after Will… What the police said about her wasn’t right, I knew my Barb, so I looked into it all, and I dragged Jonathan in with me because he was looking for his brother, only to find out that my brother and all of his friends were in it too…” She rolls her eyes, a smile tugging at her lips. 

You laugh a little, shaking your head. 

A shiver runs down your spine as you think of how long it had all been going on in the shadows, how long you had been unaware of the Upside Down and the existence of monsters, how children were involved in something they shouldn’t have been. 

“And then, poor Steve… He showed up at Jonathan’s place when we tried to lure in the Demogorgon, he almost ran off… but he came right back to fight him with us.” 

You know all about it, Steve told you how he fought the Demogorgon with Nancy and Jonathan, how he had been dragged into it all by accident, how he helped Dustin find Dart, how he protected the kids and climbed into the tunnel after getting beaten by Billy. 

You know most of what happened, not only from Steve, but also from Robin, but you feel intrigued, you want to know more… from her.

Something flashes in her eyes, a look of guilt, a look of regret. 

You know exactly what she’s thinking about, and you know that you shouldn’t bring this up, but your curiosity gets the best of you. 

“I-I was at Tina’s Halloween party.” 

Nancy winces at that, she doesn’t seem uncomfortable by your words, just… regretful of the memories that night brings her. 

You remember the night just as well as she does. Steve had bumped into you after he rushed out of the bathroom you didn’t even know he was in with Nancy, he glared at you and nudged your shoulder harshly, he rudely told you to move out of his way and murmured some incoherent curse word at you. 

You remember how deflected you felt, all night you had avoided him only to bump into him in his worst moment. 

Everyone knows what happened that night, not in full detail, but it doesn’t take a genius to find out what happened between King Steve and his girlfriend after he had stormed out of the house without her, and she left with Jonathan instead. 

Word traveled around, rumors circulated, but you didn’t listen to them, it wasn’t any of your business, and it wasn’t hard to figure out what had happened anyways. Just as Steve and Nancy’s relationship ended, she showed up to school, holding hands with Jonathan. Clearly, something happened between them long before her relationship with Steve had ended. 

Steve hated you, but your heart broke for him still. 

It was so very obvious how much he loved her, and you can imagine how much it hurt when she cheated on him, and left him and his heart in shambles. 

“I-I will never forgive myself for it. No matter if– he did forgive me. I was horrible to him, no amount of apologies can take away the guilt I will forever feel.”

“W-What happened?” You ask nervously, not wanting to overstep but still feeling the curiosity tugging harshly in your chest. 

She sighs, looking around the bustling street before her eyes move back to yours. 

“I-I always blamed him for what happened to Barb, I should’ve gone home with her that night, but I didn’t, even though I promised I would. I went with him, a-and the Demogorgon got her,” she explains, shaking her head a little as she closes her eyes, “it wasn’t Steve’s fault, not at all, but I-I blamed him and every time I looked at him, I just thought about her and what happened to her and how things would’ve gone differently if I didn’t leave her that night, if I didn’t went with Steve.” 

You dig your nails into your palms, swallowing harshly as you watch her. 

“He was good to me, he was there for me, b-but I couldn’t stand him sometimes, and how he tried to act like everything was normal, when it wasn’t.” 

The feeling of irritation sparks inside of your chest, crawling into your bloodstream. 

“And then, the Halloween party… I just, I was still grieving and I was angry, I let it all out on him, I should’ve handled things differently, I shouldn’t have been so harsh but… I-I called him bullshit,” she confesses to you, scrunching up her nose as she cringes at her own self, “and then I confessed my true feelings for him and our relationship.” 

You swallow the lump in your throat, the anger that you are holding back after those leave her mouth. Bullshit. 

How could she do that to him? 

How could she hurt him the way that she did? 

How could she call him that?  

You can tell that it takes a weight off her shoulders, that it’s something she hasn’t talked about since it happened, not to Robin, not even to Jonathan, because after these words leave her mouth, she takes a deep breath, and her body relaxes as she leans back in her seat. 

Her face is edged with shame, but also with relief to finally be able to let it out. 

And you try, you really try to hide your own feelings, the anger, the hurt that you feel for the man that you hold so dearly in your heart. 

You feel thankful for the waiter who interrupts your thoughts, he places the drinks that you ordered on the table, and reaches for his notepad, taking Nancy’s food order first. 

You take a sip of your iced tea and you watch her for a moment, reminding yourself of how long ago it was, how much she changed, how much he changed, how it’s none of your business, how you shouldn’t feel angry at her, even when she’s the one who hurt him, when she’s the one he still wants, despite what she did. 

He would take her back in a heartbeat if she came back to him, and the thought breaks your heart. 

But you can’t help but keep dancing around the topic, so after the waiter takes your order and leaves, you ask her something you’ve been wondering about for weeks now. 

“Do you… regret it? Do you sometimes wish that things between you went differently?” 

She leans her elbows on the table, placing the straw between her lips, she takes a sip of her drink before she leans back again. 

“The only thing I regret is how I led him on, I wish I could go back, and lay it all out on him in a different way… Explain to him why… I didn’t feel that for him, give him a reason instead of making him think that he’s damaged.” 

She cared about him, you can see it in her eyes, you can hear it in her voice. She cared, even if only poorly. 

“I see,” you nod, trying not to sigh. “And… well– when the whole thing with Vecna…” You pause as you feel the weight on your chest crushing you with nervousness. 

She tilts her head at you, “what?” 

Heat rushes to your cheeks, you lick your lips as you look around, watching the people in the busy street across the café for a moment, before you return your gaze to her. 

“Well… It was noticeable you know… and then… you two weren’t exactly quiet in the RV,” you mumble, trying not to sound bitter as the day catches up to you, what Steve had said to Nancy, how he looked at her, how she looked at him – and the rude things he said about you before the white picket fence conversation came up. 

Her eyes widen a little, cheeks blushing a deep red as she looks down sheepishly. 

You don’t know what you had expected, but you certainly didn’t wait for her to blush, it makes your stomach clench uncomfortably. 

“I–I was just hurt because of Jonathan. Feelings are cunning, evil… I was angry, and I think my heart and mind looked for where I could find comfort.” 

Oh, how ugly the feeling in your chest now is, how bitter the taste on your tongue is, how the sweetness of your drink does nothing to make it better, because you know, you know that you wouldn’t be sitting here now if Jonathan didn’t come back, you wouldn’t wake up in Steve’s bed or fall asleep in his arms. 

Because she would be the one.

You knit your brows together as you stare at her, “but Steve–”

“I know but… I think it was just a heat of the moment kind of thing.”

You physically have to restrain yourself from clenching your jaw or rolling your eyes. So, you look away for a moment, staring into a blank space as you try to calm your breathing. 

Heat of the moment. 

You want to scoff and laugh at her words, because telling your ex-girlfriend that you want to have six kids with her is totally, a heat of the moment kind of thing, right. 

You’re very well aware of the jealousy that is boiling inside of you, worsening every passing second, and yet, you can’t help but want to fuel the fire even more, and find out what she would’ve done if she needed more comfort. 

So when you look at her back, you ask, “so… if you were still hurt and Jonathan didn’t come back…?”

You see the way she freezes, the way she hesitates, the way she takes way too long to answer your question. 

“I-I don’t think that I would’ve been with Steve again… Even if my urges and desires told me to… That’s the only thing they were… desires or… attractions. I wouldn’t want to hurt him again and give him the idea that there’d be a chance for a future,” she sighs, shaking her head, “I’m not the one. I’m not the woman for the future of his.” 

You don’t know whether to feel sad for Steve or yourself. 

She is that woman. 

She is the one, the only one that he wants in that way, so why is she denying it? 

The question lingers in your mind and you can’t help but wonder, what would happen if she stopped denying it? If her feelings were more than just desire after all? If she came back to him? 

There is no doubt about what he would do. 

You’d be nothing but a faint memory the moment she’d come back. 

You’d no longer occupy her space in his bed. 

You’d no longer be the one he’d kiss, touch, feel. 

And you, you would step aside without a moment of hesitation, because despite your feelings for him, you would want him to be happy, and you know that he would never get that with you. 

“Besides, I don’t want to be. Steve was my first boyfriend, puppy love,” she chuckles. “It’s different with Jonathan, I want him in my future, a-and I’d honestly take any future with him,” she says, as a soft smile creeps on her face, “I didn’t love Steve but, I love him,” she says truthfully and honestly. 

She isn’t someone you have to worry about. 

She isn’t someone who will take your temporary space, at least not now, not anymore. 

But you still can’t find peace within you after this conversation, you can’t push aside the thoughts of him, of how much he still wants her, of how much he still loves her, of how much he wishes to be with her again, and it upsets you, even when it shouldn’t. 

So, when you come home, you throw your bags on the stairs and make your way into the kitchen, you pick up the telephone and you call him, coming up with some weak excuse as to why you can’t see him tonight. 

You want to see him, but you wouldn’t be able to control your feelings, you wouldn’t be able to hide the pain in your eyes. If Nancy wasn’t with Jonathan, she would be with Steve, and he would choose her, then and now. 

You heard the sigh on the other end, the disappointed ��okay… bye, Blondie.’ before you hung up the phone abruptly. 

You want him, you want to be with him, you want to feel his touch, his hands on your skin, his lips on yours, and yet, you don’t at the same time, because right now, it would just hurt too much. 

You need to calm your anxious thoughts, or you will give yourself away completely. 

-

Two days. 

It’s been two whole days since Steve had last seen you, and both his mind and his body were going crazy over the lack of you. 

When you had called him on Wednesday evening, he was already waiting for you, giddy and excited for another night with you, but when you announced that you wouldn’t come, he felt deflected, a little crushed even, but he understood, you sounded tired and like you needed your rest, so he didn’t even try to convince you to let him come see you. 

But the next day, there was no trace of you either, you didn’t call, you didn’t visit him at work, you didn’t come over, and when he tried to call you, you didn’t pick up the phone, you also weren’t home, your car wasn’t in your driveway, you were gone. And it made him feel… weird. 

Because where were you? 

You had never done anything like this before, always eager and ready for him, but never this. 

He craved you so terribly, he wanted to see you, he wanted to hear your voice, to feel your touch, to feel your body beneath his. 

He longed for you, and two days away from you, only showed him just how much of a hold you have over him. 

The past two days went by so slowly, it was almost agonizing – just like the terrible music that blasts through Vickie’s house as more and more strangers make their way into her home, filling the empty spaces. 

With his back against the wall, Steve stands there with his arms crossed over his chest, a bored expression on his face as he nods along to Eddie’s rambling about some band he had never even heard the name of, occasionally putting on his meanest face to glare at the people who give Eddie dirty looks. He can’t stand them. 

He takes a sip of his coke, looking around the crowded room in search of you. 

He knows you’re here, but he has yet to see you. 

You came with Eddie, but while the latter instantly came to find him, you apparently left to find Robin, who he hasn’t seen in a while either. 

He has been here for at least two hours now, and he is beginning to grow restless, wanting to just push himself away from the wall and go find you. 

“--And I can’t wait to see them live, man! No more headbanging in my room,” Eddie laughs as he sips on his beer. “Judas Priest is sick! You gotta come with us, I’m sure Gareth won’t mind.” 

“Mmm.” Steve nods, glancing at Eddie with a plastered smile on his face, he feels a bit bad for not listening to him, but Eddie doesn’t seem to mind, he continues talking.

Steve cranes his neck, looking into the kitchen, then into the hallway, and out into the backyard, trying to catch a glimpse of you, but all he sees are people he doesn’t care about. 

The music is starting to give him a headache, and the smell of liquor and weed is beginning to make him feel hazy. He's not drinking, he’s got other plans that hopefully won’t be canceled tonight but the more time passes, and there is still no trace of you, his hope is beginning to dwindle, because a part of him starts to believe that you are doing this on purpose, not showing yourself to him. 

Are you avoiding him? 

The thought makes his chest ache weirdly, a feeling that he can’t even describe floods through his veins. 

He doesn’t want you to avoid him, he doesn’t want you to stay away from him, he doesn’t want you to get bored of him. 

“I got Robin to listen to my mixtape, you’re next, I’m telling you, you’re gonna be a metalhead in no time,” Eddie chuckles, bumping his shoulder into his, he pulls Steve out of his thoughts. 

“Huh?” Steve furrows his brows at him before a forced laugh falls from his lips, “y-yeah, sure.”

Eddie snorts, knowing that he wasn’t listening to a single word he just said and still agreed. A smirk tugs at his lips, he tilts his head, “so, you’re gonna listen to it?” 

Steve nods, pursing his lips as he scratches the back of his neck. 

“Promise?” Eddie asks, almost cackling.

“Yeah, promise,” Steve shrugs. 

Eddie shakes his head, bringing his beer up to his lips, “you’re gonna regret that,” he murmurs against the glass before he takes a sip. 

Steve hates the music Eddie listens to, he’s hated every song he has shown him so far, but Eddie will take that promise in satisfaction, knowing that Steve never breaks any of his promises. 

Eddie takes a look around the room, recognizing a few people from school, some of whom have already graduated the year before. The guy by the snack table is the one who catches his attention the most, he squints his eyes as he takes a better look at him – tall, dark blond, lean, the gold ring that he always wore on his middle finger, still in place. Jacob Leeney. 

He hasn’t seen him since last year when Jacob was back from college for the weekend, the same weekend you made this guy lucky. 

He wants to make a joke to Steve about it, knowing that he hates the football captain’s guts, when from the corner of his eye, he notices how Steve stands up straighter. 

Every hope that began to dwindle, comes back in a rush when Steve sees you for the first time in two days. 

You walk into the room with a drink in your hand, a smile on your lips that grows brighter when your eyes lock with his. 

His own eyes light up at the sight of you, something in his chest swells with a feeling he grew unfamiliar to. His lips curl into a smile as he stares at your face for the longest time, before he lets his eyes roam your body, the exposed skin that isn’t covered by the pretty dress that you’re wearing, begging for his attention, begging to be marked up by his lips and to be touched by his hands.  

If only he could look into his own reflection to see just how awestruck he looks at the sight of you, how you lit up the whole room for him with your presence. If only he was focused on the beating of his heart or the fluttering in his stomach, the butterflies he thought were long gone, rising back up and filling him with life. 

Your skin is glowing beneath the dim fairy lights, your glossy lips that he craves to feel on his own, looking even more kissable than usual, and he already begins to count down the second until he can actually feel them. 

You start making your way over to him, the platform heels that you’re wearing making you look taller than you are. 

Steve licks his lips, having to fight the urge to just meet you halfway, throw you over his shoulder and get the hell out of here so he can have you all to himself. 

Your eyes are locked with his, a blush creeps up on your face and you grow flustered beneath his stare, a sheepish smile tugging at your lips as you raise your hand up to tuck your hair behind your ear – good, nothing changed in those two days. 

His excitement grows, the closer you get, he has nearly all forgotten about his friend next to him, about the other people in this room, but the reminder that it’s not just you and him in this room, catches up quickly, when the smile falls from your lips and your eyebrows furrow as a hand on your upper arm stops you, not enough to startle you, but enough to make you turn around in and look away from him. 

Steve’s own smile falls, and he straightens his back even more. 

He no longer sees your face, your expression or your reaction, but he sees him, Jacob Leeney. And the sight of him alone, is enough to turn the fire that you lit up inside of him, into raging flames. – And not because of the rivalry that was once between them, but because of what he had found out about you and the football captain not too long ago. 

Steve can’t hear what he’s saying to you, but the smile, the smirk on Jacob’s face makes his blood boil. The look in his eyes as he stares you down, making him clench his jaw. 

He pulls you into a hug, hand coming to rest between your shoulder blades, but not quite staying there, he moves it lower and lower until it rests dangerously low on your back as he hugs you for longer than necessary. 

“Damn,” Eddie mumbles from beside him, “Leeney’s about to get another best fuck of his life,” he chuckles, repeating the words that the jock had said to him months back. 

And it does little to calm Steve down. 

“I mean, unless they’ve seen each other this week before, I heard that he was back in town… a few days ago,” Eddie shrugs, watching him closely. 

He watches the way you take a step back, putting distance between you and Jacob after you pull away from the hug, but his hand lingers, not on your back anymore, but now on your elbow as he taps his fingers against your skin, talking to you with a look on his face that gives away his intentions. The sparkling in his eyes matches the one of his own, he wants you, he wants you badly. The interaction between you seems so… trusted, intimate. 

And then, Steve registers what Eddie had said to him, just now. 

A few days ago. 

Steve freezes. 

The cold shudder that runs through him, weakening the flames that just ignited. 

Is that why you canceled your plans with him?  

Is he the reason why you haven’t called? 

Did you stand him up for Jacob?

Were you with him? 

Did you let him kiss you? 

Did you let him touch you?

Did you forget all about him? 

He can’t decipher his own emotions at this very moment, too many are running through him, anger, frustrations… and a very ugly emotion that he won’t admit to feeling. 

He takes a deep breath, unable to hide the frown on his face as he watches you. 

Steve knew it, he knew that his own rule would come to haunt him, and he suddenly feels a deep regret for suggesting the inclusivity that allows you to see other people, he doesn’t want you to do that, he doesn’t want you to see other people, he wants to be the only one for you. 

He is watching you, so closely, so intensely, glaring at the touchy man in front of you, like he’s ready to light him up with his own eyes for putting his hands on places only he should be allowed to touch. 

Eddie slaps his shoulder, “I’ll be right back,” he announces before he scurries away from Steve who refuses to tear his eyes off of you.

He continues to watch you like a hawk, eyes not straying away from you and the man before you, and despite the intensity in his gaze, he is blind to your reactions, to the subtle, tiny steps you take to put distance between you and Jacob. All that Steve can see is the burning red that flashes in his eyes every time he touches you.

He sees the way your shoulders shake from laughter, the way you brush your hair back as you tilt your head up to look at him. 

And the more time passes as you stand across the room, spending time with someone who isn’t him, he begins to grow impatient, restless. 

You should be here, with him, by his side. 

And he wants to show you that the only one you need is him. So, without a second of hesitation, he slams his drink on the table, and he lets his feet carry him over to you, no longer wanting to stand there and watch how someone else might steal you away from him, he won’t let it happen. 

He let it happen with Nancy, he probably would’ve let it happen again if he was still with her, if this was her with Jonathan in front of him, he would’ve looked the other way, despite the aching in his chest.  

But you aren’t Nancy, and his feelings, his reactions, his action that he’s about to take, didn’t fully sink in yet. 

Once he is in earshot, Steve hears Jacob’s annoying, flirty voice. 

“You’re the prettiest girl at this party.” 

Your giggle follows, and it makes Steve’s skin crawl – if he wasn’t so driven by jealousy, and blinded by anger, he would’ve heard how fake it sounded.

“Oh, I don’t think so.” 

Jacob chuckles, opening his mouth to speak, to throw some lame pick up line at you, probably. 

But Steve doesn’t let him. Stepping up beside you, he places his hand on your back first, before he slides it down to your waist, gripping it tightly. The feeling of your body beneath his palm, your warmth and the way you melt into his touch after you turn and tilt your head to look at him, makes his stomach flutter pleasantly. 

You step closer to him, relaxing further when he squeezes you with his large hand, though your eyes are wide and your lips are parted as you stare at him. 

Right now, he can’t even find it in himself to care that your friends could see the intimacy between you and him, all he cares about is you and dragging you away so he can finally have you all to himself. 

“Can I talk to you?” He asks, calmly. 

Your wide eyes spark with curiosity as they look into his own, your glossy lips parting further for him as you come up with words, only to be cut off by Jacob.

“Oh hello, Harrington, long time no see!” The jock grins.

Steve clenches his jaw, but still turns to face him, biting back the distaste on his tongue, he nods at him, “yeah, yeah man, I’ll take her for a minute, okay?” He mumbles with squinted eyes and a fake smile on his lips as he points to you. 

Before the blond can even respond, Steve’s hand leaves your waist, and moves over to your wrist. He grabs your much smaller hand and holds it tightly, giving it a squeeze as he pulls you away and begins to walk, basically dragging you out of the room, and you don’t protest, you follow him, without a single word, slamming your drink on the counter on the way out.

You both walk into the crowded hallway, and he pulls you closer to him when you pass by a group of guys who are talking rather loudly. He pushes you towards the stairs, bringing your hand up a little as he gets behind you.

He doesn’t even bother to look out for your friends, they aren’t on his mind right now and he finds himself not caring about who could see you together. He also doesn’t care about one of his many rules that he is about to break when he pushes you into an empty bathroom. 

You switch the light on and let go of his hand when you walk in further. 

Steve turns around to close and lock the door, his fingers linger on the handle as he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. 

“What’s wrong, did something happen?” You ask. 

He opens his eyes again and turns around to face you, he raises his hand up, running it through his styled hair, he licks his lips as he lets his eyes roam your body for a second, taking a better look at the dress he hasn’t seen on you before, it must be new. 

The light that shines on you from the ceiling is golden, making your soft skin glow, making it look even more delicate, more desirable. Your chest rises up and down heavily, a worried expression etched in your beautiful features as you stare at him with furrowed brows. Your pouty lips parted. 

Can he blame Jacob for trying to go after you? Not really. 

“Nope, nothing happened,” he mumbles as he makes his way over to you. 

You shake your head a little, frowning, “then why–”

He practically lurches forward, cupping your cheeks, he leans down and presses his lips against yours, the way he wanted to, all night. 

You squeal in surprise, a noise that only fuels his lust even more, prompting him to deepen the kiss roughly. He can taste the sweetness of rum and pepsi on your lips, the strawberry from your gloss, he can taste you, he can smell the intoxicating scent of your perfume, he can feel your arms around his shoulders now as you start moving your lips against his, picking up the pace to match the speed of his own. 

He moans when your fingers get lost in his hair and your nails graze his scalp as you try to pull him closer against you. 

He licks your bottom lip, parting it with his tongue so he can slip it into your mouth. You let him. His palm slides down to your jaw, he holds it there for a moment as his other hand moves down to your hip, gripping it tightly as he presses you against the counter behind you, fingers now playing with the flimsy material of your sundress. 

A needy moan blesses his ears, the delicious sound rushing to his cock, making it stir in his pants that are now getting way too tight around his groin. 

You place your hand on the back of his neck as you place your other on his chest, pressing yourself further against him as you kiss him with whimpers and a neediness that he thought only he was feeling. 

God, he missed you.

But, did you miss him? 

Did your lips touch someone else’s when you weren’t with him, where you were supposed to be? 

The flames that are still raging inside of him, sparking a new kind of anger in him at the thought of it, it prompts him to do something that he has never done before – he bites your bottom lip, making you wince and moan at the pain. 

He pinches your chin between his fingers, pulling away from the kiss to look at you. 

With furrowed brows, you open your eyes to look at him, leaning back in to steal a kiss, but he keeps you in place, ignoring the whine that falls from your lips.

“Jacob Leeney, huh?” He mutters, instantly clenching his jaw after saying that name out loud. “Why did you talk to him, hm?” 

Steve moves his hand under your dress. 

“W-What?” You ask, shakily. “He was just talking to me about college.”

Right. That is the reason why he looked at you like he was ready to tear your dress off and devour you, right then and there. 

“Right,” he mumbles, gritting his teeth in anger. 

You stare at him with a frown on your face, tilting your head a little as you reach your hand up to wrap it around his wrist. And then, realization flashes in your eyes and your lips twitch a little. 

“You plan on fucking him tonight, Blondie?” He sneers, unable to hide the bitterness in his voice. 

You raise your eyebrows, pressing your lips together, he watches the way your throat bobs as you swallow. 

The silence between you is nearly deafening, he can feel your breath on his thumb as he still holds your chin, he waits for you to answer his question.

Your eyes crinkle, and your lips curl into a smile before you suddenly burst into giggles, making his irritation feel worse than before. 

Steve’s muscles tense up and he bites the insides of his cheeks, pressing his knee in between your thighs, he holds you tighter. 

“Why are you laughing, huh?” He asks, as he leans closer to you, cupping your jaw again, he tilts your head to the side, making your giggles die down the moment he latches his lips onto your neck. 

You suck in a sharp breath. 

“Mmm, nothing,” you murmur, “w-what if I am? What if I do plan on fucking him?” 

Steve has to hold back to growl, threatening to escape as he presses another rough kiss to your neck, his fingers now digging deeper into your hip. 

“Well, I have a little priority here, don’t you think?” He murmurs against your skin. 

“Wasn’t it you… the one who said no exclusivity, Steve?” 

His breath stopped for a moment, regret gnawing up in his throat like vile. He wants to back out of that rule… but you are not his, so he waters it down. 

“New rule then, Blondie,” he mumbles, not stopping with the kisses on your neck, “we leave with each other when we are at the same place. So, meaning today it’s me.” 

You furrow your eyebrows at his words, questions already lingering in your mind. 

You would always choose Steve. 

There is no one else you would go home with. 

And you can’t help but want him to know, but you don’t get to tell him because just as you open your mouth, Steve starts kissing your neck differently, intensely, roughly. He sucks on your neck, marking you up and blessing your delicate skin with hickeys as though he wants to show everyone that you’re his, that you belong to him. 

And you do, you do belong to him, but he doesn’t know it. 

He doesn’t know that your heart is his, that your mind and body is in his possession. 

He doesn’t know how crazy you go over his touches, how your heart flutters at every slightest touch of his, how weak and vulnerable you feel when he holds you, how no one else could ever come close to make you feel the things that he can make you feel. 

“How many drinks did you have, Blondie?” 

“J-Just half of the drink I left downstairs,” you say, tilting your head to the side to give him more access to your neck. 

“Just that?” He asks, “you’re not drunk, are you?” 

You shake your head quickly, “no, not at all.” 

“Good,” he nods. 

Your eyes flutter shut when you feel his fingers on your ruined panties, he pushes them aside and slips his long fingers through your folds, dipping them inside of you before he pulls them back out to tease your clit, digits now coated with your slick. 

You jerk a little, wrapping your arm around him so you can hold onto him, a needy moan escapes your mouth. 

You could have had this on Wednesday night, you could have had this last night, but you were too busy worrying about something that filled your heart with pain. 

“S-Steve!” 

He gets lost in his feelings, lost in the rage, in the possessiveness and the urge to show you that he should be the only one for you. His teeth graze your neck, his lips suck harshly on your skin as he spreads you open with two fingers. 

You mewl when he starts pumping them inside of you, in and out, deeply and slowly at first. 

“Who are you so wet for, huh?” He asks, pulling away just enough so he can look at the marks he left, appreciating the sight in front of him for a second, before he pulls your face towards him, gripping your chin tighter than before, his thumb now lingering on your bottom lip. “Tell me, Blondie” 

You open your eyes, revealing to him just how dark they are, how much lust lingers in them. 

“You, Stevie! Just you!” You whine needily before you wrap your lips around his thumb, catching him off guard, once again. You swirl your tongue around it, looking into his hazel eyes as you start sucking, you watch the way they widen and darken, the tension in his jaw now leaving as he is only focused on this, on you. 

“Fuck,” he murmurs under his breath, picking up the pace of his fingers, he drags them out of you and slams them back in, nearly moaning himself when he listens to the squelching noises as he finger-fucks you, “just me?” 

Your jaw drops and you throw your head back, letting go of him to hold onto the edges of the counter, he has got you pressed against at. You nod quickly, “yes, yes! Just you, only you!” You ramble as you squeeze your eyes shut again, enjoying the feeling of his fingers inside of you. 

“Good.” 

Steve can feel how you clench around him, how you’re already so close even though he didn’t even get started yet. He leans in to peck your lips as he curls his fingers inside of you, and he presses his thumb against your clit, rubbing it slowly. 

He feels himself growing harder – the feeling of your tight, wet walls around his fingers being too much, along with the needy moans that keep falling from your pretty lips. 

He stares at you, watching the way your nipples poke through the thin material of your dress – of course, you’re not wearing a bra. You bite your lip, your brows are knit together, and your head falls to the side as you let yourself get lost in the feeling he provides you with. 

Not Jacob, definitely not Jacob. 

The jock could never make you feel this, he is so sure of it, and yet, Steve can’t shake the thoughts of you and him together. 

Would you be this wet for him too? 

Would you moan so prettily for him? 

Would you be so needy for him? 

The anger just won’t leave him, it refuses to, it has him in its tightest grip, urging him to prove something to you. 

His chest heaves up and down heavily, his darkened eyes are nearly black now. 

You’re close, he can feel that you are with the way you’re clenching around him, but he doesn’t let you cum like this tonight, so he pulls his fingers out of you. 

Your eyes shoot open and your lips part as you’re about to protest, pouting at him. He grabs your hips with both of his hands, turning you around abruptly, he bends you over the counter and presses himself against you, and he chuckles darkly when you gasp at his action. 

Steve reaches for the hem of your dress and he flips it over, exposing your ass to him and the lacy thong you’re wearing, he groans at the sight of it, unable to hold back, he rears his hand back before he smacks his large palm against your skin, slapping your ass harshly. 

Steve has never, never treated a girl roughly before, not any of his hookups, not Nancy, but then again, he never had this much fun with any of them. Letting go of his inhibitions, taking what he wants for once, and the fact that you let him, and even love it, makes him go feral.

But as the realization sinks in of what he had done, his eyes widen as fear rushes through him, worried that he had gone too far, but you ease his mind with the filthy whimper that sounds through the room as you press your ass against his dick, rubbing it against him as though you’re asking for more. 

He can’t help but chuckle, the shock and the fear vanishing just as quick as it came. 

“Oh, you like that, Blondie?” He asks as he presses his palm against your ass, this time not slapping it, but grabbing it roughly, making you whine again. “Of course you fucking do,” he murmurs as he lets go, only to smack you once more, making you gasp his name in pleasure. 

“Please!” 

He looks at your reflection in the mirror, needy eyes meeting his. 

“Please what?” He asks as he unbuckles his belt and pops the button of his jeans, he reaches for the condom in his back pocket – mentally thanking his needy self for placing one there before he left his house, in hopes that he would get this. 

“Please, fuck me!” 

He pushes his jeans and boxers down, just enough to free himself, not wasting any more time, he rips apart the foil and throws the empty packet on the ground, making quick work of rolling the condom over his length. With his chin against his chest, he looks down, stroking his dick for good measure, his spit curl falls in front of his eyes, but he doesn’t bother to push it out of the way, he looks up through hooded eyes, glancing at you through the mirror, he almost wants to chuckle at the desperation in your eyes, but it gets stuck in his throat when you push your ass back against his dick, whining. 

His stomach flutters seeing you so desperate for no one but him. 

He grabs your hip with his left hand, pressing himself against you, he teases both you and himself by slipping his shaft through your wet folds, he watches the way you look at him, begging for more with your eyes as you push yourself up a little. 

He presses his palm against your lower back, pushing you down so your chest is flush against the marble counter, he lines up with your entrance and pushes inside of you slowly. Waves of pleasure rush through him in an instant. You scrunch your face up, lips parting as a sigh escapes you.  

You throw your hand back, reaching for his forearm, you grab it tightly as you shut your eyes and drop your head a little, your hair falls in front of your face, hiding all your pretty features.

Steve looks down, watching his cock disappear into your weeping pussy. 

“You take me so well, holy shit,” he murmurs under his breath. And it was the truth, you take him like no other, making you the most addictive.

He sinks into you, deeper and deeper, stretching you out and splitting you open, the tension inside of him grows and his heartbeat increases. He pulls out again, watching the way the condom around him glistens with your slick – how he wishes that he could feel you without it. He slams back in, making you gasp and arch your back in pleasure. He starts thrusting, in and out, deeply and slowly at first, but with an intensity that makes you open your eyes again.

“Steve!” 

“That’s right,” He grunts, reaching his hand forward, he grabs your hair and tilts your head back up, forcing you to look at yourself in the mirror as he moves his hips faster, quickening his pace until he’s pounding you. “Look at who’s fucking you right now, Blondie.” 

The loudest moan falls from your lips, and you instantly bring your hand up to cup your mouth, panic flashing in your lust filled eyes. Despite the loud music, you are scared that someone might hear you, and it only prompts him to fuck you harder and rougher against the counter, holding you tighter as heat spreads in his chest – who do you want to hide from? Your friends, or Jacob? 

But while Steve worries about something that isn’t even on your mind, you are so far gone, so lost in the pleasure that you feel because of him, your insides so sensitive already, yet aching for more. You focus on the way he thrusts in and out of you, how heavenly it feels to feel him inside of you, to feel him in your stomach. 

You are so drunk on him that there is not a single thought in your brain, only him. 

No one has ever done this to you, no one has ever made you feel so weak, so submissive, so lost in the heat of the moment, no one has ever taken such control – you wouldn’t have let them, only he can have this. 

Your eyes turn glassy, rolling back as you throw your head back, your weak hand falling from your face again. 

“Yeah, as if that asshole could fuck you like this,” he grunts, letting go of your hair and moving his hand forward to cup your cheeks, “say it. Say no one can fuck you like this, Blondie, because I know it’s true.”

Your walls clench and flutter around him, a cry leaving you as he pulls your ass up a little, slamming in and out of you, hitting the spot that makes tears fall from your eyes, making him even more aroused than before. 

“Only you, Steve!” You sob as a tear spills down your cheek and onto his thumb. 

Your knees buckle and your body begins to tremble, sobs and moans turn into needy whines and whimpers, your flustered face decorated with pretty tears making his muscles tense in his stomach. 

You try to keep quiet as you press your lips together, trying to breathe calmly through your nose despite the pounding in your chest, when he suddenly changes the pace again, pounding you so hard that he knocks you forward, hitting so deep inside of your squelching pussy, that you can’t help but cry out loudly as stars blur your vision. 

“Stevie, Stevie, Stevie!” 

Steve nearly busts, eyes widening at the way you chant his name so desperately. His hips stutter a little and he has to suck in a sharp breath, eyes shutting for a moment. He twitches inside of you, and it doesn’t help that you keep clenching. 

The sound of the music, of laughter and voices outside are so far away, the only thing you both hear are your moans and how wet you are as his skin slaps against yours. 

He slows down a little, enough to make you whine again, to make you move back against him, trying to fuck yourself on his cock. 

“F-Fuck,” Steve moans, he opens his eyes again, reaching forward, he grabs your shoulder and pulls you up and against his chest before he lets his hand travel down your stomach, he pushes your dress out of the way, and his fingers find their way to your clit. 

A high pitched moan echoes through the room, your body shakes harder and you grab his forearm tightly as he rubs circles on your sensitive nub. 

He presses his lips to your neck, moaning himself as the tension in his stomach grows bigger and bigger. He kisses your delicate skin, his mouth brushing the dark marks he left. 

You cling to him, nails grazing his skin, you press the side of your face against his, staining his cheek with your tears.

“I know, baby, I know.” 

If only he knew just how such a simple yet special word affects your heart, making it beat faster and harder in your chest, setting all your insides on fire and igniting something in you that throws you into a pit of love and glee. 

Steve had never called you this before, and you could only dream of such sweet nicknames, until now. 

Your eyes roll back again, eyelashes fluttering as you squeeze them shut completely, mouth ajar as filthy noises fall. You’d fall over if it wasn’t for his strong arms holding you up, his fingers moving so fastly on your clit, his dick so deep inside of you, his lips biting gently on your skin, all it takes is another rough thrust and your body begins to shake for a different reason, you fall apart for him, once again. 

You don’t even feel yourself drooling, you no longer feel the tears spilling down your cheeks. 

“Good girl,” he whispers into your ear, kissing the spot behind it before he grabs your chin and tilts your head to the side so he can press his lips against yours, pulling you into a soft kiss as he keeps fucking you, chasing his own high. 

Steve furrows his brows, his muffled moan vibrating against your lips as he gives one last powerful thrust and spills into the condom, secretly wishing that he could spill inside of you and paint your walls white instead. 

His body relaxes after the high it had been on for the past minutes, muscles loosening, but lips still moving gently against yours. 

Both yours and his moans die down after a moment, but you’re still panting, trying to catch your breaths as you pull away from one another. You open your eyes, and look into his, the blackness slowly fading away and you see the pretty hazel color again. His tongue licks his bottom lip, eyes flickering between your own and the marks he left on your neck. 

A lazy smile appears on your face and you feign confidence as you tilt your head to the side and reach your hand up to move the spit curl away from his forehead, the tips of your fingers brushing his skin, he holds you tighter in response. 

“I didn’t think you could get so jealous, Steve,” you whisper, ‘jokingly’ but most of all, painfully to yourself.

You’d hope that he was jealous, that all of this was the result of the burning red emotion, but why would he feel jealous over you? 

Just the presence of Jacob was enough to bruise Steve’s ego. That’s all that it was.

You know he never liked the jock, and the fact that he got his hands on you first, must’ve hit a nerve. But it has nothing to do with you. Steve is not jealous of who you sleep with, he doesn’t care. He is just bruised cause he felt threatened with an ex hook-up you had, afraid of them stealing you for tonight.

Steve huffs at your words, shaking his head at you. He pulls out of you with a hiss, cursing under his breath. 

“Well, did you think I’d let him steal you away from me…?” He asks, clearing his throat as he adds, “tonight?” 

And then he looks down, not wanting to show his face, to show how jealous he really is. 

He doesn’t need you to know that. 

He slips his hand between your thighs again, adjusting your panties and putting them back in place before he fixes your dress, pushing it back down over your ass. 

Your eyes soften at his action, heart fluttering in your chest. 

It’s not the first time he does this, he always takes care of you – he cleans you up, he helps you put a shirt on your body whenever you stay over, whenever you’re too weak to move. He is good to you, gentle and soft, and that is dangerous, because despite the thoughts in your head, the logical part that tells you the truth, his actions keep putting false hope into your heart. 

You grab the counter, and on shaky feet, you step closer and hold onto it tightly, watching as he fixes himself next, throwing the condom and the discarded foil into the trash, he tucks himself back into his pants and steps towards the counter beside you to wash his hands. 

His lips are stained with your lipstick, his hair is messy and his cheeks are flushed – he looks so cute like this. 

You tear your eyes away from him and finally look at your own reflection, your eyes widen and you gasp in shock – not at the mascara that runs down your face, the messy hair or just how puffy your lips are, no, this is not exactly an unusual sight to see, but the marks on your neck are, because they are so much bigger and darker than they usually are. 

You throw your hand up towards your neck and turn to face him, “what the fuck, Steve?” 

He winces, quickly drying his hands before he turns to face you, as well. Eying your hand that is covering the hickeys he left, your big eyes filled with panic. He can’t help but think you look cute like this, with your hair all messy and your lips curled into a pout. 

“H-How am I gonna hide–”

He grabs your face and pulls you into a soft kiss, just a quick peck, one that is enough to cut you off. 

“You think I’m done with you and we’re gonna go back to the party?” He chuckles, caressing your cheek as he pulls away from your puckered lips, “no, we’re leaving, Blondie.” 

You gulp at his words and squeeze your aching thighs together as excitement rises back up in you. 

“So, fix yourself and meet me downstairs,” he murmurs, placing another soft kiss to your lips before he pulls away. “I’ll wait by the front door.” 

He takes another look at your neck, hiding his satisfied smirk by turning around. He unlocks the door and opens it, leaving you alone in the bathroom as he makes his way downstairs to find Eddie or Robin, to announce that he will be driving home a very sick Blondie. 

While a smirk keeps playing on his lips, you are panicking in the bathroom, not knowing how to hide the marks he left, what lie to come up with this time if Eddie sees and asks questions again. 

You do your best to fix your hair, running your fingers through it and wiping away the mascara streaks on your cheeks, and the smudged lipstick, that you only now realize, is still on his lips, he didn’t even bother to wipe it away – what an idiot. 

You step back and take a look at your dress, smoothing it down and moving your hands back to your hair. The marks on your neck are so strong, so very visible, you’re not even sure if foundation and concealer will be able to hide this. A groan falls from your lips. 

You should do the same to him, he surely won’t fix it with makeup. 

You press your palm against your neck, testing out how it will look if you just go out like this. 

“This looks so stupid,” you mutter to yourself, rolling your eyes. 

You pray that you won’t run into any of your friends on the way out, all you have to do is make it downstairs and to the front door. You haven’t seen much of Eddie before, and Robin is too busy with Vickie anyways. 

You take a deep breath and then you step out of the bathroom and into the hallway. It’s not as crowded as it is downstairs, but there are still a few people you have to pass, as you awkwardly keep your hand on your neck, pretending to scratch it. 

You feel eyes on you, but you don’t bother to turn around to look at them, not even caring if they heard you and Steve – as long as your friends didn’t hear, you’re good. 

Your legs are shaky, and walking in your platform heels feels like a workout after Steve just railed you into oblivion, your stomach still flutters, yet feeling empty at the lack of him. 

You walk down the stairs, carefully. You hope that your knees won’t buckle. 

The party is still in full swing, some Billy Idol song blaring through the speakers as the living room is still filled with dancing people. Red solo cups are everywhere, empty bottles and cans litter the counters and tables – poor Vickie will regret throwing a party when she wakes up tomorrow morning. 

Your eyes fall on him, the smug look on his face making you huff in annoyance. Steve enjoys seeing you struggle after what he just did to you, he licks his lips as his eyes run up and down your body, they flash with amusement when they fall on your hand, you see the way his shoulders shake, he is chuckling at you as he plays with the car keys in his hand. Smug bastard. 

You roll your eyes at him, and turn away, looking around to see if any of your friends are around, but the only people you see are strangers and a few known faces from school, you sigh in relief, knowing that you won’t have to lie into Eddie’s or Robin’s face. You return your gaze to Steve whose face is suddenly no longer as smug as it was a few seconds ago, his eyes aren’t even on you anymore, but rather on someone behind you as he looks over your shoulder. 

Someone calls your name, someone who is the reason for the rage on Steve’s face that you had already seen before. 

You turn around when your name is being called again, to find Jacob walking towards you. Oh. 

You grow flustered knowing that the fucked out look on your face is so very obvious. You can’t even hide it. 

He catches up to you, and he reaches his hand out to place it on your upper arm, “hi, there you are,” he smiles, towering over you. He is tall, much taller than you, even taller than Steve. 

You greet him back, forcing a smile. 

He furrows his brows as his eyes scan your face, his smile falling a little, a frown appearing instead, “are you okay?” He asks, worriedly. “Do you feel sick?” 

You shake your head and open your mouth to speak when the words get stuck in your throat after his hand leaves your arm and comes to rest on your face instead, surprising you and angering Steve. 

“Do you need me to take you home?” He asks, caressing your cheek. 

You would have moved, but you are frozen in place as you stare at him, completely caught off guard by his action and the look in his eyes. 

“I-I…”

A different hand appears on your lower back, one that your body instantly recognizes, because your skin heats up and your chest blooms with warmth – it’s scary how well your body knows him. 

Steve pulls you into his side, wrapping his arm around you, “I got her, she’s in good hands, Leeney.” 

Sometimes you wish that he knew how you felt about him, how your heart nearly explodes every time he says something only a boyfriend should say – maybe then, he would take pity on you and your heart. 

You melt into his touch, the smell of his cologne is so intoxicating. 

Jacob retracts his hand, he looks between you and Steve, his shoulders slumping a little as he steps back, he looks down at you, nodding, “alright.” 

“Come on,” Steve murmurs, squeezing your waist as he begins to pull you away, wanting you away from the jock and towards the front door. 

“Bye Jacob–”

“Wait,” he rushes forward, and reaches for your hand, placing a folded note into your palm. “Here, I’m not making the same mistake again.” He gives your hand a squeeze and smiles at you, not waiting for your response, he steps away and takes another glance at Steve, before he turns around and leaves. 

You stare at the note in your hand, you don’t have to open it to know what’s written on the paper. 

You fail to notice the absolute rage in Steve’s eyes, how much more intense it is than before, how tense the muscles in his jaw are, how it takes everything in him not to slam you against the wall and kiss you in front of Jacob and everyone else. 

He pulls you out of the house without a single word, he grabs your hand instead as he leads you outside, he shuts the door and the sound of music and the many voices begin to fade away as you both make your way to his car, which he parked on the side of the road. 

Your heels click against the cobblestone, your hands hold tightly onto his, you’re quiet, and so is he, but a storm is raging in his mind, and everything he felt before, now feels so much worse. 

Can he keep you when there’s other people who want you just as much as he does? – And even, in different, much more intimate ways? 

He saw the way Jacob looked at you, he wasn’t only interested in another quick fuck, he wanted more, and it irritates Steve, it makes his stomach churn uncomfortably, it makes his heart clench in his chest – it shouldn’t, there is nothing more between you than this, and yet, he is scared to lose it, the little secret that you both have, he isn’t ready to let it go, he isn’t ready to let you go and watch you fall into someone else arms. 

He wants to keep you, and he will do everything to make it stay that way. 

He knows that there is only one way to show you that he is the only you will ever need. At least, for now.

He opens the passenger door and lets go of your hand so you can get inside, eying the note that is still in your other hand. He closes the door once you’re seated, and he makes his way around his BMW, when he gets inside as well, he notices the now unfolded note in your lap and the number that’s written on it. 

He grits his teeth but bites back his bitter words. 

You won’t call him, he will make sure of that. 

It’s not easy to focus on the drive when his mind is in such a whirlwind and his eyes keep glancing back at the note in your lap, that you folded back together again. 

You aren’t looking at it any longer, your eyes are focused on the road and the passing trees. 

“What do you plan to do with that number, Blondie?” He asks, unable to hold back and hide the jealousy this time. 

You narrow your eyes at him, taking a look at his hands, you see how hard he is gripping the steering wheel when you take in the sight of his knuckles. The veins in his hands nearly popped. You gulp as your eyes move along his arm, muscles that are hidden beneath the black sleeve of his shirt peeking out just a little, his cheeks are red, his jaw clenched. 

He is angry, but a part of you can see through your insecurities. 

It’s not only his ego that was bruised, it’s not only the anger that shines through, there is more, so much more. 

The jealousy that only you ever felt is lingering in his eyes. 

He is jealous. 

Steve is jealous over you. 

And there is really no reason for him to feel that way, but you can’t stop the rush of excitement and happiness that floods through your body. 

If he felt that way before he dragged you into the bathroom, over an innocent conversation, what will he do now that Jacob has made an entirely new move?

Will you get another taste of what he gave you before?

Will he call you baby again?

You’re stepping into a dangerous territory, you know it, but the thrill over it makes heat pool in your stomach. 

“I don’t know, Lego Head,” you shrug, trying to keep a straight face as you look at him, “maybe I’ll keep it… You know, for when you don’t answer your phone.” You lie as you pick the note back up. 

Steve huffs, shaking his head in disbelief. 

He rolls down the window, giving you no time to react, he snatches the note from your hand and wastes no second to throw it out onto the road, letting it get lost in the darkness. 

“Hey!” You gasp as your eyes widen. 

“Whoops, my hand slipped,” he flashes you an innocent smile as he closes the window again. 

“What if I want to call him!?”

Your question makes him grip the wheel even tighter, knuckles turning white. 

“You don’t need him,” he mumbles. 

You sit up straighter, raising your brows at him, “oh really? I don’t? Why’s that?” 

Steve can’t take it any longer, the feelings inside of him boiling over, controlling all his actions now. 

He pulls the car off the main road, and drives into the isolated wooded area that leads to a stream, a hidden part of Lovers Lake that he only ever came to when he needed to clear his head. 

He slams his foot on the brakes and turns off the car, turning off the lights and unbuckling the seatbelt, he turns to you in anger, “because you literally just said no one can fuck you like I can!” 

Your heart begins to race, goosebumps rise on your skin, and you press your palms against the leather seat beneath you. The giddiness inside of you is now so difficult to keep hidden. 

“Ah, so that should make you exclusive,” you smirk, tilting your head to the side, “okay, well, maybe he got better–”

You don’t even get to finish your sentence, you don’t get to taunt him anymore as he turns his back to you and gets out of the car, slamming the door shut and rounding the car to get to you, he rips open the door on your side. 

“You don’t learn, do you?” 

“W-What?” 

“Get out.” He demands, not nicely. 

You frown at him, watching his stance and how angry he looks at you. “What the fuck–”

“Get out,” he repeats, in a much calmer yet angrier voice. 

You shiver at his command, and you take a deep breath as you unfasten your seatbelt, your heels hit the grass as you get out of the car. Steve places his hand on your back and pushes you out of the way so he can close the door before he opens the one to the backseat. He glares into your eyes, “get in.” 

Your frown transforms into a look of complete confusion as you look between his hand and the seat that he points at. 

“You’re making me change seats?”

He steps closer to you, “get the fuck inside, right now.” 

The demanding, aggressive tone in his voice doesn’t make you question him again, you swallow harshly and turn around, you place your hands on the leather seats as you crawl inside, moaning in surprise when he smacks your ass again.

He chuckles darkly behind you, “you really like that huh?” 

You glare at him over your shoulder, earning another slap to your other cheek, making you jerk and whine. 

He chuckles again and follows you inside, closing the door behind him, “noted.” 

The leather beneath you is cold, and you grip it tightly, sucking in a sharp breath, and just as you go to turn around and sit down, Steve’s strong hands grab at your hips, flipping you over and manhandling you underneath his body as he forces you to lie down on your back. He pushes your thighs apart, settling in between them, he presses his palms flat against the seat on both sides of your head. 

A shiver runs down your spine, not from fear, but from excitement, because he probably didn’t want you to realize he was jealous, but he is showing you. He is clearly showing you and you can’t help but feel absolutely happy, accomplished. 

You know that you’re in for something when you look into his eyes – you can’t even find the right words to describe the emotions that are lingering in them, but they make your inside flutter so wildly, you feel the need to clench your thighs together as he looms over you, but you can’t, he doesn’t let you. 

His nose brushes against yours, his hair falls in front of his eyes as he inches closer to you, his breath kissing your skin. 

“Has anyone ever put you in your place, Blondie?” He asks as he drums his finger along your shoulder, hooking it around the strap of your dress. 

“W-What?” You stutter, hating how weak and shaky your voice sounds. 

“I’m taking that as a no.” 

Steve drags the strap down, and he leans down to press his lips against your shoulder, “I wanted to be nice, baby,” he murmurs against your skin, “wanted to take care of you, but fuck, you leave me no choice.” 

You squirm beneath him, digging your nails into the flesh of your legs as you furrow your brows at his words. 

His lips ghost over your collarbone, his hand now pushing your dress down a little, he exposes your chest to him, and he traces the outline of your breast before his fingers pinch your nipple, making you whine again. 

“Time for you to understand–” He murmurs as he plants a kiss to your jaw, “-- that I’m the only one you need.” 

His movements are soft, his touches are gentle but to your surprise, they don’t stay that way, after a few more kisses, he flips the bottom part of your dress over, bunching it around your waist, he hooks his finger around your panties and tears them off of you, throwing them over his back, not caring where they land. His fingers trace your legs, hands finding their way to your heels, he unfastens the straps around your ankles, and takes them off before he returns his attention to where you need him the most. 

He teases you with his fingers, torturing your clit and chuckling darkly at the whines that start filling the space around you. 

Steve had been intense and rough before, but one look into his face shows you that you will get more tonight, so much more. 

He splits you open with his fingers again, sinking them into your soaked hole, he fucks you with them, he taunts you with his words and sucks more marks onto your skin, littering the other side of your neck and your chest with hickeys. He makes you see stars with the way he curls his digits inside of you and rubs your clit. 

To your surprise and confusion, he doesn’t let you cum, he pulls his fingers out and stops touching you when you’re about to fall apart, just like he did before in the bathroom. Nothing like this ever happened before. 

You don’t think anything of it at first, not when he seems desperate to fill you up in a different way. He fumbles with his pants and pushes them down, along with his boxers. He rolls a condom over his length again, one of many he has in the glove compartment because sometimes you two don’t even reach a bed when seeing each other, rushing to do it just as he did earlier, your mouth waters at the sight of his leaking, red tip. 

“C’mere,” he murmurs, grabbing your waist and pulling your weakened body on top of him, you instantly reach for his shoulders, grabbing them tightly as he gives you no time to react before he makes you sink down on his cock – you don’t mind. You are so needy, so wet for him that your juices soak your inner thighs. 

But you need to feel his skin on yours, so you reach for the hem of his shirt, and pull it over his head, he leans forward as you rip it off of him. You throw it on the seat and wrap your arms around his naked shoulders, pressing yourself against his hairy chest.

You are the first to start moving, rolling your hips and riding him slowly, but he isn’t satisfied with that, he wants something else, he wants more. 

Steve makes you bounce on his dick, he holds your hips harshly and uses you as though you’re a fleshlight, filling you to the brim and slamming you up and down on his dick, fucking you rather disrespectfully. 

He makes you fall forward, as your eyes shut at the roughness and the intensity. He is buried so deep inside of you, you’re not sure if you have ever felt this before. Tears blur your vision again that night, moans turn into whimpers and whimpers into cries, the pleasure so strong, so overwhelming. 

You throw your hand against the fogged up window, slamming your palm against it, leaving a handprint there for him. 

No words escape you, not even his name, the only thing you can do is fall limply against his body and hide your face in the crook of his neck as drool starts coming out of your mouth but the moment it touches his skin, Steve grabs the back of your neck and pulls you back to him again, so he can see your face. 

“Does he even get to see you like this?” He grunts, fucking up into you and watching the way you squeeze your crying eyes shut. “Drooling? Crying? I bet I’m the only one you’ve ever been this cock drunk for… aren’t I?” 

You nod your head wildly, panting and gasping as pain and pleasure mix together. He thinks it’s just physical, but there is so much more to it. You knew you would turn into this for him and just him, you’ve always known.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

Steve lets go of your neck, making you fall back against him, he decides to tease you more by smacking your ass, causing you to jolt and whimper, filling him with satisfaction. 

He makes your pleasure the more unbearable, causing you to clench around him. 

And just like before, just as you’re so close to reaching your peak, he stops your movements all together, filling you with anger now, making you snap out of the haze he put you into. He stills and grabs you tightly, so you won’t move, he lifts you up and off his cock, biting back a groan. 

“W-What the fuck, Steve?” You cry out, “I-I was so close!” 

His eyes are nearly unrecognizable when he squeezes your cheeks together with one hand, forcing you to look at him. The angry sight in front of you, only makes you clench around him even harder. 

“You’re not cumming until I say so, Blondie.” It was stern, but Steve had a point to make, he needs to make it happen. 

You aren’t even aware of what is going on inside of his troubled mind, you could never even guess, not even when he flips you over and throws you down under him, placing your left leg over his shoulder. 

The position is quite cramping, but you forget about any kind of pain, when he sinks back inside of you and starts pounding into you with a force that makes the stars shine brighter and your heart race faster. 

Steve is not even focused on his pleasure, despite how good you feel around him, all that he can think about is your pleasure. He gives his all, he gives everything to kill any memory of what any of your other hookups did to you, of the pleasure they made you feel, of the pleasure he once made you feel. 

He snaps his hips into yours, fucking you so deeply and roughly, making his dick ache in pleasure. 

He surely never fucked anyone this way before. He never felt this angry before.

He watches you closely, the way your pussy flutters around his dick, the way you grip the leather beneath you, nearly ripping through it with your nails as tears of pleasure stream down your face and you tilt your head to the side with furrowed brows, your tits bouncing as he slams you back and forth on the seats. 

Your moans are so loud that anyone who were to pass by, would freak out and almost faint or call the cops. 

He is not even touching your clit, not even grazing it with his fingers, not giving it any pleasure again… yet. But he feels your fluttering walls, how tight you are getting around him, how high pitched your moans are getting – you are close, so close. 

And so is he, he keeps thrusting in and out of you, not tearing his eyes off of your beautiful face as he chases his own high, roughly and deeply. Your name falls from his lips, and his hips stutter as he finishes into the condom, groaning as your walls grip him tightly. 

Steve pulls out of you reluctantly, stopping your pleasure once again. 

He pulls your leg off his shoulder gently and places it back on the seat, giving it a squeeze.

His chest heaves up and down, he breathes heavily as he stares at you, biting back the chuckle when your eyes shoot open and a bewildered look crosses your face, the tears in your eyes still shining brightly as you raise yourself up on your elbows, frowning angrily at him. 

“You– I’m going to fucking kill you, Steve, it’s not fair!” Your bottom lip trembles, you are clearly very frustrated with him. 

He looks down to hide the amusement on his face, taking the condom off, he ties it up and throws it on the ground, making a mental note to throw it away later on. 

Steve tugs himself back into his boxers and pulls his pants up, not bothering with his belt just yet. 

He shakes his head at you when you squeeze your thighs together, hiding yourself from him. He hooks his hands around your knees, pulling you closer against him before he tears them apart again, exposing your glistening swollen pussy to him. 

He licks his lips as he hooks your leg around his hip, holding it there as brings his other hand back to your center, he bites down on his lip, looking at you with mischief in his eyes as he delivers a slap to your clit. 

“Wha– Steve!” You gasp in surprise and if he weren’t so determined, so centered on you, he would have been surprised by his action too. 

“Don’t worry,” he murmurs, using his pointer finger to tease your slit, he spreads your folds apart, and slips his middle finger and ring finger into your sopping pussy, he focuses on your face. 

Your angry features slowly relax again, mouth parting as he starts to move his fingers again, this time he does aim for your orgasm… and more. 

He moves slowly at first, rocking his fingers in and out of you, moaning himself at the noises he draws from your pussy. 

Despite the pleasure that you’re falling back into again, you grow flustered at the noises and raise your hands up to your face, covering it and hiding yourself from him, but your action only earns you another slap to your clit. 

“Uh uh,” Steve shakes his head at you, letting go of your leg, he reaches forward and grabs both of your wrists with one hand, dragging your hands away from your face, “don’t hide from me.”

“But–”

He curls his fingers into your g-spot, tearing a gasp from you. 

“No buts,” he grumbles, as he moves steadily, fingering your pussy roughly now. He angles his hand differently, the end of his palm now brushing against your aching clit every time he thrusts his fingers deeply into you. 

He shuts you up quickly, making every word, every sentence get caught in your throat. 

His left hand fondles your boobs, your waist, your stomach, your hip – he touches you everywhere, leaving every inch of your skin burning with desire. His fingertips dig deeply into your leg as he keeps you spread open, his thigh keeping your other leg from closing, as he abuses your cunt with his fingers that are much longer than your own. 

Your back arches in pleasure, your sensitive core crying for more. 

The feeling inside of you is different, new, but you aren’t surprised by it, he edged you three or four times tonight, tears of frustration fell from your eyes, those tears that are now caused by pleasure and sensitivity. 

Your whimpers are so erotic to him, just like the wetness he can hear as he is knuckles deep inside of you, stretching you open. He can see the goosebumps on your skin and the way your stomach tenses up, the way your breathing stutters. 

You are in bliss, he can see it on your face, there is not a single thought in that pretty head of yours. 

He leans down, pressing into you as he inches closer to your face, pecking your lips, “no one else can make you feel like this… no one.” He whispers against your lips, placing another kiss upon them before he moves to your marked up neck, ghosting over it and inching down to your chest, trailing kisses along the way to your boobs. He wraps his lips around your nipple, looking up at you, he begins to suck, adding more pleasure to your body. 

You belong to him. 

“Steve!” You whimper, throwing your hands into his hair, you let your fingers get lost in it. 

He moans against you, quickening the pace of his fingers, curling them even harder inside of you, making you shudder at the feeling, jolting even when he presses his thumb against your swollen clit. 

You tremble beneath him, the wave of pleasure being so strong that a sob falls from your lips, your fingers curling into his hair roughly, “fuck… baby,” you whine. 

A surprised whimper falls from his own lips, the nickname stopping every thought in his mind, for a second. 

Baby, Baby, Baby… 

No one has ever called him that, no one. The fact that you are the first, somehow makes it better, and he doesn’t even know why. 

The coil inside of you grows bigger and bigger, an unfamiliar feeling bubbles in your lower stomach, making drool form on your tongue and stars blur your vision. Your nerves feel as though they are on fire, your skin prickling as he fucks you roughly. 

“I-I’m so close,” you whimper and scrunch your face up as you move your hips a little, meeting his thrusts. 

He is so lost in you and your moans, he doesn’t even realize that he is biting, tugging on your nipple with his teeth until a new, higher moan escapes you. 

“O-Oh my god,” you whisper shakily as your eyes roll back, “S-Steve! That feels so good!” 

“Yeah?” He murmurs against you, lips returning to your neck, he pecks it a few times as he looks down, watching the way your thighs tremble, the way the muscles in your stomach tense so tightly and your chest rises up and down so much heavier than before, “your thighs are shaking so much… holy shit.” 

The pressure inside of you becomes so overwhelming, it feels a lot, it feels too much. 

“S-Steve,” you tremble, “t-that feels weird.” 

Your voice sounds so small, unsure, yet the moans won’t stop escaping you. 

“No, baby, you’re doing so good,” he whispers as he lets go of your leg, bringing his hand up to cup your cheek, he wipes your tears and brushes your hair out of your face, pressing his thumb against your bottom lip, “just trust me… let go for me.” 

You can’t bring yourself to open your eyes, not even when he starts peppering your face with kisses. 

The pleasure is too much, the pressure makes you panic slightly, but he doesn’t stop, if anything, he fucks you harder and faster with his fingers, keeping them curled inside of you, his palm keeps brushing your overstimulated clit. He is hoping to get what he has been seeking. You haven’t trembled this much before, and he is confident, he is so confident that you won’t forget this, that you won’t forget how he made you feel, that you won’t forget him. 

“C’mon,” he murmurs against your lips, “I know you want to.”

Your bottom lip shakes, the pressure threatening to explode inside of you, every inch of your body now burning and quivering. 

You let go of his hair and throw your hand down to wrap your fingers around his wrist, your eyes open, and you look at him through your blurry vision. 

Your moans and the squelching that gets louder and louder, sounds that are like music to his ears, making his stomach flutter and his dick twitch again – to his own surprise. 

“I-I can’t– too much, Steve!” You whine, nearing an edge you have never touched before, “I’m gonna–”

You never get to finish your sentence, because as Steve plunges his fingers in even deeper, and curls them harder. You can only throw your head back, a mix between a squeal and a whimper falling. 

Steve nearly stops all of his movements when you clench around his fingers like a vice. 

Your hips jerk upwards as liquids shoot out of you, and he gets to where he wanted. 

“H-Holy shit–”

Steve’s eyes widen, a chuckle of amusement and excitement leaving his lips, he stares at you in awe. Surprised at the tent in his pants, he is rock hard again. 

He keeps pounding his fingers in and out of you, not stopping his movements just yet. With a smirk, he leans down to kiss your cheek, cooing at you, “you’re such a good girl for me.” He says possessively. 

Your walls unclench around him, and he thinks it’s all, when you suddenly clench again, tighter than before, another shockwave rushes through your body, and you squirt even more, the leather beneath you becoming even wetter than before. 

Steve’s hand is drenched, up to his elbow, and so is the front of his jeans, his stomach and the window behind him. The evidence of how good he made you feel is all over his seats, filling him with pride. 

A satisfied smirk plays on his lips, he feels like he’s on top of the world, he feels like a fucking king again, knowing that he brought such pleasure to your body. 

He never even thought that this was possible, that this move in porn movies is nothing but a myth, but he had to try, he had to try it with you. It would have shamed him before to admit he had been watching more porn than usual just to do the things he sees with you, but now? He feels like he is the most intelligent person in the world.

Your body falls limp, whines and whimpers still filling the space around you, tears roll down your cheek as you’re trying to catch your breath. 

Steve pats your cheek, caressing it gently as he stares at you fondly, “hey, are you okay?” He whispers, unable to stop himself from pecking your lips. 

You nod weakly, still needing a moment to come down from the high. 

He keeps kissing you, playing with your hair as he caresses your skin, pulling his fingers out of you after a while, making you whine again. 

You open your eyes, struggling to keep them open after the intense orgasm you just had. You look into his eyes, they’re filled with victory. A proud smile playing on his lips. 

You raise your eyebrows when you notice the drops on the window, the wet seats, his soaked hands and the wetness beneath you. 

Heat rushes up to your cheeks, embarrassment rushes through you and you can’t help but gasp as you look around the mess that you made. Tears blur your vision, “o-oh my god!” You say weakly, shakily as you start crying, catching him off guard, “I-I’m so sorry, Steve!” 

You press your palms against the wet seats and push to sit up. 

Steve shakes his head at you, he cups your cheeks and shushes you by kissing your lips again, “fuck, Blondie, don’t cry – holy shit, that was so fucking hot,” he chuckles, “it’s just leather, sweetheart. And honestly, this feels like a fucking victory to me.”

You blink through your tears, looking at him with big and glassy eyes, your heart still pounds in your chest, shame swirling deeply in your chest. 

“Really?” 

He nearly faints at the look in your eyes. 

Who would’ve thought that Steve would ever get to see you like this or that he’d get to be the one to make you come undone so intensely? 

You are so vulnerable, right now. It tugs at his heartstrings, knowing that you struggle with emotions, that you hate showing weakness and tears – yet here you are, even if it’s only out of shame, it shows him that you trust him, even if only a little. 

You’re unaware of the fluttering in his chest that you cause, the warmth around his heart as he stares at you. He traces your cheek before he slips his hands down to your waist. 

You look so fucking cute. 

How can he not adore you when you look at him like this?

He gulps as he is completely aware of the way his heart feels. 

You’re going to be a problem, that’s for sure – but he can’t find it in himself to care, not now. 

He sits back and pulls you along with him, dragging you into his lap, he surprises you by wrapping his arms around your shaking, hot body. He pulls you into him so he can hug you, he cups the back of your head and makes you relax against his chest. He presses a kiss to your forehead, feeling the need to treat you gently, sweetly. 

Your breath hitches in your throat, his actions doing nothing to calm your racing heart.

It takes you a moment, but eventually, you calm down and close your eyes as you bury your face in his bare chest, his hair tickling your cheek a little. Steve runs his finger up and down your spine, making your heart race. 

Your body is aching, your legs are trembling, you nearly squeal when his crotch brushes against your center as you try to move closer to him.

“Wait,” he whispers, he grabs your waist again and changes your position, moving both of your legs over his thighs instead, so you don’t have to straddle him, and then, he pulls you back into his chest again. He brushes his fingers against your upper arm, stroking your skin softly, “is that better?” 

You nod. 

“Good,” he whispers, letting all his emotions guide him as he presses a kiss to your temple. 

“Y-You made me squirt,” you whisper, blushing. 

He chuckles, looking down at you and the way your cheek is pressed against his chest, “yeah Blondie, I made you squirt. I never did that in my life, you never did that in your life, we should put a memory plaque here.” 

Finally, a giggle falls from your lips, and you look up at him, amusement shining in your eyes. 

“I need a shower and sleep for like… three days straight.” 

Steve chuckles, squeezing you tighter, he finds himself liking the feeling of holding you this way, he can’t help but want to pull you closer. 

“I’m happy to provide all that for you,” he smiles down at you. 

Steve likes to see you in his clothes, he likes it when you take showers at his place and make his bathroom smell like your shampoo and your sweet body wash. 

He missed it last night. 

He clears his throat, his smile falling a bit, “why didn’t you uh… call me the past two days?” 

You hesitate, not wanting to show your face to him, you keep your head down. 

“Oh uh… I felt sick, nauseous, probably because of something I ate, maybe it was Eddie’s attempt at the homemade burrito…”

Steve’s mind was plagued with ugly thoughts after seeing you with Jacob, but this is beginning to ease his mind a little. 

“Wait so,” he blinks, sitting up straighter as he continues to look down at you, “you were home?” 

You nod, meeting his eyes, “where else would I be?”

It’s not exactly a lie, but it isn’t the whole truth either. You had an appointment in the morning, one that you had been nervously awaiting for weeks. 

The tension that remained leaves his body completely now, relief rushes through him, making him relax fully. 

“I thought… since Jacob was back–”

Your lips part in surprise as your eyes widen, before a smile appears on your lips. 

“Aw, is Stevie jealous and worried that someone is going to take his place?” You ask him, taunting him a little. 

Yeah, he actually is. 

But he can’t tell you that, can he? 

He pinches your ass with his fingers, a smirk tugging at his lips, “don’t get all bratty now, or I will show you how no one can replace me… again.” 

You’re a little taken aback by all the comments, by his actions today, by the softness of his touch, right now. He didn’t fight you on it. He just told you to not be bratty instead of telling you to stop thinking that way.

Today, he treated you as though you were his. 

He acted out of jealousy and was possessive over you, and in the end, he pulled you into his arms, treating you with such gentleness that it will surely leave a stain in your heart forever. 

This is dangerous, he is dangerous. 

He is giving you a glimpse of something that you will never have. 

He is showing you colors, you can’t ever see with anyone else. 

And maybe, this should be enough to make you run into safety, to protect your heart from the pain it will suffer when it’s all over. 

But in what world, would you ever run from him?

You know how this will end, but it won’t stop you from kissing his lips and letting him into you. 

He can break your heart and shatter your soul for all you care. 

It’s all his anyway. 

-

Eddie looked all over for you, the backyard, the kitchen, even the bathroom and the bedrooms, he was sick with worry as he searched for you. He got distracted when Robin forced him into a game of beer pong, with Argyle and Vickie, and lost sight of you. 

The girl ended up calming him down, when she told him that Steve took you home, you looked sick apparently. But Eddie knows better than that. 

He knows deep in his gut that his suspicions were right, that he wasn’t thinking into it too deeply. 

On his way out of Vickie’s house, he bumps into someone, turning around to apologize, he finds a very drunk Jacob, he raises his hands up, slurring out an apology, but then a confused frown appears on his face when he seems to recognize him. 

“Munson, you’re friends with her, right?” 

“Huh, with who?” Eddie mumbles, tilting his head. 

Jacob says your name and Eddie blinks a few times and slowly nods, “best friends actually, what of it?”

The tall jock smells like beer and weed mixed together as he steps closer, invading his space a little. 

“Well, I mean, is she dating Harrington or something?” Jacob asks, shaking his head. 

Eddie raises his eyebrows, curiosity sparking inside of him. 

“Um…” He could say no, he definitely could, but Jacob seems like a source of information right now, and he decides to use this opportunity to find out more, “what makes you think that?” 

“Well, the fact that this guy cockblocked me two times tonight is the main one. Tried flirting with her and he just pulled her away and even dared to glare at me as if I were the one interrupting his conversation, man." Jacob is slurring, rambling, and he just looks like a guy that lost the opportunity, not someone who would push you into a date or something. 

But Eddie is stunned by the revelation, so he pressed forward.

“Two times?”

“Yeah, the first one he took her somewhere as soon as I started talking to her, and the next he interrupted us so he could leave with her... Say sorry to Harrington for me, she didn't tell me she was dating him,” he mumbles, waving his hand as he rolls his eyes and steps.

Eddie’s gears work, trying to figure out a way to confirm all of this, but for now, the information is enough, his suspicions only growing with certainty. A small honest smile appears on his face and he pats Jacob on the shoulder.

“Thank you Leeney. I'll make sure to let Stevie know.” 

The blond nods and steps away, giving him a weak smile before he walks off, leaving Eddie by himself. 

His dark brown eyes flash with understanding and realization, a laugh of disbelief falling from his lips as he puts all the puzzle pieces together. 

He brings his hand up to his chin and shakes his head when he thinks of the marks on both yours and Steve’s skin. 

A scoff falls from Eddie’s lips. 

“Chandler and Heidi, right.” 

♡

tagging friends and mutuals

@prettyboyeddiemunson @mysticmunson @taintedcigs @joekeerysmoles @ibellcipem @maroon-cardigan @sherrylyn628 @corrodedcorpses @munsonlore @munson-mjstan @agirlwholovesrockstars

[magicalmutants]

Kiss Me !

♡ Summary: different kisses with the JJK men :)

♡ Includes: Gojo, Nanami, Geto, Choso, Toji, Sukuna

♡ Warnings: AFAB!Reader, slight NSFW in some of them, swearing, making out, sexual themes and implications, MDNI!

♡ A/N: sooo Sukuna’s is my first tiptoe into a little bit of NSFW territory… idk if I fw it on not I can’t lie the whole time I was writing it I felt like that guidance counselor from 10 Things I Hate About You… I have so much newfound respect for creators who can write long steamy scenes without it getting repetitive or becoming awkwardly written omfd! Also, Choso and Sukuna girlies I know you’ve been waiting on seeing your men in my content, this one’s for you!

♡ A/N 2: this is the lil celebration piece I’ve been working on! Thank you all for supporting my work and chatting with me, you make me smile :) lmk if you’d like to see more stuff like this!

I BLOCK MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS

S. Gojo

⭒ Satoru Gojo is full face kissing attacks. Kissing Satoru is being trapped underneath your boyfriend as he kisses all over you face just to make you giggle.

He sees through your fake annoyance, mirth glimmering in his eyes as you squeal and try to wriggle out from under him.

“Oh my gosh! Whats that?” You gasp and point at something over his shoulder.

“Huh—?” He smiles as he looks over his shoulder dramatically, going along with your little plan. He knows how this will end after all.

“HAH!” You use this distraction of break free and run into the living room, cackling and hiding behind the sofa as you try and catch your breath.

“Awww. You don’t want my love?” You hear him call from the bedroom, trying his best to sound dejected, even though hearing your giggles from the living room puts a smile on his face.

“That was an act of terrorism!” You call back.

You don’t hear a response from the bedroom. After a beat you call out, “hello?”

No response.

You peer up over the top of the sofa and try to look into the doorway to the bedroom. The bed looks empty, but where was your boyfriend?

“Boo,” a low voice next to your ear makes you shriek and dive over the top of the sofa.

“Toru!” You yell as you tumble from the sofa onto the floor, while your boyfriend doubles over in laughter.

“Hey! Don’t glare at me, you’re the one who decided to make a break for it,” he chuckles.

“Well—” but before you can get the sentence out, you’ve been scooped up from the floor and flown onto the bed again, finding yourself right back where you started.

You are once again pinned under Satoru as he peppers kisses all over your face and neck, coaxing peals of laughter and breathy giggles out of you as your squirm under him. He continues his barrage as he slowly gets closer and closer to your lips. The kiss to your lips lingers longer than the others. He pulls away slightly and looks into your eyes.

The laughter bubbling from your lips dies away as you catch your breath and look into those beautiful, blue eyes with a smile on your face. The eyes of the man you’re lucky enough to call the love of your life.

“What’s the matter, baby?” You murmur as he leans down to peck your lips quickly, his snow white hair brushing your forehead.

“Nothing,” he replies, a soft smile on his lips. “just like lookin at ya.”

“I love you,” you lean up and plant a gentle kiss on the corner of his smiling mouth.

“I love you,” he says.

A kiss to your forehead.

“I love you,” he murmurs.

A kiss to your chin.

“I love you,” he whispers.

A kiss to your lips.

K. Nanami

⭒ Kento Nanami is tired kisses, cuddling on the sofa after a long day of work. Your body held close to him, your head tucked neatly into the crook of his neck as you run your fingers over his chest, lulling him into the blissful, sleepy calm he only seems to find around you.

His arms cradle you. His left arm holds you close as his thumb rubs circles on the side of your hip, while his right hand strokes your cheek as he gazes adoringly down at you.

He leans down and plants a gentle kiss to your temple.

You look up into his smiling face. His eyes are tired, but the love they hold for you is unmistakable.

“Hi, Ken,” you whisper, giggling.

“Hi, my love,” he responds, feeling like the luckiest man in the world to have you there next to him, taking the weight of his life off his shoulders with just a quirk of your mouth.

You lie there for a while, the gentle hum of the fan is the only noise interrupting your blissful cocoon of perfect contentment with your husband.

“How was your day, darling?” Kenton’s voice is husky from exhaustion and the question is murmured sleepily as he tries not to doze off from the way your fingers are gliding over his chest and the way you nuzzle into his side.

“It was fine. Much better now,” you whisper to him.

Kento’s lips quirk upwards, even as his eyes begin to close again. “Why?” He questions as he bites back a smile.

“Because you’re here,” you giggle, planting a kiss on the corner of his smiling mouth.

“My god, you must have feelings for me or something,” the sleepy smile never leaves his mouth.

Tired Kento was the absolute death of you. Hair slightly disheveled, tie loosened around his neck and the top 3 buttons of his sinfully tight dress shirt undone. Tired eyes and gravel in his voice. Still gentle, still funny. He was so perfect.

“Yeah, I guess you could say that,” you laugh, even as he makes an amused noise.

“Well that’s a shame. I have a wife, you know,” Kento continues the gag.

“Oh do you now,” you play along, “Tell me about this wife of yours. She must be a very lucky woman.”

“Well, I’m the lucky one. You see, I’ve loved her since we were 14. She’s beautiful and funny and elegant, and somehow she decided to love me back,” Kento’s gaze is full of adoration as he looks down into your eyes.

“Hmm, I don’t blame her. Maybe she saw what a kind and handsome and witty gentleman you are,” you smile fondly back up at him.

“I’d be so lost without you, my love,” Kento sighs as he drifts off again, pulling you up onto his chest so you can be more comfortable as you doze.

“So would I,” you whispered back as you snuggle into him.

“You’re the love of my life, Y/N.”

“And you’re mine, Kento.”

S. Geto

⭒ Kissing Suguru Geto always feels harmless enough at the start. A gentle kiss to the back of your neck as you two stand in the kitchen, cooking dinner together. You’re leaned over the pan on the stove, stirring the contents to make sure they don’t burn. There’s a little furrow of concentration between your brows, and a little piece of hair curled at the nape of your neck that didn’t make it into your ponytail.

Every time Suguru walks behind you, he plants a little kiss to the back of your neck, right where the tiny curl of hair is. And every time he does this, your brows un-furrow and a little smile plays on your lips as you look over at him.

He meets your gaze with a smile of his own.

“Hi, Angel,”

“Hi, Sugu,”

He’d shoot you a wink, and then it’s back to work until he does it again.

“Hi, Angel,”

“Hi, Sugu,”

After the third time, you’re turning around to meet his lips with a peck of your own.

The fourth time, you nip at his bottom lip.

By the seventh time, your lower back is being pressing into the kitchen counter and your body is trapped between Suguru’s arms as he nibbles and kisses along your neck and jaw.

“Sugu, what about the pasta sauce,” you gasp as you drop your head back, fingers tangling into his soft hair.

“Fuck the sauce,” he murmurs against your ear, hot breath making you shudder, before he kisses right under your lobe.

“Suguru… what if it sets off the fire alarm,” you protest weakly, your commitment to seeing the recipe to completion this time wavering.

Without missing a beat (or turning to look) Suguru reaches out, grips the handle of the saucepan and unceremoniously tosses it into the sink with a ‘clang’ and a ‘hiss’ when the hot pan comes into contact with the cold water in the sink.

“Fuck the fire alarm,” you can hear the smirk in his voice.

You wrap your legs around his torso as he sits you on the counter top and begins kissing you again.

“Ugh. You always do this,” you smile as you roll your eyes, unable to hide your giggles.

“Yeah, yeah waste of food, but I never hear you complaining afterwards, Princess,” his eyes gleam as he looks into yours, pretending to search your face for protest he knows he won’t find.

You roll your eyes again as you pull his face towards your own.

“That’s what I thought,” he smirks as your lips meet his.

C. Kamo

Choso is slow, lazy kisses as you both gradually wake up to start your days. Choso always wakes up first, just to admire the peaceful look on your beautiful face. He smiles as he listens to the gentle rise and fall of your breathing as you continue to sleep, completely unaware of the enamored man lying next to you.

Choso gently brushes a stray strand of hair off your forehead, causing you to stir, before leaning forward and placing a gentle kiss on your forehead.

Your eyes slowly flutter open at the contact and you squint slightly at the sunlight streaming into your room.

“Morning, Cho,” you shoot him a sleepy smile as you rub the sleep from your eyes.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers back, “can I kiss you?”

“Yes, you don’t have to ask,” you giggle as you lean forward and place a lingering kiss to his lips.

“I’ll never get tired of doing that,” he breathes, looking blissfully happy.

“And I’ll never get tired of the look on your face after you do it,” you tease.

“Can you blame me?” He sounds incredulous, “how many people do you think would kill to wake up next to the most beautiful woman in the world every day?”

“Cheap flattery will get youuu…” you draw out the last syllable as you pretend to think, “everywhere,” you decide with a grin, wrapping your arms around his neck as you kiss him again.

“Well there’s way more where that came from, you make it easy to compliment you, you’re so perfect,” he smiles, pink dusting his cheeks form the kiss. Even after all this time, his reaction is the same as the first. It fills your heart with warmth.

“And you’re the cutest,” you giggle, as your stomach flutters from the intensity of his gaze.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of this either,” you whisper as he pulls you close and gives the top of your head a kiss, before tucking it under his chin. You’re enveloped in him. His arms, his scent, the feeling of him. Choso. The love of your life. And as you lie there, you pray for this moment to last forever. Just you, Choso, and the glimmers of the morning sun, forever.

“I’m so happy I found you,” he breathes.

“I lov—”

“Yo! Choso? Y/N? You guys awake?” Comes the deadpan voice from the other side of the bedroom door.

“What’s the matter, Megumi?” You call out, even as Choso groans.

“Nobara and Yuji wanted to make breakfast for everyone and set the pancake batter on fire. Just thought I should tell you,” he calls back, his words getting fainter as he goes back down the hall.

“Guess that’s our wake up call,” you mutter as you move to get up.

“Let’s hope they don’t— hey!” You’re pulled back into Choso’s arms.

“Five more minutes?” his voice is muffled, his face being pressed into your back, “it’s fine if they burn the house down, it’s the school’s property anyway,”

You laugh as you manage to turn in his arms, “five more minutes,” you say, your lips finding his again.

T. Fushiguro

⭒ Toji Fushiguro is kisses against the back of your shoulder as you lean back against his broad chest, the water of the bath and the warmth from your body helping to seep away all the tension in his muscles after a brutal day of jobs.

“Ahhhh,” he sighs as he kisses your bare shoulder before leaning back and closing his eyes, “this is exactly what I needed. Good call, baby,”

You hum in agreement as you lean back further and cozy up to his chest, the warm water lapping around you.

Toji’s muscular arms are draped along the rim of the tub as you soak in silence for a few minutes.

“Do you have to go into work tomorrow?” You question as your finger traces from his bicep to his wrist.

“Nah, fuck that,” he replies, cracking an eye open to watch your hand.

“Hmm that’s good,” you reply absently as you bring his knuckles to your lips and place a soft kiss to them.

“What’re you doing?” He smiles.

“Kissing your hand,” you reply lightly.

“Yeah I can see that, but why?” His soft smile changes to a cocky smirk when you turn to peer up at him.

“Because I love your hands. And I love you,” you state simply, still looking at him.

Toji wonders if you know how easily you manage to turn him into mush. He tries so hard to be cocky and nonchalant, especially around you, but you always manage to cut right through that and turn him into a mess.

“Yeah, well. Love you too, doll,” he kisses the top of your head so he can avoid your gaze and hide his, no doubt burning, cheeks.

You hum as your lips ghost feather soft kisses over the back of Toji’s hand.

Toji suppresses a shudder and feels his dick twitch. He knows you definitely felt it too.

“Knock it off, baby,” he grunts as he moves his hand away from your mouth.

“Why?” You quirk an eyebrow, turning to look up at him again.

“Because,” he sighs, “as much as I want to, I really don’t have the energy to fuck you tonight and if you keep kissing me like that, I’m gonna have to”

“Okay,” you say simply, dropping your hand into the water.

After a minute, Toji feels the ghost of your fingers trailing up his leg.

“You stay just as you are, okay, babe?” You begin to shift in the tub, “I’m gonna take good care of you,” you whisper as a you place a light kiss against the side of his head.

“God, I love you,” Toji’s hand rises to the back of your neck and pulls you into a kiss.

“I love you too, Toji,” you smile as your hands begin to work.

R. Sukuna

Ryomen Sukuna is hungry kisses filled with teeth and tongue and three sweet, little words you both know aren’t true.

“Fuck, I love you,” you gasp as his lips follow a pathway across your breasts that only he can see, kissing and sucking along their way.

“You don’t mean that,” he says absently, not bothering to stop his ministrations or look up at you.

“No, I don’t,” you agree, hands tugging at his hair.

“Say it again,” he says, before swirling his tongue over your hard nipple.

“Fuuck,” you whine, “I fucking love you.”

“Good girl, baby,” there’s a wicked glint in his eyes as he comes up towards your face and crashes his lips into yours.

The kiss is messy and hot. A clash of tongues and teeth as you both fight to assert dominance. At long last, need for air breaks you apart and you pant, catching your breath.

Sukuna wastes no time and begins attacking your neck with the fervor of a starving man, while you gasp and take in shuddering breaths above him.

“You know it’s funny,” he says, working on your neck as his hands roam your body.

“What is?” You breathe.

“Nah, just after last time,” he pauses to leave a particularly brutal mark on your collarbone, “you said it was the last time we did this, and the time before that you said that was the last time,”

“Uh-huh,” you gasp, your eyes rolling back into your head.

“So what I’m wondering, baby,” you can hear the mirth in his voice as he teases you, “why do you keep coming back?”

“This— this is the last time,” you manage.

“How come?”

“Because you’re an asshole,” you moan as his mouth begins to travel lower.

“Say it’s because you love me,” he demands, withdrawing from your body.

“It’s because I love you, Ryo,” you whine, your eyes snapping open, hands reaching out to bring his lips back to yours.

“Fuck,” Sukuna would never admit how hard it makes him when he hears you say that nickname like that.

The kisses become messier and more fervent as Sukuna tries to make you suffer a little bit longer for trying to go no contact with him again.

Finally, he caves and fucks you. Between gasps and moans and the sounds of skin meeting skin, three little lies spill from his lips again and again. Words you’ll both take back in a couple of hours. Words you’ll both cry out again next week.

[mickandmusings]

back at the bunker

pairing: castiel x f!reader

word count: 5.1k (i got carried away sry)

summary: when y/n stays behind on a hunt, the brothers and cas figure she's safe back at the bunker, likely enjoying having a day free of her overbearing childhood friends and guardian angel boyfriend. when a phone call to dean tips them off to y/n’s kidnapping, castiel leads a ruthless hunt for the ones who took her.

based off this request! (i saw your request and ran with it.)

warnings: angsty to fluff, refusing to shorten castiel to 'cass', depictions of violence (nothing too gory), descriptions of blood and injury, angry cas, probably spn inaccuracies, unedited writing (oops)

-

"Relax, Cas, I'm gonna get you back to the bunker and to your girl quick enough. She's fine, probably took over the TV in my room to watch those girly movies she and Sam love."

Sam cuts his sharp look over to his brother, rolling his eyes as Dean tries to quell their friend's worry for his girlfriend back at the bunker. Castiel had been on edge since they began their trek back to the bunker. He had a lingering sense of doom he couldn't shake, not even after the success of their latest hunt. Cas knew he should trust Sam and Dean, and their judgement, they had known Y/N decades before she and Cas had met. They knew her well enough to know that she’d be fine alone in the well-guarded bunker. Taking out his phone, Cas pulled up her contact, smiling at the photo of them together attached to her profile. He started a new message to her:

Finished up the hunt. We’re all okay. Headed back to the bunker now.

Cas watched as the cursor waited for his next set of words. He hesitated briefly, trying to decide if he would say what he wanted. He and Y/N had been ‘dating’ (a word Cas hated, it didn’t accurately express their relationship in his eyes) for a little over a year, but he still hesitated when it came to expressing his emotions openly. His blue eyes read over the message again. Cas sighed, deleted the message completely, and started a new one:

We finished the hunt, we’re all unharmed. We’re headed home now. I miss you. I love you. Let me know you’re okay, Dean says I’m ‘panicking’ and being ‘dramatic.’

Cas sent the message without overthinking it this time, placing his phone back into his pocket and staring out the window again. Back at the bunker, Y/N looked up from the scene unfolding on (Dean’s) TV, turning to her phone that had just lit up with a new message. She smiled as she saw Cas’ contact, noted by the heart written behind his name. She read his message with a smile, his blunt but heartfelt sentences warming her chest in a sort of girlish glow. Her cheeks flushed pink as she began to type back. She was about to send her response to Cas when she heard the crashing noise downstairs. Her heart raced, hitting mute on the TV remote and reaching for the gun shoved in Dean’s nightstand. With silence filling the air now, she heard the talking of someone in what seemed to be the library. Her chest felt tight-they were close. The voices were unfamiliar-not Dean’s rasp, or Cas’ deep tone. How had anyone infiltrated? She’d made sure all the locks were secure, and the bunker was always under a supernatural lock. She calmed her racing breathing in a hope to hear the intruders conversation. The voices seemed masculine, rummaging about the library as if they were searching for something. Y/N peered over the side of the doorway, hoping to catch a glimpse of them without being seen. Two figures entered her eyesight-a tall, burly brunette, with biceps the size of melons. His sidekick was a scrawnier blonde who brandished an angel blade. Y/N shuddered-angels. She’d never had anything positive to say about most of them, always out to get her and the brothers. Castiel had always been an exception in her rules about angels.

Y/N diverted her attention to her phone as her shaky hands scrolled for Sam, Dean, or Cas’ contact. She heard a deep voice pipe up.

“You think she’s here still? Castiel could’ve tuned into angel radio, picked up some suspicion, moved her last minute.”

Y/N halted, her eyes widening. Her? Surely they weren’t talking about her. She feverishly opened her phone again, clicking Dean’s contact and letting it ring, praying he would answer. The other angel responded with a chuckle:

“No, she hasn’t moved. I have a feeling she’s about to be right in our grasp.”

Y/N didn’t even have time to gasp as the two angels appeared behind her, her entire sight fading to black in an instant.

-

In the Impala, Dean heard his ringtone sound, and he huffed as he drove with one hand and fished the device out with the other. His eyebrows raised as he looked at the name flashed across the screen.

“It’s ya girl, Cas.” Dean chuckled as he answered the phone with a snarky remark. “Alright Cinderella we’re getting your Charming there quick as poss-Y/N/N? Y/N?! HEY!”

Dean’s voice raised, concern slipping through his tone. Cas was instantly on high alert as Dean hung up the phone and stepped on the gas, making Baby push speeds far faster than the speed limit.

“Dean, what’s going on?! What did she say?!”Castiel’s voice was dangerously low, trying not to allow his nervousness seep into his words. Sam turns to his brother with a worried look painted on his face.

“She didn’t say anything, all I heard was her grunting and the sound of fighting. Someone’s attacked her. She’s in trouble, and I think I heard wings, it’s your kind, Cas.”

Cas felt anger overtake him, his protective instincts kicking in. He began dwelling on the situation at hand, mentally cursing himself. He should’ve stayed behind with her at the bunker, he could’ve protected her. What did angels want with Y/N anyway? It wasn’t like she had any information for them, Cas tried to keep her out of the angel realm as much as possible, to avoid getting her into situations like these. Perhaps he should’ve told her more, maybe she could’ve escaped.

“Cas,” Sam’s voice cut through his thoughts. “What would angels want with Y/N? She's not even on the ground with us most of the time. She doesn’t have anything for them to use.”

Castiel’s sapphire gaze was locked on the scenery passing by, speaking after Sam finished.

“She has everything. They can torture me, exile me, all but kill me and I will not fall to their whims. She is my weak spot, I would sacrifice all of man for her safety. They know that, and they’re using her to get what they want from me. What that is, I don’t know. But we will find her, and I will get her back, no matter the sacrifice.”

-

When Y/N came to, she quickly noted pain radiating everywhere. Her head pounded, arms aching from where she was tied to a chair in a dimly lit room. The flickering overhead light made her head spin, and she could feel the blood coming from her nose, the stinging of open cuts littering her face and body. She was dizzy and disoriented, but her adrenaline kept her awake. She was running through the mental checklist of her hunter training from years of running with the Winchester’s-be aware of all of your surroundings, don’t let your opponent catch you off guard, when in a fight, protect the head and vital organs as much as possible-she could practically hear Dean’s raspy drone rattling off the bullet points. Y/N didn’t know who had brought her here, or why, but she had every bet on Castiel’s feathered friends.

Her eyes scoured every inch of the grimy, abandoned room she was being held in. The roof leaked, the metal fixtures were creaky and rusted, likely due to years of just sitting empty. Y/N knew they had taken the gun she was holding back at the bunker, but they had most likely hadn’t stripped her of the knife in her pocket. It wouldn’t do much to protect her from angels, but it would get her out of these restraints. Through her clouded mind, she tried to think of a way to reach her pocket with tied hands, an intricate way to shuffle just enough to slip loose. Her thoughts halted when the metal door creaked open, her heart starting to hammer in her chest. It was the blonde angel, significantly more slimy-appearing than his brawny counterpart, and his shit-eating grin spread from one side of his face to the other.

“Ah, hello dear, seems you’ve finally waken!” His accent was thick, a Southern drawl that was sticky sweet despite his menacing gaze. “Sorry about all the roughhousin', but, well, you’re quite the sought after prize. Had to make sure we secured you without you slippin' from under us.” His mouth dropped from a wide grin to a slimy smirk, now far too close to Y/N for her liking.

“Now, I’ve got questions and you’ve got answers. It’s in your best interest to cooperate, sweet thing. Our little Castiel will come lookin' for you eventually, and I’m not too worried about returning his toys in proper condition.”

Y/N gulped but didn’t back down.

“What do you want?”

The blonde plasters on another slick smile.

“Castiel has wronged me, and now it’s time for his consequences. See, in the past, we could pick and prod at Castiel himself, or even one of those pesky Winchester brothers, and they’d take it, but give up nothing for us, no matter the torture. But you, oh darling, Castiel would burn the world to the ground to save little ole you. Let’s see just how much it takes for him to come runnin', shall we?”

Y/N had no time to protest before a sharp blade had sliced against the side of her face, causing her to yell out. In her hazy brain, she used her last ounce of energy to pray out to Cas, hoping he heard, and begging the universe to send Sam and Dean with him. After another blunt hit to the head, her world was black again.

-

Dean hardly put the Impala in park as they arrived at the abandoned warehouse they'd tracked Y/N to, gun brandished with Sam trailing behind him. Castiel had taken off on his own, angel blade and an incomprehensible fury as weapons. Dean and Sam were close on his tail, the brothers both a small bit concerned-they had never seen Castiel this angry.

The wind whipped through Castiel's coat as he all but ran through the abandoned warehouse and straight into the room where the two angels stood, Castiel's eyes blurring with anger. Dean's hand slapped his shoulder, Dean's green eyes still focused on the angels, Sam's locked on the same creatures.

"You go find her," Dean's deep timbre came to Castiel's ears. "Me and Sammy can handle these dicks."

Usually, Cas would argue, always staying behind to help Sam and Dean fight any creature, but with Y/N still hidden from him, Cas left without any remarks. Cas grew angry, his legs not carrying him through hallways of abandoned rooms fast enough.

"Y/N?!" His voice echoed off the metal fixtures, and Cas hoped it would reach the ears of the one person he was trying to find. "Y/N/N!"

"C-Cas?"

Cas could have sworn his heart stopped. His brain had stopped working as he shoved a large metal door open with all of his force, his chest nearly collapsing at the sight he found behind it: Y/N, tied to a metal chair, her face swollen, one of her eyes black. Blood was dried on her temple, and blood stained the sweatshirt she was wearing. She looked exhausted, and Cas knew she probably felt worse than she looked.

"Y/N-," Cas' voice was soft and quiet, his hands coming to both sides of her face. "You're okay, I'm here, Sam and Dean are taking those angels out. We're going to get you out of here."

Cas' hands worked quickly, unwrapping the ropes tied around her arms and legs, hoping to cause her as little pain as possible. His brain was working overtime, his eyes scanning her entire frame as he worked.

"I-I'm okay, Cas. A little banged up, but I'm fine. I-I'll be okay."

"You're not okay, honey," Cas' pet names were few and far between, but always soft and meaningful, making Y/N's heart soar. "You've taken a beating, these ropes have scarred your ankles and wrists. I'm going to get you out of here."

Cas released the ropes and picked Y/N up under her arms, feeling her body weight fall on him.

"I-I'm sorry, Cas. I don't-don't think I can walk."

Cas shook his head, lifting her into his arms bridal style and pushing the door with his feet, rushing her through the building as quickly as possible.

"None of that, you're going to be fine. We're getting out of here, back to the Impala."

By the time Cas made it back to the center room, the angels had been slaughtered-their bodies lying on the floor. Dean and Sam stood in front of them, now looking at Cas.

"Is she alright?" Sam's voice echoes through the room.

"She'll be alright," Cas' voice replied. "We need to get out of here."

Dean nodded in agreement, leading the group back out to the Impala. Sam quickly swung open the back door of the car as Dean moved to start it, hoping to make a quick getaway. The Impala was silent-Y/N's head resting peacefully on Cas' chest, her eyes drooping in exhaustion. Cas' hand moved to her forehead, his grace lighting up the dark car as her cuts and bruises began to disappear. The light caught both Sam and Dean's attention as Y/N looked up at Cas and gave him a small smile before resting back into his chest.

"You alright back there, Y/N/N?" Dean's voice filled the silent car.

"Fine. Thank you, Dean. You too, Sam. I never would've made it out of there without you coming after me."

"You're family, Y/N," came Sam's voice. "We'd never leave you like that."

Y/N smiled against Cas' chest, slowly closing her eyes and falling asleep as his hand ran through her hair.

-

Back at the bunker, Sam and Dean worked together to put back all of the furniture that had been thrown about, putting books back into place before retiring to their own bedrooms.

Cas sat quietly on Y/N's bed, borrowing some of Sam and Dean's clothes as his coat and usual wear were in the wash. Moments later, Y/N returned, hair wet from the shower as she smiled at Cas, sitting on the bed next to him. She slid under the covers, sliding into his open arms. Y/N relaxed into Cas' embrace, kissing the underside of his jaw before falling asleep with her head tucked under his chin.

Cas' had no need for sleep, so he spent the entire night looking after her, making sure she slept soundly. Halfway through the night, he felt her begin to toss and turn, her breathing quickening, signaling as signs of a nightmare. Cas wakes her softly, shaking her shoulders as her eyes popped open, staring up at him. She said nothing before her bottom lip wobbled, fear grasping her every sense.

"Hey, hey," Cas' voice was a quiet whisper, his arms enveloping Y/N completely as her tears stained his shirt. "You're at the bunker, I'm here, Sam and Dean are down the hall. You're safe."

Y/N felt herself relax in his hold, grasping the fabric of his shirt, just to remind herself he was real, that nothing would touch her as long as he was here. Y/N felt her eyes start to close again, the emotional exhaustion of the day weighing on her. Just as she slips into a dream state, she feels Cas' faint kiss on her forehead, another act of warmth to make her comfortable. She slept soundly through the night, knowing her guardian angel was watching over her.

[babyangelsky]

My Favorite Expressions in Love Sea Ep. 9

Holy shit I don't think I have ever felt more relieved watching the penultimate episode of a Thai BL than I did this week. I was expecting doom, I was expecting gloom, and while both were absolutely present, we did not linger there.

This is just my opinion but to me that alone is proof of how much Mame has grown as a writer because for a second there I was fearing another Don't Say No situation.

BUT THIS AIN'T ABOUT THAT LET'S YAP ABOUT MICROEXPRESSIONS

I need to start with my baby because after the horrors last week, seeing her smile means everything to me. Gotta hold onto it as long as I can because we all know what's coming.

And speaking of smiles, this situation is TERRIBLE there are delinquents coming at my man with 2x4's but this feral smile from Mahasamut?

This one is purely for Meena's benefit, to comfort and reassure her but it is genuine, Fort's eyes are very sparkly. He switches gears very quickly when the getaway bike arrives for the thugs though so however chill he seems, he absolutely isn't. He just wants to keep the baby (and Vivi and her friend) calm.

It's very disconcerting to see Vivi this serious.

We're 2/2 on smiles for other people's benefit. My poor girly.

*stares at Viviana* You did this.

This look of pure murderous intent may be one of my favorite expressions Mut has had over this whole show, especially because it's paired with that clenched fist. And I'm going to give extra praise to Fort for it because he doesn't clench his fist until after Tongrak apologizes for what happened and he doesn't open his eyes until his hand is practically trembling from holding it so tightly.

This response doesn't come when Rak tries to blame himself for the beating; it happens when he apologizes for it. Mut isn't angry in the abstract and he isn't angry at Rak, he's angry for him.

I don't like this face, Khun Tongrak. I actually had a moment where I thought to myself, "why can't I read your face right now?" and of course it's deliberate on Peat's part. Even without knowing what we know from the preview, this face would have told us that Something was about to happen.

Or maybe that's just me, I don't know. I've been staring very hard at Peat's face for the past two months.

Watching Tongrak desperately try to steel his nerve after entering the snake pit that is his sperm donor's house is heartbreaking.

As much as I hate to subject you (and myself) to more of Jak's face, I'd like to point out that like last week, his face is in shadow while the face of the person he's speaking to, in this case Tongrak, is catching the light. Also worth noting that Rak's back is quite literally against the wall in this scene.

We see this play with light/shadow again when Rak has a flashback of him from his childhood. Jak has always been a vile, psychopathic snake and his true feelings and intentions have always been hidden behind shadow.

It's horrible to say because there's so much anguish behind it but this is such a beautiful expression. There's a split second where he tries to look angry but it just doesn't work.

I think there's a tiny part of Tongrak that truly believed that tearing up the contract would be what made Mahasamut leave and on the flip side of that, a part that was afraid that the contract was truly the only thing making Mut stay.

GODDAMN THIS IS THE SEXIEST THING MAHASAMUT HAS EVER SAID ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME

For people like Tongrak and for people who can relate to Tongrak in the sense that one or more of the parents we pulled in the great gacha of life are horrible and shitty, there comes a moment where you realize that they aren't actually these huge indestructible monsters. They're human.

And when you realize that and look at them, it's like you're seeing for the first time. There's a weird sort of pity and whatever the opposite of awe is that you feel that's hard to describe. It's a feeling of "...Is that really it? Is that all there is to you?"

That is what Peat is portraying so incredibly in this scene.

BLINDING LIGHT OF LOVE LET'S GOOOOOOO

WILD HORSES, YA'LL! WILD FUCKING HORSES!

Pouty Tongrak face, as a treat.

Mook and Mahasamut were talking about Tongrak and what Mut would do if he got rejected when all was said and done, but Mook's face when Mut says he would accept the rejection tells me she's also thinking about herself and Vivi.

I actually really wish she would've talked to Mut about it directly because god knows girly pop needs to talk to someone about Vivi. Or better yet, Vivi herself.

As for the preview next week, do not even sweat it babes because you know what?

THERE ARE COLORFUL PATTERNS ON TONGRAK'S BODY!

I LOVE GETTING EVERYTHING I WANT!

[solbaby7]

(For the blurb bar thing)

*sits on one of the bar stools and leans against the counter)

Can I have a frozen vodka cran with a sugar rim, and add lime please

Oh and here *slides a ten dollar bill across the counter*

oops, i may have added too much lime 😭🫣but it’ll still taste good i swear😬, bottoms up 🍹 alsooo idk what cave you cassian girlies crawled out of but when i tell u my inbox is flooding with cass requests. here yall, you get a beefcake, you get a beefcake, everyone gets a batboy beefcake

[ “why do you even care?” “because i do” + fluff / angst + cassian ]

-> BLURB BAR <-

It is what it is.

That’s the only phrase that keeps you going after countless hours spent hunched over bloodied bodies with their entrails held in their hands. Deep slashes from sharpened blades that leave skin flayed and muscle severed, tendons plucked out of place until sensitive nerves are screaming in agony. “I know it hurts,” You croon softly, care oozing out of every pore as healing magic pulses from you. “I’m sorry, it’ll be over soon.”

Dab with disinfectant there. Pressure to staunch the bleeding. Fire to cauterize. Magic to smooth it all over.

It’s an exhausting process, one that leaves you aching and has your head swimming as you shut the curtain for patient privacy but this isn’t the place to complain about that—not around all of these tortured souls as they endured a pain you couldn’t dare comprehend. “You should get some rest.”

You can’t fight the roll of your eyes at the sound of his voice. “And you should go back to your friends.”

Cassian keeps up with your stride with ease and while you refuse to acknowledge it, you walk a little slower when you catch sight of the neatly wrapped dressings around his thigh. “My friends are fine. You made sure of that. Azriel wouldn’t have made it if you weren’t there.”

“Yeah, well that’s my job.” You don’t bother hiding the irritation in your tone. It’s not normal for exes to be this present. But, you’re certain you catch the scent of him by your window every morning; sandalwood and eucalyptus, crackling embers and oak. A perfectly annoying blend of masculinity and comfort. It haunts you—follows you around the shops when collecting groceries for the week and lingers in your blind spots when treking home after a little too much to drink. Quiet but constant; an unspoken rule that Cassian was definitely breaking. “Something I really need to get back to so if you’re finished—“

“Don’t think I’ll ever be finished with you, peach.”

You hate that charming cadence. Despise the handsome grin that’s flashed your way because he knows how much you (love) loved it. “What do you want Cass?”

“Want you to take better care of yourself.” That’s a lie. At least partially because Cassian knows that what he really wants is to be the one to care for you. He knows he’d do it well—dedicate himself to the roll because there had been a time where it had been his only desire. But Rhys had come back after fifty years and Cass had a High Lady to protect now; had duties to uphold—responsibilities that wouldn’t allow the freedom necessary to take you on picnics in flower fields or to remember anniversaries. “You haven’t been eating enough and you’re always working. You barely even sleep.” He says it oh so gently but you can hear the underlying worry there. Can see it in the way his wings rustle and gaze scans the length of you, most likely noticing the way you resemble a deadman walking.

“You stalking me or something?”

“You promised.” His stance straightens out a little, syllables carrying a little more conviction as he tries to get his point across. “After everything between us, you at least promised that you’d be safe and take care of yourself.”

“You left me, Cassian.” His throat rolls under the shame, chest constricting as he’s forced to witness the way your eyes go glassy. “You walked out on me so what I look like without you shouldn’t matter.” Emotion holds thick in your voice and it takes true effort not to let tears fall down your cheeks. This was too confusing, the back and forth too exhausting, the hope too draining. “Why do you even care?”

A million possible answers claw to the forefront of Cassian’s mouth. Ones that scream, ‘because I love you! Because you’re everything to me.’ So badly he yearns to just let it out and confess how your safety was everything he thinks of when suiting up for battle and drenching himself in the blood of others with no regard for his own life. “Because, I do.” He says instead and he knows it’s not enough—can see the way the light in your eyes die out when you’re left hanging yet again. “Please peach, just get some rest. For me.”

He almost wishes you’d resist; to give him another reason to seek you out and darken your doorstep even if meant just a glimpse at you.

Your shoulders fall too low to be gearing up for a fight and the furrow of your brow wobbles with the effort it takes to keep you from crumbling all together.

Gauze patches at your battered heart. Dab with disinfectant there. Pressure to staunch the bleeding. Fire to cauterize. Magic to smooth it all over. “Fine.” You nod stiffly, the picture of professionalism. “And thank you, General, for your service.”

It is what it is.

[fangsforiris]

Hi, are you taking reaction requests? if so then could I have a Sakamaki reaction to a reader who's extremely silent? As in they don't make any noise when their moving, they could standing behind tou but you wouldn't noticed. To the point the brothers have to rely on their senses to detect them

──── ౨ৎ ────

Sakamaki Brothers Reaction to Silent Doll-Like Reader

──── ౨ৎ ────

Shū:

“Heeh? You are quiet… too quiet… Not that I don’t mind, though. It’s far less troublesome this way. Maybe now, I can take a nap without a constant bother.”

• Shū wouldn’t mind, like at all.

• Silent reader only means that he can reap the benefit of enjoying his leisure time.

• Do not let this fool you, however. He will still be on his guard, like everyone else he’s around.

• However, due to the lack of noise, perhaps he’ll find it a bother to constantly keep a look out.

• He’ll also 100% tease you when it’s only the both of you alone together.

Reiji:

“My, perhaps you can be of use. You shall accompany me in my study, it would be nice to have another set of hands aid me in my research.”

• Reiji would see this as purely beneficial.

• After all, quiet all the time?

• Depending on your manners, he’d make it a point to discipline you to speak when spoken to.

• He’d want you to help him with his tasks, lest you actually make a ruckus.

• Even though he will be skeptical, he’ll keep it in mind whenever he’s interacting with you.

Laito:

“Fufu~ I almost didn’t notice you, Bitch-chan! Why so quiet? Perhaps I can change that, nfu~!”

• Laito would use it as an opportunity to joke around, mainly with the idea of sexual innuendos.

• He wouldn’t be interested in keeping too many tabs on you, in the sense of ensuring that you’re present 24/7.

• His trauma is enough to go by that he wouldn’t want to have to be on edge again.

• But, he’d admire the skill, for even he can understand that it takes practice to obtain such an attribute.

• He’d get scared a few times, maybe even let out a girly yelp— like the ones he’d emit when he sees a spider.

Kanato:

“Eh? I didn’t see you there, Dolly. Why are you so silent? You mustn’t ignore me! I see… are you preparing to become one of my dolls?”

• Kanato wouldn’t be a fan at all.

• He needs attention, and the constant assurance that his toy, his doll, is there.

• He’d use it to his advantage by treating the reader like an actual human doll. After all, dolls dare not utter a sound, right?

• But to constantly use his senses, maybe he’d get tired of it since you’re putting him to work when he believes it should be the other way around.

• It’s like he’s accommodating himself for you. Which he hates. You should already be ready to suit his every need, not the inverse.

Ayato:

“Oi! I didn’t even see you! Why are you lurking around, Chichinashi?! If you’re gonna be so quiet… why not spend the time with me?”

• He’d would get jump scared a few times, but wouldn’t want you to ever mention or admit it.

• It almost reminds Ayato of how quiet Shū is, so he’d be a bit freaked out honestly.

• Ayato would maybe take it as a challenge to see who can get you to scream. Mainly between him and his other triplet brothers, Kanato and Laito.

• Ayato wouldn’t mind having to use more of his senses around you, it’d make for good practice. And to him it’s like catching prey all over again.

• He wouldn’t like to put in the extra work for his prey, however. He may enjoy a good cat and mouse chase, but all the time? Even he can get tired.

Subaru:

“H-hey! Don’t go lurking about like that, at least make yourself known or something! N-not that I was scared… You should just announce yourself more often!”

• Subaru would also join the club of being taken off guard a few times. He wouldn’t scream, but his body would physically recoil at the fear, before resetting in place.

• He’d prefer the silence as well, but would get worried if it had been something much more deeper.

• After all, people don’t go silent in all for nothing, right?

• He’d be a hypocrite in the sense of lurking. He’d be intrigued with how silent one can be, and how the lack of overall presence can affect it. So he’d definitely keep watch on the down low.

• Subaru wouldn’t want to be on edge with any of the brides, since he knows his presence already does that to others, so being on the other end of the spectrum would either be humbling, off-putting, or opinion changing.

[joelsmochi]

Good Surprise

Read part one here. SUMMARY: Joel finally gets to have you. WARNINGS: smut minors dni, a little slow at some points but it leads up to a very very very pervy!joel, needy!sub!joel, dom!reader (??? she's a little mean hehe), awkwardness, brief cig smoking (don't judge girly is stressed). 18+ WARNINGS: panty kink, cum eating, masturbation (m), oral (m receiving), good boy bomb (just once), dirty talk, overstimulation, multiple orgasms (m + f), public...stuff WC: 7.6k

A/N: Here is part two of UATW. There is at least one more part coming soon, so stay tuned! Thank you for reading, I love you all sm. Enjoy :)

series masterlist | main masterlist

If one more fucking customer complains about the wait time—

“Excuse me, ma’am, how much longer do we have to wait to be seated?” A rude man you’ve already dealt with asked even though you were in the middle of taking someone’s order.

Your eyes were wide out of sheer annoyance when you turned to look at him and asked, “How long was the wait when you got here?”

“Fifteen minutes,” he replied.

“Okay, and how long ago was that?”

“Five minutes ago.”

“Fifteen minus five is..." You pretended to think about it to be satirical. "Oh! Ten! Your wait time is ten minutes.”

You heard one of your managers shout your name, and you turned to look at him.

“Hey, maybe you should go take ten, alright?” He suggested. “You need a cigarette?”

He held his pack of Newport’s in his hand. You rolled your eyes, snatched the pack from him, and walked away without saying another word. “Only ten!”

“Yeah, yeah.”

You stepped out of the rear door and stood next to the side of the building, watching the ongoing traffic as you lit and puffed on the disgusting cigarette.

“Your daddy know you smoking?” You heard from across the parking lot. Your eyes adjusted and saw Joel standing there with Tommy, who seemingly got off of work not too long ago.

“Hey, pretty girl!” Tommy shouted before walking over to you. You held the cigarette away from him and gave him half a hug while he placed a kiss on your head. “Why you smokin’, huh?”

“Oh my God, it’s one fucking cigarette,” you exclaimed.

“Rough day?” Joel asked.

You rolled your eyes, looking away from the two men. “Yeah, shit. Sorry. I’ll seat you guys when I get back in there. You can go ahead of this dickhead in there interrupting me every five minutes.”

“We were just gonna get it to go—“

Joel interrupted Tommy, “He givin’ you a hard time?”

“I’m probably just over-exaggerating. I’m just hungry. And tired. You guys go in and get your food. I don’t want to keep ya.”

Joel hated seeing you like this: your eyes puffy and purple from stress, smoking a goddamned cigarette. Your focus both everywhere and nowhere.

He thought maybe it was his fault for not seeing you these past few weeks. It wasn’t because he was afraid. Work was just busy, and he wanted to spend as much time with Sarah before she spent the rest of the summer at her friends’ houses.

“No, we’ll stay,” Tommy offered, feeling almost as bad as Joel. “Haven’t seen ya in forever anyways. We’ll catch up when the rush is over.”

You offered Tommy a weak smile while Joel was grinning from ear to ear in his head. He was happy to at least see you. Joel took the cigarette from your hand and tossed it in a puddle. You turned your annoyed self around and walked inside through the back door.

“Hey, uh, Tommy, why don’t you go ‘head and order for us. I gotta take a leak,” Joel said.

Tommy agreed, walking off, and the second that he was out of view Joel pushed you back into the men’s restroom, manipulating your body until your back was against the door. You couldn't even catch your breath with how fast everything was happening.

He loosely wrapped his hand around your throat, then licked a firm strip along the curve of your neck to your earlobe before giving it a mean bite. You gasped as your nipples hardened.

“I’m sorry I haven't seen you, baby,” he whispered in your ear, moving his hand to your skirt. Flashbacks of the kitchen playing in your head.

“That’s okay, I know you’ve been busy,” you whispered as he lifted the fabric up. Your lips crashed against his ferociously. You moaned when the bitter taste of coffee fell from his tongue onto yours after you slipped it into his mouth.

“I think about you all the time, you know?” You nodded at his question and kissed him again, this time much more sloppy.

“I have to get back to work, J—“ You stopped speaking when he lifted your leg and began to grind his hard cock against your needy cunt. You inhaled too hard, having to suppress your moans. “Joel, I have to go back,” you breathed out.

“Just one more minute, baby, please,” he whimpered, grinding into you roughly, “just one more—“

This was more relief than he had gotten any time he fucked his fist at the thought of you. Being close to you, making you feel how hard his cock got for you — finally rewarding himself with you even if it was only like this.

He didn’t envision dry humping you in the bathroom where you work, but he waited weeks to have you against him and felt like he deserved a little gratuity for his patience.

His arms looped around your back, head laying on your chest. You snaked a hand through his hair and held him close, wanting to feel him writhe and tremble beneath you.

When he said one minute, he meant it. Your pelvis was already growing sore from how hard and fast he was grinding you, but it was worth it.

He moaned a little too loud and moved his mouth over your neck to quiet himself as his thrusts became less frequent and longer. His breathing was heavy and hard, back rising and falling from trying to hold himself up as his orgasm toppled his entire being.

You felt him push your panties down your leg and tried to stop him. You thought he was trying to have sex. “Joel, come on, we don’t have time—“

“This ain’t f’you,” he chuckled tiredly. He successfully got them off of you and fixed your skirt before he held your panties up by your face. “This is f’me.” He folded your soaked underwear and shoved them in his pocket, then smacked a kiss on your lips before walking into a stall.

You realized neither of you checked them before your quick hookup. You prayed that nobody else was in the bathroom. Your trembling legs miraculously carried you out to the dining room. You continued to work like nothing even happened.

“Back on time for once?” You boss teased.

“Only because your cigarettes are shit.”

“Thanks for the ride, Tommy,” you said from the backseat of the truck.

“Yeah, kid, anytime. Thanks for covering our dinner,” he replied.

You grimaced when you remembered you deleted their order from the system. “Yeahhh, do me a favor and don’t mention that to Mikey.”

The men chuckled, and Tommy promised he wouldn’t say anything.

“Night, Tom,” you said before climbing out of the truck with Joel following.

“Night!”

Tommy practically sped off, leaving you and Joel to stand at the end of your driveway. You looked up at Joel with a smile, untying your apron and bunching it up in your hand.

“You really are a perv,” you joked. Joel just pursed his lips, checking you out. “What ya gonna do with my panties anyways, huh?”

“I’m gonna use them,” he spoke.

You cocked up an eyebrow and laughed when the image of him using the garment to stroke himself popped into your head. “You have fun with that,” you said after walking past him.

“Oh, I will.”

He waited until you got inside safely before he entered his own home; he grabbed a bottle of water and checked in on Sarah, seeing that she was already asleep with her notebook open and a pen in her hand. He closed her notebook and took the pen, setting them on her nightstand. She shuffled a bit after Joel put the blanket over her but settled after getting comfortable.

Joel closed her door and then went into the bathroom, turning the shower on; he undressed and reached for the pocket in his jeans that held your panties. They were blue with a pink rose sewn into the center of the hem. He stared at them, wondering what the fuck possessed him to do something like that.

He couldn’t resist bringing them to his face, as dirty as it felt. He saw that they were laden with your discharge. He took in the scent of you while palming his limpness. He could smell many things: your tangy juices, your vanilla perfume. He even smelled a little bit of your sweat, and it fucking incapacitated him.

His eyes rolled to the back of his head while he tried to suppress the moan that left his hoarse throat. His dick quickly hardened after he gave your panties a few more sniffs, and it made him crave the taste of you in his mouth again.

He brought the panties down to his cock and lazily wrapped them around it; he leaned over the sink, trying to hold himself up as he imagined your pretty lips wrapped around his length.

He thought about different ways you’d suck him — would you smile? Would you use your hands or just your mouth? Would you gag and choke around him so much that it brought tears to your eyes?

Every scenario he imagined only made him stroke himself harder and faster. He was gripping the corner of the sink so hard his hand was beginning to cramp up.

His cock twitched, straining against the fabric of your panties, and he felt that familiar stretch in the pit of his stomach to indicate he was close. He can’t think of a time when he finished so fast just from fucking his fist and doing it without a magazine or a movie to help? He was drunk off of you and never wanted to recover.

What is this girl doing to me?

His mind switched over to chaste thoughts of you, and that stretch inside him only tugged deeper. You were such a sweet person: always wanting to help people out and trying to get people to smile. Your smile would light up the entire room, and your confidence was intimidating in the best way possible.

Even during the moment, you had been asking for help with your ‘boyfriend’ while trailing your foot up Joel's leg, you still managed to sound so sweet. Your eyes would tend to ask him if something was okay. The thing was that when he was with you, everything was.

This was no longer just you two sneaking around like a pair of high schoolers. This had become a kink for him. The feeling of shame he often felt only turned him on even more.

He bit his lip a little too hard when his cock began to throb, immersing him in strain and ecstasy. It was almost painful. His hips jerked as he fucked his fist, pumping the last of his cum into your panties.

Joel’s head hung low while he caught his breath so he could muster up the strength to step into the steamy shower after he tossed your panties on the floor next to his jeans.

Thoughts of you floated around in his head as he stood beneath the water; he looked out of the small awning in the shower, and his eyes immediately locked with yours.

The devious smirk on your face told him you knew just what he just did, and he was too embarrassed to smile back before you left his view.

It was Independence Day, and while you didn’t exactly care to celebrate it, it was a good enough excuse for you and your dad to have some family and friends over.

You were in the middle of forming burger patties when you saw Tommy, Sarah, and another girl her age enter the kitchen from the back door.

“Hi!” You chirped, letting Tommy hug you and kiss your temple. “How are you guys?” Sarah hugged your side as well, with you returning the gesture.

“Good,” they said in unison.

“Where’s your dad at? I need to see what kinda beer he wants,” Tommy said while stealing a bottle of water from the fridge.

“What about what kind of beer I want?” You lightheartedly complained.

“What kinda beer you want?” Tommy said after a reluctant roll of his eyes.

“I don’t care, but ooh! Can you get me some wine coolers?”

Tommy pretended to be annoyed and walked upstairs after sassily saying, “Fiiine.”

“Who’s your friend?” You asked Sarah.

“This is Crystal. She’s my camp buddy,” Sarah introduced. You said hi and introduced yourself before Sarah asked, “Hey, do you still have that Cameron Diaz movie?”

You side-eyed her and tried not to smile. “The one that’s rated R?” Sarah gave you a hopeful smile, one that you couldn’t refuse. “It’s in my room, you can watch it in there. And hey! Keep the volume down, please.”

“Thank you!” She shouted before she and her friend ran upstairs, giggling adorably.

“What’re they giggling about?” Joel’s voice boomed as he walked into the room.

“Nothin’, just girl stuff.”

You were wearing a maroon-colored tube top and a black maxi skirt with wedge sandals. His eyes glossed over every curve and line of your body with how beautifully the clothes hugged your body.

You finished preparing the patties and turned around to wash your hands. Meanwhile, Joel’s hands snaked over your hips to cradle the base of your belly. Sheepishly giggling, you swayed your body in his arms and said, “Joel, someone could come down and see us.”

“That’s what makes it so fun,” he whispered, his voice vibrating against your ear, sending chills throughout your spine. “You look so beautiful today.”

You hummed with a goofy smile on your face. “Thank you, you don’t look too bad yourself.” You turned around in his grasp and held his face as if he were fragile. He was clad in a brown shirt that complimented his pretty brown orbs and his typical Levi jeans that hung perfectly around his hips. “I’ve missed my favorite pair of panties.”

“Those blue ones with the rose on ‘em?”

“Uh-huh, you know the ones you came in last week?”

He pretended to think about it for a few seconds. “Ohh, yeah. Yeah, right. I actually brought them here with me today.” He pulled said panties out of his pocket and held them out of reach when you tried to snatch them. “Gi’me a kiss,” he bargained, and you happily obliged.

Your lips landed on his with a tenderness warm enough to melt him inside. His lips swirled around with yours in an entanglement so delicious it made your cunt leak all of Joel’s favorite flavors.

He slipped his tongue out and slid it across your lips, asking for permission to taste you; you parted your mouth slightly enough for him to lick across your teeth. You giggled and slid your tongue out to mesh with his while both of you tried to keep quiet.

You felt how thick and dominating his tongue was, telepathically begging him to lick your pussy. His kisses were so docile for how your body was responding to them.

Tommy and your father could be heard coming down the stairs when you were about to deepen the kiss. Joel tucked your underwear back into his pocket as you gasped for air and he immediately retreated to the other side of the island while faking a conversation.

“So, d’you get to meet any fashion designers when you were in school?” He asked just when they walked in.

“No,” you pouted as you thought about it, “but we did get to go to Ready to Wear. We saw lots of big brands being modeled.”

Just then, your dad chimed in. “My baby girl’s gonna be the best fashion designer the world will ever know.”

You blushed when he pinched your cheekbones and thanked him. “Your burgers are done. I finished the potato salad and the lemonade. All I have to do is finish the pudding and go to the store for the peach cobbler and ice cream, and I would love to take your truck to go and do that.” You held your hand out with a persuasive smile, waiting for him to drop the keys in your hand.

You saw your dad purse his lips and glance back and forth between the two brothers. He hated being put on the spot so naturally you made it a habit to do that.

“Last time you took my truck anywhere, you came home with a court hearing and a forty-dollar ticket,” he grunted. You didn’t budge other than to further emphasize your smile; his sigh was full of resentment, but he ultimately pulled his keys out and placed them in your hand. “No speeding.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“No smoking.”

“Course not.”

“No drinking until you get home.”

“I’m not a fucking idiot.”

“No picking up friends.”

“Of course.”

“No picking up drugs.”

“Dad.”

“And Joel’s going with you.”

“Oh, great. A babysitter."

“Anything goes wrong, you call me.”

“Got it, Rambo. Can I have thirty bucks?”

He reached into his wallet and asked, “What do you need thirty bucks for?”

You happily took the money from him and said, “I just wanted to see if you’d give it to me.” He rolled his eyes and waved you off as he walked away. Tommy followed him.

“Okay, babysitter Miller, let’s go. And Tommy, don’t forget my Seagrams!”

The drive to the store was probably the most normal interaction you had with Joel since your arrival a month ago. Your experience attending fashion school sparked his curiosity, and you were eager to discuss it with him. As you were growing up, he rarely got to see you excited about anything, so he enjoyed seeing you passionate about something.

But as soon as you parked the car and looked at Joel, the normalcy melted away from the heat of the sun. He trimmed his patchy facial hair and got a haircut that (to him) was long overdue.

“You clean up nice,” you spoke barely above a whisper. He nodded as thank you, not moving any muscles on his leathering face. You got a whiff of his aftershave — or maybe it was cologne — not quite sure what the scent was, but it smelled rich and musky. “Smell good too.”

That got his smile to crack.

“I know I said it already, but you look very pretty today,” he replied. He began to stroke your chin while using his thumb to trace the outline of your jaw.

“Thank you.” You kissed the curve of his hand, making the hairs on his arm stand up. You felt a rush of embarrassment though you weren't too sure why. You closed your eyes and kissed his hand again. “Fuck, Joel. What are you doin’ t’me?”

He frowned. “What, baby?”

You shrugged, unsure of what to say or what you even felt.

“Do we need to stop—“

“No. No.” You looked to him again, hoping to find an answer or, at the very least, an explanation. “I think I’m just overwhelmed.”

He pulled his hand away, anticipating your next move. It never came. You just sat there boring your eyes into his, then the mood shifted; his smile was contagious, filling your lungs with lost air and pushing the anxiety away.

You leaned over the center console to kiss him; his hand cupped the base of your neck beneath your hair, swirling his thumb around the nap of your neck.

The kisses you shared were savory and slow, an occasional mewl leaving your throat. You placed a hand on his chest, feeling his muscles and heart beating rapidly. Your panties were coated in a chilling layer of slick from his tongue slipping against yours, and he pulled away before it got too out of hand.

“Come on, ‘fore your old man sends the army after me.”

“He was in the Navy,” you corrected.

Joel managed to be on his best behavior in the store with you. For a moment, it actually felt like he was in a relationship with you. It didn’t help when an older lady stopped you two to say you were a lovely couple. While Joel was taken aback by the compliment, you just said thank you and continued shopping like it was nothing.

You figured you two looked like a couple with the close proximity and lingering gazes, so it didn’t surprise you as it did him.

He enjoyed seeing you pick up makeup that interested you and look in the little mirrors to see if you liked it against your skin tone. He let you guide him through the store. He didn’t mind. Not when he got more time alone with you.

“You’ve changed a lot. You know that?” He said abruptly when you were looking at the ice cream. You asked how he arrived at that conclusion as you gave him a look of disbelief. “You seem to be a lot more yourself. More sure of who you are.”

You gave him a sad smile as you came to that realization. “You really think so?”

“I do."

You looked back at the ice cream and grabbed a french vanilla carton, telling him, “You changed quite a bit yourself too… You were a very disorganized person from what I can remember. You just seem to have a clearer head now than you were before.”

“I guess I just didn’t know how to deal with being a single father.”

“Well, I think you’re doing a good job raising Sarah. She… She seems sure of herself too. Like me I guess.”

“Don’t know where she got it from.”

“Well, it wasn’t your grumpy ass. That’s for sure.”

The rest of the day went without a hitch. More people from around the neighborhood showed up, and for most of the day, you were mingling with Sarah and Crystal, who raved about some lewd scene from the movie you’d let them watch.

While everyone was watching the fireworks, you started picking up in the kitchen, knowing your dad was too drunk off his ass to do it. You loaded the dishwasher and began putting leftovers away when the girls came inside.

“My dad is letting me stay at Crystal’s tonight for the weekend,” Sarah said, her tone giving away the sense that she wanted another favor.

“Yeees?” You taunted.

“Well. I was wondering if we could borrow a couple movies and maybe some makeup?”

You looked at Sarah, seeing that glint of eagerness that you remember having at her age. Curious about the world and boys and girls and relationships. You couldn’t say no.

“Which movies?”

“Thirteen and What a Girl Wants?”

“No and yes,” you answered.

Sarah was clearly not happy you said no to Thirteen. “What?! Why? But I’m fourteen.”

“You can watch Thirteen when you turn thirty,” you mothered.

“Ugh, okay fine. How about Hot Chicks? Crystal’s never seen it.”

You debated it in your head but figured it was better than what you let them watch earlier. “Okay, deal. And only take makeup from the top of the vanity!” You shouted after they were already making their way upstairs. Your dad appeared not long after. He hugged you after wobbling a little bit, and a wet kiss was placed on your forehead. “Ew, Dad!”

“Some of us are going to a bar downtown for a couple hours.”

“You’re not driving are you?”

“No, no. It’s just a mile up the road. I’ll get a taxi on the way back. I promise you.”

“Okay. Well, call me if you need a ride or get arrested.”

A few others came inside, and you saw how your Dad looked at one of the women; physically, she was the antithesis of your mom. He gave her a smile once she noticed him staring.

“Go talk to her, dumbass,” you whispered, giving him a nudge with your elbow.

“Oh, we’ll be doin' more than ta—“

“Don’t!” You interrupted. “Do not finish that sentence.”

He chuckled and hugged you goodnight. “Joel said he’ll help clean up.”

“Oh, he doesn’t have to do that,” you responded.

“I think he has a crush on you.”

You froze at his words slowly turning your head to him. “Uh…”

You could see it in his eyes that he didn’t really know why he said that. He was definitely drunk. “Anyways. Love you, kid. I gotta get me some tail.”

You grimaced and pushed him away. “Real classy, Dad. Really fucking classy.” You shook your head as he followed his friends laughing.

Joel had dropped the girls off at Crystal’s house before he made his way back to you. The second he left, you ran upstairs to clean yourself quickly, hoping that tonight would be the night you finally get to have him.

Joel’s footsteps were heard from the entryway trailing into the living room where you were watching TV. Your head turned, a smile already curling around your lips.

“Hi, Joel,” you said before clicking the television off. He could just hear it in your tone how horny you were. He stared at you like a deer in headlights, making you laugh, so you walked over to him, bare feet padding against the wood. You took his hand in yours and guided him upstairs. “Sit on the bed,” you told him.

He was a nervous fucking wreck and you acting so calm about the situation only made him more nervous.

You shut the door even though no one was home and turned off your big light, the only glow coming from some string lights and an old ambient light in the corner. As corny as it felt “setting the tone” you wanted to make this moment special because every other time was rushed and sloppy (not that you minded).

You stood in front of him, feeling exposed despite being fully dressed. You rubbed your clammy hands over your thighs.

“Is this okay?” You asked.

��Yeah,” Joel said a little loudly. He cleared his throat and tried to calm down. “Yeah.”

“We don’t—we don’t have to.”

“No, no, I want to. If—if you want to. Shit, uh…” He chuckled, bashful at his poor attempt at easing the tension.

“Okay,” you tittered.

You reached for the rim of your shirt, lifting it slowly to expose your stomach. He watched your fingers slither over your skin, and you asked again, “Is this okay?”

How did I get so lucky?

He nodded.

You moved your shirt up more, exposing the underside of your breasts and part of your areola. “This okay?”

This is the first time, he realized, that I’ll see her tits.

He nodded again. You peeled the shirt from your body and let it drop to the floor.

Fuck. They’re perfect.

Your nipples were already stiff with anticipation, goosebumps scattered over your flesh. “How about…” Your thumbs broke the waistband of your skirt. “This?” You pushed the fabric down just enough to reveal that you weren’t wearing any panties.

She’s doing all this for me. To make me feel special.

The lump in his throat ran dry, and you didn’t bother waiting for another response. You let your skirt cascade down your legs to hit the floor. You teetered over to stand between his legs and pressed his face into your belly.

He pressed a kiss into your flesh and ran his hands over your thighs before firming a squeeze on your ass. His nails left indents while he sunk his teeth into your skin, wanting his body to mesh in yours.

Your knees slowly drifted to the floor; he let you fiddle with the opening of his jeans so that he could focus on tasting your sweet lips, getting lost in the feeling of being here with you.

You sucked his bottom lip roughly and palmed his growing erection over his boxers. He hovered over the bed for a moment to push his pants down enough to let his cock spring free.

Your eyes widened at his girth while his cockhead tapped his lower stomach. Your mouth watered as you watched it twitch a couple times.

He leaned back on his elbows and took in the sight of your intimidation from the size of his dick, smiling arrogantly when you licked your lip with the purpose to ready your mouth. You hummed after gaining a bit of confidence to praise how big he was.

“All for you,” he said.

You slowly blinked, then wrapped your hand around his velvety shaft. His cock was littered with veins. You licked your lips and drooled your salivation over his warm tip, letting it glide down a bit. You kept your eyes locked with his as you wrapped your swollen lips around him.

His cock felt hot and it pulsed with need once it came in contact with your perfect mouth. He fought the urge to moan, letting out his cries in a symphony of whimpers instead.

Your eyes rolled back at the sound of his wordless little pleads. You circled your tongue around his head relentlessly before surprising him by forcing his cock to hit the back of your throat.

His entire body flinched and he shouted out a few curse words. You gagged and pulled back; you allowed your spit to drip down his skin. You slurped around his tip and moaned when he flinched again. Then, you took more of him in your mouth, bobbing your head up and down. You fell in love with how he tasted in your mouth as his salty precum oozed over your tongue. The gagging and slurping noises echoed in the room and he couldn’t keep his moans to himself anymore.

“Oh, f-fuck,” he whimpered, thrusting into your mouth gently. “Fuck. That—that feels so fucking good, baby. Yes baby, yes baby, yes.”

You moaned around the shaft, eliciting more obscenities from him. Your mouth was so full even though you hadn’t taken all of him. Your cheeks hollowed around him, creating a tighter vessel for him to fuck while you stroked whatever you couldn’t fit.

His face contorted with the anguish of not wanting to finish yet, but he couldn’t stop now, could he?

Maybe if I just get a little closer—just a little.

So lost in the pleasure, he felt the start of his climax rise causing him to gently pull you off of him.

A single streak of his cum shot onto your cheek. You flinched but laughed endearingly, helping his ego feel better about it.

“Fuck. Sorry.” His chest heaved with his mouth dry from his heavy breathing as you assured him it was okay.

He took a moment to gather himself before sitting up and wiping his cum from your face. You grabbed his wrist before he got the chance to wipe it clean; you impulsively sucked the milky release before swallowing it shamelessly.

Joel’s eyes were glossy and low. He could watch you lick up his cum for hours if you wanted to. You looked so sweet on the outside but inside you were dark, full of a lust that was forever unfulfilled by previous boyfriends.

Sometimes you wondered if you even knew what you want sexually, yet Joel was able to just read you and provide.

“You’re such a good girl for me," he asked with a devious smile, "aren't you?"

“Anything for you, Joel.”

Chuckling, he picked you up effortlessly and sat you on his stomach while he laid on his back.

“Use me,” he begged.

You blushed. “What do you mean?”

“You said your last boyfriend didn’t do the things you needed him to,” he explained, “so use me. Fuck me however you want. And I’ll fuck you however you need me to. Be as rough as you want. As mean as you want. Ride me, ride my face—I don—I don’t care. I just need you. Need you s’fucking bad.”

You saw in his eyes desperation, and it made your head spin. A man so brute and strong like Joel begging to be your fuck toy was a sight for your sore eyes.

You adjusted your body and carefully lined his cock up with your sopping entrance; he felt rewarded when your puffy walls clung to him. The stretching of your pussy burned deliciously inside of you.

You sat there for a moment. Not to get adjusted to his fat cock, but to just feel him. Feel him twitch and jerk, aching to pump you full of his seed.

You circled your hips slowly feeling his head bump against your g-spot. Your fingers pressed into his chest and you started to ride the slight curve of his shaft.

“Oh, my God. Joel,” you cried out, feeling how his cock stuffed you perfectly each time you rode down.

“That feel good, baby?”

As your eyelashes fluttered shut, you were pathetically nodding and reaching up to play with one of your breasts. “Yes,” you moaned.

With thick hands wrapped loosely around your waist and eyes fixated on you, Joel was under your spell. He loved being used by you. Submitting.

You appreciated the control he gave you over his body. He was of free use just for you, and you grew tired of being afraid of that. You fucked him however you wanted, just like he had asked, finding the inconsistencies of your movements titillating.

His long fingers drew random patterns around your back, adding intimacy to the connection. He looked so breathtaking beneath your tantalized body. His eyebrows furrowed into a pout that made your heart melt for him, and his pursed lips cooed out little praises.

"Yes," he whimpered, softly thrusting into you as you went down to create the perfect rhythm. "Yes, yes, yes," he continued. "Darlin', you're doing so good for me, yes."

"You feel so good," you moaned. "Your cock is so fucking big."

"You take it so well, baby girl. Ahh—fu… You're doin' so good f'me."

You leaned down to kiss his wet lips, moans pouring from you. "S'it feel good?"

"Yes, baby. Fuck yes, you feel so fucking good. Don't s-stop."

You gasped and twisted your nipple between your fingertips, feeling an ungodly amount of your precum seep between your bodies. A bundle of pleasure twinged in the pit of your stomach, making your hips stutter and mess up the rhythm.

“I’m gonna cum, Joel—oh, fuuck. I’m gonna cum,” you said in a hushed voice.

You felt his hands smooth over your ass, and he began thrusting into you a bit more forcefully, encouraging you to finish.

A calamity overtook you; your climax was full of distress and violence. You had never screamed so loud before. Your orgasm worked against you, releasing itself into the darkest corners of your body.

You felt it everywhere. Your toes curled. Your elbows locked. Your fingers went numb. Your neck warmed. Every inch of your body felt haunted by the orgasm you felt yourself fighting. Joel fucking lived for it.

You were a fucking mess above him and he couldn’t stop himself from overstimulating you. He held you still in his strong arms and pounded into you ruthlessly, with no care in the world for how loud you were.

You loved how it overpowered you, intensifying as Joel determined to make it last longer. It felt like an eternity. Your chest shook from your blubbers, your body full of amnesia of reality.

He intently watched you, waiting for it to become too much. Your eyes welled up with tears and your face hurt from how contorted it had become. It wasn’t until you took a big breath in that he slowed down causing you to collapse atop his chest.

Joel held you close, grazing his fingers over your back and arms to soothe you as you came down from your high. All he wanted to do was to feel good with you and make sure you were satisfied.

You lifted your flushed face from the crook of his neck to give him a passionate kiss; he hummed against your warm lips, bringing a hand up to hold your face so he could deepen the connection.

He slowly rolled your body over until he was on top of you. Your hands slid along his broad shoulders whilst he erratically pushed his pants down, kicking them to the floor afterward. You pulled at the hem of his shirt and helped him remove it.

He slipped back inside of you as he stayed on his knees, getting the perfect view of your alluring frame. Your makeup had begun to fade away, and mascara scattered around your eyes. Your hair was messily laid around your head and your eyes were heavy with fatigue.

“Your so beautiful,” he said before reaching to pinch your cheeks in his big hand to slightly embarrass you, “you’re such a fucking mess already.”

You grabbed his hand, snatching it from your cheeks and pushing it away; you sat up enough to grab a hold of his neck, bringing his face closer to yours as a dangerous looked filled your eyes. You dug your legs into his thighs to push his length deeper inside of you, it caught him by surprise.

“Thought you said I was in control, huh,” you whispered. Joel instantly pouted, the pathetic look on his face fueled your desire to domesticate him.

“Y-you—yes, yes,” he weakly responded. “Yes. You a—you are in control.”

You gave him a soft kiss despite your tough demeanor to help calm him. “Good boy,” you praised, tightening your grip. He thanked you and started to move his halted hips again, this time with purpose and force.

Your hardened expression cracked, faltering into a look of bliss and thankfulness. His skin clapped against yours as you felt his balls swinging against your ass with every thrust.

The moans spilling between your lips was music to Joel’s ears; he felt the swollen head of his cock breech even deeper inside of you after you hung your legs around his hips. Your walls fluttered around his pulsating cock making your cunt feel tighter.

Combining that with your tight grip around his neck? Fuck. He wanted to cum so badly—

“Shit!” He shouted as he pulled out, not wanting this to end so soon.

You laughed at him more teasingly this time and let his neck go, using your legs to push him back inside with no effort.

He tried thrusting more slowly this time, but his body was just begging for release. He pulled out again and attempted to take a breather. You weren’t having it.

You pushed him into saint position and held his face firmly to make him look you in the eyes as you started to bounce on him.

“Baby,” he said, feeling the rise of his climax slowly build again, “I don’t wanna stop yet.”

“Your cock belongs to me,” you told him; he promptly agreed. “That means I do whatever I fucking want to. You’re gonna cum for me and let me keep fucking you.”

His eyes rolled back and his let out a moan of both desperation and relief. “Yes,” he whimpered, eagerly nodding his dazed head, “yes. My cock belongs to you. Only you—fuck—no one’s ever made me feel as good as you.”

You moaned in response, knowing you no longer needed to scold him.

He was so fucking thick. Not even all of your slick could help get used to his size. Your skin clung to his from the faint sweat coating both of your bodies. Your tits bounced against his toned chest stimulating your nipples, adding to the earth-shattering pleasure.

His breathing was shallow while he tried to hold off as long as possible. He then figured if he rubbed your clit you might be able to finish again with him.

You jolted when his thumb rubbed erratic loops around your clit, soon enough feeling your climax build again. And though it was not as powerful it hit you so much more quickly.

“Can you cum for me?” You asked nicely. “Fuck, I’m gonna cu—“ Your own gasps cut you off as you heard Joel say he was going to finish with you.

His forehead fell onto yours as the pressure finally exploded inside of you. Your body insisted on continuing to fuck him, your cunt pushing and pulling at his shaft as if you were trying to squeeze his cum out yourself. He painted your walls with his hot white load, filling you up even more as if you weren't full enough.

He held you tight and leaned his head onto your shoulders so that your shivering legs wouldn’t completely give out.

All of a sudden Joel grew an urge to eat you out before his cum spilled out.

He tossed you onto your back and got down on his stomach, barely letting you breathe before his tongue covered your throbbing hole.

You cried out his name shamelessly, feeling his tongue curl up inside of you. He watched you arch your back and grab at the sheets with your head thrown back and mouth opened.

At first, he only tasted your tangy cum as it lay thick and heavy on his tongue. But after a short while, he tasted was he could only presume to be himself. The taste was mostly brine, but a little sweet, and permeated along his tastebuds. He couldn’t get enough of how good the two of you tasted together.

He devoured every last drop he could manage before pulling away from you, feeling how hard his he still was. He wanted to make up for finishing so soon.

You wanted to come down—you were so fucking wore out. But you felt Joel twist you around onto your stomach and lift your hips up before shoving his cock back inside of you.

You groaned at the stretch feeling stronger than before, clawing at the bedsheets as he wasted no time to fuck you again. His hips clapped against your ass when his hands pushed into your waist, deepening your arch.

He would slowly pull back to where his beaming cockhead was only inside of you, then he'd thrust strong enough to make your body bounce a little on the springy mattress. He fucked you slow but hard, wanting you to feel every inch of him.

“Fuck! Yes, Joel!” You shouted.

“Like that, baby? Hmm?” He spanked you when you didn’t answer.

“Fuck, yes, you’re so good to me!”

Your moans turned into whines from the brute force of his body. Tears danced along your eyes as your pussy ached with overstimulation and rapture.

“My cock belongs to you? Hmm?” He said indignantly. He was already yours. He belonged to you. He just wanted to hear you say it again.

You moaned lustfully when he started going fast enough to make his balls hit your clit. He reached to grab your neck and beckoned you to get on your hands as well, keeping the grip loose enough for you to breathe.

“Yes, Joel, your fucking cock belongs to me," your voice was lame as you tried to regulate your breathing. Your sore pussy yearned again, asking for relief just once more. “Give it to me, please, give it to me.”

He looked at his dick thrust in and out of you, groaning at the smooth ring of your cum wrapped around the base of his shaft.

“You wanna cum again?” He asked. You begged and pleaded and cried for him to keep going.

He didn’t even try to comprehend when another orgasm was building for him. He ignored the anguish the second climax was bringing him, even if it was becoming too painful to bear. He didn’t care enough. He just wanted to keep listening to those pretty sounds you were making.

He never had an experience come close to this one. To being with you. Never imagined doing something as dirty as tasting his own cum, let alone after releasing it inside of his partner. And then to cum twice in the span of a few minutes? He knew then and there that no one would be able to satisfy him like you.

“I’m cumming, I’m cumming!” You moaned in a high pitch that Joel thought was cute; your back arched and tensed, your whole body shaking with a third orgasm that felt instinctual. Your eyes filled with stars and you were lightheaded.

He let himself feel every aspect of his orgasm once the pain left his body. It was warm and made him a little hazy; he was so overwhelmed with euphoria that he could hardly react to it. He was persistent in finishing you both off with sloppy thrusts as he whispered sweet praises to you about how good you felt.

Your body collapsed making Joel’s dick slip out of you; he rested next to you once you laid on your side and put his arm around your head. You lay there in a bittersweet silence for a few minutes, savoring the sound of each other’s breathing and sleepy hums.

“I’m so tired now,” you lazily said.

Joel chuckled and pulled the blanket up to cover you. “Go to sleep, baby.”

“I don’t wanna,” you said tiredly; he chuckled again and kissed your head, wishing that this wasn’t casual. “Was it good for you?” You asked after looking up at him, the craving for sleep evident in your pretty eyes.

He couldn’t put into words how at peace he felt right now. He was tired too. “Yes, sweetheart.”

“I wasn’t too mean, was I?” You worried.

“No, baby,” he cooed, stroking your head. “You were perfect.” The way he said it ensured you it was the truth.

“I was perfect?” You giggled.

“Mm-hmm,” he hummed. “We should go out some night. Have a little fun."

"Joel Miller, r'you asking me on a date?"

"It ain't gotta be," he answered.

You giggled again and curled into his body some more. "Sure, Joel. Take me out to a bar so I can dance on sleazy men in cowboy hats to make you jealous."

He laughed, "You love makin' stories up, don't you?"

"It won't be a story for long."

-

Read part 3 here.

🏷️ @paleidiot @sarap-77 @mmeerraa @ssweetart42

[skzdarlings]

part ii: bodyguard!felix x reader

masterlist.

PART I ; PART II ; PART III ; PART IV ; PART V ; PART VI ; PART VII ; PART VIII ; PART IX ; FINAL PART.

( READ ON AO3. )

Your father hires an inconspicuous bodyguard to accompany you at school and supervise you at home. What seems like an innocuous change in routine eventually spirals into a forbidden romance that grows more passionate over the years.

pairing: lee felix/reader content info: eventual smut. violence. parental abuse. situations of intense peril overall. forced proximity. enemies2lovers. angst with eventual happy ending.

-

It did not occur to you to set a morning alarm as you are always woken by a knock on the door and a shout to get ready for school.   Today you are woken by a hand on your shoulder and the unexpected touch startles you out of slumber. 

Your hand swipes in a frenzied arc that Felix catches, smooth and swift.  

And that’s how yesterday comes rushing back all at once.  You stare into the eyes of your so-called bodyguard and bed-mate, recalling his brief outburst of emotion but finding Felix to be unresponsive and bland once more.  His mouth is in that stupid flat line and he cocks his head, glancing at your hand in his fist. 

“Good morning,” he says in that deep voice. 

You wrench your hand back.  He lets it go. 

“The car’s outside,” he says.  “You should get dressed for school.”

“What?”  Your head whips to your bedside clock.  You are usually woken half an hour before the car arrives, not when it is already at the door.  “Why didn’t anyone wake me!” 

You frantically swing out of bed, limbs in a windmill.  Felix takes a few steps back.    

“Sorry,” he says.  “I thought you’d get up on your own.”   

He is already dressed in his school uniform, white collared shirt, grey dress pants, grey blazer.  He has the dark necktie in his hands and his red beanie on his head.  Your eye twitches with annoyance at it, but maybe that annoyance is just for his general existence. 

“You can’t wear hats, stupid,” you say, reaching to snatch the beanie off his head.  He dodges your hand.  “They’ll take it away.” 

He looks at you uncertainly but swipes the beanie off his head. 

“Go get dressed,” is all he says. 

With an eye roll, you stomp over to your massive walk-in closet.  It is very annoying that it does not have a door you can slam, but you slide it shut as forcefully as you can.  

The uniform makes it a little easier to get ready quick, but you are still annoyed at the rush.  You scurry out of the closet still shoving your arms through the blazer sleeves, your kilt longer than you like, with one sock pulled up to your knee and the other stuck around your ankle.

Felix is perched on the edge of the bed, all his attention on his tie.  He clearly has no idea how to wear it properly, looping the fabric like an army knot. 

You watch him.  He looks at you then rips the tie off completely, crumpling it in his fist.  Your own is already tied and he looks at it.  You cross your arms.  He stares at you. 

You want him to ask for help just so you can say no, but he looks so pathetic sitting there in your girly bedroom in his schoolboy uniform, his hair still ruffled from removing his precious beanie.  He looks even more ridiculous when he dons an unaffected air as if trying to appear more adult.  It makes him look even more his age.

“Ugh.”  You stomp over to him.  “Give it to me.” 

He obeys without protest, passing you the tie. 

“I should strangle you with it,” you say, hooking it around his neck and jerking him closer.  He bumps into your stomach.  “Then all my problems would be solved.”

“Would they, though?” he asks, looking up at you with his glassy dark eyes, innocent despite the sass in his tone. 

“Shut up,” you reply. 

Even his laugh is deep.  You hate him. 

“There.”  You push the knot up to his throat, tighter than necessary.  He adjusts it wordlessly.  “You’re welcome.”

“Thank you,” he says, pretending to miss the sarcasm. 

He ducks down and grabs your sock, tugging it up to your knee.  The unexpectedness makes you jump.  You feel an unbidden rush of embarrassed heat flow to your face, worsening when he looks up at you.  You have a moment of proximity awareness, that a boy your own age is in your room and he is alone with you, and he has pretty dark eyes and freckles and a cute smile. 

But then he says, “I’ll call your dad and tell him we slept in but should be on time for school.” 

Then you remember what he is, and you hate him again.   

“You’re gross,” is your lacklustre retaliation. 

“Hmm, maybe, I haven’t showered yet today,” he says, then reaches into his backpack.  “Also, if they’d take away my hat, do you think they’d take away this?” 

The little freak pulls a gun out of his backpack and blinks up at you with complete innocence.  When you just gawp at him, a smile tugs at his mouth and he scrunches up his face. 

“Nahh, you’re right,” he says.  “Bad idea for the first day of school.”  Then he puts it in his drawer with his beanie and slams it shut.  He smiles at you.  “Shall we?”  He gestures to the door. 

You do not dignify his nonsense with a response.  You grab your own backpack and storm out of the room.            

-

The driver stops in his usual spot.  It feels very routine until you and Felix get out of the car and it simply drives off.  The driver usually waits until you are in sight of a guard posted at the main entrance to the high school. 

Today, you and Felix walk side-by-side, looking like two regular students as you approach the school.  You are still expecting to see one of the usual guards lurking around but you find no one when you search. 

A part of you feels lighter, the weight of their scrutinizing stares lifted, but then you remember how Felix spent the car-ride on the phone with your father, and that weight settles heavy as stone in your gut.  Felix is even worse than them, you tell yourself, because he is truly right beside you.  The schoolboy routine might fool other people but you can’t let it fool you.  Felix might look normal but he is not.  You are still trapped.  You cannot get complacent.   

You huff and look at Felix.  He has his head tipped all the way back, looking in awe at the high ceilings of the entryway.  With his true purpose in your mind, his presence grows more infuriating by the second. 

“Between this and the uniform, you’d think they don’t have schools in Australia,” you say dryly. 

He looks at you.  He is wearing a pristine new backpack and clutching the straps, standing ramrod straight, very contrary to the lazy sling of your worn leather bag and equally lazy slouch. 

“They do,” he answers simply.

“Then why are you acting like you’ve never attended school before?” you snap. 

He just blinks.  “I haven’t,” he says. 

The answer surprises you to silence.  Before you can find a reply, you are interrupted by the familiar voice of your best friend.

“Yo, yo, yo, what’s up, it’s my favourite girl and I’m not just saying that because she’s the only girl who will talk to me.”

You can’t help but snort, forever amused with Jisung’s antics.  He very literally bounces up to you, miming dribbling a basketball, then looking like he’s dancing, or maybe casting a spell.  He swirls his hands around and around, then holds his arms open for a hug. 

You accept it, looking at Felix even though there is nothing for him to report.  The previous guards already reported your friendship with Han Jisung but your father has never said anything about it.  You figure he sees Jisung as a non-entity, too poor to cross his radar, unthreatening with his anxiety and goofy disposition, and ultimately worthless thanks to his shit grades.  Your father doesn’t pay attention to human things, like how Jisung is funny when you get to know him, how he loves music more than anything, or how he is masterful with a pen, just not academically. 

Felix also fails to notice these things.  His attention narrows to a pinprick, gaze focused on Jisung’s backwards cap.

“Nice hat,” Felix says, undoubtedly thinking about his beanie back home. 

Hats are genuinely not allowed; Jisung just makes his own rules and lives by them, even when it gets him walloped him up the head by the math teacher.

Jisung notices Felix for the first time, his mouth curving into a perfectly round ‘O’ of surprise.  It is not everyday you are towing another student in your shadow.  You are cordial enough with your classmates but it’s hard to keep friends when you can never see them.  Jisung is the only one who never pushes it, content with your company when he has it. 

“Whaaat,” he says, looking at Felix then at you.  “Another new kid?” 

“Huh?” you say.  “There’s another new kid?” 

“Bro, things are weeeird today,” Jisung says, making an exploding gesture beside his head.  “Got back from the weekend: no more security guards!  And that janitor with the lazy eye who used to stare at me?  Gone.  Just poof.”  That janitor was one of your guards and he was watching you, not Jisung, but you always nodded along whenever Jisung went on a tirade about government watchdogs.  “Then someone says it’s all because of this rich new kid, that his dad didn’t like it or something so all he did was snap his fingers and boom, now the school is his.  Which is obviously stupid.  Money doesn’t let you get away with changing a whole school.” 

Money lets you get away with a lot of things.  There is a tingling pain where your cheek is still swollen from your father smacking you.  Your force yourself to smile at your naïve friend. 

“I don’t think that’s this kid,” you say.

“Aw, no, I knew that,” Jisung says. “I saw the other guy already.  He’s like… whoa.  Like whoa.  Like I hate him.  He better not talk to me, because it’s on fucking sight.” 

You burst out laughing because Jisung couldn’t win a fight against a battered puppy.  He laughs along, aware of his own ridiculousness. 

Felix just stands there, smiling politely but not laughing.  Eventually he asks, “Why don’t you like him?” 

“Bro, this dude was so beautiful it’s like he was wearing a filter in real life,” Jisung says this like a curse, dramatically scowling.  “Don’t worry, though, you’re cool with me.  Not that you’re ugly or anything.  My bad.  Anyway, I’m Jisung, what’s up?”

“Hi, I’m Felix.” 

Jisung holds out his fist and Felix looks at it.  You wonder if Felix even knows what a fist bump is.  Maybe they don’t have them in whatever backcountry crevice your father dug him out of, seeing as he has balked at several other mundane things, but then Felix smiles and completes the fist bump. 

He really does look like normal school kid.  You have to swallow down your aggravation. 

“Fee-licks…?” Jisung says.  “Weird name.  Cool boots.  Sexy voice.  I’m super jealous, maybe I do hate you.  Are the freckles real?”

“Uh.”  Felix furrows his brow.  “Yeah?”  He says it like it should be obvious and you hate that you almost laugh. 

“Cool, cool,” Jisung says.  “And the accent is…?”

“Australian.”

“Naaaur, that’s sick,” Jisung says, then clearly regrets it.  He turns his cap around to cover his eyes.  “Sorry.  It’s a Monday.  But this is fun, we’re a menage-a-trois now.”

“Um,” Felix says, coughing.  “Do you know what that means?”

“It doesn’t matter,” you say, frowning at Felix.  “Because no we’re not.  Felix isn’t my friend.  I just said I’d show him to his classes but I’m still sitting with you and he’s gonna deal with it.” 

You and Felix stare at each other and Jisung looks between you, eyes ping-ponging.  Eventually, he smiles and puts a hand on your shoulder. 

“All right,” Jisung says.  “You’re in a friendly mood, as usual.  We love to see it.  Felix, don’t let her scare you, she’s nice, you just need to give her a treat first.  That’s why I carry around a bag of her favourite spicy peanuts even though I am super allergic.”  His backpack is already unzipped, a messy binder sticking out of it, so he easily reaches back and plucks out a bag of peanuts. 

You take them from him, rolling your eyes affectionately. 

“Come on,” you say.  “Let’s go before your new arch nemesis walks by and I have to save your sorry ass.” 

You loop arms with Jisung and move swiftly ahead.  Felix trails behind you, hands on his backpack straps, glancing around the corridor.  You don’t know if his careful regard is curiosity or just him being a bodyguard, eyeing the rambunctious students and their open lockers with a wary eye.   

Jisung prattles on about some new cartoon.  He looks back to ask Felix if he has ever heard of it and Felix shakes his head.  While they are engaged with each other, your own attention strays.

It’s then you see him.  

You couldn’t care less about a beautiful new kid, not when Lee Minho is just a few feet away.

Oh god.  He really is perfect.  He looks like he walked off the screen of a drama, slouching against the wall with his hands in his pockets, his tie loose and blazer unbuttoned.  His brown hair falls neatly around his handsome face, his mouth quirked up in a smirky little half-grin.  He raises an eyebrow in reply to his friend, then he laughs, his whole face brightening with his delight. 

Minho is two years older than you, not yet a senior but the school’s It Boy regardless.  He attended the senior prom in his freshman year, escorting one of the senior girls, and it’s no surprise.  He’s handsome, he’s hilarious, he’s smart, he’s talented.  He’s everything.  Charmingly brusque and occasionally snarky, but a famously good friend underneath his teasing.  He has never been single for more than a day, but his ego has never blown up and none of his ex-girlfriends have anything bad to say about him. 

Your crush is like a fuzzy hug.  The edge of your vision blurs in a dreamy frame around his face.  He lifts a hand and tucks some hair behind his ear at the same moment he glances aside.  For a brief but substantial moment, your eyes meet.  Your heart stops. 

Then you step down funny and roll your ankle.   

Despite holding your arm, Jisung is too slow to catch you.  A small but strong hand grabs the back of your jacket and yanks, keeping you upright.  It doesn’t stop you from stumbling around like a newborn foal, but at least you don’t hit the ground. 

Your face is burning hot, your gut sinking with a flush of embarrassment.  You chance a look at Minho, his face in a somewhat concerned cringe before he goes back to laughing with his friends. 

Oh my god, you think.  This is the worst week of my life.  And that’s fucking saying something.

“Are you all right?”  Felix’s dumb deep voice is suddenly in your ear.  He is standing a lot closer, his hand in the middle of your back.

You shove him off, glaring.  Jisung puts a hand on your shoulder and says, “Whoa, whoa, whoa!”  It makes you feel like a poorly behaved horse.  Minho isn’t paying attention anymore but it all feels so wretchedly embarrassing. 

Why is your existence so pathetic?  All you do is get jerked around, physically and emotionally.  You are a walking, talking font of humiliation.  Your face stings and your ankle hurts and both boys are looking at you with concern, except one of them is your friend who doesn’t know anything about your life and one of them is on a payroll and knows too much. 

“I’m fine!” you snap.  You tug down your blazer and adjust your collar.  “I’m fine.”

“Okay, baby,” Jisung says, trying to laugh, his big eyes still full of pity.  He glances back at Minho, then looks at Felix.  Barely audible, he whispers, “She likes him.” 

“Jisung!”  You whack him in the arm and he cries out like you chopped a limb. 

Felix just looks over at Minho, cocks an eyebrow, then looks back at you.  You have no idea why but it makes everything ten times worse.  It is silly to feel that way because all the girls have a crush on Minho so it is not a well-kept secret.  For some reason, Felix knowing you like someone makes it more embarrassing.  Not even because of your father, though you are certain Felix will tell him soon enough. 

You can’t even stomp to class because your ankle hurts.  You settle for stalking with a broody countenance. 

Your first classroom is arranged in tables that seat two, so you sit with Jisung in your usual spot.  Felix takes the spot directly behind you.  As a new face, he gets curious glances from other students. He pays them no mind.  He unpacks his bag in silence then he folds his hands neatly on the desk and stares at you.

You are glaring ferociously at a straight-faced Felix when Jisung elbows you sharply in the side.  You whack him but this time he whacks you back, making his big brown eyes even bigger than usual.  You look at him funny.  It takes a second to realize he is trying to point with his eyes.   

You look up just in time for an insanely gorgeous stranger to pass the desk.  You are certain your expression betrays you.  At least with Minho, you are mostly practiced at schooling your reactions, but this one catches you off guard. 

This must be the other new kid.  He’s really tall and slender, lacking Minho’s slightly thicker athleticism but more than compensating with a natural grace.  His black hair falls in a very neat shape around his perfect face, his cheekbones high, his brows thick, his lips full.  He is wearing a cross-strap satchel that he gracefully swings off. 

The only available seat is the one beside Felix.  The two boys glance at each other only briefly, neither knowing the other is also new.   All eyes are on them.  Felix must be aware but ignores it, his gaze resolutely focussed on yours.   The other new guy is clearly used to attention, smiling softly as he looks around. 

His eyes meet yours, your heart puttering because he holds your gaze. 

His soft smile spreads. 

Jisung coughs loudly.  You look at him and he mouths the word, “Traitor.” 

There is no time for conversation because the bell rings and the teacher starts class.  She takes a minute to introduce the two new kids: the foreigner, Lee Felix, and the transfer, Hwang Hyunjin.  Hyunjin apparently attended school on the other end of town but switched when his family moved into this district. 

It sounded like bullshit.  He crossed the city, not the country.  Surely no one transferred schools for something so petty as a twenty minute commute.  Maybe if Hyunjin was not so stunning, people would have bought the excuse, but the whole school was very interested in knowing everything about him. 

By lunch, several stories have spread, everything from expulsion for fighting to sleeping with a teacher, but you doubt the truth of the tales.  Almost all the stories tie into the removal of the security presence and you know that has nothing to do with Hyunjin. 

By far the most ridiculous is that he murdered another student and his rich father got rid of the security team so they would never find evidence if he killed again. 

Jisung told you that one.  You are not entirely convinced he didn’t start the rumour himself. 

“Felix,” Jisung says.  He points across the cafeteria table with a carrot stick.  “Tell the truth, have you ever killed anyone?” 

Felix chokes on his soup.   “What?” he asks, smiling with forced civility. 

You doubt Jisung notices his discomfort.  He is off in his own world, drawing shapes in the air with the carrot. 

“I just think,” Jisung drawls, “that it would be funny if everyone thought Mister Supermodel Oh Look At Me Look At Me was a serial killer, which he totally is by the way, but actually it was the super chill Australian dude with the skater hair.” 

Felix brushes at his dyed blonde bangs.  He glances at you but you have no rescue to offer, especially because Jisung’s question rattled you.

No, not the question.  The answer.  It clearly unnerved Felix.  Why would it startle him if the answer was not a resounding yes?  Has Felix killed someone?  He’s fourteen years old.  How could a kid have that kind of history? 

How could a kid get hired for a job like this? you remind yourself.  How could a kid be trusted to do the work of a whole team of men?  How could a kid devote every second of the day to watching someone else? 

How could a kid be willing to drive a knife through his hand just because an awful old man asked him? 

Felix clears his throat.  He grabs a napkin and dabs at his mouth.  By the time Jisung looks at him, Felix is smiling brightly.  He laughs a carefree laugh, completely blithe, like he has never had a problem bigger than flunking a math test. 

“You’re funny,” Felix says.  “I’ve like killed a few bugs if that counts.  Augh, you don’t even want to know the things I’ve squashed.” 

“Ohh, gross, yeah, Australian bugs are like the size of my head, right?”  Jisung cups his whole face in demonstration. 

“Bigger,” Felix says, scrunching his nose cutely. 

You feel sick. 

You shove your tray away and stand up, drawing their eyes to you.  Jisung asks where you’re going but Felix is already on his feet, ready to follow.  You don’t bother protesting.  It won’t do any good. 

You are thinking. 

Everyone has been so preoccupied with Hyunjin that no one has remarked on Felix at all.  You and Jisung tend to blend into the background so his seeming friendship with the outsiders probably didn’t help matters, but a new kid tends to garner attention no matter what. 

You wonder if Hyunjin is a plant, another of your father’s men, someone to take the heat off Felix until he’s settled.  Another pair of eyes.  Watching you.  Studying you. Following you.  In the light, in the dark, staring, recording, remembering –

Felix touches your arm and you whip around.  It catches him by surprise and clearly triggers something, because two seconds later you are squished against his chest with no way out. 

He releases you quickly, realizing what he did, and you stumble. 

“Closet,” you say before he can speak. 

He follows your line of sight to the nearby janitorial closet, opening his mouth to protest when you push him.  He gives you a beleaguered look but goes.  He walks with a casual saunter like nothing is amiss, like a closet is a normal place to go.    

You close the door, leaving you and Felix in the pitch black darkness.  There is probably a light somewhere but you are too frazzled to bother searching.  You get right to the point. 

“Is Hyunjin one of ours?” you demand. 

“Huh?”  You can’t see his face but you can picture that crinkle in his brow.  “What do you mean, one of ours?”

“Does he work for my father?”

“Obviously not,” Felix says.  “He’s clearly a civilian?”  He says this with incredulity, like it should be obvious.    

“How do you know that for sure?”

“Because I’m not a civilian,” he says, sounding impatient.  You wish you could see his face after all, wondering if he is showing proper emotion again.  Maybe he’s rolling his eyes.  It would reassure you, in a way, make your fears feel silly. “Look, I know the timing is like funny and stuff, but it’s really just a coincidence.  Your father would tell me if he was planning something so I could play along.  It would be stupid to plant something and not tell me.”

“So maybe you knew,” you say.  You are now thankful for the dark because tears spring to your eyes.  “Maybe you knew all along.  Maybe Hyunjin isn’t the only one.  Maybe there’s a dozen of you except now I don’t know what you look like.  Maybe you’re all watching me.  Maybe you’re all laughing at me, watching my dad do what he wants, watching him laugh at me too—”  

“Are you crying?” 

He sounds genuinely surprised.  A moment later, his clumsy hands are bumping your face.  You try to push him away but he mistakes it in the dark, thinking you are pulling him closer.  You can feel him step forward, his hand on your cheek. 

“Sweetheart,” he says, with so much depth that it makes you shiver.  His accent makes the word sound fuller, the heart deeper.  It sounds honest.  “I have one job,” Felix says.  His thumb catches a tear.  “Just one.  My job is to keep you safe.  Not to keep secrets from you, and not to lie for your father.  Maybe that’s someone’s job, probably, but it’s not me.  I’m not lying to you.  I’m just here to keep you safe.  That’s it.  I promise.” 

You grab his wrist and hold it for a shuddering second.  A part of you wants to cling to it like a foolish little girl.  You’re both too young to be in here. 

You fling his hand off your face. 

“I don’t feel safe,” you say.  You wipe your own face quickly.   “I hate you.  I hate my life.  Get away from me.”

He has the decency to hang back a few feet, but Felix has no real choice in the matter.  You wonder if he ever did, but you don’t dwell on that thought for too long.  You can’t bring yourself to mourn for his life as well as your own.  You need someone to hate and your father is never around, so you spend the rest of the day glaring at Felix.  You don’t talk again, not on the car-ride home, not at the house, not in your room. 

The cook prepared dinner and left it on the stove.  You refuse to eat until late evening, holed up in your room under the pretense of doing schoolwork.  You text Jisung but not about anything substantial.  You are pretty sure your father installed spyware on your phone.  Better to keep it simple and veer away from heavy subjects when Jisung hits you with the watery-eyed emojis. 

Felix checks on you occasionally but otherwise leaves you be.  You hear him on the phone with your father, his professional voice so uncanny for a kid, deep voice or not. 

Eventually you make your way to the kitchen where Felix is sitting at the counter.  He is wearing his stupid beanie again, the same ripped jeans as yesterday, the same t-shirt and flannel. There is a stack of papers beside an open schoolbook.  You can’t help but notice the printed book report sitting at the top of the pile, one not due until Friday. 

“How’d you finish that so fast?” you ask, forgetting you weren’t going to speak to him.

Felix looks up from reading the textbook.  Surprise creases his brow.  He probably didn’t expect you to start a conversation, and certainly not about something so mundane as schoolwork. 

He glances at the report then up at you.  “Uhh,” he says, then his face cracks into a grin, “I’m not actually here for an education.  I mean, the readings are… kinda fun… I never did homework before so… anyway.  Someone does the homework for me, you know, to keep up appearances and stuff.” 

“That’s not fair,” you say.  “Why can’t they do my homework too?  Wait, do you wanna do my homework while they do yours?”

“No, because you are there for an education,” Felix says lightly, almost teasing.  This is your nicest conversation so far.  It unsettles you more than an argument, so you say nothing more and head to the stove for your dinner.  You are spooning it into a bowl when Felix clears his throat.  You hear papers shuffle.  “That’s not all,” he says.  “I, uhhh, I don’t know if you… if you even want this.  I just…  thought it might make you feel more, I dunno, at ease, or something, if you saw for yourself.” 

You cannot help your curiosity.  You accept the paper he offers.    

“It’s, uh, Hyunjin,” he says.  “I asked for some research and information just to show you he’s, like, real.  It’s just his school record and stuff…” 

You give the papers a cursory glance.  They could be faked but you do actually believe that Hyunjin’s timely arrival is nothing more than coincidence.  No one can get his story straight but that’s because high school gossip is stupid and unreliable.  Hyunjin is gorgeous and graceful when he is trying, but he’s also somehow clumsy as a newborn foal, stumbling all over the field during gym class and whining when a tennis racket grazed his elbow.  Nothing about him really screams super spy.  Plus, you doubt a spy would have got detention on his first day for skipping class and making out with one of the senior girls. 

“It was fighting, if you’re curious,” Felix says. 

You look up at him, eyebrow lifted. 

“The reason he left his old school,” Felix clarifies.  “He got expelled for getting in a fight with another student.  Over a girl.” 

He rolls his eyes and the unexpectedly sassy judgement makes you laugh.  You don’t miss the flicker of delight that crosses his face, though you do ignore it.  You poke at your rice bowl. 

“I guess you’re not a romantic,” you say dryly.

“Uh, beating the shit out of someone is not romantic,” he says, still in a somewhat sassy tone, his eyebrows high.  He closes the book and shakes his head.  “Violence is never romantic.  Violence is just violence.”

That does make you look at him longer.  You are talking about romance, not family love, but it is still the closest anyone has come to telling you there is no love in violence.   

“What about me?” you eventually say.  “Aren’t you supposed to beat the shit out of someone for looking a little too long in my direction?”

“That’s different,” he says, frowning.  “It’s my job.  Why, who’s looking at you?”

You feel like he is goading you so you roll your eyes and walk away with the rice bowl.  

“Is it Lee Minho?” he asks.

You turn and look at him with a scowl.  “Minho hasn’t down anything,” you say.  “He doesn’t even know I exist.  What, are you gonna tell my dad every time someone takes a breath in the same room as me because they are stealing my potential oxygen?”

“Okay, first of all, don’t say hilarious things like that when you’re starting an argument, it’s really annoying.”  Felix gets up and crosses the room.  “Second of all, I didn’t tell your father anything.  I didn’t tell him about Minho, and I didn’t tell about Jisung.  Even though I’m pretty sure Jisung is the reason you snuck out for that party.”

Well, Minho was the reason, but it was Jisung who texted to tell you that he was at the same house party.  The security team had confiscated your phone for the evening, adhering to your father’s phone privileges timetable, and you only got it back before bed.  By the time you got dressed and snuck out, Minho had left the party, so you spent the night sitting with Jisung on the roof, complaining about stupid shit, completely unaware how much your life was about to change. 

Did it change for the worse?  You still don’t know.  Felix has not confiscated your phone.  It lends some credence to his honesty, but maybe it’s all a ploy…

“I can see you thinking,” Felix says, tipping his head as he scrutinizes you.  “It’s like your face turns into a book.” 

“I’m not thinking anything,” you lie.  “And if I was, thinking isn’t a bad thing.”

“No, it’s not,” he says.  “Except when you overthink so much that it makes you cry for no reason.”

“For no reason?” you shriek, a hot ripple of anger moving through you.   

“Or that,” he says calmly.  “You feel everything a lot and you let it take over—”

You look at him, mouth open, utterly incredulous.  “I think I have every reason to behave the way I do,” you snap.  “But aren’t you my daddy’s good little watchdog, repeating his words back to me?”

“I’m not repeating anything,” Felix says, looking marginally more worked up because of the accusation.  He takes a breath and calms himself again.  “I’m just saying, your anger isn’t helping the way you think it is.” 

“It makes me feel better.”

“No, I’m sure it doesn’t,” he says.  “Because it has no where to go.  I see you and you just keep turning it onto yourself.  And I get it.  I know what that is, and I know what it feels like, and I also know if you let yourself feel all that… all that everything, so much, all the time, then it’s just going to burn you out.  Then no one will have to lift a finger against you.  You’ll do it to yourself.  You’ll get tired.  And he’ll win all the same.” 

You just stare at him.  You are certain your face is a book again, emotion written plainly.

Felix touches the back of his head and looks away.  He looks at the ground.  Finally, he looks at you. 

“I’m sorry,” he says.  “I really am just trying to do my job.”

“Right,” you say.  “Your job.” 

Keeping you safe from other people is just one part of the gig.  The biggest part is keeping you safe from yourself. 

You take your phone out of your back pocket and practically throw it at him.   The bowl shakes in your trembling hand.  You hate, more than anything, that he is so right, because your tears are on the surface again and it does not feel good. 

“There,” you say. 

His reflexes are fast.  He doesn’t even fumble.  He looks at the phone with confusion. 

“You can take away the power chord for my computer too, if you want,” you say.  “And you can lock me in my room – sorry, our room – when it’s curfew.  And you can—”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you,” Felix says, exasperated.  He holds the phone out.  “I’m not going to do any of that stuff.   I’m not your enemy, I’m your bodyguard.” 

“What if he makes you?” you ask.  The he needs no clarification. “What if he puts my hand on the desk and tells you put a knife through it?”

“That won’t happen,” Felix says seriously. “Not if we work together.  But if we keep going the way we’re going, then something bad is going to happen and we won’t be able to stop it.” 

“You think you’re so smart, don’t you?” you say, venomous. 

“Trust me,” he says.  “I don’t.  I’m just the same as you.”

“And what am I?”

“Scared.”

Silence settles between you.  His arm is outstretched, the phone an offering.  When all you do is stare at it, he tentatively approaches.  He leaves room for refusal but steps closer and simply puts it in your pocket himself.  He nods sharply at you. 

A single gesture of goodwill cannot undo a lifetime of conditioning to assume the worst in your captors.  Felix occupies a strange liminal territory in that he seems to simultaneously be a captor and captive.  You spend the next couple weeks watching your bodyguard carefully, watching him as he establishes a routine, watching him as he blends into the background of your life as if he was always there. 

You don’t hear from your father.  You excel on your book report.  You don’t hear from your father.  You fail a math test.  You don’t hear from your father.  You fall in the backyard and scrape your leg so badly that Felix has to give you stitches.  You don’t hear from your father. 

You get in a fight with some asshole at school.  The oafish senior smashes into Felix’s shoulder as he walks past.  Felix can take a hit, of that you have no doubt, but he plays the part of skittish fourteen year old well.  He ducks out of the way. 

The senior thinks this is funny and grabs Felix by the hair, yanking him back.  You watch, shocked, as the guy slams Felix up against the lockers so hard they rattle.  There are a few shrieks and gasps from scattered onlookers.  Someone runs off for a teacher but mostly people give a wide berth. 

Felix’s jaw clenches then he smiles.  Everyone is looking at the sweet, sunny face.  You are certain only you see his balled fist. 

“Aren’t you gonna apologize for walking into me?” the senior asks.    

“Sorry,” Felix says, playing his part well.  “I didn’t see you.”  He tries to step away and the guy shoves him back.  Felix sucks in a breath, steadying himself. 

“Why not?” the guy further taunts. 

Felix cannot fight for himself without revealing too much.  You, on the other hand, can walk right up and smack the guy with your math book.   You hit the back of his head and he stumbles then whips around with a furious glare. 

“What the fuck, bitch?” he says. 

You see red quickly.  You spit at him. 

“Don’t call me a bitch, bitch,” you snap. 

He wipes the spit off his face and takes a menacing step towards you.  Felix is quick, his feet planted, his assessing gaze no doubt analyzing weak spots.   

The scene ends abruptly because someone else grabs the guy and shoves him back.  You jump, startled, your heart rate tripling when Minho turns around to look at you. 

“You okay?” Minho asks. 

Your mouth opens but no sound comes out.  Your anger evaporates, a mushy warmth replacing it. 

Minho’s brow furrows and he looks at the senior.  He gives him a little shove. 

“What’s your problem?” Minho asks.  “You like picking on kids?”

A viciously mean laugh rings out beside you.  You turn your head to Hyunjin, his hand covering his mouth as he tries and fails to hold his giggles. 

“That’s pathetic, man,” Hyunjin says, then he winks and puts up his fists.  “Wanna try me next?” 

You remember that Hyunjin got expelled for fighting.  He must be putting on a show right now because his silly, limp fists wouldn’t do any harm. 

It gets everyone laughing but that doesn’t take much given how much people swoon over Hyunjin.  An unspoken rivalry has risen between him and Minho, though you never see them interacting.  In true popular boy fashion, they are above active engagement.   Still, it is significant that they have openly taken the same side in this altercation.  It means the senior stands absolutely no chance. 

He shoves Minho’s hand off his shoulder and glares at Felix. 

“You’re not worth it,” he says and stomps off.  You watch him go, hoping you don’t look so pathetically wounded when stomping around.

Jisung arrives late, but just in time to ‘comfort’ Felix. 

“Don’t stress it, man, don’t stress it,” he says.  “I mean, stress it a little, the hot guys got hotter and you’re gonna be bitchless forever, but other than that, don’t stress it.” 

You are staring silently out the window on the car-ride home.  Felix pokes your shoulder and you look at him.

“You know I’m supposed to be the bodyguard, right?” he says, dryly, but the faintest smile tugging at his lips. 

You don’t return the smile, but you are less venomous than usual when you say, “You’re welcome, you big baby.” 

He looks out the window and smiles.

You still don’t hear from your father. 

One night, you are laying in bed beside Felix, a gulf of space between you as usual.  You can hear him snoring.  You think about him up against that row of lockers.  You start overthinking.  You know, logically, your father would not hire a second-rate bodyguard.  You know better.  You do. 

“Felix,” you whisper, but he keeps snoring.  You slip out of bed and he rolls onto his back, but then he goes back to snoring. 

You slip into your walk-in closet.  You text Jisung.  It’s a Friday night so there’s a party somewhere.  You change into party clothes and sneak back into your room.  Felix is laying on his back, fast asleep, his breathing light. 

The doors are all alarmed so that’s a bad way out.  You make it all the way to the bedroom window when a very sturdy pair of arms wrap around you.  You don’t even have time to scream.  Felix bodily pulls you back through the window.  When you fight him, he easily outmanoeuvres you.  He always tries to be gentle with you, though, and it gives you an advantage.  You manage to topple over, taking him with you.  You land in a tangled heap on the huge bed, squirming under him. 

“Stop it!” he says, sounding righteously pissed off.  “Seriously?! What the fuck!  I thought we were past this shit?  What do you think you’re doing!” 

“What are you doing?”  You try shoving him to no avail.  “Can’t you be normal for once—”

“Do you know what kind of danger you’re putting yourself in by going out alone at night, on a weekend, for fuck’s sake—”

This time when you shove him, he actually moves.  He sits up with an aggravated huff, shoving his sleep-messed hair out of his face.   You keep eye contact, an intense stare that fractures on his end, his gaze dropping when you suddenly pull your shirt off. 

“Look at me,” you say.  “You think the danger’s out there?  What about the danger in here?”

He looks.  He looks at the scar on your collarbone and the one on your stomach.  You can’t tell if his morose expression is a reaction or just his frustration simmering. 

“I don’t understand,” he finally says.  “You have choices.  It doesn’t have to be like this.  Why do you intentionally—why do you keep—”

“What choices?” you ask.  “Submission or else?  How is that a choice?”

“So that’s how it’s gonna be?” he asks.  “Kicking at the bars just to see if they’re still there when you already know the answer?”

“See,” you say, smiling a bitter smile as you lay back, “you do understand me.”   

He scrubs a hand down his face.  He wears a big t-shirt and baggy shorts to sleep, the shape making him look even smaller than usual.  Felix is skinny, despite his hidden strength, pretty and unassuming and too competent for his own good. 

Your smile fades.  You watch him rack his brain, his face a plainly written book to you just as much as you are to him. 

“Where did you come from?” you ask.  “Who were you?  What happened to make you like this?” 

His glance grazes your scars.  He steps back, off the bed.  He holds your gaze in his. 

“I’ll tell you,” he says.  “I’ll tell you.  I told you I will always be honest with you.  So if you ask, I’ll tell you.  I’ll tell you everything and I won’t spare any details.” 

Something in the tone of his voice makes you feel sick.  You reach for your shirt and twist the fabric between your fingers. 

“So?” you say, voice unsteady.

“So,” Felix says, “I would really appreciate it if you didn’t ask me.  Because if you do, I will be honest with you.  I will always be honest with you.  So ask me, if that’s what you want.  Is that what you want?” 

“I don’t know what I want,” you say.  “I don’t think I know how to want something.” 

“That’s probably for the best,” he says.  He gives you no time to dwell on this, sharply adding, “Go get dressed for bed.  It’s late.  I won’t tell your father what happened.  Just get back in bed.  Good night.” 

He pivots as swiftly as his tone, straight to the bathroom where he closes the door to give you privacy.  It is also an implicit statement of trust, or maybe a statement of ability, that you could make for the window again but you wouldn’t get far. 

You don’t think anywhere is far enough.  You think you could scour the world and not find another person who understood you even half so well as Felix.    

You are under the covers when he returns.  He doesn’t say anything, just slips into bed and lays on his back. You feel small under the thick blanket in the huge bed, so much space between you that it feels like a tangible block, cold and cruel and solid.  His eyes are open, not even pretending to sleep, but he stares up at the ceiling.  He is shivering.  He must feel the cold too.    

You reach out slowly, your hand gliding across the blanket.  It gives him ample time to notice, even with his mind so far away.  His dark eyes flick down to that hand, suspended in the big open space between you.  He stares at it for a long time, so long that sleep starts to creep into the corners of your vision.  You float in a quiet, cool, half-waking world.

Then he takes your hand.  You wake up.  He looks at you across that chasm, your arms stretched between you, your hands clasped together.  You squeeze his hand and he squeezes yours back.

[ghostfacesvalentine]

Maneater girlfriend - Multimuse x fem!reader

Pairing: Multimuse x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Some mentions of mvrder, not much honestly, some jealousy, but I think that’s it?

Type: Blerps

Request: N/A

Word Count: N/A

Prompt: The muses get maneater girlfriends, how they’d react/act about it.

Notes: Honestly, I know some of us may not always feel like it, but it’s fun to pretend. Just like miss Maddie Perez and my queen Rihanna said, even if you don’t feel like it just pretend. Love my maneater readers. Ps. this isn’t exclusively for fem readers, it can really be for anyone. kiss kiss.

I don’t really know what I was going for, I’m just trying to get my juices going, pls don’t hate. Will probably delete this one tbh

Jason Voorhees: Gets so starstruck around you. It’s actually super cute, he never fails to boost your confidence. No matter what you choose to wear, Jason will stare at you all the time in awe, which of course makes you feel like the prettiest person he’s ever seen. Especially when you decide to go all out, he just becomes a puddle. Jason would literally worship the ground you walk on, you definitely have him under your spell. If you want a fan for a boyfriend, Jason’s the one. The only con is that he’d probably forget to take pictures of you because he’s just daydreaming about his hot s/o.

Michael Myers: Honestly didn’t expect any less, but he is a tiny itsy bitsy threatened by your confidence. Depending on the status of your relationship, it could go one of two ways: He could be completely confident, obviously mopping the floor with the guts of the people who couldn’t keep their eyeballs to themselves, or he could be somewhat weary of the attention you get, no matter who it is. Michael definitely has one of the most toxic abandonment issues, but it’s not like you’d be able to get rid of him, he’d get rid of everyone around you before you could even think about skipping town. Michael would stare a little longer on the days you wear more revealing clothing, it’s your confidence that sells the whole look, he’s absolutely mesmerized by you.

Tiffany Valentine: All for it. Wouldn’t hesitate for a second to help you get into your outfit or finish up your makeup/hair. You’d catch her staring from time to time, which she’d laugh it off not expecting to be caught. I could see her getting jealous at times if it seems like someone has your attention and if they cross a line, a knife crosses their artery, no hesitation. Tiffany would absolutely take pictures of you and post you all over her social media, she wouldn’t mind the thirst comments you’d get, after all you were hers. Tiffany would definitely boost your confidence and you’d both become the ultimate deadliest hot couple.

Billy Loomis: Ok, controversial opinion, but Billy isn’t really used to having maneater girlies. He’s used to having cute, beautiful women, but no one willing to stare daggers into your eyes from across the room. He’s absolutely mesmerized, without knowing it, he’d do anything for you. Billy cannot keep his hands to himself, no matter what you’re wearing, or what you’re not wearing. He’s not the best at taking pictures of you, but you’re damn right he’d keep every picture of you he can get a hold of. Sure he can get jealous, but he also knows he has you wrapped around his finger and no one else.

Stu Macher: Everyone expects Stu to have the hottest girl in school, this is no exception. The way you don’t look away when you catch him staring at you is enough to make him fall in love. As much as I love Stu, I know he’s superficial, so if your looks caught his eye, he would do his best to make your relationship work. Even if it means he has to get the right angles when taking pictures of you. Stu would absolutely brag about you, first about how you look then about what you do or what your interests are. Just like Jason, unintentionally, Stu would worship the ground you walk on. 

Patrick Bateman: Ok honestly what else did you expect. Just like Stu, Patrick is superficial. He always wants to make sure he has the hottest/most confident person within 1000 miles. He’d never admit how he likes your lack of interest in impressing every person you meet. That’s probably the trick. Patrick will never forget the times you’d be approached by wealthy men, or simply attractive people that you just couldn’t care for. That would be one of Patrick’s biggest flexes. Of course he’d always want you to look your best, so he does his part in boosting your confidence through pictures, outfits and compliments. Patrick isn’t shy about showing you off.

Leatherface: Just like Jason, he’s stuck. He can’t believe someone like you is interested in him. You are the prettiest most beautiful creature he’s ever seen. Bubba would absolutely worship the floor you walk on. He’s at your beck and call. He’d do whatever he could to impress you, getting you flowers, learning to make your favorite meals, helping you around the house. He’d do anything to spend time with you and just stare at you. He absolutely loves having printed pictures of you, even if getting him a shirt with your face on it was a joke, he’d absolutely wear it without hesitation. To him, your face is a work of art that should be appreciated.

Billy Hargrove: Honestly, didn’t know what he was getting himself into until he realized how much attention you actually got when you’d clean up. At first he didn’t know how to handle it exactly. Of course, Billy would play it off, knowing if you would wander off, he wouldn’t waste his time. Still, that doesn’t mean he wasn’t completely infatuated with you. Your mannerisms are what kept his attention. He can’t describe it, but it’s definitely your aura that intoxicates him. The fact that others would consider you a “maneater” and that it was Billy Hargrove that pulled you? (I mean of course he did right?) he’d hesitate to admit that it boosted his ego a little bit, but he made sure others kept their hands to themselves. 

Steve Harrington: Steve would be a little more confident than the rest on this list I’d say. He knows you’re hot and he would remind you that all the time. “Well when I first saw you, I’m not gonna lie I thought you’d like, throw a drink at me and tell me to get lost. I don’t know how long I’ve been staring” Of course, being out if it got out of hand with others, Steve wouldn’t hesitate to step in, but otherwise, he’s of course constantly staring at you with a big dorky smile. He’d find any excuse to take pictures of you, even if you’re just relaxing. For sure he’d keep a picture of you in his car.

Bruce Wayne: An awkward little mess. Just the kind to stand there and look at you from afar. During the night, in his double life, he’d keep a tab on you. Of course if you went out frequently, it would only give him more of an excuse to try to bump into you. At first it’d be to just get a glimpse of you, later on to get to know you. Bruce was a billionaire, there must’ve been hundreds of models and wealthy women trying to tie him down and yet there you were not able to get more than a few sentences out of him. Eventually after he powered through to actually ask you out, he would do his best to make sure you were in the finest of clothing and enjoyed all kinds of luxuries. Even from time to time, you’d catch him staring from afar. Other times, you’d find magazines with you and him pictures laying about, but he’d never admit he just loved the way you would photograph.

Steve Rogers: Of course he was used to being among the most desired men to date, but that doesn’t mean at times he still seemed to fail at asking anyone out on a date. Especially you, who would just stare right through the men that would be entitled enough to think you were already interested in them. Eventually though, you managed to cross paths and who could really resist Steve’s charm? Just like the rest on this list, you’d catch him staring, but at times his gaze seems more sinister than the rest. Of course Steve would encourage you to dress whatever way you felt best in, but don’t put it past him to lay a hand over your ass in public when he’d feel the slightest bit of eyes on you.

Loki Laufeyson: His argument would be that he was a prince, of course he would have a maneater s/o, what else did anyone expect. Still, deep down there was a weary feeling of insecurity at times, especially growing under his brothers shadow. That’s when he’d become overly protective around you, when anyone else was present, but even more around his brother. Even if Thor swore to never lay but a finger on you unless you needed saving, Loki would be incredibly possessive. He’d never admit it, but you mesmerized him, he wasn’t shy about admiring you even at times when you’d catch him.

Spencer Reid: Kind of funny that you’d both fit the “nerd x maneater” trope, but I mean, of course you did. Just like Loki, there would be a tiny feeling of insecurity, but Spencer would trust you unless you gave him a reason not to. There would be a little bit more pressure on him to keep alert when you were out in public, even if you knew how to defend yourself. Spencer would love to take pictures of you and use them as bookmarks or keep them framed. He’d need a ton of reassurance and he’d be honest about it. I think he’d be the healthiest on this list about this trope, kinda cute. Would NOT be happy about the team suggesting to use you as bait though.

[shocymer]

Goodbye Summer

"The friend label is a label I'm going to hate. Our story ended without even started."

Pairing : Mingi x afab!reader

Word counts : 4k

Contents : highschool au, angst, flashback, lived by the beach, TW! mention of divorce, slightly depressed reader, miscommunication issue.

A/N : The fic is inspired by "f(x) - Goodbye Summer". It's been my favorite song since it was released (bcs relatable af). Also this one took a set in early 2000 with Taiyou No Uta as my reference. Oh btw I don't use japanese semester system, I matched it with how it goes in my country. I hope everyone enjoy it! ♡

2nd Year. Autumn 2006

You walked through the class corridor while sorting some papers from the student council. You heard fast paced step behind you,

“Better watch out girly,” he took your papers and continue running again.

He laughs maniacally, at some point he stop in the middle of corridor waiting for you to catch him up. As he saw you getting closer, he lift your paper high up. He amused by your action, struggling to reach those papers.

“Mingi! Can you stop!” You keep trying to reach it.

“Nah, I don’t want to,” he lift it even higher.

“If you don’t stop any moment, I’m gonna-”

“Hmm? Gonna what?” He put his face in front of you, staring into your eyes. You saw the opportunity as he lower his grip.

“Gonna grab this damn papers, thanks by the way,” you managed to get it, swiftly walk away from him.

He followed you, asking if you’re getting busy again as student council. You responded him with annoyance till both of you immersed in conversation as you walked back to your classroom.

2nd Year. Winter 2006

You blew your hands to heat it up. Today is awfully the coldest day since winter started. Silly you, you forgotten your mittens leaving it out nicely on your study desk. You keep cursing to yourself as you only brought limited hot pack and is enough for your stomach only. Everything’s ruined because the exam period.

“You keep blowing it like a freshly baked bread.” Mingi suddenly walk beside you.

You only gave him side eye. Too lazy to respond him. Like who the hell blowing a fresh baked bread out of the oven, that isn’t funny at all. You muttering some words and keep rubbing your hands.

He notice it before he took one of your hand and guide it to his winter coat pocket. He hold your hand tightly. You took a glance at him, he keep a straight face remain unbothered. It’s not the usual himself. You knew him that he’s a playful silly guy who always teasing you whenever he likes.

“Stay still if you don’t mind, I don’t bring mine too,” his eyes darting towards his hands.

You shrugged a little bit, nodding your head. “Thanks Mingi. We almost at school too.”

He smiled and grip your hand tighter in his pocket.

2nd Year. Spring 2007

“.. I like you,” faintly you heard a love confession.

New semester is just started and the vibe suddenly change. ‘New semester new you’ , ‘love is in the air’, and you blame the pollen scattering everywhere as it worsen your allergy. Just like the situation right now, you can find love confession almost every spot in the school including the stairs.

You never get the hype of other students cheering on it like an interesting show. And now you’re trapped, have been hiding for solid 7 minutes on the 3rd floor stairs. Afraid of make them feel awkward if you suddenly pass by them. So you politely hiding in your place. You’ve been on your flip phone to kill some time, but you’re growing impatient wondering who take a love confession so long.

Curiosity kills the cat like people said, you took a little peek between the railings. You saw the girl, but you’ve got no idea who she is. Then you tilt your head to get a better view, you saw the tall familiar figure. You recognize those side profile, those tall nose, and those eyes, it’s Mingi. Your heart sting for a while then you sat on the stairs quietly trying to grasp the situation. At the end you only heard their laughter slowly fading away.

2nd Year. Summer 2007

“Got some plans for summer?” Mingi poked your arms.

You lift your head trying to look at him. Headache taking over you as today is the last day of exam. 2 weeks of distress you only facing your books non-stop. And finally your hard work has paid of when the summer break getting closer.

“Dunno, gotta wait the result come out first.”

“Wanna go to the beach?” He asked you again.

You let out a heavy sigh, “I’m worried if I’ll take summer class.”

“We’re going afternoon, incase if one of us get that supplementary class,” he assured you.

You nod at him. He pat your shoulder before leaving you to talk to another classmate. Everything felt awkward after you saw him that day on the spring. First of all you’re not that close to him. Both of you only a casual classmate. But since that day, you tried your best to avoid him hoping it’ll hide the strange feeling in your heart. Deep down inside, you intended to move on from him hoping you can be your usual self. And this summer break is surely a perfect timing.

⁠✧

The summer breeze blew your hair gently, leading you to grip your hat tightly. Mingi told you to meet him before the railway that separate almost half of the town. You waited him, sitting on your bike. Your eyes look towards the sea from this distance. The beach is not difficult to reach, it only took 10 minutes from where you live. But going with him is a rare thing.

There’s still no sign of him. You pull out your flip phone, trying to check the time. Undecided whether sent him a message or not, you keep opening and closing his contact. During the summer break you didn't contact him at all. Still unsure about your feelings, you’re afraid of falling too deep. So you just wait for his message if he remembers those plan he made before. You reread his last message,

(Minkimingi) Meet me by the railway tomorrow afternoon, cya!

You let out a heavy sigh and finally send him one,

(You) Where are you? I might get carried by the wind cuz waiting you for too long.

The vibration startled you, didn’t expect him to replied you so soon.

(Mingkymingi) I don’t live by the shore my dear princess, please be patient.

Gasped by the nickname he gave, you slump your head to the bike handlebar. ‘Goddamit Song Mingi, I shouldn't have come, right?’ Still battling with your inner thought, suddenly you feel a cold sensation at the back of your neck. You turned quickly only to find him chuckling while holding a can of cold drink.

“As a good friend, I know you must be craving this,” he handed you the drink.

Yeah friend. You forced a smile before reaching those drink. Open it up instantly then chugging it. You’re observing him without you realize. He’s still in his summer uniform. As you guess he took the supplementary class. Beads of sweats rolled down his forehead, of course that’s the result of him riding his bike in a hurry. Till his eyes met yours, returning your gaze.

“I never expect you’ll suit in those white.. flowy.. dress..”

“Friends do not do that,” you put emphasis on your words by reflex.

“That?”

Without thinking you answered him quickly,

“complimenting each other.”

He ruffled his hair as frustration drawn on his face.

“Well.. let’s say it’s not a compliment, but what’s wrong with friends complimenting each other?”

Fed up by every time he mention that label, you pedal your bike away towards the beach leaving him alone. You heard him yelling from distance,

“we’re still waiting others! Where are you going?!”

“I’m tired of waiting, meet me at the beach!” You yelled back at him.

⁠✧

The sky began to show its golden tinge. The seagulls flew to and fro over the sea. The waves rolled rhythmically and some of your classmate surf on them. Everyone is enjoying this moment, some of them playing volleyball, some of them splashing the waters towards each other, then here you are sat on the beach while thinking about your original intention of coming here.

You guessed nothing changes. The fact you’re still bitter by him is irritated you even more. You’re eyes are always on his presence, knew damn well that he’s still looking good without even trying. Just like right now, he wear a loose black t-shirt damped by water mixed his sweat, school uniform pants still hanging on him, and those brushed back damped hair while riding his surfboard.

“Say cheese!” One of your classmates push the camera shutter. Capturing the summer break moments before the new school year starts. You couldn’t help but pose for a few photos, until you didn’t realize Mingi pulled your hand. He mouthed you to follow him.

Obediently follow him, you started pedaling your bike behind his. He took you to a higher place than the shore. Stopping his bike, he look back waiting for you. Not too long, you stopped right beside him.

“We can get a better view here,” he smiled at you while his hand is pointing the sky.

You raised one of your eyebrow in confusion. He chuckled by your expression. Then he continued his words,

“I don’t know what you’ve going through. Somehow lately you seems.. different. I hope this will makes you better.”

Suddenly some loud bursts heard along the night sky decorated by the flickering light of fireworks. Leading you spontaneously looking up at it. It’s beautiful just like him. Like the light in the midst of a dark frantic mind. Even the fireworks weren’t enough to keep you entertained, you end up staring at him. Capturing the way how the smile carved onto his face.

“I like you Mingi,” you said it in a whisper.

You know it won’t be heard. You know that he belongs to someone else. And you know he appreciate you as a friend. At least this will ease your feelings even just a little.

⁠✧

The nights were getting colder. Both of you walked side by side while leading the bikes towards home. You talked to each other properly after a couple of months dealing with your antics, avoiding mingi by making some excuses whenever he came close to you.

You stop at the railway, he continue to lead his bike till the other side of railway. He gave you a small waved. You return it while looking at his back getting further away.

“Mingii! I hope we’re in the same class next year!” You yelled at him.

He looked back, raised his hand to give an ok sign from a distance.

3rd Year. Spring 2008

You rushed out from your class only 2 minutes before the class started, not in the mood to be a good and obedient student today. You’re gonna exploded in any minutes, home is in a mess and so does your head. Still hesitated skipping class at the library or leaving the school, you stopped your step right in front of the school gym door. Peeking through the window, you saw someone is dribbling the basketball.

You open the door slowly, decided to skip your class here. Startled by the sound he look into your direction. You thought there’s another students but none of them. It’s only him.

“Oh.. Mingi?” Yes that’s him, who you never talk to since those summer. Both of you only passed each other for a few times. Just saying hello and nothings more. Human can only wish, but fate said the otherwise. It all happened because you’re completely in different class.

“Hey, what’s up,” he greeted you back before tossing the ball towards you.

You catch it, slowly dribbling it towards his direction. He played along with you, a wide smile adorning his face. Trying to grab the ball before he asked you,

“How’s life?”

You almost tripped taken aback by his question.

“Um.. yeah.. great I guess,”

Finally you passed him through then you managed to shoot the ball. Mocking him, you jump out of the joy. He put a ‘Just watch, I can do better’ expression towards you. The squeak of shoes and laughter filled the gym. Both of you were playing in the joy, even you forget all of your tangled mind.

The least thing you ever wanted coming all of a sudden. You saw your teacher’s silhouette through the window. You quickly grabbed mingi’s hand and guide him to hide under the window hoping your teacher won’t notice. Both of you stayed still for a couple of minutes.

He checked if it safe already, then decided to leave the gym quietly while holding your hand. You both tried to stifle the laughter and keep walking only to find your teacher waiting for you at the corner. It ended by the punishment after such a long tired lecture. Mingi and you were on the knees side by side while raising both of your hand right in front of the gym.

“Sorry, we're busted,” he whispered to you.

“It’s not even your fault, please don’t blame yourself,” you mouthed back to him.

After quite some times, he looked at you with a mischievous smile. You're pretty sure he got some wicked plan. He gave the signal by counting down in whisper. You take steps, risking for everything he’ll do. On the last count you both ran away from your teacher hand in hand, giggling all the way.

3rd Year. Summer 2008

Everyone gathered, some of them were hugging each other with laughter, and some of them were crying in joy. Today is the graduation day. Right after the graduation ceremony you strolling around the school, trying to recall everything that was happen for 3 years you studied here.

Library was your best friend in your senior year. You swept the bookshelf with your palm as you walk pass through it. Opened one by one of your favorite books, before putting it back to the shelf. You leaned to the wall, closing your eyes. Last year of school is the roughest. Your parents divorced, you lose the desire to make some friends, leading you alone in the most of your times, and you lost him in some type of ways.

You saw him from the window. He’s friendly as he ever be. Talking and laughing with his friends. He never changed and so does your feelings. He always be the one you’ve crushed the most. But you know your place and never engaged those feelings. You wondered if you can talk to him for the last time.

Your 2nd year classmates waving at you. Shouting from the schoolyard under where the other students gathered including him,

“Heyyy!! Come here!” They keep calling your name with the smile on their face.

“Yeahh wait for me!” You shouting back at them as you hurriedly left the library going down through the stairs.

When you reach the schoolyard, you throw yourself at them. Hugging them in joy. Tears almost rolling down your eyes, you didn’t talk too much with them either for the last year. Even though you passed each other at school, you’ve been busy by your own problems that ended up distancing yourself from others.

Your classmates keep taking pictures, asking you to join them. They’re busy pulling in everyone whoever been the same class with them to take pictures together. As all of your classmates are almost gathered, you positioned yourself to take a group picture. Your shoulder bumped with someone accidentally.

“Oh sorry, I don’t mean to-”

“No problem,” his eyes widen before he smiled at you.

It’s Mingi. He’s standing next to you, joining as you do. You took a glance at him, he lose the second button of his uniform already. You shake your head, then you look into your friend’s camera, ready to take the group picture.

Before you left the group’s photo session, he pulled your hand as if he wanted to say something. The expression on his face was hard to read until he finally sighed and smiled at you.

“What?” waiting on his response.

“Nah, nothing. See you later princess.”

He pat your shoulder for the last time before he left you standing alone. Your tears fell without you realizing it. There’s no “later” for you. You won’t be here and you don’t know when you’ll be back. At the end you only murmuring to yourself.

“That should be my line silly.”

Summer 2023

“Babe I remind you once more, don’t forget about today reunion okie.”

You chuckled, betting that she’s already telling you for a hundred times this week.

“I promise you I’ll come. Don’t you hear me right now? You can guessed where I am.”

The sound of crashing waves and birds chirping is in the background. You walk along the beach while on the phone with your friend. You just return to this town full of memories early in the morning.

“Wha- what! why don’t you tell me when you arrived?”

“It’s not a surprised if I tell you sooner.”

Both of you talked animatedly for a while until you ended the call, assured her for the last time that you’ll come to the class reunion.

15 years since you left this town to a completely opposite province. Moved to your mother's hometown, helping her business after your graduation the aftermath of your parents divorced. You lose contact with everyone and ended up missed two reunions. But somehow last week an unknown number called you. That was your 2nd year classmate back in the high school, excitedly inform you that there will be a reunion soon.

⁠✧

The restaurant atmosphere is filled with laughter by your friends, reminiscing their memories when they were still in high school. They chatted with each other lively. Some of them enjoying the dish while chugging the beverages, and some of them are curious about you due to your disappearance without a trace for years.

An hour passed by the event started. A figure you didn't expect and missed appears. He slide open the restaurant door. The same wide smile adorned his face as he greeted the others. Unless he looks much more mature. Short black hair neatly styled with a few strands fell over his forehead, glasses hanging on the nose bridge, a silver necklace with a cross pendant dangle on his neck, button up white shirt that it’s sleeve rolled up almost touching his elbow finished with a black vest and pants perfectly fit on his body.

The smile slowly faded when his eyes fall into yours. A look of disbelief crossed on his face when he saw you here. He brushed away those expression immediately then took a seat in front of you. You two exchanged glances for a moment. You wanted to talk to him, but your voice hitched. Heavy feeling fills your heart, opening up the old memories that you thought were all over.

He tapped his fingers on the table looking a little nervous. Occasionally sipping his glass of beer to divert it. Without realizing it, your eyes fell on his ring finger. A white gold ring circled his finger sweetly. Somehow makes you feel a little relieved to open up a conversation.

“It’s been a long time Mingi.”

“Yeah, good to see you,” he took a deep breath before continuing his words.

“You’re… gone. Just disappeared without a single notice.”

“I went back to my hometown.”

“Why don’t you tell me before?” He showed you the same expression as the last time you saw him.

“It’s just so sudden, I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you”

He sighed for a second time,

“As long as you’re fine. That’s all.”

“I’m doing great. Thanks for your concern.”

You pat the back of his hand, assured him that you’re completely fine. He only replied you with a bitter smile.

“Listen.. listen! Guess what? I managed to print the damaged photo,” one of your friend raised a big photo album proudly.

“Why it seems like in every reunion you always got new photos for the same reason.” Chirped by the other friends.

“Shut up! You don't even know how difficult it is to repair an old damaged roll film,” she rolled her eyes.

She put the album to one of the tables before instruct them to take turns if they want to look at it.

“And.. this one for you.” She handed you a big brown postal envelope,

“everyone already got all of this photos. I don’t know why some of it are missing so others who likes taking pictures complete it, including him.” She pointed Mingi with her head.

“Ah.. thank you.” You received the envelope and looked at it carefully.

Meanwhile Mingi immersed on seeing the album. He turn the page one by one slowly. Sometimes he chuckles when seeing some funny moments. Until he noticed the page with unfamiliar photos.

Oh maybe this is the newly printed, he thought to himself. He always pays attention to you in every photos that was taken. Only to realized your eyes were always on him in almost every photos. He turned the page quickly to confirm that.

Before you open the brown envelope, Mingi tap your hand lightly.

“Can we talk outside? If you don’t mind.”

You nodding at him, proceed to follow him outside.

He took his glasses off, pressing the bridge of his nose with the thumb and index finger. Then he looked at you in miserable stare. You notice something doesn’t feel right.

“What’s wrong Mingi?”

He averted his eyes before pull out a wedding invitation to you. Stammering on his words,

“I’ll.. get married next month.”

It doesn't hurt that much when you receive it. You definitely expect it. However life still goes on doesn't it?

“Oh! Congratulation on your wedding. I hope you’ll enjoy your new life.” You tried to smile at him.

Clenched his jaw, he’s trying to suppress the frustration. He's been looking for you for almost 11 years. Until finally gave up in the last few years, and only to find you appeared at the class reunion unexpectedly.

“Is it easy to say that?”

You don’t quite understand what he really means,

“..isn't it easy as long as she's the love of your life?”

Lowered his head, reality just hits him back.

“Yeah.. Right..”

He pulled you into his arm tightly. You’re frozen by his sudden action, still trying to digest what was just happen. When you intended to let go, he told you his final request.

“Please let me hug you for the last time.. as a friend.”

⁠✧

Your eyes wandered out, sitting by the train window. It’s quite a long day, you take the last train after returning from the reunion. Can’t deny it, you feel ecstatic after meeting them.

Shifted your bag to grab the phone, your hand touched the brown envelope that was given to you earlier. You decided to pull it out from your bag, loosen up the strap to see it’s content.

You look at the photo by photo carefully. School festival, school trips, graduation day, and mostly summer breaks, everything’s stored well. Except one photo tucked in between has a contrast vibe.

The paper is duller and it was taken at night unlike the rest. You recognize it, that was your side portrait with fireworks in the night sky. You turn the photo over, there is the date and a small note written on it.

August xx, 2007

“The moon is beautiful, isn’t it my princess?”

Covered your mouth in disbelief. Tight feeling rises in your chest made you lose focus till some photos fell over the train floor. You pick them out one by one while looking at it.

Your eyes automatically on him by the photos. He always looks at you from a distance just like you did. The tears flowed unstoppably. All this time he also felt the same way. You hate him who always hide behind the word “Friend” as if he’s pushing you away. You closed your eyes, it's all too late now.

“I liked you too Mingi.”

Only the sound of train tracks was heard afterwards.

⁠✧

The friend label is a label I’m going to hate.

The feelings I’ve hidden still remain as a painful secret memory.

The photos that can’t define our relationship is a heartbreaking story.

Our story ended without even started.

- Goodbye Summer

a/n :

They used analog camera that contains film roll in it.

"He lose the second button of his uniform." That means he already gave it to someone who's supposed to be important (romantically) because it's located near the heart. People believed it's same as giving your heart to someone. Based on japanese students when it's graduation season.

Cutie patootie looks like this in the reunion, minus the tie.

"The moon is beautiful" is a popular japanese phrases 「月が綺麗ですね」 (Tsuki ga kirei desune). It means "I like you."

[girlycocksleeve]

Sometimes I write porn :) If you have any suggestions for things to write, let me know.

Tags: public use, misgendering, rape, gang rape, transphobia, forced breeding, aroused victim, public humiliation, slut shaming

He had seen news about the new laws surrounding trans men, fakeboys or cuntboys as the news called them. Hell, he had even seen men getting fucked on the street, in cafes, anywhere public. But he hadn’t considered that the new free use laws would affect him, after all, he was fully stealth and had been for years.

So, when the hand grabbed his ass on the subway to work his mind didn’t immediately jump to the fact that, legally, he was just 3 holes and a pair of tits for everyone else to use.

“Hey, what the fuck?!” He spun around to see another man grinning at him.

“Oh, come on, it’s obvious what you are.” His blood ran cold as the man reached forward and tore his button down open, revealing his binder. They were drawing stares now from other people on the subway, and hands were taking off the remains of his shirt, unbuttoning his pants, as he stood there frozen still not processing. Men pushing up his binder to reveal his C cup tits, fingers pinching and twisting his nipples, finally snapping out of his trance.

“No, no, please don’t do this.” He started struggling and immediately was being held in place as fingers found his cunt, his wet cunt.

The man who had started it laughed, “You wouldn’t be dripping if you wanted us to stop. You’re nothing but a slut like all the other cuntboys.” He wanted to sob as a finger plunged into him, then two, as someone else rubbed his clit. He hadn’t had sex in years, was practically a virgin.

All of a sudden he was being bent over and a cock was sliding through his folds before catching and entering him, stretching him open. Whoever’s cock it was clearly wasn’t in the mood to be patient and was immediately fucking into him, hard and rough, and it burned.

He went to scream and another cock forced its way into his mouth, making him gag as it hit the back of his throat.

“God, her pussy is tight.” He wanted to sob at the words, at being called “her,” but instead his cunt just clenched. The man fucking him laughed, “Seems she likes the dirty talk, huh, slut?”

He shut his eyes and tried to pretend he was anywhere else, and the man fucking his face pulled out and slapped him. “You were asked a question, bitch.”

“No, no, I-“ another slap and he sobbed.

“Don’t lie to us, we can hear how wet you are.” It was true. His cunt squelched on every thrust, his own traitorous arousal slicking the way for the rough fucking.

“Tell us how much you like getting used like the whore you are.”

“I-“ He was still getting fucked, and each time the man bottomed out it forced the air out of his chest in a way that could be interpreted as moaning. “Please stop.”

The man pulled out, the head of his cock now pushing against his ass. “If you don’t like getting your cunt fucked, maybe we should try anal instead?”

“No, no, take it out please!” He yelped the words out, pain lacing them as his virgin asshole was breached, “Please fuck my pussy.”

“Good girl, but you can do better than that.” He had stopped pushing into his ass, but he hadn’t taken his dick out, instead leaving himself still an inch deep.

“Please, please fuck my girly cunt. Please use me like the breeding bitch I am. I need your cock in my pussy please.” He hated the way the words went straight to his clit, hated the unmistakeable moan that was forced out of him as the man went back to his pussy. The cock appeared back in front of his face and without needing to be asked his was opening his mouth and started sucking, running his tongue along the underside of it.

Men took his hands and started using them to jerk themselves off, and eventually he felt someone cum on his face, a sensation that made him shudder in either disgust or arousal, although he wouldn’t admit to himself which one it was.

The man in his pussy started speeding up his thrusts, and soon he felt his orgasm building. “Gonna cum in you, knock you up. Make sure you can never hide what you are again, understand?” The words were what pushed him over the edge and he trembled through it, cunt pulsing around the cock inside him as the man made good on his word and cum flooded into him.

“Fuck, good girl.” The man pulled out and was immediately replaced by another, pushing into his oversensitive pussy, causing him to whine.

“You’re gonna swallow, understand, slut?” The man in his mouth was breathing heavy as he said the words, and seconds after was cumming into his mouth. He swallowed it down dutifully, expecting it as the cock was soon replaced by another.

Quickly he fell into a rhythm, neither pussy nor mouth getting more than a couple seconds rest. He wasn’t sure how long it had been or how many loads he had taken, but eventually it was over, and he was left on the floor of the subway. Mouth and throat aching, barely able to close, and cunt on fire from overuse.

[lalachat]

"And there you were..."

Author's note: LET ME TELL YOU I HAVE NEVER WANTED TO FIGHT SOMEONE AS MUCH AS I DID WRITING THIS! Literally had this vision in my head and I got so heated I knew this was going to be a good chapter. MUAHAHA all the spooky vibes from Halloween are getting to me. I hope you guys enjoy this one because the plot is thickening. Also, I might be making a far stretch on one of the jokes i put in here... I am pretty sure these don't exist in ACOTAR but for the sake of the joke, just pretend they do 😭

Summary: After everyone in the Town House finding out about your night with Lucien and bond with Azriel, you have a nice relaxing night in with your girls... or so you thought it would be relaxing.

This is for all my Lucien girlies❤️

Warnings: lots of cursing, talk of wingspan and sex, verbal violence, and potential grammar errors

Word Count: ≈ 3,154

Chapter 5: "GYNO?"

While you were getting ready, Feyre and Rhysand were back in their room discussing what they had just learned about you-

“What should we do Rhys? Az has been wishing for his mate for so long, but little does he know that he has been so infatuated with Elain it’s caused a blockage of his bond with y/n!” as she too is getting ready for girl’s night.

“The only thing we can do is be there for y/n and for Az when the time comes. This is a very peculiar situation y/n and Az have gotten themselves into,” he chuckles as he places his hands on the sides of her waist looking at her getting ready.

“I know, and this just has gotten messier with time. It already was messy enough with Lucien being Elain's mate and her liking Az. But now, y/n being Azriel’s mate and liking Lucien just seems way too coincidental. I can tell she likes him; she is just in denial because she's still holding onto some glimmer of hope with Azriel,” she pauses. “Something just feels off Rhys,” as she starts to think through what could be going on.

“I also feel like there is something is off, and I think it’s deeply rooted. Only time will tell Feyre darling,” he says as he kisses the top of her head as she finishes up getting ready.

“I would just hate for any of them to get hurt…” she frowns up at Rhys.

“And no one will, because we will be there for them every step of the way no matter what happens,” he reassures her with a soft kiss on her lips. “Now, go have some fun with the girls tonight! But not too much fun,” he looks at her with a playful smile.

“We cannot promise anything,” she giggles. “GNI here I come!”

“GNI?” Rhys questions at the unfamiliar term.

“GNI stands for “Girls Night In,” usually it is GNO, but staying in sounds better since we were out a Rita's not too long ago.” She explains.

“GNO? Isn't that a lady doctor?” Feyre burst out into full on laughter. Tears were spilling from her eyes from laughing so hard. Rhys just looked at her questioningly because he didn’t understand what was so funny.

“Rhys… oh bless your soul… GNO is the same thing as GNI, but you go out instead of staying inside. A lady doctor is called a gyno! Oh, I am so telling the girls this!” As she wipes the tears from her eyes and catches her breath.

“Ahh shit… I'm never living that down now…”

“Nope,” as she pops the end of the word as she walks down to the living room for girl's night.

You walk down the stairs into the main living room to find all the girls already there giggling over wine all cozy in their pajamas.

“Wow, already started without me huh?” you say with a fake frown. They all look at you and smile, clearly already seeing some effect of the wine Mor brought.

“No! Just decided to pre-game a little bit!” Mor smiles at you and walks to you to link arms and lead you over to the group. You giggle.

“Well then, the party has arrived! Looks like I need a couple of glasses to catch up to you all!” you laugh. You look over and spot Amren and give her a polite smile. “It's nice to see you again Amren!”

“You too girl,” she says. “We have a lot of catching up to do!” She eyes you a bit eager to know what has been going on, but Feyre steps in.

“Nonono! I am putting a veto on discussing all things that have happened recently! We are here to forget about that and have fun! Now ladies raise your glasses,” Amren rolls her eyes, but everyone raises their wine, “and cheers to us girls and the wonderful night ahead of us!” Everyone whoops and laughs as they take a swig of their wine. You decide to down your glass to try and catch up as everyone cheers you on!

“Thats how you do it baby!” Mor pats you on the back and goes to pour you another glass.

“Oh, this night in is going to be quite interesting,” Amren says with a grin.

“Speaking of, I have something to tell you guys about what Rhys asked me earlier,” Feyre burst into laughter.

“What is it? Tell us girl!” Amren says inpatient with her laughing.

“Rhysand asked me what GNI meant, and I explained that it is basically GNO but instead of going out we stay in the comfort of our own home,” Feyre explained trying to hold in her laughter.

“Ok so like basic information, I don’t understand what is so funny?” Nesta asked confused.

“It gets funny I promise! Rhysand didn’t know what the abbreviation of GNO meant either. He said, and I quote, “GNO? Isn't that a lady doctor?”” As Feyre erupted into a fit of laughter. “He thought GNO was a gyno!”

You were the first to laugh, “You’re joking?”

“I wish I was!” Feyre was on the ground crying, and everyone soon joined her. Even Amren choked on her wine a bit from laughing at the situation Feyre just informed you guys of. Oh, poor Rhys is never going to hear the end of this one from any of you guys.

A couple of glasses later everyone is most definitely feeling the effects of the wine a lot stronger than when you first started. All of you are cuddled up together in blankets giggling over anything and everything. You decided to bring something up that you have been curious about ever since you saw it.

“Hey, Nesta! When I came home earlier today, I saw Cassian reading one of your little books.” You wink at her. “What is the book about, and why was Cassian studying it so intently?” Nesta blushes.

“I made him read a specific chapter on something that I wanted to try…” she admits quietly as she drinks more of her wine. Everyone started screaming asking to know what it was.

“Oh, Nesta come on!! You have to tell us what it is now! We are all girls here, we can handle book smut, I'm sure!” Mor says as she sits up eagerly.

“Yeah, please Nesta!” everyone says simultaneously.

“You guys want a smutty bedtime story?” She giggles as she leaves to go to get her book, and everyone cheers. Nesta comes back with the book, and everyone is already in giggles excited about hearing something they might be able to apply into their lives. “Get comfortable girls because this chapter is going to be wild!”

Everyone’s faces were bright pink along with their jaws being on the floor hearing Nesta read the chapter from the sheer number of descriptions given. Amren was the only one who remained stone faced throughout the whole thing, but you could tell every word that fell from Nesta's lips were remembered by Amren.

“Well, I can surely see why you had Cassian read that chapter now,” Amren smirked as she finished off her glass.

“Especially with his wingspan,” you said quietly, but it did not go unheard as everyone looked your way. “What?! You guys act like you don’t see his wings every day! A girl can appreciate big wingspans and think nothing of it!” Except you do think about it a lot. Curious to know which one of the bat boys has the biggest one. Everyone giggles at your comment.

“Don’t let Cassian hear that y/n, it’ll go straight to his head and then he will tell Rhysand and Az that he has the biggest one,” Nesta said with a knowing smile.

“I don’t mean to be inappropriate, but I think everyone forgets about Rhyland's wings since he only has them for special occasions.” Feyre said smirking.

“Oh little sister, are you challenging my mate’s wingspan?” Nesta eyed playfully, but before Feyre could respond you chirped in with one more fact.

“Ladies we are forgetting about one more male,” you started to blush at the thought of your mate’s wingspan.

“Oh, my gods, Azriel!” Mor finished it for you with a shout, totally feeling dumb not even thinking about the male. “If I am being brutally honest, I think he blows the other two out the water with his wingspan,” Mor said with a smirk as she twirled her wine glass and gave you a wink. This made you really blush now.

“You really think Azriel has the biggest wingspan?” Feyre asked.

“Yes.” Amren spoke and this all made you laugh hearing her agree on something like this.

“Has anyone seen Azriel’s-” Nesta tried to question.

“No,” was heard throughout the room before Mor looked at you knowingly.

“The only person in this room who could even get that close would-be y/n,” Mor said matter of factly. You blushed so hard you hid your face behind your hands.

“Mor! Stop I don’t want that image in my head!” You said giggling.

“I wouldn’t mind it…” Nesta said with a smirk remembering her thought of both Cassian and Azriel. Once again everyone laughed. This night was full of so much comfort and laughter you truly felt so at peace. However, with wine come consequences.

“Oh I forgot y/n only favors a certain red head in bed,” Mor said without thinking.

“MOR!!” You glared at her, and she slapped her hands over her mouth and said sorry. But it was too late, they all heard it.

“YOU HAD SEX WITH LUCIEN?! I thought yall just cuddled all night?!” Feyre asked with a squeal scooting closer to you.

“Ah shit- I guess yall get to know everything now… Before I met you guys, I lived in the spring court for a while,” Mor sat back and nursed her wine waiting for the reaction of the others on what you were about to tell. You tell them the story just as you had with Mor in the bathroom at Rita's. Everyone was in shock to find out about your hidden casual sex relationship with the autumn court male. Feyre was once again the one to speak up first.

“Is what they say true?”

“Is what true Feyre?” you asked back.

‘About them you know… fucking you with the fire in their veins?” Feyre asked eagerly. Everyone then scooted closer to you just like Feyre did earlier. You giggled at their anticipation.

“Yes, and it is so much more than you could even imagine.” Everyone squealed at your response!

“Screw my book y/n, tell us about a time you and Lucien had sex together! I want to hear all about the fire thing!!” Nesta said as everyone else agreed, even Amren is eager. However, before you could respond you heard a sweet voice you wished you hadn’t.

“Y/n, you had sex with my mate?!” Elain said as she had just walked through the door with Azriel, both had bags in their hands from their shopping spree.

“Oh shi-” Mor said before Elain moved closer to you, Azriel following close behind her eyeing you with anger.

“Answer me y/n! Did you or did you not have sex with my mate?!” Elain raised her voice this time.

“Elain I- I don’t know what you heard but I can explain,” you tried to reason with her for gods know what. You owed this female nothing but here you were trying to diffuse the situation. She threw her bag to the floor and pointed a finger at your face.

“NO! You expect me to hear you out after I come home to see everyone having a girl’s night without me, let alone talking about you and Lucien having sex? You are such a backstabbing sl-” before Elain could finish that sentence off Nesta was at her side.

“Elain, seriously drop it. Y/n has a valid explanation, just hear her out,” Nesta pleaded but Elain didn’t care. Maybe it was the protectiveness of the bond coming out of her, but she was not backing down.

“No! I am done being the polite one! You had sex with my mate behind my back! Is that why you both left Rita's? I cannot believe you y/n! No wonder you haven’t found your mate! It’s because you are too busy being a slut and fucking someone else’s mate!” She was fully in your face now; you looked behind her to see Azriel looking like he was about to kill you for hurting Elain. Feyre tried to step in this time.

“Elain, you do not know what you are talking about, you need to stop now before you say something you will regret!”

“Feyre, I do know what I am talking about! I heard it clear as night! She fucked my mate!” You just about had enough of being talked about this way. You kindly pushed Feyre and Nesta away from Elain and gave them small smiles to say sorry for what you were about to do.

“You know Elain, that’s a lot of talk coming from you. A female who has a mate that gladly agreed to her wishes on space. He sleeps alone every night waiting for the day that you will accept him! Oh, but poor Elain has no one to love and accept her! Wake the fuck up! Your mate has done everything for you since the day he found out, and yet you are sleazing yourself away to someone else!” You point at Azriel. “You want to talk about a slut, look in the fucking mirror!” Nesta and Feyre are looking at each other not knowing what to do, while Amren and Mor decide to stay out of it and observe the situation, ready to jump in when needed.

“Be careful how you speak about-” Azriel’s voice said dangerously low, but before he could finish that sentence you cut him off.

“Oh, don’t give me that shit Az! It might have worked in that meeting but it sure as hell isn’t going to work here!” You glared at him. “You are just as much a part of this as I am! Letting her fawn over you knowing she has found her mate is ludicrous! Especially when you’re the one who has dreamt of having a mate to call his own for years! What if your mate was standing right in front of you all along?” Everyone in the room goes silent at your words as you step into his personal space. Azriel's shadows are dancing furiously around him as he glares at you. You try pulling on the bond but are met with nothing in return except emptiness. He still doesn't know.

“You bitch!” Elain cautiously pushes you away from Az. “How dare you talk to us this way when you’re the one who threw themself at my mate knowingly! At least we have self-control!” she pushes her finger against your chest. You swat it away.

“GODS ELAIN! Why do you always have to play the victim! You can never admit to anything you have done wrong! You and him both,” you point at her and Az, “are hurting more people than you realize with whatever you want to call yourselves!”

“Well at least we are happy, unlike your mate less self-” Elain tried to say as you yelled-

“THAT’S IT!” in an instant everyone was in between you. Nesta, Feyre, and Amren blocked you from Elain as Azriel and Mor held you back. “Let me go Azriel!” you thrash in their grip. You watch as Feyre and Nesta try and calm their sister. Amren serving as a middle ground between both groups. You keep thrashing around but it's no use. The shadow singer has you in a tight hold as Mor holds one of your arms. You look at Mor with pleading eyes, but she just shakes her head at you as if to say, “fighting her isn’t right.” And you knew that… You were just so taken back by both her and Azriel being against you without hearing your explanation. Sure, Elain was somewhat valid, but nowhere near as valid as the points you were making.

You soon calmed down and looked at Mor again, “Can you please let me go now? I won’t do anything… anymore.” Mor looked at Az and he put his lips against you ear and said-

“If you so much as think about insulting her or hurting her, I will not hesitate to fire back violence, so be a good girl and walk away.” You cannot lie, having your mate that close to you and hearing him call you a good girl had your heart betraying you for a moment. You shoved yourself out of their grip and stormed towards the door before you would do anything regrettable.

“Where do you think you’re going?! I am not done with you y/n!” Elain screamed as you walked past, the jealousy of the bond obviously still influencing her. You stopped in your tracks and turned around to see Azriel now trying to calm her down. Tears collected in your eyes at the sight. He was supposed to be doing that with you, not her! You begged, screamed, yelled, pushed, and thrashed against that bond inside of you fighting for any kind of response. You don’t know how long you stood there mindlessly watching him comfort Elain as you used every fiber of your being against the bond and got nothing in return. That was your last straw. The wicked voice in your head took full control. Quite literally letting all intrusive thoughts win. You started laughing.

“Gods Elain you have everyone in this damn world wrapped around your pretty little finger, don’t you? Well guess what, I see right through your fucking act of desperation for the male gaze and male attention.” Azriel looked at you as a warning to watch your next words, but Elain ran out of his arms and ran straight to you. You and she were now face to face. A test to see who was daring enough to hit first.

“Fuck you y/n!!” Elain said with a pause between each word, and you smirked.

“I may not be able to fuck myself Elain, but you know what I can fuck?” you slightly paused as the realization hit her. “I can go fuck with fire!” you say with a wink as you walk out the Town House’s front door straight to Lucien’s apartment.

Lucien’s POV:

Lucien was relaxing on his couch reading one of his favorite books before he felt it. An overwhelming flood of emotions hitting him. It was as if they were screaming at him from two different ends of the bond. He learned how to process Elain’s end of the bond throughout the years, but whatever was going on was too much to deal with. This was all unknown feeling. Lucien ran to grab his coat and he quickly put it on. Just as he was reaching for his door to run to Elain, he heard a hard knock. He opened the door to find you in a fit of rage as you stormed inside. “Okay, just come on in why don’t you.” he said sarcastically as he shut the door behind you. "Nice pajamas by the way," he says jokingly before looking at you to see you glaring at him. "Shit, who pissed in your wine tonight?"

If you’re interested in being on my taglist, please let me know!

Tags:

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[ryuttaeng]

enemy!ryujin hcs

cw: mentions of bullying, doxxing

girl wtf did you do to get ryujin as your enemy bffr 💀💀💀 lemme tell you what 🤞🏻

your ex is now ryujin’s current partner. and let’s just say that you didn’t end things good with your ex… and here you go, now ryujin hates anything that is alike your name or your appearance. poor ryujinnie, she didn’t even thought that you two have same friends and you gonna see each other quite often than you both wanted to.

expect offensive jokes and remarks from enemy!ryujin, she would do anything and everything to not let you breathe for even a spare second. it all goes to the point that she was even ready to dox you? thanks to your ex, they didn’t let her to do that… phew

kudos to you, you didn’t just silently accepted that attitude, something you did to move that dead point of your relationship with ryujin was your instagram post. with caption saying ‘kisses to my exes who don’t give a shit about me, kisses to the next ones who think they can’t live without me xoxo’ 😭😭💀 ryujin got really furious with that post and seeing that her partner liked your post is just 😭 she would throw hands right now and there if you would be here believe me

girlie was really mad at you and her partner because she got jealous 😭 jealous that her partner liked your post, right? …right? “no fucking way that i like that bitch y/n!” stage one is denial! she would deny anything and get so mad at anyone that jokes that she likes you.

stage 3 and 4 are skipped, and you eventually feel someone’s gaze on you. you always try to catch someone but you fail, until one day when ryujin was lost in her own thoughts, while watching you. when she realised she was caught by you, her face showed went from scared one to angry one really quick 😭 eventually, ryujin would blush and get out of the room for her own sake.

it would also take her a while to end that enmity between you two at first. ryujin would act tough around you like you two are still enemies but would get teased by her friends that she’s ’too obvious’ whenever she’s around you. her friends would also help her to confess make a hint to you about ryujin’s new feelings towards you. she would also think it’s gonna freak you out and it would take long for her to confess fr 😭🤞🏻

[leilani-lily]

~Oh Deer~ (Chapter 9)

A thousand apologies my dearest does and bucks ｡°(°.◜ᯅ◝°)°｡

This took much longer than anticipated; I hit a bit of a wall, and time escaped from me. But we're here! We trekkin' on! The story continues \( ᐖ)/

.... And we're actually splitting this into 3 rather than 2 because over 6k later and we're still not done yet so ahaha! Whoopsies~ (´∀｀);

｡°⚠︎°｡ Final note. This is a WARNING that this chapter includes mention of VIOLENCE, GORE, and SEXUAL ASSAULT so please read with caution if this is a trigger for you!! ｡°⚠︎°｡

Thank you all for your love and support, honestly ꨄ I've been feeling down lately and re-reading comments has really helped to boost my spirits and push me to keep going! I love y'all dearly ( •̯́ v •̯̀)♡

OK! Without further ado~ SYNOPSIS: AroAce! Alastor x Chef!Singer! Reader. You venture off on your own to grab Alastor's gift, unaware of the dangers to follow... Word Count: 6.2k Chapter under the cut! ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Your feet pounded on the pavement below you and you jogged towards the coffee stall. Your eyes were sharp and alert and your grip on Alastor’s microphone tight. You knew you had to be quick and extra careful now being on your own. But surprisingly enough, you weren’t afraid. Your blood was pumping with adrenaline, and with Alastor’s staff, you felt more powerful than you ever had in your entire life. It was exhilarating, to say the least.

Dodging in between sinners and recognizing landmarks, you were able to find the vendor in question without any problems. You breathed a sigh of relief, coming to a stop in front of the display table and taking a moment to catch your breath. A large, older imp with a white goatee raised an eyebrow at you questioningly from behind the counter. Finally, you stand up straight and give him a quick smile before your eyes flickered over everything he had to offer. 

As much as you enjoyed some of the quirky mugs on display, you knew in your heart what you really wanted. The problem is, you only knew the bare basics about coffee; you had no idea what made a good machine or not. You glanced around at all of the modern tech and felt your shoulders sag. Alastor would hate all of these; you needed something from his time; something more classical. 

“Somethin’ ya looking fer in pa’ticular dollface?”

You lifted your head to the imp across from you. He was leaning against the table with his other hand on his hip, his eyes tired and dull. You gave him a sheepish grin, clearing your throat quickly. 

“Ah, yes please…” you start, “This might sound weird. I’m looking for something from the 30’s that helps to brew coffee.” a thought crossed your mind, and you could feel yourself beginning to sweat, “I… uh. Actually. I don’t even know what they used back then… A kettle? Or some sort of special press…?” Your eyes drifted down awkwardly. Satan’s Ass, you have no idea what the Hell you’re looking for. This guy’s gonna think you’re an idiot. 

To your relief the imp said nothing, but you could tell he was judging you hard. He looked you up and down before simply shrugging off the table and turning on the spot. He began to shuffle through the shelving unit behind him, tea kettles and mugs clattering as he searched. The imp spoke to you over his shoulder.

“Ehhh, I don’ know girlie. I know I had somethin’ a while ago, but might’ve been snatched already.” he shuffled some more, “Antiques like dat are hard ta find, n’ when ya do, dey sell pretty quickly. Humans n’ nostalgia n’ all ‘at.” 

You could feel your fingers fidgeting nervously; you really hoped you didn’t just risk your safety for nothing. The excitement from earlier was beginning to fizzle out with the thought of not being successful. Maybe you could get him a nice mug instead? Or maybe one of those cute, little stirring spoons…

“Well I’ll be blessed th’n damned again…”

You looked up to the seller to see him turn around, a crooked smile on his face as he held what looked like two glass pots connected like an hour-glass. Your eyes widened in amazement at the strange looking contraption. 

“Called a ‘Silex Vacuum Siphon’. D’know what year it’s from, but ya ain't gonna find something more vintage den dis, I can guarantee.”

You tucked Alastor’s mike under your arm as you carefully took the glass contraption in your hands. It was definitely used, and could use a good cleaning. But there were no cracks or chips to be seen, no major damage that could affect its ability to brew. Given it was nearly a century old, it was in fairly good condition.

“It’s perfect.” you breathed, thumb grazing over the glass tenderly as your heart pittered excitedly. Alastor would absolutely love this, you just knew it. You had to get it for him, it was like it was destiny. Your head whipped up to the seller.

“How much?”

Said imp looked you up and down for a moment before his eyes landed near your arm. A sly smile crept up his mouth as his pupils flicked back up to your face.

“How ‘bout that fancy lookin’ cane o’ yours?”

Immediately you placed the siphon back down and clutched the microphone close to your chest, shooting daggers at the creature in front of you. “Absolutely not.”

To your relief, the imp just smiled and shrugged his shoulders, “Eh. Was woith a shot.” he chuckled, helping your tense shoulders to slowly relax. His eyes darted between you and the siphon, clearly deep in thought before crossing his arms.

“400”

You felt your breath catch in your throat. For fuck sakes, you figured it would be expensive, but this was highway robbery. And you knew very well that he knew that too; he was totally upping the price knowing how desperate you are. And as much as you needed it, you didn’t have enough on you. A thought crossed your mind, something you had observed when you explored the market. With as much confidence as you could muster, you laid your hands flat on the table and leaned in, giving him a very serious look.

“200”

The imp’s smile creaked up to his ears. “375”

You had to stop yourself from smiling and breaking the facade. It was working. Thank God, he seemed like the type who enjoyed a little haggling. If you could just get him down a little more, maybe you could actually pull this off.

“250”

“350”

“300” You finally declare, before quickly adding, “And! you wrap it up nicely for me.” you stare him down, leaning back up and crossing your arms in front of you. “That’s my final offer.”

The background noise of the market droned on as you both glared at each other across the booth. Eventually, the imp’s lips curled up devilishly before giving a sigh and shaking his head.

“Ya drive a hard bargain toots. Deal.” He cocked an eyebrow and reached a clawed hand out. You shook his hand coolly, but it was so hard to contain the excitement bouncing around in your chest. There was something exhilarating about negotiating prices; you could see why some demons got such a high off of coming to markets like these. Of course, this purchase was still going to drain you of all your cash, but it was well worth it. 

While he got to work bubble wrapping the siphon, you basically dumped your purse out and gave him every cent you had. He made sure to cushion the glass carefully and even found an empty box to place it in for double security. You honestly didn’t know how this interaction would've gone; you were initially worried he would’ve robbed you blind or threatened you. But as he handed you the bag with the goods and gave a final nod, you were beyond relieved to find that he actually seemed to be a decent guy. Maybe this market wasn’t completely full of thieves and swindlers like you had thought. 

You were practically skipping down the alley, one hand tight around Alastor’s microphone and the other holding your precious gift (but careful not to swing it around too much). You couldn’t wait to give this to him. You could feel your whole body tingling with anticipation. You really hoped that it did make a good cup of coffee; it would be a shame if it didn’t. Even so, it was such a funky looking thing, at the very least it could make for a cool decoration and hopefully bring back fond memories… You wondered how much of a difference there was between drinking coffee from a coffee machine or a siphon. You’d have to brew a pot with him tomorrow morning and-!

Your daydreaming was instantly snatched away as you were quickly dragged into the darkness of the ally beside you.

You went to scream but a large paw had clamped around your mouth before you could utter a sound. The bag slipped from your grasp and fell to the ground with a clatter, but thankfully you kept your grip on the staff tight. You immediately went to swing your arms, but both your wrists were grabbed, looking like mere toothpicks in the claws of the Hell Hounds that pulled you in. You kicked your feet up in protest as your yells were muffled, but you were no match for the sheer strength these creatures had as they dragged you further into the darkness and away from the crowds. They hauled you backwards until you felt your heels no longer dragged, indicating you had stopped, but you were barely aware of your surroundings. You continue to thrash your shoulders around and kick your feet up, desperately trying to escape like a caged wild animal. 

“Now now, there’s no reason to cause such a ruckus.”

Your eyes flash open and whip to the deep voice ahead of you. Your eyes fall onto a large silhouette leaning against the wall to your right, the brightness of the market ahead of you shading your captor’s full appearance. But as he pushed off and stepped closer, your eyes adjusted and were finally able to take in the finer details. Dripped in a rugged leather jacket and ripped jeans, the wolf looking Hell Hound sauntered towards you. His grin was fierce, and neon-yellow eyes practically glowed in the darkness. You could feel your mouth go dry and your legs turn to jelly. 

Your initial frenzied shock subsiding, you took a moment to look up at your two captors holding you back, One seemed to be a tall, muscular Mastiff with a slobbery snarl, his paws holding your right wrist and shoulder. The other was a Doberman type with cropped ears and sharp eyes, gripping tightly to your mouth and other wrist. You mumble out a pathetic plea and shimmy your shoulders again, trying to get their attention and hope that they take pity, but they pay you no mind, focusing instead on their alpha. 

“Don’t even bother chickie,” the silver dog snarked, making you turn your attention back to him, “We Hounds are very loyal to our pack; they’ll only listen to me.” Your eyes narrowed into angry slits, shooting daggers at the alpha. He merely snickered in reply. 

“You’re probably wondering who we are,” he mused, putting his hands behind his back and calmly pacing in front of you.  “Wondering what we want, why you’re here, ‘yadda yadda ya…” the dog babbled, making a yapping motion with his claws. He turned to you and gave you a cocky grin. “You should know that we don’t usually do this kind of thing… we’re actually nice guys once you get to know us!”

The two dogs behind you chuckle darkly, not at all making you feel reassured. 

“We’re nothing but humble thieves,” the wolf continued, sauntering back over to you, “Steal enough to make a humble living. Only take what we need. Provide for the pack. Today was supposed to be like any other…” 

The alpha’s yellow eyes suddenly grew dull, his smug smile slowly falling to a sneer as he stopped in front of you. The look on his face made a nervous shudder crawl down your spine. 

“... Until that ugly ass, bob-cut bastard stepped in.”

Bob-cut…? What in the Hell is he-

“Tyrion was so sneaky about it too, I was sure the wallet was as good as ours.” the wolf continued, his voice a mix of sorrow and venom. “But then that red-clad fucker saw him and…” you noticed his paws clench into tight fists, his eyes narrowing angrily. 

Red-clad… Oh god… could he mean?

“I saw it with my own eyes. That mad-man butchered him like a pig. Didn’t even give him a chance to apologize or make amends.” His nose was scrunched up in rage before it softened, his eyes holding the tiniest bit of horror, “But I think what was the most haunting was the way that creep smiled the entire time. Almost as if he was enjoying it.”

… God fucking damnit Alastor. 

“You seemed like such an easy target too.” the alpha’s neon eyes flicked up to you. “We didn’t realize what kind of monster you had on a leash.”

You felt your heart sink into your stomach as you recalled that wild look in Alastor's eyes earlier, the way his smile seemed sharper... Damnit, you felt so stupid now. How did you not notice? Dear God, how many others had died today by Alastor’s hands? It was clear that this ‘Tyrian’ was trying to steal from you, but did that really warrant death? You felt a twinge of guilt settling in your stomach. 

“So when my boy’s noticed you gallivanting on your own, I couldn’t believe our luck.” the wolf chuckled, leaning in closer until you were face to face, “You seriously made our job so much easier.”

Your cast-down gaze immediately scrunched into one of distrust, feeling your body become on-edge as you focused back on your captor. The wolf smirked at your helplessness, eyeing you up and down before his gaze fell to your left hand. His eyebrows shot up in interest.

“And look at this!” He taunted, leaning back up and reaching for Alastor’s staff, “You even brought us an apology gift! What a nice little girl~”

Your eyes widened in horror, trying to jerk your hand away from the wolf’s grasp. But the Doberman held your wrist tight, making it near impossible for you to do anything as the alpha grabbed hold of the microphone and ripped it from your grasp. You let out a whimper of despair as it left your hand, to which the silver dog’s ears perked, and turned to give you a hungry look.

“Hmmm, what a pretty sound. Almost makes me want to hear it again~”

You could feel your blood boiling at his words, and in a fit of rage, you kick your feet up aggressively. To your dismay, the leader jumped out of the way in time, a joyous laugh escaping his muzzle as he hopped to the side. The two dogs holding you immediately tightened their grip on you, pulling you back and holding you more securely. You huffed through your nose like an angry bull, shooting the wolf a venomous glare as he howled and dusted off his jacket. 

“Wooh! And feisty too. Gotta admit, that just turns me on more~” he grinned, showcasing his sharp fangs and blackened gums. His pupils flicked between his friends, “Do me a favor boys, secure those legs of hers so she doesn’t do that again.” 

Almost immediately, the two henchmen each step on your feet with their large paws, pinning your feet underneath theirs. You try to lift your legs up and away to test your mobility, but sure enough, your feet were locked in place. Panic started to settle now realizing just how much trouble you were in, and instinctively, you jut your shoulders out aggressively to try and once again escape. The wolf snickered at your struggles, slowly moving closer to you. 

“Now originally, we were just going to kill you and leave it at that.” the alpha hummed, eyes slowly grazing your body, “But hey, why stop there? Why waste a perfectly good meal without getting the chance to have a bite~”

Faster than lightning, his free paw came up and slashed at your chest, making you cry out in pure agony underneath the Doberman's paw. White specs blotted your sight as your mind froze in shock. You didn’t have to look to know; you could feel what he had done. Your body felt both cold and hot, from where your dress was torn and your body exposed to the air, and from where you could feel your blood begin to soak into what remained of your dress. You tried so hard to not make too many noises after the wolf's disgusting words, but the way your skin was burning, it was hard not to. Your eyes were beginning to water as you focused your attention back on the leader. Guilt be damned, you didn’t feel a thing for these bastards anymore. You wanted to make them hurt the way they hurt you. 

Outrage helped you find the strength to thrash around again, desperately trying to free your limbs so you could land a punch, a kick, anything. The Hell Hound took a step back to avoid your violent thrashing, chuckling at your display and licking his lips.

“Calm down now Sheila, don’t make this harder than it needs to be. It will be over before you know it…” He began his advance again, and you could feel your skin begin to prickle with panic. You continue your thrashing, lifting your legs and pulling at your arms, hoping that something would give way before it was too late.

And by the grace of God above, you felt your left shoe loosen under the paw of the Doberman.

An opportunity.

You spring into action, giving your left knee one final thrust upwards, making your foot pop out of your shoe and free from its confinement. Without even thinking, you slam it down hard into the Doberman’s bottom foot, making sure to dig your heel in deep. The skinny dog howled in agony, his grip on your arm and mouth loosened, giving you the chance you needed to act. As he bends over to grab at his tender paw, you bring your left arm across your chest and swiftly ram your elbow right into his muzzle. The force, along with his now injured foot, is enough to send him toppling over and slamming onto the ground, clutching his now bloodied nose.

Not wasting a precious second, you take the momentum from your left elbow and swing it over to your right, turning your body and socking the Mastif right in the face. He too yelps in pain, letting go of your right arm and freeing your other foot. As he steps back, distracted by the punch you landed, you grab him by the shoulders and lunge your left knee square into his groin. The Hell Hound let out a pathetic squeak as he immediately crumpled to the ground, curling into fetal position as he cradled his tenders.

Two down. One to go.

“Oh you BITCH!”

Right as you turn to face the wolf, his arm was already raised and ready to strike, swiftly bringing it down and backhanding your cheek. You cry out in pain, the sheer strength knocking you off your feet and making you fall harshly on your backside, cracking your head on the pavement. Your bun had come undone, your hair curtaining your glassy gaze as you watched the alpha throw the microphone to the side and stomp towards you. Too dazed by the blow, you felt him come down on you and straddle your hips, bringing his paws down over your throat.

“You think you’re tough shit girlie?” he snarled, his grip on your neck tightening, “Let’s see how tough you are once you beg for mercy.” 

You gasped for air desperately, your hands clawing at his paws and legs kicking out behind him. Your heart was racing anxiously, eyes darting all around you to see if there was anything around that could help you. A shimmer of light catches your eye, and you're just able to turn your head ever so slightly to your right. Your silver hair pin glistened in the light beside you, like a gift from God himself. 

You turn your attention back to the wolf, not wanting to reveal your plan to him. You could feel your vision begin to spot from lack of oxygen, but you stretch out your right arm, desperately trying to reach the pin without making it obvious. You felt the cool metal suddenly come in contact with your fingertips, rolling it closer to you into it finally was tight in your fist. With as much strength as you could muster, you swing your arm up and over, stabbing your assaulter right where his shoulders met his neck.

The wolf immediately howled in pain, rolling to his side and off you to grasp at the makeshift weapon lodged in his neck. You gasped for breath, feeling your blurry vision slowly speckle back as you choked in air. Exhaustion was taking over at this point; your head felt heavy from all the blows, and you could feel your body becoming numb from the blood-loss. Your eyes lazily scanned the area until they locked on Alastor’s mike, and you knew this would be your last chance if you wanted to survive this. 

You force your weak body to move, crawling on the ground as quick as you could towards the staff, scratching your arms and stomach as you went. You whimpered in agony, wishing to just give up and let sleep take over. But Alastor was waiting for you. Your friends back at the hotel were waiting. You couldn’t give up, not after coming this far.

Finally, you manage to stretch out and grab the mike, pulling it close to your mouth and taking a big breath.

“ALAS-!”

A fuzzy hand gripped your ankle and yanked you whole body away, making you cry out in fear as your plea was cut off. Your body scrapped painfully on the ground, dirt and tiny rocks grating against your open wounds. You whip your body around, cane still tight in hand and flinging it over to strike your opponent. But the wolf caught it skillfully in his paw, his pupils constricted and baring his fangs, the fur on his neck now sticky and tainted red. 

“Enough of this shit.”

The hound threw the staff out of your grasp and to the side, straddling you once again, but this time pinning both your arms over your head with one arm and leaning over you dangerously. You sobbed out in agony, your mind desperately telling your body to fight, but too exhausted to react. The alpha sneered down at you, panting and eyes wild with fury.

“Believe me when I say I find no pleasure in killing.” he growled, his hot breath hitting your face and making you whine out in dread. “But now…” The dog began to raise his free arm high in the air, his claws extracting with a sharp sound. 

“I’m gonna enjoy watching you bleed out.” 

A sob escaped your throat, tears streaming down your face in thick streams. This was it. This was going to be how you died. You had never actually died in Hell yet, and a part of you was scared. How long until you came back to life? Would you remember any of this… Fuck, would you remember anything at all? You couldn’t imagine a life outside of the hotel, not now. Not without the friends you've made. Certainly not without Alastor. The thought was unbearable. 

His arm came down swiftly, and you cried out in terror, shutting your eyes tight and turning your head, trying to block out the nightmare in front of you. You heard a slash of skin being torn and felt your whole body tense at the sound. You waited for the searing pain, for the blood to gush out from you until you became numb. 

But oddly enough, you didn’t feel anything.

You dared to peek up at the wolf on top of you, a peculiar look on his face as he was frozen in mid swing. His eyelid twitched, mouth partially open before his top half suddenly began to … slide?

“Funny you should say that, I was thinking ₮ⱧɆ ɆӾ₳₵₮ ₴₳₥Ɇ ₮Ⱨł₦₲.” 

Before you could comprehend where the voice came from, the wolf's upper body slid clean off his waist, toppling to the side and beside you on the ground. You slowly sat up, unable to speak as blood began to pool around you, both from his severed chest and his hips and legs. A large black tentacle came up from behind you and grabbed onto one of the wolf's ankles, picking up the severed lower section and flinging it off of your body. You blink in recognition, feeling your  initial shock subside and your chest tighten with hope. You turned around towards your saviour, but had to hold in your gasp at the creature behind you.

Microphone once again tight in his grasp, this demon was as tall as the buildings surrounding you; body barely able to fit between the narrow alleyway as he bent over you. Horns tripled in size and much more resembled deer antlers, black tentacles splayed from his back and writhing around, huge hands and talons sharp, eyes black as night and scarlet pupils in the shape of  dials, and a red ‘x’ on his forehead burning brightly. 

You had never seen Alastor in this state; in his true demonic form. You almost didn’t believe it was him. But his characteristic smile was ever present, your skin feeling that familiar buzz of electricity from his sound waves. You knew just how powerful he was, but to witness him at his full potential, it truly was a sight to behold. 

The giant form was watching you this whole time, dials flickering over your tiny body below him. From your face, to your torn chest and dress, to your bloodied legs, and back up to you. You felt a chill crawl down your spine as you locked eyes, your breath catching in your throat. Any other person would have been terrified looking up at such a creature, but oddly enough, you felt the safest you had ever been. Though you could feel the outrage that was emanating from his very body, you could sense the recognition in his eyes, the kindness deep within those haunting eyes.

The clatter of a loose can snapped you both out of your gaze, Alastor whipping his giant head up and forward, once again sharp and on alert. You heard a whimper of fright and manage to notice the Mastiff tumble out from the shadows and begin to run, yelling like a child and scrambling to get as far away as possible. There was a sudden buzz in the air, the Radio Demon’s smile curling up on his face and drooling blood. A chilling laugh escaped his throat, his jaw practically unhinging like a snake. 

“Well that was not a wise decision on your part…” Alastor growled, his voice deeper and booming as the sound practically shook the ground beneath you. His large body began to move forward, crawling like an animal and the screeching of static ringing out in the air.

“Don’t you know a hunter ⱤɆⱠł₴ⱧɆ₴ ł₦ ₳ ₲ØØĐ ₵Ⱨ₳₴Ɇ??”

The Overlord pounds forward, surprisingly fast for his size as the Hell Hound screeches in horror, sprinting further into the darkness of the alleyway ahead. You sat in the pool of the alpha’s blood, still stunned at the events of this afternoon and unable to do anything other than sit and stare. You numbly look over to the severed wolf beside you, his eyes already glossy and deprived of any life.

One.

You look back up to the large lanky demon stomping forward, laughing maniacally as whimpered screams of the Mastiff could be heard bouncing off the brick walls.

Two.

You blinked for a moment, your brain slow to process, but eventually catching up to the current events and what seemed wrong about this picture.

Fuck. 

Where was the Doberman. 

You heard some shuffling from behind a dumpster and whip your head over, your previous question instantly being answered. The skinny dog limped forward, eyes locked on Alastor and unaware of you watching him. He limped forward, his right paw still sore from you stomping on it. But his arm was tucked into his jacket suspiciously, and you felt your eyes narrow dubiously. A soft click snapped from inside the cloth, and the Doberman pulled out what appeared to be a gun, pointing it right at Alastor’s back. 

But there was something about this weapon that made you feel uneasy. The silver finishes that swirled around it, the way it practically radiated light in the darkness. There was something about this weapon that felt unnatural; like it didn’t belong in this world.

It seemed almost… Holy… 

You felt your blood run cold. 

It was all a blur. Rage and fear had taken full control of your body. Whatever exhaustion you had felt earlier was forgotten, whatever aches and pains slowing you down were no longer a hindrance. Completely fuelled with adrenaline and desperation, you scramble forward, bending over and grabbing your hair pin splayed on the ground. You sprint at a speed in which you never had before, screeching out Alastor’s name in warning before leaping onto the hound from behind.

The Doberman shouted in protest, raising his arms in defense and misfiring. The sound ricocheted off the walls, causing the Radio Demon to whip his head around, mouth half full of the Mastiff to a sight truly unbeheld. 

Your legs tight around the Dobermans waist, your one hand gripped at his head while the other continuously stabbed him in the neck. The dog clawed away at your arms desperately, howling out in pain as blood began to gush from his throat. But his screams were nothing compared to yours. Like a wild animal, you shrieked in fury, holding him tight and eyes feral as you punctured his neck again and again. The Doberman’s eyes eventually rolled to the back of his head, falling to his knees and landing face first on the ground. But as you went down with him, you continued your assault, kneeling over him with both arms overhead and slamming the hair pin into his back again and again and again.

Alastor watched from afar, jaw hanging open and the Mastiff’s carcass falling out from between his razor teeth. Never had he imagined he would see a spectacle such as this, certainly not from the likes of you. Not the girl who sang jazz in the kitchen, laughed at his horrendous puns, and slept so peacefully in his presence. He was convinced you were an angel in disguise, too pure for this damned world. 

And yet.

Here you were, stabbing and slashing and drenched in another's blood.

And he got to witness it.

Your furious screams started sputtering into sobs, and Alastor immediately snapped out of his thoughts. He immediately shifted into the shadows, slithering to you at lightning speed and emerging beside you, back to his regular appearance and hesitating a moment before gently placing both his hands on your shoulders.

“Y/n,” he spoke tenderly, “Y/n, darling. It’s ok. He’s gone. You’re safe.”

The sound of his voice made you whip your head up to him, snapping you out of your daze. Your eyes were wide with horror making Alastor flinch, unsure how you were going to react. Immediately, you turn your upper body to him, grabbing onto his cheeks with bloodied hands and inspecting his face all over.

“Are you ok??” you sob, eyes panicked and looking all over his body, “you didn’t get hit, did you?? God please tell me you’re ok!”

Alastor blinked back his confusion, his eyebrows furrowing at your words. “Of course I’m alright my dear, whatever do you-!”

A glimmer of light caught his eye, and his gaze was momentarily pulled away from your frantic face. Upon laying eyes over the peculiar weapon, he felt his eyes widen in recognition. There was no mistaking the silver swirls decorating the gun. He had heard rumours of such weapons, not yet having the pleasure of seeing anything of the like in real life. 

He had heard the gunshot earlier, and was worried you were on the other end of the rifle which had triggered him to turn. But he hadn’t considered that the bullet was intended for him. Of course, a regular bullet wound was of no concern to him, he had survived much worse. 

But a bullet from an angelic weapon? 

As he formed the picture in his head, you calling out his name desperately and your sudden panic for his well being, it didn’t take him long to put the pieces together. 

You didn’t kill out of self defense.

You had killed to protect him.

You had killed for him. 

His mind was tumbling with this new wave of information and emotions, something that he didn’t often struggle with. But he felt your hands slip away from his face, causing him to focus back on you. Your head was bent down, hair draping over and covering your face, and soon your shoulders began to tremble. The distinct sound of you crying caused a jolt to shoot up Alastor’s spine, and immediately he lowered a hand under your chin to tilt your head up towards him. Sure enough, big salty tears were streaming down your face. But what caught him the most off guard was the weepy smile spread across your face. 

“Thank God.” you wept, your voice so soft he almost didn’t hear it, “I-I was so worried… I couldn’t live with myself if…” your lip trembled as you burst into tears. Whether they were tears of relief or fear, he wasn’t sure, but one thing was for certain.

Alastor had never seen someone so shaken at the thought of him dying.

And that made him feel… something. 

But he didn’t have time to delve into that. Not right now. He had to address this situation before he could dissect his thoughts. He knelt beside you, truly taking in your state of dress and being. Your dress was torn to shreds and blood-soaked, your chest bearing deep claw marks, the side of your head had dried blood spilling from your hairline, cheek swollen, scrapped stomach and legs, and bruises scattered all over your body. 

Rage swelled up in his body. Furious at the hounds who did this to you. Bitter at you for thinking that going off on your own was a good idea. And most of all, outraged at himself for allowing this to have happened in the first place. And when that last thought trickled into his brain, he felt something else slither in his mind to replace that anger. An ancient feeling he hadn’t felt in a very long time; ever since he was alive. 

Guilt.

What a terrible emotion. He hated it with every fiber of his being. He never felt regret or sorrow for the actions he took since descending to Hell. Why would he when dealing with demons and creatures alike that he saw as mere obstacles in his way? But as he looked down at your crumpled form, his usual sunny sparrow clipped of her wings and trembling before him. Knowing that he had broken his promise of protecting you… 

His eyebrows furrowed, ears falling flat on his head as his jaw clenched tightly. 

Of course, you weren’t at all aware of the torment currently happening in Alastor’s mind. You were just so damn relieved he was ok, and that you were alive to tell the tale. Your choked sobs were slowly lessening, trying to focus on your breathing and just so freaking grateful to still have oxygen in your lungs. As you took deep breaths to calm your racing heart, you could feel your eyes growing tired, body slowly relaxing finally knowing the horror was over. The aches and pains were coming back to life, your chest especially burning painfully and your dress sticky with blood. Whatever adrenaline that was pumping through your veins was fastly subsiding, blood loss making your head heavy and limbs numb. 

You didn’t even realize you were falling over until you felt long arms catch you, holding you up so you didn’t hit the ground. You could hear the familiar buzz of Alastor’s radio-like voice speaking to you, but your head was swimming, and your ears weren’t able to pick up what he was saying. You tried to look up at him, but your vision was so blurred, he was just a red fuzz in your eyes. You were so tired; you just wanted to sleep. And Alastor’s body was so warm and familiar, it was like a comforting blanket. You leaned in closer to his body, desperate for that feeling after such a harrowing event.  

You could feel yourself fading fast, and a single thought emerged that made you panic a moment. The bag. The present. You can’t leave that damned thing behind. You reached out a hand and lazily padded at Alastor’s chest, mumbling out a string of words that you prayed made sense. The red blob tilted to the side, and you knew he was confused, but you couldn’t fully explain yourself. He was smart, you knew he would figure it out. And you knew he would take care of you; you were in safe hands now. 

You could finally allow yourself to sleep. 

Your vision was quickly dimming, darkness beginning to surround you until eventually your eyelids fell shut and you blacked out completely.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

FIRST PREVIOUS NEXT

My beautiful does and bucks: @saccharine-nectarine @doowopshewop @mysterypotatoink @wendds @crispybelieverworld @raicomme ((WE GOT MORE BEAUTIFUL SINNERS YAY ꨄ ))

[prolix-yuy]

Sheer

(Moodboard by @missredherring)

Pairing: Maxwell Lord x Plus Sized F!Reader

Summary: You owe more to an unlikely savior than you could ever imagine.

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: T, discussion of off-screen character death (cancer), negative body image and self-worth talk, light spicy thoughts, angst. While this story is not explicit, my blog and the content shared on it is 18+ MINORS DNI.

Notes: This story was a real surprise and a treat to pop out of my head one morning, especially with a Pedro boy I haven't written for! Our reader is a plus sized girlie in this story, and we're dealing with some negative body image and self-worth talk on both sides. The reader also discusses the death of a friend, so if that may be triggering to you feel free to scroll along, lovely reader.

This should have been your best first day. The first day at the job that will finally get your head above water. The first time you’ve felt qualified, and that you’d fit in. And the first where you could see the stepping stones to something bigger and better in front of you.

It was your fucking thighs that ruined it all.

You’d wanted to make a good first impression. Bought a whole new outfit just to show how committed you were, down to the thigh-high stockings and matching underwear. That was for you, something under the pencil skirt and blazer that made you feel even more powerful. It had cost a pretty penny too. Your ample bottom and full figure needed good support, and that plus lace was always the highest price at the lingerie boutiques. But you shelled it out, along with their recommended garters and thigh highs “for peak professionalism,” and were feeling yourself as you strutted off the subway. There was practically a soundtrack playing behind you. Maybe “Uptown Girl,” the notes making a smile come to your face and your head bob as you exited the train.

You’re normally more careful, aware of how much more space your body takes up than the other knockout New York girls streaming around you. But confidence had you swinging your hips and stepping confidently…right until you bumped into a woman’s handbag with an aggressive closure, the metal skimming past your calf and over the delicate nylon.

It ran instantly, a testament to how much of a rip-off these undergarments were. You felt it split along the length of your shapely leg as you hurried out of the station and towards the gleaming monolith of your office. Scurrying inside, you slipped into the bathroom unnoticed to assess the damage.

The run had split into a gaping maw down your leg, the smooth fantasy of the nylon revealing the more mottled flesh underneath. You held back tears as you wracked your brain for a solution. You could run to a shop, get a replacement pair. You’re still early to clock in, wanting to arrive punctually to impress your supervisor. That’s it, you’d just pop out to a drugstore for a new pair and no one would be the wiser.

It was a perfect plan. You just needed to move. But you can’t. You’re rooted to the spot. 

The mirror mocks you, internal monologue screaming to the forefront from where you battered her back this morning.

Wouldn’t have ripped them if you were smaller.

Why do you need to take up so much space?

Did you think all this would change what you are?

Nastier names you call yourself only in the torture chamber of your mind echo in your ears. Your mascara is dangerously close to running, eyes catching on every flaw in your outfit, every wrinkle, everything that screams don’t look at the parts I hate, every unflattering angle. You reach deep to return to that carefree state you held just fifteen minutes ago but it’s dissipated like steam from a coffee cup. 

Grabbing a handful of tissues you storm into a stall and lock it, leaning over to let the tears drip onto the floor without ruining your makeup. The minutes are ticking away, time running out to fix your minor wardrobe malfunction, but the ache in your head and behind your eyes has become the only thing you can focus on now. Your sobs are quiet little sniffles and short gasps, thankful for the privacy.

Suddenly, the door to the bathroom slams open, and you shoot up, holding your breath. You’re not alone anymore.

Someone in smart leather shoes smacks across the floor, walking past the stalls and coming to a stop. A zip, then the tinkle of urination. Your expression crumples on itself in confusion.

Then a deep, masculine sigh reaches your ears, and your face quickly burns with embarrassment.

Fuck, did you walk into the men’s room?

You didn’t even check, just burst in to the first door with a toilet on it. There may have been urinals, but you were too preoccupied in the moment to pay them any mind. You clap your hands over your mouth, lightheaded at the fact that you’re listening to a grown man piss and he has no idea you’re in here. This day has turned from amazing to devastating to mortifying so quickly you could throw up. 

The man finishes, striding over to the sinks to wash up. You breathe a sigh of relief, ready to make a mad dash out before someone else enters. The water turns off, a few flicks of his hands in the sink, and then…

He starts talking.

“This is your day,” he says, an order that you can imagine him doing in the mirror. “You will succeed in what you do, and you will find satisfaction in that success. You will continue to grow, and be proud of yourself. You will start doing that today.” With every word you cringe inwardly. He’s so earnest-sounding, really enunciating his daily affirmations in a public restroom. His voice is pleasing to listen to at least. If he was a late night radio DJ you would certainly tune in to him to fall asleep. 

A moment of silence, a silent hope.

“This is your day…”

Oh for fuck’s sake, embarrassment be damned, you can’t keep listening to this.

“Hi there,” you squeak out, your whole body tense as his monologue cuts off sharply. The pause is at least ten months pregnant before he speaks.

“I-I’m so sorry, I thought I was alone,” he stammers out, two quick steps heading towards the door.

“No, I’m sorry, I-I shouldn’t even be here, it’s…” Your words run out of steam when you realize his footsteps have stopped.

“You’re a woman. In the men’s room.”

You can’t help but smirk. He’s a little slow on the uptake. It’s surprisingly sweet.

“It’s been a rough morning.”

Another pause.

“Are you in trouble?”

You peal out a weak laugh.

“Nothing like that, just…” Taking a deep breath, you blow it out. Might as well admit your failures to a stranger. “I ripped my pantyhose on the way here, and it’s my first day and I wanted to make a good impression, and then I got overwhelmed and…” Your breath starts to quicken, and below the Pepto Bismol pink stall you see two shoes slowly approach. They’re well cared for, supple shining leather, but scuffed all along the toe. Tan slacks overtop the laces, a crisp pleat ironed into the length. You even see a glimpse of striped socks underneath, a collection of garish colors that makes you smile.

“Hey, it’s okay,” the voice says soothingly, closer than before. His accent sounds Spanish before he manually flattens it, forcing it back into his throat in favor of an all-American good boy accent. It eases the tension in your shoulders, sitting down on the toilet seat and dabbing at your eyes. 

“I know it’s stupid. And I should just go out and get another pair. I just…” you say, but struggle to voice what’s really bothering you to a man who hasn't seen your face. Who probably doesn’t care who you are beyond a bizarre Monday morning anecdote. Most don’t, after all. You can’t remember how many times a man has looked through you because of the roundness of your tummy, or the thickness of your thighs. Or even worse, devoured your curves with roaming eyes but won’t look you in the eye, or call you back. 

“It’s not stupid. You wanted to feel ready to take on the day, and something bad happened. We all deal with it,” he says, the gentle register he’s taking on soothing to your frayed nerves. “Do you have a place to go for another pair?” he asks. You bite your lip, shaking your head before realizing he can’t see you.

“First time out here, but I can manage,” you say timidly. The embarrassment of your predicament is climbing back up your throat, the thrumming need to get out and away making your hands shake.

“I know a place, but it’s probably quicker for me to run out for you. Do you want to stay here while I get them?” 

You sputter, a thousand excuses why he should not do that roiling in your brain. “You don’t have to,” is the only one you manage to get out, heart hammering. A little chuckle wafts to your ears, and the heat in your cheeks blooms in your tummy as well. He sounds handsome, and that is short-circuiting your brain even more.

“I have gone on an errand or two in my life,” he jokes, feet making their way towards the door. “Lock it behind me so no one else comes in. I’ll do this -” He knocks on the door in a quick but recognizable pattern. “- when I’m back. It should only be a few minutes.”

“You’re that good huh?” You stammer again, your whole body threatening to light on fire in this stall. This man may come back to a pile of ash instead of a woman dying of embarrassment. 

“Eh, I could be better,” he says, and the door to the outside opens with a rush of lobby noise. “Be right back.”

A thick slam lets you sneak out to bolt the lock. Returning to the mirror that betrayed you just minutes before, you watch your reflection. Behind the roundness in your face you pick at and criticize, you recognize another emotion. Determination, and fortitude you push yourself to stop downplaying. You can overcome this setback. Nothing is lost. If anything, you might have gained a confidant, someone you could laugh about this comedy of errors with over coffee in the break room. 

You’ll be sure to thank him properly when he gets back.

Maxwell Lorenzano hurries out of the office building he’s worked in for six months, down the street and to the Macy’s two blocks away. He knows these roads like the back of his hand, and all of the stores that line them. A good thing to keep in his back pocket when he was pitching new products and charming sales people. Especially good when he knows exactly which door to go through to get to the women’s delicates section.

He strides in with all the glorious purpose of a man on a mission, and people part for him. He likes to think it’s because he cuts an impressive figure, tan suit over a white button-up, brown and yellow striped tie flapping with urgency. But there’s always the nagging worry that it’s because they recognize him. That the scurry away is fear. He’d been confronted in the past, a handful of angry men and women who wanted to take out their frustrations with their fists. But worse is the anxiety, the fear, like he could snap his fingers and magic them out of existence.

The aftermath of that damn stone still hangs heavy around his neck.

“Can I help you?” a petite saleswoman asks when Max comes to a stop in the nylon section. His sudden drop in demeanor from confident to hesitant must have signaled her over. In his eagerness he didn’t even ask his damsel in distress which kind she needed, or her size. He chews his lip in contemplation.

“I’m looking for a pair of nylons for my…” He pauses, no words coming to mind. His unlikely acquaintance? His mystery girl locked in the men’s room? His noble quest? The saleswoman - Karla, her name tag informs him - puts him out of his misery.

“I can help you with that. What kind does she wear? Control top? Thigh highs?”

Max’s mouth dries out. The most he knows of her is the glimpse he got of her feet, sensible black heels, well worn. The sight warmed something in his chest. She must be a hard worker, someone on her feet all day and always up to run an errand for a friend. He bets they ache at the end of a long day. Does she have someone to rub them for her?

“What do…most women wear to an office?” he asks, flitting his eyes over the variety of styles and shades.

“All the professional women I know use thigh highs. Easier in the office than a full set.” Karla directs him to the right section. “What size is she?”

Damn, this is where his lack of foresight fails him. He should have asked, but the intimacy of that question died on his tongue. Why did they size nylons in weight and height, the two most sensitive topics? He’d rather swallow a mouthful of glass than ask. Picking up one of the packets, he flips it to the size chart. There are only four options, which is easier than he expected.

“I can’t remember, better safe than sorry. One of each,” he says, Karla’s well-manicured eyebrows shooting into her hairline.

“And what color?” Karla asks. He noted that at least. 

“Sheer black.”

Karla moves to grab a handful of the basic style, the cheapest on the display, before Max stops her.

“These ones,” he amends, tapping the more expensive set. If she’d already torn one pair, another flimsy set wouldn’t do. It had nothing to do with the fact that the lace edging the expensive ones is more delicate, a prettier pattern, and thinking of giving it to you raises goosebumps on the back of his neck. 

He doesn’t even know you. It’s just…practical.

Karla rings up his purchases without further question, though maybe a little side-smile. She gives Max a brighter one when he takes the bag.

“You’re a good boyfriend,” she comments, scurrying off before he can respond. His face burns hot as he exits the store, checking his watch. The innocuous word - boyfriend - pings in his mind.

It had been some time since Max had run an errand for anyone. A few empty flings followed his divorce but nothing substantial enough to require a trip to the drugstore, or even a coffee shop. It was one of his favorite things about being a husband. He lived for the little memos on his desk blotter - Mrs. Lord needs you to pick up hairspray and milk - and followed them to the letter and beyond. He prided himself in knowing her favorite scents, what brands she preferred, what she turned her nose up at and what feminine products she needed. Sometimes he’d slip in something extra, a bouquet of flowers, a simple card. She’d groan at the expense, especially in the most dire times, but it always ended with her on her tiptoes kissing him, whispering, “My hero,” in his ear. 

He really enjoyed being her hero, even after everything that happened. 

It’s still early enough that his bathroom stowaway won’t be late to her first day. He’ll get to swoop in and save the day, be a hero to one person for a short moment. Jogging back into the office, the clash in humidities making his shirt stick to his back, he returns to the bathroom door. Rapping his pattern on it, he waits for the shick of the lock and a few moments more in case she wants to be back in the stall when he enters. 

Stepping in and locking the door behind him, the open space is still empty, her shoes in her stall. Her toes are pointed towards each other, legs nervously rubbing.

“I, uh, forgot to ask your size,” Max blurts out, cringing immediately at the first thing that comes to mind. He knows she’s holding her breath, so he speeds through the next part. “Those sizing charts are more invasive than a doctor’s visit, so I just got one of everything, and the shop lady said that thigh highs are what everyone’s wearing but I’m not an expert so I hope it’s…okay.” He trails off before stepping further in and sliding the bag under the stall door. He scolds himself not to look further but he does catch a glance at her shapely calves before straightening back up. 

“I can…leave now. Unless you want me to stay until you’re ready to go. What…whatever you want.”

She still hasn’t said anything and it’s heavier than his anxiety on his chest. He’s sure he’s offended her, or completely screwed this one small task up. Leave it to him to take helping a stranger to new, wildly creepy levels. Should he have just gone to reception to ask a woman for help? Is she mortified a man she’s never seen bought her something so intimate? 

He waits in agony.

You try to comprehend what this stranger has handed you. In his absence you practiced thanking him for what you assumed would be the wrong size of pantyhose. You planned how you would reassure him that he could leave so you could escape to the women’s room and struggle into whatever he returned with. 

But instead, he surprises you with a folded bag tucked discreetly under the bathroom stall. 

Four identical pairs of thigh-highs, all matching your outfit, and in every size you could hope for. Pulling out the correct packet, your breath catches in your throat. They’re nicer than you allow yourself to buy, the high-quality nylon silky under your touch. The lace along the edge is finely textured, beautifully designed.

“You didn’t have to do this,” you say, your voice faraway to your own ears, a ball forming in your throat. The man’s feet shuffle against the tile floor. 

“I hope you don’t think I’m being a creep. My ex-wife always said I was good at finding exactly what she needed.”

His voice is tight, and it plucks at your heart.

“Not a creep, you’re definitely my hero today,” you manage to say, rolling down the ruined pantyhose. The other follows, tucking your bare toes into your shoes to protect them from the cold floor. The man paces outside while you stretch each new nylon up your legs. 

“Definitely not how I thought my day would start,” he says, the smile in his voice making your first real one grace your lips. 

“Me neither. I can pay you for these.”

“I could never accept. I’ll return the extras, but please. Consider them a ‘welcome to the office’ gift. Or consolation after the morning you’ve had.”

“Oh, so you work here too? Great, now I’ll have to worry about bumping into you in the other men’s bathrooms.”

“I would gladly approach all bathrooms with caution if I got to run into you in one again.”

A softer pause than before.

“Would you like me to leave?”

Smoothing the lace band around your plush thigh, you let your fingertips trace the edge. Briefly, you imagine fingers other than your own following the same path before hooking underneath to slide them down inch by inch, replaced by soft lips. 

“I’d like to thank my savior face to face,” you tease, smoothing your skirt and toeing your shoes back on. You dab some toilet paper under your eyes, pat your hair, and take a deep breath before exiting the bathroom stall.

The stall door slams shut as the man who saved your day turns to face you. His eyes light on your face first, open curiosity melting into a charming smile that is…familiar. In fact, a lot of him is familiar. His wide shoulders, suit jacket stretching against them. The sweep of his blond hair, not as light as it used to be but still caramel with burnt sugar strands. His large hands, no longer sporting a Rolex or an ostentatious pinky ring. And his face, one of the most recognizable in recent years, wearing an expression you’ve never seen. If you weren’t so dumbstruck you’d think it was appreciation. It was the look someone might give before calling you beautiful. 

“Max Lorenzano…”

“Max Lord.”

His introduction trips over your recognition, dazed expression sharpening and shattering under those two words. The hope in his eyes dims as he schools his expression into acceptance, honey-golden aura swapped for the cool light of cold winter mornings.

“I’ll go. My apologies,” he says, simple, direct. You’re sure this has happened to him many times, possibly followed by shouts or sneers. Your own words stick in your throat as he claps his hands together and moves to leave. Thankfully your hands are fast enough, wrapping around his arm and pulling him to a stop.

“No, please, wait,” you finally manage, your bodies so close you’re burned by the heat radiating off his jacket. He turns in your grip, which you release to clasp your hands in front of your stomach. 

“I didn’t mean…you startled me, I never expected…” you start, rolling your next words around in your mouth. He watches you, half wary, half hopeful. This close you can see how the edges of his lips are slightly chewed, how close his shave is, the sheen of sweat along his neck. He must have ran to get back here so quickly. Your heart thumps weakly against your ribs.

“I never thought I’d ever come face to face with the person who granted my wish,” you say, watching his jaw tighten in anticipation of vitriol. 

“When I saw you on TV, and you asked me what my one desire was, I had…so many things come to mind. To be prettier, thinner, beautiful.” You can tell he wants to say something but you barrel on before you lose your nerve. “But I’m not a complete idiot, I’ve seen a few movies about wishes. I know those things can blow up in your face, and I don’t think I could take being hurt about how I looked by some magic rock.” 

Max’s hand cups your elbow, thumb rubbing a soothing path.

“So I closed my eyes and I wished exactly this: I want one more day with my best friend at the time in her life when she was happiest.” The next breath you take in shakes. “She died seven years ago. Breast cancer. I miss her every day, and I just wanted one more with her. And I got my wish. And it was the best fucking day. The world outside might have been a mess, but we watched our favorite movies, snuck out to the spots we loved before she got sick, ate our favorite foods and talked all night. And I know it was real because she handed me my own ass and made me come to terms with some shit I did not like about myself. Only she would do that.” You fight against the tears, a sniffle coming out instead, as Max watches you with blossoming wonder. 

“And when it was done she hugged me and told me to kick ass and eat cake and break hearts and I’ve been doing my best ever since.” You let out a watery giggle, Max’s smile warming your cheeks. “I never thought I’d be able to thank the person who gave me my best day, but then, here you are, giving me something I needed again. So, wow, thank you. I…thank you.”

Max clears his throat, his own eyes glassy.

“Can I hug you?” he asks, and you push into his arms without further preamble. He holds you with deep breaths, both of your hearts cracking open and healing pressed together. The overwhelming scent of sweat and spicy deodorant and the warmth of his skin is a balm to your frazzled nerves. His cheek rests against your forehead and when you squeeze him a little tighter he returns it. 

When you part, your reddened eyes and sniffling noses make you both snort out laughs, moving to the sink to freshen up. You powder your face, surprisingly unselfconscious after all that just happened. Max straightens his tie and sweeps back his hair. It looks soft, barely styled. His shoulders seem lighter.

Both presentable, he lets you into the hallway, hazarding a peek to prevent any scandal. You walk side by side as he asks you where you’re starting work - transcription - and you ask where you’ll be able to find him - the mailroom. He waits for you to sign in with the front desk before leading you to the elevators, not so surreptitiously angling for the empty one before leading you in. He’s meant to be going down a floor, but rides with you up to the sixth.

“I’m glad you made that wish,” he says once the doors shut, the elevator whirring to life under your feet. “And that you didn’t make the other ones. You’re already beautiful.” He says the last three words quietly, like they would spook you if he said them with his whole chest. Your cheeks burn, the smile dimpling them. “And…thank you. For telling me. No one’s ever told me they’ve been happy.”

You ride in silence until just before your floor, turning to look at the man who gave you so much. He’s watching you like a miracle, like he wants to wrap you in his arms again, like he wants to say something very stupid to a person he barely knows. He swallows it instead, but you can’t help yourself. You lift up on your tiptoes and press a kiss to his cheek, and savor the way he leans into it.

“My hero,” you whisper, stepping out to let the doors close between you.

Your lips, and your words, linger on him for days. Your impressions lingers on his heart for longer. After a week he tries to forget, to push you to the background in a futile attempt at self-preservation. You don’t know him, and he doesn’t know you. Fate smashed you together but you should part just as quickly, save you both the heartache. He’s still a complicated man, and you deserve better than that.

It works until he gets a piece of mail for you, two weeks later, and possessed by some boldness he’s forgotten he has, he plasters a sticky note on it.

“I hope your first week has been better than your first day.”

He wants to write so much more, but knowing anyone could see it stops his hand. 

He doesn’t expect a response, at least not right away. You might still be embarrassed. So when he’s closing up at the end of the day and you come up beside him, the shock on his face breaks you into laughter. 

“My week has been nowhere near as good as my first day,” you finally say. “But I did find a good place to eat a few blocks away. Great dinner options.” Max’s heart pulls between stopping and beating uncontrollably in his chest until he finally says, “We better check it out then.”

The laughter is just as easy as the first day, the conversation even better. He refuses to let you leave without trying the milkshakes, and beams when he watches something heavy fall off your shoulders as you look at him. 

You tell him more about your life, your friend that brought you both together more than she’d ever imagined. He tells you about the life he lives now, of Alistair and how proud he is of him. Questions and anecdotes and words both loud and soft wrap around you in the wooden booth. It’s the first time in a long time that he’s felt like Maxwell Lorenzano.

When he walks you to your subway stop Max’s hand falls to your lower back and remains. The soft way you look at him makes him think that maybe all his heroics have finally gotten him somewhere after all.

And next time he finds himself in a bathroom with you, it’s very much on purpose.

END

I didn't want to spoil the turn, but yeah that's the face he gives her and it makes me emotional just looking at it.