#not him showing up again in the window AS I POST THIS

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Taking Root 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, stalking, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Bucky Barnes

This AU is called Watcher Anonymous and will include different series for different characters. This is our introduction to Bucky and Leaf.

Summary: a neighbourly connection might be more than chance.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Bucky cracks his neck as he approaches the large windows. He rubs his eyes as he snarls at the sunlight peering back at him. Steve always leaves the curtains open. Always gone before Bucky drags himself out of bed.

He tugs them shut but stays close. It's not noon yet. She'll be out shortly.

He's not much for television. He tried a few TV series, some movies recommended on that chat, but he just can't keep his mind from running. It's why he wakes up late. Most nights, he doesn't even sleep. This is what keeps him enthralled. There's not much plot, but the main character is fascinating.

He swigs from his mug as the city street chugs from down the alleyway between their apartments. Her balcony is slightly lower. The perfect vantage.

Pathetic. That's what he'd call himself if he wasn't him. All those guys on that discord Steve found are that very flavour. But he's not them. They're all weirdo virgins. He's had plenty of women. More than enough. She's just different. Like him.

As if beckoned by his awakening, she appears. Her railing is curtained with ivy, enough that she doesn't think of modesty. He doesn't mind. She comes out wearing a loose sweater that reads SWEET in large caps and a pair of her frilly panties. He likes those ones, they ride up when she bends over to pick up the watering can.

She goes about her usual routine. She checks the leaves, waters the soil, untangles the overgrown stems, and treats the plants with rot or infestations. The cluster of plants takes up most of the space. She's like a little chipmunk among them.

She finishes and takes the can inside. The sliding door gives a generous view of her place. Inside, she lingers at the window ledge and checks the row of cactuses. He admires her devotion to those plants. She'll haven't the big square planters soon. A few of the tomatoes growing up the posts look close to ripe.

He rubs the cleft of his chin and his stubble makes a bristly noise. He backs away at the unnerving idea. It's too much. Too soon.

Fuck that. He's not that weirdo Jensen. He's been tailing his married boss for three years. Now that's fucking desperate. Besides, they all made a pact, as lame as it was. They're going to make their moves. Either do something or get over it.

Right. Finish the coffee and get your ass together, Barnes. He rinses the mug then goes to make himself human again. Show, brush the teeth, untangle your hair, tie it back, no one will know the different, clothes. Alright. It won't be so bad to get out and it'll get Steve off his back about Vitamin D. Funny, the sunlight only makes him feel worse.

He heads off with a cap pulled down low and his hands in his pockets. There's a shop down the way, they have tables outside full of seeds and little pots. And a coffee shop right next door. He could use a second cup. Maybe a third.

He stops by the display of plants on the corner. There's a big red sign marked 'End of Season Clearance.' Better late than never.

The old woman who runs the shop offers him a shallow box to put his purchases in. Some pansies and violets. He doesn't know. The colours are nice, he guesses. She tells him to get a nice long bed for them and he should be able to have a nice bunch before the frost.

He gets his coffee, agitated as he balances his starters in one arm, then heads home. He gets back to the apartment and leaves the box on the table. He doesn't touch them as he paces around. He goes to the window. She reading in her chair, reclined, one leg bent, sweater rumpling to expose a bit of tummy. He narrows his eyes. He reaches for the binoculars nearby. Oh yeah. He shouldn't be so into it but he can see a little bit of hair sticking out the edge of her panties. It makes him chafe in his jeans.

He backs up as his stomach growls. Fine. He eats grilled cheese and canned tomato soup. He's still groggy. He goes to the window again. He stays there until she's gone. The censor will let him know if she comes back out.

Steve gets home. He's in a rush. His bag clatters off the bench as soon as he lets go of it. He huffs and picks it up, scurrying around. Bucky doesn't ask. He's on his way to that volunteer gig. They both know why he's in such a hurry.

"Have fun," Bucky calls out from the sofa.

"Oh, flowers?" Steve pauses as his soles scuff.

"What's it to ya, punk?"

"Nothing. You know I got allergies, right?" He sneezes as if to make the point.

"Sure I do. They're going on the balcony... tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Steve asks. "Why not-- achooo!"

"Cool off," Bucky warns. "I'll cover them up."

"Ugh, I don't got time," Steve mutters. "See ya. Oh, and you probably don't want the cat chewing on those n-n-neith-- achoo!"

"She's off terrorising the mice," Bucky snorts. "Get out of here, Rogers."

The night rolls by slowly. Hours spent with his eyes open. On the couch until his roommate gets back. Then his bed. Back to the living room. Steve gets up to get ready for work at the museum. Bucky puts Alpine on his chest and scratches her chin. Her box needs changing.

The sunlight softens between the curtains as he's left alone. He lets the cat out with him as he angles the box of flowers through the door. He got the big trays too and soil. He'll replant it like she did hers. Or try to. Steve keeps saying the place needs a bit of home to it. Goddamn it, Steve, shut up.

He puts the flowers on the iron table and sighs. He doesn't know where to start. The squeak of a hinge makes him tense. It's hers. He knows it without looking. She yawns and he trembles, fighting not to look down at her. He can hear her sipping from her porcelain mug. Is it the one with the lillies or the roses?

"Are those Blueberry Swirl Pansies? Those are so pretty."

He doesn't move at first. She's talking to him. He knows it. His chest feels like it's full. He pushes away from the rail and checks the little tag then faces her. He gives a small wave.

"That's what it says, yeah."

He leans against the railing and looks up at him, "I love flowers, if you can't tell." She giggles and it's music in his ears. The kind that sticks in his brain and he'll keep hearing over and over.

"No, I can't," he chuckles. "Wouldn't mind a few pointers. Kinda new at this."

"Well, I'd start by keeping the cat out of them," she points and he turns to find Alpine digging in a pot.

"Right," he mutters. "Thanks."

[wayward-dreamer]

Secret

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

WC: ~1.1K

Summary: You and Joel try not to push the short window of time you have together before Sarah comes home. (no outbreak!au).

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, swearing, smut: dirty talk, implied (f rec) oral sex, unprotected p in v (wrap it up people), couch sex. Lots of fluff.

A/N: Not sure why it's taken me so long to post a Joel fic, but here we are. I was in my pre/no outbreak domestic Joel feels and this happened. Enjoy! <3

follow @wayward-dreamers-library for notifications of when I post.

You shouldn’t be doing this.

Especially not at this time of day, late afternoon sun rays filtering in from between the blinds and warming your skin. Sarah would be home soon from a friend’s after school, and so would Tommy, no doubt asking his brother why he had left the work site so early. As Joel’s hands softly trailed down your body, rough fingers tugging down the cup of your lace bra and deftly rolling the stiff peak to make that little gasp he loved so much escape your mouth, you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him to stop. Not now, not with how he was making you feel. Not when his hard cock was buried deep inside you, pressing that sweet spot that drove you insane, his hips thrusting up from the couch to meet yours as they rolled against him in a deliciously slow pace.

You should’ve changed things up, should’ve started bouncing on his dick in order to chase the release and beat the clock, get out of his house with enough time. And yet, you couldn’t.

With his head resting against your chest where your blouse was unbuttoned, rising and falling with each harsh pant from you, his skillful tongue circling your nipple, your hands combing through his dark strands and holding him close – you could never rush this.

“Fuck, darlin’,” he groaned, heading lifting up to stare deep into your eyes, his pulled up into a smirk as he saw how dark they had become. “Feel so good, this pussy of yours knows how to treat me right, huh?”

“Yeah,” you whimpered, wrapping your arms around him.

His own came around you as you straddled him, his rough-from-hand-labor palms pressed into the soft flesh of your hips as he pulled you close, forehead leaning on yours as he gazed into your eyes. Your lips met his in a searing kiss, moans from each of you  as tongues mingled and sent shivers down your spine as it added to the pleasure coursing through your whole being. His heavy hand cupped your cheek briefly, peering at you through hooded eyelids as his thumb slipped between your lips, your saliva coating the calloused digit before releasing it with a wet pop. A loud moan fell from you instantly as he brought his hand between your undulating bodies, stroking your clit in precise circles, pushing you closer to that blissful peak once more for the day. His fingers and talented tongue had already done their job very well twice, and it wasn’t going to be much longer before he managed to bring you that euphoria again.

“J-Joel, baby, I-I-” you stuttered, a wanton moan cutting off your incoherent speech.

“I know,” he breathed, his voice rough as he looked up at you with those brown orbs you often got lost in. “Ride me, show me what those hips can do, darlin’. Take what you need…”

You rocked harder and faster against him, relishing the burn in your upper thighs just as much as the delectable sting of your walls contracting with each thrust of his impressive girth. The initial leisurely pace kept your release at bay, but the pressure that built low in your belly was too much now; the barrier holding the dam back threatened to break quickly.

“That’s it, baby, that’s it,” his deep timbre rumbled against your collarbone as he left small bites up to your neck. “Cum for me, darlin’, want you to soak my cock.”

His thumb flicked over the bundle of nerves at the apex of your thighs a few more times, before a sharp cry of his name escaped you as he pushed you over the edge. A hard tug of his hair between your fingers and your wetness coating him was his undoing, a strangled grunt against your jaw making you mewl in response as you felt his cum fill you up.

A deep, satisfied sigh left him as he sat back, cupping your cheek and bringing you in for a long, passionate kiss. You grabbed his jaw in both hands and pulled him in, the embrace growing deeper as you kept him from tearing his lips away from yours. You were both testing the limits of how much time you had left, knowing very well that you were cutting it close.

You were strangely used to the secrecy, having been meeting like this or one his job sites, your apartment or occasionally your own workplace, for months since he first asked you out at the bar where you met. With anyone else you would’ve questioned if they were serious about you, but not Joel. The man was telling you about his daughter on the first date, explaining how most women got spooked by that fact within the first hour previously. You told him you didn’t scare easy, with the hope to meet her when things got serious between you.

As he laid back against the sofa, smiling up at you as his hands roamed over your skin and reignited the flame within that burned for him and only him, your own palms sliding up and down his broad chest, you knew he was your person. You knew from the way he looked at you, touched you, cared for you. You saw your future in those deep brown eyes you found yourself falling madly in love with. You held your tongue with that confession, knowing it wasn’t the time just yet.

You redressed as quickly as you could, pulling down your pencil skirt from around your waist and buttoned your blouse back up, your work attire completely disheveled from the rigorous love-making  on his leather couch. You felt his gaze on you as you collected your belongings, biting back a huge smile as his arms came around you from behind.

“I’m gonna tell her soon,” he informed you, his tone firm and sure. “This weekend. She’s not going off to any of her friend’s, not that I know of, so it’s a good time to do it.”

“Really?” you asked, letting out a shaky breath.

He sensed your nerves, closing his eyes as he leaned his forehead against your temple.

“She’s gonna love you. I know it.”

You turned in his arms, finally beaming up at him as you pushed yourself into him, kissing him fiercely. A car door closing had you pulling away quickly, slipping your feet back into your heels before walking to the back door as he followed you.

“I’ll call you,” he promised, pecking your lips through the open door.

With one last, sneaky kiss you left, heart beating wildly as you thought about the possibilities for your future with the most wonderful man you had ever known. 

[urmum-lovesme]

Angel Baby - Rafe Cameron x Kook!reader P15

pairing: Best Friend!Rafe Cameron x Kook!Best-Friend!reader

summary: Rafe and Reader have known each other since kindergarten, always side by side, the king and princess of Figure 8. So why now does he start feeling different towards her, when all she's ever been is his best friend?

a/n: After all this time... the day has finally come.

warnings: mentions of trauma/ptsd, mentions of s/a, drinking, smoking, bad father son dynamic, mentions of passed mother, making out, panic attack.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was late in the afternoon, the sun setting lazily through the windows, casting a golden glow over the room. The scent of Chinese takeout filled the air, and the sound of casual chatter and laughter bounced off the walls of Topper’s living room, the space was a little disorganised, with empty cans and wrappers scattered around. A large flat-screen TV mounted on the wall was showing the game, though no one was really paying attention to it, Topper and Kelce were passing a joint between the two of them, the smoky haze rising into the room. The four of them were sprawled across the room in a relaxed mess, Topper had claimed the armchair in the corner, feet up on the coffee table, while Kelce was sitting cross-legged on the floor with a half-finished bag of chips. Rafe was lounging on the couch, his legs stretched out, and Y/n was beside him, leaning against the armrest with a smile. The evening was winding down, the laughter and chatter flowing smoothly in the room. Everyone had gathered around on the floor now, a few beers in hand, as the familiar buzz settled in. The music played low in the background, mixing with the sound of ice clinking in glasses. Topper, who’d been leaning back lazily on the couch, now suddenly straightened up with a playful grin. 

"You know what we need? A game,"

Kelce perked up at the suggestion. "Truth or dare?" he said with a laugh, throwing a half-empty bottle of beer into the air and catching it. 

"Yeah, let’s do it,"  he said, a mischievous glint flickering in his expression. Rafe leaned forward, intrigued, he raised an eyebrow, clearly amused.

"Are we really doing this?"

"You bet we are," Topper said, his smirk spreading wider. "It’s been too long and I know you’re all way too competitive to say no."

"I’m in, whatever. Let’s get this over with."

Boys will be boys I guess...

Y/n rolled her eyes dramatically, but a smile tugged at her lips. She turned her gaze to Kelce, giving him a look. 

"Alright, you’re first," Topper said, pointing to Kelce, "Truth or dare?"

Kelce looked around, clearly weighing his options. “Dare,” he said confidently, with a grin. Y/n’s eyes lit up with mischief, 

"Alright, Kels, I’ve got one for you," she said, the playful tone evident in her voice. "I dare you to take a shirtless mirror pic, then post it on your main with the caption 'Feeling cute, might delete later.'"

The group looked at each other before Topper broke out in a loud cackle, waiting to see if Kelce would actually go through with it. Kelce groaned and ran a hand over his hair. 

"That’s... that’s gotta be the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever dared me to do."

Rafe leaned forward, grinning, "Come on man, it’s just one post. You’ll live."

"Alright, fine" 

After a moment of hesitation, Kelce sighed dramatically. He pushed himself up off the floor, walking over to the mirror near his front door. Y/n leaned over on the floor slightly to see the boy through the doorway. He lifted his t-shirt and placed the cotton fabric between his teeth, hands on his phone as he took the picture. Y/n started giggling loudly and Topper couldn't help but lean over to where she was, curious of what she was seeing. The moment his eyes landed on Kelce’s reflection in the mirror, he laughed loudly, hand coming to rest on his stomach. Kelce groaned again as he walked back to them muttering under his breath, he held up the phone to them, showing how he pressed the ‘post now’ button. The room burst into laughter, and even Kelce couldn’t help but shake his head, 

"Happy now?"

“You’re so sexy Kels” Y/n teased as she winked at him.

"Best thing I’ve seen all year," Topper said, leaning back with a satisfied grin. "You’ve been humbled."

This shit's gold

As the game of truth or dare continued, the mood was light, filled with laughter and playful teasing. Shots had been taken by everyone now, and the alcohol was starting to make everyone feel a bit bolder, their embarrassment slipping away with each round. Truths from 'worst hook up' to 'best hook up' were thrown around, and dares of prank calls all merged together as they wiped away tears from the corners of their eyes. The guys were watching intently as it moved onto Rafe's turn.

"Alright, Rafe, truth or dare?" Topper asked, leaning forward slightly.

"Dare" 

Topper nodded as he continued "Alright so-" he said, looking at the boy, but was suddenly cut off when Kelce slammed his beer bottle down onto the table and blurted out loudly. 

"We dare you to kiss Y/n."

What-

What-

The room went quiet for a moment. Even though everyone had been playing lightheartedly, the sudden tension was unmistakable. Y/n's eyes widened slightly, her heart skipped a beat, and she felt the heat rise in her cheeks. She could feel the weight of Rafe’s eyes on her, that familiar spark in his gaze making her stomach flutter. Kelce smirked, clearly enjoying himself far too much. 

“And if you forfeit,” he added, dragging out the words with a slow, teasing lilt,

“you have to call your dad and tell him you wrecked your Rover.”  

Seriously?

Topper watched the two guys who were not intensely staring at each other, eyebrows raising a little at the harshness of the punishment, yet he didn't say anything; he wasn't going to deny that he had been waiting for something like this and after all, he was a little tipsy so who was he to state his opinion. Rafe rolled his eyes, exhaling sharply through his nose as he leaned back slightly. 

“Seriously?” he muttered, shooting Kelce a look that was equal parts annoyed and unimpressed. Kelce just grinned, shrugging. 

“Rules are rules Cameron, you wanna be a bitch about it...?”  

Asshole

Rafe let out a short, dry laugh, shaking his head. He could feel everyone’s eyes on him, waiting, expecting, but the only gaze that mattered was hers. He glanced at Y/N, his expression unreadable, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes- something hesitant. The last thing he wanted was to make her uncomfortable, and that alone made Kelce’s little dare piss him off even more.  

This is a bad idea

Y/N swallowed, her heart hammering against her ribs. The tension between them, the unspoken things lingering in the space they carefully tiptoed around, had just been shoved into the spotlight. And now, there was no easy way out. Rafe took a slow breath, his gaze locked on hers. He could see it- the slight apprehension in her eyes, the way she held herself still, like she wasn’t sure what to expect. That tiny hesitation, almost imperceptible to anyone else, was enough to make his decision for him.

So at the last second, he shifted course.

Instead of capturing her lips, he leaned in just slightly to the side, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to her cheek. His lips were warm against her skin, his breath fanning gently over her temple as he pulled back. The moment was fleeting, but it sent a shiver down Y/N’s spine all the same.

Oh

The guys immediately groaned in disappointment. 

"What was that, man?" 

Kelce scoffed, laughing as he looked at the brunette boy wide eyed. Y/n blinked, a little taken aback by how fast her heart was beating, her hand instinctively coming up to touch her cheek where his lips had been,  before pulling her hand away quickly, however from the corner of her eye she realised that Topper had seen the action. The warmth lingered on her skin, and she couldn’t help but push down a smile. Rafe pulled back, looking completely unfazed by the reactions. Without missing a beat, he shrugged. 

"What? You didn’t specify where."

The guys erupted into more groans and playful complaints, Topper calling him an "asshole" under his breath, but Y/n was still processing the moment. She looked at Rafe, her smile soft but teasing. 

"Guess that works" 

She said, her voice carrying a hint of laughter to cover the sudden rush of emotions she was trying to sort through. Rafe just smiled back, before leaning back against the sofa, speaking out eager to move on.

"Alright, next question" 

Even though the boys were devising their next challenge, Y/n was still feeling that lingering warmth from his kiss. As their voices became a distant blurr, the game continued, her mind wandered back to that moment, trying to focus on something- anything- else. Laughter drew her from her daydream, Topper shifting in his space on the floor as Y/n’s turn came. 

“Truth or dare Y/n” 

She hesitated for just a moment, the tense energy in the room swirling around her. Her eyes flicked from Rafe to the others, and then, with a small smile, she said, 

“Dare.”

Kelce let out a low whistle as the guys exchanged glances, clearly pleased by her choice. Topper leaned forward, his eyes eager. “So I think-” he started, but Kelce cut him off once more,

“I dare you to kiss Rafe- on the lips.”

Again are they being for real right now?

The moment the words left his mouth, her brows drew down into a small frown, the two boys sitting opposite them looking between Y/n and Rafe, their faces a mix of emotions. As the dare was thrown out, Rafe rolled his eyes again, leaning back into the bottom couch, 

"Are you guys being for real?" he muttered, his voice laced with disbelief. 

"What is this, high school?"

I'm friends with literal children

Y/n felt her cheeks heat up, the weight of the dare pressing on her. She glanced at Rafe, then at Topper and Kelce, who were giggling like schoolboys. The idea of kissing Rafe made her stomach swirl, and she wasn’t sure why it felt more intense than it should. The lingering thoughts of what had happened on halloween flashed through her mind, and she hated it. She didn’t want to back out, but her body was already tensing, fighting the unease. Topper and Kelce, already a little more drunk than them, having just downed another two shots of tequila, egged her on. 

"C'mon, Y/n," Kelce teased, "Don't be a pussy."

"We know you want to. . ." Topper added on, eyebrows raising up and down suggestively.

The girl hesitated, but before she could even think of what to do next, she found herself moving a little closer to Rafe, instinctively shifting toward him. Her heart rate quickened as her face was just a breath away from his. Her hand rested against his shoulder and she could almost feel the warmth of his skin from under the fabric, the tension building between them. His lashes fluttered against his cheeks as looked down to her, hand which was resting against the couch behind them curling into a fist slightly. And then, like a weight settling in the pit of her stomach, an unwelcome thought crept in- shadows of the past flickering at the edges of her mind. The memory of him, of what he did, tightened around her chest like a vice. It was sudden, uninvited, pulling her back and before she could stop herself, she froze.

I can't- 

Rafe noticed immediately. He saw the way her shoulders stiffened, the subtle shift in her eyes as if she was lost in thought. His gaze softened, a subtle shift in his expression as he realised her dissociated expression. He pulled his head back slightly, suddenly clearing his throat, his gaze flicking to his phone on the couch behind them as he picked it up. He muttered, his voice low and urgent. 

"My dad just messaged me. I need to head out."

I know lying is bad but-

Topper and Kelce groaned in unison, slumping back dramatically onto the couch, non the wiser of the made up excuse. "Ah, man, you’re no fun," Kelce whined, clearly disappointed, Topper’s hand came out patting him on the back as he rested his head on the couch behind them as well. Rafe stood up from where he was sitting, phone still tight in his grip, glancing back at the group, his hand still holding his phone. He looked at Y/n, catching her eye with a slight hesitation before speaking up.  He asked, his voice soft, but laced with that familiar edge of concern.  

"Do you need a lift home?"

Y/n felt her stomach twist. The attention suddenly on her made her cheeks heat, and she quickly averted her gaze, staring down at her hands instead. She didn’t trust her voice not to waver, so instead, she just gave a small nod, barely perceptible, before shifting slightly in her seat.  

Jesus, what is wrong with you?

Rafe watched her for a second longer, then gave a quick nod in return. He turned to the two guys on the couch, who were now passing a joint between them again, already leaning back in a flurry of laughter. With an easy grin, albeit slightly forced, he clapped each of them on the back. 

"Catch you later" 

Y/n, feeling a little awkward as she watched Rafe walk out of the room, she soon heard the front door shutting. She stood up and made her way toward the door, turning to Topper with a small smile. 

"Thanks for inviting us Top" she said, moving in for a brief hug as the boy wrapped his arms around her, giving her a grin that spoke volumes about his carefree nature.

"Yeah, yeah," Kelce laughed as he watched the two next to him, his voice a little slurred from the drinks.

"We know you guys are gonna make out in the car now, so whatever." 

Y/n rolled her eyes at him, giving him one last look before turning and heading out the door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rafe settled into the driver’s seat, exhaling slowly as he pulled out his phone. The dim glow of the screen illuminated his face, and as he glanced at his notifications and his jaw tensed slightly, the message from his dad was a lie to get him out of there but now, well it wasn't a lie at all.. 

Dad  :  What do you mean you don't know where you put those papers? 

Dad  :  I’ve got more important things to deal with than your screw-ups sort yourself out Rafe don't make me tell you again.

Rafe scoffed under his breath, his grip tightening around the phone. He should’ve expected nothing less. But just as he was about to lock the screen, his eyes caught the last line of the message.  

Dad  :  your mother’s anniversary is tomorrow

. . .

A muscle in Rafe’s jaw twitched. His fingers curled around the phone so tightly it was a wonder it didn’t crack under the pressure. Of course, he would throw that in at the end, like an afterthought. Like it wasn’t the one day that still made his chest ache, that still made the anger bubble up so easily, as though he hasn’t been dreading the day for weeks now. His knuckles whitened as he shoved the phone into the cup-holder, leaning back against the headrest with a sharp exhale. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to push down the frustration clawing at his chest.

But it was no use.  

Because now, all he could think about was tomorrow.

Y/n could see Rafe already in the car waiting for her, the night air felt cool against her skin, and she pulled her jacket tighter around her shoulders, her thoughts swirling. As she approached his car, guilt bubbled up inside her. She'd been terrified when Rafe leaned in, when their faces had been so close. The thought of kissing him had sent her into a spiral- she was ashamed of how she’d hesitated, how she'd pulled back. She hadn’t meant to, but her body had reacted before her mind could catch up. 

Rafe caught her eye as she approached, and she immediately dropped her gaze, feeling exposed. She couldn't bring herself to look at him fully. He must have sensed something in her as she climbed in, trying to focus on anything but the overwhelming guilt. Rafe started the car and shifted it into drive, the sound breaking the silence that had settled in the air. He didn’t push her to speak, though. He didn’t really want to speak anyways, not after those messages. He just let the hum of the engine fill the space.

Y/n wrapped her arms around herself, staring out of the window, a quiet battle going on inside her. She knew she shouldn’t have frozen like that. 

Is he mad at me?

Does he think I’m scared of him?

She could feel Rafe’s presence beside her, he’d been so calm and understanding since everything had happened, but now he seemed uncomfortable. He wasn’t looking at her, his eyes locked on the road ahead, but she could see the frustration there- felt it in the stiffness of his shoulders, the way his thumb tapped restlessly against the leather of the wheel. Rafe didn't say anything for a while, but he could feel Y/n glancing at him.

“What?” 

He suddenly snapped out, breaking the silence. Y/n blinked at his sudden outburst, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve. 

What?  

“Oh- umm, sorry, it’s nothing,” 

She mumbled, shaking her head, retreating into herself. She could feel the tension rolling off him, thick and suffocating, and she didn’t want to make it worse. Rafe let out a sharp exhale, shaking his head as he tightened his grip on the wheel.

C'mon she's not done anything wrong

His patience was thinner than usual, stretched by the weight of his father’s messages and the lingering frustration in his chest. He wasn’t mad at her- he wasn’t- but everything about tonight felt like a mess, and now she was looking at him like he was the one making it worse.  

“Yeah, well, doesn’t seem like nothing,” 

He muttered under his breath, his voice taut. Y/n frowned, shifting uncomfortably. She could feel it brewing- whatever storm was building inside him, whatever was making his shoulders tense and his words clipped.  

“I don’t know why you’re mad at me right now,” she finally said, her voice quiet,

“I’m sorry I didn’t want to kiss you- I just-”  

“Well I didn’t want to fucking kiss you either.”  

The words hit like a slap, ringing out louder than anything else in the car. Y/n’s brows raised slightly at his words, she just stared at him for a second, her expression unreadable. Then, slowly, she nodded, barely perceptible, before turning her head back toward the window.  

Right

Why the fuck did you say that what’s wrong with you-

Rafe pulled the car to a stop outside her house, the engine cutting out with a low hum. The headlights illuminated the dark road in front of them, but the air inside the car felt heavier than the night outside. Y/n, quietly unbuckled her seatbelt and swung open the door before Rafe could say anything. He hadn’t expected her to just get out like that, but as she moved, he could feel the space between them widening and he suddenly blurted out.

“Y/n, please—”

I can't do this again-

She turned to face him, her eyes soft yet guarded. She was already halfway out the door ready to shut it, her fingers gripping the frame. She wasn’t sure what to say to him either, but the frustration and confusion had built up too much inside her.

“I didn’t kiss you, Rafe,” she started, her voice wavering just slightly, “because- because when you got close to me it-... it’s just hard for me.”

She sighed, hand coming up to scratch her cheek slightly, feeling slightly uneasy under his heavy gaze. She didn’t know how to explain it, how to put into words the way it felt when someone was too close- when all she could think about was the way she couldn’t escape. Her body would freeze, memories she didn’t want resurfacing. It didn’t happen all the time but when it did it felt like someone throwing a bucket of ice water over her.

“I know it’s stupid,” she added quickly, shaking her head, “but sometimes... I just freeze when people get too close because- because of what happened. It’s not about you, it’s just... I can’t help it.”

Her voice cracked slightly, and she wiped her face with the back of her hand, trying to push away the lingering tension.

“So, yeah...”

Rafe watched her as she stood there, her hand still resting on the car door. His mind raced, words tumbling around in his head, but he needed to say something. He couldn’t leave things like this.

You're such a dick, you're such a asshole I can't believe you said that to-

“I— I know you freeze up,” he started, his voice softer now, more hesitant.

Oh?

“I realised it and that’s why I pulled away. I… didn’t want to make you feel worse.”

She looked at him then, her gaze locking onto his eyes. His words hung in the air, and for a moment, then Rafe continued, shaking his head slightly, his tone apologetic.

“I’m sorry for snapping at you earlier,” his fingers picked at the skin on his thumb as he spoke,

“It was rude, and I didn’t mean to make you feel like that.”

 “It’s okay” 

No it's not

Y/n looked down at the ground for a moment, shaking her head as if to brush off his words. Rafe nodded, but it didn’t feel like enough. There was an awkward silence between them, the weight of their conversation lingering in the space. He cleared his throat, trying to fill the silence, but the tension still felt thick. She finally sighed, a small smile tugging at her lips as she started to take a step back from the car door.

“I’m gonna go in now…” 

She said quietly, her words soft but final. Rafe nodded, his hands tightening around the steering wheel as he sat back in his seat. He replied, but the word felt heavy on his tongue, as if he didn’t quite know how to let go.

“Right”

“Have a good night, Rafe,” she said, offering him a smile.

“Yeah, you-” he started, his voice being cut off as the door clicked shut, “-too.”

It felt weird, being so distant after being so close for the past few weeks. Rafe watched as the girl walked up to her front door, opening it, glancing back at his car one last time before pushing it closed behind her. As he stared at the lights switching on in the window on the second floor, only one thing floated around in his mind.

Kelce, fuck you man.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sky was thick with heavy, grey clouds rolling in slowly, swallowing the last traces of blue. The air felt dense and humid, like the entire town was holding its breath, waiting for the downpour of storm Audra which had been looming for the past few days. A breeze rustled through the café’s outdoor seating area, yet the air was sticky, carrying the faint scent of rain on the horizon.  

Y/n sat at a small table with Kelce and his girlfriend, the condensation from her iced coffee dripping onto the napkin beneath it. The usual buzz of the town carried on around them- clinking silverware, low conversations. Y/n had gone into town to collect something her mom had ordered when Kelce suggested she meet with him and Phoebe, now he’d stepped inside to grab the girl a blueberry muffin, leaving Y/n alone with his girlfriend. She liked Phoebe, she wasn’t like most of the other snobby Kook girls. The girl sitting opposite her studied her for a moment before leaning in slightly, a knowing look crossing her face. 

“So… Kelce told me what happened yesterday” she began, her voice light but curious.

“What’s up with you and Rafe?”  

Big mouth

Y/n nearly choked on her iced coffee, shifting in her seat, she said quickly, placing teh glass back down onto its plate. Phoebe raised a brow, clearly unconvinced. 

“Nothing”

“Oh? I just thought—”  

“Well, you thought wrong.” 

Wow, that was bitchy

Y/n cut in, sharper than she meant to. A brief silence fell between them before she sighed, shaking her head slightly she raised her hand rubbing her forehead. 

“Sorry. That was rude.”  

“It’s okay don’t worry” the blonde girl reassured her, mixing her iced matcha, waving a hand dismissively after. “I get it, you don’t wanna talk about it.” But then, after a pause, she tilted her head slightly, her voice turning softer. 

“You know, a lot of girls would kill for a guy to look at them the way Rafe looks at you.”  

“Yeah, I’ve been told.” Y/n let out a short, almost nervous laugh, shaking her head.

“So… what are you waiting for?”  

I... I don't know

Kelce’s girlfriend smirked. Y/n hesitated, swirling her straw around in her drink before she admitted, eyes down on the caramel coloured liquid in the glass.

“I’m just… scared” 

“Why?” Phoebe asked, genuinely curious. “You don’t think he’d reject you, do you? I mean, he’d have to be an total idiot.”  

Y/n let out a small breath, smile pulling at the corner of her lips, glancing down at the table once more, hand coming out to fidget with the white napkin in front of her. “It’s a little more complicated than that,” she muttered. 

“We’ve kind of already… almost… like-”  

“—OH MY GOD”

Jesus-

Kelce’s girlfriend gasped loudly, eyes widening as she slapped her hands over her mouth in shock, leaning forward excitedly whispering out. 

“SHUT UP! Almost? Like what—?”  

Y/n’s own eye’s widened in surprise at the girl's sudden reaction but before could say anything else, she caught sight of Kelce returning, his hand balancing a white plate with a muffin perched on top. Panicked, she kicked Phoebe under the table, making the girl wince but go silent. Kelce narrowed his eyes at them as he set the plate down in front of the blonde. He asked suspiciously, looking between the two girls.  

“What’s going on?” 

His girlfriend barely hesitated before shrugging innocently. “Oh, you know, girl problems.”  

“Riiight” 

Thank fuck for that

He drawled, sipping his drink as he studied them, Kelce gave them both a look, clearly not buying it, but eventually, he let it go. Y/n just shook her head, exhaling softly as she reached for her coffee again, pretending to be invested in anything other than the amused smile on Kelce’s girlfriend’s face. Kelce leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms behind his head as he lazily glanced around. 

“So, is Rafe coming as well?”  

At that, Phoebe, mid-bite into her muffin, suddenly choked, sputtering out a laugh as she tried to swallow. Kelce reacted immediately, patting her back with a mix of amusement and concern, brows drawn down a little at her weird behaviour. 

“Babe, chill. What is going on with you today?” He paused, then continued, “are you on your period or something?”  

She shot him a glare before slapping his arm, making him wince. “Ouch!” He rubbed the spot dramatically, pouting. 

“Alright, alright—sorry, sorry.”  

Y/n shook her head at their antics, a small smile playing on her lips before she reached for her phone. Her fingers hovered over the screen as she checked her notifications. Nothing. Not a single text from Rafe all morning, and it was already creeping into the afternoon. Her stomach twisted slightly, but she ignored it, slipping her phone back onto the table.  

Is he still mad at me for yesterday?

“Yeah, um… I don’t think he’s coming. Sorry, Kels.”  

Kelce shrugged, waving it off. Y/n exhaled softly, absentmindedly stirring the ice in her coffee with the straw. The quiet chatter around them was interrupted by a sudden, high-pitched squeal from a table nearby. She glanced over at the sound, her gaze landing on a little boy sitting on his mother’s lap. His hair a little tousled, and he beamed happily as he held a cookie in both hands. His mother, blonde, had her arms wrapped around him, pressing a playful kiss to his cheek as he giggled against her shoulder. Y/n’s breath hitched slightly as something clicked.

Her stomach dropped.  

It’s June’s anniversary…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The wind howled against the windows, rattling them in their frames as the storm outside picked up. Y/n sat on the edge of her bed, debating whether she should shower now or wait until the storm passed. She hated storms in the OBX- how unpredictable they were, how they made the whole house feel just a little too empty when she was alone. Her parents were out of town on a business trip, again, meaning she was completely by herself. Normally she didn’t mind, but nights like these- when the sky was dark and heavy, and the rain came down in thick sheets- it made the house feel too big, too quiet.  

With a sigh, she flopped onto her bed instead, stretching out on her stomach, her phone in her hand. The screen lit up as she swiped to her messages, her fingers hesitating before tapping on Rafe’s contact. She stared at the empty message bar for a long moment, her thumb hovering over the keyboard. The rain was coming down heavier now, pounding against the roof in a steady rhythm that only made the anxious energy in her chest worse.  

She started typing.  

Hey, are you okay? 

No

She deleted it immediately and she tried again.  

I know you probably don’t want to talk  

Another immediate delete.  

With a frustrated groan, she threw her phone onto the bed and buried her face into her pillow. After a moment of her head laying against the soft silk material, she pushed herself up, shaking off the feeling.

Shower?

That would clear her head. She grabbed some clothes and headed to the bathroom, trying to ignore the way the thunder rumbled in the distance. Y/n stood in the bathroom, the soft hum of the vent mixing with the distant rumble of thunder outside. Steam curled through the air, fogging up the mirror as the hot water poured from the showerhead. She gripped the edge of the sink, staring down at the swirling patterns of condensation on the counter, her mind torn.  

Maybe I should just call him

Just to check

Just to make he’s okay 

Her fingers twitched at her side, turning back to look at the phone she’d left on her bed. She exhaled sharply, shaking her head at herself. Overthinking wasn’t going to get her anywhere anyways. With that, she turned away, shutting the bathroom door behind her before stepping into the shower, letting the warm water wash over her, drowning out her thoughts.

A sharp knock at the door made Y/n freeze, her heart lurching into her throat.

Then came the doorbell, ringing through the house, making her pulse quicken.

She had just stepped out of the shower, her hair damp, a towel wrapped tightly around her, water droplets still lingering on her skin. The storm still raged outside, wind howling against the windows, rain lashing at the glass. Who the hell would be coming to see her at 22:38 in the middle of a storm?

A flicker of unease crept up her spine.

Slipping her feet into her Ugg slippers, she hesitated for only a second before heading to the spare cupboard, her fingers closing around the handle of her brother’s old baseball bat. If this was some psycho showing up at her door in the middle of a storm, she wasn’t about to answer unarmed. Another knock- this time a little more urgent, Y/n swallowed, gripping the bat tightly as she crept to the door. She pressed her eye against the peephole, her body coiled with tension.

And then- just like that- all the tension drained from her body.

Her grip on the bat loosened, her shoulders lowering as she exhaled, leaning the bat against the wall beside her. But as relief settled, her brows furrowed.

What the hell?

Y/n swung the door open, and there he was.  

Rafe stood in the rain, completely soaked through, his clothes clinging to him, droplets running down his face. He didn’t have a jacket, not even a hoodie to shield himself from the storm. The sight of him made her stomach twist.  

“Rafe?”

Her voice was full of concern. “What are you doing here?”  

He didn’t answer right away. He just looked at her, his expression unreadable, his eyes a little lost, a little distant- until they slowly dragged over her. That’s when she realised,  

The towel-

Heat rushed to her face as she quickly stepped aside, opening the door wider as her hand gripped onto the towel wrapped around her. She prayed to whatever higher power that it didn’t suddenly fall off her. 

“Come in,” she said, voice softer, “you’re gonna catch a cold.”  

He didn’t say anything- just stepped inside, water dripping onto the floor as he did. He was still looking at her, and the weight of his gaze made her self-conscious as she fidgeted on the spot before she suddenly blurted out, arms crossing over herself protectively. 

“Right well, uh—I need to get changed. Come on, let me get you a towel first.”  

Rafe just nodded, his silence making her uneasy. She led him to her bedroom, the warmth of her house a stark contrast to the storm outside. As she grabbed a fresh towel from her drawer and glanced at him. He was standing in the middle of her room, water pooling slightly at his sock clad feet, his jaw tight. She handed him the towel, then quickly grabbed her clothes and disappeared into the bathroom to change. Her mind was racing.  

What is he doing here?  

By the time she came back, dressed in a comfy oversized T-shirt and soft cotton shorts, Rafe was sitting on the edge of her bed, rubbing the towel over his damp hair. He still looked tense, his movements slow, almost absent-minded. Y/n hesitated for a second before walking closer, arms crossing as she studied him with worry. 

“Are you okay?”  

Rafe just nodded, but it wasn’t convincing. She sat down next to him slowly, close but not too close. The only sound was the rain hammering against the windows, the occasional crack of thunder in the distance. He was staring down at the towel in his hands, gripping it tightly.  

And then- his shoulders started to shake.

Fuck-

Y/n felt her chest tighten when she saw he was crying. His shoulders trembled, his grip tightening on the towel in his hands before one of them came up to cover his face. He let out a shaky breath, mumbling, over and over again, like he couldn’t stop himself. 

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry…” 

“Rafe…” 

She breathed, her voice barely above a whisper. Without thinking, she moved, standing in front of him and reaching out, her hand brushing over his back in slow, gentle strokes. He tensed at first, sucking in a sharp breath, but then something in him gave way. Before she could say anything else, he reached for her, his arms wrapping around her waist as he pulled her in close. He buried his face into her stomach, his body shaking against hers, and she felt the damp heat of his tears seeping through her t-shirt. Her heart ached at the way he clung to her.  

“… it’s okay, Rafey…” 

She murmured, her fingers threading through his wet hair, brushing over his scalp in soft, soothing motions. He gripped the fabric of her t-shirt in his fists, holding onto her like she was the only thing keeping him grounded. His breathing was ragged, uneven, and she could feel his heartbeat racing against her. Y/n didn’t say anything else.

She just held him and let him cry.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The storm still raged outside, but inside, everything was quiet. The only sound was their breathing, slow and steady, the occasional rumble of thunder rolling in the distance. They lay in her bed now, the weight of earlier still lingering but no longer suffocating. Rafe’s head rested on her shoulder, his body warm beside hers, his arm draped loosely over her waist. He had stopped crying a while ago, but his grip on her hadn’t loosened much- almost as if he needed to feel she was still there. Y/n let her fingers trail absentmindedly over his arm, her gaze fixed on the ceiling above them. 

“Do you remember that one time we all went to the fair?” she murmured, a small smile tugging at her lips. 

“And your mom spent almost fifty dollars trying to win you that stupid stuffed shark.”  

You remember..?

Rafe let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head against her shoulder, “She was convinced I needed it.”  

“You did,” Y/n teased. “You were so upset when you couldn’t get it yourself.”  

“I was not upset.”  

“Rafey, you were like- on the verge of tears and I’m pretty sure you were pouting.”  

He huffed, but there was amusement in his eyes as he shifted slightly, getting more comfortable. He liked this- talking about his mum, remembering the good things.

And he liked that Y/n wanted to remember with him, no one else did.

Wheezie and Sarah never understood, maybe they were too young when she passed, and his dad- he certainly never spoke of her. Her name never passed his lips. A beat of silence passed before he exhaled, his voice quieter now. 

“I’m sorry I snapped at you the other day… I just—”  

“You don’t have to apologise,” Y/n cut in gently.

“I get it, I know what it’s like, Rafe. It’s okay.”  

He shifted his head then, resting it against the pillow next to her’s, as he looked at the girl. His blue eyes softened, taking in every detail- the way her lips were slightly parted, the curve of her nose, the dip of her cupids bow, the way her hair framed her face, the way she was content to simply just lay here with him.  

She’s so beautiful

He listened as she kept talking about his mom, about small things others would have seen as irrelevant- her laugh, the way she would hum while she cooked, the way she used to fuss over her like Y/n was her own child. He nodded along, holding onto every word that left her lips.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rafe must’ve been around ten, all scraped knees and sun-kissed hair, sitting at the kitchen island while his mom chopped strawberries humming softly to herself. The scent of fresh fruit filled the air, mingling with whatever candle she had burning on the windowsill. He started, dragging out the word as he propped his chin on his palm.

“Mooooooom”

“What is it baby?”

June hummed, not looking up from her cutting board. He hesitated as he picked at the crumbs on the counter, still trying to work out his thoughts. 

“How do you know when you like a girl?”

That made her pause. She turned to him then, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. “Oh?” she teased, leaning against the counter. 

“And who’s got my boy all flustered, hmm?”

Rafe groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Mom.”

She laughed, that warm, soft sound which felt like a hug. “Alright, alright,” she said, ruffling his hair before perching on the stool next to him, looking to her son.

“Tell me what’s going on.”

He glanced at the floor, fighting a blush and his hands played with the string on his hoodie. “I dunno. She’s just... cool. And Funny. And she doesn’t get mad when I mess up her stuff—” He trailed off, feeling self-conscious. 

“Sometimes... when she smiles at me, my stomach does this weird thing?”

“That sounds like a little crush to me, sweetheart.”

June’s smile softened. She reached out, brushing his hair back gently, the way she always did when he got worked up over something. Rafe squinted up at her. 

“But what if she doesn’t like me back?”

The blonde woman tilted her head, thoughtful. “Well, that’s the tricky part about feelings, baby. You never really know unless you ask.” She booped his nose, making him scrunch it up. 

“But if she makes you feel all warm inside, like you swallowed the sun, then I’d say that’s a pretty special feeling to have.”

Rafe thought about that, rolling the words around in his mind. Swallowed the sun. Yeah. That’s exactly what it felt like. He frowned, still a little unsure, but his mum's words were like a balm to his nerves. She leaned closer, a sly grin creeping up her face as she spoke in a hushes whisper.

 “So, do I know this special girl?”

“No! No, you don’t,”

He replied quickly, a little too quickly his heart stuttered. Rafe shifted uncomfortably, his face burning, and he quickly shook his head. June raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by his reaction. 

“Hmm, alright then.”

But Rafe could see the twinkle in her eye. She knew. And he wasn’t ready to admit it just yet—not even to his mum. So he kept his secret, tucked away deep where no one could find it. Not even her. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lying beside Y/n now, listening to her talk about his mom, Rafe swallowed past the lump in his throat. He turned his head away from her slightly, looking at the ceiling illuminated by the dim light.

Still feels like swallowing the sun.

Y/n sat up slowly, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips as she watched him. The tension in the room had melted, but there was still a softness between them that hadn't been there before. She stretched a little and pulled her oversized t-shirt up her shoulder as it had slipped off.

“How about I make you a raspberry tea… ?” 

Rafe nodded slowly, a hint of a smile on his lips. She stood up, slipping her slippers on, and moved toward the door of her bedroom. 

"Okay, I'll bring it upstairs in a minute—"

"-Y/n, wait."

Huh, I thought he enjoyed the raspberry tea last time-

She froze, turning back towards him. Rafe was standing, walking toward her now, pushing his lightly damp hair out of his face. His eyes were fixed on her, and she caught the way his gaze softened as he took in the natural beauty of her face, unmade up and fresh from the shower. There was something raw in the way he looked at her that made her heart race a little. The boy stopped right in front of her, still unsure, his voice barely a whisper. 

"I just... I-"

She raised an eyebrow, confusion flickering across her face, "Is it the tea? Do you not want raspberry? I’ve got other kind of tea, you know. I think maybe you'd like-"

"-No!"

Jesus take it down a notch-

He quickly shook his head, a little too forcefully, "I mean, no, it’s not the tea."

Rafe shook his head, his hands slightly trembling. His eyes locked on her, and his voice caught in his throat before he finally spoke, 

"When my mom, well, before my mom died, I— I know I was still really young, but she told me that I could be impulsive sometimes, I mean she wasn’t wrong. Anyways um- she said that, uh... I needed to find someone who could... ground me when I'm... when I'm not; whatever, that's not the point."

What is going on. . .?

He paused for a moment, as if trying to steady himself, hand coming up again to push his hair out of his face before continuing, the words almost tumbling out. 

"And when she passed, we did the reading of the will she... she left us all letters, and I-"

His voice cracked slightly, and he took a shaky breath. Y/n’s heart clenched seeing how emotional he was getting, she could tell his hands were trembling slightly by his sides and it gave away his nervousness.

"Rafe, it's okay," she whispered softly, stepping closer to him, her hand hovering as though she wanted to reach out but didn’t want to crowd him. 

"Breathe."

I am, I am-

"No, I need- I just need to tell you this." 

His jaw clenched, his eyes squeezing shut in frustration, as if fighting to push back the emotions threatening to overwhelm him. 

"I need to get this out, Y/n."

"I'm not going anywhere, it’s okay take your time."

She nodded gently, her expression softening as she looked up to the boy. He exhaled slowly, rubbing his eyes as though to clear away the tension, and when he opened them again, he started more slowly, his voice steadier but still raw. 

"She left Wheezie this book," he said quietly, "and she left Sarah a... I mean, this doesn’t really matter, it-" He cut himself off, his breath hitching again. 

"She left me something too."

Rafe's hand trembled as it went to his pocket, and he pulled out a small, delicate silver ring. The diamond in the centre gleamed even in the dim light of the room, its edges catching the light in a way that made Y/n’s heart race. Her eyes widened, and she felt a lump form in her throat as she stared at it.

What is... what is going on-

Rafe held it up between them, the weight of the moment settling between them like a tangible presence. Y/n’s heart began to thud in her chest, and her mouth went dry. She wasn’t sure what to say- her emotions were tangled, swirling around in confusion. Rafe’s eyes now flickered between the ring in his hand and her face, his fingers absently toying with the silver band, as though trying to figure out what to say next. His voice was thick with emotion when he spoke again, the words tumbling out in a rush, raw and vulnerable. 

“She wrote in my letter that when the time is right, I’d know who to give it to,” he murmured, his gaze dropping to the ring once more. His fingers tightened around it, as though it were both a comfort and a burden. 

"And I... I’ve been such an ass to you."

Y/n’s breath caught in her throat as she whispered his name, her voice barely audible as she shook her head to him, the weight of what he was saying starting to come down onto her. 

Please don't-

“No, no, no—” he rushed out, shaking his head vigorously. “I’ve been a dick. I pushed you away, and I—" He gritted his teeth, his jaw clenching in frustration. 

"If I’d never pushed you away that day at the hut... you... you wouldn’t have gone through any of this. None of this would’ve happened. You would’ve been with me on Halloween. It would’ve been us, in a matching costume.”

He stopped, his words hanging in the air as he looked up at her. His heart nearly stopped when he saw her eyes- wet with silent tears, the faint shimmer of them threatening to break him. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, the dryness almost unbearable.

“When I was younger...” he continued, his voice cracking slightly as he stared down at the ring again, his hands now trembling, “I didn’t know what my mum meant in that letter. I read it over and over, trying to understand, but I just... I didn’t get it.” He paused, biting down on the inside of his cheek, his voice quieter now. 

“But now… now I know what she meant.”

I'm gonna be sick

His eyes finally met hers again, her face streaked with tears. Without thinking, his hand reached out toward her, his fingers brushing against her cheek gently, the touch almost tentative. "I-" he said, the words tumbling out with a weight that seemed to shift the world around them. 

"I love you Y/n… more than I’ve ever loved anyone. More than I even thought I could love someone." 

She stiffened as the boy’s words passed his lips. His voice faltered, then hardened, as if the vulnerability of what he was saying left him raw, bare; there was no going back now.

Oh my god-

 “And it’s terrifying. Because you’re fuckin’- you’re my best friend, and I’m so scared of fucking this up, but I can’t not say it anymore.”

His chest heaved as he took a shaky breath, the pressure of the moment threatening to break him. Y/n’s legs felt weak, she felt like they were about to give out at any moment now.

 “I think she knew... before I did. She knew who I’d be giving this ring to. And I—" He stopped, his voice cracking again, and he took another breath, his eyes shining with emotion. 

"I wish I hadn’t wasted so much time pretending I didn’t feel this way. I wish I’d realized it earlier. Because Y/n all I want is you. I love you. It’s always been you.”

The room was quiet except for the sound of their breathing, both of their hearts pounding in their chests as the weight of his confession settled between them. The confession that had been festering for weeks, for months- year’s even. Tears streamed down face, her breath coming in shaky gasps as she looked at the ring held between his fingers. Her whole body was trembling, overwhelmed with emotion, and she couldn’t even begin to process what was happening. 

She’d been waiting for this moment, her whole life, it seemed, and now that it was here, she didn’t know what to say. 

Please say something-

The words felt stuck in her chest, her heart racing as she tried to make sense of it all. Rafe, watching her with intense eyes, gently lifted her hand, his fingers brushing against hers. With a careful movement, he slid the silver band onto her finger. The diamond caught the light as it settled, and she couldn’t help but let out a sob, her other hand coming up to cover her mouth. It fit perfectly, like it had always been meant to be there, and the weight of everything she’d been holding in finally broke free.

"I—" She tried to speak, but the words caught in her throat, and she cried harder, unable to contain the emotions flooding through her. 

"I love you, Rafe, I—"

I love you too angel

Rafe’s eyes softened, and he gently cupped her face, wiping away a tear with his thumb.

"I’ve loved you since we were kids,"

She whispered through the sobs making her body tremble, her voice trembling. His forehead pressed against hers, the closeness of their bodies grounding her in the moment.

"Since you came up to me when I was under the tree in my princess dress..." 

She let out a small, happy, yet bittersweet sob at the memory, her hand shakily reaching up to touch the ring with her other hand, needing to feel it under her own fingers to ensure it wasn’t just an illusion her mind had conjured. Rafe just stared at her with so much love in his eyes, his expression so tender it nearly made her rumble. His gaze dropped to her lips for a moment, his breath quickening as he fought to keep himself together. She lifted her hand to wipe away more tears, her fingers brushing over her cheek, and then brought it to his. Her thumb traced along the curve of his jaw as she gazed at him with a deep, soul-baring look in her eyes.

"I love you, I—" She choked on her words, overwhelmed by the truth she was finally allowing herself to say.

 "God, I don’t even know how to... It’s always been you. In every life I could’ve lived, it’s been you. I don’t- I don’t ever want anyone else."

The room felt impossibly small around them, the air thick with the weight of everything unspoken finally being said. Rafe leaned in closer, his breath mingling with hers as they were inches apart now. She could feel his warmth on her skin, the heat of his lips just within reach, but neither of them moved. She whispered, barley audible,

"You have my heart… you... you have my soul Rafe."

She could feel his heart racing against hers, their chests so close together, the two of them connected in a way that was deeper than words could express. Y/N’s chest tightened as she searched his face, her fingers trembling as they lingered on his cheek, a silent plea in her eyes. She had waited for this for years, waiting for him to see her the way she’d always seen him. All those years of unspoken feelings, of longing, of keeping their distance… and now, standing here, so close, she couldn’t believe this moment was real. Rafe finally closed the gap, his breath a warm whisper against her lips.

For a moment, everything else disappeared.

He leaned in slowly, his lips brushing against hers ever so gently at first, testing the waters like he couldn’t believe it either.

It was soft. 

So soft, as if they were both afraid to ruin it. 

But it wasn’t tentative- it was the culmination of everything they’d both held inside for ages. Their lips moved together, almost shy at first, as if the kiss itself was a question.

Then, slowly, he deepened it, his hand coming up to cradle the back of her neck, his fingers sliding to the nape of her neck. She melted into him, pressing closer, and it was as if every cell in her body recognised his touch, finally in the way it had always been meant to be.

The kiss grew more urgent, a desperate need filling the space between them, an understanding that this was the moment they’d both been waiting for. She parted her lips, and he followed her, his tongue meeting hers with a passion that sent a spark shooting through her spine. He tasted like warmth, like everything she had ever wanted, and she couldn’t hold back anymore. She kissed him with everything she had, hands wrapping around his shoulders pulling him closer, every moment of longing, every stolen glance, every bit of the love she had kept locked inside was now let go of.

Rafe's hands moved to her waist, pulling the girl into him, his body pressed against hers in a way that made her breath catch. There was nothing else- just him- just the fire between them that had been simmering for so long.

Y/N tangled her fingers in his hair now, tugging him closer eagerly, and he responded in kind, his kiss growing more desperate, more consuming, teeth clashing as if they couldn’t get enough. Their lips colliding with a fierce urgency that only years of unspoken yearning could fuel. Their bodies pressed together, the heat between them mounting, hands roaming in frantic discovery. Rafe’s grip tightened on her waist, pulling her even closer, and Y/N's fingers tangled in his hair, other slipping over his t-shirt, fisting it in her hand, tugging him deeper into the kiss. Every second felt like it was tearing down the walls they’d built up over the years. He moved with a kind of fluidity, and as they stumbled toward the bed, his hands slid beneath the back of her T-shirt, sending a shiver across her skin as his fingers traced the soft, exposed curve of her back

But then, suddenly, it was too much.

Too much heat. Too much closeness.

Y/N’s chest tightened, the weight of his touch becoming suffocating in the most visceral way; her pulse pounded in her ears, and something inside her snapped. Panic flooded her, the sudden intensity of the moment triggering a flood of memories she wasn't prepared for.

Stop stop stop-

Rough hand's over her body which she had tried to forget. She pulled back violently, her breath coming in sharp, desperate gasps. Her eyes were wide, glassy with shock, and she shoved him back, her hands pushing hard against his chest.

"Wait-"

She gasped, the word barely making it past her lips. She pressed her palm against her chest, feeling the rapid, erratic thudding of her heart, as though it might burst out of her chest at any second. Rafe’s eyes went wide with concern, his mouth still half-open in shock at the sudden shift.

“Hey, hey what— what’s wrong?”

He asked, but his voice felt miles away, muffled by the rush of panic that swarmed her mind.

She was trembling, her whole body on edge as she stumbled back, her calves hit the end of her bed causing her to sit back onto the bed; her eyes unfocused as she tried to breathe. She couldn’t catch her breath, couldn’t push the heavy weight from her chest. Her fingers clawed at her skin as if trying to tear away the suffocating feeling that enveloped her. The room was closing in, the air too thick, too hot. The panic built like a tidal wave, each breath more shallow than the last, until it felt like she might drown in it. She shook her head, frantic, eyes darting to the side.

"I—I can’t breathe"

She gasped, her voice coming out choked, feeling dizzy. Her hand trembled as she reached for her chest, pressing it over her heart in an attempt to steady herself, but it only made things worse. It felt like her chest was being crushed, like the walls were closing in, suffocating her. Her pulse thrummed in her ears, drowning out everything else, and her breath came faster, more desperate. She was drowning in her own fear. Her fingers curled into a fist against her chest, and she bit her lip to try to hold back the sobs threatening to break free. Rafe reached for her gently, his voice filled with concern.

“Y/N… hey, look at me. You’re safe. You’re safe, just breathe angel-”

But it didn’t matter.

It felt like everything was spinning out of control. The room was spinning, the walls pressing in on her, and all she could feel was the tight, suffocating panic taking over, she shook her head erratically.

“No, I— I can’t. Please, I can’t…”

Her voice trembled as she finally looked at him, her eyes wide and frantic, tears streaming down her face as she tried to speak, but no words came out. She couldn’t explain it, couldn’t make sense of it herself. It was like a flood of memories had come crashing back in, and she couldn’t hold onto reality.

The feeling of his hands, so warm on her body, had triggered something she wasn’t ready for-something from the past, something that she couldn't control. Rafe’s heart ached at the sight of her so broken, his hands hovering around her as if afraid to touch her the wrong way. “Y/N,” he whispered again, his voice low, trembling with emotion. He crouched down in front of her, his hands came out to rest on her knees but he stopped himself, instead coming out to rest on the mattress next to her.

“You’re okay. I’m right here. Just breathe with me, okay? You’re safe.”

She shook her head again, a sob catching in her throat, her chest constricted painfully, the air growing even more elusive. Rafe hesitated but pushed the doubt aside as his skin touched against hers, hands were gentle but insistent, resting softly on her arms, guiding her attention back to him as he rubbed slowly circles on her arm with her thumb.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said, his voice steady but filled with love and fear, “breathe with me. You’re okay. You’re okay.”

She could barely focus on him, but slowly his voice cut through the chaos in her mind. She stared at him, her chest still heaving, tears streaming down her face. He kept his hands steady on her, grounding her, as he gently coaxed her to focus on him. In between hyperventilating breaths, she whispered,

“I—I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

And as she said it, another sob broke free, wracking her body as she trembled, shaking from head to toe.

Rafe didn’t move away, he simply leaned in, wrapping his arms around her gently, pulling her close but not too tight, and her arms instinctively wrapped around his shoulders.

I've got you

His hands slid up to her waist, his grip firm but patient, and before she could process it, he was shifting. With effortless strength, he pushed himself up from his crouch, lifting her just enough to move. Then, he sat back onto the edge of the bed, bringing her with him. Her breath hitched as her legs instinctively parted, knees settling on either side of his thighs as she straddled him. Her fingers fisted into the fabric of his t-shirt, clinging to him like he was the only solid thing in the room. She buried her face in the crook of his neck, her uneven breaths hot against his skin as she fought to steady herself.

Rafe exhaled slowly, his arms wrapping around her, one hand pressing against the small of her back, the other slipping over her hair. She let out a shuddering breath, her body still trembling against his. His grip tightened just a fraction, his lips grazing her temple in the softest reassurance.

“I’m here,” he whispered.

“I’ve got you. I’m right here with you, okay? You’re okay.”

She nodded, still trembling, but slowly, the pressure on her chest began to lift as she focused on his voice, his warmth. It didn’t go away all at once, but the panic started to ebb, little by little, until she could breathe steadily again. Her body shook with the aftershocks of the storm, but she was slowly finding her way back to herself.

Rafe stayed holding her, whispering softly to her, his hands stroking her back calmingly. His chest rose and fell in slow, measured breaths, his warmth wrapping around her like a protective cocoon. She felt the steady thrum of his heart beneath her ear and allowed herself to truly lean into it, absorbing the comfort of his presence.

“I don’t know why it… why that happened,” she whispered after a long silence, her voice a fragile, hesitant tremor.

“I just—I'm sorry.”

Rafe’s grip tightened, pulling her closer as if he could erase the memory, his thumb traced shapes on her back, slow and soothing.

“There’s nothing to apologise for,”

He said, his voice firm but gentle. She pulled back from the crook of his neck, head still resting on his shoulder angled just enough to meet his gaze. Her heart skipped at the tenderness she found there- no judgment, simply understanding. She reached up, her fingers trembling as they ran over his cheek, feeling the rough stubble beneath her fingertips.

“Thank you,” she murmured, the words heavy with meaning, “...for being patient with me.”

Rafe’s gaze softened, and he leaned into her touch, his own hand coming up to run over her forearm, palm pressed against her skin. He spoke eyes never leaving hers.

“You don't have to thank me for that,” his voice low and steady as he moved forward slightly, nose brushing against the skin of her cheek as she sat up slightly. “I’ll always be patient with you.”

In that moment, the air around them seemed to shift. She looked at Rafe, as he searched her eye's for unspoken words. His thumb moved over her cheek, wiping away a single tear that had slipped down, and his smile was everything she needed to see as he murmured, his voice brimming with nothing but pure affection.

“I love you angel. I’ll wait as long as you need.”

"You will. . .?"

"S'just you and me."

She knew it was true. They didn’t need to rush anymore, there was no more pressure, no ticking clock telling them what to do.

You're my Angel baby

You're my Angel baby

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

taglist: @evermorx89 @bellaed1t @user381953 @lovemanheim @loves0phelia @yourcrackleflame @kundaquarius @matthewswifeyy @pillowprincess4him @lilithblackkk @sunny1616 @slut-4-gojo @louxmcl @stelleduarte @p0gue420 @maybanksgirl69 @godharryz @sinnerrsworld @rafe-cameronswife @chillgal135 @moneybaby07 @mrsdrewstarkeyy

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Every Light

Summary: The reader is driving along a long stretch of highway when a mysterious stranger on a motorcycle shows up and decides to have some fun with her...

Pairing: Dean x reader

Word Count: 2,600ish

Warnings: language, implied smut

A/N: This fic takes place post 15x20 (with some canon fixes adjustments). Also, we all know (including Jensen) Every Light is 100% Dean coded, right?

____________

Your fingers tapped against the wheel with one hand, your other hand hung out the window of your car, dancing in the wind. Music blasted through the speakers of your SUV, Ramblin’ Man pouring out as you drove down the long stretch of quiet highway on the bright summer day. The barren Texas flatlands stretched for miles before you, not a single car in sight.

You let your foot go heavy on the pedal, racing across the plains, the warm wind nice across your cheeks. Driving all day from Phoenix to Austin wasn’t exactly fun, but you were in a good mood. A great mood. One of those rare moments of peace and serenity where you just felt still and whole.

You happy little bubble popped when you drove past a crossroads, a slick black motorcycle turning onto the highway behind you. Fuck. It was probably a cop. You’d been making good time too.

You sighed as it came up on you fast, tension rising in your bones as you waited for a siren, lights, something. 

The motorcycle pulled up on your side, crossing the dotted yellow line and keeping pace with you. You turned your head, getting a better view of the bike. Okay, definitely not a police officer. Not unless Texas shelled out for jet black racing bikes with no markings. The rider was in head to toe sleek black leather, tight against his body with padding built in you were sure of. You couldn’t see past his black as night tinted visor. He, and it was most definitely a he based on those shoulders, turned his head toward you before raising his hand, giving you a wave.

You raised your eyebrows behind your aviators. The rider gripped the handlebars again, starting to weave his bike left and right ever so slightly before he straightened again. You tilted your head when he lifted his right hand and signed a simple gesture. 

“Hi.”

Okay…what were the odds some crazed person knew sign language? Probably lower than average and if worst came to worst, you’d just gun it until you hit a town.

You waved back to him, the man sitting up more and returning it. Then he was leaning back even more, popping a wheelie. Your heart skipped as he tore down the highway besides you, only setting the bike down when you flailed your arm for him to get it down on the ground. He finally did so, pointing at himself and looking around when you frowned at him.

“Behave down there!” You shouted out the window, even though he’d never hear it. He simply kept driving next to you, playing as he did so, doing something even more reckless each time he got you to laugh or smile.

But eventually you were coming up on a town and the roads were about to get busier. He made a quick gesture with his hand before taking off ahead of you, getting in front of you in your lane and disappearing down the road.

“Boys,” you mumbled, trying not to think of the last thing he’d signed.

“I had fun, sweetheart. Let’s do it again sometime.”

Six Hours Later

You’d wearily made it to Austin and after a quick shower at your hotel, you headed out to grab dinner at a local bar. 

“Hi,” said a handsome man when he took a seat next to you at the crowded bar top. 

“Hi,” you said politely, returning your gaze to scanning the menu. The stranger's eyes lingered though, your head turning slightly to find a smile on his face. “Can I help you?”

“No, just funny running into you again today.” You raised an eyebrow, the man chuckling. “You do that a lot, don’t you?”

“I’ve never met you before in my life.”

“Darn it,” he said, feigning a sigh. “Here I thought I made an impression. Did I not do enough wheelies?” Then he signed, “Sweetheart,” with his hand, flashing you a wink.

Your eyes went wide, the man smirking. “You! That was completely reckless.”

“So was going a hundred down the highway, rebel,” he teased. He turned his body to face you, smiling hard. “You’re telling me I wasn’t the best part of your day?”

“You’re a menace,” you said, picking up your drink.

“And that wasn’t a denial.” He waved down the bartender, pointing at your drink and holding up two fingers. “So. You like me better as the silent mysterious type with a helmet over my face?”

You rolled your eyes, taking the new drink. “It takes more than a pretty face to win me over, babe.”

“How about a ride on it?” You blinked. 

“A ride on your…” you swallowed, the man chuckling.

“My bike. Although you are more than welcome to ride anything of mine you like,” he said. You scoffed, ignoring the fact you hadn’t been with anyone in far, far too long and here was a man handsome as sin offering himself up to you. “Alright. I pushed too far. My apologies.”

“…Why do you know sign language?” you asked.

“My sister in law is deaf. I actually just became an uncle,” he said with a proud smile. “I had to finish up some work before heading back home for good. I’m going be a firefighter actually.”

He looked so…boyish for a moment that you smiled at his genuine pride.

“Good for you,” you said. “I’m just passing through myself. My old friend just had a baby up north.”

“So what’s to stop you from cutting loose tonight? I’ll even pay for dinner like a proper gentleman.” You glanced away, the man tilting his head when your eyes darted back. “I promise to be as well or badly behaved as you want.”

You looked him up and down, the man still sporting those boots and padded pants. 

Oh fuck it. 

“I ain’t getting on the back of that bike without a helmet.” His grin turned devilish, even when you held up a finger. “Calm down, big boy. Let’s see how you last through dinner.”

“You holding on tight?” asked Dean nearly two hours later when you were on the outskirts of the city. Only Dean. Tonight was a one time thing and that meant no last names, no histories, just plain old fun.

“Yeah, why?” you asked when he chuckled beneath you.

“Cause I’m gonna blow your mind, sweetheart.” He revved the engine and took off like a bat out of hell, going faster and faster, so fast your heart was in your throat. “Here we go!”

“What are you-“ You screeched when he popped a wheelie with you on the back, setting it down after only a few seconds. “Dean!”

“More you say?” Whatever you want, sweetheart.”

“Morning,” mumbled Dean, a kiss pressed against your temple. You groggily opened your eyes, the clock flashing that it was ten. You felt him pull the sheets up over your bare back, Dean running a hand over your head. “Wake up beautiful. You need a shower before you check out.”

“Yeah,” you yawned, sitting up in bed, watching him dress. He smirked as you openly eyed his body, Dean cupping your cheeks in his hands when he finished. “One night, right?”

“You deserve better than me, Y/N. You’ll find him someday. Until then though, just know you are the best I’ve ever had.”

“You say that to all the girls,” you laughed, Dean smiling.

“Wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it,” he said, kissing you once more. “Careful driving today.”

“You too. And don’t flirt with girls like that anymore. You’ll kill yourself on that bike.”

“Only flirt with you, got it,” he said. You playfully punched his arm, Dean letting your hands linger one last moment before pulling away. “In a another life, sweetheart.”

“Bye, Dean.”

You hadn’t planned on getting such a late start to the day but your night with Dean had been worth it. In a way, you wished you’d forced the issue and gotten his number at the very least. Sure, the motorcycle ride and sex were great but he was good company, funny and silly but something grounded to him that let you know you were safe with him. Eileen was always on you about living a life more outside of hunting and now that you’d officially retired, you were about to start living it more.

Including telling her all about your wonderful hookup.

You pulled up outside a house in Lawrence in the suburbs just after seven, barely up the front steps before the front door opened and Eileen hopped out, pulling you into a big hug.

“I missed you too,” you laughed, giving her a big squeeze, holding on tight. While you’d talked, you hadn’t been able to see her in person since she came back from the dead and this reunion was long overdue. “Come on, let me see the baby.”

“He just went down for bedtime. But he will happily see you in the morning,” she said, taking your hand and dragging you inside. “We just got the grill going out back.”

“Good. I’m starving and miss your burgers,” you said, letting her have another round of hugs with you. “Well if I can’t see the babe yet, you gotta let me meet your husband.”

“You know he has a brother that’s single,” she grinned, taking you through the house and to the back deck where a very tall man worked over a grill. “Sam! Y/N’s finally here!”

“Well it’s about time,” he said, picking you up in a hug. He smiled gently as he set you down. “I’m so happy Eileen has a friend in town.”

“Maybe you guys can give me advice on how the whole retirement thing works. I’ve just been traveling around aimlessly the past few months,” you said, taking a beer when Eileen offered it.

“You’ll figure it out,” said Sam, the rumble of an engine on the street out front echoing through the yard. 

“That’ll be his very single brother,” said Eileen. You rolled your eyes. “Oh come on, he hunted too! You guys would so get along now that you’re both retired.”

“I’ve dated other hunters and it never worked out, thank you very much,” you said.

“You’re lucky I managed to grab the last bag of franks,” said an all too familiar voice. You spun around, Dean, your Dean from last night, standing right in front of you wearing jeans and a white plain t-shirt. He dropped the package of hot dogs, both of you staring at the other. 

“I told you he was good looking!” joked Eileen.

“You?” asked Dean.

“You’re Dean fucking Winchester?” you asked, raising your eyebrows.

“You’re Y/N Y/L/N, Eileen’s bestie?” You both nodded, Sam picking up the package and looking at you both like you were nuts.

“Uh, do you two know each other?” asked Sam.

“Some would say intimately,” said Dean. 

“We’ll be right back,” you said, grabbing his bicep, ignoring the strength in it as you dragged him down the steps and around the corner of the house. You stared at him, Dean running a hand through his hair. “I thought you were a fireman!”

“I’m about to start my training. I was in Phoenix, cleaning up one last job but…someone had already fixed the sigils,” he mumbled. “You?”

“Yes, me,” you said, closing your eyes, putting your hands on your hips. “I worked out of Washington mostly. Eileen asked if I would clean up a sigil on my way down here. I-I’m staying here for a bit to help with the baby while I find a place in town.”

“So you’re that friend of hers…” he trailed off, eyes darting around your face. His lips parted but no words escaped them. An unpleasant crack tore through your heart. Gone was the happy go lucky flirt from twelve hours ago. Instead a man filled with horrors beyond imagination stood before you, a desperation in his eyes that made your skin crawl. 

“You were wrong back at the hotel.” He shook off whatever thoughts were running through his mind, confusion entering the forefront of his mind. “This morning you said I deserved better than you.”

“You do,” he said without missing a beat. “I’m-”

“Dean Winchester. I’ve heard about you. We all have,” you said softly, taking one of his hands in yours. He swallowed, closing his eyes. “You deserve the world and I’m not just saying that because of last night. You more than did your part.”

“I’m not the guy from last night. I am severely fucked up-”

“Oh get in line, Winchester.” He blinked rapidly, brows furrowing. “You think you’re the only one with daddy issues and who’s died and seen the shit hunters do? No, you’re not. There’s plenty of us who have. I retired because of you. I retried because Eileen told me her friends the Winchesters saved us all and I could quit. I should quit. She told me to live my life. So you and me? We’re going to live our lives as fucked up as we are. And last night…fuck, I had fun. You had fun. I forgot about the nightmares and I think you did too. You think Eileen and your brother aren’t as screwed up as us? Of course they are but they aren’t scared to do the hard thing and move on. So why not us too? It doesn’t have to be together but-”

“Shut up,” he said, slamming his lips to yours. It was hard, rough. Something possessive underneath the surface that had you sucking in air when he pulled back, tugging your bottom lip along the way. 

“Kissing me won’t make me shut up, Winchester,” you breathed, Dean ghosting over your lips, cradling a hand against the back of your neck to keep you close. “We aren’t strangers anymore. You want more, you got to give me more.”

“You want a visitors pass to the insane asylum in my head?” he laughed dryly.

“Visitor pass? Honey, I live there, just a different ward is all.” He flashed his eyes open, green orbs hesitant. “I ain’t doing this out of the goodness of my heart. I’m screwed up too and you’re going to have to give as good as you get. I need that. You need that. So either walk away if you just want to be friends-”

“Odds are this crashes and burns,” he said. Your hands slid to his cheeks, smirking up at him. “What?”

“Good thing I got my own firefighter then.” He raised an eyebrow, smiling when you tilted your chin up. “Stealing my moves?”

“Just remembered you were warned, sweetheart.”

“We’re going to work on that self-talk.” You tiled your chin further, Dean meeting your mouth, a smile in it. For the first time in a long time, in years, you let yourself think about a future and what that looked like. Dean pulled away slowly when Sam called for you both, his thumb brushing your chin.

“I’m sure I’ll get the hang of it with some help,” he murmured, trailing his knuckles down your arm, stopping at your hand to lace your fingers together.

Yeah, the future was looking a little brighter these days.

_________________

[octaneink]

Come take your chance with me

Will Lenney x Fem!Reader

Summary : The reader likes Will, she decides to show that she loves him in the most romantic way she can think of. Write a song dedicated to him. Now she just has to post it privately on YouTube so James can have a look at it... Right? Warnings : none (unless you count some cheesy ass writing) Notes : I have once again decided to write something based off a song that just got me in the mood! Its a bop, 10/10 would recommend. Also, I know nothing about music theory, I looked up most of this stuff on Google, I apologise if I got it wrong.

You sit cross-legged on your bed, your guitar resting against your knees, the hum of your desk lamp casting long, flickering shadows on the notebook sprawled open in front of you. The room is quiet except for the occasional creak of your chair and the faint hum of the city outside your window. Your mind, however, is anything but quiet.

Will’s smile flickers in your thoughts—that easy, crooked grin that’s been haunting you for months. You can still see it so clearly: the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he laughs, the way he’d leaned in close to hear you over the noise of the bar that first night, his breath warm against your ear. Focus, you chide yourself, shaking your head as if it will dislodge the memory.

The melody has been looping in your head for days, an insistent rhythm that feels like it’s woven itself into your very being. The instrumental beat, the steady thrum of the would be drums—it’s like an earworm no one else can hear, a secret soundtrack only you know. It’s there when you wake up, humming in the back of your mind as you brush your teeth. It’s there when you’re scrolling through your phone, tapping out the rhythm on your thigh. It’s there when you’re lying in bed at night, the notes swirling in the dark like fireflies you can’t catch.

But the words? The words are a mess.

“I’m lost in your eyes"

You pause, tapping your pen against the paper. I'm lost in your eyes? Too cliché. Too… obvious. But the next line comes unbidden, as if your heart has been waiting for permission to speak:

“But you’re the cool to my calm each day…”

You wince. Cool to my calm? That sounds like something you’d find on a motivational poster in a dentist’s office. You nearly scratch it out, but the rhythm of the words keeps your hand still. It isn’t perfect, but it’s honest. And isn’t that what matters?

Your mind drifts back to Will. You’d met on a night out, of course. James, your best friend since college, had dragged you to some trendy sports bar downtown. “You need to get out more,” he’d insisted. “You’re turning into a hermit.”

You’d rolled your eyes but let him drag you along anyway. And there he was: Will Lenney, standing at the bar with a drink in hand, his laugh cutting through the noise like a beacon. James had introduced you, and Will had flashed you that grin—the one that makes your stomach do somersaults.

Will said your name, “Nice to meet you. James talks about you all the time.”

“All good things, I hope,” you’d replied, your voice steadier than you felt.

“Mostly,” Will had teased, his eyes sparkling.

That had been six months ago. Six months of late-night conversations, of stolen glances, of moments that felt like they could mean something if either of you dared to say it out loud.

You sit cross-legged on your bed, your guitar resting against your knees. The chorus has been nagging at you all day, a snippet of melody that refuses to leave you alone. You strum a chord, humming under your breath.

“Honey dance with me

Come take your chance with me"

It’s catchy, you have to admit. But is it too much? Too obvious? You groan, flopping back onto your pillows. Writing a song about someone who has no idea how you feel is harder than you’d thought.

Your phone buzzes on the night stand.

Will (9:42 PM): You free this weekend? James and I are filming a collab. Thought you might want to hang after.

Your heart leaps, but you force yourself to play it cool.

You (9:43 PM): Depends. Will there be snacks?

Will (9:43 PM): Obviously. I’m not a monster.

You smile, your fingers itching to pick up the guitar again. Maybe you’ll figure out the bridge tomorrow.

Past you was clearly an optimist.

The bridge is giving you trouble. You’ve rewritten it three times already, but nothing feels right. Each attempt feels like trying to catch smoke with your bare hands—close, but never quite there.

“Now we’ve been losing our way

A little bit more every day…”

It’s close, but something is missing. You sigh, setting the guitar aside and reaching for your coffee. The song is almost done, but the closer you get to finishing it, the more terrified you become. What if Will hears it and realises it’s about him? What if he hates you for thinking about him in that way? What if he doesn’t?

Your phone buzzes again.

James (11:15 AM): How’s the song coming?

You (11:16 AM): It’s… coming. I think. Maybe.

James (11:16 AM): You’re overthinking it. Just finish it already.

Easier said than done.

By the end of the week, the song is done. You sit back, your fingers sore and your heart pounding. You glance at the clock and groan. You have work in the morning, but there’s no way you’re sleeping now.

Instead, you grab your phone and open your messages.

You (12:07 AM): Hey, James. You awake?

The response comes almost immediately.

James (12:08 AM): Barely. What’s up?

You (12:08 AM): I wrote something. Can you look at it? Tell me if it’s too… much.

James (12:09 AM): Send it over.

You snap a picture of the lyrics and hit send, your stomach twisting as you wait for his reply.

James (12:12 AM): This is… wow.

You (12:12 AM): Wow good or wow bad?

James (12:13 AM): Wow good. It’s raw. It’s… you. Will’s going to lose his mind when he hears it.

Your breath catches. When he hears it? You hadn’t even thought that far ahead.

You (12:14 AM): I don’t know if I can let him hear it. What if he hates it? And its still not finished…

James (12:15 AM): He won’t. Trust me.

You don’t respond, your mind racing coming up with random, horrible, horrific scenarios of what or how he’d react when he heard it.  

But then you think of his smile, of the way he’d looked at you that night at the bar, and something in your chest tightens. Maybe it’s worth the risk.

The red recording light glares at you, unblinking, as if it’s judging every note, every word, every breath. You’ve been at this for hours—days, really—trying to get it right. The song is finished, but capturing it perfectly feels impossible. You’ve already done seven takes, and now you’re on your tenth. Or is it the eighteenth? You’ve lost count.

Your voice wavers on the line “murky waters, baby,” and you stop mid-verse, groaning in frustration. You hit pause on the recording software and slump back in your chair, running a hand through your hair. It’s late—way too late—but you can’t stop now. Not when you’re so close.

You glance around your home studio, a space you’ve spent years curating. The room is small but cosy, soundproofed with foam panels you and James installed last summer. Your guitar rests on a stand next to your keyboard, and your mic—a decent condenser you saved up for—sits in front of you, its pop filter catching the soft glow of the desk lamp. Your laptop screen displays the waveform of your latest attempt. It’s not terrible, but it’s not perfect.

You take a deep breath, close your eyes, and recall how to get to where you are now.

The first day is a disaster. You’re too nervous, too stiff, too aware of every little mistake. Your voice cracks on the high notes, and you keep stumbling over the words. “Honey dance with me (oh sugar)” sounds more like a question than an invitation, and you cringe every time you play it back.

You give up after the fifth take, deciding to focus on the guitar track instead. You plug in your acoustic, adjusting the mic placement until the tone is just right. You record it clean, layering in a soft strumming pattern that matches the rhythm of the song. It’s not perfect, but it’s a start.

By the third day, you’ve managed to record a decent vocal take. It’s not flawless, but it’s raw and honest, and you decide that’s better than perfect. You open your DAW—Digital Audio Workstation—and begin syncing the vocals with the guitar. You add subtle reverb to give it that dreamy, intimate feel, tweaking the EQ until your voice sits just right in the mix.

You play it back, your heart pounding as you listen to the chorus. 

It’s close. So close. But something’s missing.

By the end of the week, you’re exhausted. Your fingers are sore from playing the guitar, your throat is raw from singing, and your eyes are burning from staring at your laptop screen for hours on end. But the song is finally done.

You play it back one last time, your heart in your throat. It’s not perfect, but it’s yours. It’s you.

You open YouTube, preparing to upload the video. You set it to Private, your thumb hovering over the upload button. You’re not ready for anyone to hear it—not yet. But then your phone buzzes.

Will (1:14 AM): You up?

Your heart skips a beat. You glance at the screen, your thumb slipping as you fumble to reply.

Public.

You don’t realise your mistake until it’s too late.

You wake up to the sound of your phone buzzing incessantly on your nightstand. Groaning, you reach for it, squinting against the harsh light of the screen. The notifications are overwhelming—hundreds, maybe thousands, of them. YouTube comments, Twitter mentions, Instagram DMs. Your heart skips a beat as you open YouTube and see the number: 1.2M views.

Overnight.

Your stomach drops. You sit up, your hands trembling as you scroll through the comments.

“This is so beautiful. Who’s it for? 👀”

“The way she sings ‘your lips on mine’… I’m obsessed.”

“Who’s Will?? Someone find him!”

You freeze. The description. You’d written it in a sleep-deprived haze last night, not thinking anyone would actually see it.

“For Will.”

That’s all it said. No last name, no context. Just two words that now have the entire internet speculating.

You open TikTok, against your better judgement. The first video that pops up is a stitch of your chorus, overlaid with a clip of a random guy named Will from some obscure show. The caption reads: “Found him! This is the Will she’s singing about. #HoneyDanceWithMe”

The comments are worse.

“No way, that’s not him. She’s way too talented for that guy.”

“It’s obviously about Will Smith. She’s just being subtle.”

“Will SMITH?? Girl that man is married. She’s obviously talking about Will Stuart.”

“This song is a BOP. Also, Will better step up because this is breath taking.”

You close the app, your face burning. This is worse than you thought. 

You cradle your face and scream into your hands. This wasn’t supposed to happen. It was supposed to be private. A secret. Something you could share when you were ready—if you were ever ready.

Your phone buzzes again, and you flinch. It’s James.

James (8:57 AM): You didn’t mean to do that...right?

You (8:58 AM): NO WHY WOULD YOU THINK THAT?? 

You (8:58 AM): ALSO 

You (8:58 AM): NOT HELPING!!

James (8:59 AM): Relax. It’s raw. It’s… you. Will’s been asking for your address, by the way.

Your stomach drops. Will’s been asking for your address.

You type out a response, delete it, then type it again.

You (9:00 AM): What did you tell him?

The three dots appear, then disappear, then appear again.

James (9:01 AM): Relax, I didn’t give it to him. Yet.

You groan again, louder this time. This is a nightmare. A beautiful, terrifying nightmare.

By noon, you’re a wreck. You’ve avoided social media, but the texts keep coming. Friends, acquaintances, even your mum has seen the song.

Mum (12:30 PM): Pumpkin, is this about that boy you told me about? The one with the nice smile?

You groan, flopping back onto your bed. This is a disaster. You type back a quick yes and for the moment, ignored her messages.

Your phone buzzes again.

Will (12:45 PM): Hey. You okay?

You stare at the message, your heart pounding. What do you even say? Hey, sorry I accidentally wrote a song about you and posted it online. My bad.

Before you can reply, another text comes through.

Will (12:46 PM): The song’s amazing, by the way.

Your breath catches. He’s heard it. Of course, he’s heard it. It’s everywhere.

You (12:47 PM): Thanks. I didn’t mean for it to go public.

Will (12:48 PM): I know. James told me. You okay?

You’re not sure how to answer that.

The knock comes at 1:00 PM sharp. You’ve been pacing for what feels like hours, your stomach in knots, your mind racing with a thousand what-ifs. You glance at yourself in the hallway mirror—hair a mess, still in your pajamas, and a worn old hoodie, eyes wide with panic. Great. Perfect timing.

You take a deep breath, smoothing your hair as best you can, and open the door.

There he is. Will. Standing on your doorstep, his hands shoved in his pockets, that familiar grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. His hair is slightly messy, like he’s been running his hands through it, and his eyes are soft, almost hesitant.

“Hey,” he says, his voice low and warm.

“Hey,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. You step back to let him in, your heart hammering so loudly you’re sure he can hear it.

He steps inside, closing the door behind him, and for a moment, the two of you just stand there in the quiet of your hallway. The air feels charged, like the moment before a thunderstorm breaks.

“So… the song,” he says finally, breaking the silence.

You wince, crossing your arms over your chest like a shield. “Yeah. The song.”

He takes a step closer, his eyes searching yours. “It’s amazing. Really.”

You swallow hard, your heart pounding so loudly you’re sure he can hear it. “Thanks.”

He hesitates, then reaches out, his fingers brushing against yours. The touch is light, almost tentative, but it sends a shiver down your spine. “You could’ve just told me, you know,” he says, his voice soft.

You look up at him, your breath catching. “Told you what?”

He smiles, that same crooked grin that’s been haunting you for weeks. “That you feel the same way I do.”

Your heart skips a beat. “Will, I—”

But before you can finish, he steps closer, his hand cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin. He murmurs your name, his voice barely above a whisper. “You don’t have to say anything. The song said it all.”

And then he kisses you.

It’s soft at first, tentative, like he’s giving you the chance to pull away. But you don’t. Instead, you lean into him, your hands finding their way to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingertips.

The kiss deepens, sweet and slow, like honey dripping from a spoon. His other hand finds your waist, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between you. You can feel the warmth of his body, the way his breath hitches when you slide your fingers into his hair.

It’s messy and imperfect, just like the song, but it’s real. It’s you.

When you finally pull away, you’re both breathless, your foreheads resting against each other.

“So,” he says, his voice rough, a grin tugging at his lips. “Does this mean I get to dance with you?”

You laugh, the sound bubbling up from somewhere deep inside you. “Shut up.”

He kisses you again, quick and playful this time. “Never.”

[moiramichaels]

Untitled S.W.A.T and 911 fic

So I never post fanfiction, but a friend told me to be brave so here goes - This takes place right after season one starts for 911, but only mentions Tommy. I'm not sure where it takes place for S.W.A.T. I'm only in season 2 of that show.

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

Luca looked out the window. He was in a parked car with Rocker and they had been trailing a suspect that they hoped would lead to who they were really after. He quickly looked towards Rocker, who was just sitting there staring out the window. He had been mostly quiet the whole day and it was starting to freak him out. He didn't usually work with Rocker, but he knew he wasn't the strong silent type. He had noticed that since Rocker got back from his week off last week, he'd been quiet. Luca figured that something had happened, but he wasn't close enough to really ask Rocker about it. He had noticed Mumford giving him concerned looks a few times. Luca was sure that he knew what was up and that had been enough.

But spending the last couple of hours together and Rocker just sitting and only contributing work related conversation was getting on his nerves. He had promised himself, he would not ask, but he could no longer keep that promise.

He turned fully to Rocker and said "Hey man, you've been quiet today."

"Yeah." he replied.

"Is all okay?"

"Yeah, it's fine." Rocker replied. Luca held back a sigh and quickly looked out the window.

He turned back to Rocker and waited. Finally Rocker sighed and said "You know what, no it's not fine."

Luca kept quiet, giving Rocker his attention. He was now extremely curious what was going on. He replied "Well, whatever it is, I'm here man if you want to talk it out. But if not, that's cool." He didn't really mean that, it would not be cool. Luca just had to know what the hell had gotten into Rocker.

"I always knew I was adopted. My parents were great, but I had this hope to meet my birth parents." Rocker said quietly. "But when I was 13, my parents sat me down and they told me that I had been abandoned as a baby. That I would probably never know who my birth family was."

Rocker had been looking out the window as he said this, but now he looked at Luca. "As you can imagine, this was devastating to 13 year old me. I acted out for a while. But my parents really were great and they helped me through it. And I accepted that I would never know where I came from.

Luca looked at him again and said "that's rough." There has to more to it than just that though.

"Yeah, but 5 weeks ago, I ran into someone who looked exactly like me. That's how I found out I have a twin brother. I mean we did a DNA check to make sure that we didn't just look exactly alike, but yeah twins."

Luca stared at Rocker in shock and Rocker turned back to wait for their target to appear.

"Well what happened, was he also adopted?"

"Nope" Rocker said while emphasizing the p sound. "He didn't know about me and wasn't sure if he was also adopted. So we went to visit his dad and family. They live in Arizona. It turns out that his dad only wanted one kid, so that bastard drove me to L.A. and dropped me off and then went home. They kept my twin."

"Uhh.." Luca was completely speechless here.

"Yeah, but it turns out I was the lucky one. My sperm donor is an awful human being and I found out from one my new cousins, that he was the type of man that was a little too controlling with his wife and son. Apparently my mother wasn't given a choice on keeping both of us and she was too scared to speak up for herself. No one confirmed this, but I'm sure he was the type to hit his wife and kid."

Rocker looked at him again. "You should have heard the things he said to Tommy, the things he called him. Tommy's first reaction was to step back and he's as big as I am. But I was happy to see him step up again and stand up for himself. I let them both know that what he did with me was a crime and I was going to make sure he was charged with it.

"And you're brother is okay with that?" Luca asked.

"Yeah, he seemed thrilled."

Tommy and Luca both went back to watching the building. Luca wondered how long their target would be here. He was visiting his girlfriend, so it might be a while.

Rocker said a few minutes later. "I think Tommy's actually jealous of me. My parents are great. He does want to get to know me and I want to get to know him. I introduced him to my parents and they said that they'd like a chance to give him good parents. I think he doesn't trust it, but they've decided we are going to adopt him as well. And he can bring that one cousin of his that seemed cool. The rest can stay in Arizona."

"Wow, just wow." Luca finally said and then turned back to the front.

"Yeah, but my brother is great. He's a firefighter. In fact he's a firefighter pilot. Just moved from a regular fire station to one where he can fly helicopters. Pretty cool."

"That is cool, man." Wow, Luca thought again.

[writingtraumaforever]

Uncontrolled Chaos: Chapter 41

Notes: AN ANNOUNCEMENT! I wanna say that I have NOT stopped writing neither the 'Juno' fic or the Courtship series. I still plan on continuing those! They just take more time than the Uncontrolled Chaos series does. Uncontrolled Chaos was my first series I started here, and is by far my most followed one, so it is my priority. However, I don't want to become drained by it and that reflect in my writing. This will also hopefully give me more time to give my other series some love too. SO from here on, I will be updating the series every weekend. This doesn't mean I won't still potentially add a chapter here and there during the week if I get a spurt of muse. But as for an actual schedule to go by, I will be doing my best to post at least one update every weekend. Hope this is okay. <3

Summary: Shadow overhears an interesting conversation.

UC Masterpost!

Link to My AO3!

Start:

Amy had been relieved to see Shadow returning with Sonic by his side, both safe and sound. After some hugging and soft reassurances that he was okay as well as some apologies for making her worry, Sonic was able to convince her to go to bed and get some well-deserved rest. Afterwards, Sonic and Shadow went out to the garage to find Tails laying there asleep at the workbench by the radio.

Sonic smiled all soft at the sight, walking over to pick his little brother up and carry him to Shadow.

“Can you take him??”

Shadow blinked, staring at Sonic as if he hadn’t quite processed the question before looking at the fox. Then Sonic again. “I-..”

“I need to take care of something.. and he is seriously late for his visit to Snoozetown,” Sonic continues, already moving to carefully hand the kid off to Shadow whether he agrees to such a thing or not, “just tuck him in for me, huh?”

 “The fox and I-.. we’re not..,” Shadow tries to defend his case as to why he’s not comfortable with such a task, but Sonic just snorts and rolls his eyes.

“I know you and your Tails aren’t close.. but my Tails is close to my Shadow. So he won’t mind.. he may not be showing it, but he’s really missin’ Shadow, too.. it’s why he’s been overworking himself to get him back home to us.”

Shadow’s brows knit slightly at this, looking down at the fox that’s been pushed into his arms before sighing and giving a small nod, “Alright..”

“Thank you.”

Shadow turns, carrying the fox cradled in his arms to the door and through the home. He’s not actually sure which room belongs to the fox, but he does know which ones are the guest room and which one is Sonic’s. So by process of elimination, he finds it quite easily. It’s very tidy. Clean. The bed has a white comforter with bright red stripes on it. He wonders if the fox’s favorite color is also red like Sonic’s..

He also wonders why the hell he knows that.

Moving to the bed, he ever so carefully shifts a hand from under the kit’s back to reach and pull back the comforter, laying the child down then and pursing his lips as he looks him over. He’s still got his shoes on.. and his big, bushy tails are hanging off the side of the bed..

A nurturing nature he’s long forgotten begins kicking in, moving to carefully slip off the fox’s red shoes and place them neatly at the foot of the bed. Picking up one tail at a time, he ever so gently and tenderly tucks them up on the mattress and covers them with the comforter to keep them from dangling off. Tails shift in his sleep then, groaning quietly and smacking his lips together and rolling onto his side further into the middle of the bed before parting his lips to snooze quietly through them. Shadow smirks ever so slightly, carefully tucking the comforter into the kit’s sides to make him nice and cozy.. 

Then he’s moving to the window and shutting the blinds and closing the curtains. End of the world or not, the kid needs some actual sleep. So he doesn’t want any sunlight waking him early. 

Once all this is done, Shadow makes his way back to the doorway and grabs the knob to slowly shut it— pausing just before it shuts to take one last look at the child..

He’s never stopped in all this mess to think about it, really.. how this world’s Shadow’s absence has effected people other than Sonic..

With the other Shadow having moved in after being found by Sonic… he supposes the other Shadow may have taken on an older brother figure to the kit as well. Which means when this world’s Shadow went missing, this Sonic didn’t just lose a lover.. but this fox lost a brother..

Their family was broken.

Shadow’s lips curl into a thoughtful frown at this thought.. crimson eyes watching the kit’s shoulders rise and fall with his deep breaths as he sleeps. 

His mind can’t help but wander back to a time when he himself was someone’s brother..

To a time when tucking in a restless and tired child at night wasn’t uncommon. A time when being loved and missed by someone wasn’t such a distant thought nor outside the realm of possibilities. A time when he loved someone too.. took care of them. Protected them. 

Had a family.

His eyes shut and behind his closed lids, orange fur is replaced with blonde hair and a blue headband..

He closes the door.

Making his way towards the room he sleeps in, he finds Sonic still isn’t there resting..

So he instead makes his way back down the stairs to check on him, assuming he’s still in the garage once he doesn’t find him in either the living room or the kitchen.

Walking to the garage door, he opens it only to immediately pause upon hearing a quiet voice speaking from the inside..

“I just miss you so much..”

‘I know, my love.. we’re getting closer, though. It won’t be long until I have you in my arms again.’

“Fuck..,” the unmistakable sound of Sonic’s breathy little chuckle along with a wet sniffle, “You sound so damn cheesy..”

‘I can’t help it. Not having you with me has made me delusionally cheesy.’

Sonic snorts, Shadow peeking around the door to see him sitting at the workbench with the radio on.. speaking into it to who he can only assume is his Shadow..

He’s got small tears rolling down his cheeks, but he’s smiling bright and wide.. Shadow can’t help but feel a bit lighter seeing this.

He’s glad they’re working things out.

“…How’d the other Sonic take the news of us being together?”

Shadow’s ears perk up at that, leaning a bit more against the door as his curiosity gets the better of him. He shouldn’t be eavesdropping.. he should leave and go to bed. Rest.

But..

‘Not great at first,’ the other’s Shadow voice sighs through the speaker, ‘But he came around…’

“He feel embarrassed for not figuring it out until earlier??” 

‘Perhaps a little.. but I think most of it was just.. a lot of self loathing.’

“That’s.. really sad,” Sonic frowns, leaning a his cheek on his hand as his elbow props on the table, “Why the self loathing??”

‘He blames himself for a lot of the differences in our worlds.. for not looking for his version of me after the battle on ARK.’

“Well, dude should’ve looked,” Sonic huffs with a spiteful roll of his eyes.

‘It’s not that simple, darling..’

“Don’t see how it ain’t. Nothing could’ve stopped me from looking for you..”

‘An inhibitor ring might..’

There’s a long moment of silence. 

Shadow’s own eyes widen slightly as he listens, brows furrowing as his hand squeezes the knob of the door he’s holding a bit tighter..

“What.. what d’ya mean?”

‘It’s.. it’s just a lot,’ the other Shadow sighs through the radio speaker, sounding tired and distressed over the entire topic, ‘Just trust me when I say him not looking for me wasn’t because he didn’t care..’

“Alright.. I’ll trust you.”

‘What of the other Shadow, though?? Has he handled the situation well? Has he been kind to you?? This Sonic seems to think he’s pretty intense..’

Sonic chuckles, rolling his eyes fondly, “Intense is definitely one word for him.. but yeah. He’s cool. A bit icy, but so were you at first. It’s honestly been both a pain and extremely endearing having to deal with you being this way again.”

‘You miss me being a pain?’

“Well— no. But it’s just.. nostalgic, I guess?”

‘Maybe I should be an ass to you more when I get back.’

“As if you need to be any more of an ass than you already are,” Sonic teases with a giggled little grin. The other Shadow’s chuckling can be heard through the speakers.

‘..I was just worried. This Sonic is pretty convinced the guy hates him. Didn’t want him mistreating you..’

“He’s been fine,” Sonic assures softly.

Shadow frowns a bit at hearing this.. hearing his own Sonic thinks he hates him. Though he shouldn’t be surprised by this.. what has he really done to make his Sonic think otherwise??

“Again, he’s-.. grumpy.. and a bit difficult now and then, but nothing I can’t handle or haven’t handled before.”

‘Good,’ the other Shadow sighs, ‘So this Sonic is just projecting his self-loathing onto his Shadow, then?’

“Probably, yeah,” Sonic nods with a shrug as if the other Shadow can see his body language, “But there’s definitely some tension between them.. hate or not, they’re not exactly friendly.”

‘Mm. Definitely not..’

“Is it wrong of me to want to meddle???” Sonic chuckles.

‘Meddling wouldn’t be the best idea,’ the other Shadow sounds amused nonetheless, ‘Don’t be more of a troublemaker than you already have been.’

“Hey- you’re the one using chaos control with a fake emerald and switching places with alternate dimensional versions of yourself!”

‘Touché.’

“I just think they could be happy,” Sonic defends with a shrug, finger tracing invisible circles on the workbench he’s leaning against, “Don’t like seeing any version of you so alone and sad.. the brooding is nostalgic and amusing and all, but it’s also just kinda depressing.”

‘I know, love.. but we have to consider the fact that maybe that’s just how it’s meant to be in their world. Maybe they’re simply better off the way they currently are. We just-.. just may not be meant to be in every universe..’

“You really believe that?” Sonic asks quietly, brows knitting with a knowing little smile on his muzzle.. he knows better. He already knows the answer.

‘..No.’

“Me neither.”

A heavy sigh comes from the other Shadow again, Shadow himself furrowing his brows in thought over this whole conversation..

They really believe that Sonic and Shadow are suppose to be together in every universe?? That’s such a close-minded way of thinking. A dumb one. An illogical one..

And yet Shadow.. almost admires it. Admires the fact they love each other enough to truly think that their bond extends all barriers of time and space.. that it’s simply inevitable.

‘..They’ll work it out on their own.. for now, I’m more concerned with getting back to you.’

“Aw yeah?” Sonic’s voice takes up a playful little tone, “Whatcha gonna do to me when you get back..?”

Shadow’s eyes widen slightly, a blush beginning to grow on his muzzle.

A low chuckle rumbles through the radio’s speakers, ‘Such things aren’t appropriate to be spoken through this microphone, darling..’

“C’mon..,” Sonic coos, his tail swishing back and forth behind him as he leans closer to the radio, “M’all alone.. give me somethin’ to think about while you’re away..”

And that is Shadow’s cue to leave, yup.

He’s moving to shut the door silently, turning to hurry his way back up to the bedroom before he hears anymore of that.

Once in Sonic’s room, he closes the door behind him and sighs heavy as he leans his back against it. His eyes stare down at the floor, taking in everything he just heard and processing it slowly.

There were three big things that stuck out to him more than anything else.

His Sonic blames himself for not finding Shadow after the ARK Battle.

His Sonic thinks he hates him.

And the alternate Sonic and Shadow both believe that their love is inevitable.

It’s all a lot to swallow. And he himself doesn’t know which to believe and which to just brush aside..

He runs a hand back through his quills, taking a deep breath through his nose before sighing it out to push himself off the door and walk to the bed.

He knew going off of this Sonic and Shadow’s conversation and interpretations of the situation was pathetic. And foolish. If he wanted to get any real solutions and answers, he needed to talk to his Sonic himself. One on one..

But then the entire idea of such a thing seemed silly because that shouldn’t be his priority right now. He needs to get home. Not be worrying about figuring out him and that Faker’s history. He needs to be in the present, in the now.

Deal with that first..

And then.. when he was back home..

Maybe-…

Just maybe..

[rapunzelforlorn]

Paxton showing up to Devi's window, then kissing her goodbye and saying "call you later?"

THEN CALLING HER "PAL" IS PEAK BOY BEHAVIOR

[faramirsonofgondor]

i love you season 1 of the flash

[fisheito]

*DEEP INHALE*

fine. whateever, . any other freaks wanna see an edit of yakumo in maid outfits? here

[seagull-scribbles]

HAPPY PRIDE MONTH FROM HELL!

Sometimes there is no bigger torment then being reminded that your family will never be the loving and supportive idealism you experience in your dreams 💕

[martyrbat]

trick for the scarecrow — dcu halloween special 2010

(ID in alt!)

[blkkizzat]

A WATER TYPE MILF, DEM TIDDIES STAY ON SQUIRTLE.ᐟ

*REPOSTED! tumblr sucks. plz boost!*

♡ thots expanded from this post ♡ 𝓬𝔀: MDNI 18+ ONLY. choso x milf!reader, toji x milf!reader, although not rly full on choji. a lil fluff, a lil angst, a lil crack —tho mostly filthy domestic smut dripping in milf kinks. [plz dm me for h-anime name if you want it]

half-curse roommate!choso who you moved in with because its not like you can live with your on-again-off-again babydaddy!toji —the sorcerer killer —with a whole ass baby. although toji is an active co-parent (well, as active as a paid assassin who is gone most days of the week can be) what’s glaringly apparent to you is that toji doesn't have the best reputation. and you having the cursed energy of a mere window meant you couldn't protect yourself nor your 6 month old baby girl, should a long list of people come looking for him. staying with him, according to you, is out of the question. so when you need to move out of your apt and you heard from yuji that choso needed a roommate and didn't mind a young infant, you were sold. plus, toji thought he was a 'harmless enough lookin' chump' who could at least put up a fight against any threat… and the rent was cheap.

half-curse roommate!choso who's like a godsend as he's so helpful and considerate of you and the baby. he doesn't mind the all the crying. or that you are too exhausted at times to clean up properly. and that 9 times out of 10 you look a general hot ass mess while at home. if that weren't enough, choso would even play with your baby girl, letting you get in a much needed nap in. you tell him every time you’d only need 20 mins and he can wake you up but choso will sit with her on the sofa until you wake up. possibly hours later, but choso claimed he was happy to get to act like a big brother again. a natural born 'big brother type', choso will watch cocomelon for hours and let her cute chubby fingers tug on his pigtails. all while he makes funny faces that without fail guarantees a burst of tiny giggles, even if she'd previously been crying.

half-curse roommate!choso who also doesn't seem to mind when toji, said actual baby daddy shows up unannounced, usually at some ungodly hour to 'see his girls'. although you suspect that by 'his girls' instead of you and the baby, toji means your milk swollen tits and your creamy mommy pussy, as toji spends more time interacting with them than you or the baby. it's only a 2 bedroom apt too, so as not to wake the baby, you are usually fucking in the living room. not very subtly either. it's not like you’re the one lacking in decency though. you always full-on deny toji sex in favor of heavy petting under a blanket. yet after toji's made you lather his fingers in your squirt for the third time that night, your mommy brain, still trying to balance your hormones, goes completely smooth. its easy then for toji's minor requests for you to return the favor by 'just warming his cock up a lil' bit' always lead to major backshots off the edge of the couch. those deadly backshots, were how you got pregnant in the first place, mind you. thankfully, while you're face-down-ass up, you’re blissfully unaware. otherwise you’d be mortified that the sounds of your cushion-muffled moans and wet flesh slapping together drown out the shuffling scurry of feet and carefully shut doors when your roommate has to cross the living room to use the bathroom in the middle of the night.

half-curse roommate!choso who although you think is super sweet, being half curse makes him a bit naive. still, his endearing boyish charm is much welcomed when you are so used to toji's gruff and blunt personality. you also love choso's reactions when you flatter him with compliments like: 'you're the best choso!' or 'what would i do without you?' choso's ears will always redden he becomes bashful and quiet. you really mean every word tho! although you always get the biggest reaction, widening eyes and a blush that extends past his ears to his cheerful cheeks when you adoringly profess 'choso, you'll make such a good daddy one day ~♡ ' if he's even choked on his own spit a few times and you have to hide your giggles as you pat his back until he can swallow properly again.

half-curse roommate!choso who deliberately takes night shifts now. not just to give you your privacy for when toji comes over, but he tells you it's so he could watch the baby in case your nanny, who has bailed on you a few times before, doesn't show up. when you protest, telling choso he doesn't need to rearrange his whole life for you, he won't hear anything else about it. he's half curse he reasons, he's more suited to patrolling the night shifts anyway. you honestly don't even know how to thank choso who is honestly more of a co-parent then toji at this point.

half-curse roommate!choso who practically has a heart attack when he comes into the kitchen on his way to work, to find you with your bare breasts out feeding your baby girl on one boob and a pump machine on the other. you quickly have to calm him down and let him know that it's a perfectly natural thing to breastfeed in the open and is nothing him nor you need to be ashamed about. although it's true you usually pumped at night when choso was already at work so your baby could have fresh bottles for the morning, today your breasts were extra sore from being so full and your baby girl much too fussy. so that's what had you in the kitchen for an impromptu feed n' pump session.

half-curse roommate!choso who apologizes for his reaction as he didn't mean to offend you (he didn't, but he's soooo cute for thinking he did). opening up to you, choso divulges he never knew any of this as he didn't grow up with a mom. you knew choso was half-curse but you're shocked to discover he's a literal test tube baby and thereby completely unaware of most healthy parent-child dynamics. choso was definitely never breastfed. you smile at his genuine curiosity when he asks you to tell him more. so you explain that this impromptu feeding is more to pacify the baby. other than nourishment, nursing was one important way a mother could bond with a child so young. it provided the baby comfort and was one of the best ways to get them to settle down. and just like magic before choso's eyes your baby girl had been soothed in a matter of minutes, her anxious gurgles calming into soft coos as she sleeps.

half-curse roommate!choso whose desperately tries to retain eye contact as he converses with you at the kitchen table. your totally clonked-out baby girl had unlatched and you proceeded to have a normal conversation with him like your whole swollen n' leaky tit wasn't so casually exposed. choso berates himself to focus and 'act normal'. he knows its normal, you told him as much yourself and you're being normal. so why does choso feel everything but normal right now? choso panics. It’s way too hot in here! he had to get out, like now —what time was it again? standing up abruptly, choso sudden motion startles you when he announces he would be late to work, if he didn't leave right now. choso immediately regrets it though once he sees your furrowed brow and plump lil pout as you had been enjoying your conversation. choso knows because of the baby and toji that you don't get out much. frantic to make amends, choso can't help but to pay you a compliment on his way out the door. now it was your turn to blush wildly when he sincerely looked you in the eye and says—

“heh, i wish i grew up with a mommy, especially one as lovely as you.”

half-curse roommate!choso who comes back home earlier than usual that night, around 3 am but looks like he's worked a whole weeks worth of night shifts from his worn down appearance. his robes are tattered in various places, the bags under his eyes are more pronounced than usual, and wait... is that blood!? it took him a while to snap out of his dissociative melancholy, to notice you were even awake at this hour. trying to keep it together, choso gives you a smile that doesn't quite reach his own gaze. he honestly expected you to be asleep, as your baby girl usually slept well throughout the night. but you told him she had woken up an hour ago hungry and now you couldn't fall back asleep. truly though, you are a sight for sore eyes to choso. yet choso still cant help but feel more like a burden and failure when you begin to worry over if he had any injuries. the blood on him isn't his though, its civilians. so many, he hadn't been able to save everyone when a special grade curse had attacked a large apartment complex. 'its not your fault choso!' you along with everyone else had told him but it doesn't make it hurt any less. seeing people cry out for their fallen loved ones, he knew that pain all too well. no one else should have to suffer it while he had the power to prevent it.

half-curse roommate!choso who you make it your mission to comfort. he's always doing everything to help you, it's the least you can do in his time of need! gently you drag choso by one of his muscular arms to the sofa. you motion for him him lay his head on your shoulder and once he is settled, your arm cradles his head with delicate pats. however, it’s when you feel choso’s silent, wet tears hit your skin and he can no longer hold back his trembling, maternal instincts kick in. You immediately guide him to lie on his side, pulling him against your plush, buoyant chest so you can cradle him close, slipping effortlessly into full "mommy-mode." you coo lovingly for him to 'let it all out' as he sobs. you figure grown man or not choso is unlikely to ever have been given the grace just to unload on someone. he certainly wouldn't with his only remaining brother, yuji, who choso would never dream of burdening with his own problems. yet, like an angel, your warm hushes and gentle rocking soothes choso, wrapping him in a comforting embrace like a much needed security blanket. With soft caresses, you brush his wispy bangs away from his handsome face, keeping them from sticking to his tear stained skin. choso in turn pushes his face deeper into your bosom, clutching onto you like a lifeline.

half-curse roommate!choso who you'd been holding for quite a while when it finally dawns on you the increasing puddle of moisture you feel on your chest isn't the result of his teary sobs but your leaky tits. omg owww! and no sooner did you notice that fact then the familiar ache of them being too full confirms it. its clear to you now choso's crying had triggered your milk production as it if he had been your own child! although speaking of baby girls, choso looked so sweet and content with face buried into your plush curves, his own tears now dried. you absolutely hate to have to move him. but you knew you needed to because while you weren't ashamed of your completely natural bodily reactions —you also had enough couth not to drip your breast milk all over someone's face!

half-curse roommate!choso whose cheek you swipe feather like touches over as you tell him you have to get up. choso's response of course though is to hold on to you that much tighter. his croaky whispers plead to you, proclaiming how this 'feels so nice' —outright begging to stay like this for just a bit longer. and while his sappy puppy dog pout is activating something in you, and you want to give-in, the increasing swell of your tits is becoming unbearable. you need to go pump, like asap. so you try to bargin with choso that you can hold him more in a bit but right now you are soiling yourself and him.

half-curse roommate!choso who curiously enough, had been oblivious that the soaked wetness gathering between the both of you is no longer coming from him. daring to lick his lips, choso whimpers as he can taste the creamy, and mildly sugary, secretions that settled on them. you're so mortified to see choso's face covered in a sheen of your breastmilk you fail to notice just how intensely he’s been staring at your nipples. your pert lil' buds, practically greeting him, beckoning to him, centimeters from his face through your now soaked, transparent white pj top.

half-curse roommate!choso who upon zeroing in on the small pearly beads of milk pebbling through the fabric of your shirt, instinctively leans in to lap it up with a tentative lick. the action shocks you as you gasp, swallowing hard. your breasts feel so heavy with milk and are positively aching to release even the tiniest bit of it. unfortunately, choso's continuous microlicks only tease the idea of relief, the texture of his tongue chafing your soppy tee against your sore nips which had begun to tighten even harder— it was pure torture.

"c-choso!"

half-curse roommate!choso who when hearing his name squeaked out in such a pitchy cry immediately stops. instantly realizing what he's doing a stream of "s-shit shit, m'sorry, m'sorry!!" appologies slur out of him. choso looks up at you sheepishly, face burning in shame as he continues. "i-it's just that you're so soft n' warm... n' i've never felt so safe anywhere before, well ever! i swear it! i-i know that's no excuse but it tasted s'gud..." not being able to look you in the eyes anymore you can tell choso is about to pull away and instantly your fingers tangle up around one of his pigtails, holding him in place. you shake your head. "mm n-no, cho if you want to have some more, you can... if it's not too weird for you." all your good sensibilities are screaming at you, this isn't a good idea. never in a million years did you expect to be in this situation with choso. however such is life, and the facts are now: its late, your tiddies ache miserably and choso is giving very much eager baby girl ready to be nursed. how could you be expected to have the willpower to disengage??

"ya know, you'd actually be doing me a favor cho... pumps can be so uncomfortable and a mouth always feels so much better… um, is that okay?"

half-curse roommate!choso who thinks its more than okay and from then on gleefully volunteers to become your living, breathing, personal breast pump. you had to dump so much of what you would normally pump anyway, your body working overtime to produce milk as your baby girl definitely had the appetite of her often absentee daddy who at least would send money for bills and diapers consistently. sweet baby jesus, toji would most certainly go slap the fuck off if he found out about these breast pump!choso sessions. but tbh? fuck toji because he isn't here to drain your overactive milk ducts, choso is. and choso is so eager to do it too! its toji's own damn fault you decide. just like you decided to rationalize to yourself that choso latching onto your milk bloated tiddies is strictly quid pro quo. choso's simply helping you drain your tits and you're giving him the intimacy he so desperately craves. this is a friendly thing… you’re healing his inner-child and fears of abandonment —if anything you're like his mom, right? perfectly platonic.

half-curse roommate!choso who forces you to confront the fact there's nothing platonic to you about him so lewdly moaning out 'mommy' as he swirls his tongue around the plump fat of your puffy areolas. you can barely see his face now as choso isn't content unless he's practically suffocating himself under your heavy mammaries while he nurses on them. you swear choso would swallow your whole boob completely if he could get it all in his mouth. not leaving the other ignored, Choso’s hand gently bounces and massages the one he isn’t sucking, stimulating milk flow to be ready for when her turn comes. you suppose this was also around the same time he started calling you 'mommy' and that you'd end your pump sessions with your thong wet, sticky and practically glued onto your twitching cunny.

half-curse roommate!choso who causes your thoughts wander to more debased and salacious fantasies the longer he's latched onto you. would choso latch on just as well to your clit? would he smother himself just as deeply into yout cunt? and most importanly...would he enjoy suckling out the savory umami flavor of your pussy juices just as much as your sweet creamy tits? you imagine choso would do just as good of a job coaxing your cunt to spill its nectar as he did with your lactating breasts. these lewd ponderings ensure that by the end of every one of choso's feedings your pussy would be aching far more deeply than your tits ever were. but there was one BIG problem preventing this from becoming your reality...

half-curse roommate!choso who you aren't getting any sexual vibes from. at all. you think, like a lot of things, choso is clueless. so of course he doesn't know how often your clit pokes out between your pussy lips to throb to the flick of his tongue on your stiffened peaks. nor how your actual tummy would flutter, abs sucking in aggressively when he'd accidentally rake his teeth over your pert flesh... how could he? he wasn't even hard! your 'baby girl' choso would even doze off at times, all the while languidly slurping your soggy nipples raw. although it's not like you could really tell for certain... choso is always in baggy sweats or robes. you'd convinced yourself though that even if choso was a little slow on the uptake, he was still a man. and you knew exactly how men could be, thanks to toji. there's no way he could have contained his urges over a half dozen times if he was felt anything erotic about the way he’s so viciously slurping up the suds of his spit and your milk. choso is so sloppy with it, there’s rarely a moment where milk isn’t dribbling down from the corners of his lips.

half-curse roommate!choso who you are able to confirm definitely gets hard when after a nursing session, you spy him in the bathroom through the crack of the door. choso failed to shut it all the way. this gives you the perfect silver of a view to see him hunched over and resting his forearm on the wall, as he frantically jerks himself over the toilet. much of choso's black undershirt is currently stuffed into his mouth, giving him chipmunk cheeks as he attempts to silence his needy whimpers. the entirety of his sculpted abs and pecs are on display and your eyes can’t stop their journey to drift lower and lower. your own legs rub together as you notice how much choso is actually shaking, ferally chasing his nirvana as he thrusts his—rather large n' hefty cock —into his pre soaked palm. holy shit he had to be as big as toji! you're openly gawking, the crack in the door opening a little wider with your face pressing against it but choso isn't even in this reality anymore to be interrupted. his eyes squeeze shut as he envisions his thick cock between your bouncing tits, your sweet nourishing milk oozing over his balls. safe to say, choso had been extremely hard up this entire time. you find out just how hard up too when after immediately cumming his dick is still twitching as he starts stroking himself once more, you’d stand there while he would do it do twice more too.

half-curse roommate!choso whose eyes fly open during your very next feeding session when not 5 minutes in your delicate hand cups his dick over his sweats outta nowhere. oh he's VERY hard. choso is a hair away from bussin right then when he feels your silky smooth hands sneak beneath his sweats grasp his hefty cock. his breath hitches around your breast as he chokes on your milk from you running your thumb over his wet slit. choso's fat round cockhead already dampened his swampy shorts with pre. you can't even fit your hand all the way around him but that didn't stop choso's eyes from rolling back into his head when you give him those first few pumps. soft grip twisting using the liquid already running out of his tip as lubricant.

"ungh, whaa...?"

half-curse roommate!choso who can't even succinctly question what's going on because the fact you actually have your pretty palm around his cock is melting his mind and destroying any sense he has of space and time. this had to be a wonderful dream? had he somehow fallen asleep, drowned and or smothered himself in your breasts and this was heaven? it felt like it. shit, his own rough hand could never compare. you sweetly blow a kiss down at him, your movements only increasing in speed and friction.

"you earned this, cho. it's only fair mommy milks you after you've done such a good job for mommy being her pump baby..."

half-curse roommate!choso who hisses when you fully tug his engorged length out of his shorts. his cock pulses angrily, still inflamed even as the cool air hits it. fresh hot tears run down choso’s cheeks and spill on your chest as the pleasure is almost unbearable for him. choso won't last long the way his red tip is sobbing, soaking on to his quivering belly and you know it. "

c'mon baby. be a good boy and cum for mommy, yeah?"

you moan as choso nips and sucks ferally at your tits, other hand twisting and pinching your wet n puffy nipples enough to make you whine for even more. god, you’d never been this sensitive??would you finally cum just from your tits? watching choso fall to pieces in your lap and on your breast is something you didn't know how much you needed until this very moment.

"mommy m'c-c-cumming!"

lifting his hips to thrust up into your hand, choso spurts his frothy load like a supersoaker. it’s like a geyser, so much more than you'd ever seen a man cum before —and by your hand alone! your fingers attempts to contain his vicious cum but it spurts out everywhere. syrupy semen coats him, the sofa, and especially your forearm. a deviously sweet smile plays on your lips when your hand doesn't stop its twisting and pumping motions. getting every last bit of milk out, like choso had always done for you.

"mmm' nah cho-cho, i think you can give mommy more right?"

sniffling around your breast choso blissfully pleas for your to wait but his greedy little hips never stop, chasing even more ecstasy despite his over sensitive cock making his head swim.

"m-mommy m'pweaseeee..."

"mommy? huh? the fuck is all this bullshit!?"

oh whoops, when did toji get here?

half-curse roommate!choso who you have to shield from the wrath of babydaddy!toji who is totally crashing tf out over you catching you in such a compromising with choso. toji is roaring for you to get out of the way so he can 'handle' this. you refuse, telling toji he’d never see you again, your pussy or your tits... not to mention never see his daughter, if he harmed a single hair on choso's pigtailed head. your voice, elevated to a yelling to match toji’s, is what sets your daughter off and you demand toji go get her. you’re putting papa bear on time out. besides he needs to go cool off and spend time with his baby girl, who rarely sees him when she’s actually awake. you weren't in any kind of relationship with toji so he had no right to be angry. surprisingly, toji just grumbles, and obeys. glaring death at choso on the way to your bedroom. he's barating himself for even thinking that dweeby loser was harmless. although toji coulda swore choso was a eunuch at first glance.

babydaddy!toji who honestly, isn't even livid over seeing your freshly manicured nails, that he'd cash app'd you the money for, overflowing with choso's cum. your grip, still stroking the last spurts from his spent cock. a sympathy hand job wasn't too surprising really. especially since toji knew fapping is exactly what the lil' emo cuck did in the bathroom the nights toji actually spent over. choso would pathetically beat his meat to the squelchy sounds of your stretched, wet pussy, farting around toji's girth, ripping through your guts.

babydaddy!toji isn't even particularly upset with choso's pathetic display of tears, cumming like a whiny bitch boy while calling you his 'mommy'. disgusting. no frankly, what's really got toji hot and wanting to spill choso's blood is the massive messy milk ring pooling around choso's mouth and running down his chin. rage seethes through toji at the revelation: it's choso's fault toji hadn't been getting as much milk lately when he'd come over to play with his favorite girls (your tits).

half-curse roommate!choso who doesn't know how bad toji is plotting to get him out of the picture for good. somehow without harming him and pissing you off. toji wouldn't stand for this much longer though, that milk was meant for just for toji (and his daughter ofc, he supposes).

tsk, fuck! —suckin’ on those jumbo mommy milkers was the only reason why babydaddy!toji had worked so hard to get you fucking pregnant in the first place. >:(

♡ blkkizzat ©2023-2025 ♡

♡ strictly prohibited: ai, copy, plagiarism, redistribution, translations. ♡

𝓪𝓷: i'm ovulating and i need one of these men to put a baby in me. choso and toji with lactating kinks make my brain go crazy. one day ill write the gojo x nanami x milf!reader lactation fic based off one of my fav h-animes lol bet. also no one yell at me i wrote these at work and school when i was bored and my actual full fics i need like my entire focused brain to write lol

♡ funny meme i made for this fic ♡

reblog and comment please!♡

[sarahsangelicdoll]

thinking about Rafe and somno (x/twitter p link !! don’t open in public)

cw; consensual somnophilia, dubcon, s1 Rafe, hints at ‘good girl’ reader, not exactly like the video but that’s ok 😅, soft!Rafe, wasn’t intended but he’s highkey soft in this 😅, unprotected p n v(always use protection!!) but Rafe pulls out.

a/n: wasn’t intending on making this so lovely dovey and soft but it is and tbh i’m not complaining 😭 i got this vid from @rafesbowbunny awhile ago, ty for blessing my eyes with this p link 💞

Rafe snuck in through your window, having previously been waiting for about ten minutes in his truck for you. His messages going through and on read but no reply from you. Why didn’t he walk through the door like a normal person? Well because your parents were curled up on the couch next to each other watching whatever old, rich, obnoxiously fake, stuck up rich people watched. Probably similar to the bullshit shows his parents watched.

He grunted as his feet landed on the floor and he finally hopped himself into your room. making a mental note to find an easier way up to your window. Just as he was about to speak and ask you why the fuck you weren’t responding to him he saw you on your bed, still in your clothes from earlier that day, phone in hand and sleeping away. He smirked slightly as he took in your sleeping figure, looking all pretty. He strolled over to your bed and took your charging phone out of your hand on onto the bedside table, about to shake you awake before he recalled something.

That something being a post-sex conversation he had with you about a month ago. How you went on about how hot it would be if you woke up to him using you and that your body was ‘free to use’ even if you were sleeping. Perhaps it turned you on too much- even expressing being comfortable with the usage of roofie pills(Which Rafe respectfully stated that he’ll never do nor is comfortable with). But he’d be lying if he said the thought of waking you up with his cock when you least expect it didn’t get him worked up. But lying he did, hence why he’s waited so long to surprise you, wanting you to think he wasn’t into it.

Rafe bit his lip as his eyes trailed down your figure. He knew fucking you awake would be risky to do with your parents down stairs- but that just made the situation even hotter, and it’s Rafe- why would he care?

So within just a couple seconds his clothes were discarded and he was climbing onto your bed. His movements careful as to not wake you. He rested on his knees as his hands roamed up and down your curves, stopping to squeeze the flesh of your hip. He sucked in a shaky and lustful deep breath as he hooked his finger under the waistband of your shirts and pulled them down along with your panties. Shifting your legs slightly to string the fabric off of your body and then throwing them off somewhere on the ground. Rafe bit his lip as he eyed your glistening, pretty folds, running a finger through them while his other hand gently placed itself back onto your ass and squeezed.

He shifted position again once your shorts and panties were off. Resting on his side. He reached over your body to lift your legs up further into your body in an almost sitting like position. Rafe let out a quiet groan as fisted his cock in his hand, looking down at your bare and vulnerable pussy.

Lifting his hand up to his mouth, Rafe spit into it and brought his hand back down to his cock and wrapped his hand around the base to spread the spit as a type of lube, his cock twitching at the pleasureful sensation. Rafe took his time as he shifted in his spot to easily run his cock up and down through your pussy folds, tapping the head of his cock against your clit. A smirk made its way onto Rafes face as he felt your body twitch at the sensation.

He teased himself as he circled the tip of his cock around your hole before sinking himself in, quickly biting his lip to stifle a loud moan from escaping his mouth as the warmth and tightness of your pussy enveloped his cock. Rafes mouth fell open in a quiet moan once he fully sheaved himself into your tight cunt. He had to wait a bit both for you and him: Him to get a grip on reality, already feeling like he’s in heaven and for your sleeping body to get used to it.

Once Rafe finally starts moving he has to bite his lip to prevents moans from spilling out of his lips. He couldn’t help himself from glancing up towards the door, heightening the pleasure and even a hint of fear at the thought of your parents waking up to see their perfect, innocent and precious daughter getting used in their sleep. His thrusts stayed more on the gentle and slow side but steady pace, planting his larger hand on the flesh of your ass and squeezing lightly.

He couldn’t help but admire your sleeping position, hair messy and thrown around your pillows. Breathing steady and gentle. Dreaming about god knows what.

Rafes breathing got more breathy and quick as he felt you shift slightly and pussy clench around his cock. But it wasn’t enough, he needed to be deeper and in your plushy walls. So he shifted his position once again, hovering his body over yours as he kept himself up by his fists, planted on either side of you. His body was practically caging yours as he breathed in your scent. The new position letting Rafe fuck you both easier and deeper. Your walls felt so good around him and the slower pace felt like a tease due to the lack of your moans, noises n reactions to help him get off, so he couldn’t help but speed up his pace.

And that’s when you woke up, pussy clenching around him as you felt yourself regain consciousness from your nap, dazed and confused before you immediately felt something fucking itself into you and someone else’s body heat along your side. In your confused state you didn’t think properly and simply felt panicked when you looked and saw someone else’s body over you.

Rafe was too lost in the pleasure to pay attention to you waking up, missing the way your heartbeat sped up along with your breathing. He then froze slightly as he felt your hair shift against his face, lifting his head up to see the panic quickly settling onto your features. He stopped his thrusts and quickly darted his hand up to your mouth, preventing any noises before they even came.

“Hey- hey, just me babe.” He whispered, though his tone was slightly panicked itself, his own heartbeat speeding up.

Your eyes darted up to his as you heard his words, immediately feeling a wave of both relief and arousal come over you. Rafe grinned as he felt your breathing and heartbeat slow down and your eyes become wide with lust instead of fear, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in. His hand moved from your face down to your waist and squeezed lightly, grin still plastered on his face as he lowered his head down to your neck, breathing in your scent before speaking teasingly through kisses. “Good nap?”

You let out a yawn, followed by a moan as his thrusts picked up again and he started placing soft kisses to your neck. “Yeah… even better was when i woke up.” You teased back, grinning slightly as your hands made way to his hair.

Rafe chuckled as he brought his head back up from your neck, typical cocky grin spread on his face. “Imagine how your parents would feel if they walked into me fucking their perfect daughter? And finding out she asked for it previously.” He continued to tease, leaning back up to put enough space between his and your bodies to allow him to push your body down onto your back instead of your side, moving your leg over as well before he enveloped your body into his again. Rafe’s elbows resting on either side of your body.

Leaning down, Rafe captured your lips into a kiss before you could come out with some smart comeback. His hips rocking back into yours as his hands explored your curves. The usually agonizingly slow position feeling very pleasurable in this moment.

You two simply enjoyed each other’s company. Rafe moving his head back down into your neck to mark what’s his and hide the sounds of his own grunts and heavy breathing. You wrapped your legs around his hips as you let out soft but pleasure filled moans. Every sound you make sounding like absolute heaven.

“So pretty..” Rafe murmured into your neck as he glanced up at you, cheeks flushed as he bit his lip before speaking again. “Especially for just waking up.”

Your face flushed even more at his words as you giggled, biting your lip slightly as you looked down at him. “And you’re handsome.” You complimented cheekily, playing with strands of his hair. Rafe let out a shaky breath mixed with a moan at your words. Biting your neck as his pace slowly became less steady and more quick, signalling that he was about to cum.

Rafes hand found way down to your clit as he started rubbing quick circles on the bundle of nerves. Your own moans raising in frequency and pitch as you felt the sudden, overwhelming sensation on your clit, unmatching to his thrusts. It was such a perfect combination that made you feel like you were about to cum and go up to heaven in seconds.

You grabbed a fistful of Rafes hair as you felt that knot in your stomach slowly come closer and closer to snapping, letting Rafe know in a high pitched, attempting to be quiet breath. “Oh fuck.. ‘mma cum imma cum-“ You chanted, legs wrapping tighter around his hips as you squealed at Rafes fingers increasing their rushed pace on your clit.

“Yeah? me too baby, c’mon.” He said breathlessly, cock twitching inside you at your words. Placing one last sloppy, open mouthed kiss to your neck before letting out a loud moan, quickly pulling out as his cum decorated your stomach and pyjama shirt in long, white, sticky strings of cum. Your own arousal escaping you in clear liquid, absolutely soaking both your sheets and Rafes lower half.

The two of yours loud breaths were the only sound that filled the room as you both came down from your highs. Needless to say; that felt fucking amazing. Perhaps it was all the mix of taboo things; fucking upstairs while your parents watched tv and Rafe fucking you while you were asleep.

Rafe let out a breathy chuckle as he placed a kiss against your cheek and pulled away. Looking down at the absolute mess you made. He grinned as he glanced down at you; “Squirted from this?” He asked, teasing you as if that wasn’t one of the most pleasurable orgasms he’s had.

You grinned back up at him as squeezed your legs together playfully to cover yourself. Nodding at his words, completely tired, blissed and fucked out. “Yeah, was so hot to wake up to that.” You said with an un-matching innocent sounding giggle. Stretching your arms over your head as you yawned.

“Yeah? that a sign i should sneak in and fuck you while you’re sleeping with your parents downstairs more often?” Rafe teased, Shifting to throw one leg off the bed and reach for a random article of clothing to dry the two of yous up.

“Yes.” You replied simply but tiredly, watching as he grabbed the piece of clothing, yawning yet again as sleep again threatened to take over your body.

Rafe couldn’t help but smile genuinely as he looked back at you and saw your sleepy expression. Leaning up and forward to give you a goodnight. “‘mk, now go back to sleep, i’ll clean this shit up.”

⟡ ݁₊ . written by sarahsangelicdoll, 2025 on tumblr! © do not repost on any third party website or repost as yours

⟡ ݁₊ . tagging muts: @moonlightrafe @bloodibambiidoll @winnie1emon @cameronsprincess @hvnlygrl

[gutsby]

Who’s Your Daddy?

Pairing: Stepdad!Joel x Reader

Summary: You get stuck in the washing machine. Thankfully, your stepdad is around to help you out.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected piv. Deadbeat-Perv-Peepaw LOVES corny porn tropes and women over half his age. Stepcest & dubcon technically bc Reader’s locked inside an appliance, but she’s into it (getting fucked, not stuck). One (1) kick in the dick. Spanking. Brat-taming. Choking. Daddy issues. Size kink. Praise kink. Infidelity. Creampie.

Note: Saw this post by @ovaryacted and started BARKING. For my Old Man lovers/daddy issues crew, this one’s for you.

Word count: 8.3k

It was the closest thing to porn you’d ever done before.

Still, you weren’t quite ready to call it that.

And why should you? Financial straits were no anomaly to a girl your age, especially in this economy, and almost everyone you knew had a side gig of some kind. It just so happened that your job required slightly skimpier attire. And a webcam. And some very special…accessories that would likely send your grandmother into cardiac arrest if she ever took a peek inside your bottom dresser drawer.

Okay, it was definitely porn.

But you never showed your face, so it didn’t really count as the same kind of stuff that your family condemned.

You scampered out of your room the second you heard the front door to the house slam closed all the same. Arms laden with G-strings, stockings, satin bralettes, lace and tulle bodysuits of almost every style imaginable, you ran a quick, perilous path to the living room window and made sure to keep your head ducked low as you did. You peered out through the gap in the curtains and had to squint hard to see anything in the midafternoon sun.

Then you saw it and felt instant relief—they were leaving.

Your grandma for one, your mother for second, and wherever the latter was headed, you knew her shadow would be soon to follow. You saw a thick plume of smoke outside and surmised that Joel was somewhere around the other side of the SUV, smoking and droning on about how he was perfectly fi-i-i-ne to drive, don’t be like that.

By ‘like that’ he meant sensible. And by ‘perfectly fine’ he meant two Miller Lites shy of completely shitfaced. You could already imagine the wry smile on your mother’s lips as she tried prying the keys from his hands. Your stepdad would probably plant a wet, sloppy kiss on her cheek to win a ‘yes’ in return—and when she shyly reminded him that he couldn’t afford to get another DUI, he’d get pissed and yank them out of her fist anyway.

Fucking loser.

Fucking triple-the-legal-limit dumbass motherfucker.

It didn’t bother you as much today because you knew they were only driving a couple blocks away to get to the farmer’s market, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t hope he’d get caught. Again. Maybe blow a 0.25 this time and land his old, ungrateful, law-breaking ass in Travis County Jail, where his little brother Tommy was likely keeping a cell bench warm for him, per usual.

At any rate, you didn’t have time to be fantasizing now. It was your turn to embody some guy’s grossest wet dreams for the next two to three hours. Stripping away layer after layer of your latest, tightest ‘costume’ while catering to whatever requests happened to float in your inbox, you knew you’d be up to your eyeballs in work. Though almost routine by now, you had to hurry up.

If you could just get the rest of this ridiculous gunk out of your clothing, you’d be all good to go for the job.

TRMAN22: Pour honey on your tits in the next vid???

TRMAN22: Milk too. All over you.

Looking back, you probably shouldn’t have obliged that request. Now you were facing the consequences—forced to throw all your clothes in the washing machine because the milk and honey you’d dumped on yourself for that video had gotten everywhere, and then swiftly congealed while wasting away in a pile of laundry for over a week.

The whole heap smelled rancid. Still felt sticky, too. Presently, you chucked each one inside the washing machine while holding your breath, and as soon as the last was discarded, you sniffed the shirt you had on.

Tolerable. With the rest of your stuff in the wash, you hoped to get at least one request off the checklist:

TRMAN22: Bet you’d look sexy in a schoolgirl outfit!!

TRMAN22: Why don’t you try one on for me?

It was gag-worthy and gross. Slightly alarming for a man who was more than likely twice your age and old enough to remember Watergate, but you agreed to play along. Your old school uniform was, after all, the only clean clothes you had left, and ‘TRMAN22’ was, unfortunately, your top subscriber. He’d paid $300 for this video alone.

TRMAN22: Wear some NEON pink panties for me too ;)

You squatted in front of the washing machine and stuck a hand inside. You sifted around, furrowing your brows.

The brightest undies you owned were in there, soiled, but you figured you could get away with one gross article of clothing, all things considered. You reached a little further and continued to dig. When you couldn’t find it by feel alone, you peered inside the circular, metallic cavern of the washing machine and craned your neck.

Not here…not here…not—

You tilted forward, venturing a closer look with your head, then shoulders, pushing into the machine.

—here, not here, not—

“EW!” you shrieked.

In your search, you’d inadvertently brushed up against a mildewed piece of clothing that had gotten wedged between the grooves of the washing machine’s interior.

A pair of boxers, it seemed.

You recoiled as soon as your fingers grazed the wet and smelly thing. Your skull went crack against the low-sloped ceiling of the appliance, and a jolt of pain was quick to course through you at the contact. You groaned.

Of course Joel had forgotten some old, cum-stained scrap of fabric out of his last load. Always leaving his shit around for you or your mom to pick up like he owned the place. And here you went, again, angrily plugging your nose and pulling as hard as you could on the shorts to get them free from the washing machine. You hardly thought twice, just made a face and then yanked on it.

The boxers wouldn’t budge.

You tugged even harder. The fabric stayed put.

Something akin to a grunt and a whimper, only far more pathetic, slipped out of your mouth, and you slapped the half-hollow steel wall in frustration. Surrounded as you were—fully encased in metal—the sound just echoed.

“Fucking…CUNT.”

You weren’t sure if you were talking to the shorts, the machine, or Joel Miller in the abstract. Or maybe all three. You just hated the thought of washing your lingerie with your stepdad’s skivvies, and no amount of rational thought or practical reasoning could hold you back now.

The tip of your index finger sank deep beneath the same ridge of the wall where the boxers had gotten stuck. You curled it inward, trying to loosen the material up a little. You wriggled your knuckle even further. And just when you managed to get a hold of the cusp of the tangled fabric—just when it seemed the green plaid cluster was about to give way—you heard a low pop. You felt it, too.

Shortly, your finger was pinched inside the deep, blunt valley of steel that had similarly snagged Joel’s boxers. It seemed you’d pushed the tip of your finger so far that you were caught straight down to the second knuckle—trapped between two grooves of unforgiving alloy inside the washing machine tub with no clear means of escape.

You jerked your arm back, panicked. When the metal sank its teeth even deeper, you didn’t stop. Completely heedless of the pain, you operated on impulse and by the feeling of needing to get the fuck out of that little space, quickly, and instead yanked your hand back even harder.

To your horror, your finger was stuck.

“FUCK!”

You stared down at the poor digit, only half-visible inside the wall at this point, then glanced down at the heap of sweaty, sticky, slutty pieces of clothing that were presently strewn about you, and felt an even deeper stab of dread. Stuck inside your family’s washing machine with every bit of damning evidence one could hope to have—and wearing your old school uniform to boot—you realized at once you were fucked if you didn’t get out.

You slammed your palm against the nearest wall once more, shaking your other wrist like an unruly child.

“FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK!”

You weren’t good at solving problems. In point of fact, you sucked at all things prudent resolution-related and regularly made it a habit to capitulate whenever you sensed loss inevitable. You were a little like your mother in that way, quick to give in to life’s uglier challenges. The only way you could conceivably claim to be stronger, the only place you always had the strength to say ‘no’ was—

“Aw, shit.”

—Joel.

Your throat tightened as soon as you heard the voice. Your eyes went wide, and the rest of you went numb.

Bent at the waist and kneeling with half your body inside the washing machine, you remained there, motionless. Back arched and ass out. Thanks to the way you’d rolled your old plaid skirt, the fabric covered almost zero cheek.

Someone behind you cleared their throat. Then coughed.

And coughed again, again, and again. Evidently trying to clear the smoke out of his lungs and the surprise from his eyes as he drank in your sight from the doorway.

“What in the—wh—th—” You could hear Joel wheeze, beating his chest with his fist, “What— in— the hell?!”

“Help me,” you hissed.

You weren’t sure why you chose that as your go-to. It just sounded like the right thing to say, and frankly, you weren’t sure how else to distract from the fact Joel was probably gawking at your ass as he coughed up a lung.

“The fuck do you mean ‘help’?! What are you doing?”

The coughing subsided, if only momentarily. You tried pulling back on your finger again to get out, but couldn’t.

“I-I’m…I was just…” you stammered, heart racing.

You heard the tread of heavy footfalls. You felt them.

“Just—trying…” you ventured again, suddenly at a loss for words and breath alike as you felt a presence draw in.

You could smell him.

That realization alone made you want to stop taking in air altogether. It happened out of instinct, really—feeling the shift of two huge boots settle behind your feet and then flinching inward, further inside the metal tub for…safety? A pang of abject humiliation? You were far past the point of civility with the man, caring what he thought, or fearing for your modesty in a position like this, but something about the proximity now just made you itch.

You wished your finger wasn’t jammed inside this appliance so you could give that feeling relief, somehow.

At length, Joel’s voice dragged you back:

“What’s stuck?”

Too calm. A second passed. Then he added, more stern,

“This some fuckin’ joke’a yours or somethin’?”

“No!”

“Then what—”

“My finger. My finger’s stuck.”

You tried to crane your neck to see behind you, but all your eyes had to feast upon was denim. Bluish-grey stonewashed denim, faded with years of use. Joel stood back for a second, as if considering what to do, and then you saw two hands descend to brace themselves against his knees. He bent at the waist to get a better look below.

When his eyes locked with yours, you got the same twist in your gut as you’d felt before, only sharper. Shameful.

The look on Joel’s face was abnormally bright.

“And how on earth did that happen, dumbass?”

Your shame morphed into chagrin in a blink, seeing the ghost of a smile bleed into your stepdad’s features.

“‘Cause of you, leaving your shit in here!” you snapped. Your chin jerked toward the green fabric, “I was just trying to get your boxers unstuck—and my finger…”

Your finger was kind of fucked.

Joel cast a look inside at the source of your frustration. He extended his left arm and reached over your torso, and as he did, you felt the slightest, albeit solid, sort of warmth press in. The man let out a low groan of exertion—likely at the strain the movements placed on his joints.

The warmth got worse. You weren’t sure where it started.

Vaguely, you were aware of Joel’s thumb pressing into your hand. Gliding down your finger, stroking across the spot where your knuckle had gotten caught, he circled over it, slowly, and made another sound in his throat.

“Well that ain’t…good.” Not one to mince words.

By now, your whole body was on fire. You barely had the strength to keep kneeling, much less speak to the man thumbing your hand and pressing his heat so close—

“Just get me out!” you shrieked.

You heard your mother’s voice in that. A shrill, impatient lilt in her speech that came out, invariably, around Joel. Normally, he would have done something to deserve it. But today, with his hand splayed over yours and his breaths as calm and even-keeled as he could hope to have them while he tried to help, he was blameless.

Evidently, he heard a trace of your mother too, because you heard him laugh. You felt the reverberations of his amusement travel up from his belly all the way to his lips.

“Cool your pits, kid.”

For that, you would’ve loved nothing more than to reach back with your free hand and hit him in the balls. But, as it was, this man was your only hope for escape, and he was being tolerably polite, anyway. He pinched your finger between the tips of two of his and gave it a tug.

“Okay, lemme just—” Joel started.

“Why are you home, anyway?”

The question came out more clipped than you meant it.

“Why are you dressed like that?” Joel countered evenly.

“I asked you first.”

“I asked you second.”

You reckoned he could probably feel you roll your eyes, even if he wasn’t able to see you do it right now. He waited another moment, then leaned back on his haunches and withdrew his arm from the tub.

“Mama don’t like me drinkin’ and drivin’, you know that.”

With that, the warmth was gone. Joel retreated.

“Like that’s ever stopped you before.”

You heard him exhale a little harder through his nose. When he’d steadied himself against the washing machine, gave his knees another second to prepare for getting up again, you could feel his eyes back on you. Maybe he lingered longer than his legs really needed.

Maybe if he hadn’t stayed crouched like that, he wouldn’t have gotten the chance to give your surroundings a second look. He wouldn’t have stopped to watch the rate of your breaths pick up or the way your skin startle to bristle with some strange, unknown sensation. He certainly wouldn’t have felt for himself the fever leaking out from the base of your spine right then.

Today just wasn’t the day for keeping secrets, it seemed.

“And what’s this?” You could feel Joel lean back in.

He was looking again. Peering inside. Steadying his weight with the edge of the washing machine gripped in one hand, while the other snaked its way back inside.

You’d already squeezed your eyes shut by the time Joel got a hold of something. You didn’t know what it was.

But it became painfully clear that it wasn’t just one ‘thing’ that had grabbed his attention at all, but rather a series of items that his hands were just now getting to explore. You didn’t have to see his broad and tan, callus-streaked fingers to feel them roaming over your clothes.

Gross.

Gross.

“Gross,” Joel agreed, as if he’d read your mind. Grinning.

If you thought the embarrassment was bad before, you really only knew a fraction of what humiliation could be. Your finger throbbed along with the pulse in your skull.

Your mother’s husband whistled and lifted something.

“Darlin’, this is just…disgusting.”

You winced. You tried not to pry an eye open, to steal a covert look through the frame of your lashes in that dim and crowded spot, but the inducement was too great—Joel was dangling one of your lime green G-strings like it was a fish he’d just caught out on the lake. Boasting it.

Doting, almost.

“Well I’ll be—”

“Will you quit?!” you snapped.

You grabbed the thing out of his hand and threw it aside.

“Can you be serious? For one fucking secon—”

“Oh, I’m bein’ serious, sweetie,” Joel cut in. Cool as ever, “Serious as the business end of a .45, I swear.”

He paused. Then he reached for a white nylon bustier, drenched in a layer of honey that was as hard as a rock.

“Do you always keep your little…skank tanks so filthy?”

That was it. You kicked your heel back—and up—and made a pass to hit your stepdad square in the balls.

Your aim wasn’t the best it’s ever been, seeing that half your body was trapped inside a home appliance at the moment, but what your jab lacked in accuracy, it made up for in force: your foot plunged into the seam of Joel’s jeans full throttle. From the way the back of your heel plowed into his crotch, and the sound that clawed out of his throat the same instant, you reckoned you did okay.

What you weren’t expecting was a smack in return.

An answer in kind—delivered by the palm of Joel’s hand.

A taut, thoughtless THWACK on the swell of your ass.

Your mouth fell open. Your body barely had the chance to recoil when, shortly, another blow landed on your cheek.

Joel spanked you.

Spanked you.

“Fuckin’ brat,” he spat. His palm had slid up with the weight of his last slap, and now his fingers were clenched in a fist in the back of your skirt. You couldn’t see it, but you could feel him gripping fabric. It was firm.

He was firm—unrelenting in his hold.

Kneeling behind you, yanking back a handful of tartan skirt like it was nothing, then sidling up behind you.

And just when your attention was drawn to some other firm thing, it was shortly diverted by another sensation.

“JOEL!” you shrieked as he gave you another spanking.

The bare skin of your cheeks was on fire. Joel hit hard. Just when you feared you might legitimately whimper with the sting of that last blow, and while the imprint of his palm was still fresh, you felt it move again. Lower.

“Joel.”

That came out more like a whine than a cry of protest. And how could you, now, when he was soothing the raw bite of his hand with a touch that was kneading the skin?

Working the soft, supple flesh of your ass in his hand like he’d never dream of being anything else but gentle to it.

“Good?” Joel said.

Your head flinched to nod, but your brain thought better.

It did feel good. So good, in fact, that your eyelids were starting to droop just a bit and your back was subtly arching into the touch, but those were only instincts. Stupid, useless, brain-rotted reflexes born of years of paternal neglect and replete indifference, the likes of which could bring a grown man to his knees, begging—

“Please.”

But the entreaty was your own, and the voice that spoke it was hoarse. Your belly sank into the circular aperture of the washing machine, and you could feel your ribs scraping close to metal. Nevertheless, you didn’t mind. That ditzy lizard brain of yours was starved for physical touch, and who were you to deny her at a time like this?

No, not when Joel was squeezing like that.

Groping was the more appropriate word for it, really. Notwithstanding the decades of sexual experience that no doubt preceded the man that was standing before you—behind you—today, Joel was unduly coarse. His broad, weathered hand made as if to cool its former sting, but the motions themselves were jerky. Desperate.

He needed this worse than you, the fucking pervert.

Just when the realization had begun to settle over your mind and your legs were getting to feel a little less like jelly, knowing you weren’t the only weak one here, Joel’s palm slowed down. He pressed the heel of it into your flesh as if to force himself to stop, then he took a breath.

“Now use your words.”

“But—” you sputtered.

“I said,” Joel resumed, and you could sense it was through gritted teeth. His movements came to a halt.

“We use our words when we want somethin’, hear?”

It was the first you’d heard Joel attempt to enforce anything close to discipline with you in your life.

That had to warrant a little defiance, no doubt.

Under your breath, quiet: “So ‘we’ includes ‘you,’ too?”

Beneath that one, seemingly innocuous question was lurking another, and both of you knew it: Remember that time you put a fist through the kitchen wall? Was that a good example of what it means to ‘use words,’ Joel? Whether it was adequate provocation or not, you could sense what was coming next before you’d even finished. When the spank landed on your right cheek so loud that it echoed, you didn’t flinch. You did snag your lip between your teeth to keep a sound from spilling out.

“A dad makes rules. Ain’t his to follow,” Joel growled.

You blinked and bit down harder. Watched the broad, amorphous shape of the man’s reflection shift along the back metallic wall in hues of grey and blue and wished you had the strength to turn around and face him then.

“You aren’t my dad.”

“Said ‘a’ dad, didn’t I?”

“You’re not that either.”

Heat was rising to your cheeks again, this time for different reasons. For a cause you were far better acquainted with to date—annoyance at Joel.

“So that means I’m—”

“Nothing. You’re nothing to me,” you finished, tone wry.

Nothing to anyone, you wanted to add. Not with a shiny gold band latched onto your left hand to tell the world that you’re married to my mother, a pack of smokes tucked away in the jeans she washes every week, or a couple years spent under the same roof as me. Nothing.

Your teeth clamped back down—and almost sank clean through your lower lip this time—when next you felt a touch at the plush, covered mound that was normally shielded between your legs. The spot that was hardly ever tilted up in a position like this, exposed to the air and a man’s hungry gaze, now invaded by the press of a single thing: a warm and soft middle finger at your core.

Joel brushed the tip of it against your entrance, through your panties, and sucked a breath through his teeth when both of you felt a tiny squelch at the pressure.

He pressed harder, and the wetness only spread.

You didn’t have to be in Joel’s position to know what he was seeing, but the feeling from his finger overpowered any better sense to speak—or tell him to stop. He traced his slow, cruel circles against your warmth and moved it up to where he knew he’d find your bud, and when you whimpered, he simply added his index to the mix. There wasn’t a doubt in your mind you were leaking heat at that point. You could feel it seeping beneath his touch.

“Nothin’, huh?” Joel breathed, voice low. Your arousal made a sickening hiss beneath his fingers as he rubbed you even harder, “This feel like nothin’ to you, honey?”

You couldn’t speak. He knew you weren’t capable of it.

“‘Cause this sure don’t feel like nothin’ to me.”

Wet and tacky beneath his touch, your warmth supplied the answer that your mouth couldn’t form. It came out in more of a tap, tap, tap, punctuated by breaths that were toiling in earnest not to turn into moans too soon. But, as hulking and clumsy as his hands had once shown themselves to be, the old man knew where to put them, at least. He made circles on your clit with practiced ease.

“You can try lyin’ to me, but she can’t.”

He was right. ‘She’ was a traitor.

You could deny it all you wanted, but the proof was there.

Indeed, she was crying. Aching. Bleeding with desire. Throbbing beneath the pads of Joel’s fingertips and growing only more desperate as he increased the speed of his touch. When he notched the drenched cotton to the side, you had to grit your teeth to keep in a whimper.

Joel whistled.

“See? Seems like she likes me just fine right here.”

Your jaw stayed wired shut with the weight of your own humiliation. Instead of answering aloud, you hummed. Made a sound low and soft in your throat like, ‘Uh-hmm’ and tilted your hips, as if you didn’t know how else to ask. Joel couldn’t see inside the washing machine, but he must’ve felt the gesture, because he greeted it with a motion of his own: he chuckled, and he puckered his lips.

And when you felt the warmth of his spit hit you between your folds, your shame should’ve tripled. Should’ve made you flinch away from his touch and tell him that was so fucking gross, Joel, stop, but then he smeared it up your slit. He pressed in and mixed it with the rest of your arousal; any reproach died on your tongue in an instant.

A part of him was on you now. Trickling in, sticking to the most sensitive part of you, and settling into your skin like a glaze. With his other hand, he found your skirt again.

“Who’re ya wearin’ this for, sweet pea?” Joel murmured.

“No one.”

Another glob of spit landed between your cheeks. Now, the man used the lubrication to sink two fingers inside you—pushing them in until the rim of your cunt met his knuckles. You whined at the stretch, felt him coax your walls open with a consciousness and a carefulness that felt almost mean, but then he stroked down the base of your spine with the hand that still held onto your skirt. He soothed your startled cry with a curl of his fingers.

And he found the soft, spongy patch of flesh inside that made your eyes roll straight to the back of your skull, quickly. Working his fingers in and out, flattening the base of his free hand over the skin exposed by your flipped-up skirt, and watching your body give way to the force of his fingers, he was uncharacteristically patient. Exacting in the way he worked your body open to him.

“What do you care?” you groaned. You winced when you felt a squelch signal that he’d stretched you even wider.

“‘Cause,” Joel started, slow. Pumping his fingers through your folds and likely wondering when he’d add a third, “You got your hand stuck in a fuckin’ washing machine, a treasure trove of this slut stuff piled in a heap…I mean…”

“They’re just clothes!”

“Just clothes?”

In the wake of those terse, incredulous words, you tried your best to match his tone—call his bluff—but the only sound that came out of your mouth was punctured by a pitiful whine. He tried another finger but couldn’t fit it in. As wet as you were, and as strong as he was, your cunt wasn’t quite ready to accept all three of Joel’s thick, probing digits inside. You’d fit more than a thing or two with a girth even greater than that in the past, but you figured your nerves might have something to do with the way you were tightening around the man’s fingers now.

Why you couldn’t take more of him in, as much as you wanted him there, felt, at present, like something of a shortcoming, and a pathetic one at that. You let out a breath, and a second later, Joel slowed his motions.

You didn’t expect him to stop. Didn’t hold out a hope he might curtail his pace and talk you through a quiet, gentle arrangement for fitting a third finger inside you—that just wasn’t him. You didn’t have to share a paper-thin bedroom wall with your mother and her husband for the last however many years to know that Joel Miller was not a tender lover. It simply wasn’t in his nature to care.

So when you heard the clink of a belt coming undone a moment later, your senses strangely flooded with relief. He wouldn’t care, wouldn’t inquire, wouldn’t coddle with false, romantic ideals of how a woman should be treated.

In that way, Joel shared something in common with your father after all: he set standards as low as they could go.

“Just clothes?” he repeated, snapping your underwear against your ass and jerking the fabric further aside.

Then somehow send those expectations even lower.

There was a hand splayed out across the small of your back. Another fiddling with the front of his pants, wrestling the button and zip of his jeans in little more than one, two, three careless seconds, before he drew in closer to your rear. Your slit was messy, wet, and exposed to his eyes once again. For a second, you almost took comfort in the fact that your hand was still wedged inside a groove of steel and you couldn’t meet his gaze.

That was, until Joel slid his bare length along the seam of your cunt. When the inability to see him made it so you had no other choice but to be surprised when he finally touched you was unnerving, to say the least.

And when the head of his cock blended seamlessly between your folds, was drenched in less than a blink and nearly notched straight into the place you needed him most—well, that had an effect on him, too. Joel moved his flat and sweaty palm up your back, found purchase in the hem of your blouse, and gripped it. Tugged it down a little more and let a low groan billow out of his throat while he rocked his hips back and forth.

Desperate, clumsy, pussydrunk Joel was back before you’d even realized he’d left. Only now he was keen to put the disquiet and hesitations to rest; he needed to fuck you before either one of you wisened up just then.

Your parts and his commingled again. First, with the lethally warm trail of precum leaking out from his tip. Then the intrusion that followed, inevitably, glossed with self-indulgence and desperation—soiling any semblance of platonic affection or parental attention—as he fed you the first inch of him. Barely half the head got fitted inside and your grip on that was like a vice. Joel’s was bruising.

Suddenly firm on your hips, carving crescents in the skin:

“When’s the last time you got fucked, baby?”

You reckoned Joel had a guess—and it wasn’t correct.

“Last…week,” you whimpered, words punctuated with a sigh as his cock tried to make room for more of him.

Joel sucked in a breath that almost sounded like a laugh. He’d barely gotten an inch past his tip, facing more resistance than he’d felt in a long, long time, and you were wet, but so tight. He was big but not so massive as that. He couldn’t fathom what you were saying was true.

“That…fratboy fuckstick you went out on a date with?”

“Didn’t think you even saw me leave.”

Joel withdrew, gripped your hips even tighter, then drove his cock to nestle three solid inches inside your cunt. It was extra snug, but he made sure to try to loosen you up with a couple short, shallow thrusts and a hand gradually drifting down between your legs. Of course he saw you.

The circles on your clit and slow-growing movements may as well have been kerosene in your veins. With what limited range of motion you had in that grey, compact space, you let out a sigh and dug the fingers of your free hand into the closest scrap of fabric beside you. Joel’s own touch gradually moved from your hip to drag your hand behind your back, clasping his. He fucked in deeper

“So that’s who this is for?” Thumbing your skirt.

“Y-Yeah,” you lied.

“Wanted to send naughty pics in the schoolgirl getup?”

“Yes,” you lied again. You closed your eyes when Joel sank his cock even deeper and made you stretch inside.

“‘Atta girl,” he praised.

It might’ve been the first he’d validated you in your life.

“Grippin’ this cock extra tight, ain’t ya, sweet girl?”

Never in a million years would you have imagined it’d come this late—or leave Joel’s mouth in a way like that.

‘Elastic’ wasn’t a word you’d ever used to describe your body, either. Frankly, there was no need for it to be; every one of your partners before had been average-sized, and every other object that went inside you, too, had almost always been a comfortable squeeze between your walls. Outside of maybe your first time and a once-off awkward hookup now and again, you were never forced to feel a stretch to this degree. Joel felt huge moving inside you.

He was nearing your cervix and still nowhere close to the base of his cock. Meanwhile, you were stuffed to the brim, saturated with arousal and his spit, and practically keening at every stab of his hips. You couldn’t reach back because Joel’s fingers were still enmeshed with yours, gripping them hard behind your back. As wore down, fucked out, and desperate as you already were, you were less than only a second away from asking him to ease up.

And then he stopped.

Joel pulled out, let go, and pressed onto the old washing machine, where you heard his touch echo through metal.

He was leaning against it. You were about to turn around. Before you could, though, you felt his form mold into yours—this time not in it, but on it, as he drew closer and once more reached into the space where you were stuck.

“Can you be brave for me, baby?” Joel murmured.

“Wh—” you started, soft, only to feel the words plucked straight from your lungs as Joel leaned his body inside. Carefully, and with concerted effort, it seemed, he was trying to squeeze his way into the O-shaped hole of the washing machine, snaking his arm around your torso.

Pinching your finger again. Breathing just gently enough for his exhales to tickle at your shoulders and your neck.

“Can you be brave?” he repeated, and you weren’t sure you’d ever heard him so soft-spoken, or felt him so close.

You nodded, not knowing why.

Without another word, your stepdad pinched the digit even tighter and yanked it out from where it was stuck.

It all happened so fast. Joel freeing your finger, squeezing it tight, helping you out of that hot and crowded space while your legs gave way like mush beneath your weight—and your hand throbbing in pain. You’d never thought a single finger could cause a feeling as strong as that, but it stung like hell. You almost raked your nails through the man’s arm when he tried to hold you back, holding you up just as well as you stood.

“Joel!” you screeched, like the whole thing was his fault.

You flexed your hand and wanted to sob. You could feel the streaks of pain start to claw up your wrist, were just about to shove Joel aside and wallow in agony, when at length, he did something strange and unexpected again.

This time, he lifted your index to his mouth and kissed it.

It wasn’t a sensual kiss. Coming from Joel, it hardly even seemed affectionate. His lips were so warm and firm and decidedly unacquainted with anything approaching a threat of tenderness that his act read almost aggressive. He let your finger rest loosely against his mouth, and he kissed it again, while his eyes burned holes into yours.

‘You’re okay’ came out muffled against your hand.

“You’re okay—hey—baby, you’re good. Don’t cry.”

You hadn’t even noticed the tears had started to form. You blinked and felt one trickle down your cheek. With the hand that wasn’t holding your wrist, Joel brushed his thumb against that lone trail of moisture. He didn’t cup your face, hold you close, or stroke your cheek in the seconds that followed, though he did keep kissing you.

Or, rather, it—your finger.

Joel didn’t have to care for you at all. He just feared he might’ve pulled on your hand too hard in getting you out.

‘You’re okay’ was being mumbled away like a fractured refrain, touch descending gently to your hip, and his eyes grew softer by the second, surely he had to be thinking it.

Sinking inside you, again. He was standing; your hips were tilted to his, and your ass was pressing flat against the front of the washing machine. All it took was an inch or two off the ground and your limbs hanging limply around his hips for Joel to fuck back into you. He sucked on your finger so hard you feared the skin might actually bruise—a hand hickey, of all fucking things—and when his grip tightened on your side, you knew he felt it too.

His teeth succeeded his lips in an instant, and he was biting, gnawing pathetically as a groan shuddered through his chest. If you didn’t know better, you might’ve said the sound was veering perilously close to a whimper.

Fully sheathed inside you, Joel Miller didn’t seem to care. His lids fell like lead across the upper half of his brown, glossy eyes, and the expression behind them was blank.

Safe.

“‘S’alright, baby,” he grunted. Maybe he’d just seen you wince, as he cradled your hand and withdrew another inch, “Keep squeezin’ me, it feels real good. Right here.”

Out of instinct, your gaze drifted down to the spot where his body joined with yours. The sight was hardly a shock, but the feelings it evoked were not—he had you split along two-thirds of his dick, a pretty shelf of belly protruding beneath and gleaming with the arousal he’d drawn out from your body. Tufts of silver and grey littered his skin in every direction, aged muscles tensed with the weight of each thrust, and the warm weathered hand that hadn’t dared touch you once before today was now cupping your chin. Tilting your head closer to him.

“Right here, baby. Look at daddy.”

Wild, unbridled heat flooded your brain in a second. The thing seared the insides of your skull with all the force of a fire and stole the air from your lungs just the same—still, you couldn’t refrain from making a face in disgust.

“What the fuck, Joel?” You shouldn’t have liked it.

His hand ascended your throat in a blink.

“Ain’t that what you want, sweet pea?”

“I—”

Just as you started to answer, though, his cock took a dizzying plunge, hitting exactly the right spot inside you. Like clockwork, your mouth fell open, a whine tumbled out, and Joel took that as his chance to grip your neck even tighter and push your hips against the washing machine, where his height afforded him an easy hold.

“What you want—”

He squeezed harder.

“—what you need—”

You gasped, starved for air. It wasn’t every day a man took your breath away. Not like Joel could, anyway.

“—is me, ain’t it?”

The gaze fixed on your face was alight with desire.

“Bet you miss him somethin’ awful, huh? Been needin’ a man to fill that spot ever since he left, haven’t ya, baby?”

‘He’ required no further clarification. The words stung. You communicated as much by wriggling your hips back and pressing your hand against Joel’s chest, just quit it.

Keep fucking me, but shut the fuck up about my father.

“I don’t miss shit,” you sniffed. Felt the head of Joel’s cock carve a shape somewhere deep inside your body and couldn’t pretend it wasn’t filling a metaphorical void someplace else. You hadn’t got this much attention from a man as many years your senior since…well, ever, really.

You preened beneath his touch. Wanting to feel. Wanting to please. Wanting, more than anything, to be needed.

Joel sated each craving with a simple hand smoothed over your face. His palm moved from your throat to your chin to the hinge of your jaw before coming to rest at the nape of your neck. This time squeezing lightly, bringing your face in close while he fucked you. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, and your stomach tightened inside you.

“That’s alright,” he said, words hardly above a whisper, “No need to miss that man at all, ‘cause I’m right here.”

For once the assurance came as somewhat of a comfort. You suspected it had something to do with the fact he was balls deep inside you and pushing you closer and closer to the brink of release with each painstaking stab of his cock. You fisted his flannel, holding him there. Spreading your legs, accepting his thrusts, taking each movement with ragged, shallow breaths and moans that blended with his own, you felt your body grow warmer.

Almost febrile beneath him as he tilted your head again.

“Who’s your daddy now?”

You winced, shaking your head. You hated that word.

“Who’s your daddy?”

Joel lowered his hand and began to thumb at your clit. Hot pleasure coursed through you, made you whine at the contact and dig your heels even deeper in his back.

“Who’s your daddy, baby? It ain’t that hard to say.”

But it was. Joel stroking your clit, stuffing you full, ghosting his lips against yours without ever furnishing a kiss, just goading you on with: ‘I know you wanna say it.’ Tough grey stubble teased your mouth with each word.

“I know she needs to cum, sweet girl. Know that poor little pussy’s taken a beating—and she’s done so good for me—but she needs to let it out now. All over me.”

His gaze held yours. You couldn’t turn away.

An unmistakable tenderness pervaded that look, and it didn’t seem keen to depart. No matter how tightly you pursed your lips, made fists in his shirt, or choked his cock between your walls in fluttering, desperate pleas, the man remained calm. Attentive. The eyes didn’t stray.

“It’s okay to say it.”

“C-Can’t—”

“Sure can. Be the easiest thing you ever do—D-A-D-D—”

“Please. Please.”

You hardly even knew what you were asking for at this point, only beholden to that big, swollen something in your tummy starting to give way beneath the push of Joel’s cock. Tightening up, leaking out, practically drooling down the length of this man who seemed relentless in his current pursuit. Two more circles on your clit and you were keening, whimpering pathetic as ever:

“Pleasepleasepleaseplease.”

“Say it now. Who’s it for?”

Above you, Joel’s teeth gleamed in a smile—or a snarl, you couldn’t tell. All you knew was the pleasure, the concomitant pain of having to contain this desperation while his thrusts sped up. You were bouncing on him, getting fucked against the washing machine in the raw and terrible central Texas heat wearing a sheen of sweat and a set of clothes that no longer fit your body, but that was just fine. You were okay. Joel was here, and he was holding your head, lips hovering less than an inch away.

“Who’s. Your. Daddy?” His words were slow. Coarse. Spilling into your mouth with every short puff of breath.

You couldn’t take it. You felt a band of pressure come to a head in your belly and the brush of Joel’s cock making its rounds in and out of your swollen cunt, pushing hard, and you knew that you’d had enough. He knew it, too.

“Y-You.”

“Who?”

“Joel.”

“Who?”

Your wet, pearly slick rang a deafening pitch. Enough.

“You, daddy! Daddy—please, fuck—I-I-I’m gonna cum.”

“Gonna cum for me? Make a mess of your old man?”

“Make a m-mess— yes, daddy, yes—” you slurred.

Joel drove his cock, fully coated in you, down to the hilt. He captured your lips in a kiss and didn’t even mind your mouth was whining, hissing, whimpering its filthy pleas for him to fuck a nice, big orgasm out from your body.

“—want yours inside,” you added, without realizing it.

“Sweet girl…” Joel groaned.

You didn’t know what you were asking him for. How badly he wanted it, too. His cock dragged in and out of your precious cunt and was barely more safe from the threat of its grip when you spasmed, at the last. Joel should’ve expected no less, after all the time he’d spent teasing and edging, then begging you gently, in grunts, ‘Cum for daddy, baby. Let me have it, that’s it, good girl.’ Still, somehow, he wasn’t prepared in the slightest.

When you squeezed your eyes shut and kissed him back—that was all it took. When you clenched on his cock, gave the front of his shirt a tug, locked your ankles about his hips so you could more properly increase that friction by fucking him back, grinding in place, he feared he might fairly make an irreparable, unforgivable mistake.

And when the whites of your eyes appeared again—eyelids fluttering open while your lips were glossed with his spit and a lazy smile—and said what you said next, he sensed that his fate was sealed. The old man was fucked.

“Cum inside me, daddy. Please.”

Joel couldn’t have stopped himself if he tried. He shuddered, then flooded your insides with rope after rope after rope of his spend, burying his face in your neck and taking your hips in his hands like a looser grip might lose you to him forever. He fucked his cum deep, deeper, darlin’ don’t move, can’t lose a drop, baby, please, he let out a whimper that made your walls pulse again. You felt him fill you to the brim and keep rutting his hips. Your body and his were shaking by the last of it.

And when he was finished, Joel dropped a kiss along your limp, glistening lips. He slid you back on the metal. By the expression on his face, it was plain to see he was loath to withdraw, but he had to. That tender little hiss and the sounds of your shared fluids trickling out were all the impetus he needed to act quick. As soon as he’d pulled out, Joel was back leaning against the washing machine—tilting your hips back a little, then lowering his sweaty, handsome head to the spot between your legs.

The wrinkles to the sides of his eyes grew more pronounced when he smiled. A happy grin, plastered across his lips, would have struck you as almost smug, were it not for the look of sheer adulation that followed it.

Joel was enthralled, watching his cum leak out of you. He kissed your thighs, flickered his gaze to your own, briefly, then damn near sank his nose inside the place he was watching before your fingers stopped him cold.

It was your body, after all. He had already had his fill.

Hardly knowing what came over you in that moment, you sank two fingers inside your wet, drooling hole and watched the eyes of the man beneath you go wide. He soaked in that sight completely: you pushing his cum back in, drawing it out, using the viscous white liquid as a lubricant of sorts before releasing a pleased little sigh.

Joel closed his mouth reluctantly. It took him more than a second to tear his eyes from that place, but when he did, the motions were quick to grow assured, by turns.

As if remembering something.

In a second, the innocent smile you’d seen before was being infiltrated, slowly, by a look you couldn’t place. Joel’s grin morphed from gentle to contented to plainly enthused and beaming ear-to-ear with a conceited glint. With his finger, he tugged your panties back into place.

“Baby—” he started, only to be cut off lightning-quick.

“What? What is it?”

His smile stretched even wider. By that act alone, you were half-tempted to forget the events of the last hour and set your jaw in a scowl. You looked down, unamused.

“What?”

“It’s just…” The man trailed off, and as he did, his gaze descended with it—straight down to your bare pantyline.

You cast a look there too—“What the fuck is it, Joel?!”

At that, two brown eyes flitted back up to you.

“I thought I asked for neon pink underwear, baby.”

Your breaths slowed. His gaze didn’t waver. Your heart came to a standstill in your chest, and you were amazed you had even half your present willpower then to speak.

“Wait, Joel, wh—”

“Shame you couldn’t get around to filmin’ today. Had me hard as a fuckin’ rock with all that milk and honey stuff.”

You nearly choked on your spit. Joel kept grinning.

“You’re—”

The guy. That fucking subscriber. The one who’d paid almost $500 in commissions in the last month alone.

You stared at Joel with eyes as wide as saucers, and were about to press on, when you heard the front door to the house shriek back on its hinges. Two sets of footsteps followed it, and their entry inside was loud.

Immediately, Joel rose to his feet. It seemed that grin wasn’t meant to stay long on his lips, because the next thing you knew, he was dropping a kiss somewhere soft and sweaty on your face and flipping your skirt back into place, holding his index up to his lips and stepping away. Your mouth twisted into a frown but stayed zipped out of sheer necessity. Seeing this, and likely unable to help himself, your gross, depraved, grinning old man leaned back in and planted his hands on either side of your hips on the washing machine. His nose nudged into your own.

“Between us—” he began, slowly.

“Get fucked,” you finished for him.

Joel nodded his assent, smirk faint. He cast a look over his shoulder, and, hearing what sounded like your mother’s footsteps drawing closer, lowered his voice.

Rubbing his thumb under your chin, making you tip your head back to meet his for one final look—then a kiss:

“You keep my secret, I keep yours, alright?”

—

Note: I’ve never done a real writing challenge before, but hopefully this fic will work for #hotdilfsummerchallenge !!! @hellishjoel this is such a fun ass idea & i hope you enjoy❣️

[flwrkid14]

The Curious Case of Phantom

It starts during patrol.

At first, Tim barely notices the small, white blur with eerily green eyes trailing behind him as he scales rooftops and darts through alleys. Gotham’s stray population is no joke, so he figures it’s just another cat—until it keeps happening. Night after night, the same cat follows him like a shadow, no matter how far or fast he goes.

He tries to lose it, but somehow, it always finds him. And soon, he realizes the cat isn’t just following him—it’s helping.

One night, the cat leaps from a rooftop and claws a mugger who’s sneaking up behind Tim. Another night, it leads him to a drug deal in progress, meowing insistently until Tim follows.

It’s eerie how good the cat is at finding trouble, but it’s also undeniably useful. Tim names it Phantom, mostly because of its hauntingly white fur and the way it moves like a ghost in the shadows.

He’s not ready to admit that he’s started looking for the cat on patrol, waiting for it to show up like some unofficial partner.

———

Then Phantom starts showing up at Tim’s apartment.

The first time, Tim finds the cat sitting on his fire escape, staring at him through the window. He brushes it off as coincidence. But then it happens again. And again. Every night, Phantom is there, waiting.

Tim tries ignoring it, but Phantom doesn’t scratch or meow—it just stares, patient and expectant.

Eventually, Tim gives in and lets the cat inside. Phantom struts in like he owns the place, jumps onto Tim’s desk, and curls up right on top of his notes.

“Guess I have a cat now,” Tim mutters, scratching behind Phantom’s ears.

Phantom quickly becomes a fixture in Tim’s life.

He lounges on Tim’s lap during stakeouts, naps on his keyboard, and somehow always knows when Tim needs a break. Phantom is weird, though. His movements are too precise, too deliberate, and sometimes Tim swears he’s glowing faintly green.

But Tim doesn’t question it too much. Phantom’s good company, and Gotham’s seen stranger things.

———

The family eventually notices Phantom soon enough.

“You adopted a stray?” Dick asks when he visits Tim’s apartment. He crouches to pet the cat, who immediately swats at him. Dick recoils, laughing. “Okay, wow. Even the cat thinks I’m beneath him.”

“He doesn't seem to like new people,” Tim mutters, watching Phantom hop onto his desk like nothing happened.

Steph is obsessed. “He’s adorable! Can I post him?” she asks, taking a hundred photos of Phantom lounging on Tim’s keyboard. “He’s like your spooky little sidekick.”

Jason, on the other hand, has a reaction.

“WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?” Jason yells the first time he sees Phantom.

Tim frowns. “It’s a cat, Jason. Calm down.”

“No, it’s not! That thing is glowing green, Tim! It’s haunted or radioactive or something!”

Tim rolls his eyes. “He’s just a cat.”

Jason isn’t convinced, but Phantom doesn’t care. He just glares at Jason like he’s the dumbest person in the room and stretches out on the couch.

Damian, though, reacts... differently.

The second Damian sees Phantom, he freezes.

“This cat,” Damian says, voice trembling with reverence, “is extraordinary.”

Tim barely has time to blink before Damian has his hands full of silk-lined cat beds, imported food, and custom collars engraved with “Phantom, the Great.”

“He’s my cat, Damian,” Tim says when Damian tries to scold him for not brushing Phantom’s fur properly.

“You are unworthy of him, Drake,” Damian snaps. “This is a creature of unmatched perfection, and you’re treating him like a common house pet.”

Tim sighs, but Phantom climbs into his lap and starts purring loudly. Damian looks betrayed.

“Traitor,” Damian mutters at Phantom, who clearly doesn’t care.

———

But Phantom isn’t just a cat.

Danny Fenton—currently stuck in his ghost form as a cat and unable to shift back—has been following Tim for weeks, hoping the smartest Bat could help him figure out how to fix his situation.

At first, it was desperation. Danny didn’t know how to communicate with Tim or explain what had happened to him. But then Tim let him in, fed him, and started treating him with such quiet care that Danny couldn’t bring himself to reveal the truth.

Phantom became his escape. For the first time in ages, Danny didn’t have to fight or run or worry about anyone discovering his secrets. He could just... exist.

And, okay, messing with the family was a bonus.

Danny knew he couldn’t stay a cat forever, but with the way Tim scratched behind his ears and muttered soft compliments, he thought, Maybe I can stay like this for a little longer.

Or maybe a lot longer. Phantom had a good thing going, after all.