#realized at 17 or 18 and never looked back

[tiny-wooden-robot-fics]

Magnolia - Chapter Eighteen

Rating: Explicit Media: Jujutsu Kaisen Pairing(s): Geto Suguru x Original Female Character, Geto Suguru x Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru x Gojo Satoru x Original Female Character Additional Tags: Vampire AU, Dark Themes, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Suicide Attempt, Depression, Loneliness, Polyamory, Slow Burn, Smut

A/N: Tags will be added as chapters are updated. Please be mindful of the tags and warnings at the beginning of each chapter, as they will tell you what you need to know about the content within.

Minors, DNI.

Summary:

He laughs. “Sometimes. But he does it so well that it’s hard to be annoyed for long, because you end up looking so good.” He uncrosses his arms and steps into the room, closing the distance between them in just a few strides. She turns to face him, feeling suddenly shy now that there’s only a few inches of space between their bodies. “Do you want me to stay out of it?”

Suguru is so good at keeping his face neutral; she can’t tell what he’s thinking at all when he asks. “Stay out of it?”

“Mmhm.” His gaze flickers from her eyes, moves down her body, and then back up to meet her eyes again. “If you want to be alone with Satoru, that’s perfectly okay with me.” 

Chapter Navigation 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18

Chapter Masterlist

Read on AO3

Chapter Warnings: Oral (f. receiving), Squirting

Chapter Eighteen: Love's Acolyte

“Oh, that’s pretty.” Suguru looks at her from where he’s standing in the doorway of her room, arms crossed over his chest. “It suits you.”

She looks back at herself in the full-length mirror. What Satoru laid out for her is a set, made of lace and in almost the same shade as the dress she’s just changed out of. “Does it ever annoy you, this uncanny skill he has of finding things that look good on you?”

He laughs. “Sometimes. But he does it so well that it’s hard to be annoyed for long, because you end up looking so good.” He uncrosses his arms and steps into the room, closing the distance between them in just a few strides. She turns to face him, feeling suddenly shy now that there’s only a few inches of space between their bodies. “Do you want me to stay out of it?”

Suguru is so good at keeping his face neutral; she can’t tell what he’s thinking at all when he asks. “Stay out of it?”

“Mmhm.” His gaze flickers from her eyes, moves down her body, and then back up to meet her eyes again. “If you want to be alone with Satoru, that’s perfectly okay with me.” 

She hasn’t actually thought about it, and once he poses the question, she realizes she doesn’t actually know. A hot bubble of apprehension inflates in her chest, and she looks down at her feet. “I’ve… never been with two men at once.”

He puts his hands on her shoulders, his palms warm against her skin, and leans down so he can look her in the eye. “You don’t have to be if you don’t want to - not in that way,” he reassures her. “If you don’t want me there, I’ll let you be alone with him. If you want me there, but you just want me to watch, I’ll do that, too.” He smiles down at her, and it’s just as kind as it always is. “And if you say you’d like me to join in, well… I’d love to do that too - but when and how will be totally up to you.” 

Somehow, he always knows just what to say to alleviate her anxiety. “Your knack for finding the perfect words to ease my mind is as good as Satoru’s knack for finding clothing that looks good on me.” 

“Hm,” he hums with a grin. “Does it annoy you as much, too?”

“I can’t say that it does.”

“Good.” She doesn’t think it’s her imagination that he sounds just a little bit smug.

--

Many have loved you with lips and fingers And lain with you till the moon went out; Many have brought you lover’s gifts; And some have left their dreams on your doorstep. But I who am youth among your lovers Come like an acolyte to worship, My thirsting blood restrained by reverence,  My heart a wordless prayer. The candles of desire are lighted,  I bow my head, afraid before you,  A mendicant who craves your bounty Ashamed of what small gifts he brings. -Elsa Gidlow, Love’s Acolyte

--

“You look like a gift, wrapped up just for me,” Satoru tells her. She’s in his lap again, pressed up against him with his hands on her hips. “Suguru… how come you don’t wear this color more often, too?” “You know why,” Suguru murmurs. He joins them in bed and rolls over onto his side, his head resting in his hand as he watches them. “I look terrible in that shade of blue.” He reaches up and lets his fingertips dance gently down the path of Lia’s spine, making her shudder, arching her closer into Satoru. 

And the way Satoru looks up at her makes her skin flush hot all over, because it’s not just lust. It’s not just some half-baked desire that’s sprung up out of nowhere… it’s a different flavor of the longing he looks at Suguru with. She leans forward because she wants to kiss him, again and again and again, and so she does. 

Deeply enough to feel like she’s drowning in him, deeply enough to worry that she’ll go lightheaded if she doesn’t come up for air soon, deeply enough to make her start squirming into him because it feels like the only way to get the friction she so desperately wants. 

“Easy, Princess,” Satoru laughs quietly, when she breaks the kiss to breathe. “I’m right here.” 

“Stop teasing her, Satoru.”

“Me? Teasing her is the last thing on my mind.” Lia believes him, because she can feel how hard he is beneath her - the thin, soft fabric of his boxer briefs doing nothing to hide the evidence of his desire. She can’t tell anymore if the wet patch on the lace panties she’s wearing is from her or him. 

She supposes it doesn’t really matter anyway. 

She reaches between them, wanting to feel him. Wanting to wrap her fingers around him, to gauge his shape and size with her hand. “I want…” The words come out barely louder than a whisper, and they don’t even begin to encompass all of the thoughts that fall under the umbrella of that phrase: I want. 

“Hm?” He nudges her chin up with his finger, so he can look into her eyes. How does anyone resist these eyes? She wonders. Maybe they don’t. “What is it that you want, Lia?” 

“You.” The word spills out of her without any hesitation. There is no shame, no pride in how quickly she answers his question. Her hand finds purchase between them, fingers closing around the base of his shaft. Her stomach flutters at how full her fist feels when she tries to get her fingertips to meet the tip of her thumb, and she draws in a quiet little breath. 

Satoru hears that sharp little inhale, sees the surprise on her face, and it makes him chuckle. He cups the back of her head, bringing her face close to his so he can nuzzle her cheek with his nose. “Why don’t you let me open you up a little first, yeah?” --

Lia still remembers with perfect clarity every single second of the way Suguru put his mouth on her. 

She remembers the way he alternated between using his mouth and using his fingers, the way he kept his gaze on her when he sensed she was getting close to her orgasm, how closely he paid attention to the signs her body gave him and used those signs to dictate what he would do next. 

It had indeed left her speechless, but this is something entirely different. 

The mouth on Gojo Satoru - it makes her wonder, is his tongue fucking battery operated?

The way he’s slurping and sucking and licking, three fingers buried as deeply into her as they can go, massaging her walls - it has her shaking and sweating and biting her fist in order to muffle the sounds she’s making. 

It isn’t Satoru that reaches up and pries her hand out of her mouth. “He wants to hear you, pretty girl,” Suguru coos, pressing a kiss to her palm. “How else is he supposed to know he’s doing a good job?”

Again and again and again, Satoru brings her to the edge over and over, only to pull her back when she’s close. Until she’s seeing stars, until she’s almost in tears, until she’s absolutely incapable of anything other than incoherent babbling. 

Satoru thinks she’s so pretty, with those big tears clumped on her lashes and her swollen lips and sweat-slicked skin. She’s a goddamned work of art, and he’s about to make it better. 

He brings her to the edge one last time, and then takes her over, and it’s so satisfying watching the way she gushes for him… but what’s even more satisfying is the look on her face, the look that lets him know that this is her first time ever being able to do that. 

“What a mess,” Suguru teases her from his place next to her. 

They don’t let her cover her face. Satoru is so, so warm. He finally puts her legs down and drapes himself over her, chest to chest, his soft, wet lips dragging along her collarbone. “Messy girl,” he smirks, exchanging an amused look with Suguru. He lifts his hand, the one that was just inside of her, to Suguru’s lips. “Isn’t she delicious?” Said between kisses, his mouth slotting over Lia’s so she can also taste herself on his tongue and his other hand snaking between their bodies to lightly caress her swollen labia. 

“Just as delicious as I remember,” Suguru agrees. 

“Did you know, Lia? Did you know you also speak a lot with your eyes?” 

She glances over at Suguru, who’s still sucking on Satoru’s fingers. “I’ve been told that once or twice,” she admits. 

“I bet you have.” 

Lia marvels at it - how all the anxiety she felt just a little while ago is gone now. How these two have managed to take that nervous ball of energy that was in the pit of her stomach and turn it into something else entirely. Something that has her wanting so much more, something that brings out of her a greed that she’s never felt the likes of before.

She wonders if a little of that is showing on her face. It must be, if the way the two of them are looking at her is any indication.

“Are you tired, Lia?” Satoru asks. 

“No.” 

“Good,” he grins, shifting a little, just enough for her to feel how hard he is, pressed against her thigh. “Because I’m not quite done with you yet.” 

Chapter Navigation 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18

Chapter Masterlist

Tag list: @therealestpussyeater

[frogatz]

shirley transgender 🫶

[todayisafridaynight]

time a flat circle why the hell am i usin the same loafers i bought for one cosplay of my fave antagonist for another fave antagonist

[itneverendshere]

ex!reader who loves the game and wants to support her team but hockey captain!rafe is on the ice. he thinks she’s there for him but when she comes in with a date? and when they get put on the kiss cam? rafe slams into the glass to scare them? hate sex????

someone who lets you break them twice - hockey!toxic!rafe x ex!reader (+18)

warnings: veryyy long and 99% smut🙂‍↕️ the things i do for you...

The cold air inside the rink always made your skin tingle. Your breath curled in front of you like smoke as you moved uncomfortably on the bleachers, pulling your jacket tighter around you. This is why you hated fall. It was too cold to be outside, too early to be winter. But tonight wasn’t about the weather—it was about hockey.

Hockey and, well, the fact that you hadn’t missed a game since… well, since Rafe and you broke up.

“Everything okay?” The voice beside you pulled you back to reality.

Elijah, the guy you’d been seeing for the past couple of weeks, smiled at you, oblivious to the bullshit taking over your mind, and you gave him your best smile back.

“Yeah, just cold,” you said, trying to focus. You weren’t here for Rafe, not anymore. You loved hockey. You loved watching the boys skate across the ice, their power and grace.

Or at least that was what you kept telling yourself.

Elijah wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer to him, and you leaned in, feeling his warmth. The game was just about to start, and the arena lights dimmed slightly, casting shadows over the rink. The roar of the crowd drowned your thoughts for a moment as the players took the ice.

And then, as if the universe was personally trying to screw with you, you saw him.

Rafe.

Of course, he looked good.

God, why did he always have to look so fucking good? His broad shoulders filling out his number 17 jersey, that stupid confident smirk as he skated out with the rest of the team. His dark blonde hair peeked out from under his helmet He was captain this year, and it made sense—he’d been working his ass off since…ever. You couldn’t think of anyone more deserving than him. 

He always had to be in charge, on and off the ice.

He still had that same cocky swagger that made you wanna scream… for entirely different reasons now.

You knew better than to be here, yet somehow you ended up courtside anyway. Probably because you’d never let him run you out of your favorite game. Not even if he was captain now. This was your team, the one you’d been coming to see since before Rafe even knew what a slapshot was.

You sank further into Elijah’s side, forcing your eyes away from your ex. But it wasn’t until you caught the dark blue of the jersey you were wearing in the corner of your eye that you realized… You’d put on Rafe’s jersey. 

His number. The one you’d always worn to support him when you were together. Out of all the team merch you owned, of course you had to wear his.

“You really like hockey a lot, huh?” Elijah asked, glancing down at your jersey.

“Yeah,” You mumbled, feeling your cheeks heat up. “I’ve been following the team for a while.”

Lies. You loved hockey, sure. But you loved Rafe a little more. Or, you used to. Or, well, maybe that was still complicated.

The puck dropped, and the game started. For a while, you tried to focus on the action. Rafe was all over the ice, playing like the goddamn superstar he thought he was. You couldn’t help but notice how his gaze kept darting up toward the stands, like he knew you were there. And maybe he did

Halfway through the second period, he slammed into an opposing player, sending him crashing into the boards. The sound echoed through the arena, and the crowd went wild, but you could feel your stomach knotting up. That had always been Rafe—intense, aggressive, unable to hold back. On the ice or off.

You tried to focus on Elijah, laughing at something he was saying, but your heart wasn’t in it. And then, just when you thought you’d survived the worst of it, the kiss cam flashed up on the big screen. Your laughter died in your throat as you realized what was happening, your face heating up instantly. You weren’t exactly embarrassed, but this was... awkward. 

“Aw, how cute,” He said, grinning as he pointed to the screen.

You followed his gaze, heart dropping. They were zooming in on the two of you. You could feel the crowd around you start to cheer and whistle as Elijah leaned in closer, clearly getting ready to kiss you.

You could see him coming toward you, could see his lips getting closer, but all you could think about was—

Bang!

In the span of a second, a body slammed into the boards right in front you, the sound so loud it made you jump. The entire section gasped, and you turned your head just in time to see Rafe standing there, glaring up at you from behind the glass. His eyes were locked on you, jaw clenched.

He looked like he was ready to tear Elijah apart, or you, or both of you. His chest was heaving, eyes blazing, standing mere inches away from where you sat. He had skated right into the glass.

Your heart was practically in your throat, and it wasn't from Elijah being close. The look on Rafe’s face as he stood on the other side of the glass?

That was what had your pulse racing. You could barely focus on Elijah anymore. The way he laughed, oblivious, made your stomach churn because Rafe—Rafe—was staring like he owned you. He always had this way of making you feel like no matter what, no matter who else was around, you were his. 

And you hated that you still kind of liked it.

Then, still staring at you, he mouthed the words, "I dare you."

Why couldn’t he just leave you alone?

Those stupid words. Silently mouthed, but somehow loud enough to hit you like a punch through the glass. I dare you. God, what was wrong with him? He knew exactly how to push your buttons. And of course, it was working. He wasn’t just playing hockey—he was playing with you.

You could feel Elijah shifting next to you, still oblivious to the whole freaking drama unfolding right in front of him.

He was so sweet, too sweet, and it was almost infuriating right now because Rafe was standing there, with his stupid intense eyes, all but daring you to move on. Why did he have to look at you like that—like he knew you were still his.

The breakup had been brutal, the kind of messy, loud explosion where neither of you were willing to be the first to walk away. You were both too stubborn, too prideful. And now here you were, months later, still dealing with the fallout. 

Elijah finally leaned in, lips brushing yours, and you kissed him, but your heart wasn’t in it. All you could feel was Rafe’s stare burning into you. The kiss cam lingered for a few seconds, and the crowd cheered, but all you felt was... empty.

When the kiss ended, you forced a smile at Elijah, but your mind was a mess. Rafe’s eyes were still on you, and you could practically feel anger radiating off him, even through the thick glass.

You glanced down, avoiding his gaze, and tugged at the hem of his old jersey, suddenly feeling like you didn’t belong in it anymore. You leaned into Elijah, mostly out of spite at this point. You could practically hear Rafe’s teeth grinding from across the glass. Good. If he thought he could just walk around, acting like he owned the place—and you—then he deserved to stew in it a little.

But, of course, he wasn’t the kind of guy to just let something like that go. You watched as he skated back into play, but his eyes kept flicking up to where you sat, like he couldn’t stop checking to make sure you were still there. Still with Elijah. His shoulders were tense, movements a little too aggressive, like he was about to snap.

You tried to focus on the game again, but your mind kept drifting back to him. You hated this. You hated that he could still make you feel this way, even now, after everything.

After the fights, after the breakup, after swearing you were over him. Why was it so hard to let him go?

The third period started, and Rafe was everywhere, throwing his weight around like he had something to prove. And maybe he did. Every hit was harder, every pass sharper. It was like he was playing angry. And you couldn’t help but feel a little satisfied, knowing you’d gotten under his skin.

But then, with less than five minutes left in the game, things escalated. He slammed into one of the opposing players so hard that the guy went down, and the whistle blew immediately. The crowd was roaring, but Rafe didn’t back off. He stood over the guy, glaring down at him like he was ready to throw a punch.

"Jesus," Elijah muttered beside you. "What the hell’s his problem?"

You didn’t answer. You knew exactly what his problem was.

The ref skated over, shouting something at Rafe, but his eyes weren’t on the ref. They were still on you, even as the other guy on the ice slowly got back to his feet. The arena was buzzing, the crowd getting rowdy, and for a second, you thought Rafe was going to lose it right there. His fists clenched, jaw set—he looked like he was ready to drop gloves and start swinging.

And then he smirked.

It was that same cocky smirk you knew so well, the one he always flashed right before doing something reckless. The ref sent him to the penalty box, and he skated off, still with that fucking look plastered on his face. Your heart was racing, your body tense. Elijah had leaned back in his seat, totally unaware about everything.

“Man, that guy’s intense,” Elijah said, shaking his head, eyes still on the ice.

You didn’t answer. Intense didn’t even begin to cover it.

Rafe was sitting in the penalty box now, helmet off, running a hand through his hair like he didn’t just about murder a guy on the ice. You could feel his eyes on you, even from all the way across the rink. You hated it. You hated that he could still get to you like this.

The last few minutes of the game passed in an instant. You weren’t really paying attention anymore, not to the score, not to the plays. You were too busy trying not to think about Rafe, about the way he had looked at you. About the way it had made you feel.

When the final buzzer sounded, the crowd erupted in cheers. Elijah stood up, stretching, turning to you with a smile.

“Ready to head out?” he asked.

You nodded, forcing a smile. “Yeah, let’s go.”

As you made your way toward the exit, weaving through the crowd, you could feel the tension building in your chest. It wasn’t over. It never really was with Rafe.

And you knew—somehow—you weren’t getting out of here without seeing him again.

You reached the bottom of the stands, where a crowd had gathered near the exit. Elijah was still chatting about the game, still clueless. But you were distracted, scanning the crowd without even realizing it.

And then you saw him. Of course, you did.

Rafe was leaning against the wall, still in his gear, helmet tucked under his arm. His eyes locked on yours the second you stepped into his line of sight. He didn’t even pretend to care about the people around him—his gaze was dark, intense, like a predator waiting for its moment.

You hated how your heart skipped.

Elijah noticed you freeze and followed your gaze, his smile faltering when he saw Rafe standing there.

"Isn’t that the captain guy?" he asked, glancing between you and Rafe, confused.

You swallowed hard, forcing your feet to keep moving. “Yeah. That’s him.”

As you passed by, Rafe pushed off the wall, stepping right into your path. Elijah, sweet, unsuspecting Elijah, paused beside you.

"Leaving already?" Rafe’s voice was low, casual, but his eyes were locked on yours, ignoring Elijah completely. "Didn’t even stick around to congratulate the team?"

You clenched your jaw, fighting to keep your cool. "It’s late, Rafe. We’re heading out."

But he wasn’t letting you off that easy. He took a step closer, his towering frame making Elijah shift uncomfortably. "You didn’t used to leave so soon," he said, voice dripping with that familiar cockiness. "Used to be the last one out."

Because you’d always let him fuck you in the locker room.

Elijah cleared his throat, trying to stand his ground. "Uh, yeah, we’ve got plans after this."

Rafe’s eyes flicked to him for the briefest second, before landing back on you.

"Plans, huh?"

Your pulse was hammering, and you could feel the heat rising in your cheeks. Why did he always have to do this—why couldn’t he just let you go?

“Rafe, we’re done,” you said through gritted teeth, trying to hold on to the last shred of your composure. “You don’t get to pull this shit anymore.”

He glanced at Elijah briefly, his gaze cold and dismissive, then back at you. “You sure about that?” he asked, “Because it doesn’t look like it.”

You clenched your fists, nails biting into your palms as you tried to calm yourself. You didn’t need this right now. Not with Elijah here. Not after everything.

“Let’s go Elijah,” you said, tugging at Elijah’s arm, desperate to get out of there before things escalated. But Rafe wasn’t having it.

He stepped in front of you again, blocking your path like he had some kind of claim on you. And God, the worst part was—you weren’t sure he was wrong.

You glanced at Elijah, who was staring at the two of you like he had walked into the middle of a conversation he couldn’t quite follow. “Look, dude,” he started, awkwardly laughing, “I don’t know what this is, but—”

“It’s nothing,” you cut him off quickly, your voice tight. “Let’s just go.”

But Rafe wasn’t about to let it go. 

“Yeah, Elijah,” His voice dripped with sarcasm. “It’s nothing.” His eyes flicked to you, dark and daring, and before you could stop yourself, you met his gaze with the same fire.

Elijah’s phone buzzed, and he pulled it out, frowning.

“Shit,” he muttered, distracted. “I’ve gotta take this call real quick. Give me a sec?” He stepped away, leaving you and Rafe standing there in the middle of the hallway, your body practically vibrating.

He was on you in an instant, grabbing your wrist and pulling you toward the locker room door. 

“Rafe, what the fuck—” you hissed, but he wasn’t letting go.

You tried to resist, but something inside you broke down—the anger, the unresolved pull between you two. And maybe it was the way he still had that stupid hold on you, the way your body responded when you shouldn’t want it to.

Or maybe it was the fact that you’d never fully closed the door on Rafe.

He shoved the door open, pulling you inside the dimly lit hallway that led to the locker room. The second the door closed, you spun around, shoving him in the chest hard. 

“You’re such a fucking asshole, you know that?”

Rafe barely flinched, his gaze smoldering as he crowded you against the wall. 

“Yeah? You didn’t seem to think so when you were wearing my jersey tonight.”

“That was an accident.”

“Bullshit,” he growled, leaning in closer, so close you could feel the heat radiating off his body. “You knew exactly what you were doing. Bringing a date with you. Do you want me to kill someone?"

Your heart was pounding, and not just because Rafe had you pinned against the wall like he always fucking did— God, why did he have to be so damn close? The scent of his cologne mixed with the sweat from the game, sending your mind spiraling. He was overwhelming, and you hated it. You hated him for still making you feel like this.

“Get off me,” you snapped, but it came out weaker than you intended. The way his blue eyes were boring into yours, like he could see through all your bullshit, wasn’t helping.

Rafe’s smirk didn’t falter. If anything, it grew.

“C’mon, baby, don’t act like this wasn’t what you wanted. You show up, wearin’ my number, sitting there with some random guy like I don’t still own you.” 

He stepped closer, caging you in completely. You pressed your hands against his chest, but it wasn’t like you were really pushing him away. And he knew it.

“You don’t own shit,” you spat, glaring up at him. But even as the words left your mouth, you knew you didn’t believe them. The truth was, part of you had always been his.

Rafe’s lips curved into a smug grin as if he could read every thought running through your head.

“Really? ’Cause from where I’m standin’, you’ve been thinkin’ about me all night.” His breath was hot on your skin, and you hated how much you wanted to close the distance between you.

Your jaw clenched as you tried to muster the strength to tell him to fuck off, to leave you alone, but he was right. As much as you tried to convince yourself otherwise, he was still in your head, under your skin. The way his body hovered over yours—it was like nothing had changed. Like you hadn’t spent the last few months trying to forget him.

His hand found your hip, fingers pressing into your skin through your jeans, and you felt your body betray you. You cursed yourself silently as heat pooled low in your stomach. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, didn’t want him to know how much power he still had. But damn it, he knew. He always fucking knew.

“I hate you,” you muttered. It was a weak defense, and you both knew it.

Rafe leaned in, lips brushing against your ear. “Yeah?” His voice was a low rasp that made your knees weak. “Funny, you never sound like you hate me when you’re under me.”

Your breath hitched, and you swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way your pulse quickened.

“Don’t—”

But he was already kissing you, hard and rough like he owned you, like you were his and his alone.

And the worst part? You kissed him back. His hands were on you, grabbing at your waist, pulling you closer until your bodies were pressed together. You wanted to shove him away, to slap that stupid look off his face—but your body had other plans. 

This was so wrong, on so many levels. 

You broke the kiss, gasping for air, but Rafe didn’t back off. He was staring down at you like you were his next meal, like he’d been starving without you.

“This doesn’t mean anything,” you bit out, trying to cling to some sense of control.

Rafe’s grin widened, wicked and knowing. He leaned in again, lips ghosting over yours. “We both know that's a lie.”

You clenched your fists, frustrated beyond belief. Frustrated at him, at yourself, at how easy it was for him to pull you right back in.

“Fuck you,” you hissed, but the breathless tone in your voice told a different story.

Rafe’s eyes darkened, the corner of his mouth lifting in that infuriatingly sexy way he always did.

“Oh, you will.”

And God help you—you knew he was right. That fucking arrogance. It crawled under your skin, set your blood on fire in ways it shouldn’t.

You wanted to punch him, shove him, do something to wipe that smug expression off his face. But instead, you grabbed his shirt, pulling him back toward you, kissing him with all the fury you felt.

His lips crushed against yours, and it wasn’t gentle—there was nothing soft or sweet about this. It was all heat and frustration, months of unresolved anger bursting out in one chaotic, messy kiss.

His tongue slipped past your lips, and you bit down, hard, just to remind him you weren’t going to make this easy. He groaned, low and rough, pulling back just enough to look at you, his gaze dark. "You always did like it rough."

Your fingers tangled in his hair, and you yanked him down, kissing him like you needed to get all of this out of your system. His hands roamed your body, possessive, rough, and you hated how much you craved him, like you were still his.

You weren’t his. You couldn’t be.

But every heated breath you took, every desperate movement your body made, was telling you otherwise.

When his lips moved down your neck, teeth grazing your skin, you gasped, tilting your head back as your resolve crumbled to pieces. He knew exactly what to do, how to make you fall apart, and it pissed you off that he still had that power.

His hands gripped your thighs, lifting you with ease, pressing you harder against the wall. Your breath hitched, the cold tile behind you making you gasp. His mouth was on you, hot and demanding, and for a moment, it was like nothing else mattered.

Not Elijah, not the fact that this was so damn wrong, not the months of hurt and anger you’d been holding onto.

There was only Rafe. The way he touched you, the way he kissed you like he was trying to stake his claim all over again. Like you hadn’t been apart at all.

"Tell me you don’t want this," Rafe muttered against your lips.

You bit down on your lip, trying to stop the words from spilling out. You did want this. You hated that you did, but fuck, you couldn’t lie—not to him, not to yourself.

“I—” You choked on the words, eyes meeting his, and for a split second, you thought maybe you’d find some kind of resolve, some way to pull yourself back from him.

But he wasn’t having it. His grip tightened, his mouth capturing yours again in a kiss so raw, it was borderline filthy. And that was it. Your last piece of control vanished, and you were lost in him all over again.

“Fuck,” you gasped, head spinning as his hands explored your body like he had every right to. Like you hadn’t spent months trying to break free of him.

Rafe pulled back just enough to smirk down at you, breathless and flushed. “Yeah, baby. That's what I thought."

His hands gripped your ass hard enough to leave bruises, you let out a frustrated, muffled groan, your fingers still tangled in his hair. It was a lot longer than the last time you’d seen him.

You could feel every inch of his muscle through the thin fabric of your shirt. It was suffocating in the best way, and you hated yourself for how much you wanted it.

How much you wanted him.

“You’re such an ass,” you gasped between kisses, your breath hitching when his mouth moved down to your neck. You felt him grin against your skin, the bastard.

“You say that like it’s supposed to stop you.” His voice was rough, low in your ear, and it sent a shiver down your spine. “But I don’t think it is.”

You were about to fire back, but his hands slid under your shirt, fingers grazing your skin, and whatever you were going to say was swallowed by the heat rushing through you. You hated that he still knew exactly how to get to you—how to pull you apart and leave you helpless against him.

“Rafe, this—” Your words were cut off when he bit down gently on your collarbone, sending a shockwave through your body. You clutched at his shirt.

“This what?” he taunted, pulling back just enough to look at you, his blue eyes intense. “This a mistake? Because I don’t think that’s what your body’s saying.”

You just glared up at him, trying to catch your breath. You hated that he was right. Again.

Always.

“I told you,” you managed to say, though your voice was shaky, “this doesn’t mean anything.”

Rafe’s grip on you tightened, and he leaned in, his lips brushing yours as he whispered, “You’re still here, aren’t you?”

Your heart was racing, and you could feel the heat of his breath on your skin. There was no denying it—you were here, and you weren’t leaving. Not yet.

Maybe not for a while.

And Rafe knew it.

His hands moved lower, fingers grazing the waistband of your jeans, and your breath hitched. This was dangerous territory. You knew that. 

“Last chance,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over yours. “You want me to stop?”

You should’ve said yes. You should’ve shoved him away and walked out of there with what little dignity you had left. But instead, you kissed him again—harder this time, angrier, like you needed to prove something to yourself. And maybe you did.

He yanked your shirt over your head in one rough motion, and you weren’t gentle either, tugging at his jersey until it was off and tossed aside. His hands were everywhere—on your back, in your hair, slipping under the waistband of your jeans, pulling them down with the same reckless urgency you’d been feeling since you laid eyes on him tonight.

“I hate you,” you whispered as your nails dragged down his chest, leaving angry red lines in their wake.

Rafe just laughed, “No, you don’t,” he growled, his hands grabbing your hips as he settled you onto one of the locker room benches. “But keep telling yourself that.”

Your jeans hit the floor, and he wasted no time, his hands gripping your thighs as he positioned himself between your legs, pressing you down on the bench, his body heavy against yours.

Everything was messy, and rushed, like neither of you could get enough. Like you were trying to erase the months of distance, of frustration, in the way you kissed him back, bit his lip, tugged at his hair.

 You hated how much you needed this. 

“Still think this doesn’t mean anything?” Rafe rasped, his voice hoarse as he pressed his forehead against yours, breathless and wild.

You could barely think, let alone speak, but somehow, you managed to gasp out, “Positive.”

Rafe’s mouth moved down your neck, biting and sucking, leaving marks you knew would still be there tomorrow. “You’re such a fucking liar.”

It was wrong, it was toxic, but fuck—there was something about the way he touched you. And body, traitorous and weak, responded like it always had.

You were furious with yourself, with him, with everything, but the anger only made it all hotter, more intense.

His fingers brushed against the seam of your panties, teasing, barely touching you, but doing enough to have you drenched. 

“You’re soaked,” he murmured, almost amused, slipping one finger under the fabric to run along your folds, barely dipping inside before pulling back out, "Was this all for Elijah?"

Sonofabitch.

“Stop talking,” you spat, but your voice was shaky, showing him the way you were falling apart under his touch. Rafe chuckled low in his throat, his finger moving back, this time slipping inside you, deep and slow.

You gasped, your head falling back as he began moving his finger, curling it inside you in just the right way. Your body responded immediately, hips jerking against him, desperate for more, but he took his time. He added another finger, stretching you out as his thumb rubbed slow circles over your clit, making your legs tremble beneath him.

He sped up, his fingers thrusting deeper, faster, hitting that spot inside you that made your mind go blank. “You’ve been wanting this, haven’t you? All those nights pretending you don’t think about me, but look at you now.”

Your nails dug into his shoulders, legs shaking as you felt yourself teetering on the edge, his fingers driving you closer and closer to the orgasm you so desperately needed.

His thumb pressed harder against your clit, sending shocks of pleasure through you. “Tell me how bad you need this.”

“Rafe—” you gasped, your hips bucking wildly against his hand. The tension inside you was coiled so tightly, so close to snapping. You hated him, hated yourself, but the words slipped out anyway. “I need it.”

He groaned, pleased, and that was all it took. He thrust his fingers harder, faster, until your body gave in completely. You hadn’t had a proper orgasm in months. Nothing could get you off properly. Your walls clenched around his fingers the pleasure tore through you. You cried out, your nails leaving half-moon marks in his skin as you trembled beneath him, lost in the sensation.

But he didn’t stop. He slowed down just enough to draw out every last bit of pleasure, his fingers still moving inside you as you rode out the aftershocks. When you finally caught your breath, he pulled his fingers out, his hand moving to cup your jaw, forcing you to look at him.

He shoved his pants down, not bothering to take them off completely, just enough to free himself. Your breath hitched when you felt him against you—hard, hot, and ready—and every rational thought you had left disappeared in that moment. He lined himself up, teasing you just enough to drive you crazy.

Before you could respond, he pushed into you in one hard, deliberate thrust. Your gasp turned into a low, breathless moan as your back arched, your hands gripping his shoulders for something to hold on to. The sensation of him stretching you, filling you, was overwhelming, almost too much, but exactly what you needed.

Rafe didn’t give you time to adjust. He pulled back and slammed into you again, setting a punishing rhythm that left you breathless, gasping for air. 

There was nothing gentle about it, nothing tender.

His hands gripped your hips, fingers digging into your skin as he fucked you like he was trying to remind you who you belonged to.

And you hated how good it felt.

“You’re mine,” Rafe growled, his voice rough as he thrust into you, each movement deep and brutal.“Doesn’t matter who you’re with, doesn’t matter how much you try to deny it—you’ll always come back to me.”

“Shut up,” you hissed, but your body was betraying you as you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper. 

He leaned down, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, “Tell me you haven’t been thinking about this every night since we ended.”

You couldn’t.

The words were right there, on the tip of your tongue, but instead, a moan escaped your lips as he hit that perfect spot inside you. Your body arched against his, and you cursed yourself for being so weak.

“Fuck,” you gasped, eyes squeezed shut as the pleasure built, every nerve in your body on fire.

“That’s what I thought,” Rafe growled, his pace quickening, the force of his thrusts making the bench creak beneath you.

The sound of the bench, the way his body pressed into yours so perfectly, the heat of his breath against your neck—it all made it impossible to think straight. You should have been disgusted with yourself for letting it get this far, for letting him have this kind of control over you. 

“I fucking hate you,” you managed to gasp out between breaths.

Rafe chuckled, “Yeah? Then why do you sound like that, huh?” His voice was taunting, filled with the arrogance you hated, “This pussy still mine, huh?”

You loved the way he grabbed you like you were his, even though you’d sworn, sworn, you were done with him.

You were still in love, weren’t you? Even after all the shit, all the screaming matches, the nights spent crying because of him. That was the part that pissed you off the most.

Before you knew, his hands were flipping you over so fast your knees hit the bench before you could react.

“Rafe—mmh,” you gasped, but your words died in your throat when he shoved you forward, pressing your chest flat against the cold wood of the bench. You barely had a second to brace yourself before his hands were gripping your ass, spreading you open for him.

He didn’t give you time to catch your breath. He was already dragging the head of his cock through your wetness, teasing, knowing how much you wanted it, even if you wouldn’t say it.

You squirmed, hating how desperate you felt, hating how your body responded to him like this. “Fuck, Rafe, stop teasing—”

“You want more?” he cut you off, voice dark and dripping with arrogance. He slapped your ass, just enough to sting, and you yelped, your back arching instinctively. “You’re gonna have to beg for it.”

"Like hell," you spat back.

He leaned forward, his chest pressing against your back, his mouth right by your ear.

 “You can act tough all you want, but I know how much you want this,” he gritted out, his cock sliding against your folds again, torturously slow. “I know how much you need it.”

Before you could snap back, he thrust into you hard, filling you completely in one brutal stroke. You cried out, hands gripping the edges of the bench, and Rafe didn’t even give you a second to adjust. He pulled out almost all the way before slamming back in, faster this time, deeper.

The angle had you seeing stars. The bench was narrow, forcing your legs closer together, making everything tighter, more intense. You couldn’t stop the way your body responded to him, hips moving back to meet his thrusts even though your mind was screaming at you to get a grip.

His hands gripped the fat of your ass, pulling you back onto his cock with every thrust, and the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the small room, mixing with your moans and his ragged breathing.

“God, you feel so fucking good,” Rafe groaned, his voice low and rough as he thrust into you, each movement hitting that perfect spot inside you, making your legs tremble. “So fucking tight for me.”

He pressed his thumb against your clit, rubbing in slow, deliberate circles that had you on the edge in seconds. You couldn’t stop the moan that ripped from your throat, your hips bucking wildly against him as the pleasure built, higher and higher until you felt like you might break apart.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” He rasped, his voice thick with lust. “I can feel it. Fuck.”

You tried to hold on, tried to keep some control, but it was useless. He knew exactly how to break you.

“I’m gonna come,” you gasped, your voice barely more than a whimper as you felt the pleasure rising fast, threatening to consume you.

“Do it,” Rafe growled, his fingers rubbing harder, faster. “Come for me, baby.”

And you did.

Your orgasm crashed over you so hard your vision blurred, your body shaking as the pleasure tore through you. You cried out, your walls clenching around him, and Rafe groaned, his grip on you tightening as he fucked you through it, relentless, brutal, until your entire body was trembling.

But he wasn’t done.

He pulled out suddenly, and before you could catch your breath, he yanked you up, turning you around. You barely had time to register what was happening before he lifted you up, your legs wrapping around his waist as he pressed you against the cold locker. His cock was back inside you in seconds, filling you again, and you moaned, the new angle sending jolts of pleasure through your already overstimulated pussy.

He pounded into you, his grip on your ass bruising, and you clung to him, nails digging into his broad shoulders as he fucked you against the lockers. The sound of metal creaking under the force of his thrusts only made it hotter, more desperate. You could feel another orgasm building, and you hated him for it—hated how easily he could pull them from you. 

“You’re mine,” he growled, his voice rough as he buried his face in your neck, his teeth scraping against your skin. “You’ll always be mine.”

And you hated that some twisted part of you wanted it to be true.

Your legs tightened around him, pulling him impossibly closer, deeper, as if you couldn’t get enough of him.

And God, you couldn’t.

His grip on your ass was rough, bruising, but it only made you moan louder. You were on the verge again—your body still tingling from the last orgasm, but the way he moved inside you, the way his teeth grazed your neck, it had you spiraling toward another one, faster than you thought possible.

“Look at you,” Rafe groaned, lifting his head just enough to lock eyes with you. His pupils were blown wide with lust, a wild look on his face that sent a thrill down your spine. “Fuck, you love this, don’t you?”

You did. Because no matter how much you hated him, how much you wanted to hate him—there was a part of you that still belonged to him. A part of you that couldn’t walk away.

His lips were everywhere—on your neck, your collarbone, your jaw—and you couldn’t stop the sounds escaping your throat as he kept driving into you.

“Say it,” he growled, “Say you’re mine.”

You bit down on your lip, trying to hold it in, trying to fight back, but every nerve in your body was betraying you. The way his body fit against yours, the way he moved inside you, it was all too much. You were coming again, and you hated it.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark and wild. “Say it.”

You wanted to spit in his face. But your body was telling a different story, hips bucking against him, legs tightening around his waist again.

“R-Rafe,” you whimpered, hating how weak you sounded, how desperate.

His smirk was infuriating, but fuck, it was hot.

“That’s what I thought,” he murmured, his pace quickening, each thrust deeper than the last. “You’re mine. Always have been.”

And then he slammed into you one last time, hitting that perfect spot inside you, and the orgasm tore through you, leaving you gasping and trembling in his arms. You cried out, head thrown back against the lockers as your body shook with the force of it, your nails raking down his back.

Rafe groaned, his grip on you tightening as he rode out your orgasm, his movements growing sloppier, more erratic. His forehead pressed against yours, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

“Fuck, baby,” he moaned, his hips jerking against yours as he finally let go, his release hitting hard. You felt the warmth of him spill inside you, as he held you against him, buried deep.

The second his breathing slowed and his grip on you loosened, reality came crashing back in. 

What the fuck had you done?

You pushed at his chest, trying to put some space between you, but he wasn’t letting go that easily. His arms stayed wrapped around you, his body pressed against yours like he still had something to prove.

“Get off,” you muttered, your voice weak, but sharper than before.

He chuckled, that low, arrogant sound that drove you crazy. “That’s not what you were saying five minutes ago.”

You shot him a glare, shoving at his chest again, harder this time. “I’m serious, Rafe. Move.”

Reluctantly, he let go, stepping back just enough for you to slide off the locker and onto shaky legs. You stumbled a bit, and Rafe’s hand shot out to steady you, but you jerked away from him, pulling your jeans back up with shaky hands.

He leaned against the locker, smirking like he hadn’t just torn your world apart all over again. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

You wanted to scream at him, to throw something at his face. But instead, you grabbed your shirt off the floor, yanking it over your head as you tried to steady your breath.

“Good luck finding your date.”

Elijah. You’d come to the game with Elijah.

You shook your head as you zipped up your jeans and ran your fingers through your hair, trying to look somewhat presentable. You avoided looking at him, knowing that if you did, you’d see the smug satisfaction on his face that would only make you feel worse.

He pushed himself off the locker and took a step closer to you. You flinched, stepping back instinctively. “This can’t happen again.”

His smirk slipped for a moment as he looked at you. H e closed the distance between you in two strides, his hand reaching out to grab your wrist, pulling you toward him before you could react, “You’re choosing him?”

You yanked your wrist out of his grip, your heart racing as you forced yourself to take a step back, putting distance between the two of you, “You’re the one who chose yourself.”

His eyes darkened, searching your face, like he couldn’t believe what you’d just said. Maybe he thought he still had you wrapped around his finger.

“You’re the one who walked away,” you added, hating how your voice trembled, “So don’t act like I owe you anything.”

Rafe’s hand hovered like he was about to reach for you again, but he didn’t. “That’s not how I remember it.” 

Your stomach twisted, “I’m not doing this anymore. I can’t—” You glanced at the door, feeling the weight of Elijah waiting for you. The one person who was good for you, who actually wanted to be with you.

But the worst part? You were still thinking about Rafe. Even after everything, you were still here, breathless, a mess because of him.

He took a step closer, his eyes locked on yours, and for a second, you thought he might apologize. Maybe say something real. But Rafe Cameron didn’t do apologies. 

He raised an eyebrow, “Really?” His hand lifted, brushing a strand of hair out of your face in a gesture that was far too intimate, given everything that had just happened. “Then why are you still standing here?”

You flinched, stepping back. Why were you still standing there? You had no good answer, at least not one you were ready to admit.

“Go back to your date,” Rafe continued, his voice mocking now, “Pretend like he’s enough for you.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to keep the tears at bay. You couldn’t give him that satisfaction, not again. “You’re wrong.”

Rafe let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “I don’t think I am.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, throat tight, trying to push back the tears. This was all wrong. It was always wrong with Rafe, “Stop.”

It sounded like a plea—a plea for him to stop talking, stop looking at you like that, stop making you feel so small and yet so overwhelmed all at once.

Rafe sighed, stepping back just a fraction, and for a second, his gaze lifted. But it wasn’t enough. It never was. “I’m not trying to hurt you,” he said, his voice softer now, like that made a difference.

“You always do,” you shot back, finally meeting his eyes. The truth slipped out before you could stop it, and there it was.

His jaw clenched, "I don’t mean to," he muttered, his voice low. "You know that."

"Does it even matter?" You felt the bitterness rise in your throat, along with something else—something fragile and painful. "You still do it. Whether you mean to or not."

Rafe stayed quiet, and you hated that silence. He didn’t have an answer. He never did, not for this. Your fingers fumbled with the zipper of your jacket, something to keep your hands busy so you wouldn’t look at him, wouldn’t say something you’d regret. But regret was already everywhere, suffocating you both.

“I thought we were past this,” you said finally, barely more than a whisper. “I thought I was past this.” But clearly, you weren’t. Clearly, some part of you was still here, with him, in the wreckage you’d both created.

He ran a hand through his hair, looking frustrated, torn. “It’s not that simple.”

"It should be." Your voice cracked. You hated how much this hurt. How much he could still hurt you.

It wasn’t fair. You weren’t supposed to still care this much. You weren’t supposed to still feel this.

Rafe sighed, taking another step back, giving you space. But it wasn’t the kind of space you wanted. It wasn’t the kind that would make things easier. “I don’t know what you want from me,” he admitted quietly, his eyes searching yours for something he couldn’t find.

You swallowed, the lump in your throat making it hard to breathe. "I don’t want anything from you." 

That was the truth, or at least it was supposed to be. You didn’t want anything he had to offer, not anymore. Not when every time you reached for it, it slipped through your fingers like water, leaving you emptier than before.

But there was still that ache, that feeling between you two, the one that dragged you back here even when you knew better. You wished you could kill it, cut it out of you like some infected part, but it was tangled too deep. And maybe a small part of you didn’t want to.

“You keep saying that,” he murmured, his voice almost tender, like he was seeing right through you. “But you’re still here.”

“I don’t know why,” you whispered, blinking back tears. Fuck, you hated this. Hated how vulnerable you felt, how easily he could unravel you, even now. “I shouldn’t be.”

He didn’t say anything, just stood there, watching you, like he was waiting for you to make the next move. Like he wanted you to figure it out on your own.

But you didn’t know how. You never did when it came to him.

"I’m sorry," he said, and this time, it felt real. There was no arrogance. Just Rafe, standing there, as broken as you felt. "I don’t know how to fix this."

You let out a bitter laugh, wiping at your eyes with the back of your hand. “There’s nothing left to fix, Rafe. We’ve already destroyed it.”

His face twisted, like he didn’t want to believe it. Like he was still holding onto some small piece of hope. "We could—"

"No," you cut him off, shaking your head. "We can’t."

You couldn’t keep doing this. The push and pull, the endless cycle of hurt and apologies that never really fixed anything. You couldn’t keep pretending that something would change, that he would change.

Because you both knew he wouldn’t.

He took a breath, exhaling slowly, and you could see it—the realization sinking in. 

He knew it too. "I never wanted to lose you," he admitted quietly.

You swallowed hard, your chest tight. "You already did."

[pearlcigs]

⋆ make a woman out of me

christian!virgin!reader x ellie williams

summary ⋆ you swore to yourself you only longed for ellie in a platonic way, but as you get older you seem to realize just how pretty she really is.

warnings ⋆ 2.95k ⋆ smut, i might get cancelled 🤷‍♀️, reader (non penetrative) virginity loss, religious themes, ellie is 19, reader is 18, pastor's daughter!reader, mentions of homophobia, alludes to reader's parents being homophobic, ellie smokes weed, pet names (pretty girl, babe, honey, baby, good girl), cursing, first kiss, corruption, corruption kink, oral (r recieving)

time moved slowly within the parameters of jackson. the same familiar faces, day in and day out. though, it was comforting living in such a community. the horrors of the world beyond the walls that stood tall was something you rarely wanted to think about. it made you sick to your stomach to think of your friends, loved ones, even people you weren't particularly close with, outside of the safe walls, being face to face with whatever monsters marred the unhabitual world.

your parents were strict with religion, your father being the only self acclaimed paster that jackson has ever had to offer. there was never a time you could remember, even before finding refuge in the cozy town, where your parents weren't devout. vivid memories of your mother's fingers gliding over the cross necklace she wore around her neck when you would get in trouble. disappointed sighs and signs of the cross, begging the lord above for forgiveness, explaining to the sky you were too young to know what you've done was a sin.

the bible was followed closely in your home, and you obliged without caution. you prayed, attended your father's mass sessions in the tiny chapel just down the road where he preached the bible, wore the holy cross around your neck to show your devotion, you've read the old torn and withered bible you were so lucky to find front to back. religion was all you've ever known and you had found no reason to ever question the man who hung on your wooden walls, hanging from a cross with his hands and feed nailed to it like an animal. that was, until ellie.

"come on, don't you wanna jus' see what it feels like?" ellie teased, waving the joint in front of your face like a taunt. "no thank you." you replied, sitting at the foot of her bed, legs crossed, eyes wandering around her room. when ellie first came to jackson you were infatuated with her, dwindling it down to pure want but only of friendship. "good girl, that's what you say when someone offers you this shit." ellie moves the weed away from your face, inhaling it and then turning away to exhale the smoke away from you.

it started with just friendly smiles, offering to show her around and help her get to know everyone. she was wary of you. honestly, afraid of your friendly demeanor. people on the outside of the jackson walls were cruel and vicious, she thought, with no doubt in her mind, you were being friendly to lure her into some kind of trap. she danced around you with caution, keeping her distance but also decidingly giving you a chance. she quickly became fond of you, your personality, your looks. everything about you appealed to ellie and something about that made you proud, even more eager to befriend her.

the words 'good girl' ring from her mouth and you're not sure how to respond. was there even a proper response to your best friend calling you that? a simple nod was all you could come up with. watching her lips intently as she blew the smoke out of her lungs. your fingers came up to your neck, fiddling with the cross necklace around your neck, a habit passed down from your mother. ellie never paid much attention to your shy outlook on life. you were reserved and a part of her liked that she had so much of you to herself.

it wasn't until you were 17 that you finally came to terms with the fact that your infatuation was more than just a yearning to be her friend. tears of guilt streaming down your face in the confessional at the shoddy chapel, divider between you and the young volunteer who was ready to beg jesus to abolish your sins. "i'm a girl... and i like another girl." you sniffled, lowering the pitch of your voice instinctively so he wouldn't see past your anonymity. ache in your heart when silence was returned, until soft mutterings of a prayer, asking jesus to forgive your tainted heart.

ellie extended her arms behind her head, a small stretch that gave you big feelings. her shirt rode up, exposing the small of her stomach. you swallowed harshly, wondering why god would tempt you with something like this. a soft sigh emits from ellie's lips, flicking the almost finished joint into a nearby makeshift ashtray. another soft sigh falling from her perfect lips. intent eyes trying to be secretive of the no less then unholy thoughts that you were being tempted with.

ellie was put off at first by your fervent religion. her experiences were tainted, never having a good visual of what a healthy relationship with god looked like. she was unsure if you were going to try and convert her into some pious worshipper. you weren't secretive of your religion and that much was enough to make ellie suspicious. with time she realized you were different from the other religious people she's met. only bringing up your religion or anything to do with it when you were directly asked or if it was really important to speak about.

"whatchu lookin' at, pretty girl?" she chuckled as she noticed the way your eyes locked onto her, like if you looked away she'd be gone. it wasn't unusual for ellie to be flirty or to make casual remarks about how pretty you were. still, every time she did your cheeks were adorned in a rosy color. "just you, i guess. i dunno..." you answered back quickly, hoping that answer was enough to satisfy her eager curiosity. "yeah? just me? got something you wanna say to me?" she was just joking around, trying to get you riled up and flustered but you did have things you wanted to say to her.

"no." you answered, though you were sure she wasn't expecting an actual response. "no? yikes, babe, i'm hurt, thought we had somethin' real here." she smiled and you felt the butterflies in your stomach become tongue tied. one thing you loved about ellie above all things was her smile, how the skin around her eyes scrunched up just the tiniest bit, the apples of her cheeks becoming more prominent. everything about her smile made your head spin.

"els, i like you." the words slip out of your mouth before you could even process what was going on. her smile that coerced you to confess to her in the first place falters. "i'm sorry?" she questions, unsure if you meant what she thought you did. you had never said anything that led ellie to believe you were homophobic or that you thought all gay people were sinners like most of the older people who were religious in jackson did. but still she was careful to keep her sexuality from you, strongly assured you would take after your parents' stance on homosexuality.

"i... i don't know why i said that." you say, truthfully. mouth slightly agape and eyes widened with shock that you'd just outed yourself after years of trying to force down your feelings. there was a silence between the two of you. silence wasn't uncommon around each other, sometimes the both of you preferring to spend your time together quietly as a way to unwind after a treacherous day. but this silence was different than those times. ellies breath was caught in her throat, words jumbled on her tongue.

she only began reacting when she saw the panic on your face, followed by your eyes becoming glassy. "hey, hey. don't cry. it's okay." she comforted, sitting up and placing a hand on your knee. she wasn't good at comforting people, you were well aware of that. "i didn't mean to.." you admitted, voice timid and quiet, still uncertain to how she would react. "hey, it's okay, honey." the term of endearment sliding off her tongue like she was meant to call you that for the rest of your lives.

"i'm not mad." ellie affirms, her tone soft, knowing how afraid of other people's anger you are. another flash of silence emerges, just you and ellie staring at each other. neither of you knowing what to say. she pitied you, seeing how much you resented yourself. your bottom lip slotted between your teeth, biting hard enough to potentially draw blood. "don't do that..." she mutters, gently running her thumb over your partially chapped lips, pulling your bottom lip out of your teeth's grasp.

your breath hitches, a small shudder traveling up your spine. your eyes locked on hers, your heart beating loud enough for the whole world to hear. ellie's eyes flicker down to your lips and then back to your eyes. "i've liked you for a while." you admit, knowing there was no going back at this point. "oh, yeah?" her voice was low, some would even describe as seductive. her thumb still lingering on your bottom lip. "yeah." you whisper back, your eyes now flickering down to her lips.

ellie's hand moves to your jaw. her eyes flicking down to your lips one last time before she leans down and presses her lips against yours. her lips are soft, just like you had imagined. she seems skilled, like she knew what she was doing and what the end goal was. a small smile forming on her face as she realizes you have no idea what you're doing. “like this.” she mumbles against your lips acutely aware how clueless you were when it came to romance.

you follow her lead, doing your best to follow her lead. her free hand finding your waist, squeezing gently. you pull away, panting faintly. "i don't know.." you mumble, trailing off as ellie puts her lips back to yours. the hand that was on your jaw roaming to the back of your head, fingers getting tangled in your hair. "i know." ellie responds moments later, her lips brushing against your with each syllable. you couldn't comprehend what was happening, your mind going blank with ellie's lips on yours. she adored the way you looked at her. looking at her like you needed her.

she gently lays you back, grabbing the first pillow she could find and settling it under your head so you were comfortable. her thighs either side of your body, her body weight on top of you, giving you a cozy feeling you'd never experienced before. "you don't even know how long i've been wantin' to kiss your pretty lips..." she whispers, her bangs hanging in front of her face. you bring your hand up to her face, nervously tucking the hair behind her ear. "god, you're so fuckin'..." she stops, just taking a second to admire how alluring you looked under her.

her lips dip down to your neck, slowly biting and sucking on the skin. your breath hitches, a small whine pushing past your swollen lips. ellie groans against the skin of your neck. "make more of those pretty noises f'r me." she mumbles, hips rolling over yours, another whine spilling from you at the pleasurable feeling. ellie's kisses move away from your neck, down your body. trailing down your collarbone to your clothed chest to your stomach. her lips stop, hovering right above your pussy.

your heart was beating out of your chest, you back arching a little in anticipation. "how bad do you wan' it? tell me, baby. tell me how much you wan' me." she was totally and utterly obsessed with you, her mind becoming drunk by the thought of you— the mere sight of you. "p-please, els..." you mumbled, voice timid from embarrassment. it was partially expected though, you'd never done anything like this. "i want you..." it was simple but effective, making ellie go feral for you. "fuck—"

she lowers her lips to your pussy, kissing over the fabric of your shorts. watching her through hooded eyes, your pussy throbbing from her touch. "gonna eat this pussy s'good. show you what you've been missin' out on." she groans, the fabric of your shorts dampening as she trails her tongue over the sensitive area. ellie surprised herself, shocked that she was able to dirty talk to you so easily like this. your hips were writhing against the bed, more eager than you've ever been in your entire life. you felt dirty for wanting this, knowing that god was watching you become a total slut for ellie.

ellie's fingers hooked on your shorts, pulling them down slow as slow could be, chuckling as you whined. "ellie. ellie, please." you muttered, begging for her to hurry up. ellie's eyes rolled back, the sound of you begging getting her more aroused than she's ever been. no one's ever made her feel like this before. she was done with the teasing, if not for your sake but for hers. she pulled your shorts and underwear off swiftly, discarding them somewhere to find later.

her eyes locked on your bare pussy, fighting back a moan at the sight. "you've got me so fucked up, babe." she muttered, kissing around your thighs first. you were nervous, breath shallow and quick paced, hungry for ellie but embarrassed nevertheless. your voice was caught in your throat, blinking quickly as you watched ellie kiss all over your thighs. ellie looked up at you and you were able to see that she was just as nervous as you. "is this okay? you can tell me to stop." she sounded sincere, pushing aside her pure need to get your consent.

you nodded, not trusting your voice. "use your words like the good girl you are, yeah?" she's longing to just taste your glistening cunt. "yes— yes, els. 't's okay..." she doesn't waste another second after hearing your shaky voice, tongue urgently dipping between your wet folds. you moan at the contact, feeling like you were on cloud 9. ellie's tongue presses flat against your clit, your hand clamping over your mouth. moans being muffled as ellie savors the sweet noises your dripping cunt was making.

ellie wasn't fond of you muffling your perfect little sounds, wanting to hear just how good she could make you feel. "let me hear you. don't make me punish you.." you don't move your hand away from your sinful mouth. your free hand finds ellie's, interlocking your fingers which she gladly accepts. "c'mon, baby. let me hear you." she encourages once more, lips moving against you with ease, mixture of your wetness and her spit. but to her dismay, you still ignored her commands. her free hand sliding your shirt up your body to expose your breasts, you were never one to wear a bra. her hand kneading the supple flesh, thumb running over your nipple.

she licks a strip from your entrance to your clit, making your thighs shake with immense pleasure. "wanna be a brat?" she mumbles into your pussy, looking up at you through her eyelashes, staring you down as her tongue circles your clit. "what is it they make you do in confession? hail mary's? 5 of 'em, now. or i stop." she smirks, watching the look in your eye become more flustered by her request. you slowly move your hand away from your mouth, not wanting this pleasure to ever stop.

"h-hail mary, full of grace—" you cut yourself off with a moan, eyes squeezing shut as you lift your hips, pushing your cunt further into ellie's face. "get to ruin this pretty pussy." ellie groans. "keep goin'. don't stop." she aids you to continue, feeling your cunt flutter around her tongue. "the lord is with— is with thee..." you continue, stuttering through the words. "good girl, keep goin' f'r me. let me hear you." she continues to egg you on, talking into your pussy. her own moans mixing in with the sound of yours.

"blessed art thou— ellie, please..." you whine, squeezing her hand and throwing your head back into the pillow, back arching off the bed. "c'mon, pretty girl. blessed art thou..." you toes curl at her words and the feeling of her tongue teasing your entrance. "—amongst... amongst women..." you trail off, mind becoming to hazy to even remember the words to the prayer you've prayed everyday since you could talk. ellie smirked into your cunt, relishing in the feeling of being able to turn your mind into mush, being the only one able to turn your mind into mush.

your moans and whines became breathier and higher pitched with each flick of her tongue. your stomach twisting in an unfamiliar knot. "ah, ah, ellie—" your thighs trying to clench together and push her head away, the feeling becoming too much. "you're gonna cum, baby?" she spreads your legs wider, her only greedy want is to make pleasure wash over you. "ellie! ellie! ellie!" you chant her name, eyes rolling back as the pleasurable wave of your orgasm finally hits you, moans loud and unfiltered.

"there we go... yeah, nice an' easy. fuck." she mutters, tongue fucking you through your high until your writhing and pushing her off of you. her lips relocating to your thighs and slowly working their way up to your pelvic bone, soft kisses against your skin. "tasted so good, baby. best pussy i've ever had." she praises, eager to show you just how much you pleasured her even though you technically didn't make her cum. "els..." you whined, face flushed a rosy red. "yeah, baby. 'm right here." she leaves a trail of kisses up your body as she reaches your lips, leaving a soft peck to let you know she was here. "does this mean you like me too...?" you asked innocently. "are you serious?"

another christian!reader x ellie williams fic!

[solardrop]

love bites

spencer reid x reader

summary: a drabble where spencer won't give you a hickey on the neck tags: fluff some suggestiveness. no smut but its implied so ill say 18+. inaccurate medical discussions. talks about veins and arteries and strokes. i think this can be read as gender-neutral? word count: ~0.9k a/n: something short and sweet from my drafts I decided to pull out of hell so it's very rough around the edges but I still think the concept is cute! I was watching tiktok and a very qualified and well-trusted source said this can happen so obviously its a real statistic that spencer reid would believe. Let me live ok. Not proofread!!

“People actually underestimate the dangers of certain erotic activities like love bites. There have actually been some well-documented cases of people dying as the result of hickeys. There was one case in Mexico about a 17-year-old boy dying of a stroke caused by a blood clot in his artery from a hickey his girlfriend gave him”

You blink slowly at the man you were sitting on, baffled by the absolute nonsense pouring out of his mouth. 

“Spencer, you do realize you’ve left marks on me before?”

“Never your neck,”

“Yes you have-” you pull back to think. You bashfully recall the few times you two have been intimate. Marks littered across your thighs, chest, and ass; hell even a few on your shoulder blades. But for the life of you, you can’t recall the sharp sting of his teeth marring you anywhere above your collarbone.

“Ok fine, but you have bitten me on my thighs a lot.” you recall, “I remember when you got shot in your leg and damn near bled out. So is my femoral artery not a concern of yours doctor?”

He looks away with a coy smile. HIs cheeks redden as he stutters to put his words together. 

“Your femoral artery is a bit deeper in your body than your carotid is in your neck. The skin on your body is actually about two times thicker than..”

Spencer begins to ramble about delicate nature of the neck, firing off related statistics and study facts without missing a beat. You listen carefully, still amazed by overflowing well of knowledge your boyfriend could be all the time.He looked confident like this. His eyes would brighten and every trivial connection he could make to another topic would have his lips twisting with mirth. 

This time, with the topic at hand, you find your focus locked on his neck. His adam apple bobs with every syllable out of his mouth. The pale skin of his collarbone exposed beneath his frumpled collar teased you from your high vantage point. The skin was pristine, not a blemish or scratch in sight. You pause. Have you never given him a hickey on his neck?! You run through the cataloge of your most intimate moments all over again realizing the clear absence in your relationship. 

“... so you aren’t in much danger with your femoral artery for superficial injuries like a brui-oh—!” 

His words are cut short by the graze of your teeth at the base of his neck. You don’t bite down yet. If this was something he wanted to back out of, you’d let him. You wait for him to react, kissing the pulse point that picked up pace since the first touch of your lips to the delicate skin.

You continue to mouth as his neck. Licking at tender spots behind his ear earn you little moans, followed by sharp gasps when your teeth follow in their wake. You move to pull away after a moment. He didn’t throw you off and scream attempted murder when you started, but he also hasn’t been begging you from more either. You’ve teased hm enough for one day, kisses and lovebites on his sweet lips and elsewhere were more than enough for you anyways. But before you could pull away a firm hand at the back of your head presses you back into the crook of his neck. His other hand wraps tighter around your waist, sliding you closer to him, every inch of your body pressed against his. Got him.

“Please..” he whispers. 

“Hm..?”

Spencer’s voice starts with a crack, he takes a moment to clear his throat before he continues, “You can… You can leave a mark”

“But Spencer!,” you mock a startled gasp, “Your precious and delicate carotid!”

“I think just this once is fine..” he murmurs, “and I trust you”

You beam at his honesty, ending his suffering to press your lips to his neck again. You remain gentle. Running your lips along his skin, sofly grazing him with your teeth now and again. His breath hitches above you when your teeth graze that spot behind his jaw once more. You focus your attention there. Kissing and licking and blowing until you sink your teeth down into the flesh. 

A choked groan bubbles from his throat, the sound egging you on. You suck the spot into your mouth, careful to not be too aggressive— while you didn’t totally believe hickey strokes were that much of a danger, you still dont want to fuck around and find your way into that embarrassing statistic. 

When youre pleased with the variety of sounds you pull out of your love, you sit up to admire your work. Spencer looked at you in a daze, eyes cloudy and bottom lip pulled so tight between his teeth you’re sure he’d have a bruise there too later. Your eyes drop to the love bite at his neck, the skin deepening in color the longer you look at it. You tap the spot gently with your pointer finger beaming at the wince it earns you. 

“Feeling any signs of stroke or a heart attack doctor?” you tease.

“No, but we’ll need to run a few more trials to have a real experiment here.” you cackle at his sly wording when he pulls you off his lap abruptly, pinning you below his body instead. 

“We may also need additional test subjects for this research to be truly viable.,” Before you could fully process his meaning he attaches his lips to your neck with a smile.

[tinylittlebab]

maybe when im skinny ill somehow magically have friends somehow. idk how me having friends would change the fact i dont know or meet people but i bet it will fix all my problems

[m-ilkiee]

Impulsive- Keisuke Baji × Fem Reader

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➞[summary] you and baji keisuke are in love. but you both are too stupid to realize the feelings you have for each other, so emma and senju give you both a little push.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➞[content warning] SMUT, crack, mutual pining, baji has a thing for you and your tits, non-specified tits size, flashing, implied m. masturbation, tits sucking, groping, fingering (f. recieving), oral (m. recieving), handjob (m. recieving).

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➞ [r - 18+] not suitable for 17 and below

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➞ [wc] 3.9k

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➞ [masterlist] [taglist] [main page]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➞ [author's note] bringing this back because it was underrated asf. also likes are good but you'll encourage me to work faster if you comment and reblog this fic for others to see. I don't think I'm asking for much apart from your thoughts. just a simple "oh i loved this" is more than enough for me.

ONE thing about your friends Emma and Senju is that they have a good way of putting you in very compromising situations.

You feel awkward just standing outside Keisuke's dorm room with Senju and Emma hanging behind the trees to see if you would actually do it. They knew you had a huge crush on Keisuke ever since you started university and that you could barely speak to him because you were extremely shy, only ever nodding or playing with your fingers whenever he asked you about your day or if you needed help with anything.

Emma was the first to notice your huge crush on her brother's best friend, before teasing you about it with Senju. "Do you like his long dark hair?" She teased you about it with an obvious smirk, in which you would just hide your face in your pillow. "Or is it his vampire grin? His broad chest and toned arms? Or the way your name sounds with his voice?"

But teasing was just teasing and they respected your wishes not to do anything embarrassing to you whenever Baji was around.

Until this stupid truth or dare game came along.

You can't believe Senju. "I dare you to flash Baji."  is what she had dared you to do. How obvious can she be? What if you get in trouble for doing something as silly as flashing him? This was such a bad idea from start to finish and you really did not want to do it. But it was either this or drinking that horrible concoction you, Senju and Emma made and you did not see yourself getting food poisoning anytime soon.

'This is Keisuke Baji I'm talking about', you think to yourself as you stand outside his window, twirling the ends of your jumper between your fingers. 'easily one of the hottest guys on campus with girls and guys flocking around him in seconds. I don't want to embarrass myself by doing this.'

Your phone buzzes loudly and you quickly open it to see it was Emma that texted you.

Emma: Get ready, I've called Baji to look at a special surprise waiting for him outside 😉

You: I hate you and Senju, literally.

You were about to type something else when the lights in Keisuke's room came on, making you quickly put your phone into your pocket and turn to face the window. You briefly contemplate chickening out and just running away, but the mental image of that concoction going down your throat sends a shiver down your spine.

A tall shadowy figure makes its way to the window blinds and opens it, revealing a tired Keisuke with his large fingers rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, mumbling something about Emma calling him at such an ungodly hour. Your heart races as Keisuke scans the exterior of his dorm until he spots you all the way from down stairs.

"(Name)?" His tone is nothing short of shock as he looks at you with tired eyes. "What are you doing down here? It's kinda cold outside-"

You take in a deep breath, mentally preparing yourself for the utter humiliation that would follow the moment you went through with your plan.

'It's now or never'

Keisuke stares at you in confusion as you start lifting up the edges of your baggy sweater slowly, still maintaining eye contact with your crush until your bare chest is revealed completely, showing your tits in all its glory. You watch as all the tiredness in his eyes fade into a much darker glint, his face completely heating up with embarrassment and shock as he absorbs the sight of your naked tits hanging out in the cool air, nipples erect from the stimulation.

Eventually, your bravado expires and you quickly drop your shirt down to cover yourself, clearly humiliated. You had just shown Keisuke - and possibly some other guys- your breasts. Keisuke can only oogle, just standing there in perpetual shock as you run into the bushes where Emma and Senju are giggling and stifling their laughter. 

"Omg you did it! I cannot believe you really chose to show him your tits" Senju screams, jumping into the front of the car, with Emma plopping at the back. "You really did it! There’s no way he won’t want you now."

You can only bury your hands in your head to hide your face. Maybe drinking the concoction wasn't such a bad idea after all, because now you have to think of what you're going to say when you see him tomorrow.

You had just shown your crush your tits, who knows what might be going through his head right now?

"I can't believe this shit. I'm never doing this with you guys ever again. Ugh!"

You just hoped he was dumb enough to think he was dreaming.

  THE next few days are rather uneventful.

You've spent most of it going to class and trying to avoid Keisuke at all cost, even going as far as walking straight into the male toilet just to hide. Emma and Senju have been snickering all through it, muttering something about you 'manning up' and just talking to him.

"Another bad idea from the two of you. No thank you." You scoff, putting more attention on the scarf you were knitting. Your body shudders at the thought of just talking to Keisuke about what you did that day and imagining the look of disgust that would cross his face. "Listening to the two of you got me into this mess. I am not sure I can face Baji after that thing I did. He must think I'm a pervert."

You were too focused on the scarf you were knitting that you didn't see your two friends exchanging a knowing look, before facing you again. "Well, pervert or not," Emma continues, now tossing your school bag on the table. "you still have to meet up with Chifuyu for the study group you both have in his apartment."

'Shit'

Your eyes widened in realization the moment Emma had reminded you of your weekly study group with Chifuyu. You quickly drop your knitting scarf and get up, running around the room to get your shoes and trousers. "I TOTALLY FORGOT ABOUT THAT, CHIFUYU'S GONNA KILL ME!" you scream while putting on your trousers. "HOW LATE AM I?" You ask Senju frantically, now trying to adjust your sneakers.

"It's 3:45 pm." She says, putting down her phone. "but (name) aren't you forgetting some-"

"Oh shit! That's 15 minutes gone, I've got to go, got to go-" you keep repeating, slinging your bag across your shoulders and running out of the room without wasting anymore time. Senju and Emma can only sigh whilst shaking their head at you running down the stairs and muttering "Chifuyu don't kill me please."

"So… should we tell her?" Senju asks, looking at Emma as they watch you run off while screaming until you disappear. "Nah," Emma shrugs, a smug smile crawling onto her lips before shutting the door in front of her. "She'll figure it out when she gets there."

  YOU don't expect Baji Keisuke to be the one opening the door to Chifuyu's dorm room.

You can only stare wide-eyed as he stands in front of you, shirtless, trousers hanging low on his waist, revealing his Calvin Klein boxers and long hair cascading across his broad shoulders. His eyes are wide, clearly shocked to see you here as well.

You've been avoiding him all week, of course he's surprised to see you here.

You have to start talking before the awkwardness gets worse.

"Um I thought this was Chifuyu's room" you managed to get out of your mouth. 'Don't be lame, just say anything less stupid.' you scream internally. "What are you doing here?"

If the ground can swallow you, you hope it does right now. Your stupidity is too much for the world to handle.

"I'm Chifuyu's roommate." Keisuke replies to your question with a raised brow, clearly confused because you've come here so many times. "You've seen me here before."

'Of course I have, how else did this stupid fucking crush on you start?'

"Oh, I'm so sorry" you apologize, smiling awkwardly and scratching your head. This was so embarrassing for you, first the whole flashing ordeal and now you asking him if he lives in his own dorm room. No wonder he's just staring down at you like you've lost your mind, he must think you're utterly embarrassing. "I'll just go-"

"You weren't this nervous the other night."

You froze in your spot, your brain shutting down for a few seconds as you stared at him like he grew an extra head. Your heart races in your chest, your brain struggling to find the words to just say anything to him but ultimately failing. Keisuke notices your struggle and decides to continue talking until you can speak again.

"I didn't expect that from you to be honest, but…" a smirk appears on his face as he steps forward, closing the space between the two of you. Your heart hammers loudly in your chest at the proximity, your feet planted onto the ground, unable to move. "I like what I saw that night."

'He what?'

"They're pretty, y'know." His voice is dangerously low and you don't even register that his hand is now on your cheek until he leans forward and your noses are almost touching. "I just want to put one in my mouth and play with the other, if you're down of course." His hot breath is intoxicating, leaving you light headed as he cups your jaw with his free hand. "Although I don't think it's bad to cop a feeling from the girl I like. Right?"

"Y-you like me?" Should you be falling for this? You know Baji is sincere and if he wants to get in your pants, he isn't afraid to tell you to your face. But don't you think you're rushing things if you two sleep together now?

You shiver as his fingers ghost along your waistline, trailing up and down your hips. "Since Emma introduced me to you, I've not been able to think of anyone else." His voice is charming, alluring even, all your inhibitions are thrown outside the window. "You're such a sweet girl. I like you so much but you always avoid me." You're convinced at this point that Keisuke is seducing you for sure with the way he's touching you and speaking to you, but it's not like you're against it. "Got me thinking you hate me or something."

"I'm shy." You know this is a dangerous territory you are threading, sleeping with someone you like without going on a first date at least is always a bad idea. You are putting your heart on the line, trusting Keisuke's integrity. "I thought you wouldn't be interested in me."

His arm circles around your hips gently, pulling you into the dorm room with him and closing the door behind the two of you. "Well then, let me show you how much interested I am in you."

  KEISUKE feels like he is in heaven right now.

He has you straddling him on his bed in only your panties with your clothes and shoes neatly folded on his reading table, one of your tits in his mouth while he gropes the other one in his large hand, massaging and playing with it. His free hand guides your hips to grind against the prominent bulge on his trousers, pleasure spreading through his body like wildfire.

"Kei, like that" you moan quietly, your hand digging through his long hair, pushing his head further into your chest. "Mmh fuck, feels good, your tongue-."

He rolls his tongue over your nipple, circling around your areola, his fingers pinching your other nipple. He smirks as your back arches against his lips, pressing your body against him.

He's got to thank Emma for bringing you into his life.

Keisuke pulls away from breast with a loud pop, replacing it with his large hand, massaging your breasts gently. "Give me a kiss pretty girl." He commands breathlessly and you press your lips on his in an open mouthed kiss. You invade his mouth with your tongue, swirling your wet muscle against his. He groans in pleasure when you tug on his hair roughly, overwhelming his senses as you play with his mouth and keep humping his clothed cock, occasionally pulling away to catch your breath before kissing him again.

He lets you trail down his jaw and neck, your teeth grazing and sucking dark marks on his skin. Your kisses are much more intoxicating than he can imagine, leaving him aching to feel all of you, to just rip your panties off and fuck you until you're both spent. "Move your panties to the side, 'want to finger that pretty pussy." He moans breathlessly and you let go of his hair briefly, shifting your panties aside for him and stopping your movement.

Deft fingers trail over your pussy lips, gathering all the slick produced before pushing two fingers at once inside you. "So wet f'me." He laughs against your lips, capturing your swollen mouth in a messy kiss yet again. He is merciless in pumping his fingers into your wet cunt, enjoying every moan that leaves your lips as he fucks his fingers into you.

"Kei, Kei please-" you lose control of your tempo, your eyes rolling back as he lowers his mouth on your breast, playing with the other with his large hand.  It feels too much for you to handle and yet it's too good for you to want him to stop. "Kei please- Ah" your back arches when his fingers brush against that spot. He smiles against your breast in realization before aiming for it again, reveling in the way your cunt throbs around his fingers as he pumps into you, slick gushing all over his fingers.

"Good girl." He praises, fucking into you faster with his fingers. His lips latch onto your neck briefly, making you wirthe underneath his grasp, the coil in your belly tightening with every thrust. Your gazed over your eyes, your chest heaving with pleasure, your pussy clenching around his fingers, the way your nails dug into his shoulders, everything about this moment looked so good. "Gonna cum for me right? Gonna cum soon princess?"

"Yes Kei- please make me feel good-" you beg breathlessly, reaching down to touch your clit. "Kei make me cum please, please, please, please-"

You let out a loud moan as Keisuke dives his head to your breasts again, sucking and slurping on each nipple, alternating between them. His fingers don't relent in pumping into you faster and faster, sending you over the edge. Your body spasms underneath his touch, pussy throbbing and cumming all over his fingers while you give a broken cry of "thank you kei" over and over again until your body slumps weakly on his, resting against him. You breathe heavily for a while, getting yourself back before kissing him softly.

Wordlessly, you move down his jaw, trailing kisses to his neck and chest, making your way to his sexy v-line. "Can I?" You ask softly, your hand ghosting over the bulge on his trousers. It was his turn to be breathless, seeing your head in between his laps with your cute ass in the air has him aching in his pants.

"Yeah princess. Fuck me."

Your hands are like clock work with the way you pull down his sweats to reveal his pale erect cock, the thick, long, veiny appendage slapping against his abdomen, pre leaking from the dark pink tip. Your eyes glaze over in adoration as you circle your palm around it, giving it a tight squeeze. Keisuke is quick to shut his eyes in pleasure as you pump his shaft gently, giving kitten licks onto his slit for more stimulation, sending waves of ecstasy through his nerves. "Yeah, just like that (name), fuck-" he groans, as you pump him faster, your mouth now suctioning against his tip. "Oh god, please, faster- fuck"

You pick up the pace with your hand and mouth, pumping his dick with your fist and downing it bit by bit into your mouth, maintaining eye contact with his scrunched up face. He looks gorgeous like this, panting and moaning, his face flushed red with pleasure, hooded eyes gazing down on you, watching you take him as far you can go. "Oh yes, fuck princess- keep doing that, fuck, fuck, love you so much. Fuck"

You bob your head up and down his length, trying to relax your throat and take him in as much as you can, relishing the salty taste of his precum spread all over his cock. Your hand pumps against the rest of him while you hum and move your tongue around his thick length, making him shake with pleasure. "Oh fuck, look what you've done t-to me- shit" he grasps the sheet underneath him with large fingers, trying to keep himself grounded.

This was so much better than all the nights he fucked his fist thinking about you, especially after seeing your tits that day. The pretty girl that never seemed to meet his eyes anytime you and him were together, you had caught his attention the first time Emma had introduced you to the rest of them. The way you smiled, your sweet voice, everything about you screamed "adorable" and you were the kind of girl he's always dreamed of.

Or the only constant one.

Chifuyu had caught him daydreaming about you so many times, it was almost embarrassing. He would always tease Keisuke about liking you. "She's cute, isn't she? I didn't know you liked the shy ones. You should probably talk to her before some other guys try to steal her away, you know she's too hot to be single."

You were always brief with him, which made matters worse for Keisuke, especially when he sees you laughing with Mikey or Kazutora and shying away from him. Was he creepy when he looked at you? Does he smell? Or was he too loud? He tried to be gentle around you so as not to scare you, but you still skitted away from him.

Now he realizes that it was just your shyness and you actually do like him.

"I'm close-"

His head swam with sensations from your mouth, his belly coiling with all the tension building up. His thighs shook with intense pleasure as you bobbed your head down his big cock a few more times, before pulling out just in time for him to blow his load all over your breasts. His orgasm was intense, his groans of ecstasy bouncing off the walls as he came all over your tits, his cock twitching in your hands as you jerked him off completely until there was nothing left.

"Fuck, that felt so good." He whimpers out, still out of breath as you knelt upright to kiss him softly to which he reciprocated before pulling away. He grasps your arm and leads you straight to the bathroom to help you wash off. "You're such a good girl. My pretty girl. Let's get you cleaned before Chifuyu comes back, okay?"

  "SO you avoided me because you didn't want to embarrass yourself and yet you were willing to flash me at the same time?"

You laid down next to Keisuke on his bed, his arms encased around your fully clothed body (save for your panties, those were his now. You couldn't say no to his puppy dog gaze), while he was also clothed as well. You should be embarrassed to tell him the full story, but at this point you don't have it in you to feel any form of shame after basically getting each other off.

"It wasn't like I wanted to flash you." You murmur, pressing your head against his broad chest and inhaling his scent. "It's just that me, Emma and Senju made such a ridiculous mixture that I was willing to risk getting arrested than having food poisoning. I was scared throughout you were going to think I'm some kind of pervert for doing that."

"Well…" he trails off, thinking about the whole ordeal. His cheek flushes pink as he remembers how he lost sleep after seeing your tits and went straight to the bathroom to masturbate. "I did jerk off to that, so we're both perverts"

"Keisuke Baji!"

"Hey! Don't blame me, your tits are cute as fuck." He defends himself, only cuddling you tighter. "I would have seen them earlier if you had just let me confess instead of always running away whenever I came near you."

"You were going to confess to me?" You sit up with your elbows, now looking at him face to face. "Wait, wait, wait, I don't understand?"

"I've been trying to tell you that I like you for the past one month but you kept running away or things got in the way." Keisuke confesses exasperatedly. "I tried Emma's advice and asked you to eat with me on my treat but then Mikey heard food and ruined everything by making it a general outing. Then I tried listening to Chifuyu and got you flowers on valentines day but you were allergic to the ones I got. Draken told me to be straightforward and you thought I meant that I loved you as a friend." You wince as the realization hits you hard like a truck. All those moments of him trying to ask you out would have been seen as romantic by a bystander, but you were too oblivious to realize that.

Emma's judgemental stares each time finally made sense.

"Sorry about that." You muttered, now collapsing on his chest again, snuggling up against him. "I must have given you mixed signals when I pulled that stunt huh."

He rests his chin on the top of your head, his hand rubbing circles around your back. "Let's forget about that and think about where you want our first date to be-"

"BAJI-KUN (NAME)'S MISSING. EMMA'S BEEN CALLING HER FOR THE PAST THREE HOURS AND…"

You both sit up at the sound of the door being slammed open by none other than Chifuyu, who looked like he had run all the way here in a hurry. His voice trails off the moment he sees you lying down on Baji's bed, before looking at Baji and then back at you.

"You've been here this whole time"

You awkwardly laugh at the deadness of his tone as he looks at you with an annoyed glare. "Sorry, we were quite busy." You murmur quietly, looking at your laps.

"The sheets on your bed look different, Baji-kun-"

"I fucked my girlfriend Chifuyu" Keisuke interjects, cutting him short. Blood drains from your head on hearing Keisuke calling you his girlfriend now. This is real. You and him are a thing. "Of course I'll change the sheets. I don't want us cuddling on a cum-stained…"

"I get it, I get it, I'll leave the two of you alone and tell Emma you guys are fine!" he cries out in disgust, walking out of the dorm room and shutting the door behind him. You let out a sigh of relief as you both relax on the bed, when Chifuyu opens the door again with wide eyes "WAIT DID YOU JUST CALL (NAME) YOUR GIRLFRIEND-"

"CHIFUYU I SWEAR DON'T MAKE ME GET UP FROM THIS FUCKING BED AWAY FROM (NAME)-"

"I'm going, I'm going."

special thanks to (please turn on your mentions in 'settings' before filling the form): @officiallyjaehyuns @haikyuusboringassmanager @ilybbg @merrymerrykiss @cockonoi @Rindou24689 @short-cxke @kokoch4n3l @GenAwi @ryuguji-sana @nuyoo @reiners-milkbiddies @kiwixpi @gh0stgirl333 @brisssaaa009 @fushiqruo @damidamimongalam @kawaiikoalagarden @raven-nevra @ilovetwodmen @kodzubaby @straightfromheaven @manchie55 @pikibee @tomeyano @matchamilktea-05 @tenjikusstuff4 @m0onz1 @hapikiou @rainnyzz @Lovelyartistz @lik0

layla 2022-2024 do not repost or translate this on any platform. Support me by reblogging my works with your thoughts.

[arminsumi]

★ 'Cause I'm Sagittarius

Pairing : Gojo / fem reader

Synopsis : birthday boy Gojo Satoru unwraps and enjoys his gift — which is you!

Warnings : 🔞 MDNI/18+ content, riding, some hair pulling (him), light size kink, deep penetration, f*ngering, f*replay, cr*ampie (reader is on birth control)

Content : smut, birthday sex, some pining/love sick Satoru, some plot

Note : this is my happy birthday to this man 😗✌️

The glitter on his skin shimmers under the chandelier light. There's confetti stuck in his hair, which has been ruffled up throughout the night. Crimson and burgundy lipstick kiss marks decorate his face and neck, but he wipes them off when he sees you arrive.

Gojo Satoru certainly didn't expect to see his high school crush at his 34th birthday party. You're the one he used to be obsessive and desperate about when he was 17. Unbeknownst to him, Shoko invited you — she had to practically beg, because you lived so far away from Tokyo. Shoko convinced you after telling you how much Gojo Satoru still blabs about you to this day.

You completely steal his attention without realizing. Your oblivion charms him even more.

But each time Satoru tries to reminisce with you and bask in your company, it only lasts a few minutes because he's stolen back by the smothering crowd.

And then for the first time in years, he feels annoyed to be the center of attention.

Can everyone disappear except for her; I just want us to be alone together.

Someone gives him a plastic crown at some point in the night. It adorns his snowy head it until it falls off while he's dancing — and wow, Gojo Satoru dancing is a spectacle.

The way he moves his body to the music captures your attention and you stare.

You and him make electric eye contact. He sends a wink your way and you bite your lip back to him. It takes him aback and he stutters on the dance floor. Just this small, wordless interaction between you and him — even though you two haven't seen each other in years — is enough to excite him and get his heart pumping harder.

He pries his dance partner off of him, half-heartedly apologizes to her, and then desperately follows after you as you get lost in the hazy crowd.

Satoru finds you, he looks sweaty from dancing. He grabs your arm, mutters a breathless hey and asks if you want to go somewhere quieter with him. So you giggle and agree, taking his hand and letting him lead you out of the heat of the party.

Clutching his gift, you acknowledge the pile of presents that are piled up in the foyer. It makes your gift seem pathetic, but Satoru's eyes glitter when you give it to him and he pockets it as if you've gifted him your heart.

Just flirting and talking back and forth with you for a bit makes his cock harden. He can feel each inch slowly grow and press against his inner thigh, making a prominent bulge in his tight suit pants.

"Sorry I didn't bring you a good gift..." you say.

Satoru gives you bedroom eyes, then replies with, "But you brought yourself..." he rasped, "How about I unwrap you?"

⁕⁕⁕⁕

Trapping you in a heated, sloppy make out, Satoru slithers his tongue past your lips and groans into your mouth. You've lured him upstairs.

His pale, veiny hands slip under your dress and massage your thighs and hips, inching up until the bottom curve of your ass shows.

He leads you down the empty hallway, and desperately opens the door to his bedroom by pressing his back into it, never breaking from your lips as he pulls you in with him.

You gasp when he finally relieves your tension by rubbing the heel of his palm into your pussy. His big hands cup and squeeze it.

Satoru's jaw juts a little as he sucks a mark onto your neck. You lace your fingers into his hair and squeeze your thighs together. His dick throbs when you start begging him to rub your pussy.

Lowering your panties until they rest mid-way between your thighs, he gathers your juices on his fingertips and rubs up and down your puffy clit for a bit before sinking his middle finger into your pussy to stimulate your G-spot.

You pull on his hair and he moans, "Fuck, pull my hair harder."

Now this is the attention he actually needed tonight. Your fingers snuggling into his white hair and pulling on it while he snuggles his fingers in your slippery pussy.

Satoru stretches you out on his fingers and toys with your G-spot until you're trembling. Then he withdraws before he starts working up your orgasm.

When you try undress yourself, he stops you.

"I'm the birthday boy and you're my gift," he smirks, "Let me undress you."

And he starts undressing you like he's unwrapping a present. Satoru's nimble fingers peel off your dress and panties and unclasp your bra. His touch is cool against your hot skin.

He drifts his fingers up the middle of your back with a touch so light it's ticklish. It's on purpose, to make you shudder and tense your back into an arch.

"You're really g-good at this..." you breathe.

"Yeah, I know. It's 'cause I'm a Sagittarius." he replies smugly.

He unbuckles his belt and slides it off.

⁕⁕⁕⁕

The party is still ongoing, and guests are craning their necks and darting their eyes around in search of Gojo who just suddenly disappeared with you.

Satoru wants you to ride him; he begs like a spoiled prince.

"Come on, please, I wanna see those hips bouncing on my lap." he coos.

His eyes light up when you agree to ride him. The next request the birthday boy has is if he can do it raw, and he doesn't expect you to agree so his jaw drops open when you nonchalantly agree, telling him to go ahead and cum inside too if he wants because you've got birth control.

Soon you're bouncing up and down on his bare cock and he's relishing in the sight of your body jiggling. He tilts his head back and bites his lip, hungrily feeling up your breasts and your back.

"Faster." he groans, "Don't get sloppy now. Keep bouncing those hips on me or I'll do it myself."

When he feels his orgasm build up, he grabs your hips harshly and takes control.

"Fuck, Satoru!" you gasp, melting against his broad chest, cheek squishing against his pink nipple.

He pounds his cock into you at an angle that turns your brain to mush and slurs your speech. You hiccough and curse, feeling his big cock's tip rubbing deep inside you.

"Oh my god," he chuckles through a moan, "That pussy's so clingy. You're driving me insane, baby."

His muscular thighs hit your ass, his tight, full balls slap against you as he goes as fast and hard as he can. "That's it, just lay on me and take it."

"I'm so close, gonna cu—mmm! Cumming, 'mmm cumming, Satoru!" you scream. Good thing the party downstairs is so loud.

He groans and gets off to watching you orgasm on his cock. You cross your eyes, feeling his dick rubbing so deep makes you cum like a slut.

"Fuck, I'm cumming too. Take it." he grunts, fucking you hard but holding back his true strength.

It feels like his breath runs out when he cums. He gasps so dramatically and spurts out a huge load of cum deep into your hot, tight pussy. His toes curl and he pinches his eyes shut, while his lips naturally stretch into a slutty O shape.

You slide off his sensitive cock and whimper, feeling so empty after getting stretched open so much.

Rolling off each other's bodies, glowing, panting like you've run a marathon.

He hardly looks roughed up like you do; his hair is tousled from the sex, yes, but his skin glistens and glitters with sweat and body glitter, giving him this ethereal beauty. He has to close his eyes after cumming so hard and so much. His balls feel empty.

Satoru lays with you for a while, massaging your sore parts with his big hands.

"I'm so glad you came tonight." he says cheekily. "Wanna go out for coffee sometime?"

© arminsumi

I do not permit the copying/reposting/translation/plagiarism of my works. Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

This is fictional work.

[fanfic-obsessed]

Smitten

I had this idea for a JayTim that I want to share. 

Obviously there is no canon here, for the record. 

In addition we have a version of Jack and Janet Drake that do love their son, they just have a really bad grasp on age appropriate supervision and activities. They honestly believe that a nine year old can be left alone with only a periodic check from a housekeeper (Also they are aware that Tim leaves the premises almost every night with a camera, they also believe this is a reasonable activity).  Like the very embodiment ‘they’re confused, but they got spirit’. Believe me when I say this will be relevant later.

We are also bringing Jason and Tim’s ages just a hair closer together. This starts with Jason being 14 and Tim being 13, at the annual holiday Wanye Gala. This particular time Jack, Janet, and Tim are in attendance. 

It starts with some boorish rich asshole, a little too drunk and being stupid about it, making an insulting comment about Janet Drake, heard by Tim. Now Tim loves his mother, and does not appreciate this man who insulted her. 

Thirteen year old Tim verbally eviscerates this man, his voice an icy even tone that everyone around recognized from Tim’s mother Janet. Tim’s diatribe of insults and threats leverages this man's secrets, his fears, and insecurities that he didn't even realize he had.  Ten minutes in, this man begins to cry. Just the complete, public, destruction of a middle aged rich drunk by a tiny thirteen year old.  The Drake family proceeds to exit after Tim winds down, never looking back (it was later in the evening anyway).

Jason, standing off to one side next to Dick, falls immediately and completely in love. Smitten through and through.  The first words out of his mouth, after the Drakes leave, is ‘We’re going to get married on that boy’s 18th birthday’.  This was heard by just about everyone present. Jason did not even know Tim’s name yet.

By the next morning Jason has used the BatComputer to discover that his future spouse is named Timothy Drake, he lives next door, and that he is 14 months younger than Jason.  At breakfast Jason very seriously, though a touch maniacally, tells Bruce that he would be marrying Tim when Tim turned 18, and that before that point they would be telling Tim about their ‘nightlife’ on the grounds that “we should not start our marriage off with secrets”. Jason magnanimously told Bruce that he had until Tim was 17 to get his feelings under control about the reveal (to give a full year before the wedding, in case Tim needed an adjustment period or Jason needed to win him back).  

Bruce is already very tired. 

Jason finds any occasion to seek out Tim Drake, to get to know his future spouse (the entire time Jason Mantra-having gotten some good advice from Alfred about becoming friends with and maybe dating Tim before anything else-is ‘Don’t start talking about the wedding, don’t start talking about the wedding’). Also every piece of romantic knowledge/flirting knowledge that Jason has comes from the regency era/Victorian era romances he reads. 

Tim, for his part, believes that Jason (Tim’s Robin and crush) has figured out that Tim knows Robin’s identity and is trying to subtly figure out how much Tim knows and what he is going to do about it; but for some reason Jason is not asking directly and Tim is enjoying getting closer to the other boy, so he does not admit to what he knows. 

This leads to some painfully stilted conversations and weird interactions, but every so often both will forget to be awkward and it becomes clear, whenever they actually act naturally, that they are very well matched. 

To the Gotham Elites, this is the best entertainment in years. Between Bruce Wayne’s ‘Brucie’ act and Dick’s feral behavior growing up, Jason’s bookish politeness makes him the ‘best behaved’ Wayne and honestly the most well liked one. Combined that with how sweet he is acting with Tim and  that this all started with Tim defending his mother, well this is the love story of the ages, happening right in front of them. 

Bruce and the Drakes are already fielding requests for invitations to the wedding. On a slightly more creepy note they are also receiving offers to be a surrogate for the boy’s to ‘continue the bloodline’ when the time comes. 

Bruce is honestly wondering if everyone forgot that Jason is adopted. Dick comes to Gotham more often, because he is also finding this immensely entertaining. 

A few months in, this leads to Batman, Nightwing, and Robin finding Tim taking pictures on a rooftop in the Bowery.  In Tim’s rush to apologize (he is starting to feel a bit guilty about his picture taking pictures of the Bats now that he has an actual relationship-where he believes that they know he knows who they are-instead of a parasocial relationship) it becomes clear that Tim knows their civilian identities and that they did not know that Tim knew their civilian identities. 

Tim gives his explanation (a quadruple flip that only a few people in the world can do and connecting the dots from there). Jason immediately blurts out ‘Go on a date with me?’ and is quite proud that he kept the ‘Marry me?’ behind his teeth (The earliest they could get married in New Jersey is 17, and only with parental consent. Jason had 4 years to convince the Drakes to let him marry their son, 5 if they don’t like him). Tim turns bright red and squeaks out a ‘Yes’. 

The next gala they enter holding hands.  Dick is quickly sought after by the Elite for gossip. Dick confirms that Tim and Jason are now dating, and that Jason insisted on a chaperone for their dates (Jason is still working off the regency/victorian era romantic relationships) so that nothing would ‘besmirch Tim’s honor’.  There is an entire crowd of cooing Gothamites around Dick as they discuss how these two got even more adorable, all the while watching Jason and Tim surreptitiously. 

At some point Bruce has to have a very surreal conversation with Jack and Janet Drake about when it is appropriate to leave one's children alone and for how long and at what ages. Jack and Janet, upon being convinced that they should not leave their 13 year old alone for weeks or months at a time, rearrange their future plans so that one of them is almost always home (and on the few occasions that they would have to Tim by himself, Tim would stay with the Waynes).

By the way, Jack and Janet love Jason, they can see how much he makes their son happy and are glad to support the relationship.  

Now I see this continuing one of two ways. 

The first way is that this derails Ethiopia. Jason still fights with Batman, but runs to Janet Drake (who is home) and Tim.  He does not discover that Catherine is not his mother until later, but is not missing parental influences and does some digging but does not go to meet Sheila. Tim becomes Oracle’s apprentice.

Alternately, it does not derail Ethiopia. Janet and Jack, on one of the few business trips that required both of them, is woken up by a call from an inconsolable Tim who tells them Jason has been killed by the Joker (both Jack and Janet having been let in on the secret at some point). Janet immediately hires Deathstroke and Talia Al Ghul to kill the Joker (Janet contemplated having them bring the Joker to her, so she could do it and make sure he understood why-he killed her future son in law and made her son cry- but realized that the why would never actually matter to Joker) and paid extra to make it look like natural causes (to lessen the attention on the bastard).  Two weeks after Jason Todd’s funeral, the Joker dropped dead of an apparent heart attack, there was not even enough time to get him back in Arkham. 

The Gotham Elite treat Tim like a bereaved widow, despite Jason never getting to have the ‘let’s get married when we are old enough’ talk with him. Jack Drake gets to have his own surreal talk with Bruce Wayne about accepting help, and therapy, after Jason’s death.  Tim picks up the Robin mantle to feel closer to Jason, and to distract himself from grief. 

Jason (Now 17) is brought back and Talia does find him. In this she does have good intentions (She knows that Damian is going to need to be sent to his father eventually, and hopes that helping Jason will endear Talia to Bruce enough that she can still see her son), plus a connection to Janet Drake and the knowledge that Janet had the Joker killed for Jason. So as soon as Jason’s madness ebbs enough to travel she brings him straight to Janet Drake's door. By then enough time has passed that it is three days before Tim’s 17th birthday.   

Jante takes one look at Jason and goes ‘Hmm, I was wondering what we were getting Tim for his birthday this year’.

[celaenaeiln]

Something fanon gets wrong

Dick Grayson is genuinely one of the greatest fighters in all of DC.

I know people have trouble believing this for some reason but a man who has defeated every single one of his enemies, other people’s enemies, and has consistently come out on top should have his abilities talked about a bit more because they’re amazing.

Let's start small to big. Firstly Donna talks about Nightwing's abilities.

When I read this I was confused by what she meant. Prowess means skill or expertise and that makes sense but Dick has a lot of power behind him though...

And then I realized she meant metaphysical power.

Dick isn't a magician. He can't run at supersonic speeds, throw buildings, speak to animals, communicate with the dark, fly above the clouds, bounce bullets off his chest (Oh, wait. He can do it off his ass instead never mind), turn into animals, or other amazing abilities. But his skill is so high that he is easily able to keep up with people who can.

M'gann, the white martian with extraordinary capabilities, tells Dick, "You are just a human, with no superpowers, yet you have consistently excelled throughout your career, despite being surrounded by godlike beings."

This is incredible.

We see Dick leading teams of superheroes and metas all the time and we take it for granted but we never acknowledge the immense power and skill he must have for him to be able to do this.

Repeatedly. Time after time. He outsmarts both his human allies and outfights his meta ones.

One of Dick’s greatest OP moments is when he takes down the entire Titans team -Gar, Raven, Donna, and Jason too when he hung around with them- single handedly. And when Jason put a gun to the back of his head in supposed victory, Dick opened his hand to let the golden bullets fall, gleaming in the light with the coldest line, “with these bullets?”

We all know how amazing Bruce is, but Dick is on Bruce's level.

No?

Okay, here's the evidence.

Dick has fought Azael in a sword fight to a standstill when Azael has beaten Bruce separately and Tim and Jason combined.

He has defeated Ra's in a sword fight and Ra's is one of the greatest swordsmen.

Sometimes he doesn't even need a sword to defeat a skilled swordsman.

He's a League of Assassins member and we all know that anyone from the League of Assassins is never just good. They're excellent. The entire fight Dick is looking for Blockbuster and he's so capable and good at fighting the entire scene was like watching Thanos flick Captain America away vibes. He's not even looking at him when he smashes his foot into Shrike's face!

Most importantly, he has defeated Deathstroke

The greatest thing about Dick is he is able to defeat Slade at the peak of Slade's abilities. Slade doesn't need to be weakened for Dick to win.

Here's where people has some hesitance accepting Dick's abilities.

"Bruce has defeated Slade but Dick has never been able to!"

He literally has in Dark Crisis but I'll give you the lead up.

Dick can easily disarm Slade.

He can predict Slade's moves ahead of time and properly counteract them.

He can go toe to toe with him and in one comic, they dance down a hallway, fighting, neither able to get the upper hand. The mercenary meta, considered by the US Government to be 1 of 2 greatest assassins (the other being Katana) isn't able to pin down and defeat a 20 year old despite his enhancements.

I left out the scene where Dick twisting Deathstroke's arm and smashing his face into a bedroom mirror despite being complete weaponless and in his civilian identity. No protection and no support. But it's another example of how Dick's poweress is much greater than people expect of him.

Of course there are panels where Dick has been defeated by Slade but Dick isn't 17/18 anymore. He isn't learning to fight without Batman hovering over his side.

Also there is a panel everyone references to when talking about Nigthwing losing to Deathstroke. This one.

sure. okay. whatever. BUT WHY WON'T YOU SHOW WHAT HAPPENS NEXT COWARDS?!?

THEY DANCE-FIGHT LIKE THEY'RE ENEMIES IN A BALLROOM ON OPPOSING SIDES BUT CAN'T AFFORD TO LET ANYONE FIND OUT.

THIS IS SOME HIGH LEVEL JAMES BOND-RED NOTICE-MISSION IMPOSSIBLE- TYPE SHIT.

"Close the hold, you morons! Close the--Guuk!"

That's Slade talking by the way. To his allies. Who do you think made him "GUUK!"?

And here they were evenly matched.

But Slade had to pull out bombs he had been saving for when other people came in order to defeat dICK AND HE STILL LOST BECAUSE DICK BESTED HIM.

Yup. Dick is just that good.

Nightwing defeated Bane

Before you go into saying something like "it was a holographic construction." What the fuck difference does that make? Does a holographic construction alter the strength used by the enemy, change their fighting style, phase through when fighting, act dumber than the real deal? No, right? The fact is Dick broke Bane's back the exact same manner that Bane broke Batman's. All those scenes of Bane punching Nightwing around? Let me remind you that the guy snuck up on Dick. The second time Dick underestimated Bane's powers before getting ready to put in real effort before Batman interfered to take Bane for himself.

All those amazing scenes of him defeating enemies that we've scoffed at recently? They're just a continuation of what already is written. It's not new or unbelievable, it's expected.

Here's my final point. Dick has defeated all of the Justice League's enemies in one go.

This is Batman/Superman comic where Kara gets infected so Dick as Batman sends her to the medbay while he tears down the Watchtower to save her. As in every single defense mechanism the Watchtower has, he demolishes it with his pure skill and abilities. Furthermore, the Watchtower defenses were enhanced by cyborg Superman to be lethal. To kill on sight.

Just. Phenomenal.

He did it! He defeated all of them and made it to the electronic controls he was aiming for.

Another thing I want to point is Dick's strength is greater than what people assume it to be.

He's the world's greatest acrobrat and has a build fitting of that but the strength he packs in his body is equal to that of a meta. Maybe it's because of how he only fights with metas and has teammates that are all metas but he has raised his striking power to equal that.

He shatters cyborg superman in one blow.

He can handle blows from meta humans in a way most others can't which suggests to me that he must've done some kind of training or have maybe increased pain tolerance or have the ability to backseat the pain so it won't affect his fighting. How many can take a hit and rise up the next second?

He's not metahuman. Batman must've done several tests because he also was amazed by robin Dick's poweress lol but really Dick is just extraordinary. Give him any enemy and he will garaunteed defeat them without using cheap tricks or surprise moves which is why he is one of the greatest. The only time people have gotten an upperhand on him is when he has been emotionally weakened. Emotionally. Imagine the absolute monster he would be if he controlled his emotions like Batman.

But I would never want him to though because his emotions are the reason why he's the light of DC.

[johnbrand]

Bonding

“I still can’t believe you were trying to hypnotize me,” Corey chuckled, his slightly-dazed brother-in-law sitting across from him on the floor. “What were you trying to get out of me anyway?”

The evening had started out innocently enough. Corey and Paul had gotten along decently in the past. Friendly, but never true friends. They just did not have that much in common. Paul’s life was complex, eccentric, and filled with sexual adventures. Corey, nor Paul’s sister whom he had recently married, had any problems with this, although it was hard for them to relate to. They were settling down, taking pleasure in the simpler things in life.

“I was just hoping to…hoping to…” Paul was struggling, caught between holding back and fully surrendering to Corey.

“Look back into my eyes and relax, Paul,” Corey calmly instructed. “Let that relaxation continue to take over. Let me be the one in charge now. You are willing to give your power to me.”

While the differences between the two existed, both Corey and Paul did truly wish to become better friends. So when Paul had asked to come over on a night his sister was not there, to just have dinner and bond, Corey eagerly accepted. The two had a great meal, talked on a variety of topics, and for some reason had eventually wound up in the bedroom. It was there Paul had tried to hypnotize Corey, but his brother-in-law could have never known Corey was much more experienced in the craft then he was. Paul was under before he even realized the tables had been turned.

Watching Paul’s eyes flutter once more, Corey pushed back the question. “Why were you trying to hypnotize me tonight, Paul?”

Paul’s response was robotic: “I was hoping to convert you.”

“'Convert me’?” Corey repeated.

“You know...make you gay,” Paul clarified, still entranced.

“And why would you want that?”

“So then you could be mine,” Paul uttered. "Bonding like...sexually...as lovers..."

Corey took a moment to process this. A little stunned, but also somehow not surprised. It was a common stereotype for straight men to believe that gay men lusted for them, and Corey was coming to realize he may have actually been a part of this trope. Corey did not know whether to be flattered or offended. It was endearing that his brother-in-law thought of him in such a manner, but also cruel that Paul attempted to manipulate him. And now that Corey knew of Paul’s knowledge of hypnotization, he feared another victim could appear in the future.

“Paul, let me repeat back to you what you just told me.” Carefully, Corey kicked out his feet, removing his socks to let them breathe a bit. He brought up one of the socks to his nose, confirming they would be a potent enough trigger to keep Paul under. 

“You were hoping for me to convert you.” Corey stated this rather than posing a question, forcing Paul to absorb it as a new truth.

“...yes…” Paul mumbled. “...you…convert me…”

“Those weren’t feelings of lust, but of admiration,” Corey continued. “You don’t want to like me, you want to be like me.”

Paul processed this new truth, “I want to…I want to be like you.”

Corey smiled. He could have never predicted for this situation to have arisen from tonight’s activities, but he assumed that it could still be considered “bonding,” seeing as Paul was about to learn, rather take in a lot about his brother-in-law.

With his wife gone for the whole weekend, Corey had plenty of time to work with Paul. Rewriting Paul’s background came first, and luckily Corey already knew a good deal of it from being married to Paul’s sister. Starting from childhood, Corey worked his way up through adolescence. A Halloween costume from age 7 switched from a wizard to a train conductor. An after school activity at age 10 was switched from the community choir to baseball. Age 16 replaced a Toyota Prius with a Camry, Age 17 art elective to woodshop, Age 18 private liberal arts college to public university. It was a delicate process, but as Corey removed integral portions of Paul’s history and supplanted them with his own, the progress became visible.

During the early stages, it was mostly physical adaptations as Paul’s pubescent stages were rewritten to mimic his brother-in-law’s. Longer legs gave him more height, a history in sports put some meat on his bones, a love for bars over clubs put some hair on his chest–and just about everywhere else. 

By the time Corey began restructuring Paul’s twenties, the visible changes became less apparent. The designer, patterned dress shirt and matching pants Paul adorned were dialed down to neutral, off-the-rack colors as one-off production jobs were replaced with a steady accounting gig. Random male strangers to long-term heterosexual relationships added a little softness over Paul’s abs and inched his hairline back to match Corey’s. And from recently renewing a lease in the city to recently placing a down payment in the suburbs, Corey proudly watched as a fluffy beard sprung forth from Paul’s face, just like his own. Corey would not be surprised if others would now assume the pair were brothers, not brothers-in-law.

“Now, I’m going to put away my feet, Paul.” Corey’s funk had fumed up the room. He already knew his wife would complain about it once she arrived back home. “But from now on, when I present you with my feet, you will immediately go back under again, do you understand?”

While mentally still a bit slow, Paul confirmed by presenting his own, now giant feet to Corey. “Your feet…at your command…”

“Good.” With that, Corey was quick with the cleanup process, reminding Paul that all the changes were permanent, he did not know how to hypnotize people nor would ever learn how to, and that he would not remember any of what they had just done together. Their weekend had just been spent bonding after all, drinking beers and complaining about women. Just two brother-in-laws becoming better brothers.

[evolnoomym]

Make Daddy Proud 🦂

Stepdad!Joel Miller x f!reader

Main Masterlist | Joel Miller Masterlist

Summary: You don’t necessarily like your Mothers new beefy Husband, he tries and tries. To no avail, you just won’t warm up to him. When his patience reaches an end things finally get interesting.

Rating: 18+ mature content mdni!!!!

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: no use of y/n, female reader, Moon is not a name necessarily but more a nickname, age-gap, ages are unspecified, cheating, infidelity, alcohol consumption, smoking, reader is mean, dubcon, Daddy Kink, reader has a pussy, sex toy, wet humping (?) 😅, cum, squirting, Sunny appearance, reader kinda shames Joel,

If I missed anything please let me know 🙏🏻

Authors note: this is for @beefrobeefcal ‘s Married Joel Sits On You Challenge. I hope you enjoy Beef, I love you 🦂🤎😏😏😏

Shoutout to @cafekitsune & @saradika-graphics for the dividers 🤎

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so if you come across mistakes it might be due to that. I’m totally here for constructive criticism or feedback on how to improve. I appreciate reblogs, comments and likes greatly 🫶🏻

Your Mother started dating Joel when you were 17, within a year they decided that the two of you would be moving into Joel’s house. Their relationship had an astonishing pace, it made you sick, you should’ve felt happy for her but you couldn’t bring yourself to get used to the idea of having a stepdad again.

Admittedly he was much nicer than the previous one. Joel was really trying to make it easier on you, but he realized quickly that you were not gonna just eat out of his hand like your mother did.

One time over dinner he decided to jokingly offer that you could call him Dad and you were not amused at all.

“You know Moon ya don’t have to call me Joel, could just call me Dad, huh? How bout that.” He gave you a happy and warm smile. He looked genuinely excited.

“No fucking way, Joel, thank you but you are not my Dad and you’ll never be. You are just you.” The response came out in a harsh and cold way, to clearly let him know that you weren’t up for it.

The rest of the dinner was filled by an uncomfortable silence and Joel never tried asking you again.

A couple months later, he caught you smoking out on the patio. He had planned to drink one of his beers in secret. He kept them hidden in his wood carving room, since your mother disapproved of the bitter sparkly liquid.

As soon as he slid the door open he got hit by the smell of burning tobacco. You were leaning on the railing, staring up at the sky, taking slow drags of the glimmering cigarette, clouds of smoke surrounded you and Joel couldn’t help himself from taking in your bend over form. The curve of your ass, your thighs and all the way down to your bare feet. Joel would never admit it but your distanced act pulled him in more and more.

You knew he was right behind you, staring, you could feel his eyes tracing you up and down. Perhaps you arched your back a little more than necessary to show off for him. Give him a show. Have something you could hold above his head if need be.

After he’d gotten closer he stopped right next to you and started quietly sipping his beer. At some point he held out his beer towards you and in exchange you offered him a cigarette. You both knew that this would be your shared little secret, with many more to come, big secrets.

Joel thought he made some progress that night, but you continued to treat him just like before.

Then the day came where Joel decided to get down on one knee and asked your mother to marry him, right in front of you.

You didn’t think it would be possible to dislike him even more. Why would he want to marry your mother? Why did he have to weasel his way into your life? Why did he have to look so good? Why was all of this happening?

The wedding was quickly planned, nothing too fancy, just the closest people invited, which sadly included you too.

On all the wedding-photos that were taken you looked disgusted and appalled by the reality of your situation. Your mother tried to reprimand you for pulling all these faces but you were not gonna pretend to enjoy any bit of the show they put on.

Joel obviously recognized some changes in your behavior after the wedding, but instead of getting better, it got worse. You didn’t even try to hide your disdain anymore. Purposely bumping into him, ignoring when he spoke to you and if looks could’ve kill he’d be dead long ago.

But there’s something else in the way you glared at him, a glimmer of something undetectable and it scared him to not know what went through your head. You could’ve been plotting his downfall and unlike the rest of the family, Joel didn’t wanna make the mistake of underestimating you.

Marriage had been good to Joel. His mental health and financial stability had improved, and he seemed over all like a happier person. The only drawback seemed to be the effect it had on his waistline. Something you took advantage of, resorting to a childish approach of shaming his beefy form. Calling him out for his large portions, laughing loudly when you could hear him from the master bedroom complaining about his clothes not fitting properly anymore. He could feel your eyes tracking his every move, he felt like prey being watched before getting attacked, all of it happening in his own home.

Joel decided he wanted to make one last attempt to persuade you to accept his presence at least somewhat. You didn’t have to be his Bestfriend, but at least get along with him.

He had organized a spa weekend get away for your mother, so the two of you could spend some uninterrupted bonding time together. Maybe without your Mother you’d feel more comfortable opening up to him.

As usual you started the day by scowling at every move he made, even when you sat on the passenger side of Joel’s car while he drove you to the local aquarium you stared holes into the side of his head.

Even though you were afraid of deep waters he learned quickly that you loved sharks and have always wanted to go to an aquarium. Your mother however never really cared much for that wish, so Joel thought this is how he’d get you on his side.

Instead of having a pleasant conversation with you, he was punished with icy silence. He pathetically trailed behind you in the 2 hours it took to see everything the aquarium had to offer. You didn’t even thank him afterwards but he tried to chalk it up to you maybe having a bad night.

Joel hoped that perhaps him taking you to Kiki’s Nail’s, a very highly respected nail salon, would make you happy but more than a little smile was not in it.

Kiki generously offered that he could sit next to you, to watch what she does on your nails, but you quickly declined.

She also mistook you for his wife, which had you cackling loudly, purposefully embarrassing Joel and implying that he could never land a woman like you.

He got more and more upset, especially seeing you interact so excitedly and animatedly with Kiki. He didn’t understand what he had to do so he could get the same enthusiasm for himself. It pissed him off quite frankly.

When you stood next to him at the cash register you didn’t even blink an eye at 140$ your manicure cost Joel. You even went as far as to laugh at him for getting choked up by the amount of money he had to spend.

At least you seemed to really love the design Kiki did. A little victory he counted for himself.

When you got home, he told you to settle on the couch and relax, all while he was in the kitchen preparing his famous Miller tacos. Your mother told him behind your back that you liked them very much, but of course you’d never admit it to his face.

Even though Joel knew you probably just acted as if you didn’t enjoy them, the lackluster response soured his mood further. It hit rock bottom when you left him to deal with the dishes and ignored the fact he bought your favorite movie to watch with you.

After he had gotten done with cleaning up, he decided to indulge on some of his hidden whiskey. He pours himself a glass and sits down on the couch. Joel feels beyond frustrated by everything that went wrong today.

He spends 30 mins just slowly sipping on his whiskey, all while trying to figure out what to do next. The alcohol in his system makes the ever present Texas heat appear much stronger, so without thinking he pulls his sleeping shirt over his head.

Now only clad in his cotton pajama shorts and with alcohol cursing through his system, Joel impulsively decides he might have to take the route of having a serious talk with you about the ever pending attitude.

Joel stomps up the stairs, thinking you would hear it which makes him not even bother to knock, no, he practically throws himself against the door.

He should’ve expected to be greeted by immediate screaming.

“Joel what the hell?? Get the fuck out of my room!!”

“Noooo…no you shut up lil missy, ‘ve had enough of ya pissy attitude.”

“Get out,” And when he doesn’t react you continue “Are you deaf, old man, do I need to spell it out?? Fuck off.”

If Joel would’ve been less drunk he might have caught the panicked and out of breath way in which you spoke.

He starts shaking his head as he approaches your bedside.

“You know I’ve had enough of you, I tried all damn day to make ya happy. Ya didn’t show me an ounce of respect,” he comes to a stop beside your bed “ what is your goddamn problem, huh?”

You could say something to de-escalate the situation but that would be so unlike you.

“Fuck you, Joel.”

In Joel’s head a switch flips, within a split second he swings his leg over you and as he sits down on your hips the healthy swell of his tummy rubs up against you.

A shiver runs up your spine and you let out a sigh.

“W..wha- what are you doing Joel?”

He looks feral, like an animal ready to pounce on you any moment.

“Teaching ya a much needed lesson, sweet girl.”

His big warm, calloused hands engulf your wrists and pin them to the mattress beside your head.

Out of the corner of his eyes Joel sees something purple, he looks towards your nightstand and there it is. A purple silicone cock shaped vibrator, it looks glossy, covered in slick.

You can see the wheels turning in his head and when he seems to have come to some sorta conclusion his features light up.

His head turns back to you.

“Oh babygirl, ya naughty lil thing. You’ve been playin’ with yourself? Been in a bad mood all day long cuz that needy little pussy needed some attention,huh?”

Instead of answering your eyes wander down his bare chest.

“Where’s your shirt Joel?”

“Ya got a problem, baby?”

Your cheeks are heating up and you start nibbling on your lower lip while still staring.

“Ya like what you see sweet girl?”

He lets go of one wrist and tilts your chin up with two fingers.

You nod.

“Nah, use your voice babygirl. Come on ya know what I want to hear.”

“Yes Daddy.”

He grunts deeply.

“Atta Girl.”

Now both his hands slip beneath your lower back and he sits up while pulling you with him.

You go from being pinned beneath him, to sitting on top of his lower gut.

Your hands are splayed on his chest, probing yourself up.

His hands go to your hips, instantly squeezing and kneading.

“Oh baby, she’s leaking, dripping all over me. That lil pussy is so sloppy.”

With that his hands momentarily slip lower to pull his shorts down, at least so much that his cock can be freed. One of his hands goes back to your hips, while the other comes up to your mouth.

“Spit.”

And you do. Letting a decent amount drop into the palm of his hand and then it disappears behind you. At the squelching noises you're able to detach that he is touching himself.

“Start rubbing that cunt on me. Make yourself come. Use me sweetheart.”

He instructs, while setting a rhythm with the hand on your hip.

The slick noises that his hand wrapped around his length produce combined with your wet pussy fill your bedroom.

“Yes baby, ya doin’ so good for me. Finally being a good girl.”

You feel his thumb soothingly circling your hipbone.

“I was already close, I’m gonna come soon, Daddy.” You sound deliciously whiny.

Music to Joel’s ears.

It takes not much longer to make Joel catch up with you. You can tell he’s getting close by the way his hands grips your hip tightly, he will most likely leave marks.

“Baby you gotta lift up for me. Quick!”

You swiftly lift yourself up and watch in awe how he paints his tummy with white creamy ropes of cum.

“Good god, baby,” he writhes beneath you, “settle back down darlin’.”

When you lower yourself back down onto him you moan at the incredible sensation of his spend being spread up and down his hairy belly by your lips. It stimulates your engorged clit perfectly.

You are whimpering furiously.

“Da..Da- Daddy, so..so good. I’m gonna come, it feels so different, ughh.”

“Yes baby, be a good girl an’ come on me. Come on Daddy’s tummy.”

It takes only a couple more seconds before you fall over the edge with a high pitched scream, you feel yourself leaking more than ever before, hips stuttering in his iron grip.

You flop forward into Joel’s neck, burying yourself there and inhaling his comforting scent.

“Sweet girl ya made Daddy very happy, didn’t know ya could squirt, my princess is full of surprises, ain’t she?”

His cheek leans against yours to get your attention but to no avail, all energy was spend.

The soft snoring is all indication Joel needed.

He gently turned you on your back, got up, retrieved a washcloth and carefully cleaned you up. The last thing he does is tuck you in and leave a kiss on your forehead.

Hours later you are laying on your stomach in bed while holding the phone up to your ear.

“Sunny you won’t fucking believe what happened yesterday.”

Sunny’s manic giggling tells you she already has a pretty good idea of what could’ve happened.

Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI, thank you 🙏🏻

Tags: @aurorawritestoescape @joelmillerisapunk @milla-frenchy @the-mandawhor1an @rivnedell @iamasaddie @toxicanonymity @ace-turned-confused @strang3lov3 @pedropeach @tonysopranosrobe @moonlitbirdie @joelstummy @joelsdagger @joelslegalwhre @joelsgreys @pedge-page @littlemisspascal @fhatbhabiee @punkshort @macfrog @thundermartini @mrsmando @xdaddysprincessxx @mountainsandmayhem @syd-djarin @msjarvis @miss-oranje-disco-dancer

[munson-blurbs]

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!Reader Series

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19

Summary: A trip to the thrift store becomes overwhelming for Harris, and you and Eddie have to work as a team. But the real test of your relationship's strength is the crisis that unfolds days later.

Warnings: financial insecurity, school lock-in, missing child, police presence, mention of kidnapping, mention of drug addiction, blood (no gore)

WC: 8.5k

Chapter 19/20

Divider credit to @saradika

Eddie has already been awake for two hours when the phone rings. One part of parenthood that he hadn’t anticipated is that children do not understand the concept of weekends. Harris had flung himself out of his racecar bed promptly at 6:30 in the morning, crawling under Eddie’s sheets and poking his nose until he woke up.

“Har, go back to sleep,” Eddie had grumbled, the last word extended in a whine. One cheek was smushed against his pillow, muffling his complaint. “It’s Saturday; you don’t have school.”

In response, Harris pursed his lips into a perfect pout and used his thumb to peel Eddie’s eyelid open, getting as close to his face as possible. His morning breath was tinged with the scent of chocolate; Eddie groggily made a mental note to better supervise his nighttime teeth brushing routine. 

“‘M hungry.”

That’s how Eddie finds himself pouring his third cup of coffee while his son keeps his eyes glued to the TV screen, watching Doug stutter and stammer in front of Patti. Eddie smiles, a blush creeping into his cheeks when he realizes that that’s probably what he looks like around you.

“‘Lo?” He cradles the receiver between his ear and his shoulder, wincing as he clumsily clinks the carafe into place. There isn’t enough coffee left to slosh over the side, a small miracle in and of itself, although he’ll have to brew some more if the caffeine doesn’t kick in soon.

“Hey, baby.” Your voice is sleepy yet sweet, smoothing all the creases of the morning. “Did I wake you up?”

Eddie laughs and takes a sip from his favorite mug, the one that proudly declares #1 Dad. It’s stained and chipped, but he’ll never throw it out. Wayne had bought it for him on his very first Father’s Day; ironically, Eddie had bought him a #1 Grandpa mug that year, probably from the same kiosk at the mall.

“Not even close,” he says, tongue flicking to the corner of his lip to catch the drip of coffee that’s pooled in the crevice. “Someone was up bright and early this morning.” His gaze flits over to the bowl of Cheerios snug between Harris’s criss-crossed legs, mostly uneaten despite his earlier protests that would make an outsider believe he was starving. “How was your sleep?” he asks, swinging back to your conversation.

You switch the phone from one ear to the other. “It was good. Would’ve been better if you were next to me, though,” you add, twirling the cord around your forefinger. If you could, you would capture the safety of his embrace and bottle it, releasing a bit each time you craved his gentle touch. “I might’ve even let you be the little spoon.”

He balks at this with a playful scoff, nearly spilling his coffee with the sudden movement. “Yeah, right,” he chuckles, licking the side of the mug before the bitter liquid can slide off and hit the ground. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”

Admittedly, his skepticism is rooted in truth; whenever you do get the chance to cuddle in bed, he’s always the one wrapping his arm around your waist, often taking the opportunity to snake a hand up your shirt and let the pads of his fingers brush over your breasts. It isn’t always a display of sexuality or desire–though you can’t say you mind that–but a connection, a way of ensuring that you stay close. 

“Just a few more weeks until we get to find out for ourselves,” you tease, though he needs no reminding. Only sixteen days remain until you officially move in together, and he’s not ashamed to admit that he’s counting down. “Speaking of which,” you continue, glancing at the clock, “I was wondering if you and Harris wanted to do some furniture shopping for his new room.” You knew that he would be keeping his racecar bed; it’s unlikely he’ll part with it until he’s outgrown it completely. “Y’know, a new dresser or nightstand or something.”

There’s an extended pause on Eddie’s side of the line. You think the call dropped and are about to hang up and redial when you hear him say,  “I, um…I don’t get paid until next week…” He nervously scratches the countertop with one fingernail. 

“Oh.” You grapple with a response, trying to strike a balance of empathy without condescension. “Well, I was going to surprise you, but I sold some of Grandma’s old—”

“No way,” Eddie interjects, firmly but not harshly. “I’m not having you spend your money on me. We can just wait until payday.”

“I want to buy this for Harris. I…I probably should have cleared out Grandma’s room months ago, but I couldn’t. I mean, I could, but it felt wrong because I had nothing to put in its place.” You don’t care that you’re babbling on, forging ahead with your impromptu monologue. “It would’ve been too empty, but with you and Harris here, it won’t be empty anymore.”

Eddie tucks his thumbnail between his teeth. “Are you sure?” he prods, not wanting to sound ungrateful. 

“Positive.” You’re much more assured in your reply. “If she knew Harris before she got sick, she would’ve spoiled the hell out of him, anyway.” The moment she saw him happily digging into the Oreos, she would have ensured that the cupboard remained stocked with Double Stuf. “In a way, s’like she gets to spoil him now.”

You can sense Eddie’s resistance tempering with an audible exhale. “He’s an easy kid to love, that’s for sure,” he muses, buying time to process the influx of emotions flooding his body. There’s the obvious gratitude that you’re so eager to take care of his son, but it’s cut with the insecurity of him not being able to do so. If you’re going to buy Harris furniture, it should be because you want to, not because he can’t. What if you hold this against him? What if, in the future, there’s an argument and you fire back with a retort about his shortcomings as a father?

Except…you have never done that. Ever. Not that night in the emergency room, or when you’d found out about the CPS report filed that evening. Not even when Eddie had made it his personal mission to tear you down, pulling insults from the depths and hurling them at you with reckless abandon. 

You hadn’t brought up the way he’d helplessly panicked when confronted with the possibility of Harris’s learning disability, or how he’d let anxiety overtake him when he officially received a classification. With everything the two of you had endured, you’d never once echoed his anxieties about his parenting abilities; it was quite the opposite. With you by his side, he feels as though he can take on whatever challenge life chucks at him. 

“Eds? Is everything okay?” Your tone is thick with concern; Eddie realizes that you probably think you’ve upset him. “We don’t have to go—we can do something else, or—”

“Sweet girl,” he says in one exhale, both to reassure you and to remind himself that you’re his, and he’s yours. Love surges through the phone lines when he speaks. “We can pick you up in an hour, if that works? I should be able to wrangle Harris by then.”

“Y’sure?” And, Christ, how his heart sinks when you shrink inward, reflexively making yourself smaller when you’re worried that you’ve offended someone.

Eddie doesn’t answer you directly, instead, calls out his son’s name. “Hey, Harris?” He frowns when Harris completely ignores him in favor of watching the cartoon. Using his free hand, he cups his mouth in a makeshift megaphone, amplifying his voice. “Harris Wayne Munson!”

The sudden sound jolts him out of his TV-induced stupor. “Huh?” 

“Go get dressed and brush your teeth; we’re gonna go shopping with Ms. Sweetheart!” Eddie grins as Harris turns to him with a wide smile of his own. “C’mon, let’s go!” 

Harris jumps up without further hesitation, inadvertently tossing his bowl from the makeshift table of his legs. Milk splatters, instantly soaking into the carpet, and the Cheerios topple out and land in a soggy pile. “Nooo, my bref-ist!” His big eyes well up with tears. “Daddy, you made me drop my bref-ist!”

“You, uh, wanna deal with that?” You can’t hide your amusement at the usual Munson chaos. 

“Probably should, huh?” Eddie jokes back, stretching the phone cord as far as he can and reaching for the paper towel roll. “I love you, babe. See you in a bit.”

“I love you, Eds,” you tell him. “And Harris, too, of course.”

Some more static and shuffling; then, an energetic voice greets you. “Hi Ms. Sweetheart! Daddy made me drop my bref-ist,” the little boy reports. 

“I’m sorry to hear that, Har.” You’ve perfected the art of mustering up sympathy for children’s not-soearth-shattering issues, a skill that every preschool teacher must possess. “Why don’t you help him clean up? That way, I can see you even faster.”

Harris pauses, mulling over his options. “Yeah, okay! Gotta go! Bye!”

You hear the clunk of him struggling to replace the phone on the hook, followed by Eddie saying, “Let me say good-bye before you hang—” click. 

Pulling your own receiver from your ear, you stare at it with mild amusement. Never a dull moment with my boys. 

Your boys drive up to your building just over an hour later. You stand up from the bench outside the entrance and smooth down your shorts where they’ve creased. 

“Hey, Sweetheart.” Eddie lets the pet name roll off of his tongue. He wants to kiss you as you slide into the passenger seat, but he withholds his affection for Harris’s sake. It seems silly, considering you’ll all be living together, but he doesn’t know how his son will react to the romance aspect of it. Will he be happy? Excited? Disgusted by any display of affection?

You give his hand a subtle squeeze, turning around to greet Harris. “Ready to shop till we drop?”

“Till we drop?” Harris wrinkles his nose, glancing between you and his dad. “Why would we drop?”

“It’s just an expression,” you explain, catching a glimpse of the smile tugging at the corners of Eddie’s mouth. “Just means that we’re going to shop until we’re too tired to shop anymore.”

“I never get tired,” Harris declares, sticking his legs straight out so his flexed feet push up against the back of the driver’s seat, nudging Eddie slightly forward. “Grampa Wayne calls me an ‘Energizer Bunny.’” He bounces up and down in his booster seat to prove his point.

Eddie reaches his right arm around, keeping his left firmly gripping the wheel, as he moves Harris’s feet from where they’re planted into his lower back. “So, Har,” he starts, easing his weight onto the brake as he approaches a red light, “we’re gonna look for a new dresser for you, and maybe a nightstand.” He takes a deep breath as he delivers the news: “That means we’re not making any pit stops for toys. Got it?”

You want to interject, to let Eddie know that you don’t mind splurging on a small treat for Harris, but you bite it back. Whether or not you have the spare funds is irrelevant: this is the boundary he’s set for his son, and you have to respect it, regardless of your desire to spoil him.

Harris, however, does not accept the announcement as readily. “Not even, like, a little one?” he presses, holding his thumb and forefinger a millimeter apart. “Even if I’m really, really good?” He gives a hopeful smile, eyes blinking expectantly.

Eddie looks at you, serving as your cue to provide your input. You nod your approval, trying to hide your delight in being asked to make a parenting decision, regardless of how menial it may seem. He peers up through the rearview mirror at his son’s waiting face. “If you’re really, really good,” he acquiesces, features pinching into a grimace when Harris’s exuberant squeal echoes through the sedan. “You have to use your inside voice and stay next to us the whole time. Deal?”

“Deal,” Harris confirms. “Deal, Ms. Sweetheart?”

“Deal.” Laughter bubbles up inside you and you let it spill out uninhibited. You know that telling a child he can get a toy is an easy part of parenthood, but you silently swear to never take for granted being included in that choice. Harris joins you, though he’s not quite sure why he’s laughing, but your joy is contagious. 

You lean your head against the car window, listening to the buzz of the radio filling the silence. Harris hums along, more on-key than the average five-year-old, which you can safely attribute to him having a musician for a dad.

“I’m not getting a new bed, right?” Harris says with sudden urgency. “Because I wanna keep my racecar bed.”

“Mhm,” you affirm, smiling when Harris relaxes back against the headrest. “Your racecar bed will be in your new room, don’t you worry.”

“Okay.” That response satisfies him until he thinks up another question. “An’ you’re bringing your bed, Daddy?”

Eddie chuckles as he pulls into the Goodwill parking lot. He picks a spot close to the store, right next to a green Ford with a faded “Clinton ‘96” bumper sticker. “Um, no. I’m not bringing my bed.” 

“So are you getting a new bed?” His eyes dart from side to side as he assesses the size of the car. “Where’s it gonna fit?”

“I’m, uh, not buying a new bed, either.” Eddie kills the engine and unbuckles his seatbelt, swiveling to face Harris, who is more confused than ever. “Ms. Sweetheart and I are going to share her bed.”

Harris kicks his feet, processing this new information. “But you didn’t get married yet,” he points out, “so how can you share a bed?”

You rest your palm on Eddie’s forearm in quiet reassurance. “Some people share a bed before they get married,” you explain simply, knowing that less is often more when talking to young children.

“When are you gonna get married?” he asks, more curious than meddling. “Because it’s taking forever. My friends’ mommies and daddies are already married.”

Eddie doesn’t acknowledge the fact that Harris essentially referred to you as his mommy; instead, he slowly exhales. “I’d like to marry Ms. Sweetheart someday, and I think she’d like to marry me, too.” He looks over at you with a sheepish grin, and you give his hand an agreeing squeeze. “But, for now, we’re just going to try out living together. How does that sound?”

“I guess that’s okay.” Harris isn’t completely thrilled with his dad’s response, but he relents anyway.

“While, we’re, uh, on the subject,” Eddie continues, the tips of his ears flushing pink as he carefully considers his words. He chews on the inside of his lower lip. Is he really doing this? Is he opening his son up to this relationship? “You know that Ms. Sweetheart and I love each other very much, right?”

“Mhm.”

“Sometimes,” Eddie continues with only some trepidation, “sometimes, when grown-ups love each other a lot, they hold hands o-or kiss. Would that be weird for you? If Ms. Sweetheart and I held hands, or kissed?”

You avert your gaze, partly from bashfulness but mostly so Harris doesn’t feel any pressure from either of you. 

The little boy looks at the car’s ceiling, centering his focus on the overhead lighting. Finally, with utmost certainty, he declares, “just no tongue-kissing.”

You snort out a laugh while Eddie goes bright red and sputters, “where did you learn about that?”

“Young and Restless,” Harris reports nonchalantly. 

Eddie rubs his eyes, pressing his thumb and forefinger to his lids until his vision blurs. “Remind me to tell Wayne to stop letting him watch the soaps,” he grumbles to you, turning back to his son. “Yeah, no tongue-kissing.”

You easily lace your fingers with Eddie’s as you walk through the front doors of the Goodwill. Harris starts making a beeline for the toys, but Eddie uses his free hand to pivot him in the direction of the furniture department. Harris huffs but complies, trudging alongside you. 

There’s a bright blue nightstand on display that immediately catches his eye. “Look!” he points, smiling so wide that all of his baby teeth are on display, “can I get it? Please?”

Eddie smiles warily, flipping over the white tag hanging from one silver drawer handle. He breathes a small sigh of relief when he sees the price is within the range of what he’d like to spend; rather, what he’d be comfortable asking you to spend. 

“Looks like we’ve got a winner,” he says, posture straightening with the announcement. He runs his fingertips over the surface, checking for any chipping paint or splintering wood, but the finish appears to be intact. “I’ll go tell someone to set it aside for us.”

He sets off in search of an employee, leaving you alone with Harris. You swallow the nervousness building in your throat. You spend nearly every day taking care of children, but you’re suddenly inundated with the memory of losing him at the flea market. Those few minutes when you couldn’t locate him were some of the scariest of your life. 

And yet, it hadn’t prevented Eddie from giving you another chance.

“Are you excited to move in with me, Har?” you ask, reaching out to ruffle his curls.

He nods, then looks straight up at you so that you’re staring at his nostrils. “Ms. Sweetheart?” The position of his neck changes his voice’s pitch so it’s froggy. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“Can you marry my daddy?” His eyes shine with potential. “And then you can be my mommy for real?”

You crouch down to his height, heart melting at his request. “Harris, I love your daddy very, very much. And I love you very, very much, too.” You poke his nose gently, and he giggles. “Being married is a big responsibility—”

“‘Sponsibility?”

“Mhm. Responsibility. It means a really important job.” You slide your heart pendant across the chain on your neck anxiously. “And your daddy and I want to make sure that we’re ready for that kind of responsibility before we do anything, okay?”

Harris nods, but you can tell from his crinkled nose and furrowed brows that he doesn’t fully understand. You can’t blame him; it’s an abstract concept, one that even you often have trouble comprehending. “But I can tell you one thing: whenever your daddy wants to propose, I’ll say ‘yes.’” You smile at the thought of Eddie asking you to be his wife. 

“Is that where he gets down on one knee and asks ‘Will you marry me?’” You’re about to respond when he adds, “and then someone runs in and yells about being their long-lost ‘dentical twin?”

Yeah, no more soap operas for Harris. 

Finding a dresser proves to be a much more difficult task than picking out the nightstand. Everything that Harris likes is out of budget, and everything within budget is too worn down or small. There’s one that’s in good condition and isn’t too pricey, but it’s covered in hand-painted unicorns. 

“That’s for girls!” Harris groans, stomping his feet. The last word is stretched in a whine. “I can’t have girl stuff!”

“We can paint over it. Whatever color you want,” you quickly jump in, trying to avoid a meltdown, but your efforts are fruitless. Fat tears stream down his cheeks; he’s already determined that the dresser is tainted. 

“No! No, no, no!” he howls, throwing himself on the floor. He smacks down on his tailbone, fanning his tantrum’s flames. He quiets for a moment, too shocked to cry, but then he’s screaming louder than before. 

It’s as though he’s lost control of his body, arms and legs knocking into the lower shelves without care. You can’t block him in time before he knocks over a lamp—a Nickelodeon-themed one that would have been perfect in his new room, ironically—and it shatters on the ground. Ceramic splinters, scattering across the linoleum like roaches in the light. 

People start to stare, some with sympathetic looks, and some glare angrily at the child daring to interrupt their shopping. Eddie’s face blazes, vision swimming as he wracks his brain for a solution. 

You’re faster, slapping a few bills into Eddie’s palm and jolting him from his thoughts. He watches you scoop Harris off of the floor, trying to avoid his flailing limbs. 

“Go get the nightstand and pay for the lamp,” you tell him, straightforward and precise. “I’ll get him to the car and calm him down. Keys?”

Eddie blinks, the information swirling around him but not quite penetrating the surface. It’s when you hoist Harris onto one hip and balance his weight in one hand, using the other to make a ‘gimme’ motion that it registers. 

“Y-Yeah, sorry.” Eddie fumbles for the car keys and tosses them to you, the two of you working in tandem. A well-oiled machine. You nod gratefully, wincing as Harris’s foot makes contact with your thigh. “I’ll be right out.”

You’re able to bring him to the car, struggling to unlock it and hold on to Harris. After a few failed attempts, you manage to open the passenger door and sit him on the seat. 

“Harris, hey, Harris?” you start, keeping your voice soft and even while trying to pull his attention. His sobs are slowing down but he’s definitely breathing too rapidly for your comfort. “Hey, bud. You’re okay, all right?” You extend your hand and he tentatively places his own palm on top of it. “You wanna give my hand a squeeze?”

He does it, the motion grounding him enough that he can focus on your body in front of him. You don’t want to touch him, knowing that his senses are already overstimulated from the tantrum. Instead, you relax as his squeezing grows stronger and his breaths gradually even out. 

“There ya go, Har. Just like that.” You smile warmly. “That was a really big feeling, huh?”

“Uh-huh.” His voice shakes and hiccups. He swipes at the tears on his cheeks, smudging them into his skin. 

You reach into the center console and grab a tissue, wiping the mucus from his nose and lips. “Good as new.” With no trashcan nearby, you shove the used Kleenex into your pants pocket. “Can you tell me what made you so mad in there?”

“D-Don’t want girl…girl st-stuff,” he stutters through ragged breaths. 

There’s a time and place to discuss the optics of categorizing interests into ‘boy’ and ‘girl,’ but you know better than to have that conversation now. “Oof, that’s why you were angry! That’s a lot to handle.” You gingerly tuck a curl behind his ear. “But, Harris, did you see what happened when you started hitting and kicking?” He shakes his head. “Well, you knocked over a lamp and it broke. You could have gotten hurt, or someone else could have gotten hurt.” 

Harris’s face falls as you speak, absorbing what you’re explaining. “I-I didn’t mean to,” he sniffles. “‘M sorry.”

“I know you didn’t mean to,” you sigh, “sometimes, when we have big feelings like getting angry, we do things we shouldn’t without even realizing.” You pause for a moment, biting your lip as you consider your words. “Do you want to hear what helps me when I have really big feelings and I can’t scream and cry?”

“Mhm.” He nods again, little tongue peeking out to swipe up the tears above his mouth. 

“I take a deep breath and close my eyes,” you start, demonstrating both actions. Inhale for three, exhale for three, and repeat. “And then I picture myself being in my favorite place in the world.” You smile at him, blinking back the sadness that comes with memories of holidays at Grandma’s. “Wanna try it together?”

Harris responds by closing his eyes and breathing in slowly. “Good job, Har,” you softly praise him. “Now breathe out; make sure you’re thinking of your favorite place, okay?”

“Thinkin’ about the zoo,” he whispers, voice raspy from shrieking for so long. “Daddy taked me there and we saw so much animals.”

“Zoos are a lot of fun,” you agree with a laugh. “I’ve never been to the one in Hawkins. Maybe we can go over the summer?”

“Yeah! I wanna show you the flamingos!” His grin stretches across his cheeks “Do you like flamingos?”

Like most people, you don’t have a strong opinion on flamingos, but you respond with an enthusiastic, “I love them!”

“Love who?” Eddie’s voice breaks into the conversation. He’s rolling out the nightstand in a cart, keeping one hand on top of it to hold it steady. “Me?”

You laugh, opening up the back door so he can wedge the furniture next to Harris’s booster seat. “Yes, Eddie. I love you very much, don’t worry,” you tease, seizing the opportunity to inconspicuously check him out. His biceps flex as he maneuvers the nightstand, and you have to tear your gaze from his denim-clad ass when he stands up and triumphantly wipes his hands on his pants. 

“C’mere.” He pulls you in, pursing his lips in an exaggerated pout and planting a smacking kiss on you. 

While you giggle, Harris is not as amused. He claps his hands over his eyes and groans. 

“No tongue-kissing!”

You’re wrapping up storytime, your students fidgeting with their shoelaces—some fidgeting with their friend’s shoelaces—eager to move onto the corresponding art activity Will has planned. 

“Okay, we’re going to use our walking—” Your announcement is cut short by Principal Sinclair’s voice coming over the loudspeaker. Her tone is typically warm and excited, but the way she speaks so sternly sends chills through your entire body. 

“This is a lock-in. All staff and students must remain in their classrooms until notified. I repeat, all staff and students must remain in their classrooms until notified.”

You breathe out, though you’re still concerned about the cause of the lock-in. It’s usually some kind of medical issue that requires emergency services to have unblocked access through the halls. You hope that whatever it is isn’t life-threatening. 

Will locks the door wordlessly, and you repeat your directions to the class. The kids walk to their seats, asking non-stop about what a lock-in means. 

“We just have to stay in the classroom,” you find yourself repeating, losing patience with each iteration. You’re thankful for small miracles; your class has already gone out for recess, which means you don’t have to break that news to them. 

Will is helping the kids glue multicolored strands of crepe paper in the shape of a rainbow, complete with cotton ball clouds. You’re unclogging a bottle of Elmer’s when the classroom phone rings, startling you. You place the glue bottle on the table, promising Joshua that you’ll be right back, and answer it. 

“Hello?”

“We need you to come to the office immediately,” the secretary’s clipped voice informs you. “Bring your personal items. We’ll send someone to assist Will.”

Stupidly, you nod before remembering she can’t see you. “Y-Yes, of course. I’ll be right there.” You hang up, tell Will the plan, and bolt out the door. 

What the hell is going on? Why are they having me break the lock-in to go to the office? You hike your purse higher up your shoulder, trying to ignore the dread pooling in your stomach and creeping up your throat. 

Something is wrong. Something is really, really wrong. 

Your feet can’t carry you fast enough. You nearly stop breathing when you see Eddie pacing in the lobby, Marion and Paula standing off to the side and speaking with Chief Hopper. The two teachers wear matching worried expressions. 

As soon as Eddie spots you, he’s charging over. “Oh, thank God,” he murmurs, throwing his arms around you and hugging you tight. You can feel the tears falling from his eyes, wetting the crook of your neck. His hands squeeze against your back and your shoulder blades as his body is wracked with sobs. 

You weave your fingers through his hair, holding him as close as you can. You’re desperate to know what’s going on, but you doubt he could explain if he tried. Instead, you continue comforting him while Principal Sinclair walks over. 

Her strides are long and purposeful, and she meets your own terrified gaze with her own. “Harris went missing during recess,” she says quietly, “and Mr. Munson let us know that you might be an asset in locating him.”

Harris went missing. Bile inches up your esophagus and you swallow it, wincing at its burn. “Why would he—” You stop mid-sentence; his motive is not important right now. All of your focus needs to be on finding him. 

Chief Hopper approaches you and Eddie, tapping your boyfriend on the shoulder with two fingers. Eddie looks up, wipes his face with the heel of his palm, and clears his throat, but a fresh batch of tears threatens to spill over anyway. 

“We’ve just collected statements from his teachers,” Hopper reports, looking down at his notepad. “They said that nothing seemed out of the ordinary, that Harris was just playing with his friends one moment and then gone the next.”

“No,” Eddie shakes his head. “No, something had to have happened.” Harris had wandered off plenty of times, like at the flea market. The difference was that he was easily found. “If you haven’t found him, then he’s either hiding, or someone…” The thought is too painful to finish. 

Hopper looks over at the principal. “You’re certain that the playground is secure?” He asks her, not accusing, but waiting for confirmation. 

“Yes, absolutely secure,” she affirms, nodding her head. “The gate can only be opened from the inside, so no one can access it off of the street.”

You know this, of course, but it doesn't bring you closer to finding Harris. 

“We’ve taped off the playground,” Hopper continues, “and we’ve got a search squad going now. Considering that Harris has been diagnosed with a disability, we’re beginning this investigation right away.”

“Mr. Munson,” a second officer chimes in, “is there anyone who would be inclined to take your son? Perhaps a non-custodial parent or an estranged relative?”

Eddie’s blood runs cold. “His mom, um, isn’t in the picture. Never has been.”

Hopper cocks one brow. “Never?” he asks disbelievingly. “How soon after he was born did she relinquish her rights?”

“She, um,” Eddie swallows, rubbing his nose in embarrassment, “she never did. Never relinquished her rights, I mean. She just kinda split.”

“So there was no formal agreement that she could no longer be involved in Harris’s life?”

“N-No,” he stammers, shame seeping from every pore. He’d always meant to start the legal proceedings, but that takes time and money…and maybe a small part of him had always hoped she’d come around and do the right thing. 

He looks over at you now, the way you’ve stepped into a mothering role like a puzzle piece. Like any parent, you’d made some mistakes, but you’re also the most compassionate person Eddie has ever known. 

He thinks of the times he’d tried to make his ex get clean, to want to get clean, and to be there for Harris. The weight of disappointment caused his chest to ache every time she’d mumble, “I’m gonna, but not right now” or “I don’t need help.”

Perhaps it’s unfair to compare the two of you; after all, you hadn’t struggled with addiction. But Eddie can’t help himself. You’d loved Harris before you’d even loved him, he realizes. And he’d never had to ask you to. 

“Do you have any contact information for her?” Hopper taps his pen against his notepad. “Nine out of ten times in these situations, the child is with someone they know.”

What about the ‘one’ time? What happens then? Heat pulses in Eddie’s cheeks, sweat beading on his forehead. He doesn’t need Hopper to answer the question; he already knows what that means. 

“It’s from five years ago, so I don’t know if it’s still accurate.” He stumbles over his words, thinking about the last time he’d called her; it was the invitation to Harris’s birthday. “I don’t know it by heart, but I have it in my address book at home.”

Hopper gives a brusque nod to his colleague and to your boss. “We’ll give you a lift. And, uh, it’ll be good to set up your place as a home base.”

“Yeah, yeah, right,” Eddie mumbles, simply going through the motions without processing them. He’s on autopilot, a robotic version of himself. If he was able to fully absorb his surroundings, he would note the irony of him sitting in the back of the cop car because they’re helping him instead of escorting him to the county jail. 

You don’t let go of his hand the entire ride there, your thumb rubbing the soft hairs on his knuckles. “We’re gonna find him,” you whisper reassuringly, pressing a kiss to the back of his hand. 

But Eddie is too embroiled in his own thoughts, imagining every possible tragedy that could have befallen his son. As soon as Hopper pulls up to the apartment complex, Eddie is flying up the stairs, two at a time, unlocking the door as fast as he can. You run in behind him, watching as he flings loose papers and pens from a kitchen drawer. He’s kicked over the boxes he’s already packed; clothes and some of Harris’s toys are scattered across the floor like a poorly-designed booby-trap. 

He holds up the tattered black book, flipping through it until he lands on the right page. “Here. Right here.” He frantically points to an entry at the top, fingertip jabbing into it over and over. 

Hopper takes the book from him, careful not to rip the already weathered materials. He dials the digits and frowns when he’s greeted by the automated we’re sorry, this number is no longer in service, far too chipper for the circumstances. He tries once more in case he dialed incorrectly, but he gets the same message. 

“Disconnected,” he says gruffly, hanging the receiver with a clank. “Is there anyone else?”

Eddie can only shake his head somberly. If Wayne got Harris from school early, he would have told him. He wasn’t even sure how much of Harris’s maternal family knew of his existence, let alone his location. If someone took his son, it was more than likely a complete stranger. 

Hopper’s walkie crackles with static; you and Eddie stiffen with anticipation. “Hey, Chief?” comes from the garbled voice on the other end. 

“I’m here.”

“We’ve got a kid here at the school who says he spoke with Harris Munson right before he went missing today.”

Eddie stands up, walking closer to Hopper. Part of you expects him to grab the walkie and try talking straight to the other officer, but he doesn’t. 

Hopper presses the small black button and speaks. “Copy. Does he know where we might locate him?”

There’s a deafening silence for a few moments; no more than ten seconds pass, but it feels like a lifetime. Finally, there’s some information: “No known location; just says that Harris told him he was having ‘big feelings’ and needed to go to his favorite place.’”

“The zoo,” you murmur aloud, drawing confused looks from both men in the room. “When he got upset on Saturday—at Goodwill—I taught him to do some deep breathing and picture being in his favorite place, and he told me it was the zoo. But I…” you swallow, furrowing your brows, “I told him to picture it, not actually go there.”

“Zoo’s too far for him to walk, and no bus driver is going to let a kid that young ride by himself,” the chief points out. 

You nod, biting your lower lip. “He might not be at the zoo, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t trying to get there.”

Hopper thanks the other officer and turns to you and Eddie. My guys are deploying the search party as we speak.” He takes a deep breath and makes direct eye contact with you and Eddie. “We’ll do everything we can to bring your son back safely.”

Eddie buries his head in his hands, collapsing back against the living room wall and sliding down to the floor. 

You look over at the police chief. “Can we help? Join the search…or something?” Anything besides sitting around and waiting for answers. 

“Absolutely. We’ll keep an officer stationed here in case Harris comes home.” 

You nudge your foot against Eddie’s. “C’mon, babe.” You try to keep strength behind your words, to be what Eddie needs right now, but it gets harder with each passing second. “We’re gonna go look for him.” He looks up and notices that you’ve extended your hand, and he takes it, pulling himself up. 

He doesn’t say a word, but he follows you and Hopper out the door. He’s gnawing on his lips so violently that some skin peels off between his teeth; flecks of blood dotting his usually perfect mouth. 

“We’ve got some time before sunset, so that’s on our side,” Hopper says as he drives back the way he came. “We’ll start in the woods near the school, and we’ll move from there.” He peers back at the two of you through the rearview mirror with a determined gaze.

“My uncle,” Eddie says suddenly, no certain expression on his face. He’s practically catatonic when he talks. “I want Wayne to wait at the apartment. I need to tell him…” If Harris does return home first and sees police officers surrounding the place, he might get scared and run off again.

Hopper scratches at his beard. “We’ll let him know, all right? Don’t worry about that.” He radios the instructions to a colleague, who confirms them and signs off, before pulling into a grassy area and killing the engine. “Let’s go. If Harris is going to come out for anyone, it’ll be you two.” He slams his door and then helps you and Eddie out of the backseat. 

Before you can even begin, you hear a group of people shouting Eddie’s name. You look over to see Jeff, Jess, and Robin waving and walking towards you. 

“We came as soon as we heard,” Robin says, giving you and Eddie a hug. “We’re gonna help you, and we’re not leaving until we find him.”

Jeff offers a tight smile, one hand on Eddie’s shoulder. “We’re here for you man,” he promises, sincerity in its purest form. “Viv is gonna stop by later and I’ll take care of Ettie.”

It’s a kind gesture, but Eddie’s stomach sours at the thought of still searching later. He needs to know that his son is safe now. 

Harris’s name is echoed over and over, bouncing off of trees and shaking the leaves as you and your friends call out for him. 

“Harris!” you cry out, throat raw from your constant shouting. “Harris, it’s Ms. Sweetheart!”

“Harris!” Eddie’s voice is even louder than yours; the power behind it is palpable. “Harris, it’s Daddy! Please come out! You’re not in trouble!” he adds, cognizant of the little boy’s fear of making people mad. 

Every squirrel that darts across the forest floor has you whipping your head around, heart leaping at the prospect of Harris emerging from where he’s hiding. 

He has to be hiding; your mind won’t let you imagine what could happen if the wrong person saw him walking by himself, determined to get to the zoo…

“Harris, Aunt Robin and I will buy you any toy you want!” Jess yells. “And all the ice cream you can eat!”

The five of you take turns making promises to nobody; they’re secrets shared with the wind. Each unanswered call leaves you feeling more defeated, especially with the sun hanging lower in the sky. It will be dark soon, leaving Harris even more vulnerable than he already is.

Will joins the group a few moments later, bringing granola bars, water, and flashlights. You can only stomach about a quarter of your snack, having completely lost your appetite. Eddie doesn’t even bother to eat, fueled by adrenaline rather than food.

“Principal Sinclair is also looking,” Will tells you and Eddie. “She’s with Lucas and Erica over at Merrill Wright’s farm. It’s closer than the zoo, but he’s got some animals, so they wanted to check there.” He pauses, casting his eyes down for a second before looking at Eddie. “Everyone’s helping out with this. They all want to find Harris.”

Tears well up along Eddie’s lash line; he blinks them away to keep his vision clear. “Thanks, man.” He coughs to clear his throat, emotions forcing their way through. “That means a lot.” For a moment, he sees Will as he was when they first met: an overwhelmed little freshman, unsure of his place in high school, let alone in the world.

What if Harris never gets the chance to find himself? What if he doesn’t get to grow up and learn new things, make his own mistakes, figure out who he is?

You put an arm around Eddie, unknowingly pulling him from his intrusive thoughts. “Can you try to drink some water? Please?” You know better than to nag him about eating right now, but the last thing he needs is to get dehydrated.

He cracks open the bottle and takes a few sips, not realizing how thirsty he was until the liquid covers his tongue. He downs it all without taking a breath, the plastic crinkling as he siphons out every last drop of water.

“Take mine,” you tell him, offering it with the best smile you can possibly muster, but he shakes his head.

“You need it, too.” He’s not wrong, but you have no issue letting him drink from your bottle if he’s still thirsty.

You take a sip and pass it to him. “We’ll share.”

Another hour passes, the pink and orange hues becoming deeper purples and reds as the sky darkens with night. Some people start to call it quits, returning home to their own children, breathing secret sighs of relief that they have children to return home to. Your group remains intact; no one is even considering leaving until they physically cannot move any longer.

With just overworked flashlight bulbs illuminating your path, you continue trudging through the woods. Hopper’s shift was over hours ago, but he’s steadfast in his pursuit to find Harris.

Eddie’s exhausted physically and emotionally, feeling like every part of him has been drained and can never be replenished. His son is missing; he might have been kidnapped, and he doesn’t know if or when he’ll see him again. All he wants is to hold him again, to hear his little laugh as he tells a cheesy joke he learned at school, to watch him sound out new words or draw a picture or just fall asleep in his own bed.

Hopper’s walkie crackles; he clutches it tight and holds it so he can hear it clearly.

“Chief, we may have a sighting.”

A light flickers behind Eddie’s eyes; he doesn’t want to get his hopes up, but he can’t help himself. He listens intently as the other officer relays the information.

“Doris Driscoll just went outside to let her cats in for the night, and when they didn’t go inside, she went looking. Found them behind a bush, eating crackers out of a little boy’s hands. He told her his name is Harris. Matches the descriptions the father provided.”

Eddie grabs your hand, gripping it with whatever strength he has left. You feel a surge course through your veins as Hopper motions for you to follow him to his car. He turns on his siren and guns it down the road, swerving in and out of traffic to get to the old woman’s house as fast as he can.

Please, please let him be here, you silently pray, subconsciously screwing your eyes shut and holding your breath. The only thing worse than not knowing where he is might just be a false alarm that he’s been found. 

Hopper slams on the brakes behind an ambulance parked in front of the Driscoll residence, their open doors allowing the fluorescent lights to stream through. Eddie watches, wide-eyed, as an EMT wheels a stretcher over to it. 

A stretcher carrying Harris. 

“Harris!” Eddie cries in simultaneous relief, exuberance, and fear. He instinctively reaches for a door handle, quickly remembering that he’s in a cop car and had to wait for Hopper to let him out from the outside. 

You’re already crying; everything you’d been holding back to maintain a solid resolve for Eddie is crumbling as soon as you’d seen his son. You scramble out of the car, right behind him, and run to where the emergency technicians are treating Harris. 

He’s awake and alert, and he spots the two of you right away. “Daddy! Ms. Sweetheart!” He tries sitting up, but a technician gently guides him to lay down again. “No, that’s my daddy and my almost-mommy!” he protests. “I gotta see them!”

You and Eddie reach him at the same time. He’s covered in dirt; it’s smudge along his cheeks, his arms, and his legs. He’s even managed to get some on the tip of his nose. Some blood is smeared on his right knee where he’s seemed to have scraped it, and the EMTs spray some antiseptic on it and apply a bandage before he can even feel the sting.

“Oh, thank God.” The words rush out of Eddie’s mouth, and he puts his palms on his son’s cheeks and presses kisses all over his face. “You’re okay, you’re okay…” He turns to the technicians, worry pinching his brows together. “He’s okay, right? There’s nothing wrong?” He pushes some of Harris’s damp curls from his forehead. There aren’t any visible bumps or bruises on his face, which eases a bit of his nerves.

One technician nods. “Right now, it seems like he’s just got some minor lacerations, but we’ll run the gamut of tests to rule out more severe injuries.” She looks over at the police chief, who stands a few yards behind you. “We’ll take it from here.”

Hopper gives a small, sad smile; it’s then that you remember that his own child had passed away nearly twenty years ago. She was only a little older than Harris is now. 

Eddie follows your gaze with red-rimmed eyes, the realization setting in for him, too. “Thanks, Chief,” he says, just loud enough so Hopper can hear him. Hopper nods, placing his hat atop his head before walking away.

The EMTs check for any broken or sprained bones, shine lights into Harris’s pupils, and ask him a few simple questions to assess for a concussion. “We’ll have to take him to the hospital, just to be sure,” they say to you and Eddie, “but barring any extenuating circumstances, you should be able to bring him back home tonight.”

“Okay, yeah, okay,” Eddie breathes, crouching down a bit so he’s eye-level with his son. “Har, can you tell us why you ran away from school? You’re not in trouble; I promise.”

Harris looks down at the blanket draped across his lap. “I had really big feelings, and I tried thinking about the zoo like you told me,” he glances at you, “but then the feelings didn’t go away, so I decided to go there.”

You take his small hand in yours. “What were the big feelings?” you ask gently, free of judgment and filled with concern.

He thinks for a second, then states matter-of-factly, “Mad and sad.”

“Mad and sad?”

“Mhm,” he mumbles, wiping at his nose with his free hand. “‘Cause of Ms. Marion and Ms. Paula.”

You freeze, trying to regain your composure before Harris can pick up on your uncertainty. “What happened with your teachers, Har?”

“They were saying mean things about you and Daddy, and it made me mad and sad.”

At the sound of his title, Eddie speaks up. “Mean things about us?”

“Yeah, like, that Ms. Sweetheart is probably teaching you how to read, too,” Harris explains, “and I said that they’re lying, that you’re really smart and read to me all the time. And that Ms. Sweetheart isn’t your teacher; she’s my almost-mommy.”

Eddie clenches his fists, veins prominent as his body goes stiff. His anger isn’t at the insult, but at the way they could speak so brazenly about a child’s family, disregarding the hurt it causes. He doesn’t care what those women think of him, but he’s furious that they upset Harris.

“They keeped laughing and telled me to go play,” Harris continues, getting choked up at the memory. “I tried to do my breathing and my favorite place remembering with Charlie, but it didn’t work. And I got lost going to the zoo–the real zoo, not the one in my imagination–so I hided with the cats until the nice lady found me.”

You and Eddie share heartbroken looks, pushing aside your respective emotions as you tend to the little boy laying in front of you. “Get some rest, Har Bear,” you murmur, kissing the top of his head. “You had a long day.”

He falls asleep after a few minutes, constantly checking to make sure that the two of you are still by his side. As soon as his breathing steadies and his eyes remain closed, Eddie turns to you, exhausted and running on fumes. Wet brown doe eyes pleadingly gaze at you, lids heavy with sleep. You wrap your arms around him, unable to get close enough. He moves slowly, every action a delayed reaction, but he gradually embraces you, too.

“Stay. Please.” The words are muffled by the way his mouth is mashed into your scalp, but you hear them perfectly fine. “And if we get to go home tonight, come back with us. I need you both close to me.”

“Of course.” Your own lips press against his perspiration-soaked shirt collar. “I’ll stay as long as you need me to.” You pull back ever-so-slightly, brushing tears from his cheeks. “He’s safe. He’s safe, and he’s here, and we get to keep spoiling and loving him.”

Eddie absorbs this as best as he can, mind still spinning as the adrenaline crash hits. There’s so much he wants to say, but for right now, he just carves out space in his body for yours. Your light whisper keeps him grounded, pulling hi away from the spiraling that usually overtakes him in times of crisis.

“I’ve got you.”

--

[incognit0slut]

Right Kind of Wrong (20)

She never thought she’d be involved in a murder investigation and encounter her one-night-stand again, the awkward guy who isn’t exactly that good in bed—Or is he? Offended by the sentiment, Spencer is determined to prove her wrong… But as he gets tangled with the beautiful stranger, he realizes there is more to her than what meets the eye.

Part Summary: Despite everything, she found herself feeling happy. Part Warning: 18+ explicit content (male and female oral, creampie, overstimulation, Spence is kind of a dom but is still sweet) A/n: this is just 4k words of pure smut, I hope you enjoy this last part of the series :')

Other parts: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19

"Spence, you need to open the door!" She whispered harshly. His response was to press himself further into her, relentlessly sucking on her neck as he pinned her against his apartment door.

The road to his place had been filled with sexual tension, each passing moment heightening the desire that simmered beneath the surface. When he mentioned taking her home, she didn't expect it to be his apartment.

"It's closer from here," he had said when he pulled her out of the planetarium, practically dragging her towards his car. "Do you mind?"

Of course, she didn't. In honesty, she would have let him have his way with her even if he had taken her to the nearest restroom, or even in the confines of his car. She was too aroused to think properly that at least three times she had initiated some desperate contact throughout their journey to his place.

The first one unfolded at a red light as she seized the opportunity, tugging him towards her before shoving her tongue in his mouth. The impatient blare of car horns stopped them from doing anything further. Then the next initiation came as a subtle yet provocative touch when she traced his leg, inching closer to his crotch. He threw her a look as he took a sharp intake of breath.

Although the third initiation wasn't exactly directed at him, it still held the same amount of torture. When she gracefully slipped her fingers right between her thighs, his grip on the steering wheel tightened, his foot pressing harder on the gas pedal. He watched as the speedometer increased rapidly. Even when chasing Unsubs he had never driven this fast before.

And now that they were finally inches away from his apartment, he couldn't wait any longer.

"Spence..." she giggled, but then her laughter died down when his hand traveled between her legs. "Let's go inside."

Without a second glance, he retrieved his keys from his pocket and thrust them into her hands. She huffed in amusement and gently pushed him, turning to face the door, but then she felt him pressing against her back as she struggled to unlock his door. "Baby..."

He groaned at the sweet sound of her voice calling him by the intimate nickname, realizing it was the first time she had used it. She them felt his hand circling her hips, his fingers starting to rub her clit over her dress. She was beyond grateful no one else was currently in the hallway to witness what was happening.

When she finally managed to get the key into the lock, a wave of relief washed over her. Without wasting any more time, she swung the door open to his apartment, and Spencer, right behind her, practically pushed her inside before slamming the door shut behind them.

"Take off your underwear," he ordered, pausing only to lock his front door. Too stunned to argue, she began inching up her dress but then he was suddenly dropping on his knees before her, grabbing the hem of her panties and yanking them down her legs impatiently.

His hands roughly shoved her hips into the wall before he lifted one of her legs onto his shoulder. Seconds later his face was between her thighs, his tongue greedily lapping up her arousal. Her head rolled back into the wall in astonishment, both hands coming to grip fistfuls of his hair.

"Oh, shit," she moaned out, hands gripping his curly locks tighter.

His mouth shifted while two of his fingers slipped inside of her. Her hips jerked and a long whine of his name spilled from her lips as he pressed his tongue to her clit. His fingers began working in and out of her tightening walls once just as his tongue flicked over her clit, seconds before he pressed against the swollen, aching bud to lick a stripe over her flesh.

"Fuck, don't stop," she cried out, voice hoarse and desperate. Spencer had no intentions of stopping as he sucked her clit even harder, his fingers driving into her faster, earning every sinful noise that left her lips.

Her eyes cast downwards only to see her dress covering the view between her thighs, so she grabbed onto the fabric and in one swift motion lifted it over her head before throwing it to the floor. Her hands found their way to on his hair again when she could finally see him at the same time his eyes glanced up to see her perky breasts on display. The satisfied groan that left his lips traveled along her skin and her head fell back as she rolled her hips against his face.

Her walls began to contract around his fingers, thighs tightening against his head. His tongue remained diligent in circling her clit, lapping up her juices to taste every last drop. She could even hear how wet she had become from the sloppy noises flooding the room, mixing with her whimpers and the groans filling his chest.

She was uncontrollably shaking by now and with one final deep breath, the pleasure consumed her entire body. His fingers slipped out of her to hold her hips in place as she cane undone for the second time tonight, but his tongue continued to work against her clit through every second of the bliss.

The first wave of pleasure turned into breathy moans, overly sensitive to his constant torture, yet he didn't pull away. He kept on tasting her until she could hardly take it anymore and her hands dived for his head to push him away.

He finally pulled away, and all that was left were broken breaths and shaking legs. He was satisfied with himself, giving her flesh a rubdown with his palm flat against her skin, soothing the tension while she tried to steady herself as he placed her leg on his shoulder back to the floor. When she attempted to kick off her heels, a firm hand wrapped around her ankle.

"Keep them on," he whispered, his voice carrying a command that sent shivers down her spine. She couldn't do anything but oblige as she watched him get on his feet before she felt the warmth of his lips taking hers.

She could taste herself as his mouth pressed desperately on hers, nibbling on her bottom lip until they were parting for him. He effortlessly slipped his tongue in her mouth and she couldn't stop herself from whimpering as her hands roamed along his body, seeking more of his skin.

So she pushed off his suit jacket to the floor, then tugged off his tie, and when her fingers hurriedly unbuttoned his shirt, he slightly pulled away, resting his foreheads against hers. "We—" he sucked in a sharp breath when he felt her undoing his pants. "We need a safe word."

Her movements faltered for a moment before she continued to pull out his shirt under his pants, and that too went to the floor. "What?"

"I-I don't think I can hold myself back." He then gasped as she slipped a hand inside his underwear, wrapping her fingers around his girth. He closed his eyes, jaw going slack as she continued to run her palm along his length. "A safe word... please."

His plea hung in the air, a vulnerable request amidst the rising intensity. Her fingers hesitated for a moment as she saw the conflict in his eyes, the battle between restraint and desire.

After a slight pause, her eyes scanned around the room before they settled on the chessboard on his coffee table, and finally whispered, "How about Chess?"

An amused smile played on his lips. "Chess?"

"Take it or leave it," she laughed. She then rendered him speechless by dropping to her knees and tugging his pants down. "Besides, I'm not going to use it anyway."

He was caught off guard by her bold move, his eyes widening slightly. A mixture of surprise and arousal flickered in his gaze as she held him gently by the base as she examined him, her eyes focused on the clear drop of wetness trickling out from his tip. It was unreal how gorgeous he was.

A groan tore itself from him as he laid his eyes on her taking him into her mouth while she held his gaze, making him pay attention to every inch of his cock disappearing slowly in between her lips. His mouth fell open as she worked him deeper, tongue working to coat him in spit, cheeks hollowing in to add suction every time she pulled him out.

His brows screwed together, his mouth going slack. She gasped off him, and he gasped with her, sounding almost pained as she teased him with her tongue, running it from root to tip and back. He threw his head back only to whip it down seconds later, unable to keep his eyes away from her, body shuddering each time she swiped her tongue from his base to his swollen tip.

He choked on a groan when she took him back into her mouth, pressing him into her throat. He sounded almost alarmed as she took him down her throat over and over again as if she was trying to push her limits. She continued to suck him, but then she slowed down when she sensed his doubt, the self-restraint lingering in his head.

"Let go, baby. I'm right here. You can use me," she said in between suckling and messily kissing the tip of his cock, hauling him to the edge. "Please."

There was a moment of hesitation, a silent battle within him before his resolve seemed to waver. His hands, which had been clenched by his sides, flew out to tangle in her hair, holding on with a vice grip. She moaned around his cock, encouraging and maybe a bit patronizing, even as she wrapped her lips around him again.

His hips started to thrust into her open mouth now, mindlessly chasing that familiar sensation as his eyes locked with hers; his pupils blown wide, his mind empty but for the pleasure coursing through his body. He started slow, pushing and pulling his hips, and groaned at the feeling of her tongue moving around his length.

Then between the grunts, moans, and whimpers leaving him, his pace sped up as he forced himself into her mouth. She was now gagging around his cock, spit trailing down her chin, tears slipping from her eyes as she gazed up at him. She felt the way his muscles tensed up like his whole body was going to combust on the spot before he quickly pulled himself out of her mouth with a wet pop.

"Come here." Ever the gentleman, he helped her with gentle hands as she got up on her feet and before she could think about what came next, he muttered, "Wrap your legs around my waist."

"What?"

A squeal left her lips as he abruptly lifted her off the ground and she instinctively wrapped her legs around him, her arms going around his shoulders. "Spencer! What's gotten into you?"

He simply answered her with a smile before making his way down to his bedroom. "I blame you for this."

She stifled a laugh. "You're blaming me for acting like a wild animal?"

"Is it... too much?"

"Are you kidding? I'm enjoying this side of you," she confessed, clinging onto him as she kissed the side of his neck. "Please continue."

His chest shook at the same time his laughter filled her ears. But the amusement in his voice disappeared as fast as it appeared when they finally entered his room before he placed her on the edge of his bed. "Get on your knees and face the other way."

She didn't have to be told twice, scrambling on the bed as her knees sank deeper into the mattress. She felt him push down hard against her and she obliged, lowering her face and upper body to the bed as his other hand remained holding her hips up in the air.

A hand landed on her ass with a sharp smack before he gripped a firm handful of it. His cock swiped back and forth along her folds, gathering her wetness, letting it coat around his tip. He moaned out a deep, pleasure-filled noise that reverberated around the bedroom as he lined up the tip of his cock at her entrance.

"I..." His mouth fell open when he watched the way her walls stretched around him, clamping around his cock as if she was swallowing him inside. "I really don't think I can hold myself—"

"Just fuck me already," she ordered, bending over the bed and pressing her ass back into him. "I don't care."

He abruptly plunged inside of her.

"Fuck, yes," she whimpered, arching her back. Both of his hands gripped her hips as he began to thrust into her. Her eyes rolled back, her eyelids dropping closed as she fisted the sheets tighter in her hands.

"You feel so good," he growled out behind her. "So perfect."

Shifting her head along the bed, she glanced back at him. She couldn't fight the way her cunt tightened around his cock at the sight of him using her body as he pleased. It was still hard to believe he was the same man who lacked experience when she first met him. Yet after all the times they had spent together tangled in pleasure, she could see the increase of confidence every time he touched her.

A particularly deep and brutal thrust had his cock hitting her perfectlyand she moaned out loudly, her mind going blank to everything but the pleasure he was giving her.

"Right there, baby," she begged him, squirming her hips against him for more.

With her cheek pressed to the mattress, she focused on the way he looked. His hair was a sweaty, mussed mess on his head, and there was a very obvious sheen of sweat glistening along his forehead. He was grunting and breathing heavily as his fingers continued to dig into her hips. Then another loud smack echoed throughout the room as one of his hands harshly landed on her ass. He slowly released her hips before he grabbed her by the arms, hauling her back.

She moaned loudly in response, her hips bucking eagerly into him as he fucked her like a man possessed. He plunged his cock so deep inside of her that her toes began to curl inside her heels—dear god, she forgot she was still wearing her shoes. She wondered if he realized how much bacteria could stick on his sheets, but with the way he was thrusting relentlessly into her, she was sure the only thought he had at this moment was their connected bodies moving in sync.

His grip on her arm tightened to the line bordering between pain and pleasure just as his thrusts sped up to a pace faster. It felt so good she hadn't even noticed the way the pleasure built until it was nearly unbearable.

"I-I'm gonna—"

A scream ripped out of her as she felt her body shaking. Her orgasm hit her so suddenly and she didn't resist it, letting it wash over her and sear through every muscle. Her body writhed and she thrust her hips against his, grinding herself through her release despite him not slowing down. A final gasp filled the room, signaling the pleasure overwhelming her body, before he let go of her arms and she flopped back onto the bed.

Her orgasm slowed down to a stop and she took a deep breath before another loud and unrestricted moan released through her exhale as he flipped her onto her back. He smiled crookedly at her, cupping the backs of her knees, crudely pinning them to her chest as he suddenly stuffed himself back inside.

With her completely pinned beneath him, she couldn't do anything except cry out and wail in pleasure. His eyes were locked on the way she was stretched so wide around his girth. Spencer was known for his aversion to getting dirty, and for his meticulous nature, yet he found the messy tangle of their bodies didn't bother him in the least. The fresh white cream coating around his cock only fueled his pleasure.

It was warm, wet, and fucking messy.

"T-Touch yourself," he choked on his words, voice breaking as they came out. He was so close that it hurts. "Play with yourself for me."

Her hand flew down to do as she was told without a second thought. It only took a few, quick circles around her swollen clit before she was coming again, her heels kicking helplessly in the air. She had lost count of how many orgasms she had tonight, but she gladly accepted it as her back arched off the bed.

Spencer groaned at the sight of her losing herself beneath him. He watched as her fingers continued to rub her clit desperately, forcing herself to come even harder until a gush of liquid squirted around him. It splattered everywhere—across his hips, thighs, and even his chest. It made his eyes roll up into the back of his head before he let his head fall back, his jaw going slack while he let out a loud and deep moan as his orgasm finally washed over him.

His warmth filled her core and she felt his pace slightly falter before he continued with short, aborted little thrusts. His cock pulsed inside of her, each vein had a throbbing heartbeat that struck so painfully good against her walls. But even when his orgasm dissipated, he found himself rutting his hips into the creamy mess dripping out of her cunt.

"S-Spence," she choked out, gasping when his cock hit right into the pleasurable spot inside her. "I-It's too much. I c-can't."

"Just say the word," he panted, almost deliriously, "S-Say the word and I'll stop."

The sensations overwhelmed her, yet despite the intensity, she didn't want him to stop. Her unspoken desire was palpable, and he read her so well that her silence was all he needed to continue.

He released his grip on the back of her thighs as he shifted his weight onto his left arm, his right hand coming up to brush some hair off of her face tenderly before it landed back on the bed. He then leaned down, pressing his lips against hers at the same time her arms wrapped around his neck.

She was trembling and twitching with each one of his thrusts. He felt a pang of remorse for her, he could tell she was tired and overstimulated but he just needed to wring one last orgasm out.

"One more," he cooed sweetly against her lips. "Let me use you once more, can I do that?"

"Y-Yes," she whimpered, nodding her head as her eyelids fluttered in exhaustion.

Lowering onto his elbows, his body molded itself over the top of hers. Her hands were hungrily grasping at his back, attempting to bring him somehow closer as her hips rocked up into his again. She could feel the hard lines of him pressed to every inch of her; she could feel the flex and pull of his muscles with each of his fluid, rhythmic thrusts.

His movements slowed down, each deliberate thrust filled with a different kind of intensity. It wasn't the same urgency as before; instead, it was deliberated and unhurried, and he seemed to savor every moment as if etching it into his memory. He pressed himself further into her, a desperate need evident in the way he sought closeness as if he couldn't get enough of her.

He shifted, lowering his mouth to her neck. He began leaving affectionate, open-mouthed kisses along the length of it. Her back arched underneath him at the feel of him surrounding her so wholly, his cock burying itself repeatedly inside of her. She could feel her peak nearing again, her eyes rolling back as a high-pitched whine fell out of her mouth.

"S-Spence," she cried out, nails beginning to claw at his back now as she clung to him.

"I know," he answered, voice strained himself as he pulled his face away from her neck. "I know, Sweetheart. Let go for me, I got you."

His sweet, affectionate voice sent her over the edge. The way he held her, the way he peppered kisses along her lips, cheek, and neck, revealed a depth of emotion beyond the physical pleasure. It wasn't merely about finding release; it was an intimate exchange of passion. At that moment, she realized how much his feelings had grown, and she burned just as intensely for him.

"Oh, god," she whimpered at his voice, cunt gripping his cock. "Spence, I'm–"

A loud moan cut her off, her right hand releasing its hold on his back, flying up to grip a fistful of his hair. Spencer practically groaned in response, his hips beginning to stutter as her orgasm overtook her once again. She held him tighter, her body quivering beneath him as her moan gradually broke off.

His forehead lowered to hers, his sharp breaths falling over her with each of his rough exhales.

"That's my girl."

She was practically crying by now, caught in the whirlwind of pleasure and affection. She wasn't sure which emotion held a stronger grip, maybe both. But whatever it was, she surrendered to the overwhelming sensation, letting it wash over her as she held onto him.

His hips continued their movements, dragging her through the end of her release as he was nearing his own. She could hear the rumbling groan building in his own throat, his face abruptly falling against her chest.

A moment later he choked out a moan at the same time he roughly thrust himself deep inside of her, gasping as he came for the final time. His cock twitched almost painfully inside her as he slowly rocked his hips, wincing at the overstimulation and filling her up at the same time.

He thrust into her a few more times before his hips finally stilled. Her hands began running soothingly along his back as he slipped out of her and then collapsed atop her, still careful to keep from crushing her.

His skin was damp with sweat from his exertion, his shoulders heaving as he tried to catch his breath. He rested his cheek against her chest and a happy noise fell out of his mouth as he relaxed. Her voice was the first thing that broke the silence. It wasn't even a spoken word, but a soft, girly giggle that he turned his head to look at her.

"What?"

She smiled at him. "You called me your girl."

He looked at her in amusement. "Well, aren't you?"

A hint of uncertainty lingered in her expression. "I don't know. Am I?" She sighed, the weight of unspoken emotions in the air. "We just... we haven't talked about this. I didn't want to assume things."

He took a moment, gathering his thoughts, a visible struggle for someone not accustomed to verbalizing deeper feelings. "Y/n," he finally began, the sincerity in his voice cutting through any hesitation. "I risked my life for you. Of course, you're my girl."

Her heart swelled at the gravity of his words, the unspoken commitment hanging in the air. It was a vulnerable moment, and yet, he had chosen to express himself. She gazed into his eyes, finding a depth of sincerity that touched her heart.

"I'm not good with words," he continued, his thumb tracing circles on her skin. "But I do care about you. More than I've cared about anyone in a long time."

A warmth spread through her chest at his admission. It was a vulnerable side of him she hadn't seen often, and it made her appreciate the depth of their connection.

"I care about you too," she replied softly, her fingers running along his damp hair. "More than I expected."

His smile was genuine as he turned onto the bed, pulling her against his chest. "Then I guess we're each other's," he declared.

The woman she used to be wouldn't have envisioned herself in this present moment, considering the twists and turns life had taken in the past few months. Despite everything that had happened, a subtle happiness filled her, a sentiment she cherished deeply. Her smile deepened, and a soothing sense of contentment settled between them as she eased into the comfort of his arms.

His words enveloped her like a comforting embrace. It wasn't a grand gesture, but it was genuine, and in that quiet moment, it felt more than enough.

>> EPILOGUE

.

taglist #1

@tereresrock @casthings @vader-is-hot @maevethelesbian @whereintheworldisspencerreid @reidverseq @niyahwhoreworld @l4venderia @theintrovertedthespian @lovelyxtom @tayzerr-72 @mulbsstuff @dorothleah @stevenknightmarc @prettyboyspenceee @gracesmusings @kalulakunundrum @fearlessmoony @r5court @simp4f1 @thecrazytealady @nyeddleblog @ghostheartbeat @comfortzonequeen @iiheartbowie @busy-buzzing @imtherealslimmoony @baeofevery @elamultistan @lyxennz @additi @donttrustlove @notahappystan @daisiesfor-mylove @pinkpantheris @jamieeboulos @thegeniusreider @bxtchopolis @kr-1-sta @emotionalsassqueen @shqwqrma @super-nerd22

@cowstealer427 @thollandsdarling @ghxst-heart @cashtons-wife @kyuupidwrites @you-sunshine @comboboo @sebastiansstanswhore @panic-monster @marimorena06 @alice-ace299 @uncle-eggy @bollzinurmouth @julezs-bl0g @ruhrohragu @eternally-passionate @kazuumii @spencerr3idd @withered-rxse @broken-pieces @siredtomsgilbert @kaiya3333 @furiousbanditnickelknight @pinkangelavenue @slay-and-gay @woahnotmecryingoverafanfiction @zeysartzone @frxcless @sadroses98 @luvmgg @sky2nd @jamiemuscatosslut @rorylover71 @comeonatmebruh @ww2whovian @silverhetdanes @daphnesutton @wonderstruck4llthew4yhome

PLEASE READ: If you already asked me to be added but you're not on the list OR you want to be added in the future, please comment on this post so I can see it. But make sure your blog can be searched or I can't tag you. Or if you want to be removed you can also tell me. Thank you :)

Don’t forget to interact with the story!

[snowysosturn]

Speeding Car - Matt Sturniolo Part 10

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29

Pairing : y/n x Matt Sturniolo

Summary : After six years with your boyfriend Alex, you start mentally check out. At a UCLA party, Alex reconnects with his childhood friend Emily, who proposes a double date with her boyfriend Matt. Your attraction to Matt grows as he pays you the first real attention you've had in years, sparking a complicated emotional journey.

Warnings : MDNI, arguments, cursing, unhappy relationship, tension, not feeling good enough, being let down

Matt POV

Emily was sprawled across my bed, her phone held lazily in her hand as she scrolled through her Instagram feed. She sighed, as she turned to look at me. “Can you believe it’s been four weeks since Alex’s fight? It feels like it just happened yesterday.” She mused, a faint smile playing on her lips.

“Yeah, it’s crazy” I replied, half distracted as I was setting up Roblox on my computer. We were preparing to film a new YouTube video later that day, and I was trying to get everything in order. But Emily’s presence always had a way of pulling my attention away, whether I wanted it to or not.

She stretched, tossing her phone backwards onto the bed. “I still need to pack for Barcelona” She said with a sigh. “I’ve been putting it off all week.”

I looked up at her, arching an eyebrow. “You leave tomorrow morning and you haven’t packed yet?”

“Of course not.” She laughed, as if the idea of being organized was completely foreign to her. “I’ll order an Uber back to my dorm and get it done.”

I nodded, already mentally preparing for the peace and quiet that would come when she left. As much as I cared about Emily, tecently I needed space. Space to think, to breathe. Space to stop feeling so conflicted all the time.

“Oh, and don’t forget,” Emily added, her voice casual as she sat up and began tapping away on her phone. “Alex is staying here tonight.”

I forced a smile. “Yep, I remember.”

She got up from the bed, smoothing down her clothes. “I’ll let you know when I’m done packing so you can pick me up. We’ll grab Alex on the way back too.”

“Sure thing.” I said, watching as she gathered her things. As she left, I couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of relief, mixed with something else, something that had been nagging at me ever since that night in the hospital. The night when I realized I was feeling things I shouldn’t be feeling.

As the door clicked shut behind her, Chris turned to me with a box of camera equipment in his hands. He looked at me, then glanced at the door. “Alex is staying over tonight?” He asked, a slight edge to his voice.

“Yeah.” I sighed “I’m giving them a ride to the airport in the morning so Emily thought it would make more sense if they both stay here, since we’re closer to the airport.”

Before I could respond, Nick burst into the room, interrupting our conversation. “Speaking of Alex” He said, his tone serious. “I’ve got a bone to pick with you.”

I blinked, completely caught off guard. “What are you talking about?”

Nick crossed his arms, leaning against the kitchen island as he stared at me. “I’ve been keeping this a secret since the night of the fight” He began, his voice low but intense. “When you and Emily came home that night, I heard everything she said to you about Y/n. About how you’re not allowed to hang out with her anymore.”

I felt a chill run down my spine, my mind flashing back to that night. The tension, the way Emily had drunkenly demanded that I didn’t hang out with Y/N “alone” but yet never being asked to hang out with the 3 or them. “I… I didn’t know you heard that,” I stammered, trying to process what Nick was saying.

“I thought you might have noticed I was there” Nick said, his expression hardening. “Since when I tried to tiptoe back into my room, the mother fucking floor creaked.”

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding, running a hand through my hair. “Look, Nick, I get where you’re coming from, but Emily is my girlfriend. I have to respect her boundaries.”

“Bullshit.” Nick snapped, pushing off the island and stepping closer to me. “You’re following her orders, not respecting her boundaries. There’s a difference, Matt. You’re letting her control who you can and can’t be friends with. And that’s not okay.”

Chris stayed silent, his eyes darting between us, sensing the tension in the room.

Nick continued, his voice softer now but still filled with emotion. “I could see how well you and Y/n got along. She’s a good person, Matt. She doesn’t deserve to be cut off just because Emily’s feeling insecure. And it’s not just about you, either. I was starting to build a friendship with Y/n too. Just because you’re not allowed to be friends with her doesn’t mean I’m not.”

His words hit me like a punch to the gut. I hadn’t realized how deeply this whole situation had affected Nick too. But hearing him lay it all out like that, I knew he was right to a degree. I’d been trying so hard to keep the peace with Emily that I’d lost sight of what was fair and what wasn’t.

“Nick…” I started, but he cut me off.

“No, Matt. You need to think about what’s really important here. And if Emily really loved you, she wouldn’t be putting you in a position where you have to choose between her and your friends.”

I stood there, speechless, as Nick turned and walked out of the room, leaving me alone with my thoughts. Chris gave me a sympathetic look but didn’t say anything. He knew better than to get involved when things got this heavy.

I knew Nick meant well in what he said, but he didn’t know what I knew and matter of fact, neither did Emily.

Y/n’s POV

I placed the last shirt into Alex’s suitcase, carefully folding it to make sure everything fit perfectly and that his bag wasn't over weight. His flight wasn’t until the morning, but I wanted to make sure he had everything ready - the right clothes, his passport, all the paperwork for the trip. I’d even slipped in a few of his favorite snacks, knowing how he got restless on long flights. As I zipped up the suitcase, a small smile tugged at the corners of my mouth. Maybe tonight we could actually spend some quality time together. I’d been looking forward to it, especially since this would be our last night together before he left for ten days.

I walked out of the bedroom, finding Alex in the living room scrolling through his phone. “Hey,” I said, trying to sound casual as I leaned against the doorframe. “All packed. I figured we could order in tonight, watch a movie or something? You know, just spend some time together before you leave.”

Alex barely looked up from his phone, and when he did, his expression was unreadable. “Uh, actually… I’m staying at Matt’s place tonight.”

The words hung in the air between us, and I felt my heart drop. “Matt’s?” I thought to myself.

“What? Why?”

“Emily’s packing at her dorm, and Matt’s giving us a ride to the airport in the morning. It just makes more sense for me to stay over there tonight,” He explained, his tone dismissive, as if it was the most logical thing in the world.

I stared at him, feeling my chest go on fire. “But it’s our last night together before you go. I thought we could at lesst spend some quality time together tonight.”

Alex sighed, clearly not understanding why this was a big deal. “It’s just one night, babe. I’ll be back before you know it.”

“One night?” I repeated, my voice trembling with the effort to keep my emotions in check. “Alex, you’re leaving for ten days. This is the last time we’ll get to see each other before then, and you’re choosing to spend it with Matt and Emily?”

He put his phone down, finally giving me his full attention, but there was a look of impatience in his eyes. “It’s not like I’m ditching you. I’m doing this because it’s convenient.”

I shook my head, the resentment I’d been holding back for weeks finally bubbling to the surface. “Convenient for who? For you? Because it sure as hell isn’t convenient for me. I’ve spent the last four weeks taking care of you, Alex, I’ve adjusted my shifts so i’m working either at the crack ass of dawn or into the depths of the night, i’ve cooked all your your meals, driven you to and from class, and done your assignments even though I don’t even fucking go to college. I’ve bent over backwards for you, and now you can’t even give me one night?”

He looked at me, stunned, as if he hadn’t realized how much I’d been carrying. “Y/n I appreciate everything you’ve done, but you’re overreacting.”

“Overreacting?” I felt a hot tear slide down my cheek, and I quickly wiped it away. “Do you have any idea how it feels to never be a priority in your life? I’ve tried so hard, Alex, but no matter what I do, I’m never enough. You’re always putting other people before me. And now, on the last night we could have had together, you’re leaving me alone.”

His expression shifted to one of frustration. “You’re not the only one who’s had to adjust, Y/n. I’ve been through a lot too, with the injury and everything. I need my friends, and I need to be there too. It’s not all about you.”

His words hit me like a slap in the face, and I felt the last bit of resolve in me snap. “It’s not about me? You wouldn’t even be injured if you hadn’t blown me off that night to go out drinking with your team! None of this would have happened if you’d just kept your plans with me!”

Alex’s face hardened, his eyes narrowing. “So this is what it’s about? You’re still mad about that? I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t know it was going to turn into a fight. But you can’t keep holding that over my head.”

“I’m not holding anything over your head.” I shot back. “I’m just trying to make you see that you keep making choices that hurt me, that push me away. And I’m tired, Alex. I’m tired of feeling like I’m never good enough for you.”

For a moment, there was silence between us, the weight of everything I’d just said sinking in. Alex opened his mouth to respond, but before he could say anything, his phone buzzed. He glanced at it, and I saw Emily’s name flash on the screen.

“They’re outside.” He muttered, more to himself than to me, as he walked past me into the bedroom to grab his suitcases.

I couldn’t believe it. We were in the middle of a serious conversation. Our relationship was practically crumbling in front of us, and he was just going to leave? Just like that?

“You’re really going to walk out on me right now?” I asked, my voice cracking with disbelief.

Alex hesitated for a split second, then looked at me with a mixture of guilt and annoyance. “We’ll talk when I get back, okay? I just… I have to go. I can’t keep them waiting.”

Without waiting for a response, he turned and headed for the door. I watched as he left the apartment, the door clicking shut behind him. Not a hug or a goodbye kiss, no form of reassurance at all.

The silence that filled the room was deafening. I sank down onto the couch, the tears became hysterical as the reality of the situation hit me.

I wasn’t enough for him. I’d never be enough for him. And the worst part was, I just had to sit with it.

What hurt me also was Matt hanging out with Alex. I hadn’t heard from him in a month, he seen how upset Alex made me that night, I opened up to him. What had happened in such a short space of time?

Matt’s POV

I sat on the edge of my bed, watching as Chris and Nick wrapped up the last bit of filming. We’d spent the evening working on a new video, we played Dress To Impress on Roblox, and all of my outfits were shit. Just as Nick made a final comment into the camera, my phone buzzed on the nightstand beside me. I reached over and saw Emily’s name on the screen.

Emily: “I’ll be done packing in about 15 minutes. Can you come pick me up? x”

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “Looks like I’m off on chauffeur duty.” I muttered to myself, a faint smile tugging at my lips. “Emily’s ready to be picked up.”

“Fun times,” Chris joked, shutting off the camera. “You want company?”

“Nah, I got it.” I replied quickly. “It’ll be easier if I pick up Alex first, then swing by Emily’s place.”

Nick raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment. I could tell he was still thinking about the argument from earlier. I didn’t want to dive into that mess again right now. I grabbed my keys and headed out, hoping to avoid more drama tonight.

As I drove towards Y/n and Alex’s apartment, a part of me hoped I might catch a glimpse of Y/n. I felt a wave of longing as I realized how much I’d missed seeing her in the past few weeks. I shouldn’t be feeling this way, I knew that. But something about Y/n made me question things I hadn’t thought twice about before.

When I pulled up outside the apartment complex, I realized with a start that I didn’t actually have Alex’s number. Shit. I’d have to go up and knock on their door. It wasn’t a big deal, but the idea of possibly seeing Y/n again, even briefly, made my heart race.

I stepped out of the car and made my way up to the front door. As I raised my hand to knock, though, I heard voices inside. Loud ones. I froze, realizing that Y/n and Alex were arguing.

“It’s not like I’m ditching you. I’m doing this because it’s convenient.” I heard Alex said defensively.

“Convenient for who? For you? Because it sure as hell isn’t convenient for me. I’ve spent the last four weeks taking care of you, Alex. I’ve adjusted my shifts so i’m working either at the crack ass of dawn or into the depths of the night, i’ve cooked all your your meals, driven you to and from class, and done your assignments even though I don’t even fucking go to college. I’ve bent over backwards for you, and now you can’t even give me one night?” Y/n’s voice, thick with emotion, sliced through the door.

She’s been doing all of that for him?

“Y/n I appreciate everything you’ve done, but you’re overreacting.” Alex snapped back, sounding more annoyed than apologetic.

“Overreacting?” I hear her voice break. “Do you have any idea how it feels to never be a priority in your life? I’ve tried so hard, Alex, but no matter what I do, I’m never enough.”

My heart clenched as I listened. I knew I shouldn’t be standing there, eavesdropping on such a private moment, and what I had just heard made me want to leave. Hearing Y/n’s pain, feeling the rawness in her voice, it was like a punch to the gut.

I turned on my heel and headed back down the stairs, moving quickly towards my car. I needed to get out of there, away from the fight that was echoing in my mind. I felt awful, like I’d just intruded on something sacred. As much as I wanted to check on Y/n, to make sure she was okay, I knew I couldn’t. Not without crossing lines I wasn’t ready to cross.

I drove to Emily’s dorm straight away, the words I’d overheard replaying in my mind. I had to let this man stay in my home tonight, after knowing how much he’d upset Y/n again.

Emily was already waiting outside when I pulled up, her phone in one hand and a suitcase in the other. She climbed into the passenger seat, flashing me a quick smile. “Thanks for coming to get me,” She said, leaning over to give me a peck on the cheek.

“No problem,” I replied, forcing a smile. I started driving back towards Alex and Y/n’s place, the tension in my chest tightening with each passing minute.

“So, how was filming?” Emily asked, breaking the silence.

“Fine. We finished up just before you text.” I said, keeping my voice even. I didn’t want to make it seem like anything was wrong, Emily didn’t need to know what I’d overheard, or the storm of thoughts swirling in my head.

When we arrived back at the apartment, I didn’t get out of the car this time. I couldn’t bring myself to go back up there. Instead, Emily shot Alex a quick text, letting him know we were outside.

A few minutes later, Alex appeared, his expression hard and his movements stiff. I could see the anger plastered all over his face, you could almost feel the anger radiating off of him as he climbed into the back seat.

“You okay?” I asked, glancing at Alex through the rearview mirror.

“Fine,” Alex grumbled, but it was clear that he was anything but.

a/n : ooof nearly everyone’s arguing 😬 buckle uppppp!

taglist : @muwapsturniolo @anitahunt @sturnfannn @jayde510 @chrissfavhoe @babyalliah-777 @v33angel @urmom69lol @willowrites @ribread03 @2muchofaslvt @sturnsaver @sleepysturniolo @jcsturniolo11 @jessie-essie @hoeforchrizz @mynbbys @sturniolopanini @mattsturnxoxo @delicatechrry @t77te @sturnsyaper69 @hotdismylife @maggot3647 @ivysturnss @noplaceissafeanymore @mattssgf @hottiirr @maethem0nth @sillyponygrl @mattyblover07 @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut