#t is a fucking wonder drug

[bingqiv]

honestly great week for gender. got called a gentleman by a customer earlier this week (who was taking about me) and then got called a young fellow this morning.

10/10.

[crimeronan]

Oh no my friend and I wanted to move to Pourtsmouth, what’s wrong with NH? Where on the east coast would you recommend instead?

oh honestly portsmouth is fine, it's a lovely town on the seacoast and it has a lot of my favorite things about new hampshire like prescott park and the seacoast repertory theater! like if you asked me for the best place to live within new hampshire i'd tell you portsmouth immediately. (it IS pricey bc it's a seacoast area, but not as pricey as, like, rye NH.)

i come from rural new hampshire which imo is a different beast entirely. the main problem is that the state government is INTENSELY libertarian. it's the most libertarian state in the US with regards to taxes and social policies. afaik it's the only state in the US with no seat belt law and may be the only one with no helmet law for motorcyclists.

people there are either loyal to bernie sanders or donald trump, and when sanders didn't win the democratic nomination in 2016, a LOT of new hampshire sanders supporters switched to trump instead. because the only thing they care about is anti-establishment disruption. not any actual political issues.

classist divides are also very pronounced because new hampshire has two main social classes: wealthy people, who live there for 2 to 3 seasons a year n spend the colder months elsewhere, and poor people, who live there full-time.

like, my hometown is where bridgit mendler's lake house is, and she comes into the one popular local restaurant there all the time and is super sweet and tips really well, she's Loved by everyone there.

but my hometown is ALSO where a lot of very very very poor hicks live and die in complete misery, because you can't get to a doctor without driving for a half hour, you can't access specialists without crossing state lines into boston, there's very little income security, most people are farmers or loggers who aren't paid well at all. alcoholism and opioid abuse are not only rampant but basically just expected, because everyone is in physical pain, the winters are long, financial burdens are shit, depression is rampant, and there's not a lot to do besides work.

and of course. it's the only red state in new england. our governors are invariably more reasonable socially than a LOT of republican governors, because libertarians believe government shouldn't control people's social lives, and overt nazi extremism is unpopular. but the governors are still...... not good.

all of this said: BECAUSE the state government is so libertarian, your experience of new hampshire is EXCLUSIVELY whatever your local government does. like, even more than in other states. portsmouth's local government is fairly progressive, or at least it was when i moved out. the people there are friendly, and it's an actual city with decent infrastructure and medical care, unlike where i grew up.

and if you don't like the culture, it's pretty easy to drive somewhere else, what with portsmouth being so close to both the maine and massachusetts state lines.

[leaving-fragments]

i cannot get over how empty being admired feels. would never want to be famous, i'd just implode from lack of actual connection i think

[moonlight-prose]

hi! i recently read the grave of lust and fr stared at the wall after to process it because holy shit. the way you write logan is impeccable & beautiful. old man logan deserves so much more love, like he’s so FINE. that being said! i saw your requests were open for logan 👀 i have this hc that old man logan especially would be really into dry humping…& i’d love to read your take on that in a little drabble or whatever you’re up for!

SLOW

note: thank you darling!! i don't know what it is about that old man that makes me want to jump on him. and when he wears his glasses? i'm done for. sign me up for being his whore - IMMEDIATELY. also it's a drabble, but also i couldn't stop myself from adding that gif.

word count: 0.8k

pairing: old man!logan howlett x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, dry humping, old man logan who takes it slow in life, aching bones, sweat, again he's filthier when he's older.

He eases you through it. Each kiss soft and languid—his hands a heavy press against the meat of your hips. A long day spent outside left the both of you withered by the scorching heat of the sun. The weariness lingered on your bones, wringing you free of what little energy you managed to hold onto.

"We gotta shower baby," he mumbles, his words a soft puff of air on your cheek.

Sweat still clings to the back of your neck, sticky and warm. And Logan bets if he drags his tongue along your throat he could taste the salt directly off your skin. The sweetness of it, a drug he couldn't resist.

The many times you claimed to like him like this—sweaty and hot from a day's work—he laughed. Just another sugar coated jumble of words to make him smile, to give him something to be happy about. He started to believe you the second you clambered into his lap, sitting pretty and soft on his thick thighs. Fingers now a tight latch in his hair as he shifted you closer.

"Not yet," you whisper.

His argument is on the tip of his tongue—ready to release with a tap to your ass. Your hips dragging heavy along his cuts him off from every saying the words. The groan that rips from his chest is loud. Unhinged and desperate. And you smile into his skin knowing you have him right where you want him.

"You're gonna fuckin' kill me one day."

"You're not dead yet old man."

He grunts, fingers a deep dig into your hips, and drags you across his lap again. There's no denying the delicious ache that begins to tug at his body at the feeling of you grinding on his growing cock. You whimper in his neck and tug at the back of his hair and Logan yearns to keep you right there for the rest of the fucking day.

Fuck taking a shower. He's only getting messy the second your own and naked for him to play with.

"Think you can cum for me bub?"

Working your hips over him in quick thrusts causes your legs to stutter, muscles pulling tight with al scream of protest. The soft heat of a building release teases at your cunt. A rhythmic pulse each time your jeans catch perfectly against your clit—his body strong and hard beneath you.

You wonder if he's leaking into his jeans. If his cock is that exquisite color of deep red that led right along the thick vein you could practically taste.

The sharp groan echoes in the small living room, his chest rumbling beneath you with each quick panted breath. Your lips find their way back to his in a wet and sloppy kiss you feel down to your toes. His tongue is a hot press inside your mouth—hips jerking up to meet you with each thrust.

Until you can no longer deny that you're about to cum right fucking now and you want him to do the same. Biting down on his lip, you suck it into your mouth as he fucks up into you like the clothes no longer exist. The barriers disappear, his touch isn't clutched into your t-shirt and yours isn't lost in his white beater. You can practically feel his cock plunge into your soaked cunt.

The thought leaves you panting, begging for more.

"I'm gonna–"

"I know," he growls, his hips a rapid drag along yours. "Let go, yeah? I'll fuck ya right after this."

His cock jolts in his jeans and that does it. You're moaning into his mouth, clamping tight around nothing, and trembling on his lap as if he'd just fucked your second, third, and fourth orgasm from you. It's debilitating how that sucks everything out of you. How muscles you didn't know were real now shouted at you in pain.

You pull back fast enough to see his eyes fall shut, lips parting in a hoarse shout as he grinds his hips up into you one last time. Spurting directly into the denim he'd have to chuck in the wash minutes after this.

The sigh he lets out is heavy. All the energy he had left to get in the shower, now withers into the couch cushions. And if he was a younger man, he'd fuck you on them minutes after this. He'd peel the clothes off your sweaty body and lick the mess between your thighs clean.

He'll be lucky if he can open his eyes to see you though.

"Nap?" you ask softly, head burrowing into the junction of his neck and shoulder. A place solely meant for you.

"Mm." He sighs again, hands sliding up your back. "Shower."

"Logan–"

"Then a nap."

The laugh you muffle against the skin of his shoulder is answer enough for him.

[rinhaler]

just had the crazy thought in the middle of trader joes🫣 bf!ino begging reader to let sukuna fuck her infront of him😵‍💫 i just know sukuna would agree to the idea so fast😭

but anyways i hope you're doing alright❤️

as soon as I read this request I went feral btw I haven't written anything this quickly in a while KGHJFLSGHSKA thank you so much for this nonnie I hope u enjoy and I hope ur doing well 💕

warnings: 18+ MDNI, fem!reader, dubcon, weed consumption, alcohol consumption, pet names (princess, sweetheart, baby, etc.), cucking, cuck!ino, coercion, dry humping, male masturbation, daddy!kink, oral m+f receiving, head pushing, fingering, calls your pussy 'she', overstimulation, vaginal sex, hair pulling, creampie, squirting.

words: 3.9k

He’s waiting.

He’s been waiting since he got to your apartment.

You and Takuma have never been coy around each other, no matter who’s around. What was meant to be a chill movie night with a few drinks and some weed has really just been you and him making out on the couch, dizzied by the alcohol and drugs coursing through your system.

And still, Sukuna has been waiting.

Waiting for his friend to ask what he’s been waiting to ask.

“I love you…” you whisper, or at least you think you do. It’s louder than intended. What was meant to be breathy love language reserved solely for your partner has garnered Sukuna’s attention, too.

And rather than your boyfriend returning your words. He looks at you, no, through you. His pink haired friend looks at him coldly out of the corner of his eye.

Waiting.

You’re bold, though. When he doesn’t speak right away, you grab his face and pinch his cheeks until his lips are puckering. His warm brown eyes gaze down at you, his concentration fully broken from Sukuna, now.

“I said: I love you, Takuma.” you repeat.

“Baby…” he grins and bites his lip before kissing you softly. “You know I love you too.” he assures you, his head lowering to kiss along your jawline. You can’t repress the gentle moan you emit as you feel his hand travel up your baggy t-shirt and hold your side just below your breast, his thumb stroking across your ribs.

“How much?” you wonder, eyes heavy and bloodshot as you wait for a response. He looks at you again, a little puzzled that you’d even ask.

“How much?” he quirks his brow. “How much do you love me, baby? Tell me… Wanna hear ya,” he smirks.

“More than anything… I’d do anything for you, Takuma. I love you s’much.” you say slowly, pridefully. Adoration interspersed with your casual tone makes his cock throb. His eyes are full as he hears you tell him with ease how much you love him.

Before he can say anything, though, Ino’s eyes stray at the sound of his friend stirring in his spot on the couch. He’s hunched over, lighter in one hand and spliff in the other. He lights it, almost too quickly, and he’s soon leaning back again. His red eyes stare daggers at Ino, his expression is unreadable, but Ino knows the intent behind his glare.

He's waiting, but he’s losing patience.

“Maybe we should go to bed early.” you hint to your boyfriend, wiggling your eyebrows at him in hopes he’ll understand your meaning.

He does.

But instead of looking excited, or interested, he looks between you and your friend. Sukuna exhales a hearty plume of smoke into the air, resting the crown of his head back onto the couch as he stares at the ceiling. The movie is of no interest to any of you, now. You want some alone time with Takuma, and Sukuna is considering leaving.

“W-Wait,” he mutters, cupping your face with both hands and searching your loving gaze. “Anything, really? You mean it?”

“… Well… yeah. I- I guess, yeah. Is something wrong?” you wonder, worry and paranoia flooding through you before you know it. You can feel your heart beginning to beat faster, until his thumbs gently rub against your cheeks. You’re instantly soothed, and further relaxed when you feel a gentle press of your boyfriend’s lips against your own.

“No, baby, nothin’. You’re perfect. You’re always so perfect f’me…” he says, kindly, and you can’t stop the cheesy grin that works its way across your face when you hear him. You lean in to kiss him again, but he pulls away suddenly. “There’s… something… I wanna do. Well, I wanna try.” he explains.

You sit up a little as you look at him, curiosity filling you. You briefly look at Sukuna, almost forgetting he's there until you hear him toss his lighter onto the coffee table.

“If you wanna fuck tonight. Maybe we can try it now…” he starts, sheepishly. His words become dry in his throat and lost in the atmosphere. You’re a little embarrassed that he’s proposing something about your sex life in front of your mutual friend, but you try and ignore his presence. You’re all high, it doesn’t really matter.

“What is it, baby?” you whisper. You close the distance between the two of you, kissing his cheek repeatedly as you wrap your arms around his neck. It’s a passionate bid to give him the confidence he needs to tell you what’s on his mind.

There’s no delicate way for him to ask you what he wants to ask. It’s so perverse, so lewd and debauched. He feels guilty for even thinking it. But it’s rotting his brain.

He keeps breathing, his words dissipating on his tongue as he finds and loses the ability to say what’s he’s dying to say.

“C’mon, baby… you can tell me.” you smile. You start to get nervous again as you can tell he’s wrestling with his thoughts. You have no idea what he could be thinking. It’s a worry, though, thinking your boyfriend has some depraved kink he’s about to spill in front of you as well as his friend.

Why is he doing this now?

“I um… fuck. I— babe, I just. I think it would be… f-fun. Uhhhh…”

“Ask her already.” a dark growl reverberates through your body as you’re once again reminded you aren’t alone. Sukuna stands to his feet, bending down to stub out his joint before he moves behind you. You gasp as you feel his fingers on your jaw forcing your head in place as he keeps your eyes on Takuma’s. “Look at your girl and ask her your dirty favour, pussy.”

Ino gulps, eyes flitting between yours and his. And still, even now, he can’t bring himself to ask. Sukuna gives him time. Plenty of time, before ultimately scoffing. You whimper a little as your head jerks to face him. His hand squeezes your face, not to dissimilarly to what you had done to Takuma moments prior. Your lips puckering as he levels his face with your own.

“He has a weird fetish, princess. He wants to see another man fuck the love of his life. Ain’t that strange?” he smirks, darkly.

You think you’ve misheard him. He lets go of your face and you snap your gaze to see Ino. He’s blushing furiously and has seemingly lost the ability to speak. He can barely even look at you. And that is enough proof, but still.

“Really?” you ask, you try your best to stay calm. It’s a little stern, but casual enough to not seem like a big deal.

“… Y-Yeah. AGH!” he yells as your hand slaps across his face, leaving a stinging sensation in its wake. He looks at you, he seemed ready to yell at you until he sees tears welling in your eyes. “B-Baby? Don’t… Don’t hate me, please. I—”

“You— did you invite him here tonight for this? You told him before me… How—”

“Wait, wait. It wasn’t like that!” he stops you. “We were just, ugh, what was it? Oh, porn! We were talking about different categories and I said I’d been watching some, y’know, cuck shit. S’dumb, I’m so sorry. But I just watched it because I was curious and then I started thinking about it everyday and I thought about us trying it ‘n I just said all that shit to him when I was stoned.”

“So?” you respond. “You invited him over ‘n got me drunk and high ‘n thought I’d just say yes?!”

“No. Well… maybe… a little…” he says, voice trailing off as he thinks about the whole thing a little further. “Shit, I was scared to ask. Because it’s fucking weird and I know it’s weird. I feel like a fucking freak for this, baby. What kinda guy wants to see another dude fuck his girl? It’s weird.”

You don’t speak again for a while, letting him simmer in what he’s saying. It’s not that you are outwardly against it, but you’re not intoxicated enough to ignore how wrongly he went about this. And it’s hard to ignore Sukuna’s looming figure beside you, he’s so intimidating without even trying.

“… Please don’t hate me.” he mumbles as he stares down at his feet. “It’s been driving me crazy, y’know. Thinking about how hot you’d look like that.”

“It’s your decision.” Sukuna says, dropping to the balls of his feet to look at you again. “It’s just sex, sweetheart. I can make you feel good, ‘n you’ll make me feel good. And I think it’ll make that perverted boyfriend of yours feel good, too.”

You look into his eyes as he speaks. It’s not like you’ve never thought of it before. He’s a giant, he’s huge and he has the aura of a man who knows how to fuck. You aren’t dissatisfied in your sex life with Takuma in the least. But everyone has fantasies, right? Everyone has thoughts on what they might be missing out on.

“B-Baby? Please. Just once, I just wanna try it once.” Takuma tells you. It’s a little pathetic how desperate he sounds. And for some twisted reason, it turns you on. How he’s begging to see you receive pleasure at the hands of another man.

You’ve somehow managed to romanticise this depravity. Because now, you feel good about this. Whether intentional or not, Takuma Ino has made you feel like a goddess.

And so, dumbly, you find yourself nodding. His eyes light up, confusion, elation, and unadulterated lust flows through him. You’re caught off guard as Sukuna cups your face with one hand, capturing your lips in a searing kiss before grabbing under the bend of your knee and letting it roam up the back of your thigh.

“N-Now?!” you ask in a panic, breaking the kiss before he returns it once more.

“Yes. Now.” Sukuna tells you, lifting you up and wrapping your legs around his waist as he carries you to the couch he had been sitting on. You’re straddling him, rolling your hips unashamedly as he smirks into your kiss. “You’re soaked, princess.” he says. It’s quiet, but loud enough for Ino to hear.

He palms himself over his sweats as he watches you both, a sultry moan leaves you as you feel rough hands squeeze the fat of your tits over your t-shirt. He tugs at your nipple, licking into your mouth as he pulls away.

“Suck daddy’s cock, baby. Heard you’re a pro.” he grins.

You shuffle off of his lap and between his legs. He goes to undo his belt before you beat him to sit. He interlocks his fingers behind his head as he watches you. He swears if he had blinked he would have missed how quickly you freed his length. Your eyes bulge as it springs out from it’s denim prison and you pull down his jeans and underwear in tandem.

He doesn’t give you any time to marvel at his gargantuan size before he’s lacing his fingers through your hair and guiding his cock to your lips. He’s massive, you feel it as each agonising inch sinks into your mouth and nudges at the back of your throat.

He moans boisterously as you struggle to accommodate him, head rolling back as he looks up at the ceiling above. He chuckles, pushing your head again and again to set a pace for himself, barely considering your lung capacity or pleasure in the least.

His eyes are heavy, lust drunk and purposeful as he looks down at you. Your own are watery and pathetic. You’re overwhelmed and yet you can’t help but chase a desperate desire to please him. You want to impress him, you want him to feel good.

You’re both reminded of your actual boyfriend’s presence when he moans pathetically. Your teeth graze Sukuna’s cock and he hisses at the sensation.

“Focus on me.” he tells you, voice gravelly and intimidating before his eyes move to look at Ino. “Are you really getting off on this? Fucking pervert. Your girlfriend’s choking on my cock and you look like you’re gonna blow your load. Y’think that’s normal?”

“S-Shut up.” he moans softly, the all too familiar sound of sticky, aroused skin fapping fills the room.

You feel your cunt grow wetter by the second. The intense knowledge of everything going on in the room is sending your self esteem into overdrive. You’re doing it for Takuma. And you want to make Sukuna proud.

“Here…” Sukuna grabs his phone. You panic as you see him point it down at you, unwillingly to let him keep video evidence of this twisted transgression. He holds your head down with ease with his free hand, and it’s all you can do to focus on breathing through your nose. You begin to calm as you feel another phone ring behind you. “Answer.” Sukuna instructs.

Ino scrambles to answer the incoming call, moaning further when he sees the perfect first person view of your mouth stuffed full of his best friend’s dick.

“Give him a show baby, he likes it.” Sukuna growls, cupping the crown of your head as he allows you to bob your head at your own pace. “You really are a good little cocksucker. Might have to keep you. Doesn’t she look pretty, Ino?”

“S-So pretty, baby. Fuck, look at ya…” he breathes, slowing down on his own pleasure so he doesn’t cum too fast.

“Look at her squirming, think she’s enjoying all the attention. Is your little pussy dripping ‘cause you’re our pretty star tonight?” he smirks. And at that, you nod. You can’t help yourself. Despite you being the one to please him, you’re completely at his mercy. “Mmm, think I wanna see for myself.” he tells you, yanking you away from his length by your roots.

You gasp, breathless with an aching jaw as you get used to your mouth being your own again. He coos at you, red eyes softening as he admires your drool soaked face.

“Look at what I’ve done to your girl.” Sukuna says as he manhandles you.

He picks you up and turns you so that you’re able to make eye contact with your boyfriend. Ino looks up from his phone so he can observe you with his own eyes. Your eye makeup has streaked beautifully down your cheeks. Your lips are swollen and dampened with slick drool and precum. He has to stop touching himself completely when he looks into your shimmering eyes. They’re filled with water and emotion, the sight of you is better than he ever imagined.

“Say thank you, sweetheart.” Sukuna commands and he firmly grips your jaw. “Gotta say thank you to your boyfriend for letting you have the time of your life with me.”

“T-Thank you, Takuma… thank you.”

“Aw… you’re both a little pathetic, hm? But that’s okay.” Sukuna snarls as he picks you up again, tossing you onto the couch like you’re nothing. You’re a weightless object for him to do with as he pleases. “Let me see you, princess. I want a taste.” he explains. Soon enough, your panties and shorts disappear from your body and he’s face to face with your bare cunt.

He grabs your hand, forcefully shoving his phone into it so you can show your boyfriend what he’s doing.

It’s humiliating.

Your whole body runs hot as he loops his arms around your thighs and buries his face between your legs. A powerful moan rips through you as he gently pulls up the hood of your clit and targets it with a darted tongue.

Tears spill over your eyes as you try to close your legs, much to his dismay, and he pries them apart with ease. He doesn’t let up, your whole body trembling uncontrollably as he continues his assault.

You hold the phone with one hand as the other cards through his pretty pink locks. And at that, he moans. The timbre of his voice vibrates against your skin.

“B-Baby?” Ino speaks, quietly, “Feel good?”

“Fucking. Amazing.” you announce, unashamedly. Your toes curl as you feel two thick fingers delve into your hot cunt. It’s too much. You feel like you might burst as his fingers curl and you try desperately to escape the onslaught. But one muscular bicep around your thigh is more than enough to keep you exactly where he wants you.

“You’re staying right here, sweetheart.” he tells you casually before looking up at you. “You won’t cum if you run away from me.”

“Hnnnng, fuck.” you respond, embarrassingly. All semblance of thought leaves you in the form of slippery slick pooling out of your cunt as he finger fucks you relentlessly. He smirks as he watches, slurping up your juices with obscene satisfaction.

“Pretty little pussy, she’s flutterin’ for me. Just cum for daddy, know you wanna.” he grins.

You’re barely able to think as he immediately swipes his tongue over your throbbing clit. His fingers work in tandem to hammer against your g-spot before you begin to squirm uncontrollably.

“Fu- nngh! D-Daddy! Haah~!” you cry out repeatedly, chanting a slew of daddy’s before you feel your body start to crumble and fall slack. You pant heavily, the phone you were holding a distant memory as the only thing on Ino’s screen is a shot of the ceiling.

He’s holding back, again. Ogling your body as he sees sweat droplets beading on your skin. Your entire body is relaxed, calm. You’re wholly spent and satisfied for the evening, you do nought but watch Sukuna repeatedly pepper kisses on your inner thighs.

“You look happy,” he tells you as he looks up.

“You’re… you’re good at that…” you say, finally feeling shame wash over you as you realise you just came on your boyfriend’s best friend’s face. “That was—”

“Was? Didn’t say we’re done, baby.” he cuts you off. Before you can ask what he means, he’s pulling you onto the ground with him by your wrist. “I didn’t get to cum yet, did you really think we were through here?”

“S-Shit, sorry!” you gasp, utterly powerless as he bends you over the coffee table. Even if your body wasn’t so relaxed, you’d still be a ragdoll to him.

“He needs to see your face while I ruin this beautiful cunt.” he smirks, parting your legs with his muscular thigh. He tuts as he observes your form, grabbing a fistful of your hair. “What is this, baby? I know no one else has made you cum that hard but you need to look pretty when you have an audience.” he explains.

He pulls your hair aggressively until your back is in a beautiful arch. Your fingers grip desperately onto the sides of the coffee table, your tits squashed against the cool glass breaks your body temperature as you’re unsure of whether you’re freezing cold or boiling hot.

Your body soon flushes again as you feel Sukuna guide his heavy tip to your entrance. He teases your hole repeatedly, the sticky tacking sound is the only thing that can be heard; alongside Ino’s self-pleasure.

He grunts as he slams into you with a powerful thrust. Your eyes cross and you feel as though you could pass out from the pressure brewing in your core.

“Fuuuuuuck, tiny princess cunt’s a tight li’l hugger.” he tells you before holding onto your hips with a bruising grip. Your ass and thighs ripple with each brutal deliverance from his desperate humping.

This, now, isn’t for you. If you feel pleasure, that is a bonus. You feel it in the way he savagely pounds into your wet walls, you are his toy that is designed to make him cum.

“You look so pretty, babe. D-Does it feel good? Y’look so fucked out.” Ino smirks, biting his lip as his fist becomes a blur. “Can you— describe it for me, baby.” he requests.

“Unfff, f-fuck. He’s— I feel— him— here.” you tell him before pointing to your throat. He lets out a guttural moan at that, and if your mind wasn’t already so hazy, you’d be amazed that he was truly getting off on this.

“Glad he’s making you feel s’good, babe. Knew he would…” he trails off. “Are you gonna let him fill you up?” he asks, face dropping a little as he hears a scoff from Sukuna.

“Tch. Sick bastard.” he says in response. He bends over, his sweat coated skin presses into your back and he continues to desperately hump into you like a primal animal. He moves your hair aside as he sensually bites and kisses your earlobe. You could just about cum when you feel him lick the skin behind your ear, tangled with an amalgamation of eager, determined moans. “He wants me to breed you like an animal. Would ya like that, princess? Can daddy fill your precious little pussy up?”

You nod, quickly. Your vision blurry as you think you might be genuinely about to pass out from the pleasure. You’re utterly blinded by it. The feeling of his cock bullying itself into you and repeatedly kissing your sweet spot is like no other feeling you’ve experienced before.

And still, even in your cock drunk mind, you can’t help but wonder how you’ll ever be able to live without feeling him inside of you again.

He pulls your body up with his own, wrapping his hand around your throat and squeezing just enough to keep you barely conscious. You’re pointlessly grabbing for anything to grab onto, but there’s nothing. His free hand rubs your clit vigorously, and you know you’re soon to be a goner.

“That’s it, good girl. Good fucking girl, milk daddy’s cock jus’ like that. Juuus’ like that. So tight f’me, mmmpf, so fucking tight for me. Perfect pussy’s not gonna let me go. Gonna cum with me, yeah? Come on, cum on daddy’s cock, make a big mess. Umpf, fuck, fuck, FUCK!”

He practically roars, feeling not an ounce of shame as he fucks his thick, heavy load into you. You’re no better, though, whining pathetically as a waterfall gushes from between your legs for the first time in your life. It arouses Ino more than anything ever has in his entire life, so at that, he finally let’s go. Coating his hand in shimmering white globs as he watches Sukuna forcefully make out with you through your high.

Sukuna pulls you back with him as he sits on the couch with you on his lap, pulling out of your hot, sullied cunt as the mixture of clear liquid and pearlescent sperm drips from your throbbing hole. He slaps his cock against your clit, your entire body jolting with each repeated smack.

“Did you— fuck, baby, that was perfect… Did you have fun?” Ino asks, almost breathlessly as he wipes the mess from his hand on his sweatpants.

Sukuna looks up at your near lifeless body, you don’t even have the energy to look at either of them let alone speak. He smirks, at that, before turning his attention to Ino.

“Don’t think she’s ever been fucked so good in her life,” Sukuna grins. “I don’t think you’re gonna have a girlfriend for much longer.”

© 2024 rinhaler

[jazzyoranges]

heyy i love how well written your works are, and i was wondering if there could be another tara carpenter x gp reader?? an enemies to lovers kinda thing, smut/fluff but it is totally up to you!! thankss❤️

All Mine

Tara Carpenter x gp!reader

Words: 2.8k

A/n: thank you!! also kind of a combination of this request and a prompt in this request

Warnings: reader has a penis, hate fuck? i think?, bottom!T, top!R, explicit sex, implication of breeding kink, teasing (lots of it), unprotected sex (your pullout game is weak), implication of alcohol consumption, no ghostface au

MINORS DNI!!

Tara hates three things in her life. You, hairless cats, and soggy bread. In that order too

She could handle hating hairless cats and soggy bread, but you? You were in Tara’s friend group. Tara hated you and to make matters worse, she was the only one that did

You were nerdy like Wes and Ethan, quick-witted and funny like Mindy and Amber, athletic like Chad, charismatic like Quinn, protective like Sam, and (allegedly) nice like Anika. You had nearly every one of her friends best traits, but Tara knew why she didn’t like you. You were really fucking annoying

Along with all of your positive traits, you were loud and obnoxiously social. Not that Tara was antisocial or anything, but god you were on a whole other level. It was mildly infuriating how you could go to a party you knew nobody at and somehow come out with more friends than you started with

All those people and you decided Tara was the one you’d annoy. A nudge to her shoulder made Tara look up from where she was putting her head down

“You look like shit” The brunette doesn’t respond and puts her head back down on the table

“Sam tase someone without your permission again?” Tara could practically hear the smirk in your voice

“Please for the love of god shut the fuck up. Your voice is the last thing I need to hear today”

“Woah, someone’s mad” You stick out your tongue in response at the glare Tara sends your way

“Suck my dick, (Y/n).”

“Don’t tempt me with a good time, Carpenter”

Tara abruptly leaves the lecture room. You think you really fucked up this time, but let out a breath of relief when you see that Tara didn’t grab her things. She was probably going to the bathroom to escape you. Which, who would ever want to escape you?

Apparently not Tara because she’s back in her seat just a few minutes before the lecture starts

“Aspirin?” You grab the bottle from a pocket in your bag, shaking it next to her

“You have Aspirin laying around?”

“Anika told me you were at a party, I figured it’s the least I could do”

“You’re trying to drug me, aren’t you?”

“If I was trying to drug you, I would’ve offered it to you at the end of class”

“Why weren’t you at the party?” Tara asks, taking the bottle from you hands and shaking out two tablets before downing them with some water

“Missed me?”

“Nope, just surprised you weren’t blackout drunk”

“Good to know you think highly of me. I was studying, thank you”

“You? Study?” Tara scoffs

“Don’t act like the idea is so out of this world”

“Right, because last time I remember you passing up a party was because your betta fish died and you forced all of us to have a funeral for him at the park”

“Trout’s death is not one to be made fun of!”

Before Tara can respond, the professor starts talking and the lesson begins. Unfortunately her head is still kind of throbbing with only mildly wanting to throw up. She had to accept she wasn’t going to get anything done until that Aspirin kicked in. Especially when she can feel you staring at her

The class goes as smoothly as it can and you notice Tara hasn’t made an effort to even try to take notes. The lesson eventually ends and when everyone gets up, the brunette begrudgingly does too

You bump your shoulders together and Tara glares at you with enough power you actually manage to feel fear for a split second until you realize it’s Tara. The girl was like two apples tall. Two and a half on a good day

The brunette doesn’t realize you were handing her a paper so you physically have to place it in her hand. Her eyebrows furrow in confusion

“What is this?”

“Notes, you need them”

“I’m not buying you Raising Canes if that’s what you want”

“Since I’m such a good friend, I’ll give it to you free of charge. Just make sure to bring it back with minimal damage”

“You’re not gonna make me Paypal you fifty bucks?” Tara doesn’t have any classes for the next few hours so you two made a point to walk to your next class. She didn’t know how it started, but you were okay to talk to when you weren’t being annoying

“In my defense, Trout recently died”

“We buried him in the fucking park, I don’t think that costs money”

“It was condolence money. I made everyone pay and I think it was pretty genius”

“I really do wonder how you still have friends”

//-//

Someone knocks on the door of you and Anika’s apartment. When you realize your roommate is probably listening to music that was too loud to be healthy, you get up from your very comfortable bed

You don’t remember ordering food and you’re pretty sure Anika didn’t invite Mindy over, so the person behind the door was probably just the nice old lady across the hall that made cookies for everyone

For better or for worse, you’re met with a Tara Carpenter that’s caught off guard when you open the door. Tara usually sees you in well put together outfits so you can only imagine her surprise when she sees you wearing boxers that outlined your cock and a hoodie that barely covered it up

“Eyes are up here- What brings you to the Mojo Dojo Casa House?”

“Can’t you just let me in?” Tara’s cheeks burn in embarrassment. Thank god you just glossed over… it

“It’s protocol you identify yourself and state why you’re here” You lean on the doorframe, actively blocking the entrance to your apartment. Tara knew this was a losing battle and hated how you looked hot while winning

“Anika and I have a project we need to work on”

“You didn’t identify yourself” you’re wearing that same dumbass smirk you have after telling a horrible joke

“Tara. Tara fucking Carpenter.”

“Unfortunately I don’t think we know any Tara Fucking Carpenters. Guess you can’t come in” you shrug

“God give me patience.” Tara rubs at her temples like you’re giving her a headache

“Isn’t it god give me strength?”

“If god gave me strength, you would be dead.”

“Point taken, but you still need a password”

“You didn’t say anything about a password!”

“Yeah, well, I don’t know if you’re the real Tara or not. Say a fact about me only the real Tara would know”

The brunette pretends to think for a moment, even putting her hand on her chin and looking off into the distance for effect. When she notices you’re starting to get suspicious of her antics Tara pushes you though the door, successfully getting in without a password or confirmation

You stumble back almost like a cartoon character and you can hear Tara let out a small laugh. You can see the dimples on her cheeks whe she tries to cover it up with her hand

“Nika, your friend’s here!” You lead Tara to Anika’s room, making sure to knock loudly while Tara’s busy either checking you out or trying to blow you up with her mind. It’s unclear, but you have to lean towards the latter

“Isn’t Tara your friend too?” Your roommate opens the door, headphones around her neck

“No.”

“Yes.” Both of you say in unison. The look you give each other is almost comical with how Tara’s glaring while you’re smiling. Anika stares blankly between you two and it eventually starts to make more sense

“Stop eye fucking each other, we have work to do” Anika pulls Tara into her room. You shrug, heading off to probably yell at ten year olds on Fortnite or something

“We were not eye fucking” the shorter girl huffs, sitting on Anika’s bed

“I literally opened my door and thought you two were about to make out”

“I didn’t expect to get interrogated when I came here!” Tara flops onto her back, covering her eyes and trying (and failing) to stop the red that dusted her cheeks

“Whatever, I’ll get you to crack later”

“Kill yourself.”

//-//

Tara doesn’t understand what she’s feeling when she sees some random girl grind against you

It’s like that one scene in Euphoria when Maddy and Nate stare each other down at the school dance, except you were looking far more more bored. That is, until you see Tara glaring at both of you

Like a switch turned on, you’re suddenly more interested in the girl. You encourage her grinding with a hand kneading her hip, using your other hand to take a sip of your drink. And just like Maddy, she’s tempted to find Chad to do the same to you. She doesn’t.

Tara fucking hated you. But she also needed you now.

Making you jealous would take too long. In theory she had the time, but her hunger to taste you was making her do things she would’ve never thought of before. One of those things being grabbing your hand and leading you away from any girl that tried to even look at you.

The girl who was grinding on you calls her a bitch among other things, but Tara knows it’s worth it when she sees you smile at her like she’s your entire world. Because she was your entire world

She leads you into an empty guest bedroom of the house, locking the door before getting close enough to you she can smell the alcohol in your breath

“What’s all this about, Tar?” You grin. Tara doesn’t know if she wants to kiss or slap that smirk right off of your annoying face

“You know what this is fucking about.”

“Do I? I think you should spell it out for me.”

“You know, I’ve had it with your attitude.” Tara jabs a finger at your chest, the back of your knees hitting the end of the bed. In one motion you sit down and bring Tara down with you. You make her sit on your cock

“Anyone ever tell you you’re fucking hot when you’re mad?” You smile, finding the blush on Tara’s cheeks absolutely adorable

“Only you.”

“Good. How about we keep it that way, baby?”

“You’re so annoying.” The brunette cups your face with both of her hands, your lips fitting together like they were always meant to

“I know I am” You say in between kisses, your hands finding their way up Tara’s shirt, kneading the spot right under her boob. She forces your hand to stimulate her nipple, eliciting a moan from her mouth

“You’re so pretty, Tar. I can’t believe only I get to see you get all hot and bothered” You smile breathlessly

“Fuck. S-Stop talking like that or you’ll make me like you” Biting a hickey on Tara’s neck, you take of her shirt and her bra in a flurry of heat

“I bet you’ll like me even more when you’re bouncing on my cock” You force Tara to grind on the bulge in your pants, earning you a small whimper that makes you smile

“C’mon, all you have to do is admit you like me and I’ll fuck you better than anyone has” It should be considered torture how much you were teasing Tara. You were biting hickeys on her neck, playing with her nipples, all while a few layers of fabric were the only barriers between your dick and her pussy. Fuck you knew how to overstimulate a girl

Laying Tara on on the bed, you could really tease the brunette better in this position. You can feel the Tara’s wetness through her soaked panties, and you’re sure she can feel the pre-cum leak out of your cock. Your hands are on her hips as if you were thrusting, yet you deny her and your pleasure for the sake of being an ass

“Don’t you want me to ruin you for anyone else? I promise I’ll stretch you out so good no other guys’ cock can fill you up like me.”

“Fuck you. I hate you, you’re s-such a fucking asshole, you know that?” Tara reaches for anything she can hold onto, your arms being the nearest thing

“I can think ways you could ‘hate’ me even more” You smile when Tara reaches to take off her panties but you find her hands first. You intertwine your hands together and the action is so soft Tara almost forgets about the situation she’s in. Almost

“Whenever I masturbate I think of you, did you know that? God, sometimes I have these hookups and all I can think about is you cumming around my cock”

Tara thinks it’s embarrassing how she’s about to cum just by your sickeningly sweet voice and the constant friction between you two. Tara also thinks she’d rather die than miss an opportunity of a lifetime.

Sure you were a cocky pain in the ass, but you were her cocky pain in the ass.

“Fuck- I admit it! I think you’re the hottest fucking person in the world. I like you.” Tara looks straight into your eyes, and the smile reserved only for her makes another appearance

“That wasn’t so hard, was it Tar?”

“I still hate you.” You unbuckle your belt and unbutton and unzip your jeans with watchful eyes. You pull down your boxers just enough so that your cock springs out, making Tara’s mouth water. Fuck you were big

Pulling Tara’s panties to the side, she’s dripping wet when you swipe your finger across her slit

“Fuck- (Y-Y/n)” Tara sings when you lick up her juices with your tongue. She buries her hands in your hair, bringing you closer to her dripping cunt. You moan at her taste and the vibrations are almost enough to get Tara to cum. Almost

You rise to your knees, lining up your dripping cock with the shorter girls dripping pussy. You decide to be evil and rub your dick against her slit before easing your tip into her hole. It was infuriating how slow you were going and Tara remembers why she hated you in the first place

Tara’s whining and whimpering under you and you can’t remember a time where you’ve been happier than in this moment

Tara on the other hand, has never hated you more in her life than in this moment

The younger Carpenter decides to be bold when she grabs your shirt and forces you forward. You’re caught off guard and over half of your cock finds itself nestled tightly in her pussy as you catch yourself with your arms

“Y-You’re sneaky, aren’t ‘cha” With your face so close to hers, Tara realizes you’re as much of a victim to your teasing as she is. She can tell it’s taking everything inside of you not to fuck her raw until your dick is limp and Tara’s legs are sore

“You can go fast. I can handle it, baby” Tara cups your face with her hand, stroking your cheek with such softness like you aren’t literally lodged into her cunt like a dog in heat

With that confirmation, you give Tara a peck on the lips and buck your hips in such a way you hit that spongey spot inside of her

The sound of skin slapping is louder than the blasting music downstairs, but your grunting and Tara’s moaning combined are louder than both. Thank god the owner of the house was your friend because you don’t know if you could come out of that room if this is what Tara sounded like

“Fuck- I’m close” You say a little too breathlessly for your liking

“Don’t p-pull out.” The shorter girl uses your shirt as leverage to keep you inside of her. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion

“T-Too messy, don’t feel like cleaning up.” Tara answers between moans like she can read your mind

The familiar heat you’re so used to finally snaps. Wrapping her legs around yours, you cum with almost a guttural whine. Your orgasm is enough for Tara to have hers and you fuck her through it, making sure none of your cum drips out of her hole

You pull out and a few dribbles of your semen flow out of her cunt. You plug her pussy with your fingers and Tara is far too sensitive to handle it

“D-Don’t tell me you’re tired already?” Tara jokes, but all air in her lungs leave when you let out a laugh of your own

“I’ve got all night, love.”

Tara has to remember to make you buy her a morning after pill.

[angelfrombeneth]

HAVENT I MADE IT OBVIOUS? - T . NOTT

Theodore Nott x Fem!Reader

Summary: *REQUESTED* Reader and Theodore are best friends. Reader gets wrapped up in her first love scandal and Theodore cant handle it. He cant cope that its not him.

Warnings: Angst, Slight Fluff, The most heart warming love confession ever. Mentions of sex but hardly.

A/N: The request wasn't super specific so I decided to go with something like this.No smut, because I have a really similar request which specifically asks for smut so that one will have smut.

"Teddy don't be a twat" You smacked his head as you sat beside him.

"What! Its not my fault the instructions were unclear" He scoffed.

You and Theo both were sat in potions as you both were paired up for a task. Theo thought he was being funny reading the ingredients not in the correct order and ultimately fucking up the mixture.

"This is why I hate pairing up with you in class" You groaned.

"Hey Y/N!" You looked up to see Cedric leaning against the front of your workbench.

"Oh, Hey Cedric" You smiled.

"I was wondering" He smiled at you, his eyes flickering to the side for a moment for placing a hand ontop if yours. "Would you wanna go out sometime? Maybe for a meal or something?" He grinned.

You smiled as you sat up in your seat. "I'd love that"

"Ill meet you at 6, outside your commonroom on Friday?"

You nodded as he smiled, caressing your hand before walking back to his seat.

You heard a scoff beside you, your neck cracked to look at Theo, who had a huge scowl on his face. "Your going on a date with him? He's such a prick"

"Oh fuck off Theo" You rolled your eyes as you stood up gathering your books before exiting the class.

Theo caught up with you, walking beside you. "No seriously, he's such a priss. Why's you wanna date.. that" You scoffed at his statement before scaling the stairs down to the Slytherin Commonroom.

"Theo shut up-" You turn to see Pansy. "Oh my god! Pans!" You squealed as you ran at her.

You felt Theo's moody presence slip away with Draco and Mattheo who walked over to him as soon as you ran to Pansy.

"Cedric asked me on a date!" You squealed.

"No way- Oh my god, this will be so good" Pansy smiled, grabbing your hand. "You can test the waters before the date at the party tonight!"

"Party?" And with that Pansy yanked you to your feet and you scrambled up the stairs being dragged behind her as the next 4 hours entailed getting ready for the party.

Slytherin parties were always off the chain. Every other house could party for sure, but the amount of shit Slytherin would gather for the party. All the alcohol and drugs like it was some free tester aisle of a muggle store. It would always end very heated whether everyone was hooking up or someone started a fight. It was always the same old shit.

You decided on a basic little black dress, you can never go wrong. The dress was short and frilled. To be fair it looked more like one of those frilly tops that remind you of a dress. Your assets were out on display, but it was a party why not.

"Girl, that dress is definitely not your size but it's so cute!" She chuckled as you spun around. You fixed the top, making sure there will be no nipple slips. "You have literally the perfect body; tits, ass and thighs. I'm so jealous"

"Pans shut up, you are so hot I won't even leave for the party we can have our own" You both giggled as you leaned forward kissing her cheek before grabbing her eyeliner and finishing up your makeup.

By now the party was in full swing for atleast an hour and you two were only just getting done. You held hands as you exited Pansy's dorm and skipped downstairs giggling. Not to mention the two if you had pregamed before.

You two did you rounds round the party greeting everyone and stealing shots from groups. You both got to your friends on the couch in the back corner as you stood like bambi, struggling to stand straight in your heels from how fucked you were.

"Woah- Careful" You heard as you felt a hand snake around your waist steadying you. You look up to the side and catch Theo's dark eyes staring down at you.

"Thanks" You giggled leaning into his chest, pulling his arms over your shoulder, holding his hands as you looked to the group. Pansy situated herself on Enzo's lap the two of them giggling at you and Theo.

"So Y/N, any updates with Mr Badger? I was told about your date" Mattheo smirked, he wasnt trying to wind Theo up, he didnt know but Theo still got pissed.

You felt Theo tense behind you but you didn't take notice of it as you continued to okay with the rings on his hands. "We haven't been on the date yet, but he seems nice"

You heard Theo scoff as you turned to look up at him. "Nice my ass" He mumbled. You rolled your eyes, not wanting to argue as you continued conversation with your friends.

Theo was enjoying the company, enjoying the feeling of your body snuggled against him as you played with his rings. God, he was falling, quick. He was too busy daydreaming to even notice you had sauntered away to the other side of the room.

"Ced~" You smiled as you stood beside him.

"Hey Y/N- You look gorgeous tonight" He chuckled, taking your hand and pulling you to stand between his legs. His hands gripping your thighs, dangerously close to your ass.

"So do you" You smiled, running your hand softly up and down his chest. "M' excited for our date" You giggled.

"Me too.. Its not everyday you get to be in the presence of a goddess" He licked his lips.

"Stop it you!" You chuckled, hitting his shoulder.

"Cant help myself" His hands threatening to touch the curve of your ass.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, chuckling down at him as he pulled you closer by your thighs, placing his lips onto yours as he kissed you softly.

It was needy, very needy. He gripped your ass as you leaned over kissing him more passionately as you say on his knee.

Third POV

Theo couldn't cope at the sight. The second Pansy pointed it out, his hand tightened around his bottle. Anger filling his body as he watched another man kiss you. Another man touch you. That should be him. Not Cedric. Him. Jealously bubbled inside of him, very quickly.

Theo was too focused on the scene that the glass bottle shattered at the pressure. All his friends turned to look at the sound and him. He looked down at his bloody hand as he wiped it on his shirt, before groaning and turning to push through the crowd.

Everyone was confused by the sudden action by Theo, they had no clue what caused it, or even a smidge of knowledge how much Theo loved you.

Theo rushed away, pushing through people trying to get further and further away from the hurt. His hand covered in blood and throbbing as he stopped at the stairs. Turning to look in your direction, noticing your still with him. He bit his lip, holding in any emotion as he continued up the stairs.

Your POV

A many days later, after the party, you and Cedric went on your date. It was lovely, he was very attentive which you loved. You didn't see him much the few days after but chalked it up to him being busy.

It wasn't till it was 4 days after your date with Cedric you noticed the boy was still yet to talk to you. It left a sour taste in your mouth and you wanted to confront him. Why was he ignoring you.

Suddenly someone bumped into you, quickly apologising as they sprinted down the hall. Curious you followed them, it was a first year probably not a huge deal

You had no expectation for the kid, but it wasn't what he was running to caught your eye. It was down a dark corridor you turned to see Cedric and Theodore.. talking? Before you could even call at them, Theo pounces on Cedric. Your eyes wide as you froze. You were too far down the hall to do anything but noticed Mattheo, Draco, Enzo and Blaise all struggling to pull Theo off Cedric. Cedrics friends yelling as Cedric was frankly getting battered.

You sprinted down the hall towards them, aa they got ripped apart as you approached. Cedric and Theo's face all bloody.

"What the fuck is wrong with you??" You screamed as you looked at Theo.

He looked shocked, taken back. "Me?? He started it!"

"Sock it Theo, there was no need" You helped Cedric to his feet. "Let me take you to the hospital wing" And with that the two of you left.

Third POV:

"Shut up Nott, you're so up her ass. Don't be mad she hasn't put out for you yet. It's a long list. She's just a hole to fill. You'll have your turn " Cedric laughed.

Theo doesn't know how he got in this situation, he was just walking then saw Cedric and now he was ontop of the boy pummelling his face in. He was talking shit about you, lying about you. He was horrible.

But the worse thing for Theo was when he saw you. Saw your face when you looked between the two of them. His heart broke when you reached for Cedric, cheking if he was OK and whisking him away.

Theo was going insane.

Your POV:

It had been a day since the fight. Both boys were in the hospital wing but you refused to see Theo why would he do that. He was your bestfriend, and Cedric was just.. a guy. A guy that made you happy. Its like Theo was punishing you for being happy.

You were sat in potions noticing Theo hadn't show up, and you were pissed. He was being selfish, this was a group project.

You go to the hospital wing to find Theo, but Madame Pomfrey told you he was dismissed last night but Cedric was still there. You looked over at Ced, noticing his curtain was shut, I guess he had company, you thought and just walked out. If Theo wasn't in class then there's only one placed he'd be.

You scaled the stairs to the Astronomy reaching the top as you took a moment to get your breath. You noticed Theo by the railing and you sigh.

"Theo you can't skip class"

He turned to look at you, inhaling the smoke from his cigarette as he looked at you. "Well I am so it doesn't fucking matter. Don't you have a baby to coddle?"

"Fuck off Theo, don't be a prick" You scoffed

"He's a bad person Y/N. Why won't you fucking listen to me"

"BECAUSE YOUR CHATTING SHIT NOTT" You yell at him.

"You don't even know what he said about you. He called you a slut. Your nothing but a hole to fill" He sneered.

"What the fuck is wrong with you! Are you jealous I'm happy?" You laughed at him, distressed with the situation.

"You aren't happy" He snapped.

"How do you know? How do you know what's good for me!" You stare at his back, rage building up inside of you as you yelled out at him.

"BECAUSE IM GOOD FOR YOU.." Theo yelled. He turned to look at you, his breath erratic. "I know whats good for you and its me.. not him, no one else. Its me, it'll always be me" His teeth are gritted as he looked as you as you stand in shock. "I love you Y/N! It's always been you. Every fucking waking moment I think about you, your fucking stupid coconut smelling hair! The way your lip dimple shows when you smile a certain way. I spend every waking moment thinking about you. I live and breathe for you Y/N."

You stand there stunned as you look down at him.

"Haven't I made it fucking obvious? I fought the fucking freak for you! Yes initially he did nothing but.. He called you horrible things.. I can't bare to see you with another man that isn't me. I think about you so much bella.. Morning, noon and fucking night, I think about you.." His voice cracked as he stared down at you before he took your hand, kneeling down infront of you holding your hand. "It'll always be you.." He softly kissed your hand.

Your eyes slightly glassy from the confession as you stand speechless.

"Please say something bella.." Theo looked up at you, his hands grasping yours.

You burst out into tears, ripping your hand away from him as you cover your face. "You are so annoying Theo- I- I didn't know you felt like this" You sobbed as you wiped your eyes. Your mascara smudged all over your face.

Theo stood up, cupping your face between his hands as he wiped your tears with his thumbs as he chuckled, a tear rolling down his eye.

"I guess we are both stupid.." He chuckled lightly.

"You're such an asshole" You hit his chest playfully, laughing slightly through the sobs. His hand catching yours as you hit his chest, before his lips crashed against yours.

The pair of you finally became one.

If you enjoyed this fic and want to buy me a coffee, you can do so here!

[swordsandholly]

Steel Magnolia

Part 1 - paused

Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!plus size!reader

No use of y/n

Rating: Mature/MDNI

Word Count: 2.1k

Author’s Note: I just recently got back into fandom spaces and reading fanfic again and looooove the uptick in fat Y/N characters. Ofc as a big girl myself I wanted to try my hand at writing one too.

Hopefully I’ll post this on AO3 soon. Whenever I get my invite so I can make an acc.

“Oh! Darlin’, did ya see those boys next door?” Mrs. Duprey gasps as you swipe the last of her Bubble Bath OPI polish across her fingers.

“Next door?” You cock an eyebrow. “No one’s been next door since Adam and Eve.”

“I saw them on the way in!” She grins, the corners of her eyes wrinkling pleasantly. “Strappin’ young men - y’should talk t’ ‘em.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m sure I will sooner or later, ma’am.”

“You’ve been single too long.” The nosey old bat contributes. As much as you love her she truly cannot leave well enough alone.

“And I’m perfectly content as such.” You give her your warmest smile.

The trailer home across from you has remained empty for as long as you can remember. It’s well kept - sometimes you see random gardeners mowing or going in an out with tool bags - but no one lives there permanently. You’d think in a beach town it would at least belong to some snowbirds. A timeshare, maybe. It’s none of those things, though. Just a well-maintained, perfectly empty husk.

There’s a metaphor in there somewhere, probably.

Sure enough, as you walk Mrs. Duprey out of your little single wide trailer, you spot a black SUV parked out front of the neighboring double wide. One that is definitely *not* a repair man or worker’s vehicle. She coos at you to make sure to talk to them before waddling off to her own car. She really shouldn’t be driving at her age. You wonder briefly - futilly- if she’d sell you her car in exchange for rides.

You suppose she’s right - even if it is for the wrong reasons. You’re not particularly interested in flirting with the new neighbors. After all, don’t fuck where you eat is a saying for a reason, but it wouldn’t exactly be neighborly to not introduce yourself. Especially with all the people coming and going from your home for your nail tech services. The old Yankee’s catty-cornered from you still believe that you're a drug dealer. At least they only come down for a couple months of the year.

Despite your staunch decision not to flirt, you still find yourself adjusting your clothes. Maybe the sports bra as a top is a bit much…

Fuck it. If they live here now they’ll see you in worse.

You fix your lipstick and throw on your platform sandals. The ones that clip-clop as you walk. Maybe it will help announce your presence.

The screen door wraps quietly as you knock. You take two steps back on the front, wooden porch so as not to come off too aggressively. As the seconds tick by you debate on knocking again. Maybe they’re out. Or busy. They did just move in today, most likely. Maybe you should-

The door creaks slightly as it opens. A very, painfully handsome man pushes the screen door until it clicks in place. “Afternoon, lassie.”

You blink stupidly as he crosses his strong arms and leans on the doorframe. His eyes are a striking shade of blue - somehow both sharp and soft. His dark hair is shaped into a slightly grown-out, un-styled mohawk. It fits him oddly enough.

“I, uh,” you take a deep breath. Christ you need to get laid if just *looking* at a hot guy has you this off kilter. “I live across the way. Just wanted t’ say welcome t’ tha neighborhood.”

That lopsided smile on his face grows into a grin. You don’t miss the way his eyes catch on your chest. “Aye? Nice tae meet ye. Names John MacTavish. M’friends call me Johnny.”

He gives your hand an extra little squeeze after shaking it. That accent might as well have you on the floor. You continue to blink dumbly, watching the at the scar on his chin stretches as he speaks.

Christ almighty, you’re pathetic.

“Nice to meet’ya.” You give him a warm smile, tilting your head to the side slightly. “Ya’ll here for vacation? We don’t get many Europeans ‘round here.”

He chuckles. It’s low and rumbling and would probably feel wonderful with your ear pressed to his chest. “Little bit o’ business, little bit o’ pleasure. This an’ tha’.”

“Hello, there.” Another man pops up from behind Johnny suddenly. Fucking hell, he’s gorgeous too. Older, for sure, with a uniquely cut beard that would probably look rather silly on anyone less handsome. At it stands, he manages to make it appear dignified.

“Ah, jus’ about tae call fer ye, Cap. This is our neighbor.” Johnny gestures toward you.

“John Price.” The man steps forward to shake your hand. It’s firm and professional and thank god your grandad made you practice a good handshake as a kid or you’d be painfully embarrassed.

“Are all UK men named John or is this just some sorta cult?” You blurt, unable to stop yourself from snickering at them.

Older John chuckles at you fondly, his facial hair giving him a pleasant U-shaped smile. “Be easier to remember that way, wouldn’t it? No, we’re with two others. Kyle and Simon. They’re out at the moment.”

“Kyle and Simon.” You repeat, nodding. Johnny, John, Kyle, Simon. “Are y’all in town long?”

“Indefinitely.” Is all Price gives you. It’s a tone that even someone as dense as you can recognize as ‘don’t ask more.’

You clap your hands together and smile a little wider, ready to make your exit. “Well, I’m not here t’be a bother, just wanted t’ welcome ya and, uh, let y’know that I have a lot of people over throughout the day - I’m a nail tech. They shouldn’t bother ya but y’know.”

“Ye can come bother us anytime, bonnie.” The Scot hits you with that grin again and your face suddenly feels far too hot.

A loud, whining screech sounds off from down the road. You check your watch. Holy shit, three-thirty already. You begin to back off the porch. “Ah, nice t’ meet ya again! See ya ’round!”

As you jog down the little dirt road of the trailer park another black car passes you. It’s smaller, a sedan. You make very brief eye contact with a blonde wearing a surgical mask and another man with the sharpest golden eyes you’ve ever seen - even through the tint of the window.

*Kyle and Simon,* you think.

You make a mental note to greet them at some point and continue down the street. The school bus slowly stops at the entrance and you take up your spot in the small crowd of parents. IT’s a shabby old bus - chipping paint and break pads that sounds like they’re about ready to snap. It’s all they’re willing to send out to your little section of the city, though.

Shelby meanders over in your direction, her usual Camel Crush lit up in one hand and the other teasing her already well-lifted hair. “Afternoon. Saw there was some new folks across from ya.”

“Hm?” You keep your eyes on the bus. “Ah, yeah. Just vacationers, I think.”

“Lookers, though.” She chuckles.

“They’re from the UK.” You offer.

“No shit!” Shelby stamps out her cigarette as the bus doors open. “Accent and all?”

“Yep.” You grin.

Shelby tsks and fiddles with her hair again. “I best go over an’ make myself known, then.”

“There’s an older fella with a neat beard. Think you’d like ‘em.” You snicker.

She hums. “I’ll bring a pie.”

The children practically burst out of the bus doors, as always. Ready to be home and shuck off their backpacks to their respective adult. Shelby’s son almost knocks her over, offering a little “Good afternoon, ma’am!” to you before heading off with his mother.

You nod to him, shoving a hand in your pocket as you wait for yours. She’s always the last. Always caught up in a book or something and doesn’t realize it’s time to get off of the bus. Sure enough, the driver has to call back to her before the little girl comes dashing out. She jumps off of the bus steps, despite being told time and time again not to, and kicks a rock on her way toward you.

You bow low for her. “Welcome home, Lady Sophie.”

She giggles, dark curls bouncing as she skips over. “Ni-ni!”

You take her bag from her. The thing really does dwarf the poor six year old. Her hand slips into yours easily. Soft and round and somehow always so much warmer than yours.

“My nail color chipped!” She announces, holding up her ring finger on the opposite hand.

“Oh! Now we can’t have that. I’ll fix it tonight.” You smile, waving at old Mr.Chester as the two of you pass.

“Well now!” He calls. “How blessed am I to see two such lovely ladies!”

You both giggle, continuing on your way. He’s a good landlord - spotted you more than a few times when Sophie was a baby and you couldn’t work consistently. Honestly, as you look around, the little community that he’s managed to build in this shitty corner of the world should be praised. Housing just enough snowbirds to cover his property costs while keeping rent low for the full time locals. Maybe you could convince Natalie at the paper to run a little story on it or something.

As you pull up to your own home, the blonde man is outside leaning on the front of their double wide. Seeing him standing at full height makes your blood run cold. The man is built like a damn barn - tall and wide. Beyond solid. *Brick shithouse*. It’s a bit weird that he’s covered in clothing head to toe but whatever. Weirder things have happened before. The mask still covers his face, you wonder if he had taken it off before you came up or just flipped it up to smoke.

“Sophie, head on in. I’ll catch up.” You push her toward the door. She scampers in, the screen door slamming behind her as you march up to the brick shithouse of a man in front of you.

“Which are ya? Kyle or Simon?” You smile, holding out your hand to shake.

Dark eyes rake over you, stopping briefly on your hand, before moving back to meet yours. He stomps out the half smoked cigarette. “Simon.”

You let your hand drop. Bit rude, this one. “Nice t meetcha.”

The other man pops his head out of the trailer. Kyle, you assume. “Oh. Hello.”

“Hi.” You smile as warmly as you can, giving your name. “I’m assumin’ yer Kyle.”

“Yeah.” He chuckles. “I’m guessing you’re the neighbor Price mentioned.”

You nod, about to speak again but Simon shoves past you, marching his way up the steps. “Let’s go.” He grunts, pushing the other man back into the trailer despite his protests.

You wrinkle your nose at him. What an asshole.

“Who’s tha’?” Sophie asks over the back of the old, worn couch as you let the trailer door slam behind you.

“New neighbors.” You say simply, glancing out the window. “Don’t go over there without me, yeah?”

“Okay!” She agrees, sitting back on the couch and bouncing, beginning her usual post school chant. “Bluey! Bluey! Bluey!”

You drop her backpack down beside the small coffee table. “After yer homework.”

“Nooo!” She pouts.

“Then no Bluey.”

Sophie pouts harder but crawls down in front of the coffee table and pulls out her little work sheets. At least the school doesn’t over run them too terribly with homework toward the end of the year. You glance at the calendar. Wednesday, May 22nd. Damn, she really only has about a week left. Though, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t looking forward to this summer break with her. She’s old enough now that you can take her places like the arcade without having to wait on her so much. You’ll actually be able to play some of the two-player games.

Plus, this year, you actually have a little more pocket change to make it fun.

You turn to look out the window once more at the new neighbors. Their curtains remain closed, cars neatly parked out front. The door opens slowly, the hot Scot and rude blonde wander to the Sedan. Simon’s shoulders shake at something Johnny said - you think he’s laughing but its hard to tell with that mask. Johnny’s head turns, blue eyes meeting yours through the shitty glass windows of your trailer. You squeak and duck to sit next to Sophie, praying that he didn’t catch you staring.

[distantdarlings]

BACK TO YOUR ROOM // t. nott

RATING: R / 2.6K WORDS

Theodore Nott x Fem Reader Insert

+ SUMMARY - *Requested, based on this* After heading down to a Slytherin party, you decide to tease Theo a bit.

+ WARNING - SMUT! Fingering, masturbation, language, jealousy, degradation, Dom!Theo, brat!reader, Theo is a little rough, implied drug usage, not fully proof-read (lmk if I missed any)

+ MUSIC (listened to while writing) -

OHMAMI - Chase Atlantic

- - -

The music overhead pounded throughout the common room with a force like no other. Every beat sent a vibration through your chest like a knife. The very ground beneath your feet shook with excitement.

The air was full of laughter and sweat and lust, all three of which were beginning to rub off on you. A smile crept onto your lips as you weaved through grinding, dancing figures. Perhaps it was the mixture of winter break starting today and the excellent energy that always surrounded a Slytherin house party, but you felt like you were on top of the world.

You took a sip of the scorching liquid in your cup, allowing it to sear its way down your throat with no regard for how you were going to feel in the morning. None of that mattered at the moment, though. What mattered was that you found your friends and started dancing as soon as possible.

“Hey! Over here!” Over the volume of the music, you hear a single voice call out. You turned in its direction, finding that it belonged to Pansy Parkinson. Speak of the Devil. You laughed and moved your way through the crowd to find your friends circled around towards the corner. The windows looking out through the Black Lake were pitched into the darkness with only the reflection of colorful lights and dancing students printed on them.

Mattheo, Enzo, Pansy, and Theo stood in the friend group, each with a cup of something in their hands. Mattheo looked bored, if not half-asleep, with a cup held loosely between his fingers and something else gripped in his other hand, something that you couldn’t see. He leaned up against one of the stone walls, with his head tilted back against it. Enzo stood next to him with a similar look on his face, only a dorky smile had printed itself on his lips. He wore a simple white button-up with the first three buttons separated. He looked handsome. Pansy was wearing her signature black tube top with a dainty choker. She looked absolutely wonderful.

“Pansy, you look incredible,” you laughed, looking at her full outfit.

“Thank you,” she giggled, returning your compliment. If you had a galleon for every time Pansy Parkinson showed up to a party, looking twelve times better than everyone, you’d be as rich as the Minister of Magic. And that was the complete truth.

“You look good.” A low rumble of your name had you glancing up. Theo’s eyes were locked on yours, ever so dark and wanting. A small flush crawled up your neck under his gaze. He wore a black tee shirt that framed every part of him perfectly. Must he always look so fucking good? You refrained from rolling your eyes.

“As do you, Theo,” you smirked. “I’d say that shirt fits you in all the right places. If I weren’t already taken, I’d ask if you wanted to dance.”

You were not taken. By anyone. And everyone knew that, as well. But everyone also knew that, as you started to drink, you had a particular knack for teasing anyone you could. With the slight possibility, you might take it too far. At your words, Theo’s smile dropped.

“Taken?” Pansy gasped. “By who?” She stared at you with wide, curious eyes, her hands pressed over her mouth in disbelief.

“I’m not sure. I haven’t decided yet,” you said, pretending to place a finger to your lips in a thinking motion. Pansy looked confused for a moment before realizing that you just wanted to get a rise out of Theo. She hid a smirk before turning back to the group.

“I think I’ll pick…Mattheo.”

At the sound of the name, the dark boy jumped up and found your eyes. His eyes were slanted drowsily and reddened beneath his eyelids. A lazy smile appeared on his lips. He wasn’t just tired, you realized.

“Yeah, baby? You pick me?” he teased, his head leaning back against the wall behind him while his eyes devoured you. The feeling that shot through your body was not one of an innocent nature.

“Mmhmm, you wanna dance with me?” you asked, twirling a strand of your hair around your finger. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Theo’s fingers tightening dangerously around his half-empty cup, the thin plastic crumpling within his strength. You watched as Mattheo seemed to glance over to Theo before nodding his head and grabbing your hand.

You smiled proudly as Mattheo began to lead you toward the dancing bodies all around. Theo’s eyes found yours again, only this time his were flaming with fury. You sent a teasing wink his way before shooting him a small wave goodbye. If he wanted you, he’d better come and get you.

Mattheo’s hand slid around your back, positioning itself dangerously close to your ass, as he led you closer to your destination. His natural dominance in any situation had you blushing a bit. You’d always had a bit of a thing for Mattheo, second, of course, to Theo. Nonetheless, you’d found yourself throwing your arms around his neck once you were out in the middle of the common room. Swaying bodies surrounded the two of you and allowed you to blend in with them.

Mattheo’s hands fell to your waist, his strong fingers guiding your hips to the beat of the music and his confident smirk easing you into a new plane of lust. You felt as if you were the envy of the night as Mattheo Riddle claimed your body as his own in front of everyone.

When he spun you around and pressed his head right beside yours, lips whispering filthy things, you’d nearly forgotten about poor Theo. The same dark-haired boy coaxed you through everything, his body exuding rhythm and sex. Your head laid back against his shoulder, your lips parting in a sweated pant. Mattheo’s lips touched your neck ever so gently as he traced his words against your skin. That was the final straw for Theo.

“Mattheo, come on, man!” You heard a voice shout right next to the two of you. Your eyes shot open, and you pulled away from Mattheo slightly. Theo stood before you.

“What is it? Don’t worry about it,” Mattheo slurred. He threw a nonchalant hand at the other boy before returning a hand to your waist. You heard your name.

“Let’s go.”

“What? No! I’m having fun with Matty,” you protested. Theo’s nose contorted awkwardly.

“‘Matty?’ What, are the two of you in love now or something?” Theo demanded, fuming. You rolled your eyes.

“I’m just having a little fun, baby,” you whined, your fingers crawling their way up backward to tuck themselves into Mattheo’s dark curls. You could practically see Theo’s jaw clench at the motion. Fuck, this was so much fun. An evil smirk spread across your lips.

“Why do I have to stop? Do you wanna have a little fun with me?” you asked. His confidence faltered slightly. “Do you wanna take me back up to your room?”

You finally separated yourself from Mattheo and sauntered over to where Theo stood, his demeanor faltering. You walked around him slowly, your fingertips brushing his lower back and the exposed flesh on the rear of his neck. You watched smugly as chills appeared across his skin. A smirk played on his lips, the feeling more exhilarating than you’d felt in a long time.

“Baby, you wanna take me back to your room?” you purred against his ear, your lips caressing his jawline. “You wanna fuck me?”

At the last line, he sighed deeply and his jaw clenched tightly. In a second, he’d grabbed your wrist and started dragging you back through the crowd. You glanced back and saw Mattheo already in the same position with another girl, working passionate kisses down her exposed shoulders. You rolled your eyes at how quickly he’d moved on in his situation.

Theo wound you through sweating bodies, tables filled with punch (possibly spiked), and finally, up the stairs to the boys’ dormitories. His pace was rapid and rough, his jaw ticking every few moments, and his grip on your hand never relenting.

Once you finally reached his dorm, he’d pulled you roughly through, locked the doors with a quick swish of his wand, and placed a powerful silencing charm across the whole room. It was deathly quiet, with just you and Theo claiming the space.

“You think that’s funny, huh?” Theo growled, shoving you roughly onto his bed. As you lay against the mattress, arms spread out behind you, he stood over you. His eyes were blazing with anger, his breaths coming out in sharp pants. You thought this might be the angriest you’d ever seen him. “You think it’s funny to make me look stupid in front of everyone?”

“I don’t think I was the one making you look stupid, but—” Before you could get the rest of your sentence out, Theo’s hand closed roughly against your throat, stifling the words before they ever reached your tongue. Your eyes glanced up at his pathetically; the breath stuck halfway between your lungs and mouth.

“What was that?” he growled lowly, his voice reminiscent of a threatening tiger. Unable to form words, you shook your head gently. Nothing.

“Not so confident now?” he asked, his eyes teasing and mean. Annoyed, you rolled your eyes at his stupid jealousy. You raised an eyebrow at him mockingly, testing him, trying him even though you knew he was going to get beyond angry.

He chuckled menacingly, an evil smirk printed on his lips. His hand remained tightened around your throat, his grip unyielding. His eyes darkened significantly, their irises holding something sinister beneath them.

“You’re fucking done, little girl.”

It no longer felt like a threat, but a promise. You had to admit. A small gulp did slide down your throat. He was angry but it was nothing you couldn’t handle.

“Turn around—put your ass up,” he commanded, finally relinquishing his hold on your throat. As inconspicuous as possible, you let out an exhale of deep relief.

You turned yourself around and, on all hands and knees, pressed your chest into the mattress, letting your hips curve into the air. You felt his hands survey the expanse of your hips, his skin warm and biting. You moaned gently against his touch.

“You want me, sweetheart?” he whispered. Just as a gentle nod passed your head, a swift slap came down across your ass. You concealed a yelp by harshly biting down onto your bottom lip.

“You’ll get me when I please,” he mocked. “You’re not going to be rewarded for acting the way you did back there.”

You refrained from rolling your eyes yet again at his ridiculous behavior. Theo suffered from a type of illness known as “thinks-way-too-highly-of-himself-itis.” It’s a very real disease and millions deal with it around the world. Thank Merlin he had you to keep him in check. You smirked to yourself at your thoughts, knowing he’d be even more pissed if he were a Legilimens.

“Any time today would be nice,” you teased, pushing your hips roughly against his front. As you brushed against his core, you could hear him suck in a breath. His hands found your hips once again, rolling himself against you.

“You’re such a fucking brat,” he spoke through gritted teeth. His fingers traced up the length of your spine as he grinded himself against you. Not wanting to give him the pleasure, you pressed your face into your arm to conceal any breaths or moans. You didn’t want him to feel as though he’d bested you in any way. You were winning this.

“You like it when I do what I want like this, baby?” He cooed, slipping a sly hand between your legs where the tight dress ended. The tips of his fingers barely grazed you, his breath shuddering at the realization that you wore no bottoms. “Fuck, you’re bad.”

“Only for you, Teddy,” you breathed, grinding yourself against his hand. With every action you took against his dominance, you could practically feel his knees weakening.

“I’m gonna claim every fucking inch of this body,” he groaned. Behind you, you could hear him practically ripping his jeans apart, belt slashing against your skin in the process.

Once his jeans and briefs were dropped around his knees, he hiked the tight material of your dress over your hips and trailed two fingers up your core from the bottom to the top. The slow, languorous movement pooled your slick on his hand and around your entrance. When he felt the amount would suffice, he slowly pushed his fingers into you.

You moaned aloud at the sensation, your hands gripping into the sheets. His free hand splayed across your ass, working you back and forth on his fingers. He groaned at the visual, loving the way you melted onto him, no matter how much you fought and teased.

Before long, you were rocking your hips back onto his fingers with no help from him. He dropped his free hand and watched the show, amused over your want. No matter what he did, your hips never ceased, inching you closer to your orgasm. You were embarrassed at how little it took for Theo to push you toward your finish, but you were too close to care. All you wanted now was the end of your pleasure, despite how damaging it would be to your pride.

“That’s it, baby—fuck yourself on my fingers,” he whispered. “You’re so fucking pathetic.” His voice was a mean, soothing melody. It painted every inch of your brain and echoed in your ears.

“‘M close, Teddy,” you whined, increasing the pace of your hips. Nothing was going to pull you from him. Not even Merlin, himself, would be able to separate you from the god standing behind you, mocking you like a peasant.

“Such a good girl, such a good girl…,” he moaned, his voice cracking a bit. A brief glance behind you told you that he had wrapped his free hand behind himself and had begun to fuck it. You moaned at the visual, knowing that, as much as he picked on you, he’d prolong his pleasure in order for you to reach yours first.

A knot formed in your stomach that built and built and built until you were finishing around his fingers and crying out beneath the weight of it. Theo moaned as he came to his end as well, his pleasure spurting over your back.

As the two of you came down from your highs and your knees weakened, you collapsed against the bed. He laid beside you, a lazy smile on his lips, and a hand raising to push your sweaty hair from your face.

“How was that?” he chuckled breathlessly.

“I’d say it was alright,” you replied. You could feel beads of sweat slipping past your nose and over your reddened cheeks. The party below still thumped loudly.

“Do you want to go back to the party? See if Mattheo can do any better?” he asked, mostly joking. You could see the flash of jealousy in his eyes.

“Hmm, maybe I will,” you said, shrugging. He rolled his eyes at you, refraining from smiling at your teasing nature.

You rolled over and pressed your back against him. He wrapped his arms around your abdomen and buried his face between your shoulder and neck. You could feel him take a deep inhale of your scent and tighten his body around yours.

“I think I’ll stay up here with you,” you sighed. He chuckled a bit. “Until you fall asleep…then I’ll go see what Mattheo is up to.”

You imagined the look on his face as a loud laugh left you, echoing through his dorm.

*Tag List: @mypolicemanharryyy, @angelfrombeneth, @clairesjointshurt, @bunbunbl0gs, @acornacreacure, @niktwazny303, @thestarlithideout, @sarahskakskskskajakwwnwjw, @yhiiil (if you would like to be added to the tag list for any future works, please comment on this post, dm me, or send me a message in my inbox. Thanks!*

[storiesbyrhi]

IT MEANS SOMETHING

Eddie Munson x Reader 1,606 words

Warnings: recreational drug use.

Synopsis: A short meet-cute featuring crossed paths, Argyle's weed, probable soulmates, and Fangoria magazine.

Author’s Note: Set in 1990. No Upside Down AU.

He is the last to get on the train. Patiently waiting his turn. Smiling politely at the other commuters. You watch him step off the platform into the carriage. He opts to stand against one of the poles, letting others take the vacant seats. He surveys his surroundings. It is at this moment his eyes lock with yours.

Instead of pretending like you’d only just glanced at him or nodding a casual acknowledgment, you look away too quickly. You feel yourself flush.

As the train finally pulls into your stop, you’ve used all your willpower not to look back his way. All that willpower amounts to little; as you stand, preparing to leave, you feel him staring. His gaze pulls yours back to him.

He flashes a brilliant smile, then ducks out the opening doors before you can clock his blushing cheeks.

You’re not a romantic by nature. Yes, you are prone to fits of fancy and the occasional delusional daydream, but you don’t find yourself frequently lusting after pretty people on the train. Beauty is viewed with a matter-of-factness rather than a force of attraction itself.

Some people are funny.

Some people are clever.

Some people are hot.

Some people are whatever.

And it isn’t as if this makes you less shallow or more holy than anyone else. It kind of just makes you a little more detached. Yes, you’ve dated. But there were never big, big feelings. No traumatic breakups. It had all been textbook mediocre.

It is all this knowledge of yourself that comes to the forefront of your mind as you lament the loss of the man in the crowd.

You track his fluffy hair through the station, but he is gone by the time you get to the city street. The sun is setting, a twilight glow making all the shadows seem worthy of an art gallery.

The man is gone. His dark eyes. Kind smile. His stupid t-shirt. What was it? The Burbs. That’s it. The Tom Hanks movie from last year.

Why are you still thinking about him?

The guy. Not Tom Hanks.

You walk slowly, in the city way too early for the party your friend from college, Robin, is hosting. Time to kill.

In a 7-Eleven you stand at the drinks refrigerator with too much consideration. Too much effort. Dr Pepper will always win over Coke. Flipping through magazines in the rack pulls you through a couple more minutes.

It occurs to you that the old record store a few blocks from Robin’s is open late. They have better magazines.

The neon sign sparkles against the darkening skyline as you turn onto the store’s street. Lured like a moth to a flame, you’re inside and pulling Fangoria from the stand before taking a second to look around.

There are a few customers browsing, one with a punk magazine ordered especially from the UK in his lap as he reads from the floor. You wonder if it might make more sense for the owners to open a library.

A music library would be cool, you think, as you look over at the counter.

You can identify them both.

The guy behind the counter has dead straight longer hair and one of the best speaking voices you’ve ever heard. Argyle works days mostly, since he delivers pizzas by night. He must be covering a shift for someone. Or maybe the night guy is late.

Opposite Argyle, leaning on the counter with a familiarity that tells you he has been here plenty of times before, is the man from the train. Though he isn’t facing you, the Dio patch and hair are a giveaway.

What are the fucking odds?

Fangoria back in the rack, you creep through the aisles, trying not to draw attention to yourself. When you get close to the counter, you listen to their conversation. They’re funny.

Argyle’s brand of humor is easy and irreverent. It’s how he ends up befriending everyone, including you and Robin. And, as it were, the man from the train. Train guy’s banter is far more purposeful, performative. He’s dramatic, or maybe it seems like that in contrast to laid back Argyle.

They’re talking about music but suddenly switch to films. Bill & Ted. Even more suddenly, they break out into impersonations.

It’s too late to catch your laugh. Far too late to pretend it was a coughing fit. The man turns around. He beams as he recognizes you. It’s almost enough to keep you there. Almost.

“Hey-” Argyle goes to greet you.

“Sorry. Hi. I’ve gotta go,” you say.

“See you at Robin’s later?”

“Yeah. Yep. Bye!” and you’re out the door before Argyle can think to introduce you.

This feeling is so foreign to you. You feel all gooey and icky, like maybe your skin is going to start to fizz and slick off your body. Stupid, pretty train boy, you think.

It’s still too early for Robin’s, so you detour to a bar and order a drink in a vain attempt to settle yourself.

Stupid, pretty train boy.

Four hours later.

“I jus’… Can it come closer? It’s too… too far away?”

Robin looks at you. If you look back, you would see the face of a woman equal parts amused and bored. But you physically cannot look away from the television. And the television seems to be getting further and further away.

“Quick… Robin… It’s going!” you whine. The television set is as small as your palm. You hold your hand up to compare it. “So, so small…”

“You, my friend, are so profoundly high. Argyle gave you that new shit?”

“Says try with pineapple,”

“I-What? Pineapple?”

“Says try before you deny,”

“Alright. I’m calling it. You need some time out.”

Suddenly, you are floating through Robin’s place. A conversation about whether you are okay by yourself floats along with you. Yes, you would be okay. You like rolling around in bed, high as a kite. The party is winding down anyway. You’d not be alone for long.

Alone, you play three games of I-Spy. The loser and the winner. You starfish out on the bed and make imaginary snow angels. Time passes. Maybe. You’re not sure. Then, you see the room explode into view. The light has been switched on and you yelp, diving for cover under a pillow.

Voices. The weight of someone being dropped into bed next to you.

Robin calling your name. So far away. “You alive in there?” she asks.

“Ah-huh,” you confirm.

Then, quiet. You emerge from under the pillow like a field mouse from its burrow. They had left you in darkness but for him, a bedside lamp has been left on. He doesn’t know Robin’s bedroom like you.

He is lying on his back staring up at the ceiling. In profile, he is just as pretty. You want to drive a little Matchbox car down his forehead and use his nose as a jump. Evel Knievel style. The thought makes you giggle, which makes him turn his head. He looks at you, blinking twice.

“I wondered where you went,” he admits. He rolls onto his side, tucking his hands under his head like a pillow. “Hi,”

“Hi,”

“Bit weird seeing you again,”

“Bit weird,” you parrot.

He smiles. “Why’d you get sent to the naughty room?”

“Huh?” 

Your answer, or lack thereof, answers the question.

“Argyle not warn you properly about the Californian stuff?”

You shake your head.

He laughs, so you laugh. He wriggles a little closer.

“Hi,” he whispers, sticking out a pinky finger. You watch as he hooks it around yours.

When did you move to mirror his body? When did he arrive at the party? Was he here for you? No. Silly. So silly. That would be silly.

“You’re getting small… Like the television,” you tell him.

“Oh… I don’t want to get small… If I come closer, will I get big again?” He doesn’t wait for an answer. This close you can see his pale freckles. The tired purple under his eyes. The almost-wrinkles that are born of laughter. Long eyelashes.

“Long eyelashes?” he asks.

“What?”

“What?”

You snort, giggle, lost and happy.

“I need you to know I did not follow you here,”

“Okay,”

“I’m friends with Argyle,”

“Okey dokey,” you nod.

He holds in laughter, so you do too.

“I didn’t follow you either,”

“To Vinyl City? But you were eavesdropping.” It isn’t an angry accusation. It’s not really a question either. Still, you nod. “I’d be okay with it if you were following me. For the record,” he states, rather emphatically. 

He watches you watch him. He makes you feel as if you are getting higher and sobering up at the same time.

“I’m Eddie,”

“Are you?”

“Yeah. Last I checked,”

“What’d you check?”

“Ah… Birth certificate?”

“Says Eddie?”

“Well… Edward.”

You giggle. Eddie’s heart flutters so hard it feels like nausea.

“Hi… Eddie,”

“Hi. Do you have a name?” He already knows it. He just wants to hear you say it.

You nod.

Eddie laughs. “Tell me your name?”

You do. Because he asked.

“So… Three times… Coincidence?”

“No,” you shake your head. You don’t know what three times he’s talking about. “That’s two. Two’s a coincidence,”

“What’s three then?”

You can’t remember. You shrug, which makes Eddie laugh, which makes you laugh. A repeated cycle.

“I think it means something,” he asserts.

“So do I,”

“Do you? Or are you just a little bit high?”

“Can it be both?”

Eddie makes a show of thinking. “It can. I’ll allow it.” He grins. “So, it means something?”

“It means something,” you agree.

End Note: I've been struggling to write post-Burning Yarrow. So, this was just a little something to try to get back on the horse. Soulmate meet-cutes are my bread and fucking butter.

I have some very vague ideas for a part two of this, but idk if it will amount to much. Lemme know your thoughts and feelings.

Eddie Taglist: solomons-finest-rum @ruinedbythehobbit @sweetpeapod @thorfemmes  @corrodedhawkins @grungegrrrl @lilzabob  @averagemisfit03 @ches-86 @ilovecupcakesandtea @onehotgreasymechanic @hazydespair @mel-the-fangirl @eddies-hid3out @siren-lungs @aheadfullofsteverogers @hiscrimsonangel @dashingdeb16 @cultish-corner

[dancingtotuyo]

Part I

High Infidelity | Joel Miller X Female Reader

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Summary: Tommy gets himself into more trouble than he can get out of.

Tags: Tommy x Reader, Joel x Reader, Tommy's Wife Reader, infidelity, emotional affair, slow burn (as much as you can get for 5 chapters), Tommy goes to jail, Reader has had a child

Warnings: US justice system (it don't work, probably bad understanding of how it operates), mention of drugs & weapons, alcohol consumption, let me know if I missed anything

Notes: when I planned this out, I didn’t realize I’d scheduled the first chapter to drop on Pedro’s birthday! So happy birthday to him!

Shout out to @janaispunkfor beta reading and @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin for letting me scream about this endlessly and shaping this world. Finally, @saradika-graphics for sustaining our fic writers with an endless supply of dividers!

Words: 4396

Series Masterlist | Author Masterlist | Daily Clicks for Palestine & Other resources

You’re asleep, or at least you should be except the phone is ringing and the bed is cold next to you. That’s a bad sign. It always is. 

A small grunt echoes from your gut as bare feet hit the cool hardwood floor. You can’t find the phone before it stops, buried under clothes you haven’t folded, scribbled crayon drawings, and bleary eyes. It starts back almost immediately.

“Tommy?”

“He called me.” Joel’s voice echoes through the line. “It’s bad this time.”

“How bad?”

“He asked for a lawyer.”

You press your palm to your forehead. “Shit!”

“The sitter is on her way to yours. I’m getting Sarah up now. We’ll be there in 10.”

“Thank you, Joel.”

“Of course. See you soon.”  Joel hangs up. 

You roam through the laundry basket for a clean pair of jeans and an acceptable t-shirt. You run a toothbrush through your mouth to freshen your breath. You do your best to push back all the possibilities running through your brain. 

You crack open the door to Nathaniel’s room. Your two-year-old son sleeps tightly, his mop of black curls spread out on the pillow. You want to run your hand through his curls and kiss his cheek, but he’s the world’s lightest sleeper, just like his daddy. 

The sitter is there 5 minutes later, all too familiar with this routine for your liking. Joel ushers in a bleary-eyed minutes later. He tucks her into the spare room bed. Sarah doesn’t ask questions. She’s asleep before he can kiss her head.

You move like the well-oiled machine that you are. He grabs your purse, ensuring the checkbook is there while you say a few words to the sitter. Joel hands you the small black bag and a light jacket.

Doors open before you and close without you touching them. You and Joel are riding down the highway. The windows are cracked, the breeze playing through your hair as street lights play off the windows, growing bigger and brighter as your eyes fill with tears. You chew on your thumb as the thoughts finally begin to take over.  

You’ve felt Tommy slipping these past few months. You’ve tried to ignore it, excuse it. He’s had a hard time adjusting. This is hardly the first time he’s been in jail. It feels like a weekly occurrence at this point, but he’s never needed a lawyer. He’s never been held longer than overnight. 

“Did he say what they got him for?”

“No… he asked me to come alone.”

“Fucking hell.” You run a hand over your face. Tommy’s antics are aging you prematurely. 

“He’s going to be okay.”

“Says who?” You snap. “We’ve been doing this dance for months, Joel! I know he’s having a hard time adjusting, but maybe we’ve been giving him too much room.”

Joel sighs, letting silence fall over the truck cabin. His blinker clicks as you turn into the familiar station. You wonder if the night shift is actually going to fulfill their punch card offer this time. 

Joel has barely pushed the truck into park before you’re out of the vehicle, flying through the front doors. Joel is hot on your heels, not bothering to lock his beat-up pickup. 

Your ID is already on the desk, you don’t even have to say a name. The officer at the front desk doesn’t need your license. He barely looks at it. It’s all a raging formality. They escort you to a room, not a holding cell as you’re used to.

Tommy sits at a table talking to a tired-looking public defender. His head snaps up, eyes jumping from your face to Joel’s behind you. “I told you to come alone.”

“The fuck you did Thomas James Miller!” You say before Joel can defend himself.

Tommy stands to his feet, the chair skidding back. “You’re not supposed to be here for this!”

“I’m your wife! You call me!”

“Or maybe you should be home with your child!”

“Oh, I should be home with our son? And what about you?”

“I’m not having this fight with you right now.” Tommy throws his hands in the air moving his attention to Joel who leans against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. “You were supposed to come alone!”

“What’re you in for?” You ask, not giving Joel a chance to answer. Not that he was going to. He knows not to let Tommy deflect to him when you are around. 

Tommy sighs falling into the chair like a rag dog. Stress lines engrave themselves deep into his forehead.

“Tommy…” A pit drops in your stomach. “What did they get you with?”

“A gun-“

“Without a permit.” The Lawyer speaks for the first time. There’s a roll to Tommy’s eyes. 

“And?” 

Tommy can’t meet your eyes. He shuffles in his seat. 

“Tommy,” Joel says, voice low and gruff. It’s automatic, parental even.

“A couple grams of coke.”

“Fucking hell, Tommy.” Joel hits his head against the wall. 

“I didn’t- I never took it. I promise.”

You take a shaking breath, trying to calm your worn nerves. “So what are we looking at here?” You ask, eyes trained on the lawyer. 

You see Tommy out of your peripheral vision using his pleading puppy dog eyes on you. You square your shoulders determined not to fall for it. They’re the reason you’re in this boat in the first place. 

“Babe-“

You hold up a hand cutting him off, eyes trained on the lawyer. “What are we looking at?”

“Probably Jail time. DA’s office has been cracking down on these kinds of cases the past few months.”

“Is he getting out tonight?”

The lawyer shakes his head. “We have to wait until tomorrow for arraignment and bail.”

“Then, I’ll see you two tomorrow.” You give them a firm nod, exiting the room in a flash.

The Texas air wraps around you as you exit the stale police station. Joel’s pick-up is cool under your fingers, anchoring you to something.

This can’t be happening. You’ve felt him slipping through your fingertips for months, but you wonder if this is it if this is the moment you lose Tommy for good. 

Firm arms wrap around your waist. It’s a warmth you’ve become way too familiar with over the last couple of years. You turn around, letting your tears soak Joel’s shirt as they have so many times before. You twist his shirt in your fists as he cradles your head against his chest. There’s a slight sway in his movements, soothing your wrenching soul. 

“We’re going to get through this.”

“He had cocaine!”

Joel sighs. “I know.”

“I can’t keep doing this. It’s going to kill me.”

“Let’s get you home. Get some sleep.” Joel squeezes you and then guides you into the passenger side seat. “We have a long day tomorrow.”

“What time is-“

“Lawyer said about 11. Wants us to meet them at the courthouse at 10.”

You nod, clearing the tears. “Okay.”

The drive home is quiet. You’re used to Tommy throwing out every excuse in the book, promising he’s going to change. The silence makes you want to scream. How do you go forward? How do you explain to Nathaniel that Daddy won’t be home for a long time? Jail Time. It bounces off the walls of your brain like a gong over and over. 

You’ve done this before. Raise your son alone. Tommy was overseas when Nathaniel was born. You did the first 3 months on your own- or sort of alone. Joel and Sarah spent many nights at your and Tommy’s home those first few months helping you through the learning curve of being a new parent. If you’re completely honest, you’re still doing it alone, but now with a shell of a man to look after as well. 

Joel hands the sitter cash and she’s gone without a word. Your purse and jacket are forgotten on the chair as you collapse onto the couch, holding your head in your hands. The weight of the night threatens to finally break you. 

“Here.” The cool weight of a bottle presses against your jeans.

“Thank you.” You take it, tipping the bottle back in unison with Joel in a quiet ritual. 

“I think I’m just gonna crash on the couch tonight.”

You nod, a humorless huff leaving your chest. “Just like the good ole days, I guess.” 

Joel looks over your profile, catches the wear in your frame, the silent tears slipping from your eyes. The rattle in your chest changes from sarcastic to sorrow and then a sob slips from your lips. 

Joel sets his beer on the coffee table, arm slipping around your shoulders. He pulls your loose body into his side. For the second time that night, your face burrows into his chest. 

“Shhh, I’ve got you, Darlin’. We’ll get through this.” His voice is soft and soothing. His fingers brush softly over your head down to the back of your neck. You fall asleep like that, lulled by the steady beat of his heart. 

You wake up to the morning sun, your body stiff from sleeping on the couch against Joel. He’s up, the smell of coffee wafting toward you. You hear him talking to Sarah and Nathaniel in the kitchen. 

You stand, stretching out your sore muscles in wrinkled clothing following the promise of caffeine. Sarah and Nathaniel sit at the kitchen table with syrupy smiles. 

“Mommy!” Nathaniel yells. 

You force a sleepy smile, kissing his sticky cheek. “Morning, sweet cheeks.” You dip your finger in the syrup on his plate, licking it off your fingertip making him and Sarah laugh. “Morning, Sarah Bear.”

“Morning, Auntie,” She says. “Your clothes are wrinkled.”

Joel’s hand lands on your back and a cup of coffee lands in your hands, sending warmth through your body. The hum in your body is automatic. “Thank you.”

Joel only nods, returning his attention to the pancakes sizzling on the stovetop. You sip on the hot coffee. Joel prepared it exactly how you like it, just like he always does.

 “You hate pancakes.” 

“Yeah, but the gremlins love them.”

“That they do.” You grin, sipping on the coffee again. “Ugh, it’s infuriating the way you come into my home and make better coffee than I do.”

Joel chuckles, flipping two fluffy pancakes onto a plate. He tops them with cut-up strawberries and whipped cream handing them to you with the biggest shit-eating grin. “And pancakes.”

For a minute you forget it all, the impending arraignment, your husband in jail for unregistered weapons and drug possession, the two children sitting mere feet away. It’s just you and Joel and a stack of whipped cream-covered pancakes. Joel who held your hand through labor and helped you with midnight feedings. The man who got you through Tommy’s deployment. The one who always calls the sitter and drives you to the police station when Tommy gets himself in trouble. You and your rock. 

The shattering of glass echoes through the kitchen. “Uh-oh!”

You spin around, taking in the broken glass on the floor. Orange juice leaks over the table, dripping over the edge. You and Joel spring into action, pancakes forgotten. “Both of you stay in your seats,” You say.

Joel grabs the broom before you, sweeping up the shards, his feet already protected in his boots. You turn off the stove, keeping an eye on both children to ensure you don’t add bloodied feet to your morning agenda. 

“Sorry, Daddy,” Sarah says, keeping her feet crisscrossed beneath her. She looked up at you. “Sorry about your glass, Aunt Bonnie.”

You smile at her, handing Joel a towel to soak up the spilled juice. “It’s okay, Sarah bear. I just want you to be okay.”

She nods back, curls bouncing around her face. “I’m okay.”

You sigh, staring at the pancakes on the counter. The whipped cream has melted into a lopsided mound, half of it turned back into cream that soaks through the pancakes. You take a bite, the flavors settling nicely over your tongue even if the texture of the pancakes is slightly off. For a man who claims not to like them, Joel Miller sure knows how to make a mean pancake. 

Your mind plays back to the nickname. Not many people call you Bonnie anymore. Just a few years ago, it had been a constant. Stemming from Tommy’s group of army buddies, they declared you Bonnie for always stealing Tommy away from their group cookouts and whatnot, and Tommy was Clyde due to his propensity for getting into trouble. For whatever reason, probably just to annoy you, Tommy had introduced you to Sarah as “His Bonnie.” So that’s what she calls you. 

Joel empties the remaining shards into the trash can. Several high-pitched clinks sound off until the shards settle. Your fork stirs the whipped cream and syrup together. 

“Pancakes are usually best eaten, not played with.” Joel teases, picking his coffee up to take a sip. His fingers graze your arm as he sets it back down, returning the broom back to its rightful place.

”You don’t even like pancakes.” You furrowed your brow, taking another bite. Whipped cream marks your upper lip. You take another bite. “God, one day you have to tell me your secret.”

Joel chuckles. He leans across the counter, elbows resting against the granite much like yours. He sips on his coffee, eyes watching as you stuff another bite into your mouth. “I’ve got many secrets, Darlin.”

You laugh, mouth full of fruit and cream. “You’re an open fucking book, Miller.”

”I think I could surprise you several times over.” He chuckles. Something sparks behind his eyes like he’s actually keeping something from you. You’ll figure it out. You always do. 

“These are delicious, Joel, but if I take another bite, I’m gonna be sick.”

Joel frowns. “You feeling okay? You don’t have a fever do you?” He presses his fingers to your forehead before you can roll your eyes. 

“Anxiety.”

Joel nods. “You’ve got a little-“ He motions to his mouth.

You cock your head to the side brain not picking up on the obvious signals. He sighs in mock exasperation. Reaching forward, he wipes the whipped cream from your lip with his thumb, pressing the excess to his mouth. The moment catches you off guard, something stirring in the back of your mind as you zero in on the thumb pressed to his lips. 

“You should go get ready.” He says as if nothing happened, taking your plate. “We need to leave in an hour.”

You nod, pushing back from the counter. The weight of the day at hand keeps that moment from playing over and over again on a loop.

”Daddy,” Sarah says. “Isn’t it time for school?”

”You’re going to stay here with Nathaniel and Miss Lacy today. Your aunt and I have some things we have to do.”

”Oh,” Sarah nodded. “Uncle Tommy things?”

You stop, sharing a look with Joel. You’ve tried your best to keep Tommy’s troubles from the kids, but it’s inevitable. Sarah is almost 6 after all. She’s always been incredibly perceptive and observant. 

“Daddy?” Nathaniel asks, looking around. Your heart breaks a little bit. 

Your mind wanders. When will he get to see Tommy again? 

Joel takes the lead when you arrive at the courthouse for which you’re grateful. You’re both dressed in nice clothing. High heels clack beneath you. A tie reaches around Joel’s neck. You hold Tommy’s suit in a garment bag as a guard leads you to an office-like room. Tommy sits at a table with his layer from last night and another man you don’t recognize. They seem to be deep in a serious conversation. 

All three men turn as you enter, making you feel like you’re in the wrong place. You can’t tell if Tommy is relieved to see you or not. A pit forms in your stomach, like you’re not going to like the outcome of this meeting. 

“What’s going on?” You ask. 

The door clicks shut behind you as Joel’s scent creeps around you.

”We’re talking.” Tommy says. 

“About?” You press. 

Tommy sighs, unable to meet your eyes. “A plea deal.” 

You bite your lip, tears threatening to spill from your eyes. This is easier. It’s probably better in the long run, but you’re not ready to face the music. You prepared for court, not a plea deal. Not for Tommy to admit guilt with a stroke of a pen, not a judge in sight. 

“What’s in it?”

”Baby…” Tommy pleads like he wants to make amends right now. 

“What are you signing us up for, Tommy?”

“Two years and a half years. Probation after that.”

You inhale sharply. 

“It’s a good deal,” The man you’ve never seen says. “He’s looking at at least twice that if this goes to court, and he will be convicted if this goes to court.”

You look to Tommy’s lawyer for confirmation. He doesn’t make it obvious but gives you a solid nod. 

“You were about to sign it.” You look at your husband. It’s not a question. 

“Yeah.”

”I’d have appreciated it if you had talked to me first,” you say. 

“You’d have told me to sign it.”

You nod, barely keeping the tears at bay. “Yeah.”

The DA holds a pen out to Tommy. Tommy looks back at you for final permission. You give it, watching that expensive ass pen glides across the paper with Tommy’s chicken scratch of a signature. Your heart breaks with each stroke, crumbling a little more as he dots the I and crosses the T.  

Joel places a hand on your shoulder. The heat spreads, anchoring you to the moment, keeping you afloat as you stare down the barrel of being a single mother yet again. 

Tommy slides the paper back to the DA. He looks them over, tapping them against the table with a satisfied nod as if a family hadn’t been torn apart. 

“You have about 30 minutes before they come to get him.”

”That’s it?” You ask. “We can’t even take him ourselves?”

The DA shrugs like he’s being generous, igniting a deep hatred of him inside you. You don’t even know his name. He holds up the papers before sliding them into his briefcase. “Terms of the plea deal.”

You clutch your fists as he walks out of the room. Tommy’s lawyer slips out with him, and then Joel, leaving just you and Tommy. 

He stands and you finally realize it’s all happening again. You’ll be alone, worrying about your husband though this time for different reasons. 

“Baby, I-” He steps towards you. You don’t move offering zero indication that you register Tommy’s movements. 

He reaches for your hands, but you pull them back. “You weren’t supposed to take the Bonnie and Clyde thing seriously.” 

You fight back tears, turning so he can’t see them. “Pretty sure they both died.”

A humorless laugh leaves your body as you collapse onto a couch, holding your head in your hands. 

Tommy kneels in front of you, slowly peeling your hands from your face, taking them into his. Despite it all, you feel yourself melting into his familiar touch. It only confirms what you are beginning to fear. It doesn’t matter what Tommy does, you’ll always be here waiting for him. He is the love of your life and you would burn the world down to look into his sweet brown eyes and feel his skin against yours. 

You look at him through blurry eyes, sniffing back the congestion gathering in your sinuses. He gives you that crooked smile you love so much, and you feel better despite the weight bearing on your shoulders. The past three years have aged him ten. You suppose time has done the same to you.

Slowly, he presses his lips to your hands. “I know I fucked up. If-” He pauses, swallowing. His thumb plays with the thin gold band on your left hand. “If you’re not waiting for me when I get out I understand.”

You squeeze his hand. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

Tommy snorts. “Easily? Just last week you were yelling at me for putting you through hell.”

“Yeah, well…” You run your fingers through his black curls as you sniff back your tears. “You kinda hold my heart in your hands, Tommy Miller. I don’t think I could get it back if I tried.”

He smiles at you. You lean forward, pressing your lips to his. His hands creep up your thighs as he rises to his feet. Your back collides with the plush back of the couch as your fingers tangle in his long hair. Tommy presses his tongue into your mouth, a smile growing across your face. This is the first taste of your Tommy you’ve had in months, the one you fell in love with. 

The door opens, and before Tommy can pull away, Joel’s gruff voice echoes through the room. “Prospect of going to jail really puts you two in the mood, huh?” 

Heat surges to your cheeks. You’re not sure why. You and Tommy had been caught in much more compromising positions throughout your relationship.

“Gotta get what I can while I’m still a free man.” Tommy grins at his big brother, pressing another exaggerated kiss to your lips. Joel’s eyes move to the corner of the room. Your smile feels a little more forced after that. 

Your thirty minutes fly at lightning speed. They take Tommy before you’re ready. Any energy you gain from Tommy’s affection is drained the moment he’s led out of sight. You barely catch the look he gives Joel.

”Take care of them.”

Joel nods, gripping his brother’s shoulder. There’s a silent exchange between them. “Take care of yourself.”

 A clerk goes over everything with you and Joel. You’re given a strict list of items you can drop off for Tommy at the prison. You don’t process a word, the weight of it all falling on top of you. You came to the courthouse today expecting an arraignment and bail, not to be kissing your husband goodbye for the next year and change. It feels unfair like something was taken from you. 

Joel is the one who keeps it together. He always keeps it together. He asks the questions and makes note of the important things. He secures the horde of important documents held limply in your hands. 

When the clerk says your name for a second time, or maybe a third, you’re not sure, it snaps you out of the fog. Joel’s eyes are sympathetic as he holds out a pen. His single nod tells you he has all the information in his head. You can sign. You don’t have to think. You sign as flashes of Tommy doing the same filter through your vision. 

The pen drops to the table as you push back headed straight for the nearest exit. You feel like you’re in a dream. Joel catches up, tucking everything you forgot under his arm. He grabs your elbow, steering your aimless body in the right direction. He doesn’t ask if you’re okay. He knows the answer. 

You feel like a toddler, wandering and lost, relying on Joel’s firm grip to get anywhere. He opens doors and boots you into his pickup, patting the door once it’s closed. The car is warm from the sun. You fumble with the seat belt, but Joel’s calloused hands are there, guiding your weary bones. 

The ride is silent. You basket in the warm sun, head pressed to the window with your eyes closed. The world feels so far away, but you’re extremely tuned into the heat of the sun, the rumble of the truck on the shitty roads, the blinking indicator light, and Joel’s listless tapping on the steering wheel when the vehicle draws to a stop from time to time, toeing the line between consciousness.

This is just a dream, right? You’ll wake up soon and Tommy will be behind you, drawing random patterns around your stomach hip, or thigh. The past year of your life and the past 12 hours have just been the world’s longest nightmare. That’s all. 

The truck lurches to a stop. The engine turns off with a distinct click. Your eyes blink open slowly. Your stretch out, toes curling in your dress shoes. Joel’s tie lays haphazardly on the dash. His cuffs are unbuttoned, pushed to his elbows, and the top couple of buttons of his dress shirt are undone. He still looks out of place in his dress attire, but a little more like himself. He hadn’t dressed this nicely for your and Tommy’s courthouse wedding. 

Your eyes drift out the windshield. A neon light reflects off your irises. This isn’t home. You look at Joel. “Why are we here?”

His seat belt comes undone with a click, snapping back. “We’re going to go in there and get drunk off our asses.”

”It’s the middle of the day.”

Joel raises an eyebrow at you. 

”Can we just go home?”

”No.”

”Why the fuck not?”

“Because we have a sitter all day, and you deserve a night before the weight of the world falls back on your shoulders.”

”Joel.” You want to go home and crawl in bed.

”This is three times longer than his deployment.” The statement hits you square in the chest. “You need this. Give yourself today. If you don’t do it now, you never will.”

You sigh, staring down the flickering neon in front of you. He’s right. You know he is. You might be exhausted, but it’s tempting. When was the last time you let go? Maybe that one good month you had after Tommy got back? When it was all making up for lost time and shit. 

“We’ve got a sitter for the whole day,” Joel says. “My treat.”

You inhale deeply, allowing the memories of drunken nights past to fill your brain. You can feel the thrum of alcohol already. You haven’t cut loose in a long time unless you count the nights spent at home alone drowning away the world after you’d tucked your son in for the night. 

Your fingers press the red release button of your seat belt. The metal buckle hits the window. “Fuck it. Let’s go.”

Joel smiles, dragging you inside.  

Taglist: @pamasaur @alltheotps @rizzraa @moel-jiller @misstokyo7love @justagalwhowrites @pedritosgfreal

[sleepynoons]

In Another Life

You get unjustly kidnapped by Bonten because your ex-boss fucking sucks. Ran saves your ass but leaves Sanzu with the responsibility of watching over you. All you want is to be alive and happy with your child. But does Sanzu even care about protecting you? And if he does, do you… care about him? What happens if he wants to become a part of your family?

Will you let him into your life?

bonten!sanzu x afab!f!reader, nsfw, 18+

word count: ~9,600

cw: manga spoilers, single parenting/single parent!au, explicit language, suggestive content, depictions of violence/pain/injuries/drugs/alcohol/etc., mentions of domestic violence + abusive relationships, hurt/no comfort

notes: lmk if i missed anything in the warnings. cross-posted on ao3. this story means a lot to me, i hope you'll give it a try.

edit: tysm for 100+ notes y'all are making me cry, really appreciate all the support <333

SANZU LEAVES the bakery with a few bags of dorayaki tucked underneath his arm. He’s running ahead of schedule – he still has half an hour before Mikey expects him –, so he meanders through Tokyo's network of dark alleyways and hidden shortcuts.

He walks and walks and walks, letting his feet guide him wherever. He’s been working in the streets for long enough. He’ll know how to find his way back to Bonten’s headquarters no matter where he ends up.

He makes a left turn, a sharp right, two more left turns, until he hears the buzz of a nearby shopping district. He follows the sounds of people hustling about and finds a narrow path between two shops to slip through. He can see people walking by at the end of the path, but he doesn’t enter the busy streets, opting to observe and watch the crowds fluctuate instead.

And then he sees you. Clad in a flowing beige dress with a white t-shirt layered underneath, you’re staring off into the distance as the wind ruffles your hair. You’re laughing at something or someone, but as he tries to get a better look at you, a rush of shoppers streams past and blocks his view.

He slips a cigarette out of his back pocket, lights it, and breathes out a puff of smoke as he chuckles. When he glances back into the crowd, you’re gone. He turns around to retrace his haphazard path. Mikey likes his dorayaki warm.

–

Two weeks later, when Mikey’s supply of dorayaki has dwindled to a dangerous low, Sanzu returns to the usual bakery, accompanied by Ran this time.

The two are close colleagues, though Sanzu thinks “close” is too intimate of a description. Sanzu likes to keep people at arm's length away. Close enough to build cohesive, mechanical teamwork but not enough to skip pleasantries and create personal connections.

Sanzu is outside of the bakery, scrolling through his phone and tapping his foot as he waits for Ran. The latter always liked taking his time, and Sanzu’s patience was wearing thin. Luckily, his colleague walks out a few moments later. Sanzu is about to shoot a snarky comment when he notices that Ran is conversing with a woman.

It takes a few moments for Sanzu to remember who you are.

“Sanzu!” Ran calls happily. “Can you unlock the car?” Sanzu rolls his eyes before he slips the car keys out of his pocket. “Oh, and let me introduce you!”

You bow, offering your name and a few compliments to Sanzu’s suit. You wear a neat smile as you wait for his response. Sanzu, too, says his name and a brief “thank you,” all while avoiding eye contact.

Ran continues, “She goes to this shop regularly, as well. I wonder why we’ve never met before.” You nod in agreement before dismissing yourself, bidding the two a good rest of their day.

As Sanzu and Ran drive back to headquarters, Ran asks, “You know her?”

Sanzu groans before curtly responding, “No.” Ran hums, a smirk tugging at his lips, but does not press his pink-haired colleague any further.

It’s not like Sanzu was lying. He didn’t know you. He just saw you sometimes, and neither of you bothered to say anything when you did see each other.

However, after this interaction, you and Sanzu begin to cross paths frequently, always at the bakery every other Saturday at 8 AM sharp, when the dorayaki are almost out of the oven and the toasted pastries are being shelved.

Sanzu notices the pastries, such as the mango croissants and berry-filled sandwiches, because he always lets you order at the counter first. You always buy a lot. You carry at least two bags of food home, yet you never struggle with the weight.

He also notes the smooth lilt of your voice when you speak with the bakers. You seem to know the staff well, and he finds himself entranced by the highs and lows of your giggles, sassy retorts, and sincere praise.

You speak in the same sweet manner with him, which initially surprised him until he remembered that you aren’t aware of his occupation or lack of a moral compass. Although your exchanges are limited to questions of “How are you?” and “Any plans for today?”, he finds himself relaxing and basking in the casual nature of your exchanges. Usually, he replies to strangers with one or two words, but he comes to appreciate your lighthearted aura and matches the flow of the conversation.

And when the two of you part ways, you always say goodbye with a full smile, and with a few waves of your hand, you cross the street and disappear from his line of vision.

But Sanzu is not a consistent man (aside from his unwavering loyalty to Mikey), and his routines are often disrupted or forgotten. So when Sanzu finds you in one of Bonten’s warehouses, he mentally chides himself for being caught off guard. He switches gears and replaces his agitation with doubt and suspicion.

“What’s going on?” Sanzu asks Takeomi. His older brother huffs out a puff of smoke while handing him a thin laminated folder of photos and information.

As Sanzu flips through the documents, Takeomi speaks. “A client tried to rat us out. We captured a few of his employees to see if anyone knows anything.”

Sanzu hands the folder back before redirecting his gaze onto the kneeling employees. There are five in total – some of them shivering from the cold, others frightened still, all duct taped across the mouth. He narrows in on you for a second, observing the creases in your forehead and the tears that slip down your cheeks. His hands twitch.

“Did we get anything yet?” Sanzu asks again.

“Nothing so far. It’s a shame that we’ll have to kill them off,” Takeomi replies, though there’s very little remorse in his voice. It can’t be helped, Sanzu thinks, but he feels disappointment course through his body. He ponders on a compromise but drops the idea. Work is work, and you are no exception to Bonten’s procedures. All witnesses had to be killed, and Sanzu is not one to disobey Mikey’s orders.

But not all of the executives are as stringent as he is. Ran and Rindou saunter into the warehouse, and of course, the older Haitani bursts out with a joyful greeting when he sees you. You startle at his presence, and Sanzu can tell your shock and disbelief when your eyes widen. If your mouth wasn’t forced shut, your jaw would’ve dropped open as well.

Ran walks over to you and begins to untie the ropes binding your wrists, knees, and ankles.

“Hey, what are you doing?” Takeomi yells. A few ashes from his cigarette drift to the floor.

“Can we keep this one?” Ran yells back. “I like them!” Takeomi only scowls, peering at Mikey’s back. After waiting for a few moments, Bonten’s leader doesn’t react, and Ran smiles gleefully. Sanzu releases a breath he doesn’t remember holding. He reminds himself to maintain professionalism again. However, the more he stares at you panting and heaving, the more overcome he is by an itching need to take you somewhere far, far away.

“No.” He blurts without thinking, surprising Ran and Takeomi.

“Uh, sorry?”

“No, we’re not keeping her.” Ran knows not to argue against Bonten’s No. 2, but he huffs and crosses his arms, a scowl on his face.

“Then what else can we do to make sure she doesn’t say anything if we can’t kill her?” Takeomi asks. Sanzu doesn’t have an answer.

After discussing with Mikey, Takeomi, and Kakucho, Sanzu is tasked with the responsibility of checking in on you every two days. You aren’t opposed to the idea – not that you have a choice –, and you are escorted home by Sanzu soon after being notified of your release.

During the drive home, Sanzu asks you questions, gathering information and noting interesting tidbits. You’re the same age as him, a simple employee of a large corporation with a corrupt Board of Directors, and, to his surprise, have a five-year-old daughter.

While Sanzu has acquired many skills fit for a criminal, negotiating and speaking tactfully has yet to be something he is capable of.

“And the father?”

You glance out the window. “Ran away.”

“Why?”

You shrug. He clicks his tongue.

“Can I ask a question, if you don’t mind?” you ask.

After a few seconds of silence, you continue, “What’s going to happen to my coworkers?”

“They’re dead.”

The rest of the ride is silent, as well as the walk up to the third floor of your apartment complex. Sanzu needed to know where you lived, and the easiest way was to escort you to your home. However, before you slip inside your room, you turn around to face him.

Sanzu freezes.

Your eyes are fierce, an icy flame burning in your eyes. Your pupils dilate, more color than white, and you glare at him for a few moments. Then, in a level – almost cold and condescending – voice, you say, “My daughter will be protected.” Sanzu swallows, surprised at your intensity, before nodding once. You smile at his affirmation, though it doesn’t reach your eyes, and bid him farewell.

–

As promised, Sanzu visits you every two days. Most of the time, he simply drops by in the morning before you leave for work and says a quick greeting. You usually rush to the door from the kitchen, wearing a black apron covered with flour and powdered sugar. On Saturdays, the two of you visit the bakery together.

“Where’s your kid?” he asked once.

“Oh, I sent her to daycare already.”

“Even on the weekends?”

“She used to only stay for the mornings, but now she stays until lunch.” Sanzu is about to inquire about the change before it clicks.

“I must be keeping you,” he mutters and rubs his nape. Sanzu rarely apologizes, even implicitly, but he’d never wish for a child to suffer from neglect as he did.

“No, no, not at all! My daughter loves the daycare and her friends there. Besides, I like our time together.” You pat his shoulder before wrapping your hands around one of his. “You make my Saturday mornings.”

The way you effortlessly say “together” and hold his hand baffles him. He’s part of a major yakuza group. He killed your coworkers. By pure association, you and your daughter would forever be in danger. Furthermore, even if Sanzu wasn’t a higher-up in Bonten, it’s not like he’s an upstanding individual with a healthy lifestyle.

Sanzu had his fair share of relationships, though they were all very noncommittal and ended as soon as he shot them in the head. It’s not like he wanted to kill them, but whenever he was caught on the couch doing drugs, they always threatened to report him, and he didn’t want to waste time behind bars. Besides, he never considered a single one of them as a lover.

While you showed a lack of shock or discomfort whenever he visited on his more… spent mornings, Sanzu knew you would be no different. Out of best interests of both of you, Sanzu knew he should keep his distance.

But that’s kind of hard to do when you see someone so often, and Sanzu doesn’t realize it until Mikey calls him over.

“Sanzu, what’s this?” Hand steadying the tsuka of his katana, Sanzu turns around and faces his boss, who is sitting behind an ebony wood desk. A brown paper bag dangles from Mikey’s fingertips.

“Is that not dorayaki?” Mikey pulls out a large cream puff covered in powdered sugar and condensed milk.

Sanzu’s eyes widen. His job is to follow Mikey’s orders as they are delivered. Providing excess was as shameful as underperforming.

“My apologies, I must have grabbed it by accident.”

“I never knew you liked sweets.”

I don’t, Sanzu thinks. But he sure as hell knows who does.

“Do you want me to get more dorayaki tomorrow?”

Mikey looks at the clock before he tosses the bag into Sanzu’s unexpecting hands.

“You’re done for tonight.” Sanzu’s heart weighs a ton, acting almost akin to a kicked puppy. He has strived for years to become his boss’ right-hand man, yet he has failed at one of his most basic, routine tasks. “And bring more of those cream puffs in the morning.” Sanzu nods, refusing to disappoint Mikey further, and leaves the office to head toward the garage.

In the driver’s seat, the executive pulls out his phone. It wouldn’t hurt to try, he thinks. He calls you. It rings for a few moments, but you eventually pick up with a soft “Sanzu?”.

“I’m heading over to your place,” and he’s backing out.

Sanzu’s not sure why he’s in a rush. Probably ‘cause of Mikey, he convinces himself. But he’s also aware of the time. It’s a little past midnight, so your kid’s probably asleep.

When he appears in front of your entrance, he doesn’t even need to ring the buzzer before you throw the door open.

“Is something wrong?!” You’re heaving, hair messy from sleep and blue-light glasses slipping from the arch of your nose.

“I should be asking you that,” Sanzu replies.

“You’re the one who called me and said that you were coming over with no context! Is something wrong?” Your cheeks are flushed with exasperation, and he can’t help but stare at you with slight amusement. Sanzu gestures to come in, and you scramble to get out of the way.

“Your kid,” he says as he takes off his shoes, “what’s her name again?”

“Chizu.” You’re really glaring at him now, with cheeks puffed out, and Sanzu thinks this entire situation is comedic. “Why are you asking me that?”

“You know, people would usually ask why before answering.” He takes another glance at your stiff figure before continuing. “Anyway, I accidentally bought a cream puff from the bakery this morning, and I remember you telling me once that Chizu enjoyed these.”

“That’s all?”

Sanzu hums in affirmation.

You relax, relieved that it isn’t an emergency and even a little touched that he remembered what you said. Before you can thank the pink-haired man, a door cracks open.

Your little girl whines. “Mommy, you’re loud.”

“Oh, sorry, sweetheart. I was just doing some paperwork in the kitchen. I’ll be more careful, alright?” You crouch down to embrace your daughter, but your shoulders aren’t wide enough to hide Chizu’s line of sight from Sanzu.

As a result, the little girl is wide awake. She wriggles out of your hug, darts under your open arms, and speeds toward the man.

“What’s your name?”

Sanzu looks at you, and you grimace with a weak apology. Sighing, he squats down and decides to indulge the little girl.

“My name is Haruchiyo. It’s nice to meet you, Chizu.” Your daughter gasps in delight, excited that this stranger already knows her.

“How do you know my name? Who told you?”

Sanzu chuckles at her awe. “Your mom always talks about you.”

“So you’re Mommy’s friend? I thought Mommy doesn’t have friends.” You cringe a little.

“Your mom is very proud of you, so be nicer to her, alright?” Sanzu tries to pat the little girl’s head but ruffles her hair instead. He then gets up and ambles toward the door.

Taking his cue, you also rise and shuffle towards the door. “It’s getting late, Chizu. Go back to bed.”

Before the two of you even notice, Chizu’s tugging at Sanzu’s slacks, little balls of fists wrinkling the fabric. “Haru, stay!” Sanzu struggles to hide his annoyed groan, and you struggle to convince your daughter to let go.

“Haru, stay! You’re Mommy’s friend, so you have to stay!” Chizu’s whining transforms into loud pleas, and when she gets this way, you know the only way to appease her is to give her what she wants.

“Haru…,” you mouth. “One night wouldn’t hurt, would it?”

Sanzu shoots you a deadpan look, and you return with a steady one.

Finally, he gives. Chizu’s sobs were grating his ears, and driving back to his cold and empty condo was just not worth the effort.

“Stop spoiling the brat,” he mutters through gritted teeth as the two of you lead Chizu back to her room.

–

You haven’t woken up next to someone in years. Chizu is already 5-years-old, meaning it has been almost six years since your ex-boyfriend left you.

It’s early, sometime between four and five in the morning. Sanzu is snoring next to you, and you’re extremely tempted to brush out his bangs. You’re unsure if your need to touch the man comes from a place of genuine attraction or of chronic loneliness. So you settle down and decide to admire him as you wait for sleep to take over once again. You notice that Sanzu looks like he’s in pain when he’s asleep.

–

Sanzu hasn’t woken up next to someone in years. He never let any of his previous girlfriends stay the night (probably another reason why they always wanted to break up).

It’s early, probably a little past seven. Much of his job and Bonten’s activities happened at night, so he usually would never wake up until afternoon the next day. He only wakes up at nine in the morning every other Saturday.

You’re sleeping on your side, one arm folded into your chest and the other draped over the blanket. He wonders how you’re breathing because half of your face is smothered into the pillow, but he doesn’t question it because you’re constantly exceeding his expectations. Sanzu feels the urge to get up and cover your dangling leg with more of the blanket. Yet he decides against it; jostling the bed might wake you up. So he waits for sleep to take over once again.

–

The next time the two of you meet is two days later in the lobby of your apartment complex. Sanzu spots you first and waits for you to notice him. You do a few moments later, after shuffling a crumpled folder into your shoulder bag. You manage a weak smile and try to smooth down the wrinkled front of your blazer as you shuffle over to his side.

You greet, “Late night?”

Sanzu snorts. “Always.” You wait. You’ve always thought Sanzu’s eyes are a gorgeous shade of blue, but you have a much clearer view as the man stares at you. It’s an electrifying, piercing blue – bright and almost neon. “The boss wants to see you.”

You choke. And barely manage to sputter, “Boss? You mean, your boss?”

“He wants to know how to bake bread.”

“Oh.”

Very normal. Your average neighborhood (and potentially national) yakuza boss wants to bake. Just another day.

Next thing you know, you’re in front of a large apartment building that screams elitism from the gold engravings on the steel fence to the three large cherub fountains in the center of the courtyard.

“This is where the boss stays most of the time.” As the two of you ride to the top floor of the complex, Sanzu explains to you that this entire section of the prefecture is owned by Bonten. Many of the executives live here or nearby for ease of communication, as Tokyo is the organization’s center of operations.

Given all of that information, you expected more… grandeur. There should have been dozens of guards, weapons out in plain moonlight, and security checks to prevent you from exposing Bonten.

As soon as the elevator door opens, Ran rushes over and waves enthusiastically. “Good to see you again!” he exclaims.

You wave in return and take his hand, following his lead as he guides you to the entrance of Mikey’s home. Sanzu trails behind the two of you, accompanied by another man who has the same tattoo as Ran.

“You know, I would’ve never expected the boss to be interested in cooking! Mikey is a disaster in the kitchen – actually, he’s horrible at housework in general. All of us executives have to clean up after him,” Ran says.

Again, you assumed Mikey’s home would be rich with glamor and sparkle. But the interior is quite minimalist, or rather, it’s empty. You try your best to listen to Ran, but your eyes wander around. From the entrance, aside from a leather couch and a glass dining table, there are no other decorations or items with sentimental value in sight.

Approaching the living room, you are faced with four more men. They offer stiff nods before glancing over at the hunched figure sitting in front of the kitchen island.

“Boss,” Sanzu calls.

No response.

Still nothing.

Not a word or move.

You suck in a breath. You speak in as steady of a voice as you can. “Thank you –”

You feel the second-in-command glare holes into you as he threatens, “Stop –”

“Let her finish.”

You glance at the figure. “Thank you for having me.” A few moments of silence pass, and you ask, “What kind of bread would you like to eat?”

“Mikey wants to bake,” Sanzu grits out through clenched teeth.

“I know.” You turn around and give him a stern glare before looking back at the boss. “But it’s important to make something you want to eat. Isn’t that the point?”

Mikey slides out of his chair. With bated breath, you watch as he meanders towards you, head bowed and hands tucked into his pant pockets.

“Cream puffs.” Mikey’s voice is quiet and low. Smooth but gravelly and rough whenever he finishes a sentence.

Cream puffs aren’t a type of bread, you think. But of course, you’d never say that out loud.

“Cream puffs sound wonderful.” You smile, even though you know Mikey can’t see you. “We should get started then.”

“Well,” Ran interrupts, “we don’t have any ingredients.”

You spin around. “We don’t have anything?”

Ran shakes his head.

“Sanzu.” You turn toward the pink-haired executive. “Do you think food appears out of thin air?”

“Huh? Of course not – What the actual –”

“I’ll text you a list of things we need. Go to the grocery store. Now.”

Sanzu spews confused curses and retorts at you as Ran laughs and drags him out of the apartment. The other executives trail behind, sharing an unspoken understanding that nothing will be accomplished unless they go, too.

Only you and Mikey remain. The latter stands in front of you as you text Sanzu ingredients. You even momentarily forget about the boss as you mutter under your breath and cross-check your list with other recipes.

Mikey watches. But Mikey has never been one to beat around the bush.

He says your name after you send the text.

“Yes?”

“You can be with Sanzu, as long as he prioritizes his work.”

Though you are confused, you opt to nod.

“Be prepared to lose him.”

Mikey pulls out his phone from another pocket and dials a number. “I’m going to sleep. Take her home.”

Throughout the rest of the evening, you repeat Mikey’s words over and over again in your head, flipping them inside out, bending them backward and forward. Mikey’s words are like a shiny coin. You examine the contents of its surface and circumference, searching for a deeper meaning - was there a secret message? a signal or nuance? - if it even existed.

I can’t lose him if I never had him, you think. It’s been a few months since that evening in the icy warehouse, and you’re acutely aware that Sanzu has eased his way into your life. You make his morning coffee (with no sugar and soy milk) along with yours, and during the times when he checks in on you at night, he stays in the car as you pick up your daughter. As a result, even Chizu has taken an extreme curiosity toward the man, and Sanzu has to stay over until the little girl falls asleep. Most of the time, Sanzu half-heartedly listens to Chizu’s chattering, but if he’s feeling generous (which you can tell when he lets your daughter cling onto him), he also reads her a bedtime story or two.

You realize: Losing Sanzu wouldn’t just hurt you – it would also damage Chizu, and she was already being bullied for having a single mother.

Recently, thinking about Chizu has left you feeling a little restless. Don’t get it twisted – you’re damn proud of yourself. You have a comfortable, plush home, enough nutritious food for three meals every day, and Chizu’s going to attend a well-established elementary school next year. You’ve done well, and you know some things are out of your control, but your accomplishments can’t always shield you from negativity and doubt. Sometimes, you think, it’d be nice if you had someone to lean on.

–

“What’s going on?” You notice that Sanzu’s fingers are tapping erratically on the steering wheel. He’s also glaring at the red light. “Well? Out with it,” he sneers.

“Chizu’s getting bullied.”

A vein appears on Sanzu’s temple, and you’re not sure if you should be more intrigued or scared by his reaction.

He curses and says, “Let me guess. The kids find it weird she doesn’t have a dad?” Your silence is all the affirmation he needs as the light turns green, and he makes the left turn to Chizu’s daycare.

When you buckle Chizu into her booster seat, Sanzu turns around.

“Kid.”

Chizu stops her chattering. “My name’s Chizu.”

“Squirt, if the other kids pick on you for only having a mom, tell them that you’re goddamn proud that she’s your mom, alright?” Chizu nods enthusiastically and pecks your cheek. “Also,” Sanzu continues, “just say that I’m your dad. That’ll shut ‘em up.”

“OK!”

You panic. You hurry back to your seat, and as Chizu babbles about her day, you look at Sanzu with concerned eyes. He gives you one unbothered side glance, and his eyes are trained back on the road.

The two of you don’t talk until a little past one in the morning. You finished up some last-minute tasks, and Chizu is in deep sleep. To avoid waking her up, though, you usher Sanzu into your bedroom, only leaving the door open by a crack just in case.

“Why did you tell Chizu you’re her dad?”

“To get the other brats to zip it.”

“Do you know what it means to be a dad?”

Sanzu thinks for a moment. “No, but at least I know what a dad shouldn’t be.”

You touch a hand to his cheek. “I see. You don’t have to explain if you…”

Sanzu’s lost in thought, deciding whether or not to tell you.

The man sighs. “I had a younger sister. Her name was Senju, and she was just as annoying and clingy as Chizu. We were raised by our older brother – you saw him at Mikey’s place, the man with the large facial scar. I hate to admit it, but when Senju was around, it felt like we were a family.

“Looking back, I think the reason why Senju was so needy was because our parents were never around. I don’t give a shit about trauma or whatever, but it makes sense. She just wanted someone to care for her. We didn’t get bullied for it, though, because our older brother would throw cigarette butts at whoever tried to, and besides, our neighborhood was full of broken families and kids. Chizu’s just a fucking loud twat, so she needs someone to defend her.

“I’m not saying you’re a shitty mom, but you’re busy. You can’t defend your kid if you’re nose-deep in work 24/7.”

“Sure,” you say. You choose your next words carefully. “But… how is a Bonten executive like you any different?”

“I’ll just be a big, scary dog. I’m not actually going to be Chizu’s dad.”

“That’s not what you told her, though.”

“Huh?”

“You told Chizu that you’ll be her dad. She’s going to think you’re going to stay around and act like the father figure she never had.” You reach out and pinch Sanzu’s arm. “Don’t go back on your word.”

Sanzu swats away your hand and, with a clenched jaw, acquiesces. “Fine.”

–

You’ve never been good with confrontation. Confrontation made you lose your ex-boyfriend and all the support from your family, and you were never really good at it anyway. If anything, you prefer time to wash all the tension away and resolve things. But the present issue is entirely new to you, and your impulse is split between wanting to scream your emotions at a plaster wall or burying them so deep that even you would eventually forget they existed.

It’s been two weeks since Sanzu declared himself as Chizu’s father. Since then, both of you have decided on rules and boundaries and resumed your daily routines. The only difference is that Sanzu spends all of his free time with you and your daughter, meaning he’s over more often. As a result, you’ve only become more and more aware of the Bonten executive, and you fear that you’re overexerting your heart.

There’s no way you could tell Sanzu what you’re experiencing. You’re worlds apart, you remind yourself. Despite your gentle chiding, the side of you that wants to confess and lay out everything to Sanzu only grows stronger with each passing day. So what do you do? How do you manage all the butterflies, goosebumps, and icy hot chills that appear at the mere thought of Sanzu?

You throw yourself into work.

It’s fall in Japan, which means job-hunting season. After very little consideration and hesitation, you go job-searching. Spending hours researching, revising your resume, and developing your portfolio were practical and easy ways to divert your attention, and after two months of cold-emailing and passing interviews, you land a stellar job as a marketing manager for an expanding restaurant chain.

Not only did you get to work a job that combined two of your main passions, but the paychecks are also heftier. That night, to celebrate the wonderful news, you crack open a can of beer as Chizu sleeps. Just a small reward, you think smugly.

“You drink?”

You glance at the door where Sanzu is untying his loafers as you chug down your second glass. You hum a little, which echoes inside the cup.

“Let me have some.” Before you can contest, Sanzu swipes the beer can and swallows the remaining liquid before letting out a relieved sigh. He then stalks to your fridge, pulls out four more cans, and sets them down at the dining table.

Usually, you would’ve snarled at anyone who touched your drinks. You rarely drink, so your stash is always limited to your favorites. With a shrug, you let Sanzu off - only because you’re in a good mood.

As you refill your glass, you ask, “You’re back early. Is something wrong?”

“None of your business.”

You’ve come to realize that when Sanzu says that, he doesn’t mean it in a rude manner. Taking it literally, he’s right. None of the work he does is legal or ethical, and hearing about the number of people he killed today would ruin your mood immediately.

“Why are you drinking?” he grunts.

You smirk before replying, “I got a new job. It’s also close to Chizu’s daycare, so we don’t have to rush to pick her up. If you can’t drive us, we can always fetch a cab home.” Sanzu mumbles something, but it’s muffled as he downs another large gulp.

At this point, both of you are a little tipsy. You giggle at Sanzu’s slurred stories of his middle school days, and he listens to you as you share memories of when Chizu was a toddler.

“You know,” he says, “you’re so much more different from what I imagined.”

“How so?”

“When I first saw you, I thought you were just this little pretty thing. You were wearing this white dress or whatever, and you were just standing there under the sunlight.” You have no idea what he’s talking about.

You feel a little more sober. “Are you… disappointed now that you’ve gotten to know me better?”

Sanzu perks up at your question and shakes his head from side to side, over and over again. You throw your head back and laugh. He’s adorable when he’s inebriated.

“I like independent women,” Sanzu says.

You don’t know if it’s the alcohol or the fact that Sanzu isn’t looking you unabashedly in the eye like he normally does, but you slide to the edge of your seat and lean your head on his shoulder.

As expected, Sanzu tenses up and shoots you a hesitant glare. Somewhere in the back of your head, you know that you’re playing with fire, but you’ve given up on lying to yourself a long time ago. You like Sanzu, you want him, and all you need right now is closure.

Finally, you ask, “Do you like me?” You wait for Sanzu to shrug you off, to bark a clear rejection, and to leave your home. But a few moments pass, and the silence enables you to hear his shallow breaths. When he continues to remain still, you look up at him.

Instead of seeing a scowl, Sanzu’s face is flushed pink, and the tips of his ears are a cherry red.

“Sanzu?” you breathe.

Nothing.

“Don’t tell me that you’re so drunk that you have paralysis.”

You get out of your seat and head towards the bathroom to grab a warm towel. You pout as you wring the towel out. You were expecting a straightforward answer from Sanzu, but his lack of one is getting your hopes up.

When you return, Sanzu is slightly hunched over while he scrolls through his phone.

“Are you feeling better?” You approach the pink-haired man. He looks up, and you take this chance to hold his chin up with one hand and wipe his forehead with the other. Sanzu sits there, unmoving and basking in the warmth and gentleness of your hold.

Sanzu decides to act when you begin to retract your hands. He reaches for the wrist holding the wet towel and pulls you in until you’re standing between his legs.

“I do.” He speaks so calmly yet so confidently, and it takes you a few seconds to process.

A wave of relief, sadness, and adoration overwhelms you. You don’t realize you’re crying until you feel the rough pads of his fingers wipe at the corner of your eyes. You blubber an apology or two, but you only begin to sob harder. Still vigilant of Chizu, though, you attempt to muffle yourself by placing the towel over your mouth.

Sanzu pulls you onto his lap and continues to brush away your tears. His expression hasn’t changed, but it’s the most serious he’s ever looked in front of you, and that’s all it takes for you to break down and hand him the broken pieces of your heart.

–

You wake up with a gasp. You sit up, accidentally throwing off the arm that’s wrapped around your shoulders, and gulp deep breaths.

Sanzu wakes up, too, and groans unhappily.

“What are you doing?” he croaks. “Go back to bed.”

“I would -” You cough a little and rub at your throat. “I would if someone wouldn’t hold onto me for dear life.” You continue to gulp deep breaths before you lie back down. This time, Sanzu’s arm slips down and wraps itself around your waist, dispelling your disgruntled expression. He mumbles something along the lines of “Better now?”, and you nuzzle your nose into the crook of his neck in return.

Sanzu yawns. “Is Chizu staying home today?”

“She has a sleepover tonight, so I’ll drop her off in the afternoon.” You’re falling back asleep so your voice trails off at the end of your sentence.

Sanzu is, too, but he manages to say, “I’m glad she’s having fun,” before he’s out like a light.

Because Chizu was out for the weekend, you spent your Saturday grocery shopping and deep cleaning the apartment. Sanzu was also busy with work, but he said he would be back at night.

Just the notion of the two of you being alone makes you nervous, and you slip a few times on the wet kitchen floor when you lose yourself in the thought. You’re excited and nervous, eager and yearning, but hesitant and self-conscious. A large part of Bonten’s operations occurred in underground nightclubs and bars, so Sanzu has seen his fair share of charming girls. You’ve never been insecure about your body, even after having Chizu, but the possibility that you can’t compete with Sanzu’s previous flings sends a nauseating ache to the pit of your stomach.

When Sanzu arrives just in time for dinner, the anxiety persists, but you’re grateful that he doesn’t seem to notice. In fact, Sanzu acts normal. He complains about his colleagues and the inflation of gas prices; he cusses and mutters colorful insults at the coffee table when he stubs his toe; and most importantly, he only touches you when you initiate.

That’s something you never expected from him, truth be told. Sanzu, though caring in his ways, is brutish. Demanding. While you hoped he wouldn’t take you by force, he hasn’t asked you for any physical affection, and you like to take pride in the fact that he treats you with unspoken respect. Only when you reach your arm out onto the dinner table does he hold his hand out to intertwine your fingers together. When you’re watching some comedy show on the bed, he ruffles your hair when you poke his shoulder. Even after kissing him, he simply holds your hip before letting you go as you pull away.

“Did that feel alright?” you whisper.

Why do you feel so ashamed? You’ve kissed people before. You’ve been loved before. So why is it that you can’t bear to look at Sanzu?

Sanzu lets out a snort and proceeds to kiss you again.

“Did that feel alright?” he mocks, smirk and snark crystal clear in his voice. “Of fucking course it did.”

To others, his response could’ve been entirely inappropriate. To you, however, it was hilarious. You crack up, letting out staccato huffs of laughter, and you feel the corners of your eyes crinkle up.

“Now you know how ridiculous you sound,” he says. Sanzu chuckles under his breath before setting your laptop on the night table and moving you over so that he’s now hovering over your body.

He asks, “What else are you worried about?” He’s still smirking, confident in his ability to rid you of your worries, and your self-esteem begins to return as well.

“I was just overthinking,” you admit. You gesture a little bit, trying to find the right words to explain, but you end up smiling sheepishly at Sanzu.

Sighing, he shakes his head and pinches at your cheeks. “Don’t.”

You laugh again and encircle your arms around his neck, pecking him to express your gratitude. But this time, his hand sneaks up your back and holds you at the base of your head. Unable to move, your eyes widen in surprise, and you release a cry that gets swallowed by his lips and tongue. Sanzu continues to steal your breath and voice, and when he releases you minutes later, you’re stunned silent.

You feel light-headed, and the burning in your cheeks and inner thighs is growing hotter with every passing second. Sanzu observes your flushed face for a second before he grins, diamonds creasing into dimples.

“Look at you,” he mutters, “all riled up.” He searches for your eyes until you two are looking at each other. “Let me eat you up, angel.”

Your breathy plea is all he needs before he pulls you in for another heated kiss.

–

Sanzu is greeted with a shrill whistle.

“Someone’s glowing today.”

Sanzu side-eyes Ran but continues his brisk walk to the conference room.

“So when did the two of you get together?” Ran probes with one eyebrow quirked. “She’s a really sweet girl. I hope you’re taking care of her.”

Sanzu grunts and opens the door. Most of the Bonten executives were in their assigned seats around a round table, save for him and Ran.

“Let’s start,” Takeomi says as he taps the spine of a binder twice on the table. A map is already projected onto a whiteboard, and certain regions are circled in red. “There have been a few fights in Kabukicho these past two weeks, and some club owners want us to increase security. I’ll designate oversight of this area to Rindou and Kakucho.”

“Why the two of us?” Kakucho asks.

“I’ll get to that in a second. First, look here.” Takeomi points at another red circle located near the Yokohama port. “Someone has been stealing our firearms before they get exported. There have already been two reports on separate occasions.”

Koko speaks up. “Have we recovered any of the stolen goods?”

Takeomi shakes his head and replies, “There’s a high probability that the culprit is stealing from us so they can increase their sales. We did manage to find out that this person escaped via car both times, and the vehicles they used were originally from the Kabukicho area.”

Mochizuki scoffs. “We can’t even catch a person who runs away with a shitty car.”

“That’s why I’m putting two people on the case. Rindou will watch over Kabukicho, while Kakucho monitors the roads that go into the district.”

“There’s no guarantee that they’ll go back to Kabukicho, though,” Kakucho says.

“Rindou, your main job is to find the stolen firearms. Track down any of the buyers and see if they have any information on the culprit. If you find anything interesting, tell Kakucho immediately.”

“I don’t see why we should waste our time on this,” Mochizuki argues. “There’s plenty of folks who would throw themselves at this job to get promoted in Bonten.”

Ran interjects here. “If I remember correctly, Mochizuki, you and your men are in charge of Yokohama, right?” Sanzu rolls his eyes, already foretelling how the rest of the meeting will unfold. “If I’m right, then isn’t this mess a result of your men’s incompetence?”

Mochizuki growls. “My men are perfectly capable.”

“So does that mean you’re taking responsibility for this problem? Are you admitting that you and your men have been careless?”

Mochizuki knocks over his chair as he shoots up from his seat. He is only stopped by Mikey’s raised hand.

Mochizuki mutters, “I apologize, Mikey.”

Mikey utters a singular command. “We will follow through with Takeomi’s preliminary plan. If it turns out that the culprit is not in the red light district anymore, then Kakucho should expand his search to nearby neighborhoods.”

Everyone nods, and Takeomi adjourns the meeting.

They file out of the conference room, leaving only Sanzu and Kakucho who holds him back.

“Sanzu, I can look over her while I’m in the area.”

“What are you talking about?”

“It’s not a good use of your time to be driving around Tokyo. You need to stay in Shibuya.

“Your partner lives near Kabukicho, right? Tell her to stay safe.”

Sanzu’s anger bursts. He grabs Kakucho by the collar and snarls, “Don’t tell me what to do. Everything’s going great in Shibuya, and she’s safe with me.” Kakucho stares back, and Sanzu stalks out of the room.

Sanzu’s frustration is interrupted when he feels his phone vibrate in his back pocket. He pulls it out and sees a text from you. It’s a picture of you and Chizu. You’re both sitting on top of a white canvas spread across your living room floor, and there’s clay splattered all over your clothes. Some of it has even gotten into your hair. A short moment later, you follow up with another photo of Chizu’s artwork and an attached message: “Art project failed successfully? Guess I’ll need to buy some more clothes, haha!”

Snorting under his breath, Sanzu replies: “Let’s go shopping next weekend.”

A few seconds later: “Sure! I want to check out that large department store close by.”

Sanzu smiles. “Sounds good. See you in a few, loser.” He pockets his phone before heading towards the garage.

–

When you mentioned “a large department store close by,” he didn’t think it would be one in Kabukicho. The smuggler still hasn’t been caught, and while Sanzu’s pretty sure no one would start a fight on Bonten territory out in broad daylight, he knows he has to be careful.

“Where’s the brat? Is she not coming with us?”

You roll your eyes at Sanzu before chirping happily, “Chizu’s having another sleepover! Same girl as last time. I think they’re becoming really good friends.”

The two of you continue to make small talk throughout the rest of the day. You meander around the mall, dropping into shops to replace the clothes you sacrificed for your daughter’s clay pot. Sanzu would follow you around but waits for you outside the stores instead. He isn’t interested in anything in the first place, but more importantly, it’s the only way he could keep watch. No one has updated him on the smuggler’s location either, so he’s erring on the side of caution.

“Sanzu, is something wrong?”

Your voice breaks his concentration. He was glowering at his phone, waiting for a text or a call or anything, and he didn't notice you come out.

“Just work. Do you have everything you need?” Sanzu says as he takes the shopping bag from your hands.

“I need to go to one more store, but that’ll be it.” Your boyfriend nods and gestures to you to lead the way.

You take an escalator up to the third floor. Sanzu looks around, observing the groups of people filtering in and out of shops, the music playing from speakers scattered across the hall, and signs that read “Exit closed” and “Caution.”

He glances back at you. You’ve entered a home furnishing store and are checking out kitchenware, arms folded and eyes squinted as you judge stainless steel. You find one that you seem to be considering, and he scoffs out a laugh when he sees you knocking the pan bottom and listening with your ear close to the handle. He feels a rush of adoration when he sees you find a set you’re satisfied with, and suddenly he wishes he had recorded the moment.

When you return, he brushes strands of hair away from your face before taking the new bag and adding it to the small collection strung on his arm. You furrow your brows, reaching out to grab the bag and maybe a few more back, but Sanzu promptly turns away and begins striding toward another store. You huff in protest, but the smile tugging at the corners of your lips gives away your gratitude.

“Is there any place you want to go to?” you ask.

He still hasn’t received any communication from Kakucho or Rindou, and he’s not sure if the lack thereof is a sign that the situation hasn’t escalated or that the two are so busy because the case is becoming more dire than they had expected. Regardless, Sanzu has learned to hone and trust in his instincts, and something in him is telling him that it’s time to leave. He cannot be out in the public eye for too long, anyway.

“No, I think it’s time we head back,” he replies. You hum in agreement, and the two of you walk towards the exit of the department, not without continuing to bicker over who should carry your shopping bags and discussing ideas for dinner.

When you enter the parking garage, though, it’s eerie. Too still for a department store that’s packed with people. Too quiet when the lot is parked to the brim. Only your talking about the bakery and how business is doing echoes throughout the garage, and Sanzu tries his best to find your car as soon as possible.

When he spots your compact, he tugs at your hand that he’s holding onto.

You pause from the abrupt gesture, but Sanzu looks back at you with urgency: Keep talking. You swallow with difficulty but resume. In fact, you don’t stop speaking until Sanzu starts backing out of the parking spot.

You look at the side view mirror to your right, and at first, you see nothing out of the ordinary. No men in suits or guns out in the open or anything. But then a flash of red catches your eye. You follow the beam until you reach a small red dot shining on the cover of your glovebox.

Your eyes widen, and you’re about to scream. Until Sanzu slides a hand over your leg and pinches.

“Don’t you fucking dare.” Through gritted teeth, Sanzu eases the car free and makes his way to the exit. The red dot disappears, but you’re not sure if it’s really gone.

Only after you leave the lot does Sanzu speak up again. “You’re going to need a new car.”

–

You feel your knees buckle at the sight of your home. The journey back took hours, with having to take several detours in case you were being followed, finding a replacement car for you, and reporting to Kakucho and Rindou.

Sanzu’s hands grip your underarms, supporting your entire weight and carrying you into your apartment.

You mutter apologies under your breath, and he grunts and huffs in response. He doesn’t let go until he heaves you onto your bed, and even with the support of your mattress, you feel like you’re about to keel over.

What… happened today?

Was I about to die?

I was going to die.

Sanzu just kneels in front of you. In the corner of your eye, you see his hand reach out and twitch, but it falls to his side in reluctance.

This silence would have persisted had it not been for Sanzu’s phone and its loud rings. He tugs it out of his pocket – a glance at the screen, and you see that it’s a call from Kakucho. Quietly, your lover pads out of your bedroom and into the kitchen to take a call.

“What is it?” Sanzu’s voice is rough, even slightly strained. You hear scratches and buzzes of noise, unable to discern what Kakucho is saying.

“For fuck’s sake, I already said we’re fine.” Pause. “I didn’t need your help. Hell, I think you should be more worried about Rindou because he can’t seem to fucking do his job.” More murmurs from Kakucho. Suddenly, a bang. “I have it under fucking control!”

Your body reacts, and you run to your door to see what the commotion is. Sanzu’s back faces you, and one of your dining chairs is on the floor. He’s cursing Kakucho out for both his meddling and incompetence, tugging at his hair and itching at the diamond scars at the corners of his mouth.

As you watch, the scene begins to fade away, as if the noise is being drowned out by water and the fluorescent brightness of the kitchen lights saturates your vision. Ironically, your body feels light and floaty, and you’re viewing everything from an omniscient point of view.

You’ve felt danger before. When your parents kicked you out, leaving you to fend for yourself. When your ex raised his hand at you – sometimes you can still remember the sting on your cheek. When you gave birth to Chizu – the anesthesia kicked in too late, and you really felt like dying then.

But… this?

Whenever you close your eyes, the image of that red dot plagues you. Unblinking, harsh, bloody. You’ll never forget it for the rest of your life.

And it wasn’t even pointed at Sanzu. Not that you would want your lover to be in danger, but it’s clear that your safety is now compromised. And if you become a target, they – whoever “they” is – would discover Chizu.

Oh, God, please not Chizu –

“Sorry for knocking down your chair.”

Sanzu’s voice brings you back to the present. Soul returning to your body, you try to remember how to look at him. It takes a while, but when you do, you struggle to discern the emotions in his eyes. Or rather, the lack of any such emotions. His blue eyes are darkened with nothingness, void of any warmth or life or happiness.

“There’s a lot we need to talk about,” he says. His tone is that of a businessman discussing logistics and contracts, devoid of any sympathy or concern, but the two of you are in your little, messy kitchen next to a faded wooden kitchen table and an excuse of a living room that is packed with Chizu’s crayons and drawing pad and the walls of an apartment that have only heard your cries at 3 AM because you’ve worked so goddamn hard to be happy and –

“Please not right now.” The words come out wobbly and weak, and a spark finally returns to Sanzu’s eyes. You’ve tried hard to wear indifference at all times, so you can’t imagine the expression you must have on your face.

Next thing you know, he’s carrying you back to your bed, closing your door with a push of his foot, and gently laying you down.

He whispers, “I’ll do anything to make it up to you. But right now, please just let me have you.”

You beg, “I need you.”

Sanzu kisses away at the pathetically large globs of tears that roll down your heated cheeks. He peels off your clothes before throwing them down onto the floor. He lets his hands wander and grab and knead at your skin, leaving bruising marks of pink and purple. He fills you up, and the room reverberates with his pants and your desperate pleas for more. And even when you finish, he keeps going, as if his desire could never be satiated, and you see flashes of white and red and nothing.

–

Sanzu can’t tear his eyes off of your sleeping form. Usually, he’d admire the damage he’d done to you and your body, but the dried crust and permanent frown on your face extinguish his pride.

He doesn’t know how to feel. He has a decisive character, yet even his strongest trait is failing him in this crucial moment. He doesn’t know how to proceed. There would be no right time to talk to you. There would never be a right time to see you so shell-shocked and crestfallen. There would never be a reason for Sanzu to hurt you.

He doesn’t have it under fucking control.

He manages to roll over onto his other side and is faced with your LED clock, the numbers indicating that it’s still early in the morning.

Time solves all eventually, right? But what would the solution look like in this case?

His gut drops. There is no other way to keep you and Chizu completely safe.

And suddenly, he’s feeling too much.

He cries and cries and cries. He’s sobbing while biting down on his chapped lips, which causes you to stir in your sleep, but you don’t wake. He hates showing weakness in front of others, but he bargains with himself to allow just this one time and brings you into his embrace.

In reality, though, once isn’t enough – he will never have enough of you. He wants all of your evenings, sunrises, homemade sugary desserts, breathless kisses, and gentle smiles. He wants to be there to accompany you on every grocery run and shopping trip because he knows you’re used to doing everything by yourself. After all, you’re busy with your new job, and he can spare an extra hour or two to help out – that’s what partnerships are, a give and take, back and forth. Besides, he’s promised Chizu he’d be there for her, so even if you didn’t want him anymore, he can’t go back on his word, right?

He sighs.

Who the fuck is he kidding?

Your relationship has never been a partnership. He’s always taking from you.

At first, you seemed so… immovable. So put together, he didn’t think you wanted another person in your life. But then you two naturally gravitated toward one another, and Chizu, being the loud mouth that she is, also held his heart hostage. He became a part of this little family, and for the first time, he wanted to be a more responsible person because you gave him reason to.

But it’s too late to change the worst parts of himself. Intentionally or not, he’s never been one to keep promises.

“Trust me,” he whispers into your temple, “I’d stay if I could. I really would.”

Sanzu knows he’s cursed to live a rotten life in the shadows. It’s probably some sort of karmic debt he’s accumulated from all the shit he’s done in his past lives, so as much as he loves you, he’s helpless to his fate. He can’t walk away from the ball and chain that is his past, and he’s too entrenched and entangled in the life he’s living now.

There is no other way.

He knows.

So he clasps your hands tightly one last time, praying to the heavens above for your and Chizu’s happiness and safety, before he prepares to leave.

–

The next morning, you notice that where Sanzu once was, sits a box with a note folded on top of it.

You already know.

Though you can’t help but still reach for the box, desperate for any trace of your lover.

Inside sits a thin wedding ring. There is no matching band.

I’ll always be yours.

You slip it on your fourth finger and admire it under the faint sunlight that streams into your room.

Maybe if you didn’t care so much.

Maybe if the two of you had met at another time or another place.

Maybe if you two were different people.

Maybe in another life.

[sereinnu]

Fractured Tides

Warnings: STEP-CEST| drugs and alcohol use| Rafe Cameron| very foul language| more yet to come| DON'T read if you're uncomfortable with these themes| MDNI| I already warned you not to read|

Rafe Cameron x Step-sister!Reader

Despite your efforts to make peace, your stepbrother Rafe's hatred for you persists. Each attempt to bridge the gap only seems to widen the divide, leaving you wondering if you'll ever find common ground in this family.

The Outer Banks were alive with the sounds of summer—the rustle of the breeze through the palm trees, the distant roar of the ocean, and the hum of a world that seemed so far removed from the chaos within Tannyhill. You had lived here for years now, but the house never truly felt like home. It was a place you were forced to adapt to, much like the family you were thrown into when your mother married Ward Cameron.

You were only eight years old then, a wide-eyed child trying to make sense of this new life. But even at that young age, you could sense Rafe's disdain. He was older, already on the cusp of adolescence, and his resentment towards you was palpable. You were the intruder, the outsider who disrupted the Cameron family dynamic.

Now, a decade later, little had changed between you and Rafe. If anything, the years had only deepened the chasm between you. You tried to keep your distance, knowing that your presence in his life was unwanted. But living under the same roof made that nearly impossible.

You were in the kitchen, making a cup of tea when you heard the front door slam. The heavy, hurried footsteps that followed told you it was Rafe. His presence was almost always announced this way—loud, forceful, a storm barreling through the house.

You didn’t have to see him to know he was upset. You could feel it, like a pressure in the air that made your skin crawl. But when Rafe appeared in the doorway, his eyes wild and his hair disheveled, you couldn’t ignore him.

“What happened?” you asked cautiously, not sure if he would answer.

Rafe’s eyes snapped to you, narrowing in that way they always did when he looked at you—like you were something distasteful, something he wished would disappear. “None of your business,” he growled, moving past you to rummage through the cupboards.

You watched him, your fingers tightening around the handle of your mug. “I’m just trying to help,” you said softly, knowing your words would likely fall on deaf ears.

He slammed the cupboard door shut, making you flinch. “I don’t need your help,” he spat, turning to face you with a sneer. “You’ve been here for years, and you still don’t get it, do you? You’re not a Cameron. You never were, and you never will be.”

The words stung, even though you had heard variations of them before. But there was something particularly venomous in his tone today, something that made you realize this wasn’t just his usual hostility. He was angry—angrier than usual.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “Why do you hate me so much, Rafe? What did I ever do to you?”

Rafe laughed, but there was no humor in it. “You want a list? Because I can start with the fact that you ruined everything. Before you and your mom came along, we were fine. We were a family. But then you showed up, and everything went to shit.”

You shook your head, trying to make sense of his words. “That’s not fair, Rafe. I was just a kid. I didn’t ask for any of this.”

“Yeah, well, neither did I,” he snapped. “But here we are, stuck in this fucked-up situation. And every time I look at you, I’m reminded of how much I hate it.”

His words were like a punch to the gut, knocking the air out of you. You knew Rafe didn’t like you, but hearing him say it out loud, with such malice, was something else entirely.

For a moment, the kitchen was silent except for the sound of your uneven breathing. Rafe’s gaze bore into you, his eyes dark and unforgiving. You wanted to say something, to defend yourself, but the words wouldn’t come. All you could do was stand there, rooted to the spot, feeling like the intruder he had always accused you of being.

Finally, Rafe shook his head, as if he were disgusted with himself for even engaging with you. “Just stay out of my way,” he muttered, brushing past you to leave the kitchen.

You watched him go, the tension in your chest slowly easing as the distance between you grew. But the ache his words had left behind didn’t fade. It lingered, a reminder that no matter how hard you tried, you would never be part of this family—not in Rafe’s eyes.

As you stood alone in the kitchen, the house around you seemed to grow colder, the warmth of the summer day outside a cruel contrast to the chill that had settled within. The Outer Banks were supposed to be a paradise, but for you, it was nothing more than a gilded cage, trapping you in a life where you didn’t belong.

And Rafe, with all his anger and resentment, was the constant reminder that you were an outsider—a permanent stain on the perfect Cameron image.

The days following your confrontation with Rafe were tense, but that wasn’t unusual. Tension had become the norm in your life at Tannyhill, and you had learned to navigate it as best you could. But this time, the tension felt different—more personal, more cutting. Rafe's words had sunk deep, and no matter how much you tried to shake them off, they lingered like a bruise that refused to heal.

You spent most of your time avoiding him, retreating to the few places in the house where you could find some semblance of peace. One of those places was the library, a grand room lined with shelves upon shelves of books. It was one of the only rooms in the house that felt like it belonged to another time, another life—somewhere far away from the chaos of the present.

You were there now, curled up in a corner with a book that you weren’t really reading. The words on the page blurred together as your thoughts drifted back to the encounter with Rafe. His anger had always been a part of your life, but now, it felt like something you couldn’t ignore, something that was slowly suffocating you.

The sound of the door creaking open pulled you from your thoughts. You tensed, hoping it wasn’t Rafe. But when you looked up, you saw Sarah standing in the doorway. Her expression was tentative, as if she wasn’t sure she was welcome.

“Hey,” she said softly, stepping into the room. “Mind if I join you?”

You shook your head, offering her a small smile. “Of course not.”

Sarah walked over and sat down beside you, her gaze scanning the room before settling on you. “I’ve been looking for you,” she said. “You’ve been hiding out in here a lot lately.”

“Just trying to stay out of the way,” you replied, knowing she would understand the implication. Sarah was the one person in the house who tried to bridge the gap between you and the rest of the family. She had always been kind to you, always tried to make you feel included, even when Rafe made it clear that you weren’t.

She sighed, leaning back against the armrest. “I’m sorry about Rafe,” she said quietly. “I know he can be… difficult.”

You let out a bitter laugh. “That’s putting it mildly.”

Sarah looked at you, her eyes full of sympathy. “He’s just… he’s been through a lot. But that doesn’t excuse the way he treats you.”

You nodded, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say anything. What was there to say? You had known Rafe was troubled from the start, but that didn’t make it any easier to deal with his hatred.

“Have you talked to him?” Sarah asked after a moment. “Really talked to him?”

You shook your head. “What’s the point? He’s made it clear how he feels about me. Talking won’t change that.”

Sarah frowned, her fingers twisting a strand of her blonde hair. “Maybe not. But I think he needs to hear that you’re not the enemy. You’re not the reason things changed.”

You knew she was right, but the thought of confronting Rafe again made your stomach turn. “I don’t think he cares about what I have to say, Sarah. He’s always seen me as an outsider, someone who doesn’t belong here. I’m not a Cameron to him, and I never will be.”

Sarah was quiet for a moment, as if she was trying to find the right words. “He’s not the only one who gets to decide that,” she said finally. “You’re a part of this family, whether he likes it or not. And I don’t want you to feel like you have to hide because of him.”

Her words were comforting, but they didn’t erase the fear that had taken root in you. “I just don’t want to make things worse,” you admitted. “The last thing I want is to set him off again.”

Sarah reached out and placed a hand on your arm. “You won’t. I’ll talk to him. Maybe I can help him see things differently.”

You smiled weakly, appreciating the offer but doubting it would make much of a difference. “Thanks, Sarah. But I don’t want you to get caught in the middle of this.”

“I’m already in the middle,” she said with a small shrug. “But that’s what family is for, right? We stick together, even when things are tough.”

Her words hit you harder than you expected. Family was a concept that had always been complicated for you, especially since moving in with the Camerons. But hearing Sarah say it, hearing her include you in that definition, made you realize how much you longed for that connection—for a place where you truly belonged.

“Yeah,” you said softly. “I guess it is.”

Sarah gave you a reassuring smile before standing up. “Come on, let’s get out of here for a bit. We can go down to the beach or something. Clear our heads.”

You hesitated, glancing out the window at the fading light. The idea of leaving the safety of the library made you uneasy, but you knew Sarah was trying to help. And maybe getting out of the house, even for a little while, would do you some good.

“Okay,” you agreed, closing your book and standing up. “Let’s go.”

As you followed Sarah out of the library, you couldn’t help but feel a small sense of relief. For now, at least, you didn’t have to face Rafe alone. But deep down, you knew that sooner or later, you would have to confront him again—and when that time came, you weren’t sure how it would end.

The two of you walked down the grand staircase, the wooden steps creaking under your feet. The house was quiet, almost too quiet, as if it were holding its breath, waiting for something to happen. You tried to push the feeling aside, focusing instead on Sarah’s presence beside you. She was your anchor in this chaotic world, and you were grateful for it.

As you reached the front door, you hesitated for a moment, glancing back down the hallway. It was irrational, but you half-expected Rafe to appear out of nowhere, his anger boiling over once again. But the hall was empty, and the silence remained unbroken.

“Come on,” Sarah urged gently, sensing your reluctance. “It’ll be good to get some fresh air.”

You nodded, finally stepping out onto the porch. The warm evening air greeted you, carrying the scent of salt and sun-warmed earth. The sky was painted in shades of pink and orange, the sun dipping below the horizon. It was the kind of evening that should have brought you peace, but the tension in your chest refused to ease.

You followed Sarah down the steps and onto the path that led to the beach. The sand was cool beneath your feet as you kicked off your shoes, the grains slipping between your toes. The sound of the waves crashing against the shore was soothing, a rhythmic reminder that the world kept turning, even when it felt like everything else was falling apart.

Sarah walked a little ahead of you, her hair catching the last rays of the sun. She glanced back at you with a smile, trying to draw you into the moment. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? This is my favorite time of day.”

You managed a small smile in return. “Yeah, it is.”

The two of you walked in companionable silence for a while, the only sounds around you coming from the ocean and the occasional call of a seabird. It was peaceful, almost serene, and you found yourself relaxing just a little. Maybe Sarah was right—maybe this was exactly what you needed.

After a few minutes, Sarah spoke again, her tone more serious. “You know, Rafe wasn’t always like this.”

You glanced at her, curious. “What do you mean?”

She sighed, her gaze fixed on the horizon. “He was different when we were younger. Before Dad… well, before everything changed. He used to be kind, protective even. But when things started going wrong, he just… I don’t know, he shut down. And then he started acting out, getting into trouble. It’s like he became someone else.”

You listened intently, trying to picture the Rafe she was describing. It was hard to imagine him as anything other than the angry, volatile person you knew now. “What happened?” you asked softly.

Sarah hesitated, as if she were weighing her words carefully. “A lot of things. Mom leaving hit him hard, harder than he let on. And then Dad… he put so much pressure on Rafe to be the man of the house, to live up to this impossible standard. I think it broke something in him.”

You had known about Rafe’s struggles with his father, but hearing it from Sarah made it feel more real. It wasn’t an excuse for his behavior, but it gave you a glimpse of the pain that might be fueling his anger. “I had no idea it was that bad,” you admitted.

Sarah nodded, her expression sad. “He won’t talk about it, not even with me. But I see it in him, every day. He’s drowning, and I don’t know how to help him. And now, with you here, it’s like he’s lashing out because he doesn’t know what else to do.”

You swallowed hard, feeling a surge of empathy for both of them. “I don’t want to make things worse for him, Sarah. I just want to find a way to coexist, to be a part of this family without everything falling apart.”

Sarah reached out and squeezed your hand, her touch warm and reassuring. “You’re already part of this family. Don’t let Rafe make you feel like you’re not. He’ll come around eventually. I know he will.”

You wanted to believe her, but a part of you couldn’t shake the doubt. Rafe’s hatred for you ran deep, and you weren’t sure if anything could change that. But for Sarah’s sake, you would try. You owed her that much.

As the sun finally dipped below the horizon, casting the beach in shadows, you felt a sense of resolve settle within you. You couldn’t change the past, and you couldn’t force Rafe to accept you. But you could control how you responded to him, how you chose to live in this fractured family.

For now, that would have to be enough.

As the last rays of sunlight disappeared, you and Sarah found a spot to sit on the sand. The ocean stretched out before you, dark and endless, a stark contrast to the earlier warmth of the day. It was as if the world was mirroring your own emotions—caught in a delicate balance between light and darkness, peace and tension.

You pulled your knees to your chest, wrapping your arms around them as you watched the waves. Sarah sat beside you, her gaze also fixed on the horizon. For a while, neither of you spoke, content to just be in each other’s company. The quiet between you was comfortable, a welcome reprieve from the turmoil that so often surrounded you.

But even in the calm, your thoughts kept drifting back to Rafe. His anger, his pain—it was like a storm that loomed over you, always threatening to break. You knew it wasn’t fair to place all the blame on him, but his behavior had shaped so much of your life at Tannyhill. And no matter how much you tried to avoid it, you couldn’t escape the impact he had on you.

“Do you ever wish things were different?” you asked suddenly, the question slipping out before you could stop it.

Sarah looked at you, her brow furrowing slightly. “Different how?”

You sighed, searching for the right words. “I don’t know. I just… I wish things weren’t so complicated. I wish I didn’t feel like I have to tiptoe around Rafe all the time. I wish I could just… be.”

Sarah was quiet for a moment, her expression thoughtful. “Yeah, I get that,” she said finally. “I wish things were different too. I wish Rafe could see that we’re all on the same side, that we’re family. But it’s like he’s stuck in this loop of anger and resentment, and he can’t break out of it.”

You nodded, feeling a pang of sadness. “Do you think he ever will?”

“I hope so,” Sarah replied, her voice soft. “But I don’t know. Sometimes, it feels like he’s so far gone that nothing can reach him. But other times… I see glimpses of the old Rafe, the one who cared about us. I just wish those moments lasted longer.”

Her words echoed your own feelings—this constant push and pull between hope and despair, between believing that things could get better and fearing that they never would. It was exhausting, living with that uncertainty, but it was all you had.

“I don’t know how to help him,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t even know if I can.”

Sarah turned to you, her eyes filled with empathy. “You’ve already helped him more than you realize. Just by being here, by not giving up on him, you’re doing more than most people would. And I think, deep down, he knows that. He just doesn’t know how to show it.”

You looked at her, surprised by her words. “You really think so?”

She nodded, her expression sincere. “I do. Rafe’s angry, but he’s not heartless. He’s just… lost. And maybe, in time, he’ll find his way back. But until then, we just have to keep being there for him, even when it’s hard.”

Her words gave you a small glimmer of hope, something to hold onto in the darkness. Maybe Sarah was right—maybe there was still a chance for Rafe to change, for things to get better. It wouldn’t be easy, and it wouldn’t happen overnight, but you were willing to try. For Sarah, for yourself, and maybe even for Rafe.

The two of you sat in silence for a while longer, watching as the stars began to twinkle in the night sky. The air had cooled, and you found yourself shivering slightly. Sarah noticed and nudged you with her shoulder. “Come on, let’s head back. It’s getting cold.”

You nodded, standing up and brushing the sand off your clothes. As you followed Sarah back up the path to the house, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of dread creeping in. The peace you had found on the beach was fleeting, and you knew that once you stepped back inside Tannyhill, the tension would return.

But you couldn’t avoid it forever. You had to face Rafe, and you had to find a way to live in this fractured family. It was the only way things would ever change.

As you approached the house, you caught sight of a figure standing by the front door. Your heart skipped a beat when you realized it was Rafe. He was leaning against the doorframe, a cigarette dangling from his lips, the glow of the ember illuminating his face in the darkness.

Sarah stiffened beside you, her steps faltering for a moment before she continued forward. You followed her lead, trying to keep your breathing steady as you approached Rafe. His eyes flicked to you, a scowl already forming on his face.

“Where’ve you been?” he asked, his tone laced with irritation.

“Just down at the beach,” Sarah replied, her voice calm. “Needed some fresh air.”

Rafe’s gaze shifted to you, his eyes narrowing. “What about you? Hiding out again?”

You swallowed, trying to keep your voice steady. “Just… trying to stay out of your way.”

Rafe let out a bitter laugh, taking a drag from his cigarette. “Yeah, right. You always have to be where you’re not wanted, don’t you?”

You flinched at his words, the sting of them hitting you harder than you expected. But before you could respond, Sarah stepped in, her tone firm. “Rafe, don’t. She’s just trying to keep the peace.”

Rafe glared at her, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—guilt, maybe, or regret. It was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by the usual anger. “Whatever,” he muttered, tossing his cigarette to the ground and crushing it under his heel. “I’m going out.”

He pushed past you both, his shoulder brushing yours as he walked away. You watched him go, the tension in your chest returning with full force.

“Let him go,” Sarah said quietly, placing a hand on your arm. “He needs to cool off.”

You nodded, your eyes still fixed on Rafe’s retreating figure. As much as you wanted to believe that there was hope for him, moments like this made it hard to hold onto that belief.

But you had promised yourself that you wouldn’t give up. Not yet. Not until you had tried everything.

With a deep breath, you turned back to the house, following Sarah inside. The warmth of the house was a stark contrast to the coldness you felt inside, but you forced yourself to push those feelings aside.

For now, all you could do was take it one day at a time, hoping that eventually, the storm would pass, and there would be something left worth saving.

-

The warmth of the house greeted you as you stepped inside, but it did little to chase away the chill that had settled in your bones. The encounter with Rafe had left you rattled, and no matter how much you tried to push it aside, it lingered in the back of your mind like a dark cloud.

As the night grew deeper, Sarah suggested heading to bed, and you agreed. The exhaustion was starting to weigh on you, and you knew you wouldn’t be able to keep your eyes open much longer.

But as you made your way up the stairs and to your room, your mind was still racing, your thoughts still tangled in the web of emotions that had been spun over the course of the day.

You paused outside your door, glancing down the hallway toward Rafe’s room. The door was closed, and the light was off, but you knew he wasn’t asleep.

You could feel his presence like a shadow, lurking just out of sight. The anger, the resentment—it was all still there, simmering beneath the surface, waiting for the next opportunity to boil over.

With a heavy sigh, you turned away and entered your room, closing the door behind you. The familiar surroundings did little to comfort you tonight, the weight of the day’s events pressing down on you like a lead blanket.

You changed into your pajamas and slipped into bed, pulling the covers up to your chin in a futile attempt to ward off the chill that had settled in your bones.

As you lay there in the darkness, your thoughts kept drifting back to Rafe. You couldn’t help but wonder what was going through his mind, what demons he was battling in the privacy of his own room.

You wished you could reach out to him, break through the walls he had built around himself, but you didn’t know how.And maybe, deep down, you were afraid that if you did, you would only find more anger, more pain—more reasons to keep your distance.

Sleep came slowly that night, your mind refusing to quiet down long enough for you to drift off. When you finally did fall asleep, it was restless, filled with fragmented dreams that left you feeling more exhausted than before. But even in your sleep, only a name remained constant.

-

You tried to sleep, but your mind refused to let go of the events of the day. The tension between you and Rafe was like a thorn lodged deep, impossible to ignore and growing more painful with every passing moment. You tossed and turned, the silence of the house amplifying the thoughts racing through your mind. Finally, you gave up, deciding that lying in bed, wide awake, would do nothing to ease the unrest.

Quietly, you slipped out of bed and made your way to the window. You pulled the curtain aside, letting the moonlight spill into the room. Outside, the world was still, the garden bathed in silver light. The sight should have been calming, but it only made the turmoil inside you feel even more out of place.

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you grabbed a sweater and tiptoed out of your room. You needed to clear your head, and the fresh air might help. As you moved through the dark hallway, your steps were cautious, avoiding the spots that creaked. The last thing you wanted was to wake anyone up, least of all Rafe.

But as you passed his door, something made you stop. The door was slightly ajar, and a sliver of light spilled into the hallway. Your heart rate quickened. Rafe was awake. You hesitated, debating whether to go on with your plan to escape outside or to check on him.

Part of you wanted to keep walking, to avoid another confrontation that might end with more hurtful words, but another part of you was drawn to him—curious, worried even. Before you could overthink it, you stepped closer and gently pushed the door open.

Rafe was sitting on the edge of his bed, his head in his hands. His room was a mess, with clothes and other belongings strewn about carelessly. He didn’t notice you at first, too absorbed in his own thoughts. But the moment your shadow fell across the threshold, he looked up, his eyes narrowing.

“What are you doing here?” he snapped, his voice low but filled with irritation.

You swallowed, not entirely sure what had driven you to enter. “I couldn’t sleep,” you said softly, taking a cautious step forward. “I saw your light was on.”

Rafe’s gaze flicked to the bedside lamp, as if realizing it was on for the first time. He looked back at you, his expression hardening. “So what? You came to check on me? Don’t bother.”

The sharpness of his tone made you wince, but you didn’t retreat. You stood your ground, despite the tension crackling in the air between you.

“Rafe,” you started, trying to keep your voice steady, “I just… I wanted to see if you were okay.”

He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, right. You don’t need to pretend like you care. You’re just another person in this house who’s waiting for me to screw up."

His words stung, but they didn’t surprise you. You’d heard them before, in different forms, always laced with the same bitterness. Still, hearing them now, when you had genuinely been concerned, cut deep.

“That’s not true,” you said quietly. “I do care, Rafe. Whether you believe it or not.”

He stood up abruptly, making you take a step back. His eyes bore into yours, intense and full of emotion that he kept bottled up most of the time. “Why? Why do you care, huh? You’re not even really part of this family. You’re just some—”

He stopped himself, but the words hung heavy in the air. Just some outsider, some girl who was forced into his life, someone who would never really belong.

You felt the lump forming in your throat, but you refused to let the tears fall. Not in front of him. “You’re right,” you said, your voice trembling despite your efforts to keep it steady. “Maybe I don’t belong. But that doesn’t mean I don’t care about what happens to you.”

Rafe stared at you, his expression unreadable. For a moment, you thought you saw something soften in his gaze, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by the familiar mask of anger and resentment.

“Don’t waste your time on me,” he said finally, his voice cold. “You’re better off staying away.”

The finality in his tone was like a door slamming shut. It was clear he didn’t want you there, didn’t want your concern or your attempts to reach out. But instead of retreating, you took a deep breath and pushed back.

“I can’t do that, Rafe,” you said, surprising even yourself with the firmness in your voice. “I can’t just pretend like you don’t matter. You’re my brother, whether you like it or not.”

Rafe’s eyes flashed with something you couldn’t quite identify—anger, hurt, maybe even fear. But he didn’t respond, just stood there, staring at you like he was waiting for you to leave.

When you realized he wasn’t going to say anything more, you turned away, feeling the sting of rejection but refusing to let it break you. You paused at the door, looking back at him one last time.

“If you ever want to talk… I’m here,” you offered, even though you knew he wouldn’t take you up on it.

With that, you left the room, closing the door softly behind you. You leaned against it for a moment, letting out a shaky breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

This was going to be harder than you thought, but you weren’t ready to give up on Rafe. Not yet. There was something underneath all that anger, something worth saving, and you were determined to find it—even if it meant getting hurt in the process.

[tan1shere]

Bite It Lick It Spit It - where'd you put it (extra)

A/n: thought I'd add a lil smth smth since everyone's loving the previous story, enjoy you horny mfs MUAH 💋

Warnings - suggestiveness not really any smut. Still mdni just in case doe <3

The original - masterlist

After that blissed out night, you've been wearing that underwear. All. The. Time. And she loved it, it drove her mental. Whether you were just wearing a plain t-shirt with them around the house. You'd wear them with skirts in public. You were like an intoxicating drug in her eyes, mind and soul. She truly couldn't get enough.

So much so, you found them missing on occasion. Either they were in the wash, or Ms Eilish had them somewhere in her possession. Theyd tend to go missing when you take them off after a long day. Her fucking favorite. Once you eventually caught on it was her doing the abducting, you came to her. Justtt to ask. Even though you had all the idea on why she did.

"Bils." You say going over to her and patting her down. "Frisky much?" She replies. "Where on earth have you put them." She brings her finger up to her lips. " 's a secret." You roll your eyes. "Billieeee." "Fine fine, they're probably in my pants on the sofa in our room." Your eyebrow raises. "Probably?" She shrugs. "Orrr they could be in a few others- I can't remember which." You sigh at the response. "You're crazy." You say heading for the stairs. "For you? Fuck yeah baby!"

It had become a habit that she'd stick them in her Jean pants. She'd take it to work sometimes forgetting where she was, and the fact she still had them in there until Finneas embarrassed the shit out of her. Or more so herself.

"We could maybe do something like this-" He began to speak about the stuff they were working on, when he noticed something on the floor. He knew Clauds underwear and that was something she definitely didn't own. "What on earth." He bends slightly, picking it up. Billies eyes widen, so incredibly wide her eyes might've popped out. Her cheeks go so red, snatching them out of his hand. Fuck, you dumbass idiot. She swallows. There was an awkward silence wondering how he was going to react. When this dude, let's out the wheeziest laugh known to man.

Billies eyes rest, almost glearing at him. "That is not funny, I can't believe that just fucking happened." He tries to control his laughter. "You truly are a dumbass." She swats his arm but he just continues his giggles. "Back to work come on." She spits, having enough of the laughing. "I was like- hmm Claudia doesn't own anything this-" "FINNEAS." She groans. He just laughs some more, she was never living that down. But Billie being Billie she eventually joins in on the laughing, shaking her head at the silly situation.

Yet again you were on the search for them, looking through most of her pants. You gave up in the end, calling her.

"You have them as we speak don't you."

"Well damn, you caught me."

Even during she needed them. Just the fact such a tight slutty thing was on your body for the whole day drove her wild, she didn't care in the slightest how filthy any action may be. Sniffing them, so on and so on. One of her filthy fantasies was you having them in your mouth, as you rode her. Just dangling there between your teeth. You were a tad bit confused at why she requested that, but the way she'd moan under you. The way she'd say your name. The feeling of her fingertips on the skin of your thighs as you rode her. Mixed in with your tits bouncing in her face. It was foul, but she enjoyed every single bit of it.

She was so thankful you went into that shop that day. Blessing not only you with a pretty pair of new underwear. But her aswel, getting the pleasure of witnessing it first hand.

You're welcome

[tang3r1n]

❝𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐓!❞

Shig is stuck at the single worst party of his life— until he spots that cutie from his biochem class.

warnings; dub/noncon, AFAB/FEM READER anal ref for like a second, unprotected sex, drunk/drugged reader, yandere-coded shig,, slut-shaming, incel-ish shig, dabi got too drunk and kinda screwed reader over, drugging(?), college au, i’m gonna redo this eventually, gross descriptions

a/n; this is my (late) secret santa gift and New Years present for the illustrious @mamayan !! i hope i did your dirty man justice, this was a part of @/ectologia’s amazing Secret Santa 2023 event they hosted!! both of these authors are big inspirations to me and i’m so glad i was able to be a part of this!

This New Years party was horrendously lame. shitty music, shitty lighting, shitty drinks; the whole thing was just an excuse for idiotic college frat douches to get wasted and fuck pretty little cheerleaders for the umptenth time.

Shigaraki watched with tepid interest as Dabi was cheered on by idiotic college students chugging his twentieth beer, scoffing as the drunk man raised his arms in triumph and let out a slurred war cry, already stumbling around. He was already sick of this place, the smell of pot and vomit burning his nostrils, just as he thought to dump his cheap booze away and kick rocks Dabi sauntered over to him, practically dragging another person with him.

Tomura felt his back immediately straighten, bloodshot red eyes widening as he saw your giggly attitude and cute little outfit. You were his shamefully massive crush from his chemistry class, the teacher’s student grader who left cute smiley faces and sweet memos on all his reports, always smiling and helpful and so so so kind to everyone. Shigaraki often got carried away staring at you during labs, watching as you bent over, how your lab coat was seemingly tightened just enough to where he can see your luscious curves, how your pretty hair falls so perfectly messy from your chaotic bun, ‘wonder how she’d look if i spread her out on this table—examine her..’

Dabi poked his chest harshly, a drunken grin plastered on his face as he held up in a mock chokehold, “lis’n h-hic!-here.. yer gonna take m’new girl n make sh-braap!-sure she ge’shome safe, kay?” Tomura rolled his eyes at his friend’s drunken speech, letting Dabi clap a hand on his shoulder to steady himself as he watched you giggle and pat Dabi’s back comfortingly. Your own cheeks were darkened and he could see the sway in your stance. Tomura couldn’t help but feel a twinge of emotion at Dabi’s declaration of you being ‘his new girl’ as he finally scoffed and pulled away, his frustration coming off as annoyance.

“Why am I in charge of your ‘new girl’?” he hissed, eyes narrowed. Your smile dropped and his gut wrenched at the sight knowing it was his fault, but he couldn’t help the little twitch of his cock at your glossy lips stuck in a cute pout. Dabi frowned and shoved the taller man harshly, stumbling a bit as he did, “dude fuck off, she’s jus’a sweet gal, wanna make sure she don’t get snatched up-hic!-I obvi’sly can’do it,” he chided, poking at Shigaraki’s chest. You interjected, pretty manicured fingers and bracket decorated wrists waving in protest, “no no no nonono, h-he don’t need to do that, ‘ll be f-fine!” you slurred and Tomura sighed, pinching his brows to hide the absolute jubilation he was experiencing. He couldn’t believe his luck— literally being hand-delivered the girl of his (wet) dreams on the shiniest of silver platters. He kept up the act, however, not wanting you to see his desperation, “nah, nah, you’re both stumbling like fucking morons, lemme go grab my shit,” he turned on his heels, calling over his shoulder, “go grab yours.” hearing your heels ‘click! click! click!’ off as you ran to get your cute purse.

“T-tomura I-ahh!” you whined and cried into your pillow, the fabric soaked and caked in your tears and makeup. You screamed as he pushed your back down into a sinfully painful arch, cock sloppily thrusting into your poor cunt. All you’d done is asked for help taking your massive heels off, bending down to untie the long, crossed straps as he snuck up from behind using his, very surprising, strength to grab and yank you up over his shoulder. You gasped and twisted, pounding on his back with your fists as he stumbled through your tiny apartment just off campus. It was only now that you regretted never agreeing to the on-campus dorms.

His whiny pants seemed to infect your very soul, bright red, bloodshot eyes staring down at you in such a creepy way, like he feared blinking would ruin his moment with you. Not like this was much of a fond moment being made, panties hanging off your ankle, shirt and bra ripped, literally ripped in half, hair frizzy and messy from his constant pulling and tugging. You felt disgusting; dizzy and nauseous, wet and gross with how loud your own pussy was squelching, the blunt ‘plap! plap! plap!’ of his balls against your puffy lips send chills of disdain and pleasure up your back, making your already jumbled brain that much more scattered.

He was so touchy, his clammy hands pinching and prodding at all your fat and curves, frantic in their path all over your sweaty skin. Shigaraki’s entire form was frantic, hips stuttering and basically humping you while his cock twitched wildly, arms and thighs quivering at he pinned you down, drool, literal spit, splattering against your face and neck as he openly crooned and moaned like a bitch in heat. You felt so violated as he praised your body, talking about ‘all those lonely nights’ and how he ‘spent so many labs with a hand down m’pants-“ god he was a fucking pervert.

You whined as his thumb found your clit, rubbing fast circles and sending a wave of pleasure through you, another wave of nausea following soon after as you bit back bile, there was no fucking way you were gonna cum from this degenerate raping you. But alas, try as you might your biology was working against you, thighs and cunt clenching around him and his cock as you neared your high. His laugh was cracks and hoarse as he leant down, greasy pale-blue hair tickling your nose as he licked a stripe up your face, drinking your tears, “mmfh—! fuck, y’gonna cum? huh?” he tried, rubbing tight circles onto your sensitive bundle of nerves. You thrashed in what little movement you could, sobbing and shaking your head, “N-NO, NEVER, YOU F-FUCKING PERV—“ he cut off your screams with a harsh swat to your pussy, causing a full body shake as you tipped over the edge.

Perhaps you would’ve been embarrassed if not blinded by the white-hot pleasure of your forced orgasm, mouth agape in a silent scream as your cum cremend his cock, creating a frothy ring of white at his base. Tomura giggled out a disgusting laugh, wiping the milky mixture and smearing it into your messy face, cooing at your disheveled appearance as he sped up his sloppy thrusts.

Just as you came down from your high, his hand suddenly pinned you back down by the neck, quickly cutting off any air as he whined above you, eyebrows creased as he fucked into your hot, messy pussy, “g-gonna cum— fill up y’pretty pussy,” he whined, using his thumb to softly poke and prod at both your lips and little puckered hole and causing you to jolt, tightening up around his again and sending Toura over to his own climax.

His ‘big o’ face was obscured by his tangled, dirty hair, a pathetically noisy groan resonating as he stilled inside you, pump after pump of warm, thick cum shot right in you. You cringed, so weak from your own finish that you did nothing but whine in protest as he slowly slipped his cock out, instantly jamming two of his lengthy fingers back in to keep his cum night and snug.

“Happy New Years, I—“

“fucking pervert.”’

[atomicladytimetravel]

Employees Only

Summary: No outbreak AU. Joel Miller owns Miller Contracting and you are his assistant. When Joel gets the bid from a huge client, he celebrates by doing what any sane man would do…banging the assistant.

Warnings: Porn with very little plot. Drug use (marijuana), Boss/Employee relations, Smut/Explicit. Contains sex under the influence of marijuana, nipple play/stimulation, oral (f and m receiving) light gagging, fingering, Joel’s a little cocky about his dick (pun intended). Joel is a simp for you. No physical description of reader, other than female.

18+ only - MDNI

Friday. Fucking finally. Not only is it the end of your work week, but it’s also the end of you spending longer evenings than usual helping your boss put together a bid for one of the biggest clients he could ever hope to acquire. You can’t do any real complaining though - Joel made sure you were well compensated for your extra time and (let’s just face it) he sure is fun to look at. Not to mention the, you know, huge fucking crush you’ve had on the man for…well, for probably about as long as you’ve worked for him. Suffice to say, you’d do juuuuust about anything Joel asked you to do.

You’re making your way to your favorite hole-in-the-wall Chinese restaurant, the air conditioning in your car blasting to combat the sweltering Texas heat. You have to pass the small office building that houses Miller Contracting on your way to get to the Chinese place and, even though it’s damn near ten o’clock, Joel’s old pickup truck still sits in its usual parking space. Curious, you pull out your phone and select his name from your recent call log. He answers on the first ring.

“Now why are you callin’ me this late darlin’?” he drawls. His speech is raspy and a little slow; he sounds so fucking sexy.

“Oh no reason really, just wondering why I see your truck parked at the office,” you respond. He chuckles a little.

“You stalkin’ me or something?”

You smile and roll your eyes, even though he can’t see you.

“In your dreams, Miller,” you retort playfully. “I’m on my way to get some food and I just so happened to pass by.”

“Well, I was gonna wait until Monday and tell you in person, but…Avalon Premier Hotels accepted our bid.”

You can hear the grin in his voice and you hear yourself gasp.

“Joel, oh my god! That’s incredible news!” you squeal excitedly. On the other end of the call, Joel thinks to himself that he would very much like to hear those first four words again in a much different context.

Unbeknownst to you, Joel has been smitten since you stepped foot in his office for the first time. He internally cursed his HR department that day for hiring the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. But they had done just as he’d asked and hired the best damn person for the job. Joel has told you on more than one occasion that he has no idea how he made it without you.

“I’m just over here celebrating a little. The sound system Tommy insisted we put in the employee lounge outdoes mine by a long shot and I wanted to hear some music,” he explains further. “You should come join me. You know I couldn’t have done this without you.”

You look down at your outfit - a tank top, no bra and a pair of what are quite possibly the shortest shorts you own - and contemplate the offer. You remember you’re off the clock and think, “the hell with it, he can’t dress code me now.”

“Sure,” you accept. “You want some Chinese food?”

——————

When you open the front door to the office, you’re immediately hit by the pungent aroma of marijuana. Ah, now his slow, raspy speech makes sense. When you enter the employee lounge, you find Joel manspread on the couch, a fat blunt dangling from his lips. He’s changed out of the button up you had drooled over all day and into a Miller Contracting t-shirt that hugged his delicious biceps. Nirvana is playing loudly over the sound system and he doesn’t realize you’re there until you plop the food down on the coffee table. His eyes rake over your body unashamedly and you find yourself blushing under his gaze. He reaches for the remote and turns the music down.

“God damn sugar, I didn’t realize I’d be gettin’ dinner and a show.”

“It’s like 103 degrees right now Joel. Besides, I’m off the clock,” you remind him, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Hey, ain’t sayin’ it’s a bad thing,” he winks. You eye him suspiciously, but he just smiles innocently. He pats the couch cushion next to him and when you sit down, he holds the blunt to your lips. “You deserve t’relax a little, too.”

You take the blunt between your lips and inhale the smoke, holding it for a few seconds before exhaling through your nose. You’re not exactly a stranger to pot, but it has been a while since you’ve smoked any. It doesn’t take long at all for the foggy feeling to take over, your body feeling weightless. The munchies kick in soon after, and you and Joel practically inhale the Chinese food. As you eat, another blunt is passed back and forth and you’re soon the highest you can ever remember being.

Joel cleans up the remnants of your dinner and you sink into the couch cushions, your fuzzy brain content to just stare at nothing. When he returns, he sits so close to you that your thighs touch. He leans back and throws his arm around the cushion behind you. You’re close enough to smell his cologne and that plus the fact that he’s so close makes you want him, bad.

“This may have been a bad idea. Weed makes me so horny,” you say. You had wholeheartedly intended for that to be a thought and not something you said aloud to your boss. You’re mortified when you realize that the words actually came out of your mouth. Before you can even attempt to apologize, though, Joel responds.

“Oh yeah? You want some help with that?” He looks down at you expectantly and you stare back at him blankly for a moment before answering.

“I…y-yeah, yes,” you stammer. The next thing you know, you’re being pulled onto his lap; the fabric of your shorts is thin and you can feel just how hard he already is beneath the denim of his jeans. He kisses you with the passion of someone who’s been starved of affection. He holds you tightly close to his body, as if he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he doesn’t.

“Please tell me this is real,” he murmurs into the kiss.

“It’s real,” you giggle, resting your forehead against his.

“You are so pretty. Absolutely fuckin’ gorgeous,” he says softly. You kiss again, open mouthed and tongues swirling together. You grind your hips onto him, trying to relieve the aching between your thighs. He puts his hands on your hips to stop them.

“Ain’t gotta do all that now. I’ll take care of ya soon, understand?” he says sternly. You let out a tiny, pathetic whimper but nod in agreement. He shakes his head and uses his pointer finger to tap your lips.

“Use your words.”

“Yes, I understand,” you tell him.

“Yes what?” he asks, eyebrows raised expectantly.

“Yes sir.”

“That’s a good girl. Fuck, I just knew you would be. You want to be my good girl, hm?”

The whole time he’s been talking, his hands have been roaming farther and farther under your tank top. His fingertips brushing against your skin makes a shiver run down your spine.

“Yes sir,” you reply in a voice barely above a whisper.

He’s cupping your breasts now, thumbs swiping repeatedly over your nipples. The urge to grind on him again is overwhelming, but you hold still. You whine softly when he removes his hands and he shushes you.

“Relax sweet thing. I just want to get this shirt off of ya is all.”

He pushes the shirt up your torso and you raise your arms to let him pull it over your head. He groans appreciatively at the sight of your breasts and pushes them together before burying his face between them.

“So fuckin’ perfect,” he mumbles against your skin. He puts his mouth all over your breasts, sucking and nibbling and making you want to rock your hips so badly you can hardly stand it. You gasp softly when he latches on to your nipple, sucking until the bud has hardened. When he switches to the other side, you can’t help but roll your hips, craving some sort of relief.

“Ah, ah,” he admonishes, his hands holding onto your hips firmly. “What did I say?”

“I’m sorry,” you pout. “I just need you to touch me so bad sir.”

“Oh, is that all?” he teases, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. He pinches both nipples between his fingers gently. “How’s this?”

“It feels good, but I need more sir.”

“Hmmm…no, I think I’ll see if I can make you cum like this first.”

No one has ever tried to make you orgasm this way, and you’re not even sure it’s possible. You tell him this, but he just shakes his head.

“Can I try? If it doesn’t work for you, we can move on, I promise.”

“Yes sir, you can try.”

He smiles softly and presses a gentle kiss to your lips.

“I’m going to squeeze a little harder, just let me know if you start feelin’ anything besides good.”

It feels amazing. Pleasure surges through you and you tip your head back, your hands gripping onto his shoulders to keep you steady. He alternates between pinching and rolling and you concentrate on the throbbing between your legs. He squeezes just a bit harder and it feels so good that a drawn out moan passes through your lips.

“Yeah sugar? How’s that feel?” he asks.

“Good. R-really good,” you respond breathlessly. “Maybe a little harder.”

“How’s this baby?” he asks as he pinches a little harder. There’s a little pain this time, but it’s a delicious kind of hurt.

“Oh!” you gasp, surprised to feel the stirrings of an orgasm. “Don’t stop please, it feels so good.”

“You’re doing so good baby,” he praises, leaning forward to press a kiss to your throat. He keeps the pressure and rolls your sensitive nipples between his fingers. Your eyes flutter and your orgasm is so close you can taste it.

“You’re close aren’tcha? What a good girl; go ahead and let it go baby.”

With his encouragement, an orgasm washes over you and you hear yourself shouting his name. With one hand still tweaking a nipple, he wraps an arm around your waist to keep you steady as you shake above him. When you come down, your eyes open to see Joel looking at you with a mix of awe and adoration.

“That was the most beautiful god damn thing I’ve ever seen,” he says before capturing your lips in a needy kiss. He sets you gently back on the couch and stands above you, squeezing the length of his cock through his jeans.

“God damn, I swear I stay hard for you,” he groans. “You know how many times I’ve shot my load thinkin’ ‘bout you?”

“Probably as many times as I’ve made myself cum thinking about you.”

“You mean we coulda been doin’ this all along?” he asks, still palming himself through his jeans. You lean back into the corner of the couch and press your middle finger to your clit over your shorts while you watch him; something about the action turns you on so much.

“You’re my boss Joel,” you point out.

“I also own this company doll. I can do whatever I want,” he reminds you. He pulls his shirt over his head and you finally get to see the body you’ve been fantasizing about for so long. His shoulders are broad and his arms are thick. His midsection is soft, but you can still see v-lines disappearing into his jeans. He undresses down to his boxer briefs and you watch, mesmerized, when he slowly pulls his belt through its loops. You’re not sure if you’ve ever been more turned on. He kneels in front of you and taps your hip, signaling for you to lift them.

“Up,” he commands. You lift your hips and he hooks his fingers in the waistband of your shorts. He drags them down your legs and is pleasantly surprised to see your lack of panties.

“No bra, no panties? What a naughty girl,” he tuts.

“Told ya I was dressed for comfort.”

He doesn’t respond, just tosses the shorts aside and admires your naked form.

“I can’t get over how gorgeous you are,” he says, shaking his head. He showers your body with kisses, sucking occasionally on your most sensitive places. You’ll be covered in hickeys later, splotchy red and purple reminders of how Joel worships your body. He places his palms on the insides of your knees and spreads them, giving himself a view of your glistening pussy. He spreads your lips with his first two fingers to admire what he considers a work of art.

“Look how pretty,” he murmurs. Before you can utter a response, he leans in and licks you from opening to clit. He alternates between this and kitten licking your clit and you have to fight yourself to not start riding his face.

“Fuck, you got the sweetest little pussy darlin’,” he groans into your center. He hooks his arms behind your knees and begins to eat you out with fervor. He swirls patterns on your clit with his tongue, dipping it into your entrance every now and then. You’re enjoying it too much to notice that he spells “J O E L” on your clit with his tongue, silently claiming your pussy as his.

“Mmm, fuck Joel, it feels so good,” you whine. You feel two thick fingers slide into your entrance and you buck your hips at the sensation. He flattens his free hand over your belly and pins you to the couch cushions. He curls his fingers into your g-spot as his tongue continues to flick over your clit and your moans mix with the wet squelching sounds of your pussy.

“Joel, oh my god!” you shout, your head falling back onto the arm of the couch. And there they were, those four words he’d wished to hear just over an hour ago. He’s never heard anything so beautiful in his life. You hear him moan and you lift your head to watch him. His eyes are hooded and his free hand is in his boxers stroking his cock. It’s undoubtedly one of the hottest things you’ve ever witnessed.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum. Oh god I’m so close,” you moan. He sucks your clit once, twice and on the third time, you come apart for him. He can’t help the satisfied smile on his face as he watches you tremble, his name tumbling from your lips like a chant. When he pulls his fingers out, they’re shiny with your spend. He spreads them apart and a string of fluid connects them.

“Look at the mess you made for me baby,” he marvels. He brings his fingers to your lips and you open for him; you suck his fingers clean, never breaking eye contact. You hear him moan softly when you swirl your tongue around the digits. He stands and you can see how painfully hard he is through his boxer briefs. You can’t help but stare at the outline of his cock, wondering how he walks around with that thing between his legs. He sees you staring and smirks.

“You wanna see my cock baby?” he asks.

“Yes sir,” you nod, blushing a little at being caught staring. You watch in anticipation as he pulls his underwear down, cock springing free and practically smacking him in the stomach. Your eyes widen when you see his size. He’s thick and probably around eight or nine inches. He wraps a hand around it and strokes a few times.

“Think you can put it in your mouth for me? I wanna see those pretty lips around my cock,” he says, smoothing his other hand over your hair.

“Yes sir, wanna make you feel good,” you respond obediently, sitting up from your reclined position.

“Oh, what a good girl,” he praises. You wrap your lips around his tip and suck the precum seeping out.

“Oh fuuuuuck baby girl,” he rasps. You hollow out your cheeks and slowly inch him in your mouth. You put your hands on his hips as you bob your head back and forth. His hand flies to your hair when you pull all the way back to his tip before plunging him down your throat. You gag a little bit and pull back some, tears prickling at your eyes. You repeat the process until there are tears trickling down your cheeks.

“Shit baby, you give such good fuckin’ head,” he says through gritted teeth. “Look at ya, chokin’ on my cock.”

He lets you gag a few more times before he pulls your head back gently. He looks down at you sweetly and wipes the tears from your cheeks before offering his hand to help you up.

“You did so good f’me baby, gaggin’ on this big cock like a pro. I wanna stuff that pretty pussy now, though. Get on your knees f’me.”

You settle onto your knees, resting your palms on the back of the couch. A stinging smack lands on your right ass cheek and you moan.

“There’s that gorgeous ass I love to look at,” he says, squeezing it appreciatively. He lays his palm flat on your lower back, his other hand wrapping around the base of his cock. He pushes the tip into your entrance and your walls stretch around him. He’s a bit bigger than anything you’ve taken before and it stings for just a moment, making you whimper.

“I know it’s big baby girl. I’m gonna go slow,” he coos. He rubs his thumbs in soothing circles on your hips as he inches himself inside.

“You’re doin’ so good, takin’ me so well,” he praises.

“Oh fuck, I’m so full,” you moan when he’s fully sheathed inside you.

“Yeah baby? You like bein’ full of my big cock?”

“God yeah, it feels so good.”

He squeezes your hips affectionately as he sets a languid pace. He’s only been inside you for a minute and you know that no other man will be good enough ever again.

“Fuck, this is the best god damn pussy I’ve ever had,” he says, as if reading your mind. “Like it was made just for me.”

You begin to push back and meet his thrusts, your bodies moving in sync. His grip on your ass is so tight that you’re sure half moon shaped indentions will be left behind from his fingernails.

“That’s it baby, bounce back on my dick,” he grits out. He smacks your ass and groans appreciatively as it ripples underneath his palm. “Does it feel good baby, hmm? Tell me how good it feels, lemme hear you.”

“F-feels so good. You’re making my little pussy feel s-so fucking good.”

He grabs your shoulder and pulls you up so that your bodies are flush; he moves your hair aside and puts his lips to your ear as his thrusts become faster and more aggressive.

“I’m gonna destroy your pussy this weekend baby,” he says in a gravelly whisper. “I’ve been waitin’ so long. Might have to carry you into work Monday.”

“Oh god, please,” you mewl in response.

“Yeah baby? You’d like that huh, takin’ this cock all weekend?”

“Yes, oh god yes, your cock feels so good!”

He reaches around to toy with your clit and your head falls back onto his shoulder.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you pant. He rubs your clit faster, pressing a frenzied kiss to your lips.

“That’s it, give it to me baby girl. Cum all over my cock.”

You grab onto his forearm to steady yourself as you cum hard around him. He talks you through it, whispering lowly in your ear.

“There ya go baby, let it go. Doing so good f’me darlin’.”

Once you’ve come back to earth, he pulls out gently and sits down on the couch. He takes you by the hand and guides you to straddle him again.

“I wanna see you baby,” he explains. “You’re a fuckin’ goddess.”

You sink onto his cock and he rests his hands on your hips. He guides your hips back and forth slowly and it feels so good that you attempt to speed up.

“No baby, let’s go slow,” he says, looking into your eyes. “Just enjoy this with me, yeah?”

You smile softly, saying, “yes sir” before grabbing his face and kissing him. His arms wrap around your torso and he holds you close, nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck.

“I want you to be my girl. Tell me you’ll be my girl baby.”

You respond without hesitation, “I’m yours Joel, all yours.”

The two of you share another kiss; Joel can no longer hold back and he plants his feet firmly on the ground so that he can thrust up into you.

“Can’t believe I get to call you mine,” he pants. “My pretty fuckin’ girl.”

“Oh god,” you whimper as he pounds into your g-spot. “Joel, fuck baby, I’m so close.”

“Me too baby girl. Should I pull out?”

“No! I want you inside me. Fuck, I want to feel you cum inside me so bad.”

“God damn, dirty little thing,” he grunts. “Gonna fill this little pussy so much.”

“Oh god, I’m cumming,” you announce, clenching around his cock. A chorus of, “fuck yes, fuck yes, fuck YES,” comes from your mouth. Joel makes a deep, guttural sound and spills inside of you, hugging your trembling body tight.

“Shit,” you giggle breathlessly.

“Yeah? Good?” he asks hopefully, just as breathless as you are.

“Good? Amazing. Incredible.”

He grins and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I could actually go again. How about you let me take you back to my place and I’ll put you in my jetted tub, hm? We’ll take a nice bath, maybe smoke a little more and then I’ll fuck you to sleep. How’s that sound?”

It’s your turn to grin and you give him a long, burning kiss.

“Sounds like an offer I can’t pass up.”