#yeah the body's gonna be mostly made of door

[the-takosader]

So, about that "Marauder" build I was doing...

Breaking news: it is no longer a Marauder build!

For context of the people who randomly stumble across this post without all the lore and shit from my megapost back in August, first of all, hi, welcome to the blog, second of all, this was originally intended as a "recreation" or full copy of a pretty obscure mid-'60s Fender guitar that never saw full, mainstream production - the Fender Marauder.

For further context, the Fender Marauder was a guitar that got a mashup of all of Fender's offsets, plus the Stratocaster, getting the Strat's pickup layout, a pickup selection method similar to the Jag, the Jazzmaster's lead/rhythm circuit, plus a vibrato like the Mustang, and the headstock of the Starcaster, which didn't exist at that point, so it's technically that the Starcaster had the Marauder's headstock, rather than the other way around...

Where was I? Ah, yes, not doing the Fender Marauder. Yeah, no, it's not happening anymore. Instead, the build has, for lack of a better term, "pivoted", thanks to an idea my aunt gave me: doing something original.

Now, in Current Year (2024 is soon to end, and oh dear god it's almost a year since I had the idea for the Tele-Shaped Rickenbacker), originality in the guitar-building world is... not exactly a thing? There's that many Telecaster and Stratocaster copies, combined with the fact that there's only so many ways you can shape a slab of wood into a pleasant experience to play.

My solution? The academic method! And by that, I mean "instead of ripping off one guitar and calling it a day, I'm ripping off multiple guitars," or at least taking from multiple sources, as an academic should.

If you want to see more of this madness, keep reading under the cut.

You still here? Awesome. So, now that you've chosen to read on, let's go through the spec sheet that I made for this exact purpose! Surely, it can't be that incomprehensible, ri-

...oh.

Yeah, I went really in-depth. I even mentioned the fucking fretboard radius, that is how in-depth I went. Now, does this in-depth nature help? Oh yeah, certainly. Is it comprehensible? Nope. Not in the slightest. Not unless you browse Wikipedia for fun or watch way too much of Trogly's stuff.

So, a small glossary of terms, before we get into this shit properly:

Comfort carves: bits of wood removed from the body of the guitar to allow for better playing experience, originating with the Stratocaster.

Trem system: also known as a whammy bar or vibrato, this is how you get those reductions in pitch.

Coil split and coil tap: either factoring out one coil's output (split) or removing the effect of some of the windings of the coil (tap).

That's nowhere near all I've got to explain, but if any of you wanted, I'll put out a "translated" spec sheet that attempts to properly explain the shit. Anyway, where was I? Ah yes!

The build no longer being a Marauder has freed me up to do whatever I want now, which leads me to the body design (further screenshots will come from the translated spec sheet mentioned above):

So, let's discuss why those three specifically. But first, were they the original ideas? Not in the slightest! Originally, this was going to be FAR more Gibson-inspired than this, taking from the Scarred Reaper (a Jagstang style merging of the Les Paul and SG created by the aforementioned Trogly, I would recommend you watch his stuff if it wasn't so Guitar Nerd) and the SGV/ZV (that Zakk Wylde signature thing the Gibson custom shop cooked up), with maybe a single-sided headstock.

That idea's gone, DOA when further thought was brought in. The new idea, as specified in the image, is a hodge-podge of 2 guitars and a bass, all 3 of which I've played previously in some manner or form. The upper horn of a Burns Double Six, which (for those less educated in guitars, or can't just visualise a guitar from memory as soon as it's brought up in a conversation) looks like this:

Yes, the guitar body looks like that. Plays beautifully, or at least the one I played does.

So that's the source of the upper horn, even if it'd be less exaggerated than that. What about the other two? Let's start with the lower cutaway, inspired by the Rickenbacker 4001 (or 4003) bass.

Note how the fret access is incredibly good? Yeah, that's not just a thing on the bass. Rickenbacker also make/made a guitar version of this, the 480 (plus a short-lived version known as the 481 with slanted frets - not fanned, slanted), with at least 21 frets of perfectly fine access to frets, and 24 frets total on the neck.

Finally, the PRS CE24, which is being used for the lower body of the guitar:

I could go on for several paragraphs about how and why I'm going with the lower bout of a CE24 for this, or even that I'm basiclally making this a more PRS-style Strat than the John Mayer Silver Sky. But, I won't. Quite simply, I have neither the time nor the energy. Instead, what I'll do is summarise, because I can't put a second read-more link in here.

So, why is it a PRS-style Strat? Well, many reasons. I'm thinking of putting in a PRS floating trem system, doing a 10-degree headstock angle (enough to have the tension, but not enough to risk headstock breaks - looking at you, Gibson, with your 17-degree headstocks!), and, most importantly, I'm going for a 25" scale length, which effectively gives me the very basics of a PRS guitar, minus the construction and the pickups.

But continuing from there, the only thing preventing this from being a "normal" PRS build or similarly designed guitar is the pickups I'm using. They're not any of the usual fare that PRS use, not by any stretch of the imagination. What I'm planning on using is, as laid out in the spec sheet, a Fender-style Wide Range Humbucker, a reverse-wound, reverse-polarity Tri-Sonic imitator (because I don't want to try and source Burns or Adeson pickups for this, so Kent Armstrong it is), and a Tonerider Hot Classics Broadcaster bridge pickup (it's the bridge pickup specifically because a Telecaster's bridge pickup is tilted with a black bobbin). Now, dear reader, can you guess what positions I'm going to put them in?

If you guessed that I'm going to be sane and normal by putting the humbucker in the bridge, you're entirely incorrect, unfortunately! Instead, I'm going for an at least sane positioning for the Broadcaster pickup, putting that next to the trem system, or at least as close as can be within reason, that RWRP Kent Armstrong Tri-Sonic in the middle position, and the humbucker in the neck position.

The result of that, in concept, should be a fuller sound in the neck, and depending on how I wire the pickups (which will most likely be in series) a really bitey sound in the bridge, the kind that gives some levels of distortion a run for its money. A comparatively "thin" sound is to be expected, as this project is to have 24 frets, and thus a tighter pickup spacing.

The idea is similar to this guitar made for Alex Lifeson by Paul Reed Smith (yes, that's what PRS stands for), which uses an EMG in the neck, and a Signature Guitars single coil in the bridge, with Signature Guitars being a short-lived brand that Lifeson worked with in the mid-to-late '80s until the company's dissolution in 1990.

That's partially what's inspiring me on this specific pickup configuration, as I've heard the tones that this specific guitar's made, going back to at least 1991, for the solo on Dreamline. Considering the guitar's serial dates it to 1990, so it's likely he got it from PRS for the explicit purpose of recording the Roll The Bones album.

But that's not important, nor is it even the point, because damnit, I love rambling about tangential shit! Anyway, to get back to the point of this rambling, this is a PRS-style Strat in the least Strat-like manner. None of the parts I took from are a Strat, or really have any relation to it outside of the Double Six. The CE24 is inspired the double-cuts that Gibson made, and the 4001 was made back when originality was actually a thing in guitar design.

But the result of all that designing, combined with a little bit of image compositing, was this:

Now, I'm aware that this design, for lack of a better term, looks like shit. It's way too stretched out, and nowhere near like realistic. In my full defense, this was made in Paint at close to midnight, so I doubt I was thinking at full brain power. I'll probably de-stretch it at some point, if I can be arsed to do so.

The neck, by comparison, doesn't look nearly as bad, but considering how hard it is to fuck up the look of a neck, it's not that big a deal. The idea of a neck is to give an anchor point for the non-ball end of the string that allows for a tension adjustment point, with the fretboard acting as the point where frets change the note/pitch the guitar plays.

As God Pythagoras Intended.

Side note, fuck that guy! He broke music 2000 years ago, and we still haven't recovered!

Back to the matter at hand, though, my compositing process for the neck was based on inlay style, number of frets, and headstock shape. Now, I mentioned above that I was doing a 2-octave neck, 24 frets total. The "neck" (by which I mean the fretboard) was taken from a Rickenbacker 360, and the headstock shape was taken from a Gibson Firebird, the last remaining relic of this thing's Gbison influences, resulting in this composite:

Please note that the transparency for all this was done in Word, which is the best I can use to get specific bits and pieces of guitars to mash up and weld together like fucking Victor Frankenstein.

The full thing, combining both neck and body composites, came out of this process looking like this...

...as you can see, very squashed, very stretched, which was not the intention, I assure you! So, as a help to my brain, and possibly to the very few people who stumble across this who know good proportioning, I squashed the width down a bit further, albeit at the cost of making the neck feel too short for the body:

I could throw a squashed down version of the body back into Paint, add the standard-sized neck, and operate from there on the image front, but there's a small issue of CBA to contend with. In short, I can't be bothered to do it.

Now, you might note that the headstock lacks tuner tips. Why? Because the Firebird had planetary tuners, what some would term "banjo tuners". The basic idea is that, to facilitate string pull, they made a new headstock design (because before this there were 3 Gibson headstock styles - open book, which was the standard one, triangle, for the Flying V and related models, and hockey stick, which only got used on the Explorer until Aldo Nova came along in 1982). This new design utilises the planetary tuners for... some reason, Idk, I can't find it. Point is, at first, this is what I was going to go with, Firebird headstock shape and all.

However, upon further rational thought, I'm just going to go with a Hamer-style headstock, specifically one like the Hamer USA Centaura, which looks like this:

I was kinda debating on putting a Floyd Rose or similar on this, being influenced by this thing, but they're not exactly cheap to install, replace or repair, so that's why the PRS trem. The one thing I'm still debating on from this is the "sweet switch", which was designed for Carlos Santana by PRS, purely because he was known for using a long cable prior to going wireless. But that's not the point.

What is the point? Fuck if I know. I've been writing this on and off over the past 2 or 3 days, I just set out to make an in-depth Tumblr post about my guitar build, and here I am talking about a Hamer and Carlos Santana. To try and steer myself back to the point, let's talk the unique bits, stuff I've only seen done... 2 or 3 times, total. In this case, I'm talking about unique pickup selection methods.

There's a couple I have in mind for this build: a rotary switch, and individual slider switches. Now, why are these unique? Because both are rare to see on production-level guitars. The former comes from PRS guitars from the '90s, which worked really well, except people couldn't figure out what pickup they were on, while the latter I've only seen in 2 different styles on a total of 3 guitar models.

Style 1 is what I'm thinking of doing: Jag style, where there's a control plate to select what pickup you're using, and you can select and swap on the fly, which is similar to the Red Special, which has 3 pickup switches and 3 phase switches - the top row is pickups, and the bottom row is the phasing. Brilliant bit of kit for a guitar built 60 years ago.

Now, the other style of switching is a bit more convoluted than that, because it's Mustang switching, which is 3-position sliders mounted horizontally above each pickup. Position closest to the bridge is off, central is on, and position closest to the neck is out of phase. Sounds like the Red Special's method but condensed into 3 switches, right?

Well, the fact of the matter is that Brian's design and build was done between 1963 and 1964, and the Mustang didn't enter production until the latter year, so it's likely but not certain to be a case of convergent design/evolution.

Each idea has its merits. While, yes, a rotary switch would be less clunky, not to mention easier to install, you then have to manually wire each and every pickup combination you want. Now, that's fine and dandy with 2 humbuckers, you can do full neck, outer coils, both pickups, inner coils, full bridge, and in fact, that's how PRS did it. The issue is doing 3 pickups, one being a humbucker, and the other two being single coils, because then you need at least 7 positions, by my measure:

Neck

Neck + Middle

Neck + Bridge

Middle

Middle + Bridge

Bridge

All 3 together.

Now, I could be missing the forest for the trees, or at least the wood for the figuring, but I'd rather avoid having to wire up 7 different positions, especially because I'm not doing any fancy pots here. By comparison, individual switching seems more appealing, as there I can just have 3 switches for neck, middle and bridge, and be done with the whole matter.

Moving on from that, we have the aesthetics of it. I don't know what finish I'm gonna go for, considering I've debated at least 6 different finishes in my head for this build since I started it. I've debated on 2-Tone Sunburst, 3-Tone Sunburst, Tobacco Burst, Sandbar Burst, deep ocean blue, whale blue, grey black, all sorts. In theory, any of these 6 I listed could be the one I go with, which is pretty obvious.

Then again, I could go with some mad bastard finish like Faded Whale Blue Smokeburst (diluted Whale Blue stain, add on top a black ring on the front, dark sides, kinda tear drop figure on the back like an old '70s silverburst, the works) and deal with the convolution of doing that on a flame top.

Maybe I'll end up doing that. Who knows.

Oh, I almost forgot! I even gave it a name: the Crusader, acknowledging that a) it's my design, and b) it was based on the Marauder. It's going to be a long road to its completion, possibly a full year (remember, this is with hand tools, no large scale machinery) instead of the 6 months it took to build the Cherry XII. Most of it's going to be either mahogany or sapele, with the odd bit of maple or ash in there, but by the end of it, I'll have something unique to call my own. You couldn't get me to give it up if you tried.

Things I didn't go into detail about:

Binding stuff

Neck heel carve

Locking tuners

Inlay style

Possibly other shit I'm forgetting

Hope you enjoyed reading my ramblings this time!

[nereidprinc3ss]

promiscuous

in which spencer reid doesn't like that flirty!reader is going on a date. he makes that known. (bandages universe)

flangst, 18+ for discussions of sex warnings/tags: gn!reader I think, mentions of going to a bar/going for drinks, very suppressed mutual pining, jealousy from Spencer, reader implied to engage in casual sex, reader calls themself a slut somewhat disparagingly but like as a joke, it all gets resolved, he is very sweet, he rambles when he's nervous a/n: oh God I love them so much they are like so in love and they literally have no idea at all because they're so dumb... but WE can tell.. turning point for them

“Penelope wanted me to confirm that you guys are coming to drinks with us tonight?”

It’s something of a standing tradition for the BAU on the last Friday of every month, and usually you’d agree, but tonight, you have other plans. 

“Raincheck for me,” you say, sliding some files into your bag which you do not plan on reviewing. “I have a thing.”

“What thing do you have on a Friday night?” Morgan asks skeptically. You don’t bother looking at him as you hide a smile. 

“A date, Morgan. You jealous?”

“You’re going on a date?”

You’d nearly forgotten Spencer was in the room until he spoke—he’s been in one of those quiet moods of his where he sort of floats around everyone else and makes himself insubstantial. As you cast him a sidelong glance, trying to figure out his tone of voice, you see he’s frowning. Nearly grimacing. His brows are drawn so tight you’re worried he’ll give himself a headache. 

“Uh, yeah. I am.” Suddenly, your parade feels a little rained on. 

“With who?”

You pause, looking back down at your desk with a new frown of your own and shaking your head as if you could clear it that way. “Just… some guy from OT.”

“Dalton?”

Ding ding ding. Somehow he got it right on the first guess, and for some reason, you wish he hadn’t. You don’t want Spencer knowing who you’re going on a date with. It feels wrong. 

“Does it matter?” You evade, shoving your things with a little more force into your bag. 

“Well Dalton is an idiot, so I guess I’m just trying to figure out why you’d go out with him.”

“And if it’s not Dalton?”

“Then I’d tell you all the guys in OT are idiots and you shouldn’t waste your time on any of them.”

“Alright—” Morgan passes between your desks, placing a friendly hand on your back as he does. “I’m gonna let you two hash this out by yourselves.” He gives you a look, eyebrows raised, unsmiling, that means, go easy on the kid. It makes you feel terribly guilty. And more than a little defensive. 

“Night,” you call halfheartedly. He only waves as the glass doors swing shut behind him, leaving you and boy genius alone in the bull pen.

Silence falls, cloistering you as you finish packing up together. It seems to magnify the buzz of the overheads. You notice him intentionally lingering, and you sling your bag over your shoulder with a sigh. 

“Okay,” you say, turning to face him with your whole body. He seems uncomfortable with that, but you’re not letting this go. “What is this? Why are you mad at me?”

“I’m not mad at you,” he mumbles, refusing to meet your eyes. “I just think—”

“Yeah. You’ve made your thoughts abundantly clear. I don’t know why you’re judging me for going on a date.”

“I’m not judging you! I just think you deserve better than a guy who looks like he… snorts protein powder for every meal and has less capacity for intelligent conversation than a mealworm.”

“Okay. Do you have someone in mind?”

The words come out a little sharper than you’d meant for them to. A little louder. Spencer looks like a scolded puppy as he swallows. 

“Not specifically. Just—someone more like you.”

He just doesn’t get it. You fold your jacket over your arm. 

“Yeah, well, until someone more like me comes along and asks me out, Dalton is the best I’ve got. I know he’s not my soulmate, Reid. But he asked me to drinks, and I said yes.”

The room is mostly dark. Only a few fluorescents remain on to cast Spencer in an almost clinical glow against a dark grey background. You’ve been here before. It feels like an interrogation. An environment where you’re practically begging for the truth without saying please, but there’s only room for measured dishonesty. 

Spencer speaks under his breath, fiddling with the strap of his own bag. “He’s not good enough for you.”

“What do you want me to do?” It’s an exasperated, confrontational sigh. Your arms raise and fall heavily back to your sides. Another long grey hallway of silence that leads nowhere. When it becomes clear he doesn’t have the answer, or he’s not comfortable sharing, you straighten. “I’ll see you Monday, Reid.”

Your spirits are completely dampened as you trudge to the elevators. What once seemed like an exciting opportunity now only serves as a depressing reminder that you’re wasting your time with a man who isn’t what you want. Maybe you should just call the whole thing off. 

“Wait,” Spencer calls, half-jogging to catch the open elevator. His bag bobs with every step, pens and things jingling around inside. It’s endearing, even though you’re upset with him. Your arms remain stubbornly crossed, but he makes it anyway. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin your mood.”

You laugh dryly. “Yeah, well…”

“It’s just that…” he sniffs and looks down, hair falling in front of his face. He really is sweet, even when he’s kind of a dick. He’s full of so much sincerity he doesn’t know what to do with it all. “I know how you are—you’re special, and funny, and intelligent, and, and Dalton—all those qualities are wasted on him. He looks at you and he just sees a pretty face. It may sound trite, but… he doesn’t deserve you.”

You sigh again, heart squeezing. The glowing light on the panel of floor numbers flickers. “I know your heart is in the right place, alright? But it’s not about who deserves me or who doesn’t. I’m not a prize. I’m a person, and people like to feel wanted. Sometimes, it’s just—it’s about who’s there, and who likes me enough to say it to my face. Sometimes that’s all I need, and I know you didn’t mean it like this, but when you say he doesn’t deserve me, it really seems like you’re not considering what I might want at all. Maybe Dalton is what I want.”

God—this elevator ride is like, comedically long. 

“Is he what you want?”

At least he has the bravery to ask. 

You glance over at Spencer, washed out bloodless and looking like he’s prepared to flinch, like he doesn’t know if he’s ready for the answer. The doors ding and slide open, and stale air whooshes from the chrome compartment into the lobby like a held breath finally exhaled. You swallow. 

“I don’t know why it matters to you.”

“Because you’re my friend and I want to see you happy,” he insists, trailing after you as you speed walk through the lobby. Every click of your heeled boots echos. 

“Then shouldn’t you be supporting me?”

“I’m not going to support you in making the wrong choice.”

The conversation spills out into the bitter-cold parking lot. You turn around to face him. 

“Respectfully, you have no idea what’s right or wrong for me. I don’t like whatever this is,” you say, gesturing with a finger between the two of you, as if the conflict were a tangible thing—a phone line hanging between your hearts. “I don’t know if it’s, like, jealousy, or some misplaced feeling of possessiveness, or protectiveness, or—”

“It’s not like that!” He splutters. 

“Okay—so what is it like? If you want to see me happy, why don’t you support me in pursuing the things that make me happy? And if that’s meaningless sex with some guy from operational tech, so be it! You are not in a position to give your two cents on who I sleep with!”

“I wasn’t trying to—I wasn’t even thinking about—about sex! I don’t care who you sleep with!”

He’s turning increasingly pink. 

“Fine. But if you weren’t thinking about sex, if you thought I was under any illusion that Dalton was going to be my fucking Prince Charming then clearly you’re not equipped to have this conversation. I know he’s an idiot. I’m not looking for my soulmate—thank you, though, for reminding me that it’s completely fucking pointless to even pretend. I love you, Spencer, but grow up. And stay out of my business.”

And with that, you’re turning on your heel and marching toward your car. Spencer calls your name—once. Twice. The wind lashes against your bare arms and stings your eyes as you fumble with your keys. 

It’s just the wind. 

Nothing else. 

-

Maybe you’re simply not meant for love. 

It’s a narcissistic thought in the sense that everyone has it at some point in their lives—everyone falls victim to the delusion that they are so uniquely wretched, so singularly incapable of being understood by another person. It’s the universal illusion of solitude. And you’d thought yourself above it for a long time. In college, there was fling after fling. Your bed was never empty if you didn’t want it to be. In your young adult life, you have other priorities—but you rarely have to be alone. 

Now, though, as you sit on a rickety metal stool deep in the bowels of the Bureau’s records room, banished to sort through files in search of one that had been mishandled during a cold case and is now supposedly relevant again, (although you’re not sure it actually exists) you’re pondering the nature of those connections you’d been so sure your life was full of. Were they all artificial? Designed by you subconsciously to manufacture a sense of complacent satisfaction? To stave off the aching, gnawing loneliness in your gut that you’re only now becoming aware of and has been eating you away in bigger and bigger bites since Friday night?

Morgan was supposed to be just as arm-deep into a box of dusty manila folders as you are now, but he talked his way out of it, and you’re sitting in an awkward twenty-minute-long-so-far silence with Spencer. Which isn’t helping anything. 

The tension comes and goes like the moon pulling the tides. It’s like you can sense it wafting off of each other—you feel it in the prickle on the back of your neck and the buzz in your stomach when he’s about to say something, and you glance over, and he’s already looking at you with his lips parted, and then he doesn’t say anything after all, and the silence reinforces itself. 

It gets frustrating. 

Not to mention this task is equal parts mind numbing and infuriating. Maybe Hotch just hates you. 

Eventually Spencer clears his throat, and you welcome the distraction. 

“What year are you on?”

You give him a long look which he doesn’t reciprocate, because you want to say, really? But eventually you pick up the edge of the box you’re sifting through and double check. 

“Uh… June 1979 through August 1979.”

He nods matter-of-facts. “They should be making us wear gloves.”

Your incoming tangent spidey senses are tingling. It’s not exactly an opportune time, but it’s better than silence. 

Plus—you’re pretty sure this is his idea of a peace offering. 

“Why’s that?” You mutter, flicking through yellowed papers. 

“Wood pulp paper contains an alum-rosin mixture to minimize ink bleeding, but in the presence of moisture such as that introduced in trace amounts by our fingertips it generates a diluted sulfuric acid solution. They didn’t start adding alkaline buffers into paper until 1986, and the cellulose chains that comprise the structure of the paper inevitably shorten and break down over time, so we’re actively degrading these documents by touching them without gloves.”

“Did you say sulfuric acid?”

“I said a diluted sulfuric acid solution,” he clarifies, utterly missing the point of your question as he so often does in that disarmingly endearing way of his. “Sorry, by the way.”

You look up from a photo of bloodied bell-bottom jeans. He’s caught you by surprise. 

“For what?”

“For—”

He struggles with the words—you watch his lips form a few silent ones before he gives up on the nonchalant act and sets his file on his lap. He can’t seem to tear his eyes from it, but you don’t mind. 

“For everything on Friday. I… I know it was none of my business. I sometimes struggle with… keeping my thoughts to myself. Especially when it concerns someone I care about. But I wasn’t judging you, I swear. What you said about—about sex, I—” he sighs, obviously frustrated with himself, and pushes a bit of hair out of his eyes. “That’s not where my mind was at, at all. Whatever you… do, or don’t do, is none of my business. Obviously. You don’t need me to tell you that. You don’t need me to tell you anything. I just really wanted to clarify that I wasn’t shaming you or judging you for—”

“Spencer,” you say gently, cutting him off and reeling him in before he can dig any deeper. 

“Yeah. Sorry.”

He glows under the canned lighting, a soft aura of white blurring the edges of him. The stale room buzzes. It’s otherwise quiet down here. Peaceful, almost. 

From anyone else, you might consider it overstepping. 

You wouldn’t have been willing to forgive them in the first place. 

But it’s not anyone else. 

“Thank you, for apologizing. I really appreciate it.”

He glances up at you, sort of hunched—always trying to make himself smaller than whatever force created him had intended. The deep brown of his eyes is melted and swirling and sweet and nervous. He’s not naturally good at these interpersonal things, but he’s always trying. He’s always pushing himself for you.

Do you ask too much? 

Do you offer enough in return?

Struck by sudden insecurity, you look away. Go back to your files. 

Perhaps you made a mountain out of a molehill and told him to climb it. 

“I mean, I am kind of a slut. I wouldn’t blame you for thinking so,” you laugh airily. “Maybe it was a good reality check.”

A trailing silence. An air conditioner kicks on. 

“What? That’s not—that’s not at all what I was trying to say.”

“Spencer, it’s fine.”

His stool squeaks as he sits up straighter. 

“No, I really want you to understand. Even if I cared or thought about how many people you might sleep with—which I don’t—and even if I determined that you were… sexually promiscuous, I wouldn’t assign a moral value to that judgement. Sexual promiscuity is observed all the time in the animal kingdom, it’s biologically sound and justified and in less misogynistic cultures where bonds forged between humans weren’t socioeconomic arrangements dependent on women being viewed as commodities first and foremost, it’s completely unremarkable. But I haven’t made that determination. All I know is that… you’re you. And that’s all that’s ever going to matter to me.”

Silence falls. Your voice gets stuck in your throat. 

How does he so casually show you more kindness than anyone else has ever managed to show you in your life?

Spencer takes pity on you. 

“And… we’ve talked entirely too much about something that’s none of my business today.”

It’s wry and earns a chuckle from you. Even Spencer manages a chagrined smile. That same strand of hair falls loose as he looks down. Light bounces from his self-effacing smirk. 

You fiddle absentmindedly with the fraying corner of a folder, and you’re about to open your mouth, about to speak into the sparkling cloud that the easy laughter and the melted tension has left in its wake, and tell him how much you appreciate him and how kind he truly is and undoubtedly whatever you say will be made more beautiful because of it—because of the affection you have for each other—and then you stop, eyes catching on the case file between your fingers. You frown. 

“Wait—what’s the case number we’re looking for?”

“91 18 00063 7.”

You hold the file up, eyes alight. 

“I found it.”

Spencer frowns and takes it without asking. You watch as he reviews the number in tiny black typeface along the top of the document. His brow scrunches in disbelief. 

“I genuinely didn’t think we were ever going to find it,” he murmurs after leading through the photos and glances back up at you. “We had thirty years of boxes to look through and you found it in under an hour. You’re like magic.”

It’s impossible not to smile. You feel all warm and sparkly as you snatch it back from him and stand, straightening your jacket. 

“Will you tell that to Hotch?”

“I… will tell anyone who will listen,” he assures you, and you’re confident he’s following as you make your way through the maze of stacks. “Are we not gonna clean up our mess?”

“There are people who will take care of that later.”

“Yeah. Like me. During my lunch break.”

“Don’t worry. You’re going to be well rewarded for your efforts today.”

“What does that mean?” He mumbles, and you can practically hear his blush. 

You smile to yourself. 

Still got it. 

for more of these two, check out the bandages universe masterlist!

[gutsby]

Stupid Prizes

Pairing: dbf!Joel x Reader

Summary: Before you head back to college, your dad wants to go on one last family outing: the county fair. The only problem? Your secret fuckbuddy, Joel, is there.

Warnings: 18+. Sneaky, unprotected p-in-v. Joel pining for you while your dad is beside him, oblivious for now. Semi-public sex (on a ferris wheel—don’t ever do that). Gross misuse of a candy apple. Age gap. Jealous Joel. Teasing. Angst(!) Mentions of infidelity/abandonment.

Word count: 10.0k

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

The gingham dress was your best idea yet.

For Joel, nothing could’ve been worse.

He’d cum down your throat no more than ten minutes ago, and with just a glimpse of your new getup bounding down the stairs—you’d had to change after he painted your last one white—Joel almost inhaled his Heineken.

He coughed and sputtered and hacked the beer back up while you strolled past the sofa and grinned at your dad.

“Ready to go, old man?”

It was just a short red frock with a sweetheart neckline.

The fabric cinched at the waist and flowed with every step you would take. Turning slightly to toy with the hem, and teasing the only eyes on you, you corrected yourself:

“Sorry…old men, I mean.”

Something like amusement flashed in Joel’s eyes.

Didn’t seem to mind this old man’s cock down your—

“I was born ready, kid,” your dad answered, still messing with something on his key ring, “How ‘bout you, Miller?”

“Yessir.” Joel stood.

He recalled you saying something similar before opening your mouth in the guest bathroom just fifteen minutes earlier. Joel’s cock twitched in his jeans at the memory, and his cheeks might’ve tinged a little, remembering how fast he’d cum. You’d only smiled and sucked your thumb, getting a taste of the residue that had missed your chest.

“Quite a mess you made there, Joel.”

And you repeated those words, at length, with only you and him to know what it had meant to you both before.

You gestured to the smattering of crushed potato chips on his shirt, and your grin got bigger. Joel grew redder.

“Yeah…” he mumbled, brushing the crumbs off his front. He wasn’t nearly as fast with the comebacks as he was with other kinds of comings and goings, and he knew it. He set the bag of Lays aside and seemed ready to leave.

But when he’d licked the salt off his lips and caught you staring—when he saw his friend go back to the kitchen:

“I had to be quick,” he said. Then, lowering his voice, “You know better’n anyone what a messy eater I am.”

Of course you knew that. Joel winked at you, and you winked back, mostly making fun of the boomer move. He reached for you—the edge of your skirt scarcely hanging a fraction of the way down your thighs—and he opened his mouth to speak again, when there was the sound of heavy boots at the threshold of the room. Joel leaned past your body and snagged the bag of chips instead.

“Food for the road?” He turned to his friend.

“All you,” your dad replied, smiling and waving the chips off as he went for the front door, “I swear your stomach’s a bottomless pit, man. Eatin’ me outta house and home.”

Joel looked at you when your dad was past you both.

House and home ain’t the only thing I’m gonna—

“Let’s go,” you chirped, fast, “I call shotgun!”

This would be a long, long day, no doubt.

The county fair had been his friend’s idea. One last day of ‘family fun’ before his little girl went back to school out East, and Joel hadn’t seen Bellville in years, so he’d asked him if he wanted to join. After a shared, brief stint in abstinence camp, the answer should’ve been clear:

‘NO.’

But Joel hadn’t learned very much from the Fireflies in the less than 72 hours he’d spent living—and also fucking you—there, so he’d nodded and said ‘Okay.’

Now you were twenty minutes out from the fairgrounds with a near-depleted tank of gas in the truck, obliged to make a quick pit stop at a Texaco. It was the first time he’d been alone with you since you’d set off from Austin. The second his friend was gone and headed inside to buy a pack of smokes, he heard a seatbelt come undone.

Earlier, he had raced you and beat you to the car to lay claim on the passenger seat, so you’d been in the back this whole time. He barely saw you before he felt you, climbing over the center console and then into his lap.

Straddling him while the Eagles played faintly overhead.

“Feel fucking insane not being able to touch you right now,” you huffed against his lips, kissing him hungrily.

Joel groaned. Felt your lower half grind into his. Almost rutted his hips up and yearned to have you seated on something other than just his denim-clad crotch when he sucked in a breath and remembered where he was. He nudged your hips and fisted the fabric in his hand.

“You in this dress ain’t helpin’ me either,” he growled.

You grinned against him, then hiked the red-and-white material up your legs a little more. Joel felt something like a shockwave when he saw what was underneath it.

Or, rather, what wasn’t there at all: your panties.

“Bathroom quickie?” you said, already breathless, “I’ll tell my dad I got cramps. I’ve been so wet this whole ti—”

“Darlin’.”

Joel’s eyes had drifted down to the place where your body and his were touching—rubbing—now. Even from this limited vantage point, he could see a glistening patch sticking from your bare seam to his jeans, and it was pooling on the fabric. Practically oozing out of your cunt while you rocked your hips and begged him please.

“Please, just one. I’ll be good the rest of the day, daddy.”

“Fuck,” Joel hissed.

His pupils were wide, and his mind was seriously considering it. Stupidly so, he reckoned; your dad was bound to be back any second, and surely you couldn’t both be gone for more than five minutes without raising suspicions. It was a reckless endeavor, he already knew.

And when he saw his old friend strolling out the front doors of the Texaco, his decision was made for him.

He watched you scramble off his lap and back to your seat, body quick and lithe and giggling the whole way.

“Gonna get me murdered, girl,” Joel panted, gruff.

Your own smile didn’t waver; you just settled back into the middle seat and let your gaze trail out the window, trying to fix your eyes on something to calm you down.

You already had the sense that nothing would. Your teeth bit your bottom lip between them to forestall the threat of another laugh while your dad approached the vehicle.

From the radio, ‘Life in the Fast Lane’ kept playing.

As old as they were, Joel Miller and your dad had a funny way of acting more like kids than you ever had, at any age. As your trio approached the wide, gleaming gates of the Austin County Fair, you saw your dad nudge Joel, and Joel shoved him back, and somewhere in the midst of all the ribbing, you heard your dad say, clear as day:

“If I’m takin’ a whole day off work, I’m gettin’ hammered.”

You knew by that tone this would an interesting afternoon, to say the least. You held your ticket tighter.

And for a moment, you wished you’d worn underwear. It’d been a split-second decision to peel them off before skipping downstairs, and it had worked well enough—Joel walking with a limp all throughout the parking lot and trying to shield the tent in his jeans—but now you were the one in greater danger still. Seeing your secret family-friend-with-benefits in his tight, light, heather grey shirt and jeans, hips adorned with a hefty belt and moving deliciously with each new step he took, you were transfixed. Left to watch him and gawk and grow wetter between the legs with every passing second, there was nothing you could do about it now. Likely sensing this, Joel raked a hand through his grey-flecked hair and hummed to himself. His bicep bulged through the sleeve.

“Nice little view, ain’t it?” he asked, nodding to the outline of a dozen shining rides and attractions ahead.

Go fuck yourself, Joel.

“Can’t wait to ride that.” You pointed to the ferris wheel, though the finger in your mind was aimed closer to him.

“Funnel cake,” your dad beamed, eyeing a nearby stand.

The three of you weren’t walking for much longer before he insisted on buying one. Joel had had a hankering for lemonade himself, so he’d fallen in line behind you and your dad. When it was your turn to order, you paused.

Then, pointing again:

“Can you get me one of those?”

You’d had to stand on tiptoes to see it inside the display, but from Joel’s own height, he was certain to have seen what you meant. While your dad shilled out the cash, not batting an eye, the man behind him clenched his jaw.

Candy apple, hon? Real fuckin’ mature.

Your eyes met his as soon as you’d turned, treat in hand.

I thought you liked seeing big things in my mouth, Joel.

He would’ve scowled if he wasn’t next in line—and your dad wasn’t walking so close behind, sniffing his food.

Joel ordered his drink, drank it fast, and found his thirst no better quenched than when he’d started. You’d sat across from him at the table and made sure of that.

You dragged your tongue up the sugar-coated apple just like you’d done to his shaft that morning and blinked, savoring the taste. Feigning innocence as he looked on.

And what else could he do? If not watch you, then peer at your father, furtively, and make sure he wasn’t able to see so much as a second of this little show you were putting on now. Joel glanced around you, too. No one else seemed to notice what was going on, even when your lips left a soft, sweet suction near the top of the apple, and he could’ve sworn he’d heard you moan.

It was just in his head. He was remembering how you’d done it that morning, mouth sinking down his length and whimpering when you’d reached the base. The way your eyes had watered, your free hand had reached between your legs, and your lips had welcomed him in; it was all burned in his memory, and not retreating any time soon.

Neither was the blood rushing to his dick, he reckoned.

You didn’t seem to care. Even when a bright pink river of spit and sugar trickled out of your mouth, you didn’t flinch. You let it slide down to your chin. Right before it reached the end of your face, and you were certain Joel’s gaze was glued to the spot, you licked a little bit of it off. You didn’t get it all in one go, so you shifted your snack to the other hand and then swiped your thumb under your lips. You brought it up to your mouth and sucked it, just like you’d done with Joel’s cum on it earlier that day.

Joel chucked his cup in the trash. Your dad took another bite of his deep-fried pastry and, talking between chews:

“That was fast.”

“Need’a stretch my legs,” Joel announced, abrupt.

He turned to you, and your thumb came out of your mouth. The frown on his face was unmistakable, though your father probably thought it was just from having to squint against the sun. Not because he was incensed.

Out for revenge.

“Ready to get wrecked, kiddo?” he asked you.

Your eyes widened, and your tongue quit licking.

What?

Then you saw him nod to some spot over your shoulder. You didn’t have the nerve to follow his gaze as he did.

Faintly, you could make out a smirk crossing his lips.

“Arcade’s over there. Unless you’re too scared.”

Your dad raised a dumbass, not a quitter.

You’d accepted Joel’s proposal without a second thought, and your father seemed pleased to have the chance to peruse the food stands and beer carts to his heart’s content. You’d set off quickly. Your candy apple was still in your hand when you saw your friend lean over.

Joel opened his mouth, and he took a big, angry bite.

“You’re insane,” he said after, words muffled by fruit.

You took your first steps inside the dark, cool building littered with machines and fun activities of every kind, and deep down, you were happy you’d had that treat. You took a bite yourself, then discreetly patted his ass through his jeans and told him, ‘Only for you, Miller.’

You weren’t sure why you’d said it. As soon as the words came out of your mouth, you regretted it, no matter how stupid and playful the message was meant to be read. But then Joel nudged you back—actually wrapped his arm around your shoulder and pulled you into his side.

His mouth was close to you, and you could feel the smile:

“Just how I like it.”

Your cheeks heated a little. You weren’t so fond of the intimate move—in public like this, even as dark as the arcade happened to be—but you couldn’t deny the flutter in your stomach. You swallowed the rest of your apple, and with it, any shred of emotion, or so you were hoping. You nudged Joel off of you under the guise of trying to point to something new, and his eyes followed.

“C’mon. At least pick something you’ve got half a shot of winning,” he said, swiftly. Sounding smug as he spoke.

You plodded on anyway, not hesitating at all.

“I’ve got more than half a shot,” you assured him, tone arguably twice as conceited, “Now if you’re scared—”

“You can’t use my own lingo against me, little girl.”

“Then nut up or shut up, old man.”

Joel scoffed. You chewed. The two of you approached the Skee-Ball machines with near identical looks of ambition and zeal, and sensing this tension wouldn’t dissipate with any more shit-talking, you got to work.

The first game was close. You beat him by less than ten points, and you guessed that that had been due in part to Joel’s own will. You saw him make more than two pitches so outrageously bad that you’d had to have guessed he was going easy on you. As soon as you felt that, you’d scowled. Pointed angrily at the scoreboard.

“You can’t just let me win, Miller!” you said, shrill.

Joel’s hands went up, and you knew he’d deny it all.

“No need to gloat, now, honey—”

“Fuck off,” you snapped, all while fighting back a smile, “Gimme your A game or don’t bother playing, honey.”

And he did.

The next game left you destroyed, roughly 900 to 320. You stepped back from the machine, feeling a frown start to form on your lips but knowing you’d asked for this, and just as Joel was about to lean in to offer a conciliatory hug, he had to stop. Both of you turned.

Somewhere behind you, you’d heard a voice.

It was young, male, and audibly amused.

“He really whooped your ass, huh?”

Your eyebrows raised as soon as you saw the source. Your scowl morphed into a smile, and your eyes were bright—too bright, almost. You ran over to hug the boy.

He was a boy, after all. Likely no more than half Joel’s weight soaking wet and wearing the biggest, dumbest grin that could only belong to a guy your age. He hugged you back, and his arms tightened around you. Comfily.

“Wade!” you gushed, squeezing him hard. You stepped back and looked him over, as if in shock, “It’s been…”

“Forever,” Too-comfy-cozy Wade finished for you.

Joel frowned.

“And here I thought you were gone away for good!” you laughed, “Went off to get that fancy Stanford degree—”

“—and you, in Boston—” the boy chimed in.

Before the reminiscing could go on much further, you remembered yourself and turned back to Joel. Still beaming as bright as you’d been when you first saw the kid, you gestured indistinctly, tongue-tied for a second.

“This— Joel, this is Wade Pritchett, one of my friends from high school,” you introduced him. Letting the two men—or, rather, mustached boy and muscled man—shake hands. Evidently, you were too stoked to notice.

“He moved out to Sacramento our senior year, and none of us thought— well, we— we figured we’d probably never see him again. Fuckin’ west coast hot shot he is.”

You smirked as you nudged his ribs, and something in Joel turned to month-old milk: sour, rancid, and heavy. His stomach turned inside him, and he hardly knew why. All he noticed was that he didn’t like the eyes you were making at him, and he hated the face Wade had for you.

Joel was just looking out for you, really.

You could do so much better than this douche.

“This is my friend,” you said to Wade, motioning back. Then, reconsidering just a second, “My dad’s friend.”

Joel didn’t like that.

Wade gave him a brief once-over and hardly seemed to see him at all. In that millisecond of a look, Joel saw it:

‘Old family friend. No worries there.’

Foolishly, Joel wished the chump could’ve seen what you’d been doing the night before—impaled on his cock and riding him as hard as your knees would allow you:

‘Daddy, please, daddy, daddy, daddy.’

“Joel?” Your voice cut in his mind like a knife.

Joel blinked.

“Yeah?”

“Okay if Wade joins?”

“Oh, yeah. Yeah.”

Not that it mattered now. Royal pain-in-the-ass Pritchett was already getting the machine next to yours set up.

Joel eyed him once more and tried to swallow his pride.

Somewhere along the way, it got stuck in his throat.

Three rounds was all he could take.

You on Wade, Wade on you—goading each other on in the most sly, flirtatious ways. Or maybe it was just Joel imagining that. Regardless, the man didn’t feel guilty at all when, at the conclusion of the third game, he’d tried to feign a casual tone and told you your dad would be expecting you back any minute, better wrap things up.

“He texted me like twenty minutes ago saying he’d be neck-deep in craft beer for an hour. I think we’re good,” you replied, and the indifference in yours didn’t have to be faked. You grinned at Wade, and Wade grinned back.

“Well, he texted me a second ago that he was holding a spot for us in line at the ferris wheel, so let’s roll, kid.”

That was a lie.

Joel didn’t like himself for doing it. But, again, he didn’t like Wade Pritchett even more, and he reasoned that he was doing you a favor, anyway. He searched for the exit.

“It’s alright, my mom’s probably looking for me, too.”

We get it, Pritchett. You’re a mama’s boy.

“Ah, okay.” You almost sounded sad.

Don’t be, baby. You’re daddy’s girl, remember?

Wade pulled you in for a hug; Joel wanted to deck him.

“I’ll be in town all week if you wanna—”

“I wish. My flight leaves tomorrow,” you cut in. Now your tone was really despondent. Your mouth was pouting.

It was just Joel’s eyes. He was seeing things. He was thinking you cared for this guy more than you probably ever did, and he was getting himself worked up over nothing. He clenched one hand into a fist by his side and waited for the anger to subside. Sadly, it was slow to go.

“Maybe we could…go out for drinks later or something?”

That suggestion didn’t make things any easier on Joel.

“I’d love to.”

Your reply didn’t exactly set his mind at ease, either.

At last, he decided he’d had enough. Turning on his heels, he bid a terse goodbye to shithead Pritchett and walked out of the arcade. He didn’t stop until he’d hit one of the bar carts your dad had been raving about outside.

He contemplated buying a drink. Maybe two. In fact, he’d just been eyeing three cans of Coors Light and was fishing for his wallet when he heard your voice again.

“Joel?”

“Yeah?” His tone was clipped.

If you felt it, you didn’t show it.

“Are we riding the ferris wheel or not?”

He probably should’ve given a verbal answer in the affirmative. Instead, he’d just nodded his head and started off the other way, expecting you to follow.

The walk was short. You’d had to weave through a sea of fairgoers, including schoolkids, college-aged drunks, and more than a fair share of loved-up couples, but that wasn’t too bad. Joel just ignored each one and didn’t stop until you’d reached the line for the ferris wheel.

Or what was left of the line, anyway.

Unlike what Joel had told you, there was no wraparound queue for you to join. Your father wasn’t there. Once you’d passed a look over the dozen-odd people waiting patiently for it to be their turn on the ride, you felt your stomach turn. Joel had never texted your dad at all.

“He’s not coming, is he?” Dispensing with the obvious.

Joel still wouldn’t look your way. He’d just sidled up behind the last people in line—a group of older folks who all seemed eager to get on the ferris wheel. You scoffed when you saw Joel’s expression harden, and you planned to turn away. Then the people up front started to move. For a moment, you were torn between telling him off and leaving him there. At length, you settled on saying, low:

“You lied.”

Joel followed the moving line, and a few more people started to trickle in behind you. Before you could even think to speak again, you were nudged ahead by the force of that crowd, and had only to keep glaring.

“Hey—” you hissed, only five steps away from the platform now. The ride attendant was scanning the line, appearing to count the people approaching the gate, and when his eyes landed on you, you made out a little grin.

“Aww, your daughter scared’a heights or somethin’?”

He’d said it to Joel, sounding cheeky. His teeth gleamed in the light of a hundred different neon bulbs, and you had to avert your face to keep from revealing its disgust.

So everyone else still thinks he’s my dad. That’s nice.

You couldn’t see Joel’s expression, but you imagined it looked the same. You shuffled ahead, reluctantly, and heard a lady behind you laugh; the sound had a tipsy lilt.

“My kid’s the same way—you’ll be fine, hon,” she slurred.

Heights aren’t the issue here, you’d wanted to snap back, for no other reason than your own disdain for Joel and the present situation. He walked in front of you, still refusing to meet your gaze, and soon you were perched on the platform, sandwiched between two semi-rowdy throngs of fairgoers with no clear means of escape. You crossed your arms and stared up at the back of his head. The look you gave him probably could’ve burned holes in his skull if irritation had been the means of achieving it.

You were seated on the ride in minutes. The compartment was surprisingly large, and its walls high, with glass on every side. Under a waning afternoon sun, the views you expected to see were bound to be pretty. All that was left to detract from its splendor was Joel— hunkered down opposite you and manspreading. Wide.

Sitting in total silence with his denim-covered legs split in a ‘V’. Watching you and rubbing one thigh, absently.

“You’ve got some nerv—” you started in.

“Yeah, no. No. That kid was gettin’ on my nerves—”

It amazed you how fast Joel was to return your words with a hostile quip of his own, anger flashing in his eyes.

“What’d he even do?! He’s my friend— my best friend—”

Fury flitted to something like discomfort, momentarily.

“Oh yeah? Just friends?”

“What the fuck does it matter to you?”

In your own expression, rage flared unchecked. You didn’t particularly care what Joel thought now if he was immature enough to act like this, and the walls of the compartment were thick enough to prevent anyone else’s hearing a word of it. The ride continued to rumble along, letting on new passengers with each new stop.

Joel might’ve paused. Could’ve stared out the window for all you knew—everything but the wheel itself seemed to be moving at lightning speed, and time was sliding.

“Because I— I— I give a shit, kid. I care.”

“And that makes lying to me alright?”

“I was just worried for your—”

“Bullshit. What would you need to be so worried about? Me playing Skee-Ball with an old friend and maybe getting drinks? You can fuck right off with that.”

Joel opened his mouth to speak, but he shut it when the ride suddenly jolted to a stop. It sputtered. Then, after a long, tense moment, it slowly ascended again. You took this lull in speech as your own chance to re-intervene:

“That’s not ‘care.’ Or ‘worry,’” you continued, words dripping with condescension, “That’s controlling.”

“Controlling?”

“Don’t play dumb.”

Joel Miller always did.

“It’s not—”

“It is—”

“Protecting you from assholes like him—”

“—he’s not—and I never asked you to do that!”

“So I just sit by and watch him touch what’s mine—”

“I’m not yours, Joel!”

Your last words echoed through the car like a shotgun’s report. You’d said it with such force—so emphatic for him not to be mistaken in what this was, or whose you were—when you hardly even knew how you felt yourself. It was a knee-jerk reaction, and one that Joel knew only too well. The last time you two fucked, he’d begged the same: ‘Say you’re mine,’ and no matter how close you’d been to release at the time, you simply couldn’t say it. Now, clear-headed and mostly clothed, you still despised those words. Emotions. Uniquely juxtaposed with Joel’s jealousy over Wade, you’d never wanted to say it louder:

“I’m not yours, and I never will be. So just stop.”

More cruel.

“Are we clear?”

The car came to a halt near the top. When Joel still hadn’t deigned to answer, you leaned in closer.

“I said, are we fucking clear, Miller?”

Then you didn’t have to wait.

“I hear you.”

Of course he heard. His face was hard. His eyes were like two brown stones in the sockets, and the line of his mouth was tight. Whatever use you might’ve had in trying to decipher that look was ignored for the time being; you were still too angry. And, perhaps owing to this state—with a white-hot look fixed on him and your head full of blinding, bitter thoughts—you were more than susceptible to surprise. You jumped when you felt it.

Felt him with a hand moving from his leg to yours.

It went quick but was almost too ridiculous to fathom—how swift Joel was in reaching for you, hoisting you into his lap, letting your limbs straddle his hips with all the ease of old, welcome habits. It might’ve worked just as well, were it not for the tension in your legs. The short, sharp, ‘Joel’ and a look flitting out to either side of you.

“What?” he grunted.

You heard a fly unzip.

“We’re on a—”

Before you could finish, and as if to furnish the answer for you, the ride shuddered back to life. Its descent was slow, but any movement now made your stomach churn. It didn’t matter that most of the cabin was encased in metal, the rest semi-tinted plexiglass, or that your space was almost entirely shielded from the view of other cars—it was too much of a risk, as was everything with him.

Joel remained blind to it all. Your cabin came to a stop, still high in the sky, and then you felt him grip something between you. In one swift motion, he had the head of his cock rubbing your seam. You sighed; his eyes were cold.

“C’mon then…show me what ain’t mine,” he murmured.

His voice was low. You hated those words. This was more than just that. Your cunt slid and accepted him anyway.

For a second, your gaze was level with his. Your hips hadn’t stirred, and he was crawling inch-by-inch inside you, pulling you down. The act could’ve been intimate, had the words that passed before not been so harsh—and the place not been a fucking amusement park.

When the ride resumed its slow, rumbling circuit, he didn’t make your bodies part, but instead flipped you around. Your back was flush with his front, and by all appearances, you were innocently perched on his lap.

What the tens, or dozens, or hundreds of strangers ambling around down below couldn’t see was that a cock was nestled inside you, too. That with every gentle bump of the wheel, a man several decades your senior was filling you to the hilt, sending waves of pleasure through your body and his while he stuffed you tight. What your dad didn’t know was that this was his friend. That the nose nudging the skin between your sleeve and your neck belonged to Joel, and his breaths were short.

Trying to calm the flutter of his pulse and the pull of his lungs, he flattened his hands on either one of your thighs. He rubbed his palms back and forth, and you glanced down to find the insides of your legs extra shiny.

Slick, pretty, and full of him. He tilted your chin back up.

“Nice and quiet for daddy—nice and still. No squirmin’.”

He nudged your hips forward, and his cock brushed a wet, spongy ridge inside you. You had to purse your lips to swallow a noise. You felt your cunt drool even more.

The car swung low, in the line of sight of far too many eyes, and then it stopped again. You weren’t at liberty to move at all, and still, the feel of Joel inside you was raw.

Grating, almost.

It made the prospect of conversation seem the tiniest bit easier, though—forced to face away from each other and act civil now. Right before the ride started up again, you gripped the armrest and anchored your feet to his boots.

“Feels…good,” you whimpered.

“That so?” Joel murmured back.

“So—oh.”

Your words fell apart at the next brush of his hand, sliding down to your heat and taking his index and middle fingers to the precious, pulsing bud in between.

Soon the car was up at a comfortable height. You sighed.

Your legs pressed together over Joel’s, and you felt him rub the tips of his fingers even harder, circles tighter.

“I know,” he said, sensing your words before they came, “I know it feels nice, baby. Keep that chin up for daddy.”

Don’t let them know I’m inside you. Stay quiet.

But his girth was so much. The tug of his smooth, throbbing manhood between your walls was almost more than you could take. You laced the fingers of your free hand with his over your thigh, and you held them tight as your hips wriggled back. You couldn’t help it, feeling a welt of pleasure start to blossom in your belly.

“Joel—” you started.

“Don’t talk,” Joel grumbled, stern, “It’ll draw attention.”

You sensed there was more to it than that. Your fingers threaded even deeper through his, and he squeezed them back. Between your bodies, there rose a soft, gentle tap, tap, tap with the thrusts Joel was able to deliver now that you were back up high and out of sight. If there was any time to speak, this was your window.

Joel probably wished you hadn’t, but you tried, anyway.

“You know it’s been years since—”

“Since?”

Now you didn’t want to say it. But you knew you had to.

“Wade’s been my friend since—”

Another influx of something soft and tender inside you. Joel holding your hand, pushing himself deeper, and trying not to groan when you clenched around him. Hating that he had to hear that name, most likely.

You despised the words even more before you said them:

“—since my mom left.”

It was an awful time to be bringing this up, admittedly. Both of you on the brink of release with Joel’s cock buried as far inside you as it would go, his fingers entwined with yours, and the ride drifting lower.

And lower, lower, lower still. Joel’s breaths picked up.

The car shuddered to a halt almost halfway down. You didn’t have to see his face to picture it a little more rigid than it’d been before. He’d known your dad long enough to remember the time his wife had walked out on him.

“When we were, like, thirteen—” You continued, as if you needed to remind him of any of the particulars. Joel hardly knew you back then, though, “—he was my friend. Wade’s been one of my— my closest— he was there—”

You couldn’t be sure if it was the subject of discussion or simply how close you were to cumming that kept your tongue from forming a coherent string of words, but here you were. Joel’s grip on your hand had loosened, and the movements of his hips had slowed considerably. You hoped he’d be too lost in his own pleasure to care.

“I remember,” he returned quietly.

That was all he said for a moment. Out of habit, your legs parted more for his touch, and you whimpered, feebly, as the fingers kept circling your clit. The ride started again.

“You don’t have to—” And again, his voice was low.

“I’m not saying that as an— as an excuse or anything.”

You didn’t know why you were saying it at all. You just wanted Joel to know he didn’t need to be jealous. That Wade had been a friend through a dark and bleak season of your life, and that was all it had ever, or would ever, be.

While the car was still suspended in air, and the sights below all relatively small, you got the sense you’d have to deal with this budding bliss inside you a bit quicker than anticipated. Joel was all wordless encouragement. You almost wished you could’ve seen his face as he urged you to come undone, keep making yourself feel good, that’s it, cum for me, but frankly, it was probably for the best you couldn’t look him in the eye right now. Beyond just needing release, you wanted him to see you in a more vulnerable light than you’d ever been—facing away seemed the least painful position to have that happen.

With your fingers and his still interlaced and your hips moving a little more quickly, Joel could feel your pleasure soaking his jeans, and he pulled you down closer to him.

He nudged the back of your neck with his nose. He panted against it gently, tenderly. Then he kissed it.

“Don’t need’a say anything else, darlin’. I’m sorry.”

I’m sorry.

Under any other circumstances, an apology from a man would have been the last thing to send you over the edge, but today, you couldn’t help it. Just as the car started up again, you hit your peak with Joel still stuffed inside you, and you gripped his hand as hard as you could. You fought to keep the moans contained behind your lips, but it was hard—and Joel’s constant, tender caresses with his lips and fingers made it that much worse. He trailed kisses down your neck and shoulder and told you gently, ‘That’s it, good girl, that’s my girl.’

My girl.

Again.

You almost didn’t mind it being said this time around.

Almost.

In truth, you didn’t have half a mind to think much of anything in that moment. You just curled your toes and pressed your back into Joel while the warm, euphoric waves coursed through you, and you let yourself be content with what he’d said. Whatever he meant by it.

In the minute that followed, you sensed he was perilously close to finishing, too. So, as soon as you’d made it down from your high—and the ride, too, was circling back and making its way through the final cycles—you crawled off of Joel. You got on your knees. For the first time in what seemed like hours, you locked eyes with him; your mouth moved lower still. You’d barely latched your lips onto the head of his cock before he was shooting off rope after rope after rope of his cum. Warmth splattered down your tongue and throat, and you swallowed it all obediently.

You didn’t need to be told when the ride was over. You heard a buzz, felt it jolt, and, unfortunately for you and Joel, your car was one of the first to be let off. You had to hurry off your knees and back into your seat, across from your panting, silver-haired friend, just seconds before the door to your left swung open. You began to stand.

Joel followed you out. His spend was still stuck to your throat in some places, the scent of his skin and his stubble and his extra heavy load all fresh to your senses. You wiped one corner of your mouth and kept walking.

And it was in this state you remained another second or two. You were just about to take your first steps off the platform, mind floating over somewhere tranquil and warm, when your thoughts were presently interrupted.

Your steps, too, were cut short. Joel had stopped you.

Then he grabbed your face, and he kissed you.

Your world froze a moment. You didn’t have time to think, or react, or even kiss him back, so you just stood there and let him hold you to him. It was over in a blink.

And one glance over Joel’s shoulder after he did it, to the ride attendant and nearly every last person in line, said they were just as stunned. Some sick, by the looks of it.

‘He’s NOT my dad!’ you wanted to yell, out of habit.

Seeing the eyes Joel had fixed on you—the smile that followed—their suspicions didn’t matter to him at all.

You walked off together, still considering those words:

My girl.

A month wouldn’t be so bad. Two was tolerable, even.

The next few hours spent with Joel made it seem like you could go a year or longer without seeing his face, and nothing between you would change too much.

He was a friend. A good friend. Not just your dad’s old companion, but your own. Whatever else was left beyond that could be explored down the road, but for now, you were content to just let him hold your hand in places you weren’t likely to be seen, and kiss you in those he hoped your dad wouldn’t be. Maybe fuck you on a ferris wheel.

At the thought of going back to college tomorrow, not seeing him again until Thanksgiving or Christmas at the earliest, you didn’t feel too sad. You did get an extra burst of yearning when Joel’s hands would find your hips and push you off to some shaded, semi-discreet area and he’d tell you, softly, ‘I don’t know what I’m gonna do without ya, kid’ before kissing you with a hunger all over again. That made you think you might miss him a little.

You’d warned him not to lie to you again. He promised he wouldn’t. You believed him, at least as far as your general mistrust of men would allow, and you had left it at that.

Now the tips of his fingers were brushing your own, and his mouth was grinning—coated in all sorts of sauces from the barbecue you two had been devouring. It was approaching six o’clock. He held the last Carolina-style pulled pork slider up to you, and you shook your head.

“I’m stuffed,” you said, pained.

Really, you were. You and Joel had decided to join in on the fair’s 25th annual BBQ and Chili Cook-off an hour ago, and now your stomachs were suffering immensely.

You made a face in disgust when he tried to push it closer, ‘Joel, I’ll projectile vomit if you don’t— don’t—’

You squealed when he leaned in, thinking he was planning to smush the patty in your face—you’d done that to him with some coleslaw not too long ago—but instead, he dropped the burger. He pressed what non-sticky parts of his hands he could get on your face and, cupping your cheeks between his palms, he kissed you.

Then he kissed you again, and again, and again.

This time, it felt more like an attack. Not an attempt at being affectionate, which he’d shown himself amply capable of all day, but really just a way to smear your lips and chin with sauce and get you extra pissed off at him.

It worked. You bit his lower lip at the last kiss.

And, instead of wincing in pain or biting you back, Joel surprised you by groaning a little bit against your mouth. His grip loosened from your face, and he leaned back.

‘Behave’ was all he said. Smirking.

If any one of Joel Miller’s quasi-fatherly lectures had ever met with success before, this would not be one of them. You only rolled your eyes and were about to reply with some variant of ‘Make me’ when your phone buzzed in your pocket. You pulled it out to see the new notification.

Nothing more than a reminder to check in for your flight. But that sight also roused some awareness in you that it was just then starting to get late, and you hadn’t heard a word from your father in hours. You and Joel had been extraordinarily fortunate that day in hearing that your dad happened to run into some friends at the livestock show, and had been occupied—plastered, most likely—ever since. You hadn’t thought to question it before, just happy to have your dad out of your hair for the afternoon, but now that it was late and all the shows were long since over, you had to wonder if it wasn’t time to shoot him that text. Bring your last happy, fun-filled night with Joel for the next two months to an end, and head home.

You started to send him a message. Joel peered over your shoulder, absently wiping his hands on a napkin.

“He said he was headed over to a concert last time we talked. Some band he likes,” he hummed, “Wanna go?”

You weren’t too keen on seeing the likes of any Creed-adjacent artist your dad so loved to listen to himself, but if it gave you an excuse to stretch your time with him and Joel, you didn’t mind. You nodded, then deposited your phone back into your pocket. You were just about to stand when Joel held you back. He’d snagged your hand.

“Hang on, ya got a little—” he said, soft. Then he lifted his napkin and started wiping at the sides of your mouth. His motions had all the crude, brute force of a man who’d never wiped a person’s face before—he seemed more concerned getting the vinegar-based glaze off your cheeks than impressing you with how tender he could be—but the gesture was received well enough. For once, you resisted the urge to roll your eyes and just smiled.

“You’re taking me to the airport tomorrow, right?”

“Long as it’s alright with your dad.”

“You could spend the night, too.”

Joel paused. He flitted a look from your lips to your eyes, then, finding a sly playfulness in both, only hummed. Stopped wiping long enough to kiss you on the cheek.

“We’ll see—”

“I’ll be real good—”

“Oh, I bet you won’t.”

But by the end of it, Joel was grinning too. He didn’t protest when your lips returned the favor from his, and they left an equally sweet and clean kiss on his cheek.

He didn’t bat an eye when your hand slid up his leg either. He just squeezed yours back and helped you up.

“Gonna get me murdered, I’m tellin’ you,” he murmured in your ear as you stood, just like he’d said to you earlier.

You figured if he’d had his pick of ways to risk his life, sneaking into your room tonight wouldn’t be the worst possible option. You threw your trash away and started off for the entertainment pavilion, following the music.

It was almost like you could feel Joel contemplating whether to sling his arm over your shoulder while you walked. Not once, but twice did his fingers twitch beside him, and he looked around you both from side to side. He decided against it, at length, and contented himself instead to just nudge your elbow and tell you that he liked that dress a lot—he hoped you would wear it again.

Come up for a football game, and you might see it then, you’d urged him back. The red of your dress wasn’t quite the perfect match for your school’s hundred-year-old crimson and black color scheme, but that was alright. You’d bend the rules for him. The two of you were just approaching the outskirts of a big, noisy crowd when Joel was about to respond. Your eyes glazed over a sea of people, surprised by its size, when you cut back in:

“We’re never gonna find him in here.”

Joel assessed the crowd. Checked his phone. Heard the wail of a guitar from somewhere up at the front and instantly surmised this was a Lynyrd Skynyrd cover band—and that your dad wouldn’t leave until he’d heard every song. Silently, he kicked himself for suggesting coming to look at all. He could’ve taken you on a few more rides, filled your overstuffed belly with a little more cotton candy, popcorn, or ice cream, if you’d been up for it, but instead, you were obliged to find your old man. It wouldn’t have been awful if it wasn’t so hot and—

“Hey,” Joel broke in, before he could think.

His eyes had landed on a person—a pair—in the crowd that you hadn’t seen, and his heart clenched in his chest.

You’d barely tilted your head to him, “Yeah?”

“We should go,” he told you. He hadn’t meant for his voice to come out so rushed, or strained, but it was.

He couldn’t help it, especially when your gaze had shifted fully to him. Your eyes searched his, curious.

“Why?”

“‘Cause I…” Joel trailed off, looking around. Scrambling to procure an excuse of some kind, “I gotta…go piss.”

“Then piss. I’ll wait here,” you replied.

You didn’t get it. Really, there was no way you could. You hadn’t yet seen the short-sleeve, turquoise-colored PFG shirt at the back of the crowd, the beaming face Joel spotted above it. You hadn’t caught so much as a glimpse of the man’s profile, much less the full, wide smile on his face, the beer in his hand, or the woman by his side. She was either laughing, or singing, or nudging his hip. They looked happy. And yet, you shouldn’t see it.

Joel would kiss you—that was it. It would be the riskiest thing he’d done, but at least it’d save you from seeing.

So he tried. Joel leaned in and ventured to press his lips to yours, gripping your face, but the second he did, you pushed him away. Your eyes were wide. Cheeks heating.

“What the hell, Joel?” you hissed, “Dad could be—”

Your gaze darted to the side, and then you stopped.

The eyes grew wider. Your lips stayed the course, as if to keep going, but no sound came out, and all that was left of your mouth was a round, stunned ‘o.’ You blinked, like you couldn’t believe it: the two people were kissing now.

Joel reached for your arm, but you were far too fast. You shot off to get away, toward them, and didn’t stop until you’d made it to the edge of the crowd where they stood. The music was loud, the audience was rowdy, but still, even at a distance, Joel could hear you as clear as day:

“Dad?!”

The man and the woman split as quickly as they could.

You were standing there, watching them watch you in utter shock for a second or two. Joel wasn’t counting, but he did find himself next to you before he could blink. He was reaching for your arm again, then stopping. Looking to his friend, whose gaze was plastered on his daughter with all the markings of awe. Embarrassment.

“Honey—” he started.

“What the fuck is this?”

Bad question. Terrible timing. Joel knew what it was—clearly his friend knew it too, but you weren’t supposed to find this out yourself for at least another month or two. That was what he’d told Joel back then, anyway.

“Sweetheart, this is my—this is Helen.”

You looked like you wanted to be sick.

“I know who she is!” you spat. You waved an angry, inarticulate hand in Helen’s direction. Helen looked away.

“Why don’t we go someplace quieter?” That was Joel, cutting in over the thumping bass and the strain in the air like he might’ve been a father to you himself. Wanting to shield you from what was coming next if he could help it.

Once more he reached for you, and still inflamed, you shoved him off. Your eyes were too hurt to turn away.

“What? This is y—your—” you started back, stammering.

“We were going to tell you, honey, I swear.”

In all the years he’d known him, Joel had never seen his friend look so contrite—or fucking moronic. The man had ditched his beer, was wringing his hands trying to pace a little more carefully your way while he spoke, but you weren’t having it. Or anything, really. When Joel brushed his touch against your elbow the slightest bit, about to murmur words low in your ear, like, ‘We’ll talk. C’mon,’ you’d jerked your arm away from him entirely.

He didn’t need to see your face to hear the pain in:

“Fucking stop, Joel!”

That caught your father off-guard. He didn’t hesitate before he cut back in, looking more pointedly at you.

“Hey. You don’t talk to your Uncle Joel that way,” he said, sharp. Joel winced. He went on, “I’m the one who told him not to say anything, okay? Now just calm down—”

And whatever effect his friend had intended to produce created just the opposite in you. Instead of focusing on your dad, your eyes shot to Joel, and in an instant, your body was turning. Your face was half-hatred as you did.

“You knew?!”

“Honey, I told him—” your dad tried saying.

But your look was too enraged. Your jaw was too tight. Your mouth could barely form the words you wanted to say, and your eyes were like two bloodied daggers. Joel was amazed you could speak a syllable at all, but when he heard it, he got a sense for why that was. He had to.

“You knew?”

You were hurt.

When you left, he followed. He wasn’t sure what he’d bothered saying to your father as he did, but it sounded like an excuse—‘It’s fine. I’ve got her.’ He didn’t, though. You were gone quicker than he could turn around, and by the time he’d made it far enough away from the crowd to yell your name, you were too removed to hear it. He saw the top of your head through a whole new cluster of strangers, and he yelled it again. You kept walking.

Joel was fast, but you were adept, all things considered. You slipped through the crowd with ease and gained more and more distance than he could attain in twice the time. Joel bit the inside of his cheek and kept going. He didn’t reach you until you were approaching the front gates, when he called out for you again, out of breath.

You probably wouldn’t have turned if you’d had a choice. But as it was, you were up against a bottleneck effect of more people trying to leave than the exit could fairly handle at once, and everyone at the back was at a standstill. Your jaw tightened when he said your name.

“Darlin’— hey— baby, just let me—” Joel had weaved his way around your neighbors, but the area was cramped.

You didn’t move. Your gaze was trained elsewhere.

“—explain. Let me explain, and I promise, I didn’t—”

The line shifted forward, and you moved with it. Your body was turned; while you kept walking, shuffling, Joel earned a few uneasy looks from the people around him.

“I didn’t mean—” he forged on.

But as soon as he reached for you, he knew he’d overstepped. Confirming every onlooker’s suspicion that you didn’t want to be disturbed, you snatched your arm away, and your eyes flared with anger. You faced him.

“Fuck you.”

Before he could reply:

“Leave me the hell alone, Joel.”

And, while the words were still fresh on your tongue and no one else tried stepping in themselves, you walked off.

You left him again—for what other place, Joel wasn’t sure. You just made off the other way, breezing past carts and stands and now-shuttered booths and more faces than either one of you could count. You kept walking until you found an open space a tolerable distance away from all the noise, then went further.

Your face was fixed in a hard, immutable stare when Joel approached you again. The look behind your eyes was worse; he could tell in a second you were about to cry.

“Darlin’—”

“You knew this whole time,” you said. Seething.

“I didn’t—”

“My dad’s been dating the woman he cheated on my mom with and you didn’t think to fucking tell me?!”

“I thought—”

“Not ONCE?! Huh?” you screamed it this time, “Known you my whole goddamn life and you hide that from me?”

Joel winced. He knew the tears were coming before they even filled your eyes, but the sight still made him hurt. You wouldn’t let him near you, either. You just shook your head and swallowed a lump and blinked hard, and he felt stupid. Whatever favor he’d thought he was doing your father—and you—seemed infinitely small to him now.

That knot you’d tried pushing down in your throat kept you silent for a minute. Joel opened his mouth to insert a word or two himself, but then you looked keen to keep hold of the conversation, no matter how much it hurt, and you were starting again. Blinking harder. Hating it.

“She’s the reason mama left,” you said, hoarse, “Helen was her best friend, and then she went and— and— and— fucked my dad, and because of that, I didn’t have a family for half my fucking adolescence. You knew that.”

Another beat. Joel’s own throat constricted considerably as he considered his next words, but there was no need.

“You saw how much I hated my father, and her, and myself for years, thinking there was something just…wrong with me not being enough to make her stay. And you knew all that, and you still kept it a secret from m—”

“I know, baby. I shouldn’t have kept it from you, I know.”

He’d also known your dad was in the wrong. That hadn’t stopped Joel from trying to rationalize his friend’s actions while they happened: it was a one-time hookup with Helen, then a casual, no-strings deal that the man only indulged when he was feeling extra lonely, then a thing, a relationship of two, three, six months now. Joel had known all along what kind of profound ramifications these decisions would have if you were to ever find out. But his friend wasn’t so easily swayed from old habits, and Joel couldn’t stomach having to break it to you.

Then the roadtrip from Boston happened.

You seemed to be remembering the same.

“Was fucking me a way to make yourself feel better?”

Your words had never struck Joel with more deliberateness or force. He croaked ‘No’ in a moment. You took a step back, and there came the look again—more spiteful than before and repulsed to its core.

“Is that why you offered me a ride back in the first place? Just felt guilty for all the stuff you knew my dad was—”

“No. No, no, honey, I would never, ever—”

“Then why hide it?! Why all this? Why bother?”

You gestured between his body and yours; you didn’t seem to know what you meant. Your cheeks were wet with tears. You had to scrape your palms down your face, sniffling and struggling to clear your own vision, but the efforts appeared to be in vain. You couldn’t stop crying.

“For you,” Joel said, and he hated the way his own voice was splintered. He didn’t know how to make it better, “You were off at school when it started, then— then Boston. Just thought it’d be safer…for you…for us—”

Somewhere in his brain, he’d meant to say that he didn’t want the news of your father to hurt you, or else jeopardize a shred of something Joel had had with you.

It was stupid. Your instantaneous reaction said as much.

“Us?!”

Joel blinked. The eyes across from his were alight.

“Us, Joel?! Are you fucking kidding me? There is no us.”

Their brilliance wasn’t appreciative by any means. If anything, the words made the flow of your tears even worse. You pressed your hands to your face, rubbing your cheeks and trying to shield your eyes, and saying again, ‘There is no ‘us,’ Joel, that’s not an excuse—you knew!’

With his insides in knots, Joel wanted to hold you again. You were still in pain, and your scowl wouldn’t move, and when he tried to touch you, you stepped back in disgust.

He knew better than to think he could reach you now.

“Whole thing was a mistake,” you spat, unfeeling.

“Baby—”

“You and me. Dad and Helen.”

“You don’t mean—”

“Anything you need to keep a secret probably isn’t worth keeping at all, right?” And when you said it, he could tell you’d meant it to hurt him. As if the tears and the time and the sheer resignation in your eyes didn’t say enough.

Now Joel felt an ache in his bones, worse than it’d ever been, and he still couldn’t touch you. Where the heart demanded comfort of a kind you couldn’t give, the head knew better than to ask, and his hands fell limply at his sides. He saw you cry and had only himself to blame.

You turned back to the fairgrounds’ exit. The crowd was as big as it had ever been, but anywhere away from him seemed to be as welcome as anything else, Joel guessed

He’d try something stupid. Again. Even more desperate.

Never in his life had he said the words to someone else, and he sensed it wouldn’t do a thing to change your mind right now, but he’d say it anyway. If not to extricate himself, to let you know what he felt beyond every thing that had taken place tonight. He reached for you again.

“Darlin’, I lov—”

But before the words could register with you, the simple act of pressing his fingers to yours made you blanch. You hadn’t heard him at all, and seemed only concerned with jerking yours away as fast as you could, then shrieking:

“I HATE YOU, JOEL!”

Then you choked back a sob, trained your glossy gaze on him in one last pitiless look, and left him. He didn’t move. He didn’t try to. Sights and sounds and the ground underneath him seemed apt to swallow him whole, and still, he couldn’t move an inch. Somewhere ahead of him—too serendipitous, really—he heard you call a name.

Of course, it wasn’t his. You weren’t running to him.

It wasn’t Joel in the crowd making its way out the gates. It wasn’t him standing a little ways off to the side, eyes wide and confused as he watched you rush over. Almost stumble over yourself falling into his arms and hugging him, burying your face in his chest. Joel watched it all with a raw and hollow heart and wished it were him.

But it was Wade.

Wade hugged you back and held you close, and the look on his face was too bewildered and distraught for Joel to blame him. He hadn’t been the one to hurt you. Joel had.

He watched you leave.

There was nothing more to say.

[nosyrobin]

Tiny request for twin reader with damian mabye they were seperated at birth aka talia gave bruce twin reader and kept damian but win reader has some kind of disability like walking with crutches and as soon as damian moves in he goes into protective brother mode and always tries to help twin reader

“I’m your protector.”

Damian Al ghul-Wayne x Disabled! Twinreader

Summary: separated from birth, Damian finds out you are disabled from walking. Knowing that you are his blood sibling, he can’t help but be protective over you

After Talia revealed to Damian he had a twin (brother/sister) that she gave away to his father all because you were disabled. He felt anger towards his mother and a little bit of betrayal.

How could she keep such a secret from him and the fact she just gave you away made him feel…protective.

He wants to know you are okay. He wants to make sure you are okay. So when he moved into his new room, he got a knock on his door. He opens it to see, you. You had crutches, smiling as your hand grip the crutches handle. “Brother! Oh my, we do look the same!” You were excited, happy. Damian immediately observed you, he sees you are pure of light. He was right to feel protective when you don’t know much of the words he is saying with his high vocabulary.

He draws and colors on your crutches, he likes to see the light in your eyes when he draws what you like on your crutches.

You both may be different, but his brotherly love is not. He’s always sitting by you, dinner, breakfast, lunch out of the manor, events, galas. He’s always there. Sure Bruce would try and tell Damian that you can protect yourself, maybe even that you can do things without his help. But you’re ten, just like him. So what did he do? Not listen to his father like he always do.

He’s happy to know you never wanted or tried to be Robin. His heart would break knowing that his precious half would try and fight. But that also meant you never learned how to protect yourself and fight mostly, making it worse for Damian to grasp.

Damian tried not to baby you much, but he couldn’t help but feel anxious at those random thoughts in the back of his head. “They’re gonna fall one day, what if no one is there to pick him up.” He would sometimes just sleep on a chair in your room incase you fall off your bed.

Damian would train Titus for whenever you fall and you can’t reach your crutches. He would have Titus use his body and guide you somewhere so you can get up.

“I’m your protector.” He would say when he sees you trying to get up and grab your crutches. But titus and him are already up and helping you. You laugh thinking he’s joking, but he’s not.

If you’re sick? Protectiveness levels are off the charts when he sees you cough and shake. Yeah he’s not going to school until you’re better. No way he’s leaving his sibling at home!

Would call pennyworth off his phone if you are homeschooled. Always checking up on you no matter what, it doesn’t matter if Alfred says you are okay. He wants to hear you say it.

If someone dared to make fun of you, he’s after them like the devil himself. If they dared to try and take your crutches, it’s gonna get wicked. Even god himself won’t be able to take Damian off the assailant.

Say you were also on the artistic route, he would absolutely treasure your art work. “It’s bad..” you said once, and Damian straight up lectured you about how art takes time and how beautiful your art work is to him no matter what.

I can see Jason saying it’s true the artwork looked terrible, and Damian just straight up chased him around angrily while you try to tell Damian it’s okay.

Titus adores you, and you adore Titus which makes Damian feel even better that Titus likes you. I mean who wouldn’t when literally you are the sunshine of the family.

Damian definitely have written letters to you when he was on “punishment” is what he called it when he had to go work with the titans. So when you visit him at the titans tower, he made sure most things were safe proof for you. Kory already knew you because of Dick. Kory tries to reason to Damian as he literally rips something apart because he deemed it as “unsafe.” But did he listen? No.

When beast boy playfully was play fighting with you, Damian was ready to cut Garfield’s head off. Only for you to wipe the floor of the green shapeshifter by using your crutch as a bat. Damian hid his sword with a smirk, maybe he doesn’t need to protect you much.

[haruchi-slit]

"B-B-BIG JUICY!"

kinktober '24 | what happens if the meanest fucking men came to your workplace just to leave you fucked up? literally. | sukuna x reader x toji | warnings: pussy slapping + double penetration + threesome + cock-bulge + creampie + fingering + spit + mean tojikuna

"take a step into the world of my sultry seduction, I'ma lure you in, just like a midnight siren" -

the speakers blasts so loud that you can hear your heart thumping so loudly as you dance around the pole your eyes lidded and heavy with lust.

- "take a look into my eyes, can you feel the tension? between us, boy, I know you want this potion"

the music continues, the air was fucking hot even though the air conditioning was on max, you walk thru the dance floor, lip syncing the lyrics, as the beat drops your upper body does too, gliding your fingertips up, up, up on your body, you whip your hair seductively, as more people stare, money dropping on the dance floor too.

-"My love can't take it no more

Gotta cast it on you (on you)

On you (on you)"

you sat down the dance floor, slowly spreading your legs then closing them fast in a teasing manner before cat walking to the pole once more, you swung your hips, your body glistening with sweat your eyes locked on the audience but mostly to the two gorgeous and most gawking men across the room. as the song came to an end you ended your performance too and made your way back stage to catch a break.

"good job hot stuff" your co-worker jestered playfully slapping your ass, "ohh come on babe i always serveee!" you cackled, "good luck out there" you added as she steps on the stage.

you stride to your room to re-touch your make-up but not long after you got a knock on your door,

"someone requested you baee! room 4 hurry!"

"be right there!" you shout, closing your make-up pallet.

-

you stride confidently thru the said room with a new lingerie, fresh make-up and doused with perfume.

*knock* *knock* *knock* - "hello? you requested the private dance?"

"come in.." you heard, and obliged.

and fucking hell it's your lucky day miss, turns out you charmed the two handsome men across the room.

"have a drink baby doll" the black haired man offers, as you kindly decline "ah- no thank you.." you can hear your heart thumping...so loud, you were almost shaking with anticipation...

"goodness they're so hot-" you'd thought to your self staring intently to them back and forth...

"hey are 'ya gon' dance or just stare at us like that?" - the pink-haired man spoke, his voice was raspy, almost breath taking... "oh r-right! I'm gonna turn down the lights if that's okay?" you blabbered,

"don't scare her sukuna...heh"

"so his name is sukuna huh?" you thought to yourself

" I am not scaring her, toji. " toji chuckled as a response, "do y'er thing"

-

you switched down the lights, to a lower level, setting the mood and on top of that you put the speakers on blast with your song of choice before you stood up on the mini stage with a strip pole,

"I'ma care for you

I'ma care for you, you, you, you" the song starts...

you gripped the pole hard as your nerves were pulsing with nervousness,

"You make it look like it's magic (oh, yeah)

'Cause I see nobody, nobody but you, you, you

I'm never confused..."

you swung your hips seductively, mouth lightly hanging open as you danced, you twirled your hair flipping it slowly, dropping your upper body down to your legs then tracing your finger tips up, it was alluring. so alluring.

the two men lounged in the couch swirling their beverage on their glasses, feeling their cock getting hard.

you walked down from the stage and walked slowly to them, eyes hooded with hunger, you blew a kiss to them as you walked behind their couch, touching sukuna's neck, slowly.

you walked infront them once more before grinding your body to toji's. feeling toji wrap his hands around your flesh,

"awh- sukuna might get jealous, doll.."

"fuck you" sukuna groans, as your body subconsciously grinded it's way to his, he smirked, his sharp crimson eyes never leaving your form, "awh, don't worry toji- 'm sure she'll prioritize you later" he gave toji a smug teasing look while his hands snaked around your waist... "tell me, doll...have you ever fucked your customers?"

-

you never expected this, being fucked out literally. both legs spread out at its limit, saliva slightly drooling from the side of your mouth and lingerie rip into two,

-

"fuckk-" you groaned feeling the cold table on your back, sukuna running his hand through your hair, tugging gently but possessively. "you look so beautiful like this" he cackles,

"all ready for us," he purred, a smirk playing on his lips, sliding his tip up and down on your soppy folds, toji stood behind, his hands snaking around your exposed breast, pinching and tugging it harshly, you hissed in pain and pleasure while his lips brushed against your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

"such a fucking slut.." he whispered, his voice low and husky, swiping his tongue on your ear,

"mhmn!"

you winced in pleasure as sukuna slammed his member with no remorse in your cervix, you arched your back feeling his hard cock bulge in you, his fingers ghosting over your skin.

you felt your body shook, almost feeling electrocuted, he started up slow, before building his fast pace, thrusting in and out with no remorse,

"hmn- ah! sl-o" *thrust* "what's that slut?" "ahgh slow- angh!" *thrust* "can't understand ya" he leers deviously, "speak properly hun" toji chuckled, sucking on your reddened nipples, your pussy gushing harshly on sukuna's length, while your hand griped on the edge of the table, the other stimulating your clit shamelessly, "look at you go, such a dirty-" he thrusts hard "bitch" he continues, making your toes curl, and stomach churn in pleasure, eyes twitching as sukuna continues to pound your pussy with no mercy.

as you cried in pleasure he pressed the bulge on your stomach hardly, making you convulse in pleasure and your face contort, he thrusts harshly, "fucking- goodness oh my gosh!", you gasped for air as he pounds his cock back and forth chasing your climax, but as soon as you thought you'd cum, he quickly pulled out and pulled you up forcing you to stand up.

toji stepped up behind you, quickly nursing his hands on your ass, "I can't wait to ruin you tonight" sukuna remarked provocatively, lowly chuckling as they slid their hard cocks in, You could feel both of their hard lengths pressed against your sweet spots, making you even more desperate for their touch. your core ached painfully good as they both moved in sync, thrusting in and out, hard. your pussy pulsed in a dangerous level ready to be filled and stretched in all the right ways.

sukuna's hands trailed down your body you shivered on his rough touch, but also couldn't help the pooling sensation between your legs. toji nuzzled his face on your neck, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he pushes his length deep, sukuna leaned in to capture your lips in a bruising kiss, his tongue invading your mouth in a passionate dance. you moaned against his mouth, your hands gripping his strong arms for support. meanwhile, toji reached for your clit, rubbing it in a circular motion you gasped, as you feel your brain melt and get fuzzy, your eyes lidded with hunger for their cocks both pushed you onto each other as if they're going to crush you with their muscles, while peppering you with hot kisses.

you were sandwiched between the two men, completely overwhelmed by the sensations coursing through your body. their pace quickened, their movements becoming rougher and more urgent. You couldn't hold back any longer, your body trembled, "f-fuckkk I can't ugh! shit-" you moaned loudly, as you feel them so so soo deep in you, "gonna cum, doll?" toji grumbles, "mhm! yes please let me!" you begged, making the two men chuckle, "but we're s-still getting started" toji pants, pulling out, sukuna pulling out soon after, before he throws you on the couch.

"hold her still heh.." toji said to sukuna while you sat on his lap, with his hard cock inserted in your ass, toji spat on your cunt before inserting his fingers in, "let me cum please..." you'd stutter, "be patient." sukuna grins, toji slowly thrusts his fingers in feeling your wam velvet walls wrap his fingers, he curls his fingers in your cunt as his thumb stimulate your clit, while sukuna plays with your sensitive nipples, bitting and nibbling your neck, "please, please, please let me cum" *hic* you cried as your puffy cunt begged too, toji slapped your pussy, "can't hear you doll." he grins, with darkened eyes, "please...let me cummm!" *slap* "can't hear you still.." "PLEASE LET ME CUM!" you begged, they chuckled, as toji stood up aligning his cock in your entrance, before slamming his cock roughly, your bodies moved in a sync motion, sukuna bouncing you on his cock as toji bucking his cock in you, you body contorts as you feel your stomach tighten and your breath hitching, your hands found it's way to sukuna's hair and toji's locks, gripping a handful of each, "'m gonna cum, ah! I'm gonna cum -fuck!" you moaned as you came, but that didn't stop there as both didn't stopped and chased their own high, "your pussy's so good- fuck!" sukuna groans, thrusting his cock deep before cumming, as toji came soon after...

the three of you catched your breaths before they both pulled out off your abused pussy and ass, you catched your breath as you feel the aftershocks course thru, watching their cum ooze out of you...

-

"so can you dance for us again?"

[honey-on-your-tongue]

Logan as your teacher.

You're one of the senior students, experienced, sometimes going out on missions with them. His class is mostly about control. Learning to control your powers, your emotions, making sure you're as focused on the job as possible.

The last thing you're doing is focusing.

How the fuck are you supposed to focus on class when Logan's standing there? In his plaid shirt, jeans, those dangerous eyes flicking across the class and occasionally landing on you.

You're distracted, not listening to anything he says. You're just imagining him fucking you. Dragging you into his office and making you suck his cock if you want an A. Imagine him letting you kiss him all over, touch him, fuck him...

It's legal, you think to yourself. I'm twenty. It's legal...

Not like anything is gonna happen.

The class ends. You realize it because everyone stands up to leave and you're pulled back to reality. You hastily gather your stuff and start walking when Logan calls out your name. You turn to him.

“Stay for a while, we need to talk,” he tells you, crossing his arms as he leans back against his desk.

You sigh softly. You've been...barely passing his class. In fact, you're not even sure you're passing anymore. The weird thing is you don't care. As long as you get to see him, you really don't care if you have to repeat this class again and again and again.

You walk towards him, the last student that leaves closing the door after himself. You stand in front of him, backpack slung over one shoulder. “Yeah?”

-

Logan eyes you. He's trying his best to control himself. To be the adult here. You're just twenty. Just a kid.

And he sees how you look at him. He's been alive for two centuries. He knows what lust looks like, he knows when someone wants him. And you want him.

You want him bad.

He can smell your arousal as his eyes study your body. His cock twitches in his pants, alert, and he suppresses the need.

“Are you aware that you've got a C in my class?” he asks.

You blink. “Wh—Why? What?” you stutter. He can hear your heart beating faster. He's got you.

“Yeah. C, kid. C. You're not gonna pass my class with a C. The minimum is a B.”

You sigh, glancing down at the floor. “I'm...I'm sorry. I just...I guess I've been a little distracted lately.”

“Yeah?” he asks. “Is something goin' on, kid?”

“...no,” you murmur.

He hears the spike in your heartbeat. He knows you're lying.

“Kid,” he says in warning. “Look, it's okay. You can tell me.”

When you continue to avoid his gaze, he puts a hand under your chin and tilts your head up so you look at him. “Come on. What's wrong?”

You swallow thickly. He can see it in your eyes, you want to tell him. You're so close to tell him.

You shake your head again. “I—I'm sorry, I can't. You'd...you wouldn't understand.”

He sighs. “Kid, I know,” he says quietly. “I was asking you to give you the chance to tell me.”

Your eyes widen. You're confused. “Huh?”

“I know why you're distracted. You think I can't smell it? Think I can't feel it?”

You blush bright red, your eyes darting around the room as you look for a way out. “I...I...”

He cups your face, caresses your cheek with his thumb. “It's alright. I'm not mad. I'm disappointed.”

“Disappointed?” you echo, staring up at him with those gorgeous, innocent eyes.

“Disappointed you haven't done anything about it,” he says quietly and grins.

Your heart rate picks up, your eyes widen. He grins. “Logan—Professor Howlett, I...I'm sorry. I'm...”

“Kid, it's okay. It's fine. You think I'd call you out on it if I didn't want something to happen? Hm?”

You blink up at him and he smiles. “You know what? I'll help you pass the class. Meet me in my office at four, okay? Not a second later.” He pauses, a sly smirk forms on his lips. “Otherwise I'll have to give you extra credit assignments to make up for lost time. Have I made myself clear?”

“Yes,” you reply nervously.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, sir.” You blush a little. The way you say it is different from the way you usually call him sir. You're flirting with him and he's loving it.

“That's a good girl.”

-

I'M SO SORRY this was totally inspired on this teacher I have a crush on and I was like...what if Logan was your teacher??? So yeah 😭

Blog masterlist

[propertyofwicked]

LOOK AFTER YOU - LN

based on this request! ✧ my inbox is open! ✧

warnings - mentions of sick, poorly reader, mostly fluff <3 not proof read

masterlist the playlist

y/n hadn’t been sure why her body had woken her abruptly, until she felt a familiar dull ache in her stomach, panicking slightly at the thought of being or even feeling sick. she hadn’t felt well the night before, but she tried pushing the thought aside as she shifted out of lando’s tight embrace to lay on her back, hoping to manifest her inevitable illness away. but her blood soon ran cold, a sweat forming on her skin, and the need to run to the bathroom became unavoidable.

the first wave of nausea came early, some hitting the floor before she held the rest down and fell to crouch over the toilet. tears came streaming down her face as her sickness paused momentarily - she hated being sick, she hated that she’d made a mess, and she hated that she could hear the faint sounds of lando stirring, and the bed creaking as he made his way to her.

“y/n? bab-?” he began to call out, but found himself interrupted.

“the floor!” she shouted back, half stuttering through her panic, “watch the floor.”

lando had thought he’d heard retching, her tearful tone confirmed that for him as his gaze tried to avoid the sick and step around it. he stood in the bathroom door, assessing the situation momentarily before meeting her at her side, crouching down as his hand rubbed her back as his hand reached for a discarded hair tie to pull her hair out of her face as the second wave of sickness came over her.

“you’re ok, just breathe. just breathe,” he told her, his voice still gruff from his sleepiness. he reached out for some toilet paper, pulling the girl back into him to clean up her face slightly. her body slumped back against the wall as lando rose to his feet, moving quickly to fill a glass with water.

“need to drink something, angel,” he told her, pressing the cup to her lips and tilting it slightly as they parted. finally, she assumed this wave of sickness was over, but her breathing still hastened and her hands shook in her lap, the tears still rolled down her face.

“i-im sorry,” she uttered out, trying to avoid lando’s gaze despite him crouching directly in front of her.

“for what?” he asked her softly, moving to rest a hand on her jaw and stroke his thumb along the skin of her cheek, “being sick is normal, y/n - you don’t have to apologise for that.”

“for the mess. i didn’t mean to, ill clean it up i promise,” she told him, hands still shaking with the memory of her past boyfriend being so angry at her when the same thing had happened. y/n winced in anticipation of lando’s shouting to start as he remembered the floor, but it never came. instead, the glass of water was place to her side and his other hand settle on her other cheek.

“you will do no such thing,” he firmly told her, looking into her eyes. they were bloodshot, either from the strain of being sick or the crying - he didn’t know - but what he did know was that she was really unwell, potentially worse than he’d ever known her to be. he pressed the back of his hand to her forehead, feeling the way she was burning up under his touch, and yet her whole body shivered as though it was cold.

“you hot or cold?” he asked her, trying to check his theory.

“freezing,” she replied, noticing the way his eyes widened at her response, “why? what’s wrong?”

“you’ve got a a bad fever baby, meaning this is probably not a one time thing,” he told her, warning her slightly before he stood, pulling her up with him and letting her topple into his embrace, “gonna get you in the bath quickly, yeah?”

lando’s brain recited everything he had learnt or done before when someone had been poorly, knowing that ringing his mum at 3am was not an option. he started running the bath, checking the water was cool enough before he lowered her body into it.

“ill be back in a second,” he told her, kissing her forehead. he watched as her eyes shut, and leaving the room to clean up the floor whilst she attempted to bring her fever down.

the next morning was no better, y/n had spent the rest of the night either crouched over the toilet or shivering beneath a thin sheet as a hot sweat covered her entire body. lando stayed awake with her, scared to close his eyes in case she needed him, knowing that she wouldn’t wake him.

he had resorted to texting his mum anyways, explaining the situation as he asked for guidance. lando had sighed in relief when she replied, knowing she’d know what to do.

mum → she probably just needs to sweat it out. keep her cool, hydrated and comfortable.

mum → try and get her to eat some plain toast, little and often till she can manage more

mum → keep me updated please, and send her my love x

he smiled at the message, replying with a quick thank you before he moved back to the bedroom holding a bottle of water and a slice of plain toast. his heart filled at the sight of his girlfriend, curled up on the bed, her eyes staring at the film playing quietly on the tv.

lando sat on the bed, pulling her body to rest between his legs, her back laying on his chest. he could feel the way her heat radiated onto him as he helped her eat the toast, one mouthful at a time.

but y/n still couldn’t keep anything down, and hours later she was still lying in bed, trying to nap away her sickness with little success. lando had been gone a while, so she stood slowly, shuffling her way around the flat until she found him in the kitchen, doing something on his phone.

“hey what’re you doing out of bed?” he asked her, head rising to look at her when he heard her walk in.

“too hot,” she replied, moving closer towards where he stood, “needed to get a drink.”

“you should’ve just shouted for me, i would’ve got it for you.”

“im perfectly capable of getting myself a drink,” she told him bluntly, though immediately she disproved her own statement, having to grip the counter as her vision blurred and her balance faltered. lando’s arms reached out quickly, hands gripping at her waist from behind to stabilise her.

“im sure you are baby, but right now id love it if you rested and let me take care of you,” he told her, careful not to patronise her. lando began to move the two of them back to the bedroom, holding her tightly as he did, and lowering her softly back onto the bed. he jogged out the room quickly, grabbing some water from the fridge before coming back to she her laying with the sheet covering only her legs.

“how are you feeling?” lando asked her softly, lying next to her and tucking fallen strands of hair behind her ear.

“shit,” she replied, trying to hold back tears but lando noticed immediately.

“what’s up? what are the tears for?” he asked her, pulling her in closer with his arms wrapping around her body.

“i jus- i hate being poorly. i feel so useless and im just a burden to you. you have your own life to live you shouldn’t have to spend your time looking after me,” she told him, her body shaking slightly as she cried.

“it’s my job to look after you angel, the same way you look after me. and im happy to do it because i love you,” he replied, his hand rubbing up and down her back supportively.

“thank you,” she replied.

“mum sent her love by the way,” he informed her, happy to hear her laugh lightly after a rough day.

“i wondered how you knew how to get a fever to break,” she told him, leaning her head back to smile up at him.

“hey!” he defended, “i know things! i just thought asking my mum would be safer.”

“tell her thank you, from me. and thank you, really.”

“no need to thank me, baby. ‘just doing my job - you wanna try eating again? im thinking plain pasta this time.”

[writingthroughmyass]

Service Animal (Part one)

My mans Logan Howlett X Reader (afab)

Part two here

WARNING: This is soooo self insert it's not even funny. I get weird migraines that present like absent seizures and thought it would be nice to get a warning beforehand by my favourite babygirl Logan (like my own personal service animal). This is gonna be in three parts, it's mostly finished and ends in smooshing so be ready for that ;)

UPDATE: turns out my migraines are actually mini strokes :)

The after effects of using your power was kicking your ass.

In a daze, you made it to your private room and went straight to your bathroom. You felt the nausea rising up in your throat and quickly opened the toilet lid to throw up. 

The multiple alternate realities of what could have happened tonight flashed before your eyes. Ororo, Jean, Scott, Logan, all collapsed on the floor, dead. Their screams played in a relentless loop in your head; you were dissociating badly. Your surroundings melted away until there was nothing but the countless ways they could have died if you hadn't bent reality to avoid it. 

Always. It's always like this. 

Gradually, you begin to return to your body, only to realise there was someone in the room with you, holding your hair back. 

Terrified, your body snapped up from its kneeling position to face the intruder. 

“Woah, hey, it's just me. Calm down.”

“L-Logan?” you slurred, suddenly feeling self conscious of the smell of your breath. 

“I knocked and called out but you didn't answer. So I came in to check on you.” 

You eyed him, feeling suspicious of how out of character this was for him. 

“Why are you looking at me like I'm lying? I'm not totally heartless,” he said defensively.

“Why'd you come in the first place to see me though? I thought you were pissed with me,” you grumble.

When you'd overdone it with your powers, Logan threw a hissy fit and yelled at you for going too far. While you knew it was out of care, it still rankled you that he was acting as if you were a child. You knew what you were doing. 

“I… just had a bad feeling,” he said quietly. “Y'know how I've got my heightened senses. I could tell something was off with you.”

“I'm fine. Just need to rest. This is normal for me.”

You turned around to the bathroom sink and grabbed your toothbrush. You gave your teeth and tongue a quick clean, wanting to just wash all the blood off your body so you could sleep. 

It felt like you had a raging hangover from drinking Everclear all night. 

When you turned from the sink you noticed Logan was still there. 

“Uh… need something? I wanna get ready for bed and pass out.”

“Yeah, I need to know you're okay,” he says.

“I told you, I'm fine. I'm going to shower so please leave.” 

Your patience was wearing thin. But you were also aware that some of it was nervousness coming out as aggression. You couldn't deny the attraction you felt towards him, although his attitude left much to be desired. His behaviour tonight was quite frankly really sweet and it was psyching you out. You were already in the midst of losing touch with reality and his actions were so contradictory to his usual self that it was causing you a psychotic break. 

“You're not listening to me,” he ground out, losing some of his own patience. “I'm telling you that something is wrong with you.” 

You stared silently at him, mouth slightly hanging open. 

“Okay, that came out the wrong way.” He was ruffling his hair in agitation. Cute. “What I'm saying is- I'm… ah…”

“Please, Logan, I just want a shower so I can go to bed…”

“Look, I'll just wait in your room and I'll leave once you're in bed safe, ‘kay,” he says, turning to the door and walking out, shutting it behind himself. 

Fuck. 

You just wanted to be alone so you could have a good cry. You were incredibly confused about what in the world was going on but now you were really getting scared. And Logan's words were not helping. 

What if he's right and this time your connection with reality has been completely severed? But what else were you supposed to do? Let them all die? Even with your special training with Charles, your power was so unruly and chaotic that it was terrifying. You had to be careful or there would be no way back. 

You got undressed and turned on the shower, stepping inside. It was only once you were under the hot stream of water that you realised you'd left your pyjamas in your bedroom. You groaned aloud. Fuck, now you'd have to walk in front of Logan in nothing but a towel. Why the fuck was he here? You wished he'd just leave. 

You watched the dried blood wash away from your skin, turning the floor of your shower a bright red. 

You felt your stomach drop and your head turned fuzzy. The sound of your shower disappeared. The safety of your surroundings melted away. 

Scott, his eyes gouged out from his head. Ororo’s limbs crumpled every which way, her eyes clouded over not because of her powers but because she was lifeless. Jean, her neck holding on to her body by a thread, her cranium blasted open and her brain dripping down her face. 

Logan, on the ground, ripped to shreds, his Adamantium bones showing through his torn flesh. And the wounds weren't healing. 

It was always like this. As if you were being punished for playing god. It was as if all the horrible realities you prevented from happening still lived on but solely in your mind, driving you insane. It left scars of trauma on your psyche, Charles had told you. So you had to be careful in how you used your powers or you may become completely untethered from reality. A fate worse than death. 

Vaguely, you could hear yourself mumbling and gasping and swallowing loudly, trying to find some kind of equilibrium in the mess of your mind. 

You were trying desperately to connect back with your body but at the same time you didn't want to because it only meant having to fight this same battle over and over again. 

Seeing your friends die before your very eyes in hundreds of thousands of different ways, experiencing each traumatic story to its conclusion. Only to have it all unravel into a reality where none of it happened, but the whiplash makes you doubt this reality too. It's always too good to be true. You feel it in your bones that you don't deserve this. That the way you twist reality is wrong and one day it'll catch up to you in the worst possible way. 

You feel water running down your face and remember that you're in the shower. You try to ground yourself and come back to your body. You hear the water splashing, feel the ground beneath your feet, the solid embrace around you. 

You try to move but you can't. Finally, you snap fully to your body. Your mind is groggy, feeling like you'd been hit by a truck. But there's the unmistakable warmth surrounding you, dense and as unyielding as brick. 

Your face is roughly yanked upwards and you open your eyes.

“Fuck, finally! Are you alright?” 

You stare blearily, mouth open and dry from the adrenaline that had been pumping through your body just moments ago.

Bright hazel eyes. Huh. So pretty. You'd never noticed. 

You realise you're not supporting your own weight. You're finally aware that Logan has you in an embrace, holding your body up, one hand around your waist and the other on your jaw as he looks into your face. The water on your face isn't from the shower, you realise. It's your tears. 

“Bloody hell, please say something,” he says angrily. You feel some of your own anger flare up in response. What's his problem? 

“Fuck,” you croak. 

You feel his chest vibrate against yours as he laughs, suddenly aware that you're as naked as the day you were born and this man is fully clothed standing in your shower, getting his white singlet wet. Giving you a bear hug…

Your brain short circuits as you try to come up with words, feeling your whole body heat with embarrassment. 

“W-what are you doing in here?” you manage to slur.

“Helping your ass,” he says roughly. “Can you stand?”

Fuck, good question. Can I stand??

“C-close your eyes first,” you demand. 

“Bit late to be feeling shy now don't you think?” he teases with a wink. 

“Just close ‘em!” you yell at him. 

He laughs before complying. 

You extricate yourself from his arms, turning off the shower, then navigate carefully around him to exit the cubicle. You grab a towel and cover yourself, making a mental note to grab a clean one later since this one was definitely dirty now. 

“Okay, open your eyes and get out, please.”

He turns to look at you.

“Don't think that's a good idea, bub.”

“And why is that?” you huff impatiently.

“What if you collapse in the shower again?” he says matter of factly.

“I've been having these things for a long time. I've managed to survive so far so don't stress about it.”

“It's different now though, isn't it? You've been having these for a long time, you said so yourself, and they're only getting worse instead of better.”

You sigh heavily in frustration. You hated that he was right. 

“So what exactly are you suggesting?” 

Your heart was beating like crazy. He better not suggest what you think he was going to suggest.

“I'm sure old Chuckie boy wouldn't mind lending you his shower chair for the night,” he smirked. 

You laughed out loud despite the tension in the room. He always managed to make you laugh. 

“Yeah, I'm just going to wake up an old man in the middle of the night to ask if I can borrow his shower chair,” you joked, lightly slapping him on the shoulder. 

He laughed along with you then you both shared a few moments of comfortable silence. Only for him to break it with-

“My other suggestion is to shower with me so I can make sure you don't faint and hurt yourself.”

You stared at him distrustfully.

“Hey, look, I'm not being a pervert, it's just the only solution I can think of on the fly,” he placates, hands raised as if to say I'm innocent and unarmed. 

“Right…”

You stopped to think for a second, your muddled mind trying to make sense of the situation. 

It made you especially uncomfortable that you didn't exactly have your full mental faculties about you. 

But Logan was a good friend. You'd fought beside him many times before and you saw that you could trust him. But… he was still a man. A man much bigger and stronger than you. 

“Can I trust you?” you asked falteringly. What a stupid idea to ask the opinion of someone fully in power over you. 

“I promise I won't do anything without you wanting it. This is entirely your choice.” 

You looked him in the eyes, trying to find a trace of falsehood in them. But you only saw honeyed eyes, dripping with conviction. The same conviction you'd seen many times before when he was protecting those he loved. 

You felt yourself feel a little calmer. 

“Okay… but you better not break your promise. Or I'll sick Charles and his shower chair on you.” 

“I won't. I just want to keep you safe,” he said in a low, serious voice. 

You felt a fluttering behind your ribs. Fuck… I'm about to shower with this incredibly attractive asshole.

“Okay… you get in first,” you said. 

“Yes, ma'am,” he said a little too cheerily. 

You turned around to give him privacy to undress. You heard the rustle of his clothes then a thump as he dropped them on the floor of your bathroom. 

Should've known he'd be a slob…

You heard the shower turn on and you braced yourself for what was to come next. 

You turned towards the shower, keeping your head down and eyes averted. You removed your towel and stepped into the shower, still not looking at Logan and ignoring his presence, which was hard to do in your little shower. Thankfully he was turned away respectfully.

You stood behind him, turned away from his body. You took your soap and began to lather it over yourself as you usually did when you showered. 

“Would you like a hand with your back?” Logan spoke up. 

You paused as you weighed up the question in your mind. 

“Sure,” you said quietly, trying to keep yourself calm. 

This is totally normal. We're just friends having a shower. Together. 

You turned your back and heard him applying soap to his hands. Slowly, gently, as if you were made of glass, he began to rub your back, starting with your shoulders. You felt yourself give an involuntary shiver.

“Are you cold? Do you need the water a bit hotter?” he asked you. 

“No, it's fine. The temperature is okay with you?” 

“Yeah, bub, just perfect.” 

His hands felt massive against your back. He massaged your neck for a few seconds before moving down your shoulder blades towards your middle back. 

“Did-did you want me to do your back too?” you asked, trying to hide how nervous you were. 

“Since you're offering, sure,” he said gruffly. You turned towards him at the same moment he turned away from you, unfortunately catching a glimpse of his insane fucking abs, but thankfully managing not to make eye contact. 

You soaped up your hands and began with his neck, trying not to notice how thick and muscular his traps were. 

God… this is hell but also heaven. 

You ran your hands across his ridiculously broad shoulders and down his middle back, avoiding going too low lest you caress his stupid, tight ass. 

“I'm going to wash my hair, okay?” you told him, unsure of why you were asking permission. 

“Don't know why you're asking my permission.” Fuck. You were being weird. “But I can do the same right?” he responded, holding in laughter. 

You felt your face go hot.

“D-do what you want,” you said petulantly. 

You took the shampoo bottle, squeezing what you needed for yourself before handing it to him over his shoulder, which he thankfully kept turned to you in respect. 

You both washed your hair in silence. You already felt a bit better. You dreamily thought of your bed as you rinsed the shampoo from your hair. 

You then grabbed the conditioner and squeezed some into your hand. 

“Need the conditioner?” you asked Logan.

“What for?” he asked, confused. 

“For your hair, duh.”

“Nah, I'm good. Haven't had to use it so far in my life, won't start now. Need a hand with washing your hair?” 

You knew he was trying to be helpful. But it felt so, so wrong. Like overstepping your relationship as friends. But then again… would you ever get the chance again to have an incredibly sexy man wash your hair for you? 

“Sure,” you said stiffly.

Silence, then his hand moved around you to grab the bottle from you. 

“Ah-” you already had some conditioner in your hand. You were about to tell him but decided to keep quiet as he worked on your hair. 

His fingers… so thick and strong yet gentle through your hair, over your scalp. You couldn't help but to close your eyes and enjoy the sensation. 

It was over too soon and he stepped away from you again. You tipped your head to rinse your hair, giving your face a quick scrub with water while you were at it; fuck your skin routine, you were going straight to bed. 

“I'm going to step out first,” you informed him. 

He grunted in reply and you stepped from the shower, grabbing two clean towels from your bathroom cupboard. You covered yourself with one and half turned your body to Logan, gaze still averted from his direction. 

“Here ya go,” you tried to say cheerily, offering the towel to him.  

“Thanks,” he said and grabbed it from your hand. You quickly moved to the door. 

“Wait until I say you can come in,” you said before closing the door behind you. 

Fuuuuucccckkkkk.

This was not helping you to relax at all.

You dried yourself quickly and threw your pyjamas on. 

“I'm done!” you called through the door. 

He stepped out with his towel wrapped around his stupid, slutty waist. You could see his happy trail adorning his abs. His enormous pecs, his dog tags resting in the dip of his gorgeous chest. 

“Hey, bub, my eyes are up here,” he teases. 

You swallow thickly and glare at his stupid, smirking face.

“Have I ever told you I hate you?” you retort, only succeeding in making him laugh. 

“How are you feeling now?” he says softly, suddenly serious. 

“I'm… exhausted. I usually sleep a lot after an episode.” 

He nods in understanding. 

“You'll be okay if I leave?”

This gives you pause. If you were being honest to yourself, you'd say, “Please stay. I don't want to be alone tonight.” 

But you weren't honest with yourself. 

“Thanks for looking out for me, Logan. I really appreciate it and sorry for putting you out. I'll be okay. You can go to bed now if you want.” 

He looked at you in silence. He stepped towards you, so close that you had to look up to keep eye contact. You could feel the warmth radiating from him. Fuck he runs hot. 

“You mean it, right? You're okay to be alone?” 

You stared at him, a little bit dumbfounded. Was he able to read minds or something? 

“Yes, I'll be fine. I'll be in bed so I can't exactly fall,” you chuckled. 

He didn't laugh with you. Only watched you carefully. 

“Okay. I'll respect what you say you want,” he says carefully. 

Again, this is so out of character for him that you second guess yourself whether you're in reality or not. 

You watch as he turns to the bathroom and grabs his clothes from the floor then goes towards the door to the hall. 

“Hey-w-wait-y-you're not going out like that are you?” you stutter in disbelief.

He turns back to you. 

“What else am I going to do?” he asks incredulously. 

Clueless.

“Put your clothes back on,” you retort.

“Ew, you're a bit of a slob, aren't you? They're dirty and covered with blood and who knows what or who else.”

You deadpanned. 

“What if… what if you stayed here for the night?” you blurted out without thinking. You flinch at your own words.

Logan pauses with his hand on the door knob. 

“I don't exactly have my pyjamas here with me,” he says slowly. 

“I've already seen and touched you naked. What's the difference?” you hear yourself say.

What the fuck am I saying?

“I-I mean, surely I have something that can fit you,” you amend quickly. His face seems to go slack in surprise.

“Wow. You really want it, huh?” he smirks at you. 

You ignore the heat that overtakes your whole body. 

“N-never mind! Fuck off already,” you say sourly. 

“Hey, I'm just joking,” he laughs. “I can definitely stay if it helps you feel better.” He smiles at you and you feel yourself melt a little bit. 

“It… it would. Help me feel better, I mean.” 

Having him near you would help remind you that this is real, you justify. 

“Alright then,” he nods to you. “Some clothes would be great.” 

“Ah, sure, give me a second.” 

You quickly go to your wardrobe to locate the loosest pair of pants you own. He'll just have to sleep shirtless, there's no way you have a top that will fit over his broad shoulders. 

You find a dark grey pair of trackies and turn back to him. 

“Try these.”

“Thanks,” he says as he takes it from your hand.

As he moves back to the bathroom you jump into bed to wait. Your bed never felt so fucking good. 

You've barely settled under the covers when Logan reappears from the bathroom, his hair still wet and dripping down his neck. You do your best not to stare. 

He moves towards you and lifts the covers to slip into bed with you. 

This is just a sleepover, you tell yourself. Like when you have a friend over for the night.

Logan slots himself into your bed alongside you and you become suddenly aware of how small your double bed is. The frame creaks loudly from the weight of him and his Adamantium bones. 

“Comfy?” you ask.

He turns in the bed so he's facing you. A smile slowly makes its way to his face and you find you can't breathe for a second. 

“Yeah, definitely,” he murmurs. 

“Alright, sweet, g’night then,” you say quickly, turning away from him to still your beating heart. Fuck, I hope he can't hear my heart right now.

“Are you sure you're ready to sleep? Your heart is beating pretty fast,” he points out cooly. 

Mother fucker.

“So… you have heightened senses right? Kind of.. like a dog?” I'm not thinking straight, why am I trying to piss him off? 

“Thought you were going to sleep,” he grunted. The sound of his gravelly voice did something to you. But you ignored it. 

“It just kind of reminds me of those service dogs, y'know the ones that can sense when their owner is going to have a seizure? I mean, I know I don't have seizures exactly, but I guess it presents sort of like one.”

“What are you trying to say?” he asks gruffly. He doesn't like it when people compare him to dogs. You're just grateful you can't see the look on his face right now. 

“I'm just wondering how you can tell? What is it exactly that you're sensing? It's always interested me,” you say honestly. 

He grunts again and goes quiet before answering.

“I can smell it. Can't even explain what it actually smells like. But that's how I know, although it isn't always accurate.”

“That's really interesting.” And you mean it. It really is interesting… although the implications concerning his sense of smell have you a little bit paranoid… 

“So that's why I'm telling you to listen to me when I fucking tell you to stop with your powers. You could've killed yourself tonight,” he grinds out, anger in his voice. 

“Logan… you need to understand where I'm coming from. You all died tonight. Like literally, right before my very eyes, you were all dead. What do you expect me to do?” 

You feel tears pricking your eyes, the lump in your throat is choking you.

“I… I can't talk about this right now okay?” you tell him, trying to keep your voice steady. 

“Okay… okay, I'm sorry,” his voice softens. “Please, just get some sleep, okay? Guide dog’s orders.”

And just like that you're laughing again, feeling a tear running down your cheek to your pillow. You were so grateful to have him in your life. You were also grateful he couldn't see you crying right now. 

“Alright, g'night, puppy,” you tease.

“‘Night,” he says softly. 

A minute passes and you can already feel yourself starting to drift off. You smile to yourself, knowing that you have your own personal “service animal” to keep you safe tonight.

[softspiderling]

illicit affairs - part seven | r.c

summary:

The shower was still raining down on you, and if the both of you weren’t buck ass naked, this would probably be incredibly romantic and you’d consider just spilling your guts to him. You exhaled deeply, blinking the water drops out of your lashes. What Rafe said made sense. But were you ready to give up more of him, just because you couldn’t keep your feelings in check?

“So? Are we putting a stop to this?”

OR; You deal with an intruder, lose your temper and Rafe and you take a shower.

pairing: rafe cameron x reader

warnings: SMUT! 18+ only! (oral male/female receiving)

word count: 2,6k

author's note: long awaited im guessing HAHAHAH i hope you have survived so far. finally introducing the third character of this series.... you all know him. as usual, happy reading and i look forward to hearing about your thoughts <3

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pt. seven: "tell yourself you can always stop"

“What the fuck are you doing?!”

The “intruder” was standing shock still, the two of you staring at each other. You didn’t think that was going to hurt you or anything, but the rollling pin was still raised in the air, ready to strike any second. While you didn’t necessarily share the disdain for pogues as your friends did, it didn’t mean that you trusted him. He broke into your house after all.

JJ Maybank, possibly the definition of a pogue, was standing in your hallway, hands raised in defense as he eyed the rolling pin in your hand. He looked almost bored.

“I said, what the fuck are you doing?” you repeated, your voice strained.

“Uh, standing. What are you doing, princess?”

You let the nickname slide, glaring at him.

“Defending myself against an intruder.”

“Intruder?

JJ barked out a laugh, his hands clutching his stomach like he just heard the funniest joke in his life, though he quickly raised his hands again when you pointed the rolling pin closer at his face.

“You just broke into to my house, what are you if not an intruder?” you asked, affronted.

“I didn’t break in on purpose!”

“Oh, so you just accidentally broke into my house??”

“Hey, to be fair, you left the door unlocked.”

“Are you blaming the victim right now?”

JJ bit back a grin, his hand slowly reaching out to lower the rolling pin. You let him, but remained wary, your arms dropping to your sides.

“What are you doing here JJ?”

JJ took off his cap, running his hand through his messy hair once before putting his cap back on.

You tried to ignore that you thought he was hot.

“I was coming out of Ruby’s and trying not to be seen by anyone, thought I could hide out here for a bit,” he explained and you raised an eyebrow at him.

“Ruby Evans? She has a boyfriend.”

“Yeah well that would’ve been good to know before I hooked up with her and almost got caught by said boyfriend.”

You rolled your eyes at him. Figured JJ would be caught with his hands in the cookie jar. Obviously you knew JJ, but only really on the surface. You didn’t exactly run in the same circles. But you knew that Rafe didn’t really like him, neither did Topper, but mostly because JJ was John B’s best friend. Kelce didn’t really have much of an opinion except for the fact that he thought JJ was hot, so that was that. What you did know, however, was that JJ shared the same disdain for kooks that Rafe did for pogues, so to catch JJ on the other side of the island was newsworthy.

“I’m surprised you’d get caught up with Ruby,” you said. “I thought you hated kooks.”

JJ merely shrugged, grinning at you.

“Why deprave the female population of the other side of the island of an experience with me only because of something they can’t change?”

You snorted, biting back a laugh because you knew that if he thought you thought he was funny, it was over for you. JJ took the moment to let his eyes wander over you, and you stopped yourself from wrapping the linen shirt around your exposed body. This was your house and you weren’t gonna let someone else make you feel uncomfortable. Much less a guy.

“Had a pool party?”

“Something like that,” you replied, meeting JJ’s gaze straight on. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, his boyish grin growing.

“Should I take it personally that I wasn’t invited?”

You gave him a look and JJ winked at you, before his face lit up, like he remembered something.

“Hey, your parents are organizing the spring fling, right?”

“Yes, why?” You asked back, suspicious.

“Well, I was wondering if you could do me a favor…” He started, rubbing the back of his neck. “I need some money to fix up my bike, and the country club always pays well. But the hostess kind of hates my guts, so she’d never hire me if I applied for the job. You think you could put in a good word for me?”

It was odd how JJ was able to switch from sarcastic to bashful the minute he needed something from you. You had heard from other girls that he was something of a womanizer, and the fact that he just came out of Ruby’s house just proved the point. So you tried not to put much worth on the grin he was giving you.

Most people would probably call it charming. You weren’t most people.

“… I’ll see what I can do.”

“Cool,” JJ said, honest to god pointing finger guns at you. This guy was unreal. He turned to leave the way he entered - through the patio door - but before he shut the door, he looked back to you, one foot already out of the house. “You’re not so bad for a kook, princess.”

JJ slipped through the small gap, closing the sliding door behind him. With a deep sigh, you locked the door, pulling down the blinds for good measure before you headed back to the kitchen. You put the rolling pin back in its place, shutting the dishwasher before switching it on, trying to act like that just didn’t happen.

Turning off all the lights downstairs, you headed towards the hallway, preparing to go to bed when two short raps came on the front door before it opened, as Rafe let himself in like he had been invited over. For some reason, it made you mad. You let out a sigh as you took him in and he raised a brow at you.

“You really need to lock the doors when you’re home alone precious,” Rafe commented and you snorted under your breath.

“Tell me about it.”

He shut the door behind him, locking it and you freed your hair from the claw clip, shaking your head out, feeling a migraine coming on.

“Did you really clean up the mess in the kitchen by yourself?”

“I said I would, didn’t I?”

“I would’ve helped you,” Rafe pointed out, annoyed.

“Well, you didn’t exactly tell me that you were staying over,” you retorted, just as annoyed. “Or that you were coming back.”

“Why are you being an asshole?”

Rafe’s irritation was evident in his voice and you let out a sigh.

“I’m sorry Rafe. I’m just tired, okay?” You pinched the bridge of your nose, feeling your shoulders slump a little. “If you came to fuck I don’t think I’m really in the mood today, so you can just leave. I’ll just take a shower and go to bed.”

You didn’t wait for an answer and turned to walk into your bedroom upstairs, heading straight to the bathroom. As you stripped down, throwing you bikini and the overshirt in the hamper, you thought you heard the front door shut. You tried not to let the angry tears in your eyes fall as you stepped into the shower, instead, you turned the water on, letting it drench your whole head. Fucker, you thought to yourself. You couldn’t believe that he’d just leave like that. Before all of this, he never would’ve just left.

Then again, you wouldn’t be in this situation either. Was this how it was going to be from now on?

You were so wrapped up in your thoughts, you didn’t even heat the door to the bathroom clink open. Only when the glass door of your shower squeaked, you were made aware of Rafe’s presence as he stepped inside. You really had to work on your spatial awareness. He stepped under the shower stream, the water immediately soaking him up, your eyebrows shot up in surprise and Rafe gave you a displeased look, pressing himself against your backside.

You kept quiet for a few seconds, the knot in your chest unfurling slightly, and you found yourself leaning against him.

“I thought you left.”

“You know you’re my best friend, right?”

Rafe’s voice was quiet as he murmured into your ear, his hand coming up behind you to cup around your breast. You bit back a sarcastic reply, because surely this wasn’t something a best friend would do.

“I wouldn’t just leave when I know you’re upset about something, you think you’re just a piece of ass to me?”

“I don’t know what we are these days,” you muttered, half hoping that Rafe didn’t hear you, but based on the way his hand clenched around your waist, he did hear. He turned you around in his arms, frowning down at you.

“Precious,” Rafe said, his voice tight. “You’re my best friend. Yes, the sex is fucking great, but it’s not worth losing you over. If you’re starting to question our friendship, we shouldn’t be doing this anymore.”

The shower was still raining down on you, and if the both of you weren’t buck ass naked as the day you were born, this would probably be incredibly romantic and you’d consider just spilling your guts to him. You exhaled deeply, blinking the water drops out of your lashes, trying to clear your head. What Rafe said made sense. But were you ready to give up more of him, just because you couldn’t keep your feelings in check?

“So? Are we putting a stop to this?”

Rafe took a step back. It was small, he barely moved, but to you it felt like a mile. You couldn’t go back to just being only his best friend, so before he could move away even further, you reached out to pull him back in, leaning on your tiptoes to kiss him. Rafe grunted into the kiss, seemingly hesitant for a second before he all but melted into you, his hand wrapping around your hair to tilt your head further up. You lost yourself in the kiss for a second, your hands intertwining on the nape of his neck before you pulled away when it got too heated.

“I’m too tired for sex,” you said, though you couldn’t deny the warmth unfurling between your legs.

Rafe eyed you for a second, before he nodded, turning you in his arms again, his chest against your back.

“Let me take care of you.“

With a flick of his wrist, he turned the water off, before he ran his hand down your waist, fingers slipping between your thighs. Your breath hitched, pressing further into him.

“Rafe.”

“Relax,” he murmured into the skin of your neck, tongue lapping up the water droplets that clung to your shoulder. “If you want me to stop, I will.”

His hand ventured further down, one finger dipping into the warmth of your folds and you let out a soft sigh, the stress leaving your body. You had half a mind to tell him to stop, you you found yourself saying nothing. Your hand wrapped around his bicep, searching for something to hold onto while the pad of his thumb stroked circles over your most sensitive little spot of nerves, having you moan out his name.

“That’s it,” Rafe said, leaning further down so he could slip his finger into your cunt, your gummy walls opening up to his digits, your knees growing weak. Both of you were still wet from the interrupted shower, and you should’ve been long cold by now, but all you felt was Rafe’s warm body pressed up against you and the heat coiling in your lower stomach. Rafe’s movements weren’t fast paced, but he applied pressure in just the right places, you felt your orgasm coming in no time.

“Shit,” you gasped, laying your head against his chest, catching Rafe’s eyes on you, seeing a hunger in his eyes you couldn’t quite place, but before you could question it, he kissed you, stealing your breath away. The kiss was the last thing that threw you over the edge and with a small, breathy moan you came apart on Rafe’s fingers, clinging onto him for dear life. As you caught your breath, Rafe placed his hands on your waist, steadying you.

“You good?”

You let out a grunt, squeezing his wrist. “You know the shower is one of the most dangerous places to have sex in?”

“… That doesn’t sound right.”

“Shut up,” you huffed, taking your hands off of Rafe, testing your footing, before you turned, getting on your knees.

“Hey, you don’t have to do this.”

“Didn’t I just tell you to shut up?” you asked back, wrapping your hand around his cock and Rafe let out a moan, carding his fingers through your hair. “Your dick has been pressed into my back for the past 15 minutes, let me suck you off.”

“If you insist.”

Rolling your eyes wordlessly, you pumped his cock for a but, before licking a strip along his shaft, making Rafe curse above you. You only smirked to yourself, before you wrapped your lips around his cock, knowing that was all he wanted right now.

“Fuck,” Rafe hissed, his grip on your hair tightening, thought you didn’t mind, your focus solely on sucking the life out of him. Your tongue was pressing against the small slit on his tip as you moved your mouth along the length of his cock, hand still wrapped around his lower base, where you couldn’t quite reach. You weren’t a beginner when it came to cock sucking, but you weren’t a professional either. It was safe to say that Rafe was pretty content with your skills though.

Hollowing out your cheeks, you took in as much of his cock as possible, continuing to suck on him, a mixture of saliva and Rafe’s precum smearing around the edges of your mouth, making a whole mess in your face, though you continued unperturbed.

“Shit, you really give the best head prec-”

Your nails dug into his thighs, and he cut off, replacing your nickname with your real name, and you eased off his thigh, sighing softly as the head of his cock brushed against the back of your throat, hoping it wouldn’t bruise again. It didn’t take long until Rafe slowly started thrusting into your mouth, his hips stuttering that you knew he was close.

“I’m about to come,” he warned you, his voice hoarse and the grip on your hair less hard. You only let out a hum of acknowledgement, not lessening your movement until Rafe spurted his cum down your throat, groaning out your name. You took your mouth off his cock, having swallowed his bitter cum and wiped your mouth, satiated.

Meanwhile, Rafe was leaning on the shower wall, gently extricating his hand out of your wet hair, heaving breaths.

“You’re a minx,” he told you, pulling you up for a quick kiss. You only grinned against his lips, swatting at his bare chest. Nipping on your lower lip, Rafe reached behind you to turn the shower back on, to finally finish what you had come here for in the first place. Together, you showered quickly and thoroughly and as Rafe washed the soapy suds off of you, hands all over your body, it felt intimate but not in a sexual way. You tried not to think about it too much.

When the both of you were done, hands all prune-y, you exited the shower, wrapping yourself in a robe and handing a towel to Rafe so he could dry off. You did a quick run through of your nighttime routine, while Rafe watched bemusedly as he brushed his teeth, but didn’t comment on it. When you were both done, crawling into bed, your hair still damp, you settled into your side of the bed (which was a wild statement in itself, as Rafe turned off the light in the bedroom, before getting in bed on the other side. You were content to fall asleep, safe and soundly tucked in, when Rafe reached under the blankets to pull you close against his chest, tucking his chin into the crook of your neck.

Your cheeks heated, and you side eyed Rafe as he got comfortable in bed, your shoulders tense.

“I meant what I said,” he then muttered, arms wrapped around your waist. “If you ever feel like our friendship is changing or this makes me feel like you can’t trust me, you gotta tell me precious. I don’t want to lose my best friend.”

“I don’t want to lose you either,” you mumbled, laying a hand on his, trying to reassure him, even though your heart was racing a mile a minute. Rafe didn’t reply, and before long, his breath evened out, but you were still wide awake.

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author's note: okay real talk, how many of you guessed who the intruder was???

[rosemariiaa]

~So Anxious~

˖˙ ᰋ ── pairing: Paige x Azzi

˖˙ ᰋ ── rosie’s note: i wrote this while listing to so anxious so that’s where the inspo came from, not smut but suggestive i would say, just a little blurb for a bedtime story! happy reading lovelies 💌

˖˙ ᰋ ── themes: teasing, language, suggestive content

enjoy!!!

The gym was quiet, the faint hum of the overhead lights the only sound in the space. Paige leaned back against the padded wall, the basketball rolling idly between her feet. Her phone buzzed again on the bench, but she didn’t need to check it to know what it was. Or who it was.

Azzi.

Another notification. Another short, half-assed response that told Paige exactly nothing but left her wanting more. She was always playing games, dropping just enough bait to keep Paige on the hook.

Paige finally grabbed her phone, swiping it open to see the latest reply.

“U showing up doesn’t mean I’m letting you in.”

Paige smirked, shoving the phone into her pocket. She’d already made up her mind. She grabbed her bag, the ball forgotten as she headed for the door.

The knock came three times, sharp and deliberate. Azzi opened the door just a crack, one hand on the frame, the other resting on her hip. She leaned against the door, her loose crop top showing off a sliver of toned stomach, and Paige had to swallow hard to keep her composure.

“What do you want, Paige?” Azzi asked, her tone flat, but her eyes were far from disinterested.

Paige smirked, leaning one arm against the doorframe, her eyes raking over Azzi shamelessly. “You, that’s why i’m here right?”

Azzi rolled her eyes, but the corner of her mouth twitched. “Not tonight. Go home.”

“Home? Nah.” Paige shifted her weight, her voice dropping into a lazy drawl. “This is where I wanna be. Right here, with you standin’ there tryin’ to act like you’re not thinkin’ about lettin’ me in.”

Azzi stepped back, keeping the door mostly closed between them. “Paige, I’m serious. I’m not doing this with you tonight.”

Paige tilted her head, her smirk deepening as she ran her tongue over her bottom lip. “You know what I think, baby?” she drawled, her voice low and teasing. “I think you’re just scared to let me in. Scared of what’s gonna happen when you finally let me have you the way we both know you want.”

Azzi’s eyes narrowed, but Paige caught the quick rise and fall of her chest. She knew the signs, could see the cracks forming in Azzi’s armor.

“Paige,” Azzi warned, her voice firm but quieter now.

“What?” Paige leaned in closer, her lips brushing the edge of the doorframe.

Azzi let out a soft scoff, crossing her arms over her chest. “I told you I wasn’t letting you in.”

Paige cocked her head, her smirk widening. “Yeah? So what’s stoppin’ me, huh?” She took a deliberate step closer, her hand resting against the door.

Azzi didn’t budge, her body still in the way as she tilted her chin up. “Me. You think you can just show up whenever you want and I’ll roll over?”

Paige chuckled low, the sound sending a shiver down Azzi’s spine despite herself. “Nah, mama, I don’t expect you to roll over. I like it better when you make me work for it.”

Azzi’s lips twitched like she was holding back a smile. “Good. Because you’re not getting in.”

Paige leaned in closer, their faces inches apart now. “You’re still talkin’, Az. That’s how I know you want me to stay.”

Azzi pressed her hand against Paige’s chest, trying to push her back, but Paige didn’t budge. “Go home, Paige.”

“You don’t mean that.” Paige’s voice dropped to a murmur, her gaze locking onto Azzi’s. “If you really wanted me gone, you’d’ve slammed the door by now. But here we are.”

Azzi opened her mouth to argue, but Paige’s hand came up, her fingers brushing lightly against Azzi’s wrist. “C’mon, baby. Let me in. You know I don’t give up easy.”

Azzi hesitated, her resolve faltering for a split second before she caught herself. She stepped back, letting the door swing almost closed before stopping it with her hand. “You can leave now, or you can stand out here all night. Your call.”

Paige raised an eyebrow, her smirk deepening. “All night, huh? You really want me out here, makin’ all your nosy neighbors wonder what’s goin’ on?”

Azzi rolled her eyes, crossing her arms again. “I don’t care what they think.”

“Yeah, you do.” Paige leaned against the doorframe again, her voice softening into a teasing drawl. “You care ‘cause you know if I stay out here long enough, you’re gonna cave. You can’t help yourself.”

Azzi stared at her, her jaw tightening like she was holding her ground, but Paige could see the cracks. She always could.

“Fine,” Azzi finally said, pushing the door open a few inches wider. “But you’re not staying long.”

Paige stepped inside, her smirk victorious as she kicked the door shut behind her. She leaned in close as Azzi turned away, her voice low in her ear. “You just love makin’ it hard for me, don’t you?”

Azzi wasn’t going to make it easy for her, though. She brushed past Paige on her way to the kitchen, deliberately ignoring the way Paige’s eyes followed her every move. Paige groaned, running a hand over her face before pushing off the couch to follow.

“Look, baby, we can skip the whole act tonight,” Paige said, leaning against the counter while Azzi poured herself a glass of water. “You know why I’m here. Why you keep playin’?”

Azzi turned around, taking a slow sip from her glass before setting it down. “Maybe i like watching you beg.”

Paige stood up and stepped closer, her hand lightly resting on Azzi’s waist. Her voice dropped, smooth and husky. “And maybe I like it too. Makes it sweeter when I finally get what I want.”

Azzi smirked, tilting her head as if considering her next move. “You’re so sure of yourself. It’s almost cute.”

Paige leaned in, her lips barely brushing Azzi’s ear. “Ain’t nothin’ cute about what I’m tryna do to you.”

Azzi stared at her, her jaw tightening like she was fighting to hold her ground. But Paige didn’t miss the way her breath hitched, the subtle shift in her posture.

“Say it,” Paige pressed, her lips brushing against Azzi’s ear. “Say you want me Az.”

Azzi’s resolve cracked, her fingers curling into the fabric of Paige’s hoodie as she tugged her down into a kiss. It was slow at first, deliberate and controlled, but Paige wasn’t here to play soft. Her hands slid to Azzi’s ass, gripping firmly as she deepened the kiss, pulling a soft moan from Azzi’s lips.

The glass Azzi had been holding slipped from her fingers, forgotten as she wrapped her arms around Paige’s neck, pulling her closer. Paige chuckled against her lips, her voice rough with amusement.

“Look at you,” Paige murmured, her lips trailing down Azzi’s neck. “Actin’ like you ain’t want this the whole time.”

Azzi’s nails scraped lightly against the back of Paige’s neck, her voice breathless as she muttered, “Shut up.”

Paige smirked, nipping at the skin just below Azzi’s ear. “Make me, please.”

Azzi pulled her back into another kiss, and Paige knew she’d won. Again. Every time Azzi played hard to get, Paige chased her down, and every time, it ended just like this—with Azzi melting under her touch.

Paige pulled back just enough to look at her, her hands still gripping Azzi’s hips. Her smirk was lazy, her voice low and dripping with confidence.

“Told you, princess. I get my way every time.”

And from the way Azzi’s lips parted, her breath hitching as Paige leaned back in, neither of them doubted it.

——-

rosie’s note: idk if i like this too much but i hope y’all do :) goodnight!!

taglist ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

@thaatdigitaldiary @sierrale8ne @ohbueckers @wbbgetsmewetter @mrsarnold @lupinqs @pboogerswbb @pazzilover101 @makethemhoesmad @absolutelydreadful @authentic-girl03 @ashortyluvsports

[caotictimmy]

SO UHH HI MUNCHIES..THIS IS MY FIRST SMUT SO IM KINDA BLUE BALLING IT, but I’ve read so much smut I think I can do it. You can criticize since I always want to be better! Also this is in 2 person pov also it stirred away from the movie,(he just keeps working shifts that’s ir)

My atties @ilovetoomanymen @valez123

Some basic stuff - body worship, cunnilingus, loser mike/hj, Mike is a whimper confirmed, afab reader

“I’m sorry I don’t have the money, could I pay for it in a….different way.”

You were a babysitter for Abby, you understood how hard it was for her brother, and you loved the little girl to bits. She was shy and such a creative girl, and she loved you to for being so patience with her and just generally caring for her. So that’s why you were ok with getting payed very little.You always asked if you could help Michael with anything else, but he would always say no. You respected his wishes mostly, leavening a 20 around the house if Abby needed or wanted something.

You had a good job so you were taken care of, you always made sure they were ok, even if Michael told you they were. You knew it was hard for him. How couldn’t it be? He was a guy just barely scraping by while taking care of his sisters, and now’s he’s having to take night shifts, being away from Abby so long and not getting good sleep, so when he asked you to watch Abby at night while he was at work, you didn’t mind when he was working so hard, and it just ment that your job was easier.

This was about the 2 week into his night shift job, you were asleep on the couch, soon you heard a jingle of keys and the door quietly opening and shutting. You groggily looked up checking the time, it was around 3:26 am.“Mike..?what are you doing here..it’s only 3”, you tiredly say wiping your eyes, slowly pushing yourself to sit up.”Oh. One of the animatronics were malfunctioning and kept messing with the power, so I decided to come home,and I was a little hungry anyways.” He says as he shuffles his vest off, putting it on the table. You slowly get up still a bit tired. Walking to get your bag that he put his vest by. Slowly packing up you heard him pipe up.

“Hey uhm, listen.. it’s been getting harder so-“ you swiftly cut him off, ”Listen I understand, you don’t have to pay me, I know you work hard to provide.“ He looked at you with wide eyes, “and mike you don’t have to do any-“, “I never said I wasn’t gonna do something.”, he said while looking at you. “W-what?” You looked back at him bewildered. What did he just say? He took a couple steps in front of you, sinking to his knees In front of you, grabbing your hips and pulling you closer, he slowly looks up at you, “I’m sorry I don’t have the money, could I pay for it in a….different way.”, he asked, he sounded desperate almost pleading with you. And how could you say no, he was on his knees begging to have you, you wanted him.

You quickly nod, brain not nearly processing what’s happening as fast as it needs to. Just as he was about to start taking off your pants, you quickly stated,”I’m pretty sure we shouldn’t be doing this in the kitchen”, “Oh- yeah, that would be a bad idea.”, he got up, grabbing your hand and walking to his bedroom quickly, the moment both of you get in his room, he slams his lips against yours, you felt like you were dreaming, and you didn’t wanna stop, every kiss he stole from you felt like you were on cloud 9.

“Mike..we have to keep it down, Abby’s in bed”, you said in between kisses.”I know, I know.” He quickly locks the door, ushering back to you, as you guys fumble on the bed, you felt hot, like fire was spread through out your body,in a blink of a eye he was already removing your shirt and bra. After he got done you whent to take his shirt off, “nuh uh. This is my payment to you.”,he says. As he gets to his knees in front of you. God the way he looks at you from between your legs, looking so focused in between while shuffling you pants down. And he was finally down to the last article of clothing, he both wanted to savor and devour you at the same time, and he decided to pick the latter.

He slowly slipped the last piece of clothing. You thought he was gonna take it slow, well. No, he roughly grabs your hips shoving his face in for his meal, he ate, he ate like a mad, taking long fast drags from his tongue against you cunt,”oh god..mike~”. Flicking your clit when the tip of his tongue gets to it, he couldn’t get enough of you,”more,please more” he whimpers out in between your legs. Your mind was fuzzy and you could barely think, all you could really think about is mike and his godly skill with his tongue.

He groans out in satisfaction. He kept licking, drenching your pussy In his saliva, god he was so messy, “g-god so good” he groaned, he was so messy, saliva and slick drenching his face, and you loved it, you had to bite down on your hand to keep quite soon though he wanted more,he needed more as he slowly got rougher, soon he was stuffing your cunty with his fingers while he suckles on your clit, he ramens two fingers into not relenting on, soon you can feel the coiling in your stomach, you grab his hair roughly, tugging to let him know your were close.

Soon the coiling in your stomach snapped, mike slowly guided you through it, you breathed out a breath you didn’t know you kept in, Mike lapped at the juices on his fingers,soon you felt overwhelmed. As mike started to kitten lick your Pussy not seeming to stop.”mike no,no more”, you breathed out, “please one more just one more right, you can do it right? please just one more, I want more no, I need it please god just one more.” He whimpered out pleading, pleading and begging, you nod. He kept licking, starting to get rougher with the licks soon it was all to much for you again. And soon you were cumming on his tongue once again.

Mike slowly got up, knees slightly wobbling from being on the ground, he slowly wiped the back of his hand against his mouth,”I uh..did you like it?”, “mike if I ever hear those words come out of your mouth again, after you gave me the best head in my life.”, he chuckles embarrassingly “well let’s get you cleaned up.”

———

“So are we gonna discuss what happened last night?”, “what do you mean Abby” mike stated confused, “you weren’t very slick last night so, when am I gonna be a auntie?” Mike started back at her stunned,” ABBY W-WE ARE NOT TALKING ABOUT THAT” mike rushed our embarrassingly, “geez are you gonna answer the question or not?”

———

THANK YOU SO FUCKING MUCH FOR READING THIS, THIS TOOK LIKE HOURS CAUSE I HAD LIKE SPURTS OF MOTAVATION, SHOUT OUT TO THE PEOPLE WHO WANTED THIS ONE AND HAVE A LOVELY DAY<33

[pixxiies]

ꨄ ⌒ ⋆｡ ˚ SHOW ME .

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│⊹ warnings ⋆ ;; light swearing, mostly chris’ pov, y/n used, lowercase intentional, thats it!! its all fluff

│⊹ pairing ⋆ ;; chris sturniolo x fem!reader

│⊹ haven’s notes ⋆ ;; i was originally writing matt smut but i was too lazy to finish it LMAOOO

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incoming message from: nick 🥸

chrissy pooh!! guess what? y/n is coming over for movie night 🥰🥰🥰 get ready!

chris’ — pov

my heart had skipped a beat once nick told me that y/n would be coming over for a movie night. i have been liking her ever since sophomore year, even though i had the courage to ask her out (surprisingly), she got a boyfriend before the day i was gonna ask her.

it was hard for me to talk to her after she got a boyfriend, i always felt weird to start a conversation with her knowing i had a crush on her while she had her feelings for someone else. but recently, he cheated on y/n. i was probably the first person to find out. since in her words im her ‘second favorite triplet’ other than nick, who is her first favorite triplet. she ended up coming up to my place and i comforted her. y/n said that she was extremely grateful that i was there for her and such. and honestly? it just made me feel more in love with her.

unfortunately, nick and matt know about my crush on her. every-time she leaves our house after her and nick hang out or we all just hang out, they both tease me about it. they always either pick me on something i did that was a bit awkward and whenever i got close to her.

i was currently sitting down on the couch, my leg bouncing up and down as i waited anxiously for y/n. “you need to calm down.” matt told me when he noticed my anxious body language. “im fine?” i chuckle dryly. he looked at me like i was crazy while rolling his eyes. “matt seriously?” i say with my words laced with annoyance. he laughed a little bit before he said something. “your obviously nervous for y/n to get here just so she can lay next to you the entire movie.” matt giggled as he placed his phone down on his chest.

“what?? ‘m not.” i deny. a small knock was heard from downstairs, and my heart skips several beats. “we’ll see about that.” matt smirked at me as he sat up to go answer the door, running behind nick since he was too excited to see y/n.

end of chris’ pov

you were greeted by two pairs of blue eyes. “hey y/n/n!!” nick smiled as he dragged you into a hug. “hey nickkk” you giggle as you hug him back. it took him a while to let go of you but once he did, you went to hug matt as well. they both move a little bit so you could walk into their home.

you smiled at the brunette boy that had been sitting down on the couch. “hey chris!!” you giggle as you run over to give him a hug. he smiled softly as he embraced you tightly. “hiiii” he dragged out before letting you go. “y/n! you can go put your bag in my room.” nick called out from the kitchen as him and matt prepared some snacks. you nod before scurrying up the stairs to put your bag down.

“what movie are we watching??” you ask while skipping down the stairs. “probably a horror movie, i really wanna— fuck this is heavy! watch tarot. is it on netflix chris??” nick asked his brother while struggling to carry two bowls of popcorn to the sofa. chris shrugged before searching it up, surprised that the movie was on netflix already. “yeah, it is.” he said, scooting a little bit to make room for you to sit down.

you comfortably sit down next to chris, enjoying the warmth of his body against yours. “nick pass me the popcorn” you say while reaching over chris to try to grab the bowl. the blonde boy handed you the white bowl filled with buttered popcorn. you put it in on top of your lap and you laid your head on chris’ shoulder.

“wait wheres matt?” you ask while shoving a handful of popcorn into your mouth. “hes grabbing candy from the car, chris start playing the movie!!” nick says eagerly, as if he needed to watch the movie as soon as possible.

“wait for me! jeez.” matt giggled as he emerged from downstairs. he threw the packs of candy in a pile on the foot rest. chris pressed play and the movie started. the living room was filled with the sounds of munching on snacks and the movie background music.

you occasionally heard small giggles coming from the two other boys on the sofa. you lifted your head in confusion and saw them looking at you and chris. after a while, the giggling wouldn’t stop. “guys! shut up.” you mumble, your eyes flickering from matt and nick to chris.

“sorry! sorry.. sorry.” matt giggled. you ignored them and just fixated your eyes back on the tv. soon enough, your eyes grew heavy, even though the tv volume was at 32 and it was a horror movie.

eventually, you fell asleep with your head slipping down to chris’ chest.

chris’ — pov

nick and matt kept giggling like little kids when they saw y/n laying her head on my shoulder. i shot them an annoyed look after they both said sorry when y/n told them to shut up.

i tried my best to pay attention to the movie and not to y/n. the movie was actually surprisingly good. i jumped a few times to the jumpscares that were scattered in it. a few more minutes went by and i felt y/n’s head slowly slip down to my chest. my breath hitches a little bit loudly and matt breaks his neck to look at us.

“awww.” matt teases. “jesus shut up matt!” i say quietly, blood spreading everywhere on my cheeks. “shh, is she sleeping?” nick asked with a cheeky smile. i nod slowly, my cheeks burning up. “here gimmie— go take her down to your room or something.” he said while grabbing the controller to turn the volume down.

i sigh a little bit frustratedly before struggling to pick up y/n since of the position we were in. “you guys can continue the movie without me.” i grumble as i bridal hold y/n close. “okaayyyyy!! have fun chrissy.” matt says in a high pitch tone quietly and with a pout.

i carefully walk down to my room, trying my best to not have y/n bump her head on the wall or anything. i quietly open my door and shut it silently. i flick the light switch on with my elbow slowly before walking towards my bed. i gently rest her down on my bed, covering her body with my white comforter. “jesus what do i do.” i whisper underneath my breath.

since i was already getting a little bit sleepy, i gave in to lay down next to her. i flicked off the lights and slowly laid down on my back next to y/n. i stared at the ceiling, my breathing unstable from nervousness. as soon as i was about to fall asleep, i hear the comforter rustling and feel her hide her face in the crook of my neck.

i freeze in place, hesitant to move. but i finally did after a minute or so. i turned onto my side and wrapped my arms around her. it was a little bit obvious that she was awake when she quickly wrapped her arms around me as well. “you awake?” i whisper softly. she lets out a small ‘mhm’ that made me smile a little bit.

“i hear your heart beat.” y/n croaked with a little smirk. my cheeks start to heat up once again. “no you don’t.” i giggle. she untucks her head from my neck to look up at me. “don’t make me feel like im going crazy!” she smiled. i laugh a little bit at her, a small hint of pink growing on my face when i saw her smile. “your hands are also cold.” the girl told me, reaching to her back to grab my hand. “they are always cold.” i state, intertwining my fingers with hers.

i blink at her a few times in the comfortable silence. y/n licked her lips before kissing my own. "g'night c." she whispered softly. my mouth was left opened a little bit out of shock. "y-yeah, g'night y/n/n." i say. "wait no, we aren't gonna unpack that?" i ask before i closed my own eyes to go to sleep.

"hm?" she hums at me. "you kissed me." i state. "yeah?" the girl mumbled again. "was it like a.. a friend kiss or." i mumble back, my hand leaving her's and to her waist instead. "god chris your so slow." y/n giggled at me. "i like you, idiot." she said again, looking up at me.

"what? really?" i say. "do i need to kiss you again to make you believe it or what?" she asked me, her hand coming up to play with my hair. "mm it would be nice." i mumble, making her lean up slightly to kiss me.

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│⊹ taglist ⋆ ;; @deftonesmatt @mattsluttywaist @luverboychris @sturniol0s @mxqdii

read part two here!!

[rafestify]

The Bonfire — Rafe Cameron

Summary : Rafe catches reader and JJ laughing together, which makes him jealous and furious.

Rafe Cameron x JJ Maybank x Pogue!Reader

Warning : Nothing just a lot of swearing (english is not my first language)

A/N : This was a request from @poopykakamattsturniolo, i hope u like it 🩵🫶

The clock neared 5 p.m., and the sky, darker than usual, hinted at the approach of evening. A cool breeze swept through the air, crisp and invigorating, signaling the transition from day to night. The faint sounds of laughter and distant chatter drifted from the direction of the beach, where the bonfire would soon come to life. It was the perfect evening for gathering around the flames, the promise of warmth hanging in the summer air. My phone lit up suddenly, a notification from my best friend, JJ Maybank.

BONFIREEE DAY!!!

Are you seriously not going, Y/N/N?

4:43 p.m.

I couldn’t help but smile at his enthusiasm. Sitting up from the couch, I stretched and made my way toward the bedroom where Rafe was. "Rafe?" I called softly. I found Rafe sprawled out on the bed, his body relaxed but his focus entirely on the laptop in front of him. His brow was furrowed slightly, eyes moving back and forth as he read through the documents, I stood at the doorway for a moment, just watching him—his strong profile, the way his jaw clenched ever so slightly as he concentrated. But I wasn’t about to let him stay wrapped up in work all evening.

I walked over, the soft creak of the floorboards catching his attention just as I sat beside him. He glanced up, his expression shifting from focused to something much softer as he saw me. I absentmindedly began twisting the rings on my fingers, the cool metal spinning lightly against my skin.

"I’m gonna go to the bonfire," I said casually, my tone deliberately light and nonchalant, as though it was just another evening out.

He didn’t look concerned, but his eyes flicked to mine with mild curiosity. "With who?" he asked, his voice calm but laced with a hint of possessiveness. He always asked. It was Rafe—he needed to know. But for now, it wasn’t suspicion, just curiosity, as he set the papers aside and gave me his full attention. "Just the usual," I replied with a small smile, twisting one of my rings in slow circles. I knew exactly what he was thinking—Sabrina and Violette. He liked them well enough. They were safe in his mind, part of my usual crew. He didn’t need to worry when I was with them.

He leaned back against the headboard, his body still relaxed as he arched an eyebrow at me. "You want me to drive you?" he asked, offering with a kind of easy confidence, his eyes scanning my face for any sign that I needed him to come along. I shook my head softly, leaning over to press a gentle kiss to his lips. "I’ll walk, baby. I’ll be fine," I said, pulling back with a smile as I met his gaze. His lips lingered close to mine, his hand reaching up to pull me in for another kiss, this one slower, deeper, as though he didn’t want to let go just yet. He let out a quiet hum, one that I could feel vibrate against my lips before he pulled away slightly. "Just pick me up later, yeah?" I asked, brushing my thumb along his jawline. Rafe held my gaze for a moment longer, his fingers grazing lightly along my arm before he sighed and nodded. "Be careful, a'ight?" he murmured, his voice low and tender.

I smiled as I stood up, glancing back over my shoulder as I made my way to the door. "I will!" I called out, my voice carrying through the room as I left, already feeling the warmth of the evening bonfire calling to me.

—

By the time I reached the bonfire, the sun had dipped low, leaving an orange glow on the horizon. The air buzzed with energy—everyone loved these bonfires. It felt like the whole island showed up. As I scanned the crowd, I saw plenty of familiar faces, mostly friends from high school. Then my eyes landed on him.

"JJ!" I called, seeing him by one of the kegs, busy refilling his red cup with beer. His eyes met mine and he grinned widely, jogging over. "Dude, I have no idea what kind of beer this is, but this shit tastes amazing!" JJ chuckled as he side-hugged me, his arm slinging comfortably around my shoulders. "You good?" he asked, his eyes searching mine. I nodded, laughing.

Growing up on the poor side of the island, JJ and I had always been close. Our dads were friends, which meant we spent a lot of time together as kids. His dad used to come over to my house, and he’d always bring JJ along. Those days were simpler, and they were the foundation of our friendship.

"Your friends didn’t come?" I asked, looking around.

"Nah, they're all caught up with treasure hunting stuff," he said, guiding me toward the fire. We found a spot close to the flames, sitting on an old log. "Oh, what are you guys up to now?" I asked curiously, already knowing what "treasure" he was talking about.

JJ smirked, "Your boyfriend didn’t tell you?" I tilted my head and furrowed my brows in confusion "Which one? The cross?" He nodded, grinning wider. "Yeah, that cross belongs to the Heywards. We’ve been looking for it. Rafe's been keeping quiet, huh?" I shrugged. "He’s not too keen on sharing treasure-hunting stories with me," I said with a laugh, and JJ laughed along with me. We kept joking and chatting, our laughter blending with the crackle of the fire that sent warmth through the crisp, cool night air. The flames flickered brightly, casting a soft glow on our faces as the chill of evening set in, wrapping around us like a gentle reminder of the coming night. Above, the sky deepened into rich shades of twilight, stars beginning to peek through the fading light, adding to the magic of the moment.

---

Meanwhile, Rafe sat at his desk, surrounded by a sea of paperwork, his pen gliding smoothly over the documents as he signed off on various reports, each stroke punctuated by a sense of responsibility. The quiet of the room was suddenly interrupted by the buzz of his phone vibrating against the wood, jolting him from his concentration. Curiosity sparked in his chest as he glanced at the screen, wondering who could be messaging him at this hour, his brow furrowing slightly as he reached for the device. He glanced at the screen and saw a message from Topper.

WTF is your girl doin’ with maybank

📷 Photo

6:57 p.m.

Rafe's gaze darkened immediately as he opened the image. Without a second thought, Rafe shoved the papers to the side, the stack sliding messily across his desk as he abruptly stood up. His hand instinctively reached for his car keys, and in a flash, he was storming out of the house, the door slamming behind him. His mind was a whirlwind of anger and jealousy, his thoughts singularly focused on JJ being too close, laughing too easily, acting far too comfortable with someone who was supposed to be his. Rafe's blood boiled at the mere idea, his chest tightening as if JJ was threatening to take something sacred from him. The car roared to life, and Rafe gripped the steering wheel with white-knuckled intensity, his jaw clenched. His foot pressed hard on the gas, the engine growling as he sped through the darkening streets, tires screeching with every sharp turn.

The night rushed by in a blur, but all Rafe could see was the image of JJ next to me, smiling like he belonged there. His pulse pounded in his ears, his heart racing faster than the car. He barely registered the bonfire’s glow on the horizon as he approached, the flickering light casting shadows against the trees. He pulled up to the gathering with a screech of tires, parking haphazardly as he leaped out of the car, not even bothering to shut the door. His eyes scanned the crowd frantically, his chest heaving as he searched for us. And then, there we were—sitting by the fire, laughing together like nothing else in the world mattered. The flames flickered in the background, casting a warm glow over us, but to Rafe, it only fueled the fire burning in his chest. His eyes locked on JJ, and in that moment, every thought vanished except the need to separate us.

I furrowed my brows in confusion, surprised to see Rafe arriving so soon. I hadn’t texted him to pick me up yet. JJ noticed the change in my expression and followed my gaze. Rafe was storming toward us, his face like thunder.

"Rafe?" I started, but he didn’t give me a chance to explain. Without warning, he shoved JJ hard in the chest. JJ stumbled back, catching his balance, his face a mix of confusion and amusement.

"What the fuck are you doing with my girl, huh?" Rafe growled, his voice laced with anger.

"Rafe!" I shouted, my voice sharp with panic as I rushed over, desperately trying to pull him away from JJ. His grip on JJ's shirt was like iron, his knuckles white and trembling with barely contained rage, as if he was holding onto more than just fabric—he was holding onto his anger, his jealousy, his fear of losing me. I tugged at his arm, feeling the tension radiating off him, but Rafe's eyes were locked on JJ, blazing with fury, his jaw clenched so tightly I thought he might snap at any second. "Rafe, let go!" I said, more forcefully this time, trying to pry his hands off JJ. But Rafe was too far gone, too blinded by jealousy to listen.

"I swear to God, Maybank, if I see you around her again, I’ll fucking kill you," Rafe spat, pointing a finger at JJ’s chest. JJ just chuckled darkly, shaking his head. "Rafe, let go!" I yelled, pushing against his chest until he finally loosened his grip. JJ stepped back, raising his hands in surrender, though I could tell he was trying not to provoke Rafe further.

"We’re going home. Now," Rafe said through gritted teeth, grabbing my wrist and dragging me away from the fire. I glanced back at JJ one last time, mouthing, 'I’m sorry' before slipping into the passenger seat of Rafe’s car. The ride back was tense, Rafe gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white. His nostrils flared, his jaw clenched, and sweat dripped down his forehead.

I sat quietly for a moment, letting the silence stretch between us before I finally spoke. "Rafe, what the hell was that about?" I asked, my voice calm but firm.

He didn’t answer right away, just kept his eyes glued to the road, the tension still radiating off him. "You know how much I hate him," he muttered finally, his voice low and dangerous. "That doesn’t give you the right to act like that!" I shot back, frustration bubbling up inside me. "He’s my bestfriend, Rafe. We’ve known each other for years."

"Best friend?" Rafe scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief as if the mere idea was laughable. His eyes burned with a mix of anger and frustration, his voice low and intense. "He’s always around you, always looking at you like he wants you, Y/N. You think I don’t see that? It’s like he’s just waiting for the right moment to swoop in." I sighed heavily, the weight of his words settling like a stone in my stomach. Rubbing my temples, I felt a headache brewing beneath the surface, the tension in the air thick enough to cut with a knife.

"Rafe, JJ and I are just friends," I said, trying to keep my voice steady, though a hint of exasperation crept in. "That’s all it’s ever been. Do you really not trust me? You know me better than that." I searched his face for understanding, hoping he could see that my loyalty to him was unwavering, despite the easy camaraderie I shared with JJ. He pulled into the driveway, killing the engine, but didn’t move to get out. He sat there for a moment, breathing heavily, his hands still gripping the steering wheel. I reached over, gently placing my hand on his.

"I love you, Rafe. Only you, not JJ. You have nothing to worry about," I said softly, squeezing his hand. "But you can’t keep acting like this every time I’m around someone you hate."

Rafe’s expression softened as he leaned back against the headrest and closed his eyes, a deep breath escaping him. "I just—I don’t want to lose you," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper, revealing the vulnerability beneath his anger. I smiled gently and leaned closer, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. "You’re not going to lose me," I reassured him, my tone tender and firm. "I’m right here, Rafe. You’re the one I want." He sighed, running a hand through his hair before finally turning to face me.

His eyes remained clouded with emotion, but there was a newfound softness as he looked at me. "I’m sorry," he murmured, his thumb brushing against my knuckles, and I felt warmth spread through my chest. I smiled, leaning in to kiss him softly on the lips. "That’s all I wanted to hear." Rafe sighed, resting his forehead against mine, the tension between us slowly dissipating. "I love you," he whispered, his voice tender and sincere. "I love you too," I replied, closing the distance for another kiss, this one deeper and filled with the promise of understanding.

"Now, all you have to do is apologize to JJ," I said half-jokingly, a teasing smile playing on my lips, fully aware that there was no way in hell Rafe would ever go through with that. Rafe let out a small chuckle, shaking his head as he raised an eyebrow at me.

"Yeah, no thank you," he replied, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth as he feigned innocence, his playful defiance shining through. I couldn’t help but laugh at his stubbornness, knowing that while he might never admit it, the thought of mending things with JJ was the furthest thing from his mind.

likes and reblogs are appreciated! 🎀🪷

[tinylilacbun]

I wonder how daddy!Rafe would react after catching sick little!reader, who is supposed to be resting, out of bed and playing with their toys

Rest

Pairing: dark!daddy!rafe x little!reader

Warnings: age regression, dark themes, drugging

A/n: this one got a bit darker than intended but I couldn't help myself bc I actually think this is how he would handle this situation in his twisted rafe way yk?

⭒𖥸⭒

He just wants what's best for you and when the doctor says you need to rest Rafe would most definitely make you rest, if you wanted to or not.

"You stay right here while daddy's makes some calls. I warn you once, just because you're sick doesn't mean I won't punish you if you dare to leave this bed, a'ight?" He looks at you sternly, tucking you in and tries not to smile at your pouty face, your arms crossed and kicking your leg one time.

"I wanna play! The bed is boring." You cough loudly, your throat burning like hell.

"And I want you to get healthy, so you're gonna rest and take your medicine later like a good girl." There was no room for arguing and you huff, turning your back to him and grabbing your tablet.

He just shakes his head, leaning down to kiss your head before leaving the room. Once you hear the door click shut you throw the blanket off your body. You got up from the bed and walked over to the big pile of stuffies, grabbing some of them you carry them to your little table where you have all your tea parties.

Rafe should've known better. He keeps forgetting that littles mostly don't understand common sense and don't see what's good for them and what's not. That's why you don't see why you can't keep doing what you normally do in little space, not understanding that if you don't rest that your body could get even more sick.

Half an hour later, after all calls have been dealt with and made a small request to Rose, Rafe went to check on you only to find you in fact not in your bed. Even though you were facing the door you haven't noticed him yet, still babbling to your lamb.

"What exactly do you think you're doing?" Rafe asks, standing in the doorway with his hands on his hips, the frustration clear on his face.

You freeze, looking at him with wide eyes while he approaches you slowly.

"Didn't I tell you to rest? Care to explain how I find you sitting here and in fact not resting, huh?" He doesn't even give you a chance to speak, standing beside you he places his hand on your forehead and sighs loudly at feeling how your fever got worse. Suddenly you feel incredibly warm and a little dizzy.

"Don' feel good." You mumble, your body leaning against him automatically for comfort.

"Yeah, I figured that. That's what happens when you don't listen to daddy." He clicks his tongue before scooping you up, carrying you over to your bed.

Just as he lowers you down Rose walks in, holding one of your sippy cups and handing it to Rafe, looking a little concerned. "Are you sure you-"

"Thank you, Rose. I'll handle this on my way now." Rafe quickly cuts her off, shooting her a warning glare. You don't know what he means and just wave at Rose sweetly while coughing.

She just nods, giving you a small smile before walking off again, closing the door behind her.

He turns his attention back to you and smiles, holding the sippy out for you to take which you happily did, feeling how warm the cup it is. You sigh when the warm tea goes down your aching throat.

Rafe keeps brushing a hand over your hair, watching you empty the sippy and notices how your eyes already start to get droopy, trying your hardest to keep them open.

"There we go." He coos, gently grabbing the cup and placing it on your nightstand. "How you feelin' baby?"

"M'sleepy..." You yawn, pawing at your eyes.

"That's normal. That's your body trying to help you with your fever, just close your eyes." He says, covering you with your weighted blanket before kissing your forehead.

When he pulls back again he chuckles at you already sleeping, the drugs having you completely knocked out.

"Now you'll get all the rest you need."

⭒𖥸⭒

Taglist

For everything:

@my-river-lilly @pauntedblacknails @fanfictioniseverything @devilslilbabysblog @buckymydarlingangel @hallecarey1 @daybreakwinter @loveshineslikethesky @wandaslittlewhore @vase-of-lilies @white-wolf1940 @simpingbutch @mischiefsemimanaged @alina02 @teddybearsgrr @doozywoozy @angelbabydoll28 @glxwingrxse @lilymurphy03 @veryvaughnny @lokigirlszendaya @youngstarfishdinosaur @little--baby--bear @minideathgoddess @rach2602 @aagn360 @gh0stgurl @flourishandblotts-inc @fluffyblanketgecko @lovelyy-moonlight @yoruse @kissforvoid

For Rafe:

@chiaraanatra

[nightsmarish]

Summary: you find a dog and Sirius isn't so sure about keeping it

Poly!wolfstar x reader (Sirius Black x Remus Lupin x reader) | 1.2k

Tw: mentions of vet, reader think Sirius might be mad they brought a dog home, talk abt shitty weather, Sirius sitting on readers lap, reader oogaling Sirius' thighs

⊹₊ ✰ ⋆⊹₊ ✰ ⋆⊹₊ ✰ ⋆⊹₊ ✰ ⋆⊹₊ ✰ ⋆⊹₊ ✰ Remus sits in the arm chair in the living room, book open but he's mostly zoned out. Sleep has been evading him like Sirius evades doing the dishes. And it's likely that knowing that you're not home yet from your late shift has been making him anxious, normally Sirius would be up with him, waiting for you, but he has been utterly exhausted lately, so he doesn’t blame him for being able to sleep. 

The door unlocking breaks whatever trance Remus was in, hearing you try and be quiet while you shut it and toe off your shoes. Remus stands up, placing a bookmark to mark his place as he makes his way to the entryway.

“Hi, dove.” His voice is soft and warm. You face him, face lighting up despite your exhausted features.

“Hey Rem.” You're holding your jacket in your arms, smiling guiltily.

“....what do you have there?” 

“Listen- you- Sirius might be upset. So just, keep this between us? For tonight?” You rush out your words, having practiced how you would explain yourself on the way home. 

“Show me what you have and then we can talk.” His lips quirk up in amusement as he crosses his arms over his chest.

You hesitate for a moment before moving your coat. Remus walks closer to look into the little nest you made, where he sees a small ball of fluff.

“Merlin…” Remus mumbles as he follows you to the kitchen in your shared townhouse. 

“I found him outside of work, I couldn’t just leave him.” slowly moving the small puppy onto the counter, making sure its still asleep before going to the fridge to find something for the little thing to eat. 

You're not wrong for bringing the puppy home, and Remus knows that. It's been freezing out and raining heavily for days, he can’t imagine how pitiful the animal must have been outside. 

“I’ll- I'll take him to the vet tomorrow. Or find one open tonight. I swear, and we can all decide what to do from there.” You pull out some of the fancy lunch meat Sirius had bought for the sandwiches Remus has been taking to lunch this week, taking a slice and ripping it up on a small paper plate.

“Dove… I think we should wake up Pad.” Remus is slightly cautious despite it being his idea, knowing Sirius has always been a bit wary about the idea of getting a dog because he is a dog. Metaphorically and literally. 

You're filling up a small bowl with water, “I know, we should. I just- i don’t know. He's had a really long week and he's tired, and I don’t want to make it more exhausting because I brought home a dog.” 

“I know, but if he comes down for a class of water and you're hunched over a dog, he's gonna be half asleep and likely freak out a bit.”

“Yeah, okay, I’ll go wake him up. Can you see if he wants to eat or drink anything? Please?” You start making your way out the kitchen when you hear Remus confirm he can. 

Walking up the stairs, the door is cracked open to the bedroom, the light moon filtering in through the drapes and onto the bed. The bed where Sirius is dead asleep, hair messy, and shirt ridden up. You sit on the bed, gently brushing the hair out of his face.

“Siri? Baby?” Sirius stirs, groaning and reaching for your body, trying to trap you in bed with him. “Baby- Sirius we have a dog.” 

The laziness in his motions immediately stops, opening his eyes with furrowed brows and sits up. “What?”

“I found a dog, he's down stairs. I think I’m gonna find a 24 hour animal hospital to take him to.” You fidget with the hair tie on your wrist, not looking at his reaction. 

“Where did you find a sodding dog? In this weather?” Sirius rolls out of bed, standing in front of you, rather distracting in his boxers and concert shirt that you're pretty sure is yours. 

“Outside, near my work.” You shamelessly stare at his thighs, littered with a few tattoos that are a stark contrast to his pale skin. 

“And you brought it home?” 

“Yep, he's downstairs, wanna meet him?”

And Sirius does meet him, the little ball of white and brown fur. Even he had to admit the little thing was adorable (he thinks he's cuter but that wasn’t the conversation at the time). Both the boys accompany you to the 24 hour animal hospital you found. 

The puppy is rather healthy, a little under fed, and still shivering like a leaf. But caring for him back to help wouldn’t be too challenging. The next few days, the puppy remains in your home.

ᯓ★

“I wanna keep him.” You break the calm atmosphere of the house, Remus mixing batter for muffins, while Sirius sits on the counter and ‘helps’ while his record player softly plays in the background. 

“The dog?” Sirius whips his head back, Remus glancing over as well while he continues to mix. 

“No, I wanna keep james. Yes, the sodding dog.” Said dog, is sitting on your stomach while you lay back on the couch, watching oogaling Remus work. 

“I mean, I’m not opposed  to it.” Remus speaks up before Sirius can make a snide, and likely inappropriate response including James and him being called puppy. 

"I don't know..." Sirius glares, albeit softly, at the puppy, "I don't want dog fur on my clothes. And we don't know what breed he even is, he could grow to be huge. Like, part Tibetan Mastiff or something."

You hold the puppy's little face, pointing him to face Sirius, "but look at this little face! Cm'on baby, he's so cute!"

Sirius looks at the puppy, sleepily nuzzling closer to your hands, allowing you to do with him as you wish.

Remus watches Sirius' resolve dissolve quickly, "merlin... fine, we can keep him. But we should get him a DNA test. And neutered. And I still want to lay on you as padfoot, I get veto."

Remus smiles, pouring the batter into the muffin tin, “We should name him then, he deserves to be called more than the dog.”

“Padfoot jr?” 

Sirius looks at you like you've shot his mother, if this was a magical alternate universe where she was lovely. “No”

His reaction makes you laugh, disturbing the puppy, so he gets up and hops off the couch to go find somewhere else. Having gained a lot more comfort in this environment than his first day there. “You don’t want him to be your legacy?”

Sirius hops off the counter, walking to where you're laid back, moving on you to straddle your lap. “I am my own legacy, darling.”

Both you smile at each other, your hands moving up to hold onto his hips. Remus puts the tin in the oven and sets the timer, glancing at the record player, playing Cherry Bomb before joining you two. “What about Cherry?”

Both of you glance at him, “Like the song by The Runaways?” Sirius asks, smiling at the idea. 

“That’d be cute!” you sit up, only part way so he doesn’t fall off your lap. 

“With that logic, we should just name him Queen, if we are going off iconic songs.” 

“Yeah, but Queen isn’t a song, it's a band.” You sit up the rest of the way, taking Sirius with you. 

“Killer Queen is a song.” Remus points out.

“I like Cherry.” you hum, as Sirius dips down to kiss you.

[myungjaes-luvv]

I was thinking about bully! Sunghoon or Jay

One day he gets too angry and horny and decides to fuck you in an empty classroom or a bathroom stall! >_<

wow what a BANGER idea🫠anyway i wrote jay for this one hope you like it!

warnings: jay kind of forces himself on reader but it’s consensual anyway, the nickname ‘doll,’ semi-public?, unprotected sex (but its not explicitly mentioned), kind of rushed towards the end because i lost motivation oops

hard hours + requests: open (bnd, enha, &team)

the sound of the school bell rang through the halls as students scramble to get to their next class. you carefully zip your backpack and sling it over your shoulder, leaving the classroom to get to your last class of the day. at least today was almost over.

you kept to yourself mostly, having a bad tendency of looking at the floor as you walked, avoiding any and all eye contact. you also zoned out…a lot.

you were mid thought, wanting to go home already, to leave this hell on earth when-

“shit- sorry!” you apologized frantically, your notebook flying out of your hands and onto the floor. you didn’t even know who you were apologizing to until you looked up.

fuck.

of all the people you could have ran into, it had to be him.

“watch where you’re going, christ,” jay scoffed at you, watching you kneel down to pick your notebook up.

“sorry…i wasn’t looking-” you tried, but he cut you off.

“yeah, obviously. fucking klutz,” he rolled his eyes as you stood back up.

you went to walk past him to carry on from this horrible interaction but he had blocked you, putting his arm in front of you and pushing you back.

“hey- wait, what are you doing?” you asked him.

you looked up at him, making eye contact with him, confused, and maybe a little scared.

“i think it’s about time i finally put you in your goddamn place,” he scoffed at you.

you were about to protest or ask a question but you didn’t have time to even gather your thoughts before he was shoving you backwards into a dark and empty room, shutting the door behind the both of you.

“what the fuck are you doing jay?” you asked, more scared of your bully now than you ever have been before.

“easy, doll,” he said, sounding way too calm for the situation he has you in.

he soon enough had you backed to the wall, his hands on your hips as your bodies were impossibly close.

this was…weird, and wrong. so incredibly wrong…but why was it so incredibly hot.

you could feel his breath against your skin as his lips just barely grazed over your neck.

“jay what are you-” you tried, but were cut off when he pressed a harsh kiss to your lips. your eyes were wide open as you tried pushing him away, still confused out of your mind as to what was happening.

“damnit, i said i’m putting you in your place, can’t you listen to me?” he said, his voice low.

as if your body had a mind of it’s own, you nodded. why on earth did you nod.

it wasn’t long before he began to palm at your clothed core, you could feel the heat radiating off of you as you bit back a whine.

“wanted you for so long…” he said, hooking his finger into the waistband of your pants and pulling down.

“gonna finally take what’s mine, right, doll?” he asked, though you knew it wasn’t a question you were meant to answer.

his finger slipped between your folds, made easy by how wet you had become. you cursed your body for being so willing for him, feeling as though you had betrayed yourself.

you whined softly as he leaned in close to your ear, “all that because of me?” he teased.

you had a dying urge to push him off of you, but something inside was screaming to let him keep going.

he played with you for what felt like ages before he finally slipped a finger into your entrance, making your legs nearly buckle.

“already needing my help to stand?” he asked, his free hand on your hip to help support you.

you bit back another whine, “fuck…” you said beneath your breath.

he removed his finger, causing you to whine. it wasn’t long before he grabbed your waist and pushed you over one of the desk’s.

he sucked in a sharp breath as he put your ass on display for him, feeling you up. his cock was practically aching to be let free from his pants.

he palmed himself through the material before shuffling his pants down enough to let his dick free from the restraint.

he rubbed himself against your folds, causing you to whine, and not a thought of stopping him was in your mind, so desperate for his cock and you hadn’t even known until now.

“jay, please…” you whimpered.

“that’s right, beg for it,” he said in a low voice.

“please, need you so bad…” you begged him.

he finally slipped inside of you slowly at first.

you gripped the edge of the desk, feeling your legs threaten to give out as he entered you from behind.

he let out a shaky breath himself, “your pussy feels so tight around me, doll…” he commented, starting to push himself in and out of you.

the noises you had started to let out reminded jay of those from a porno, high pitched, whiny, and so fucking hot.

you couldn’t help but start to try and match his pace, fucking yourself back against him. he held your hips and used you for support, driving himself deeper inside of you.

your eyes rolled back as he moved a hand to the front of your pussy and began to rub at your clit.

“gonna cum for me? gonna cum all over my cock,” he teased, speeding his hips up.

you couldn’t even answer or get a thought straight.

“got you so fucked dumb you can’t even speak, so cock hungry,” he said under his breath.

you could feel yourself getting so close, and you craved your release so desperately.

“jay- oh god- fuck…gonna-” you tried between moans.

“go ahead, cum for me, make a mess,” he told you.

after a few more thrusts, you were coming, your legs shaking, needing his full support to keep you up against the desk. he fucked you through it heavenly and as you clenched around him, he neared his release.

“gonna cum, holy shit,” he panted, fucking you roughly, causing your vision to white out.

he pulled out, fucking his fist to get himself to release before coming over your back and your ass, the sight almost enough to get him hard again.

the two of you caught your breath and cleaned yourselves up in almost complete silence, and before he left, you were about to make a comment until he spoke first.

“watch where you’re walking next time, klutz.”