#had a shit day at work and coming home to her is nice

[sunsetmade]

Heyy!! I was wondering if you could write an idea of mine. So rafe and reader are together for a couple of years and they live together and reader always waits for him to get back from work with his favorite foods and always takes care of him in that way and they are always very touchy with each other like physical touch is their love language and so one day rafe comes home and he’s angry and starts taking it out on reader and says something like i don’t want your stupid fucking food and leave me alone and that shit yk and then he starts yelling at her and smashes a glass or punches the table which makes her flinch and be scared of him. and then the next day reader still cooks for him because she still loves him but doesn’t wait for him like she always does like she doesn’t greet him at the door with hugs and kisses and also doesn’t eat with him and yata yata. hope this makes sense!!

Quiet Over Dinner

Rafe Cameron x Reader

Sunny’s Notes: I’m a big foodie and cook so this stings…

The porch light glowed warm against the evening sky, casting soft light on the steps where she sat every day like clockwork, waiting. It had become her ritual, her quiet devotion. The way she showed up for him and in a way, a reason to calm down.

Rafe worked long hours —sometimes too long. Some days he came home with aching muscles and a stiff neck, some days with blood on his knuckles or eyes shadowed by whatever business Ward and sometimes Barry had dragged him into. But no matter the weight he carried, he always came home, back to her. And she made sure that home meant warmth and comfort. Clean shirts folded. His favorite meals on the stove. Soft hands rubbing his shoulders. Kisses pressed to his temple. A gentle constant care.

And tonight was no different.

At least, not at first.

It was a routine for her really.

She’d made lemon butter chicken— the one he always asked for when things had been rough. She even remembered to set out the hot sauce he liked even though she always thought it was nasty, tucked a napkin under his fork, and wore the soft blue tank top that she loved.

The sound of his truck tires crunching against the gravel outside made her heart jump, and she stood, wiping her hands on a dish towel. She didn’t know it yet, but everything was about to change in the next five minutes.

The door swung open harder than usual. No “baby” this time. No arms held out. Just Rafe but not the one she recognized. Not the one who came in with soft eyes and limp arms. This one had his jaw locked, eyes stormy, mouth tight like he was swallowing a scream from deep inside.

“Hey, Ray,” she greeted, hesitant but hopeful, approaching him for a kiss.

But he didn’t respond. He just brushed past her like he couldn’t be bothered to answer her.

Her brows pinched feeling her heart beat a little faster than usual. “Dinner’s ready,” she offered gently, trying again, watching his shoulders twitch.

“I’m not hungry,” he said flatly, yanking off his jacket and tossing it carelessly toward the couch.

“Oh.” Her voice came out smaller than she intended. “It’s— I made the chicken you like. Thought you’d want something nice, you looked—”

“I said I’m not hungry,” he snapped, voice sharper now, cutting straight through her softness. “God, do you ever stop with the fucking meals? I don’t want your stupid food.”

She froze. Her heart felt like it had toppled out of her chest and onto the floor.

The silence that followed felt thick and metallic. Her lips parted, but nothing came out. His face was twisted with a frustration that wasn’t hers —not really— but it was pointed directly at her.

“Rafe…” she whispered firmly.

He wasn’t looking at her. He was pacing now, fingers running through his hair, jaw clenched.

“I’m sick of pretending everything’s okay just ‘cause there’s a damn plate of food waiting for me every night,” he muttered. “You don’t get it. None of you get it. No one ever gets it.

She stood in the kitchen doorway, hands trembling against the towel still gripped in her fist. “Did something happen?”

His voice rose and he let out a bitter chuckle. “Ward happened. That bastard—again. Called me a failure. Told me I’m wasting everything. Everything he built, he said. Like I asked for any of this!”

She took a step toward him, heart pulling, but before she could reach out, his hand lashed out. Not at her but at the ceramic vase sitting on the entryway table. It shattered against the floor almost immediately.

Her body flinched instinctively. It was quick but noticeable. It was scared and uncertian. And that… that was the worst part.

Because he saw it.

He saw the fear in her eyes. Saw the way she backed into herself like he was something dangerous.

His anger evaporated instantly, sucked out of the room like smoke through a crack in the window.

“Shit,” he whispered, gaze dropping to the shards on the ground. “Shit, baby— I didn’t mean— I didn’t…”

But she didn’t answer.

She didn’t scold him. Didn’t raise her voice or demand he clean up the shattered glass now scattered all across the floor. She didn’t even cry—not in front of him, at least, not yet.

Instead, she just stood there for a moment, blinking like she couldn’t quite believe what had just happened. And the look in her eyes made him nauseous. It was pure disbelief, a hint of anger, and fear. Actual fear. Fear of him.

Then, without a word, she turned and walked past him—silent footsteps down the hallway, soft and distant like a ghost. The bedroom door clicked shut behind her, gentle but final, and somehow that quiet sound hit him harder than any scream could’ve.

And then he heard her. Muffled sobs bleeding through the walls, barely audible but unmistakable. That was what finally cracked something in him.

“Fuck!” he barked, voice sharp and guttural as it echoed through the now-too-quiet room. He kicked the side of the couch on his way down, collapsing into it like his body couldn’t carry the weight of what he’d just done.

His hands tangled in his hair, elbows digging into his knees as he hunched forward.

“Such a fucking idiot,” he muttered, his voice raw, barely above a whisper now. “You always ruin the good shit. Always. Fucking ruining the only person who actually loves you.”

And all he could do was sit there, the broken vase at his feet, her cries behind a closed door, and the sickening realization that he might’ve just broken the only thing he couldn’t fix.

⸻

By the third night, Rafe couldn’t handle it anymore.

He sat alone at the dinner table, elbows on the edge, shoulders slumped, a plate of still-warm pasta in front of him that she’d made without even asking what he wanted—just like always. She knew his favorites by now. She knew how he liked his garlic minced, not sliced, how he hated when the sauce was too watery.

The plate was genuinely perfect.

And he couldn’t touch it.

There was a lump in his throat that had nothing to do with food and everything to do with the silence that had taken over the house in those three days. A silence that stretched too long and settled too heavy.

She hadn’t laughed in days. He hadn’t heard her humming in the kitchen or rambling about something she read on her phone. The house still smelled like her though. Still like vanilla and soft laundry detergent, but it didn’t feel like her. Not anymore.

It felt cold. Hollow.

He missed her.

He really fucking missed her.

And what twisted the knife deeper was knowing he was the reason.

The reason she barely looked at him.

The reason she flinched like a reflex—just for a second—when he reached for a cup the night before.

The reason the air between them had shifted into something quiet and cautious.

It wasn’t distance out of spite. It was distance out of protection.

She wasn’t punishing him. She was guarding herself.

And she had every right to.

She’d taken care of him through everything—every rough night, every fucked-up spiral, every bruised knuckle and bloodshot eye. She held him when he was high, when he was aching, when he was ashamed. And she never once made him feel small. Never once asked for anything in return.

She just simply loved him.

And he’d thrown it back in her face like it meant nothing. Like she meant nothing.

He stabbed at the pasta with his fork, then pushed the plate away hard enough to rattle the silverware. He hadn’t eaten since that night anyway—what was the point in trying now? What was the point of eating without her. Without her giggles, without her hums of agreement, without her tangents she always somehow got onto.

In the hallway, he heard her—soft footsteps, a quiet closet door clicking shut, the faint sound of hangers sliding along the bar. She was still doing everything she always did. Folding his shirts the way he liked, tucking his clean socks into pairs, putting his phone on the charger when he forgot.

But she just wasn’t there anymore. Not really. Not with him.

She barely spoke. She didn’t sit on the couch beside him at night or curl into his side like she used to. And when he passed her in the hallway, her gaze didn’t linger—it flicked past him, like she didn’t want to be caught hoping for softness that wasn’t safe anymore.

And it was killing him.

That night, Rafe sat on the edge of the bed, hunched forward, heart in his throat. His eyes stung and he chewed at his lip to keep it at bay. She stood across the room at the dresser, brushing her hair in slow, even strokes like she was trying not to notice him watching her.

She looked beautiful. She always did.

But there was something distant in the way she held herself, like she’d quietly pulled her soul a few inches further away from him just to be safe.

He cleared his throat, nervous. “Can we talk?”

She didn’t look at him. Just set the brush down gently, like she was afraid any sudden sound might crack whatever fragile peace still existed between them.

After a pause, she said, “Sure.” Not cold, but not warm either.

His palms rubbed against his thighs anxiously. “I, uh… I don’t really know how to start.”

“Then start wherever you need to,” she said, her tone calm and guarded. It wasn’t said to be cruel or to have malice, it was said to be prepared.

He swallowed. “I’m sorry.”

No response.

He tried again. “I’m sorry for what I said. For yelling. For the vase. All of it. You didn’t deserve that. You never deserve that.”

Still, she didn’t face him. Her eyes stayed fixed on the dresser, like turning toward him would cost too much and if she looked at him and saw his broken face she would too brake.

“It’s okay to be upset,” she said after a long pause. “But you can’t take it out on me.”

He shook his head quickly. “I know. I know that. I just… I lost it. Ward got in my head and—”

“No.” Her voice was quiet but steady as she finally turned to look at him. “Don’t make this about Ward. I’m not Ward. I’ve never been him.”

“I know you’re not,” Rafe whispered, eyes dropping to the floor.

“You’ve never scared me before,” she said, almost to herself. Her hands wrung together in front of her. “But that night… when you broke the vase, when you said what you said… I didn’t know what you were going to do.”

His chest clenched. “I would never hurt you.”

“I know that, Rafe,” she said quickly, her voice breaking just slightly. “But for a second… I couldn’t be sure.”

Silence.

“I was just trying to take care of you,” she whispered, a tremble in her voice.

“I know,” he choked out, throat thick. “I know. And I ruined it. I ruined us.”

She looked at him—really looked—and for a moment, her expression cracked. Like she wanted to believe him. Like some part of her still did. Her eyes shimmered, but she blinked quickly, swallowing it all down. She wasn’t going to let him off again. Not this time. He needed to understand how badly he hurt her. And he needed to fix it himself.

Then she stepped around him, climbed into bed, and turned off the light without another word trying to desperately ignore the ache in her heart.

Rafe sat there in the dark for a long time, staring at nothing, heart beating loud in the quiet.

He didn’t move. Didn’t speak. But a tear fell down his cheek and then another and another.

He just sat there, listening to her breathe beside him, and wondering if he’d already lost the only thing that had ever truly felt like home.

And she laid there her heart breaking when he sniffled. In that moment she wanted nothing more than to crawl over to him. To hug and kiss his tears away. But she couldn’t.

The next morning, Rafe didn’t go to work.

Barry called twice. He let both go to voicemail. The third time, he turned his phone off completely.

Instead, he stayed home.

And cleaned.

Not the half-assed kind of cleaning he usually did when things felt off—the quick sweep, the shoved clothes under the bed, the wipe-down of visible mess. No, this was different. This was intentional. Like maybe, if he scrubbed hard enough, he could wipe away the sick feeling that had lived in his chest for days.

He vacuumed every room, even the corners. Wiped down the baseboards with a rag and a bucket of soapy water, the kind she always mixed with lemon dish soap. He dusted shelves he hadn’t looked at in months. Washed every dish in the sink even though the dishwasher was right there. And when he finished, he drove across town to replace the vase he’d shattered—didn’t settle for something close. Found one just like the original, down to the pale blue tint in the glass.

She came home late afternoon, grocery bags in hand, and paused in the entryway when she spotted him on his knees in the hallway, sweat on his brow, his sleeves rolled up, hands soaked in suds as he scrubbed at the floor like a man trying to erase himself.

Her eyes scanned the room—freshly vacuumed carpet, the smell of citrus and pine in the air, a vase sitting carefully back in its usual spot.

“Are you okay?” she asked, genuinely but also surprised.

Rafe looked up at her. There was a damp smudge on his cheek, and his voice was quiet when he said, “I’m trying to be.”

No attitude. No defensiveness. Just the plain truth.

She stood there for a moment, watching him, then nodded once and set the groceries on the counter. She didn’t say anything else.

But she didn’t walk away either.

That evening, he decided to cook.

He had no real plan—just followed a memory of something she’d made once, when things were easier. But the chicken burned around the edges, the potatoes were under-seasoned, he spilled olive oil on the counter and had to start the salad twice because he forgot to rinse the lettuce the first time.

Still, when the table was finally set—two plates, mismatched forks, placemats slightly crooked—he stepped into the living room and called her name softly.

It wasn’t a demanding or loud call. It was one filled with hope and regret.

She came slowly, her expression unreadable as she took in the meal. Her gaze lingered on the scorched chicken, the uneven potato slices, the awkward sprinkle of parsley that looked more like grass clippings from the yard.

“I know it’s not like yours,” he said quickly, rubbing the back of his neck. “But I wanted to feed you. For once.” He awkwardly chuckled.

She blinked, surprised. Not by the food—by the fact that he meant it.

He stepped toward her, gently pulling out her chair.

“Sit with me?” He asked hopefully trying not to think about if she said no.

There was a beat. Her eyes searched his face for something—for regret, maybe. For sincerity.

And whatever she found must’ve been enough.

Because she sat.

They ate mostly in silence. But it wasn’t the kind that crushed your chest. It wasn’t laced with tension or heavy with unspoken anger.

It was quiet. Careful. But not cold.

Halfway through the meal, he looked up and caught her watching him. Her fork paused mid-air. She didn’t look away.

And in that brief moment, something in her eyes softened. Not completely. But enough.

Enough to make his heart inch toward hope.

⸻

That night, she laid beside him, close enough for him to feel her warmth beneath the covers, but not close enough to touch. Her back was to him, body curved slightly inward like she was protecting something delicate.

Rafe didn’t sleep.

He stayed awake long after her breathing settled, eyes fixed on the ceiling, his hand resting just inches from hers on the mattress. So close. But not quite.

He ached to close the gap. To reach for her fingers and lace them through his. But he didn’t. Not because he didn’t want to—but because he wasn’t sure he had the right anymore. And he wasn’t willing to rush her.

It took days—six of them, to be exact—for things to shift.

Not all at once. Not in any grand, dramatic moment.

Just small things.

Tiny flickers of what used to be.

She laughed at something dumb on the TV—a stupid commercial about laundry detergent—and he turned toward her so quickly his neck cracked. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye but didn’t comment on the way his entire face lit up.

Another time, she handed him a hoodie still warm from the dryer. Their fingers brushed, and this time, she didn’t pull away immediately. She lingered—just for a beat. It was enough to make his stomach twist.

But his favorite moment came two days later.

He was rambling about something stupid Barry had said—just talking to fill the silence, not expecting a response and not even really expecting her to listen—and she let out a quiet chuckle. A real one. Light, effortless, and soft.

His heart jolted like it had been struck. He blinked at her, stunned, and a grin pulled across his face before he could stop it. He spent the rest of the day riding the high of that single sound, the smile never quite leaving his lips.

And then, one morning, he woke to find her curled slightly in his direction. Her leg was tangled with the blanket, her arm tucked beneath her cheek, and her face—peaceful, relaxed—was angled faintly toward him.

He didn’t move. He barely breathed.

It wasn’t fixed. Not yet. But it was something. At least he hoped it was.

Then, almost a week after that night, she came home later than usual.

Rafe was on the couch, scrolling through his phone, though he wasn’t reading any of it. The TV was on but muted. He looked up the second he heard the keys in the lock.

She stepped into the living room and stopped just inside the doorway, the soft jingle of her keys dropping into the dish the only sound in the room.

She didn’t speak at first. Just stood there, like she wasn’t sure how to start.

He sat up straighter. “What’s wrong ba-“ he stopped himself and cleared his throat. He didn’t have the right to call her that anymore. “What’s wrong?”

Her face fell slowly, and she chewed the inside of her cheek. “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything,” he said instantly, phone already forgotten.

She crossed the room, arms folded loosely over her chest. “That night… when you said you didn’t want my food.” Her voice was quiet, uncertain. “Did you mean it?”

His chest ached with guilt.

“No,” he said, voice low and rough. “God, no. I didn’t mean a word of it.”

She shifted her weight, looking down. “I think about that night a lot,” she admitted. “The way your voice sounded. The way your hand moved right before the vase hit the floor. I didn’t think you’d ever…” She trailed off, fingers twisting in the fabric of her sleeve. “Not with me.”

“I didn’t think I would either,” Rafe murmured, guilt thick in his throat. “It wasn’t you. It never was.”

“Ward,” she said softly, already knowing.

He nodded. “He gets in my head sometimes. All the time actually. Makes me feel like I’m seventeen again, like nothing I do will ever be enough. I let that take over. I let it turn me into the exact thing I promised you I’d never become.”

She didn’t speak right away. Then, slowly, she stepped closer and sat beside him on the couch, tucking one leg under herself.

He turned to her, looked at her—eyes rimmed with tiredness, but steady. Honest.

“I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure you never feel scared of me again,” he said, voice steady with quiet resolve. “I swear that to you.”

She didn’t respond right away. Just stared at him like she was weighing every word, measuring it against everything they’d been through.

Then, finally, she reached for his hand.

Her fingers slid gently into his, warm and familiar.

It was small.

But it shattered something tight inside his chest.

He let out a shaky breath and moved carefully, slowly, guiding her into his lap with a hesitancy that made his hands tremble. He was testing the waters and god was he scared. So scared. This was finally his chance. He couldn’t ruin it again.

She came willingly.

No hesitation. Not even a little resistance.

Her arms slid around his neck, and she tucked her face into the crook of his shoulder, nose brushing his throat. He closed his eyes and held her, arms wrapped tight around her back, like he was anchoring himself to the only thing that had ever felt real.

“I’m not perfect,” he whispered into her hair, his lips brushing the strands. “But I’m yours. And I never—never—want to hurt you again.”

She didn’t answer with words.

She didn’t have to.

Instead, she pressed a kiss to his neck—so soft, so tender—it nearly undid him.

The tension that had clung to them like a second skin—thick and heavy, always in the room, always between them—finally began to loosen its grip. Not all at once. Not in any dramatic wave of forgiveness. But slowly. Gently. Moment by moment.

She didn’t flinch when he reached for her hand anymore.

He didn’t hesitate before speaking, afraid of saying the wrong thing, or even afraid that she wasn’t listening. Because the truth was she always listened. And she was always there for him even in those hard days.

Their silence began to feel comfortable again, not strained.

Her chest didn’t feel so tight. His shoulders didn’t feel so weighed down. The air in the house felt different—less brittle, less breakable.

He could breathe again.

Not fully. Not like before. But enough. Enough to feel like there was a good chance that they were going to be okay.

She was coming back to him. Inch by inch, word by word, look by look.

And that was all he’d ever wanted.

Not perfection. Not some easy fix.

Just her. Choosing to stay. Choosing to trust him again.

And as he held her there, her warmth pressed into his chest and her breath soft against his skin, Rafe closed his eyes and knew—he’d spend the rest of his life proving she was safe with him. That she was his home.

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[hoperese]

Image of Us LN4

On the brink of losing his career due to mounting scandals and a reckless reputation, Lando Norris found an unexpected solution—a marriage of convenience. Once seen as a playboy and party boy, his image transformed overnight when he married his best friend, not for love, but to salvage his public image and silence the media.

word count: 2942

pairing: lando norris x reader

content: best friends to fake marriage to real love (this one will be a rollercoaster)

warning: contains themes of emotional vulnerability, intense romantic attachment, and mild anxiety around familial expectations and cultural pressure (e.g., fear of judgment, marriage secrecy, and family scrutiny).

Image of Us masterlist

rese notes: hellooo! here u go ep. 04 and peace out college is tired af dw I'll still post babes mwa mwaps!!! also watch lando be giggling and blushing

episode title: EP 04. Ride Home

song: ride home by ben&ben, someday by the ridleys

The wedding preparations were something Lando expected to be hectic, but thanks to her planning everything months ahead, things were surprisingly calm. It gave them space to breathe—even if he was still on the road for another race weekend. He had asked if she wanted to come along, but she gently declined, overwhelmed with deadlines and back-to-back meetings.

That afternoon, in between reviewing reports at her desk, she glanced at the sandwich she barely touched and decided to send him an update.

 "eating lunch like you told me to 🙄"

Lando’s phone buzzed during a debrief. He saw the preview on his lock screen and instantly smiled. She always made it seem like he was annoying, but he knew she liked being reminded to eat.

"Good. You should be eating, not drowning another cold cocoa or hot coffee ☕️🥶"

He paused.

Should he add an emoji? Maybe something playful… something caring? His thumb hovered over the screen and—accidentally—he tapped one and hit send without thinking.

“😘"

His eyes widened.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath.

He stared at the message in horror. That wasn’t just a little flirty—that was obvious. Too obvious. Before he could unsend it, the three dots appeared.

"Okay, honey ❤️"

He leaned back in his chair, heart racing. Was she teasing? Serious? That had to be teasing… right? But the “honey”… and the heart. That wasn’t nothing. He couldn’t stop smiling, and worst of all, he couldn’t stop rereading it.

Across the city, she was biting her lip, staring at her screen.

He sent a kiss emoji. That wasn’t a mistake, right?

But instead of overthinking it, she typed quickly—almost impulsively.

"Okay, honey ❤️"

The moment she hit send, her face warmed.

“Why did I say that?” she muttered, dragging a hand down her face, trying to focus on her work—but she couldn’t. The texts stayed open on her phone like a secret she couldn’t stop peeking at.

The whole week, Lando was practically glowing—giddy like a man who’d woken up in a world made of sunshine and butterflies. He was humming while walking around the paddock, smiling to himself between meetings, and looking at his phone like it was the best thing that ever happened to him.

Oscar caught him doing it again—just standing there with that weird dreamy grin while staring at a message. He raised an eyebrow. “Mate… are you okay?”

Everyone on the team noticed. Lando being in a good mood wasn’t unusual—but this was different. This was suspiciously happy.

Zak leaned toward his trainer during a briefing and muttered, “Did he take something?”

The trainer didn’t even blink, just shook their head with a slight smirk. “Nope. Just woke up happy, that’s it.”

But for Lando, it was a big deal.

She called him honey.

That one message from earlier in the week—“Okay, honey ❤️”—had been living rent-free in his head. He’d reread it so many times he could probably recite it from memory. Honey. He was her honey.

That sounded… really nice.

And just like that, the name stuck—quietly, naturally, and neither of them brought it up again.

A few days later, she sent him a random update between work emails.

“Made it through the worst meeting of my life 🙃 bought myself cake to cope lol"

Lando smiled, thumb hovering over the screen before typing without hesitation.

“Proud of you, honey 🍰"

Her reply came a minute later.

"Thanks, baby 😌"

He choked on air. Baby? He sat there, stunned, a goofy grin slowly creeping in. He couldn’t even focus on his engineering notes after that.

The next day, another update popped in from her:

"Hot coffee count today: 3 ☕️☕️☕��� send help. "Baby, that’s not hydration 💀 have some water pls 🙏" he replied 

She then responded 

"Yes sir 🫡 anything for you, honey."

At this point, it became their thing. No explanations. No teasing. Just casually calling each other honey and baby as if they’d been doing it forever.

And for Lando, that felt… right. He didn’t need to question it. He was her honey—and honestly, he liked the sound of that more than any race win.

The whole week, Lando was practically glowing—giddy like a man who’d woken up in a world made of sunshine and butterflies. He was humming while walking around the paddock, smiling to himself between meetings, and staring at his phone like it was sending him love letters. And honestly? It kind of was.

Oscar was the first to notice. And it scared him.

He watched Lando take a sip from his coffee, immediately grimace, and still go, "It’s fine," with a soft smile.

That was not fine. That was deeply alarming.

“You okay?” Oscar asked, cautiously peering at him like he might start floating. “You’re acting… possessed.”

Lando just shrugged, eyes flicking back to his phone. Smile. Tap. Smile again. Like clockwork.

Oscar’s jaw dropped. “No. Nope. What the hell is going on?”

Even during the strategy meetings, Lando barely paid attention. He was glued to his phone—thumb flying, grinning like a teenage girl in love.

It got so weird that the other drivers noticed. Alex gave him side-eyes. George nudged him at lunch just to check if he was real. Carlos even leaned over during media duties, whispered under his breath, “My mother knows someone if you think this is a curse.”

Lando just laughed—genuinely laughed—and said, “I’m not cursed, mate. I’m just in a good mood.”

Carlos looked at him, serious. “That’s what cursed people say.”

But Lando didn’t care.

Because in his mind, he was still reading her last message.

“Yes sir 🫡 anything for you, honey.”

And before that— “Thanks, baby 😌”

And before that—

“Okay, honey ❤️”

She called him honey. Then baby. Then both.

It was nothing official. Nothing serious. They hadn’t talked about it. But it was there—in the texts, in the quiet exchanges, in how naturally it all slipped in.

And Lando?

He was her honey. And yeah, maybe that was the reason for the sunshine, the butterflies, and the terrifying concern of his friends.

But it felt good. Too good to stop smiling.

In the garage, just before heading out for the formation lap, Lando sat quietly in his chair, helmet resting in his hands. The space around him buzzed—radios chattering, mechanics rushing, engineers calling out final checks—but he had tuned it all out.

What mattered most in that moment was the tiny letter charm tucked carefully into the padding of his helmet.

It was hers.

A small, delicate thing she had given him years ago—"for luck,” she had said shyly, tucking a scribbled note behind it. Something simple, maybe silly to others, but to Lando? It was everything.

She was superstitious. Always had been. And over the years, she’d slipped other small charms into his life—threaded onto zippers, tucked into pouches, pinned discreetly to his travel bag. Most people didn’t even notice them. But he never raced without them. Especially not without this one.

Every race weekend, he made sure it was still there. Then, right before putting on his helmet, he’d give the spot a soft, careful pat. A silent ritual. A grounding gesture. Like carrying a piece of her onto the track with him.

And he thought no one noticed.

But Oscar did.

He’d seen it more than once—how Lando would pause with his helmet in hand, glance at the same spot, then tap it gently. Not to adjust, not to tighten—just… a touch. Almost reverent.

Oscar squinted at him one afternoon, finally asking, “What’s that about?”

Lando shrugged, playing it off with a casual, “Just… superstition.”

Oscar didn’t press. But the way Lando smiled afterward—soft, distant, almost dreamy—told him everything he needed to know.

It wasn’t just superstition.

It was someone. And it meant everything.

That week had been more than good—it was nice. Really nice.

Lando managed to bring home a P2 finish, Later that night, the team celebrated.

The music was loud, the lights were flashing, and champagne flowed like water. People were cheering, dancing, clinking glasses in his honor. Lando smiled, posed for a few pictures, accepted every pat on the back and “well done, mate.”

But his heart wasn’t there.

Not really.

Between toasts and cheers, he found himself checking the time, wondering if she’d already fallen asleep in Monaco. He thought about the soft glow of her apartment, the way her voice would sound if he called her right now, even half-asleep. He could already imagine her waiting on the balcony in one of his shirts, mug in hand, sleepy but smiling.

So while the music pulsed and his teammates laughed around him, Lando quietly slipped out the back. No goodbyes, no fuss.

He just wanted to go home.

It hadn’t been official. Not yet. But the lines were already blurring.

She technically still had her own apartment, but she hadn’t been back there in a while—maybe once or twice to grab more clothes or pick up some mail. Most of her things were already scattered around his place anyway: skincare bottles in the bathroom, socks in the laundry, and her laptop permanently plugged into a corner of his desk.

They hadn’t talked about it, but they didn’t really need to.

It was late afternoon on her day off. She’d spent most of it sleeping, wrapped in the blankets and surrounded by the quiet hum of his flat. But as she stirred awake, stretching with a lazy groan, her foot bumped into something—or rather, someone.

She blinked, frowned, then pushed herself up on one elbow.

There he was—Lando—fast asleep beside her, shirtless and in boxers, his cheek smushed against the pillow like he hadn’t slept in days.

Her brows furrowed. “The fuck?”

She hadn't expected him until Wednesday. It was only Tuesday.

Still groggy, she gave him a soft kick to the side. He didn’t budge, just mumbled something unintelligible and shifted closer to the pillow.

She scoffed. “You could’ve at least warned me,” she muttered, rolling onto her back and rubbing her face. “I would’ve suffocated you if you didn’t tell me…”

He didn’t respond. Just breathed slowly, deeply—completely at home.

That was the thing. He always made himself at home. But lately… so did she.

They hadn’t called it “living together,” but it was starting to feel like it. More than once, she’d caught herself thinking our place when looking around his apartment.

They still hadn’t made it official. But the way things were going, it was only a matter of time.

They had brunch together, with her cooking for the both of them. She muttered under her breath, “You’re home early... I thought you weren’t coming back until Wednesday.”

“Missed you,” he mumbled into her neck, his voice low and muffled as he wrapped his arms around her from behind. He clung to her back like a sleepy koala, ignoring her half-hearted attempts to shrug him off.

“Seriously, Lando, do you want burnt eggs?” she warned, trying to peer around him to check the sizzling pan. She shook her head, lips twitching. Of course he’d come home early just to throw off my routine.

He only grumbled something unintelligible and tightened his grip, clearly not planning on moving any time soon.

She found herself having a lazy day on the couch, watching MasterChef on the TV while Lando lay across her stomach, still dozing off after brunch. Her fingers absentmindedly brushed through his curls—a casual habit between them by now, one that neither of them questioned anymore. It was comfort, routine, and something that felt quietly like home.

She wasn’t sure when it started—this quiet intimacy—but it had become second nature, like breathing. And somehow, the thought of it ever ending unsettled her more than she cared to admit.

They found themselves sorting through a pile of documents, just a few days left before the wedding. Everything was already in motion—Lando had informed his team and manager, letting them know it would be a private ceremony. Just a small circle. He had invited a few of the guys, labeling them as “witnesses,” though it was really just them and a handful of close friends.

She was sitting cross-legged on the floor, going through the guest list for what felt like the hundredth time. “Okay, so we’ve got Carlos and Rebecca, George and Carmen, Alex and Lily…” she listed, holding a pen between her fingers. “Your other group too, the sim-racing boys.”

Lando nodded along, barely looking up as he skimmed through papers. “Yeah, yeah. Told them already.”

“And Max?” she asked.

“Yep,” Lando replied, a hint of a grin forming. “Told him to dress nicely. Proper.”

She raised an eyebrow. “And he said…?”

Lando snorted. “‘Bullshit,’ obviously. I told him it’s a surprise.”

She laughed. “Poor guy’s going to show up thinking it’s some fancy brunch and end up witnessing a wedding.”

“Exactly the plan,” Lando said, smirking as he looked over at her. “He’ll deal.”

She looked down at the list, taking notes and going over everything one last time. Then, almost hesitantly, she said, “I’m scared of how Ma and Da will react to this... I mean, I’m doing fine—got a stable job here in Monaco that I actually love—but this?” She sighed, rubbing her temple. “I think I’ll be the main course at every family event from now on.”

She hated how her family fussed over things like this. If they ever found out she got married—secretly married—it wouldn’t just be a celebration. It would be a full-on fiesta in the barangay. They’d probably bring out a lechon, even if it was just a Tuesday.

Her smile faltered for a moment. “I just... I don’t want them to think I did this without thinking it through.”

Lando glanced up from the papers, a soft grin tugging at his lips. “Hey, at least you’ll be the star. Isn’t that what everyone secretly wants?”

She gave him a deadpan look. “Not if it means being the opening act and the dessert.”

Lando laughed and nudged her foot with his. “Well, if there’s lechon, I’m not complaining.”

“Not funny,” she muttered, shaking her head at the memory.

There was that one time she brought Lando to a family event, and her titos and titas instantly assumed he was her boyfriend. The moment they figured it out—or thought they did—it was game over. Her titos handed Lando drinks left and right, clapping him on the back and saying, “Welcome to the family, pare!” Her titas weren’t any better, fussing over him like he was already part of the clan, piling food onto his plate and telling him, “Eat, anak, you’re too skinny!” They even brought out dessert like it was a wedding reception.

Meanwhile, her cousins wouldn’t stop teasing her, wiggling their eyebrows and whispering, “Finally, she’s settling down.”

Lando had looked overwhelmed, but somehow charmed by all of it. At one point, he leaned over and whispered, “I thought I was just coming for pancit.”

She wanted the earth to swallow her whole—especially when her lola started asking how many grandkids they were planning to have.

Now, just days before the actual wedding, the memory made her groan. “That was chaos.”

Lando smirked, clearly amused. “Honestly? Kinda loved it.”

She shot him a look. “You would.”

Later that day, she found herself on the couch, organizing the invitations before sending them out. She double-checked each one, making sure everything was correct—no typos, no missing names, no mistakes. It had to be right.

Her eyes drifted to the one resting on the coffee table. She reached out, her fingers slowly tracing the soft, minimalistic design. It was simple—elegant without being overdone—and somehow perfectly reflected both her and Lando’s personalities. No frills, just honest and quietly beautiful.

Her gaze settled on the text printed in soft ink: The Wedding of Lando Norris and Y/N L/N.

It still didn’t feel real.

Like a fever dream she hadn’t quite woken up from.

She leaned back into the couch, invitation in hand, and let out a soft, almost disbelieving laugh. How did we even get here?

Meanwhile, Lando was in the bedroom, shuffling through the closet. After a bit of rummaging, his fingers finally landed on the small velvet box. He pulled it out from its not-so-clever hiding spot—buried beneath a pile of socks—and let out a quiet breath of relief.

The ring.

He had bought it in secret weeks ago. Somehow, by some miracle, she hadn’t found it. Not even during her occasional habit of stealing his socks. Honestly, that was a close call. He ran a hand through his hair and muttered to himself, “Brilliant hiding skills, Norris.”

Opening the box, he stared at the ring inside, his thumb lightly brushing over the surface. It was beautiful—more than that. It was her.

She had once mentioned, half-laughing during a random conversation, that she’d want a Harry Winston ring someday. “They’re too nice,” she’d said. “But they’re classics. Simple, timeless... like how love should feel.”

He never forgot that.

She had a few pieces of jewelry, nothing too extravagant, but this… this was different. This was a promise. One he’d thought long and hard about before buying. The Classic Winston Oval-Shaped Engagement Ring with Tapered Baguette Side Stones—elegant, understated, and quietly dazzling.

He could already picture it on her finger.

Would she cry? Or punch him in the arm first for not telling her sooner? He chuckled at the thought, but his heart panged with nerves.

Soon.

Just a little longer—and this ring wouldn’t be sitting in a sock drawer. It would be on her hand, right where it belonged.

taglist: @n3versatisfied, @alana4610, @boocmarks, @areej003, @coolpeanutchaos, @plotpal, @fightclubendingscene, @bellabarnes1378, @chimchimjiminie16, @trisharee, @emneedshelp, @dramallama9, @samriddhisingh, @ernegren, @midnight-and-books, @keepyoureyesonmeboy. @obxstiles, @jolixtreesunn, @bakubub, @edgyficuselastica, @jaydensluv, @heevenom

[hattersrabbit]

BIRDS OF A FEATHER

yandere batfam x neglected! rogue! reader | sfw

CW! female reader, overstepping boundaries, Stockholm Syndrome, ALL PLATONIC RELATIONSHIPS, manipulation, isolation, guilt tripping, victim blaming, jealousy (from batkids), over protective batfam, fluffy but like f-ed up if you consider the context, hurt comfort (again f-ed up way), tim "stalker" drake, dick grayson being a little shit too

Summary! Growing time meant more suspicious people. The Justice League in curiosity of how the Batfamily had yet to find you. The people in question; Batman and Nightwing dealt with the League. the family as a whole truly work hard to keep you in their claws.

previous | next | series

✎ᝰ.this is just exposition honestly but I got things planned >:) *rubs hands together evily*

˖꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷

Decorated with black lace at the wrists you flexed your fingers. Stephanie forever moving at a pace that you couldn't help but envy.

Perhaps if you were faster then you'd be gone. Unfortunately you never achieved training like that of her and your other siblings. The blonde always dressing you up and making sure your white streak always showing bright and proud.

As if what you did was okay.

"Oh! Looking nice [ ]!" Tim asked as he entered the room. "What's this for?" He asked Stephanie who was hard at work.

"Cass and Damian wanted to teach her how to dance."

You didn't get a choice in the matter. Not that you ever did, and especially no choice in this makeover she was giving you.

"Gotta dress the part I guess." Tim mused with a whistle. His eyes drifting to your hands and then the white streaking. Stalking eyes always made you uncomfortable. Both he and Cass always looking at you like that.

They weren't shy in their curiosity.

The dress itself was black; remincent of Morticia Addams. Your sleeves draping over, and flooding out at the feet.

"Haven't seen B and Dick this morning. Have any idea why? They had breakfast then fled out." Stephanie asked as she carefully placed a necklace on you. Her hands avoiding touching your skin.

You shivered. Heart dropping to your stomach as your skin got a cold breeze against your skin. Bare skin so close, and yet you no longer seemed to deny it.

"Justice League wanted them to come up. Not doubt they heard about [ ]." Tim laughed, bitterly you noted. "You're famous, sis."

"Oh..." Perhaps the Justice League against their most trusted members would save you. From being isolated in this house. A home full of seven other devils disguised as birds.

"Don't worry [ ]! We'll protect you from everyone that wants to take you away." Stephanie concluded as she added final touches. "Ya know considering you won't be able to attend anymore galas at this point we might as well dress you up! In fact let's get all of us to dress up!"

"Ah! I see." Tim mused with narrowed eyes. Burning into you're skin and looking up and down like a predator. "You won't join us then, so we can host our own private little dances with you." Without fear he touched your white streak.

"I'll get everyone Steph. I'll be back!" Tim left and now you were left with Steph who was now busy with planning out makeup for the others.

Left with your thoughts you realized that the Justice League knew about you. The intent to see if the family had found you yet. Truth coming to light that you never left them like you planned.

Trapped in this house of people who hadn't showed affection to you, and now they were. Touch was given and you couldn't accept it but unfortunately you melted every single time.

Every single day you melted faster and faster, as days passed.

And melted you did in way Duke held your hands as you danced. The boy himself struggled with dancing, and Damian was yelling at him to get it right.

His hands touching the lace of your hands. A soft and nervous smile as he stared at you with the most guilty eyes imaginable. The man always being able to make you guilty just by looking into his eyes.

You looked away and at you guys feet.

You tripped and the boy narrowly avoided your neck as his hand drifted to catch you by the back. His strength easily holding you up. A bright voice of laughter expressed from him, while you yelped.

A body that belonged to you, too fast for your liking, melted as the boy brought you back. Twirling feet on the dance floor as Motzart played from a speaker.

"You're on 2! Not 3!" Damian yelled. Jealously evident in his eyes. Poor thing having not been able to hide his jealousy. Cassandra only stared blankly. Glaring at Duke who paid no mind.

Only continuing to smile at you. Intent on keeping you're attention on him.

There were giggles at Duke blatantly ignoring Damian's words. The demon brat himself was growing impatient and tapping his foot on the marble floor.

"Thomas! You let go of her this instant!" Jealously wasn't hidden at all in his voice. "It's my turn! And you'll dance with Cain!"

The girl made a noise but rolled with it anyway. Duke whined a complaint as Damian pulled on his well-made suit so that he could separate from you.

Left in middle of the ballroom looking on at how Damian was pushing for Duke to go away. To get away from you. As it should be, but all in an effort so that Damian could dance with you.

They all seemed to want to. Even Jason who was less inclined to give you the affection of touch wanted to dance with you just as much. He and Tim were glaring at each other at the moment. A silent battle of who would get to you first.

Once again, as if prey in a room full of predators. Or a worm in a room full of birds.

"There, that problem is gone." Damian concluded. Immediately grabbing your hands without warning. You flinched at his touch, and boy made a noise at it. "Do I make you scared?" It was scary how low his voice got.

"Don't be afraid of me. I'm only doing what is in your best interest."

Quite perplexing statement for a fourteen year old. You were only as old as Duke, and somehow the boy younger that you two felt like he was older, and much smarter at times.

You nodded silently.

"You don't talk anymore. You need to talk more, sister." That nickname of endearment rang heavy off of his tongue. Damian was always expressing it, unlike before to which he barely acknowledged you.

"Talk to me."

Breathing hitching you stared into Damian's green eyes, "What is there to talk about?" You're voice hoarse from crying all night. You couldn't deny you're predicament. Trapped in this house, and simply kept prisoner from the world with the use of affection, and the basic hands of loving siblings and a father.

"What is the point in saying anything? There's not much i can say."

Damian said nothing. His grip only getting tighter just as the music stepped up in tempo.

"About what?" The child inquired. Titling his head as you two glided across the marble floor. Damian's voice was scary. To scary, but he was an ex-assassin. You shouldn't have expected much. "Is it the very fact we've imprisoned you in this house?" He raised a brow. Inquiring a reaction from you.

"It is for your protection." He got too close. Swaying with you elegantly despite a few missteps from you. "An apology too. Gotham. The whole world is after you, dear sister." Damian huffed. Adhering the fact what he was saying was obvious.

"They want you imprisoned, and people such as the Penguin want to go knows what with you." Darkness seeped like venom. Damian's eyes layered over. Green almost glowing despite the bright ballroom.

Your breath hitched.

"We lost you once, and something worse could have happened. Because of what we've done you left and caused this."

Your braine sparked with Jason's words. His subtle jab of insinuating this was all you're fault. Damian was doing the same, but...he was blaming them all...himself.

"Damian...you're a child-"

"It does not matter. We never should have listened to Drake." A growl was low. It was true. If it hadn't been for Tim, then maybe this wouldn't have happened.

But...this power was terrifying.

"Don't blame him." A whimper broke from your lips. Damian looked with narrowed eyes that softened ever so slightly. "Please."

Subtle manipulation from you. It seemed to work because Damian nodded slowly. "Anything for you. Anything to atone for what I've done to you. After all, my own biological sister. We're truly the only ones worthy-"

"Aye! My turn!" Jason's voice roared.

"No! My turn!" Stephanie and Tim's voice mixed in a yell against Jason. After that they started arguing with each other.

Beside them Cassandra was still looking on blankly with those dark eyes of hers. Duke was still pouting. Rubbing his hands with those eyes still looking sad and guilty.

"[ ] will choose, imbeciles." Damian concluded as he let go of your hands. You looked at him in shock. He'd given you a choice, but not an option to opt out. Nevertheless, an option.

"Well sister?" Everyone looked at you expectingly. You're eyes squinted with sweaty palms beneath your gloves. Heart swelled with anxiety... and dare you say warmth. Twisted warmth of these above all monsters.

Softly you called out, "Cassandra."

You'd never get out of this place by this point. Not if you kept melting for them all. But it proved futile.

You wanted love, and maybe somewhere in the world they'd stop you. You didn't know what to do.

So right now you just took Cassandra's gentle hand, and she led you into waltz to Swan Lake.

-

"Why do you think they called us?" Nightwing's voice was emotionless. Expression blank beneath his domino mask. Seemingly looking at Batman, who was in his costume.

The bat grunted.

Nightwing whistled, "Thought so. They were gonna say something eventually." Brows curving over. His contempt for this meeting show of how he glared at his hands. "The others are teaching her how to dance." He whined. " and I couldn't be there."

"We'll make this quick." Batman assured. His voice just as blank, but there was an edge to it. His paranoia no doubt going into overdrive over leaving you alone. Even if his other kids and Alfred were capable of protecting you he stilled feared.

'NIGHTWING & BATMAN'

Zetatubes announced them at the Watchtower. Stepping out they were met with the Justice League's founding members; Superman, Wonder Woman, Flash, Green Lantern, and Martian Manhunter.

"Batman and Nightwing." Superman greeted them with wobbly smile. Both of the vigilante's eyes narrowed. "Glad you could make it."

"I'm sure you two know why we called you here?" J'onn softly asked. The two nodded while taking seats.

"The girl, [ ] Wayne. You've haven't found her yet?" Green Lantern asked with a raised brow. "She's a normal girl isn't she? She shouldn't be too hard to find?"

"GL." Flash frowned. "How's Mr.Wayne? If you don't mind me askingm?"

No one noticed, expect Nightwing of how Batman's subtle breathing in. Seething on the inside of how he failed his daughter. "Distraught."

"Oh, I see." Flash looked at the table. Not a lick of suspicion.

"Yes, we wanted to give our help if it's needed." Wonder Woman smiled gently. Sweet, but no, they wouldn't give you over.

"Why do you want to help? You know the rule?" Nightwing raised a brow. "And I work in Bloodhaven. There's no real reason why I'm here?" It was hard to hide his anger. He wanted to be back home dancing with his sister.

"Uh..."Flash mumbled.

"You were Robin." Superman smiled. Always the second, more like third, but nonetheless, he tried to comfort. "Perhaps you've heard anything in Bloodhaven too, and if you've two have been working together on this." He was nervous. Nightwing felt sad for the Kryptonian that he was doing this, but for you he would.

"Do you plan to bring her into custody?" Batman asked accusatory. Nightwing brought a hand to his armored arm.

"Spooky? What's up your ass?" Green Lantern smirked, but it was faltered in hesitation. Fear possibly due to Batman's unusual un-stoic voice.

The Justice League looked around, "Of course not." Diana finished. "The poor girl. It was an accident and no doubt she is scared. The video footage proves it happened spure of the moment." She smiled again. "We want to help."

"We can talk with the victim's family, and Gotham itself. The government as well. This girl...she didn't mean to." Superman flashed a familiar look. Times under control when he caused harm. He didn't want to, but things happened. Superman related to you.

Batman and Nightwing couldn't deny the jealousy bubbling.

"I see." Batman stood up. "If that is all we will be going. We see it as we need no help. We will find her with all our might." The vigilante looked at J'onn who was looking on blankly.

"Do you think we're lying, Martian Manhunter?" Nightwing titled his head.

"Of course not. You both are very on edge." J'onn raised a hand.

Batman grunted, "Quite busy as well. With [ ] Wayne's dissappearance; there are many people and groups after her. Many are being a problem and are inhibiting our investigation." He grunted a goodbye.

Nightwing waved, "We'd like to keep this to Gotham! It be safer for [ ] Wayne. Having so many heroes look for her may give the wrong impression. We'll find her."

The dynamic duo left with no more questions to be asked. They didn't wait. The Justice League only stared on as they left from the Watchtower.

"They are hiding something." Green Lantern claimed with an accusatory tone.

"Batman never does things without a reason. I'm sure he'll tell us what it is at some point." Diana said back. "And yes I've heard Gotham has been a bit wild as of late."

"I wish he'd let us help." Superman pouted just a bit. "And they were acting strange. J'onn?"

"Yes, even without my mind reading i can tell they are holding something back. Something...dark."

-

"I'm here!" Dick's voice was gleeful as he entered the ballroom. Already squealing when seeing you dressed in your best.

"So beautiful!" You welped as his arms pulled you against his chest. Body confused on whether to pull away or to stay.

"Hey, Dickface. Its still my turn." Jason made his size imposing. A curving brow at Dick who wasn't fazed at all.

The oldest pouted, "You've gotten to see her all day! Don't you wanna dance with your biggest brother!" His face smothered into your hair. You were frozen as the man narrowly avoided your bare skin. Dick seemed to have no care in the world of what could happen him.

"Jason and I were just about to dance." Quietly you spoke. You didn't know what to do. You were scared of Dick's expression at your words.

"Oh.." You shivered at how his voice dropped, "then can I be next."

"I'm next. It's a cycle." Tim raised a brow. His hands seeming to itch. "Don't you have patrol?"

"Nope! Batwoman is taking over!" Dick giggled. "So when can I go with my little sister?!" He asked with a forced smile. Everyone could tell. Predators fighting over a piece of meat.

"You can go after me." Stephanie grinned widely.

Dick hummed. That smile tightening jealously.

"Please behave." Bruce was pouting by the door. His arms crossed as he leaned against the door. "Share [ ]. She isn't some object to hog."

How hypocritical. This entire family was keeping you in a cage, as if you were a bird yourself. Whether bat or bird you were trapped inside a golden cage.

"Go ahead, Jason."

He grinned, and took you dancing to the music of Merry-Go-Round of Life. Everyone watched happily, but that jealousy wasn't missed. Bruce made sure everyone was on their best behavior.

"You're getting better. Took me a bit of time to get the hang of it." Jason grinned cheekily. You nodded.

You're lips itched to smile. You mustn't because what was happening was wrong. No matter how much you enjoyed all of this. They've all pushed back against your boundries.

And Tim did so the most. The little creep thar he was. Fascination with your power. It was other being. The ability to take a person's energy, or even powers as hypothesized, was a venture to explore.

Despite Tim's creepiness you did comend his want to keep it respectful, but even so, he and the others pushed back to touch you. To hold your hand, or in this case; dance with you.

His touch was never hurtful though. Cassandra and Damian would keep a firm grip on you, like you would go away if they let go. Tim was always gentle in holding your hand.

"You like the music I chose?" Tim asked gleefully. You nodded. It was quite the tune of classical music. "It's Mozart." He smiled wide. It felt less creepy.

"Trust me. We'll get down to what your ability is and it's limits."

You shivered at his words. Like some scientist. "I don't mean to push but at some point I'll need you let me test skin to skin contact with you."

You shook your head. The music seemed to drown out as you and Tim entered a tensed world. "It's why we do this. Hug you and pull you wherever we want. You need to get used to touch." Narrowed blue eyes. Like a burning sun.

"Gloved or not." His hold on your hands gripped tightly but not hurtful. Not gripping in a way similar to Cassandra or Jason as of before. "So please bend to our need. This way we'll keep you safe."

The song was beginning to end. Tim on one knee and hold your gloved hands. A soft smile with those narrowed blue eyes. Almost glowing as Damian's were a few moments ago.

He kissed you're gloved hand, "We love you. Don't you know that? Believe me when I say that."

Would you deny you're cries. Inner screaming in your throat. Tim's gentle plea despite all he and the others have done.

Truly, do you have the heart to deny them after all they've tried to atone?

˖꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷

@lovebug-apple @invinciblewaffles @that-daughter-of-nyx @hearts4mica @krys0210 @lilyalone

[lizardho]

BYU Roommate Part 1

I had a weird experience with Roommates at BYU. My first roommate left overnight one night and about a decade later I found out it was because they left the church and later came out as an enby. Honestly, kinda slay, and it made sense that we got along as good as we did, and I missed them like crazy when they left because my new roommate was a guy who came home from his mission early due to some kind of mental health episode and he acted like I and everyone else was judging him and seeing him as worthless because he came home and I literally didn’t care and actually kinda liked hearing him talk about it because it helped me feel like I could bail if it ever got too weird (which was technically true, but literally false, in the sense that the mission took my passport day 1 so I couldn’t go home without their permission.)

I left, I did my mission, shit was gross and bad and I had a mental health crisis, yadda yadda y’all already know. At the very tip of that mental health crisis iceberg, though, there was the first day back in Provo. I got an apartment that was DIRT cheap - $250/month rent, but I had 3 people living in the apartment with me, including one in my room. Adding to that, the apartment had no lightning except for two lights in the kitchen (and because it was a ’dude’ apartment nobody had a single fucking lamp except the one my roommate’s gf got them). So it was dark. It had carpet that hadn’t been cleaned since Nixon was president, it had mildew, there was one vacuum cleaner in the entire apartment complex and not enough room to store a personal one because the apartment was about the size of fruit fly’s urethra, so everything was dusty as hell.

To add to that – there was one bathroom for four people, and the bathroom was so small I could touch both of the far walls without having to stretch. Additionally, the apartment’s other bedroom was occupied by two people, whom I will refer to as Captain Mormon and The Human Jellyfish, for reasons that will become obvious later. I also had a cool roommate who I got along with because he left me alone, he didn’t make eye contact when talking to me, and his gf was nice and talked to me.

For simplicity’s sake I’ll start with The Human jellyfish. The Human Jellyfish has no spine. He has no opinion unless someone else tells him to have one, and even then they also have to tell him what the opinion should be. He has no hobbies except for work and school. He has no friends except for coworkers.

He wasn’t bad, he was really kind and really helpful, but he was not the person you’d go to if you, say, needed someone to take charge.

Well, one day, his coworker, a smart but shy woman who teaches Japanese classes at the MTC, knocks on the door. She asks if she can talk to The Human Jellyfish and I holler at him to come down. He says he’ll be down in a minute so I tell her she can come in in the meantime. She steps in and I see she’s wringing her hands and keeps checking down the hallway, so I ask if something is up.

She asks if I know a guy named Stalker, and I do, because he is my stalker. He was a 28-year-old man who followed me home after work one day and then moved into my apartment complex and then sat outside my apartment once or twice a week waiting to tell me about how much ketamine he owned and how many people he killed in Iraq, so I was VERY well acquainted with Stalker. So I say I do know Stalker, and she says, “Well, I think Stalker’s hurt? He just stumbled into my apartment and when I came down to see what the noise was he fell down and told me he was going into shock.”

First of all, god bless this innocent innocent woman, too innocent to know that she was actively being robbed by a man with a ketamine problem and a history of violence. Second of all, I immediately realized that she did not need a human jellyfish, she needed someone who could be mean, and I could not only be mean but I also NEEDED a win against Stalker because he had been giving me the willies for months. So I said “Yeah, let’s wait for The Human Jellyfish to come down and I’ll go over with both of you.”

She stopped wringing her hands and looked a lot more relieved as me and Jellyboy walked with her to her apartment, where my stalker was lying on the floor of a ransacked living room moaning in pain. He said he had stubbed his foot and was going into shock (I’m not kidding). He sees two people are now with her and sees that at least one of them is a man and immediately says “If Jellyfish can help me back to my apartment I can treat myself for the shock and I’ll be OK,” and Jellyfish is ALL over that because someone just told him to do something and he loves knowing what to do, so he starts moving towards him to help him up when I chime in.

“No you can’t.”

The room goes quiet.

“What do you mean? I can’t what?” Stalker is mad, but he’s also scared

“You can’t treat your own shock. Jellyfish, he’s delusional from the pain, he needs medical attention. Can you prop up his feet and keep him lying down?”

Jellyfish is confused for a fraction of a second while he computes his new orders, but then dutifully follows them. Stalker is scared now, because he knows Jellyfish is listening to me but he DOESN’T know that Jellyfish has no ability to make decisions and can be counteracted by just giving him a new command, so he thinks he’s outnumbered.

Finally, he says “No, wait, I think I’m feeling better now, I can just get up and go,” and I say “Well that proves it! Jellyfish, push him down, he’s out of it, he’s not gonna make it much longer without medical help,” so Jellyfish pushes my stalker down and then looks back at me for approval, so I give him a thumbs up and tell him he’s disoriented from the pain so his job is just to keep him prone until the ambulance arrives. Then I make direct eye contact with Stalker and call the ambulance.

Stalker panics and starts to try and wriggle free, but Jellyfish has now received the honor of a thumbs up for following directions so he is having none of it. Every time he pushes Stalker back down I give him another thumbs up so I’ve got Jellyfish hooked for life. The 9-1-1 operator takes this as seriously as it deserves, and the ambulance arrives in Go Mode within 5 minutes. I go outside to show them the way in and they are working like a well-oiled machine RIGHT UP until they lock eyes with Stalker and the vibe immediately changes.

I see Stalker’s eyes go dark as he realizes he’s caught, and the paramedic drops his voice from ‘giving orders’ mode into ‘Awwh poor widdle baby” and says “Hey Stalker, long time no see, yeah? Do you need the stretcher, or can you walk to the ambulance by yourself?” And after the slowest, shakiest breath I have ever heard this man make, he chokes out “I think I can walk,” and the paramedic goes “What a champ! Come on guys, let’s head back, this’ll be a quick drive.”

And just like that, it was over. I let Jellyfish talk to building management and I walked back to my apartment. The next day my Stalker moved out of the apartment and into a different one across town, and I only ever saw him again in the parking lot of the place I played D&D after that (Stalkers gonna stalk I guess?) but it also was like such a good experience with that guy and NGL I still think of Jellyman in high regard for that.

[ohmynanami]

kento nanami x wife!reader

warnings: talk of pregnancy, raw sex, use of nicknames (pretty girl, beautiful, baby, sweetheart)

One-Shot NSFW💞

“My girls love when we bake together”

“My son just had his 4th birthday, I’ve never seen a kid so happy”

All of this talk about children drove Nanami crazy. Both Nanami and yourself have been pretty busy with work, and you haven’t had time for each other. So on top of all this kid talk and not seeing his wife, it’s safe to say he’s missing you.

It’s 9:34pm as he leaves the office hoping to see you at home before you go to bed.

You’re just finishing tidying up as you hear the keys rattle in the door.

“Hey Hun, how was your day?”

Nanami loosen’s his yellow tie and takes a few steps towards you.

“It was.. whatever” he says as he hugs you but it’s really just for stability.

You can already tell that he had a tiring day and just wants to eat, take a bath, and sleep. He straightens out and begins to unpack his bag and decompress.

“Kento let’s go upstairs, that way you can shower and if you’d like I’ll give you a back massage.”

Nothing sounds better to Nanami than a hot bath and a massage in this moment.

20 minutes later, Nanami’s sitting in the tub, and his hair with what was once slicked back is now a wet and dishevelled mess.

As he rests with his head back with the steam radiating off the surface of the water. You start your nightly routine which consists of brushing your teeth, washing your face, and brushing your hair. You look in mirror and see Nanami staring at you through it.

“What’re you looking at handsome?” you say turning around with a sly smile on your face.

He stands up, the water castigating down his greek-god like body and grabs the towel that was nicely folded on the toilet seat.

“Just taking a good look at you beautiful”

Whenever he talked to you like this it made you feel all giddy but you’d never let him know that.

Nanami gradually walk toward you with a lustful expression on his face. His arms wrap around your waist and he leans into your neck, leaving light feathery kisses. He lifts you up from your thighs and places you on the cold bathroom counter.

“I hope you know how beautiful you are”

Nanami says as he kisses up your neck to your chin, and lastly to your mouth. It started slow and passionate and turned into something hungry and animalistic.

“I missed you so much baby” he says through rapid breaths.

You feel his hard cock through the towel as he gently yet shamelessly grinds against you.

The familiar ache begins to build up throughout your body.

“I missed you hun, I’ve been waiting for you.”

Nanami reaches for your lounge shorts and slides them down your legs. “Look at her baby.. she’s so excited to see me.” Nanami always teased you like this, it always got you all hot and bothered.. and he knows it.

Before you know it, he scoops you up and brings you towards the king sized bed. You lay down by the foot of the bed as Nanami looms over you. Next thing you know he’s on his knees, kissing your thighs leading up to your pussy. You feel his hot breath on your pussy before his tongue glides over your clit, slow yet unwavering.

“I-I need you so badly Kento.. please”

He hums against you “I know pretty girl.. just wanted you to know how much I love you..”

Your fingers lightly grab his hair and your back arches. Nanami’s in a whole other dimension and so are you.

“F-Fuck Kento.. I missed you so fuckin’ much.. so goddamn much.” You whine as your finger grips tighter.

He lightly laughs and his arms snake around your legs as he pulls you closer on his mouth. That tingly coil snaps and it feels like you’re on cloud nine.

“S-Shit I’m coming..”

“There we go baby..”

Nanami gets up off of the floor and walks over to the night stand to grab a condom from the bedside table. Before he can open the wrapper, you reach out.

“Nanami.. can we do it raw? Please?”

With the way you’re looking up at him with your beautiful bright eyes, how could he resist? He’s been waiting.. more like holding himself back for this moment. He practically pounced on you the minute you said that.

The wrapped up condom is now discarded on the bedroom floor and Nanami is on top of you.

“My gosh.. I’ve missed her so much sweetheart. Look at her, practically begging for me.” He says

Nanami drags his thumb through your folds and gently massages your clit. The room is basically silent besides the quiet squelching noises coming from between your two bodies.

“Nanami please I need you.. please”

Nanami can’t help but smirk at your begging, I mean how could he deny his pretty girl?

He lightly slaps and rubs his tip against your wet pussy, before sliding past that initial barrier. You and Kento have had sex plenty of times but this time feels different. It feels more passionate, more intimate and intense. Kind of like there’s an end goal to it.

His thrusts are so loving yet rough at the same time and, boy are you loving it.

“Hah..what’s gotten into you my love.” You say as he relentlessly pounds into you.

He slows his thrusts “t-these.. these bastards at work kept talking about t-t-their families and their kids. It just made me miss you so much and I made m-me want to start a big.. beautiful life with you.”

Your heart was racing, not only at the fact that he was 7 inches inside of you but also because he confessed that. You can’t help look up at him, his hair sticking to forehead and his forearms doing everything they can do keep him stable as he plows into you. Him saying all of that just somehow made him 10x sexier.

That night, you and Nanami proceeded to have sex for hours. By the time you guys actually stopped, you felt like melting into the mattress.

≽^• ˕ • ྀི≼

Ahhh I hope you guys enjoyed! Please let me know how you feel about the font size!

[thepeacefulpleco]

#myfish

[loumauve]

the little girl at the bus stop just had the most enthusiastic, info-dump-y of rambles about how the bus that's coming is "literally the best bus" bc it's apparently bigger than the others which you "can see from its shape" and how great this bus ride is going to be

[phagodyke]

aouuugh my uterus......

[bluetimeombre]

۶ৎ Mess of a man.

| Joel didn’t know why he’d let his little brother convince him a night at the bar was what he needed. But he might need to listen to him more. Smut!

[this is pure FILTH. I don’t know what came over me, I need this out my system and I need Joel in mine STAT. If you’re a minor pls don’t interact, this is not a safe space.]

Warnings; language, drinking, age gap (Joel is in his late forties, reader is 21) masturbation reference, daddy, unprotected sex, p in v, fingering, oral (both receiving), over stimulation, come eating?let me know if I’ve missed anything

"Still haven't gotten your dick wet, huh?" was Tommy's way of greeting his brother.

Joel grumbled something, propping his foot on the coffee table in front of him. "Get lost, Tommy."

He'd thought that with his daughter, Sarah, at summer camp he'd get six weeks of peace, get work done, maybe take his daughter somewhere nice when she got back. But he forgot he had a brother and he forgot how annoying he was.

Sure, six weeks without his kid was a perfect and maybe a once-in-a-lifetime to get his dick 'wet' as Tommy put it. But he'd been out the game for years, out of practise. He wouldn't know how or who to approach.

"C'mon, what kind of brother would I be if I let you mope around alone in the house," he said, whacking Joel on the shoulder.

"A good one." Joel took a swing of his beer, watching the sport without knowing what team was doing what.

Tommy turned off the tv and snatched away Joel's beer, getting him up from the sofa. "There's a bar I know where everyone looking to get fucked goes, c'mon."

Joel decided he didn't want to know how his brother knew this place but as Tommy was already grabbing his truck keys and heading out the door. He'd be damned if he let Tommy drive his truck.

Yeah... that was why he was going...

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

The bar was already loud when he and Tommy got there and ordered their beers. Joel would have one, maybe another if he was here long enough but then he'd go home and... see to himself if he had to.

It would have been nice to have something for the evening. It had been a long time and his own fist wasn't enough. He had a pick if he needed, he guessed. He wasn't immune to all the single middle aged mom's around him that would talk to him on the school drop off, invite him to one of their garden parties. Even some with rings on their fingers always lingered too long when shaking his hand or asking for some 'construction' advice.

But none of them did anything for him.

Tommy patted his brother on the back as he winked at the lady behind the bar. "See anything you like, yet?"

They'd been there... what? Ten minutes.

Then yes, he saw something he liked and his jaw almost dropped.

Tommy spotted the way he stilled and followed his gaze. "Holy shit."

You were with three girls- your friends, Joel assumed- and a guy hanging onto you, an arm draped around your hips. You were nursing a drink, laughing with your friends, tongue darting out to the straw of your cocktail.

Joel was done. He knew it immediately.

You were only twenty-one, young and beautiful and worse, Sarah's baby-sitter. Sure, his daughter was fourteen but on the late nights he had to work he didn't like to leave her alone.

Enter you. Good grades, polite, always called him Mr Miller like it wasn't the hottest thing. You stayed every night Joel needed to work, you cooked for Sarah, even ensured there was left overs for Joel and Tommy sometimes.

You'd tidy when he never asked, you never drank the beers he left for you. You were perfect.

And Joel knew, the first day you'd baby-sat his daughter over a year ago he'd made a mistake. He knew it when he watched you walk down his porch, when he started offering you lifts home and wishing you'd accept, when he had a wet dream like a horny teenager and it was you under him.

This was some cruel joke.

As if you could hear his thoughts your eyes caught over the noise of the bar. There was shock registering first and then you were dismissing your group to walk over to the Millers.

Joel gulped when he spotted what you were wearing. A tight high collared shirt, your hair pinned and the shortest skirt with heels.

Like a present to be un-wrapped...

"If it isn't the Miller brothers," you grinned.

"Hey darlin'," Tommy greeted first, reaching up to give you a small hug.

Joel's jaw clenched as you hugged him back. But Tommy was respectful, hands staying high on your body. Better than Joel would do.

You pulled away and smiled at Joel. "Mr Miller."

He nodded, taking a swig of his beer as he watched your tongue dart out in search for the straw. Fuck.

Tommy held a hand on your back. "I gotta take a leak, keep him company would you."

Joel didn't know what kind of game his little brother was playing.

"Of course," you smiled, sliding into the seat Tommy had vacated. "Don't I strive to look after the Millers."

Tommy chuckled and winked at Joel as he disappeared into the crowd.

"Hi there," he drawled.

You smiled. Maybe it was the lighting, or the alcohol, but your eyes were darker than he'd ever noticed. "Hey. Didn't expect to see you here tonight."

"Sarah's at camp," he said. He was painfully aware you knew. You hadn't been around in two weeks because he'd had no reason to ask you. Well, no appropriate reason.

"She enjoying it?" you threw a leg over yours, grazing his leg as you did.

"Think so," he said, "what about you, huh? Enjoyin' your freedom?"

You chuckle. "You know I love working for you, Mr Miller."

"Joel," he corrected you. He took a swing of his beer, watching you watch him.

"Jo-el," you draw out his name.

Something in Joel stirred, his pants couldn't be growing tighter, right? Thank god for the dim lighting.

He cleared his throat. "So this is where the kids hang out these days, huh?"

"I dunno about kids?" you said, leaning your body over slightly. "Am I a kid?"

Joel let his eyes wander down. The expanse of your legs, the skirt riding up your thighs and the way your chest rose and fell with your breath. Then slowly, he trailed back up your body. "I guess not."

Of all those times he'd watched you from the porch, you'd always looked back at him at least once, maybe twice to give a little wave as he leaned on the door. Or when you'd started accepting his lifts home and would always linger in his seat when he turned the engine off, the two of you leaning over the console and chattering a bit longer. Or when it came to staying to watch a game with him when Sarah had gone to bed when he knew you hated sport.

Of all those times he'd never let his mind wander as much as it was not.

"Tommy dragged me out," said Joel, taking more of his beer.

"He dragged you?" you chuckled. "You didn't want to come?"

"I'm glad I did," he said.

You take a longer sip of your drink, nodding. "I'm glad you did too."

Joel watched you a second as you tilted your head, a small tilt to your head. "You wanna another drink?" he asked. He wasn't even sure how much you'd had already. Was all this new look and attitude the cocktails talking?

"I should be good," you muse.

Joel decided in that moment he'd either spend the rest of the night in your company, or go home alone. "Your friends not missing you?" he didn't even want to look back at your friends maybe waiting for you. Or that guy watching you.

You also didn't care to look back. "Let them."

Joel smirked as he brought his bottle to his lips. "Atta girl."

He heard your intake of breath and felt satisfied. Your leg kicked off your other one and had grazed his, going down and down and he was sure you weren't doing this on accident. Not anymore.

"You can't say things like that," you chuckle, shuffling in your seat.

God, your thighs were pressing together tightly. Such a pretty sight...

You leaned over in your seat. "Do you know how many women would kill to hear you say that to them?"

"Well, i'm saying it to you, ain't I?"

You look at him through your lashes and Joel's legs widen to accommodate for the rising need in his crotch. It was wrong. It was so wrong. It was crossing a line. "I think I'll take that drink, if you're still offering?"

Joel nods and waved someone over to get you the same. The two of you talked a little more as you waited, your drink sliding over moments later.

"It must get lonely," you said, fingers dancing around the condensation of the glass. "That house all alone."

It seemed both of you had forgot about Tommy at that point.

The game being played between the two of you suddenly seemed real to Joel. "You tryin' to get an invite over?"

"Maybe."

You didn't miss a beat.

Joel looked at you. People were piling into the bar, music was being played but all he could focus on was you.

Your hand darted out, your fingers grazing his knee.

He looked down at his knee, where you touched him. Could you make out the dent in his jeans. "You know, i'm old enough to be your father."

"So should I start calling you daddy?"

He chocked on his beer. He managed to finish it, smirking to himself. "You got a mouth on you."

"You started it looking at me like that."

Joel rested against the bar. "I'm your employer."

You shrug. "And i'm not at work."

Joel looked around the bar and found his brother making out with a woman at the furthest end. He was sorted. "Why do you hang out here, huh kid?" if what Tommy told him was true he wasn't sure he could handle the idea of you coming here, looking out for someone that wasn't him.

You shrug. "It's a good bar, good drinks, good company usually."

"Usually?" he teased, his hands on his thighs. "You know, Tommy told me some filthy things around this place."

You lick your lips, holding back amusement. "Really?" you stand to your feet, leaning on the bar closer to him. You slot perfectly between his thighs.

His hand danced close to your hip but didn't touch you. Not yet. "People come here for one thing."

"Enlighten me, Joel."

His name from your lips made his brain fuzzy, effecting him more than any beer. But he couldn't do it, god, he couldn't stop thinking about it. Of the counter. Of how good you'd look bent over the counter, tight skirt bunched up at your hips.

But the words failed with him.

It was like you could tell, like you knew every move of his and every twitch.

You take one more sip of your drink before sliding it over the counter.

Joel watched as you got to your feet and worry rose on him. Worry he'd lose all he wanted.

"I'm going around the back, i'm going to be there for two minutes before I call an uber to go home. See you."

You meant it to. He watched you walk off, only briefly waving to your friends as you wove in and out of the people.

You were giving him two minutes to fuck over his life.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

You waited, and waited for what you thought was two minutes. Truth be told you didn’t have a watch and lingering around the back of the bar probably wasn’t the greatest idea.

You could tap your foot and wait, rethinking your words and actions and hope that every time the door swung open, it would be your boss.

Joel fucking Miller. What game were you playing? More to the point, what was he doing?

Looking at you like that, carelessly letting his eyes wander as he imagined everything he wanted to do to you? You weren’t immune to his looks, his touches that lasted too long and the way he always watched you walk up to your front door, the engine only roaring once you were safe inside.

But now it seemed- faced with the ultimatum of fucking you or leaving you as nothing but his daughter’s babysitter- he was choosing the latter.

You’d really thought your lonely nights with only toys and fingers for company may have been rectified.

As you push yourself off the wall you really thought-

A sudden strong and rough hand grabbed your wrist and turned you back until you were against the wall and until lips were on yours.

You knew the scent, knew the strength of the body as Joel Miller pressed himself against you, groaning and licking into your lips.

You hands are in his hair, tugging at the curls of black and grey as you let him feel all your body, his arms caging you in and hand dragging down and down and-

"That was three minutes, sweet girl," Joel’s beard scratched your neck as he dragged his lips over your pulse.

You hold back a moan. The music in the bar was loud and the only people coming this way were the ones looking for a quick piss. Still you wanted nobody to stop this. "Wanted to give you a chance."

He nodded into your neck, biting the skin and winning a gasp from you. Joel tilted his head back, searching your gaze that only saw him. "Tell me you want this."

You nod. "I want it."

His hand cupped your cheek, thumb dragging down your bottom lip. He watched, entranced. "You’d let me down anything, wouldn’t you?" He whispered, looking as if he wasn’t all there. That some part of his mind was already fucking you against the wall.

You lower your head until you can reach the pad of his thumb, kissing the tip. "I want it."

"Oh, fuck baby," he groaned, pushing the pad of his thumb further into your mouth. Promises of things to come. "You’re gonna kill me sweet girl."

Your hand ran down his stomach until it meant the tightness of his pants and running up and down until you could feel the press of his length in your palm.

Joel indulged for a minute. His thumb in the warmth of his mouth while your other hand rubbed him right. Then he snapped back into reality as the door banged on the wall.

Not there.

Against himself, he took his thumb from you and grabbed your wrist, alerting you.

"I need your word that if we do this, Sarah doesn’t find out," he said sternly.

You chuckled. "Well I’m hardly gonna tell her I screwed her dad, am I?"

"Hey," he held one finger in front of your face, defying your smirk. "Your word, little miss, or I can drop you off home and you can watch while I take care of the problem you created."

You gulped. Maybe for a moment you forgot it was Mr Miller you were affronted with. Quickly, you nodded your head.

"Good girl," he surged forward and sucked on the bottom of your lip, his hips digging into yours. He groaned as you ground on him, nails digging into his biceps. "Feel wha’ you do to me, huh? You know how many times I’ve had to fuck my own fist and think of you?"

You practically melt at his words, leaning back into the wall. "Joel… please."

"Please what? Huh?" he taunted, rutting his clothed hips into your own, biting down on his lip as you threw your head back, moaning at the sensation. "C'mon, tell me what you want. Be a good girl and say it."

"I want you to fuck me," you whispered.

Joel scoffed. He left his hips against yours. He tutted. "I'm an old man, darlin', you're gonna have to speak up."

"Fuck me!" you all but screamed, desperation turning you into a mess.

Joel grabbed your hand and started to drag you from the alleyway, searching around as if his daughter might pop up out of nowhere.

You couldn't care less, didn't think about the group of friends you were leaving, or the guy that wanted you. Your hand circled over Joel's stomached t shirt, nails scratching as you leant into his side, lips marking up his neck.

"Fuck, baby," Joel groaned as he searched in his pocket for his keys. You joined the search, your fingers searching all around the dent in his jeans. "Fucking desperate, aren't you, huh?"

"Can't wait, Joel," you whisper in his ear, lips brushing, shivers running down his spine as you squeezed his crotch. "Please baby."

Joel grunted. He was practically shaking with the need to fuck you, to feel you against him. To have his hands wander all over you and memorise the way you moaned under him. There was so much more he wanted. Wanted to have you scream, wanted your neck bruised with his love and his back to carry the scratches from you.

He just needed.

"Fuck," he couldn't believe he was being so reckless. Couldn't believe that with a kiss and a grope you had rendered him a horny teenager. "Get in the back, babygirl."

He held open the door and practically pushed you in, climbing over you.

You jumped into his lap as soon as the door slammed shut and Joel chucked his keys somewhere to the front. Your lips worked against his, claiming it as yours and invading an unknown territory. You moaned as his tongue ran against yours and sucked it into his own mouth.

His hands were warm and large as they gripped your ass harshly, a soft slap echoing around his truck.

"You gonna let me slide my fingers into your pussy, baby?" he asked against your lips.

You moaned.

"Hey!" he grabbed your chin, pulling you back to stare at him. Your lips were already red and swollen. "You gotta talk to me baby. You want my fingers? Say yes."

"Yes please," you say, catching your breath. Your chest felt heavy, your pussy throbbing. "Please, want your fingers."

Joel smirked, finger tips brushing under the band of your skirt. "So polite."

The space at the back of his truck was small and cramped but he'd be lying if he hadn't thought about this. Hadn't thought about you in the back of his truck, cock stuffed down your throat or his face buried in your thighs.

All those times he'd taken you back, it had never been as innocent as he would let on.

But having you in his lap, begging for it, practically drooling with just his words, he had a feeling you weren't as innocent as you'd always made out to be.

Joel let the elastic of your skirt slap into place, causing you to jolt into him. As you jolted, he used the leverage of your hips to pull your skirt up and feel under you. "Jesus baby- you're soaked."

His finger slid up the cloth of your panties, collecting the dampness and smearing it.

You gasp as he presses into your pussy, pushing the cloth into you. "Joel please, I asked so nice."

"You did, sweet girl, you did," he nodded, watching as your eyes squeezed shut. "Hey- eyes on me baby, right here." He gently slapped the under part of your chin to get you to look at him as he easily hooked your panties to the side and sunk a finger in.

You hum out a moan, head tilted back.

Joel found the crevice of your neck, dragging his beard against the soft skin and relishing in the red that bloomed. "You like it? You like my fingers inside your heat? God, you're so warm."

"Like it," you nod, eyes shutting again.

Joel groaned low in his throat as he grabbed your chin and forced your forehead against his. "You keep your eyes on me, you understand me. Or i'll drop you off home. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Mr Miller."

"Oh-" Joel sunk his ring finger in until he was knuckle deep. "You're so good for me."

You tighten around the feel of his fingers. He's barely curling them and already you're squirming at the sound of your own slick.

"Ride my fingers, babygirl, gowan' now."

Obediently you started to move, riding his hand. His rough palm moved with you. His mouth remained open in a small 'o' as you wither against him, moaning.

Joel couldn't help the filth that spilled from his mouth. But with every clench you gave around his fingers, you didn't seem to mind.

"So good for me... such a good girl,"

"Dirty too, riding me in the back of the truck you and Sarah ride in."

"Fuck, i've dreamt of this, you look so good with my fingers stuffed inside of you."

At his encouragement you grip his shoulders, moving faster until your skirt is ridging up your hips and the little wisps of your hair are sticking to your forehead from sweat.

His thumb pressed down on your puffy and begging clit.

"Shit- ah- fuck!"

Joel's hips involuntarily bucked up to yours. "You wanna cum, sweet girl?"

You bite down on your lip, nodding and looking at where his forearm- taunt and veiny- disappeared under you.

Joel rested his head next to yours, kissing the sweat at your neck. "Tough baby, you're so dirty. Dirty girls have to do a lot of waiting till they get their reward."

Slowly, he retracts his fingers.

"Look at all this mess," he tutted, looking at how his fingers glistened with your need. He pats your hips, "up."

You fall onto the seat next to him, legs spread and head resting back on the car door.

You watch as Joel lifts his hips, un-buckling his belt as he starts to pull off his boxers and jeans. Your foot danced over to his lap but he impatiently pushes it away.

"You want to cum, don't you?" he asked, sending you a dark look. His hand grabs your ankle as you nod and kisses the bare skin above your heel. "Then behave."

The hand that you had just been riding wrapped around his cock and brought it out.

Your mouth opened as you stared at the beauty of the thing. He was big, bigger than you'd seen and bigger than you'd dare dreamed. He shone with pre-cum and your arousal as he spread what was on his fingers. His hand worked himself up and down as he relaxed back in his seat.

He looked over at you. "Eyes up here, baby."

Your gaze flicked up to him. "So pretty, Joel."

He chuckled and tugged himself. "Always knew you'd like it. God, you've no idea the things i've dreamt."

"Tell me. Please."

Joel leaned his head back, moving up and down his length slowly as he re-called every filthy dream his mind conjured. "Your hands wrapping around me. Your mouth being so warm and wet as you fuckin' choke on it. God, bet your throat's not used to a man's cock, huh? Only used to boys, ain't that right?"

He opened his eyes, peeking at you.

You'd dared closer to him, leaning over. You nodded.

"Bet that kid in there was hoping you'd give him a chance," he went on, his other hand coming up and thumb and forefinger tugging at your chin. "He didn't stand a chance as soon as you saw me, did he?"

You shake your head, shuffling closer into his side.

He jerked your head toward him. "Answer me."

"Only want you, Joel," you tell him.

You lick your lips, eyes darting from him to his leaking cock. The tip was red, begging for attention. "Can I- Can I please?"

Joel stroked back your hair. "Go on then, baby. Have a play." He stretched his arms along the back of the truck and watched to see you move.

But Joel quickly realised you didn't come around to play.

You'd always seemed so innocent- so un-knowing- when you looked after Sarah, when you helped him clean down the kitchen, when he'd offer you lifts back or to stay over you'd always blush and lower your head.

You were lowering it now, throwing your hair back over your shoulder and holding the base of him.

First, you touch him with your lips lightly and he smiles, daring not to think this might be the only time he lets you touch him like this. Your lips are so pretty and pink, swollen and wet from kissing him as you drag them along the sides.

Then you pepper kisses along the skin and start moving your hand around the base.

"You really gonna tease me?"

"Wanna take my time," you mumble into his though, kissing the skin.

Next, your hand cups his balls that were heavy with need. He wasn't exaggerating, it had been years since his last good fuck and no amount of jerking himself off to the thought of you could satisfy him. As your fingers played with his balls, rolling them around and giving them warmth and attention they craved, you made out with the tip of his cock.

You collected his pre-cum with your lips and tongue while still fondling him.

He could feel his shirt stick to him, his chest rising and falling quicker. Shittin-fuck. How was he supposed to last if this was what you were giving him?

"Easy, baby, easy," he eased you, stroking back your hair.

He knew you heard cause you were smirking then opening your mouth and taking him deep, almost all the way in one.

Joel groaned and grabbed the door. "Shit-ah-"

He didn't care if he wasn't far from the bar. Didn't care if anyone tried to get a look in through the fogging up windows. He didn't care if Tommy came by and applauded him for getting his dick wet. All he cared for was the feel of your wet mouth all the way down him, spit drooling down his cock.

You were doing so well and he wanted you to know.

"You wanna take me deep, huh?" he grunted, clutching onto your hair and holding you down. You gagged around him. He chuckled. "I'm not even all the way in there. You got room for more?"

You dragged your mouth up, taking a deep breath and nodding. You wiped your mouth from the mess you made and went in again.

This time, you took him again and again, deeper, bobbing him in your throat until he was a grunting and groaning mess. His hips moved of their own accord, shoving himself in even when there was nowhere else to go.

But the sounds of gagging, of his balls slapping against his own thighs as he moved, of the moans coming out of you were enough to almost having him finishing in your mouth. Almost.

He wanted to, boy did he, but he wouldn't, not until your cunt had swallowed him.

Joel pulled you up, letting you release him with a pop. "Want to be inside, need to be inside."

The truck wasn't the best place but it was the only place he had for you. He wished he could give you a bed, give your hours to welcome him, but Joel needed like he'd never needed. He imagined this is what starvation was, having your treat dangled in front of you.

And you were moving with him, lying down on the back seats, legs accommodating him as he slid in between you.

Joel gently pulled down your panties and stuffed them in the back of his pocket. If he was gonna have to jerk himself off to thoughts of you again, having your soaked panties was the least he deserved.

He glanced down at your swollen pussy and salivated.

Your hand trailed down, circling your clit as you moaned at the time he was taking.

Joel grabbed your wrist, bringing it up to his mouth and nipped at the skin. "Only I get to touch, yeah, babygirl?"

"Yes," you answered, breathless.

Joel loomed over you, bringing the tip of his leaking cock to smear himself over your folds. "Tommy told me somethin' real interestin'. Ask me what?"

"I don't- I don't care about Tommy, right now," you grab his shoulders, trying to pull him forward.

"He tol' me-" Joel strained, his lips brushing yours. It wasn't just your torture he wad delivering. It was his own. "He said people go to that bar to get fucked. Is that why you were there?"

For a moment you seemed shocked to hear it. Then the palm of your hand held his cheek, running over the stubble.

"Worked, didn't it?" you teased.

Joel sunk into you with ease. "Yeah."

He hid his face in your neck as you arched your back into him. 'Take it, take it,' he spoke into your skin, tattooing the words there.

"Joel-" you gasped, holding onto his back. "Fuck!"

"You're ok, baby. You're ok, babygirl," his breath was short. He needed to feel you more, the half way in wasn't enough. "Fuck, you grip me so well."

You gasp, holding him in you. "Need-need more."

"I dunno baby, you think you got it?" he teased.

"Yes, yes."

"What have I said about speaking up?"

You groan, throwing your head back on the seat. "Fuck me, please Joel!"

With a grunt loud enough to be heard outside, Joel sunk further into you. 'Shit, yeah.... fuck,' spilled from his lips as he slowly took himself out of you before sinking in all the way again.

"You feel me?" asked Joel. He held himself up over you because he'd be damned if he wasn't gonna watch you fall apart on his dick.

"Feel it, feel you everywhere," you mumble.

You really did. You felt the soft seats of his truck, smelt him everywhere. The smell of old cologne, cigarettes (though you were sure he didn't smoke) and new wood. It wasn't just his cock sinking into you but his voice as he mumbled filthy things in your ear. His hand dragged down your face, gripping your neck. Not tight enough to cut airways but tight enough to make you squeeze him.

He stuttered, "sh-shit. If you do that again I won't last," he told you. "And I want you to come first."

"Then fuck me Joel," you said, looking up at him.

Joel looked down to where he disappeared into you. You were already rocking your hips into his, desperate for something- anything. His hand pushed back some of your hair as he stared at you with something more than need. Desire. "Are you sure this is what you want?"

Wasn't it? Wasn't it everything you wanted since he first laid a hand on your shoulder and led you into his home, welcoming you to his life. "Yes."

His thumb dragged out your bottom lip before his lips were smashing onto yours, wet and sloppy as his thrusts increased.

He moved his hips in and out rapidly, giving you no more time to adjust. It wasn't long before he had to release your lips to breathe.

"Ah- shit!" you yelled.

"That's it baby, be as loud as you like. Let the whole fucking street know who's fucking you," he panted. His hands were at your neck, holding the both of you steady.

"Joel!"

"Shit! You feel so good!"

Joel tugged down your top, not in the mood to care if it rips. It's not like he was letting you back in that bar. He pulled out your tits and latched onto them like a child, nipping at the nipple.

Your hand winds itself in his hair, pulling at the roots and throwing your body into his. You could feel his cock stretch you, the pain mixing delightfully with the pleasure. With every thrust he tipped you closer and closer onto the ledge and as his warm, wet mouth sucked on your nipple, the other hand squeezing and playing with the other, you knew it would be the best orgasm of your life.

"I'm gonna, arg-"

Joel licked around your nipple. "Not yet."

"Joel!"

"Hold it!"

He pushed himself up, holding onto the back of the seats as he used the position to put a foot on the ground and fuck into you harder.

The windows were steamed, your bodies slick with sweat.

The truck was fucking shaking at how hard he was moving you.

You threw a hand out behind you to hold onto the door, bracing yourself as you rocked your body into his.

Joel threw his head back, his neck stretching you and tempting you. "Best fucking pussy out there. And I've been wasting you as a babysitter."

"Yours," you mumble. He hadn't even asked and you were giving him the promise.

His lips tilted into a lobsided smirk as he leaned closer to you. "You mine, huh? All mine? My girl, my pussy?"

"Yes," you nod.

For a minute you can only hear your breaths with the sound of his hips slapping into yours.

Joel's fingers dig into your thighs and bring your leg up to wrap around his waist. "Mine," he all but growled into your chest, nipping at the skin. "Show me. Show me you're mine. Cum."

He thrusted into you hard, his thumb holding your stomach down and playing with your clit until you were coming all over his cock. 'That's it baby... all over me.... there's a good girl.... keep coming,'

Joel fucked you throughout. He had his own finish to reach but watching you fall apart, your mouth open in a silent gasp as your fingers claw into his shoulders.

He cupped your chin, smiling down at you. "You gonna help an old man out?"

You were in no state to, coming down from your highest high.

Joel cupped your ass and lifted you from the seats that were slowly soaking in both of yours juices. "Ah-" he yelled out at the new angle he was reaching, his balls heavy hitting your pussy. "Yeah- there- just there baby."

"Joel!" you yell. "S'to much."

"No it's not," he shook his head. His eyes were screwed up as sweat rolled down his cheeks. "You can take it. You know you can."

Your pussy was throbbing, squeezing him so intensely you didn't know how he was still moving.

You bit down on your lip as you watched him concentrating hard. You test the waters, wrapping your legs around his waist until your entire lower body was in his weight.

"Fuck!" Joel's jaw clenched as he looked down at you, his fingertips digging into the skin of your soft thighs until he was sure bruises would be there for only him to see. "I'm gonna... shit- Where you want it?"

"Inside, please," you mewl.

Joel looked at you, danger in his eyes. "No, baby, we can't."

You nod and squeeze his hips. "I'm on the pill."

The words were heaven to his ears.

You squeeze around him and Joel yelled out, falling atop you as he spilled out inside of you.

"Take it! Take it! Fucking let me- let me in!" he yelled, hips stuttering as he fell into you. One of your legs remained around him but the other he let drop, holding it weakly.

You were sure you were still coming down from your high as his hips stuttered on yours. You could feel every drop of him smear on your pussy and leak out.

Then Joel's fingers danced around the space his cock was softening in you, pushing it all back in.

His brows rose as he looked down, a shaking laugh coming out. "I-"

You didn't want to hear the words that came after. The regret. The 'we shouldn't have' or 'think about Sarah'. You just wanted this moment of feeling held and cared for by Joel to last a little longer.

Your lips move against his slowly, tasting the salt of sweat from the both of you on there.

He didn't push you away, he just held his lips close to yours, in small and attentive brushes. "How do you feel?" he whispered, pulling back enough to look around your eyes.

"Good," you nod, "real fucking good."

Joel chuckled and looked down. Slowly, as not to hurt you, he pulled out.

You moaned at the sudden emptiness in you, lying there to catch your breath and so you didn't have to prepare for regret in his face.

But it seemed regret was the last thing on Joel's mind.

He had no idea what kind of animal was possessing him or just how far his need went. But when he fell back against the door, listening out to the low drum from the bar, he saw your swollen cunt. Red and white. Red from how hard he'd fucked you and white from the mixture of you and him.

Something growled inside of him- maybe it was him- but before either of you understood what was happening, Joel lunged back in and spread your thigs, diving in.

You lurched up onto your elbows, looking down at him. You could see the top of his hair, his eyes closed and you could feel his nose moving around you and nudging you. "Joel, what are you- holy-"

Joel hummed into your pussy. It was heaven on his tongue, dripping into him. So sweet and all you. He'd never felt closer to a person before. Never felt such a need. He was slobbering like a damn dog over your pussy.

"What the fuck have you done to me, huh," he'd pulled back only enough so you could understand his words.

Neither of you were sure if he was talking to you or what laid between your legs.

He opened up your pussy and went in, tongue fucking into you. He was caught between wanting to push his spill back into you and eating you out till you were dry.

"Joel!" you screamed, voice breaking. "You-you can't-"

"I fucking can," he snarled. His face was being pushed into your cunt as he shook it, smearing both of you all over him.

There was nothing you could say or do before your legs trembled and you came all over his beard and lips. You didn't know what to do, whether to push him off you or pull you closer.

Joel held your hips into his mouth and groaned as he took in everything you gave him.

Every flick of his tongue had you shaking. Every time he gripped your thighs you made a noise of pleasure.

Hours might have passed since he first discovered heaven between your thighs before he pulled himself out.

His face was wet with you. It was sinful and like nothing you could ever imagine. "Look at what you've fucking done to me."

You'd made an absolute mess.

[inbabylontheywept]

she was dead silent on the drive home, but that was okay. sometimes, after band practice, she was just out of words. it was a short drive to her house. the only part where it actually felt weird was after i pulled up her parent’s driveway. 

after that, the silence stretched so far it smeared and left a weird residue. she kept looking at the car door like she wanted to leave, so i looked at the door too, then she looked at me, and i looked at her, and my first thought was that she was going to tell me that the door was stuck. i was used to that car always doing some damn thing. it was the car me and all my siblings had learned to drive in, and it was really beat to hell. there were dents all over the body, which we’d unsuccessfully tried fixing up with spackle. it had looked nice for maybe a week, but then the sun wrecked it - the spackle cracked up like the mud on the bottom of a dry riverbed and turned a sort of off yellow-white that made the car looked like it had been molded out of chicken shit. it also had a bullet hole it through the cabin that whistled like a toothless old man whenever the car went above 40, so loud it could drown out the radio, and a cabin that smelled so strongly of bugspray that even the arizona summer we drove everywhere we could with the windows down.

(if you have kids one day, you will maybe, possibly, begin to understand how much i loved that car.)

anyway, i was thinking about what else could possibly be wrong with the chickenshitmobile, and she just kept looking at me, and then i wondered if there was something on my face, and she just kept looking at me, and then the penny dropped and i realized she was trying to work up the nerve to break up with me. 

now, i’d seen her work up the nerve to do things like this before – it could take quite a while. and knowing it was about to happen made the waiting immediately unbearable. 

so i said hey. 

and she looked at me, very startled, and said hey back real small. like she’d been caught. and in a way, i suppose she had. 

and i said it’s okay. you can just say it. i’ll be okay.

i’m always okay. 

and she said: i’m really sorry. 

i loved her, you know? it was highschool, but teenagers are capable of love. the way people love changes over time just as much as the way they stand, or the way they talk, but things don’t stop existing just because they're different. opposite really – a thing only stops changing when it's fully gone.

and i said, nothing to be sorry for, and i meant it. she looked a little relived, and i was happy to give her that peace. then she left. i watched her make it through the front door, because that was just habit at that point, and then i sat there a while afterwards, checking how i felt. and the answer was not good, but good enough to make it home. good enough to limp on. 

so i put my car in reverse, took my last look goodbye, and immediately backed into her neighbor’s car. 

crunch. 

air bags didn't go off, which was good. i left a decent dent in the bumper of the other car. genuinely couldn’t tell if i did anything to my car – anything wrong with it just kind of blended together into the general ecosystem of hand mottled, sun cracked, chickenshit spackle. 

i checked my glove box, and my car insurance info was, of course, out of date. my phone was dead too. as a teenager, my phone was less my lifeline to my friends, and more my tether to my parents, so i wasn’t particularly conscious of keeping it charged. both my fault.

i sat there a few minutes, trying to think of the best way to handle things, and there was only one answer i could think of, and i hated that answer, so i spent a few more minutes trying and failing to think of a better one, and then a few more coming to peace with what had to be done. 

then i went back to knock on my now ex’s front door. 

her dad opened, which i was very relieved over, even if he seemed less than thrilled. he looked me over, and in a firm, but slightly apologetic way said: she does not want to see you right now. 

(i think he assumed i was going to try and talk her out of the break up?)

and i said not here for her. i just backed into your neighbor’s car, and i need to call my dad, but my phone’s dead. could i borrow yours?

and he looked at me, then back at his neighbors car, which sure enough was dented, then he looked at the chickenshitmobile, and if there was something wrong with it, it just kind of blended into the general Wrongness of the car, then back to me, and i could see him imagining the last ten minutes from my pov: getting broken up with, backing into a car, having to walk up to your exes door and borrow a phone, calling my dad to tell him that i just reversed into someone.  

and his expression shifted from stern and apologetic to truly sad, which felt more kind that i deserved. things only got here because i kept fucking up - forgot to look behind me, forgot to replace the insurance forms, forgot to charge my phone. it was my mess, but his sympathy meant the world to me. i probably would’ve cried if he said sorry, or patted me on the back or called me sport, but instead he said

stay out here – i’ll bring you a phone.

and then he left.  

i found a nice spot on the lawn in the shade under a sycamore, then settled into his grass.i was trying not to freak out, and was doing an okay job. he came out a minute or so later, not just with a phone, but a juicebox and a jar of green olives, which really threw a wrench in the whole try not to cry thing. soon as i saw those, a few tears squoze out. i was still hoping i could pass them off as Manly Tears but then he told me that he’d gotten the olives a few weeks before and had been meaning to hand them off to me, and that this was his last chance for that. then i made a sound like a horse drowning in a bog, and he patted my back pretty rough, four solid thumps, like he wasn't sure if i was crying or choking on an olive, and was trying to cover both bases at once.

then he went back inside, and i made a few more bog horse noises while finishing off the rest of the entire jar of green olives, and then i called my dad.

he was about ten minutes away that day, and luckily was home. he drove over, and we went to the neighbor’s house, and from there things actually went quite nice. the neighbor was a retired man who actually said he could fix the dent himself, no need for insurance. he said he appreciated that i didn't just drive off, and i said i was really sorry about his car, and he said he was really sorry about my car, and then he gestured to the chickenshitmobile and i laughed because it really was a disaster on wheels.

then we left.

i thought we were going to head straight home, but instead we went to a gas station, and we both got several slim jims that we folded into thick enough coils that we could put them on a hotdog bun because the growing up mormon equivalent of having a sad brewski with your dad is just choosing to make bad decisions sober. then he took me to the canals and we watched the sun turn all orange and pink, and he looked over at me and said:

brains are good at remembering bad days. so you gotta make sure that a bad day has a good part in it, so you can remember that too. remember that when you have a kid. try to do a good job on days like that - they're going to be a big part of how they remember you.

and then he gave me a big hug and said he was never going to eat another slim jim again.

---

the year after that i went to college, which kicked my butt in new and exciting ways. and on a lot of those bad days, after a test that went sour, or a faux paus that was particularly embarrassing, or some other hardship of my new adult life, i’d stop by the gas station and pick up leathery, half jerkied hotdog before heading to the canals to watch the sun set. i’d take a bite and imagine my dad next to me, grimacing through the slim-jim wad, asking what good thing i was going use that time to remember. 

and in my head, i’d say you, dad. 

i’m going to remember you.

[ilikeevilblondes]

Wide Open

18+ MDNI!

Summary: After a long day of work, Joel expects nothing more from the evening than getting some shut-eye. Fate has other plans, however, because the daughter of the family next door forgot to close her blinds again and is putting on quite the show.

TL;DR: Joel gets off watching you get off.

W.C: ~2.8k

Warnings: pervyneighbour!joel x reader, he's a tiny bit of a creep, accidental voyeurism (kind of…), mutual masturbation, dildo usage, lowkey a tiny breeding kink, implied age gap as per ushe (late-40s, early-20s), (no outbreak!)

Note: this is your daily reminder to close your blinds, y'all. unless joel miller is your neighbour. then maybe don't, and fuck with him.

Part One | Part Two

Joel always said he’d retire ‘soon’. 

Though as the years flew by, ‘soon’ remained ambiguously distant.

Presently, he had just come home from an unnecessarily hard day at work where some Einstein had misread the blueprint and cut every single piece of lumber half an inch too short. 

Joel was pushing fifty now. If asked toward his earlier adulthood, he’d have claimed that fifty-years-old balanced right on the precipice of retirement. And by sixty, he’d be golfing daily, attempting to read something other than the backs of DVDs, and not worrying about stupid shit like redoing an entire section of framing because of Romero’s shitty-fucking-eyesight.

“Fuckin’ Romero,” Joel mumbled to himself as he locked the door behind him and tossed his keys onto the kitchen counter.

With heavy footsteps, he ambled toward the fridge, praying he had the foresight the night before to leave a can or two of Modelo for his future self.

The unwelcoming sterile glare of the fridge light greeted him as he yanked open the door. Worse, it greeted him with its contents, or lack thereof.

No Modelo. 

Not even a lone, pitiful can of Keystone Light that Joel may have bought in desperation as a crappy substitute for literally any other beer.

Making a mental note to pick up a six-pack sometime tomorrow and, further down the line to maybe cut down on the beer, Joel trudged up the stairs to his bedroom.

His bedframe whined with a metallic creak as he sat on the edge, rubbing his hands down his face and feeling the scrape of his overgrown stubble on his worn palms.

Joel was more than ready to call it a night, he thought, as he leaned over to draw the curtains.

But he froze upon seeing you.

The two-story craftsman next door, formerly a ‘fixer-upper’, had been home to you and your parents ever since you moved in from the city a year ago. Your parents were mild-mannered neighbours who sent the street Christmas cards and kept the porch light on and took part in the neighbourhood watch patrol.

And you? You never made your bed, always had a book in your hands before sleeping, and more importantly, had a very noticeable habit of neglecting to close the blinds of your bedroom window.

Joel knew this, of course, because the bedroom of the two-story craftsman facing his house just so happened to belong to you.

“Shit,” Joel heaved a heavy sigh, still clutching the drawstring with notable tenseness.

Your cream-coloured blinds were slanted completely horizontally, allowing a direct view into your bedroom. And Joel found himself helplessly entranced, watching the back of your silhouette pull your shirt over your head and fling it across the room.

Fuck, you were very possibly wearing his favourite bra. The lacey ones that pushed your tits up real nice–

No. No, Joel, didn’t have a favourite bra of yours. What kind of neighbour would keep track of the family next door’s daughter’s bras? 

You turned around and, to his delight, confirmed that you were wearing the exact pair.

Him, evidently.

Joel squeezed his eyes shut and leaned back, running a hand through his greying hair and letting out a deep exhale.

You continued undressing, seemingly oblivious to the state of your blinds and the lack of privacy that state entailed. And further, oblivious of the old man next door watching intently as you unzipped your jeans and stepped out of them.

A thong. You had chosen to wear a thong that day. Because, of course, you had.

Bright red and stringy and covering virtually nothing, which left no part of your lower half to the imagination and Joel was able to see most of your perfect fucking pussy from the house over—

“The fuck am I doing?” Joel mumbled to himself and decidedly tore himself away from his window.

What was he doing? 

It wasn’t like you were strangers. He knew you. He came over to barbecues hosted in your back garden, fixed the leak in your kitchen sink when your dad had called, and watched the Superbowl in your living room that one year.

And, as much as he may have indulged in watching you before, he had never lingered as much as just did. Usually, he’d be sated with a few seconds of your half-dressed state, and would only later conjure up that image in the shower to fuck his fist to.

The tightness in his pants seemed to disagree with that plan, and Joel was overcome with an overwhelming need to settle his problem down south immediately.

Joel turned back to his window, determined to draw the curtains shut once and for all and then quickly jerk off to the mere thought of you (not that that was a noble action in and of itself), when he, for the second time that evening, froze at the sight of you.

Your bedroom was furnished in a way that had your bed facing your window. So, your wonderfully respectful neighbour could easily have direct views of you lying on your bed chatting on your phone, or reading, or spread out and running your fingers through your slick folds.

If Joel thought he was hard before, he was definitely, painfully, rock-hard now.

As careless as you may have been in the past, you have never forgotten to close your blinds to this degree before.

And, owing to that logic, you would never slip up like this again.

So, one would be incredibly stupid to not take advantage of this rare opportunity.

“Fuck it,” Joel inhaled sharply.

He scrambled to undo his belt and unzip his jeans and pull them down just enough to tug his raging erection out of his briefs, all while desperately keeping his gaze set on you.

Bracing one hand against the wall, he let the other wrap around his cock, fisting it leisurely as he watched you take open-mouthed breaths while your fingers traced up your seam to rub at your clit, your thong haphazardly pushed to the side.

You looked so pretty like that; lying on your bed and touching yourself as if you had pent-up emotions of need you desperately ached to satisfy.

You went slowly, dragging your fingers down along your wet cunt and against your throbbing clit, likely savouring the intensity.

Joel matched your pace, his fist sliding in a lazy tempo around his aching member.

Fuck, he’d do anything to grind his cock against your pussy; feel it shiver and clench around nothing and coat his length with your seeping slick. He’d bet all his money he could make you come without even putting it inside, too. Needy fucking slut.

And then you dipped a finger inside. 

Then another. 

God, with the way you seemed to be shaking around two of your own slender fingers, Joel was sure you’d be a mess riding his. 

Fuck, he’d even give you a third just to see you lose your fucking mind.

Maybe you’d beg him to stop, crying prettily and gasping in pitchy breaths that you just couldn’t take any more. But Joel believed you could, and he’d tell you so as he slipped his index finger to join the other two, feeling you clench around them—

Joel’s dick twitched in his hand and it was all he could do not to come early and let the show go to waste. Instead, he adopted a faster tempo, trying his damnedest to follow yours, however erratic it was.

Your mouth opened in a silent moan and you tossed your head back against your pillows as your fingers sped up in their ministrations.

Shit, you probably sounded real fuckin’ sweet, all overwhelmed with pleasure.

Again, your mouth parted, letting out a syllable of something Joel couldn’t hear, your tongue flicking out momentarily as you sounded it out.

Maybe it was Joel’s twisted imagination, but he was somewhat sure you had just moaned his name.

You probably didn’t, but it was a nice fucking dream, anyway.

He’d do just about anything to hear his name on your lips, whispered like a prayer or screamed like a plea as he relentlessly pounded into your tight fucking pussy. And, if given the opportunity, he’d fuck you so hard, a slurred babble of name would be the only thing you could say.

A familiar warmth began to pool at the pit of his stomach and his cock tensed even more.

Fuck, he was close.

And, he assumed you were, too, owing to the sheen of sweat on your body glistening under your lamp and the giant breaths you were heaving in.

“C’mon, babygirl.” He encouraged aloud despite being a good distance out of earshot, his voice coming out raspy and low. “Come for me,”

He watched you carefully, waiting for the moment your eyes fluttered shut and your hand stilled so he could close his eyes and imagine fucking his load into your spent cunt.

But no such series of events occurred.

Unexpectedly, however, you pulled your fingers out and flopped over on your stomach to reach for the bottom drawer of your bedside table.

What… the fuck?

Did you come already? Without Joel noticing? Shit, he definitely was too cocky in his familiarity with the female body if he didn’t clock your orgasm.

“Goddamnit.” Joel sighed, his hand coming to a complete stop.

Maybe it was better this way. 

Maybe Joel could still salvage what little morality he retained and beg for forgiveness from the higher powers above—

And no, actually, he couldn’t because, being the dirty fucking whore you were, you pulled out what he recognised to be a dildo from your nightstand.

You stopped fingering yourself to get a dildo from your nightstand.

“Filthy girl,” Joel tutted through a depraved smile, watching with hazy, lust-flooded eyes as you sat back down, spat directly on the tip of the sex toy, and positioned it in front of your weeping pussy.

Who knew that the sweet girl next door, the one who always offered to help carry groceries or to water his plants while he was away, kept a thick fucking dildo near her bed.

Not just any dildo, either, Joel realised.

It must have been his lucky fucking day, because, upon squinting at the unholy sight, Joel discerned that the shade of which the toy was painted almost exactly matched the rich tan of his skin tone.

In other words, it was now going to be much easier to imagine himself fucking you when a close replica of his cock was pistoning in and out of your pretty cunt.

“You gonna put it in, sweetheart?” Joel sighed, his grip tightening around his length as he watched your dawdling.

Fuck, he was going to get humanity’s worst case of blue balls if you stretched this out any longer.

“C’mon, baby. Jus’ put it in. ‘S not that hard,” He all but whined.

He, a man pushing fifty, basically whined. Good lord, what kind of fucking temptress were you?

Thankfully, it seemed as though you heard his words, because right after, you had slid the first few inches inside your walls, gasping at its girth.

“Yeah, there you go.” Joel sucked in a sharp inhale as he thrust up into his fist. “That all? Oh, babygirl, you can give yourself more.”

As if reading his mind, you slowly began feeding yourself the rest of the tanned dildo, throwing your head backwards and chanting that syllable that was so dangerously close to Joel’s name.

For the purpose of that night, Joel took the liberty of imagining it was, in fact, his own name as he fucked up fully into his fist.

When you finally took the toy to the hilt, its fake carved balls pressing against your ass, you started moving it in and out of your drenched seam at a steady pace.

Joel let out a string of incoherent curses under his breath, which quickly turned into strained groans as he mirrored your rhythm, practically feeling the way your pretty pussy clenched around that fake dick.

Your chest was expanding and contracting frantically now and you were no doubt releasing breathy moans from the sensation of fucking yourself with those eight generous inches.

Joel wished he was in that room with you to give you the same and then some. 

He’d kiss his way down to your tits and take a nipple into his mouth, tasting the sweetness of your skin as he bent you in half and made you see stars.

He wouldn’t even have cared too much if you passed out, as long as, when you woke up, he was still driving into you and kissing your cervix with each thrust, sending you barrelling into orgasm after unbound orgasm.

He’d hold out as long as it took to get you completely sated, and even a little more after. Maybe he’d even pop a certain little blue pill just to watch himself fuck his come deep inside you again and again after rounds of laborious exertion.

Joel’s dick twitched again at the mere thought.

And again, upon seeing the sight of you pulling the soaking dildo out of your tight hole and manoeuvering yourself to hover above the thing like you were about to sit on it.

Christ alive. You were going to ride your dildo.

“Shit,” Joel breathed, his eyes widening slightly. God, this would be a treat to watch.

Worrying your teeth on your lower lip, you began to slowly sink down on the toy, a silent scream leaving your parted lips as you steadily took it all the way to the fucking hilt.

Joel, he imagined you to have mewled. Joel, you’re so fucking big.

“‘S okay, sweetie, you’re doin’ real well.” Joel sighed, watching you adjust to the size. “Brave girl, doin’ so good. Now, go on and ride that cock. C’mon, baby.”

And so you did.

Bouncing up and down on the toy, your mouth opening in a steady stream of what seemed to be expletives, and your tits springing from your efforts.  

Fuck, in his forty-something years of life, Joel had never seen such a pretty sight.

And, there you were, repeating that mystery syllable like your life depended on it.

Joel, Joel, Joel, he envisioned you whimpering.

You were close again. He was sure of it. If it wasn’t already painstakingly obvious from the way you were eagerly swiping at your swollen clit.

And so, he finally gave in and began fucking up into his fist—his hips intensely chasing his hand—at the ferocity at which he dreamed to ram inside you, dragging against your velvety walls and feeling as you shivered uncontrollably around him.

He was close, too. Very fucking close.

“Come for me, sweet thing. C’mon. Be a good … fuck, be a good slut for me and come around that cock.” Joel breathed, eyes glued to the display of you feverishly riding the toy.

Then, suddenly, your mouth opened in a long scream as you nearly went cross-eyed.

Shortly after, your face scrunched up in pleasure and your body fell still on the dildo, the only movements being small rolls of your hips against the rubber length as your breathing began to even.

You came.

Fucking finally. 

Joel shut his eyes and pictured driving into your throbbing, dripping cunt, hearing your pitchy whines as he shushed you with little follow-through.

Gonna come inside, he’d tell you in between heavy, strained breaths. To which, you’d frantically alert him of the fact that you weren’t on the pill and the two of you had chosen to forgo the assistance of a condom.

But Joel’d come inside you anyway. Mark up his pretty girl with pearly ropes of his come. And he’d keep you filled up as long as he fucking could.

Before he knew it, Joel was coming hard and fast into his fist, wildly jerking in and out of his grip as he rode out his high.

It took a few more moments for him to slow down, and a good number more for him to stop fully.

“Fucking hell,” Joel sighed as he took a seat on the edge of his bed, reaching over to a nearby table and plucking a few pieces of tissue out of its box to clean himself up with.

Satisfied, he crumpled up the tissues, tossed them into a nearby trashcan and gently tucked himself back in.

His head hung low as he caught his breath and tried not to linger on the dubious ethics of what had just transpired.

While that had possibly been the best jerk in his life, it was undoubtedly very non-consensual. At least, on your side.

After all, you hadn’t explicitly given him permission to fuck his fist to the sight of you doing… whatever fucking marathon that was.

At least, he didn’t think you did.

Until, bing!

Joel angled his head to catch sight of his phone lighting up with a recent notification.

Unsure of who could be texting him at that hour, Joel took it in his hands and unlocked it with a quick swipe of his passcode.

It was a message from you.

You: you gonna keep jerking off across the street or are you gonna come over?

Joel’s eyes grew to the size of saucers. 

So, you had seen him. Possibly even orchestrated the whole ordeal; neglecting to close your blinds on purpose, wearing that bra, and, well, fucking yourself right by your window.

Shit. Well, he couldn’t just come over and fuck you silly … could he?

Then, another text came.

You: home alone.

Joel never put on his shoes faster.

[freedomfireflies]

You Again*

Summary: The one where Harry is your sister's ex-boyfriend and you finally get to see him again after 5 years.

Word Count: 11.4k

Content Warning: 18+, smut, age gap (6 years), sir kink, choking, use of a toy, exhibitionism if you squint!

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me."

Your eyes widen as you look up toward the man making his way into the diner. You'd recognize him anywhere. The dark curly hair. The tattoos that bleed through the fabric of his light shirt. The rings on his fingers.

Just like that, years' worth of memories come flooding back to you all at once.

"Harry," you shriek, sliding off the stool before practically flinging yourself into his arms. 

He smells exactly the same. Like teakwood and spearmint. A rather odd mix, yet subtle enough to remind you of home.

Of him.

His chest vibrates with a deep laugh as his arms wrap around your frame to keep you against him, prolonging the hug a minute or two longer than socially acceptable. 

And when you finally lean back to see him, your cheeks begin to warm.

It's been...four years? Five? Since you last saw him? Just days before he and your sister broke up, effectively removing him from your life for good.

It had been a hard time. You wanted to be there for your sister. To comfort her through the grief of losing such a long and meaningful relationship. 

But you wanted to be there for him, too. After all, he was one of your best friends, age difference or not. He had always been the comforting, influential figure in your life that you relied on. That you counted on to get through different hardships in your life.

He had picked you up after your first day at your new job. Had held you in his arms as you cried over your first break-up. He had even listened to you talk about the boy you had fallen in love with.

Losing him felt like losing a part of yourself.

And now, five years later...that part of you has come home.

"Hi, Dot," he beams, reaching out to take hold of your chin and squeeze. "Shit, look at you. When did this happen?"

His eyes rake over your figure and you feel your skin grown hot under his appreciative gaze. "Stop, it hasn't been that long."

"The last time I saw you, I was helping you move into your new apartment across town,” he recalls, arms crossing in thought. "And now...now what? You’re still at your job, I assume?"

"I am. I just got a promotion, actually. I’m an assistant editor now.”

His eyes seem to light up, that soft green sending chills up the back of your neck as you glance down at your feet. "Dot...that's amazing. I'm so proud of you."

You wave the compliment away. "Thanks."

"Really," he insists before following you back to the counter where you'd previously been sitting. "I know how badly you wanted to pursue a career in publishing, and this...this is really amazing. Do you like it?"

"I do," you tell him as you settle back onto your stool. "Yeah, it's really nice. The people are great, the work is fun. Plus, the promotion came with a raise."

"That's amazing," he sighs, head shaking like he can't believe it. "Really, that's so...I honestly can't believe it. I can't believe it’s been so long. You’re so…adult now.”

You snort to yourself as you twirl your straw around your milkshake. "Yeah, I know. Though I’m not sure if I should take that as a compliment or not.”

"You should." He smiles, and it's big and beautiful. "You’ve always been grown up. Even before, you were mature for your age.”

“Well…yeah. I was twenty-three. That does make me an adult.”

“And now you’re twenty-eight.” He shakes his head again. “I can’t fucking believe it.”

You glance down at the rim of your glass. He’s right, it almost doesn’t seem possible. It feels like only last week that you were following him and your sister around town, begging to be included. Traipsing after them to bars, the mini golf course, and to any and all dates. Even though you knew your sister couldn’t stand it.

But Harry was nice and always inclusive. After all, he was your friend before he was your sister’s boyfriend. And he was determined to make sure that didn’t change, no matter how many times Atta rolled her eyes.

"I don't know how you put up with me," you finally admit. "God, I was so annoying. Atta used to get so mad at me for never leaving you alone."

He shrugs one shoulder up. "You weren't annoying to me. I liked it. I mean, I liked that you still felt so...safe? Around me? I guess?"

"Yeah, I did.” You smile. “Honestly, I think you were my best friend.”

He laughs as he looks back over. "I better have been.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Cause you were mine.”

"Good."

He smirks. "Remember how you used to fall asleep on my shoulder every time we watched a movie?”

"That's right," you groan, burying your face into the palm of your hand. "See? Annoying."

"Not annoying. Cute."

"It was not cute, it was annoying. And you know she hated it.”

“I don’t care. She fell asleep on my shoulder, too. It was nice.”

You snort. “It was weird, let’s face it. But I swear I've outgrown such habits."

He seems to hesitate for only a moment, eyes flicking between yours. "Too bad."

A beat.

You feel your stomach flip as you look away, breaking you both free of the tension. "So...what, um...what brings you to town? I was a little surprised to hear from you."

He takes the cup of coffee the waitress had poured him and slides it closer. "Oh, yeah, I'm...I'm here on business. And I remembered you lived here, so...I thought I’d reach out.”

"I see."

"Yeah.” He hesitates again. "And...I missed you."

You can’t fight the flutter in your chest. "I missed you, too, Har."

The conversation lulls as the busy diner continues to bustle around you. And despite how glad you are to see him, something feels...off. Different.

You aren't sure what. Can't quite put your finger on it. It almost feels like it used to, but something has changed. He looks like your Harry. He sounds like your Harry. He feels like your Harry. And yet, he feels like a stranger.

Maybe it's because it's been so long since you've seen him. Maybe it's because you aren't twenty-three anymore. Or maybe it’s because now he’s no longer Harry, your sister’s boyfriend.

Now he’s just…Harry. Your old friend.

When you notice the way he’s staring, your eyes narrow. “What?”

"Nothing." He shrugs again before chuckling under his breath. "No, nothing. Sorry, I just...I don't know. It's just...so strange to see you again. Like this."

"Like...this?"

"Yeah. Just us. Alone. No Atta.”

“Ah.” You swallow. “Right.”

“It’s not…weird, is it? I mean, it is weird but it’s not…uncomfortable, right?”

“No,” you rush to assure him. “No, I wanted to meet you. What happened with you two has nothing to do with me.”

He glances down at his lap. “Right.”

There’s an edge to the memory that wasn’t there before, yet despite your curiosity, you bite your tongue.

“What about you?” you say instead. “What have you been up to in the last five years?”

He smirks. “Oh, not much.”

“Uh-huh. You think I’ve grown up, you’re basically an old man now.”

“Yeah, yeah, all right. I’m only 34.”

“That’s still six years older than me, which makes you old.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m serious. You're not that idiot on a motorcycle anymore. Now you say things like, 'I'm in town on business,” and you wear expensive suits, and ridiculous watches."

He glances down at the aforementioned object on his wrist. "In my defense, this was a gift.”

“Sure.” 

“It was,” he insists. His eyes flick over your face. “Look, I would have reached out sooner, but…after we broke up, I figured you wouldn’t want me to. I mean, you had just started your new job, and I knew it wouldn’t be fair to ask you to be a side, so…”

“There were no sides,” you argue softly. “You both just…grew apart. You wanted different things.”

“Yeah,” he agrees with a sigh. “But I know it hurt her. It hurt me, too. And it was weird having to say goodbye to all of you. And leave all those memories behind. You were both such a huge part of my life."

"Yeah," you whisper. "You were a huge part of mine, too."

"Does Atta know you're meeting me?"

"No. Didn't really think it was any of her business. This is about us, not her."

His brow raises. "Would she be mad if she did?"

"I don't know,” you admit. “Probably not, but...would it really matter?"

"Of course it would. I'd never want to get in the way of your relationship."

"You aren't," you insist. "Look, she's dating somebody anyway. And I'm sure you are, too. You've both moved on. We're just...old friends catching up, and she'd have to understand that."

He seems to consider this before saying, "Yeah. I'm not, though."

"You're not...what?"

"Seeing anybody," he clarifies, tongue coming out to swipe across his bottom lip. "Haven't really dated anybody since she and I broke up."

"Oh, Harry," you murmur. "I'm...I'm sorry—"

"No. No, don't be," he insists. "It wasn't...I've just been busy. Working at the firm and renovating my house. I've gone on some dates but nothing serious. I just...haven't met the right person, I guess."

"The right person, huh?" you muse teasingly as you take a sip of your drink. "Okay, and what does Harry Styles' right person look like?"

He exhales an amused chuckle. "God, I don't know. I don't really think I'm that picky. Just...anybody I can get along with, I suppose."

"That's it? No, 'They need a fat ass and the ability to make me a sandwich?'"

He grins so big, the corners of his eyes crinkle. "For fuck's sake. No, nothing like that. Look, I don't know. Call me old fashioned, but...I think sometimes you meet somebody, and you can just...tell. You know? There's this energy, this shift. You look at them...and it all just makes sense.”

And as he looks you, waiting for you to consider this…the air shifts.

"Yeah," you agree quietly, allowing your attention to fall down his features and land on his lips. "Yeah, that's...you're right."

He seems to notice the way your focus has wandered because he quickly clears his throat and looks back down at his mug. "What, um...what about you? I'm assuming you're seeing somebody."

You look away as well, willing yourself to calm. "Oh? And why do you assume that?"

"Come on," he nearly snorts, eyebrow cocking. "Look at you. You're beautiful and you're smart and you have this effortless ability to make anyone around you feel good. Who wouldn't want to date you?"

"Well...pretty much every male in the city," you retort. "I don't know. I've tried dating but...there's always something missing. It never really feels quite right."

"Yeah. I know what you mean," he hums. "There's this...disconnect. Like you're forcing something that you know isn't right."

"Exactly! It's not that I don't want to find somebody, I just...haven't. It's not as easy as it is with you."

His head tilts. "With me?"

"Yeah, you know," you sigh, hands waving about the air as you try to explain your point. "I haven't seen you in five years but we still, just...picked right back up, you know? As if no time had passed. We're still just us. We can talk, and we can laugh, and we don't have to force anything."

He nods. "Right."

"I mean, honestly? Sometimes I think it would be easier to date somebody I already know. The problem is that all the guys I know are assholes. And too immature, I guess. They've got no sense of purpose, no drive. And it’s not like I need to be taken care of, but…it’d be nice to know they could. You know?”

"Yeah. You need someone with a good head on their shoulders."

"Exactly. I need someone who feels more like an equal than this thing I need to take care. I want to date a man, not a Tamagotchi."

He laughs again and the sound brings the butterflies back to your stomach. You feel proud to have amused him. And even more proud of the way he casually places a hand on your arm as he takes a deep breath. 

When he lets go, you look down at the spot on your skin as if you can still see outline of his fingers. 

"You'll find somebody," he tells you, and you do your best to ignore the sparks dancing up the back of your neck. "You will. And they'll be perfect for you. Old enough to know better and wise enough to do it right."

You place your palm over the spot he once touched, squeezing it gently. "Yeah. Hey, and you, too. Anybody would be lucky to have you."

His eyes linger on yours. "Yeah?"

You smile. "Yeah."

The next few minutes are devoted to sharing stories about your families. He asks how your parents are, you ask about his. He tells you about his job and you tell him about your roommate. You recall every detail of the past five years, and once you've finally caught up to today, he pays for your drinks, and offers to walk you home.

You make your way along the busy streets of the city as Harry tells you that he's thinking about getting a cat. You laugh and tell him that he'd make a wonderful cat dad, and he seems to flush.

You wonder why.

Fifteen minutes later, you're walking up the steps to your building, already apologizing for the messy state of your apartment before he's even stepped foot inside.

He snorts the implication away, assuring you that no matter what, it can't be worse than how Atta used to keep her place.

And the mention of your sister breeds an odd feeling in your chest. Unease, and this strange tinge of jealousy. Like you're almost peeved at him for bringing her up. For reminding you that he's seen the inside of her room before.

But you shake it away as you push the door open, refusing to linger on the thought.

"Well...this is it," you declare, stepping aside to let him enter. "Probably looks smaller than you remember, but…it does the trick.”

He takes a moment to glance over your knickknacks and decor before he grins. “I love it.” 

"Really?"

"Yeah." He shoves his hands into his expensive coat pockets and nods. "Yeah, really. It feels...fitting."

"What do you mean?"

"I don’t know. It just feels like you.”

Your teeth gnaw on the inside of your cheek as you walk to the kitchen. "Well...thanks. I think."

You offer him a glass of water, to which he declines, before you join him back by the door. You're not sure that you’re quite ready to say goodbye, but you know he can't stay forever.

You wonder if you actually want him to.

You wonder if it would be so bad if you did.

"This was…really nice," he says as he takes a half-step through the doorframe. "Really, Dot. I'm proud of you. And everything you’ve done. And I'm really glad that I can still call you my friend after everything."

Your heart starts to pound a little harder inside your chest. "Yeah, me too. I really missed you, Har. I hope we can catch up again soon."

The side of his mouth curls up as his eyes soften. "I'd like that."

With that, he moves into the hall, and you close the door behind him.

The feeling that follows is...strange. Overwhelming. Like something is wrong. Like something has just been ripped away from you. 

Like something is missing.

You feel on edge. Off-balance. Confused and unsure and you have no idea why. There’s a pain in your stomach that wasn’t there before and a hollowness in your heart that didn’t exist before you saw him.

Suddenly, there's a sharp knock on your door. "Dot?"

He's back.

Confused and slightly excited, you swing it back open to find him braced against your frame. He’s quiet as he studies you, brows woven together in what appears to be deep thought before he strides back inside your apartment and begins to pace your floor.

"Okay," he begins. Strained. "Okay, tell me...tell me this isn't just me. Tell me this isn't just in my head."

You shut the door.  "What do you mean?”

He looks at you before frantically gesturing between your two bodies. "This. This thing we’ve been doing all afternoon. Tell me it's not just me. Tell me you feel it.”

And you're almost certain you know what he means, but the implication of it scares the shit out of you.

So, you simply tilt your head. "Har...feel what? I don't know what you're talking about—"

"Us.” He stares at you. “Us, there's something...there's something different here. Something that wasn't here before."

"Like...?"

"Like...like the way you look at me," he says, eyes on yours as you feel your heart begin to race. "You never used to look at me that way."

Your lashes flutter, and suddenly, you feel acutely aware of the way you've begun to gawk at him. Have you been looking at him differently?

"And the way you speak to me," he continues. "Talking about needing someone to take care of you. Someone older. Someone...more mature."

You swallow.

He takes a step closer. "And all day, you've just...you’ve found a way to brush your hand against mine. Or your arm. And you laugh at everything I say, even when it isn't funny. And I know you. I know this can't be what I think it is, but...you gotta tell me I'm not going crazy. You have to tell me it's not just...me."

And you realize now that you have an easy way out. You could brush off the accusation and tell him that it is just in his head. That he's your sister's ex-boyfriend, and he's your friend, and that you would never make a pass at him.

But then you say, "…what if it wasn't just you?"

He goes still, lips parting as he leans back. Almost as if struggling to understand what you've just said.

Truth be told, you're struggling to understand it yourself. You hadn't realized just how differently you'd been acting toward him. Or that you’d begun to wonder what would happen if he was your Harry instead of hers.

Because he’s not hers anymore. He’s just a man. A very attractive man. With a job, and a house, and enough emotional maturity not to make a fart joke every three minutes.

And it's not your fault that you're starting to see him in a different light. It's been years. Five whole years since you've spoken to him and you're both adults now. Completely different people, and would it really be the worst thing if you wondered what could have been?

"Dot…" he begins slowly, clearly wrestling with what he wants to say, "…you don't…I don't think you really know what you're doing."

You take a step as well, challenging him. "What am I doing?"

"You're...you're—" His fingers find the bridge of his nose as he squeezes. Hard. "Fuck, Dot. Don't…don't do this—"

"Do what? Flirt with you?"

His palms fly to his ears with a wince. "Stop. No, you didn't...you didn't say that. You're not flirting with me. You're not flirting with me—"

"What if I am?" you retort, following after him with a surge of confidence you didn’t realize you had. "Why would that be so wrong?"

"Because,” he scoffs, shooting a stern look your way. "You’re Atta’s little sister. And we’re friends. And you’re basically a child—"

"I'm not a child," you remind him. "I'm twenty-eight. I've been making capable decisions for quite some time now—"

"But not this," he hisses, the muscles in his neck straining. "Not…shit. You can't do this. You can't—”

"Why not? You said it yourself, there's something different here—"

"But not this—"

"Why not?"

"Because…you're you," he huffs. "You're...you're my best friend, and my ex’s little sister, and I’m…I’m just this big, bad man come to ruin you.”

And somehow, the idea goes straight to your cunt.

"You're not ruining me, Harry," you say, even though you wish he would. "We’re adults. Old friends catching up and realizing that maybe things can be different now."

He takes in a breath. "But they can't be. They can't be different—"

"Why—"

"Because it's not right—"

"What's not right? What?" you argue. "Is it just the age difference? Is it Atta? Is it that you aren't attracted to me, because I know you were flirting with me, too—"

His entire face twists into a grimace as he inhales sharply and presses his hands back over his ears. "God. Don't say that—"

"You were," you insist. "Like it or not, I'm not the little girl you used to know. All right, and there's...there's nothing wrong with us testing the waters—"

He steels himself, arms dropping back to his sides. "We can't."

"Why?" you repeat for what feels like the hundredth time. "Why can't we? Huh? We're not breaking any rules. We're not doing anything illegal. I don't see what's so wrong with just trying—"

"I'd ruin you," he says again, with so much conviction that it makes your stomach drop. "I would ruin any chance you had at a normal relationship—a normal life. All right, being with me...it would complicate everything. And I'd never do that to you—"

"I'm not asking you to marry me. I'm just asking you to try—"

"Try what?"

"Try seeing." You take another step, making sure you have his full attention. "Just…try seeing if what we think is here is actually here. If maybe we were meant to find each other again after all this time. If this is where it all finally makes sense."

He considers this for a moment. Considers you. And you aren't sure when you suddenly became so enamored by the thought of Harry, but you’re here now. And he’s here. And there’s a shift.

And it feels right.

Then, his head begins to shake. "No. No, I know better. I have to know better. I have to do better than this. I can't...God, I can't believe I'm even...no. No, you mean too much to me for me to ruin this."

You feel your chest deflate as your lips press into a thin line. And you stare at him. You stare and you see the indecision and anguish on his face. You see the way he wrestles with the idea you've given him. The way he wrestles with himself.

The way he wrestles with you.

You don't want to push him. Because you know this is something you can never take back. And maybe there's just too much adrenaline in your veins right now. Maybe you aren't thinking straight, and once he leaves and the moment passes, you’ll wonder what you were so worked up about anyway.

But right now, all you feel is disappointment.

"Fine," you whisper, and his eyes soften. "No, fine. You're right. You're right, this is...I never should have said anything. I was…confused. I was just happy to see you again and I thought it was something else, but…you're right. It's nothing. And I don't wanna be your mid-life crisis. I just want us to be friends again.”

Your tiny apartment falls silent as you both settle onto this conclusion. As you let your heartbreak dangle in the air.

Then, his fingers between to flex and his teeth begin to grit, and watch in real time as he starts to change his mind.

Then, he murmurs, “Oh, fuck it.”

Next thing you know, he's closing the gap between you, taking hold of your face and kissing you hard.

You don’t have time to process it. Don’t even care to process it. But you don’t care. Because everything makes sense now.

So, you feel him. Surrender to him. Indulge in the dominate pull of his hands on your jaw as he takes a taste of you on his tongue. As he presses his hips so hard into yours that you feel your knees go weak.

You make a noise in your throat as he goes deeper, and he growls. Like he's fighting himself. Fighting the urge to take as he begins roughly walking you back until you’re slammed against the wall.

He knows exactly what he's doing in a way that younger men never have. He makes you feel both taken care of and somehow, still completely helpless. You don't have to think about anything with him because he does everything. 

He presses his strong, tall frame into yours until he practically disappears into you. His large hand grips onto the back of your neck as you whimper, taking control of the moment—of you—until the only thought left in your head is just more.

And you don't doubt that he'd give you more if you asked, but before you can, he pulls back, and puts the moment on pause.

You feel breathless. Dejected. Wilting in his hold as he meets your eye and looks for your reaction.

But he won’t find it. And you bite back a whine as you wait for him to come back.

He sweeps his thumbs along your cheek before sighing to himself. "Dot..."

You feel your stomach turn at the nickname. At the way it comes out raspy and desperate. "Don’t say it."

But he does, anyway. "We shouldn't do this."

"I know," you murmur, fingers disappearing into his hair while he seems to nestle into your touch. "I know, but I want to. I want to, Har. So…please don’t make me lose you again.”

Another beat passes before he groans and presses his forehead to yours. “God,” he nearly growls, and the sound makes your thighs squeeze together. “Dot—”

"I won't tell," you promise while his jaw clenches. "I won't, I swear. I'll be your secret."

Just like that, the hand he placed on your thigh tightens. Squeezing until you're squirming beneath him. He’s losing his conviction and you’re losing your patience.

"This is wrong," he mumbles. "S'wrong, Dot. I can't do this to you. Can't do this with you...I can't...I know better. I have to do better.”

You tug on his hair as you straighten up, whining beneath a strained breath. "I don’t want you to do better. I want you to do me.”

He exhales deeply with this, nose running down the side of your face as his lips travel to your neck. He seems to take refuge there, subtly pressing kisses to your throat as he thinks. "I want to," he tells you softly. "You have no idea how badly I want to. How badly I want to do everything for you. Show you how a real man fucks. Until you see stars.”

"Har," you just about gasp, anxious to have him do just that. "Please...please—"

"Fuck." His thigh slots between the both of yours and you writhe against him, searching for anything you might find. "Be so easy to take you. Be so easy to show you what you're missing. To wreck you until you’re begging for more—"

"So do it," you plead, pulling on him until his mouth meets yours. "Do it, Har. Please. Just once. Just once, and I promise I'll be so good. Be so good for you. Won't ever ask you again—"

His hold on you grows more determined before he's ripping you away from the wall and slinging you toward your bed a few feet away.

He’s on you in seconds, hovering about where you lie as you greedily grab for him. "Promise me," he hisses as his palm slips beneath your shirt, and a needy whimper bleeds from your throat. "Promise me that this is what you want."

"I promise," you repeat quickly, arching into his touch. "Promise—"

"Promise me...that you'll be good," he says next, fingers brushing over the material of your bra. "That you'll behave. That you'll do exactly what I tell you."

"Yes," you breathe, eyes falling shut.

"Fucking promise me..." he continues as he scratches down your chest, "...that you won't tell. That you'll be my dirty little secret. That you'll be mine. That you'll let me ruin you and that you'll fucking thank me for doing it—"

The last domino falls. Crashes to the ground as you tug him down to you so you can kiss him. So, you can prove your loyalty. Prove that this is everything you’ve ever wanted.

You feel him smile.

"You little fucking minx,” he purrs.

Your skin warms as Harry's stunned but unceasingly enthralled gaze lingers on the red lace of your underwear. However, his fingers move instead for your hips. His hauntingly empty touch ghosting across the fabric of your underwear as you anxiously await contact.

But he doesn't give it to you. Not quite, not yet. He just wants to look at you. Wants to drink you in. Allow himself the privilege of seeing what he never has before.

"Did you wear these just for me, little one?" he asks in a gravely drawl, eyes flicking up to yours from where he lays between your thighs. 

You swallow as you look across your stomach at him. You're not sure why you picked out this particular set today. Perhaps it was a subconscious choice or perhaps destiny was simply on your side.

"Maybe," you murmur, nails curling into your palm as you work in shallow breaths. God, you need him to touch you. Need him to do something about the mess that's sitting two inches in front of his face.

The very same mess he's pretending he doesn't notice.

Your response encourages a smirk as he hums and glances back down at the little white bow placed delicately in the center. "S'cute, Dot," he says softly, pinching the ribbon between his thumb and forefinger. "Fucking precious, actually. Knowing you got yourself all dolled up. Just to see me."

He pulls his lip between his teeth and glances back over your face. He's amused by the weary and desperate expression you wear and you're two seconds away from groaning.

His touch moves down. Down, down, down until the pad of his finger brushes over your clit. 

You tense before releasing a shaky exhale. 

Satisfied with this reaction, he moves even lower. Until he finds that growing wet patch that's beginning to hurt.

"What's this?" he coos, looking down toward the darkened red fabric. "Oh, darling...s'this for me, too?"

You're not sure where your quippy attitude from before has gone because now you can do nothing but nod mutely as you shift beneath his hand.

"Yeah?" His eyebrow raises as he grins at you. "Is this what has you so anxious?"

You give him another nod.

He hums. "Think I need to see for myself, hm?" He smirks and pats his palms against your hips. "Take these off for me."

You quickly reach down to hook your fingers around the hem of your underwear and drag them down your thighs. Once they've been pulled from your body, you get ready to toss them onto the other side of the bed. But before they can be flicked from the tips of your fingers, Harry snatches them with his fist.

"Uh-uh," he tuts as he tucks them into his suit's breast pocket. "These are mine now."

You suck in a sharp, eager pant. "Har—"

"Shh." He settles back onto his stomach, hands curling around your thighs to guide them apart and allow him a better visual. "M'busy, little one."

But it’s nearly impossible to stay quiet as his warm breath fans across your pussy, making the mess that much more obvious to you both. In fact, you can practically see the glistening reflection in his eye as he studies your cunt in the most intimate of ways.

You're not sure what he wants. What he's doing or planning or thinking. And you don't know why, but the way he stares at you does more for the apprehensive coil in your gut than him actually touching you has.

Finally, he makes another satisfied noise deep within the back of his throat before he brings his fingers back to you.

Two are placed just above your clit before he teasingly drags them down. However, when your hips buck up, he merely shoves them back down with a tsk.

Once you’re still, he starts again. Easing himself through your folds as he spreads you with the utmost glee. Fascinated by the way your body feels, the way it reacts to him.

His tongue sits between his lips as he ventures down, and the moment he finds the pooling of arousal waiting for him...you see the muscles in his neck contract.

"Darling…" The nickname is whispered across your body as he scoots closer. "Bet this hurts, doesn't it?"

"Yes," you reply instantaneously, straining around the singular word as you resist the urge to whimper. 

He circles the tip of his finger around your aching hole, almost as if to test you. "Oh, precious girl...how long, hm? How long have you been in so much pain?"

Truthfully, since you hugged him at the diner.

"All day," you say aloud, hands gripping onto the duvet beneath you. "All day, Har. Been thinking about you all day."

And that is the honest answer. You'd been anxiously awaiting your meeting from the moment you woke up.

But he smiles as if he knows better, despite the way he seems to bask in your response. "All day, hm? And what were you gonna do if I never came back? Were you just gonna sit here and rub your pretty thighs together?"

Your heart skips while your hands gather atop of your stomach.

His brow raises. "No? Well then how were you gonna take care of it, hm?"

For a moment, you think this is simply rhetorical, but the longer the silence stretches, the more obvious it becomes that he expects an answer.

You swallow the odd lump in your throat. "How do you think?"

"Uh-uh," he chastises again. "I wanna hear you say it. Want you to tell me exactly how you were gonna fix this little problem of yours had I not been here."

Your head flops back against the pillows as you glare at the ceiling. He's always been rather infuriating but now he's a menace.

"Dot..." He's warning you. Calling you back. Urging you not to be so bratty.

With a tentative sigh, you look back at him. "My...vibrator."

He perks up. "Yeah?"

You nod faintly. 

"Tell me how," he instructs next, jutting his chin toward you. "Better yet...show me. Show me how you've been taking care of yourself all these years."

Feeling rather embarrassed under the spotlight of such an intimate request, you shyly look over toward your nightstand and outstretch a hand. After pulling the drawer open, you slip inside and find the purple wand that's just small enough to fit snugly inside your palm.

And Harry watches with a certain wonder in his eye as you bring the dainty toy closer. Yet, he says nothing while you slowly guide it toward your stomach and down to your thighs.

But he does, however, shift in order to make room, scooting back by a hair to allow you the space you need to place the head right above your aching clit.

For some reason, doing something so private in front of him feels...odd. Strange and almost unsettling. And perhaps that's just nerves, but you can't deny the heat that rushes to your face as he looks between you and the vibrator.

"S'this it, then?" he murmurs, a hint of teasing laced within the remark. "Don't even have to turn it on?"

Your thumb taps against the power button, a nervous tic, although you refrain from switching the toy on just yet. "No..."

His smirk is borderline haughty. "Then what do you do, little one? How do you use it?"

You say nothing. You hold his stare, and you hold a deep breath, and you hold the wand to your glistening cunt.

Then...you flip the switch.

The soft, dainty vibrations echo across the room, across your bodies, and across your clit as it's met with the instant stimulation of the pulsating wand.

You choke on a gasp as you return your eyes to the ceiling, allowing for the feeling to take control of each remaining sense.

And as you do, Harry's hands make themselves known to you as they begin to smooth up your legs, helping guide your thighs further apart once again.

There's an ever-so-slight stretch that follows as your muscles are pulled, and the distinctive burn makes your lashes flutter shut.

"There you go," he whispers. "So pretty, darling. God, could watch you do this all day."

Truthfully, you imagine you’re quite a sight. After all, you’ve watched yourself before. You know how it looks. Know exactly the kind of visual fantasy Harry is witness to right now.

So, you play it up, give him a show. After all...he's got a front row seat.

You rotate the head slowly, circling down and around your hole before retreating and dragging the object back up and through.

And you shiver every time it brushes against that particular sweet spot. Every time the pulses slow just to speed up once more. It's almost torturous the way your body is being bent to such salacious desires. And cruel the way you're forced to do this while he only watches.

A whimper slips free, and you arch off the bed, pressing the toy as tight against your body as you can stand.

You hear Harry chuckle. 

"Easy," he warns before you feel his fingers curl around your wrist, encouraging your grip to relax. "Take it slow, Dot. Not in a hurry, are you?"

"No," you breathe, head shaking zealously. "No, m'just...feels good."

"Does it?" He almost sounds surprised. "Hm. Interesting. Seeing as you're doing it wrong."

Your head lifts.

He glances toward the vibrator. "May I?"

You nod.

Pleased, he slips the toy free from between your fingers and clears his throat. Focused eyes landing on your body as he readies the bullet. 

Then...he begins.

It meets your clit—an innocent, familiar touch—before it's instantly being dragged down. He's slow with it. Giving you enough time to feel each particular flutter and twitch. 

Your soft gasps and grateful sighs carry him further, until the tiny head of the toy is swimming through your arousal. You fall still, attention locked on the man by your knees. 

But he’s still focused. Soft, green eyebrows weaving together as his pretty cherry lips stretch into a smile.

Something changes—everything changes—when he slips the head inside. Your entire body ripples from the vibrations as you stumble over his name and squirm across the mattress.

He only laughs before placing his arm overtop your stomach to keep you cemented to the bed. "None of that. Stay still for me."

"Har," you whisper, depleted of any strength. "Please..."

"What, little one? What do you want?"

"I need...please, I'm..."

"What? Does it feel good?"

"Yes. Yes...yes, feels so good. Please..."

"Please what? What do you want, sugar?"

More. Everything. Anything. "Fuck, I'm—don't stop. Please don't stop."

"Oh, darling," he breathes. "I'd never dream of it."

He takes the toy out and moves it back to your clit, circling gently a few times before pressing down hard. 

And you almost miss the full feeling it provided as it was eased into you, but before you can dwell for too long...Harry's extending his fingers and slipping them into your cunt.

Not one, but two of those beautiful digits push past your walls and begin to stretch you, ripping a gasp from your throat at the simultaneous stimulation. 

"Attagirl," he murmurs from below, and you can hear the smug undertone. "That's what you wanted, hm? Needed something to fill you."

Your chest heaves, the red lace of your bra lifting and falling as you roll your head back. "God, Har—"

"Tell me, darling," he continues, easing himself out just to push back in. "Were you gonna use your own fingers? If I wasn't here? Gonna ride your pretty little hand?"

You can't tell if he already knows the answer or if he just wants to picture your hand between your thighs.

Either way, you pant out, "Mhm."

"Yeah? How many, honey? How many were you gonna use?"

"...two."

He tsks, seemingly disappointed with this answer. "Just two? Hm. And would it have felt like this, darling? Would they be able to do it for you the way mine can?"

To accompany this ask, he curls upward, nearly yanking the pleasure out of you as you choke on a cry and writhe away from him. 

"Fuck—" Your teeth tug on your bottom lip. "Shit, Har—"

"Is that a no, then?" He thrusts his fingers out and back in again. "Would you have gotten yourself this wet...with just your own hand?"

The sound of him slipping through your arousal meets your ear as you groan and look down.

"No?" He adds a third finger while making sure to keep the wand of the vibrator exactly where it needs to be. "What about when you thought of me? Would that have done it for you, sugar? Thinking of me while you soaked your sheets? While you dripped down your knuckles as you fucked yourself?"

You've never heard a man talk to you this way. You already knew his experience superseded that of any man you'd been with before but this. None of those other boys ever knew how. But Harry...God. He knows just what to say. Knows exactly what you need to hear, and it overwhelms you.

"Har...Har—"

"Need an answer," he reminds you, but when you refuse to offer him one, he takes himself away. His fingers, the toy, his body. Leaning away completely as your pussy goes completely quiet.

"Harry," you just about moan, pushing up onto your elbows to leverage the playing field. "You...I'm...I was just—"

"Disobeying," he answers for you. "That's what you were doing. And I don't think that's fair, do you?"

You frown. You know this tone he's taking with you. Authoritative and condescending. It makes you huff. "Fine. I'll try again."

"Good girl," he murmurs, nodding at you as if to encourage confidence.

"I...wait, what was the question again?"

He smiles at this, releasing an amused chuckle beneath his breath before crawling back to you. His hands find the mattress beside your hips and he settles between your parted thighs, lips dangerously closer now.

And you can smell him. Smell his cologne, and his aftershave, and his shampoo. Can feel the heat radiating off his body, even through the expensive suit. Can see how much he wants to take care of you—ruin you. As promised.

"Do you get yourself this wet...when I'm not around?" he repeats, and the tip of his nose brushes against yours.

Your breath hitches. "No."

The answer was always obvious, but you know he needed to hear you say it. 

"Do you touch yourself...the way I touch you?" 

"No."

"Can you make yourself come the way I can?"

"God, no—" you gasp before taking hold of his face and smashing his mouth against yours.

His lips are perfect and his kiss is perfect and the two of you are perfect together. A connection so seamless, so effortless...it's as if you were always meant to be.

A ridiculous notion, you think to yourself, but right now...it's quite nice.

He pulls himself back just enough to meet your eye and offer a devious grin. "Then let’s find out, hm?"

Rough fingertips travel up the length of your inner thigh, forming goosebumps in the wake. You shiver, ready to receive his touch once again before he dances right past your cunt, and up your hip. 

He moves for the lace on your chest, tugging on the wire between your breasts with a disappointed tsk.

"I want this gone," he decides, plucking it from your skin. "Need to see all of you, Dot."

And before you can even reach back to undo the hook, he's looping an arm underneath your back, lifting you up, and flicking the clasp free. 

Once done, he yanks the bra down your arms and body before flinging it somewhere behind him.

Your eyes shut as your naked chest is revealed to him, heart hammering against your ribcage.

But then, you feel those lips again. He wraps his mouth around your left nipple before you can even whisper his name, sucking on you as though he's determined to make you see stars.

Which you do the moment his teeth pull on the sensitive skin. And you can't help but mewl as his tongue flicks cruel and merciless patterns against before moving for your collarbone.

He groans as he goes, situating his knee between your legs and pressing it directly against your cunt. His other hand gropes at your right breast, kneading at the tender flesh until his mouth reaches your neck. He nips at a vein just below your jaw and you arch up into him, chest knocking into his.

He sucks sweet bruises into the curve of your throat before licking apologies over the newly ruined skin. It's slow and painful and beautifully good.

Everything about him is beautiful and good.

His entire body seems to cater to yours as he cages you to the mattress and easily pulls whimpers from your throat. As he touches you, and pleases you, and knows you in a way nobody else ever has. 

You grind yourself against his leg before glancing down. And that’s when you notice the way your arousal has begun to soak through his nice pants. The way a dark little patch seeps into the fancy—and expensive—material. A sight both erotic and humiliating.

Your whimper forces his eyes to where yours reside, and he smirks when he sees your mess.

"What's the matter, little one?" he asks, taking his hand from your tit and using it to grab onto your jaw. "Are you embarrassed?"

You nod, despite his hold.

"Oh, my dirty little girl,” he hums. “I don't mind you soaking my trousers. But I'd rather you soak my cock."

You'd rather that, too, and you're more than grateful when he leans back to undo his belt. You don't know where this will lead you. If you’ll fuck him and then lose contact for another five years. 

Or if you’ll fuck him and change everything.

But right now, you don't mind. You'll happily exist in this moment with him. In these bad decisions until you're coming so hard, you forget your own name.

He leans back to begin ridding himself of his clothes and you scramble upward to help him along. Your greedy hands grab at his jacket and his shirt, wrestling them down his arms and off his broad chest. Wanting to see him the way he can see you.

You nearly moan when his inked skin is revealed to you. You knew he'd gotten a few tattoos in college, and even some a bit after. But seeing them now, painted across such a tan, toned canvas makes your head spin.

"Easy," he laughs, reaching out to swipe his thumb beside your mouth to collect the pooling drool. "Save some for me, hm?" 

But you can't. Instead, you take his finger between your lips and bury it beside your tongue.

Surprised, his lashes flutter. But once you realize he won’t be able to undo his pants without both hands, you regretfully pop his digit free. Allowing him to slip out of his briefs until his cock springs free.

He’s…perfect. Still. Somehow. Red and swollen and leaking just for you. And you clench from the mere thought of having something so beautiful inside you.

You crawl closer, eager for a taste, but Harry simply grabs hold of your chin.

"Yes, little one?" he murmurs, using his other hand to hold his cock. "Did you want  something?"

You nod and lean forward another inch.

"All right," he concedes, pumping himself before subtly tugging you down. "Just a taste, honey. Since you've been so good."

He leads your mouth to him and without a moment's hesitation, you outstretch your tongue, and drag it along the underside.

You revel in the way you feel him twitch. In the way he exhales a deep breath through parted lips while moving his fingers to your hair, guiding you closer but not too close. Just enough to get him on your tastebuds.

You hum when you reach the tip, eager to indulge in the pre-cum already beading in pearly drops. And the vibrations from your eager appreciation make the muscles in his stomach quiver as he curses your name.

However, you barely get the chance to wrap your mouth around him before he's yanking on your hair, and straightening you back up.

"What did I say?" he hisses. "Don't be greedy, Dot."

"I'm sorry," you whisper, swallowing the bit of him still lingering in your mouth. "M'sorry, won't do it again."

"No, you won't. Or I'll go back on my promise."

"No," you whine, needy fingers wrapping around his wrist to keep him close. "No, won't do it again. I promise."

You know he’s amused with your desperation, and even though you're slipping fast, he can't help but be entertained. "We'll see, little one."

With a fervent motion of your head, you scramble back to the pillows to lay down, legs spreading as if to invite him in.

He smirks as he strokes his cock a time or two more while settling himself between your thighs. You imagine he could have you in a number of ways, a plethora of positions. But he chooses this. He chooses to see your face this first time. To see every ounce of pleasure etched within your features.

And truth be told, you don't mind. You could stare at him forever.

"Do you have any condoms?" he asks next, dipping down to press his lips to yours for only a second. "Or would you prefer to go without?"

You consider this. You're on birth control and you do have a bit of a creampie kink, so you shake your head. 

"Without," you answer quickly before lifting an eyebrow. "Unless you'd like to?"

"No," he chuckles, placing a kiss to your nose this time. "Just wanted to make sure. Promised to take care of you, and that's what I plan to do."

Your heart flutters.

"Okay, gonna need you to be good, honey," he tells you now, large palm landing on your hip to steady you. "Gonna need you to take me and do as I say, all right? And I'll make it worth it."

"I will," you agree quickly, fingers traveling up the dips in his arms, ghosting over each muscle until you reach his shoulders. "Be so good, Har, promise."

"Uh-uh." His hand smacks against your inner thigh in warning before his thick eyebrow cocks up. "S'not my name, darling. Not right now."

Curious as to what he might mean, you study him for only a moment before you realize.

"I'm sorry, Sir."

Just like that, something in his demeanor switches. 

Truth be told, the name doesn't do much for you. But you revel in the way he feeds off it. Find absolute euphoria in the way he lights up at your obedience until you want nothing more than to please him again. To call him anything he wants as long as he keeps looking at you like that.

"Good girl," he growls beneath a deep breath before he's bringing his cock closer.

He starts by dragging it along your clit, making you jolt and buck before his hand splays across your stomach to force you back down.

"No," he says simply, eyes fixated on the torture he's currently implementing. 

He does it again, letting your swollen, puffy clit jump from the slight brush of his tip while he drags it through your arousal and shifts forward.

"Breathe," he orders next, stealing a quick glance at your puckered lips and wide eyes. “All right?”

“Yes, Sir.”

He slides in slowly, pushing past your tight walls, coaxing the muscles to stretch to his size.

At first, it's nothing more than a soft, easy sensation. Relaxing, in a sense as it aids the ache and fills the void his fingers left behind.

Then...he goes deeper. 

And this is what you'd been waiting for. The slight tension and subtle burn as your body is forced to accommodate him. You're thankful he goes slow. Not just because of the pain. But because you both want to watch.

You want to watch the way he pulls your body apart. Wanna watch him disappear into your tight hole that pulls him in. Wanna watch the way you flutter and clench and claim him the way he’s claiming you.

"Oh, that's my fucking girl," he groans to himself. "Fucking hell, Dot. Didn’t think you’d be so tight."

"Yeah, well…never had someone like you before," you tease, gauging your body's reaction by slowly rolling your hips up. 

"Yeah?" His hand lands on your throat, smoothing up the sides of your neck until he can squeeze a gasp from your lips. “Never, huh?”

You shake your head and with one quick thrust, he bottoms out, forcing a strangled cry as you arch into him.

“Never had someone stretch this pretty pussy the way it deserves, yeah?” He tsks again. “What a fucking shame.”

He rears back, and the pain and the pleasure that follow him out make your chest cave in.

However, he’s quickly driving himself back in before you can complain, pushing past the fluttering muscles once more as you keen and rake your nails down the blanket.

"Harry," you breathe, his name like a lifeline as you drown in his sin. 

But it earns you another firm smack to your outer thigh as he grunts his disapproval into your neck. "No," he warns before nipping just below your jaw. "You know better."

But really…you don’t. "Sir...please," you amend.

"Hm. S'a good girl," he praises. "Knew you'd behave for me, yeah? My perfect little toy—"

A rather debauched moan rips from between your gritted teeth as his hips ram into yours. You can feel him everywhere. In your stomach, in your head, in your heart. His legs against yours, his chest against yours, his entire body against yours until you're almost convinced he's gonna become one with your bloodstream.

Not that you'd mind.

His arm slips beneath you once more in order to lift you up and provide him with a new angle. Then, he thrusts himself into you again as your mouth hangs open in a silent gasp for air.

"There she is, that's what you needed. Yeah, little one?' He does it again, brushing against that one spot that makes your toes curl. "The other boys never did it, did they?"

You whine, knees bending besides his hips as you attempt to follow after him when he pulls back. 

But he's quick to tut and knock you back down onto your ass. "No. You don't rush me, darling. We do this my way. On my time. If I wanna stay here and fuck you nice and slow, then you’ll behave, and you’ll fucking take me.”

You’d like to agree, but he’s thrusting himself back in before you can.

"You will thank me for taking my time," he continues in a coarse cadence that seems to reverberate from his chest. "You will thank me...for being so goddamn good to you. And you will thank me…for doing it right."

"Harry, please—" you just about wail, hands finding his arms as you grasp on for dear life.

But the fingers around your throat tighten until the edges of your vision begin to blur.

"There you fucking go again," he growls, stilling his rhythmic attacks as he meets your eye. He seems to enjoy watching your focus go fuzzy. "Starting to think you like to be punished, hm? And here I thought you had a praise kink."

You clutch onto his wrist, nails scratching along the veins in his arm as he pounds into you at a harder pace.

But you don't mind. You enjoy watching him give into the voices inside his head. Enjoy the way his chocolate brown curls sweep across his forehead, the way his eyebrows weave together and the muscles in his jaw constrict.

For a 34-year-old man, he seems to possess quite a bit of stamina. He'd mentioned earlier his enjoyment for running and exercising, detailing his rather excessive and diligent routine.

And you'd smirked because you'd assumed he was showing off or because he was trying to stay ahead of the inevitable "dad-bod" in his future.

But now you understand why he's really so meticulous. He's a long way from looking his age. Apart from some subtle, but soft crinkles near his eyes and a few gray hairs that peek through the auburn waves, he looks rather youthful. 

And his body. You swallow another noise as you let your hungry gaze trail over every inch, every muscle, every quiver in his thighs as he braces himself above you.

Sir feels like a more appropriate title to you now. Because he is. He is your superior in this moment A man to be respected and revered. Someone who not only knows better,.but knows you. Knows your body and how to play it like an instrument. 

There's something exciting about submitting to him. Something tantalizing about being at his mercy. Most of the other men you've been with have felt more like your equals than anything else. Which you haven't minded in the least bit.

But the way Harry has managed to fit you into the submissive, subservient role so quickly suggests that perhaps...this is where you were always meant to be.

Beneath him.

"Oh, honey," he coos, a mix of condescension and amusement. "Can feel you squeezin' me. Need it so bad, don't you? Need to come, hm?"

"Yes. Yes," you whisper, nuzzling your face into his neck, lips eagerly pressing into the salty skin at your disposal. "Please, Ha—Sir. Please let me come. Can't...can't hold it—"

"You will,” he says before he’s grabbing hold of your wrist and hosting it above your head. Burying into the pillow and preventing you from reaching for your clit. “Forget it, Princess. Told you to take me. So you will. Exactly how I tell you.” 

"Sir—"

"I said no. I plan to keep you here for quite some time. Plan to feel you coming around my cock as many times as I see fit. And I expect you to behave for me the way you promised. Can you do that? Or do I need to stop?"

"No," you gasp, tears springing to your eyes at the very thought. "No, no, please—"

"Then what are you going to do?"

You swallow a moan and lift your chin proudly. "Take it."

A pleased smile crawls across his face as he hums and dips down to press his mouth to yours. "There she is," he murmurs, nipping at your bottom lip. "My good girl. Try to remember that, yeah? Or I'll keep you here all day."

However, that’s something else you wouldn't exactly mind, and you shiver as he pushes your knee into your chest.

"Fucking hell, Dot," he mumbles, eyes falling back down to where you're coating his cock. "Oh, my perfect toy. Look at the way you treat me, honey. Treat me so well, fucking soaking me, aren't you—"

"Yes, Yes, please…"

"I know. I know, little one. Feels so good to be filled, yeah? To be fucked the right way—"

"God, yes. More...please—"

"More, huh? Need more? Need me to make it better? Need me to fucking take—"

Suddenly, your phone rings.

The soft, melodic chime cuts through Harry’s vulgar response, bringing the moment to a close as his thrusts falter and he glances over.

God, you hate that stupid, evil, sadistic machine. Right now, you wish you'd never bought it. You wish you could throw it again the wall until it shatters into a thousand fucking pieces so as long as he just keeps going.

Instead, he searches your nightstand for the small device before he's releasing your leg in order to reach for it. 

"No, Har," you plead, attempting to grab onto his hand. "Just let it go to voicemail, it's fine—"

"But that wouldn't be very polite, now, would it?" he tuts, glancing over the screen. "And I think you need to take this, darling."

"Harry, please—"

"Shh," he says sharply. “You're gonna take this phone call and you're gonna use your word. And then, and you're gonna come for me."

His thumb hovers over the green button and he guides the phone to your ear. 

"And you're not gonna make a fucking sound," he adds, dropping his voice to a threatening hiss before pressing the receiver to your ear. "Or I fucking stop. Do you understand?"

You do your best to nod, and he smiles before tapping the screen.

Through a slight quiver, you say, "Hello?"

"Hey! Long time no talk, babe. How are you?"

Your eyes just about pop out of your head.

Atta.

Her cheerful tone and eager greeting make the blood drain from your face as you look up at the man hovering above you.

"Speak," he mouths with a wicked grin while nodding his chin at you. 

But you can't. You physically cannot get the words to come out of your mouth as Harry keeps the device glued to the side of your head.

"H...hi," you stammer, forcing a more confident cadence. "I'm...good. How...how are you?"

"Oh, I'm good. Good, yeah," your sister replies, and you hear a bit of shuffling. "Been working a lot. Got today off, which is nice. God, you'd never believe how much shit we have to go through since we changed our filing system—"

"Mhm," you reply right as Harry rams his hips into yours.

You gasp and quickly turn your head away from the phone in an attempt to keep the excitable noise from making it into the microphone. 

However, he uses his other hand to grasp onto your jaw and force you back. "No," he whispers, shooting you a stern look of warning. "You know better."

"—which is wild because we've been using the same program since '08," Atta is saying, although you can hardly hear her over the imminent pleasure rushing through your veins. "But...whatever. Once we're done, it'll make things so much easier. Which will be nice. I can cut back on my hours—"

"Yeah, mhm," you repeat, and it's outrageously strained as Harry pulls himself out, leaving you depraved and so goddamn empty.

You have to fight the urge to cry out for him, glancing down at the string of arousal that follows his cock. And it's almost too much for you to handle as you greedily reach for him once more.

However, he bats your hands away and brings his free fingers from your chin to your clit, rubbing into the sensitive nerves until you arch up.

"—so, yeah. What about you?"

Your eyes squeeze shut as that tightly wound ball of pleasure in your stomach expands. "I'm...I...good. I'm...good. You know, not...not a lot going on. At the moment."

Harry smirks to himself before sinking all the way back in and thrusting up.

Your lip fights its way between your teeth and you writhe beneath his chest while praying for the strength to stay quiet.

"Well...I guess no news is good news, yeah?" she chuckles. "Oh, hey, speaking of which...I heard that Harry's in town."

That's not the only thing he's in. 

"Oh?" you squeak, placing a palm on Harry's chest almost as if in retaliation. "He is?"

"Yeah. Saw it on Facebook," she answers, and you hear her move around. "Figured he might try to reach out. I know you guys are still on good terms, right?"

"Me and Harry?" you repeat pointedly, garnering a curious look from the aforementioned man. "Uh...we're...yeah. I guess. But we’re not…that close."

He grins.

"Well...I just thought I'd let you know in case he does," she says, and your lashes flutter shut as the guilt begins to find you.

"Would it be weird...if he did?" you ask before the patterns being traced against your clit make you whimper.

Terrified, you quickly cough in an attempt at burying the sound, but Atta doesn't seem to hear. 

"I mean...maybe? I don't know. He and I are fine, I think. And I know you two were friends. I guess you could at least...check on him. Make sure he's doing okay."

"Yeah," you breathe, sneaking a glance up. "I'm...I'm sure he's doing just fine."

Harry smiles once more before moving his palm to your thigh and pressing it into the bed to spread you at a different angle. 

"I hope," Atta sighs. "Anyway, I wanted to call and check in. Just to make sure everything is going okay for you—"

"Mhm, yeah. I'm...I'm glad you did," you blubber while attempting to send Harry a pointed look. You're close. So fucking close, and if he keeps going...

"Are you sure you're all right? You sound a bit flustered—"

"Yes. Yes, yes, I'm..." Your head shakes quickly, nails scratching down Harry's chest in warning. He needs to stop. He needs to stop or you won't make it. "I'm fine. I'm...a little under the weather, but I'm—" 

Suddenly, he sheathes himself inside your cunt, face burying in your neck with a groan as your entire body shivers.

"Are you sure? You kind of sound like you're in pain—"

"Listen, Atta, I...I gotta go—" you gasp, so close to your orgasm that you can practically taste it. “I’m sorry—”

"Oh, yeah. Hey, text me, okay? Just let me know that you're all right—"

"Mhm, yeah, I will—fuck—"

It happens before you can stop it. Ripping through every muscle and fiber in your body as you rake your fingers down Harry's back and choke on a moan.

Thankfully for you, Harry has already ended the call and thrown the phone to the other side of the room so he can loop his arm beneath your hips and tug you up into his body.

"Go," he breathes. "Give it to me. Come on, little one. Just like that. Good fucking girl, just like that. Let me feel you—"

Your room fills with the sound of his name, dancing effortlessly between the whimpers that follow.

It feels like you've touched heaven. A sensation so overwhelming and euphoric that you don't even realize his hand has returned to your throat. Don't realize he's squeezing your neck in his tight fist as he comes, filling your cunt with everything he has to give you.

You don't even realize you can't breathe, but you love it. Love the way he presses his teeth into your shoulder and presses his body into your chest. Until you're trapped against the mattress while you live through the high. 

Every joint in your body aches. Radiating pain and pleasure all at once as you hook your leg over his hip and snake your arms around his neck.

And you keep him inside of you for what feels like hours. Even after you've regained a bit of consciousness. And a bit of common sense.

Perhaps the moment he pulls out, you'll realize the mistake you've made. You’ll realize that this isn't a secret you can keep. Or a choice that you can ever choose again. And maybe he’ll realize it, too.

But until then…

You’re happy to have your Harry back.

~ Masterlist

Taglist: @littlenatilda @prettythingsworld @heartateasee @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @monicaalexandraaa

@cinnamonone @triski73 @lemoncrushh @vamprry @lady-lamb21

@lillefroe @kirstiea05 @ribbonknives @lunaharrygurl @harringtonhundreds

@swiftmendeshoran @sundresstyles @eldahae @becauseheartsgetbroken-hs

@hannahdressedasabanana @sykostyles @lukesaprince @daphnesutton @love-letters-to-uranus

@lovrave @nuggetdean @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @babegoals @lc-fics

[asapeveryday]

night shift ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ p.b

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ pairing: paige bueckers x nurse!reader ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ warnings: oral sex, scisssoring, slight overstim ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ tl;dr: she's sick of waiting, and she doesn't care if you're fresh off of your shift---she just wants a taste. looks like you're working overtime. rainy day. dim lighting. couch sex. established relationship. ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ a/n: just some intimate sex with your gf who misses u. i haven't written enough established relationship stuff. unpopular opinion, but it can be more fun than the usual first-hookup stuff in most fics (mine included). also dim lighting is sooo sexy. thank u.

"paige, c'mon."

she's on you the minute you walk through the door, keys still in hand, hair wet from the rain you got caught in as you stepped out of your uber home.

"nah," she murmurs against your lips, "i've been waiting."

"paige." you groan, shuddering as her hands grip your ass through your scrubs. "really?"

"yes, really." she pouts, the way that always makes you either agitated or endeared. "you got paged this morning. we didn't get to finish."

"i told you i was on call." you say.

"and i told you that we'd pick up where we left off when your shift was over." she cocks her head.

it's hard to resist, that's for sure. she always knew how to turn you on to the max. look at her now, even with her stupid uconn hoodie from her college days, worn out boxers and messily tied back hair, she still looks like something you'd like to take a bite out of.

and she wasn't wrong---she had said that this morning, right after cornering you in your apartment's small kitchen.

her hands on either side of you as your back met the counter, her lips kissing you languidly, her fingers peeling your pyjamas off. you'd already fucked the night before, but you knew better than anyone that her sex drive was insatiable.

still, it couldn't be helped. your pager began to ring from your bedside table a few rooms over, and it took a whole lot of strength to pry her body off of you this morning.

she's back to kissing you now, softly, despite her impatience. she wants to enjoy it this time, take it slow. it's a nice change from her usual ferocity. you can't help but melt in her hands as one rubs your back and the other grips your rear.

her eyes are closed, her clear-framed glasses bump against your nose ever so slightly, and her lips are soft. she kisses you once, twice, three times, before her tongue finally makes an appearance.

you meet her half way, and suddenly you feel like you're folding into her against the warm, orange light of your living room. she's moving, you're following blindly. she makes these cute little noises, half-whimpers, as your teeth tug her bottom lip ever so slightly, as her tongue tickles the inside of your mouth.

when you part for air she's smiling, her eyes are looking at you with such tenderness. you're sure the look you give her is one of the same. it's hard not to, not with the way her cheeks are tinged pink, or how her lips glisten against the dim lamp light.

"so?" she raises an eyebrow, her voice raspy, quiet. "can we?"

"oh, paige." you frown. "i don't know. i'm still in my scrubs for crying out loud."

"okay. so take them off." she shrugs, and though her face is serious you can sense the comedy in her tone.

"and i'm all gross. y'know...hospital stuff. remember?" you raise a brow.

"we can shower. i could clean you off real good, actually." she hums, leaning in with a grin. "from the inside."

"ugh, gross paige." you snort, pushing her back. "that was not hot."

"shit, really?" she huffs. "i thought that one would work."

"we're definitely not showering together." you shake your head. "not after last time."

"come on, baby." she whines, arms wrapping around you again. "s' not my fault the shower door gave out."

"i told you not to put so much pressure on me!" you gasp. "i almost got a concussion, and i didn't even cum."

"you could face the other way this time?" she suggests.

"no shower." you say stubbornly, to which she simply sighs.

she just holds you against her, head leaning against yours. her fingers trace swirls and lines onto your spine, they trace the curves of the bones in silent appreciation. she's so warm. she smells like home, like fresh shampoo and lemon-vanilla deodorant.

"okay." she mumbles against your hair, uncaring of the horrors it may have seen on the job. she hides any dejection she may possess, she'd never pressure you, but you know she's dissapointed. after all, she's only been waiting all day.

"well, now that you've got me like this, we might as well." you sigh, faking some notion of nonchalance.

"you sure?" she breaks from you slightly so her eyes can meet yours.

"yes." you smile. "but still no shower."

"bed?" she chirps, her blue eyes excited, already sparkling the way they do when she has some game to play.

"i'm all gross."

paige chews her lip in thought. "couch?"

you glance at your couch, the one that's only seen a few elevated makeout sessions.

"okay." you hum. "couch it is."

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ

she doesn't care that your underwear is probably the ugliest pair you own---no, she doesn't give a damn. it's all gonna come off anyways.

your scrubs are on the floor, your granny panties caught at your ankles. your bra is pushed up, and her hands jiggle and squeeze your tits mindlessly as she watches how they move, lips bitten half raw.

she's straddling you on the couch, boxers riding high on her thighs, appreciating the way you look underneath her.

your hands trail up her body and under her hoodie. she shivers as your fingertips graze the soft expanse of her skin under the fabric. when you reach her chest and your palms meet bare mounds of flesh, you're pleased to feel she's gone braless. she seems happy enough herself, especially when you squeeze at her softly and pinch her nipples.

she gets off of you, throws the hoodie over her head and slips out of the boxers in a scrambled hurry as her clothes hit the floor. then she's back on the couch, grabbing your ankles and forcing them airborne before pulling you towards you.

"really?" you can't help but giggle at the sheer eagerness of every movement.

"yes, baby. really." paige's eyebrows furrow. "i've been pent up all day, waiting for yo ass to come home."

you don't get a chance to say anything before shes kneeling to meet your cunt, her tongue flatly licking a long stripe through you.

it's her impeccable intuition at work from then, the way she works you turns curt breaths to low whines. she eats you out like she's starving, and she probably is.

she kisses your inner thighs, your lips, your clit. the pressure is perfect, espcially when her kisses turn into sucking, her tongue swirling circles around the sensitive bud, coating you with saliva.

the noises are straight-up lewd as her tongue dips downward, teasing you. her glasses slide down the bridge of her nose and you know that when she's done with you they'll be covered in your slick.

you can see the clear lenses fogging up already as she breathes hard, nuzzling as deep as she can, occasionally glancing up at you tentatively, relishing how your chest heaves and your voice wobbles.

"fuck." you mewl.

"good?" she mumbles against you, her voice sending a dull hum through your core.

"so good." you nod vigorously, and you feel her teeth graze you as she smiles before her tongue is inside you again.

her thumb rubs circles on your clit as she shakes her head against you, kissing and sucking till you feel that familiar tension in your gut. before you know it you're jolting against her mouth, bucking and grinding. she lets you use her, expression glazed over as you take advantage of her open mouth. it's enough bring you to the edge, and when you cum she laps up every last drop.

"how you feelin'?" she says lowly, rising from your cunt. just as you predicted, her glasses are fogged up and clearly wet around the edges. she doesn't care, in fact she doesn't even take them off. she just wipes her mouth on the back of her hand, still kneeling on the couch.

"fantastic." you sigh, stretching your legs.

"good." paige smiles warmly. her hands grab your outstretched legs in an instant, forcing them open and keeping them in the air. "i think i can get one more out of you, hm?"

and who are you to complain?

she hooks one of her legs over you, and suddenly you know what she has in mind. your stomach flutters, already turned on again as she rises slightly and you catch sight of her cunt. she's sopping just from eating you out.

one of your legs hooks over her shoulder, the other outstreched on the couch as she kneels just above you, almost aligned. her free hand reaches down to touch herself, rubbing at her clit before collecting some of her slick with her two fingers.

you watch in awe as she collects what she can on the pads of her fingers, before lowering enough to connect the string of her arousal from her core to yours. you can't take your eyes off it, the way she spreads the remains of your cum with her own slick, the way she mixes the very being of hers with your own.

one hand spreads herself open, the other spreads you, and then she lowers, aligning as best as she can so that her clit rubs against yours.

and then she rolls her hips.

the friction is one you've missed, everything yet not enough. she's slow, too slow at first. you don't tell her to hurry up, you know this is for her own enjoyment now.

she bites her lip hard, the pink flesh chewed between her white teeth. her eyebrows scrunch in pleasure behind her slicked glasses, her eyes keep darting between your face and your cunt. her hips roll agonizingly slow, the noises of you and her together crinkling throughout the quiet of your apartment and the rain outside.

she keeps this excruciating pace for a bit until you notice the gradual speed she's building, an intentional buildup you can appreciate as the friction grows stronger. you're practically pulsing against her, stomach fluttering.

and then the pace is perfect, and her tits are moving as she ruts against you hard. your skin slaps against hers, her grip on your ankle tightens, your core tenses.

noises more than heavy breaths leak out of her pretty mouth, curses and whimpers as you start to aid her, grinding against her parted legs with whatever strength you can muster.

"fuck," she whines, eyes closes tight now, "shit, oh."

"don't stop." you beg, watching the way her toned stomach ripples with every roll of her hips against yours. she doesn't stop, doesn't let up in the slightest, and you cum for the second time with a jerk.

she keeps going, and you let her. your skin is absolutely buzzing with overstimulation as her grinding just doesn't stop. you can see the sheen of sweat that forms on her forehead and between her breasts as she squeaks and moans. finally, you feel her burst against you. it's a wet, soaking mess as she lets out a soft cry of satisfaction before she practically falls over you, head against your chest.

you're both sticky, panting messes. legs twitching, thighs cramped, skin tingling.

"i'm gonna need that shower." you groan.

"lemme join, please." she breaths against you. "no funny business this time."

"yeah, okay." you nod. "let's go?"

"not yet." she mumbles, pressing a soft kiss to the damp skin of your chest. her arms wrap around you, her legs stay uncomfortably tangled with yours.

"just a little longer." she hums, and you wrap your arms around her in return.

[rafesangelita]

hiii i might’ve sent this in already (you can just ignore this if i have) but i was thinking dealer rafe + sex pollen (like maybe a new drug he’s selling or something) possibly with dubcon?

warnings: dealer!rafe, kinda mean!rafe, reader is a stripper (you could read her lore here), brother’s best friend trope, dubcon (rafe drugs reader without her knowing), implied enemies, slut shaming (?), bratty behavior lol, rafe calls reader a bitch, rafe walks in on reader humping her pillow, manipulation, blackmail, oral (m. receiving), unprotected sex, rough sex, dirty talk, degradation, dumbification, hair pulling, pussy slapping, multiple orgasms, finger sucking, pull out method

a/n: i made a fic not too long ago with rafe on viagra lol, so this one will have the tables turned <3

wc: 3.3k

“are you sure this stuff even works?” rafe looked down at the little pink pill barry placed in his hand. “trust me, it does.” he winked, pulling the neckline of his shirt down to reveal the assortment of hickeys littered across his skin. “my girl nearly ate me up, country club.” rafe sighed through his nostrils. at least one of them was getting laid. rafe had been so busy lately, he felt like he couldn’t catch any downtime. between selling with barry and dealing with his own shit at home, having sex was the last thing on his mind. surprisingly.

“so.. what? we’re supplying this now?” rafe placed the pill in a small bag, his business partner shaking his head. “i’ll tell you what; you could try it out yourself and decide if you want to make a little bit of pocket change off of it.” barry winked. “and who the hell would i give this to?” just then, you walked through the door, your heels clacking with each step. you looked up at rafe and rolled your eyes. “does he not have a home? why does he always have to be here?” you walked past him, your perfume intoxicating rafe more than any drug him and barry had laid out on the table.

“nice to see you too.” rafe watched you walk down the hallway, your hips swaying deliciously in that mini skirt of yours. “watch those eyes.” barry nudged him. clearing his throat awkwardly, rafe pocketed the pills, knowing exactly who he was going to have the pleasure of trying them out on later. “look, i got some money waiting for me on the mainland, i was wondering if you could break all this stuff up and bag everything while i’m gone? i’ll throw you a few hundred if you do.” rafe nodded, not having anything else planned for the rest of the day. “thanks, man. i’ll be back in a few hours.”

with that, barry left, leaving you and rafe alone in his trailer. you had changed out of your outfit and into a pair of sleeping shorts, fuzzy slippers adorning your feet as you pulled a pink crop top over your head. rafe could hear your music playing from your room, the mere presence of you making it impossible for him to focus. “where did barry go?” you walked out, opening the fridge even though you knew it was empty. rafe looked back, swallowing thickly as he eyed your bare legs. “uhm— he said he needed to get some money on the mainland, so it’ll be a while before he comes back..”

you noticed the way rafe’s voice lowered at the last part of his sentence, his suggestive tone making you raise a brow. “oh, really?” you took a seat across from him, leaning forward as he glanced at your chest. he hummed, his leg bouncing as he tried his best to distract himself from the curves of your breasts spilling out of your top. “yeah.” he weighed out some blow before putting it in a small baggie. the only reason why rafe felt on edge around you was because he knew he couldn’t have you. you were aware of this, and in turn you made it really hard for him to resist you.

“so, uhh— how was work last night?” rafe needed to make conversation or he was going to become stuck fantasizing about those pretty nails of yours digging into his skin. “since when do you ask me about my job?” you giggled, twisting open your water bottle before taking a sip. “well i have to form some sort of imagination of the place since barry said it’s off limits and all.” rafe met your eyes momentarily. “so? is barry is your daddy or something?” you watched as rafe’s jaw ticked. he didn’t think hearing the word ‘daddy’ would sound so enticing leaving your mouth til’ now.

“no, but i wonder where yours is.” he shot back in an attempt to put a wall back up. “that makes two of us.” you laughed. rafe shook his head, a hint of a smile on his lips. “seriously though, i think you would like to see me perform..” you scooted closer to him, making rafe draw a sharp breath. barry would kill him if he tried to make any kind of move on you, let alone go to the club where you danced at. “yeah, right. your brother would really have it out for me if i did that.” rafe scoffed. with the way you were looking at him right now, he was starting to think fighting barry would all be worth it.

“what if i invited you? what would he say then?” you were dangerously close to him now, your breath fanning the side of his neck. rafe’s fingertips itched to touch you. just as rafe was about to fall into your trap, you whispered in his ear; “too bad i would never do that, though.” you got up, nudging his shoulder with a laugh. rafe glared at you.“that’s real funny, is that how you trick those poor old men into giving you money down there?” rafe snarked. “no. unlike you, they might get a kiss on the cheek.” you winked, getting your phone from your room.

rafe made sure you were out of sight before he took the pink pills out of his pocket. throwing a couple in your water bottle, rafe shaked it until they fully dissolved. maybe he shouldn’t have done that, but you did have a point in what you said earlier. what if you came onto him, and not the other way around? “how long are you going to be here?” you came back, chugging the water bottle before plopping down on the couch. well, that was easy. “just until i’m done with all of this.” rafe muttered, the sight of your ass peeking out from under your shorts making him wet his bottom lip.

for the longest time, you had always been the forbidden fruit, the one thing he could never have. and he hated it. “well get on with it.” rafe swore you had enough sass for the entire island to have some. ignoring your comment, rafe got back to work, the sound of the tv providing background noise for the two of you. about fifteen minutes passed, and rafe could see you squirming from the corner of his eye. you looked bothered, your thighs rubbing together as rafe fixed his attention on you. “you alright over there?” you sighed, flashing him a look as you crossed one leg over the other.

“m’fine!” you were so sexually frustrated right now, it was like a wave of lust had just washed over you. rafe watched the way your eyes fluttered closed, your chest rising and falling with every breath. “are you sure?” rafe spoke again, and this time the sound of his voice made butterflies swarm your tummy. opening your eyes, you leaned the weight of your head on one hand, inspecting the man who sat not too far away from you. while there was always a tension there between you two, you couldn’t deny just how handsome he was. blue eyes, sharp features that made him look rough, his shoulders..

you shook the thoughts out of your head. leaving the living room with a sigh, you threw yourself on your bed. with each aching minute that passed, you only grew hotter for the man in your living room. you cursed under your breath, making sure the blanket you had hung up in your doorway was blocking all view from the outside before you grabbed your small pillow, tucking it between your legs as you grinded your hips into the soft material. with your shorts and your underwear in the way, it was hard to get any of the friction you needed. “fuck!” you whimpered in frustration.

‘what the fuck is wrong with me?’ you cried, feeling the most neediest and horniest you’ve ever felt in your life.. and that’s saying a lot. you continued rocking your hips on the playboy logo of a pillow, sitting up so you could rut against it shamelessly. your fingers dug into your sheets as your clit barely grazed where you needed it most. a moan slipped from your lips, the sound catching rafe’s attention. he paused all movements, his cock stirring in his pants when he heard another moan, this time followed by a whine. rafe listened to you until he couldn’t sit there any longer.

creeping up to the entryway of your room, rafe swung your makeshift curtain out of the way, revealing the sexiest sight he’s ever seen. there you were, shorts and underwear long forgotten on your bedroom floor as your teeth pulled on your bottom lip. “what the fuck are you doing?” you gasped, your eyes shooting open as you rushed to cover yourself. “what the hell, rafe!” you shrieked, scrambling underneath your bedsheets. “humping a pillow, y/n? how pathetic do you have to be to do that?” you glared at him, your lips parting slightly at the erection in his pants.

“i—” you couldn’t find your words, your cheeks heating in embarrassment. “what would barry think of this if i told him?” rafe stepped closer, “he already thinks you’re a slut for being a stripper, imagine if i told him you were humping your pillow like a dumb bunny while i was just in the next room? he’d hate you.” your heart dropped at his words, panic settling in the pit of your gut. “no, please, don’t tell him!” you sat up, tears pricking your eyes as rafe took a seat at the edge of your bed. “i don’t know what’s happening to me, okay? i’ve never felt like this before!” you cried out.

“what do you mean?” rafe acted coy, as if he didn’t just drug you with enough horny pills to keep you soaked and needy for days. “i’m just— ugh, you’re the last person i should be explaining this to!” you rested your head in your hands, the wetness between your thighs making you shift uncomfortably. “tell me,” rafe urged, “or you’ll be stuck explaining this to your brother..” he shook his head, resting a hand on your blanket-clad thigh. the weight of rafe’s hand made a shiver run down your spine. “okay, okay..” you sighed, finally meeting his eyes. “one minute i was fine, and then the next.. i’m like this.”

rafe watched the way you shrunk in on yourself, your eyebrows etched in embarrassment. the way you were acting right now was such a stark contrast to your usual bitchy attitude. “like what?” rafe pushed forward, wanting, begging you to confide in him to help you out with your little problem. your lips parted, your gaze shooting down to the adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. oh, how bad you wanted to kiss it. “like..” your voice was barely above a whisper as rafe slowly pulled the covers off of you, “like i need to be fucked.” rafe’s eyebrows knitted together, your words making his cock twitch.

“sucks to be you.” rafe stood up, about to leave your room before you stopped him. “wait!” you cried out, “where are you going?” you crawled to the edge of your bed, fisting the back of his shirt. rafe smiled to himself, internally singing before he turned around to see you on your knees, your eyes wide and needy as you gazed up at him. “what? i’m leaving.” rafe pulled away, in which you shook your head. he was having way too much fun right now. “no!” you pulled him down, “please stay..” you looked down at his lips, running your nails across the back of his neck. “help me, help you.”

rafe leaned in first, taking your lips with his own as you moaned against his mouth. “you’re gonna help me, alright.” he pulled you on top of his lap, your thighs settling on either side of his waist as he fought to take off your baby tee. lifting your arms up, rafe groaned when your tits fell softly out of your top. tossing the garment aside, you let out a moan when rafe attached his desperate mouth to your sensitive bud, his tongue circling your nipple as you held him close to your chest. you moaned with every stroke of his hands against your skin, your hips grinding on his erection.

“holy, fuck!” rafe pulled away for a moment, looking down between the two of you where you grinded on his shorts. you were so wet, you left a wet patch where you rutted against him. leaning back on his hands, rafe watched as you used him to get yourself off, your glossy cunt sparkling underneath the light of the setting sun filtering through your blinds. you were so pretty like this, rafe felt like he could cum from looking at your pleasure filled face alone. “does that feel good?” rafe groaned when you picked up your pace, his length just throbbing to get out of the confines of his underwear.

“mm, fuck— yes, rafe!” you kept moving until your hips stuttered, your first orgasm hitting you pathetically as you whimpered and whined for something more. still shaking in the aftershocks of your orgasm, you got down on shaky legs, not wasting any time in getting rafe’s shorts off. you were so desperate for his cock, rafe smirked when he saw the way your eyes widened when his length sprung up against his stomach. just as you reached for what you needed most, rafe stopped you by grabbing your hand. “nah, you don’t get it that easy,” he shook his head, “lay down.”

those were his last words before he had you laying flat on your bed, your head hanging off the edge as he fucked your throat mercilessly. “thought you were just gonna get what you wanted, huh? fuck no.” he said through gritted teeth. tears were streaming down your face, the noises bouncing off of the walls right now were nothing short of obscene. “always walking around here acting like a spoiled brat, fuck you.” rafe spat, the tip of your nose hitting his pubic bone. he held your hands in his, not allowing you to have any leverage as he fucked your face.

your tongue was dancing around his cock, the sensation bringing him closer to that glorious edge. “o-oh, fuck..” rafe sucked in a breath, stilling as you swallowed around his tip. pulling out to give you some air, you managed to gasp before he slid back in, a mixture of spit and precum connecting you two together. “m’gonna fuck this pretty little mouth of yours until you choke..” his hand snaked down to the apex of your thighs where he gave your soaked folds a harsh slap. you squealed at the stinging sensation, his cock continuously hitting the back of your throat.

sure enough, you gagged around him, his hot cum painting your tongue. rafe doubled over with a hiss, his mouth falling open as you took every last drop. “that’s perfect. yeah, fuckin’ take it.” rafe slapped your cunt once more, eliciting a whine from your lips as he pulled away. you were breathless, your wrists burning from the unforgiving grip rafe had on them. in one swift movement, rafe flipped you onto your back, using his large hands to pin your thighs to your mattress. “beg for it, you fucking slut.” rafe teased your entrance with his glistening tip, your eyebrows knitting together at his cruel ministrations.

“please! i need you so bad, ray!” fuck, you were a mess right now. with your lipgloss smeared all over your chin, those tear stained cheeks, and disheveled hair.. rafe couldn’t help but admire the sight. everything rafe wanted was so close, yet so far, he wanted to drag this out for as long as possible. who knew when you would be so needy and pliant for him like this again? “really? i don’t think so.” he quipped. letting out a shaky breath, you reached down between the two of you and lined him up with your entrance before sliding him in with a pierced gasp.

rafe’s eyes screwed shut, his hips moving on their own accord as he finally gave in to you. the man on top of you was in a daze. you were so warm, and so wet, he didn’t know how he was going to pull through with the way you were sucking him in with every thrust. “fuck.” he leaned down, taking your lips with his own. he tasted so good on your tongue, you wrapped your arms around his neck as he fucked into you. his pace was brutal, his toned stomach smacking against your clit as you moaned in his ear. “oh, my god!” you couldn’t help your nails from raking down his back.

“look at you..” he pulled away, grabbing a fistful of your hair so you can meet his eyes. “you’re just a bimbo whore with tits for brains, you know that?” you whimpered at his words, the degrading statement only making you clench around him tighter. rafe groaned, he should’ve known you’d be into that shit. unpinning your thighs from your bed, you wrapped your legs around his waist as he caged you between his arms, his biceps on either side of your face. he was a lot closer like this, the intimacy of it making your heart flutter in your chest. “i always thought you were h-hot.” you managed to mewl.

“yeah?” he inserted a thumb between your lips, your tongue circling around his finger. “mhmm— yes!” rafe watched with dark eyes as you started sucking on the digit. “why the fuck didn’t you said anything then? we could’ve done this a lot sooner, baby.” he tsked. pulling his hand away from your mouth, he replaced his thumb with his lips, swallowing all of your pretty sounds. cupping his face, you pulled away with a bated breath, your orgasm beginning to simmer in your core. “rafe?” your face morphed into one of full blown pleasure, your eyebrows knitting together as rafe stared you down.

“you’re close?” he could tell by the way your thighs trembled at his sides that you were about to hit your peak. you nodded weakly, your eyes meeting his as he watched you come undone beneath him. you paused, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as your lips parted in a silent moan. rafe knew as soon as you were able to get a breath out you were going to be in hysterics. sure enough, you gasped, a sob ripping from your throat as your body shook. from your head to your toes, you were buzzing in pure bliss. rafe stroked your face, bringing you down from your high with whispers of praise.

“so fuckin’ pretty.”

“shhh, i’m right here.”

you embraced him once more, pressing a kiss to his neck before he pulled out, using a hand to fist his length until he spilled onto your folds. you pouted, your teary eyes gazing up at him through your eyelashes. “why didn’t you stay inside?” you whined, the man on top of you breathing heavily. “w-what?” he panted, his cock twitching with sensitivity. “i wanted you to cum inside me, why did you pull out?” rafe did a double take at your words, his mind reeling with ideas of filling you up. “you’d be okay with that?” a hint of a smile played on his lips when you hummed in agreement. “wanna go again?”

you two were so busy building up foreplay, that neither of you heard the front door open. “i forgot my stupid wallet!” barry shouted. you moaned, your hips chasing rafe’s hand as he buried his fingers in your cunt. “did you hear that?” rafe froze, looking at the doorway of your room. “it’s nothing, i left the tv on, remember!” you turned his attention back on you, both of you laughing against each other’s skin. “y/n, have you seen my—” you and rafe jumped when barry barged in, a scream escaping you as you scrambled to cover yourself.

“i’m gonna fuckin’ kill you, country club!”

[prismkith]

arcane req teehee

any arcane characters you want (women+ please) with a partner that's a little weird/otherworldly. just a bit of a strange person ygwim

“Don't mistake me for the wind when she blows” 

Arcane women with a weird/otherworldly partner!!

Pairings: Caitlyn, Jinx, Vi, Sevika

Caitlyn:

-Finds it absolutely adorable. 

-With all the shit she has to deal with, being an enforcer and detective, and now practically one of the leaders of Piltover, your strange habits and anecdotes help bring color back into her world. 

-Loves coming home from a stressful day of work to find you in your own little world. Her shoulders immediately drop and her face softens, wrapping her arms around you and asking you what you’ve been up to, ready to listen to you go on and on about your strange little adventures.

-Once looked outside her window to see you barefoot with your pants rolled up to your knees, standing ankle-deep in a pond. Eyes closed, face blank and arms crossed just standing there in the water. When she asked you why you were standing dead still in a pond for thirty minutes you just replied “felt stressed” and shrugged your shoulders like it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. 

Vi: 

-Was a little weirded out at first. She didn’t really understand what you were talking about half the time, and definitely labeled you as an airhead before she got to know you.

-Eventually, she began to slightly match your energy. You say some odd shit like “I wish we were two birds so we could sit on a branch together and sing all day” to which she’d reply “Type shit” and nod in agreement. 

-This girl is a WHORE for physical touch, not even sexual touch. Just any contact of your skin on hers. One time you decided to take a nap while she was sitting next to you on the couch, and without saying anything you put your feet on her lap so you could spread out but still be touching her while you slept and she literally melted. Girlie's heart exploded on the spot. 

-Loves to join you on little adventures. One time you asked if she wanted to join you in the woods to look for a really good stick. Like one of those big smooth sticks where you see them and go “damn that’s a nice stick”. She obviously said yes on the spot. 

Jinx: 

-Your twin flame. Absolute soulmates. 

-Didn’t question your quirks ONCE. In fact, she almost out-weirds you sometimes. You walked into her hideout to find her attempting to balance a stack of crackers on her forehead while in her underwear once so needless to say you’ve met your match. 

-Not super huge on physical affection especially at first, but loves it when you do the thing where you lay on her chest but you crawl inside her hoodie/t-shirt so your basically cuddling while connected to the max. 

-You two are never sitting where you should be and everyone else has coined it as “your thing”. Like for example, if you two are hanging out at the last drop you are both sitting on top of the table, rather than in the chairs or on bar stools and everyone just accepts it. You two regularly hang out on the ceiling rafters wherever you are, and If you knew each other before Silco’s death you definitely startled him more than once by doing so. (when he first saw you and Jinx together his first thought was literally “Jesus christ theres two of them”.

Sevika:

-Gonna be totally honest, she thought you were fucking annoying at first. 

-Like to be fair she had to deal with Jinx’s antics for years, so when you came along shawty was drained. 

-Nonetheless, you captured her heart anyway. She doesn't make fun of you per se, but imagine that one meme that goes “Do you ever think the wind is trying to tell us something we don't know how to hear anymore?” “I just want you to stop saying odd shit”. That's your dynamic. (secretly finds your quirks adorable but would never ever admit it) 

-God forbid anyone else say anything even slightly condescending to you, though. She does NOT play about you, you're literally the light of her life, and as much as she gets sick and tired of your habits, she is the ONLY one allowed to feel that way. Has beaten multiple people to a pulp for saying slightly passive-aggressive things to you. 

-Despite her slightly detached and no-bullshit personality, you know she loves you no matter what. She may not verbalize it much, but the way she shows you off is enough for you to know. Whenever you're out together she always has an arm around your waist or has you sitting on her thigh. Anything to proudly show off and announce that you're hers and only hers.

_______________________________

A/N: LOVVVVED THIS REQUEST! As a certified "interesting critter" myself i luv a good weird partner headcanon. Also this was my first time ever writing headcanons so go easy on me TT im still finding my bearings writing for characters lol. constructive criticism always appreciated!!

[pink7princess]

can you imagine?

a long day of teasing leads to such mean missionary.

┊͙ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ content: degradingyetlovingdom!abby (blue collar abs, i wrote her as a brat tamer…like omg i’m drooling) comes home to her wife—bratty :D femmesub!reader!! this fic includes, strap face-fucking, a shit ton of spit, kinda some size-kink, spitting, loads of teasing, fingering, strap-on missionary, some slapping? & the best of all time, the glorious breeding kink!! mating press :o, referring to strap as cock/dick and use of slut, brat & calling abby “mommy” cuz periodddd

┊͙ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ authors note: i made dis crazy fic…and uh it’s freaky as fuck…BUT IT’S because i NEED her babies chat!!!! and don’t we all?? this is just ovulation/whore hours hope u like how nastyyyy this is mmppghghh

the room is cool with the July night air as the windows are creaked open, the whistling wind soothing your mind. the shadows, a deep blue hue, glow with the creamy gleam of the moonlight peeking through the billowing curtains, and here you are—laying in the beams of the night sky, waiting for your wife to…fuck your fertile cunt.

it’s pretty damn late.

you’re wearing a silky pink gown.

spaghetti straps and a loose deep collar—cleavage all on display, enticing the chance of a tit slipping out. the lace trimming of the bottom edges of your gown brush against your thighs, making you shiver with each passing second.

you adjust the blankets, lifting them to uncover your body since it was beginning to get so hot with the soon to come summer heat. the gentle breeze blows up your gown, shit, you squirm, the wetness between your legs shining as…you aren’t wearing panties.

your pussy is bare—not that abby doesn’t like hair—she just gets so fucking turned on when she sees all of your pussy lips and mound slick with your wetness…the idea of you being so sexually attracted to her makes her lose her mind.

speaking of abby—she’s working late tonight. terribly late. currently, it’s at least 2am. fuck.

this week…has been hell.

literal hell.

you’re ovulating.

badly.

you haven’t had sex in about a month.

and today…you’ve constantly been thinking about abby.

so instead of keeping to yourself and asking nicely, the person you are…just doesn’t allow that. you eventually broke, leading you to sext her all evening.

you teased her.

a little too much.

“Miss you so bad Mommy”

“So sad my wife’s working too hard to come fuck me”

“Need you so deep right now baby”

unbeknownst to you and all your silly games...you pissed her off.

—since that’s not all you sent.

some pretty nudes.

cheeky voice messages.

incredibly insane things you should not receive at work.

the pictures, audios…there were tame ones in morning, intense ones at lunch, and then evening…you don’t wanna know.

abby was so caught off guard.

—her clit…ended up constantly jolting throughout the day everytime her phone dinged, anticipating whether whatever notification was a text from you or not.

god, this fucked with abby all day.

and man, you used vibrators all day and that did not completely satisfy you.

you texted her one last time earlier, about an hour ago—

“I want your babies so bad, baby.”

you sent it and haven’t checked your phone once.

you’ve never said anything like that to her.

ever.

your mind is foggy with abby. you still crave her calloused hands all over tits and hips—thick fingers in your mouth, around your throat, in your hair, anywhere just…simply on you.

your eyes are fighting fatigue as they flutter close continuously, the image of abby on you plaguing your mind and you know you have to last a little longer.

…however, you know you can’t hold up…surely, since your own breathing seems to be relaxing you further.

damn it—you finally give in to the absolute peacefulness in the air…brain calming enough to fall sweetly asleep.

~~~ ⚢ ~~~

gladly, before you know it, the click of your bedroom door chimes your mind awake.

you blink discreetly, a small smile immediately appearing on your lips. there’s soft shuffling heard—followed with the kicking of shoes off and a deep exhale. the quiet tension, silence, suddenly makes your heart race.

abby’s quiet and gentle voice pierces the air, “Look who it is.”

her burning gaze is completely on you and you can feel it. you pretend to still be sleeping, shifting as if the sound of her voice made you only stir.

abby makes her way to the side of bed, pulling the blankets further off you, inspecting your body. she mumbles with a chuckle and an agitated hiss of a whisper, “…And the little slut put on my favorite fucking outfit.”

her hands trace your plump thighs, admiring what’s hers—carefully, fingertips light enough to keep her eager distance. she sighs heavily, eyes trailing your sleeping body. she takes a seat on the edge of the bed, right next to you—making it bounce slightly with her weight of pure muscle, “Baby,” abby shakes you by your shoulder gently, “I’m back.”

you stretch softly as you blink, inhaling with a smile which grows too quick, undeniably teasing how you were definitely not asleep this entire time, “hi, abby.”

she scoffs, hand trailing from your shoulder to grope your nape roughly—an annoyed breathless laugh filling the inches she closes by moving in, and shit, she isn’t playing around. “Don’t hi me.”

“why not?” you giggle with a smug smile, your pretty face twisting with mockery, only fueling her anger further.

you try to lean up onto your elbows with your cheeky grin all on display in an attempt to give her a little kiss—which is unfortunately cut short as abby pounces at you and immediately shoves your shoulders back down with her large hands, “Uh-uh.” she states with a certain sternness that makes your pussy drip, “You really think you’re going to do anything after all those things you sent?” she gawks at your features with her hot breath fanning on your lips as she shakes her head disapprovingly, “Never have I gotten that worked up.” abby’s voice rumbled, making you bite your lip with a huge smile as one of her hands move down along your waist, “I hope you waited patiently all day.“

…you know you didn’t.

why would you?

come on, when you have a girlfriend like abby—someone so generous to give you so much freedom on buying endless things online…of course a couple sex toys would obviously be at the top of your list.

you tilt your head with a mischievous glint in your eye—“maybe i did…maybe i didn’t...” her eyes widen with a jealous smile, voice raising with a playful shock, “No fucking way.” she licks her lips with eyebrows knitted in disbelief before bursting with a mean laugh, “You mean to tell me,” she starts, looking around the messy bedsheets, poking her inner-cheek with her tongue as she notices a vibrator near her own fucking pillow, “You got to play with yourself…while you were teasing the shit out of me all damn day?”

you playfully shrug with a crimson blush, remembering how loud you were moaning all alone in the house earlier. “some of us get lucky to have fun, abby, and you…oh…you didn’t. you couldn’t.” you pout playfully—smug smirk reappearing, craving that furrow of abby’s brow when you say anything remotely shitty.

“You cruel, cruel, woman.” one of abby’s hands move to your throat—cautiously, as she leans in close, eyes piercing yours intensely, “You know,” you can hear her gritted teeth of smile in her husky voice, “I can drag it out,” you raise your eyebrows slightly, paying attention to the way her breath wafts over your lips, heightening your curiosity.

“All night. Never let you cum.”

you writhe in her hold, feeling slight discomfort in the idea of not being rewarded the orgasm she always allows. abby chuckles softly, her huge frame moving to fully be on top of you, thick thighs—clothed with her rough jeans, encaging you. she hums at your shifting, “..No, no,” like you’re a fucking puppy. like a stupid dumb puppy. how mean.

but, oh, it turns you on more than anything. how carefully assertive she can be.

“When you do things like this to me—” abby starts, a grimace appearing on her face as she leans up, now sitting on your body, ass keeping your thighs down, “You’re gonna be sorry for it.” your eyes follow her movements, watching her braid flop behind her as she pulls her thick black jacket off, the zipper chiming.

“sorry for what? sending pretty little photos of me?—aw, did it get under your skin, big girl?” your pouty lips purse with such an evil chuckle, beaming smile shining right back at abby as your hands crawl up her shirt. you nod slowly with such a condescending tone, “big girls shouldn’t get affected like that, abby. come on, what’re you, a baby? a stupid big baby?”

ugh, you love the way her eyes glint with such a murderous amount of annoyance when you purposely tease her. saying the dumbest shit you can think of.

abby grips your wrists harshly, so suddenly, swift like a wolf—voice dropping to a harsh whisper of a breath as she leans back down, tone—low, mean and blunt, only inches away from your face, “If you keep talking like that—I’ll fuck your slutty pussy so hard, so sore, so bruised, you’ll call me tomorrow mid-day and beg for me to come and do it all over again.” her big hands take hold of yours, now gently—almost as a warning, moving them to your sides as she shoves your sleepgown up slowly.

your eyes sparkle at her words, the imagery making your heart race with excitement. you bite your lip with an idea, the eager need to piss her off causes you to act out in a way where you don’t even wanna see how this ends. “i’d love to see you try to stop making me talk the way i want, abs.”

abby’s hands trail up your bare waist, fingers pushing your gown up to your neck, your bare hardening nipples enticing her more than ever, “I always forget I need to fuck this attitude out of you, you little brat.”

bingo.

your head hangs off the edge of the bed, body bare and spread, thighs wet with your leaking arousal. your doe eyes gawk up at abby, who’s terrifyingly huge frame is in front of you, big dark strap poking against your cheek, “You sexy, sexy girl—fucking this slutty bratty throat might remind you shit you do and say can have some pretty bad consequences.” abby’s hand roughly grabs your head of hair as she bucks her hips forward—strap probing beyond your lips, pushing past slow along your tongue. although abby can’t feel any of this, the control just reminds her she can treat you however she wants since anything you do…is just eye-candy to her.

your face grows with an eager big grin, loving how abby’s fingers intertwine with your hair, mean but in a way caring. as you feel the tip of her cock drive against the roof of your mouth continuously, your spit coats the head and the first couple inches. abby purrs with a sudden softening seductive tone, other hand caressing your jaw lovingly, “…But you love these consequences though, hmm, baby?” you nod sweetly, pretty eyes dreamily wide as they trail abby’s intimidating completely naked body. she mutters quietly, eyes wandering your delicate frame, “So cute and gorgeous, all for me.” abby’s tits looked so good and softly plump in the gleaming moonlight. her huge hand presses against your nape with more force, holding you with a tighter grip as she goes further into your mouth—shaft intruding past pouty lips, the head hitting the back of your throat, making you abruptly gag.

the sound makes abby chuckle sadistically, noticing how badly it made her clit flutter. the noise is…enough to egg her on to continue the cruel pace, and gosh—trust me, she isn’t a monster. there’s a good reason she’s convinced herself with—you, her sweet girl, who hasn’t been very nice today needs to be taught a lesson because how else are you gonna learn with your stubborn behavior?

“Alright, let’s get it so nice and wet.” she mumbles with a heavy gaze, adoring the way your tits bounce with each pipe of her hips—ones that are hard, the tip entering down your throat for a millisecond, so much easier than expected. fuck, your stomach suddenly flinches with every movement as your mouth is beginning to resist. you splutter around the rubber, eyes winding shut. abby grunts with a loud excited laugh, “Shit—that’s what I like to hear.”

abby slams even rougher into your mouth with a cocky bite of her tongue, large hands gripping your head so harshly as if it was your hips. you whine around the strap, sounds becoming incoherent with bubbling spit. abby chuckles lowly, tone so playful and brutally wicked, “Aw, the pretty girl can’t talk back anymore, can she?” abby’s gaze falls to your face—noticing your eyes brimming with tears—causing her own to glint with pure cruel satisfaction. the sight of you makes her pussy throb as your hands slowly slap at her thighs—which you stupidly shouldn’t have done, leading her press the entire strap completely down your throat. for that split second, your nose grinds against the base of the strap, getting through to rub so well on abby’s pronounced clit. she wrinkles her eyebrows with a squeak of a moan, the feeling of dominance definitely contributing an extra amount of how fucking good it feels to do this to you after a long day of being wrapped around your finger.

shit…she’s close enough for you to smell the arousal between her thighs.

no matter how rough abby is, you’ll always crave how relentless she is.

..because in the end,

you’ll always get what you want since she can’t resist.

you beg, your whimpers now growing to loud gurgles as you choke on her strap, suddenly feeling your stomach nervously begin to falter with each shove of abby’s strap. blinking is hard, spit, spit and spit—is all over your fucking face. shit, this still…feels so good to be used like this. like a fuck-toy. by abby. knowing she’s enjoying this is absolutely so sexy. abby giggles with a pant—catching how shitty she’s being with you. she slows her thrusts, acknowledging the revelation that you hit your limit with your pathetic gag-reflex. abby’s lips curl into such a power-hungry lip bite, her movements growing languid. she glares down at you with such a content groan, loving at how fucking nasty you look—your half-lidded eyes, lips, cheeks, lashes smeared with dripping spit.

abby springs her dick out of your mouth—pressing it against your nose and cheek now, allowing you to painfully gasp for air. you pant heavily, choking on your stuffy nose, noting your tears streaming into your hairline and drool dribbling up your nose…abby coos with a smug laugh and intrigued smirk, her braid bouncing on her bare shoulder, “Come on, where’s that snarky girl gone?” abby gets slightly distracted, mischievous eyes wandering your lower-half as you lean up with a pout. your chest heaving as you rub your foggy eyes, feeling a little ashamed for how much spit there was everywhere. a little even pooled between you and abby on the floor. you glance up at abby, expecting a disgusted scowl—but you’re met with her face glowing. eyes predatory with greed. fuck. this is gonna be so fun if you keep it up. you readjust yourself to sit on the edge of the bed, fully turned to abby. your hand unconsciously moves to stroke her strap—feeling how disgustingly drenched it was with your frothy spit.

you sigh with a shaky whimper, “my fucking god, abby, you’re so damn dumb for this.” she moves forward, half-listening to you as her eyes wander your body. abby’s hand suddenly moves to tilt your chin up towards her, examining your red puffy lips—replying with a sing-song manner, “Hey, this isn’t for me. Sucking the strap has nothing to do for me but everything to do for you.” in fact, it does have everything to do with her. the control, the view and the need for the preparation as lube. she loves trying to get inside your head. abby’s big hands grip onto your shoulders, slowly laying you back. she gently parts your legs, fingers brushing along your sensitive thighs, making your neck tense slightly from how cool the soft covers are—reminding you there’s still more to come than your mouth being used.

abby’s strong hands rub up and down your legs, thighs to your calves as she places herself between you—her devilish smile appearing once more, “I want you to understand you can’t bite off more than you can chew.” you raise your eyebrows with an astounded giggle, baffled by her “oh-so” menacing words. you shove abby’s hands off your legs with a sassy eye roll, “god—abby, you think you can do anything you want just cause your bigger than me, don’t you?” abby tsks with an agitated exhale, feeling her chest tighten for how you suddenly questioned her authority. she slowly grabs her strap and places the tip on your folds, allowing it to graze your clit as she leans back down—huge hands by your head, ruffling the sheets. her bright blue eyes manage to shine in the dark room, smug gaze piercing right through yours. abby’s voice is breathless and confident, “You wanna try me, brat?”

her hot breath on your lips makes you flinch.

“Answer me.” abby’s face contorts into a mean cocky grin, the tension creating a tenseness in your chest you love.

your smile gradually grows, eyes wandering her features with a new gleam of boldness, “your muscles don’t impress me, abby. you got nothing.”

let’s see what she’ll do.

abby tilts her head with a challenge, unsettling smile—softening, “You think that? That my muscles have anything to do with this?”

you nod with a little smirk, eyes falling between your bodies with a soft wince, noticing how easily the strap is grinding against your puffy sensitive clit.

“My fucking arms don’t know your sweet spots. Don’t know the way you whimper like a pathetic mess when you cum.” abby’s hand crawls down to rest against your cheek. the heat of her tip winding against your soaked folds slower and slower makes you unconsciously groan under your breath. “Do you think my arms know that, you fucking slut?” one small slap. light. her thumb brushes over your lip, voice dropping to a mean whisper, “Do you?” your eyes avoid hers as you writhe from the intense warmth between your legs. second slap, a little harder but full of force. your eyes jolt wider as her hand suddenly grips your cheek and jaw roughly, drawing your attention back to her.

you’re clearly trying to ignore her on purpose since the small grin on your face seems to be holding back laughter—and abby can tell. she seems to ponder for a second or two, head of full of ideas and…definitively picks one. one you can’t resist. her voice is stern, commanding and not the littlest bit kind, “Open your mouth.” you shake your head no with taunt, body language clearly intrigued in more-so the strap than her. abby presses your cheeks harder, giving up after letting you have a chance to do it yourself. she prys your lips open, strong fingers forcefully pushing against the sides of your soft face, hard enough to feel them against your damn upper molars.

“Say ah, right now.” your eyes glimmer the moment you see her pursing her lips, gathering spit.

your cheeks suddenly strain against her fingers, moving into a wide smile with all your own doing. abby allows her spit to leave her mouth in a slow manner, a long string dripping from her lips as she raises her head slightly to let it descend in a controlled motion.

it hangs almost calmly, falling into your warm mouth, meeting the flat of your tongue sweetly. abby demands with a now relaxed smile, so proud and glad of your abiding—her voice, thick with care and approval, completely different as to earlier, “Good job, baby,” she coos, “Now swallow it and tell me the way I fuck you is like nothing else.”

you smack your lips with no hesitation, half-ignoring her as you gulp her warm delicious spit down with one swift head nod. your smile grows beautifully after getting to taste a flavor you absolutely love. you grin cheekily, playfully rolling your eyes and giving in, “fine, fine—fine. abby. your pretty self fucks me better than anything.”

abby bites her lip at your words, the sight definitely proving you just hit a nerve inside her—well, a good one of course, one that makes her ask the next question,

“So, do you wanna be good girl for me and take my dick?” abby’s lips fall to your neck as she resumes her grinding of her hips, the sudden movement of the thick shaft gliding between your slit makes you gasp with a little snicker.

“maybe, abby.” you tease, tongue drawing against her freckled cheekbone with a playful grunt—noticing her big hands wandering your inner thighs, purposefully spreading the tender meat there. the terribly hot sensation between your legs is making you feel a little out of it, and shit, you groan quietly, eyes clenching shut, savoring the feeling of her strong comforting body on yours.

abby slides the tip against your clit, laughing loudly in the crook of your neck—really noticing how you absolutely need no lube, “You are so fucking wet.” she groans as if she could feel it, lips trailing across your collarbone, “You gonna make pretty sounds for me when I bury my big cock deep inside you?”

you nod with a sweet smile of content at her naughty words, hands wandering her shoulders and neck—giggling with surprise as her sudden thick fingers slide against your pussy, replacing her strap.

her ring and middle finger gently plunge into your sopping puckered hole, causing you to gasp from how sensitive and how good it feels after not having felt any part of her in so long. your lips part, a little squeak leaving your mouth, almost in awe, truly remembering how thick her fingers really are. abby’s digits scissor slowly within you, her lips immediately locking onto yours, engulfing your small moans—intense gaze watching your every movement. abby’s braid brushes along your chest, making you notice your skin’s sensitivity is heightened to the max. abby’s voice is a breathless whisper against your lips, reassuring but in such an assertive way, “Mhm, mhm, lemme stretch your tight little pussy out for a second.” you whine with a little sob, clenching around her fingers as she increases her pace. her fingers curl harshly inside you, waving against your g-spot over and over, palm grinding against your soaked hot nub as she leans up to kiss the side of your temple reassuringly.

“—god, abby—abby, abby, abby..” you whimper, body suddenly tensing, making you bite down on your bottom lip. your breath grows haggard, hand moving to grip her wrist, seeking to feel her movements beneath your fingertips. you moan with a squeal as her fingers ram into you with a gradual consistency that allows your wetness to slowly drip down her fingers—making way to her knuckles. you whine even louder, hips bucking against her hand, causing your words to hitch with little grunts, “fuck—abby—abby, fuck—!” she leans near your ear, abruptly licking the sensitive skin on your neck, husky voice complete with taunt, “Abby?” she chuckles, craving the need to suck on your throat to see you wince even more, “—That’s not my name.”

you groan with a defeated whine, your needs doing the talking for you, “—i want you inside me, please,” you pant—chest beginning to heave from how insanely deep her fingers graze your velvety walls. your eyes roll back for an abrupt second, voice breaking into a sob as her fingers pound into you, brain suddenly realizing who’s fucking you this well. “i want you inside me, mommy, please, please.” her eyes narrow with satisfaction, fingers coming to a gut-clenching halt but never leaving your grasping warmth. abby’s voice quiets, gentle and high with mockery, “Alright—since you’re being such a good girl for me.”

abby pushes herself off the bed, towering frame now leaning over you as her other hand grips the strap in hand, slowly lining herself up with your hole—keeping her fingers inside you. she’s never done anything like this. you throw your head back with a mewl so high, the pleasurable sting of your hole stretching catches you off guard so badly. abby’s fingers press up against your g-spot, easing her cock in gently, letting it dive deep within your gaping ovulating hole.

“f-fuck,” you squeak out, eyes completely rolling back and shut from the intense pressure of her girthy fingers and fat strap as she begins to carefully rock her hips—bottoming you out with each thrust, cock slowly sliding into your dripping cunt with a rhythmic pace as her thumb…begins circling on your clit. abby’s eyes remain on yours, watching every twitch of your contorted face, chest aching with the desire to make you scream her name.

“Yeah, is this good? Does this impress you?” abby laughs with an evil smile, eyes gaping where your bodies meet, her fingers and dick moving deep inside you. “Shit, you little brat—maybe my muscles do have something to with this.” abby teases, eyes lingering to her own forearm, making you follow pursuit—both of your gazes softening with such intense attraction as you watch the way the vein all the way from abby’s bicep to her wrist—clenches with every timely pump of her fingers.

“oh my fuck, mommy.” you cry out desperately, throwing your head back with soft hiccuping winces, hips beginning to roll against abby’s hand and dick—nervousness and heat building up in depth of your tummy, and god, you’re slightly fearful you may cum soon from how fucking incredible this feels. or—just the concept alone is getting to you—the erotic view of the glimmering moonlight casting upon your naked silky body, your hips grinding so seductively against abby, fully knowing the window is open—how damn sexy and intimating abby looks, her big eyes and gorgeous devilish smile gawking at you like you were some damn pornstar.

you grin up at abby with half-lidded eyes, drunk on your crave for lust—crave to be an object of desire just for abby. a pornstar just for her eyes. you hiss with a soft moan, suddenly speaking with your effortless seduction, “i want you to fuck me so good—you put a baby in me, abby.”

abby’s eyes gleam with a certain arousal you’ve never seen. her actions fall to a gentle pace as her face almost goes blank—seemingly recalling the memory from a couple hours ago, “Fuck—when you texted me that earlier,” she shakes her head with a stern eyebrow raise of complete marvel, “Baby, you have no fucking idea how horny I got.” abby instantly pulls her fingers out of you with no warning, strap too leaving your gripping pussy. she suddenly sighs with a new goal on her mind.

abby takes a step back from the edge of the bed, shaking her wet literally pruny fingers, attempting to keep the muscles loose in her hand so they won’t cramp, before bringing them to her mouth, licking your juices off with a wave of her other hand, “Move further back in the middle of the bed.”

you abide with an eager nod—pushing yourself back with a shove on your elbows, your pretty hair bouncing and the blankets beneath you, shifting loudly. abby groans, watching the way you move, seeming so princess-like and almost elegant, “God, I’m gonna pound you through this damn mattress.” you bite your bottom lip with a huge grin as your head falls back onto the soft bed, hair sprawling—only for abby to immediately crawl on top of you, huge body hovering over you—braid slipping over her sexy bare shoulder, strong freckled arms and thighs enclosing you and fucking hell, you’re exactly right where you wanna be. your hands reach for her neck, swiftly pulling her close, lips smashing into her pretty pink ones with such a sexy frenzy, clearly needing her more than anything. you know your ovulation cycle is doing her fucking thing. one of her hand’s trace along your tit, pinching and groping your sensitive nipple, and the other—slides the rough pad of her thumb between your pussy lips and rubs gentle circles on your drenched, rock solid pearl. fuck, she’s so incapable of leaving your sweet lips—your mouths practically eat each other, tongues dancing and spit swapping with such a violent passion—you completely forgot how intimate kissing felt. you whisper against her lips in between kisses with such a soft sensual beg, “put a baby in me, mommy.”

god...your words will truly be the end of her.

~~~ ⚢ ~~~

“can u imagine how beautiful our babies would be?” you desperately moan in abby’s ear, arms wrapping tightly beneath her shoulders and legs gripping around her torso like a vice. that simple sentence infuriates abby, making her wince with a lividness that succumbs only by slamming into your cervix with each damn thrust. and fuck, you’re whining like a bitch, her pace is awfully brutal—and not by choice but by raw desire.

how she wishes she could give you her children. how she wishes your baby would have her eyes and your laughter.

fucking a child in you? her dream. seeing your stomach beautifully round with your gorgeous smile? belly sweetly swollen from her doing? knowing your lovely dna combined to create a child you’ll adore, cherish, love till the end of time? fuck you.

“You’re squeezing me so tight, baby, I can’t even hit the deepest parts of you.” abby’s hips ram so meanly against yours, attempting to go even farther into your cunt—but, you know she’s teasing because you can almost feel her in your damn stomach. your eyes wind shut with begging whimpers, the fucking intensity is making your gasps and pants louder and louder. the bed creaks—the sound of the slick strap and your oozing pussy, her grunts, your air being knocked out of you with each thrust, the way you’re clawing at her back…it’s too pornographic.

you’ve been going at it for some time and you have no idea how many orgasms you’ve earned.

abby’s pace is persistent, stamina almost endless—as she cradles you close, huskily groaning in your ear, “Tell me what you want—I’ll give you anything, I’d give you anything—come on, baby, talk to me.” her desperate honey-coated voice is shaking, finally shaking. you can tell she’s almost close. and that’s when you normally feel it’s right to end sex. knowing she’s getting her fill is what you think may be the sexiest part out of everything. abby’s gently whimpering in your ear with every thrust of her sweaty thighs—and fuckkkkkk, it’s making your stomach turn. your wetness is atrociously loud as she continues pounding into you as you bury your face into her neck with a squeak, “give it to me, mommy.” you pant under your breath with a gasp, body trembling, “you know what—abby, please, mommy.” abby groans harshly, lips latching onto your neck, muttering against your skin with scattered kisses, “Mmmm, does your pretty pussy want my kids?—Want me to fuck my baby deep inside you—hmm?” abby bites her bottom lip with a pathetic groan, imagining as lesbians having kids—biological children, the concept of her getting you pregnant as biological girls…gets her wetter than anything.

abby hugs you tighter and tighter, roughly squeezing the sides of your upper torso with her strong arms, enclosing you. there are definitely going to be bruises there tomorrow. your legs wrap even tighter around her waist—encasing the strap completely in, causing smaller thrusts to lead to deeper ones. the way your body is begging, pleading for her, makes abby so capable of getting off on the base of the strap. you want her kids so bad. so so bad. that’s looping in her mind and she’s so fucking determined to give you them. somehow. abby hooks her strong hands under your knees, gripping your legs so damn tightly and readjusting them to rest them on her thick shoulders as she continues slamming her hips impossibly closer to yours. your tits smush together like an image worth painting—hands groping her sweaty back with desperation and your vision, blurring from how good it began to feel.

the mating press.

legs on her shoulders, pussy utterly wide for her disposal, her strap terribly deep. you love this kind of lesbianism. the change in depth makes your small grunts grow to moans full of complete ecstasy. holy shit, she’s hitting so damn well inside your worn pussy, your slickness making it the perfect speed at how rhythmic her hips piston into you—practically folding you in half. abby’s grunts are loud and harsh in your ear, her clit pulsing so violently against the harness—overstimulating her badly, making her shake with uneven breaths.

“Aw, fuck.” she whimpers in your ear, her gentle voice making your clit flutter with each bang of the base of the strap—the sensation growing freakishly intense. you cry with a pathetic plea as the veins of her faux cock is grazing your overly sensitive ridges of your pussy, “mommy, mommy, god—cum in me, cum in me.” fuck. abby gives up. her built-up desire is unable to continue, simply incapable of denying your sensual request. abby moans with complete utter distress, voice raising with her impending climax, “I wanna give you so many babies, so many pretty babies.” you nod frantically, drool dribbling on her shoulder, desperate doe eyes clenching shut.

abby is biting down on your silky shoulder, hot breath worsening your senses as she keeps spurring on her dirty thoughts of getting you pregnant, “I’ll fill that womb with so much of my fucking cum, you’ll be leaking.” imagining conceiving her baby right here and right now…on a casual night like this…like an unplanned pregnancy. oh my god. your quaking pussy sucks abby’s strap in quicker—the rapid, excruciatingly perfect deep thrusts, over and over—makes your chest tighten up, finally realizing you’re about to fucking finish. your breathing comes out in irregular gasps, huffing with an alarmed type panic, scratching at her back, begging for the roughness practically in your fucking soul as your voice squeaks with lewd desperation, “fill me up—mommy, please, please—please.”

shit.

those words push abby over the edge, causing her to break into a sob as she drives her strap perfectly against your g-spot—the angle just right against her clit. you cry out, head falling back against the sheets, “fuck, right there-!” —abby heightens her pace with a new vigor, a new passion, one that’s determined to fill your cunt up with her slop.

each damn thrust sinks against your cervix, almost begging to let her in, begging to let her cum inside your womb and let you be parents. fuck. you cum with such a deep guttural moan, making abby’s orgasm so intense knowing she’s made you reach your limit so well. abby’s erratic thrusts fall short to harsh grinds—her breath faltering to shaky and pathetic whimpers in your ear—truly leaving you reduced to a fucking mess. her sexy sounds completely add to your orgasm, making you finish even harder. fuck, your eyes roll back as her shaft grinds against your g-spot, your pussy pulsing from how intensely you just orgasmed.

your mouth falls open with a fatigued growing smile, chest heaving against abby’s. her quiet little breathless pants make your climax wash over you with such a satisfied relief. your vision is still fuzzing as you catch your breath. abby pulls your legs off her shoulders carefully as she shutters leaning up with a little wobble, her baby-hairs on her forehead all a sticky mess from how horribly sweaty she got. her effort never ceases to amaze you. you giggle softly at the sight, your own beautiful afterglow of sweat too reminding abby why she’s always loved you.

she slips off the strap harness, attempting to not hobble over on the unsteady bed and keep her balance. “careful, baby.” you hold abby’s torso close with a small grin, casually looking behind abby—suddenly noticing the dim morning light. it shines almost unnoticeably through the curtains…

abby’s definitely going to have to call in sick.

abby grumbles with a wince as she throws the strap aside and flops beside you, making the bed bounce a little—her eyes and body so visibly tired. she turns to her side to face you, immediately pulling you close, strong arms wrapping around your body—her pine musk, so deliciously intoxicating. abby’s kind blue eyes are more visible with the morning light—her vulnerability shining as she confesses with a relaxing exhale, “Wish I could actually give you my kids.”

you blush, your dewy sheen of sweat making you glow scarlet. you feel your heart tense at her words, the impact making you search her freckled gaze—realizing she’d truly be the perfect mother. “me too, abby.”

abby chuckles with a hoarse laugh, eyes peering deeply into yours. her hand comes up to caress a strand of hair out off your gleaming face, so much love written in her action—thinking about raising kids together, her blonde hair on one kid, both your hairs mixing on another…god, the idea is almost innocently sweet. abby continues, voice strained with awe and absolute affection by your natural beauty, fingers moving to caress your jaw with such a content sigh,

“Can you imagine?”

~~~ ⚢ ~~~

hi guysss!! take this fic as a “sorry my bitchass has been busy but i’ve returned” gift from me type shit❤️‍🩹😸

also, give me feedback!! was it immersive enough?—could it be more immersive? is it goonable????? (edit: i did it. oh my shit. i ain’t EVER came like that before. golly gee. it was kinda embarrassing.) BAHHAJDHKSK likeeeee 😭😭 just let me know cuz i love writing filthy graphic shit u can imagine when riding the bus or smthhhh😹😹

anywayssss thanks @korn-dawg for the brain boggling idea of having fingers in mid-strap 🤤🤤🤤🤤

[well, here are the tags!!!🌸 | let me know if you wanna be added to the taglist!! 🎀]

@improbablynotpoppy @b1uecatt @siiri0307 @blissqful @mostsanefilmliker @ferxanda @futiledevices16 @moonylvs @angelynn-nicole @pariiissssssss @gardengnosticator @kikispool @reiaeri @just-a-ghostcat @mwahbabe @cucumbernimbus @neobangverse