#[How much worse do you think it gets if he's in total darkness?]

[manufactoredxbyxdesign]

[Every time one of ya'lls muses think "He prob looks real hot without the glasses on" I need you to know this is what's staring at them behind those.]

[appocalipse]

that guy ⊹ steve harrington

summary: After he's been to yet another failed date with yet another random pretty girl, Steve Harrington, your best friend, stops by at the diner your family owns for a late-night chat, same as he'd done a thousand times before. Steve is totally unaware of how much he's hurting you with his endless parade of dates, because after all — the two of you are only friends and nothing more, right? It's not like you have any secret feelings for him… | 2.6k words

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

The moment Steve steps through the glass doors of the diner, you wonder, for about the millionth time that month alone, what is it that you've done so wrong to deserve this kind of punishment.

It's Friday night, and on Friday nights, Steve Harrington goes on dates. It's just like clockwork, really: he meets a pretty girl, thinks she's the one, takes her out on a date, realizes quickly enough that she isn't quite what he was looking for, then comes here after having dropped her back home to sulk with you, in the diner that your family runs, still clad in the outfit he'd chosen especially for his failed date.

To be honest, he never looks sad, per se — more like disappointed. Frustrated, maybe.

You watch as he weaves around tables occupied by laughing friends, past booths filled with couples sharing desserts, then slides into a seat in front of you at the bar. Steve sits down with an exhausted sigh, ruffling up his hair before shooting you a tired smile.

"Hi."

You don't look up from where you're polishing the counter. "Bad date again?"

"Not even close. She talked about horses non-stop."

A quiet laugh slips past your lips despite yourself, and finally, you tear your gaze off the dark wooden surface of the counter to look up at him; he's got this pleased little smile on his face, the corners of his eyes crinkled ever so slightly in the way they always do whenever he succeeds at making you laugh, even if just a little.

How are you supposed to keep acting like nothing's wrong when he looks at you like that?

You clear your throat awkwardly and make yourself busy stacking clean glasses next to the coffee machine.

"So...not the one, I take it?"

Steve leans forward against the counter and props his head up with his hand, sighing deeply.

"I'm starting to think she won't ever show up," he says quietly, running his other hand through his hair. You chance another glance at him and note how genuinely worried he looks. It breaks your heart almost as much as it annoys you. "What is it that's wrong with me, huh? I just don't get it."

"Nothing is wrong with you."

"You don't need to be nice to me. We've been friends since forever, remember?"

The word 'friends' makes you wince a little bit inside, but you hide the reaction behind a neutral frown. "Do you think there's something wrong with me? Because I haven't found the one yet either, you know."

Steve's expression softens as he looks at you, and once again you feel that horrible twinge in your stomach that you wish would just stop already.

"It's different. I mean—you're not actively trying to find someone." He reaches out to pull one of the half-melted mints out from the glass bowl on the counter and pops it into his mouth with a shrug. "I go out looking for her and she just doesn't come. If she even exists, that is."

"She does."

"Well, thanks for the vote of confidence, but I wouldn't hold my breath. God, why am I such an idiot, y'know?" Steve slumps over the counter with a groan, burying his face into his crossed arms. "My love life is a trainwreck."

"At least you have one."

He glances up at you curiously and lifts an eyebrow. "What does that mean?"

"Nothing. Forget it. Do you want some pie?"

You're not about to tell him what you've only admitted to yourself mere months ago — that you're actually hopelessly, madly, stupidly in love with him, and that you have been ever since the two of you were just dumb kids racing around your parents' diner.

What makes it even worse is that you had no idea your feelings went that deep until Steve started going on these dates of his again. Before then, everything was normal — you met up every weekend and binged on candy, watched bad movies on your couch, drove around town together blasting The Clash on his BMW's speakers...it was good.

Until it wasn't.

"Wait, c'mon, you can't just leave me hanging like that," Steve presses. He shifts a little on his stool to better face you, then gestures at you with his hands. "You've clearly got something you wanna say, so, like—hit me. Lay it on me."

"Nothing. I'm just saying...at least you're trying, you know," you say carefully, measuring each word before speaking them. "And at least you're the one doing the rejecting. Could be worse."

Steve's eyebrows rise high up on his forehead and he looks at you incredulously. "Whoa, wait—are you trying to tell me you've been rejected?"

You busy yourself by filling two tall glasses with soda, then slide one to his side of the counter and keep the other for yourself. "Uh...kind of, yeah. But it's fine."

"But who the hell would even do that?" he blurts out. There's anger in his voice all of a sudden, a defensive fire in his eyes that makes you feel as if someone has punched you in the gut. "To you? You're like, the nicest person on the planet, and super pretty to boot. That's just—that's crazy!"

Your heart gives a violent little jump in your chest. He thinks you're pretty. Steve Harrington thinks you're pretty.

Pretty as a friend, you correct yourself immediately, and sigh as you sip your drink. Of course, it's nothing more than that — just meaningless words spoken in a moment of unthinking kindness.

"Seriously, who?" he presses on. "Give me a name. I'll fight him."

"You mean like you fought Jonathan Byers?" you smile behind your glass, looking at him from over its rim.

Steve looks embarrassed at the memory and drops his gaze for a second or two before meeting your eyes again with a playful little smile of his own. "Different situation, okay, but that's not the point. So? Who's the guy?"

"You...don't know him," you hedge.

"It's Hawkins. I know the stray cats here by name."

"Fine, well, even if you did know him, it doesn't matter. He didn't reject me, exactly...not really."

Steve frowns a little. "Okay, you're gonna have to start making sense now. This is hurting my head."

The funny thing is, he actually looks confused, as if he can't possibly fathom the idea of someone rejecting you. It's sweet, really — way too sweet for your liking, especially when you know fully well he doesn't see you in the way you'd want him to.

You lower your gaze to avoid his and instead focus on drawing random shapes on the counter with your index finger, where tiny droplets of condensation from your glass have pooled up on the dark wood. "I mean, I never really told him how I felt. Not directly. It just…never happened."

"Oh. Well, then how do you even know if he feels the same way?" he asks you, looking rather doubtful.

You steal another glance at him and almost regret it instantly. His eyes are trained on your face, patient and attentive like you're the only thing worth watching in the world. It makes you feel horribly small and selfish and guilty, because after all, what right do you have to want him when he so clearly wants someone else?

You feel like you could cry. You might, if you don't distract yourself with something fast enough.

"I just know. Do you want some pie? I'll go get you some pie."

Without waiting for a response, you rush off to the kitchen even though there's plenty of pies sitting on the display counter at the bar, and you make a beeline straight for the back exit.

The alley behind the diner is blissfully empty as usual, just a lonely dumpster and a handful of sad-looking shrubs and weeds peeking out from under the concrete.

No, you aren't going to cry.

This is stupid.

You press your back against the rough brick wall of the diner and breathe in deep the warm night air, then exhale slowly as you count to ten in your head.

When the door opens behind you and the diner's familiar chatter and clatter of cutlery spill into the alley, you wince, mentally cursing yourself for being so goddamn weak. You should have known better.

You don't have to look up to know that it's him.

"Are you hiding from me?" Steve's voice comes, quiet and curious and maybe just a little bit hurt, even.

"I got...suddenly nauseous," you explain weakly, still refusing to look up and meet his eyes.

There's a long stretch of silence, and you feel Steve move closer to you until he's leaning against the wall by your side. You finally look up and find him smiling, this gentle, amused little thing that makes your traitorous heart skip a beat.

"You look just fine to me."

You stare up at the sky, head against the wall. "I thought I was gonna throw up."

He's still watching you, you can tell; you're keenly aware of his eyes on you, so much so that your skin prickles at the attention. "No, you didn't."

"No, I didn't," you admit with a sigh, and turn your head to finally look at him. He's got this little half-smile on his lips, the very same one you fell for years ago, and you curse yourself silently for never learning how to let him go. Really let him go.

"Hey. Listen. You don't have to tell me, okay?" Steve says gently, pushing himself off the wall to step closer to you. He brings his hand up to your face and tucks a loose lock of hair behind your ear, letting his fingertips linger on the edge of your jaw for the briefest of moments, just long enough for you to wonder whether he knows what he's doing to you.

You don't dare to move. You're afraid of breaking whatever spell has seemingly come over him.

"I should've never asked. That was selfish."

"Forget it," you say.

He's standing close now, close enough that you have to tilt your chin up to be able to look up at him properly. There's a strange kind of tension in his eyes, something dark and unsure and tentative, and his gaze darts down to your lips just the slightest bit.

You're fairly sure you're just seeing what you want to see, your foolish heart playing tricks on you. But you panic nonetheless, feeling a sudden, irrational fear that if he moves any closer, he'll realize the truth — that you're a liar and a coward, that you've been harboring these feelings of yours for him for years.

"I should—I should go. Back inside," you mutter, pointing vaguely at the door with your thumb. "In there."

"Sure, yeah. Okay. In there," he echoes, not making a single move to leave. "Not out here."

"Yup. Exactly. In there."

"So you said."

"Yep."

The wall of the diner is digging into your spine uncomfortably, and your mouth is dry, and your knees feel weak, and your stomach is doing somersaults, and the longer he stares at you with those eyes of his the more you feel like you're burning from the inside out and—

He's not moving. All he does is look at you, really look at you, as if it's the first time he's really looked, as if he's seeing something that wasn't there before.

"Okay, so—"

You try to push past him towards the door, but Steve grabs your arm, making you stop dead in your tracks. He lets go as soon as you look up at him, lifting his hand in front of him in an apologetic gesture.

"Sorry. I'm sorry," he says. He swallows hard and rubs his palm on the front of his jeans, a nervous little habit you think he's always had. He runs his hand through his hair, mussing up the carefully gelled strands, and it's probably the first time you've ever seen him look so flustered.

He laughs nervously and gestures at the ground with his hands as he speaks. "Look, this is just—this is just crazy, okay, but I think I, uh, maybe sort of realized something."

You blink at him, not quite certain you're hearing him correctly.

"Realized what?" you ask, the words barely more than a whisper.

Steve clears his throat and nods at you, seemingly pleased that you've finally spoken. "Yeah, well, this is stupid, but you know how you're always telling me to listen to my gut?"

"You're not making a whole lot of sense right now, Steve."

"Just bear with me for a sec, okay? This is like, totally new to me." He holds his palms up, and you notice his hands are shaking a little. "I just need a minute, alright?"

He breathes in deep and exhales slowly, then shoots you an apologetic look.

"Sorry, this is just...really weird," he confesses. "Weirdly real."

"You're freaking me out," you tell him, but Steve only smiles at you.

"Maybe I should just show you. Because, I mean, what if I'm wrong? That'd be terrible, obviously."

"Steve."

"Yeah, I know, but hear me out, okay?" he says quickly, and takes another step closer. You stand your ground this time, if only because you don't trust yourself to actually move without your legs giving out. "So, look. Here's the thing. You're, like—you're one of the most important people in my life. You've been there for me when nobody else was, and I...you mean a lot to me."

"Steve—"

"Shut up, you're ruining the moment."

He takes another step forward until he's crowding you against the wall, hand coming to rest next to your head on the brick. He's close, so close that you can smell the scent of his cologne and shampoo and laundry detergent, and if you were to lean in even the slightest bit, your faces would bump.

Steve is a little out of breath, his lips parted ever so slightly. And he's still looking at you with that strange, searching expression of his.

"Is this okay?" he whispers.

"I don't—what?"

Your voice catches in your throat. There's no room for doubt in his eyes now, not even the tiniest, slightest sliver of uncertainty left.

"This," Steve murmurs.

He tilts his head to the side a little and leans in until you're sure your noses are touching, and you feel your eyes slip closed in anticipation.

"Is this okay?" he repeats in a whisper. "Please tell me I'm not crazy."

"I think I am."

His lips brush yours. It feels like an accident, doesn't last long enough to be anything but a dream. You can still taste the faint, sweet trace of sugar and mint on your tongue when he pulls away, though.

"Just to be clear," Steve whispers, his fingers brushing lightly over the skin of your neck, tracing invisible lines that make you shiver, "am I the guy from earlier? The one you like?"

You don't have it in you to deny it anymore.

"Yes. It's you."

A wide grin breaks out across his face, and suddenly he's everywhere; he cups your face in his hands, pressing eager, fervent kisses along the line of your jaw, trailing hot and open-mouthed down the side of your neck.

You giggle helplessly, grabbing Steve by his collar to pull him away from you and up to your eye level. He's breathing just as heavily as you are, his hair messy and his eyes bright.

"How do you do this to me, huh?" he pants, kissing your forehead, the tip of your nose, the corner of your mouth. "You just—you just completely knock me out."

A pleasant little thrill rushes up your spine at that.

"Oh yeah?"

"Completely."

You kiss him this time.

[pomefioredove]

i just noticed on your 'yuu gets sold' sorta series that there was a good ending, by chance could you do a bad ending one? if not that's totally ok! keep safe and stay healthy ❤️

oh god. I have a very evil idea for this.

parts 1 | 2 | 3 | kalim

summary: a bad (or good, depending on your stance) ending type of post: short fic characters: surprise :) additional info: yuu is gender neutral, this is short, HELP

Everyone waits.

The chatter and banter which once occupied the courtyard dies down to dull whispers and foot tapping.

Everyone waits, and there's no Crowley.

"Wonderful," Jamil sighs. "He's probably taken all the money and run off. I told you all that-"

"Maybe he's late!" Kalim shouts. A few in the crowd murmur in hopeful agreement.

Silver coughs. "Maybe he realized this whole thing is ridiculous and is processing everyone's refunds,"

They don't like that option as much.

The sun hangs lower and lower in the sky, threatening to shroud everyone in darkness as the minutes tick on.

"Well, I've had enough of this," Vil says, turning towards the exit. "I've put off my afternoon long enough."

"For once, we can agree on something," Leona murmurs, dragging Ruggie along with him.

No one is exactly surprised with this turn of events- but there's a definite sense of disappointment that everyone is sharing.

"He probably just forgot or 'somethin," Epel says, walking alongside Ace, Deuce, and Jack back to Ramshackle to update you on the happenings.

Jack shrugs. "He's definitely not the most organized, but there's no way someone could just "forget" about this. I think Jamil is right, he probably ran off with the money while he could. The swindler..."

Deuce is the next to add something to the pity party. "And yet, we should've known this was a possibility,"

"Shoulda seen it coming..." Epel murmurs. "I shoulda listened to Vil and pulled out while I still had the chance. Dang it..."

The lights are on in Ramshackle as the four approach, a warm and welcome sight after their disappointing afternoon. And the front door is open- were you expecting them?

"Hm. Well, think of it this way," Ace pushes the door the rest of the way open. "We may have been scammed, but at least nothing changes. I mean, it could've been worse."

"A lot worse," Deuce murmurs, following him inside.

The four make it into the foyer and stop dead in their tracks.

There are many things to expect walking into Ramshackle- cobwebs, dust, ghosts, you- Crowley is usually not one of them.

"You- you've been here this whole time?!" Epel shouts, throwing his arms out. "We were all 'waitin for 'ya like a bunch of idjits!"

Deuce and Ace wince. "Dude, chill... but seriously, where were you?"

Crowley doesn't have the chance to answer before something else steals away their attention.

You walk into the room, suitcase in hand. "Guys?"

The four turn to greet you, eyes wide at the luggage you're carrying. "What's that... Crowley?"

The man himself just stands there, pretending to ponder something. "I could have sworn I sent someone to break the news... how peculiar,"

Epel's brow knots. "What news?"

"A third party somehow got wind of our little... venture and donated a very high sum at the last minute. Along with a very passionately worded letter about our dear prefect's safety here at school," he pauses. "Or lack thereof."

Crowley sighs. "The name rung a bell, but... I couldn't imagine how or why anyone outside of NRC would be following the prefect's moves so closely,"

Deuce's eyes narrow. "Crowley. What are you trying to say?"

"Well, I..." he says, seemingly at a loss for words. "I'm afraid to say that our prefect is being transferred to Noble Bell College,"

[thriftedtchotchkes]

old dogs don't change

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: weeks after sleeping together, your no-strings-attached agreement goes up in flames when joel goes on a date with another woman. you make sure that never happens again. (sequel to keep it on the low)

warnings: 18+ MDNI, ex-boyfriend!joel, jackson era, tlou 2 jesse appearance, age gap, hurt, angst, smut, unprotected piv, post-breakup sex, rough sex, public sex, rough oral (m!receiving), exhibitionism, possessive behavior, jealousy, alcohol use, briefly dating other people

word count: 10.6k

You have no idea who she is, but you bet she’s a total bitch. Is that mean? Maybe. Do you give a shit? Nope.

To be fair, you’d probably say that about anyone Joel started dating after you, but that doesn’t mean it can’t still be true. Sure, you've never actually talked to her…or seen her before in your entire life, but that’s beside the point. She’s cute and bubbly, and everything you’re not, and that’s the point. 

It’s honestly a little comical how different the two of you are, and you can’t help but wonder if Tommy did that on purpose. You know he was the one who set them up. Everyone in the dining hall was talking about it this morning. The latest, hottest piece of gossip, bouncing from table to table like a cruel game of telephone. 

He probably thinks he’s protecting his big brother, but you think he needs to mind his own fucking business. It’s not like he knows anything about your relationship, not really. Well. It’s not your relationship anymore, is it? And Tommy, along with everyone else in this town, blames you for that.

Poor Joel, dumped by the biggest bitch in Jackson, who took advantage of his kindness and patience for years, and broke his heart when all he did was love her. Selfish, cold, and uncaring. Nothing like the pretty, perky girl sitting next to him in the booth they’re sharing at Seth’s. 

If only they knew what really happened.

The bar is especially busy, even for a Saturday night, so you figure no one’ll notice you blatantly glaring at them. It’s not like you care, anyway. You’re feeling warm and loose, and maybe a little too tipsy for your own good, but tonight, you get to do whatever the fuck you want. 

Because Joel’s sitting ten feet away with his arm slung around another woman, and it hurts. 

It sucks way worse than him avoiding you since the last time you slept together, after all of the things you did and said on that couch. The things he said. You shoo away the thought with another swig of beer, wishing you were drinking something stronger. It's for the best. 

If you get any drunker, you’ll probably end up doing something stupid, and the last thing you need is to prove everyone right that he’s better off without you. But you can’t seem to shake the anger that’s starting to simmer below the surface. 

With the emotional toll this night has already taken, you kind of don’t want to. So, you surrender to it. Fuck him. He’s a piece of shit for parading his new girl around right in front of you, and for breaking off your agreement without so much as a word. 

If he wanted to see other people, he should’ve opened his mouth and used his big boy words. Then again, he’s always been terrible at that, so why are you surprised? 

Maybe he’ll fuck her tonight. Touch her all of the ways you like because that’s all he knows anymore. She’ll moan for him, soft and sweet, gentle in her affection, just like she’s touching him right now. But it won’t satisfy him, and when he’s panting on top of her, chasing that all-consuming release only you can give him, you know he’ll be pretending she's you. 

Asshole.

You’re still watching them, shooting daggers from your spot at the bar, when your wish from earlier is granted. Two overflowing shot glasses topped with lime are placed in front of you, and you look up to see a very attractive dark-haired, brown-eyed man smirking down at you.

"Looked a little lonely over here," he says in a raspy baritone even lower than Joel's. He clinks the top of your beer bottle with the bottom of his own. "Thought you could use some company, maybe another drink."

Well, he’s right. You could use some company, and you’d love another drink. There’s no harm in having a little fun, right? If Joel’s doing it, then there’s nothing stopping you.

"So, both of these are for me, then?" you smile coyly, reaching for one. He nods, his own smile widening.

"Could be. Can I join ya?" he gestures to the empty stool next to you. 

He has this cocky look on his face like he already knows you'll say yes, and in your inebriated state, you think it's kind of hot. It reminds you of Joel when you first met. How he knew exactly what he wanted and wouldn't give up until it was his. Until you were his.

You consider him for a moment. He’s young, maybe even younger than you, and obviously confident enough to make a move on you. Fleetingly, you think he might end up being that stupid thing you do tonight, but then you down one of the shots and decide you don't actually care. 

What turns out to be tequila burns the entire way down, and you immediately pick up a slice of lime. You’re hyperaware of the way his eyes lock onto your mouth as you suck on the sour fruit, lingering when a droplet of juice dribbles down your chin. 

It’s not a total surprise when he reaches up to thumb it away, but you are taken off guard by how strange it makes you feel. The pad of his finger is disappointingly smooth, no weathering or even a hint of a callus. You're not sure why that matters to you, but you can take a decent guess.

You chance a glance over at Joel's table and, of course, you have his full attention now. His entire body looks tense, from his hand clenched on the table to the prominent vein bulging angrily in his neck. 

Good. Now he knows how it feels.

Looking back up at your mystery guy, you run your tongue along your bottom lip, catching any remaining lime before you finally give him an answer. 

"Sure. Pop a squat, cowboy," you giggle. It doesn't even sound like you and feels wrong the second it passes your lips, but as long as Joel heard it, that's all that matters. "You got a name?"

He replies, but you're too busy keeping an eye on Joel in your peripheral to catch what he says. In the back of your mind, you think that’s probably a good thing. You'd rather not know, especially if you do end up taking him home. 

Mystery guy laughs at your noncommittal hum and you realize you’ve been caught. But he doesn’t seem upset. It’s clear he’s amused by your obvious interest elsewhere and that piques your curiosity. 

Any other guy here would’ve been pissed by your apathy, especially if they’d bothered to buy you a drink that you accepted, but apparently not this one.

He sits down on the stool next to you, pulling it close enough that his knee presses against yours. You unconsciously lean into him, your skin erupting in goosebumps despite your growing unease.

He's...baffling. A total enigma. You can’t figure out what his deal is or why he’s choosing to keep pursuing you when your eyes have been glued to another man all night. 

The thought of letting this continue long enough to find out is a little thrilling. Might as well see where this goes. If it escalates, you’re more than confident in your ability to care of yourself.

But it happens sooner than you expect. His hand finds the back of your stool and, then, his lips are suddenly right next to your cheek. You can feel the warmth of them as he tilts his head to whisper in your ear.

“Look, not try'na to overstep, but…,” his eyes dart to where Joel’s sitting, unreservedly ignoring his date. The poor thing barely notices, chattering away about something not nearly as important to him as watching you. His gaze returns to you, and you can feel him smirking. “You wanna make that guy you've been staring at all night jealous?"

That’s—wow. You didn’t see that one coming. He’s got a lot of audacity to assume that’s something you’d want, let alone offer…what? His services? 

But, then again, he isn’t wrong. Joel’s been the only thing on your mind since you walked into Seth’s tonight and saw him with her. He’s always on your mind if you’re being totally honest with yourself. It’s plain to see, obvious to every single person in this bar including the man himself.

You eye your mystery guy curiously for a second before nodding, your lips quirking into a small smirk. Maybe it’s time to prove to Joel and everyone else in this judgmental town that you’ve moved on, too. That you’re not the sad, bitter shrew that deserves to be alone.

"Yeah, actually, I do," you reply cautiously. But there's still one lingering question that has yet to be answered. "I just…why? I don’t get why you’re helping me. What are you getting out of this?”

He shrugs, and somehow you can just tell by the look in his eyes that there’s no hidden agenda. You’re not sure how you’re just noticing, but he has kind eyes. This whole time, he’s been nothing but patient and attentive, like Joel always was—...is? 

Was.

You almost wish you could fall for someone like this man instead of pathetically clinging to your past. Maybe you’ll at least get a friend out of this crazy night, if nothing else. But then you remember one, tiny problem with that idea.

“Can you tell me your name again? I promise you have my full attention this time,” you smile sheepishly. He chuckles good-naturedly and, again, doesn’t seem to hold it against you.

“It’s Jesse,” he says with a deep, southern drawl you should probably be more attracted to. “And let’s just say I know how it feels to want someone ya can’t have.”

You nod slowly, understanding perfectly. Except—you didn't realize up until this moment that that's exactly what you want. Someone you can't ever have. 

And it took seeing Joel with someone else, his body pressed up against a woman that isn't you, to realize it. Well, that fucking sucks.

You decide not to ask about Jesse's situation. It's not your business and, anyway, you're both trying to feel better about your circumstances, not worse. 

There’s a silent sense of camaraderie between you that tells you to throw caution to the wind. Tossing back the second shot, you turn your stool to face his, literally and figuratively turning your back on Joel. 

“It’s really nice to meet you, Jesse,” you murmur, and you genuinely mean it. He grins, leaning in slowly, still giving you time to back out if you want to, but you don't. 

Eat your heart out, Joel Miller. This one's for you.

"S'nice to meet you, too," he replies softly. 

Then, his lips are on yours. The kiss is wet and open-mouthed, and yet he handles you so delicately. He cradles your face in his hands as his tongue brushes against yours, and you moan softly into his mouth, letting your body get lost in the way he feels. And he feels so—

Much different than Joel. 

All you can think about is how much you miss Joel's rough touch, the way he'd thread his fingers through your hair and tug you into his mouth, nearly devouring you whole. Joel kissed you like every time might be the last, right up until it actually was. 

Fucking hell, why can't you just enjoy this without him ruining it for you?

You try to forget about it, about him, licking into Jesse's mouth a little more aggressively, and he groans, his body eager and responsive. It's probably more than you should be doing in public, sitting at a bar surrounded by people but, hell, you want them to see. 

They can say whatever they want about you. You're done giving a shit.

And, boy, will they have a lot to talk about after tonight. Joel makes sure of that. It happens so fast, you barely register that Jesse’s lips aren’t on yours anymore like they should be.

One moment, Jesse's hands are trailing down your sides to your waist, and the next, he's being forcibly dragged off you. Between you stands a broad, imposing figure ensuring you stay separated.

Your mind goes blank, and all you can do is watch in shock and disbelief as Joel lets loose on him, his words possessive and almost nonsensical. 

"The fuck you think you're doin' touchin' her like that? Y'need to learn how to keep your hands to yourself, kid, before ya get yourself in trouble," he grits out angrily. 

To his credit, Jesse stays cool and collected, but it’s not enough. There’s already a few pairs of eyes on you, drawn by the physical altercation, and it won’t be long before the rest of the bar notices the impending fight.

"Respectfully, sir, s'long as the lady consents, I'll put my hands wherever she wants," Jesse replies, standing his ground. He tries to move around him to return to your side, but Joel fixes him with a look that sends a shiver down your spine.

"S'that really a good idea?" Joel sounds menacing and looks even more so the longer the conversation continues. 

You’re still numb to everything unfolding in front of you and it’s not until Jesse’s next to you again, snaking an arm around your waist, that you finally come to. The reality of your situation hits you like a ton of bricks and now you’re mad. You open your mouth to retaliate, but Jesse cuts you off before you can get a word in.

“There a reason it wouldn’t be?” he turns the question back on Joel and you tense, anticipating a less-than-friendly answer. Jesse squeezes your hip in reassurance, but it does nothing to soothe your unease. He doesn’t know Joel like you do.

“Kid, do I look like I’m fuckin’ around? Take your hands off her and walk away. M'not gonna tell you again,” he all but growls, taking a threatening step forward. 

Neither of you back down. Jesse’s arm stays firm around you as your nails bite into your palm. It's taking everything you've got not to make a bigger scene than you already have.

You knew it. Since the breakup, you’ve been trying to reconcile this increasingly unfamiliar man with the Joel you gave your entire heart to all those years ago. With each passing month, the differences between the two become more and more obvious.

He's angrier now and has so much less patience. It's not that he's unkind. You know that no matter what his circumstances are, Joel will continue to be a good man. But he has a hair trigger, especially when it comes to you. 

And he wants. God, he always wants you. It’s not that you didn’t have an active sex life before everything fell apart. He just...fucks you differently now. Possessively and without restraint, like he needs to be sure you're satisfied enough to never need anyone else. The agreement to keep sleeping together was actually his idea. And it worked for a while—until it suddenly didn't. 

Now, you're forced to come face-to-face with that reality. Sitting at this bar, you spent the entirety of the night believing he'd decided he didn't want you anymore, that he was ready to find happiness in something simpler than sneaking around with his ex.

Except, it's starting to feel like maybe that's not as true as he made it seem. Like he never should've gone on this date in the first place.

"What the fuck, Joel?" you hiss, fighting to keep your volume under control. Not that it matters. The entire bar is staring at you, their eyes ping-ponging back and forth like they're watching a tennis match. "Back the fuck off. Now. This is none of your business."

"The hell it ain't my business. Some kid's runnin' his hands all over another man's girl and y'think that ain't my business?" 

His trembling hands clench into fists at his sides and, while you’re betting the rest of the bar thinks he’s preparing for a fight, that isn’t Joel. It might be you, though, if he keeps this up.

"Excuse me? And whose girl am I—yours? Because I'm pretty sure your girl is sitting over there in that booth. Or did you forget about your date?"

For a moment, he actually has the nerve to look ashamed, like he feels bad about leaving her all alone at their table and for humiliating her in front of all these people. He avoids her crestfallen gaze, likely not ready to face the hurt he’s caused. 

But it only lasts for a second before his eyes darken again, focused solely on you. As if Jesse, his pretty date, and everyone else in this bar disappeared, and it's just you and him. This conversation doesn't include them anymore. It's a private matter now.

"We're leavin'," he says with finality, his tone leaving no room for argument. 

He should know better. That's not how things work with you. You’re a fighter, a trait he’s always loved about you, even if your ire was directed at him. Back then, it rarely was.

"You're out of your mind if you think I'm leaving with you," you scoff bitterly. "Go back to your date, I'll go back to mine, and we can forget about this. All of it. We're done, Joel."

He shakes his head, mouth tipping down into a frown like he's thinking something over. Then, he huffs out a laugh. Like, an actual laugh, and you start to think maybe he really has lost his mind.

"Y'know, I really don't think we are, darlin'," he drawls dangerously. 

He's on you in an instant, his hand wrapped tightly around your arm as he drags you out of the bar. You briefly consider resisting, but he's moving too quickly. All of those shots you downed combined with the beer you drank earlier go straight to your head, and you're suddenly overwhelmingly distracted by the feeling of his skin on yours.

Fuck, it feels like it's been so long. In reality, you know it's only been a few weeks but, god, you missed it. His hands on your body, anywhere at all on your body. You'd hate how quickly you forget about Jesse if you could think about anything else but those familiar, rough fingertips.

The way they dig into you, reminiscent of how he'd squeeze your thighs or clutch your waist when he was making love to you.

...Wait, what? No...no, fuck. Why is he making this so difficult? Why—Christ...why can't you just leave each other alone? If he never planned on letting you go, he shouldn't have broken up with you. And if he still wanted you this badly...all he had to do was ask. You would've said yes in a heartbeat.

So, you let him steal you away, out into the brisk, wintry air that does little to cool your fury or the heat beginning to coil in your belly. The door shuts noisily behind you, and you immediately wrench your arm out of his grasp before he can say a word. It's your turn to talk now.

"What is wrong with you? You can't just...fuck, you can't do shit like this!" You're seething, practically shaking in your rage, and his expression doesn't look much different. 

"And you can? I dunno what the hell you were thinkin' gettin’ cozy with some goddamn kid, lettin’ him touch ya like that in front of the whole town," he reiterates harshly. He's starting to sound like a broken record. It's the only leverage he's got, and you both know it's flimsy at best.

"Some kid? Jesse's a fucking adult, clearly more mature than you," you bite back. "And it’s a bar, Joel. That's what people do at bars."

Joel scoffs, and you can tell he hates the way Jesse's name falls from your lips. Especially when those lips were on yours not even ten minutes ago. 

"And who are you to decide who can and can't touch me? You broke up with me," you continue resentfully. "You don't get a say anymore."

At that, his face becomes unreadable. He didn't need the reminder, and you know that, but it needed to be said for both of your sakes. Sometimes you think maybe he actually forgets it was his choice to give you up. That he didn't realize his decision would hurt you as much as it hurt him.

"So, what? You gonna take him home then, let him fuck ya?" He leans in close, so close you can feel his soft, graying curls against your temple and the coarse drag of his beard across your cheek. 

"Kiss ya here—," a finger trails delicately down the side of your neck to his spot above your collarbone, then continues down to where you've been aching for him for weeks, "—taste ya here." 

You slap his hand away before he can get any further, but your reaction only spurs him on. How could you forget? He likes that.

"Y'know he can't make ya feel as good as I do. Fuck you just how y'like it, make ya cum as hard as I do," he drawls confidently, almost smugly, in your ear. "Don't ya?"

It's less a question than a statement, because you both know he's right. Joel knows your body better than anyone ever has, maybe even better than you know it yourself. Just as much as you know his. And it's sort of funny. You were thinking the exact same thing about him with his date earlier.

"Sure, Joel. Just like you were gonna take that girl home, right?" You raise an eyebrow, turning your head so your lips graze his skin. "Pretty little thing like her, I bet she likes it slow and romantic. She’ll probably even stick around for a snuggle and some pillow talk. You'd love that.”

Even as you mock him, the sneer marring your face doesn’t quite meet your eyes, and the spiteful nature of your words tastes acrid as they pass your lips. He’s so good at that. Always able to bring out the worst in you to prove his point—that he’s no good for you.

But you stand firm, your chest pressed flush against his in a show of determination. You're still in control here, unlike Joel, whose fingers are twitching noticeably at his sides like he's just itching to get his hands on you again. 

"Maybe I would. Liked it with you, didn't I?" he murmurs wistfully, and that catches you completely off guard.

His words are almost too gentle to belong in this argument, and it doesn’t feel fair. What's worse, he looks like he means them. You’d prefer the fight, the aggression of the man who dragged you out of the bar. Not this. Not these traces of your Joel. 

You can already feel your resolve slipping, and the rapid thrum of your heartbeat tells you to let it. When his hands finally take their rightful place on your waist, he’s in control again.

The cool evening air is suddenly stifling, and you’re starting to feel like you’re suffocating, your thoughts a jumbled, heated haze of anger and fear and want. He squeezes hard enough to pull your hips into his and you unintentionally buck, allowing his hands to travel up your shirt. 

There's an intensity to his gaze, tinged with an unexpected tenderness. He almost looks...sated. Fulfilled, now that you're back in his arms. But not completely, not yet.

"You still haven't answered my question," he mutters. His hands splay across your ribcage, high enough for his thumbs to tease the undersides of your breasts.

You bite down hard on your bottom lip, sliding your hands up his chest to push him away so you can catch your breath, but your body won't cooperate. It's been well-trained to crave his touch. Exhaling sharply through your nose, you fist his shirt and instead pull him impossibly closer.

"You asked a lot of questions tonight. You're gonna have to be a little more specific,” you pant heavily.

It's getting more difficult to think, now, with the warmth of his body against you, his thumbs shifting higher to stroke your stiffening nipples. He urges your hips forward again to meet his, and you can already feel him straining in his jeans.

You whimper helplessly, unable to curb the way your body's reacting to him, and the soft sound causes something in him to snap. He suddenly backs you up against the hard brick of the bar's exterior and begins to grind languidly into your stomach. 

"Y'really believe that boy can take care of a woman like you? Hm?" He interrogates you, his voice gravelly and uneven in your ear. "Tell me I'm the only one who can give you what ya need. Wanna hear ya say it."

Fuck, you can't lie to him. As much as you want to, it's just one more thing your body won't allow you to do. Not when he's working you up like this. 

"You're the only one," you moan around your admission. He's still crowding you into the wall, his hands greedily roaming your soft curves.

His eyes meet yours, darting quickly to your mouth before he leans in to kiss you passionately like he’s rewarding you. It only lasts for a second, one deliciously fleeting second, before he pulls away. You’re not sure why you let him. Or why you kissed back.

"Who's the only man who can make ya scream?" he demands a little more urgently.

"You, Joel,” you murmur obediently, your lips already parted and ready for your prize.

And he acquiesces—another insistent kiss that doesn’t last nearly long enough. This time, you chase him, but he jerks his head back. He still has one last question for you. Except, this time, he looks afraid of the answer. 

"Whose girl are ya?"

He whispers it so softly, you barely catch it over the whistling, nighttime breeze. As he brushes a few ruffled strands of hair behind your ear, you answer without hesitation. 

"Yours, Joel."

His entire body relaxes. Now, he's complete.

"Damn right, you are—"

Then, the front door bursts open next to you, and he's abruptly cut off. Joel is quick to tug you around the corner into the alleyway before anyone can spot you, but he's not fast enough to keep you from seeing who just left the bar.

Jesse.

And there it is. A shock to the system, enough to clear some of that smoky, nostalgic haze and bring you back to the present. But as everything hurtles back for the second time tonight, this time around, you can’t be mad because he’s right.

Of course, you're not Jesse's girl. As pathetic as it sounds, you'll always be Joel's because he’s the only one who can take care of you and give you what need. The only man who can make you scream. But that goes both ways.

Even though he’s been picking fights all night, he hasn’t raised his voice once. It's not the way he wins his battles. So, maybe it's time to remind Joel Miller that there is someone who can make him scream. But he isn't allowed to unless you say so.

It all feels eerily familiar—his fingers digging into your waist and your lips crashing into his hard enough to bruise. You lead him deeper into the alley, back to where the glow of the string lights above the bar can't reach you, before you separate from him. 

Neither of you wants to be the one to say it, but it needs to be heard. Here, in the dark, you can be his completely, but once you part ways and return to your empty beds, that's it. Just like last time. The reasons for your breakup are still very real, and that means your relationship can't be.

"Only here. Right, Joel?"   

He stays silent for a moment, his gaze filled with deep longing and sadness. It almost makes you want to take it back. Take him back. So, when he shakes his head and cups your cheeks, kissing you like this might be his last chance, you're not surprised in the slightest.

And after this whole night—this whole confusing, fucked-up night—you let him. Right now, he needs this. Maybe you do, too.

His lips taste like whiskey and relief, and you return his kiss with all of the passion and fervor he’s pouring into you. You’re both a little frantic in the way you touch each other, but as much as you don’t want it to, it makes perfect sense. 

Those few weeks without each other felt like years, and now that his hands are back on your body and his voice, deep and dulcet, is in your ear telling you how badly he wants you, you don’t want to let him go again.

You grind the heel of your hand into the front of his jeans and his responding groan pleases you more than it probably should. This. This is yours—his pleasure, his attention, him. They belong to you and you alone. Not his pretty, perky fucking date. 

The sudden possessiveness stuns you for a moment, but it's not enough to stop the feeling from consuming you. This must be how it feels for Joel. It's potent and feels so, so…right. You're starting to think you've felt this way for a while.

"I needed you, and you made me wait so fucking long," you gasp against his lips, and the fingers cradling your face tense. You’re still fisting his shirt, nearly hard enough to tear, and you wrench it up from where it’s tucked into his pants. 

"M'sorry, darlin', I know. I know I did,” he rasps back, following your lead and dropping his hands from your cheeks so he can unbuckle his jeans. “M'gonna make it up to ya. Tell me what you want, I’ll give it to ya.”

You want everything. Everything he has to give, you want it all. After everything you've been through, the hurt he caused you, you deserve it. And right now, what you want is for him to feel so good, he'll never go on a date with someone who isn't you ever again.

Sharp gravel bites into your bare skin as you drop to your knees in front of him. He's already so hard under all that heavy fabric and looks desperate above you. Just as desperate as you are for him to replace the flavor of Jesse's tequila and lime on your tongue with something saltier and headier, and undeniably Joel.

You hastily unbutton and unzip his jeans, not wasting any more of the precious time you have left together, before tugging them down just enough to free his cock and balls. He looks...fucking mouth-watering—flushed and red and leaking, and so goddamn thick. You wrap your hand around him and he sighs gratefully, dribbling precum onto your fingers.

"This is what I want," you finally reply, keeping your eyes locked on his as you lean forward to lick a broad line up his cock. He hisses in a breath through his teeth, his thighs already beginning to tremble, and you brace your hand on one. "But you're gonna be quiet, okay? I'm gonna suck your cock and you're not gonna make a single sound."

His expression darkens, but he agrees to your terms, nonetheless.

"Sure, darlin'. Whatever you say," he nods, gazing down at you with furrowed brows. He cradles your face in his hand and brushes his thumb along your cheekbone.

The affectionate gesture isn't lost on you, but this time you accept it. Instinctively leaning into his touch, you revel in it for a brief moment before his cock pulsing a frantic rhythm against your palm becomes an unignorable distraction. But a welcome one.

"That's my boy," you mumble against the tip. Just as a pained noise escapes his parted lips, you swallow him down as far as you can take him, purposely gagging yourself on him before you can dwell on the words that accidentally just tumbled out.

Your boy. Your boy. It echoes in your mind, ricocheting wildly and painfully like a bullet. Before you can take it back, maybe even to keep you from taking it back, he buries his fingers in your hair and holds you in place. You choke around him, trying your best to breathe through your nose, but in doing so, you take in a lungful of the heady musk at his base.

The familiarity of it all sends you reeling. He only gives you a second to adjust before he's fucking into your mouth and biting back a litany of needy sounds that rival your own wet, audible gagging. Your grip on his thigh tightens as your throat relaxes, allowing you to take him deeper, and you can feel yourself clenching around nothing every time he grazes the back of your throat. 

Tears stream down your cheeks and he wipes them away with a much too tender swipe of his thumb, even as he continues to force you up and down his cock. But you're too lost in your pleasure to notice anymore. So fucking good, you feel so, so good. But you need more, and you're not willing to pull off of him just yet.

Tugging down the front of your shirt, you roll a sensitive nipple between your fingers, and, god, that helps. You imagine they're Joel's and it amplifies the sensation, though your fingertips are still too smooth and delicate. Then, they're replaced by exactly what you've been yearning for all night. 

“You don’t even know how beautiful y'look like this,” he grits out, his fingers running through your hair with one hand and roughly cupping your breast with the other. His hips stutter, and you moan around him. “Fuckin’ perfect. How are ya so fuckin’ perfect?”

Beautiful. More beautiful than her? Well, you must be, because you’re the one here on your knees, choking on his cock, and she’s still sitting in the bar wondering if her date will ever come back. 

He won’t.

You preen without meaning to, your eyes blearily finding his while you drool around him, dripping saliva down his balls and onto your bare breasts. It's as if the visual alone has him thrusting into your mouth faster, pushing your limits only as much as he knows you can take. You must look like a wet dream right now, his wet dream, with your watery eyes and swollen, split-slick lips wrapped tightly around him.

Yet, he's remained so, so quiet this entire time, just like you told him to. Joel likes his sex loud, regardless of where you are and who might hear, so if he’s following your rules, that means something. 

It means he'll do whatever it takes to have you. The realization crashes over you like a bucket of ice water, and then you're pulling off of him. 

“You’ll give me anything, right? Anything I want?” your voice cracks around the question, wrecked from the effort of taking him. His hips chase your hand as you continue to pump him, matching his previous, unforgiving pace. 

“That ain’t a question, y’know I will,” he replies breathily and without hesitation. 

You gaze up at him, praying your eyes convey all of the need and anguish and hope you've felt since the last time you slept together. Since the last time you were his.

“Fuck me," and you won't accept anything less than his all. Not that half-assed shit he would've given her. "Fuck me."

He understands. His heart rate kicks up, thrumming wildly against the palm of your hand, and you know he does.

The growl that rumbles through his chest is nearly soundless but powerful. An entire night's worth of tension culminating in a single exhaled breath, just before he drags you up and spins you around, bending you over against the wall. 

Bracing yourself on the harsh brick, you rush to give him better access, arching your back as he tugs your pants and underwear down to your knees. A callused hand runs upward, following the notches of your spine, while his other spreads across your waist, pulling your hips back onto his so you can feel him, heavy and leaking against your bare ass.

God, he’s so close to where you need him now. His knuckles graze your skin as he grips the base, pumping himself before the blunt head of his cock nudges your entrance.

But then, for some godforsaken reason, you feel a wave of panic. Time suddenly feels like it's running out, worsening with every subtle movement he makes. The ticking clock of your and Joel's relationship, perpetually stuck at two minutes to midnight, has sprung to life and that terrifies you.

You don't want him to stop—fuck, you don't want him to stop, but you know neither of you will last long once he's inside you. The build-up was too intense and this entire night has you both wound up so tight, you could snap at any moment. 

You need to savor this. The way you failed to on your couch all those weeks ago, and might not get to ever again.

“Slow,” you tell him over your shoulder, and it's equal parts a command and a plea. If this is the last time, then you want to feel it. Every thick inch of him, while he still belongs to you. “Just…go slow.”

He nods, shifting forward almost imperceptibly so he can watch your lashes flutter as you brace for the stretch.

"Don't need’ta tell me. I know how ya like it," he replies gruffly.

He does. For now, you won’t overthink it or let yourself get lost in the nostalgia of his cock nestled inside you. You’ll just enjoy it. Sex with Joel has always been mind-blowing, and here, in a dirty alleyway, pressed up against the exterior of a bar, you bet it’ll be life-changing.

It stings like it always does when he breaches your entrance, no matter how wet you are for him. Together, you hiss in a sharp breath, mutually adjusting to the overwhelming stretch that quickly ebbs into something addictive.

"Tight as all goddamn hell," he mutters to himself, rocking into you languidly. He takes his time, relishing your walls enveloping him, mesmerized by the way you suck him in until he's buried to the hilt. 

"Would'ja look at that," he continues in awe, tracing where his cock is forcing you to yield to him. "Greedy fuckin' pussy, ain't she? M'not goin' anywhere, don't'chu worry. Gonna take care of ya...make ya feel so fuckin' good..."

He's starting to babble. Not good. Not good at all. 

Broad hands grip your ass, pulling your cheeks apart so he can see how tightly you’re gripping him, and it's too much. His hips buck, startling a pained whine out of you as he rams into that spot. The one deep inside you he can only reach when he’s fucking you from behind. Your cunt clenches, fighting to keep him there, and he growls low in his throat, hungry and territorial like a wild animal.

"There it is," he nudges it again, purposefully this time. You barely manage to bite back a sob as you gush messily around him. "Christ, honey, y'sure ya still want it slow? 'Cus it sure don't sound like it."

He's patronizing you. He knows exactly what he's doing—that's his spot. He also knows it makes you loud as fuck. But he wouldn’t. There’s no way he’d go back on his word, not after he promised he’d be discreet.

"Joel. Don't," you warn him shakily, but you're already too far gone to be intimidating. 

He pulls out until just the tip is still inside you, huffing out a distinctly calculated breath.

"Don't what? Don't make ya cum nice and loud on my cock? 'Fraid I can't do that, darlin'."

That's all the warning you get before he slams in hard. Your jaw drops, and you're positive you couldn't have stopped the wail punched out of your chest even if you'd tried.

Wrong. You’re wrong again, and you should’ve known better. It’s not the first time he’s gone back on his word, remember? Joel’s shitty lack of communication is why you’re here in the first place. Sure, he agreed to be quiet, but he never said anything about you.

He establishes a brutal pace that has you scrabbling against the wall for purchase and slapping a hand over your mouth in a futile attempt to muffle the desperate cries being forced from your body.

Please, don’t be outside. Please, please, Jesse. Don’t still be outside. 

But your luck's officially run out. 

Heavy mahogany crashes into solid brick, echoing down the alleyway, and a raucous group of people spills out onto the street, barely 30 feet from where your ass and tits are out for anyone to see. Then, the deep baritone of Jesse's voice cuts through the rest, and your blood immediately turns to ice. 

You're fucked. You're about to get caught and expose your secret to the entire town, except...Joel isn't stopping. Fuck, he's—

Yanking your entire body up and ripping your hand away from your mouth, rutting into you like he was just waiting for an audience. He snakes a hand up your stomach to palm at your chest, squeezing firmly to anchor himself as he fucks up into you with all the force he can muster.

And it turns you on so much, you finally stop caring. Fuck it. Fuck this town. Fuck everyone in that bar who made you feel like a goddamn pariah for months, crucifying you for the unforgivable sin of getting your heart broken. 

You hope his date's standing out there, too, so she can hear everything she'll never get to have. So they can all see that Joel Miller isn't the crushed, cruelly dumped old man they all thought he was.

Your moans ring out, loud and high-pitched, all but drowning out the messy slap of his hips into the drenched curve of your ass.

"That's it, darlin', let it all out," he chuckles darkly against the shell of your ear. Your next moan tapers into a drawn-out keen that he mimics, his thrusts getting shallow and sloppy. "S'for me, right? Let 'em know you're makin' all those pretty noises just for me."

Christ, you're close. And he's as close as you are, you can feel it. You turn your head, nodding jerkily into his shoulder.

"S'for you, Joel—mmph, just for you. Only for you," your words slur as he continues to bounce you on his cock. 

"Tell 'em you're mine, darlin’. Not just here," he pants raggedly, desperation coating his words. "Everywhere. You're mine everywhere."

The voices are getting closer, about to pass the mouth of the alley, and the ice in your veins quickly thaws, turning to molten lava. They'll definitely be able to able to hear you, but can they see you? For the umpteenth time tonight, you decide you really don't give a shit. You've got none left. You and Joel, that's all that matters now. 

His hand drops between your legs, thick fingers swirling tight, slick circles into your clit while he waits for you to confirm what he already knows. You've said it again and again—weeks ago, wrapped up in his arms, and earlier tonight, after the worst argument you've had since the breakup. 

And you’ll tell him again in this alley as you cum blindingly hard around his cock. Third time's the charm.

"Y-yours, Joel. I'm always yours."

His hips completely lose their rhythm, and he barely has time to breathe out his contentment before the violent convulsing of your cunt and contrasting serenity of your words send him hurtling over the edge.

"That's my girl."

He crashes his lips into yours, swallowing every noise you make as the group finally comes into view. Their drunken chattering and roughhousing aren't enough to draw your attention away from each other, but the depraved sounds of Joel continuing to fuck you through your release captures theirs almost immediately.

A few of them stop to squint into the darkness, trying their best to pinpoint what everyone already knows is happening further down the alley. As they inch closer, they can just barely make out two connected figures, and the wind carrying muffled gasps and labored breathing with it into the street all but confirms it.

"Y'all seein' this?" they whisper amongst themselves, but in the inebriated state they're in, they might as well be yelling.

And that's what pulls you and Joel back to reality. Shit. Shit. So, this is it, then. You tense in Joel's arms, waiting to get called out as the slutty girl who seduced her ex away from his date. Hell, they're not even wrong. You can feel his cum dribbling out of you, and can't help but think maybe you'd deserve it.

From where you're standing, you recognize each and every one of their faces under the string lights, and you know damn well that none of them can keep their mouths shut. Except...wait a second. They're still glancing back and forth between you and Joel in the shadows and each other. 

Oh. The fucking shadows. None of them can see shit. They have no clue who the hell they're looking at. Joel must've caught on around the same time you did, because now he's backing up, putting more distance between you and the looming crowd. Before they can get any closer, one of the younger guys cuts in front to block their path.

“C’mon, it's probably a couple’a teenagers. Just let ‘em be," he drawls, glancing back at you. Your eyes lock, and you're suddenly so grateful, you could cry. It's Jesse. He shoots you a wink before turning back to the group, shaking his head in mock admonishment. "Don't act like y'all weren't doin' the same damn thing at their age."

By some miracle, it fucking works. They all laugh in agreement, appeased by Jesse's quick thinking. One by one, they follow each other out of the alley and back onto the road to continue their original path home. Jesse lingers. 

"Glad y'all figured things out," he calls out over his shoulder, giving you privacy to tug your shirt back up. He clears his throat awkwardly before continuing, "Look, I, uh...distracted as many people as I could from comin' over here, but if y'all were gonna be that loud, maybe you should'a figured things out at home."

Jesse shakes his head again, chuckling to himself as he shoves his hands into his pockets.

"Anyway, y'all have a good night, now. Get home safe."

As he jogs away to catch up with the rest of the group, you start to laugh, too. You can’t help it. It feels cathartic, relieving some of the tension of this overly eventful night.

Joel’s body begins to shake behind you, his chest rumbling with what you realize is deep-bellied laughter. It gradually increases in volume as it melds seamlessly with yours; transitory, white clouds of condensation that intertwine, then dissipate.

You feel him slip out as he starts to soften, and then he turns you to face him, carefully crowding you into the wall. He kisses you again, this time slow and deliberate like you asked him to earlier. His tongue meets yours, gasps exchanged and treasured like you have all the time in the world. 

When he parts from you, it feels reluctant, but he stays close, whispering his next words against your lips.

“M’gonna get ya cleaned up, alright?” he mumbles, dropping his arm from around your waist to run his fingers up the cum leaking down your thighs. You shiver as they continue up, slipping his release back inside you. “Don’t…,” he continues, squeezing his eyes shut as his forehead drops to yours, “…just—don’t go anywhere. Please. I’ll be right back.”

Maybe he’s trying to protect himself from the response he anticipates you’ll give him, but that seems silly after everything you’ve been through tonight. You cup his cheek and thumb the coarse, trimmed hairs of his beard, willing him to open his eyes. He does, hesitantly, one then the other, and you offer him a soft smile.

“I’m not going anywhere, Joel.”

An intoxicating breath fans across your face, and the taut muscles in his neck and shoulders loosen. His lips match the soft quirk of your own and, then, brush fleetingly against your cheekbone as he backs away and disappears through a metal side door you didn't notice before. The moment it clicks shut, you slump against the wall. 

Christ. Your mind is simultaneously blank and racing a mile a minute. Taking a deep breath, you let your head thunk into solid, grounding brick while you wait for even a single coherent thought to take root. What now? What happens next? 

There's no coming back from tonight. You both made choices you'll have to answer for, but, for some reason, that doesn't seem so scary anymore. The clock is ticking, but there's time. Plenty of it.

You're still lost in your reverie when Joel gets back with a thick wad of damp paper towels. You snort at the idea of him suddenly appearing in Seth's kitchen and having to explain himself, but maybe the racket you kicked up right outside his door was explanation enough.

"Seth didn't give you any shit for stealing his stuff?" you ask as Joel drops to his knees and coaxes one of your legs over his shoulder.

The cold air has already started to leach the warmth from the paper towels, and they feel cool as he slides them along your soiled skin. He huffs out a laugh.

"Nah, the kitchen was empty. Think they're startin' to close up for the night." 

When he finishes your first thigh, he surprises you by leaning in to press a soft kiss against your freshly cleaned skin. He nips at you teasingly before starting on the next one.

You hum in response, threading your fingers through his hair and watching fondly as he pays careful attention to his task. He continues to wipe away his drying release, trailing his lips down your thigh as he goes, until he finishes at your knee.

He gazes up at you with a charmingly crooked grin, and that’s when it finally slips out. The single coherent thought you’ve been waiting for.

“I love you, Joel,” you murmur, brushing your fingertips across his cheek. 

His smile falters. Then, it drops completely and your heart shatters. You don’t understand. But that—no. No, it doesn’t make any fucking sense. After everything that’s happened, how could you have been wrong again?

Joel sighs, grimacing as he slowly gets back up. He braces himself on one knee, clearly aching more than he's letting on, but when you reach down to offer him a hand, he refuses your help.

“S’fine, I got it. Just…,” he gestures to your jeans, still hanging loosely around your knees. You pull them up, fighting not to feel humiliated as he rises to his full height. 

You search his eyes for…something. Anything. Any indication of what he’s feeling right now, but they’re blank. Cold and distant, just like they were the night he left you. 

No. He doesn’t get to do this to you again. Not after everything you’ve been through. Not without an explanation. Not if he doesn’t want to lose you forever.

“Tell me why you broke up with me."

For a long time, you genuinely believed you could live without knowing the truth, but somewhere along the line, it began to eat away at you. Now, you want the real reason. He owes you that, at the very least.

You wait while he either works himself up to it or tries to figure out what bullshit to tell you this time. Once his hands settle on his hips, you know with absolute certainty it's the latter.

“Darlin’…,” he starts wearily, but you shoot him a look that stops him in his tracks. He doesn't get to call you that right now, and he knows it. Pausing, he nods grimly before beginning again. "We already talked about this. I’m no good for ya. It was only a matter of time before ya woke up one day and realized it for yourself.”

There it is. That same bullshit reason. You scoff bitterly, not surprised in the slightest.

“What the fuck does that even mean, Joel? We were together for years. If that was gonna happen, don’t you think it would’ve already?" you counter angrily. 

You're trying not to get emotional. This can't be a repeat of what happened last time, but it's dragging up too many painful memories. It's always the same fight. You can't do this anymore.

"You know what? Fuck you," you seethe as your self-control slips completely. "Fuck you for making that decision for me. You had no right."

At your words, his face crumples and he has the nerve to look ashamed. Maybe even a little hurt. His pained expression makes your heart ache, yet a nastier part of you believes it's only fair that he feels this way, too. He sighs, his eyes dropping wistfully to his feet.

“I did what I thought was best," he mumbles quietly as if he doesn't want to be heard. It's hard for him to say this out loud, and you realize it's because he's finally telling you the truth. "I just…I thought you’d be happier with someone else, someone who could give ya a family. Kids. I gave you up so you could have the life ya always wanted."

You eye him incredulously. The life you always wanted? Sure, you and Joel had toyed with the idea of having a family once upon a time, but that was never a dealbreaker. He should've known that. He should've brought it up before deciding to destroy your life together over an idealized fantasy.

“Oh, here we go. Joel, the fucking savior. Mr. Fix-It, swooping in to save everyone and solve every problem," you hurl back venomously. But it was a cruel thing to say, and you immediately hate yourself for it.

Rationally, you know his intentions were kind. He probably even thought he was being selfless. But he hurt you, and, through your tunnel vision, that's all you can see. You push yourself off the wall, stalking closer to where he stands, still refusing to look at you.

"So what, you thought you’d dump me and I’d immediately shack up with some other asshole? Is that really what you think of me?”

His eyes shoot up to yours and his fingers begin to tap restlessly at his sides. Now, you've pissed him off. 

“Don't go puttin’ words in my mouth. That ain’t true and you fuckin’ know it," he all but growls, his body shaking with a turbulent combination of frustration and adrenaline.

You're starting to feel it, too. This conversation is overwhelming both of you, but he still hasn't told you everything. There's a piece missing, keeping all of his disjointed reasonings from adding up. He's holding back and it's time for him to stop.

“Then what is, Joel?" you plead with him to give you a definitive answer. One that finally explains why you had to lose everything. Ellie, your home. The love of your life. "What’s the truth?"

Then, everything he's kept bottled up inside and allowed to poison his happiness claws its way out as a single, unwavering statement. 

“I’m too fuckin’ old for you!”

The silence that follows his admission is deafening. You watch in shock as he runs a hand through his hair in frustration. He's never yelled like that before or looked so defeated. By something as innocuous as his age. 

It isn't something you'd ever considered, not before your relationship and never once during. But he did. His bottom lip starts to tremble as he turns and takes a few steps away from you.

“Every day, I’d watch ya…offerin’ to take more shifts, spendin’ time at the school with Ellie and the kids," he says softly, shaking his head as he works through his next words. "And every day, I’d feel it. My body givin’ out on me, more and more. My blood pressure’s up, my goddamn knees are creakin’. Couldn’t even fuckin’ stand up on my own just now." 

When he turns back to you, his eyes are wet with unshed tears. He feels too far, but you know you can't go to him, yet. He's not finished.

"You can do better than that. You deserve better than that," his voice cracks and your whole world blurs into a wash of colors. “You’re gonna outlive me by a mile. I’m an old man, darlin’. It wasn’t fair for me to keep ya.”

For a while, you just watch each other. Tears overflow and continuously spill down his cheeks and yours, but neither of you moves to wipe them away. 

None of this is fair. You're both miserable and heartbroken, perpetually yearning for a love you've told yourselves you can't have. Months ago, Joel made a choice for both of you. You won't make the same mistake he did.

"I didn't want fair, Joel. I wanted you. A life with you...," your face screws up as you fight back a sob, "...the rest of my life with you, however long that is."

Joel takes a tentative step forward, carefully reaching out to touch you, but stops himself before he can get too close. He looks afraid...of you. Scared of the consequences of allowing you back into his heart. 

A sob escapes your chest, then, and you wrap your arms around yourself, suddenly bitterly cold and wanting nothing more than for Joel to hold you. To tell you for the first time since the breakup that he loves you and, regardless of time, won't ever stop.

So, you cross the alleyway and cup his wet cheeks in your hands, wiping away his sadness and, hopefully, his fears. He melts into the poignant familiarity of your touch and it makes you brave. This time, you'll be brave enough for both of you.

"Don't I deserve that?" you whisper, close enough to share his next breath. He watches your lips, hanging onto your every word. "Don't you?" 

His eyes meet yours, and it finally happens. The moment Joel gives in and decides to let himself be happy. He nods slowly in your grasp, reaching up to cradle your hand on his cheek. 

"Dunno what I deserve, darlin'. Not after the things I've done and the hurt I put ya through. But if I'm...if this is really what ya want...," he hesitates, his voice thick with tears and, yet, still that full-bodied, twang that sounds like home. "I'm yours. 'Til my last breath, I'm yours."

He kisses you before either of you can start crying again, and it's all there. The love he kept under lock and key to protect you, released from the prison of his own making.

His kiss feels different again. There's no hunger or rush, and the possessiveness—the need to devour everything you have to give so there's nothing left for anyone else—is gone. He's sure, now, that there's no one else you'd rather give yourself to.

His arms circle your waist and he pulls you closer, crushing you into time-worn chambray and sullied denim as you continue to explore each other like a pair of horny teenagers. Two lovers learning to give and take for the first time. Time passes slowly in this space you've carved out for yourselves, even as the moon continues to rise in the night sky and floods the corridor with light. 

Then, noisily and as if right on cue, the last-call crowd stumbles from the bar and immediately catches what the previous group missed. You and Joel separate, dazed but unhurried, to find that it's them. 

It has to be fucking kismet that, of everyone in Jackson, the first to witness your reconciliation would be the biggest blabbermouths in the entire town. The same women who talked shit about you every day for months and constantly vied for Joel's attention, standing there with wide eyes and slack jaws.

Their varied expressions almost make you want to laugh, and you can't help but snort unattractively into Joel's shoulder. Half of them are glaring at you, and the rest look either devastated or genuinely surprised. Guess you were better at hiding your arrangement than you thought, not that it matters anymore. It's a relationship again, and everyone's about to know all about it. Joel clears his throat, drawing their attention back to him.

"Evenin', ladies. S'there somethin' we can help ya with?" he drawls, breaking out the Southern charm that endeared every single one of them to him in the first place.

They all shake their heads, looking a little too pleased with themselves once the initial shock wears off and they realize you've just given them the gossip of the century. After a few fake, high-pitched pleasantries, they slink away as quickly as they came, already chatting to themselves about some shit you'll definitely hear tomorrow at breakfast. You watch them go, feeling oddly liberated.

"Guess the cat's outta the bag, huh?" You wrap your arms loosely around his neck, still chuckling softly to yourself. Joel huffs out a laugh, too, bending down to kiss the crown of your head before nodding in agreement.

"'Fraid so," he muses, amusement and a hint of something lighter glinting in his eyes. 

You haven't seen him this relaxed in a long time. As he holds you in his arms, he leans a fraction of his weight on you to ease the night's strain on his back and knees, and it makes you feel needed. Relied on. That's new, Joel depending on you like this. Things are going to be different this time around, you can tell. They already are. 

You hum, ruminating on what awaits you after your first night back in your own bed, in your own home. What everyone will think and say—to your face and behind your back—when they find out you're back together. Though, the only opinions you give a shit about are Ellie, Tommy, and Maria's, anyway.

So, yeah, you're a lot of things right now: exhausted, yet relieved and so full of hope. But you're not afraid, the cat and the bag be damned.

"I'm not," you tell him honestly as you pull away. You let your hands trail from his shoulders, down his arms, until his hands are in yours. 

Tugging gently, you walk him backward out of the alley, away from the bar and plummeting winter chill, and any lingering, prying eyes. Even the moon and stars have no stake in what comes next. This moment, right here and now, belongs to you and Joel, alone.

"Take me home, Joel."

The light in his eyes burns brighter, amusement giving way to adoration and contentment. He's been waiting for this, to be given the privilege of keeping you safe and taking care of you the way he needs to—it's how he shows love. 

He slots his fingers between yours and leads you down the empty streets of Jackson. 

"Darlin', nothin' would make me happier."

thanks for reading!

[cassiesc0rner]

Impurities II

Synopsis: You’re the new girl at East Highland High, your only goal is to get through school. Until you come across Nate Jacobs

Genre: slightly suggestive, fluff, slight angst

Pairing: Nate x fem!reader

Warnings: manipulation, lying, dark themes, let me know if I missed something

Song rec: saint - dpr ian | in my feelings- ldr

WC: +7k

Other parts: previous part, next part,

A/N: Hope you guys enjoy this part as much as the last one :3 I’d love to make some other parts including smut because I kinda like where this story is going so tell me if you guys would be down to read that!! ᥫ᭡

The next days weren’t that eventful. You went to school with Nate, you went to the mall with Nate, and you sometimes even waited for Nate until he was done with his football training.

The next week started out pretty smooth too. You got ready for school on Monday, before Nate picked you up, and you two drove to school and you went to your classes. Everything was going well.

Everything, except for lunch break.

The bell rang and you quickly stuffed your things into your bag, knowing that Nate was probably on his way to the cafeteria already.

You exited the room and walked towards the cafeteria, when someone suddenly stepped in front of you "We need to talk."

You looked up from the floor and found none other than Maddy. She had her arms crossed and looked at you with her usual confident stare.

You remembered what Nate told you about her, that you should stay away from her and that she's a liar, a cheater and simply a horrible person.

But you still couldn't be mean to her or ignore her. "About what?" You asked nervously. She rolled her eyes subtly "What do you think?" She answered.

Fair point.

"Listen, Nate and I aren't together if that's what you want to talk about. And even if we were, it’s not like we owe you any explanation." You didn't know where that surge of confidence came from. Maybe because she started getting on your nerves?

As if her constant stares weren't enough, she had to approach you now too? And she had the nerve to be annoyed when you simply asked what she wanted to talk about.

"Okay, I don't know what the fuck he told you, but it's probably not true." Maddy retorted "I just wanted to warn you, because you seem like a nice person."

You couldn't lie, you were curious about her point of view. You didn't want to betray your only friend, but it wouldn't hurt to listen to her explanation. It’s not like you'd believe her anyway.

"Warn me from what? I'm totally fine and Nate has been nothing but nice to me so far." Maddy scoffed, God, you’re so oblivious "So far, yeah that probably describes it perfectly. Did you ever do anything against his will?"

You thought for a moment Did I? "I take that as a no." Maddy answered for you "Nate only likes you because you do what he says. And," She looked you up and down "because you also wear what he wants you to wear. Seems like he didn't change at all."

You scoffed in disbelief "Nate has done so much for me, and he never forced me to wear this. He also never hurt me-." "Yet." She interrupted "It's only a matter of time until he does."

You stayed silent, not sure what to say to that "Nate loves control and he loves it even more when he has control over someone. He's fucking sick in the head, completely deranged!"

You didn't want to believe Maddy. There's no way Nate actually was like that, you knew him you spent so much time with him. Sure, he did have a short temper sometimes, but he never intentionally treated you badly.

And you knew that she treated him badly and not the other way around. How could she lie to you like that? Did she want you to drop him?

You weren't even his girlfriend and yet she went to such lengths to get back at him.

She's even worse than I thought.

"I know you probably don't want to believe me right now, because he seems like your only true friend and he did all these things for you. But all those things he does for you, are just another way for him to feel good about himself in some sick and twisted way."

What the fuck is wrong with her?

"Why would he buy all these things for you? Why would he make you change your style if he only wants to be your friend?"

She had a point, it might seem strange from the outside, but you knew that Nate only did that for you. He only gave you advice and compliments, and honestly? You felt way better about yourself compared to before.

"I appreciate your concern but it's really not like that, okay? I've known Nate for some time now, and if he would be as ‘deranged’ as you claim he is, I would've noticed by now, don't you think?" You responded as friendly as you could.

Maddy scoffed in return "Don't you think he's able to hide that? Of course he’s not violent towards you, you're like his new obsession. What would he do without you?" Maddy asked sarcastically.

"Maddy!" Nate's angry voice echoed through the hallway, making both of you flinch in surprise.

Maddy was scared, she knew what he was capable of, but she tried to keep her cool as he approached you two. "I told you to stay away from her, didn't I?" he said, his tone harsher than usual as he stared you down.

The hallway was almost empty, since most of the students were in the cafeteria already, but the ones that weren't, eyed the three of you. And it made you even more nervous.

You swallowed before nodding "I-I'm sorry-" "I talked to her first," Maddy interrupted. "someone had to warn her. Before you destroy her life as well."

That fucking bitch

She just couldn't keep her mouth shut, and it was pissing him off more and more. But Nate couldn't let his façade falter, especially not in front of you.

"You're insane... You always act like the victim, Maddy. You're so fucking desperate for attention that you involve innocent people."

You were so confused, first Maddy confronts you out of nowhere and then he appeared all of a sudden. And the other students were still staring as well.

"Are you fucking kidding me right now? You-" "Just like back then, when you fucked that guy in front of everyone. Did you enjoy the attention? Did you enjoy humiliating me like that?" Maddy's eyes widened as she scoffed, she couldn’t believe Nate was putting on this show in front of everyone "Don't even try to compare that to the stuff that you did, Nate."

Nate chuckled drily in response. "I love how you don't even deny it. Or how you lied about that guy taking advantage of you while you were drunk." He took a step closer to her "Don't ever talk to her again, do you hear me? If I see you fucking talking to her one more time, it's over for you."

Nate threatened as Maddy's eyes widened ever so slightly. Nate grabbed your hand and almost dragged you after him as he walked towards the cafeteria.

You stumbled along as he took big steps, you didn't dare to speak, you weren’t even sure what to say. Once you reached the table, Nate sat down pulling you along with him.

You looked straight ahead, too afraid to look into his eyes. Nate sighed "Y/n... Look at me." You slowly moved your gaze towards him. He looked worried, as if he had lost you, the anger from earlier seemingly gone.

But only on the outside.

On the inside he was fuming, wishing he had choked Maddy harder back at the carnival.

"I'm sorry for being angry back there... I just know how much shit Maddy talks, and I don't want you to worry about anything just because she needed attention again."

You nodded slowly "I'm sorry, yeah?" he repeated as he softly stroked your cheek with his large hand. You melted into his touch as you smiled and nodded once again. "I shouldn't have talked to her in the first place."

Nate smiled softly. He adored you so much, Maddy would always fight with him when he got angry, but you? You didn't, you simply accepted his apology and told him it's fine, accepting that he's the way he is.

"Yeah but it's not your fault. You're just nice to the wrong people sometimes." He reassured you once again.

Nate was still incredibly pissed at Maddy but seeing you smile and lean into his touch made him feel so much better. It was insane how good he felt when he was with you, how easily you trusted him.

Nate needed to keep you close to him, he couldn't afford to lose you and he 100% meant what he said to Maddy.

He'd destroy her if she ever tries something stupid again.

"So, what's the special occasion?" You chuckled as you walked into the fancy restaurant Nate had picked out for the evening.

He told you to wear something pretty because you'd go out tonight. Needless to say, your mom was not impressed.

All she heard was 'Nate' and 'going out once it's dark outside' and she was immediately alarmed. Telling you to send her a text at least every hour.

She wasn't that displeased with your outfit this time though. You wore a midi dress with floral patterns and a v-neckline, combined with black flats and a necklace with a heart shaped pendant.

Nate definitely had plans for tonight.

It's been a month since you first met, and he decided that it would be the perfect day to finally ask you to be his.

This had to be the first time Nate was genuinely nervous to ask a girl out.

He was sure that you liked him too, but you never made any advances towards him. The only thing he did notice however, was your sour expression whenever some of the cheerleaders, or any girl for that matter, would talk to him.

He could tell that you got jealous, maybe even compared yourself to them, completely unaware of the fact that Nate only had eyes for you.

"Well, I'll tell you after we ate. Let's get inside first." He smiled as he took in your outfit once more while you walked inside the fancy restaurant. You didn't dare to move from Nate's side, too nervous once you saw how huge the restaurant was on the inside.

Nate greeted the receptionist and talked to him for a moment before he lead you to a beautifully decorated table for two.

Before you could even grab your chair, Nate was quick to pull it out for you to sit on. God, he's so attentive..

You smiled as you sat down "Thank you, sir." you said jokingly. Nate smiled as he responded "You're very welcome."

Once he sat down he passed you one of the two menu cards, before taking the other one himself. "By the way, I'm paying tonight so don't worry and order whatever you want alright?" he smiled warmly as he placed his hand on top of yours.

You looked up from the menu and locked eyes with Nate, ready to protest "Nate-" he shook his head immediately "Listen, it was my idea to take you here, and like I said, today is a special day and I wanna pay for it. So please let me, yeah?"

You sighed, knowing it's useless to protest anyways "Alright.." Nate chuckled, finding your pouty expression absolutely cute. You shyly looked down onto the table before you continued to speak "Can you... help me pick something out?"

He loved it so much when you gave him control, loved you so much.

"Of course, ba-" he cleared his throat, before taking the menu and looking for something nice, hoping you didn't notice that he almost called you 'baby'.

"Alright.. how about this?" He asked as he pointed onto something on the menu. You nodded, sure that you couldn't go wrong with pasta "I trust you. I bet you go here often."

Nate pretended to think for a moment. "Hmm not that often, I think I went here like twice. I really only go here on special occasions but so far I wasn't disappointed."

Another lie.

He visited the restaurant often, his parents sometimes ordered food there as well. He had plenty of chances to test out how good their quality was. And since today would be important, he had to make sure everything was perfect.

Once the two of you finished your food, Nate was quick to call a waitress over. The waitress came over to your table, a smile on her face as she asked "Would you like to pay with cash or card?" Nate opened his wallet, before he pulled out his card "Card, please."

The waitress got her device out of her pocket and set it up before Nate quickly swiped his card over the display. It was such a simple task and yet he made it look so attractive.

Before the waitress could leave, Nate quickly pulled a fifty dollar bill out of his wallet and gave it to her. Your eyes widened as you realized that that was his tip "T-thank you, sir.." The waitress stuttered.

Nate usually doesn't tip that generously, he couldn't care less to be honest, but he wanted to impress you as much as he possibly could.

The two of you got up, and walked towards the exit of the restaurant, leaving the fancy place. "So, would you mind letting me in on your plan?" You asked as you walked towards his car.

Nate grinned sheepishly "Impatient, aren't we?" You jokingly rolled your eyes in response "Keep in mind that I have to be home in a bit." You reminded him as you walked ahead of him.

Nate suddenly grabbed your hand and spun you around, resulting in you stumbling into his chest. You looked up at him before taking a step back, your hand still in his "Don't worry your pretty little head, I already took care of that." Nate proudly announced.

You were beyond confused at this point. "Huh? What do you mean?" Nate chuckled at your confused expression. "I talked to your dad the other day when I was at yours. Told him that you'd 'be at a party' at my place today. He agreed and told me you could sleep at mine and that he'd talk to your mom about it."

You blinked up at Nate, surprised that he lied to your dad just so you could sleep at his. It had to be serious if he'd go that far "Wow... I... really?"

To be honest, it didn't go exactly like that, because he barely even listened to Nate, which obviously made him furious. He genuinely just wanted to club him with the nearest object.

He didn't understand how anyone could be so uninterested in his own family, especially you. Sure, he was happy that your dad agreed to let you sleep at his place, but he didn't even care about the reason, he just wanted to go back to doing whatever the fuck was more important, on his phone.

Your dad just came from work at that time, but Nate's pretty sure that he's always like this, simply from the stories he's heard from you.

"W-wait.. I didn't even pack things for that.. And you’re sure my dad just agreed like that?" Nate nodded "Yeah he did, and it's no problem I'll find something for you to sleep in, don't worry." Nate reasoned.

He couldn't wait for you to be in his clothes, in his bed, snuggled against him under his blanket. Fuck, he couldn't wait until he could finally wrap his arms around you and hold you close to him that you can't leave him.

Nate thought about sleeping next to you so often. He obviously also thought about sleeping with you and it felt like a dream each time.

He’d treat you like the goddess that you are.

Nate already made it his goal to make you cum as many times as possible before you pass out, and he'd do anything just to hear you moan his name. Just the thought alone had him throbbing in his pants.

"Nate?"

Shit, he had to control himself and prevent his problem from growing. "Yeah? Sorry, I got lost in thoughts." You chuckled at his flustered response and expression. You didn't know how people could be scared of him, not when he was this cute.

"You're so cute sometimes." Nate didn't expect you to say that. He's been called many things so far but that was new. And he definitely would’ve prefered any other compliment.

In his opinion, 'cute' was something you'd say to your girlfriend, or maybe a baby or your pet but not to a guy like him.

He swallowed his pride and put on a smile "You're definitely cuter." He said as he leaned down, his face almost directly in front of yours.

You gulped before laughing nervously, your eyes wandering around in an attempt to avoid his intense gaze. Nate smirked before walking past you "C'mon let's go." He said as he opened the car door for you.

The ride was pretty quiet, mostly because you still tried to figure out what Nate could've possibly planned.

You were sure that it wasn't his birthday today, since you've talked about birthdays before.

Nate parked his car and the two of you walked towards what appeared to be a park, with a white gazebo in the middle. Now you were genuinely starting to worry.

It was starting to get dark already, the sun almost gone as the two of you were in a seemingly empty park, heading towards a gazebo.

Nate could sense your hesitation in the way you walked a bit slower and looked around, observing your environment. "We're almost done I promise." Was all he said as he entered the fancy gazebo, sitting down on the bench inside.

You followed him inside, looking at him like a lost puppy. Nate smiled warmly as he patted the free spot next to him on the bench. You sighed nervously before finally sitting down, your gaze locked onto Nate.

He was really happy that you could finally look at him without hesitation, unlike the first time he met you. You got so much more comfortable around him in general.

He cleared his throat before he started talking "Alright, so.. I bet you're wondering what's going on." You nodded eagerly "Let me ask you something," He said as he fully turned towards you "Do you know what happened one month ago, exactly on this day?"

You looked into his eyes trying to search for hints, but found none. You tried to think back, repeating the date over and over again in your head but to no avail. You shook your head in response, a small pout on your lips.

Nate chuckled "One month ago was the first time we met each other, do you remember?" He asked carefully, and your eyes lit up afterwards, remembering how kind he was from the beginning. "Of course I remember, you really saved me, I thought I was just destined to stay alone forever until I met you." You smiled as you thought of all the great memories you and Nate had so far.

Nate felt relieved that you felt that way, and not like he was the reason barely anyone dared to talk to you. Which he obviously was, with the way he glared at anyone who even dared to look at you in the hallways.

"I'm glad you think so, y/n. And I've been think about this, and about you for a long time." You tilted your head to the side as you waited for him to continue "I really really like you, y/n. Not in a way.. a friend should like another friend."

Your smile dropped as you finally understood what was going on. The fancy dinner, the fancy gazebo, him mentioning the first time you met. No, there's no way, he wouldn't- "I love you, y/n. I know this might be sudden right now, but I just had to tell you today. The date was perfect and I... I'm tired of hiding this from you."

Nate despised how vulnerable he was in front of you right now, but he also knew that he might be more successful this way, that him showing some emotions would result in you saying yes.

"I know that you haven't been in a relationship yet and I promise I won't force you to do anything you don't want to do. We can take things slow."

You suddenly felt like your heart was about to jump out of your chest. Nate was asking you to be his girlfriend..

He planned all of this to ask you to be his girlfriend.

You did not expect that. You weren't sure what you were expecting but this wasn't on your list. "Nate I... I don't know what to say..." Was all you managed to whisper as you averted your gaze.

You'd be lying if you said you didn't feel something for him, and the fact that he put so much effort into asking you out also touched you, but you were so scared of losing him, you needed him whether you wanted to admit it or not. You couldn't even imagine living without him from now on so why did you hesitate?

Nate stayed quiet as well, before reaching for your hand, in an attempt to get you to look at him "Y/n, I get it, you probably didn't expect me to say all that, but I genuinely mean it." You slowly raised your head and looked into his eyes once again.

The look he gave you was filled with sincerity and love and you wanted to hug him and tell him that everything is gonna be fine, that you're his "You know that I might not be here for long... I couldn't live with the fact that I have to leave you behind. What if you'll feel like you're wasting your time with me?"

Nate quickly shook his head "I'll never think like that, and I already told you that I'll find a solution if that should happen." Nates grip on your hand tightened before he added "Just tell me what you want right now. Without thinking of things that might or might not happen."

You sighed "I want to be with you, I just... really didn't think you'd actually want someone like me to be your girlfriend, so I never considered it.." Nate frowned.

'Someone like you’? What did you mean by that? Nate was sure that there was no one better than you, that you were the perfect choice for him.

"There's nothing wrong with you, and I'll tell you that over and over again if I have to. You're everything I want, I don't need someone else I only need you, I already told you that before." He replied, searching for your eyes once again.

You suddenly remembered that day you went over to his place and his brother showed up. When you sat on the sofa with him and he told you that you were everything he needed. So he really meant it like that.

You looked at him, a sad smile on your face "I need you too, no one has ever been able to make me feel so loved and important... Not even my parents... I can’t imagine going back to that… I mean, I was miserable before I met you." Nate tried to hide his smirk when he heard that.

He absolutely loved how dependent you were on him, he knew you'd need him eventually.

He softly placed his hand on your cheek, hoping you'd melt into his touch like you did back when he first did it in the cafeteria.

And you didn't disappoint him.

You closed your eyes, enjoying the warmth of his touch in the chilly breeze. "Please.. Give me a chance to prove you I'll treat you good." Nate softly pleaded.

You opened your eyes, looking at him "I'd never doubt that, Nate.. I'm just really worried I-" Nate sighed before retrieving his hand, and you hated it, hated how cold you felt again.

"It's about what Maddy told you, isn't it?" Nate asked, his tone rougher than before. You quickly shook your head "No! Oh my god of course not. I know that she's lying." You scooted closer to Nate, your hands finding his this time.

"I trust you.. Only you."

Nate looked at you, a small frown still evident on his features. He kept quiet, hoping that it'll give you the final push to say yes.

You sighed as you thought for a moment. You liked him too, so why not give him a chance? You'll probably never be this lucky again. This is what you wanted, what you dreamed of.

You deserved some happiness for once. And you were sure he'd make you happy, just like he already did. And you'd do your best to make him happy as well.

"Nate, I'd love to be your girlfriend."

Nate almost jumped off the bench. You finally said yes, you were finally officially his. His eyes immediately lit up and he pulled you into probably the tightest hug you've ever had.

Nate sighed in relief, everything worked just like he wanted it to. No one would take you away from him now.

That was probably his biggest fear, that some guy would make a move on you and steal you from him. And it would've been so unfair too, because he was the one who turned you into his obedient pretty girl.

In his eyes, no one deserved you more than he did.

"I promise you won't regret it, yeah?" He mumbled into your neck before raising his head ever so slightly to press a kiss to your cheek.

You giggled as you tried to process the fact that Nate Jacobs was now your boyfriend. Once Nate let go of you, you noticed how cold it had gotten, and you shivered slightly.

Nate frowned "Are you cold? We can go home if you want to." He offered. "That might be a good idea. Only if you want to though."

Nate appreciated that you still let him decide, even though you were cold already.

He chuckled before standing up "C'mere." He said as he extended his arm. You stood up and walked towards him and he wrapped his arm around your shoulder, before the two of you walked to his car.

Nate knew that he had to introduce you to his parents and he absolutely hated it. He knew that if he simply told you to go upstairs, you might think he doesn't want you to meet them.

You were quick to misinterpret things negatively sometimes and he didn't want you to worry about his parents not liking you or something.

You once asked him, when you came over for the fifth time why you haven’t seen his parents yet. And he told you he only invites you over when he's alone, because they’re weird. He quickly made sure to tell you that he just simply 'dislikes' his whole family to put it nicely.

Once he parked the car, he turned towards you and placed his hand on your thigh to grab your attention. You looked up at him with your beautiful eyes and he could've kissed you right then and there but he wasn't sure if that would've been too soon for you.

"Listen, my parents are probably home right now... Just a heads up, they might want to meet you. Are you okay with that?" He asked softly.

You felt like your heart was about to jump out of your chest.

You've never seen them before, except on the family picture on the wall at the staircase. You had no idea what you had to expect. "I'm kinda scared to be honest.." You replied nervously. "What if they don't like me?"

Nate scoffed before shaking his head "Don't worry, they only hated Maddy, because she was really rude and she called my mother a cunt." Your eyes widened in shock "She did what?" You asked in disbelief.

Nate nodded as he looked outside the window "I told you, she was intense..." You scoffed in response "Yeah definitely, did she even contribute anything good to the relationship?" You asked genuinely curious.

Nate thought for a moment, did she?

"Well not really, but I don't care anymore. I have you now. You could never disappoint me the way she did, so don’t worry." He responded with a smile before undoing his and your seatbelt.

Once the two of you got out of the car and Nate locked the doors, he took your hand in his and walked towards the entrance.

He was kind of nervous as well since his dad could be unpredictable. But Nate already told his mom that he might bring you home today and she was thrilled to meet you.

He sighed before unlocking the door and walking inside with you. He just hoped Aaron wasn't at home or at least not downstairs this time.

You started taking your shoes off as quietly as possible, hoping that they wouldn't hear or notice you. Nate also took his shoes off before you walked the living room together.

His mom sat on the sofa with a glass of wine. As soon as she noticed the two of you, she placed her glass down on the coffee table and walked over to the two of you with a friendly grin.

"Hello sweetie, you must be y/n." She exclaimed before hugging you subtly. She then took a small step back and looked at you.

"Yes.. It's so nice to meet you.." You said as you tried to smile at her and maintain eye contact. You knew it would've been rude to not look at her, but you were still pretty nervous.

Then she looked you up and down, which made you even more insecure "Wow... gorgeous and polite, seems like Nate finally found the right one." Nate rolled his eyes before taking your hand back in his "Alright mom, we'll be upstairs then." He announced.

"Oh already? But-" "Yeah it's been a pretty rough week, we'll talk tomorrow." He interrupted before almost dragging you along with him towards the stairs "Again, it was nice meeting you Mrs. Jacobs."

You quickly added before following him "Likewise, Honey!" You truly loved how sweet she was. Your mom barely called you Honey, or Sweetie. She only used your name when she called for you.

Just as Nate thought he finally had you to himself, he heard the front door unlock.

He debated on whether he should turn around or not, before deciding against it and simply walking upstairs in front of you. Until he heard the person speak

"Aren't you gonna introduce me to your new girlfriend Nate?" It was Cal.

Nate was surprised when he entered the living room earlier and saw that his Mom seemed to be alone. But he was glad and hoped it'd stay that way.

But sadly it didn’t.

Nate sighed as he looked at you not sure whether to tell you to go ahead to his room or actually allow his asshole dad to introduce himself.

He noticed how Cal moved towards the stairs before he looked at you "I'm Cal, pleasure to meet you." He said before extending his hand.

You shook it, trying to mimic his firm grip but failing miserably. "I'm Y/n.." You almost whispered as you avoided his piercing gaze. You then retreated your hand before adding "a-also pleased to meet you."

You couldn't tell why but you felt the atmosphere shift in a way. It was.. eerily quiet. And you knew that there was something going on between Nate and his Dad. Simply by the way they stared at each other, and the way Nate talked about him sometimes.

"Alright, we're gonna go upstairs then." Nate said drily before gesturing for you to walk ahead. You quickly walked up the stairs, happy that you'd be alone with him soon again.

You didn't mind talking to his mom, but his dad scared the shit out of you. There was just something so dark about him. You wouldn't want to be alone with him.

Once Nate finally closed the door behind you two, you sighed out of relief. "Sorry about him, he really knows how to make people uncomfortable.." Nate grumbled when he saw the relief on your face.

"It wasn't that bad." You lied as you chuckled nervously. "You don't have to lie to me. I saw how nervous you got when you shook his hand." Nate responded before plopping down on his bed and sighing.

Why couldn’t he just move out and live with you? All alone somewhere secluded where he has you to himself, far away from his and your family.

"This is exactly why I didn't want you to meet my parents." He reasoned. You walked towards him, and lied down beside him before placing your head on his firm chest "Don't worry it.. really wasn't that bad. I think your mom is really nice."

Yeah totally

Nate closed his eyes as he enjoyed the weight of your head on his chest. He could’ve stayed like this forever.

Until your phone vibrated in your bag.

You groaned before getting up and rummaging through your bag until you found it.

It was your mom, great… You totally forgot to text her during the entire time.

6 new messages

mom: Hey, when are you gonna come home? 5:45 pm

mom: Just talked to your dad.. Are you really going to sleep at his place?? 5:58 pm

mom: Are you okay? 6:20 pm

mom: If you want me to pick you up you can call me 6:49 pm

mom: hellooo? 7:02 pm

mom: please text me back when you see this I’m worried 7:15 pm

“Holy shit…” You scoffed. “What? Is it your mom?” You nodded before walking back to bed and showing him your chat.

Nates eyes widened in both amazement and terror. “Jesus, she’s so controlling.” You nodded while you quickly texted her back.

You had to give her Nate’s address some time ago, when you went over to his place more frequently. You were sure she’d actually get in her car and come over if you wouldn’t reply to her.

you: I’m fine everything is okay! stop worrying so much 7:17 pm

Nate got up from his bed and headed towards his closet, grabbing a basic tee and some shorts before he handed them over to you “Here you can wear this, I hope it’s fine.”

You nodded and smiled at him “Of course, thank you.” He smiled back at you for a moment “I’ll go to the bathroom, yeah?” He said before heading towards his bathroom.

You decided to get dressed while he’s gone, slipping out of your dress, folding it as best as you could and placing it neatly next to his bed. Then you put on his shirt, which was in fact long enough to cover your thighs, and his shorts.

You sat back on Nate’s bed until he came back from his bathroom. Despite being in his room so many times before, you never slept at his place. Because you’re mother was against it of course.

But you had to admit it was smart of Nate to lie to your dad about having a party, and saying that many people were gonna sleep at his, and you wouldn’t be alone with him.

You wondered if Nate had to lie to his parents like that too.

His mom was way more understanding than yours was, so probably not. And she seemed so kind too, you couldn’t wrap your head around the fact that Maddy insulted her like that.

You wished you would’ve moved here earlier, simply because you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was a lot going on that you didn’t know of.

Like the Cassie situation for example.

You knew almost nothing about her, and it kinda scared you, because Nate mentioned that she was insane and extremely obsessed with him.

You didn’t even know what she looked like, so how were you supposed to stay out of her way?

You were certain that it would just be a question of time until she’d approach you as well. And you were also pretty sure that she won’t be as nice or as rational as Maddy was.

Sure, Maddy said all these bad things out of spite and because she hated her ex boyfriend. But Cassie? What if she’s still in love with him and finds out that you two are dating?

Nate entered the room again, taking in the sight of you in his clothes as you sat leaned against his bed frame staring ahead with wide eyes.

You looked so adorable and so… distracted for some reason. Nate walked up to you, pulling you out of your thoughts. “What’s on your mind?” He asked as he stood in front of you.

The way you craned your head up to look at him, made him feel things he shouldn’t feel. Especially since your head was at eye level with his crotch.

He tried to focus on whatever you were going to tell him nonetheless “I’m just… worried. You told me about Cassie being obsessed with you and… what if she finds out I’m your girlfriend?”

Nate sighed. Because you had a point, but he really didn’t want to think of her or talk about her anymore. He was already glad that she barely went to school after their break up, and that he could keep you far away from her.

“You don’t have to worry about her, I told you I’ll protect you. Cassie is crazy but she’s harmless, except for yelling she can’t do much.” He tried to reassure you.

You looked down as you fiddled with the hem of Nate’s shirt.

You already were an anxious person, so the fact that your boyfriend only dated crazy people in the past, wasn’t exactly helpful.

“I feel safe with you… but we’re not always together at school, and I… don’t have any friends.” That’s when you realized just how alone you actually were without Nate.

You had no friends at all, now that Nate wasn’t your friend anymore but your boyfriend. It was sad, really. But what you didn’t seem to realize was that it wasn’t your fault at all.

It was Nate’s.

He was convinced you didn’t need anyone but him, even if that meant you’d have no friends. What would you need them for anyway when you had him?

Nate frowned “But you’re not alone either, you have me. Or… am I not enough?” He frowned. You immediately shook your head “No, of course you’re enough. You’re more than enough, that’s not what I meant.”

Nate smiled in response before you added “I just see all these girls walk through school with their friends and.. it makes me feel sad because I don’t have any friends I can talk to or walk through school with.. I sometimes feel like I’m getting on your nerves because I talk to you so much.”

Nate scoffed as he walked towards the TV "C'mon you could never annoy me." He assured you as he turned the TV on. Then he turned off the main light and plopped down next to you before turning on the bedside lamp.

When you didn't respond to him, he added "I understand that you want to have friends at school, but most of the girls at school are... awful. They're fake, and really mean and all they care about is boys and sex."

You really wanted to believe him but there’s just no way every single girl was like that. And Nate also couldn’t possibly know every single girl at school.

Nate looked at you and it was almost as if he could read your thoughts, because he knew you didn’t quite believe him.

And it irritated him.

You always believed him everything so why were you questioning him now?

He quickly changed the topic in an attempt to put a stop to your thoughts. “I still can’t believe you’re mine by the way...” He said as he softly intertwined his fingers with yours, smiling at you.

And it worked like a charm.

You smiled shyly as you avoided his somewhat intense gaze. You weren’t sure if you’d ever get used to him looking at you like that.

Nate decided to take it a step further, stroking your cheek with his other hand until you slowly looked back at him.

“Can I kiss you?” He asked quietly, almost as if he was scared you’d say no.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t want him to kiss you, but you literally never kissed anyone before and you were scared that Nate would laugh at you.

“Um… yeah just… please don’t laugh at me.” you chuckled. Nate smirked “Don’t worry, I won’t. We’ll take it slow, yeah?” He said as he scooted closer.

He let go of your hand and moved it to your left cheek instead, cupping it gently as he pulled your face closer. He leaned in until his lips finally touched yours.

The feeling was foreign but you enjoyed it nonetheless. His lips were so soft as they moved against your own. You tried to mimic his movements as your brows furrowed in concentration.

Nate slowly broke the kiss as he searched your face for any sign of discomfort “How did it feel?” He asked as his eyes were glued to your lips. “It felt.. really good.” You responded quietly.

“Can we try again?” You asked as you fiddled with you shirt again.

Fuck, why were you so cute?

“Sure, of course.” Nate responded “You can touch me too, you know?” He added as he took your right hand and placed it on his shoulder. “Oh, okay..” You smiled before leaning in again.

Nate pressed his lips against yours once again. He could tell you were more eager this time when you leaned in first. You tilted your head slightly, like you had seen on TV several times, and it already felt more natural and deeper than the first kiss.

You felt incredibly excited with how close Nate was to you right now, and you also had this warm, fuzzy feeling in your stomach.

It was almost like your body worked on its own. Your hand slid from his shoulder to his neck as you closed your eyes, and your lips finally seemed to move more in sync.

Nates hand moved to your waist in an attempt to pull you even closer, while your unoccupied hand moved to his cheek.

He pressed kiss after kiss onto your lips making sure to take his time with you, some kisses lasting longer than others.

You were the first one to break the kiss this time, since you were running out of breath. “Wow.. that was amazing.” You chuckled as you slowly removed your hands from Nate.

He smirked at you, clearly happy that you enjoyed kissing him, because he felt the same way. He was definitely glad that you didn’t straddle his lap though, because then you probably would’ve felt just how happy he truly was.

“Wanna do it again?”

✎ Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed this part as well. If you have any questions/feedback please let me know ♡

- Cassandra

[ilylovelyz]

⍣ ೋ after the break-up

☆ kuroo, oikawa, daichi, hinata, bokuto akaashi, sakusa (prt 2.)

KUROO TETSURO — assuming reader is the one who ended it, he's absolutely blindsided and shocked. he walks around in a daze; to anyone who didn't know him, he just looks tired or whatever. to whoever does, it's clear he's absolutely destroyed and crushed. of course, he'll try to act his best to not let it show how sad he is, but it really shows when his teammates were wondering where he was, only to find him sitting alone on a bench, looking down at his feet somberly.

"kuroo." kenma called out softly, his lips pursed into a line at the sight of his childhood sitting ways away from the rest of his team. it took a minute before kuroo was looking over his shoulder to look over at the shorter lad, his eye-bags dark, lips pursed into a straight line. "...i miss her." kuroo mumbled, looking back down at his feet, one of his hands coming up to brush through his distressed black hair.

he feels even worse when he sees you in the distance, walking home with a friend of yours. he can only think and remember when it was him walking you home, your hand intertwined with his. he chews on his lip as you get smaller and smaller as you walk more into the distance. he misses you.

OIKAWA TORŪ — he acts totally unbothered. his teammates didn't even know the two of you broke up until one of them asked about you jokingly, to which oikawa stuck out his tongue, huffing a "she dumped me," before swiping the nonexistent hair off his shoulder with sass. he thinks he's okay; he feels okay. it doesn't catch up to him until one day he's still practicing long after official practice ended.

oikawa grunted as he jumped into the air, his hand coming up to slap the ball. he can only furrow his eyebrows in annoyance when the ball hits the net, dropping over to the floor. "damn it." he curses, wiping the sweat off his forehead. i'm thirsty, he thinks, looking to the side where you would sit on the floor, watching as he practices.

but you're not there... where are you? "y/n-chan?" he calls out, his eyes looking around the empty gym. "..she's gone oikawa, remember— she broke up with you," a voice speaks from behind him. he turns around to see iwaizumi standing behind him, his eyes low with concern. oikawa feels a pang of hurt within his chest, his face morphing into one of hurt. oh, thats right, you left him.

DAICHI SAWAMURA — please, he's so heartbroken. he's so sad and hurt, when you were breaking up with him, he knew he couldn't change your mind, so he let you go, because he knew that was the best choice for the both of you. he stills watches over you, his protectiveness still present. he'll still watch you in class and in the hallways, his eyes never lingering off you for even a second.

"y/n—y/l/n-san," he says meekly, his eyes watching your face for any discomfort. "how are you doing?" he asks. he still attempts to talk to you, even if you crushed his heart completely. "i'm doing great, daichi-san, how about you? how is volleyball going?" his heart stings at your formality, he would do anything just to hear the way you call him by that cute nickname you gave him.

i'm hurt, i miss you, i miss you—i miss you a lot. can we get back together? "i'm doin' great, we are able to go to nationals, i'm so excited." he says with a forced grin, he hopes you don't notice the way his smile doesn't meet his eyes. "sure, let's go to the rooftop?" you say, slowly getting up from your seat. usually, you'd hold his arm as the two of you walked, but you don't. instead, you walk with a slightly behind him with much of a distance for his taste, but it's okay. he doesn't want to make it anymore awkward than it already is. he'd rather be your friend than loose you completely.

HINATA SHOUYO — he cried, he cried for days. even tsukishima felt bad for him. he was almost like a zombie, and he felt even shittier when he was so exhausted that his spikes were shit. he needed your presence, he needed you to be at his side, but you weren't there at all, you left him, you left him shattered and inconsolable. he nearly got sick with the way he was so sad, almost throwing up a few times because of how hard he cried.

"y/n," he calls out from behind you. you turn your head to look him, removing your hand from your locker. "oh, hey, shouyo," you say sheepishly, tone seemingly afraid and hesitant. you seem to know what he's already feeling. "how are you doing?" you ask, turning your body to face him.

"i.." he stammers, swallowing thickly as he tries to prevent his voice from cracking. "uhm—are you gonna be there for my game next saturday?" he asks, his eyes almost wide with the way he waits for your answer. his eyebrows furrow with sadness when you give him a bittersweet smile, "i.. maybe."

BOKUTO KOUTARO — his emotions are even worse than hinata's. he actually refuses to accept the break-up, and literally gets on his knees to beg you not to leave him. he'll literally wrap his arms around your waist, his head mushed into your belly as he cries into your embrace, mumbling apologies and love confessions. he almost loses a couple of games after the breakup because he was such an emotional wreck.

"see you later y/l/n-san." your friend says, waving a goodbye as you part ways with her. you say a goodbye as well before continuing your walk down the halls. your heart beats nervously, sometimes you see bokuto in this part of the school, but you're not surprised that you do. he pops up in front of you, almost as if he was awaiting for your arrival.

"y/n.." he whines, biting on his lower lip, his hair greatly deflated. you can only sigh at the sight in front of you. "hey, kou.." you say softly, you're not even going to try to switch to his surname or even his full first name either, that'll actually destory him and you know that.

"y/n, can we please just–", "kou," "–can we please just talk about this, i need you." he whimpers, hastily walking over to you, his hands grabbing at your elbows. "koutaro." you sternly say, your use of his first full name as him freezing in place, his lips pursing into a straight line as he tries not to cry. he's then pulling you in for a hug, his head resting in the crook of your neck and he sniffles against you, whining your name like a sweet baby. you can only rub your hand against his back comfortingly before you're pulling away from him for the last time.

AKAASHI KEIJI — he tried to handle it maturely, he really tried. he respects your decision, it'll be unfair to force you to stay in a relationship when you're unhappy. like a mature person, he's polite, so polite everyone almost forgets that you two dated. but not everyone, after all, you two dated for almost two years. he's still concerned for you, though, he still looks out for you, he always will.

"y/l/n-san, do you need help with that?" he asks, quickly coming over to your side when he sees you walking with a bunch of books in your hands. "y-yeah, please, akaashi-kun," you stutter, your arms relaxing when he takes more of the lion's share of the books from you. "thank you, they were really heavy." you joke, cheekily grinning at his help.

"no problem, just helping out." he says, looking straight ahead of him blankly. he seems to be dealing with it as well as he can, of course, he misses you, and he still resists the urge to text you late at night when he's upset. what about you though? you can't help the way you're gazing at him from behind, marveling at his pretty emerald eyes. akaashi notices, of course, but he doesn't take a plan of action to do anything about it, and neither do you. it was your decision after-all.

SAKUSA KIYOOMI — like oikawa, he acts totally unbothered. he'll brush off whenever someone sends their condolences on the breakup, either scolding them for their annoying pity, or not saying anything at all. deep inside, he's almost annoyed at the way he's so hurt. it's helpless, there's no point in being sad when he can't do anything about it. but he does, but it's over. he feels out of place, his daily structure and schedule is disrupted, and silently, he still awaits for you to call for your place back into his life.

"ah! kiyo.." you shout, trailing off when he walks right past you. it stings you greatly, but at the same time, you understand his actions. the two of you dated for nearly four years, since he was a still a young teenager. he avoids you like the plague now, not even sparing you a glance whenever he does come across you.

you won't ever deny it, even if it's a shock for your pride, you miss him. you miss him and his stupid check-ups, him and his annoying pesters of "did you wash your hands?" you thought that he would be okay with remaining as friends, and he did agree to that, but now, it's like you don't even exist to him. to him, you do, but he just refuses to interact with you, his pride hurt and crushed, as for the first time, he's disturbed.

please like and repost with tags

[dollcherray]

꒰͡ ͜ ı ͜ ͡꒱ DOLLHOUSE ۶♡ৎ

CAINE AND JAX WITH A CREEPY DOLL READER

A/N: This is so silly, definitely not self indulgement.

Type: Romantic/platonic, fluff, headcanons

About reader: Reader talks very slowly, have creepy hobbies and is very mysterious.

Warnings: Decapitation mentions, gore mentions, reader literally wants to sacrifice Jax, Jax is being haunted by you, NOT PROOFREAD, i just did this because yes.

Song: Dollhouse

CAINE ✮⋆˙

୨୧ I dont really think Caine would be really scared or creeped out by you at the start, because he's an AI so, his reaction would be a totally different than the others, i can see him complimenting you actually.

୨୧ When you first got into the circus, you were just so eerily... calm? it impressed him a bit since everybody freaked out whenever they got to the circus, thats the first thing that kinda got him curious, but he just brushed it off when he found out its just in ur nature.

୨୧ When you talk slowly and smoothly like those creepy characters, he would just get a bit impatient, Caine is a very eletric and excited robot, so i dont really think he would have much patience with you when you start talking.

୨୧ One thing that can annoy him a bit is the fact you were just so mysterious, you werent really present on the adventures and when you were you just would blend in the background and didnt really do much, it was like you were a digital ghost or something.

୨୧ He would question the others of why they were so creeped by you, like i said, your weird nature wouldnt really have an effect on him so its very likely that he wont get why the others are so scared of you.

୨୧ About how he reacts to your creepy hobbies; he just doesnt really finds it age appropriate, like, why do you have so many gory drawings?! why do you keep trying to decapitate Jax?? to use his head as a souvenir?! reader!! that is not age appropriate!

୨୧ He would try to drive you away from those creepy hobbies, only upsetting you and making you "calmly" threat him saying you would make him eat his own eyes, but it was an empty threat since you cant do much to the RINGMASTER of the circus, and it didnt really work but oh well.

୨୧ He finds your character unique because it can 'almost blend in the dark easily' and he says that because one day he went out in the night to just wander around since he's an AI and doesn't really need sleep and... thats when he saw you, putting a message with a cute bow wrapped knife in Jax's door... you looked really nice in the dark btw.

୨୧ Yeah, overall, he just thinks you are another silly goof.

۶♡ৎ “...[NAME] you cant say that.”

JAX ۶♡ৎ

୨୧ Fuck.

୨୧ I think Jax would be really fucked up, he made a HUGE mistake when he tried testing your patience at first, calling you "edgelord" and etc, he got a chance at first when you just decided to ignore him, but, he tried his luck again by trying to nag you with his pranks.

୨୧ He laughed at you threatening to give him 'a DIY plastic surgery' on his face, thinking you were just trying to be a "edgy kid"... until your brutal payback..

୨୧ Now you are haunting him, congrats, you have instigated fear into the 'funny' purple bunny that now everytime he sees you in a adventure, he gets more worried in making sure you aren't trying to stab his back with a axe than causing chaos and violence.

୨୧ This man was so flabbergasted when you tried to 'payback' his prank with setting up a axe trap in his room door to try and decapitate him, thats when Jax knew he fucked up.

୨୧ The others praise you because whenever your in the same room as Jax, he shuts up for the first time and as long as you're present in the same room as him, he wont bug anyone and that makes everybody so much happier.

୨୧ He has to check his door for traps EVERY MORNING to not get greeted with a knife to his forehead or worse: with you instead.

୨୧ You probably haunt his dreams, Jax probably had a nightmare that had you included, oh wow you have officially turned into Jax's living nightmare, like why is this happening to him?! is this karma for his pranks?! god help him.

୨୧ He hates you and your voice and everything about you! Thanks to you, now everybody has an argument to mock him, thanks to YOU everybody knows he's not that tough, even Gangle laughed at him!

۶♡ৎ “I'm so incredibly disappointed right now.”

[pedrospatch]

a safe haven l nine

Jackson! Joel Miller x Female Reader

series masterlist

summary: When you find out that you’re pregnant, everything comes crumbling down around you.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. (TW) THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS A SCENE THAT HEAVILY IMPLIES DOMESTIC VIOLENCE. this chapter it also contains a very uncomfortable scene with reader and Luke, but despite the sexual nature of the scene, READER DOES NOT GET SA, BUT SHE DOES GET INJURED. INJURY there is a description of an injury as the result of DV HEAVILY IMPLYING STRANGULATION. PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS. pregnancy, mentions of high risk pregnancy (not reader), mentions of child loss (not reader), mentions of pregnancy related symptoms (missed menstrual cycle, morning sickness), protective Tommy Miller, protective Joel, and last but certainly not least, feral Joel. this chapter is a lot, just proceed with caution if anything in bold can be a potential trigger for you.

word count: 11.8k

October, 2024

It’s the middle of October.

By now, the pain had become almost unbearable. Time certainly wasn’t healing the wound. 

If anything, time only seemed to be making it worse.

So, so much fucking worse. 

It drags, and you almost feel as if you’re paralyzed by it. But the only thing that you can do about it, about any of this, is just pretend. 

Pretend everything is okay.

Pretend it doesn’t hurt.

Pretend you don’t feel empty.

Pretend you don’t need him.

But you do need him. Oh, how you fucking need him.

The hole in your heart is growing bigger by the day, and only Joel Miller is capable of filling the void. Only he has the ability to make you feel whole again. Complete.

“Be honest with me—what does this look like?”

You pause your knitting and glance over at Maria.

With her due date approaching, you had offered to help her prepare for the baby’s arrival. At about six months, Maria was expected to give birth towards the middle of winter season, and instead of trading or having to use rations for certain baby items, like blankets, little socks and mittens, you’d decided to show her how to make them instead. Not only was it saving her from having to trade or use her rations on things that could easily be knitted, but it served as a decent, albeit temporary, distraction, giving your mind the chance to focus on something else other than how deeply you were hurting without Joel.

Tilting your head slightly, you eye the soft, butter yellow wool she’s holding in her hands. “Um, is that the start of another baby blanket?”

“No.” Maria’s face falls. “It’s supposed to be a hat.”

“Oh. Um.” You lean forward in the brown leather armchair you’re perched on, squinting hard at it as she holds it up. “Okay, yeah, I can kind of see the shape of it now. I can totally see it being a little hat for the baby.” She tosses you a knowing smile and you squirm slightly, heat prickling at your ears.

“I appreciate you lying to me.” She giggles and sets down her knitting needles beside her on the couch along with the ball of wool yarn. Leaning back, she places both hands on her belly and sighs. “At the very least this child will never go without a blanket seeing as blankets are all I’m capable of making.”

You flash her a small, but reassuring smile.

“You’ll get the hang of it, Maria, I promise. It just takes some practice, that’s all.”

“Well, now that Luke has put me on strict bed rest until I have the baby, I’m going to have all the time in the world to practice,” Maria remarks, exhaling another sigh. Craning her neck, she peers at your own knitting project, which you’ve been working on in something of a secretive manner in your lap and out of the expectant mother’s view. “What are you making over there, anyway?”

Her timing couldn’t have been more perfect.

“I’m so glad you asked since I’m just about done.”

Crossing the last stitch, you set aside your knitting needles and then hold up the finished product. “What do you think of these?”

Maria’s hand flies to her mouth, tears welling up in her dark eyes the moment she sees the pair of little brown baby booties in your hands. “I’m sorry,” she apologizes, a tear rolling down the side of her face as you stand up and walk across her living room to present her with the shoes. Sitting down beside her, you hold them out in the palms of your hands. With trembling fingers, she accepts them. “Kevin had a pair just like these when he was a newborn. I kept them even after he’d outgrown them.” She lets out a small laugh in spite of herself. “You know, I’d always complain that he was growing up too fast. I used to wish that I could slow time down a little so I could enjoy my son being that young longer,” she admits, sniffing. She reaches up, dabbing at her damp eyes with one of her hands. “And now Kevin is frozen in time, forever a three year old little boy.”

She sets the booties down on her belly and inhales deeply, willing herself to keep her composure.

Swallowing back your own emotions, you brush a single, stray tear from her cheek with your thumb. It wasn’t the first time that she’d opened up about losing her child—but Maria often kept her emotions hidden, tucked away along with her son’s memory. For the last several years, she’d dedicated most of her time and energy to Jackson and to its people, pouring herself completely into her role as the community’s leader. But now that Luke had placed her on strict bed rest for the rest of her pregnancy, Maria had no choice but to step down, temporarily handing the role over to Tommy, along with a small council she’d handpicked herself.

It hadn’t been easy for her, after all, there was only so much she could do to keep herself preoccupied while being confined to the four walls of her home. She found her mind wandering to Kevin a lot more often than not lately, and the pregnancy hormones did absolutely nothing to help in the matter.

“Maria?” you say her name softly. “You okay?”

She slowly exhales the breath she’d been holding.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she finally replies, sniffing again.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” She pauses momentarily. “I just—there’s a part of me that still has trouble believing I’m going to be a mother again. It’s been so long, you know? What if I’ve forgotten how to be a good mom?”

Dropping your hand from Maria’s face, you offer it out for her to hold. She accepts it and you give her hand a gentle squeeze as you vouch, “This baby, they couldn’t be any luckier than to have a mother like you, Maria.”

“And a fuckin’ hell of a dad like me,” a voice teases from the doorway.

Tommy, who had been down at the commune’s market picking up some potatoes for dinner, saunters into the living room with a brown paper bag in his arm. Setting the bag down onto a nearby table, he then makes his way over to his wife. Noticing that she’d been crying, he leans over and presses his lips against her forehead, softly murmuring, “You doin’ alright, sweetheart?”

“I’m alright,” she assures him with a nod. “I’m just extra sensitive and hormonal right now. The usual.”

He hums. “Uh, yeah, I kinda figured that out when you bawled your way through Old Yeller at the movies the other night.”

She pouts. “Pregnant or not, that movie’s a tear jerker, okay? Only people made of stone don’t cry when the dog dies.”

“She’s got a point, Tommy,” you agree with a shrug. “I cried too, and I’m not pregnant.”

Drawing himself back up to his full height, Tommy glances at the booties resting on Maria’s belly. He picks them up and holds them both in the palm of his hand. 

“Well, ain’t these just the teeniest things I ever did see,” he remarks with a soft chuckle. “Who made these?”

Maria jerks her chin towards you. “She did.”

Tommy’s eyes meet yours and it feels like a punch to the fucking gut—they remind you of his brother. “Almost feels like a crime, havin’ you make clothes for our kid for free,” he states, shaking his head as he hands them back to Maria. “You’re makin’ the baby’s entire wardrobe at this point, little lady.”

Sheepishly, you wave a dismissive hand at him. “I made one sweater and a couple pairs of mittens for them. I wouldn’t exactly call that a wardrobe, Tommy.”

“It’s a hell of a lot more stuff than we had before. I gotta be honest, it just don’t feel right acceptin’ all these things from you without payin’ somehow. I’d really like to at least trade you somethin’ for them.”

Shaking your head, you politely decline the offer.

“I appreciate it, but I really don’t need anything.”

“What ‘bout Luke?”

“He doesn’t either.”

“But—”

“Honey, don’t waste your breath,” Maria chimes in with a sigh. “I’ve been trying to get her to accept a trade all week long and she simply won’t budge.”

Tommy purses his lips together, slowly rubbing his chin in thought. “Okay, I’ve got an idea,” he proposes after a minute. “How ‘bout you and Luke both come on over and join us for dinner later tonight? That ain’t too bad of a deal, right?”

You silently mull over the offer for a second.

“If I accept the invitation, then will you two knock it off with all this damn trade nonsense?” When he eagerly nods, you sigh. “Alright then, I accept. We’ll come over for dinner tonight. Granted he doesn’t come home late from the clinic again.”

“Perfect,” he grins. “See, that wasn’t so hard now, was it?”

Knowing he only means well, you decide to be a good sport about it and smile at him. “No, Tommy. I suppose it wasn’t.”

“Great!” Maria beams. “We haven’t had a chance to get together for dinner in months. Lately when I see Luke, it’s as his patient,” she muses. “I have to admit, it’ll be so nice to have a conversation with him that doesn’t revolve around my uterus for once.”

Tommy jokingly makes a face. “Yeah. Tell the doc to leave all that medical stuff at the door before he comes over. Last thing I wanna hear ‘bout while I’m chowin’ down on some big, juicy bison steaks is what fuckin’ size my wife’s uterus is—”

“Tommy! That’s not funny!” Rolling her eyes at her husband, Maria turns to you to apologize but she stops short when she notices a sudden, not to mention drastic, change in your complexion. Frowning, she reaches up and touches your cheek. “Hey, you don’t look so good. Are you feeling alright?”

You can taste the bile at the back of your throat.

“I—I’m sorry, what did you just say was for dinner?”

Tommy shoots you a strange look. “Uh, steaks?”

The mere mention of the word sends a violent wave of sickness crashing over you—slapping your hand tightly over your mouth, you scramble to jump off the couch and make a beeline for their downstairs bathroom right across the hallway. You’d made it just in time to fall to your knees in front of the toilet. Clutching the sides of the porcelain bowl, you gag loudly, and the sickening sound of your retching bounces off the walls.

As your stomach heaves, you feel one hand gather your hair to hold it back and out of your face, while the other rubs soothing circles into your back.

“Let it all out,” Maria encourages you. “It’s alright, just let it all out. There you go, get everything out.”

Tommy pokes his head into the bathroom.

“She okay?”

“Tommy! Get out of here!” Maria scolds him over her shoulder. “She doesn’t need an audience!”

He holds up his hands. “Alright, alright! Sheesh, I was just makin’ sure she’s okay, you ain’t gotta bite my head off!” He huffs at her. “I’ll be in the kitchen if you two need me.” Without another word, he spins around on the heel of his boot and disappears.

Once you’re certain there’s nothing left, your trembling hand reaches for the handle on the tank and pulls it down, flushing the toilet. You then sit back, slumping against the wall. “Jesus. I am so fucking sorry. I have no idea what the hell came over me,” you groan, the embarrassment evident in your tone as you wipe at your mouth with the sleeve of your flannel shirt.

Maria peers at you with a suspicious glint in her eyes.

“You know,” she says, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear, “About five months ago, I went through a phase where I couldn’t stand the thought of meat—any kind, but red meat had to be the worst. I just could not stomach it.” Her hand falls away from your face and she rises to her feet with a labored grunt. Leaning back against the sink, she continues to say, “Poor Tommy, he couldn’t even mention it to me or I’d throw up on his boots. Not long after that, I found out I was pregnant.”

You stare at her, your lips parting slightly.  “Maria, you can’t seriously be insinuating—I am not pregnant. No, it’s not possible, you know that I can’t have kids,” you sputter out, furiously shaking your head. “There’s just no fucking way that I’m—”

Maria holds up her hands to stop you. “When was the date of your last menstrual cycle?”

“It was recent.”

“How recent?”

Silently, you start counting the weeks and you freeze the moment you realize you’d missed September completely, and October’s cycle had been due two weeks ago. You’ve been so lost in your own grief, so busy trying to keep yourself from falling apart, that you hadn’t even realized you haven’t bled since—

“August,” you breathe out in a terrified whisper.

The last time you had your period was in August.

August. 

Before you had slept with Joel Miller for the first time. 

Maria whirls around and starts digging in the medicine cabinet above the sink, and then in the one below it. After a minute of rummaging, she turns back around and extends a hand out to you, offering to help you to your feet. She lets out another grunt as she helps you stand. “I had one left,” she states, holding out her other hand to you, an individually wrapped pregnancy test in her palm. “At this point, I don’t think you even need to take a test, but it doesn’t hurt to have solid proof.”

You can hardly choke out her name. “Maria—”

She hastily shoves the test into your hands. “Just take it. I’ll be back in to check on you, okay?”

Not giving you the chance to protest, she steps out of the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

You look down at the test in your palm and then up into the mirror, meeting your own wide eyes in the reflection.

It can’t be possible. It just can’t be possible.

You can’t have children. 

With shaking hands, you unzip your blue jeans and then tear open the package. Your mind is in such a haze, you have to read the instructions three or four times before the information finally sticks. After taking the test, you lay it down top of the counter with the results window facing down. You pull your panties and jeans back into place and wash your hands using the bar of soap next to the sink—all the while, the sheer panic has started to settle in, the fear that accompanies it seeping deep into your bones.

Swallowing harshly, you realize it’d been well over the three minutes the package had instructed you to wait for the results.

“It’s negative. It’s negative,” you affirm quietly over and over underneath your breath as you pick it up and flip it in your hand. “It’s negative. It’s negative—”

You stop, and for a second, your heart feels like it stops too.

Horrified, you blink furiously, as if somehow you’ve misread the results—but there is no fucking mistaking those two solid little pink lines.

Your blood runs cold in your veins.

You’re pregnant. 

Luke hasn’t touched you in months.

And you’re pregnant. 

Luke hasn’t touched you in months. 

And you are fucking pregnant. 

Maria knocks lightly on the bathroom door.

“It’s been a few minutes now—can I come in?”

She waits, only to be met with complete silence.

“Hey, hon.” She knocks again. “Is everything okay?”

Again, there’s no response from the other side of the door.

“Christ, Maria.” Tommy suddenly appears beside her with a glass of water in his hand. Flashing his wife a teasing look, he quips, “Can’t you let the poor girl do her goddamn business in peace? What’s wrong with you, woman?”

Maria frowns. “I think something’s wrong.”

His playful grin falters. “What do you mean?”

“She’s not answering me.”

Tommy chortles, quirking an eyebrow at her. “Maybe ‘cause she’s actually in there doin’ her business?”

Hesitantly, Maria bites down on her bottom lip.

“What? What is it?”

“I gave her a pregnancy test to take.”

Tommy’s eyes widen. “You fuckin’ with me?”

Maria glares at him. “No! I’m not fucking with you, I’m being serious! I gave her the test and then told her I would check back in with her after she took it, but now she’s not answering me and I’m kind of worried.”

“The door locked?”

She shakes her head. “No, I don’t think it is. Should we just open the door and see if she’s okay? I don’t want to barge in there but—”

Tommy hands Maria the glass of water. “Hey,” he calls lightly as he raps on the door with his fist. “Everythin’ alright in there?” He waits for a minute, but when you don’t reply, he grasps the brass doorknob in his hand and says sternly, “Now you listen here, little lady. You had best answer me right now, or we’re gonna have to come in, you understand me?”

Silence. 

“Last chance, talk or I’m gonna open this door.”

Nothing. 

“Alright then, suit yourself. Hope you’re decent.”

Tommy turns the knob, cracking the door open—when he doesn’t see you, he tries pushing it open further. The door stops halfway, and he peers around it only to find you sitting on the floor with your back against the wall, preventing the door from going any further. “Shit, she’s sittin’ right behind the goddamn—fuckin’ hold on, Maria! If I try shovin’ it open, I could hurt her!” Being careful so as not to hit you or step on you by accident, he squeezes his way into the bathroom. He crouches down beside you, cupping your cheek in the palm of his hand. “Hey, what is it? What’s the matter?”

Your eyes flicker up to meet his.

You can’t speak. You can’t move.

All that you can do is stare at him. Petrified. 

“C’mon, little lady,” he coaxes, softly. “Talk to me.”

“Tommy! Let me in!” Maria demands, impatiently. “Can you move her? I can’t squeeze through, my belly is way too big.”

Tommy slides one arm around your shoulders and the other arm under your knees. “I’m just gonna move you out the way so Maria can come in, alright? C’mere.” He gingerly slides you across the tile and cradles the side of your body against his chest. He then calls out to his wife, “There, that should be enough room!”

Maria pushes the door open and rushes inside. “Is she okay?” Gripping Tommy’s shoulder, she slowly lowers herself to kneel beside you. Her eyes go straight to the test clutched in your hand. She just about has to pry your ice cold fingers off the white stick one by one. “It’s positive,” she gasps. “Your results are positive—you’re going to have a baby!”

Tommy lets out a loud, gleeful laugh. “Did’ya hear that, little lady? You’re gonna have a baby! You’re gonna be a mama! Ain’t that great news?”

Finally, you snap out of your trance. Your eyes anxiously bounce between Tommy and Maria, heart pounding as they eagerly wait for your reaction with smiles of pure excitement on their faces.

“I—” Unable to utter another word, you burst into tears.

And they’re certainly not tears of happiness.

No, the sobs coming from deep within you aren’t full of joy at the news that you’re going to be a mother.

They’re pained. Cries full of sorrow, anguish, and fear. As the confusion flashes across their faces, all you can do is weep harder, and louder.

“Wait a minute, I thought you would be happy.” Maria’s hands reach for yours and she holds them tightly as she tries to understand what it is that is causing such a negative reaction. “You and Luke tried for a really long time to have another baby. Why are you so upset?” She keeps her voice calm, kind. Warm. It wasn’t that she was judging you—Maria wants to help you, however there’s no way for her to help you if she doesn’t know what’s causing your grief in the first place. “What’s the matter, honey? Are you afraid after what happened last time?”

“I can’t be pregnant,” you rasp out. “I can’t—”

“Hey now, it’s alright. C’mere.” Tommy shifts and he moves to sit down beside you against the wall. His arm drapes around your trembling shoulders in an effort to comfort you. As your entire body shudders with sobs, he pulls you close against his side, rubbing your arm with his hand. Once they’ve subsided and little hiccups are all that are left, he finally speaks again. “You can talk to us, little lady. ‘Bout anythin’ that’s on your mind. We care ‘bout you a whole lot. Y’know that, don’t you?”

“Tommy’s right,” Maria nods. “You’re like family to us. You can come to us about anything. We’ll do whatever we can to help you, okay?”

You shake your head tightly. “I can’t. I just can’t.”

She lets out a small sigh and glances at her husband with a look of defeat. “I think you should run down to the clinic and get Luke. He’ll know what to do to calm her down.”

“No!” you shout loudly, startling them both. “I—Luke can’t find out that I’m pregnant. He just can’t know, or else—” A fresh batch of tears spring forward as you clamp a hand over your mouth, muffling another wail.

“Or else what?” Maria asks, raising an eyebrow.

Or else he was going to fucking kill you.

Tommy grabs your wrist, gently tugging it away from your face. “Or else what?” He echoes his wife. “What is goin’ on? Is there somethin’ we should know ‘bout?”

Yet another sob escapes you and his fingers curl tighter around your wrist, firmly, but he’s careful not to be too harsh.

“We’re gonna need you to tell us what’s goin’ on.”

There’s no way around it. Around any of it.

You have to tell them. 

Swallowing harshly, you admit, “There is.”

The couple waits expectantly.

“The baby isn’t Luke’s.” You mumble it so quietly and incoherently that neither of them hear it despite being in such close proximity.

Maria furrows an eyebrow. “What did you say?”

“The baby isn’t Luke’s!” You cry out, yanking your wrist out of Tommy’s hand. “This baby isn’t his and that’s why he can’t fucking know!”

And just like that, the truth comes tumbling out.

Luke’s violence towards you.

Your romantic affair with Joel.

Ellie discovering the abuse and telling him about it.

Your stubborn refusal to let either of them do anything to help you.

You spare no details of everything that had taken place over the last several months, and by the time you had finally finished, both Tommy and Maria were rendered completely speechless.

“Can one of you say something? Please? Anything at all?” Your voice is small, feeble.

After a minute, Tommy pulls his arm from around your shoulders and stands up. He helps Maria up to her feet before he extends his hand to you. “Alright, first thing’s first. Let me get you up off this floor, little lady.”

His voice is soft, and so is his gaze.

“Tommy how can you—after everything that I’ve done? Your brother—”

“Please. Just let me help you off the floor and then we can talk ‘bout it. Okay?”

You accept his hand, allowing him to pull you to your feet. Much to your surprise, he doesn’t let it go as he leads you out of the bathroom and back into the living room where he sits you down on the couch. Maria, who hasn’t said a single word, takes a seat beside you.

Tommy kneels down in front of you, placing a warm and gentle hand on your leg. He almost looks a little bit guilty, as if he should have known what was being done to you behind closed doors. “Look, m’gonna ask you a question and I need an honest answer. How long has he been doin’ this to you?”

Anxiously, you start wringing your hands in your lap.

“Tommy, I can’t. Please, don’t—”

“Tell me,” he encourages you, softly. “When did it first start?”

Your throat bobs. “Two months after my dad died,” you confess, another tear rolling down the side of your face.

Maria stiffens. “Luke has been putting his hands on you for two years?”

“Yes.”

You can hear the shame in your own voice—shame for letting the abuse go on as long as it has, for everything to come to light like this.

“Fuckin’ hell.” Tommy sighs heavily and hangs his head. “Joel told me. He fuckin’ told me.”

You wipe at your swollen eyes with your forearm.

“What are you talking about, Tommy?”

He sighs again.

“Months ago, the day after the big summer party,” he begins to explain. “We were at the bar. Joel was askin’ me ‘bout you and Luke. Said somethin’ just wasn’t right when he saw you two together for the first time. He tried to tell me somethin’ was wrong and I—I didn’t fuckin’ believe him. Told him he was seein’ what he wanted to see ‘cause I knew he liked you. I fuckin’ told him that you and Luke were happy. He tried to tell me and I didn’t fuckin’ listen to him.”

“Tommy, please don’t blame yourself for this,” you beg him. “I’m the one who chose to hide it. This is my own fault, okay? This is all on me, not on you.”

Maria furiously shakes her head. “It’s not your fault and it sure as hell isn’t on you. You’re the victim here.”

Victim. 

The word makes you cringe.

“But it is my fault, Maria. I hid it from you guys for two fucking years.”

“But why? Why did you hide it? Why didn’t you come to us?” Tommy’s voice is strained. “You should’ve told us what he was doin’ to you. We—I could’a done somethin’ to stop it. I could’a helped you.”

“Because. I didn’t want to risk getting him thrown out of the community. Jackson needs him, Tommy.”

“Like hell we do,” Tommy rises to his feet. “Ain’t no way that we’re gonna tolerate that fuckin’ shit here.” With his hands curled tightly into fists, he spins around and starts heading towards the front door.

You stand and chase after him, catching him just as he opens it. “Where the hell are you going?”

“To confront that pathetic son of a bitch—”

“Tommy, please! Don’t do that.” Grabbing his arm, you shoot him a pleading look. “Please, think about this for a minute.”

“Ain’t nothin’ for me to fuckin’ think ‘bout, alright?”

“Yes, there fucking is! This town needs a doctor. They need Luke—Maria needs Luke.” You glance over at her just as she appears in the hallway with both hands on her belly. “God forbid that something goes wrong—she goes into preterm labor or she has a complication when she gives birth. Did you think about that?”

“We’ve got two nurses,” he reminds you.

“Two nurses who only know basic neonatal care. That’s it. If something serious happens, Maria’s going to need Luke. And the baby’s going to need him too.”

You knew you’d gotten your point across when Tommy turns to his wife, helplessly.

“Fuck,” he curses, slamming the door shut. “She’s right. I fuckin’ hate to say it, but she’s right ‘bout that.”

“I am right,” you state and his attention flits back to you. “Luke has to stay and you both know that as well as I do. For the good of Jackson, he has to stay.”

Conflicted, Tommy growls out in frustration. “So what, I’m just s’pposed to give him a fuckin’ pass? How the hell can you expect us—how can you expect me to let that motherfucker walk around this place knowin’ what he’s been doin’ to you over these last two years?”

Your fingers dig into his arm, a fresh batch of hot tears stinging your eyes. “Tommy, if this community suffers without Luke because of me, it will destroy me. The guilt will fucking destroy me.”

Finally, Maria decides to step in. “Listen, I know that you’re trying to look out for the people of this town and I get that. But you’re risking your own life by asking us to let him stay here.” She walks over to you, taking your hands in hers. “Honey, I know men like Luke because I used to prosecute men like Luke. I would take them to court on murder charges.” Her eyes find yours. “I don’t want to scare you, but if that is the only way for me to get through to you, then I will sit you down and I will tell you all about what happened to the women who swore to me their abusive husbands would never, ever take it that far.”

You swallow harshly and a chill runs up your spine.

“I’ll leave,” you squeak. “I’ll leave him.”

“And what if he doesn’t let you walk away?”

Tommy crosses his arms over his chest. “He will if I’m the one who fuckin’ talks to him. I ain’t gonna give him the choice. He has to let her go.”

Panicked, you furiously shake your head. “No! I can do this on my own, Tommy. I can handle him alone. I don’t need you to do it for me. I can fix this without your help, okay?”

“You can’t,” he says, firmly. “You just can’t.”

“Yes, I can—”

He cuts you off with a pleading look.

“You need to let us help you. Please. Let us help you.”

You had agreed to it, but only on one condition.

“I need a couple of days,” you’d told them.

Tommy frowned. “No. It’s happenin’ tonight. We’re gonna talk to Luke, you’re gonna pack up a couple bags, and we’re gettin’ you away from him. You can stay here with us for a while. You’ll be safe.” Taking notice of the shocked look on your face, he said, “I know you ain’t crazy enough to think I’m gonna let you go home to him tonight. Ain’t no way in hell.”

“I—this is all happening so fast. It’s too overwhelming, Tommy. I just need a day or two to process everything before I take that leap.”

“And give Luke the fuckin’ chance to hurt you again?”

“He hasn’t laid a finger on me in weeks now.”

Tommy scoffed, “Well, someone give him a fuckin’ medal!” He exclaimed, throwing his hands up. “He hasn’t hit his wife in weeks! What a fuckin’ guy!”

You recoiled, his sarcasm stinging like he’d poured salt straight into the open wound.

“Tommy,” Maria glared at him. “Not helping.”

He immediately shot you an apologetic look.

“Shit. Sorry, little lady. I’m just real worried ‘bout you. I don’t like the idea of you goin’ home to him tonight, and much less knowin’ that you’re pregnant, y’know?” His eyes had fallen to your stomach with sudden curiosity. “When, uh—when do you plan on tellin’ Joel ‘bout the baby, anyway?”

Heat flooded your face and neck.

“I—I’m not really sure about that yet.”

“Jesus Christ, Tommy! She just told you that she’s feeling overwhelmed,” Maria chastised him. “Let’s take it one step at a time, okay? Our first priority is going to be to get her out of that house. She has already agreed to letting us help her, so I think there’s a bit of room for compromise. Here’s the deal.” She put a hand on your shoulder. “As much as I don’t want to let you go home to him tonight either, I’m going to allow it so you can take a breather. Tomorrow in the afternoon when you get home from work duty, I’ll come over and help you pack some clothes and necessities, and we can bring them over here to our place.”

Nervously chewing your lower lip, you asked, “And then what?”

“I’ll go confront Luke,” Tommy stated. “Best if you ain’t there when I talk to him, little lady.” He turned to Maria, placing a hand on her belly. “I don’t want you to be there either, sweetheart. I ain’t takin’ any chances and puttin’ you and the baby under stress so I’m gonna have to handle him alone, alright?”

Maria nodded, shifting her attention back to you. “So? Do we have a deal?”

Meekly, you had nodded in agreement. “Yes. We have a deal.”

The rest of that evening passes by in a blur.

Autopilot had taken over the moment that Tommy took you across the road and dropped you off at your door.

“Any problems, you come get me,” he’d said. “You come and get me. No matter what time it is, alright? You fuckin’ come and get me if he tries anythin’.”

All that you could do was give him a weak nod and then you’d turned around, slipping into the house.

You don’t remember cooking dinner.

You don’t remember looking at the clock, noticing it was well past dinnertime and realizing that Luke would be home late as usual. You don’t remember fixing him a plate and leaving it on top of the stove for him to find when he came home, storing all of the leftovers, and washing the small pile of dirty dishes in the sink.

You don’t remember heading upstairs afterwards, you don't remember taking a long shower, brushing your teeth or changing into your pajamas.

It wasn’t until hours later, when the bedroom door opened and Luke walked in, that autopilot finally disengaged.

“You’re still up?”

You’d been sitting on the foot of the bed anxiously picking at your fingernails without even realizing it until he glared at you—he’d always hated the habit and spent months smacking it out of you.

Ceasing from messing with your hands, you drop them into your lap.

“You’re home really late again,” you say, quietly.

“I made a last minute house call. John’s little boy came down with a hell of a fever tonight.” Luke sets down his satchel bag and shrugs out of his jacket—as he does so, you catch sight of the tiny, reddish purple bruise on his neck, right below his ear. Draping his jacket over a nearby chair, he arches his brow as if he were silently challenging you to confront him, as if he’s daring you to ask him who had given him a love bite.

You don’t care. You don’t care about what or who Luke has been doing over the last several nights when he’s been coming home so much later than usual.

Kicking off his black boots, he saunters over to you, his mouth stretching into a cruel, satisfied little smirk.

Oh, he knows damn well you’ve already figured it out.

He wanted you to figure it out.

“Spend the afternoon at Tommy and Maria’s again?”

“Yes. I did.”

“I see.” He hums. “She was telling me during her exam this morning at the clinic that you’ve been helping her knit some clothes for the baby. Is that so?”

“I have,” you murmur, looking down to avert his curious gaze as he stops in front of you. “We’ve been making blankets for the baby, too.”

Luke cups your chin, forcing your eyes back up to meet his. “Well, isn’t that sweet of you.” He roughly curls his fingers around your jaw, his thumb brushing along your quivering lower lip. He hums again. “Something about you seems different, darling. Been looking a lot prettier to me these days.” He lets go of your jaw and brushes your hair behind your shoulder, his finger skimming the strap of your cotton pajama top. “How long has it been now, sweetheart?”

Your throat goes dry, your lips parting in shock as Luke pulls it down your arm, his palm grazing over your skin.

No. This can’t be happening. He wants to—?

Without waiting for a response, Luke grabs one of your hands and places it over his belt buckle.

Noticing your expression, he laughs again. “Why do you look so surprised?”

“You—you haven’t wanted to touch me in months.”

Luke shrugs. “Well, what can I say? I’m suddenly in the mood for my pretty little wife’s cunt.” His grin stretches from ear to ear. “Who knows, maybe we’ll get lucky this time. Maybe we’ll have a little one of our own running around this place. I’m feeling rather optimistic tonight.”

You’re going to be fucking sick all over him.

No, you can’t let him do this to you.

You can’t let him touch you.

He pushes your hand lower, right over his bulge.

“No!” Tearing your hand away, you jump up and roughly shove him away from you. “Don’t you fucking touch me!”

He stumbles backwards, but he catches himself before he can fall.

Your chest heaves a d he stares at you, bewildered at what you had just done. “I’m so sorry that whoever you fucked before you came home wasn’t enough for you, but you are not fucking touching me,” you spit at him. “In fact, you’re never touching me ever again because I’m leaving. I’m done, Luke.”

“Excuse me?”

“You fucking heard me.” Your voice trembles—you can’t be sure if it trembles out of anger or out of the sheer terror you feel. Maybe it’s a bit of both. “It’s over, Luke. This marriage is fucking over. I’m not putting up with what you’ve been doing to me for the past two years. I’m not going to tolerate it. Not anymore. I’m not going to allow you to keep on hurting me.” Lifting your hand, you slide your wedding band off of your finger and toss it at him. It clinks as it lands on the hardwood floor near his feet. “I’ll be out of the house by tomorrow evening.”

“Let me take a guess.” He speaks calmly, much too calmly, as he starts towards you. The time bomb has started ticking. “You’re going to move in with Joel Miller and his feral little rat of a kid?”

Hands curling into fists at your sides, you seethe, “Where I move is none of your fucking business, Luke.” He steps closer and your courage starts to falter. You can feel yourself wanting to back down—the thought of your unborn child is the only thing that keeps you from completely losing your nerve. “Here is the deal. You’re going to let me leave and you’re going to stay the fuck away from me. If you do that, then I won’t tell anyone anything about the things you’ve done to me. It’ll be like none of it ever happened. We both move on with our lives. Separately. Got it?”

He draws closer and closer. Much too close.

“Oh, you silly, silly girl,” he tsks. “Do you really think you can call the shots? Do you really fucking think you have the upper hand here? That you can make the decision to end this marriage, just like that?”

Closer, until his chest brushes against yours.

“Luke, I’m giving you a fucking chance here,” you say, backing away until the back of your knees hit the edge of the mattress. With nowhere else to go, to run, you fall backwards onto the bed, scrambling up towards the headboard. Your heart is pounding, too hard and too fast—would it give out before he even has the chance to get his hands on you? “Luke, please, just let me go.” Clasping your hands together in a plea, you beg him, your back pressed against the headboard, “If at any point in our relationship you loved me—if at any point in our marriage you actually cared about me, you will fucking let me go in peace. Please. Just let me go. Let me fucking go.”

Luke stands at the foot of the bed, his face blank.

Emotionless. There isn’t a single ounce of compassion in his eyes. No mercy. 

“Please,” you whisper once more. Curling both of your arms around yourself, you subconsciously protect your belly.

Luke reaches down and unbuckles his belt.

You watch, your stomach churning, as he slowly slides the black leather from the loops of his jeans.

“I’m not letting you go anywhere.”

“I mean it, Joel. Stay away from Luke.” 

Joel clutches his stallion’s reins tightly in his hands as the pair fall into a slow, easy trot behind Tommy and his horse, Ranger.

He follows his brother as he leads the way through the quiet, tranquil plains of Wyoming. Instead of scanning their surroundings for signs of potential danger, all Joel can do is think about you—that was all he could ever do these days, was fucking think about you and about that fucking night.

The memory plays over and over in his mind on a loop, torturing him day in and day out. It never fucking stops. Repeat, repeat, repeat.

“I mean it, Joel. Stay away from Luke. And maybe it’s for the best if you just fucking stay away from me too.”

That’s precisely what he had done. He had stayed away from Luke. And against his better judgement, he had stayed away from you, too.

“How’s it feel to be back out here?” Tommy asks over his shoulder. He tugs at the reins and gives Ranger the cue to slow his trot, giving Joel and his horse, Bandit, the chance to catch up and ride at their side. “Bet you couldn’t be fuckin’ happier to be off house arrest, huh?” he adds, a light joking edge to his tone.

After about four and a half weeks, Joel had made a full recovery, and he was cleared to return to patrol duties. Wanting to ease him back into the swing of things after so much time off, Tommy decided to pair up with Joel as his partner for that morning’s watch. The two took a route just a few miles west of the community, one that was scoured every couple of days since it was so close to Jackson’s main gate.

“S’alright,” he mutters with a shrug that causes him to wince. His shoulder’s still a little sore. Ellie had assisted with his physical therapy, badgering him every single night to do the exercises in some book she’d found in the town’s library with Dina’s help. He had full range of motion again, and that’s all Tommy had needed in order to allow him to return to patrol.

“You feelin’ alright?” His brother notices the slight look of discomfort on his face. “Shoulder’s good?”

“Any particular reason you’re bein’ so annoyin’ today?”

Tommy feigns offense. “You got fuckin’ shot, Joel. Just makin’ sure you’re okay. Jesus.”

Joel lets out a small huff through his nose. “M’fine,” he assures him. “Shoulder’s good. Still hurts a little and the cold weather ain’t doin’ a whole lot to help, but ain’t nothin’ I can’t handle.” Sitting back in his saddle, he lets his thighs close around Bandit. “Whoa,” he utters to the animal, his fingers squeezing the reins as he signals for Bandit to come to a halt.

“What’s the matter? Why are we stoppin’?”

“This route’s clear, Tommy. We should turn around and go find the rest of the group. Check and see if the other routes are clear too.” Joel clicks his tongue, prompting Bandit to move again. He steers the stallion and starts turning around to lead them back east, but then stops once more. He glimpses over at Tommy, who hasn’t moved a muscle. Noticing the odd, pensive expression on his face, Joel frowns, asking, “What’s wrong?”

Tommy chews the inside of his cheek, his apprehension written all over his face. “Uh Joel, there’s something we need to talk ‘bout and maybe it’s best if we do it while we’re out here, just the two of us.”

Confused, Joel’s eyebrows pull together. “What is it?”

His brother hesitates. His lips purse together, a sudden look of regret flashing across his features.

“Tommy?” Joel prompts. “The hell’s goin’ on?”

Exhaling a heavy sigh, he states, “You were right.”

“Right ‘bout what?”

“‘Bout Luke.”

Joel freezes in the seat of his saddle.

“You were fuckin’ right ‘bout him mistreatin’ her.”

His grip around the reins tightens, skin stretching thin over his knuckles so tight they’d gone white.

“She was over at mine yesterday afternoon. Ended up tellin’ me and Maria everthin’ ‘bout Luke and what he’s done.” Rolling his lower lip between his teeth, Tommy pauses for a second before repeating, “You were right. You were fuckin’ right ‘bout that bastard from the start and I’m real sorry that I didn’t fuckin’ believe you, Joel.”

Joel’s mind begins to race.

What had prompted you to finally tell Tommy and Maria about the abuse? Did something happen to you that he didn’t know about?

Ellie had been pretty good about keeping him posted. He would ask her about you the very minute she’d walk through the front door after her shift at the stables and she would provide him a full report.

“She’s fine. She ain’t hurt,” Tommy reassures him, as if he’d read his mind. “We’re plannin’ on movin’ her outta the house later on tonight.”

“What?” Finally, Joel speaks, his voice rigid.

Tommy holds his hands up in defense. “Now, hold on. I need you to give me a minute and let me explain—”

“She told you Luke’s been abusin’ her and you just let her go back to him? Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me? Why didn’t you and Maria fuckin’ stop her?”

“Why didn’t you fuckin’ stop her the night you saw the bruise on her?” He shoots back at him. 

Joel stares at him, his lips parting slightly.

How did he fucking know about that? 

“She told us the truth ‘bout the affair too, Joel.”

“She did?”

“She did,” Tommy confirms with a nod. “I had a hunch, y’know. The day of the ambush, I thought I saw panic in her eyes when I told Ellie you’d been shot. Then I saw it again when she saw you there sittin’ on that table with a bullet in your shoulder, but I brushed it off. Thought she was just real worried ‘bout the kid seein’ as those two are thick as fuckin’ thieves, y’know?” Despite the serious nature of the conversation, he can’t help but let out a chuckle when he thinks of you and Ellie. “But now I know she was scared of losin’ you. That girl loves you, Joel. I know you love her too. I’m willin’ to bet it’s the reason you let her walk away that night. Why you kept her secret.”

“Jesus.” Joel exhales a shaky breath. “Y’must think I’m a real fuckin’ coward for knowin’ what he’s been doin’ to her and not doin’ a goddamn thing ‘bout it, huh?”

Tommy shakes his head.

“It’s a complicated situation, brother. She only did what she did for the good of the community. She’s still trying to do what’s best for Jackson, believe it or not. She, uh, she wants us to let Luke stay.”

“She wants you to let him stay?”

“Girl’s got too big of a heart. Doesn’t want the town to be without a doctor.”

“Ain’t no goddamn way you’d let him stay! After all the fuckin’ shit he’s done to her?” When his brother doesn’t respond, Joel narrows his eyes at him. “Jesus Christ. You can’t fuckin’ tell me you’re actually considerin’ it? Are you fuckin’ serious, Tommy? You and Maria would let that son of a bitch stay in Jackson? Knowin’ he’s spent two fuckin’ years puttin’ his hands on his wife?”

“Look here, alright? I don’t like the idea as much as you don’t, and neither does Maria,” he says. “But this ain’t exactly black and white, Joel. I really fuckin’ wish it was. But the hard truth is that Jackson does need a doctor, and unless one magically falls out of the fuckin’ sky, we ain’t got much of a choice here. My wife and child, they might need him, y’know? Maria’s considered a high risk ‘cause of her age. If somethin’ happens and there’s complications when she’s in labor, she and the baby are gonna need him. Our nurses, they ain’t really trained to handle things like that, y’know?”

Joel’s lips press together into a tight, thin line.

Of course it’s black and white to him—because he loves you. You’re his fucking priority. There’s no gray area for him. None.

But Tommy? His priority is Maria and their unborn child.

Joel can’t fault him for that, and he certainly isn’t going to try. But what about you?

“Listen, Joel. I know this is real fuckin’ hard, believe me I do. I care about that girl a lot, a whole fuckin’ lot. I saw her as family long before I knew ‘bout your relationship with her and before I knew she was—”

He stops abruptly, red splotching his cheeks.

Joel still doesn’t know he is going to be a father. Again.

“Before you knew she was what, Tommy?”

“Tommy!” A woman’s voice shouts. “Joel! Over here!”

The two brothers glance over their shoulders and see the rest of their morning patrol group heading towards them.

Tommy bites back a sigh of utter relief. That had been too fucking close.

He turns to Joel, lowering his voice. “Joel, I need you to listen, and listen to me real good. We’ve gotta take this one step at a time. First thing’s first, me and Maria are gonna get her outta that house. She can stay with us at our place for a while. She’ll be safe with us. That much I can promise you.”

“Then what?”

“Don’t know yet. We get her out first and then we figure things out from there. In the meantime, I’m gonna need you to stay calm, Joel. Please. Don’t go off and do somethin’ stupid, alright?”

That had been a lot easier said than done.

Joel needed to talk to you.

He needed to fucking see you. 

But his brother had been adamant.

“Don’t fuckin’ get involved, Joel. Not ‘til we get her out. I don’t want things to fuckin’ explode in our faces, alright? Let me handle this.” 

Letting out a heavy sigh, Joel leans back into the couch and looks down at the guitar in his lap—he’d just spent the last hour carefully polishing it in an effort to keep himself occupied. He thought back to that night you’d come over to gift it to him, how he had kissed you for the first time mere hours before you showed up on his doorstep with your father’s Gibson.

As he gives the guitar a gentle test strum, he recalls the request you made for him to sing you a song and a dull ache settles in his chest, right over his heart. He’ll sing you every song you want to hear, if given the chance.

Part of him is optimistic that he would get the chance.

You were meant to be his. He was meant to be yours.

He just fucking knows it.

Joel’s train of thought is shattered by the sound of the front door opening, and then loudly slamming shut.

“Ellie?” He calls out.

Her voice comes from the hallway. “Yeah?”

“C’mere, kiddo.”

Ellie grumbles incoherently as she walks into the living room, hair disheveled, clothes filthy, and her sneakers caked with muck from the stables.

Joel frowns at her. “What the hell happened to you?”

“Today was just really fucking shitty and while that was a great pun, for once, it was not fucking intended,” she sighs, crossing her arms over her chest. “If you called me in here to ask me about her, I’d save my breath. She stayed home today. She’s sick.”

Joel’s stomach instantly drops. “She’s sick?”

“Yeah. With like a really bad cold or something.”

Putting down the guitar, he questions, “And who told you that?”

“Dina,” Ellie replies, looking puzzled. “She said Luke told her—” She stops abruptly as he jumps to his feet and immediately shoves past her, heading towards the front door. She spins around on her heel, following him. As he flies down the porch and starts down the road towards your house, she is forced to jog along beside him just to keep up with his stride. “What, what? What is it? Fucking answer me, Joel, what is it?”

“She ain’t fuckin’ sick, Ellie.”

“What do you mean she’s not—oh fuck. You don’t think she’s hiding out at home because—?” Ellie’s heartbeat stutters when the realization sinks in. “Luke.”

When the pair arrive at your place, they find a very, very distraught Maria Miller standing on the front porch, her hands wrapped around the doorknob. “Hon, I need you to let me in!” She turns and pulls the knob, desperately. “Please! Open the door for me!”

Your tearful voice comes from the other side. “Go away, Maria!”

The sound of Joel’s boots prompt Maria to turn around. “Joel,” she breathes out his name in relief. “I can’t get her to open the door. Tommy went to see if we have a spare key for the unit. He hasn’t come back and I don’t know what to do.”

“Break a fucking window, maybe?” Ellie snaps at her.

Joel silences her with a glare and then takes Maria by her arms, moving her to stand behind him. “Open the goddamn door!” he commands firmly, pounding his fist harshly against the wood. He can almost feel the way you freeze on the other side the moment you hear the sound of his voice. “Open this fuckin’ door right now!”

Ellie chimes in, “Come on, please open the door!”

“Go away!”

Joel continues to beat his fists against the door. “Show me what he fuckin’ did to you!” He shouts as he drops his hands to the doorknob, clawing at it as if somehow that’s going to do the trick and open the door. “C’mon! Show me what that fuckin’ bastard did to you!”

“Please, go away, all of you! Just leave me alone!”

“You know we can’t do that,” Maria calls. “You’re going to have to open this door and let us—”

Losing what very little patience he has to begin with in the first place, Joel cuts her off. “I will fuckin’ break this door down if I have to,” he threatens. “I’ll cause a scene and let everyone in this whole fuckin’ town know what Luke does to you. Is that what you want?”

He hears the lock click almost instantly.

Finally, you crack the door open and peek out to show them your face. “There, you fucking see?” Your face is blotchy, your eyes red and swollen from crying. “I’m fucking fine! Now fucking go away!”

You try shutting the door, but Joel is too quick and slips the toe of his boot in, wedging it between the door and the doorframe.

“Move, Joel!”

“Nope,” he says, keeping it planted firmly in place.

Not wanting to break his foot, you let up and he shoves his way inside with Ellie and Maria trailing behind him.

Taking a clumsy step backwards, you gather up the front of your knitted cardigan in your trembling hands, bunching it around your neck to conceal it. “Get out! Please, just get out!” you beg them through your sobs. “Please leave! I’m fine! Look at me, I’m perfectly fine—”

Heart hammering painfully against his sternum, Joel walks over and he takes your wrists. “Let me see. Baby, please. Just let me see.” His voice is raw, thick, as if he were on the verge of tears himself. He just knows he’s failed you, failed to keep all those promises he had made about never letting anything bad happen to you. He’s fucking failed. Again. He tries to find your gaze, but you refuse to look him in the eye. “Let me see,” he chokes out again, the warmth of his skin a stark contrast against the iciness of your own. “I’ll force you if I have to, so please just show me. Please, just fuckin’ show me what he did to you.”

Letting out another agonized sob, you drop your hands and let go of the material, letting it fall back into place at your sides and exposing your injury.

Maria gasps into her hands. “God.” 

“Fuck.” Ellie’s eyes widen in complete horror.

Joel drops your wrists, taking a step backwards as his eyes glaze over the severe discoloration around your neck.

He feels fucking sick to his stomach, but it isn’t until he notices the clear imprint of a square belt buckle on the column of your throat that Joel thinks he might actually be sick all over the floor.

“What the hell is going on in here?”

Luke’s voice suddenly echoes through the foyer. He stands near the front door, looking thoroughly confused—that is, until he sees you standing there, exposing what he had done to you the night before with his belt. The very same belt he’s wearing now.

No one has the chance to speak.

No one has the chance to think.

No one even has the chance to breathe.

Joel charges at Luke. He roughly snatches the collar of his jacket and pulls him further into the foyer of the house, away from the open front door so that he has nowhere to run.

You rush towards them. “Joel, stop! No!”

Maria quickly hurries to stop you, grabbing you by the back of your sweater. She yanks you back and out of harm’s way. “Don’t!”

Horrified, you watch as Joel slams Luke straight into the mirror hanging on the wall—head first. He pulls him forward, then slams him back even harder, the impact completely shattering the glass. Hundreds of shards go flying across the hardwood floor.

“Oh shit! Watch out!” Ellie jumps back as a sharp piece of broken glass lands between her sneakers.

“Joel, stop it! Please, stop!” you cry out as Maria grasps your arm to keep you from jumping in the middle of the altercation. “Stop it!”

But Joel is too far gone. Ignoring your desperate cries, he wraps one hand around Luke’s neck, holding him in place. His other hand curls into a tight fist and he starts delivering bone shattering blow after bone shattering blow to his face. “You wanna fuckin’ hit someone?” He snarls as the man’s nose cracks beneath his knuckles. “You wanna fuckin’ put your hands on someone? Huh? Then you fuckin’ put ‘em on me! C’mon, I fuckin’ dare you to put ‘em on me!”

Throwing Luke onto the floor, Joel climbs on top of him and he secures both of his hands around his throat. He feels the uncontrollable urge to do to him what he had done to you—only, unlike Luke, he doesn’t need a belt, and unlike Luke, he isn’t going to stop.

He isn’t going to let him live.

Joel squeezes Luke’s neck, cutting off his oxygen.

“How do you fuckin’ like it,” he hisses, irises going from brown to black as he presses harder on his windpipe. “C’mon, tough guy, tell me how you fuckin’ like it.”

Luke feebly claws and scratches at his hands, gurgling as blood starts coming out of his nose and mouth.

“Joel! Stop!” Tommy rushes into the house, his boots scraping against the floor as he skids to halt. Without hesitating, he jumps into action. “Joel, stop! Fuckin’ let him go! Let him go!” He reaches down to pull him off.

“Look at what he did to her! Fuckin’ look at her!”

Tommy turns his attention to you, and the color drains from his face. “Jesus Christ,” he breathes out, shocked by the mark around your neck. He has half a mind to step back and allow Joel to finish the job, but with you, Ellie, and Maria watching on in terror, Tommy doesn’t have a choice. He grabs fistfuls of Joel’s denim shirt and tries to tug him off the man he’s about to kill. “Fuckin’ let him go, Joel! Right now! That’s an order!”

Luke’s attempts to fight him off grow weaker. His face is beaten beyond recognition, and there’s a pool of dark red growing under him, dripping from a deep laceration he’d sustained from the being slammed head first into the mirror. His hands fall from around Joel’s wrists. He’s close to losing complete consciousness.

“Joel, let him go!” Tommy bellows. “Now!”

“Tommy, be careful!” Maria warns him, worriedly.

Somehow, he finally manages to peel Joel off Luke. He shoves him up against the nearest wall, pinning him in place. Behind him, Luke coughs and sputters violently, gasping as he frantically tries to breathe some air back into his lungs.

“Fuckin’ let go of me!” Joel growls, his eyes wild as he drives his fists into Tommy’s chest. “I’ll fuckin’ kill him! Let me fuckin’ go!”

Tommy cups Joel’s face in his hands and tries to meet his gaze. “Hey, look at me, I need you to calm the fuck down—I said fuckin’ look at me, Joel!” He demands. “I need you to calm the fuck down. I know that he fuckin’ deserves it, alright? Trust me, it’s takin’ all the strength I’ve got in me not to fuckin’ let go, let you kill the son of a bitch. Hell, there’s a part of me that wants to help you fuckin’ do it! But it ain’t the way we handle things here. M’gonna need you to take a breath and calm down, big brother. If anythin’, just do it for her sake, alright?”

Joel’s chest heaves, his breaths rough and ragged as his eyes flicker over to you. His heart sinks at the sight of you sobbing uncontrollably in Ellie and Maria’s arms.

Groaning, Luke rolls over onto his stomach and spits a mouthful of blood into the floor. “You can fucking have her,” he rasps, looking up at Joel through swollen eyes. “Keep her. Keep the useless little whore.”

Blinded by white hot rage, Joel starts thrashing around in Tommy’s grasp and tries to break loose. “Fuckin’ call her that again you fuckin’ son of a bitch—”

“Shit.” Dropping her arms from around you, Ellie steps forward, standing protectively in front of both you and Maria.

“Get the fuck off me, Tommy! M’gonna fuckin’ kill him!”

Maria tucks your face into her shoulder. “Don’t watch.”

“Joel, fuckin’ stop it already!” Tommy struggles to keep him in place. “You’re scarin’ her half to death!”

“I don’t fuckin’ care—”

Tommy’s fingers curl around the collar of his shirt. He slams Joel back against the wall so hard, the mirror, or at least what’s left of it, falls. The square frame breaks in half when it hits the floor.

“Well, you should fuckin’ care! She’s pregnant, Joel.”

You lift your head from Maria’s shoulder. “Tommy.”

Ellie spins around on her heel to face you. She stares at you with wide, round eyes. “You’re fucking pregnant?”

Joel looks over at you. Just as shocked, if not more.

“What?” 

Tommy grabs his chin, forcing his older brother to look at him once more. “It’s true,” he murmurs quietly. “So please, just take a goddamn breath and calm the fuck down. For her sake—and for the sake of your child.” He releases Joel’s shirt and takes a careful step backwards towards Luke, who is still groaning in pain on the floor. Once he realizes Joel isn’t going to charge him again, Tommy turns around and grabs the injured man by the lapels of his jacket, pulling him up to his feet in a rough, careless manner. “Get the fuck up,” he says. He drags him towards the door. “C’mon, let’s go.”

“Tommy? Where are you taking him?” Maria questions him.

“Town jail. M’gonna throw his sorry ass in a fuckin’ cell and leave him in there ‘til we figure out what to do with him.” He glances over his shoulder. “I’ll get the council together for an emergency meetin’ tonight.”

“Jesus,” Ellie mutters under her breath as soon as they disappear. “Did this really just fucking happen?”

Chest still heaving, Joel glances down at his bloodied, torn knuckles and then turns to you, his eyes meeting yours. The tension between the two of you is almost palpable.

Maria lightly clears her throat. “We should probably get out of here,” she suggests. “Let’s head on over to mine and Tommy’s while we wait for him to get back.”

“Are you cold?” Ellie asks, worriedly.

She holds up a blue fleece throw blanket she’d dug out from the hallway closet despite you warning her not to snoop around the house while Maria’s in the bathroom tending to Joel’s hand.

Shaking your head, you sigh, “I’m fine.”

“But it’s cold in here.” She drapes the blanket over your hunched shoulders. “Can I get you something? Water? Are you hungry? You should probably eat something—”

“Ellie, please stop with all the fussing.” You pat the spot on the couch beside you. “Just sit here with me. That’s all I need right now.”

Nodding, she sits down and angles herself toward you, getting a closer look at the wound you’d been left with.

“Shit,” Ellie mutters under her breath. Grimacing, she lifts a hand and gingerly presses her fingertips to your neck in disbelief. “Fuck, dude. How bad does it hurt?” She touches a particularly sore spot on the column of your throat and you hiss in pain. She retracts her hand and sputters an apology, “Fuck, I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

Wincing, you assure her, “It’s fine. It’s just a little tender right now, that’s all.”

“A little?” she scoffs.

“Okay, maybe more than a little,” you admit.

Ellie observes you for a moment. “Are you okay?”

“It’ll heal, Ellie. It looks worse than it really is.”

“No, I mean—” Pausing, Ellie moves her hand, placing it on your stomach. “Is the baby okay?”

You glance down at yourself, almost as if you expected to see something different about yourself, but then you remember you’re only about six weeks along and there is nothing to see, no significant changes to your body. Perhaps it’s the reason why there’s a part of you having a hard time grasping that Ellie’s asking if the baby was okay. If your baby is okay.

After a minute, you nod. “Yeah, I think so,” you reply softly, putting a hand over hers.

Relieved, Ellie flashes you a small smile. “Good.”

“How are you two doing in here?” Maria appears in the living room with Joel trailing behind her. His right hand is wrapped up in a white bandage.

“We’re okay.” Ellie glances at Joel. “You okay?”

He gives a quick, subtle nod of his head. “M’fine.”

“We can take her home now, right?” When Ellie doesn’t ge the immediate response she’s seeking, she shoots him a tiny little glare. “She’s coming home with us, isn’t she? I mean, she fucking has to come home with us.”

He still doesn’t answer her question.

All Joel can do is stare at you, jaw clenched and his lips pressed into a tight, thin line.

“Hey, Ellie, how about we go into the kitchen and make some tea?” Maria beckons to her with her hand.

She snorts. “Seriously? Who the hell wants fucking tea after that fucking shitshow—”

Maria pins her with an exasperated glare. “Ellie.”

“Oh shit, okay. I get it now,” Ellie quickly realizes it’s simply an excuse for the two of them to leave the room. Dropping her hand away from your stomach, she jumps up to her feet and wraps her arms around you. Her hug is brief, but full of warmth and reassurance, as if she’s silently telling you everything’s going to be alright. She releases you and follows Maria to the kitchen, leaving you and Joel alone.

Nervously, you stand up, your knees wobbling.

You feel torn—torn between wanting to run over to him and jump into his arms, and wanting to run away in the opposite direction to find somewhere to bury your head in shame. You’d promised him he had nothing to worry about, swore to him you couldn’t bear a child, and now here you were, carrying his and putting a responsibility on his shoulders he didn’t ask for. A responsibility that, surely, he doesn’t want.

On top of everything else he’d been through with you.

No, because of you. And now this?

Somehow, you muster up enough courage to speak.

“Joel,” you squeak his name. “Say something.”

“You sure you’re pregnant?” He asks, quietly. He stands across the room, making no move to come closer.

Swallowing harshly, you nod. “I’m sure.”

“How long have you known?”

“I only just found out yesterday,” you swear.

“And Tommy and Maria fuckin’ knew before me?”

It’s hard to tell if he’s angry or if he’s disappointed—not that either was a better option than the other.

“I was here with them yesterday in the afternoon. I got sick out of nowhere. Maria’s the one who suspected it and suggested I take a pregnancy test when I realized I haven’t had my period since August. After the first time that you and I—well, you know.” Shifting from one foot to the other, you continue to explain, “It never even fucking crossed my mind, Joel. I didn’t notice anything. I didn’t notice the symptoms. Missing my period, the dizziness, and the nausea. I was so busy trying to keep myself from fucking falling apart without you that it all went right over my head.”

Joel’s harsh expression suddenly softens.

“I took the test. When the results turned out positive, I just lost it. I fucking lost it, and I told Tommy and Maria everything because I was scared.” Your voice breaks, and a tear slips out from the corner of your eye, rolling down the side of your face. Several more threaten to follow, but you blink them back. “They offered to help me, Joel. They wanted to get me out of the house last night, but I was too fucking stubborn. I didn’t listen to them. I thought I’d be fine for one more night, but when Luke came home, he wanted to be intimate with me.”

Joel sucks in a sharp breath. His anger boils in his veins all over again. “And did he—he touch you like that?”

“No, of course not. I didn’t let him. I couldn’t let him. I told him not to touch me and I pushed him away.”

“Then what happened?”

“I told him that it was over. That our marriage was over and I was leaving. That’s when he took off his belt and he—” Gesturing to your throat, you start sobbing again as images of the night before flood your mind.

Luke had done pretty horrific things to you before, but this? 

This had been the worst of them. He almost killed you.

“Baby.” Joel rushes over to you and pulls you right into his arms. “Shh, darlin’. S’alright,” he soothes. “S’alright, you’re safe now. I’ve got you.”

Whimpering, you met into his touch, the very touch you have been missing with every fiber of your being. “I’m so sorry, Joel,” you croak into his chest. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

He pulls away slightly, peering down at you. “Sorry? For what?” Without even giving you the chance to answer, he assures you, “There ain’t nothin’ for you to apologize for, sweet girl. Alright?”

You let out a tearful scoff. “Joel, I’m pregnant. And it’s fucking yours,” you remind him, the guilt in your tone loud and clear. “Don’t you remember how worried you were about it? And how I told you that you had nothing to be concerned about?”

“Don’t put it all on yourself, peach.”

You almost smile.

Oh, how you’ve missed hearing him call you that.

“Look, this is on me too, baby. Part of me knew there was still a possibility, but I didn’t care. All I cared ‘bout was makin’ you mine every fuckin’ chance I got.” Joel’s hand cups the side of your face. He chuckles nervously and says, “Y’know, at one point, I kinda thought I was at the age where I’m shootin’ blanks more than anythin’ else. Guess we were both wrong, huh?”

“Joel—”

He cuts you off. “And if you’re worried I’m upset ‘bout you bein’ pregnant, you’re wrong ‘bout that too, darlin’.”

Surprised, you blurt, “You mean, you want the baby?”

Now it's his turn to be taken aback.

“Y’thought I wouldn’t want it?”

“Yeah,” you confess, sheepishly. “I thought you would be mad about this, if I’m being honest, Joel. I wasn’t sure if you’d even want anything to do with it.” Noticing he’d taken some offense to the notion that he wouldn’t want his own child, you exhale a small sigh and place a hand on his chest. “Come on, Joel, can you honestly blame me? When you were the one who was so damn worried about me getting knocked up in the first place? Wouldn’t you have thought the same if you were me?”

He grazes your cheek with his thumb. “Can’t lie to you, sweetheart. I probably would have.” Letting his hand fall away from your face, Joel takes a seat on the couch and pulls you down onto his lap. “Sure as hell wasn’t in my plans to have another kid in my fuckin’ fifties. But y’know, the idea of having a little one runnin’ around, it ain’t all that fuckin’ bad.” He pauses, adding with a faint grin, “‘Specially if he or she happens to look like you.”

Relieved, you lean into his chest, shoulders sagging in exhaustion. 

“You alright?” Joel murmurs, pressing a kiss into your hair.

Burying your face into his neck, you breathe him in. “I am now that I’m with you,” you confess as he wraps his arms around you, holding you tighter than he ever has before.

“M’gonna take real good care of you, darlin’. Both of you,” Joel reassures you, softly. “Nothin’s gonna hurt you, baby. S’long as you’re with me, nothin’ or no one is ever gonna hurt you ever again. Swear it on my life.”

[emomanswhore]

—♡ —SIMON SAYS . . . ❞

SIMON GHOST RILEY X FEM!READER

✯. !! Synopsis : so you like to play mind games with ghost? goodluck, cause hes got a few tricks of his own to beat these little charades of yours. when he comes home to remind you whos really the expert at games—simon says...your playtime is over

✯. !! WC : 8.3K

✯. !! Tags & CW : explicit content! (18+ mdni) - hard dom!Ghost (he’s rlly mean), bratty! reader, sex tapes, masturbation (male & fem), choking/asphyxiation play, creampie, mating press, squirting, rough sex, spanking, subtle sir kink, size kink/difference, degradation, manhandling, orgasm denial, praise/petname usage, dumbification, dirty talk, (maybe?) prey and predator play, the mask stays ON. <3

✯. !! A/N : first fic and guess what, i wrote with my pussy on this one. hope you enjoy !! lmk what y’all think <33

Maybe this wasn’t your smartest choice in life.

Whether it's the sobering reality of sitting in the after-guilt of praying for negativity, or a complete backfire that could've made things entirely worse—most times, an action made purely from spite and pettiness, never ends up well.

This was one of those times.

Where guilt and the possibility of a backfire merged into one—a single, enormous, dark mass of gut bubbling anxiety.

You were given very, very simple instructions only a few days prior to this moment. And yet, all because your last few messages to your boyfriend were being left unanswered and open on seen, your willingness to take matters into your own hands—to finally get his attention, brought you more than you bargained for.

You had no idea what was truly in store for you once you decided to misbehave and break one of his very simple rules.

You missed your boyfriend, and while he was technically home from work for the week, he still had to go into the city for a few days to handle some business. And of course, for about fifteen minutes at the doorway, you kept fussing at him for leaving when he just got back home.

While it was certainly endearing to see how much you wanted him to stay, this was very important business he had to take care of. So all he could do was offer you a kiss on that pout you put up on your puffed up face. And as usual, you ate up every little crumb of attention despite not showing it.

“Shouldn’t take me that long before I’m comin’ back,” he pauses and looks at you, already knowing that glint in your eyes means that little brain of yours is up to no good.

He couldn’t afford to be distracted by you and have shit go to all hell. Not until business was handled.

He moves in a little bit closer so you can really see the seriousness in his gaze, tilting your chin up a bit to meet eye to eye. “Just keep your manners in mind while I’m away for a bit. I will be back sooner than you think, so that means no funny business out of you.”

You wish you could deny the implication of him saying you don't respect his space while he was out at work. But truth be told, you did want him to stay home for as long as he could. And the mere fact that work was being put over you, made an ugly bile of jealousy creep up your throat.

Luckily, your boyfriend was smart enough for the both of you, so he already knew you’d throw a fit over him choosing work instead of being at home. To take the edge off the situation, he once again pressed a soft kiss to your pouty lips. Like clockwork, you immediately folded from the little gesture of intimacy he gave you and he could feel the pout dropping from your lips instantly.

“But you’re my good girl, aren't you? ‘Yknow how to behave till I see you again don’t you, little miss?”

And weak you were, as you tucked your lips into your mouth and nodded all doe eyed up at him. When he lifted an ashy eyebrow up at the lack of your vocal response, you blink up at him all pretty and promise a, “Yes sir, I understand.”

“Atta girl.” and that's the last thing he rasped, before turning the knob to your front door and exiting in total silence as if he were never even there.

That was two whole days ago.

You really missed him.

That reasoning alone is what you kept telling yourself was enough justification to tease him and send a very lengthy video of you masturbating while he was away from home. 

A video you impulsively sent to your boyfriend, Simon Riley, or what most only knew to call him by, Ghost. 

A mystery of a man and the textbook definition of an enigma, who only brought more questions than answers everywhere he went. No one knew too much about Ghost, not even what the man’s true identity was underneath the infamous skull balaclava he never left the house without. The very few people in his closest inner circle, or whom he had some sort of mutual trust and respect for, usually asked the same questions when it concerned you:

How did such a recluse man manage to get himself a woman?

Doesn’t it get tiring, trying to figure out what's really going on in his head?

Out of all the men you could’ve been in a relationship with, why choose a man who could possibly never come back home?

Well, it wasn’t an easy start to your relationship with Ghost. Like most people brought up, the man came from years of solitary and preferably worked independently. It took well over six years to get yourself where you are now with him, and there were plenty of times where you two experienced hardships in your relationship. Sometimes his straightforward and blunt attitude really infuriated you, and sometimes your stubbornness and hard-headed tendencies deeply vexed him.

But the two of you learned so much while spending time together and bonding. Eventually you both came to a mutual understanding, that communication and respect was the biggest key to keeping your relationship stable. 

Ghost only demanded the utmost respect, and you could live with that as long as he talked to you and vocalized what was really on his mind. Sure, there were still plenty of things he wasn’t quite ready— or ever willing, to voice out loud about himself, but it never wavered the deep adoration and love he had for you. 

He trusts you. You know he does when you’ve had late nights that you both lay in bed together, sharing stories and telling each other lame jokes as he gazes softly at you. Everyone knew who Ghost was, but you? You were the only one in the world who knew Simon, and earned all your rights to see just who the man under the mask was.

You are the light of his world, and as much as he hates to indulge into what you call your “Princess treatment”— or what he better calls “Bein’ a proper little rotten brat”, he almost always gave into your ways. It was all harmless fun and playful banter when you went out of your way to make things difficult for Simon. That was fine though, since it always only took one trip to the bedroom to remind you of where your place was.

Hell, you were one insatiable jezebel. You both knew that secretly, this little game of cat and mouse was just another way you kept yourselves entertained for years now.

That’s why you thought almost nothing of it, unlocking your phone as you rested your back against the polished quartz granite of your marble sink countertop. Humming the melody of a song that lowly vibrated out your living room’s speaker, nails making sharp click clicks while you played around with your device to get to the photo gallery app. Well, to a certain little part of your photo gallery that was only for Simon and your eyes.

You always did have an interest in film and photography, and you used that hobby of yours to make a few collections of sex tapes with your man. It was something you both found to be very entertaining and highly stimulating to your sex drives. Sometimes even shooting another movie while an older one played in the background on your TV.

Your leg started bouncing as you traced your bottom lip with your tongue, taking the time to look and reminisce on each and every little thumbnail of the videos. I miss him, you exhaled deeply out your nose, already feeling that heavy ache between your legs as you practically salivate like a dog in heat. Fixating your drooping eyes onto one particular thumbnail of just him— you remembered this, how could you forget? 

A hard, grueling day at work, when Simon couldn’t even fake like he was completely nonchalant and able to disassociate from his own need for you. All he wanted was to come home to that pretty little face of yours and show you how much he missed you. So that day he let all shame and pride in his body leave, as he sent his own video for you… in its entirety of ten whole minutes.

Ten whole minutes of his phone’s camera slightly coming in and out of focus, as he sloppily fucked his own hand. Keeping an iron grip on the pounding base, so you could really see how much he wished you were there, without him releasing into his palm too early before he could make his message apparent to you.

"Fuuckk… Fuckin’ christ…" Simon hissed through his teeth, the egg shell skull plate stitched on top of the thick knitted mask slightly muffled his voice. If anything, the loudest thing in the room was the slick wet sounds of his hand roughly working on his shaft, completely coated in the pre-cum that leaked heavily from the flushed and angry tip.

"Fuckin’ need you, princess. Look at what you do to me… fuck— ‘m gonna show you—" He groans deep from his chest, tilting his head back so far that you catch a peak of his exposed thick neck. Dark veins bulging and pulsing through his skin, as he twists his hand tighter on his cock, "Show you what that pretty little pussy deserves. ‘Gonna treat it real fuckin’ good when I get my hands on you."

You felt your panties starting to stick against the twitching lips of your core, now whimpering at just the memory alone of what happened in the rest of that video. 

It wasn’t fair.

How could he have so much power over you, to make you literally wet your panties from just the thumbnail of a video? 

It's so not fair. 

Not when you miss him, and want him so badly—  but he still hasn’t come home yet or updated you on where he was. It’s almost like he wasn’t even thinking of you at all. Like he didn’t even miss you-

Wait. 

Like in the scene of a child’s cartoon, you swore you heard a ding! And saw the hot flash of a lightbulb pop over your head. Yes. Yes, that's it! 

Your fingers worked faster than the better judgment of your self conscious did, as it took you another few scrolls down to get to the most recent solo video that you made. The one you made only a few days before Simon came home. The one he never got the chance to see. And as humble of a person you believed you were, you couldn’t deny how enticing you looked in the thumbnail of the video.

 It was perfect, too perfect for the little trick you had up your sleeve. 

The camera propped up against the little fort you made out of your pillows, aimed perfectly to capture you lying on your back on the king sized mattress. A pillow— Simon’s pillow, under your lower back to lift your hips up. Just enough for the camera to focus solely on the dripping, wet heat between your widely spread thighs. 

Your pussy practically leaking like a faucet, as you drag your ring and middle finger in and out your tight, gummy walls. Fucking yourself so sloppy that juices run out your gushing pussy, trailing down your hole, and all over simon’s pillow.

It’s a mess… from the little puddle you left on his pillow— that’ll surely stain, to your cum sticking like a web in between the tight trap of your messy cunt, and to the garbled whines you let out. A siren’s melody of your sweet voice, whimpering mixes of ‘simon’ , ‘miss you’ and unintelligible words that only make your soft cries all the more enchanting and hypnotic.

Even then as you rewatched the video, you couldn’t help but gaze in awe at how pretty your faces of pure pleasure were, and how good your pussy looked glistening in the low lighting. 

Mhm, this’ll do alright. With more click clicks on your phone’s screen, you found yourself glaring down at your last message to Simon— still left as seen. 

That was alright though. You could bet a million dollars on this next move of yours, and walk away with full confidence that this current plan is the right move to take. With that being said, you clicked the little plus symbol next to the text message box and scrolled through the attachment options until you found the ‘photos’ selection. 

You clicked on your video and made quick work of attaching it to a message you also impulsively typed into the box. Not a single thought ran through your mind in that moment, the pounding of your heart and your pulse thumping in your throat blocking all second guesses. You couldn’t stop now. 

Fuck it.

One more click, and the next thing you know… you were staring at the thumbnail of your head thrown back into your pink, plush pillow. Eyes rolled completely into the back of your skull, and fingers dug deep inside your soaked cunt with Simon's pillow mushed underneath your ass. It was saturated so deeply that the formally navy blue pillow took on a deeper, almost black shade.

And what sat at the bottom of your video, was only the icing on your tooth rotting cake.

sent: miss u baby <3 come home now or i’ll keep playing w out u

You must've been stuck so deep in some sort of trance— one that filled you with a sudden dark swirl of unease that curled its way up from your belly and all the way into your throat. This trance kept you still for a moment, until you jumped out of your skin and almost dropped your phone on the kitchen floor from a sharp buzz! 

Blinking a few times and putting your hand on your chest to keep your heart from leaping out your body, you refocused your blearing eyes on the open message inbox. Except now, your text moved up a little to make room for the new one that just entered the chat. 

Your message— no, your video was marked as seen. 

But the message your boyfriend replied with left you feeling very ill from just it's three little words, you thought you were finally looking forward to see:

seen: stay right there.

You swallowed the saliva that sat heavy on your dry tongue. Feeling that familiar thump, and deep ache in your core start to resurface once again. 

Maybe today wasn't the day for a silly little game with Simon.

No matter how long you spent your next few hours completing errands around the house, you couldn’t make enough distractions for your mind to stop thinking about what transpired earlier. 

As much as you wanted to feel bad that your little video may have caused some trouble for Simon, while he was at work— the bubbling swell of pride inside you, made a cheshire-like grin curl on your face.

It was finally happening.

Damned work or the ‘business’ he had to go settle. You finally got him to look at his phone. To look at you, and without a single doubt in your mind you just knew that thumbnail alone must’ve thrown him off from whatever he was so busy doing.

But now you were the one that was stuck at home, lying in wait for him to come show you what was truly in store for you.

Stay right there.

What did that really mean?

Was it literal? Did he believe that you recorded that video in real time, and expected you to wait for him in that same lewd position ? Or was it a warning for you not to try running away from home, before he could finally make his grand appearance. 

You doubted it was the latter, since you never ran from dick. So what could make him think you’d start now? 

All you could think about for the rest of your afternoon was just what he was up to, and when he was coming to you. Sitting in the house alone only made your imagination run wilder and wilder. 

You couldn’t live like this.

The anticipation was eating you alive. And it took every fiber of will and strength to not send him another one of your videos, so he’d get the message and hurry up. You already gave him enough power from almost coming in your panties from just the memory of him pleasuring himself. You were trying to prove that you always come out on top of these games of yours. And there was no chance you’d submit to the temptation of begging for an answer to his cryptic message.

So you figured the healthiest way to cope and keep your mind off things, was to cook. Not just any meal either— but some of Simon’s favorite dishes that you make for him. Even if you were still a little frustrated by him ignoring you the whole morning, you still wanted to cater to your man. After all the old saying does go, ‘the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach’. And your endgame was to have a hot meal ready for him once he comes home, then finally get him to jump your bones after waiting for so long. 

It was going to be another night that starts off with Simon showing you how big and bad he is, fucking the brattiness out of you, and ending it off with tender pillow talk. Even just fantasizing of how easy it is to make him drop everything to come running home to you, has your confidence sky rocketing through the roof.

As you prepped your ingredients, you plugged in earbuds and maxed the volume up to the highest it could go. Next to cooking, music was always the best way to stimulate your brain and keep your head full of happy thoughts. The two went perfectly together, and you sang outloud to yourself while concentrating on the strenuous task of slicing cabbage into slivers. 

Your music was slowly lowering itself as it came to an end. And just before the volume died down completely and transitioned onto the next song–

You heard it before you could see it.

A set of heavy thump thumps making the floorboards creak and rumble, approaching fast from behind you. 

Next thing you knew, a heavy and hot palm wrapped around the back of your neck and practically knocked the wind out of you, with how violently your whole body was whipped around backwards. Before your mind could register the sharp throb of your lower back hitting the edge of the sink, an audible gasp squeaked its way out your throat. 

There he was. Simon was home.

The signature skull balaclava and smudged charcoal coating his face under the dim kitchen light, made him all the more terrifying. And with the way he towered over your much smaller form, all you could do was stare up at him as if you were some dumb little deer caught in headlights.

His eyes were casted down so low, so dark, so devoid of emotion that he almost seemed soulless. Here stood the empty husk of the same man who murmured a soft ‘you’re my good girl, aren't you?’ after pressing a slow, honeyed kiss against your lips. 

You make a weak attempt to play off how excited you actually were. You had to bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from laughing out loud in his presence. Mustering a shaky chuckle, as you tried to ignore the light press his finger tips made against your throat.

“H-hey baby. God, you scared the shit out of me. Y’know you can’t do that to me while I've got this knife in my hand.” 

Obviously Simon could care less about your little rambing, his silence spoke the loudest between the two of you.

 He continued to apply light pressure, steadily flexing his fingers deeper and deeper into your neck, so he could hear the way your stuttering voice hitched from the slight lack of oxygen. His eyes trailed down to your plush lips, and dragged even further down to shamelessly gaze at the enticing way your cleavage sat in that little lace camisole. You weren’t wearing a bra, and he could make out the perfect outline of your nipples pressing against the fabric of the dainty cloth.

And of course he saw it. The little lift of the corner of your mouth, then the way you crossed and pressed your inner thighs together.

All not-so subtle telltale signs, that you thought this was still some little game that you thought you were the genius mastermind of. 

“Anyway, you ruined my surprise for you,” and you still kept your fucking mouth running. “I know you’re probably exhausted, so i started dinn-”

“Only thing you should be starting right now, is makin’ your way upstairs. Get everything you’ve got on, off. ‘Wanna see your ass up and ready for me, by the time i get my shoes off.”

Oh. 

Oh. That shut your mouth up, real quick.

The abrupt way he cut you off completely, and the fact that those were the first words he’s said to you all night has you gaping up at him like fish. 

He only stares back at you with blank indifference. You can only give him that stupid little look, before you snap out of being stunned and continue to try talking your shit and having some control over him.

“O-oh but i was just—”

“_____” The sudden boom of his baritone voice raising, knocked whatever rest of words you had sitting on your tongue. No princess or sweet girl— just your full name in its entirety, that sounded almost like a curse with how venomously he spat it out. 

It was slowly starting to dawn on you, that this was becoming a very dangerous situation you got yourself into.

Your shock must’ve been extremely apparent to Simon, so he let the tension sit thick in the air of the room. Really making you feel the severity of the situation that was transpiring. All you could do was stare up at him, all doe eyed and pull your wobbling bottom lip into your mouth as he took two more steps forward. Somehow you were able to keep some of your courage in check, looking him up in the eye even as his head hung down to glare down at you. 

“_____” he finally continued his words, again starting with your name, only in a lower guttural tone. “You are in no position to fuck around with me right now. Only ‘gonna say this to you one more time, before things get worse for you as it is— go upstairs, take off everythin’ you’ve got on and lay on the bed with your ass up. Don’t want another peep out your mouth, ‘less you wanna see what happens when you’ve thoroughly tested my temper. Wouldn’t want that now, would you, sweetheart.”

Simon drummed his fingers against your neck one more time, before he finally released it and watched you let out a soft wheeze of air. He looked over your body one more time before he turned his back to you, the heavy footsteps of his steel toed boots echoed dully in your ear.

Oh. Was that your cue to start making your trip upstairs? 

Was that a test to see if you would even attempt to disobey him, when he has clearly had enough out of you for the night?

You loved a challenge. And even as you looked what seemed to be your demise in the eyes, you couldn’t help but feel a warm gush out of your core, come running down the side of your sleep shorts. 

One step he took towards the doorway, was another stride you took as you practically hurled yourself up the stairs.

5.

You skipped a few stairs on your way up, feeling your heartbeat hammering in your ear on the mad dash to your bedroom.

4.

Flinging your top off haphazardly in the middle of the hallway, you couldn’t help but look back a few times to see if he was trailing behind you. 

The pounding of your feet against the floor, deluded your ratting brain into thinking that it was actually Simon chasing you. The dull creaking of his heavy boots on the floorboards, still echoes in your head. 

3.

You nearly knocked the bedroom door off its hinges, with the way that you heedlessly flung it open. Your chest heavily rises and falls as you make quick work of getting rid of your soiled sleep shorts and panties. 

2.

Raw adrenaline courses its way through your veins, vibrating all the way from the bottom of your toes to the top of your tingling spine. You made it. You beat him.

 Simon could challenge you all he wanted, but he could never beat the tenacity that ran through your whole body. You smile to yourself, thinking you won the battle and proved to him that he had no more control over your mind and what was between your legs–

1.

You were very fast.

But Simon was even faster.

Boots be damned, he could catch up to you in an instant.

You let out a loud shrill shriek from the feeling of two hefty arms wrapping around your middle, and lifting you up into the air. Your world turns upside down— literally and physically, as you find yourself thrown over Simon’s strong bare shoulder, like you were some sort of light weighted object. 

“Times up,” You feel the deep timber of his voice, while your body helplessly dangles onto him for dear life. “Told you to have your ass up on the bed, by the time I got my shoes off.”

You kick your feet in objection— but immediately cease your protest and squeal, when his heavy open hand comes down hard on your naked ass cheek.

“Seems like you can’t handle or understand instructions today, can you, honey?”

His taunting coo’s only make you dizzier, after he so carelessly drops you face first onto the bed. Your body bounces lightly off the mattress and you whip your head around to glare up at him.

“I can understand!” you stubbornly argue back, watching him scoff and shake his head. “You cheated, I got here on time but you picked me up before I could do anything.”

Your eyes take in his current appearance– other than the mask he kept on his face, he stood before you in all his mountain of a man glory. 

He was so big. 

From the wide, broad shoulders that just carried all your weight on it, down to the lean and toned torso, sculpted with hard, rippling abdominal muscles.

You practically whimpered at how big and thick his thighs were. Almost ready to give in and beg him to let you trace your tongue on the rigid V cut of his abs, all the way down to the wisps of the dirty blonde happy trail on his pelvis… and get a taste of what you’ve been craving for the last few days.

His thick cock stood tall in the air, curving up a bit against his stomach from the weight of the heavy, fat, dark tip. There was already a bead of precum running down the side, where a prominent blue vein stood out.

You drool just looking at it. Your mouth waters and jaw starts aching, as if you’re ready to feel that hefty press of the head on your tongue.

Simon knew exactly what you wanted. How could he not know, with the way your eyes grew heavy and your lips slightly parted. 

“It's too bad, isn’t it?” he watches your lips part wider, as he uses the tip of his thumb to smear the little bead of precum across the length of the shaft. Fucking tease. 

“Could’ve been feedin’ you this dick, and lettin’ you get full off of it. ‘s a damn shame, you act like you don’t know how to do what you’re told. And you keep running that fuckin’ mouth of yours.”

You puff your cheeks at him and kiss your teeth, “It’s ‘cus y-”

Before you could even think up an excuse, Simon cracks his open palm on top of your left ass cheek. Your loud gasp is like music to his ears, and he moves in closer to press that same palm down your lower back until you’ve made a perfect arch for him. He kisses his teeth back at you, looking at the drooling lips of your pussy already making your inner thighs wet and sticky. 

Spanking isn’t an unfamiliar thing he’s done to you, but to this degree? The force in his hits did so much to you. The hot stinging pain of it makes you wetter by the second. 

“Still seems like I’m not makin’ it clear enough for you, _____. Don’t even know how to take yourself upstairs and lay like i told you to. That’s the problem with you,”

He removes his palm from the small of your back. Winding his hand back far, just to bring it down on your right cheek this time. “Spoiled you and that sloppy little cunt of yours rotten. Can’t even get a fuckin’ job done without you fussing at me.”

Simon continues alternating heavy handed smacks on both sides of your ass, not taking a single break between his assault on your cheeks. Talking out loud to himself, as if you weren’t writhing around and whimpering from his merciless punishment. 

“Know what happens— stay still, when you wanna act like a desperate little whore? ‘Get treated like one. ‘Wanna act like you can’t sit and wait like a good girl? i’ll bruise this ass so sore that you won’t be able to get out of bed.”

His ruthlessness almost seems endless, and you start to lose track of how many times he’s striked your cheeks. 

Your whimpering turns into full on moans, fully turning your face into the sheets to try suppressing the loud sobs you let out. 

But Simon pulls your head back by the back of your neck, squeezing the sides of your throat, and giving you an even deeper arch in your lower back. “Can’t hide from this, sweetheart. You’re gonna learn to take what’s given to you, and stop being so fuckin’ greedy all the time”

He finally shows mercy on your bruised and flaming hot cheeks, deciding he’ll let you off with twenty two this time. He should’ve taken you over his knee and made you count the spanks out loud, telling him why you deserved each and every one. 

But the truth was, he was almost as desperate as you. Hasn’t even been anywhere near your cunt, but you soak the sheets as if that's the only thing he’s been playing with. His dick bobbed and twitched, at just the thought of your velvety walls wrapping around him. 

“S-Simon,” you babble and blink away tears that sit on your lashes. “Please baby, ‘m so close. I need you.”

Again, he kisses his teeth at you before putting his hand in between your drenched inner thighs. Listening to you keen softly, as he uses his thick middle and ring fingers to spread your thick pussy lips open. Watching your hole spasm and clench over nothing. Your little clit sticks out all pretty and swollen, just aching to get some attention. 

“And why’s that, baby, hm?” You’re so messy that he’s able to slip in his two fingers, immediately finding that little spot that has you squealing and pushing your ass back for more. He uses his other hand around your throat, squeezing it tight as a silent warning for you to lay still. 

“Why should I let you cum, when you’ve been nothin’ but an ungrateful little slut?”

You could cry real tears from him edging you like this. It’s never taken this long for him to make you cum. 

All this was so unfamiliar. Simon never dangled your orgasm in your face, and made you wait like this. 

It was time to drop the tough girl act, and admit defeat. He won. If it was for the sake of needing this pounding ache in your tummy to be relieved, you’d do anything to prove you deserved it. 

“Baby pleeaassee,” You’re unable to hold back the hot tears of frustration from running down your face. “I'm sorry, ‘m so sorry baby. Just please, g-god im sorry.”

You can practically hear the sneer in his next words, your hysterical sobs getting more and more pathetic by the moment—

“God? What’re you saying sorry to him for? God isn’t here to save you, silly girl.”

You feel the hot tip of his cock hovering over your twitching folds. He takes his sweet, leisure time to swipe the head through the sloppy mess of your pussy. Purposely avoiding the neglected little pearl, as he runs the tip up and down on your pussy. Getting it nice and wet before he’s pushing half of himself inside your sensitive, gushing walls. 

“But i’ll show you what heaven looks like, since all that’s been on your pretty mind, is gettin’ this little cunt of yours beat raw.”

Simon starts off at a brutal pace, pulling himself all the way out of your tight heat, before slamming all the way in. When he bottoms out inside you, your ass jumps and slaps against his strong thighs, making a sloppy plap. The bed rocks and groans, from the sheer ferocity and force he uses to split open your soaking pussy. 

Your voice belts out your throat, coming out as shrill squeals and moans. You go to reach your hand back to push yourself away from the deep strokes he gives you, but he grabs your wrist and pins it behind your back. 

“Don’t fuckin’ move.” You never ran from dick before but this? It was too much. So much that you could hear the loud sloppy squishes of your contracting walls, working and squeezing around his length. The feeling of it all, sending you into hot waves of burning pleasure. Letting him have his way, and fuck you like he detested you. 

“Yeah that’s right, don’t fuckin’ move, or speak. Y’hear that? Only thing I wanna hear is how good this slutty cunt talks to me.”

All you can do is lay there and take it. He lets go of your neck, to snatch your arm and pin your other wrist behind your back. His thick forearms flex, the veins in them protruding out his skin as he uses some strength to rock you back and forth by your arms. You fear your arms may pop out the sockets, with the way he uses both of your arms as leverage to keep your body up and ready to meet his deep strokes. 

Your eyes nearly rolling into the back of your skull, with the way he fucks his fat cock into the depths of your core. You cry and sob a familiar melody that has Simon gritting his teeth, fucking into you at an even faster roll of his hips. 

“Know what this reminds me of,” His voice comes out as a deep rasp. He bows and leans his weight over on top of your poor little body, so he can press your face into the bed. Turning your face to the side, so he could continue murmuring into your ear.

 “Makes me think of that little video you sent. Reason why you’ve gotten yourself in so much trouble— ooh, naughty fuckin’ girl. Squeezin’ around me so nice. Y’like knowing I saw you act so sweet on camera for me? I was around my men when you sent it to me. Had to stop what I was doing, so I could see what you wanted from me so badly.”

You could barely understand what he was talking to you about. The deep rumbling of his voice, lulling you into an empty head and going dumb on his dick. 

All your fucked out little mind could do was blindly whimper and nod, just trying to focus on how the vein on the underside of his dick rubbed so good against your walls. You were so fucking close, you just needed more. 

“L-love you baby, mmm. I’m sorry,” You felt him lift a little off your body, and took the opportunity to turn your head more so you could keep eye contact with him. “Jus’ miss you so much, b-but i promise i won’t bother you. I won’t do it again. Swear baby, I swear.”

He only grunts in response, feeling his cock throb and get squeezed after he knocked the tip into your special little spot. “Only sayin’ all that because you need to cum. I can feel how close you are, princess. You’re gonna have to just wait ‘till I'm done having my fun.”

Despite that leaving his mouth, he grips your hips tightly before pulling all the way out. He shushes you as you let out another hysterical sob, and gets completely off the bed to go move closer to the edge.

 Honestly, if he left you alone like this you wouldn’t even mind. 

You thought a prayer to god for forgiveness. This abuse on your poor little pussy, was enough to make you ask for repentance. Never again would you make yourself go through this, and you silently begged that Simon would see the light too so you could be forgiven already. 

But apparently, god was not on your side today.

You felt his strong hand grab your ankle, and drag you down by the end of the bed. You started to complain until you were roughly turned to lay on your back. Now, you could properly see your boyfriends face— well, mask and the exposed eye portion of the balaclava.

You could see some sweat from his exertion, had ended up smudging off even more of the charcoal on his face. He only stared down at you, before he put both hands on your thighs and pushed them up until your knees squished against your chest. 

At this point you could only let him do whatever he wanted to your body. Not a single ounce of fight left in you as he settled between your folded legs, and started speaking to you. 

“Remind me again now, sweet girl. Whose pussy is this? Hm?”

You blink once, then twice. Even with the question being asked again, in an even slower way for you to comprehend, you simply couldn’t. Your brain was short circuiting, completely burnt out and purely running on the raw dopamine buzzing in your mind. All it could manage in that moment, was the soft mewl of a mmm that let itself out from the depths of your throat. 

Your mind so fuzzy, that the words ‘sweet girl’ coming from him only made you think of times of love and adoration. Times when Simon would make love to you; caressing your body, exploring and marking every single curve and inch, cooing praises into your ear.

 That’s it, theres my sweet girl. ‘Look so good takin’ all of me like a champ. Want everyone to see how good i treat my princess, when she fucks me so well. Gonna fill you right up, just how you like it. 

Only now, you weren’t being spoiled and made love to like his special girl would. 

You were some filthy little whore, and getting the treatment a bitch in heat deserved the most. A dumb one at that, and all Simon could do is chuckle to himself, shaking his head at how sloppy and stupid you looked. Not even the damn mutts in heat at the base, got silly like you were at this moment. 

“_____ ,” Simon slapped his open palm twice on the side of your cheek, listening to you whine softly before using the same hand to squeeze the sides of your cheeks until your lips puckered out. “_____ , focus right here— that’s it, right here. Listen to me baby, unless you don’t wanna cum tonight, you’re gonna stop wastin’ my time and talk to me nice.”

With what little brain fuzzy cells you had left to help you speak, you nodded and spread your thighs wider so he could see your swollen, glistening pussy and untouched clit. 

“ ’s all yours, Simon. It all belongs to you, so please help me cum. Pleeasse baby, I-I need it so bad.”

That must’ve been what he wanted to hear. 

 Simon plunges right back into the heat of your walls that welcome him in with ease. Only with this new change of position, you get filled in even deeper now. 

No running. You’re trapped and overwhelmed by the heat that radiates off his body, as he uses his heavy weight to fold you in half and press you deep into the creaking mattress. You can see over your tummy, just what he looked like when he battered the insides of your pussy. You’re forced to watch him dig his cock in and out of you. Hiccuping and sobbing at the sight of a creamy translucent ring made of your cum, completely coating the base of his length. 

“That’s right baby,” His heavy balls slap sloppily against your ass. The sounds of your skin clapping together, and his baritone murmuring echo in your ears. “Pussy belongs to me. So you don’t tell me when it’s time to come home and play with it. You wait for me and behave, when I tell you to. Understand?”

You shake your head, not paying attention to a single word he utters. The only thing you can focus on is the way he drops his dick perfectly into the spot you need him the most. 

“Ohh fuck- fuck, fuucckk,” You let out strings of curses, your legs already getting numb from being squeezed down so tightly against your tits. Drool fills your mouth and runs down the side of your lips. You can feel the bubbling sensation in your womb of your orgasm approaching. Your babbling gets sloppier and less coherent, as you feel his dick twitch inside of you. 

“Fuck yeesss, yes S-Simon. ‘Understand, promise I’ll wait and be— oohh… uhuh, right there, b-be good for you. It’s only for Simon. Whatever Simon says, it’s all for you”

“Shit.. that's it. There’s a good girl,” He groans deep from the bottom of his chest at your words, grabbing you by the throat and pulling your head up off the mattress so he can look into your glossy eyes.

Simon pulls his mask up, just enough to where the top of the cupids-bow of his lips starts. He flicks his tongue over the bottom of his lip, before he leans in to press his mouth against your open one. He swallows the wanton moans that come squeaking out your lips, moving his hand up from gripping your throat to cup your jaw. 

“Easy girl,” he mumbles inside the heat of your mouth, feeling your legs start to shake harder now. “Relax, you can take it. Take everythin’ I give to you and let me— shit ‘m close, let me fuckin’ fill you all the way up, princess.”

He reaches between your sweaty bodies to finally give your neglected swollen clit the attention it deserved. He uses the tip of his fat thumb to rub it in circles, grunting when he feels your pussy squeeze around cock. It was as if your body was trying to pull him all the way in, and never let him escape the gushing caverns of your walls. 

Simon removed his hand from your jaw, using his now free hand to press down hard on your soft lower belly. 

You shake your head in resistance, already knowing how messy you were gonna make this if he continued on like this. He must’ve known what you were thinking, shaking his head back at you and having no regard for your little babbles and sobs for mercy. 

“Let it out _____. C’mon, show me what a sweet girl looks like when she knows how to make a mess all over this dick.” 

The little band in your core snaps, and you swear you heard a little pop! from deep inside of you. 

You both feel it before you see it. Lips practically sealed together, and you both let out guttural groans in each other’s mouths at the feeling of your pussy spraying cum and juices everywhere. You made it real messy, drenching Simon’s stomach and splattering your ecstasy on top of the comforter of the bed. 

And at the same time, Simon snatches his lips from yours to let out a long series of curses. You feel his cock twitch violently from the depths of your insides, letting out a soft mewl when you feel the tip painting your walls and shooting out thick ropes of cum.

You nearly black out from the high you get from coming so hard. The whole room seems like it’s spinning, your hearing fades in and out, with static like white noise shrilling into your eardrums. All your senses are heightened, and you feel so overwhelmed by your vision getting blurred and fuzzy, that you decide it’s best to close and rest your eyes.  

Apparently you did end up blacking out. 

Jolting awake and blinking the blurriness from your eyes, you sit up from your position tucked underneath a new comforter set— you can’t even recall how you managed to make yourself comfortable in bed, or how you wound up in a new pair of clean underwear. 

You think you get the answers to your state of confusion, when you see Simon sitting by the edge of the bed with his bare back turned towards you. 

Oh, okay. He must’ve cleaned me up and changed the sheets after I fell asleep. 

Without turning around and facing you, Simon calls for you and tells you to come closer to where he sat. You huff, begrudgingly pulling yourself from the cozy warmth of the cotton blanket and crawl across the bed to where he was. 

“Baby, I’m so hungry” You pout, giving his bare shoulder a soft kiss before you go to roll yourself off the bed. “We should try ordering from that place Soap keeps talking about. I think the menu’s downst—”

“That can wait,” He grabs your wrist and pulls you back onto the bed, it’s so abrupt that you make a squeak of surprise when you tumble back down on your back. “Still got something we have to finish.”

He sees the utterly puzzled look you give him and can tell just how lost you were at this moment. Simon rises from the bed, towering over you and hums at the sight of you looking up at him with wide, expectant doe eyes.  

Since this is the first time he’s actually facing you from the front, you notice he holds a sleek, black handheld camcorder. Where did he get that from ?

Again, Simon reads you like an open book and starts explaining just what he was up to. 

“On my way home, this little thing here caught my eye and reminded me of something,” He turns it over on its side, inspecting it before he presses his thumb down on the power button to turn it on. “Made me think of how I had to leave from where I was at, and missed a vital proposal for work. Set back my plans, all because of the little video you decided to send to me.”

You gulped, already knowing where this conversation was leading to. You can feel a pounding in your core, your underwear starting to stick to your heat from the little bit of excitement that came gushing out of you. 

 “Since you do love your little films, you’re gonna make another one just for me. Somethin’ real nice, and a good reminder for what happens when you think about pullin’ another stunt like today.”

Simon pulls down the band of his grey sweatpants, his hard cock springing up and bobbing back and forth before it curls up against his navel. He sneers at how quick you are to roll off the bed, kneeling on the carpet to get on your knees before him. 

There was no changing or fixing the insatiable little minx that lived inside your body. 

“Now, eyes on me princess,” he aims the camera down at your face, flicking his eyes from your own half lidded ones down to the screen of the camera. “You’re gonna start off with ‘Simon says I’ve been a filthy little slut and been on my worst behavior’. Then, you can show the camera you know how to act like a good girl and apologize.” 

You nod your head, already going dumb from the commands he rasps. When he tilts his head down and lifts a brow up, you give him an audible yes sir and rub your inner thighs together in anticipation for what you’re about to do.

“S-simon says–” you pause, dragging your eyes up from the camera and into Simon's own eyes. 

You are a good girl. And as a good girl should, you made sure you kept your manners in mind, so he knew how sorry you really were. 

“Simon says I've been a filthy lil’ slut, and on my worst behavior,” you lean in close to his cock, looking him in the eye as you plant a slow soft, short kiss on the tip. Greedily licking up the bead of precum that caught onto your lips, feeling the little jump his cock makes against your mouth.

“So ‘m gonna show him I'm a good girl, and apologize like his sweet girl should.”

/tagging\ . . . @touyyes(<3) @noriken @hellavile @munsonsins

[transbrucewayne]

F1 but it’s ultra specific ship dynamics that I need in order to enjoy the ship:

Versainz: baby’s first situationship (literally pentaltyboxbox’s art is my versainz thesis. “Ay, Max, no. I am not gay and neither are you” 🤨) teammates who weren’t supposed to like each other reluctantly becoming friends and then being intricately connected for the rest of their careers. But totally not in a gay way. Of course.

Chestappen: repressed catholic and some guy who needs dilf pussy so bad he wants to kill himself (this is deeply important to me)

Strollonso: Brat princess Lance. Heros and anti-heroes. I’m on the dark side. Tell Lance not to worry I just want to build a gap with the cars behind. You’re my fucking hero.

Carlando: Baby’s first situationship pt.2?? Lando with a massive crush, first real boyfriend Carlos….i need there to be angst. Lando fell first AND harder, etc.

Britcedes/Gewis: George fumbling all over himself trying to impress Lewis, Lewis just thinking he’s cute no matter what. It’s the coolest man alive/weird little freak he’s obsessed with pairing of my dreams. George: this is my boyfriend he’s cooler than me and also he’s cooler than all of you.

Maxiel: first love married divorced remarried pining missing something that maybe was never there will they won’t they one big game of gay chicken healing from baby’s first situationship etc etc etc (I adore them)

Dando: trying to find solace in another, longing for someone you can’t get back, subversion of expected dynamics (controversial: I fully believe Lando tops in this one). But also. They need to have one brain cell. Lando blabbing on about god knows what. Daniel sweating and popping a vein bc of how much he needs to kiss him.

Twinklaren/Landoscar: third time’s the charm, oh you’re the one I’ve been waiting for, tender glances, young love, first teammate crush syndrome

Danterri: we had something weird in the past. “Find another weed guy I can’t fuck with you…uhhhmm nothing personal I can’t fall in love right now and youre Everything I love so if I ever see you again I’ll never let go of your hand sooo yeah” (we’ve all seen that one web weaving.) Are you dating the female version of me?

Lecciardo: WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED IN VEGAS. Charles needs dick from a guy with unstoppable charisma soooooo bad. Fueling each other’s impulsive sides, etc etc

Sebchal: baby’s first situationship (Charles’ version) (from the vault) I miss you so much I’m going to listen to breakup songs all night long. I still think of you every day. I named you twice in a list of drivers. You may even kiss. If it was the omegaverse Seb is so obviously an alpha.

Brocedes: if it doesn’t make me physically sick to my stomach with anguish I do not want it. I hope you die I hope we both die. Hand in unlovable hand. I still consider him my best friend in my heart. We’re not friends. Are they lovers? Worse.

Chewis (Charles/Lewis. I recognise this is also the name for Checo/Lewis. What is the Charles/Lewis name?) me and the bad bitch I pulled by being in violation of that one article section. You know the post. They suffer together. Kinship in joint pain. You’ve got a long future ahead of you. Praise kink.

Let me know if you want a part 2, if so, send ships you want!

[brayneworms]

prompt: l lawliet + food play + pink

wc. 2.8k. gn!reader, foodplay, virgin!l, handjobs, sliiiight come eating, reader is a wet cat in a cardboard box kinda, safe sane and consensual, no real power dynamics.

L contextualises things in the way he sees the world.

Strings of numbers, statistics, behavioural patterns that he's memorised to a 'T' until he can tell guilt from the aversion of an eye or fury from the remnants of nails pressed into the palm of someone's hand. It's why maybe something like sex or desire is a struggle for him. It's not that he doesn't understand it, it's more like he doesn't see the—the need for it, or whatever. You chalk it up to him being extremely busy and also probably totally asexual and don't think about it.

(Don't think about it much.)

It sort of surprises you that it's you he corners with his questions about. Maybe he's more embarrassed than he lets on—as it is, he looks cool as a cucumber save for the faintest shade of pink across his cheekbones. There's no way he would escape a conversation about it from anyone on the squad without a degree of ragging. Misa would squeal like a pig if L dared to broach the topic with her, you're sure. Matsuda would blush bright red and trip over all his words, and Aizawa would probably stare at him like he'd set his firstborn on fire.

And Light is Light. He probably knows little more than L, for all the airs he puts on.

So it's you he comes to. When it first starts, you think it has something to do with a case or lead he's hunting. Tell me, have you had sex before?

Perched like a frog, licking whipped cream off his finger. You don't know if he's doing to be provocative or not; don't know which is worse, that he's aware of what he's doing or not.

"This isn't exactly proper workplace conversation L."

A flicker of a smile. Cheeky, omniscient. "Feel free to report me to HR, in that case."

You do answer—honestly and concisely, if not with a shade of awkwardness. He's essentially your boss. But L seems so far removed from the worlds of sexuality and desire that it seems harmless, occupational, and eventually it stops feeling embarrassing. Out of nowhere—what is the purpose of restrains in an intimate context? Why do you think some people like to feel as though they have no control in the bedroom? Would you say that visual pornography has given watchers unrealistic expectations of actual intercourse?

One night, the two of you alone in front of a big glowing screen, turning to him and asking. "Why do you ask me this stuff, anyway? Is it for a case?"

"No," he says neutrally. A quick glance from his dark eyes you could almost describe as coy. "I'm just... curious."

"Curious," you echo, deadpan. "You?"

"Does that surprise you?" he murmurs. You almost feel that your honest answer—yes—would be insulting now, so instead you just shrug and mumble something incoherent under your breath. "You're not completely wrong. I thought having a better understanding of things like sex and power dynamics would be beneficial in the long run. Most people have a greater knowledge of it than me, which—puts me at a disadvantage." He says these last words with an air of revulsion, as though the very concept of knowing less than someone sours in his mouth, and you chuckle at his childishness.

"That makes sense." You pause. Wonder if you're reading this all wrong, then barrel ahead anyway. "Wouldn't actually experiencing it for yourself lend a better understanding than anything else, though?"

L's eyebrow raises. His smile has vanished, leaving him bug-eyed and unreadable. "What are you suggesting?"

He's not stupid, and you're not subtle. He knows exactly what you were suggesting. The fact that he's trying to get you to go into more detail rather than firing you on the spot is probably a good sign, and further than you expected to get. You squirm in your seat.

"You know. It's like being told about how something feels rather than knowing," you say awkwardly. "I'm just—can I ask—"

"It only seems fair," L says slowly. "After I've been badgering you with my own questions for so long." His chair spins; he rests his wrists on his rucked-up knees, fingers steepled in front of him. "Please."

Hot-faced, you spin your chair aimlessly. "Okay, well, uh—have you? I mean, before?"

L hesitates before he shakes his head, an almost imperceptible twitch that has his dark hair floating. You swallow the sudden large dry lump in your throat.

"Okay. So. Probably somewhere to start," you mumble.

L seems to consider this. "Would you be willing?"

You don't have the right to be surprised, with all the dancing around the subject, but you are, still. You choke on your spit and fly around to look at him, which is a mistake. His gaze is so dark and intense, and you think he can see right through you before you even open your mouth to answer.

"I'm not—" you stammer, with no idea what you're going to say. "I mean—"

"I had assumed you would be," L goes on calmly, but you catch the slight flicker of his eyes, a ghost of uncertainty that makes your chest squeeze. "If I have read your responses incorrectly, though, feel free to forget I asked. I can guarantee no awkwardness tomorrow."

"It's not that," you blurt. L blinks at you, go on. "It's just... do you have any idea what you're, you know. Into? Where to start?"

L's eyes flicker, the barest furrow knitted between his brows. You can tell he hasn't thought too hard about it. "What would you suggest?" he asks, curling his long fingers over his knees.

You swallow. "Well... anything you like the idea of, I guess. Something familiar, to ease you into it."

L's eyes roll over to his desk, where a perfectly glistening slice of strawberry cake waits for him. Pink sponge and halved red berries, topped with pale pink cream. "Familiar," he echoes. "I may have a suggestion."

-

So you feed L a strawberry just to get started.

Hold it up. It's distinctly awkward; L just stares at it for a moment, the berry dusted with frosting that glistens between your fingers. You tell him, "If you're not comfortable with this, sex is probably going to be—"

He leans forward and plucks the fruit from between your fingers; you feel the barest ghosting of teeth, the sweep of his tongue sharp and curious against the pads of your fingers before he leans back again. You watch the motions of his jaw and throat as he chews and swallows. Pins you with his headlamp stare, wide and dark.

You deconstruct the strawberry cake carefully, removing the berries and setting them to the side. Cast a look over at him. "Take off your shirt?"

L twists the hem of this shirt for a few moments before removing it. It feels so strange to see him devoid of clothing, like a knight removing their armour. Pale ribs, pinched waist. He's not whipcord-thin like you had imagined—there's lean muscle packed under the skin, his stomach flat and somewhat soft. It flexes almost nervously when you look at it. He reclines back on his bed without being told, bracing his weight onto his elbows, legs dangling off the side.

"You sure about all this?" you ask, glancing from the smooth planes of his white skin—shit—to the plate of crumbling pink dessert. "Didn't think you'd be into, you know. All the mess."

"I have a shower," L says reflexively.

You take that as permission to approach with the plate. You place the strawberry halves in a red dotted line, starting at his clavicle, watching him shiver and flex at the cold touch. Down—one at the bottom of his ribs, one above his bellybutton, one at his naval just above the low sling of his jeans. He's started to flush, prettily pink down his chest. It makes you slightly dizzy.

"Okay. So. Okay." You try not to feel so nervous, but it's more like you feel out of place, or time, or space. It feels surreal, basically. Standing between L's legs with your fingers stained pink from fruit and frosting. Him looking up at you like that, all big dark round eyes and slightly parted lips. Damn it. You take a deep, steadying breath. "Okay, so, I'll start now if you're okay. And just say if you don't want—if you want to stop, or if you don't like anything, just say, okay?"

"I understand the basic premises of consent, if that's what you're trying to affirm." The words are all L, but there's an element of breathlessness to them.

"Just making sure we're clear," you mutter. You lean forward and smooth a palm over his collarbones. They're sharp, they jut up to meet your hand like cut diamond, and you hear and see his breath hitch, which is slightly intoxicating. His skin is warmer and softer than you thought it would be. You run your hands over his shoulders and neck, which he squirms away from with a wrinkled nose.

"No neck?" you ask.

He shakes his head. So no neck.

Once you're done exploring this part of his body, you lean forward, close your lips around the strawberry and bite the end of it, sinking your teeth into the flesh. Pink juice runs down your chin; L's eyes follow it, transfixed, as you tilt your head forward and push your mouthful against his lips. They part unquestioningly, and you push the strawberry into his mouth with your tongue. Your lips brush together, tantalising and sweet with sugar. A mimic of a kiss, a palimpsest of intimacy. You don't want to overwhelm him, anyway.

This goes on; your hands over his chest next, the soft pectorals. An experimental brush of your thumb over his left nipple that makes his whole body shudder. He's so sensitive, reacting to every prod and touch and tweak with a jerk and a shiver. Gooseflesh blooms up his skin, pebbling his nipples, and when you tweak the other one gently he lets out a choked sound.

Finding the strawberry nestled under his ribs. Taking it between your teeth and passing it to him. His face gets pinker with each one. Stomach, concave, flexing with every hard breath. A ticklish spot over his belly button. Strawberry, bite, pass. The flex of his jaw as he chews.

Fingers over his waist, indenting the skin as much as you dare. You try not to think of how easily he would bruise. Brushing your touch over his lower abdomen makes his breath catch again. You find the strawberry, hold it between your lips. L cranes his neck, searching this time—he thinks he knows the game, has memorised the steps, found the pattern, the sequence. He doesn't know that the best sex is the unpredictable kind. This time, you press your lips against him and when your tongue pushes the strawberry into his mouth it stays there. His lips part, slack against yours, either in shock or inexperience. You allow yourself the briefest twirl of your tongue against his before pulling back with a wet pop.

L stares at you as you retreat. The strawberries leave pale pink residue on his skin. Pulling back fully reveals the hardness between his legs, pushing up against the dark denim of his jeans. He grunts when your eyes land on it, either out of embarrassment or frustration. You swallow and its like sandpaper.

"Still want me to...?"

"I have not changed my mind," he replies, slightly hoarsely and a beat slower than usual. You shrug, smooth your hands over the tent at his crotch, and he whines. It's the most searing noise you've pulled from him yet, and all from some halfhearted palming over the jeans. It sends a thrill zipping through you, hot and addicting. His arms shake with the weight of holding himself up, neck craning to follow as you sink to your knees between his legs.

You unzip him, pop the button, and he groans slightly at the freedom from the constraints of his clothes. He's fully hard, straining against his dark underwear. You experiment, rubbing at the tip, feeling for the wet spot, and he keens and thrashes, losing his stability and crashing to the mattress. He makes a frustrated noise just after, as though cursing himself for his own lack of control.

"That—" he swallows hard, breathes shakily. "That feels..."

Your hand hovers. "Am I stopping?"

"No, I don't..." He scrambles. L scrambles over his words. "Please, continue."

You stroke him over his underwear for a few concentrated minutes, mostly enjoying the way he twitches and huffs and occasionally makes soft, whiny noises, the way he starts to rut his hips against your hand. No technique, no rhythm, just some sort of baseless desire that you find incredibly hot. There's almost a frustration to it that makes you want to laugh—of course there would be nothing more agonising to someone like L than seeing what he wanted so close to him but being unable to accomplish it himself.

When he starts gritting his teeth, you pull his boxers down to his thighs and he makes a choking, embarrassed sound. When you wrap your fingers around his cock for the first time, finding it velvety-soft and leaking, his eyes roll back and his hips arch into the loose wet tunnel of your hand. "Oh," is all he says. Small and soft like he's surprised. His neck twists and his mouth presses into the starched white sheets. "Oh," he says again as your fist moves slowly, stroking with intent, up and down. He's not overly big, fits nicely in your hand, makes swiping over the head where the pre beads with your thumb nice and convenient. And you love the way he shudders and thrashes when you do it.

"How does that feel?" Your voice is lower than you remember it being. L cracks a bleary eye open; his face is flushed bright pink now, a flush that bleeds all the way down his chest, blending in with the strawberry stains.

"It feels," he starts, before his brow pinches. "I—I am not sure how to—how to describe..."

"It's okay," you tell him. His thighs shake, flexing against the edge of the mattress. When he tips his head back the cords in his pretty throat bulge, so biteable. "You can come whenever."

"I wasn't—oh," he gasps, squirming. "I wasn't aware I n-needed your—permission, oh."

"Yeah, well," you say intelligently, a little struck dumb by the sight before you. "Just making sure we're on the same page."

"A-and what page is that?" he pants, thrusting his hips messily into your hand. He's so fucking sensitive that you swear you can see his eyes growing shiny.

"The one where I help you out, so don't be a brat," you murmur. L laughs breathlessly, trying, you think, to summon some retort. You twist your fist around him and it died, half-formed in his brain, his eyes rolling back and fingers flexing hard in the sheets.

After another minute, he reaches out and grabs your wrist hard enough to bruise. He doesn't say it—can't, maybe. But you know. Your pace speeds up just a touch and he honest to god moans, spilling out of him soft and breathy before he comes, streaking over his stomach in pearly arcs. You watch him flinch at the contact, fingers slipping on your wrist. His chest flexes—in, out, in, out.

You collect a big scoop of pink frosting on your finger and dip it in the come starting to cool between his pecs before pressing it to his lips. L's brow wrinkles, startled—but he opens his lips and lets your fingers pass into the hot cavern of his mouth. Like a cat he licks your finger clean, pointed pink tongue prodding with no technique or flourish, just something steadfast, something stubborn.

You do him the dignity of tucking his softened cock back into his underwear and zipping up his jeans. Unsure how to proceed until L sits up rather abruptly. His hair is even more tousled from his tossing and turning as he reaches for a tissue to wipe himself down.

He looks at you. "I understand it's customary to offer some sort of equivalent exchange in these circumstances." A pause whilst he gathers his breath. "You'll have to forgive me. I'm not quite feeling up to the task."

His tone is normal, if a little shaky. You rock back on your heels. "Did you like it?"

L blinks at you. "My curiosity has been sated," he says, carefully. "Yes, I believe I did enjoy it."

Well, that's a relief if nothing else. The pink remnants of the strawberry cake it on the plate; the shade matches his blush.

[a-hazbin-reader]

Hello! I just found your blog a couple days ago and I love your stuff!! I like that you mark everything as either being romantic or platonic (as an aromantic, I would like to say you are a saint for doing that) , and all the little pictures and memes bring me immense joy

I was wondering if you could do a platonic alastor x reader where reader makes/made a deal with Alastor. Like full on, sold-their-soul-to-him, no-takesies-backsies kind of a deal.

And like, maybe Alastor doesn't care about them that much at first, but they slowly grow on him? And reader doesn't like alastor that much either, but they have the same dark, chaotic energy and they just sorta click eventually. (and maybe some Rosie in there too??)

Omg you're so sweet for this 😭 Some of the platonic ones are my FAVE! Plus, I get that not everyone is looking for romance 🤧

Alastor X Reader Headcanons

Plus a little Rosie X Reader

❌️Romantic

✅️Platonic

TW: Cartoonish antics, little bit of violence, Alastor being Alastor, Reader lost their soul

Description: ☝️⬆️

You didn't think Alastor was serious when he said he wanted your soul, who tf does that??

Alastor, that's who, you dummy

To be fair, you totally thought you were going to win but imagine your shock when chains suddenly appeared on you like a leash

Bullshit bullshit bullshit

He has you working at the hotel with Husk and Niffty but you go out of your way to mess things up for him

If you're gonna be his pet then you're going to be a nightmare pet

Maybe he'll decide you're not worth the trouble and give your soul up?? That's a thing that happens right?

So you do little things to fuck with Alastor, big enough to annoy him but subtle enough to be an accident

He wants you to make him tea? Oops!! You've poured salt instead of sugar and now he's choking down salty tea because he's too proud to admit you pulled one over on him

Not him giving you a death glare from over his cup

"How is it~?"

"Delightful."

He wants you to wash the dishes? Fine but you're going to drop and break his favorite mug and every replacement he gets

You're so clumsy

You have to carry his bags?? Fine then-

No, you know what? Niffty can carry the bags she's much more strong and sturdy than she looks

You're no fun

The point is, if Alastor is going to make your life miserable because he owns your soul, you're going to give it right back

You don't even make the punishments fun for him

He doesn't stop seeing you as his worst deal until your both suddenly faced against the same foe

Some idiot Vox hired to pick a fight with Alastor and for some reason Alastor picked you to handle it

Watching you play with your prey reminded Alastor of himself, giving him a few good chuckles

By the time you were done, your opponent had practically pissed themselves to death, terrified by your maniacal nature

After the fight while you're being patched up, you and Alastor share a few laughs as you retell what happened

And then you two laugh about Vox

And then you two laugh about how your opponent died

Nobody else is laughing you sick fucks

There's a change in your dynamic after that day, the two of you becoming partners in crime

Those pranks and punishments you two used to use on each other? Now you're combining forces to use them on everyone else

Everyone thought things would be better once you two put aside your differences

But this is so much worse

They find excuses to just send you two out of the hotel so they can have some peace and quiet

You just feed off each other's worst energies and keep making each other worse

The only mitigating force for you two is Rosie, she's the only one who can get you two to slow it down

"Alright! Hold it!"

Not the two of you being scolded by her, looking like two little kicked puppies because Rosie won't let you two blow up a shop

But the owner is so sleazy!!!

No, you two can't pretend to be repairmen so you can break into people's homes and destroy their tvs

She won't even let you write fake fan mail to Vox, slowly gaining his trust as his number one fan only to shatter his heart in some devastating and public way

Wtf is wrong with you two

She just knows how best to handle the two of you and doesn't really mind how twisted the two of you get to be

She finds it adorable

You are besties by that point, an unstoppable force that wreaks havoc on anything in your path

Oh and sweet Rosie is there too

Holding the leashes for you two

You almost forget he owns your soul and so does he most days, the two of you seeing each other more and more as equals

Or at the very least, friends 🧡

Maybe you've earned your soul back

Nah, keep it

This was so fun! I really hope you liked it!

[minus-plus-zer0]

Stuck Inside From the Rain

♡ Genre: Fluff ♡ Pairing: Bakugou x Reader ♡ Tags: Aged up (This was supposed to be short u-u)

You couldn't go home, not in this weather.

You had only planned to drop off a video game you borrowed from Bakugou, but the rain had hit so suddenly that there was no way you were going anywhere now.

What's worse, it was getting pretty dark out. At least Bakugou had a nice couch to sleep on...

"Oi!" Bakugou called out from the kitchen. "Dinner's ready!"

Bakugou had fetched some extra ingredients so he could make food for the both of you. You both sat down at his dinner table, with your grilled chicken and peppers in front of you.

"Thank you so, so much for doing this, bestie!" you said. "I think this is the first time we've eaten together in your new home."

"That's not my fault. I invited you over last week. But you were busy with Kirishima..."

You scoffed at how he chewed his food angrily. "He's just a friend, Bakugou. I actually totally forgot about that until now. Are you jealous?"

"Why would I be jealous of some guy with shitty hair?! He's got nothing on me!"

"Then don't bring him up?"

"Don't go blowing me off for Kirishima and then I won't bring him up! How about that?"

"I'll be sure to give you all the attention you want this time, okay?"

Bakugou looked frustrated, but a bit pleased. "You better."

True to your words, you ranted and raved to Bakugou about the food, as always. Bakugou knew that if there was one way to get you to focus on him, it was through his cooking. He looked cocky as you basically monologued to him about your 5-star Yelp review of his food. He offered you the rest to take home as leftovers, because unlike that traitorous rat Kirishima, he found himself to be a considerate and compassionate soul who would never let you starve.

You wanted to help with the dishes, but Bakugou wouldn't let you lift a finger to do chores. The guy was treating you like a guest he personally invited, but you felt a little bit like a burden who invaded his evening out of nowhere (even though you knew he wanted you here).

The night grew colder as it went on, and you could tell even Bakugou was starting to get affected. You attached yourself to his side to warm him up, holding onto him because you knew he hated the cold. He let himself get a little lost in that moment, which was easy to do since nobody was here except for you.

"You're such a koala," he said. "How long are you gonna steal my arm for?"

"Bakugou, if you keep complaining I'm gonna let go."

"Fine, fine! Just walk a little faster with me, I need to get something from the living room."

Bakugou wanted to watch a movie with you, but first he fetched an extra blanket, hoping to drape it over the two of you while you sat on the couch.

"You didn't get your own blanket?" you asked.

"This was all I had! Don't hog the stuff, alright?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be a burden. I'm just cold..."

"You're not a burden. Just get over here so we can share it. Properly."

He drags the blanket around both of your shoulders, bringing you two hip-to-hip.

"It's like we're kids again, huh?" you laughed. "If you had extra pillows, I would've made us a pillow fort."

"I'm too big for that and you know it. It'd just fall over."

"You're no fun. Did anyone ever tell you that you act like such a grandpa?"

"You've probably told me that at least 5 times now, yeah."

You two watched a movie together, some old action flick from long ago. You rested your head on Bakugou's shoulder, and over time he ended up curling one of his arms around you. You're engrossed in the movie, you thought it wouldn't be your style but the movements are mesmerizing! However, Bakugou's glancing over at you repeatedly, gauging your reaction.

As the movie continued, the night grows even colder, and you're retreating into Bakugou's chest for any semblance of warmth. It's easy to do since his Quirk keeps his body working like an oven. Bakugou's tensing up now, stiff and janky in his movements.

You yawned for the 15th time this hour. "Bakugou... I'm sleeeeepy..."

Your heart rate slowed and your eyes felt heavy, and you almost dozed off to sleep with the sound of the rain rushing down outside. Bakugou looked distressed, knowing that you two might fall asleep together for the first time. But you didn't want him distressed, you wanted him happy, because he was your Bakugou, even if it wasn't official yet...

In your sleepy state, you gave him a tiny kiss him on the cheek and then curled up to sleep against him. You heard him swearing up a storm under his breath, and he really went through the entire curse word dictionary as if you couldn't hear him at all.

Then, he kissed you on the forehead right back.

"Night, dummy," he said, his voice very quiet.

[erwinsvow]

𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐚 𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐨 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐳𝐲

summary: you're obedient to rafe, and he's starting to realize how much he likes that.

word count: 1.2k

now spinning: cruel world by lana del rey

author's note/warning: rafe does things to you with his gun. this might be dark!rafe which is just.. rafe <3

Rafe gets a thrill when you’re obedient to him without him having to do or say anything at all.

It starts off small. Holding onto your wrist for a second too long. When he does that, you turn around to look at him. Then it becomes a habit, looking back at him for permission to walk away, to leave. He presses a kiss to the top of your head before he lets you go. It’s been so long, so many months and so many kisses, you worry he’s upset with you if you don’t receive it.

He’s conditioned you, in his own little way. Everyone notices it. His father tells him to treat a nice girl like you better. His friends laugh about it when you’re not there. He used to laugh too, but now he doesn’t, and he gives anyone who still mentions it a glare. 

Because this is his new high, and he doesn’t have to chase it, doesn’t have to pay for it. You’re devoted to him, and it’s getting worse and worse. He begins to wonder how far you’ll go, how much you’ll stretch the boundaries of right and wrong for him. 

He’d promised to leave you out of it, out of everything that’s going on, but his own curiosity got the best of him.

You’re lying in his bed, half-asleep and completely fucked out the first time he asks you. Sometimes he’s a totally different person with you, soft and gentle, and sometimes he’s more like himself. 

“If someone wanted to hurt me,” he starts, chin resting on the top of your head and hand tucked safely with yours, “what would you do?” 

“Hm?” you moan sleepily against his chest. You’re out of it, he knows because he’s the reason why, but he really wants an answer. Rafe gives your cheek a little slap, demeaning, the way he knows you like. Your eyes jump open.

“You heard me, kid. What would you do?”

“I-” you start, and then stop. You’re thinking about what to say. He doesn’t interrupt, because he knows you're using your little brain to figure out what answer he wants to hear. 

“Hm?” he repeats, mocking. You don’t notice.

“I would do whatever it took to make sure you were okay,” you say, pressing your hand flat against his chest, right over his heart. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

The next time is a few months later. You’re still clueless, maybe a little less than before, but if you know something, you don’t admit it. He’s been testy with you, he knows, but you’re relentless in your mission to make sure the two of you are okay—that he’s still okay.

He’s pacing in his bedroom, running a hand over his buzzed hair, while you sit on his bed with your legs hanging off, watching silently. If you’re thinking anything, you don’t say it. His gun rests against his back, tucked into the waistband.

For a second his shirt lifts, and you stare at the black metal with big eyes. He catches you looking and you shift your gaze in a second, without him saying a word. So obedient, even when you’re scared.

“Rafey?” you ask quietly. “What’s going on?” He turns in an instant, squatting down before your legs, hands gripping your knees.

“What’s going on? What’s going on is that it’s happening. Remember when I asked you what you’d do if someone tried to hurt me? Remember?” and you nod fervently. “Well it’s happening now, kid.”

“Someone’s trying to hurt you?”

“Everyone’s trying to hurt me.”

“Not me, Rafe, not me,” and you sit up straighter, pressing your hands against his arms and holding on tightly. “I would never hurt you.”

“I know that, baby, I know. But I have to protect you, protect us both.” You know how Rafe gets sometimes. He worries too much, you’ve finally decided upon, that was it. The reason he was like this, he just worried too much, about protecting you and doing right by his family, his father. He had too much going on, too much responsibility for one person. That was your way of justifying everything. Your boyfriend didn’t do anything wrong, he never did.

“You will. I know you will, you always do, you always protect me.” There’s your obedience again, clicking in and telling him everything he wants to hear. The best part is that he knows you mean it. 

“That’s right, kid. I do.” He takes the gun from behind his shirt, brandishing it before you. If you’re scared, you don’t react at all. You look at him with your big, wet eyes and your thudding heart like you’d do anything if he asked. Pick up the gun and shoot someone yourself if he wanted. It makes his dick hard just thinking about it. “I have to use this, sometimes, to do it. To make sure no one can hurt you. That’s just how it is.” 

You move gingerly, clasping your hand around his and the gun, eyes locked on his own the whole time.

“I know. I know you’re doing it for the right reasons.” The two of you stay silent like that for another few moments, before your quiet voice fills the space again. “Rafe, no matter what you did, I would never blame you.” Your head shakes a little like you don’t understand what you’re saying. “I would never leave you. I would never hurt you.”

“I have to use it, baby, I don’t have a choice. Y’know these people, they don’t listen, no one, you have to show them you’re serious, and this, this is how serious I am.”

“I know,” you repeat, eyes fluttering between the gun and Rafe, back and forth. 

You’re looking at him like this because you like how he’s talking. The serious, scary way he means every word he’s saying, that he would kill to protect you, hurt someone else to make sure you’re okay. It doesn’t make you scared, it makes you fall deeper in love. Someone willing to risk everything for you. You want to prove that you would do anything for him too.

“I knew you’d understand,” he says, eyes fixed on the way you’re running your tongue over your lips, biting the button while you stare at his fingers wrapped around the grip. 

He’s a little surprised, but still, not quite fazed, when you end up squirming in his arms not even ten minutes later. Your skirt pulled up and panties kicked aside, your pretty new shirt ripped down the middle to free your tits in the easiest way possible. 

Rafe has one hand squeezing your tits and the other balancing the gun, holding it in place while he fucks it in and out of your cunt. He knew you were obedient, but even this is beyond his imagination. When you finally come, the wetness from your cunt shining on the black of his handpiece, he makes a show of licking it off. 

You’re his now in every way, even if you ever change your mind. You know you won’t.

[whateverloomis]

What if you did a Billy x reader x Stu where they’re like IN LOVE in love w reader but the readers just super oblivious and when they kill their girlfriends readers just like ��oh shit I’m next” but they confess they’re love also reader could be gender neutral

(I’m sorry if this sucks I am NOT good at requests)

Don't worry anon, it's totally okay! I feel like I got way too dramatic with this lmao, but we need a little bit of drama to spice things up once in a while :P

Warnings: Hopelessly romantic Billy and Stu (lol,) stalking, mentions of murders, touchy feely Billy and Stu, kissing (nothing too intense here,) unedited

Word count: 1.3k

Reader: GN, no pronouns used

Casey, Tatum and now Sidney. You're most likely next. No, you are next, 100%. Why would the ghost face killer spare you? You're part of the friend group and you sure as hell aren't special. At least that's what you told yourself, but Billy and Stu thought different.

They were both painfully in love with you. They couldn't handle having anyone trying to hit on you and steal you from them. They were possessive and with each day it got even more intense and fucked up.

They's kill whoever showed any kind of romantic interest in you. It was unbearable to know there was someone else other than them who felt for you.

Billy loved to follow you to your house and make random apparitions when you least expected it. He thought it was so adorable when you did that little jump when he scared you.

"Billy! You scared me!" You said after gasping.

"Aw I didn't mean to." He said, eyes dark with amusement.

You looked around, anxiety evident since he triggered your fight or flight. What if there was someone else following you? What if the killer's stalking you without you realizing it? If Billy, your close friend who you could easily recognize could do it then a masked killer could do it too. You were terrified.

"It's okay I... Can you walk me home? It's getting kinda dark already." You asked and Billy smirked. He got exactly what he wanted.

"Sure thing."

•

Somewhere along the way he placed his hand around your waist while you guys walked. You didn’t think much of it since he obviously didn’t mean anything by it, so you thought. Instead, you expressed to him how scared you were because of the kills taking place in Woodsboro. It had been months since your friends were slaughtered and you got pretty good at suppressing your emotions and continuing your life semi normally, but it still got to you inevitably from time to time.

Billy and Stu were your primary source of comfort. After the kills took place they didn’t waste any time and became as close to you as they could.

“I understand your worries and fears, YN. Really, I do, but…” he trailed off. Billy didn’t want to exactly dismiss your words, he just wanted to play around with them a little bit so everything was in his and Stu’s favor.

“…but you have me now. Me and Stu. We’ll protect you no matter what. You’re safe, I promise.” Billy reassured and smirked in satisfaction once he felt you relax under his shoulder.

“You’re right,” you said softly as you climbed up the stairs to your front porch.

Billy stood in front of you, one step lower and leaned against the wooden rail. He looked into your eyes and for a second your heart skipped a beat, but you blinked quickly and looked away, composing yourself.

Billy is undeniably attractive but you couldn't go there, plus there was no chance in hell he'd be interested, so you brush any weird feelings away.

"You home alone tonight? I can keep you company if you'd like," the boy suggested and you definitely wouldn't have minded one bit. Being home alone wasn't your favorite thing especially after the murders. Much less being alone an entire week thanks to your parents being away on a work trip.

You hesitated for a moment, not knowing if it would be best to be alone or with someone in the house. What if Billy got killed instead of you? Or worse, what if you both got killed? In your own home? The irrational thoughts ran wild and Billy could see that you were lost in them.

"Hey" he said softly and grabbed your hand reassuringly, secretly seeking more physical contact with you; "It's okay if you don't want me to-" - "No, no it's not that I just..." you trailed off when you felt Billy touch your cheek with his free hand, looking into your eyes. Was he going to kiss you? It definitely looked like he was, but the boy got interrupted.

"What's up kiddos!? We having a party at YNs?" Stu broke Billy's moment as he approached from behind. The boy bit his lip in annoyance and glared at Stu as he made his way towards you and hugged you tightly, lifting you up in the process.

You inevitably giggled at his playfulness and placed your hands on his chest as he set you down.

"C'mon! Let's have a movie night or something! You got popcorn here?" Stu asked excitedly and you nodded. His cheerfulness made the idea sound perfect, so you took his offer and invited the boys in.

•

"Ugh, why is there always a lowkey love interest in horror movies? Everyone is gonna die anyways." You said related to the film you were watching.

Billy craned his neck to the side and looked at you, lifting an eyebrow in intrigue; "Why wouldn't there be? It makes things more interesting." He said and Stu hummed in agreement, lost in the sex scene that was taking place on the screen.

"Well, yeah but what's the point? Honestly." You replied and Billy gave you a confused expression.

"I mean, have you ever been in love? If you analyze it, it does make sense." Billy said and you thought for a second before replying; "Mm, no. I don't think I ever have."

At your words Billy shifted on the couch to face you completely. Stu paused the movie, too shocked to continue watching the film.

"Are you serious?" Billy asked and Stu looked at you in shock, his head resting on Billy's shoulder.

"No. It's not a big deal guys. Plus, nobody has ever been in love with me either so it doesn't really matter."

The boys tensed up at your words. Were you really that oblivious? The tension, the touchiness, the compliments, all their love languages spilled on you wasn't obvious enough?

"What if I told you that you're wrong?" Billy asked, his voice soft.

"The signs have been in front of you the whole time, YN!" Stu said, losing his patience.

You couldn't read their expressions or understand what they were trying to say. Were they admitting that they both love you? There was no way that could be true, right?

"Wh- What are you guys saying?" You asked and Billy had enough of your games, even though you had no idea they felt challenged by you.

The boy leaned in and kissed you. His hand immediately fell on your thigh and you couldn't help but kiss him back.

Stu stood up and sat behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and placing kisses on your shoulder.

You felt chills all over your body at the sensation of both of their lips on you. You never thought you'd ever be in this position, much less with your best friends. The only ones left after everything. The only ones who were there for you.

Your emotions were overwhelming. You were confused, excited and turned on all at once. Maybe you have feelings for them too and didn't even realize it.

"You don't know how much I've been waiting to get my hands on you." Billy whispered against your lips and kissed you a few more times before continuing; "Show you how much I feel for you... Fuck, how much we both feel for you." He bit his lower lip and kissed you again.

You moaned into Billy's mouth, his words were so promising. So real.

"Mhmm." Stu hummed softly in agreement next to you; "It's been driving me crazy, YN... Both of us." He continued and turned you around. It was his turn to kiss you now. You played with each other's tongues and moaned softly into each other's mouths before he finally said it; "We love you." He kissed you once more before continuing; "So fucking much." He finished as he squeezed your sides in excitement.

Billy wrapped his arms around you from behind, his limbs resting above Stu's; "So... So much, baby." He whispered in your ear and you just about melted.

You had so much to figure out. So much to address with yourself and so much confusion circling in your head, but all you could think about was how much you wanted them. How much you needed to feel them and explore their feelings further. How much you needed Billy Loomis and Stu Macher.

[w0rmm1lk]

May I request the class 1A boys (if u write for multiple in the same fic) reacting to their gn! S/o (who’s normally insanely calm and patient) finally snapping and ends up nearly killing a villain? Like reader snaps during a fight against a villain or smth because the boys (seperate but yk) got hurt and stuff? Sorry if this doesn’t make much sense, I suck at explaining things 😭

hi! i didnt end up doing all the boys but I did the ones I think I would b able to write for best hehe, for future posts probably gonna limit it to 5 characters per post!

characters: Tenya Iida, Denki Kaminari, Eijiro Kirishima, Mezou Shoji, Shoto Todoroki, Katsuki Bakugo, Izuku Midoriya.

reader: Gn

summary: the very well known 1a student (reader) who is known for being calm and understanding almost fucking kills someone.

warnings: blood mentions, near death experience, swearing, injuries.

other details: 1A!reader, reader quirk not mentioned but they use their bare fists to beat the shit out of the villain, villain is not any specific one.

👓Tenya Iida👓

👓- Iida was fast but damn the villain was faster.

👓- this resulted into iida now basically completely motionless on the ground yet still concious.

👓- usually if it was any of your other friends you would just take a deep breath and anylis whats going on to make sure things are delt with properly.

👓- but that iis not the case this time.

👓- it was almost like something snapped.

👓- nobody could actually figure out how you managed to catch the villain, especially with their speed.

👓- but bystanders were more focused on the fact that you were now repeatedly slamming their face into the sidewalk.

👓- honestly a miracle the villain survives that shit, but they 100% had brain damage afterwards.

👓- normally iida would step in but he could only really stare at you.

👓- partly due to the shoock, but also the fact that he straight up couldn't move from his injuries.

👓- after everything calmed down and iida recovered he gave your ass a huge lecture.

⚡Denki Kaminari⚡

⚡- he was shocked.

⚡- pun intended but also he was just straight up in shock.

⚡- first off, surprising he got these many injuries without short circuting.

⚡- guess his training rlly payed off.

⚡- well at least his quirk training.

⚡- thinks its sick as hell how you just beat the shit out of the villain.

⚡- their face will never be the same again.

⚡- hes kinda into it tbh.

🪨Eijiro Kirishima🪨

🪨- literally just makes the :o face

🪨- this man got one hit that actuqally injured him at you just cut loose.

🪨- he felt like not even he could do that much damage in unbreakable. (he totally could do worse but hes just having a moment leave me alone.)

🪨- aftwards will literally beg you to spar with him.

🪨- unfortunatley never gets to fight you while ur that pissed off.

🪨- honestly when he saw how beat up the villain was he thought that it was bakugos doing for a hot second.

🐙Mezou Shoji🐙

🐙- the way you reacted to him getting hurt lowkey reminded him of dark shadow during the training camp.

🐙- very similar situation tbh.

🐙- it was just one of his extended limbs that got injured, yet you reacted as if he had just been decapitated.

🐙- froze up for a second when he watched you just immediately run up to the villain you have been fighting for at least an hour and just absolutely demolish then within a few minutes.

🐙- had to restrain you a bit to stop you from actually murdering them.

🐙- was a little shocked at the sudden swap oof personality for that short time but was more focused on stopping you from being charged with murder.

❄️Shoto Todoroki🔥

❄️🔥- ^that face.

❄️🔥- like that is just his reaction tbh.

❄️🔥- i mean its not everyday you see the person thats just a slightly more emotionally available version of you almost kill someone.

❄️🔥- especially over a small cut.

❄️🔥- the cut wasnt even caused directly by the villain, it was a broken piece of glass that was flying around with other debri./

❄️🔥- i mean-- at least you caught the villain?

❄️🔥- and almost killed them.

❄️🔥- along with free medical debt.

❄️🔥- or no medical debt?

❄️🔥- idk how that stuff works in japan bruh.

💥Katsuki Bakugo💥

💥- fight me all you want but

💥- he just straight up finds it hot.

💥- like if you look close enough this mf is blushing.

💥- who knew that the one time someone makes bakugo blush is his partner attempting murder.

💥- originally wasnt going to hold you back.

💥- the longer he watched you beat the shit out of this guy he started to genuinley think you were going to kill them.

💥- once everything settles down you started back to you normal calm persona.

💥- bro was just like ????

🥦Izuku Midoryia🥦

🥦- panic.

🥦- like you dont even have to look at him, you just need to be near him and you can basically feel how panicked he is over this.

🥦- lots of panicked words, you can barely even tell whats he's saying through the rage but also the pure speed he's speaking at.

🥦- few words that were mostly intelligable you could tell he was saying you should stop.

🥦- even if you wanted to stop your body wouldnt let you.

🥦- ended up needing to use blackwhip to get you off.

🥦- not that it did much being the villai already had a broken nose and multiple broken ribs.

🥦- probably missing teeth aswell.

🥦- izuku is lowkey terrified to somehow piss you off now.

theyre all a little short but i think I slayed