#I'm not creepy I'm just 40

[sighed-the-snake]

At what age does it become intolerable to participate in online fandom?

At what age do you start telling people they're too old to be in a public fandom space because it skews young?

I have been online since the literal beginning of the internet. I've been in chatrooms in one form or another for my entire life, without issue, without anyone telling me I don't belong there. It has been my primary mode of socialization since I was 14. Some of the most important people in my life are people I met online.

But then I turned 40 and suddenly, my presence in a chatroom is creepy.

It wasn't creepy when I was 35 and I was the admin for a huge Discord server full of mostly teens and 20-somethings. Nobody complained when I was 35. They called me their server mom.

But 40 is apparently the limit. I tried to join a few public Discord servers last year and was politely shooed away each time because I was honest about my age.

The obvious solution would be to find spaces with people my own age, right? Except those don't really exist. If it's a fandom space, the overwhelming majority of people are going to be teens, 20-somethings, and a small population of younger 30-somethings. Those are the people who are talking about the things I also would like to talk about.

Even the people I follow here on Tumblr are mostly in their 20s.

There is not much of an online peer group for older Millennials and Gen X. I found and tried some non-fandom, general servers, and they were desolate and stale. A lot of us grew up without computers at home, barely even had computers at school, so the internet never really became a big part of our lives beyond things like Facebook, or Twitter, or discussion boards. Things you spend a few minutes looking over before bed.

But I don't want those things. Tumblr has been great, the Good Omens fandom has been amazing, but I don't want to check throughout the day if someone has replied to something I said hours or days or weeks ago, I want to talk to people, but those places are populated by an age group who tells me it's not appropriate for me to be there anymore.

It's so damn frustrating and lonely. I didn't do anything wrong. I'm not doing anything wrong. I just got older.

I'm just a married gay woman with a kid in school who wants to giggle over an angel and a demon and how in love and stupid they are. I feel like it shouldn't be this hard.

[creepyscritches]

23 year olds acting like they're suffering under the brutal weight of aging only gets weirder and weirder the older I get. You are transitioning from teenager to young adult and if anyone is making you feel old for it, you're probably still surrounded by children. Don't be weird to the other adults in the room bc you have a hang-up on the passage of time.

[running-in-the-dark]

I'm watching Stripes (1981) now annnd I just realised I have absolutely heard of this movie before but never watched it because 1. military shit, 2. Bill Murray and 3. the German title is 'Ich glaub' mich knutscht ein Elch!'... why.

[feral-coffee]

I never expected to see anything like this. I'm fairly used to being the ... token, I suppose, or at least I was when I still had community to interact with.

Everyone else into flogging was just whack whack whack, hard, hard, hard, until the sub had enough*. I had my own technique, I kept people guessing as the Dom and as the sub, I learned to accept that not everyone does it like me and sometimes it's the Dom that ends up ending the session because they imagine I couldn't possibly want to take it that far and what could it mean I though something was lacking.

I haven't even finished the video yet and it's like hearing my own thoughts in another person's voice. And yes, mix it up, go hard to the point of crossing over into blood play if that's wanted, go soft and gentle, go moderate and let the sub wonder if it's a prelude to hard or soft. Go hard to bring sensitivity up, soft to work with that sensitivity and turn it into a very intense and loving caress, go moderate to keep the feelings maintained so the hard and soft remain balanced, tolerable, enjoyable. Read your sub, give them what they desire while subverting their own expectations by making the next time the whip comes in contact with them a surprise.

Keep it safe, of course, keep it consensual, of course, but don't let it become dominated by rules intended to keep it uniform and boring. Keep it new, take it to new levels and find new ways to transcend the everyday drudgery of life.

These people would get me.

Seriously, if you understand and work with the emotions of the whole session and say fuck the aesthetics of it, any audience you have, as well as partners will absolutely adore the part of the overall aesthetic they'd been missing before. It goes from basic and cold and formulaic, to real, heartfelt, and deep, and to me, that's everything.

*Not shaming the community - some do like that. I was just different. We were all different in our own ways.

[yo9urt]

horse!!!!!!

[barleyo]

Rural Bliss.

Real Dad! Leon X F! Reader (smut)

A/N: You, as a reader, are responsible for your own media consumption. It is up to you to read the tags that I have provided and determine whether or not this is a piece of writing that you would like to partake in. If not, scroll on by, if you do, please enjoy! Remember, I am not responsible for any discomfort you feel if you choose to read this.

Tags: incest (daddy-daughter), dub-con, oral (f receiving), LARGE AGE GAP (18 and 40+), pwp (light plot), mentions of predatory behavior, mutual creepiness, dark and disturbing content, choppy ass writing

Wordcount: 1.8k

!!! DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT/DARK CONTENT !!!

Your mom had finally done it. She found a halfway decent guy and let him wife her up faster than you could say 'I do.' You weren't exactly mad about it. He was a decent enough guy, and he made your mom happy, so whatever. The only part that you were against was the fact that you would be staying with your estranged father for the rest of your summer until your mom and her boy-toy got back from their extensive honeymoon.

Your dad fucked off pretty quickly after you were born. Moved himself far away into the middle of nowhere, not once reaching out or keeping in touch. A small part of you wanted to know him, but a larger part of you was pissed that you would have to now temporarily live with a man who you could just barely remember the name of. 

What was it again? Leonard? Lucas? No, no, that's not right. Leon? Yeah, something like that. Leon. 

Leon, the man who left you and your mom. The man who, instead of raising you, decided to lick his wounds in the deep country, likely making a meager living off of growing potatoes and carrots. The man who was a stranger, connected to you only by blood. 

The man whose front porch you were currently standing on, banging on his door without a care in the world. You looked around while you knocked. It was a large bit of land. A few neighbors nearby, but not within spitting distance. At the very least, this town had a few stores with maybe a few people your age lingering around them. 

"I'm coming, damn it!" His steps were loud, you could hear them from all the way outside. The heaviness of his work boots must've weighed him down quite a bit. The screen door flew open and his face softened. "Oh, hey kid. Didn't know you'd be here so early. Come in." 

You followed him inside, letting your eyes trail his face and frame. You'd only seen a picture or two of him before. He wasn't quite what you were expecting. He looked a lot older now than he did in the photos. More tired, less lively. His crow's feet and smile lines stuck out, but if the lonely, uncomfortable vibe of his house was any clue, you assumed he hadn't been smiling much in his life. 

He wasn't bad looking, though. Time hasn't weathered him, and you could tell he took care of himself. His arms and chest looked strong, clearly he had found some way to stay fit out in his desolate chunk of farmer-country. You could see why your mom picked him. He looked like a good one, despite his fleeting nature. 

"You're gonna be stayin' for a few months, yeah?" Leon didn't seem uncomfortable with your presence, so you felt a bit more calm.

"Yeah, I guess so. Mom didn't really give me all the details, just kinda sprung it on me."

"Believe me, I know," he said under his breath. "Well, this place isn't much, 'm sure it's not what you're used to." He locked the door behind you and flashed an apologetic look. 

"It's fine. I'll make it work." You looked around. It looked lived in, strangely worn despite nobody else ever living there.

He led you down a dimly lit hallway, the floorboards groaning beneath their weight, until they reached a single room. It was a small bedroom, adorned with faded wallpaper and completely wooden furniture. The single window offered a glimpse of the bare, green landscape outside. 

"This'll be your room. You can unpack your things."

Hardly a week passed by and you were already sick to death of living with your dad. His jokes were bad. His cooking was shit. His attempts at bonding with you were creepy at best and damn near-assault at worst. He let his hands drift all over you when he pulled you in for hugs and tried pecking a kiss on your mouth before you went off to bed each night, and damn it, you let him.

Again and again, every night, letting that old man press his chapped lips against yours, holding back your urge to force your tongue into his mouth.

He bought you gifts that no other fathers would think about getting their daughters. Skimpy little clothes that left nothing to the imagination, while he wrote it off by claiming ignorance.

"That's what girls your age wear, right? I can't keep up with what you kids are into," Leon would say, covering his ass with feigned dopiness. 

His only redeeming quality was that he was hot and mostly oblivious. It was fucked up to think about it that way, but without having much other male contact during your stay, Leon was starting to becoming quite the piece of eye candy. The best part is that he thought nothing of it, acting like his teenaged daughter spending hours staring at his half-naked, sweaty body while he worked in the hot sun was normal. Just another day. Nothing special. 

He didn't make you work on the farm with him, so you got to do all the watching. You got to see those strong arms lift hay bales for the horses and chop trees for firewood. Most of your days were spent watching him from the front porch, mentally cursing yourself out when you felt your thighs clench together instinctually at his sexy movements. 

What was wrong with you? 

Were years of fatherlessness finally catching up to you? Couldn't muster any real love for the old man, so sexual yearning was the next best thing? Eye-fucking your dad and sharing touches that lasted too long were the cost of him skipping out on you.

You rationalized it the best you could. Maybe you didn't actually want him, maybe the solitude of the countryside was getting to you. Maybe there was something in the air, some kind of sex-pollen floating in the breeze that made you wanna get bent over by a man twice your age that just so happened to be related to you. Closely related.

Leon didn't really know how to treat a woman well, but he tried his best with you. It was his first time really being a dad, but honestly, he hated it. Being a 'dad' sucked, especially when he'd rather have his daughter as his girlfriend. 

You made him so frustrated, so unsure of himself. Leon's only experience with girl's your age was in getting them liquor they couldn't legally buy themselves, fucking them like plastic sex dolls, and leaving them for someone else to woo and screw. 

He couldn't quite do that to you, though. He couldn't get you drunk and take advantage of you, pumping and dumping in you without a care about your pleasure. He had to take care of you, your health and comfort. All he really wanted was to take care of your body.

You were his little girl. He'd fuck you like he actually gave a damn about you if he ever got the chance, and he most definitely wouldn't be leaving you for anyone else.

That type of thinking brought him here. 

"Daddy, please..."

The walls in his house were too damn thin. He could practically hear each thrust of your fingers into your cunt from his bedroom. Your bed screeched agonizingly against the floors, punctuating your moans and hisses of pleasure. 

He saw his opportunity and took it. He had waited long enough, and this was the least he could do, right? You needed him, right? Right.

He pushed your door open, not having the decency nor the self-restraint to knock. You felt your body go still, but kept your hands between your legs. 

"If you needed me, coulda told me. Don't like t'hear you in here whining." Leon sat on the edge of your bed, crawling his way between your legs. "Fuck, that's pretty." 

He took in the sight of your fingers stuffed into your pudgy cunt, slick dripping between each digit. 

"No, you're—! this isn't what it—" you tried prying your fingers out, but a strong hand wrapped around your wrist to keep you in place.

"Isn't what it looks like? How about what it sounds like, huh? Sounds like you want your daddy to dull that ache in you." 

He was so far gone. He normally never did this. Leon was a man who took. He took younger girls virginity, mouth, pussy, or other. He was the one that got sucked off and got his perv dick wet. But for his baby? You, the little nymph who fell gracefully into his grasp? He was foaming at the mouth for a chance to slurp your pussy.

"Open up, come on. Got nothin' to be shy about," he urged, forcing your legs open, pulling your fingers out, and shimmying closer to you. "Nothin' I haven't seen before."

That was somewhat of a lie. Sure, he saw pussies all the time when he bullied his cock into them, but he was normally never nose to clit, ready to lick.

He stuck his needy tongue out, lapping up the juices that you worked up when you rubbed yourself raw. He swirled around you clit as a test, trying to see what felt good for you. He soon settled on puckering his lips around your bud and sucking, swapping his spit in and out of his mouth to keep you lubed up. 

Your voice broke with hushed whines and chants. Yes's and oh's rang out, filling Leon's ears and his ego. 

He pulled his head back and lob a wad of spit onto your clit, chuckling when you shivered. 

"Feel good?" His thumb traced your clit in little figure eights. 

"Mm, s'good." Your hands trailed through his thick, soft hair. You gripped it tightly, pulling his head back to your cunt. "No, don't stop, jus' need your mouth again."

His sharp, strong nose bumped against the top of your pussy while he munched down on you greedily. His tongue traveled around you in an indecisive manner. One moment, he was using flat strokes to lick on your swollen nub, then pointing his tongue while he fucked it in and out of you. 

Despite the sporadic nature of it, the warmth and wetness of the contact of his mouth on you felt like heaven. It didn't matter what he was doing, as long as he was looking up at you with his piercing eyes and swallowing down your slick, you were satisfied.

"Dad, oh my God, yes!" It felt like venom coming off of your tongue when you moaned it, but tasted like honey at the same time. Something about it was so wrong, but felt so natural.

As your legs tightened around Leon's head and trapped him between your thighs, you knew it was meant to be. You were meant to be your daddy's princess. You were meant to feel like mouth on you, to be spoiled by his tongue, words, money, and his cock. You had been missing out on it for so long. 

You spent the rest of your summer making up for lost time, discovering just what having a daddy was meant to feel like.

[alyswritings]

Creep

Sturniolo Triplets x sister!reader

Summary: Y/N runs into a creep at the store.

Warnings: creepy dude

(gif not mine)

Y/N is visiting her brothers in L.A. and the four are currently shopping after having gone to see a movie. Y/N separated from her brothers to find some clothes, the triplets going to the men's section, promising to text each other when they were done.

Y/N has a few clothes in her arms, already trying them on. She continues to look through the racks, seeing if anything else grabs her attention.

"Hey, sweetheart." She turns at the voice, finding a man, definitely in his mid 30s, if not 40s, standing there, a predatory smile on her face. The 18 year old tenses up a bit, but tries not to make it obvious.

"Hi." She mumbles, not wanting to be rude in case that were to go the wrong way -- even though whatever she does, it's 99% a lose/lose situation for her no matter how she reacts.

"What you doing here all alone?" He asks, walking closer, eyeing her up and down.

"I-I'm not alone, actually." Y/N nervously clears her throat. "I-I have brothers -- three of 'em." She quickly informs, praying that those three brothers could show their faces at the moment.

"I don't see 'em anywhere." The guy chuckles. "You're a pretty little thing, aren't ya?" He grins. Y/N merely hums, turning her attention back to the clothes for sale. Maybe if she ignores him, he'll leave.

"What, not gonna talk to me now?" He leans down, getting too close for comfort. "C'mon, honey, I'm not a bad guy. You wanna go get something to eat?"

"N-no." Y/N mumbles, shaking her head, taking a few steps away to create distance, but he only follows.

"You sure? I know a really good place." He persuades.

"I'm 15." She lies.

"So?" He shrugs causing Y/N's stomach to churn, her throat closing up. "C'mon, pretty girl." He puts his hand on her waist, sliding it around her back to her other side, pulling her closer.

"I don't-- no. I really don't want to." She meekly replies, her breathing picking up at how he has her trapped.

"You'll love it. I promise." He smiles, leaning down so he's in her face.

"Could you, please--" Her voice cracks. "I really don't--"

"Hey!" Y/N's protest is cut off by a very familiar voice that makes her sigh in relief. "The fuck you doing?" Nick questions.

"Just having a conversation, man." The guy shrugs, loosening his grip enough to let Matt pull Y/N away, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. He turns away from the guy, tucking Y/N into his side.

"You okay?" He mumbles, loud enough for only her to hear. Y/N's breathing is shaky, her hands shaking. "Breathe. Breathe." He quietly instructs, demonstrating the breathing exercise she always follows when she needs it.

"Uh... didn't look like a pleasant conversation." Chris comments, glancing at Y/N who Matt shields from the man.

"We were having fun. Who the fuck are you guys, anyway?" The guy rolls his eyes at the three boys who look the same.

"People who aren't putting up with your shit." Nick replies. "Next time you try to touch someone, make sure it's consensual, creep."

"Fuckin' perv." Chris grumbles under his breath, sending the man a disgusted look.

"Hey, girl, can I get your number?" The guy asks.

"No." The triplets immediately answer, glaring at him until he's out of sight.

"Y/N/N. You okay?" Chris asks, lightly patting her on the head. The girl weakly nods, starting to calm down now that the man's gone.

"Thank you." She mumbles.

"No need." Nick says, ruffling her hair. "Should've gotten here sooner." Y/N shakes her head, silently insisting it's not their fault. They couldn't have known.

"Here. You guys go out to the car, we'll pay real quick." Chris offers, taking the items from Y/N's arms.

"Okay." Matt nods. "C'mon." He mumbles, leading Y/N out of the store. He keeps his arm around her all the way to the car, opening the door for her and shutting it after she gets in.

"Sure you don't wanna sit up front?" Matt asks, glancing back at her. Y/N nods. "You sure you're okay?" He asks, reaching back and rubbing her knee.

"Yeah." Y/N nods. "Not the first time I've had to deal with creepers."

"Yeah, I know." Matt grumbles in annoyance and disgust, hating how Y/N, and all women, have to deal with guys who refuse to respect a simple wish. "Fucking stupid asshole pervs." He huffs.

"Can we get Cane's?" Y/N asks.

"Yeah." Matt nods.

"Do you guys have ice cream?" She asks.

"We can stop and get some." Matt promises.

Chris and Nick get to the car, Chris climbing in the passenger seat while Nick puts the shopping bags in the trunk before getting in next to his sister.

"Where now?" Chris asks, glancing between his three siblings.

"We're gonna stop to get ice cream and then Cane's." Matt informs. "You guys need anything?"

"Nope." Nick shakes his head, getting on his phone.

"I'm good with that plan." Chris nods. While Matt starts to drive, Chris takes the aux cord, putting his music on, but makes sure he doesn't play any songs Y/N dislikes too much.

Nick gets on his phone, immediately going to TikTok. He waits until he finds a funny video to show Y/N, the girl quietly laughing at it. He continues to scroll while Y/N scoots over to the middle seat and buckles up there. She slouches a bit, leaning against Nick, her head on his shoulder while they watch the videos.

---

The four get back to the triplets' house, going up to the kitchen and getting the food out, Matt putting the ice cream in the freezer.

Y/N digs into some of the fries, taking a sip of her drink.

"Come here." Chris walks over, his arms held out to her. He pulls her into a tight hug, his head resting on top of hers. Y/N accepts the hug, hugging him back with almost as much strength. She knows it's his best way of comforting and he probably wanted to hug her earlier, but didn't get the chance.

"You guys don't have to give any special treatment cause I was preyed on, you know?" Y/N comments as she pulls away. Chris keeps a hand on her shoulder, moving his fingers to play with her hair.

"Mm. You still seem kinda out of it." Chris points out, the girl still a bit quieter than usual.

"You did pretty much have a panic attack. Definitely on the verge." Matt reminds.

"Relax. We weren't treating you that special." Nick says. "But, if you insist." He chucks a few fries at her.

"Nick!" She complains.

"What?" He innocently shrugs.

[javier-pena]

quicksand

Pairing: Pedro's unnamed character in Materialists x f!reader

Word Count: 8.2k

Rating: Explicit

Summary: You meet a stranger at a party.

Warnings: smoking | drinking | creepy men | reader gets her butt slapped by a stranger | infidelity | cheating | age gap (reader is in her early to mid 20s, her boyfriend is in his 50s, I’m putting Pedro’s character in Materialists in his late 40s) | emotional neglect (boarding on emotional abuse) | reader has long-ish hair that can get wet without it being an issue | a little bit of self-loathing | possessiveness (the good kind and the bad kind | hands hands hands hands hands | oral (f receiving) | a little bit of praise kink | voyeurism | mirror sex | (unprotected) p in v sex | rough sex | multiple orgasms | overstimulation | a tiny tiny bit of degradation | oral fixation (🫣) | choking | dirty talk | creampie | cum eating

Notes: Last week I saw these behind the scenes shots of Pedro in Materialists and somehow I had to write 8,000 words about that? I'm also not quite sure what happened, it was supposed to be like 3k max. There was also this ask Han @swiftispunk received that I couldn't get out of my head. The title is inspired by Ms Swift's song Treacherous (And I'll do anything you say / If you say it with your hands / And I'd be smart to walk away / But you're quicksand), the rest is inspired by going completely feral whenever new pictures dropped. Tremendous thanks to Dani @alexturner who just beta'd a long-ass fic last week and then this fic this week - you're being way too good to me with indulging all thoughts I have that I have to turn into short stories 🫣 My dear, sweet anon who kept sending me encouraging asks, this is for you!!

***

There’s laughter coming from downstairs, deep, rumbling laughter impossible to ignore. Your whole body seems to shake with it, your heart stutters in your chest angrily, and you press your hands over your ears. But the loud voices are still there, mocking you with their indifference to your pain. You bury your face in your cool satin pillow and sob into it, ruining the expensive fabric. You don’t fucking care.

All your friends warned you this would happen and you hate how they were right. “You’re nothing but a toy to him.” Shut up, Marissa, you’re just jealous. “Maybe you should look for a boyfriend who’s closer to you in age.” Maybe you should look for a boyfriend, period. “You’re only a fuckmaid to him, do you realize that?” That was the point you stopped listening to them and, at the same time, it was the point you should have started listening.

You are nothing but a toy to him. You should have looked for someone closer to you in age. You are … no, you can’t bring yourself to even think the word, because the truth hurts too much. The truth and your blindness and your stupidity and the fact that you’re throwing your life away for a man who breaks every promise he makes and who treats you like a pet. A beautiful, expensive pet that can be ignored whenever it’s convenient.

“Come with me to the Keys,” he whispered into your ear, his breath hotter than his steadily cooling release sticking to your thighs.

“What?” you asked, heart clenching painfully. When was the last time he cared enough to make you come? Months ago?

“Come with me to the Keys,” he repeated. “The change of scenery will be good for us. I’ll show you around. We can go deep sea fishing. I’ll buy you some dresses and bathing suits. Just take my card tomorrow.”

He brushed your hair away from your neck, kissed the skin there, cupped one of your breasts, squeezed it hard. “Piers,” you warned, tried to get away from him. But there was nowhere to go.

The truth is you had been looking forward to his trip. Had been looking forward to having the apartment to yourself for a while. It’s not like you would’ve done anything in particular except just breathe for once.

“Don’t be like that,” he mumbled against your neck, squeezed your breast again. “Don’t you want to sip on a nice cocktail? Wear a risqué outfit for me?”

No, you didn’t want that. But if you didn’t say yes soon, he’d get angry. “Okay,” you gave in. “But you have to promise me that you’ll spend one day with me. No business.”

What’s easily promised is easily broken.

Today is supposed to be your day. And for once in your life, you thought it would be. Piers took you out for breakfast, right by the water. You watched the sunshine dance across the waves. Then he showed you around town, took you to his favorite spots in Key West, even held your hand. And you thought, This is it. I’m finally worthy of him. Then came the call, followed by those emails, and suddenly Piers was like, “Sorry, babe, I have to meet them, they’re important business partners. Why don’t you go to the beach club, buy yourself a nice massage? Here’s my card.”

Here's my card. You’ve never hated three words more.

What you didn’t expect was to come home to a party. At least twenty men were milling around the house Piers liked to refer to as his “Key West Residence”, a late 19th century villa. Twenty loud men, rich like Piers, most of them his age, leering at you as you stepped through the front door, mistaking you for tonight’s entertainment.

“Babe!” Piers boomed, spilling half his drink while opening his arms as if he meant to hug you. The glances didn’t stop. “Go upstairs, freshen up, put on something nice, and then let me show you off.”

You managed to complete the first step before breaking down on your bed. You’ve been sobbing ever since.

Something breaks downstairs and some of the men roar. You bury your face deeper against the pillow, terrified to go back downstairs, terrified to stay up here. Whatever you do, it will be the wrong thing. You close your eyes and think about what it would be like if the men downstairs vanished. If you had the house to yourself, sharing it with a person you loved and who loved you in return. You could be having dinner on the patio now. Before that, you might go for a swim in the pool, knowing the only eyes on you were your partner’s, the only glances you received were welcome.

You sit up straight. You might hate it when Piers’ business partners look at you like you’re a piece of meat, but Piers hates it too if they don’t do it without being invited. Twenty men imagining all the vile ways in which they could fuck you is the last thing you want right now, but it’s also the last thing Piers wants.

You stumble into the bathroom and wash your face with ice cold water, willing the puffiness of your eyes to recede. You put on your most expensive makeup, the kind that only comes off with intensive scrubbing, then you pick your most revealing bikini and put it on. If those men stared at you like that in a long sundress, their heads will probably explode if they see you like this.

Chin held high, beach towel thrown over your shoulder, you make your way downstairs on high heels the same shade of black as your bikini. You feel utterly stupid, like you’re giving them exactly what they want, but the flush that spreads across Piers’ cheeks when he sees you is worth it. There are some whistles, a few crude comments, one man slaps your ass, but you make it to the pool. None of them are brave enough to follow you outside.

The water is cool against your skin, doing its best to extinguish the fire that burns within you. The flames don’t die down completely but they’re certainly soothed. You start to swim, one length, then three, and soon the party resumes and the men pick up their conversations again. This almost feels normal; this almost feels like a life you could enjoy. Except that you’re alone. And not in a way you crave.

You stop swimming and start drifting on your back, watching the sky above turn from a gentle blue into a soft pink, a bright orange, a deep purple. Soon, the sun will go down and the party will pick up speed. You should go, put on a dress, let Piers show you off, vanish before they’ve had too much alcohol.

You climb out of the pool, squeeze water out of your hair, wrap the towel around yourself. No one is paying attention to you now, so you pick up your heels to carry them back upstairs. There’s no way you’ll make it back to your room without one or two unwanted glances, without the odd rude comment, but you can live with that. You step onto the patio, eyes firmly fixed on your destination, then start walking through the gathering, careful not to look at anyone, careful not to be seen.

Someone sees you though. It’s not Piers, and it also isn’t one of the men who look at you and lick their lips. It’s someone watching you from the shadows, someone on one of the chairs in the parlor. Keep your eyes on the stairs, you tell yourself. Nothing good can come from this. While you were in the pool, Piers must have turned on the music, old jazz songs he always plays when he wants to appear sophisticated. The tinny sounds of saxophones make your ears ring, irritating you more than the heavy smell of cigar smoke that seems to be seeping into every corner of the house. You feel horrible between all those men dressed in their suits, even with the towel covering most of your skin. And you wish that one man would stop watching you because it makes you feel hunted, makes your body beg to run and hide.

At the foot of the stairs you pause, your heart in your throat. A man brushes past you, pretending like there is only so little room he has to press his palm against the small of your back. You turn around looking for Piers, ready to pretend you have a horrific migraine and won’t be joining him after all, when your eyes land on the man who is making the hair at the back of your neck stand with his unrelenting gaze.

You can’t see him properly because he’s half hidden behind the door to the parlor, a room that’s devoid of proper lighting and full of cigar smoke. But you see his dark eyes on you, feel them look right through you, see you for who you are, while he laughs at something the man next to him is saying. You crane your neck to get a better look at him but two other men walk past, obscuring your view. When they spot you and start to make their way toward you, you bolt up the stairs. At least no one will dare to follow you up here.

*******

“There she is!” Piers announces later, opening his arms wide again. He doesn’t spill his drink this time. You step into his embrace and let him kiss your cheek. “Took you long enough, doll.” You hate it when he calls you that, but you keep on smiling. Then he leans closer and whispers, “If you ever pull a stunt like that again, I’ll make sure you’ll regret it. Letting another man touch you! What’s wrong with you?”

So it did bother him after all. It should make you feel proud, but it only makes you feel empty. “I’m sorry,” you whisper back and kiss him. Someone at the back of the room whistles.

“Just try to behave for the rest of the night,” he says coldly, then smiles at you and asks in his loud business voice, “Isn’t she lovely?”

Some of the men nod but none dare to look at you directly. Not when Piers has his arm slung around your shoulder anyway.

“How about a drink?” he asks you and when you nod, he takes your hand and leads you toward the bar at the back of the parlor. You follow him, shivering slightly from the evening breeze blowing in through the open French doors. The smoke in the room makes your eyes sting.

With practiced ease, Piers fills a sparkling glass with vodka and soda, adding a bit of lime juice. You try to ignore the man who is standing a little bit too close to you, whose eyes hang a little bit too low.

“Here you are.” Piers hands you the glass. “I have something to discuss with those gentlemen over there,” he nods at two men standing by the door to his study, “but I shouldn’t be too long. Try not to cause too much of a scene while I’m gone.”

You close your fingers around the glass and nod. All you want to do is run.

As soon as he’s gone, they start to close in on you. It’s what Piers wants. He wants others to desire what belongs to him – his apartment, his car, his life. You’re part of all of that. He wants these men to desire you, to think they can have you. You should have listened to your friends, to Marissa and Annie and all the others. If you had, you might hate yourself less.

You know they all want to talk to you and they won’t take no for an answer, so you start to make your way toward the open French doors to escape into the garden. If you stand right at the edge, you can hear the waves whisper and feel the ocean breeze on your face. And if you keep still long enough, they might forget about you.

You don’t even make it out the door before your eyes start to wander from the lush green bushes and trees outside and land on a man sitting in a leather armchair close to the open doors. You don’t know if it’s the same one whose gaze you felt on you earlier, but there’s something about him that makes it hard for you to look away. He’s in the middle of a conversation, one leg comfortably slung across the other, ankle resting against thigh. One of his hands is spread on his knee, his fingers stroking and tapping the expensive fabric of his back dress pants in a nervous tick. His other hand is wrapped around a glass full of amber liquid that he takes a swig from right as you walk past, pretending not to notice how the muscles in his neck work as he swallows, pretending not to notice the gold ring on his little finger that clinks against the glass as he lowers it again.

Your own drink untouched, you stand on the patio, off to the side where you hope no one will notice you but where you can look at that stranger from time to time. You don’t think you’ve seen him before, but you don’t usually pay a lot of attention to Piers’ associates. None of the men here this evening look familiar. Still, there is something about the way this man runs his fingers through his dark curls from time to time, the way he tries to smooth the wrinkles in his white shirt, the way he takes a drag from a big, dark brown cigar once in a while that makes it impossible for you to look away. Until another man demands your attention.

“Hi there,” he says, his laugh showing off perfectly straight, perfectly white teeth. “I’m Hutton.”

You think about saying, “And I’m not interested,” but to Piers that would probably count as causing a scene. And Hutton looks like he’s one of the younger men here, probably in his late 30s. There are worse guys to talk to. “Hi,” you reply with a sweet smile.

“Lovely evening, isn’t it?” He steps closer to you, encouraged by your smile.

“Yes,” you reply. “So how do you know Piers?”

If he’s annoyed by you bringing up your boyfriend right away, he doesn’t let it show. “We work together,” he answers, which could mean anything in Piers’s world.

“And what brings you to Key West?”

“The scenery,” Hutton answers, not even trying to hide his hungry gaze that glides over your naked shoulders and cleavage.

“I thought it was business,” you say, your smile faltering slightly. “Seeing you’re here.”

“I try not to mix business with pleasure.” Hutton leans against the small sliver of wall between the French doors and the corner of the house. “It’s neither good for business nor pleasure.”

You hum, trying to take a step back. You’re already at the edge of the patio though, and you almost stumble off it, losing your footing.

Hutton grabs your arm and pulls you toward him. “Careful there, pretty girl.”

You try to pull your arm back but he won’t let go. “Thank you,” you say at the same time as he says, “Have you ever thought about exchanging Piers for a younger model?”

It didn’t take him more than a few words exchanged to get to the point.

You yank your arm free but he grabs it again. “Stop it,” you command in your strictest voice but he only grins at you.

“Don’t be like this. I’m only fooling around.”

“Then let go of me.” He doesn’t.

You’re about to throw your drink in his face, even if it means Piers will be angry with you again, when someone steps out onto the patio.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

He’s standing right there, one hand in the pocket of his dark pants, the other holding his cigar. Shame washes over you and your palms grow sweaty. You really don’t need this right now. But Hutton immediately lets go of you and turns to face the newcomer.

“We’re good here, thanks,” he says, his jaw clenched.

The stranger takes his time to take a drag on his cigar, lets out the smoke while looking up at the now deep purple evening sky. “It’s a lovely evening, isn’t it?” he asks and Hutton lets out a sigh.

“Are you just going to keep standing there?” he asks.

The stranger shrugs.

You glance into the parlor, at all the men milling about, wondering if you could make your escape without anyone noticing. But there is something in the way the stranger holds himself that makes you want to stay and find out how this ends. Piers, by now, would have rushed past Hutton, a snarl on his lips, his anger directed at you. The stranger just stands there, his shoulders relaxed, acting as if he doesn’t even particularly care that you and Hutton are out here on the patio as well. It’s a different kind of threat … a different kind of protectiveness.

Hutton turns to you. “Are you coming?”

You shake your head and with a roll of his eyes and an annoyed, “Whatever,” he vanishes into the house, leaving you alone with him.

The silence unbearable, you say, “Thank you.”

He takes another drag on his cigar, then comes closer to you. You ignore how your heart flutters at his approach. He reaches for your hand and for a wild moment you think he’s going to grab your arm too, but he only takes the drink from your hand, sniffs the contents of the glass, then dumps it over the edge of the patio. “Let’s get you a proper drink,” he says.

You’re too stunned to do much more than follow him back into the house and toward the bar. Around you, the volume has risen since you stepped out onto the patio, but you don’t care as much as you did before. It’s hard to care about anything when your stomach is in a tight knot and when you feel like the world around you has gone completely quiet.

The man steps behind the bar, gently places his cigar in an ashtray, then regards the collection of bottles before him with his hands on his hips. “You don’t look like a vodka girl to me,” he mumbles, and you feel your face grow hot. You don’t know why. “Here.” He pulls out a bottle of whiskey and a bottle of vermouth. You only now notice how big his hands are, and your mind immediately starts to replay the evening. His hand on his knee, his hand around his glass, his hand … You shake your head, but the shiny gold ring on his little finger glitters enticingly as he unscrews the bottle of vermouth to smell the alcohol within. It’s like you’re a magpie, enchanted by everything that glitters.

“Sweet enough,” he concludes, pouring a little vermouth and a lot of whiskey into a martini glass. Then he goes through all the bottles once more until he finds one of lavender bitter and adds it to the mix.

“What is that?” you ask.

He shakes his head. “I’m not done yet.” There’s a small jar of cocktail cherries he unscrews. With skilled movements, he skewers two of them onto a silver cocktail stick before handing you the glass. The mix inside is orange on top, a reddish purple deeper below. It looks like the sunset you watched earlier.

“What is it?” you ask again.

“Taste it,” he tells you, an eager glint in his eyes.

You take a careful sip and widen your eyes in surprise at the strong yet sweet taste. “Oh, this is really good!”

“It’s sweet, like you,” he says, then seems to change his mind, adopting a matter-of-fact tone of voice. “It’s a Manhattan. That’s where you belong, not in this tourist trash kind of town.”

That makes you laugh. “Hey, I like it here.”

The bar is still between you but he leans on it to get closer to you. “I bet you would also like Manhattan if I showed you around.”

“I’m from Manhattan,” you tell him. “I live there, actually.”

“I do too,” he responds. “Funny how we should run into each other here, of all places.”

You inhale shakily. You don’t know why. “If you hate it here so much, what are you doing here?”

He smiles at you, and you’re sure your heart stops. “I heard you talk to that other guy. I’m not here to have a conversation like that with you.”

You take another sip from your cocktail even though it makes your head spin. “What are you here for then?”

“That’s just another way of asking me what I’m doing here, angel eyes,” he points out. He does it so smoothly you almost don’t notice the diminutive.

You straighten your back, only now realizing you were leaning on the bar close to him. He mirrors you, then walks around the wood between you so he can stand directly next to you. “You tell me what you want to talk about then. After all, you approached me, you made me a drink, you wanted to whisk me off to Manhattan.”

“That was before I realized how worldly you are,” he says and his smile turns sly.

“Oh?” you make. You swallow. “Am I too difficult for you then?”

“I like a challenge.”

This is where you should stop. This is where you should thank him again for rescuing you, and for the drink, and where you should walk away to find your boyfriend, who surely has to be done with his meeting by now. But how can you step away when he’s still smiling at you as if he’s having the time of his life, when you felt drawn to him all evening, when having his eyes on you makes you feel truly seen? Yes, he isn’t exactly subtle in the way he flirts with you, but there is a kindness in his gaze you’ve never seen on another man before. And then he touches you, straightening the strap of your short, tight dress, and your whole body comes alive.

“You know smoking is bad for you, right?” is the only thing you can come up with, willing your voice to remain steady.

“I like things that are bad for me,” he replies.

It’s such a cheesy line, it makes you want to bury your face in your hands. But, god, does talking to him make you feel good.

“Ha!” He points at you. “That’s the first genuine smile I’ve seen all evening.

“Call me ‘sweet’ again and you might see some more,” you retort. All you want to do is to tell him you don’t mind his harmless flirting, that whatever this is between you is fun, but it comes out heavy with implications. Implications you can’t take back because you don’t want to.

He brushes your hair behind your ear and you think you might die. “You’re very brave.” It’s a statement. “I saw you walk to the pool earlier in –”

“I know,” you interrupt him. “I saw you watching me.”

He brushes his thumb over your bottom lip. “It made me want to kiss you.”

You freeze. There is nothing you can say that won’t end badly for you. “So you made me a drink instead?”

He plucks the cocktail stick out of your glass and holds it up to your mouth. You close your lips around the first cocktail cherry and pull it off slowly, your eyes fixed to his. It might just be the low lighting but you think his pupils dilate. He drops the stick back into the glass and takes a big swig of your drink, his eyes momentarily leaving yours. You do your best not to watch his throat as he swallows.

“You really are something,” he concludes, putting down the glass on the bar.

You feel lightheaded, as if you’d just made out with him for half an hour. “I’m also in a relationship.” The words are out before you can stop yourself. You didn’t mean to say them.

“I don’t give a damn.”

You giggle, actually giggle, like a schoolgirl with a crush. “You sound like the hero in one of those ancient black-and-white movies.”

“Or maybe I’m the villain.”

This time you do bury your face in your hands. “Oh, stop it.”

“No,” he simply says, and you get it. You want to kiss him too.

Instead, you glance at the small gold wrist watch on your arm. “It’s late. I should –”

He interrupts you. “Don’t –,” but you don’t let him finish.

“Thank you for the drink. And thank you for making me laugh. You made this whole thing bearable.”

You don’t know if you should shake his hand or kiss his cheek so you don’t do any of it. You pat his arm, once, trying not to notice how it feels against your palm, then walk toward the stairs, your heart breaking with each step. If you were single, you wouldn’t have hesitated to sleep with this man. If you weren’t Piers’ girlfriend, he would never have looked your way. It’s better to end it here.

The quietness of your room engulfs you, just like the soothing coolness of the pool earlier. As soon as you close the door behind you and lean against it, you can breathe. Yes, you can still hear the sounds of the party, but they’re muffled. You can finally hear yourself think again and you exhale shakily. You almost made the biggest mistake of your life. The adrenaline rush you got from it makes you snicker.

Piers isn’t entirely faithful. He attends parties with strippers, he looks at other women, you know all that. But it doesn’t mean anything because at the end of the day he comes home to you. What you just did … it goes beyond everything Piers has ever done, and you wouldn’t have been able to look at yourself in the mirror if you had spent one more minute in the presence of that handsome stranger. Even if your flirting made you happier than Piers has in months.

There’s a knock at your door and you jump. Expecting Piers, you open it without a second thought. “I’ll be right …,” you start but forget every word in the English language when you come face to face with the stranger.

“Hello,” he says, and that handsome smile is back on his face, even if he keeps a careful distance. “You vanished so quickly it made me wonder … did I do something wrong?”

“What?” you ask because it’s the only word you can remember.

“I’ll go back downstairs if you don’t want me here,” he goes on, “just say the word.”

They never come up the stairs. Never. Who does he think he is? “You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m just tired.” You try to close the door in his face, but he steps closer, bracing a hand against the wooden doorframe. “Excuse me,” you say insistently.

“Can I come in?”

Into your room? “Oh, I don’t think that would be a good idea,” you reject him. You laugh, but it sounds insincere. “You should go back downstairs.”

“Alright,” he agrees, “but you have to say it like you mean it.”

“Listen here,” you start in your best no-nonsense voice. He tightens his grip on the wood and you hear it creak, despite the noise downstairs. “I want you to …”

It’s no use. You don’t know who he is, you don’t even know his name, but you also know that if you don’t let yourself have this, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.

“You need to say the words, sweet –”

“I want you to kiss me.”

You both freeze. His mouth hangs open, still in the middle of forming the next word he wanted to say. You tense, well aware that you said something you can not take back.

The few seconds that pass feel like an eternity. Then he pushes himself past the doorframe into your room, into your personal space. You smell the heavy scent of cigar smoke on him, you smell leather and lavender and citrus. You see his smile that turns into something more determined the closer he gets to you. You notice the stubble on his cheek, the glint in his eyes, the small dark spot on the collar of his white shirt. You feel … you feel his body pressing against yours, his hand pressing against the small of your back, his breath on your face, and then everything is reduced to his lips on yours, your breaths mingling, his … his tongue coaxing you open, not gently but insistent, and you not hesitating to open yourself up for him.

It's as if you’re watching it all from above, you pushing him backward, him closing the door with a hard slam, the both of you pulling at each other while kissing and kissing and …

“Careful,” he chuckles when you bite down on his bottom lip. “You said kiss, not –”

“I don’t give a fuck what I said,” you interrupt him, pulling his shirt out of his pants.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he says and grabs your wrist.

You groan. “Don’t tell me you’re having second thoughts.”

He pulls you in for another kiss. “I’m not. You’re just … We’re doing this on my terms or not at all.”

Something throbs deep within your core.

He tightens his hold on you. “I’ve had all evening to think about this. To picture all the things I want to do to you.”

“It’s not going to be just kissing then?” you ask, relishing the chuckle you draw out of him.

“I knew I wouldn’t leave here tonight without feeling your pretty little cunt clench around me.”

It sounds like a line straight out of a porn movie. You should laugh, tell him to take you seriously. But all you can do is whimper at the thought of him sitting in his chair downstairs, talking to one of Piers’ associates or even Piers himself while thinking about being buried deep inside of you. Every other man would send you fleeing. Not him though.

“Who are you?” you whisper.

“Does it matter? Once I’m done with you, you’ll have forgotten your own name.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. “Those are some big words,” you point out.

He lets go of your wrist, then bunches the fabric of your dress up in his hand until he can reach below the hem, his broad, warm hand landing on your naked skin, his ring digging into your soft flesh. You gasp.

“Do you really think I’d disappoint you?”

“No,” you say too quickly, too rashly.

He grabs your dress again. “How about you take this off for me?”

“No,” you repeat, biting the inside of your cheek so you don’t laugh at the look of shock on his face. Then you turn around. “I can’t really open the zipper without some assistance.”

He runs both his hands over your naked shoulders and down to the middle of your back. You expect him to take his time, but he yanks the zipper down so quickly you think you hear fabric tear. You almost don’t have enough time to slip out of the thin shoulder straps before he falls to his knees behind you, pulling the dress with him. His hands are on your butt cheeks now, massaging, grabbing you as if he’s set on memorizing every detail. He slips his thumb under the hem of your panties, dips the tip into the wetness there.

You gasp at the same time as he whispers, “Knew it.”

You pull him away from you and turn around, well aware you’re completely naked except for your panties. “Well, it’s hardly surprising,” you start, your voice airy, but then it dies down completely at the sight of him kneeling in front of you looking up at you with so much heat in his gaze you’re getting burned. How did you get here?

You want him to tease you back, but he only pulls you close, his hands clasping your hips insistently, and kisses your belly, right above the hem of your panties. Then he kisses your thighs and your sides, and your belly button, and then he pulls down your panties and buries his face in your wetness with a relieved sigh. Your hands shoot forward and grab his curls, dig into them, desperate for purchase, as your head swims from the overstimulation. You would like to focus on the feeling of his hair between your fingers. You would like to focus on his tongue swirling around your clit. You would like to focus on the growl he makes when you run your nails over his scalp.

You think you’re laughing. You think you say, “Does that still count as kissing?”

“Yes,” he mumbles against the soft skin of your thighs. His curls are already a mess, his face is flushed, but when he glances up at you, his eyes are bright with determination.

“I think you have to show me that definition of kissing someday,” you go on, glancing up at the ceiling. You can’t look at him directly, it feels too intimate.

“That’s enough talking,” he decides and licks a broad stripe across your drenched folds.

You tighten your grip on his curls in response because your legs start to quiver. You hope he doesn’t notice, but his fingers dig into your thighs to steady you. The edges of his ring are cutting into you almost painfully – you want more of it. His hair wrapped around your fingers you pull him closer into you and he moans against you … actually moans. You push away those thoughts that make you compare him to Piers, how Piers would never moan if he was between your legs, how Piers never eats you out. This isn’t about him – it’s about you.

There’s something in the way that stranger rolls and flicks his tongue that tells you he won’t make you wait for an orgasm. You want to hold on longer because you can’t bear the thought of this being over already, but there is something in the way he devours you that pushes you toward the edge at a rapid speed. You don’t even hear the sounds of the party anymore, the laughter, the music; it’s just him and his deep sighs and moans.

You’re almost embarrassed by how fast you come. One second you’re appreciating the way his tongue flicks your clit, the next you can barely stay upright when your whole body releases months and months of built-up tension. You quiver in his grip and he holds you close, licking and licking until you can’t take it anymore. You think you mumble, “Fuckfuckfuck,” but there is no way to be sure. All you know is that you just had one of the best orgasms of your life.

You laugh as if the weight of the world has been lifted off your shoulders. What else is there to do? “So this is doing things on your terms?” you ask.

He sits back on his heels and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. You think you might explode at that sight. “No, that was for your benefit. The rest is going to be for mine.”

Your breath catches in your throat as you glance over your shoulder at your bed that’s rumpled from you crying on it earlier. If he can make you feel like that with just his tongue, what will he be –

“No, sugar, not like that,” he tells you, immediately pulling your attention back to him.

Your throat is dry when you ask, “What then?”

He stands and cups your cheek, his hand pleasantly warm. You lean into the touch immediately. “Don’t be so impatient. Enjoy the moment for a while.”

“What moment …?” you start but you don’t get far. He claims your mouth in a searing kiss that makes you wish you had been paying more attention to what he was doing when he was eating you out. You kiss him back, slinging your arms around his neck, the soft fabric of his white shirt rubbing against your naked chest. He licks across your bottom lip until you open your mouth for him, and then he claims you like no one has before. You fear that if you start thinking about how you can taste yourself on him, you’ll go insane.

“You’re so easy to kiss,” he mumbles against your lips. You’re not quite sure how he means it, but your chest still expands at the compliment.

“And you’re very handsome,” you retort lamely.

“Is that what you’ve been thinking about telling me all evening?”

“No,” you reply too slowly this time.

He kisses your temple, then brings his mouth right next to your ear. “I’ve been thinking about watching myself fuck you.”

He doesn’t give you time to process, takes you over to the vanity that stands opposite your bed, its mirror dull in the dim light of the room. Even when he places your hands on the table top, telling you to hold on, you still don’t think he’s serious. You look at yourself in the mirror, at the makeup smudges below your eyes, the birth mark on your throat that you hate, how your mouth hangs open in a way that looks so very unsexy. Behind you, that stranger you invited into your room, this man you know nothing about, is unbuttoning his expensive dress pants, his white shirt obscuring the view. What does he see in you that makes him want you like this?

“Do you know what you’re doing to me?” he groans, his eyes fluttering shut.

He’s holding himself now, but you can’t see his hand moving without turning around. And he didn’t tell you you’re allowed to look. Your palms begin to sweat against the wooden surface of the vanity, at the thought of him telling you what you are and aren’t allowed to do, at him praising you for doing well and punishing you if you don’t. You don’t recognize that side of yourself.

His eyes are open again and he searches for yours in the mirror. “I asked you a question.”

You swallow hard. “No, I don’t,” you say, fighting down a giggle. It’s nerves.

“I’d better show you then,” he concludes, and he pushes inside of you with one hard stroke, filling you faster than you can spread your legs.

You both take a moment to breathe. He adjusts himself, you try to get used to the angle, the feeling of fullness. You haven’t seen his hard cock, but you know he’s more than Piers, so much more the stretch is almost uncomfortable. The wood beneath your fingers starts to swim when your vision blurs and –

“No, none of that.” He grips your chin and lifts your head, forcing you to look at yourself in the mirror. “I’ve also been thinking about you watching me fuck you.”

His hand looks so big holding your face like that, and when you swallow again, he can feel it against his fingers.

His own face is right there next to yours, his eyes firmly fixed to yours through the glass. “You’re a big girl. I’m sure you can take it.”

Before you can think of anything to say, he pulls out of you and thrusts back in in a tentative motion that is enough for your eyes to flutter shut in pleasure.

“No, no, no,” he whispers into your ear. “Keep them open.”

You do as you’re told and he rewards you with a sharp bite to the spot where your neck meets your shoulders. Your hips thrust back of their own accord, meeting his in a quick snap.

“You make such pretty sounds,” he mumbles against your skin.

You hadn’t even realized you were making any, too transfixed by watching him move behind you. Whenever your gaze wavers and flutters to your own face, embarrassment sends adrenaline shooting through your body. But he … watching his shoulders and arms tense and relax beneath his shirt that looks all too tight now, watching him meet your gaze, eyes full of lust … you don’t know why you would fuck anyone any other way than this.

He straightens his back, changing the angle slightly, and now you do hear yourself groan. He grabs your chin tighter and pushes two fingers into your mouth. “You know,” he says, and his hips snap with more force, faster, making the vanity rattle beneath your hands, “if you were mine, I’d let no man touch you. I would’ve broken his arm.”

It takes you a few seconds to figure out what he means; you’re too busy relishing the taste of his skin on your tongue. There must have been a man who touched you … when you were coming down the stairs … You can see it all clearly now. He would grab that man’s arm, calm and collected, twist it, make him shout in surprise … you can almost hear the bones snap.

“Oh, look at that,” he groans, and you do. You look at yourself in the mirror, unashamed, eyes wide. You watch how you eagerly suck and lick his fingers, watch it as if another person was doing it. You’re trembling in his grip … or is he making everything shake with his thrusts that are coming faster and faster now as he fucks you, taking what he needs? “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” You almost don’t hear him, too transfixed by how depraved he’s making you feel. “You’d get off on that, a good man protecting you. Shame I’m not good, really.”

You don’t care. You’re done with those men who act politely, who treat you with care when they know Piers is around, but who talk about you taking it up the ass when your back is turned. You’d much rather have this, a man who isn’t scared to say these things to your face. Even if he thinks he isn’t all good, he still protected you.

He pulls his fingers out of your mouth and you whimper at the loss, watching how a thread of spit connecting his digits to your lips breaks. With his other hand, he suddenly grabs one of your breasts, squeezing your hard nipple with practiced ease, and you arch your back with a moan, exposing your throat to him. His fingers close around it, hard, restricting the airflow, his ring pressing against one of the most vulnerable spots of your body in a way that doesn’t leave any room for doubt – you’re doing this on his terms.

He tightens his grip on your throat until you start seeing stars, the loosens it. “I’m going to make you come now. I want you to watch yourself. I want you to see what you look like coming around my cock.”

If you could, you would nod, but he isn’t looking for your consent. He rolls your nipple between his thumb and forefinger one last time, then lowers his hand to find your clit. When he touches you, you make a sound like never before, one that’s feral and animalistic and can’t possibly be coming from you.

He shushes you, his breath tickling your neck. “You don’t want anyone to hear us.”

You don’t? You have no idea. You can’t form a single coherent thought as he pounds into you, making sure you’ll be able to feel him long after he’s done with you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Your voice is breathless after that scream, hoarse and raw. Your gaze flickers to his fingers curled tightly around your neck.

“Keep your eyes on yourself, baby girl,” he orders.

Baby girl.

That’s what does it. You watch your eyes widen and your mouth fall open as your body shakes first from his thrusts and then from wave after wave of pleasure. He was right. You love this. You love watching yourself come while he forces you to watch yourself, love to watch your orgasm play out across your face. He’s watching you too, licking his lips hungrily, never faltering. But you can see it in his eyes, the way he’s memorizing every detail of your orgasm.

“Well done,” he says once you’re done and moves your chin so he can kiss your lips.

Then he suddenly pushes you down so your chest connects with the table top. You grunt in surprise, then in pain when he rolls your head to the side so you can still somewhat glimpse his reflection above you.

“My turn,” he growls.

His teeth are digging into his bottom lip, his eyes are firmly fixed on his own reflection, and he holds you down with such a strong grip you can’t move, but also in a way that’s so casual it makes you feel like he’s using you. Your heart stutters with longing so intense at that thought that the feeling spreads to the rest of your body and becomes so intense he feels it in his own. At least you think that is what’s going on when he smiles down on you.

The position you’re in and the tenderness between your legs steadily turns from pleasurable to uncomfortable to simply too much. But he doesn’t finish. He keeps going and going, not as fast as before, seemingly transfixed by what you’re doing. You reach back for him and he grabs your wrist and pins it to the small of your back.

“Please,” you whimper, and it makes his intense gaze falter for just one second.

“Almost there, baby girl,” he replies, “you’re doing so well. Just keep taking it a little while longer.” You think you could bear anything if he just kept talking to you like that.

Then suddenly it’s over. There is one last thrust that pushes you onto the tips of your toes and then he stills. The only movement comes from his hips that are twitching as he empties himself inside of you. You don’t even dare to breathe, watching as his reflection slowly relaxes and he closes his eyes for a few seconds, trying to catch his breath.

Finally, he pulls out of you and you try to stand, but he pushes you back down again. “Stay. We’re not done yet.”

Your legs tremble in anticipation, but your mind is blank, unable to imagine what else he could have in store for you. You don’t feel anything at first, you just hear him moan, and then you realize he’s kneeling behind you, cleaning you up with his tongue, eagerly licking his own release off your skin. It makes you feel so lewd you forget about everything, even Piers. Especially when he doesn’t stop at your thighs but moves further and further up your legs until his tongue and nose are buried in your folds once more and he’s spreading you open with his big hands.

You can’t help it.

“Fuck, fu- I- I’m gonna –”

There’s no time for you to finish the warning before you’re coming a third time, your hips desperately twitching against the vanity. He licks you through it, catching every last drop you’re giving him on his tongue. You can’t tell for sure but you think he’s chuckling and for some reason the shame you feel turns you on even more.

When it’s all over, he peels you off the vanity and pulls you into his arms, brushing your hair out of your face that is sticky with sweat. “You sure are a greedy little thing,” he says before he kisses you tenderly.

You swallow a sob and give him a sigh instead.

“Half the people downstairs probably heard us.” There’s a big grin on his face at that thought.

“I don’t give a fuck,” you repeat your earlier sentiment, surprised to discover that it’s true.

“Someone wants to get caught,” he teases and kisses you again.

“What I want is for you to fuck me like that again.”

“Oh, baby girl.” You almost hate how he’s already figured out what hearing him call you that does to you. “There are a million more things I want to do with you. This was just a taste.”

You’re not sure if you can believe him, but you decide to indulge that fantasy. You put on your sweetest smile. “Can’t wait.”

He lets go of you and walks toward your door. “Why don’t you give me a call once you’re back in Manhattan.”

A red warning light switches on somewhere in your brain. “But I don’t even know your name.”

“Something tells me you’ll find out.” And with that, he’s gone.

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

You Call It Madness But I Call It Love

Chapter 25: Are Family Reunions Always This Awkward?

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy. This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter twenty five of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)

Word Count: 5.5K

Warnings: I'm gonna label this one 18+ because it's got some heavier things in it, a few more sexual references, and it's kind of dark (more sad). Dark themes, Angst, Cursing, Sexual References, A little bit of heavy making out, Family Problems- A LOT of family problems, Homelander being a freak (he is), References to rape (It's only for a moment, but it doesn't make it any less terrible), Homelander is really bad in this chapter, Oedipus Complex (It's Homelander), Threatening, Past Trauma, Death Mentioned, Kidnapping. Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, completely a little OOC. Soldier Boy is really all you need as a warning.

Note: This is told from the Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. Reader is described as "curvy" occasionally. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

A/N: One last warning, Homelander is a freak. Honestly the guy creeps me out in general, but in this he's especially creepy. AND It did not bring me joy to write this. I struggled with it, but I think it’s the thing that has to happen to move this story forward. And this chapter legit has the biggest tone shift in the UNIVERSE of tone shifts.

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“Are you angry with her?” Ben’s voice rumbles up through his chest as you lay beside him. You were sharing the same pillow, faces inches apart, breathing the same air. His hand was tracing shapes into the small of your back, arm draped heavy over the curve of your hip, but it was a comforting weight. It reminded you that he was there and that he wanted to be, and you were getting used to that.

"A little." You breathe with a frown. Your hands are locked at the back of Ben's neck, gently dragging through the hair at the nape of his neck the way you know he likes. He groans softly at the movement, leaning further towards you as you do. "But now learning about everything that happened with Charlie, I get it. He was manipulating her the same way that Vought manipulated us for so long, the same way that they manipulated Homelander as he grew up."

Ben frowns at the mention of your son.

Rosemary had been calmer about the reveal of Homelander as her brother, but you figured that maybe you needed to let her wrap her head around it.

Maybe she was more focused on what Vought had done to me.

After Rosemary's confession this morning the day had been spent trying to figure out what you were going to do about your son. Butcher, Hughie, and Legend had been just as surprised at the news. And you knew that Butcher was waiting for some kind of hesitation to proceed with the plan to kill Homelander, but he wouldn't find any.

Homelander needed to be stopped, he was a monster, and you knew that there wasn't a shred of humanity left. It broke your heart to admit that to yourself, that your son was a monster, but it was true. Homelander became the thing that Vought warped and twisted him into. There was no semblance of someone that you could care about left, no reminder of humanity in his eyes.

At least that was what you told yourself, and it was what you told Ben, but deep down you wished that you were wrong. You wished that maybe there was something left behind, something redeemable.

He grew up without a family in a cold lab, raised by monsters who did with him what they wished.

You think to reason with yourself. Maybe it was because you remembered what Ben said that Vought tried to do to him. It was true of course, Vought had tried to do the same thing to Ben and you when you took the serum. And maybe it did work on Ben a little bit, the façade that he adopted for Soldier Boy did seem to lean in the direction of warm-blooded American symbol that Vought wanted, but Ben was different and so were you.

"If you're not sure about this, we can try to talk to him." Ben whispers leaning his forehead against yours.

"I know. We can try, but I don't think Butcher is really going to go for that plan."

"I don't give a fuck about him. I only care about you."

"Uh-huh?" You smirk. "You don't care about anyone else?"

"Huh?"

"No body else? Because you and Lou looked pretty cozy earlier playing go fish."

They had. Lou had won and Ben was trying his best not to be upset that he got beat at a card game by a four year old.

"That little girl is a shark. Just like someone else I know." Ben snorts out a laugh and pulls you closer to him, so much so that you can feel the ghost of his smile against your lips.

“Well I never-“ You smile nudging your nose into the space between your faces.

"Fine, you caught me. I do care about her, and I care about Rosemary. Even if she does fucking hate me.”

“She doesn’t hate you as much as she thinks she does.”

“Hmm.”

"But I knew it." Your lips brush against his. "You're such a big softie."

Ben rolls his eyes. "Only for you Sweetheart." His hand stops tracing shapes against the back of your shirt and instead flattens against your back to pull you tighter against him. Your fingers thread through the locks of his hair, loving the way he feels pressed up against you, loving how after all these years it feels the same way and how it still feels like he was made for you and that you were made for him. When you were with Ben you didn't feel fat, because every soft part of you molded against the hardness of his muscles so perfectly that it made you feel like you belonged together.

"You know, I don't really like go fish all that much." Ben's smirks, kissing you back enthusiastically, his beard scratching against your skin in a way that makes everything else fade into the background. "I wouldn't mind playing some strip poker with you though."

"Oh really? What a surprise. Because you've always been better at poker than me."

"That's exactly why it would be fun." He rolls you over on your back, his large body over yours, his hips fitting between your legs, bringing them up around his waist with his free hand as he keeps kissing you.

"You're a man of simple tastes I guess." You laugh into his mouth, tightening your grip in his hair, tugging at the strands.

"Nothing simple about you doll." He all but growls against your lips. "And the only thing that I want is you."

The kiss deepens enough that you can feel yourself quickly losing yourself in him, but that's the way it always seemed when he kissed you. It felt like you held your arms out and spun in a circle until you were drunk and your head was spinning so fast nothing else seemed to fit, but Him. Time seemed to slow, the earth stopped spinning, everything around you was gone and the only thing left behind was Ben. You wondered if it was like that for him.

"Fuck you taste like strawberries." Ben mutters into your mouth.

Of course you did. You had ice cream before you came to bed, taking bites from Lou's bowl when she wasn't looking.

Ben tasted like the vanilla ice cream he’d had that he chased down with a glass of whiskey. You could feel yourself getting drunk on the sweet and vintage taste, sinking further into the mattress with his comfortable weight on top of you.

You moan into his mouth, moving your hands from his hair to grip his shoulders so tight that Ben could feel the bruises from your fingertips forming against his skin, but he didn’t care. You knew he liked it, knew that he liked that you were the only one strong enough to do that to him. He drags his lips down to kiss along your jawline, finally finding the place just in its shadow to suck another mark to replace the one that had faded a few days ago.

“Ben-“ You giggle, feeling the tickle of his beard against your skin. “You’ve really got to stop doing that.”

The words held no power, you didn’t want him to stop, didn't want any of this to end. It wasn't just because it felt good, it was because it felt right, the two of you together finally.

“Doing what?” He smirks up at you innocently.

Sometimes you hated how pretty he was, it meant that he got away with whatever he wanted and you were along for the ride. But in a pinch it was a good thing. When the two of you were children, Ben's good looks and charms had gotten the two of you out of trouble more than once.

“You keep giving me hickeys and it’s going to scar our daughter for life. Not to mention Lou asked me what it was today and I wasn’t about to have THAT conversation with a four year old.”

“Don’t pretend you don’t like it.” He drops his lips back down to the same spot. “I remember everything you like.”

His words are breathed against your skin, caressing something deep inside that makes you shudder beneath him.

Immediately you're transported back to the night of your birthday, when Ben made love to you and made you feel seen, understood, and loved for the first time in your life. The memories of that night wash over you in full color, moments that you wished to relive over and over again with Ben.

“Did you think I would forget?” Ben purrs as he continues to kiss along the hollow your throat, igniting something that you hadn’t felt in forty years. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget that night. Ever be able to forget how it felt to finally make love to you, to finally have you the way I wanted for so long, and to finally show you how much you mean to me.”

He raises his head from your throat, hands gripping your waist tightly to keep you wrapped around his body. His green eyes shine with mischief, his dark hair falling forward into his face as he stares down at you, seeing through you like no one ever has. His expression softens. “Because you do y/n. You mean everything to me” His voice is quiet, but it doesn’t make what he said any less important.

You gently cup his cheeks, pulling his lips back down in a fierce kiss that burns through your body. Ben smiles into your mouth, letting his guard down and as he does you leverage your weight to roll him over on his back so now you’re in his lap and he’s staring up at you, his eyes shining with something that almost makes you grab the front of his shirt and haul him back up to you for another kiss.

You smirk widely at him, hands planted against his toned stomach. He’d gone to bed without wearing a shirt again and you were far from complaining. You lean forward, your lips barely brushing his ear. “What makes you think I’ve forgotten what you like?”

“Fuck sweetheart. I won’t complain about anything you do to me.” Ben groans. His hands are holding on to your hips, pushing up your shirt to rest on the curves of your pelvis. "As long as I get to be with you, I'll be happy."

You kiss along his jaw, feeling the heat of his body radiating up through where you’re touching.

“Sweetheart?” Ben’s voice is strained, hands splayed wide over your hips. The roughness of his palms is comforting and familiar, the warmth of his skin  soothing. No one else ever seemed to be as warm as him. 

 Your lips drop to his throat as you kiss along the skin loving the tickle of stubble against the tip of your nose. “I’m a little busy at the moment baby.” You hum against him  as you begin to such a mark into the hollow of his throat, because you’re the only one able to do that to him.

Ben moans softly as you do it, shuddering below you, and it makes you feel powerful that you’re able to do that, to make him fall apart and make him lose himself in you the way he always seems to consume you.

“Y/n-“ Ben breathes  as you wrap yourself tighter around him, continuing to suck on the same spot. “Hmm?” You pull back to look at his face, raising a hand to push back the dark strands that have fallen into his eyes with a gentle hand.

You still were having a hard time with that despite everything. That Ben genuinely wanted to be yours the way you were always his. Somewhere deep down the little girl you used to be was finally content, finally able to hold the little boy she had loved for decades.

“I never said thank you.” He murmurs sitting up so you slide back into his lap and he’s able to hold you to him, his arms circling your waist.

“For?” Your arms link behind his neck. You can’t stop the soft smile that pulls at your lips when you look at your best friend. It was weird to think that you’d known each other so long and not know what you were missing, not know how perfect this would feel.

He kisses you again. “You always take care of me. Always have taken care of me.” Ben drops his lips to brush against your shirt over the scar the bullet left behind just over your heart.

You knew he was thinking about the day that you took a bullet for him and you wondered how much he thought about that. If the memory haunted him, if all the memories of your deaths haunted him.

“Well somebody’s got to. You’re a mess.”

“Not when I’m with you.”

“No.” You say happily keeping his head pressed against your chest. “That’s because I do my job. It's difficult sometimes but-"

"Shut up." Ben groans.

It's quiet for a few minutes as you stay there, gently stroking your fingertips in the way you know he likes, the dark strands shuffling through your hands.

He breathes deeply, as if he wishes to breathe you in, to pull you into him until there's nothing left but him and you. "I missed you so much Sweetheart."

"I missed you too Ben."

"And I-" His voice cracks with emotion, his next words getting caught in the back of his throat.

"Ben?" You cup his cheek worried. His bright green eyes have dimmed and you see something pass through them that looks almost like shame. "What's wrong?"

"I'm so sorry."

"What did I say about apologizing?"

"Not for Countess. I'm sorry if the way you loved me ever felt like a burden.” He swallows.

You remember the words you said to Rosemary earlier about what love should be like.

“Ben- do you want me to tell you the truth?”

“Always.”

 You sigh, stroking your thumb across his cheekbone. “Sometimes it did, but only because I’d loved you for so long and it always felt like I was trying to hold on to who you were before you became Soldier Boy and trying to run to catch up. Like I had to change who I was to keep you happy and I really just wanted you to be happy Ben. You weren’t happy when we were kids and you were so excited about being supes and I-“

“I was happy when I was with you.” Ben whispers leaning his forehead against yours. “When you were gone I wasn’t. When I went away on those stupid filming trips and you were at your apartment all I thought about was getting back to you. I didn’t care about the films or the fame, if you weren’t there I didn’t see a point. And all I wanted was for you to be happy too, but not like that-“

“It wasn’t always bad, just sometimes. When I’d have to intervene between you and someone else or when you’d come to my apartment smelling like someone else or when I’d occasionally walk in on you and another woman in your apartment or at herogasm.” You sigh. “I didn’t have a right to feel the way I did. I shouldn’t have been jealous, you didn’t belong to me-“

“But I do.” He doesn’t blink, doesn’t flinch, doesn’t look remorseful for sharing too much. “Always. And I swear that I will spend the rest of my life proving that to you, choosing you like you chose me that night.”

You could feel the tears welling up in your eyes as you sit there on his lap, feeling the familiar contours of his body wrapped around yours. “I don’t regret it.” You murmur. “You are my family. And I don’t want to lose you again.”

“You’re not going to lose me. I love you sweetheart.”

“I love you too Ben.”

He kisses you fiercely, taking away any pain from the past and finally making you forget the moments he was gone, because now he was here and he wasn’t going anywhere. Ben presses his forehead back into your chest, tightening his grip on your waist.

You take in a deep breath smelling the comforting smells that you ascribe to Ben, but there's another smell that's coming from somewhere in the room. It's familiar, but you can't place it. In the corner of your eye something is moving, and you glance to the right noticing for the first time that the sliding glass door is open, the floor length curtains fluttering in the breeze and you knew for a fact that you’d left it closed.

“That’s so cute.” A familiar voice says.

Your entire body goes cold, the warmth you felt with Ben fading almost instantly. Ben's head shoots up from where it was resting on your chest, to stare at something or rather someone behind the two of you.

"You know, it really is every kid's dream that after all these years-" Homelander sighs happily. “ their parent's still love one another."

He was lounging in one of the sitting chairs at the opposite side of the room, his ridiculous cape draped over the back like a train as he watched the two of you in bed.

You can't move, can't breathe.

 He's here. How is he here? How did he find us?

You rack your brain trying to think about what to do, but all you can do is hold on to Ben. It wasn't that you were afraid for yourself, you knew that you could take him down if need be, the exact thing that you'd been considering the entire day, but you mind drifts to Rosemary and Lou upstairs.

 “But I can see why dad loves you so much mom. I mean you are so beautiful and you look really good for your age." His eyes glimmer black in the light and he has the audacity to wink.

Ben’s body immediately pushes yours behind him to block you from view. “What the fuck do you want you sick son of a bitch?” Ben snarls.

“Don’t talk about mom that way.” Homelander grins. But it’s the smile of a shark, pretty until it gets too close. All teeth and gums and things that come in the darkness to swallow you whole.

"How did you find us?" You swallow still thinking of Lou upstairs sleeping comfortably.

"I have you to thank for that mom." Each time he says the word 'mom' you try not to flinch. "I was flying by to see Stan when I watched the two of you 'talk' and when you left I followed you here."

I did this. I'm the reason why he found us. I was too wrapped up in what happened to fucking check if anyone was following me.

"You know the other day when we first met I was angry that you were able to hold me off, but watching you with Stan," Homelander chuckles. "That was inspired. Something special. I didn't realize how powerful you really were. And that tornado the other day- wow."

Another cold chill traces the length of your spine.

How long has he been watching us? Flying around outside of the house, staring through windows, watching from the shadows, marking our every move?

Another thought follows. He knows about Lou.

"I'm so honored to have a mother like you. And Soldier Boy as a father." Homelander's eyes trace over the two of you appreciatively. "It's a dream come true."

There was something haunting about the way he spoke to the two of you, almost as if the child that grew up in a lab was coming out, almost with childlike wonder and awe.

"I can't believe they tried to keep our family apart for so long." Homelander's gaze softens when he stares at the two of you. "That Vogelbaum and Stan Edgar decided that it would be better for me to be out of your lives but here I am after all these years, reunited."

Ben's right arm tightens where it's wrapped around your waist, his hand pressed into you back as he puts himself between you and Homelander. You can feel his skin heating with the force of his rage, hear the way his heart has begun to beat faster as he tries to think of a way out of this.

You weren't going to tell Homelander that he was your son, you thought it would be easier that way, with him not knowing that fact. Thought that it would be easier for you to dispose of him if he didn't call you 'mom' but now? It was harder.

Harder to look at him when you could see the subtle ways he looked like Ben, see the proud nose that reflected your father, smell the hairspray that covered the dark brown he must have had, see the strong jaw, the same one that you'd traced with your fingertips on Ben's face, and see the small freckles under the smudged makeup of Homelander's cheeks, the same ones the Ben and Rosemary had.

"I was angry when I found the files at Vought, when I saw exactly how hard they worked to keep us all apart. But I'm here now-"

"What the fuck do you want?" Ben spits.

Homelander blinks for a moment confused. "Isn't it obvious? I'm here for you. I want to be apart of this family. I see how you are with Lou and Rosemary and I want that. And I can't wait for you to meet your other grandson Ryan. I'm finally going to give him the family he deserves."

"We don't want anything to do with you." Ben's eyes narrow and Homelander frowns.

"I understand." Homelander stands from the chair he's sitting in, and this time Ben rises from the bed. He's shirtless, but with Ben it didn't matter what he was wearing, he could look damn intimidating when he wanted to. "Butcher's told you all about me right?" Homelander tsks. "Little William Butcher. He's always had it out for me-"

"He has a right to." You narrow your eyes and slide out of Bed so that you're standing beside Ben.

Homelander tilts his head to the side as if trying to think about what you're trying to say, but then he laughs. "Oh you're talking about Becca right? Little tease. I'm sure dad here can relate to the idea that some women, just really do ask for it, right?"

Your jaw tightens in repulsion as a wave of nausea comes surging up from the pit of your stomach realizing exactly the type of monster Homelander was. He wasn't a hero, he was a predator, a venus fly trap complete with all the pretty things to draw you in only to swallow you whole and leave no semblance of yourself behind.

"What the fuck happened to you?" Ben spits. "I'm a lot of things, but I'd never do that to a woman, not if she begged me to stop, not if she didn't want it."

Homelander shrugs. "Don't knock it til you try it."

"You're sick." You could feel your eyes shifting to purple, the room beginning to tremble with the force of your anger and disgust.

"No." He holds up a finger. "I'm not. That's just William, making you believe that I'm unhinged."

"Butcher has not made us believe anything. We've seen it." You respond. "I've seen it in the way you look at people, seen it in the way you smile, in the way you fight, seen it in your eyes-"

"You don't know-"

"I do. Something about us Homelander, is that when you've lived as long as we have, we know what a monster looks like."

"I'm not a monster." His smile drops into a frown.

"You are."

"I'm your son-" Homelander sputters.

"You might be our blood, but you're not our son." The words break you to say, but you hold it together. "Look I'm sorry. Sorry that you grew up that way. Sorry that they turned you into this. Sorry that Ben and I weren’t involved in your life, that we couldn’t have prevented the man you became."

"But-" Homelander glances from Ben to you in confusion.

"My father always saw the good in people." You continue, feeling the emotions at war in your chest, the ones that tell you that this man is your son and the ones that tell you this man is a monster. Your eyes skate over him. “But I don’t see any in you. You’re unredeemable. And as much as it hurts us to push you away, because you of all people need a family.   We're going too, because we don’t see any good in you."

Homelander stands there surprised, and you see the façade fall for just a moment, noticing the anger, pain, suffering, sadness, and rage that war within him, each emotion skating across his face in tandem with one another.

"But I found you." Homelander's eyes are misty. "I'm here. I'm your son! I'm your blood." He repeats, his voice breaking in a way that tugs at your heart.

"You might be our blood." Ben repeats watching Homelander. "But you’re not our son. You're just a disappointment."

If you didn't know Ben, you wouldn't understand the weight of those words, but you knew Ben better than anyone, knew how many times that his own father shouted those words at him. You remembered the nights that Ben crawled in through your window after the fights and when he thought you'd fallen asleep you could feel Ben tremble. You hated that his father did that to him and you worked hard to make sure that he didn't hurt as much as he had, just as Ben worked hard to make sure that you didn't remember the things your mother had said and done to you.

Before Homelander can respond, you feel someone else enter the room.

"Aunty y/n? I couldn't sleep. I had a nightmare and I can't find mommy." You hear Lou's voice say and your head turns to the doorway that leads into the basement. Lou is standing there, rubbing her eyes with one hand wearing her matching pink polka dot pajamas. Homelander turns his head to look at the little girl, the red in his eyes fading as he does, a sickening smile beginning to twitch against his lips.

"You must be my niece, Lou." He takes a step towards her and Rosemary appears in the doorway behind her, quickly pushing Lou behind her.

Rosemary does not back down from Homelander's gaze. It wasn't in her nature. She was too much like Ben and like you for her own good.

"And there's sissy." His smile is triumphant as he glances back at you and Ben.

"I'm not your anything." Rosemary's eyes narrow at Homelander.

His frown vanishes again, this time replaced with a snarl. "Do you have any idea how ridiculous this is?" The playful cadence in his voice is gone. "He was gone for forty fucking years and you brought him back into your lives! So what about me?" He shouts so loud you're sure the house is shaking, gesturing at Ben angrily.

"It's different." Your voice is cold.

"How is it different?"

"Because Ben is human." Rosemary answers. "You're not."

You turn to look at her in shock. It was the first time that she'd defended him since he got back, the first time that she had said something remotely kind about Ben to you or in front of him. Ben looks just as stunned as you do.

"I don't know what the fuck you're talking about." Homelander takes another step towards Rosemary, but she doesn't back down. "I am human. More human than you. I see the world for what it really is. I don't follow the rest of the fucking sheep like you-"

"You've been poked, prodded, and told that you were a god every day of your life. Just because we have powers does not mean that we are gods. We bleed, we live, and we die. And maybe somewhere along the way we're lucky to be loved and to love." She snaps. "But you don't. You can't feel love or remorse. You're a fucking monster not a hero. You think you're a hero just because Vought has given you that title. You're nothing more than a little boy chasing after a family you never had and you never deserved. You're not my brother, you're not their son, you're not our family. You're just something that was cut out of my mother, another scar, another manipulation, another science experiment that went wrong, and another way that Vought has ruined her life."

Lou cowers behind her mother, holding tightly to her leg, while Rosemary's hand circles behind her daughter to hold her tighter against her. It was the same thing that Ben was doing to you. You felt genuine fear for the first time in years, fear that you would lose them because of this.

Because Homelander was unhinged, manic, and insane. He might have kept it all hidden under the blonde hair, blue eyes, and the smile, but you saw through it. You'd met supes like him before and you knew that you would meet others in the years to come.

"You got everything didn't you? A loving family? A mother who loved you? A home? You got to be in your child's life. You had everything I didn't have." His voice is eerily calm. "And for what? So you could work at a fucking hospital and degrade yourself, our bloodline, and the fucking power you have to be a slave to other people?!”

Rosemary freezes.

"That's right I know all about you. Know all about all of you. Know about that fucking freak Charlie they inserted into your life, know exactly how much Vought wants Lou. Vought has files upon files about each of you, everything you’ve done, your powers." His eyes flick to the little girl hiding behind her mom. "And yet I'm the disappointment." Homelander's eyes flash back to where Ben and you are standing, something murderous building behind them, before they focus back on Rosemary. "I should have had your life. I'm the one who deserves it! I'm the hero. I'm the one who's more powerful."

You knew that the situation was growing worse by the minute, but with Lou thrown in the mix you weren't sure how this was going to go. You didn’t want her in the line of fire, wished that she had stayed in bed upstairs.

"Mommy I'm scared." You hear Lou whisper as she clutches on to Rosemary tighter.

"Don't be scared Lou." Homelander smiles wide, so wide you can see all his teeth. "This will all be over soon."

The words chill you to the bone, but before you can react, Homelander flies at Rosemary knocking her back through the bathroom wall and away from Lou. Her body crashes through solid tile and bathroom mirror with a resounding crack that echoes through the bedroom.

And just as you leap forward to take him on, Homelander grabs Lou.

There were only a few moments in your life that you’d ever known genuine fear. The day you got the serum, the day that you took the bullet for Ben and you thought you were going to die, and the day that you went into labor. But this was different. Seeing Homelander holding on to Lou wiped away any of those other moments in your life.

Your entire body catches fire with anger and fear. "Put her down." Your voice is unrecognizable, hands clenched into fists. You felt your eyes shift back to a threatening purple, everything in the room trembling under your power, the wood paneling on the wall beginning to peel back and reveal the concrete underneath.

What kind of sick person uses a child as a shield?

Lou squirms in his arms, but Homelander just holds her tighter against him. "Why would I do that?"

"Because if you don't I'm going to-" Ben snarls taking a step towards him. Ben's body has already begun to glow, seeping out from his heart as the force of his anger grows with every passing second.

"You're going to what?" Homelander's smile is sinister. "Because it seems to me that you can't do anything to me without poor little Lou here taking the brunt of it."

Rosemary appears covered in plaster, dust, and with pieces of mirror in her dark hair that catch the light in a way that makes her hair sparkle. "Put her down you narcissistic asshole." She snarls, her eyes turning red.

You figured it was because he had touched her, but deep down you hoped that Rosemary still had apart of your power, so you didn’t have to worry about her dying.

Lou tries to reach for her mom, but Homelander holds her closer to him. Tears have begun to trickle down her little cheeks. "Mommy?” She sobs quietly.

"Shh. It's okay sweetie." Homelander purrs bouncing her in his arms. "I've got you."

"Please put her down." You say it calmly, but you can feel your heart jumping around in your chest, beating against your ribcage. You didn't know how to fix this and didn’t know how to appeal to him, not after you'd spent the past twenty minutes telling him that you wanted nothing to do with him and that he wasn't your son. “We can talk this out. She doesn’t have to be apart of this.”

"Sorry no can do. I’m kind of tired of talking to you and to him.” Homelander gestures to Ben with his free hand, who isn’t glowing anymore.   “You might not want me apart of your family, but I want Lou apart of mine."

"What?" You croak.

"I think she should meet her cousin. And I think that Ryan would do a lot better with another child in his life, especially one that's supposed to be so powerful." Homelander continues rocking Lou back and forth. "But don't worry. I'll make sure that she's taken care of. And I’ll make sure she reaches her full potential.”

His eyes lock on yours and the chill of his words set in.

“Wait what?” Rosemary says.

But you understand too late.

Homelander shoots upward through the ceiling with Lou screaming in his arms as pieces of rubble crash down into the bedroom Ben and you share.

"No!" You scream in horror and rage, and rise up off the ground, but before you can follow behind Homelander, Ben wraps his arms around your waist to hold you down against him, refusing to let you go alone to face Homelander. “Ben let me go I can-“ By now your voice is nothing more than a shrill scream, tears pouring from your eyes as you struggle against his iron grip. “Please let me go! I have to go after him-”

“You’re not going to face him alone!” Ben shouts back holding you tighter.

But he can’t stop Rosemary.

She flashes past you in pursuit, up through the hole in the ceiling that Homelander left behind, and leaving you to sob and beat your fists against Ben’s chest wishing that it had been you instead.

*********************************************************

A/N: Alright I had to make the first part just a little bit spicy to feel better about the devastation at the end of this chapter.

And I know another cliffhanger, but I promise there is something coming after this and we are quickly reaching the end of this series. 😊

I also want to let everyone now that I have decided to end this series when we get there without any reach into season 4. I do have some very cute ideas for little fics between this reader and Ben following season 3.

However, I am going to write an alternate ending and when we get to season 5 of The Boys with Soldier Boy back in action, I am going to release it and write for season 5, I think. That’s the plan right now, but who knows? I've also got some great ideas for other series I might want to start eventually.

Also anyone getting Syndrome vibes or is it just me? It was not intentional 😂

As always thank you so much for reading! If you'd like to be added to the taglist please let me know :)

Taglist:

@roseblue373 @anundyingfidelity @cheynovak @cassiecasluciluce @muhahaha303

@deans-spinster-witch @kayleighmeister @demodemo909 @fruitfacess @bobbobbobinogs

@bughill126 @simplyfixated @tiredstrangerr @freefallthoughts @onlyangel-444

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[n30nwrites]

Now Sit (Shifter! TF141 x Male Reader)

Part 2 of Good Doggy

Masterlist here

Warnings: None really??? I'm not sure. Some awkwardness but that's cause Reader couldn't give less of a fuck. Some creepy behavior

Updated; 3/5/2024

Beta Reader: the lovely @letmelickyoureyeballs who's saving your guys asses right now

Part 1 here.

The entire house was shrouded in darkness. The windows were covered up in thick fabrics of purples and blacks. You didn't have any lights on, instead some candles that were hastily lit when you had entered the building and a few lamps. Your eyes were thankful for the darkness after the long drive during the day.

Your first trash bag was filled with clothing fabrics, they all needed to be washed so you quickly filled the tub with warm water and laundry soap, sorting the fabrics by color before tossing in the divided groups. Starting with your whites.

You decided to bring more boxes in, figuring the more you unboxed the easier it would be when the rest of your stuff arrived. Your box labeled ‘Gear’ was the first box to be put up, putting it in the closet near the entrance so you could pretend it wasn’t there. Just looking at your uniform brought back memories that you wish you could ignore. The second box was just one filled with knives, your swords were in another container wrapped up tightly in the back of Maya’s car. The Knives were put into your bedroom, you would come back to organize them when you weren’t so hungry.

You had cash ready for your pizza. Along with a tip because people needed to be tipped well. Especially in the service industry.

So when a knock echoed in the open-spaced living room, you had the cash tightly gripped, exact change in one hand and in the other the tip.

Until a man who was very obviously not the pizza delivery driver stood there, your pizza in his hand.

Well you figured it was yours. And there was no way this man was a delivery driver. He was far too fine to be one, if you were honest with yourself.

He was 6'2 which immediately put you on your toes, athletic build with graying-brown hair and blue eyes. He seems to look like he's reaching his 40s, something that shouldn't be so attractive yet is.

God, you needed therapy.

But, smash.

Nope. Nope. It was just inappropriate thoughts of an impossible achievement. You didn't need a relationship, not after your last one. You needed solitude, you needed to live a normal life without constant stares.

"Why do you have my pizza?" You ask him, money being squished.

"I paid for it, figured I could do that for the new guy." He speaks and seems almost cheerful, which is strange.

"I'm not paying you back."

"You don't have to." He handed the pizza to you and you snatched it quickly, almost comically. "Okay, bye." You go to shut the door but he quickly protests.

"Wait, who are you?" He seemed desperate and you didn't understand it. You sat the pizza on the table you had set up right next to the door, which was supposed to hold trinkets and your keys but you hadn't put the bowl there yet. You rolled your hand, rubbing your wrist that had ached from just a minute of holding the pizza. It was something you were working on fixing, just not right now.

"Who are you?"

"John, I live over at that house." He points to the house that Stalker 1 and Stalker 2 stood outside of. It was big enough for you to assume they were roommates, or perhaps a family.

"Can you tell the guys to not stare next time? It was uncomfortable." You blankly told him, before introducing yourself, only saying your first name, same as John did.

"This is a pretty big house for you to live all alone in." He was fishing for information, John knew that it could come off creepy, but he needed to know something about this person in front of him.

His mate.

"I don't live alone." You tell him, and he believes you are lying to him. He doesn't hear another heartbeat, and Ghost and Soap said that you arrived alone. "My Partner is coming with the rest of our stuff."

Partner? Why the hell do you have a Partner? How could you not know that you have three (maybe four with the way this pattern is) men waiting for you, willing to do anything for you. He's angry, and he knows that it makes no sense to be. You had lived your entire life before meeting them, it's not like you could drop everything and move in with him.

Despite everything in his body screaming at him to take you into his home and keep you there, keep you safe. And it's unreasonable, and something he would never do unless he wanted to traumatize you.

His eyes slightly widen at his own thoughts, and he needs to take a step away from you. You muddle his brain, you confuse him. He's had partners in the past, but this was different.

You weren't even supposed to be here.

"I'm sorry for bothering you sir, hope you enjoy your pizza." He takes a step away and turns and you don't bother to say goodbye or even thank him. You shut the door and he can hear you shuffle around and grab the pizza.

Price hates himself for what he's going to do next.

Gaz is almost surprised at the meeting. He says almost simply because he knew Price was going over to the neighbors, he watched the leader leave the house and pay off the pizza man. So something had to happen.

They just had to wait for Ghost to get home. Price was insistent on it, that everyone needed to be there and they couldn't wait nor do it over the phone.

He just wasn't expecting the words.

A theory that you were somehow mates with all of them. Price had revealed your status to him which caused Soap to blow up. It seemed ridiculous, all four of them connected to you.

But Gaz wanted it to be true. If he could just walk over and meet you, to find out.

If Gaz could no longer feel so alone because of you. He would do anything for that. So he didn't care that Ghost didn't seem to trust you, claimed you could be some creature putting a spell on the team, he didn't care that Soap wanted you for himself. He didn't care that Price was still talking.

He went outside and ignored the protests.

And he was lucky too, because a car had pulled up to your house and you walked out, sunglasses on and a large jacket which didn't fit for the weather.

But he could finally see if it was true.

-----

NEXT

Okay so I skipped my homework to finish this (i'm not gonna be this irresponsible I swear) and I made a poll here where you can decide on if reader is a human or not. I have plot points for both (probably a longer story if not human??? but that depends on what the people want) also please reblog and leave comments I usually lose interests with these and I'm trying not too. Gonna post a Masterlist for this soon, and if you want to follow the story you can follow the tag Good Doggy FF so you don't have to have notifs on lol.

[racinggirl]

it's called love <3 || charles leclerc 16

type: one shot pairing: charles leclerc x reader word count: 3.2k summary: going to a gp with your boyfriend who's really protective when a creepy dude comes a little too close for comfort. requested: yes! '' Ok maybe something you are waiting for charles leclerc (you’re bf of 5yrs) and like a creep starts talking to you but you are polite and are just like no please go away. Then he starts like touching you(if you’re uncomfortable with that you can just write that the creep is like in your face) and charles is like losing his shit when he sees it. Have a lovely day 💗'' Requests are CLOSED!!! warnings: angst!charles, harassment? (not detailed, only mentioned), overprotective!charles, anxiety. notes: OH MY GODNESS I'M BACK BABY! Have you missed me? It's been SOOOOO long, I've missed you so much! It's been over 4 months!!! 4 MONTHS! I'm so glad many of you stayed, remember I was at 700 followers and I was doing the 700 drabbles celebration? well, I'm now at 970 followers. I will do a BIG thing for 1K followers, I'm just not sure what. If you have any ideas, let me now in my inbox :) Also, credits to creator of the GIF! Not proofread!

My masterlist

Your hands rubbed themselves together, your cold fingers getting warmer every second, slowly, but surely. The wind moved your hair slightly, the small locks that framed your face getting stuck on lips which was coated with a nice layer of lip balm which was preventing them from being dry.

5 years, that’s how long you and your boyfriend had been together for. It was long, but not long enough. You knew he was the one, you just felt it. The way he treated you in front of your families was like you and him had been together forever. He was so polite to your parents, got along great with your siblings and always made sure to grab your mothers’ favourite chocolates and your fathers’ favourite beer before going to visit them with you. He was the definition of a perfect boyfriend.

You always tried your hardest to return the favour. Supporting him whenever you could, wherever you could. A red jacket was one of those ways to support him. The red sneakers, paired with the black jeans and red blazer was a way to blend in with the tifosi, but also to support Charles whenever he was driving the shit out of that car. You were supportive, and he knew.

You had promised him to meet him at the hotel in Australia, since you had arrived there a few hours before he would, his plane being delayed due to weather circumstances. The reason you weren’t flying together could get blamed on your work, as you had set meetings in a few minutes, you were either going on a plane which would arrive a few hours earlier, or a day later. You obviously chose the first option.

‘Almost there, bella, just a few more minutes <3’

He was never one to use emoji’s, he was more of an old school guy in that way. Smileys consisting of a colon and a bracket was his way of communicating whenever he was happy, and a left angle bracket followed by the number three made the perfect heart for you.

You rubbed your hands together once more as you were waiting near the entrance of the hotel. You were able to get inside and go to his room – at least you thought – so after a few more minutes of waiting you decided to do so.

‘’Hi, could I check in please?’’ You politely asked the brown-haired lady that was seated behind the desk. She was young, probably around 20 years old. She seemed a little nervous, as she was accompanied by a lady on her left. That lady was older, around her mid 40’s, and had long, blonde hair.

‘’Yeah, of course, what’s the name of the reservation?’’ It was probably the young lady’s first day, as she was following a tight script of questions to ask.

‘’I think it’s on Charles Leclerc, or Ferrari F1 team.’’ You smiled at the younger lady, before looking over as you felt the eyes of the older woman on you.

It never happened that you were checking in before him or any of his team, but you really had to get that meeting started.

‘’Sorry lady, but you’re not the first one to try come in this hotel.’’ The older woman said, and you furrowed your eyebrows a little at her comment.

‘’Excuse me?’’ You replied, your eyes moving from the younger lady to the older one. ‘’I know it might seem weird, but my boyfriend will arrive in a few minutes, and I have a meeting to get to, I’m sure the team doesn’t mind if I enter first.’’ You kindly responded, a soft and gentle smile on your face. ‘’He told me you were aware of this.’’ You continued, knowing Charles had told the team about the situation, and they must have told the hotel.

‘’Look, darling, we understand your problem, but there is a nice café next to the restaurant of the hotel where you can have the meeting. Those drivers want their privacy as well, and with all due respect, you’re the fourth girl trying to get into the hotel with a story like this. I’m sure you’ll get a chance to meet them, but you’ll have to do that around the track.’’ She replied, which made your mind spin. You were speechless, mostly because she thought you were a fan, but also because apparently the team hadn’t let the hotel know you were arriving earlier.

‘’I think there must have been some kind of mistake here.’’ You told the lady, but remaining to stay polite, they were doing their job, which you could only appreciate. ‘’But it’s alright, I’ll just wait here in the lobby till they arrive.’’ You said, grabbing your passport which was laying on the desk, along with your phone.

‘’Oh no, the lobby is only for hotel guests, dear, you’ll have to wait outside with the rest of them.’’ You turned around, slowly, leaning over a little to have a look at the outside of the hotel, the entrance, the gate which was closed. The gate where dozens of fans were waiting to catch a glimpse of their favourite driver.

You couldn’t be there, you’d get mobbed, knowing all too well those fans knew who you were. You didn’t want to be rude, or show off that you were Charles’ girlfriend, so you simply swallowed thickly and looked back at the lady.

‘’With all respect, miss, I’m going to get swarmed if I exit this hotel.’’ You said, reaching for your phone. ‘’I can promise you I’m not a fan, I know it might look like it, but I believe something went wrong with the message. I am Charles’ girlfriend; you can look up my name on Google if you’d like.’’ You said, showing the lady your passport with your name.

‘’I know her.’’ The younger lady spoke and looked over at you, nervously. The older lady looked at the pictures online, and her face immediately appeared to be full of guilt, shame. The younger girl looked at the woman and bit her bottom lip, a clear sign of nervosity. ‘’I do recall Rebecca mentioning something like this, there was a note on her desk this morning.’’

After both employees apologized more than once, they offered you the key for the room. However, you knew Charles would be arriving soon, so you asked them if it was okay for you to stay seated in the lobby till the team would arrive. They immediately agreed and offered you some fresh drinks on the house. 

You had just finished your meeting, which took around 30 minutes, before you could hear the fans screaming their lungs out. You got up, placed your laptop in your bag and zipped it up, making your way towards the hallway of the entrance.

‘’Babe!’’ Charles immediately had a big smile on his face when he saw you standing in the hotel.

‘’Hey, baby.’’ You giggled, feeling how his arms wrapped around your waist tightly. You could never get enough of his hugs, his embraces, it felt like heaven.

‘’How did your meeting go?’’ He asked, stepping to the side with you still in his arms to let the rest of the Ferrari team enter the hotel.

-

‘’You ready, amour?’’ You heard Charles’ low voice against your ear, his arms were tightly wrapped around your waist as he was pressing his chest against your back. You had just gotten ready to go to the track with him. Your love language was touch, and it made the both of you fall for one another even harder.

Once you had arrived at the track, the two of you passed the entrance of the paddock, many fans asking the Monegasque driver for an autograph or a selfie. It wasn’t something he wasn’t used to, and you had learned to get used to it those years you were with him. People loved him, adored him, and you could only feel proud of that same man that was loved by many.

You both decided to take a break and take a seat in the hospitality area, talking about work, your upcoming holiday and much more. Your eyes moved over his face, listening to how he was passionately talking about all the things they did at the factory a few days ago. The way his eyes were shining brightly, that small sparkle in them that could light up your day. He’d had a few rough seasons here at Ferrari, but this year went better than ever, with him leading the championship, Carlos being second in the rankings as well. Ferrari was doing much better.

‘’Come on, let’s say hi to the engineers.’’ He reached for your hand, his soft and warm one perfectly fitting into yours, like if you were made for one another. He gave your hand a gentle squeeze the moment he felt your fingers intertwining with his, and it felt reassuring. You were in love, and he made sure everybody knew.

As you walked towards the pit area, into the pitlane, you noticed a man staring at you. It made you uncomfortable, but you quickly brushed it off, assuming that it was just a fan who recognized Charles and was trying to get a closer look at the two of you.

You kept walking, holding Charles’ hand and smiled at his engineers as he greeted them.

‘’Y/n, hey, long time no see.’’ Some of the guys walked over to give you a hug, which you gladly returned.

‘’Hey guys, how are you doing?’’ You started talking to them, and Charles occasionally looked over into your direction. He felt so lucky to have you, he really was on cloud nine.

After catching up with the guys from the team, as well as talking to some of the girls on the team, you decided to walk towards the fence, moving your head from left to right to see all the teams nicely positioned in their garage boxes, working on their cars.

When you first started dating Charles, you were nervous when you’d come here, knowing people would look at you, perhaps even judge you for being Charles Leclerc’s girlfriend. But the gentleman he was, he found a way to reassure you, make you feel comfortable and keep you safe from all the paparazzi and fans that tried to get close to you.

As you were waiting, you noticed that same man from earlier step closer to you, causing you to look at him. Maybe he just wanted to have a talk, maybe he was an interviewer, or a fan?

The more he spoke, the more you got the idea he was the latter, a fan, but not particularly of Charles. You felt uncomfortable, nervous, but did not want to be rude and simply walk away. But Charles noticed. He was looking for you, since you were no longer in the garage, and the moment he saw the look on your face, and that man standing not even half a meter away from you, he sensed something was wrong.

He saw that man talking to you, and immediately made his way over towards them. As he approached, he heard the man ask if you wanted to go have a drink with him after the race.

Charles felt his blood boil. He was furious that someone was trying to hit on you, his girlfriend, right here in front of his eyes. He stepped in between the two of you, causing the man to step away to create some sort of space between him and Charles, who was glaring at him with piercing eyes.

‘’Excuse me, do you mind stepping away from my girlfriend?’’ He said, his voice dangerously low. You had never heard him talk like this, but it gave you some reassurance, once again.

The man, who had not expected Charles to react in such a manner, backed away immediately. Your boyfriend then placed a protective arm around you, walking away from that man.

‘’Do you know him?’’ He asked, clearly still somewhat angry at what just happened. You could see the anger still prominent on his face. Although you appreciated his concern, and you were glad he stepped in at that time, you didn’t want him to get into any trouble because of you.

You reached out for his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze before looking into his eyes the moment you were back in the garage. You shook your head at his question, but immediately tried to calm him down as you saw it made him even more mad.

‘’It’s okay, Charles. Thank you for protecting me, but please don’t get yourself into any trouble.’’ You said, your voice soft and calming. It helped, because you noticed Charles calming down at your words, something you always seemed to do.

He took a deep breath and looked at you, your eyes filled with love and understanding. He knew that he was lucky to have you by his side, and he didn’t want anything to come in between you two. It felt like his duty was to keep you safe, to keep you his.

‘’I’m sorry, y/n. I just can’t stand the thought of anyone trying to hurt you. You mean the world to me.’’ Charles said, his voice sincere. You knew he was meaning every single word he just said.

You simply smiled as a reply and leaned in closer to him, your lips brushing his gently before you placed a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth, causing those corners to curl upward into a smile.

-

You watched the race along with his team, standing the entire time as you were nervous. You always were, because you were aware of the fact one single mistake could have big consequences, such as the car diving into the wall, with a driver still inside of it.

As the race came to an end, Charles ended up on the podium, something that had become a habit lately. The trophies at your place were starting to become more and more, and the pole position tyres were almost filling up an entire room already. But you didn’t mind, you were proud of him, and you were hoping he’d get even more trophies, and even more tyres.

As Charles was climbing out of the car, he immediately searched for you, and the moment he saw you standing in the crowd, he smiled, everybody could see it in his eyes. He went for a dive into his team, receiving pats on the back and on his helmet. He took off his helmet, along with his balaclava, and he made his way over towards you. You were already feeling the cameras and phones being in your face, but you didn’t care. He won, and that’s the most important thing here.

He pressed his lips on yours, cupping your cheek and pulling away after a second or three as he had more duties to fulfil. You watched him get to the back, into the cooldown room before he was ready to take on the big trophy.

-

You were watching behind the cameras as Charles talked to the interviewer, occasionally looking into your direction to check if you were listening, and you were, to every little thing he said. You supported him, no matter what.

However, once he walked towards Sky Sports, you got accompanied by someone else. It was that man again, the one that asked you out for a drink.

‘’So, you up for that drink now?’’ He asked, a smirk plastered on his face. Charles was doing his interviews, so at the moment, he was focussed on the interviewer, his back facing you as it was on the other side of the media pen.

‘’Sorry but no, I’m not interested.’’ You politely rejected the man, but he wasn’t going to take no for an answer. It was at this moment you got scared, as he kept getting closer and closer to you.

‘’Come on, dear, I’m sure you’d love to spend some time with me.’’ The man said, his hand slowly reaching up to brush your cheek. You immediately took a step backwards, looking around to see Charles still facing the interviewer, his back facing you.

‘’I don’t, really, please leave me alone.’’ You were starting to get nervous, anxious, because it was so crowded here, all the drivers were here, so that’s where everybody’s attention went to. And he knew, the man knew nobody was here to protect you at this moment. Nobody to tell that man to back off but yourself.

‘’Why would you say no? Come on, let me buy you a drink, I’m sure you’ll enjoy it.’’ He smirked, tucking some hair behind your ear. He was getting too close, and you were looking around for help.

It was like he was aware you were nervous, but Charles looked around in the middle of his interview to try and find you. He looked behind the camera, but didn’t see you, so he simply looked back at the position you were during his other interview. And then he saw it, and the anger that was gone first came back immediately.

Without any apology to the interviewer, Charles jumped over the fence, stepping towards you and that man with heavy feet. The anger in his face was present, and it made all the camera’s, all the interviewers face him, record him.

‘’Mate, I think you didn’t get the first warning earlier today.’’ He said, stepping in between the two of you again, his arm wrapped around your shoulder protectively. You were shaking ever so slightly, feeling all cameras on the three of you.

‘’Back off, seriously, leave my girlfriend alone.’’ Charles stated, his voice low, on the edge of mad, angry, furious. You immediately reached for his left hand, the arm that was around your shoulder, and you gave him a gentle squeeze.

‘’Love, don’t get yourself in any trouble.’’ You whispered, which seemed to calm him just a tiny bit, but not enough. The man in front of you kept looking at you, and not at Charles, which only built the anger up inside of your boyfriend even more.

‘’Stop looking at her, leave her alone, step away from her.’’ He said, his eyes clearly showing he was furious. The security soon arrived, multiple people asking them to go to the media pen, so they did.

‘’This man, he’s harassing my girl, please get him away from here.’’ Charles spoke, and you felt how his grip around your shoulders tightened a little, pulling you closer to his body in order to keep you safe. The security soon took the man away, telling Charles they would handle it.

-

After the interviews, in which Charles made sure you were directly behind the interviewer so he wouldn’t lose you out his sight anymore, the both of you safely made your way back to the hotel. Your phones were already blowing up, you were trending on almost every social media platform out there. Pictures and videos of Charles jumping over the fence, him talking to that man, protecting you, people calling Charles an absolute hero, because he was.

He knew that he would always do whatever it takes to protect her, no matter what challenges lay ahead. Together, they knew that their love would always keep them strong and safe, because they always protected each other, and reassured each other. That’s what they had, and that’s called love.

[creepyscritches]

The biosimilar I was forced to spend 6 hellish months on getting worse than I've ever been during the start of 2022 is ALSO contraindicated bc it ALSO can cause drug-induced lupus and shouldn't have ever been prescribed even in the setting of my previous doctor's bullshit diagnosis of "lol we call it rhupus"

[takes1]

Some fluff w Koushi maybe?🫶

koushi realizing barista!reader is pretty cute

thanks for the request! this was a cute and refreshing prompt for me <3 much love!!

warnings. none info. sfw / fluff / college!au / coffeeshop!au / simple but cute / suga wears cardigans / timeskip!suga / like imagine english teacher suga pulling a stretchy cardigan over himself ugh so cute / 630 words links. haikyuu collection. masterlist. requests open. my ao3

"Good morning!" A gentle voice blessed your ears.

You smiled without looking up from the register.

Mr. Cardigan's ritual began. Glance over the menu, top-right to the espresso drinks, consider getting a decaf-- of course he won't go with the decaf, it was 7:40 and he was already tapping his foot to get to his 8 a.m class. Then he would decide on his tried and true as if it were a brand new idea:

"Double espresso, steamed milk, sweetened with honey."

He was wearing a face of mild shock, a touch of embarrassment, when you looked up from the order you already input.

"Oh, shit--," You laughed, warm at your slip-up, "I'm so sorry."

"Nono, it's- it's fine," He sported a similar color.

After a moment's hesitation, he chuckled and gave you his card.

Your Monday, Wednesday, Friday shift lined up with everyone who had a MWF 8 a.m (+9, 9:30, 10:00, and 10:30, regrettably). He was one of the few you cared to remember since he was such a cutie and he usually tipped you well.

"It's been a long morning, I get it," He graced you with a smooth forgiveness.

You sighed, relieved, and agreed wholeheartedly.

Spring semester was right at the close. Most were coming in to the Business building's little ground-level cafe early or late to cram for finals. He stayed consistent throughout the past few months, though, with his 7:40 sharp arrival.

7:44 if there was a line, but that was Mondays. Fridays weren't as busy because so many people skipped. But reliable Mr. Cardigan never missed a class.

"Almost done, though," You handed him his card back and spun the tip screen around for him, expecting nothing this time.

"Thank god," He tapped for No Receipt and closed his wallet.

He stood at the counter with his hands crossed in front of him to wait for his drink.

He never noticed how pretty your hands were before today. He looked down at his own kinda stumpy fingers. Then he watched -careful not to come across as creepy- at how gingerly you held the mug to the steam wand while screwing the filter in place.

The urge to talk to you nudged at the back of his throat, but he fell silent when you flipped the switch on.

The espresso machine was always a little too loud to talk over.

It was a graceful background noise to those who studied in this lobby, and a good backdrop to stay quiet to.

This time, he didn't feel as though your usual exchange was natural anymore. He wanted to talk, but didn't know quite how. The usual 4-minute wait felt like ages, but today he wasn't keen on leaving until he spoke to you again.

Your eyes flitted over his when you turned towards the lobby side for the honey.

His broad shoulders tensed and he turned his head to take false interest in some of the artwork on the walls. He didn't realize he was staring so hard.

He wondered how long you had been paying attention to him. If was just habit, or maybe a fondness had been growing and he was always too tired to notice anything other than how well you made his drink.

Now it was impossible not to overthink your friendly customer-service smile, or the smiley face you always put on the side of his cup.

Say something!

He repeated it so many times that his mind had been made unintentionally blank when you held the cup up for him to take over the counter.

"Good luck with finals," You said softly.

When he reached for his latte, your fingertips brushed for the tiniest moment. An intense heat crept up the back of his neck.

A shaky, "You, too," was all he could manage.

masterlist.

requests open.

[radiant-reid]

pov: your instagram but you're married to Spencer Reid

Liked by babygirlpg, d.morgan and 363 others

y/n.reid: this man 🥵

view all 31 comments

aarhotch: active case? -> d.morgan: agreed, y'all need to chill -> y/n.reid: damn, i can't thirst over my husband on government time? -> aarhotch: no, you literally cannot

Liked by badass_em, mommyjareau and 398 others

y/n.reid: you're so goddamn cute @/doctorreid

view all 35 comments

doctorreid: stopppp -> y/n.reid: nooooo -> babygirlpg: don't stop because you're both so cute and you can never, ever get a divorce

Liked by aarhotch, d.morgan and 425 others

y/n.reid: chipmunk 🥰🥰🥰

view all 37 comments

doctorreid: more close-ups? really? -> y/n.reid: yes really, sorry not sorry, you knew this when we got married. it's actually your fault for having a perfect nose, eyes, and bone structure

d.morgan: imagine how creepy y/n must have looked taking this photo -> doctorreid: very creepy

mommyjareau: this is what Henry looks like when I ask him if he's seen the chocolate i told him not to touch

Liked by greenaway.elle, aarhotch and 411 others

y/n.reid: 'hello, police, yeah, can you cook dinner? i can't because i might burn the house down'

view all 41 comments

doctorreid: i burn pasta one time trying to make you a surprise dinner and this is what i get -> y/n.reid: YOU DIDNT PUT WATER IN THE POT!!! -> badass_em: i think this calls for cooking lessons @/davidrossiofficial -> davidrossiofficial: sure, to ensure spencer doesn't end up with as many divorces as i have

Liked by a.blake, mommyjareau, and 357 others

y/n.reid: easily the hottest man alive

view all 46 comments

doctorreid: you're easily the most gorgeous woman alive

babygirlpg: get this man on SuitTok

Liked by ablake, d.morgan and 434 others

y/n.reid: just spencer looking adorable in his little green puffer jacket

view all 31 comments

d.morgan: cold when it's 60, weak -> mommyjareau: they breed them too soft in Vegas -> d.morgan: our Chicago and Pennsylvania blood >> -> doctorreid: now i'm getting bullied @ y/n.reid -> y/n.reid: they just don't recognize your adorableness

Liked by ablake, aarhotch and 346 others

y/n.reid: *insert fun facts about halloween*

view all 37 comments

doctorreid: sorry for annoying you :( -> y/n.reid: never once have you done that, precious boy <3 our Salem trip was the best one yet

davidrossiofficial: a great way to get to sleep @/d.morgan

Liked by babygirlpg, aarhotch and 349 others

y/n.reid: my sun-safe husband

view all 43 comments

mommyjareau: Mary Poppins? -> doctorreid: i'll babysit henry any time

d.morgan: cold in 60 but wearing a suit in 100 -> y/n.reid: and cute to every degree

Liked by thecallahanclan, davidrossiofficial, and 451 others

y/n.reid: dinner and drinks are on spencer next time

view all 37 comments

mommyjareau: how did you not get thrown out? -> doctorreid: we did when our disguises came off, i still managed to wipe the floor with the house

davidrossiofficial: hoping I'm still invited if I won't be there to pay -> y/n.reid: it's milestone event when your kids treat you for the first time

Liked by teelewis, lukeyluke, and 507 others

y/n.reid: pretty boy at the theatre

view all 40 comments

doctorreid: date night is always my favorite night with you -> y/n.reid: cheesy words to match your cheesy smile

[natti-ice]

Never Been Kissed- Tom Riddle.

Pairing: Tom Riddle x fem!reader

You go out at night to meet a friend, and end up forming a new relationship.

Warnings: OOC Tom riddle, set in the Marauders era!

Author’s note: this is a reuploaded and modified fic I wrote a while ago!

Reblogs & comments are greatly appreciated<3

Sneaking out of your dorm room, you make your way up to the astronomy to meet Sirius Black. This was a normal occurrence, you two would meet every Friday to talk about what happened that week or what's been bothering them and just goof off. You and Sirius have been friends since first year and last year you two started this tradition of meeting weekly. Since you're both in your last year at Hogwarts, it's hard to make time to see each other during normal hours.

Crossing the castle careful not to run into Filch or worse Mrs. Norris... the biggest snitch in town. Thankfully you have never been caught, can't say the same for Sirius, that boy makes so much noise wherever he goes. After climbing the crazy amount of stairs to the top of the tower finally you see the clear night sky. It was truly a beautiful sight, the early November night was chilly but not bad enough for a jacket.

You're always the first one there, arriving at around 11:40 pm, but Sirius shows up fashionably late at midnight, making you wait.

Tonight he seemed to be taking his sweet time because your watch is reading 12:18 am. Maybe he's having a hard time picking out an outfit or got attacked by a wild banshee, maybe he just forgot? You thought to yourself. Knowing him, he probably had some superficial reason as to why he didn't come to see his favorite person at Hogwarts. You waited until 12:40 a whole hour late and finally decided Sirius Black had flaked on you.

It didn't hurt your feelings much since it was the first time it ever happened, but you're a little irritated that you wasted an hour doing nothing. You're a night owl so you aren't very tired, you decide to explore the school for a while. Standing up from the wood-paneled floor, you let your legs take you wherever.

You walk down many corridors, peaking into abandoned classrooms here and there while also keeping an eye out for Filtch. Eventually, you find yourself outside of the castle and decide to go by the lake, you always wondered what it looked like at night. Walking around the lake at night is kinda creepy when you think about it but you also find it oddly calming. You don't stray too far away from the castle just in case you need to make a run for it, you find a tall oak tree and sit under it.

Lost in thought thinking about everything and nothing, you failed to hear the footsteps approaching you rather quickly.

"Good evening." A voice pulls you out of your thoughts, You look up and see it's the one and only Tom Riddle. He was hovering above you, his signature smirk on his face.

"Uh... hi Tom" You reply a little startled

"Why are you out here so late?" He asks calmly

"Oh um, no reason, I normally-" you say when something comes to mind "Hang on, aren't you a prefect?"

"I am." He says with a hint of arrogance and pride in his voice

"You're not gonna write me up are you?" You ask calmly but on the inside you're praying he'll cut you some slack.

"No, no I'm off duty right now." With a slight smirk on his face, he replied "I'm breaking curfew as well" he whispers almost playfully

You chuckle softly, feeling immediately relieved "Alright then... would you like to sit?"

He doesn't reply with words but with actions, he sits down next to you. Not too close but not too far, a respectable distance.

You and Tom weren't close by any means, you had only met this year in potions class. Tom being known as the introverted Slytherin who had a way with the teachers. You who laughed with your friends and wasn't an overachiever but still had good grades nonetheless. Slughorn decided to pair people who he thought would sort of yin Yang each other so that's why you two sat together.

Not speaking, you sat in awkward silence. The wind tussling the trees filling the air, the night got colder since you left your dorm, now you wished you had brought a jacket. You rub your hands up and down your arms trying to warm up

"Are you cold?" Tom asks noticing your slight shivering

"Kinda... yeah" you replied

"Here take my sweater" he said pulling off his grey cable knit sweater

"Oh you don't have to-"

"Just take it... please." He said the last part softer

He had a hard time controlling his temper at times, he was working on not letting little things get to him.

"Thank you." You softly smiled at him, a small silence falls over you two as you put on his sweater. Wanting the conversation to continue you ask, "Did you see professor Dumbledore's outfit today?"

The both of you engrossed yourselves in conversation for 15 minutes straight jumping from topic to topic. Once you started talking it felt like you had been talking to each other for years.

"And then I bit her." You admitted embarrassedly after telling him a story of an altercation you had with a girl a few years ago.

"You bit her?!?" Tom asks with a shocked expression

"I did, I didn't mean to it was just instinct I guess."

"Wow remind me never to do that to you" Tom laughs

"It was so embarrassing it keeps me up at night" you sigh as you remember the embarrassment. "Okay, I have to know something embarrassing about you now." You say trying to divert the attention off of you

"What? Why?" He says with a puzzled look

"I mean, it's only fair"

He sighs "Ok ok fine, umm... I haven't had my first kiss." He swallowed

"I'm being serious Tom." You chuckle not believing him for one second

"So am I." Tom said with a straight face

"Oh." Your laughter immediately stops

"Is that so surprising?" He asks, almost sounding irritated by your response

"Actually yes, yes it is" You stated

"How?" He was genuinely curious about what she thought of him

"I mean, I figured you would've had a girlfriend or something. Like you're attractive and not terribly hard to get along with." You laugh softly while explaining

He suppressed his smile before he spoke next to not let you know how much your words affect him.

"No, no girlfriend. It's not that I'm waiting or anything, the moment just hasn't come I guess. Sometimes I just want to get it over with"

A pause

"I'll do it." You speak, not knowing what came over you

"Excuse me?" He questioned

"I'll kiss you" you offer

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah, friends help each other out, right? It's up to you" you say not wanting to push him into anything.

He wondered if he should or not, he always thought you beautiful. He never had the courage to talk to you until he was paired with you in potions. What if I suck at it? What if she doesn't like it and tells all her friends? He thought. No, stop you'll be fine just go for it.

"Okay" he replied

He said yes, he actually said yes. You didn't think he would actually say yes but he did. You were very thankful he did because that would've been embarrassing if he said no.

You scoot closer to him slightly to close the gap between you. You search his eyes trying to find any ounce of doubt, you felt butterflies as what was about to happen hits you completely.

"Ready?" You whisper

"Yeah" he whispers back flicking his eyes down at your lips then back to your gaze. Slowly moving his head forward.

Copying his motion you lean in. As your lips connect your eyes flutters closed, Tom brings his right hand up to gently cradle your face. Rhythmically you two move your mouths as one, in a sweet gentle kiss.

After a few seconds he pulls away, both of your faces feel red hot. Not sure what to do next Tom clears his throat and looks down at his watch.

"It's late... we should probably go back to the castle" he says

"Yeah you're right" you agree feeling embarrassed

Tom rises first, he offers you a hand. You hesitate a moment before accepting it, allowing him to pull you up. Tom hand lingers on yours for a second too long before releasing.

Walking side by side into the castle headed toward your dorm. Tom insisted on dropping you off. You both walked together in a thick silence.

Making it to your common room entrance, it's time to say goodnight.

"I had fun tonight" you spoke first

"Yeah I did too" he smiles very softly

"I uh, I guess this is Goodnight" you smile "Goodnight Tom"

"Goodnight Y/N"Tom turns around walking a few steps before you notice you still have on his sweater.

"Wait, Tom, your sweater." You call out to him

He turns to face her with that same small smile

"Keep it, it looks better on you."Tom walks away.

You smile to yourself and think to yourself I think I like Tom Riddle.

[barleyo]

If ur in twd fandom I would loveee a Daryl dixon age gap fic!! Just him being disgusting over taking her first time? Just a major power imbalance between them. Dont do this if ur uncomfy ofc!! Stay safe bookie <33

Men Who Are Older.

Daryl Dixon X F! Reader (smut)

A/N: cried happy tears at this request, i LOVE daryl, he's so yummy. dirty old men foreverrrrr!!! i haven't seen all of twd and it's been a while since i've watched it, so this could be super ooc for all i know!! sorry it's short, i wanted to get all my ideas down quickly :3

Tags: LARGE age gap (18-19 and late 40-ish), power imbalance, coercion, p in v, loss of virginity, allusion to anal, creepy old man behavior (ugh i luv it)

Wordcount: 1.2k

You found yourself often visiting Daryl in his tent later in the night when you couldn't sleep. He tried to act like it annoyed him, like your presence was a nuisance to him, but it wasn't. You weren't the most irritating person he had to deal with day-to-day. You were polite enough for your age, you didn't mess around and snoop through his shit. You didn't judge him.

Most importantly, though, you were attractive. There wasn't much hot, young tail to chase around the camp. He liked to think you were his reward for living through hell every day. Nothing like eye candy at the end of the night to ease a hardened man's stress.

It was like most nights when you entered his tent, not bothering to announce yourself. Daryl looked up from the pocket knife he had been mindlessly flicking to eye you down. 

"Shouldn't you be in bed by now?" 

"Yeah, right," you said, taking a casual seat on his bedroll. "What're you doing?"

He clicked his tongue at you on his bed, but sighed and ignored it. "Nothing. Too damn late to do anythin' important."

"Want to chit-chat, then?" You rested your hands on your knees, hoping he would soothe your boredom.

"Do I wanna 'chit-chat'?" Daryl flicked his knife closed and tucked it in his back pocket. "If you wanna chat, why don't you go do it with someone else? You don't have friends your age?" 

"I used to." He didn't say anything, just flattened his mouth at your rebuttal. "We're friends though, aren't we?"

Crossing his arms, he let out a hum. "Whatever you want, kid. Sure. We're real pals."

You spoke about whatever came to your mind for the next however-many minutes with him. Mostly just you babbling on, but it didn't bother him. You could run off at your mouth all you wanted, gave him all the excuse to stare you down and look a little too closely at places he knew he shouldn't.

Eventually, you got on the topic of things you missed about life before. Things you wished you got to experience, things you were slowly starting to forget about.

"I didn't even get to properly lose my virginity before this shit took over," you complained, now laying on Daryl's bed like it was your own. "It really bites, man." 

His eyes widened a bit, arms falling to his legs from their crossed position. 

"Wait, what'd y'say?" 

"Huh? Oh, I didn't get to have sex with anyone before the outbreak," you repeated, not caring to turn to face him while you spoke. "Sometimes, I wonder if I'll die before I get any." 

So many things rushed through Daryl's head at that moment. A virgin? You? It wasn't exactly surprising, you weren't old enough for it to be a shocking thing to hear, but the thought really intrigued him. Made him wonder.

It gave him an idea, and lord knows dirty, old men have even dirtier ideas stewing in their minds.

"That bother you?" 

You finally turned your head over to look at him, eyes looking conflicted.

"I guess, a little. There are bigger things to worry about, but I feel like I'm missing out," you said while trying your best to sound nonchalant. "It's not much of a priority, under the circumstances, you know."

Oh, how wrong you were. It very much was a priority, an urgent one at that. 

"Never know. Could happen, if y'really wanted. Don't rule it out completely," he advised, wiping his face with the back of his palm. "Maybe some younger man might find his way here. Could be an opportunity." 

"Nah, I couldn't go for that. I don't wanna be inexperienced and have to deal with an equally inexperienced guy too. That'd be like hell," you joked.

"Sounds like you want an older man, then."

He called on every guardian angel he had in that moment, praying for you to take the bait. Just one chance, damn it, he wasn't asking for much.

"Yeah, guess so." You made eye contact with him for a brief second, before flitting your eyes around in embarrassment. "Listen, it's getting late, I should go." You pushed yourself up, ready to head back to your family.

Daryl stood from his seat and grabbed your wrist, pulling you closer to him.

"I don't mind," he said, dancing around the answer to the question you didn't yet ask. "I know my fair share."

"Those don't sound like sounds a virgin'd make," he teased. He loved how you sounded. Straight from a porno, just shameless cries and squeals. "You sure you ain't did this before?"

He watched the back of your head shake 'no' while his hand guided along the arch in your spine. Took you a while to learn to keep your head down and ass up, but damn it if you didn't put the knowledge to work quickly.

"Am I supposed to be dizzy?" you asked, voice muffled by the blankets under you.

Daryl chuckled softly, slamming your hips back on him. "Yeah, if the guy's doin' it right. Feel good?"

Your hands clenched the fabric you were laying on, digging into it roughly.

"I think? I—I dunno, 's just so much."

Being the man he was, Daryl took that as a challenge. He flipped you over on your back, cock still rocking into you. He sped up, letting his movements get sharper. 

"C'mon," he muttered gruffly, trying to urge you to place your legs on his shoulders, "you gonna be this much of a problem for the next guy?"

You gave your weak legs a kick, wrapping them around his neck so the shaking wouldn't roll them off his shoulders. 

"No, no," you whined, groping your tits to keep your hands busy, "don't want another guy. He won't be as good as you, Dar." 

How the hell could a few little words get him ramped up even more? He knew you probably didn't mean it, horny girls said whatever their pussies wanted them to say, but the way he fucked you made you believe your own words.

"Yeah? I ruined ya for other guys already?" 

The stark difference between his now softer tone and rougher thrusts confused your brain in the best ways possible. You couldn't focus on just one aspect of him: Daryl was everywhere. In your brain, in your heart, in the very blood flowing through your veins— and, of course, inside of you. 

It was too much, all of it. 

Your walls clamped tightly over him, sucking him in like a vacuum. The clenching of your walls over his dick sent him over the edge, barely leaving him enough time to pull out. He bit the back of his hand, stifling a moan while he jerked himself the rest of the way off, coating your tired pussy with his cum. 

"You didn't cum inside, did you?" You sat up quickly, scooting back a bit. 

Daryl let out a huff. "I'm not an amateur, I know how to pull out."

"Just checking," you mumbled, lying back down on his bedroll, head nuzzling into the pillow.

You felt his dick push up against your ass, prodding between your cheeks.

"I could show you a way that'll make sure no idiot douchebags get ya knocked up," he offered, head desperately tapping against your asshole, "if you want."

A soft sigh came from your chest as you pushed your ass back on him.

"You're an eager teacher, y'know."