#My laptop is two years old... TWO years old and I already fucked it up LMAO.

[iero]

Think I totally screwed up my laptop by trying to clear up space on it today, so that’s wonderful... 

[evansbby]

you get a request from a mysterious viewer for a private chat…

❃▹or ❃▹

sugar daddy ari meets cute camgirl!reader and she doesn’t know how to act around him.

{18+, dd/lg overtones, daddy kink,minors dni}

A. Levinson has requested a private chat.

The message pops up on your screen the moment you’re about to shut your laptop and call it a night. It’s already past midnight and you’ve just ended a particularly wild livestream. Tonight, you’d done the whole innocent girl act that your subscribers loved so much. You’d asked them to suggest on the live chat all the different ways you could touch yourself. As expected, it had gone over a treat, and you’d done your highest numbers yet thanks to your loving fans.

Speaking of which, your laptop beeps again with another notification:

A. Levinson donated $500.

You recognise the name immediately. Of course, you have no clue what he looks like or who he is. But he’s a new regular on your livestreams. Thousands of people watch you but you recognise the names of those who donate frequently. A. Levinson is one of those people – and his donations are hefty, too. Oh, should you accept? You didn’t really do private chats…

The buzz of another notification snaps you out of your thoughts. Another five hundred dollars. And this time, there’s a message attached.

A. Levinson: I really enjoyed your show tonight. Could I possibly take up your time for just a little bit longer? You can name your price.

Well… he didn’t sound creepy. He was most likely an older gentleman, probably lonely with a bunch of wealth and nobody to spend it on – aka, your favourite type of customer. You hover over his name quickly – no profile picture, forty-two years old (practically double your age!), new profile. Yep, it all checked out. You’d been planning on calling it an early night tonight but perhaps you could stretch it out a little longer and give this lonely old soul a bit of an extra show… For the extra cash, of course.

You fix your hair and adjust the lingerie you’ve still got on. You hadn’t stripped nude on tonight’s livestream, and most of your viewers had been too enraptured watching you make yourself cum over and over again to really even notice. Plus, you always chose the best lingerie to wear for your cam-shows. Tonight, you had on a pretty lacy set in the softest, cutest shade of baby pink, with creamy white ribbons and detailing completing the look along with your signature pink pumps. This A. Levinson guy would be in for a treat and a half. You quickly accept his request for a private chat, easily slipping back into the character you play in your shows.

“Hello there,” you feign shyness and smile into the camera how you always do. “What’s your name?”

“Ari,” the stranger responds, his voice sounding like liquid chocolate pouring straight out of your laptop. Damn. He didn’t have his camera on but that was unsurprising – most of your fans were very shy. “I have to admit, I didn’t know if you’d accept my private chat request.”

“Well, how could I not?” You adjust the straps of your bra slowly, “I love my fans, you know.”

He chuckles, “And they sure do love you.” A pause. “You looked breathtaking tonight.”

You’re used to compliments from your fans. Comments ranging from: “you’re gorgeous” to fuck ur so hot xx” to “I wish my girlfriend looked like you” to “you made me cum so hard in my pants baby.” But the way this Ari guy says it… the way he says the word “breathtaking” – all soft, and slow and melodious and confident. Instantly, your heart thrums, leaving you feeling a tad embarrassed.

“Oh… why thank you! That’s super sweet of you to say.” You recover quickly, slipping back into your “innocent girl” character as you smile softly and avert your gaze and do that thing where you rub your arm and pretend to be all shy. It goes over great with all your other fans.

But this fan only chuckles, “You can call me Ari for now, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart?!?

You clear your throat, “Were you feeling lonely tonight, Ari?”

“You could say that. I try to tune in to your show whenever I have the time. You were beautiful tonight, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look so sweet.” Oh, there was that liquid chocolate voice again – all velvety and smooth and deep! You vaguely wonder what he looks like…

“Thank you, Ari. What was your favourite part?”

And okay, so maybe you’re being a bit boring right now. Usually, on the rare occasion you did agree to a private chat, you’d be a lot more flirtatious. But this man’s voice was almost putting you in a trance, making you have to think your next words so you don’t stumble over them. Gosh, none of your other fans sounded like he did! All calm and self-assured, and…

“I really enjoyed the part when you were using your fingers. You had that lost look in your eye, as though you were on another planet. I thought it was really cute.”

You giggle, shuffling closer to your webcam so he has a good view of your cleavage. The ring-light behind your camera casts a flattering, bright hue over your body, accentuating the way your breasts spill out of your bra and bounce slightly as you move closer. You think you hear a rumble escape his throat, but you can’t be too sure. Either way, you lean into the camera, “You like it when I touch myself?”

“Honey, I don’t think there’s a man in this world who wouldn’t like that.”

Another spark flutters down your spine, and you wonder why his words are making you react like this. You’ve been on the receiving end of a bunch of different compliments from your fans day after day. So… why now? Why tonight? Why him? Why was it different now?

The buzz of your laptop knocks you out of your reverie.

A. Levinson donated $600.

“Do you think you could touch yourself for me again?” He asks, his voice all velvety smooth yet rugged at the same time. And it’s a request that he doesn’t even bother to veil as a question, and for some reason, you feel a jolt down there at his expectant tone. “I would really love to see that pretty look on your face again.”

You giggle nervously before remembering to put on your innocent girl act for the camera. “Touch myself? I dunno… It’s getting kind of late, sir.”

A. Levinson donated $800.

“I told you, please call me Ari for now.”

You don’t know whether you clench from the sheer amount of money he seems to be throwing at you as if it’s nothing, or the delicious hint of authority in his tone. None of your fans were like that – they all acted like you were very much the one on charge, the one with all the power, the one who could log out and end the chat and leave them hanging at any moment. Which you could – so then why was Ari acting like he was the one who held all the power?

And why did you not hate it at all?

Slowly, you slip your hand down your body, making sure to look demure and seductive in front of the camera.

“Play with your lingerie,” he commands, “Play with those cute little white ribbons.”

“Yeah, o-okay,” you breathe, inwardly wondering why the hell you’re not taking control of your own show like how you usually do. Why you’re so okay with letting him take the lead. Nevertheless, you twirl the ribbons of your panties around your fingers, stroking the satin softly as your core begins to pulse in need. But instead of going down to touch your pussy, you keep playing with your lingerie instead, imagining that your hands are not yours, but rather… someone else’s. Someone who’s rough, tough, masculine and rugged… And hell bent on teasing you.

“Use your other hand too,” Ari says, “Squeeze your pretty tits, baby girl. They look so pretty in that pink bra.”

“Th-Thank you, da–” You bite down on your tongue just in time, mortified that you almost let that word slip out. And you think you hear a smirk on the other end of the call, but you’re too preoccupied with listening to Ari to really pay any heed. With one hand still playing with your panties, you squeeze your breast with your other. Your nipple feels hard against your palm, and your eyes momentarily flutter shut as you knead your soft flesh at his orders.

“That’s so good, pretty girl. You look so pretty and cute like that.” Ari compliments. “In fact, your choice of lingerie is one of my favourite parts of your shows. You’re always wearing something cute and girly. It’s very charming, sweetheart.”

Oh, how was he being so calm right now? Usually, your fans got themselves worked up within the first few minutes of your private chats. It didn’t take much to get them to blow their loads and their money too, and the chat would be over in about five minutes. But right now? Right now, it seems you’re the one who’s getting worked up. Quickly, you clear your throat.

“Thanks. This set is one of my favourites.”

“Is that so? Well, you have to promise me you’ll buy yourself a few more sets as adorable as this one.” Ari responds, “Cute and pink and pretty, just like a princess. Aren’t you, sweetheart?”

“Yeah,” you agree, cringing at how dumb you sound. He seems unperturbed, however, and you soon grow preoccupied with touching yourself again. Squeezing your other breast while you make direct eye contact with your camera.

“Good girl. Why don’t you touch your little pussy now? I’m sure she’s starting to feel a bit neglected.” He chuckles, and you marvel at how in control he sounds, how easily the words slip past his tongue. “After all, she’s the star of the show, isn’t she?”

“She is,” you agree softly, blinking at the camera, “She’s very wet.”

“Mm, I’m sure she is, baby girl. Push your panties aside and spread your legs so her daddy can take a look at her.”

You gasp when you hear him refer to himself as that, but he seems so damned unperturbed that you feel you have to act the same. Oh gosh, when had this all taken such a turn? Never before had you taken orders from a fan in a private chat, but it’s like he’s somehow programmed you to listen to him through that velvety voice of his.

You spread your legs like how you’d do on a regular livestream, angling the webcam to get the perfect shot. Your panties are soaked when you push them aside, and you bite your lip as you use two of your fingers to spread your folds. They glisten under the lighting, your wetness trailing down your thighs and staining the rug under you.

“Such a good girl,” Ari rewards you with a compliment. “Such a good little girl with a cute little baby pussy. You should be so proud, princess.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Now, do you want daddy to turn his camera on? And don’t worry, it’s alright if you’re too shy and you don’t want me to. You’re just a little girl after all, and I wouldn’t want to force you to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

Your heart lurches. Ari? Turn his camera on? Oh, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t a bit curious to see what he looked like! To see the face that matched that insanely chocolatey voice… A nervous thrill ripples through you, but you try your hardest to remain cool.

“Y-Yes,” you manage to get out, hating how you stutter. You never stutter on your own livestreams and chats. Never. You clear your throat, “Yes. Yes, you can turn your camera on.”

A moment later you find yourself staring at a set of deep blue eyes. You blink several times. Now, you see a handsome face. A very handsome face. Bronzed skin, a thick beard. Striking eyes, high cheekbones. A gorgeous, sloped nose. Long brown hair that brushes over his eyes before he pushes it back and out of his face. Oh, he was hot! And fully dressed, too. In an expensive-looking suit with his tie loosened around his neck.

“Oh… wow, Ari… I–” You’re at a loss for words, but thankfully Ari takes the reins.

“Keep touching yourself, sweetheart. Yeah, just like that.” He licks his lips, long lashes fluttering across his cheekbones as he blinks, “And call me daddy, baby. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, daddy, that’s fine.”

“I thought so. Now, why don’t you tell daddy your favourite way of keeping your baby pussy happy.” He murmurs softly, slowly, hypnotically.

You watch as his own hand slips down, and it thrills you to think of what he’s doing, what his camera isn’t showing. Oh, none of your other fans were as handsome as him! Or as put together or as in control! No, Ari’s energy is completely different. So softly dominant that it sends chills up and down your spine as you clamber to obey him.

Suddenly, you remember he’d asked a question.

“My stuffie, I guess.” You answer hypnotically, staring into his blue eyes that look to be so deep, so soulful. Like he was a man who’d seen everyone and everything this world had to offer. A man who’d lived an entire lifetime, a man who was, well, a man in the purest sense of the word. So virile, so mature – someone you could look up to, follow, listen to.

“Your stuffie.” Ari repeats, savouring the word on his tongue, “You stuffie keeps your pussy happy, huh? I think I remember watching one of your livestreams where you did something like that. But I’d like you to show me again, baby. Will you do that for me?”

Luckily, your stuffed teddy bear is only a foot away from you, and you quickly grab it. And it was true, sometimes you’d ride your stuffies during your livestreams. Your fans loved to watch you writhe and moan and lose yourself in the moment, watch you go from cuddling your stuffed toys to humping them and making yourself cum. Clearly, Ari had been a fan of this routine too.

You get into position, placing your teddy bear between your legs, watching how its fur goes damp as soon as it makes contact with your soaking pussy. Biting your lip, you waste no time as you start rocking back and forth tentatively. Ari lets out a rumble of approval, and you see his arm flex as he leans forward.

“That’s so good, baby girl. You like using your little friend to make you feel good?”

“Y-Yeah, it’s one of my most viewed livestreams.”

He smirks, “But you’ll put on a better show for me right now, won’t you?”

“Yeah, daddy…”

Your breathing slowly goes shallow, mind clear of any thoughts except how sexy and manly Ari sounded on this call right now. And it feels so delicious already, your teddy’s fur catching on your throbbing clit, incensing you to grind down harder.

“You have a wishlist, babygirl?”

The question is posed so casually that it somehow almost winds you. Your hips slow down and you look up at your webcam. But Ari narrows his eyes, nodding his head as if commanding you to continue, which you do. God, it was so hot how nonchalant he was being — and yet he sounded so attentive too!

“A wishlist?” You squeak, voice going high-pitched as your hips pick up pace, and you wish it was Ari’s thigh you were grinding on instead of this stuffie. Your body’s doing that thing where it feels empty, craving something bigger, more substantial…

“Yes, sweetie. A wishlist. A list of things you want. Clothes or makeup or anything like that.” He’s pumping his dick now, you can tell with how his hand’s moving. But the rest of him looks so unperturbed and unbothered, as if he’s having a normal conversation and not jacking off with a camgirl while he watches her masturbate with a stuffed teddy.

“I—um—yeah, I do…” you somehow manage to get the words out, but you’re mostly focused on cumming now. Your mind conjures up images of you naked on top of a fully dressed Ari. Him big and powerful, guiding your hips with just one hand, dragging you back and forth on his muscular thigh. Or maybe picking you up and placing you on his bulge, letting you rub your soaking cunt on it while he calls you a good girl in that deep, sexy voice of his…

“Sweetheart? You with me?”

“I, yeah, sorry!” You pant, feeling so close and yet a part of you knows you have to answer him. “I d-do — I have a list but—”

“You’re going to send it to daddy after you cum,” he tells you. “A pretty little girl like you needs her daddy to reward her after she humps her pretty little princess cunt and gets off so nicely just like how I asked you to.”

Your orgasm hits you out of nowhere. And it’s his words that tip you over the edge. So dirty, yet he talks in such a sweet way! Oh, a man’s never spoken to you like that! So casually talked you through your orgasm, praising you so sweetly and telling you he’d buy you everything on your wish list?! Who was this man??

“Send it to me. Now.”

You’re weak and spent, legs shaking from cumming so hard. But you quickly send him your wish list on private chat. You doubted he’d buy everything on it — all the expensive jewellery, designer clothes, shoes — especially since he’d already showered you with so many cash donations. But you send it to him anyways, and he hums in approval.

“That’s such a good girl. I really enjoyed our chat, baby.”

Your heart sinks. Was this it?

“Why don’t you show daddy your pussy again, baby girl? I want to see how messy it is now.”

Again, you obey. Angling your webcam and opening your legs for him. A part of you imagines him doing it for you, gripping your soft thighs with his calloused, manly hands so he could inspect to his heart’s content. God, he just exuded dominant energy and it was making you lightheaded. Quickly, you spread your sopping folds with your fingers, letting him see everything.

“Fuck, you’re so messy, aren’t you?” Ari murmurs, and you watch him brush his long hair out of his face. His tanned skin glistens slightly, his lips pink and plump and you find yourself just staring at him in awe.

“I-I’m messy…” you repeat, feeling dumb and spaced out after your orgasm.

“Bet you need your daddy to clean up that baby pussy, don’t you?” He licks his lips, pumping himself faster. That’s when his camera lowers slightly, and your breath hitches at the sight of the angry red tip of his dick.

“I… I don’t know… I—”

He chuckles kind of breathlessly, “You’re all dumbed out, huh? That’s alright, sweet girl. Daddy understands.” Again, he runs a hand through his hair, leaning forward slightly to get a better look at you. “I understand that little girls like you get tired easily, especially after playing with your toy so naughtily like how you were just now. That’s why you need your daddy.”

“D-Daddy…” you whimper, incapable of saying anything else except repeating what he’s saying, but you’re able to press your thighs weakly together, as if his words are just too much and you need to get off again despite being so weak.

“You need me, don’t you? To hold you in my lap, clean you up, take care of you, think for you, buy you whatever you want. Lap at your little baby cunt till you cum in my mouth. Am I right?”

Ohfuck. You feel newfound thrill ripple down to your pussy, making you clench at his words.

“I… I don’t.. I just— daddy, I. —“

Ari chuckles breathlessly, and a lock of his hair falls over his forehead, but apart from that he still looks pristine. The complete opposite of fucked out, messy little you.

“You can’t even speak straight, can you, Princess? That’s alright, little girls like you aren’t meant to think or talk anyways. That’s your daddy’s job, that’s why I’m here. All you have to do is look cute and play with your little toy on my lap while daddy does all the thinking for you. Would you like that?”

“Yes!” You cry, feeling needy and vulnerable and still a little bit confused as to how this virtual stranger has reduced you to such a blubbering mess.

“Fuck. Say it, then. Tell me how badly you need me.”

“N-Need daddy,” you blubber, vaguely wondering what your viewers would think if they saw you now. Often, you acted all spaced out and whimpery in your livestreams. But this… oh, this wasn’t acting at all. Ari had well and truly reduced you to a whimpering mess — and you didn’t even know the guy!

“I know you need me,” he croons, “Little girls like you always need their daddy. And I want to take care of you too, sweet baby.”

“Please do!” You cry, “Need you to take care of me so bad! Can’t think, can’t… I can’t…”

You press your thighs together and cum again. And it’s a shock to you, you hadn’t expected to orgasm again so quickly. But you hear Ari groan, and a moment later you watch enraptured as he blows his load, spurts of his thick cum landing on his palm. And you wish so bad you were there in person to clean him up too.

“Both of you are quiet for a minute or so after that. All you can hear is his breathing - rapid at first before it goes steady. You, on the other hand, are beside yourself. Whimpering, crying, breathing hard. You just want him to hold you - and it’s crazy because you don’t even know who he is! Not really, anyways. But he looks so big and strong even on the laptop screen, and you really feel so small in front of his eyes, but in a good way… He had a way with words, so soft and dominant that it made you want him to take care of you, and-

"Thank you, baby girl,” Ari chuckles after a while, “thank you for indulging me.”

You clear your throat, “I…uh… I… okay.”

“You still dumbed out, honey?”

You lower your eyes and nod, feeling all kinds of shy now that you’ve cum twice and your senses are all coming back. Had you really gotten that submissive and vulnerable with a viewer on private chat? Oh gosh…

“Do you need daddy to tell you what to do next?”

You nod, embarrassed at how helpless you feel. Your legs are still shaking from the remnants of your orgasm, ears still buzzing from that smooth, gravelly voice of his as he’d coaxed you through those two orgasms.

“First, I want you to send me that wishlist of yours. Then, I want you to go and take a nice, hot bath to calm yourself down, alright?”

“O-Okay, daddy,” you agree quietly.

“Mm, that’s my good girl. Then, I want you to put on something comfy and tuck yourself into bed. I know little girls like you need your daddy to do that, but for now I need you to do it for yourself. Got that?”

You nod dumbly.

“Daddy needs you to use your words, sweet girl.”

“Yes, I - uh - I’ll take a bath and tuck myself in, daddy.”

“Good girl. But I’ll need you to take pictures as proof you’ve followed my instructions.”

“I will, I will!” You blurt out, wanting to make this virtual stranger proud. Oh, you didn’t even recognise yourself anymore but you didn’t care. Not in the least.

“Thank you, baby. And one last thing.”

“Y-Yes?”

“Would you like to talk to daddy again tomorrow night?”

“Yes! Please, yes!”

“I thought so. Why don’t you give me your number, sweetheart, and I’ll be sure to make that happen.”

THE END.

Honestly wrote this super quickly so it’s probably paced like shit and not that good but YOLO. also i tried something different with the layout heheehehe LMK WHAT YOU THINK ABOUT THE FIC PLSSS LOVE YOU GUYS

[jiminsafairy]

the thrill of the show - jungkook (cam couple +18)

pairings :bf!jungkook x gf!reader

summary: your boyfriend Jungkook comes up with the idea of starting your own cam channel with the excuse of making some extra cash

warnings: live sex (cam couple), tities, a lot of titties! unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, guys), bj, doggy style, he cums in her tits, they are so in love

wc:2k

a/n: this is my first fic, it took me a while to muster up the courage to post anything here... also english is not my first languaje so excuse my mistakes, be nice!!

"You want us to do what!?" you say, almost choking on your coffee.

"I said, ‘why don't we start a sex cam channel’?" repeats Jungkook on a Thursday morning, while both of you are having breakfast before leaving to the gym.

“Have you gone mad!?” you say.

"Come on, babe, it'll be fun! we get to do what we love and gain a bit of extra money from it. I know how bad you wanna change our couch" your boyfriend says, pointing at the old beat out red couch.

You nod. He was right. You have been dreaming about changing that hideous piece of furniture since you moved to the apartment a year ago. That thing was uncomfortable as hell. Always ended up with sore knees after being fucked on it.

"I give you one chance, one, you hear me?" you state, putting one finger up, "and if I'm somewhat uncomfortable with the whole thing, we immediately cut".

"I wouldn't do it other way, love" coos your boyfriend, giving you a quick peck, "I'm gonna go sign up on the site and set my camera" says disappearing through the kitchen door.

That is how you ended up in this situation, lying in bed with your boyfriend, only wearing a black lace set of lingerie.

"Baby, don't you think you went a bit overboard buying all of… this?" you say pointing at the two — very expensive looking, one might say —softboxes directed at you both, and the 27”-inch new monitor displaying your almost naked image.

"Not at all love, we need to have the best equipment in order to succeed" says Jungkook with a grin, "shall we begin?" he says signaling to the 'start live' button. “You do the honors, babe”.

You reach for the laptop and click on the button, "Here goes nothing" you say, going back to bed.

"And now we wait for people to join us" says Jungkook, placing his hands behind his head and leaning against the pillow "oh look! we have our first viewers!” says excited, “We are Jungkook and y/n, this is our first time doing this so please be good to us".

[imyourdaddy94]: why are they just layin in bed? booooriiingggggggg, imma get out here if you don't start doin something

[punish__me]: you look cute, but I won't subscribe if all you do plan to do is just cuddling

[sugar.tits88]: hey guys, you know this is supposed to be a live sex channel, right...? im leaving

"No, no, guys!" says Jungkook sounding alarmed, "we are fun, please, stay!" he turns to you, placing one hand on your neck and other one on the small of your back, "let's show them how fun we can be".

He starts kissing you, and you reciprocate. You were feeling shy at first, but as the kiss progressed, you started to get more onto the idea of being watched by strangers on the internet.

Your right hands grasps the back of his neck pushing him closer to you. Jungkook breaks the kiss, looking at the chat again, and smiles to you.

[imyourdaddy94]: show us her tits!

"They want to see your tits, should we show them?" says Jungkook placing one hand on the small of your back and going upwards. You nod, giving him permission.

Jungkook unclasps your bra, helping you sliding it down your arms, showing everyone your large, round breasts. He starts planting small kisses on your neck, going all the way down, grabbing your big breasts with his hands, massaging them.

"Can I?" says Jungkook with his lips close to your nipple, ,"would you let me suck your pretty tits?, he asks. The feeling of his warm breath hitting your sensitive flesh is driving you crazy

“Just do it already Jungkook!" you whimper, raising your voice. You need his mouth on your nipple.

[sugar_tits88]: uh, she's feisty...i like her

You hear the sound of the tips filling the room. You are getting that couch. Your boyfriend chuckles at your tone, lips closing around your left nipple, while pinching the other one. "Oh God Jungkook, don't stop!" you moan.

"My girl loves having her pretty titties sucked, right?" he says, while he keeps sucking at your breasts, switching between nipples. Mouth on one nipple, tattoed hand pinching the other. you let out a needy moan, enjoying the feeling.

Your hand travels south, palming his length from the outside of his black Calvin's.

"I wanna suck your cock" you say panting.

"You want to stuff your pretty mouth with my cock? Is that what you want?" he asks, already knowing the anser.

"Yes, please!", you plead.

"Alright then. Could you take my cock out for me, love?" he asks, going back to taking your nipple in his mouth.

You take his cock out and start stroking it, from the base to the tip. "Mmm...so big..." you say, loving the feeling of your boyfriend's big cock in your hand.

 [punishme__]: look at that thing!! its fucking huge!! subscribing

Jungkook releases your nipple with a loud pop, giving your tits one last squeeze. He proceeds to lay on the bed, stroking his cock at a steady pace, tattoed hand going up and down his shaft.

"What my baby wants my baby gets” Jungkook says with a chuckle, "come here", says palming the space next to him. "I don't wanna brag guys, but her cock-sucking skills are amazing" he chuckles.

Strangers watching you getting your tits sucked made you so horny that you want to give them your best performance. Getting on your knees, you grab his cock by the base, and start pressing small kisses at the tip.

Feeling his cock twitch, you start giving long licks up and down his shaft. You hear him whine, and you wrap your lips around the tip, licking all the pre cum. Jungkook moans, reaching for your nipples and pitching them, “that’s it babe, keep going, wanna fuck that pretty mouth of yours”.

You take his whole length on your mouth, trying to avoid the gag reflex. Jungkook starts bucking up his hips, fucking your mouth, “look at you, taking all this cock in your pretty little mouth. Bet you love having people looking at you while you suck me”.

You moan, nodding, mouth full of cock. “Fuck love, if you keep going at it like that I’m gonna cum in your mouth, and I want to fuck you first” he phants. “On your hands and knees babe, facing the camera, let them see those big tits bounce” Jungkook demands, and you obey.

Getting on all fours, you place yourself facing the camera, watching the lewd image that the both of you portray through the monitor. Jungkook gets behind you, reaching for the hem of your lace panties.

He bends down and start giving small kisses at your back, while tugging at your underwear. Panties off, he kneads your ass checks, “Ready babe?” he asks giving your ass a loud smack. His hand gets to your pussy, placing one finger inside your needy hole “you are so wet y/n, it is all for me? Or is it because people are watching you?” he says, adding another digit.

“All for you, it’s all for you", you state.

"Liar" he says, taking his fingers out of your pussy and licking them clean. “You taste so good baby”.

[badgirlie444]: eat her out!!!

“They want me to eat you out…but I think we’ll leave that out for another time” he says. Grabbing his cock by the base, he gets closer to you.

“Please Kook, want your big cock inside me” you plead, “want you to fuck me numb”. He starts rubbing it up and down your needy slit.

“Like I said before, what my pretty girlfriend wants, she gets” he says entering your pussy with one hard thrust. You moan at the feeling, big cock filling your needy hole.

“God, you are so tight” he moans between thrusts, “such a tight pussy, taking this big cock so well”.

Moans mixed with the sound of the tips coming nonstop fill the room. Your sweaty bodies making the lewdest sounds.

“Harder, please, want you to fuck me harder” you plead, tits bouncing, pussy clenching around his big cock “I want to feel your cock as deep and hard as you can, I need you close”. He starts thrusting harder, cock hitting near your cervix. “That is how you like it mm? such a dirty girl”, he says, giving your ass another slap. You moan in response, just enjoying the feeling of his cock pounding into you.

[cckaddicted]: look at those tits bounce!!! I love you guys

Jungkook grabs your tits on his hands and motions you to get back on your knees and lay against him. Hands pinching your nipples while keeps thrusting inside your needy pussy. “C’mon baby, moan for them, let them know who’s making you feel this good” he coos at your ear. You moan loudly, lost in pleasure.

His right hand leaves your nipple and reaches for your clit, rubbing it slowly. You cannot stand it anymore, you need to cum, “I’m close baby, please make me cum” you implore, hips bucking against his.

He starts rubbing your clit harder, applying more pressure on the sensitive bud, “my dirty girl wants to cum, mmh?” he surprises you with a hard slap to your needy pussy, that sending you over the edge.

“I-I’m cumming Kook, p-please don’t stop, please!” you cry, cumming on his cock while he keeps up with his thrusts. “That’s it love, cum, I got you,"he coos "you feel so good clenching around my cock” whispers your boyfriend next to your ear, as he keeps stroking your clit, helping you ride your high.

Once you get back to reality, you feel his thrusts getting sloppier, and you know he’s getting close to cumming, needy hands grabbing onto your flesh.

Left hand still pinching your nipple, he places two tattoed fingers inside your mouth, and you suck them as if it was his cock. “Baby I’m close, you feel so good, I’m gonna cum, god, I’m so close” he says between moans. “Where do you want me?” he asks you, feeling his release getting closer and closer.

“Tits” you answer.

He takes his cock out your pussy and gets up to stand next to the bed’s edge, and you feel your pussy clench at the feeling. You already miss him, wishing he could be inside you forever.

You, who are still on your knees, crawl on the bed, putting your tits at the same height as his cock. “That’s it, love, press them together for me, would you do that?” he asks, hand stroking up and down his shaft, putting more pressure on the tip.

You press your tits together, looking at him in the eye. God, he’s so handsome. And all yours.

“I’m so close baby,” he whines as he fastens his pace. You kneel a bit, getting close to hiim, and put your tongue out, licking the tip.

That sends him over the edge “I’m cumming, give me your tits”. After a few more strokes you feel the warm spurts of cum landing on your tits, ”I’m cumming so hard”. He keeps stoking his cock, getting all the cum out. He slaps his cock against your tits, smearing all the cum, and you get your tongue out to clean him up.

“That was…something” he says between pants. You laugh as you get up, giving him a passionate kiss. Your cum covered tits press against his chest.

Once you are a bit more relaxed, you decide to look at the chat. Jungkook reads a few of them out loud, happy with the aftermath of your little show.

[cckaddicted]: that was so hot! you have one new subscriber

[gddgirl4]: I hope you guys don’t mind I got my vibrator out for this I came so hard

"Thank you so much monsterdick74 for the tip! Thank you all”, he replies to a few more comments, making small talk. He tells the chat that this was not a one-time thing, and that you are planning on doing more live streams more often.

“Same time tomorrow? What do you guys think?” he asks the chat. Everyone is excited, and the subscriber count keeps going up. “That was all for today guys, see you!” pressing on the ‘end of live’ button, you see the chat disappearing, going back to being only you two.

“Well, I guess we’ll have to do this again tomorrow, right babe?” you say, filled with excitement.

“I gues we finaly getting that couch” he says, laughing.

[lalacliffthorne]

modern!batboys as (your) roommates - headcanons.

because let's be honest, we have all thought about that at some point.🦇

(this is the introduction of my new drabble universe!!! I can´t tell you how fucking excited I am.)

it would be wrong to say that your life was boring before you met the three idiots you now call your roommates

sure, it wasn't as exciting

but you had your tiny little apartment, went out with friends once in a while and mostly enjoyed having your own space and routines

but then

shit hits the fan

and by shit I mean your landlord

because of a loophole in the rental agreement, he's able to kick you out of your apartment with only a months notice

in other words

you're fucked

or, as your best friend Feyre, who you met the first week of orientation and became inseperable with, says -

"That bastard." Feyre's eyes are stormy.

"What the hell am I gonna to do?" You bury your face in your hands, your voice muffled when you mumble: "How am I supposed to find a new apartment in a few weeks? For this one, I looked over a year, and it's a glorified shoebox!" Your voice rises as you feel a wave of dread crash over you and your heart rising into your throat.

"Hey, it's okay. If worst comes to worst, you can crash at my place,", Feyre raises her brows, "even though we'd have to share my bed, but - I won't just let you sleep on a park bench if that's what you're worried about. Unless you find another glorified shoebox that's technically out of your budget, it's you and me, crashing on my bed, climbing over your stuff to get to the bathroom, finding out what married life would feel like."

even though you love her to death, that really does not sound like an option you want to explore

so you try everything

scouring every paper for apartment advertisments, posting on your uni's socials, going to all the viewings you can find -

nothing

but just when you're ready to just give up

a miracle happens

the miracle is 5'5, has impeccable style and hair, a love for deep red lipstick and drops by for lunch

Mor has been your friend for two years now, since you almost spilled your coffee over her laptop at the library

(she's still not letting you live that down)

she also likes to get you out of your comfort zone

"Are you serious?" Mor stares at you wide-eyed.

"Yep." You tiredly stir your coffee. "I've been turned away for twenty apartments in the past few days alone. I'm aready seeing myself bunking with Feyre. She offered, but her bed barely fits into her apartment as it is."

Mor breathes a giggle before hastily clearing her throat. "Sorry."

You grin weakly before rubbing your face. "I don't know what I'm gonna do. I know it could be even worse, but -"

"It already feels pretty shitty,", Mor ends. You sigh in confirmation and are about to change the topic, because you haven't seen the blonde in weeks and feel bad about ruining your lunch. But before you can open your mouth, Mor suddenly squints in thought. Then she looks at you.

"How much do you value your privacy?

Given the fact you'll be basically homeless on the street in about a week if you don't find a new place - not much.

Mor begins to grin, and there's a bright twinkle in her eyes.

"Well, then I might just have the solution."

the next day, Mor drags you downtown

she takes you to an old but sophisticated building you wouldn't even dream about living in

a single month's rent there would probably empty your whole bank account

but Mor just winks and pulls you up the stairs

on the third floor, a guy leans in an open door

and that

is how you meet Rhys.

Mor's cousin is annoyingly beautiful

tall, with perfectly tousled dark hair, a perfect grin that causes his cheeks to crease and, from the looks of it, the also perfect physique

he's also annoyingly charming

if you'd met him somewhere without Mor, you would have probably gaped for a moment before catching onto the mischievous twinkle in his nearly violet eyes and promptly avoided him, because someone that pretty had to have some fault

as it turns out, Rhys' fault is offering practical strangers to live with him without even batting an eye

"What?"

You blink at Mor from where you just sank onto one of the two very comfortable couches, because she can't possibly -

"Okay, before you freak out, just listen, okay?" Mor is grinning giddily. "The guys have a free room they don't really use anyway and you really need a new place - so you could just move in here!" She beams. "The place is definitely big enough, and you'd fit in perfectly, I promise! They're just as chaotic as you, but also very responsible -"

"Mostly." Rhys' eyes are twinkling. He's looking completely and slightly concerningly unbothered by the prospect of you, a factual stranger, moving in with him and his friends.

"- they don't have any bad habits, they're fairly neat -"

"Mostly."

Mor widens her eyes at you. "It's perfect!"

You blink at her.

"I've already talked to my roommates." Rhys' deep voice is almost soothing - mostly because he sounds a lot calmer than Mor, steady and reassuring.

"If you want, this can be temporary, until you find a place just for yourself, but this way you don't have to stress about needing to find a place in a certain time, plus,", he cracks a grin, "I don't like the idea of you having to crash on somebody's couch in the foreseeable future, that's just bullshit if we got a free room here no one uses anway. And if this works,", one corner of his lips quirks even more until his grin is a lot closer to the wicked twinkle in his eyes, "none of us would mind another roommate."

"You don't have to decide right now." Mor smiles brightly. "But I think it would be great, and you'd make a bargain with the rent, because Rhys loves to play sugar daddy -", her cousin flips her off, "and I think this would be a really good idea." She grins, suddenly a little sheepish.

if you weren't so desperate, you would whip out about a dozen arguments about why this probably isn't a good idea

like the fact that rooming with three dudes sounds like a lot of testosteron, or that you don't even know them, and that they don't even know you -

but from the way Rhys lounges in his chair, smirking easily while Mor beams at you, he doesn't seem to see too much of a problem in that

also you are very, very desperate

but there's still that one thing -

"About those roommates -"

When you hear the door, you raise your head, your heart doing a slightly concerning flip in your chest.

It's a day later, and you just finished the tour of the apartment Rhys has given you. Even though it's huge and very grand with it's high ceilings decorated with stucco and the original hardwood floors, it feels warm and cozy. The room you'd be sleeping in is as big as your whole current apartment, light with two big window and a view of the trees on the street outside.

It kind of makes you wonder where the catch is.

Maybe it's about to walk through the door.

You hear a deep voice and heavy footsteps, then a dude appears in the door to the kitchen.

Your heart does a somersault, and you feel your lips part a bit. Because frankly, it's a miracle he makes it through the door without hitting his head.

The guy's huge. His shoulders and chest strain against his t-shirt; he looks like one of those dudes who basically have muscle in their DNA, all corded muscle under ridiculously wide shoulders and a solid middle, muscular long legs under black jeans -

And you're staring.

Big time.

The dude's looking over his shoulder, which means he thankfully doesn't notice you oggling him. The half of his hair that isn't pulled back in a bun brushes against his neck when he grins, his cheeks creasing. He's really good looking, in a rugged kinda way, with his roughly curved jaw and the scar on the side of his face, and when he looks back ahead, his eyes twinkle warmly.

Then, behind him, another guy appears in the doorway, and your breath catches.

Because if Rhys is annoyingly beautiful, the guy in the door is drop-dead gorgeous.

Just like the other two, he's tall and all lean muscle. His shoulders shift under his black t-shirt as he leans against the doorframe, his hands sliding into the pockets of his black jeans. His eyes look like amber in sunlight, his dark hair is tousled, a strand curving over his forehead. His face is all angles and soft lips, with dark brows that look like he likes to crunch them in a scowl, but right now, he looks fairly relaxed, though his gaze is watchful.

And on yours.

Feeling warmth wash into your cheeks, you hastily look away while crap, crap, crap echoes through your head, because of course he caught you staring.

On to a really great start here.

Your gaze grazes his hands and the bit of uneven skin that merges into veiny, tan forearms before your eyes trail over the tattoos scattered over them, some peaking out from his sleeves.

There's the sound of someone clearing their throat, and you feel the heat in your cheeks deepen when your eyes dart up and meet Rhys', a twinkle in his iris when he sends you a lazy grin.

"Boys, this is Y/N." He raises a brow. "Our new roommate."

and that is how you meet Cassian and Azriel

it almost makes you reconsider

because you're really not sure you're gonna survive rooming with three guys that pretty

but after thinking it over for a couple of days, you realize that you really don't have a choice

and so a week later, Rhys and Cassian come over to your apartment to help you move the first half of your stuff

neither blink an eye at the fact it's about the size of a broom closet in comparison to their home

Rhys does however scowl when he sees the condition of the bathroom

you're ready to sink into the floor when you hastily explain pretty much all the apartments in the building look like that

(a lil dingy and moldy)

but when he turns, Rhys just glowers and grumbles under his breath about how he'd like to rip your landlord a new one

it's the first time you realize that under all the aloofness and swagger and cheeky grins, Rhys cares

it's proven again when you move into your new room a week later and there's a new mattress on the also new bed

you haven't bought either of them, but when you try to protest, Rhys just huffs about your back probably being fucked up because of your old one and about how he'll add it to your rent

he never does

you get used to rooming with three guys surprisingly quickly

sure, it is pretty much a total 180 -

going from living alone in a tiny apartment

to sharing a huge flat with three dudes who make the place vibrate with laughter and bicker like they have been married for thirty years

but even tho you never thought you'd be the type to actually enjoy having roommates

you find that with them - you don't really mind

of course it is nice to have the place to yourself sometimes

and after about two weeks, you're comfortable enough to blast your music and dance through the kitchen when you're alone

(yes, at some point, they catch you - it takes you about a minute to realize there are three guys standing in the doorway, watching you dance with a broom. you get a mild heart attack and Cassian and Rhys start cackling while Azriel smirks)

but even if usually there's always someone around -

you find that all three of them are very good at both respecting your boundaries and leaving you be when you need to curl up in your room

but also seem to know when you need someone to drag your ass out into the world

and something about knowing at least one of them will probably be there when you get home makes you feel very warm and fuzzy

and even tho you weren't completely sure about this situation in the beginning

you get roped into living with the three guys instead of just rooming with them pretty easily

it really starts with Cassian

probably gets used to you living there the quickest

after barely a week, he's treating you like you've lived with them since the beginning

like just sticking his head into your room and making you help him with dinner

it surprises you a little that they all have dinner together

from what you've heard from friends who have roommates, they usually all do their own thing most of the time

but it makes you realise that these guys are more family than just roommates

Cassian is surprisingly easy to talk to

he's quick with the quips and the banter

also very flirtatious

constantly makes you laugh, his deep, boisterous chuckles infectous

also super affectionate

you're convinced the man is actually just a huge teddybear

after just a few weeks, you're used to hugs that lift you off your feet

cheek kisses as greetings

and being casually lifted out of the way like you don't weigh anything

not that you're the only one who gets that treatment

no, there are hugs in greeting that make Rhys groan dramatically like his air supply is cut off

and pats on the shoulder and smacking forehead kisses that make Azriel crinkle his nose

Cassian quickly becomes the one you go to when you need advice

he always listens attentively

doesn't sugarcoat things

stays objective while never making you feel bad or less about anything

and it quickly becomes pretty clear he'd put everything aside if any of you ever need help

gives you rides in his beat up truck to uni

and always picks you up when studying at the library gets late bc he doesn't like the idea of you out alone after dark

with Cass, even mundane things like grocery shopping become fun

he's just casually funny and teases the shit out of you at every opportunity

has no understanding of the concept of personal space

and with most people, that would kinda put you off a little in the beginning

but Cassian just has something about him

something so inheritly good and warm and sunny

that he never once makes you feel uncomfortable

if anything, with him around, you feel a lot more at ease

and not just bc it's always nice to have a guy in your back that towers over you like a lighthouse

though the whole massive, tatted dude with the dark eyes thing kinda goes out of the window as soon as he grins at you

dimples and all

but still, don't be fooled

when the grin's gone and he's glaring, you know why people make way for him immediately

he works at a gym to earn some money at the side

once, he takes you with him just for fun

then that one time becomes another and before you know it, you tag along twice a week

and it would be wrong to say it's not doing something to you when he crouches in front of or behind you, his deep voice rumbling as he mumbles encouragements

"Alright, come on, sweetheart, gimme one more."

Trying not to make a very embarassing groaning sound, you crunch your face in concentration and slowly lower yourself into a squat, your muscles trembling slightly.

"There you go, that's it." You can feel Cassian in your back, spotting you, his deep voice rumbling through you, and it's just almost distracing enough for you to -

"No, no, come on, you can do it." Cassian's deep chuckle sets you at ease, and he lightly pats the side of your thigh. "You got this, c'mon."

With a soft groan, you push yourself up again, and you can hear the triumph and wide grin in Cassian's voice when he goes: "Yeeessss, good job, baby. C'mon, you can do one more."

Blowing out a heavy breath and glaring at nothing in particular, you ready yourself.

when one day, he makes you lose focus, you're gonna throw something at him

you're pretty sure he does it on purpose just to see how red you can get

but Cass is really good at pushing you without overdoing it, always teasing and encouraging

and if you manage to do something, in the gym or otherwise, he grins so widely you're almost sure he's more proud of you than you are yourself

Rhys is a flirt.

and after you get over the first initial blush that just won't leave you alone for the first few weeks

it actually becomes entertaining

now bantering back and forth is basically all you do

it gets so bad, Azriel constantly rolls his eyes at the two you

but just like you suspected, behind all the flirtiness and mischievous grins

Rhys cares

a lot

whenever you're upset, he looks like he's contemplating ripping apart whatever or whoever made you upset

and whenever someone has a go at Cass or Azriel, Rhys picks them apart with lethal precision and a wicked smile

if Cassian is most affectionate, Rhys is close second

he's slightly more casual about it

pinching your nose, flicking your ear softly, offering his cheek for a kiss in greeting

always down for amazing hugs tho

whenever you get on your period, Rhys turns full mother hen

it's actually quite entertaining to see a 6-foot-something dude grumble because you don't want to take painkillers

"I just don't like to take them until it's really necessary, okay?" You glower at Rhys, curling up on the couch and trying to suppress a wince.

Rhys incredulously narrows his eyes.

"You're bleeding from inner organs and look like you want to curl into the couch. I'd say it is pretty necessary."

behind all the snark and arrogance, Rhys cares

also seems to have a rather unhealthy tendency to put everyone else first

you catch on pretty easily that even though his father is absolutely loaded, Rhys doesn't particularly cares about his money

in fact

he doesn't hesitate to spend whatever money his father pumps into his bank accounts for a second

when you ask Mor about it, she just smiles lopsidedly.

"I think it's his kind of protest?" She squints into the sun shining onto the balcony of the flat, the big glass of iced tea in her hand glittering in the light. "You know, spending all that money, preferably on his friends? Mostly because I don't think his father really likes them."

You wince.

"He knows he can't win against his father." Mor crunches her brows in thought. "I think he came to terms with having to take over the business one day, and he cares about the people who have their jobs there, so he won't let them down. It's just hard sometimes, if your whole life is already planned out for you." She shrugs gently. "Doing this, living with Cassian and Azriel and now you, spending his fathers money on it and actually having a good time instead of just being bitter and stuck up - it's his way of not surrendering completely."

you have never met Rhys' father, but even tho he's powerful af

you really feel a strong desire to kick him in the balls

Rhys has a knack of knowing exactly when you need to talk and when you need to be distracted

it's not unusual that after a bad day, he just joins you on the couch, plopping down and pulling your feet onto his lap

it either leads to you venting and him listening

usually giving very appropriate responses of either huffs, scowls or downright glowering

or, if you don't want to talk

he either lets you use him as a human pillow, grumbling over your choice of movie while scratching your head

or he takes you out

to the cinema, a museum, the theater -

you're pretty sure you've grown a lot more cultured in a few months than the whole of your life before that

it never gets boring tho

the whole thing kinda annoys the crap out of you in the beginning bc he never lets you pay for anything

but you get better at finding ways to pay him back in other ways

like taking over making dinner on days when he's exhausted

coaxing rants out of him when his father gets to him

dragging him out on nightly walks through the city when he can't sleep

and after a while

you understand that it's just one of Rhys' love languages

and it is fun to spend his father's money ;)

especially when it means museum Saturdays with the two of you just sitting and staring at paintings

or going to the cinema and pigging out on popcorn and greasy stuff while whisper-hissing fun facts at each other

even takes you to stuff like wine tastings

Rhys is a foodie

likes super fancy pickles, trying food you can't even pronounce and splurging on dinner

and if he decides the two of you need to get out of the apartment

one way or another

it usually ends in a restaurant

always orders like half the menu

also cooks the best out of all of you

like I'm talking freaking perfection

whips up the fanciest, most delicious far-too-many-courses meal for holidays

and goes all in even if he just makes dinner

you often get lured into the kitchen by the delicious smells

usually ends up with you on the couch at the table while Rhys moves around the kitchen

talking about everything and nothing

(also not above slapping anyone's hand away if they try to sneak a taste)

Azriel is quiet

not shy; you catch onto that pretty quickly

he's too quick and easy on any dry remark in response to his friends' boisterous teasing for that

and his gaze too firm and piercing

rarely shies away when you catch his gaze

in the beginning

that intimidated the shit out of you

the way he appears without a sound, towering over you, all dark and quiet and brooding

it's like he perfected the art of going unnoticed

tho you're not quite sure how

bc how could anyone not notice him?

after a while tho

you realise that even tho Azriel is dark and glowering and brooding

there's something gentle about him

it surfaces in the smallest things

like how his lips curve the softest bit when you grin up at him

how light and careful his touch is

how he is always respectful, putting himself between you and the street, holding doors open without ever seeming to think twice about it

and how everything about him seems to darken when he witnesses anyone being treated poorly

but even if anger rages within him like a quickly rising tide, quiet and dangerous

you still always feel safe with him

maybe it's bc, even in those moments, you just know it will never be directed at you

and that even tho there's always that darkness within him, it's never something that feels unsettling or dangerous

and instead soft and welcoming

like something about him and that steady, dark gaze just calms you

maybe because he's so quiet, Azriel seems to see and hear everything

in record time, he begins to catch onto every little detail about you

mundane things

like how you like your favorite drink or what your favorite ice cream is

the only reason you know he notices is because he begins to hand you cups in the morning that are exactly right and the freezer starts to always hold a big container of your favorite ice cream

but also seems to know exactly what your tell is when you're nervous

uncomfortable

or tired

what makes you upset

happy

nervous

what causes you to giggle uncontrollably

and so on

it should probably unsettle you, how easily he sees through you

but it doesn't

sure, it's a bit weird at first

but you quickly realise it's strangely comforting - that someone pays enough attention to know even the smallest thing about you

Azriel is your favorite person to be around when you just need a break

it's like something about him is grounding, steady

like being around him makes your thoughts calm down

makes it easier for you to sort the chaos your mind sometimes becomes

you quickly realise that beneath all of the quiet watchfulness lies a wicked, dry sense of humor

his mumbled remarks make you snort laughter or beam widely up at him

always makes his lips curve

he reads a ton

when you first see his room, you almost gape

because the man has books

they fill the shelves

balance in towers on the floor

sit on the window sill and next to his bed

most of the books in the shelves in the living room are his as well

has a great dislike for movie adaptions

sits there with that scowl of his, glaring at you until it's over when you make him watch one

says it destroys the pictures in his head

(to be fair

you don't think he's entirely wrong about that)

always has a camera in reach

got a few, all older ones; no fancy digital ones, but all on film

just like he seems to catch onto everything

so does his camera

it's like the manifestation of his quiet perception of things

to fix things onto film

he captures everything

most of the time, you don't even notice

only sometimes you raise your head to find the camera in his hands, a slight curve to his lips

develops all pictures himself, in a dark room on campus students can book

spends hours in there, just working in silence

there's usually a lot of bugging involved before he shows the developed pictures to anyone

usually ends in all of you leaning over them eagerly, trying to figure out when he took them

Rhys standing in the kitchen, grinning over his shoulder like Cassian just made a bad joke

you and Feyre, laughing so hard you lean into each other

Mor, lying upside down on the couch while focusing on the cards in her hand while you're next to her, mid-motion, a focused expression on your face

Cassian napping on the couch, twisted in a very uncomfortable position to fit all six feet something of him onto the cushions

there seems to be an endless number, and they're all carefully stored away in his shelves

some, he refuses to show to anyone

it takes you so little time to feel at home in the huge flat, the prospect of looking for an apartment for yourself is off the table before you can actually start

and it doesn't take long until you're part of the routines like you'd been there since the beginning

Saturday and Sunday evenings are for movie nights

sometimes, Mor joins you

you sit with Azriel on the couch, sharing a big bowl of popcorn while staring at Rhys and Cassian argue about which Star Wars movie to start with

in the summer, you take trips to the lake for swimming and laying in the sun

have game nights

evenings sitting on the balcony, squinting into the setting sun

barbecues

and afternoons in the park, one joining in after the other

in winter, you go to the ice rink

bake together

and spend whole weekends on the couch, watching movies

you go to the gym with Cassian or accompany him on his runs

(well, he's running - you're on your bicycle, because there's no way you can keep up with that dude´s long legs)

or get dragged out onto hikes by Rhys

in the evenings, you usually all end up in the kitchen for dinner, banter thrown over the dinner table

Azriel and you mostly take care of the grocery shopping together

it usually entails you trying to reach something on a high shelf and Azriel huffing, moving to grab it without even having to stretch

sometimes Cassian joins in, and you both make it your mission to annoy Azriel until he cracks a grin

both Az and Rhys regularly give you rides on their motorcycles

while Cassian likes to stick to his old, beat up truck, Rhys has a car as well, but alternates between it and the motorcycle

more often than not, he uses it as opportunity to flirt

small cleaning duties in the apartment are rotated between the four of you

but big-once-a-month-deep-cleans are something you make a day of

blasting music, you divide the flat and get to work

(bathroom duty is rotated)

in the (very rare) case of an argument, it usually ends in one of you being mediator

which means after a cooling off period

the arguing parties are locked in the pantry until they've talked things out

works surprisingly well

sometimes, the boys bring someone home

it usually comes with a text

or the very oldschool sock on the door

tho you ban that one after Cassian forgets it

and you walk into the flat unsuspectingly only to be flashed

Cassian apologizes profoundly

after he's done laughing

there are also a few awkward encounters in the hall in the morning that leave you contemplating not running around in just big t-shirts

Feyre still gives you rides to campus and back

but sometimes, it's Azriel waiting in the parking lot instead, leaning against his motorcycle, two helmets next to him

it does not help with the way your heart seems to speed up whenever you find his amber eyes on you

but you're very adamant on pushing that away

it's probably not that serious anyway.

so

it would be wrong to say your life was boring before you met the three idiots you now call your roomates

but it sure as hell is a lot better now that you have

even if they do drive you a little nuts sometimes

@azrielshadows1nger @waytoomanyteenagefeels

[cartierre]

SINCE WAY BACK | ln4

SOCIAL MEDIA!AU lando norris x fem!black!producer!reader (fc: alexis carrington)

side note: drake is aged up in this because i want y/n to be born around 2000/2001 but that would mean drake was 14/15 when he became a dad... so he's just a few years older here to make it more believable okay? great. side note pt2: there are so many long twitter threads used to explain the whole backstory. like, really really long. i didn't know how else to explain everything, i'm sorry.

♡ liked by champagnepapi, mclaren, octobersveryown and 829,938 others

tagged: mclaren, octobersveryown

f1 BREAKING: October's Very Own (OVO) joins the McLaren team as their new primary sponsor for the 2023 season.

#F1 #Formula1 #McLaren

view all 5,328 comments

user1 what the fuck is drake doing here

user2 i'm actually so gagged like what is happening why is drake invested in f1 all of a sudden

user3 this is such an odd pairing? drake and zak brown together feels like a fever dream

user4 drake joining f1 as a sponsor was definitely not on my 2023 bingo card

user5 caitlyn jenner buying a whole w series team is less surprising than whatever this is

♡ liked by yourusername, champagnepapi, danielricciardo and 187,385 others

lando.jpg adonis is teaching me how to play basketball because otherwise he "cannot accept me" i've been humbled by a 5 year old

view all 483 comments

user6 is that the girl he might or might not be dating ⤷ user7 i need to know otherwise i might die (i won't but the suspense is killing me)

user8 WHO IS THAT GIRL LANDO

user9 is this you trying to soft launch or is she just a platonic friend?

user10 "fans" going insane because they can't handle the thought of lando having female friends as well

user11 he's not even tagging anyone omg now i have to scroll through all the people he follows. lando is not making my job easy

(private account)

♡ liked by centralcee, jorjasmith_, landonorris and 637 others

y/n_graham why am i trending on twitter and why is everyone uncovering my childhood

view all 45 comments

landonorris i think this is my fault ⤷ y/n_graham you and your jpg ⤷ landonorris my camera lense is just so mesmerised by your beauty ⤷ y/n_graham your compliments won't get you out of trouble

centralcee i'm literally getting dms asking about you ⤷ y/n_graham i woke up to 15,000 people trying to follow me

jorjasmith_ lando's fans are literally fbi agents ⤷ y/n_graham i'm making so many backup files of my music projects because i'm scared someone will hack into my laptop now

♡ liked by 238,273 others

f1wags Y/N Graham, daughter of Canadian rapper Drake, was photographed by a fan outside the venue in Greece where Lando Norris, her rumoured boyfriend, was playing this weekend. None of the two have confirmed nor deniend the relationship allegations that have been going around for a few months now. An inside source, which attended the party, revealed how the two behaved very intimate with each other.

view all 5,394 comments

user12 girl it's been nearly four months since the rumours started... can one of them just please either confirm or deny them?

user13 at this point i'm just over the whole drama. let them have their privacy i guess

user14 this drama is juicier than when the whole oscar-alpine-mclaren fiasco happened

user15 i'm this close to ripping my hair out why is this rumour been going on for AGES i just want a simple statement already

♡ liked by y/n_graham, champagnepapi, danielricciardo and 374,947 others

tagged: y/n_graham, champagnepapi

lando.jpg bonding family time, got to support the father in law ;)

view all 9,294 comments

user16 EXCUSE ME WDYM FATHER IN LAW? is this a joke or real ⤷ y/n_graham we're not married, don't worry ⤷ user17 OMG Y/N MADE HER ACCOUNT PUBLIC JUST NOW

champagnepapi i like the sound of "father in law" ⤷ lando.jpeg i know you would ⤷ y/n_graham no no no

user18 okay from what i've gathered drake and lando are on good terms ⤷ user19 bet that's why drake sponsored mclaren lmao ⤷ y/n_graham no but deadass

user20 y/n fighting for her life in the comments lmaoooo ⤷ y/n_graham in the trenches

[etherealising]

flew like a moth to you

read part one here

pairing: richie jerimovich x fem!reader

summary: thoughts of a certain infuriating older man seem to keep racing through your mind and as the two of you continue crossing paths, you’re bound to be drawn to the flame you ignite in one another.

warning (s): implied age gap | language | angst | verbal arguments | smut | titty suckin | dry humping | p in v | unprotected sex | foreplay | dad bod richie | vaginal fingering | cunnilingus | blowjob | oral sex | penetration | richie’s pull out game is immaculate | edited to the best of my ability |

wc: 16k (i’m sorry y’all i just wanna be their third real bad)

The summer breeze drifted through your open bedroom window as you sat on your bed while Xiomara rooted through your closet looking for something to wear for her date the following night. You weren’t sure what was so special about your closet considering you knew Xio’s taste in clothing was more expensive than yours but the both of you treated each other’s apartment like a thrift store whenever you visited.

You scrolled through the calendar on your laptop organizing the upcoming tutoring dates for the next few weeks making sure they didn’t interfere with the days you were working with the summer reading program at the library. You were beyond grateful you didn’t have to sign up for a session of summer school this year, even though you were still doing academic-centric jobs it felt nice to do something you enjoyed without being trapped inside a classroom.

Summer break was treating you exceptionally well even after it only being a few weeks. You’d been recruited by a family friend of one of your students to help tutor their middle school-aged child, and while they could be a pain in the ass at times, the pay was too good to pass up, pair that with the summer reading program through the local libraries you were working at and you were set until the next school year began. Although you were working you still had time to yourself, finally not too tired to miss a night out, even falling back in love with your hobbies because you weren’t dead on your feet from chasing around sticky six-year-olds.

“Ohh wow, this is actually so cute I love the fit of it. Did you thrift it?” Xio’s words drew your attention, your eyes still focused on the digital screen before you finally looked up to see what she was talking about.

You frowned trying to ignore the irritation that crawled through you at the sight of the suit jacket hanging off of Xio’s shoulders. “No, it’s uh not mine.”

Xio’s eyes lit up at the crumbs you’d given her in just those five words, a large grin lined her lips as she slipped out of the jacket holding it up to the light streaming through the room to examine it. “Girl who’s fucking jacket is this? And why the fuck does it smell like a forest?”

A chuckle left your lips eyes rolling as you shut down your laptop before setting it on your nightstand and folded your legs to your chest doing your best to keep a neutral expression. “Just some guy I met.” You shrugged your shoulders hoping you sounded nonchalant.

“Mhm,” Xio’s hum was punctuated by her throwing the jacket at you. “Was it that guy you went on a date with? The boring finance guy?” Her eyebrows raised as she looked at you in question, she had that smile on her face like she already knew the truth.

You played with the sleeve of the jacket, finger tracing around the cuff link. “Okay, so there was another guy.” You bit your lip to hide your smile as Xio squealed before bouncing onto your bed, her hands clapping in excitement.

“When was this?” You didn’t even get a chance to respond before a dramatic gasp ripped through her. The sound seemed to fill up the whole room. “You sneaky girl you got wined and dined by finance bro and then ended your night with mystery jacket guy?” You weren’t sure how she did it but it was like Xio knew things without having to be told it was a superpower of hers.

“I wouldn’t call it wining and dining if I paid for my meal.” The two of you scoffed in disgust at the same time before divulging into a fit of laughter, you’d completely forgotten the way you left out the moment you shared with Richie when you first debriefed your friends on the date.

Maybe it was selfish but you had a strong urge to keep what happened between you and Richie to yourself, sure that another opportunity like that wouldn’t present itself again, not that you even wanted it to. The following school week he hadn’t dropped off or picked up Eva and instead of taking it as a personal slight against you, you took it as a sign from the universe that whatever happened between the two of you was just an outcome of the passion brought on by your arguing, a moment of lust filled weakness.

Xiomara laid on her stomach propping her head in her hands as she looked up at you, “So, any reason you haven’t returned his jacket?”

You shrugged looking down at the fabric in your hands before standing to hang it back up, “I chickened out.” It wasn’t a lie you had every intention to stop by the restaurant and drop it off but every time you worked up even the littlest bit of courage you always talked yourself out of it. “And I don’t even think he cares about it.”

“You are so full of shit!” You didn’t have to turn around to see Xio’s eyes rolling or the knowing look she often wore. “You like him!”

The scoff you let out wasn’t even believable to your ears as you exited the room, Xio’s feet eagerly padding behind you as she caught up before plopping down on the stool at your island while you grabbed the takeout menus from your kitchen drawer and tossed them onto the island.

“Absolutely not, if anything I tolerated him. He’s actually fucking insufferable.” You eyed the menus trying not to catch Xio’s eye.

“Oh, so you knew him prior to that night then?” If you thought Richie was insufferable Xio was being even more insufferable as she gave you the third degree in your apartment. You couldn’t be upset though, you knew you’d be doing the same thing if the roles were reversed.

You were just glad that the whole friend group wasn’t here to gang up on you. You hesitated before speaking, pondering the best way to go about the situation, not particularly in the mood to hear the wild fantasies Xio would come up with. “He’s the father of a student I had this year.”

Xiomara’s scream of excitement was exactly last thing you wanted to hear at that moment as she shot out of her chair and ran around the island to jump up and down in excitement with you, your energy far from matching hers. “Wait till everyone hears you bagged a dilf! They’re gonna fre-,”

“What? Xio, no!” You placed your hands atop her shoulders, halting her excitement before it could get too out of hand. Eyes watching as she folded in on herself lips turning into a full-on pout, “I didn’t bag anybody, I almost fucked him in a parking lot and I haven’t seen him since, that’s it, end of story. Now can we please choose what to order?”

It was beneath you but you gave her the puppy dog eyes, feeling victorious as you watched her completely deflate before nodding and pulling you into a hug, “A parking lot?” She looked at you with mirth in her eyes before you swatted her on the arm with the takeout menus.

The two of you divulged into less Richie-centric conversation, your mind sometimes wandering to the mystery man. Did he think of you as much as you thought about him?

You knew the universe could be cruel, but at this point, you felt like whatever higher power was in control of the timeline of your life found joy in putting you in the most awkward and unexpected positions you could imagine. Case in point being the small blonde child soundly asleep in the backseat of your car, as you stared up at the daunting building facade of a restaurant you had zero intentions of ever visiting again.

You could have easily said no, apologized to Ms. Gattina over the phone, and let her know it wasn’t your job to shuttle kids to and fro once your shift with the library reading program finished for the day, that once the clock struck 2 p.m. the children in the reading program were no longer your responsibility. But then you found Eva sitting all alone at the library help desk long after all the other kids were picked up sitting and listening as the librarian spoke to her mother over the phone to explain the situation and while you wanted to help in any way, you’re not sure what made you agree to dropping off the forgotten child with her father.

A feeling of unease rose inside you the longer you sat there. While you knew you were putting yourself in an awkward position by involving yourself in the middle of a familial dispute, hearing Ms. Gattina’s stressed pleas as she divulged probably more than you deserved to know about the stress she felt with the possibility of Eva being left alone along with said stress brought on by her ex-husband, you found yourself agreeing to her request out of some misplaced feeling of guilt.

And now all you had left to do was drop Eva off with her father, hope that he was aware his ex-wife enlisted your help, and be on your merry way and hope this doesn’t become routine. Sighing one last time you gathered your belongings along with Eva’s bag full of goodies given out before stepping out of the car and hurrying around to the back seat to get the still-sleeping child.

“Eva, sweetie,” your voice was quiet as you gently shook her shoulder trying to wake her. “I need you to wake up.” You stopped as the little girl let out a quiet whine obviously not ready to be roused from her sleep, another sigh left you as you carefully undid her seatbelt and reached in to lift her out of the car hefting her onto your hip and checking the back seat for anything she may have left behind before closing the door and locking your car as you headed to the entrance.

You were surprised at how easily the door swung open, positive it would be locked considering the restaurant wasn’t open to business at this time but you gave it little thought as you stepped into the air-conditioned establishment. It was odd seeing the restaurant like this, quiet not filled with the hustle and bustle of nightlife, the ambiance much more different than the one you experienced when being a paying customer. It was an eerie feeling but it also wasn’t the reason you were there.

The small voice emanating from your neck made you jump, eyes shooting down to Eva’s bleary blues as your eyebrows raised in confusion unsure of what she said. You watched as her small hand lifted, tiny finger pointing in the direction of the kitchen before she spoke once more.

“S’uncle Carmy.” Your eyes moved from the tip of her small finger to look through the small sliver of window that offered a peek into the kitchen, surprised to find a group of people all talking over each other, you weren’t sure how you hadn’t heard the raised voices before but as you continued staring the ongoing argument was made more obvious.

The one person you needed to notice you was nowhere to be found and you couldn’t help the sense of worry that filled you, because if Eva’s father wasn’t here what the hell were you supposed to do with her? Hopefully whoever the hell Uncle Carmy was could take her off your hands, before you could even think about your next course of action you locked eyes with one of the women standing in the group, her own eyes dropping to the child in your arms in recognition.

You breathed a sigh of relief as she excused herself from the conversation, not that anyone paid her words much attention as she moved out of the kitchen and began making her way to you.

“Hi, sorry to just show up but Ms. Gattina asked me to drop Eva off with her father. I messaged him but he didn’t respond.” You gave the woman a forced smile trying not to stare at her heavily swollen belly before realizing she deserved a more thorough explanation. “I was Eva’s second-grade teacher this past school year and I work with the summer reading program through one of the libraries and Eva’s…” You trailed off as the woman raised her eyebrows in amusement at the frantic way you were speaking.

The woman sent you a gentle smile before moving closer, “It's okay, Tiff told me to be on the lookout for you two.” Her hand raised as she gently caressed Eva’s head causing the little girl’s head to poke out from its place resting in your neck, her eyes brightened as much as they could in her tired state as she smiled at the woman in front of you. “Just a bit of friendly advice Richie’s back there on the phone with her now and he did not sound happy.”

You gave a nod of appreciation her underlying tone telling you it was best to get the hell out of dodge, you sent her one last smile before craning your neck to look down at Eva, “Alright sweetie I’m gonna leave you here with…” you trailed off unsure who this woman was to the young girl.

“Aunt Nat…by association at least.” Your eyebrows raised at her words, the sound of them not providing you with any more confidence to leave Eva in her care.

But before either of you could speak another word his tall figure emerged in your peripheral vision, the glare he was sending your way not what you expected. You watched as his expression changed when his gaze dropped to the small girl in your arms, it was almost instantaneous the way his eyes lit up mouth settling into a gentle smile as his hand reached to softly rub up and down her back, his hand bumping into yours before he carefully extracted her from your arms.

“Hey, little monster.” His voice rang through your ears as Eva let out a small giggle before throwing her arms around his neck, the two of them squeezing each other las though their lives depended on it. You tore your eyes away from them as he began whispering to her eyes finding the only other person in the room only to find her already looking at you curiously as you offered a small smile. “Nat could you uh, take Eva for a bit the two of us need to speak.” His words were punctuated by his hand gesturing between you and him.

The woman you now knew to be Nat stood there for a moment before nodding her head as Richie set Eva down so she could walk. You let out a small laugh as Eva moved to wrap her arms around your legs in a goodbye hug before you squatted to her level passing off her goody bag, the small child wrapped her arms around your neck in one last goodbye hug before moving to follow her aunt. “C’mon Eva, why don’t you show me all your goodies in the office.” Nat sent you one last smile before spiriting the two of them away.

You stood to your full height next to Richie both of you watching as they disappeared through the kitchen before the older man rounded on you, hand shooting out with lighting speed as he gripped your bicep and pulled you further from any prying ears in the kitchen finding a perfectly good corner to berate you in.

“Who in the fuck do you think you are?” Richie’s lips curled into a sneer as he looked at you awaiting your answer, the anger he felt translating his iron grip on your bicep.

Frowning, you shook your head confused as to why you were the object of his ire before he spoke over any words you’d thought about spewing. “Waltzing in like some fucking hero carrying my daughter and shit like you just did me the biggest favor in the world.”

Your anger was beginning to peak at the hostile attitude you were receiving, the confusion quickly replaced by how irate you were beginning to feel as your hand came up to shove his arm off of you watching in satisfaction at the look of surprise with how much force was behind it.

“I don’t know what the fuck your problem is Mr. Jerimovich, but you’re not going to stand here and berate me like I deserve it.” Your brows pinched in irritation as you took a step closer into his space, the man's huffs of breath hitting your face. “And for the record, I didn’t do this for you, because while Eva may have been happy to see you a moment ago, you don’t know how distraught she was sitting all alone at the library thinking you’d forgotten about her.” It wasn’t necessary but your last few words were followed by your fingers poking harshly into his chest as you tried to get your point across.

Richie clenched his jaw as your words rang in his ears as he took that last step closer to you closing whatever distance was left between the two of you, your chest brushing against his every time you breathed. “Don’t you ever fucking speak on me as a parent ever again? You fucking hear me?”

The timbre of his voice dropped exceptionally low, his words having taken on a warning tone as they ghosted across your lips. The anger he was stewing in basically emanated off of him, you knew you should have taken his warning, should’ve nodded your head and been on your way and washed your hands of the whole situation but against your better judgment, you just had to have the last words.

“Maybe next time, don’t put the responsibility of parenting your child on me.” You should’ve expected the blow-up, it was written all over his face the moment he saw you upon exiting the kitchen, but for some odd reason when it came to him you just weren’t satisfied until he looked like he hated you.

You let out the breath you’d been holding as he turned to walk away from you, only to be surprised when he spun back around just as fast, finger-pointing in your face as he backed you further into the corner.

“Fuck you!” His voice boomed across the restaurant, your eyebrows raised at just how loud he was, eyes darting behind his imposing figure as you hoped his outburst wasn’t loud enough to draw attention. “You think you’re so much fucking better than me huh? Well, guess what sweetheart, if I’m such a shitty fucking parent what does that make you then huh? Letting me spread you out in pub-.”

His words cut off as you placed your hand on his chest before shoving him back remembering that regardless of how he felt about you, you didn’t have to sit there and take it not getting much further as he quickly moved around you to stand right back in front of you, “No, I’m not fucking done with you.”

“You think because you put on a suit and tie it makes you important?” You paused waiting for him to digest the words, watching on as the anger that once marred his face gave way to confusion. “You’re a 40-year-old fucking nobody.” You watched the hurt flash across his face, a sick feeling of satisfaction coursed through you at just how much you could hurt him with just your words as you tried to ignore the small inkling of guilt you could feel rolling around inside.

Richie’s jaw clenched and unclenched several times, you followed the movement, eyes lingering longer than necessary at the peak of his Adam’s apple over the collar of his shirt before watching as he opened his mouth to speak only for you to beat him to it.

“Tell me this Richie, are you the type of man you would want Eva surrounding herself with?” The question wasn’t meant to rile him up anymore, it was a genuine question you thought he deserved to sit with. And as you stepped around him you tried not to let the embarrassment take over you at the sight of the audience that had since gathered listening to your spat.

Only offering them a small apologetic smile followed by a nod of your head as you took your leave, vowing that you wouldn’t ever give Richie another moment of your time willingly.

Richie did his best to listen intently as the woman across from him spoke passionately about her accounting job, his fingers absentmindedly tracing the circle of condensation that dripped off his glass of water. Dating was still weird to him, the idea that he was no longer loyal to the one person he planned on spending the rest of his life with would sometimes creep up on him when he least expected it, reminding him of how much of a failure he was in this life after already spending four decades on this earth.

The woman across from him wasn’t boring by any means, she was a great conversationalist and while her topic of conversation wasn’t anything to write home about, he appreciated the obvious love she had for her work. Since he decided to move forward with his life Richie’s dating history was mediocre at best, dates were few and far between and that was mostly due to his lack of trying and busy schedule with the restaurant, but on the nights that he did secure a date he was at least somewhat interested in it never felt like that interest was returned; as though he’d never met the level of expectations his dates held him to.

Familiar laughter made Richie sit up straighter in his chair, the restaurant wasn’t particularly quiet in any way but the fact that his ears latched onto that specific noise forced him to pay better attention to his surroundings. Richie’s eyes quickly found the source that caused the ringing in his ears; his hand unconsciously moved to adjust his tie and suit jacket as though doing so would catch the culprit's attention.

There you were tucked into one of the few darkened corner booths in the establishment, eyes locked on the person whose arm you were tucked under, whatever they were whispering in your ear was funny enough to deserve your laughter. Richie found himself watching you, unsure as to why he felt as though he couldn’t look away, the two of you weren’t on good terms by any means but for some reason he always found himself drawn back to you no matter how much you and your attitude pissed him off. He wasn’t even sure how he knew it was your laughter having only heard it a handful of times and never because of him, but it wasn’t like he could just un-notice you no matter how upset your words and observations from weeks ago made him.

If Richie was sure about anything in his life at the moment it was that you were avoiding him, or maybe it was the other way around. Whatever the case was neither of you had contact with the other since you both spewed such scathing words to each other at The Bear, whenever it was his day to pick up Eva from the reading program it was like you were nowhere to be found even though he knew Eva preferred being by your side while she waited. Richie hadn’t realized just how much the whole ordeal frustrated him until hearing Eva make a passing comment about how she thought Frank was funny because you thought he was funny. His frustrations seemed to reach such a point that Syd even brought the argument up to him doing prep one day helping him to see the error of his ways in taking his frustration out on you when you were only doing what his ex-wife asked of you and putting Eva’s safety first when you could’ve easily left his daughter all alone because of his mistake.

He was pulled from his train of thought by his date across from him, the furrow of her brows had him rushing to assure her that he wasn’t ignoring her, using some excuse about how life at The Bear made him scatterbrained and while it definitely wasn’t the reason his mind wandered, with all the new shit Carmy was implementing it also wasn’t a lie. And that’s how the rest of his date went making idle conversation with a woman he was almost positive wasn’t interested in a second date with him as he let his eyes subtly drift to your corner every so often trying to ignore the way watching you radiate in your happiness made him feel a bit better about the whole night. Although seeing you tucked so snuggly into that corner against a man that wasn’t him made him envious.

Richie would be lying if he said he wasn’t relieved when his night ended and even more so relieved at the amicable decision to not take whatever this was or could’ve been any further. But he was less than relieved to find you standing on the sidewalk waving off who he assumed to be your date for the night as you stood all on your lonesome, no ride in sight. He tried to tell himself it was none of his business, that it wasn’t his responsibility that you made it home safe, but he also couldn’t allow himself to return to the safety of his own home only to wonder if you’d ever made it home at all. Maybe offering you a ride could extend an olive branch, he could even offer up the apology you deserved during the drive. But more than that, any chance you got you put the care and safety of his daughter first, he told himself it was only right to return the favor.

One of his hands reached to loosen his tie before he forced himself to put his pride aside and take the few steps he needed to get to you. Unsure of how to breach the topic of conversation he gave himself a few minutes watching as you scrolled absentmindedly on your phone, his irritation not only growing at the fact that you were left here alone but also the fact you weren’t paying attention to your surroundings.

Richie cleared his throat before speaking, “Did they just leave you here with no way home?” It was a straightforward question and maybe he should have approached you differently as he watched you jump and clasp your phone in surprise at the sound of his voice.

The silence lingered between the two of you as Richie watched your eyes land on him in recognition, your eyes ran over his attire before looking from him to the restaurant. He took the time to let his own eyes roam trying to ignore the way your chest rose and fell as you tried to calm down from the fright before his eyes moved further down your figure, silently and respectfully drinking in the way the fabric of your outfit hugged your figure.

Richie tugged at his tie as he awaited your answer, eyes latching onto the bare skin of your shoulder where the strap of your outfit had fallen from when he scared you. He cleared his throat before looking into your eyes once more.

The noise seemed to rouse you from your stupor as you blinked away your surprise before opening and closing your mouth until you landed on the best response. “Why? Gonna critique my choice of date again?”

Richie bit his tongue ready to do exactly that, he decided to forego the eye roll and scoff he felt was necessary before stuffing his hands in the pockets of his slacks rocking back and forth where he stood trying to decide if it was even worth offering you a ride with how comfortable you seemed to just stand there waiting.

“How was your date?” The curiosity was obvious in your voice but Richie didn’t allow himself to think anything of it as he raised his eyebrows in your direction.

A chuckle escaped him as he watched you look anywhere but his eyes, maybe this was your way of trying to keep the conversation cordial and make up for your snarky question. “What makes you think it was a date?”

“I…walked past your table when I got here.” He followed the motion of your head as you nodded to the restaurant, your eyes falling to his dress shoes afterward. “Seemed like you were having a good time.”

Richie shrugged his shoulder kicking a small pebble on the sidewalk, “Not as good as you and your date seemed to have.” He knew it wasn’t the answer you were expecting as he watched your eyebrows raise as you finally looked at him, but he hoped his curiosity would pay off.

As another silence settled between the two of you, Richie was sure that was his sign to leave. While the two of you could engage in conversations that lacked substance, maybe it was best not to push this moment between the two of you into hostile territory and just cut his losses when he could.

The sound of your voice made Richie’s brows raise as he listened to the timber of your voice dance through his eardrums. “What makes you think it was a date?” The slight uptick of the right side of your mouth had Richie biting back a smile of his own, a smile that he wasn’t interested in giving a second thought at that moment.

“The two of you seemed real chummy in that dimly lit corner. But you’re here and he isn’t so I’m not sure what to think anymore.” Richie wasn’t sure what forced the words out of him, but he couldn’t deny the enjoyment these less-than hostile borderline flirty moments between the two of you brought him.

His eyes tracked the way you began chewing on your bottom lip, a part of him hoped you were just as confused as him in the feelings department. “Now, what kind of person would I be if I made him choose between me and the surgery he was called into?”

A fucking surgeon of course. Richie couldn’t help but let his mind drift to your words in the restaurant about how he was four decades into life with nothing to show for it. The ice-cold claws of reality sank further into him as he stared at the small smirk that painted your lips clueless to the inner turmoil raging through him.

Richie shrugged, settling back into the cocky facade he always wore, “Seems to me like he didn’t make the right choice.”

The surprised laughter that forced its way out of your lips caused a genuine smile to grace Richie’s lips while he stood only feet from you watching you indulge in his stupid words as Chicago’s nightlife painted you in a cacophony of colorful light imprinting a most memorable image of your joy into his mind.

There were two options for Richie at that moment, end the conversation with you here and be on his merry way. Or he could offer you the ride he’d planned upon first walking over here and make sure you made it home safely; he decided on doing the latter.

Richie eyed you for a moment longer hyping himself up as his eyes landed on the naked skin of your shoulder one more time. His long legs closed the distance between the two of you before he reached his hand out, fingers tracing up your skin as he adjusted the strap in its rightful place, the appendages lingering longer than needed before he dropped his hand back to his side.

“You uh…want a ride home?”

Silence wasn’t ever something that bothered you much, sometimes it was just nice to appreciate the moment without a bit of sound passing, but sitting in Richie Jerimovich’s car with nothing but the quiet sound of the radio station to fill the void of silence as he drove to your apartment bothered you more than you’d liked to admit.

And if the awkward car ride wasn’t enough here the two of you stood just outside your apartment door as you searched through your clutch for your keys. You couldn’t be sure what compelled you to invite him up or what even compelled him to accept the invitation but it felt too late to rescind the offer as you slipped your key into the lock, standing in the quiet hallway as the door knob gave way before moving to the next lock.

You could feel the heat of him against your back as you worked the lock, trying to ignore the involuntary goosebumps rising on your skin rushing to push through to your apartment before turning to him with a tight smile and gesturing him inside. You watched as he hesitated, probably as apprehensive as you considering your track record with each other before he stepped over the threshold into your abode allowing you to close and lock the door.

A quiet deep breath filled your lungs as you hyped yourself up for what you were about to do. In the short amount of time you’d known him, Richie Jerimovich was a consistent pain in your ass but you also couldn’t deny the sensual touches and hungry kisses the two of you shared in the parking lot all those nights ago, or the way you oftentimes found yourself thinking about the older man. And if you were being honest with yourself, you felt guilty for the scathing words you left him with when dropping Eva off.

Turning from the door your eyes landed on the back of his suit jacket watching as he stood in your living room with a framed picture in his hand. It wasn’t surprising that he would look around your home, but the sight of him in your space didn’t make you as uncomfortable as you first thought it would.

“Can I get you anything to drink?” You leaned against the island to take off your shoes as you let your question linger in the air, looking up to already find him staring at you, hands clutching the picture frame.

He cleared his throat before turning to place the frame back where he found it, “Just a water…please.”

You nodded, moving to the sink and washing your hands before grabbing two glasses out of the cabinet and filling them up with the filtered water from the fridge. You turned to find Richie standing opposite you on the other side of the island as you held out the glass to him ignoring the way his fingers brushed yours as he took hold of the glass.

“Thank you for driving me home tonight.” you paused as he shrugged off your words like they were no big deal. “I really appreciate it.”

This whole ordeal felt awkward, him sitting here in your home, the two of you playing at being cordial or whatever the hell this was, especially considering the few words he’d spoken since stepping in were curt with no room to continue the conversation.

“Don’t mention it,” he raised the glass of water to his lips taking a sip. “Should probably drive yourself if you plan on going on any more dates.”

You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your lips as you chuckled, knuckles drumming against the counter as Richie’s words of warning rang through your ear, an obvious shot at the fact he’d found you alone outside the restaurant waiting for the car that was sent for you.

“Why? You not gonna be there next time to take me home?” You raised your eyebrows letting him know his words weren’t as subtle as he might have thought they were.

“I dunno, you gonna invite me in if I do?” Richie’s lips pulled into a smirk as he watched the visible surprise encapsulate your face at the fact he was willingly bantering with you after all of the harsh words previously shared between the two of you.

Snatching the glass out of his hand you turned to refill his half-empty cup needing a moment to compose yourself before you allowed your interest in him to get the best of you and make a mistake you’d be sure to regret. Reminding yourself of the initial reason you invited him up with you, and it wasn’t for the two of you to go tit for tat with flirty words.

“I…uh,” you cleared your throat as you spun around to hand him the glass back. “I want to apologize for what I said to you…about you all those weeks ago.”

You watched as his lips settled into a grim line, eyes falling to your hands that sat between the two of you flat against the surface of the island. “It wasn’t fair of me to call your parenting into question. It’s really none of my business-”

“No uh, you were right,” you stopped mid-sentence as Richie’s voice interrupted you, confusion marred your features as he spoke once again. “I fuckin’ forgot about her.” The admission seemed to weigh heavy on him as you watched Richie sink in on himself, his shoulders losing the tenseness they usually held as he moved to sit on the stool at his side plopping down on it unceremoniously.

“That night she uh…Eva just started crying about how scared she was, how she thought she wouldn’t see me again. And it sounds ridiculous as I say it, but she’s a fuckin’ kid ya know everything is the end of the world to her.”

You didn’t interrupt him, allowing the man to speak about a situation that took up a lot of space in his mind. It wasn’t your place to listen and comfort the man across from you, but the two of you were already so messily entangled with each other that you couldn’t bring yourself to stop his venting.

“You uh…you didn’t deserve all that shit I gave you at the restaurant, I was just blaming you for my fuck up, using you as a fuckin’ punching bag. So I uh…I want to apologize 'cause I was being a fuckin’ jagoff disrepectin’ you and shit by bringing up the parking lot.” He’d finally looked up at you, his cheeks tinged pink in embarrassment looking as though he’d just been scolded for his transgressions against you.

“I’m sorry for speakin’ to you like that, it wasn’t right and you didn’t deserve it.” The intensity of his gaze froze you in your spot as he bestowed you with a proper apology. “And thank you for looking out for Eva the way you do.”

You nodded, sending him a tight smile as you let his words soak in appreciating the fact that he was aware of just how uncouth trying to shame you about the moment you shared with him in the parking lot was. If you were a worse person you would’ve allowed him to take the brunt of the blame, and as much as you hated admitting you were at fault for something, the least you could do was match his vulnerability with a sincere apology of your own.

“Thank you Mr. Jerimo-,” you paused as his index finger gently tapped the center of your palm, eyes landing on yours as he shook his head with a slight frown, the understanding washed over you immediately. “Richie…thank you for apologizing. But you should know that I only said those things out of anger, and I know that’s no excuse…I just lashed out intending to hurt you. And I’m sorry for using your insecurities against you.”

It felt immature as the words left your lips, finally speaking aloud your reasoning for even insinuating that he was a bad parent. And maybe it was just wishful thinking but it felt as though the two of you understood each other just a bit more, not that the conversation was deep enough for anything of the sort but through all your run-ins with him you’d gathered that he didn’t respond well to his parenting being called into question.

Your eyes fell to your palm where the pad of his finger remained, the lightest bit of pressure still there. The organ in your chest picked up speed as you watched the appendage slowly begin moving further across your palm skating closer and closer to your pulse point all you could do was watch, the feeling of yearning you felt just a few short months ago returning more intensely than the last time.

“Eva has a bracelet similar to this.” His whisper was accompanied by his thumb swiping across the skin of your wrist just under the material of the bracelet. You felt frozen as his eyes looked up to meet yours, thumb grazing back and forth as he waited for an answer.

You gave a slight nod trying to ignore how touch-starved you felt, the calloused pad of his thumb provided you with such a small comfort you weren’t aware you were yearning for. “I know,” your eyes bounced between his eyes. “It was the last day of school activity I did with the kids.”

Richie’s thumb caressed the vein on your wrist once more, a gentle back-and-forth guiding motion. You watched as a tiny grin curved the side of his mouth, and his eyes fell back to the accessory snuggly wrapped around your wrist.

He thought it was cute the way you wore something you made with your students long after they moved on from you. His heart warming at the thought of Eva being taught by someone as thoughtful and as kind as you, well at least when it comes to children. A stray thought raced through his mind wondering if life would ever offer him the chance of surrounding himself with someone like you. As his thumb continued to absentmindedly trace back and forth across your pulse point he came to the harrowing realization that what he longed for wasn’t someone like you; it was you.

You watched in real-time as the small smile dropped from Richie’s lips and his thumb stilled on your wrist before snatching his arm away as though he’d been burned. Your eyebrows creased in confusion at the visceral reaction making you question if you did something to unknowingly cause it.

Richie’s tall figure rising from the barstool guided your eyes, “Thanks for the water, but I should head out.” His words sent a wave of dismay through you as you quickly schooled your features, nodding along to his words as you tried to put on a neutral front watching as he walked around the island towards the front door.

You followed after him, mind straying to the article of clothing that hung in your closet. He hadn’t asked for it back but you intended to return it to him all this time and the longer you stood there thinking about it the harder it felt to willingly part with the jacket. Was it weird of you to want to keep it for just a little longer? The thought left as easily as it came when Richie began unlocking your door and another more pressing matter came to the forefront of your mind.

“Richie,” his slender form turned around faster than you expected and you looked into his eyes unsure of how to word your next sentence, the fleeting idea of asking him to stay crossed your mind before you wrangled your thoughts and settled back on your initial inquisition. “I uh know it’s been a few months but I just wanted to make sure…no one knows about that night, right?”

You felt vulnerable under his stare as you watched his eyes flash in recognition slowly roving over your figure, drinking you in like you were the last bit of water on earth before he cleared his throat looking into your eyes once more, a slight dusting of pink atop his cheeks. You held his gaze trying to ignore the tension-filled air as you were more than positive both of you were silently remembering the short-lived affair of that night.

A quiet intake of breath filled the living area of your apartment as you allowed Richie to close the distance between the two of you, his fingers slowly reaching out entangling with yours, the two of you enraptured by the other’s stare. A moment of silence passed between the two of you before his unoccupied hand hesitantly reached up nimble digits softly ghosting the side of your neck, eyebrows raising in question as you offered him a small nod of approval before his hand came to gently grip your neck, his gaze never once leaving yours.

“I told you that night nothing was gonna happen didn’t I?” The way the rough pad of his thumb stroked back and forth against the side of your neck had your eyes fluttering shut as you leaned further into his body head slowly nodding along to his words. “No one saw us. I promised you that…and I wasn’t gonna let anything happen to you even if someone did.”

Your eyes fluttered open as you felt the breath of his sentence against your lips. The hand entangled with your fingers slowly traced a path up your arm guiding over the bracelet on your wrist and ghosting over your pulse point before settling on your tricep, his thumb massaged gentle circles into the muscle in tandem with his other thumb moving from caressing the side of your neck to your jawline.

The two of you easily could’ve stayed in that position all night just basking in each other’s gaze, the both of you teetering dangerously on the edge of this will they won’t they game you both seemed adamant to indulge in. You found yourself standing in his embrace imagining what things would be like between the two of you if that night went further than it did, maybe you wouldn’t be standing here in your apartment wishing that one of you was brave enough to make the next move and send the two of you spiraling into whatever kept drawing you back to the other.

It was almost imperceptible and if it wasn’t for his nose gently bumping against yours as he breathed you wouldn’t have realized he leaned in. You wanted more than a lean in, you wanted to feel his kiss against your lips, to allow his work-weathered hands to map out your body. But as you searched his eyes you realized his uncertainty matched yours, you could meet him halfway easily and maybe that’s all you needed to do. To let Richie know you were just as unsure as he was, but you were willing to test the waters as long as he was.

A moment of hesitation passed before your eyes fluttered shut once more as an insurmountable amount of want swelled in you as you allowed yourself to take what you wanted, what was willfully being offered to you. Your free hand reached up to press into Richie’s chest just before you leaned in softly slotting your lips against his, pressing a gentle apprehensive kiss onto his lips appreciating the way his hand just under your jaw gave a slight squeeze when you moved to pull away, carefully keeping you in place increasing the tenderness of the kiss, the hairs of his mustache tickling the tip of your nose.

Pushing off his chest caused your lips to slowly detach from his, your eyes not daring to open as his forehead pressed into yours, lips ghosting together with each breath you shared. You could feel his hand flexing against your neck, your hand burning as you felt his heartbeat against it. A gasp escaped your lips as his hand left your bicep to grip the other side of your neck tilting your head back just slightly, your eyes shot open to quietly watch as one of his thumbs glided across the seam of your lips with a sense of awe.

Richie’s pupil seemed to swallow the blue of his irises as you looked into his eyes watching in wait as his eyes darted around your face cataloging whatever features he could get his eyes on before finding yours once more. On instinct your hand that wasn’t on his chest moved to grip his left wrist, fingers delicately tracing the veins on his hand before subtly turning your face into his wrist and placing a lingering kiss to his pulse point relishing in the quiet groan that rumbled through his chest.

Having Richie in your apartment like this was dangerous, but as the shrill ringtone of an incoming call rang through your apartment you couldn’t help but feel disappointed that another moment with the man was interrupted, maybe for the best. You weren’t sure if the deep breath he let loose was in disappointment or relief as the heat of his forehead moved from yours followed by the roughness of his palms and he stepped out of your space before reaching into his pocket to pull out his phone.

“Hey little monster what’s going on?” You watched Richie’s back as he spoke into the phone shame filling you at the thought of telling him not to answer when the phone initially rang now that you knew it was Eva on the other line.

You tried to calm your racing heart hoping it wasn’t visibly obvious just how much the man affected you in such little time. You weren’t sure what to do with yourself having never felt awkward and out of place in your apartment before, knowing that you looked ridiculous just standing where the older man left you as you tuned out his conversation, instead moving to the frame he picked up earlier and adjusting it to its rightful place so you at least didn’t look like you were just waiting for him to finish his conversation.

The clearing of Richie’s throat from where you left him had you spinning around to face him trying to keep your eyes locked on his face even though seeing him stand there with his tie loosened and hands in his slacks made your mind race with dozens of scenarios.

“I should be getting home.” Richie’s rough voice reached your ears and the earlier disappointment returned tenfold.

You nodded, sending a forced understanding smile his way, moving to once again close the distance between you two only stopping just before you invaded his personal space folding your hands in front of yourself and trying to appear as unaffected as possible. “Thank you for the ride, I'll uh pay you back.”

“You think I helped you today 'cause I wanted somethin’ from you?” His voice dropped an octave as he straightened up eyes moving all across your face as he awaited your response.

You hesitantly shook your head at his words unsure if you could string a coherent sentence together with the way just his look heated you. You stood silent as he took a step forward invading your personal space once more, not that you minded as you allowed his hands to grip your waist lazily holding you in place as though he knew you had zero urge to be rid of him or his touch.

No words were spoken as you allowed his hand to slowly glide from its place on your hip up the curve of your torso biting your lip at the touch before once more finding purchase cupping the underside of your jaw and forcing you to hold his stare.

“I helped you because I wanted to.” His hand slowly began its descent down your neck before skating across the bare skin of your clavicle and landing atop the strap of your dress, fingers gently playing with the fabric. “Don’t think you owe me anything for it okay?”

Richie’s eyebrows raised as several seconds ticked by without a response from you, hand giving a soft squeeze to your shoulder in a bid for you to show him you understood.

“Okay.” Your voice was nothing more than a whisper as you gently nodded enraptured with the trance he seemed to put you in.

“Good,” the timber of his voice was punctuated by his thumb and forefinger slowly pushing the strap of your dress off your shoulder, leaving the skin fully exposed to the cool air of your apartment, his eyes burning into you as he caressed the space your strap once sat. “You should get out of these clothes and get some sleep.”

You stood still as he leaned in to place a soft kiss on your forehead before removing himself and leaning in to brush an opened mouth kiss against the skin of your shoulder. He pulled back before you could even ask for more, you watched as he gave you one more longing look before turning his back to you and taking his leave.

Quiet music drifted through your apartment as you sat in your living room. A relaxing glass of wine sat on the coffee table next to the puzzle you started working on not long after Xiomara left, your nighttime shower and skincare routine having already been knocked out. You usually didn’t stay up this late, but your weekly dinner with Xio ended later than usual as the two of you filled each other in on anything interesting that happened in your lives, including your little back-and-forth with a certain older man.

The sound of knocking drew your attention, you brushed it off as your neighbor. They were always up doing random shit at this time. Another round of knocks led your eyes to your door. You realized there in fact was someone knocking on your door at almost midnight. You were happy to just ignore it as it seemed whoever the culprit was gave up due to the silence but the sound of quiet cursing raised your curiosity so you rose from your position on the floor deciding to check the peephole.

As you gazed through the peephole you were surprised to see Richie’s figure turning to head back down the hallway presumably to the elevator. Confusion swept through you as you tried to think of any reason he would be at your door so late at night only to come up empty. In a split second without much thought, you were undoing the locks on your door before swinging it open.

“Richie?” Your quiet call of his name stopped him in his tracks, eyes burning into his back as you waited for him to face you curious about his presence. “It’s almost midnight, is everything okay?”

You tried to think of any reasons he would be in the hallway leading to your apartment at this time, surprised to see that he even remembered where you lived. He spun on his heel to face you, your eyes darted around his figure to make sure there wasn’t anything physically wrong with him but found he seemed to be unscathed dressed in what you were still getting used to being his usual attire; a dress shirt and tie with slacks sans a jacket.

His lack of speaking was worrying you, and you were sure a few nosy neighbors would quickly poke their heads out if you continued speaking out into the hallway any longer.

“Did you want to…come in?” The confusion was evident in your voice but you felt relieved as he gave a slight nod before making his way back to your door and stepping into your apartment. He walked past you as you closed and locked your door trying to figure out what the next steps were in this situation.

You moved to walk around him, sending a small smile his way as his eyes followed you, “Are you sure you’re okay? Do you need me to call anyone?”

It was like Richie realized just how weird he was being showing up on your doorstep late at night, offering you no words or explanation. Maybe it was the worry in your voice that finally got through to him. “No sorry I uh,” he paused, clearing his throat before settling into the man you were used to interacting with, taking a small step forward into your space. “I wanted to see you.”

The sincerity in his words took you by surprise, and a flurry of emotions swam through you, relief that nothing was seriously wrong with the man followed by a fluttering in your chest at the idea of him randomly showing up on your doorstep just to see you.

“Oh.” The lackluster reply was the best you could do as you tried to reign in the way a simple sentence made you feel.

Richie’s chuckle drew you from the thoughts racing in your mind eyes meeting his as he watched you, almost like he could see your thought process, “You uh look pretty busy though sorry for interruptin’ you.”

You followed as his eyes looked to the coffee table over your shoulder, a smile lining your lips as you turned to look back at him, a false sense of confidence radiating through you. You reached out for one of his hands taking a step forward to close the minuscule distance separating the two of you and gazing into his eyes as your chest brushed against his with every breath.

“Did you want to help?” You couldn’t help the way your eyes trailed from his eyes to his lips then to his Adam’s apple as he swallowed. Your mind envisioned a myriad of sinful ideas about his beard before you cleared your throat to find his gaze once more.

A more serious look settled across his face as his own eyes were preoccupied with something else before he gave a small nod in agreement.

“Yo no! There’s no fuckin’ rules to puzzles.” Richie’s voice boomed through your apartment as he pointed at the puzzle pieces in front of each of you.

Laughter bubbled out of you at how passionate his argument was becoming, you weren’t sure if it was the wine getting to you or if the lack of animosity between the two of you was finally allowing you to relax in Richie’s presence.

The pounding on your kitchen wall made you jump in your seat surprised by the noise but unsurprised by the yelling that followed, “Shut the fuck up over there!”

“Oh fuck you!”

You raised a finger to your lips trying to get Richie to quiet down as you fought to control your laughter, not wanting to wake up with a noise complaint taped to your door. You watched as the frown on Richie’s face smoothed out before a smile grew on his face and his laughter emerged.

A small smile remained on your face as you replied to Richie’s earlier grievance, “Everyone knows you build the border of the puzzle first.” You pointed down to the border you’d barely added to since Richie’s arrival, instead allowing him to regale you with what his night consisted of, surprised to find that he’d been just a floor below you for most of the night with friends and you never would’ve known if he hadn’t decided to visit you.

Richie sucked his teeth before looking at the puzzle pieces you pointed at, shaking his head as though they offended him, “No, you leave the border for last cause it’s the easiest. Brings the whole picture together.”

You didn’t want to admit that his point was valid so you shook your head in disagreement, “Come on, building the border is like building the foundation of the puzzle.” Your hand traced the bit you’d put together so far before motioning to the irregular-shaped pieces. “Then you just keep building it up piece by piece, the fun is in realizing that even if certain pieces don’t fit together everything has its rightful place and once you’ve done all the building you get to see all your work pay off.

The weight of Richie’s gaze felt heavy on you as he allowed your words to sink in, having no initial comeback wasn’t something you were used to. You gave him a small smile the longer he stared at you before fingering through the puzzle pieces and deciding to continue it.

“You always spew weirdly poetic shit at 1 a.m.?” The smile in Richie’s voice was apparent before you even looked up, his lips upturned softly as he stared at your hands idly messing with the pieces on his side of the coffee table.

You shrugged your eyes shooting at his pile of pieces before reaching over to grab a piece that looked like it might fit, “I’m usually not entertaining guests past midnight.”

Richie gave a noncommittal hum of acknowledgment as his focus landed back on the puzzle pieces scattered around the table, the two of you basking in each other's calming presence as you worked to finish the puzzle, quiet words exchanged regarding which pieces fit where.

With a quarter of the puzzle left to complete you found your eyes straying to Richie more often than probably necessary, watching the concentration on his face as he aligned pieces where they fit. It was odd seeing him so calm in your presence considering how rocky your relationship started with him, you didn’t think you’d ever willingly let him into your safe space let alone enjoy having him there.

“How’s that doctor of yours?” Richie’s words pulled you from your study of him.

Confusion marred your features at the tightness of his voice, he showed up on your doorstep at one in the morning and that’s what he was fucking asking you about?

He caught your eye as he looked up eyebrows raised in question, “I can give you his number if you’re that interested in him.”

The loud scoff from across the table made you smile, “What about you? Any luck with the dating apps?”

Richie’s knee knocked against yours and you weren’t sure if it was on purpose or accident, but as you looked up you realized he’d been watching you for some time, “Decided I’m done with all that shit.”

A chill raced down your spine at how sure he sounded, and maybe it was wishful thinking or you were just being full of yourself, but you couldn’t help but think you were the reason for that decision. You cleared your throat unsure of what to say as you let your attention fall back to the puzzle on the table, it was comical the ease with which you could argue with the older man. But these polite flirtatious conversations just felt different, the underlying tension in them felt different and you weren’t sure how to go about dealing with it. The quiet clearing of Richie’s throat and the slight removal of his knee from the space your legs were internally made you cringe. He was expecting a much different reaction from his statement.

Quiet descended upon the two of you once more as you tried to keep your focus on finishing the puzzle, only for your mind to constantly drift with all the things you wanted to admit to Richie in that moment. You remembered clearly the day when he told you all those months ago that you were a constant in his mind and now all you could do was wonder if this is what it felt like for him. The way your mind latched onto him after the parking lot didn’t feel healthy but you couldn’t pretend you didn’t want more of his time, more of his presence even when he pissed you off to no end.

You smiled to yourself at the thought of it all, once more looking up from the puzzle to find Richie so engrossed with the pieces he was putting together. You couldn’t be sure but outside of Eva being around, this felt like the calmest you’d seen him in your presence. The tension in his shoulders seemed almost nonexistent, his face was relaxed and not at all filled with whatever stress the day brought him. It was like a different person was sitting in your living room, no animosity filled the air between the two of you and the longer you let your eyes rove his face the more confident you were that you liked this version of Richie best.

Hesitantly your hand reached across the table before gently landing atop Richie’s, watching as his eyes moved from the puzzle pieces to your hand on his then to your face. You bit your bottom lip before speaking, “If I asked you to stay the night only because I was worried about you getting home safely what would you say to that?”

The thudding of your heart made you sure it was trying to beat out of your chest the longer Richie sat there staring at you without saying anything. A part of you wished you could take it back, it was a lame excuse, but you could never be too sure with the older man and this option seemed to offer less teasing than if you asked him to spend the night with you outright.

“I would say,” His words were followed by his hand turning over so his palm was just under yours, the roughness of his fingertips brushing against your wrist as he held your gaze. “It’d be rude of me to disregard your hospitality, leave you here all alone late at night worried about me. So I’d stay to ease your worries.”

“Good.” A small knowing smile lined your lips before you removed your hand from under his, making sure to grab your empty wine glass and standing.

As you made it to the sink and began washing out the glass, you felt like you were too far out of your depth. Maybe you overestimated whatever false confidence being around Richie gave you, but didn’t you deserve to go after something you wanted? Richie was an adult and you were sure if he had no interest he would’ve left whenever he was ready, hell he wouldn’t have even shown up in the first place. You rinsed out the glass before setting it on the drying mat.

You turned to find Richie sitting on your couch with the book from the side table in his hands. Smiling as you walked towards him stopping to stand in front of him as he looked up at you, the desire to touch him had your hands pushing his legs apart giving you enough space to stand in between them as he leaned back further into the couch manspreading gently placing your book down next to him.

Your hands unconsciously rubbed up and down the fabric over his thighs as you stood as close to him as the couch would allow, your right hand slowly traced up his thigh following the anatomy of his body up his torso before your hand landed on his slightly loosened tie.

“You know for a while, I couldn’t stop thinking about that night…thinking about you,” you paused as your fingers nimbly began to undo his tie. “And then you drove me home last week and for a moment I thought I’d finally be able to have you in the way I wanted.”

The warmth of his hand reaching out to cup the back of your thigh raised your confidence even higher, carefully climbing atop his lap as he tugged you closer caging him in between your legs. Your hands landed on his shoulder before caressing down his chest and landing on the top button of his dress shirt. Richie’s hands landed upon your own, your lust-filled eyes taking in the apprehensive look on his face. You paused, unsure of yourself before you moved to get up only to stop when his hand fell to your waist keeping you in place.

“Did I do something wrong?” Your brows furrowed in confusion and you couldn’t help how small and insecure your voice sounded.

You moved your hands back to his shoulders trying to create a bit of space between you two looking at a spot over his head instead of at him.

“No, hey look at me,” one of Richie’s hands moved up to cup your chin, gently turning you to face him.“All of this shit…it’s just new to me you know I don’t know how to do this casual shit.” His thumb lightly rubbed across your chin, the vulnerability in his eyes and words keeping you locked in.

“I haven’t done shit like this in years, never thought I’d be divorced trying this shit again. Believe me, I want tonight with you, but what happens after that? Am I supposed to just fuck off and act like I don’t want more with you?”

Slowly your hand moved across his shoulder before softly cupping the side of his neck. It wasn’t the time to mention it but you couldn’t help but feel even more attracted to the man in front of you as he shared the insecurities he was feeling about the growing attraction between the two of you.

“You enjoy tonight,” your thumb traced a path up the side of his neck eliciting a shiver. “We indulge in each other, in our desires and then we go from there. Maybe breakfast in the morning.” You smiled at him watching the tense line of his silhouette relax. “I don’t know what’s going to come from this…but I know I don’t want this to just be one night.”

Your words lingered in the air as the two of you stared at each other, Richie’s smile growing to match yours as the two of you kept your hands on each other's skin. The way Richie stared at you brought back that familiar warmth he always seemed to elicit within you, his pupils slowly dilated as they roved over your face.

The previous tension between the two of you before the turn of conversation ignited once more, your eyes locked on the others as though in a trance. The feeling of his fingertips tracing the skin of your bottom lip made you feel dizzy at the thought of how easy it would be for him to touch you however he wanted, sent a surge of desire coursing through you. You could see the realization flash across his face his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as his fingers that once pressed into your hip began a featherlight trail under your shirt and up the skin of your back, your teeth latching onto your bottom lip at the delicate touches your eyes fluttered as he traced his way along your spine your shirt rising the higher his hand moved his fingers ghosted across the space between your shoulder blades pushing you further into his chest.

Richie’s hand gently grazed down your back leaving goosebumps in its wake as it found your hip once more pulling you down against him your quiet moan being drowned out by his unabashed groan as you settled atop him relishing in the way the hardness in his pants pressed up against you. His mouth fell open as his blunt nails dug into the skin of your hip before his hand skirted down the side of your hip traveling further and further before it met the skin of your leg below the hem of your sleep shorts, his calloused hand running just under the cut of your ass before cupping the back of your thigh, the heat from the palm of his hand warmed your thigh before he gripped your skin his thumb located near your groin slipping under the fabric of your shorts to caress the junction of your hip so close to where you wanted to feel him most a wanton moan escaping you as you unconsciously trapped his hand between your bodies and began rubbing yourself against him needing any bit of reprieve you could get.

His labored breathing hit your face as you allowed yourself to grind against him without consequence, your eyes fluttering in pleasure at not only the feeling but the way he was allowing you to use him to make yourself feel every bit of pleasure you deserved to feel. A high pitched keen left your lips as his free hand tugged the collar of your shirt before attaching his lips to your neck sucking and biting any piece of skin he could get his mouth on.

“R-Richie.” Your moan of his name was followed by his hips rutting up into you, his mouth falling open against your collarbone as he spewed out soft curses against your skin. It was all too much and not enough at once a part of you having no problem dry-humping your way to an orgasm but selfishly you wanted him in every way he was willing to give himself to you. You wanted to know how his body would feel against yours, what he looked like under all the layers of clothing separating the two of you, what he felt like. You needed to know what he would look like atop you and what expressions would he make as he fucked himself into you, in and out in and out. Or maybe missionary wasn’t his thing, what would it feel like if he took you from behind his body crowding you in would he be gentle or would he fuck you in the way he thought you deserved harsh thrusts and bruising slaps to your ass as he punished you for all the attitude you gave him.

The thoughts racing through your mind had you grinding down faster and harder than you previously were. The tension building inside of you on the cusps of shattering through you, just a little more, and you’d be convulsing against the man below you who brought out so many emotions in you. The rough feeling of his lips finding yours startled you not realizing that your equilibrium was off until your back pressed into the carpet below a muffled whine ringing through you at the loss of contact you were once grinding against.

“Quit your fuckin’ whining and let me take care of you,” you felt like you were going insane as his hands slowly slipped under the waistband of your shorts dragging them down your hips and legs at a painstakingly slow pace. “Been wanting you like this ever since that night in the fucking parking lot.” His words were so quiet you weren’t sure you would’ve heard them otherwise, your body clenching against nothing as the cool air of the living room met the slickness spread between your legs.

You sat up on your elbows watching from your position on the floor in a daze as Richie stood above you eyes glued to your cunt as he hastily unbuttoned his shirt shrugging out of it before pulling the white tank top beneath it over his head. You let out an appreciative moan at the sight of the softness of his body wanting to run your hands over the planes of his torso, lavish him with the attention he deserved. You pushed off your elbows on instinct fingers wrapping into the belt loops of his dress pants catching him off guard as your lips met the softness of his tummy leaving eager kisses to whatever spots you could reach as he towered over your sitting form. Your hands moved eagerly from their position, one fiddling with his belt buckle wanting him to feel half of the pleasure he brought you in such little time as the other palmed his bulge through the material.

A surprised gasp ripped through your lips as his hand found the back of his neck pulling you off of him, the desire swimming in his eyes heating you even more. His hand moved from the back of your neck before cupping your jaw and tilting your head further up, you were surprised by the softness of his kiss your eyes closing on instinct as you relaxed into him, his hand on your jaw squeezing as he snuck his tongue into your mouth the appendage running across your own several times over as you followed his lead the passion in which he kissed something you never experienced before. You began maneuvering around trying to raise yourself wanting to feel more of him against you, until he pulled away your shared saliva connecting the two of you as he looked down on you. There was only a moment’s reprieve before his mouth was on yours again his lips moving so slow and sensually, this kiss was different from the very few you shared with him both of his hands now cupping your jaw as he lavished you with everything he had his lips wrapping around your much smaller tongue his head bobbing back and forth as he slowly sucked on your tongue before reluctantly pulling himself away, your eyes finally opening at the feel of his thumb caressing your cheek as he stared down at you with a look you couldn’t quite place.

“Lay back f’me.” Richie’s words were whispered against your lips as you mindlessly obeyed lifting your shirt from under your bottom before leaning back on your elbows and then flat on your back.

You could hear his breath hitching as you found the confidence to spread your legs open so every bit of you was on full display. You waited in anticipation listening as he undid his belt before his pants landed somewhere away from the two of you, he gripped your ankle first, fingers skating up the skin of your leg in a slow almost teasing way as he traced a path up to your hip hand gliding across the skin of your stomach before stopping at the hem of your shirt and gently pushing it over the curve of your breast.

There wasn’t any time for nervousness to grip you as he settled between your legs, his head bending as he placed a soft kiss into the center of your chest. You could feel your heartbeat speed up as one of the hands he was using to hold himself up cupped the weight of your breast, the heat of his calloused palm drew a moan from you. A quiet gasp filled the living room as Richie kissed his way down your chest stopping to lavish your pebbled nipples in kisses before sucking one into his mouth.

The urge to cry out at finally being laid bare for him as he worked you up sat heavily in you. Your eyes fluttered shut as he rose from your breast with a pop. The cool air making it even harder as he moved to show your other nipple the same appreciation. The feel of his teeth grazing across the nerve jolted you a quiet whine followed the movement as you gave in to just how good he was making you feel. You enjoyed the last few moments of pleasure his mouth gave your chest before he began to leave wet kisses down your torso as your legs squeezed around him in search of friction.

Richie’s quiet laughter vibrated against the bottom of your stomach before he moved to scoot back dropping kisses to your hip as he settled himself at eye level between your thighs. His groan reached your ears as he stared at all of your bare to him a whispered “fuck” followed before his lips were attached to the inside of your thigh earning him a guttural moan.

A gasp rang through the air as you felt Richie’s finger slowly trace the circle of your anatomy, you strained to look down your body just as the tip of his finger ever so slightly stretched you out, your hooded gaze finding his blue eyes already staring at you a flush blooming across his face. He held your gaze as he followed the same circular motion this time pushing his finger into the second knuckle as you bit your lip knowing it was way too late in the night for the noises you wanted to make.

Richie’s finger slowly moved inside you experimentally before finding the pattern that made you clench around him and crooked his finger inside your expertly eyes never leaving yours. “You gonna let me hear those pretty noises while I eat you out?”

The rough timber of Richie’s voice had you clenching around his finger, his tongue poked out to lick his lips as he patiently awaited your response maneuvering his finger slower with each second that passed. Your head moved up and down rapidly, sure you’d begin crying if he teased you anymore. “Y-yes Richie, please.”

You were thankful for the care he took when removing his long finger, the feel of every inch of it reverberated through you. He gave you one last small smile before his head disappeared, arms moving to snake around your thighs as his hands landed atop of them wearing your legs over his shoulders as though they were roller coaster restraints.

The first lick of his tongue from your hole to your clit had your head thudding back against the floor ignoring the pain of it as you moaned. Richie’s teeth sinking into your inner thigh caused a delicious hiss of pain to race through you, “Be careful.” You hummed in acquiescence, anything to keep him pleasuring you.

Richie’s tongue pressed flatly against you licking several languid stripes through your folds, each stroke of his thick warm wet appendage mingled erotically with your slickness as the mixture of fluids slowly dripped down you. At the feel of his tongue dipping in and out of you your stomach constricted in pleasure before your hands found purchase on the back of his head trying to anchor yourself to this moment with him. Vibrations from his moans traveled through you adding to the building pleasure along with the way his nose caught your clit just right as he dined on you like a man starved.

You couldn’t help the way you began grinding against his face chasing your release. You’d never been catered to like this before and as his arms moved to hold you down, mouth traveling through your folds before suctioning to your clit you were sure you were seeing stars. The muscles in your stomach tightened the longer and harder he sucked on you, your head grew fuzzy as the knot in your stomach grew tighter, incoherent babbling falling from your lips with each moment.

A loud whine rang through the quiet of your apartment as you finally gave in to your orgasm, you convulsed against Richie’s mouth as the waves of pleasure flowed through you. The aftershocks of it all caused you to jolt against him as you rode through your orgasm, overstimulation brought you back down to earth as you struggled to sit up finding Richie still attached to you.

“R-Richie,” a moan cut off your plea as you found yourself struggling not to succumb to the wickedness of his tongue. “Too much, i-its too much.”

Slowly Richie released himself from your placing a gentle kiss against your clit that jolted you before he leaned back on his haunches eyeing how debauched you looked. Your eyes traced the wetness that decorated his chin following the trail of your slickness into his now shiny beard before landing on the wet spot on his chest as it rose and fell.

Seeing him like this had you clenching around nothing as your hooded eyes fell to his happy trail, wanting nothing more than to return the pleasure. A silent conversation passed between the two of you before Richie stood up causing you to eagerly rise to your knees as you shuffled over to him before hungrily pulling down his boxers.

You stared up at him in appreciation, allowing your eyes to take in every line of him. The softness of his body was a welcomed surprise, he was strong you could see it in his arms and legs, there was no denying that. But you could tell he enjoyed life, indulged in what he liked, no rigid routine of diet or exercise. As you drank him in you couldn’t help but let your eyes fall to the tuft of light brown hair between his legs home to the part of him you’d been waiting to experience.

Unconsciously you licked your lips before shuffling closer on your knees, one hand moving to grip his hip as you steadied yourself before holding the weight of him in your hand, marveling at his impressive erection. The feel of your hand softly caressing up and down his length drew a throaty groan from him as you watched pre-cum drip from his tip in pleasure.

You leaned forward tongue darting out instantly to swirl around the head of his cock needing to hear the noises he would elicit. You were rewarded with a softer moan looking up to see his head thrown back. Opening wide you took the weight of him in your mouth taking in what you could without gagging, moaning around him as the tuft of hairs gently touched your face. Richie’s moans of approval egged you on small back-and-forth movements were your starting point bobbing slowly against him with your eyes closed as sucking him off increased your pleasure.

As you bobbed faster against him your nails dug into the flesh of his hip, your tongue swirling around him as you listened to his mumbled curses. Richie’s hand moved to settle against your neck anticipation growing in you as you waited for him to fuck your face only to be disappointed when he gently pulled you off of him spittle on your lip the only thing connecting you to his cock.

You looked up in confusion, chest rising and falling rapidly as you fought to steady your breathing. Before you could question him he was leaning down to meet you the softness of his kiss not matching your previously voracious ministrations. You leaned into the kiss not at all minding how slowly his lips moved against you passion radiating through both ends of the kiss both of you getting a taste of the other.

Richie’s lips chased yours as you pulled away his eyes slowly opened to find you already staring at him, he cupped your jaw pressing a kiss into your forehead before helping you to stand. Once you were steady on your feet you placed your hand on his chest guiding him back into the loveseat in the corner of your living room watching as his body unceremoniously plopped down, his legs spread wide as his erection bounced off the surface of his stomach.

You moved to kneel in front of him once more, stopping as a hand gripped the front of your sleep shirt pulling on it to get you to climb atop him, resuming your earlier position. You sat above him on your knees, hands resting against his shoulders to hold yourself up doing your best to ignore just how close he was to being inside you.

“What’re you poutin’ for?” Richie’s voice was quiet as his fingers tapped against your lips.

You hadn’t meant to showcase your discontent but now that he brought it up you felt comfortable in voicing what bothered you. “Why’d you stop me?” You realized how immature your ire was as you spoke the words, annoyance growing towards yourself as you were sure you ruined the night.

“It’s nothin’ against you I promise,” his free hand moved to your side skating under your shirt to caress the bare skin of your hip. “Just not sure I’d be able to give you more if I let you do that.”

It was like every little thing about this man kept turning you on, understanding washed over your face as you pulled your lip between your teeth having to stop yourself from sinking onto him. The wheels turn in your head at just how starved of intimacy he must be.

“Has it been that long?” You weren’t sure why you asked, you had zero desire to hear about the intimacy he shared with anyone else but his explanation made you curious.

Your hands unconsciously rubbed into his shoulders helping him to release any tension this intermission might have brought forth.

“Too long,” you bit back a moan as both of his hands skated along the naked skin of your hips, dipping so close to where you wanted him. “I take care of myself though.”

His answer intrigued you, just thinking about him alone in his home late at night using his hand to pleasure himself. You hummed in interest as you looked down on him, your right hand on his shoulder traced a path down his chest appreciating the fact you were finally able to touch the softness of him. Your hand continued traveling down running through his happy trail before finally gripping him in your hand finding him still semi-heard as he moaned at the feeling of your hand wrapped around him.

You languidly stroked him a few times watching the motion as you did so before looking back up at him to find his head tossed back against the loveseat, your free hand moving to grip his chin and force him to focus on you.

“What do you think about when you touch yourself,” you lowered yourself just enough to run the tip of his cock through your wetness choking down a moan. “Because I think about you.”

Richie let out a quiet curse before speaking. “Yeah?” His voice was breathy as he forced himself to hold your stare, his hands pressed into your hips with a vice-like grip as he helped to rock you back and forth against him.

“Mhmm,” you nodded your head trying to pretend you were unfazed by how delicious it felt every time his head caught your clit. “After you left my apartment the other night…I spread out right where you're sitting and played with myself wishing it was you.”

Richie let out a guttural groan as he thrusted up into your hand surging forward to attach his lips to your neck surprising you with the vigor alternating between open mouth kisses and sucking just hard enough for you to know where his lips decorated your neck through feeling alone, but not harsh enough to leave any evidence.

“You’re gonna fuckin’ kill me if you keep talking like this and don’t let me fuck you.” Richie’s hands raced over any inch of skin he could find just needing to touch you in any way possible.

You lined yourself up with him, drunk on the obvious need he was exhibiting and it was all because of you. Slowly you lowered yourself, relishing in the tip of his cock as it burrowed inside of you, the movement earned the older man's full attention.

“Who said you were fucking me?”

Richie looked at you, mouth slightly agape at the feel of you slowly sliding down onto him, twin moans filling the apartment. He groaned, hands sliding around your hips to grip the curve of your ass to help you start moving.

It started slow, far too slow for two people who weren’t even sure they meant anything to each other but neither of you mentioned that, eyes locked on each other as you placed your hands on his shoulders using them to help steady yourself. Up, down…up, down.

“Arms up pretty girl,” Richie’s command was almost so quiet you didn’t hear it stopping as he held you down against him, moaning at the way he brushed that spot inside you just so. His hands moved from their place on your backside before gently tugging the hem of your shirt over your head whispering his approval at having you naked atop him.

Your hands found his shoulders once more as you began to ride him again. Speeding up as his lips found the curve of your breast and kissed across them. Richie filled you so well the length of him hitting just where you needed every time.

“That’s it, keep ridin’ me just like that. Fuck!” You threw your head back moaning at Richie’s words clenching around him at the idea of being coached through an orgasm he gave you.

A sharp gasp escaped you as he grabbed your backside once more, anchoring himself so he could thrust up into you helping add to your pleasure. You hadn’t been riding him for long but everything about this man drove you crazy, your up-and-down motions growing more restless the harder he thrust into you.

You arched against him, hands finding the back of his thighs as you rode him like your life depended on it chasing the high your last orgasm brought you.

“You look so pretty like this, you know that right? Look so pretty ridin’ me f-fuckin’ usin’ me to get off.” Richie’s hoarse voice was going straight to your clit encouraging you to keep going even though your quads burned. “Say it.”

A quiet hum of agreement left your lips as you continued your ministrations the pleasure you searched for not far away. Richie’s hand roughly gripped your jaw pulling you from the world you were in, forcing you to look into his eyes the pupils having swallowed the blue of his irises. “Let me hear you say it?”

“W-what?”

The grinding of your hips slowed down once more as Richie held you there, his hips undulating at a slower pace as well. “Tell me h-how pretty you look r-ridin’ me.” He choked on his words as the two of you moved in sync taking in equal what you were giving back to each other.

You clenched around him, mouth falling open at his command unsure if you could get the words out before cumming. You moved atop him as he gave you a lazy nod encouraging you, you nodded along with him trying to work up the courage as your hand moved from his thigh to rest above his heart the thumping rhythm of it imprinted on your palm.

“I…” your words cut off as his hips languidly rolled into you, the hand on your jaw moving to the back of your neck to pull your face closer, your forehead pressing into his. “I look s-so pretty riding you…l-like this.”

It was a struggle to get the words out but the way you clenched around him told the both of you just how aroused you were by the simple words. Richie let go of your neck allowing you to move back if you chose to but enjoying the way you stayed close to him, lips brushing against his with each move of your hips. One of his hands slipped between your bodies pressing into your clit as he simultaneously bucked into you with a fierce pace fucking you just how you wanted.

You wrapped your arms around his neck messily following his thrust chasing the pressure that built up in your stomach. Your nails raked down his shoulders as you babbled incoherent pleas into his ear essentially begging him to let you come.

No sooner were the words out of your lips did you cry out in ecstasy, tears escaped the corner of your eyes at how forceful your orgasm was your teeth sunk into Richie’s shoulder as you tried to silence your sobs of bliss body convulsing against him for the second time that night as he helped you ride out your orgasm.

You collapsed against him in bliss boneless feeling your equilibrium shift once more, Richie gently laid you on the love seat, one leg kneeling atop the cushion while his other leg held him up never once disconnecting the two of you.

Richie’s hips pistoned into you at a punishing pace, his grip on your hips bordering on painful as he held your body in place from his harsh thrust. You struggled to keep your eyes open wanting to watch him come. Richie’s loud grunts drowned out your quieter moans, both noises combining as you watched in awe as Richie chased his orgasm, desire rising within you once more just watching Richie use you in the way you used him only moments ago.

You watched in anticipation as Richie’s face scrunched up in concentration, his thrust becoming sloppier by the minute. You wanted to reach out to touch him but felt too blissed out to get your motor skills working instead enjoying the show being put on for you. Richie gave you two more harsh thrusts before quickly pulling out of you causing you to hiss at the suddenness and watch hungrily as his hand pumped himself one final time before he spilled all over your stomach and cunt, the sight of Richie riding out his orgasm burned into your brain.

Richie collapsed atop you uncaring that his cum was getting all over him. His forehead rested against your upper chest, his panting breaths cooling your heated skin. The two of you lay there in silence for a while, your hand coming up to run through his hair as exhaustion settled into you. The feeling of lips pressing into your sternum forced your eyes to flutter open.

A lazy smile lined your lips as you tilted your head to find Richie’s forehead pressed into your chest as he pressed gentle kisses across your sternum. A soft giggle escaped you at the ticklish feeling his facial hair left behind watching as he looked up at you his exhaustion matched yours.

“We gotta get you cleaned up.” His voice was hoarse as he spoke to you with his cheek pressed into your skin.

You gave a noncommittal hum in agreement moving to sit up as Richie stood hands out to help you up. You pulled him behind you as you headed to the shower ignoring the way Richie perked up as the two of you entered your bedroom before reaching the bathroom, moving to turn the shower on and waiting for the water to heat up.

Richie helped you step into the shower before willfully following after you. You stood under the water with your head resting on Richie’s chest letting the warmth relax your muscles as Richie wrapped his arms around you pressing a kiss into the crown of your head.

The end of your night was spent pressed against the shower wall as Richie sensually fucked into you from behind, both of you indulging in everything the other had to offer. Before you both finally showered and got into bed, the softness of Richie’s fingers tracing patterns into your skin lulled you into a peaceful sleep engulfed in his warmth.

a/n: ayee yo they fuckin’ over here!!! i swear i’m so funny anyway here’s part 2 finally its long but worth it i promise. i hope anyone that dedicated their time to this tome of a fic enjoyed it and your days are forever filled with joy. also talk to me about it i love shootin the shit about the unhinged fics i write. anyway love y’all besties!!! 🫶🏽💕

[scorpiomother]

there is a light that never goes out

･ﾟ★ most of these days, i don't get too intimate / why would i let you in? but i think again

pairing: tasm!peter parker x f!reader

summary: you’ve tried to ignore the pestering infatuation you harbor for your fellow camp counselor, but when last day debauchery ensues, the lines between friendship and love blur.

tags: slow burn. summer camp. friends to lovers. pining. alcohol usage.

word count: 4.4k

a/n: mother is back and here is my love letter to the feverish bliss of a season and to everyones favorite muse, peter parker + this only took a broken laptop, nicotine and a full year to finish... so enjoy<3

playlist ☆ masterlist ☆ read on ao3 ☆ kofi

You don’t think it’s possible to feel any warmer, but the mixture of everything is weighing in on you. The blossoming bonfire in accordance with the sultry sun. The tipsy hum in your chest. The occasional graze of Peter’s arm against your shoulder.

Sometimes you can’t bring yourself to look at him and this is one of those times.

Maybe it’s the fact that it’s the last day and you don’t know exactly what to do with yourself. Or it could be the muffled buzz in your chest that’s growing by the minute; telling you to do things you shouldn’t. Admit things you can’t. If you look at him for too long, you’re sure that your better judgment will fade into that tempting hum. 

You squint past the sun rays reflecting off of the lake and focus on all of the small things that don’t mean anything to you. A bottle here, a crushed can there. The flicker and burn of the fire. The new stains on your old Converse.

You search for the next best thing when a beer bottle appears, floating above your lap.

“Your turn,” Peter says.

His voice makes you want to look. It makes you want to say, huh? Then, he would have to repeat himself and you could watch the way his lips move. Instead, you murmur a soft thank you and take the bottle, eyes cemented on the shoreline.

The campers had left in the morning, and yet the feeling of childish abandonment and delight is still overflowing in the empty campgrounds. The handful of twenty-something-year-olds that stayed back for one last night to “clean up” the camp were quick to revel in the sudden freedom. By the time the last bus left with the campers and older counselors, they were already going on a liquor run and starting a bonfire on the shorelines in nothing but their swimwear. And as nice as it all was, you wish the kids were still there. They would distract you from the thoughts of Peter and now, you don’t know what to do when they come.

As you sip on the lukewarm beer, you feel eyes on you. You look up and sure enough, Peter is staring. His eyes are lighter than normal, a sheen like honey, and his expression is almost quizzical. That glint of amusement catches you off guard. 

“What?” 

“Nothing,” he smiles. “I’m just waiting for you to admit that you hate beer.”

“What?” you repeat with more confusion.

“Every time I pass you the bottle you frown.”

You furrow your brows. “No, I don’t.”

“Sure you do. And after you drink, you make a sour face,” he says plainly.

You’re about to protest when Peter reaches for the bottle and takes it from you, his hand skimming against yours in the process. 

“Creep,” you mumble. You drag your fingers along the skin that he touched and try to ignore the burn. "You’ve known me for like, what? Two months? And you think you know me like the back of your hand.”

“I wish,” he shrugs before downing the rest of the beer.

I wish. You’re biting the inside of your cheek now. “I- I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

You can hear the smirk in his voice and when you close your eyes, you can even see it. His closed mouth grin, full of satisfaction and knowing. 

Fuck. 

“I’m gonna get a drink,” you mutter, standing up from the bench.

“‘Cause you hate beer, huh?” 

“‘Cause I’m thirsty.”

“Mhm, alright, Bug,” Peter says, smugly.

You can still feel his eyes on you as you walk towards the cooler by the dock and as much as you want to look back, you don’t.

You rummage through the cooler— a little more frantic than you should be. Beneath all the shitty beer and ice is a thick bottle of margarita mix and you pull it out in triumph. 

“Wow, going for the hard stuff, huh?”

You look up to see Harry standing in front of you with Patron in his right hand and a vape in his left. You scoff, “Says you. This shit is mostly juice anyways.”

Harry settles beside you and watches you pour yourself a cup. He smells like liquor, cologne, and bad news. 

“Make me a cup?” He slurs.

You hum in response.

You don’t trust Harry. Not for any particular reason, but he makes you unsure of yourself and you don’t like that. You fill his cup to the brim and hand it to him carefully.

“I’m surprised Peter isn’t here with you.” 

You roll your eyes. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Ah, come on. You guys are two peas in a pod.”

“He’s my friend.”

“Is he though?”

“What else would he be?”

“Everyone knows you guys have a thing for each other.” 

You’re quiet for a moment, ruminating on his words. Your brain is teetering between joke or not. If he isn’t, then what? 

“Just friends,” you murmur in a way that doesn’t reach him. It sticks in the honeyed air like a mantra for yourself. 

Ever since the start of camp, Peter and you had been attached at the hips. You were both the new counselors, whereas everyone else had known each other from the year prior. During counselor orientation and the team-building exercises, you gravitated toward each other, sharing awkward laughs and stupid little comments. As the weeks went by, you got closer and closer. You had just met the guy and he was probably the closest you ever got to a person.

“So, that doesn’t bother you at all?” Harry raises a brow.

You look back and Gwen has replaced you on the bench. Peter’s looking at her with such adoration in his face that makes you feel a pang of jealousy. It spreads through your body like a fever.

His cheeks are full of warmth, laughter bellowing out from him so easily. The subtle flex of his bicep has you staring a little longer than you should. When he catches your stare, you mean to look away but the numbing heat makes you forget.

“What? No. Why would it?” You murmur, turning your attention back to Harry.

“Alright. Well, I’ll help you out. Just ‘cause it’s the last day,” Harry says before pouring an ungodly amount of Patron in your cup.

“Oh- I, um. Okay. Thank you,” you stutter. 

Harry takes his bottle and taps it to your cup. “To friends.”

“To friends,” you mumble under your breath before throwing back a couple of gulps.

Harry starts to talk about nonsense that you can no longer concentrate on. Your ears had zoned in on the laughter behind you, trying to figure out what was so funny to Peter. Have you ever made him laugh like that? 

There’s an invisible string tugging at your face, telling you to look back. Soak up the last of the daylight and the last of Peter, even if it hurts. You want to give into the compulsion, like looking at him is a tick you can’t help, but your attention falls on the dainty bumblebee fluttering innocently in the space between you and Harry.

“Oh, shit,” Harry yelps. His face is full of horror as the small thing dances around him.

“It’s just a bee,” you reassure him. 

Rather than calming down, Harry attempts to pull an ungraceful version of the matrix, bumping into you in the process. 

“Harry!” 

“Fuck, I’m sorry! I just- Fuck!” Before Harry could finish his apology, he’s running far from the docile insect and you.

“Fuckin’ Harry,” you mutter to yourself, looking at the stain of Red40 and Patron on your shirt and then to Peter.

He’s too preoccupied with Gwen to notice the mishap.

Like a small child, it hurts. The possessiveness sticks onto your skin like humidity. 

You down what’s left in your cup in one go and start walking to your cabin.

It was that second week of camp when your heart first succumbed to Peter. The two of you were on night watch and he entertained you with a game of Would You Rather while everyone else on the campgrounds slept soundly and the night insects trilled. 

Would you rather get stung by a bee or watch Isabella all by yourself? 

Give me the bee, you deadpanned.

Ouch, I’m gonna tell her what you said.

You wouldn’t, you scoffed.

You’re right, I won’t. That kid would probably start biting us both. 

One moment you’re laughing and the next, he’s whispering, wait, hold on. Stay still. So you do. You stayed as still as the night and suddenly, his hand was inching closer and closer to your face until his fingers grazed against your cheek. He held an eyelash in front of your lips and gently said, make a wish.

You hesitantly whispered a delicate oh, okay before absentmindedly blowing the eyelash away. 

I hope it was a good one, he grinned.

It was, you lied.

Everything after was hazy, with constant flashes of making a wish. If you could do it again, you would tell yourself to get a grip and not waste such a precious wish like you just did. If you could do it again, you would wish that Peter would grab that eyelash off your cheek again and again and again.

You’re already feeling the drink make its way to your head as you head on over to your cabin. You underestimated Harry’s heavy hand and the heat is working against you. Annoyingly, the wet shirt is enough to cool you down.

You wonder where the time went. It’s overwhelming to think about, especially now that you’re tipsy. Time is slipping through your fingers and you don’t know how you’re supposed to go back to the city and let this all turn into a memory— let Peter turn into a memory. 

In all honesty, you’re not so sure that you can. Eight weeks of children watching and sun soaking. Eight weeks of Peter and all of those almost kisses (two to be exact). Where was it supposed to go? In a shoebox of memories, farther away than you’d like it to be?

There’s a swelling feeling in your chest that quickly dissipates when Peter comes running behind you.

“Hey, hey, where did you go?”

You want to be spiteful and ask him what happened to Gwen. Instead, you bite your tongue.

“I’m right here, Bear,” you say.

“Well, yeah. I mean, what happened?”

“I just wanted to get something to drink and I-”

“You spilled all over yourself.”

“No, I didn’t. Harry did and I need a new shirt.”

“My cabin is right here,” he points out.

“It’s okay, I have my own clothes.”

“Bug, stop being stubborn.” He grabs your wrist, and you have no choice but to stop and look at him. The swelling returns as his brown eyes try to read you. “Trust me.”

“Okay?” 

You sigh. “Okay.”

His cabin is identical to yours. Three beds. Creaky wood all over. Light smell of mildew. You were there once before but you try not to think about it too much.

“Here, sit,” he says, patting the mattress.

Like a loyal dog, you obey quietly.

While Peter rustles through the drawers, mumbling where did I put it? you gaze at the Polaroids decorating the wall like his own personal scrapbook.

You notice one particular photo with you in it. You were setting up the projector for the first Movie Mondays. That night The Princess and the Frog played, the lights flickering green and blue on the flimsy screen that took you and Peter too long to put up. 

Oh my god, you sobbed halfway into the movie. Ray, the firefly, was singing Evangeline to his star, and it was enough to trigger an embarrassing fit out of you.

Are you crying? Peter whispered.

I’ve never wanted to be a bug so bad before, you laughed pitifully. You wrapped your arms around your legs and let the stray tears fall on your knees. You wanted to pout and blame your hysteria on Peter. He didn’t know it but he had an annoying habit of turning you into a child. 

You’re pretty when you cry, he said.

With your head on your knees, you bit your lip. You- you’re stupid.

I don’t think that’s what you say when someone gives you a compliment.

You’re making fun of me.

Am not, Bug, he said for the first time. 

With teary eyes, you looked for the truth on his face. His eyes softened. Without noticing, you licked your lips and you swore he did the same. It happened so fast you couldn’t remember and suddenly you were wondering if you leaned in, would he do the same? Before you could test your theory, there was a tap on your shoulder.

I think I just ate peanuts, Susie said.

What?

My throat is itchy.

Oh!

Luckily, little Susie was okay, but you weren’t. That night you couldn’t sleep. That look on his face stuck with you. If you were crazy, you would’ve thought that he wanted to kiss you. 

Still, you’re unsure.  

You open your mouth to ask him if he remembers that night, but he interrupts you.

 “I kind of miss them,” he says, head still in the dresser. 

“Your army of fanboys?”

“Yeah, if you want to call them that,” he laughs. 

“It was pretty sweet how they looked up to you.”

“Maybe, I should start a cult.”

You snort. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” 

“Why do you hate me?” Peter looks back at you and tilts his head with a boyish smile that makes you look away.

He returns his attention to the drawers and you begin to get impatient.

“You know I don’t need anything special, right? I just need… A shirt.”

”Bug,” he says firmly. “When did you get so bratty?”

“I- You’re taking a long time,” you redden.

You tap your foot against the old wood and stare at the back of his head bobbing and searching. His hair is overgrown, longer than it was when you first met him. If you were brave enough, you would run your hands through it.

“If you think about it, we were basically paid to be cult leaders for eight weeks,” he says.

“Oh. We’re still talking about cults. Great.”

“How does one go about making a cult anyways?”

“Hold on, let me just look for a cult leader’s TED talk.”

“So sarcastic, Bug.” 

“Only for you, Bear,” you joke.  

“Good.”

Your ears turn hot and you’re licking your lips again. The raspiness in his voice feels all too serious. 

You’re silent again. It’s quiet enough you can hear the Earth past Peter’s search. Trees rustle. The wind caresses the grass. If you listen hard enough, you swear you can hear sunshine, but maybe it’s just the alcohol. Eventually another drawer shuts.

“Here,” he says. He finally turns around and stands up with a shy expression on his face that makes you smile. In his hand is a red and blue tie dye shirt he made in the early weeks of camp.

When you reach for it, you zone in on the beaded bracelet on his wrist, a silly little nothing that you made for him a week ago. You might as well have threaded the beads to say IHAVEACRUSHONYOU, but the nickname you called him was safer.

You partially regret the bracelet as the cringey gift screams elementary innocence, but now you had something of his. You were even.

“Thank you,” you say.

“Yeah. I’ll meet you outside.”

“It’s fine,” you say before you can think. “I mean it’ll only take three seconds. You’ve seen me without a shirt before, hah.”

“Someone’s drunk,” he chuckles. 

You turn away before he can see you blush. “Not really…”

In one swift motion, you sling off the stained shirt and drape it along the end of his bed frame and pick up Peter’s replacement shirt.

“Oh, it’s healing nicely,” Peter says, surprised.

You look back in an attempt to look at the once opened wound on your back. “Thanks to you, I guess.”

Due to peer pressure from freshly graduated fourth graders, you had jumped off the cliff right into the lake and your back grazed against a submerged rock. It wasn’t anything serious. Barely deep enough for medical attention and the adrenaline from the jump turned you numb.

It was the first time he touched you, really touched you. A deliberate palm to your side rather than an unintentional graze of the knuckles. It made you think of other ways you could hurt yourself just so the two of you could play an innocent game of doctor.

I can’t just drink this by myself, you whined. 

I’m about to put a needle through you, you really want me to drink alcohol right now?

I trust you, you admitted unwillingly.

Once he stitched you up, you sat together side by side on his bed with your shirt still over your neck and your bathing suit now cold on your skin. He pressed his hand on your thigh, saying all better. It was enough to warm you up. Enough to make you forget why you never kissed him. Enough to make you want to.

He squeezed the fleshy part of your thigh, and you exhaled. Peter.

It’s Dr. Parker to you.

One moment you’re whispering, stupid, and the next your nose was grazing his with two parting lips just barely touching. His own breath matched yours. Cinnamon, and booze. Warm and wanting. You gently nudged your nose against his before you could come to.

With lips hovering and agape and adrenaline clouding your mind, you thought he was about to kiss you, for sure this time. But when Gwen knocked on the door, calling out to Peter, kissing was the last thing you wanted to do. The only option was to run away. Run back into that lake and sink all the way to the bottom.

When you throw the shirt on, the fabric grazes against the healing scar. The cotton is soft and weightless. You could immediately smell the familiar evergreen and pine. 

“Red and blue look good on you,” Peter says and you have to force yourself to not think anything of it. Friends compliment each other. No big deal.

“You should keep it,” he adds and then you’re thinking, okay, kind of a big deal. But you don’t have it in you to protest. If this was the only thing you could get from Peter, then you were happy. Almost satisfied.

“Alright,” you say and wear it like a promise ring.

By the time you two make it back to the lake, the sun is nearly set. The bonfire melts into the fire in the sky, a burnt orange streak floating above the lake. Smoke and char wafts in the air and you notice everyone huddled up in a circle. There’s beer bottles surrounding them like they were partaking in some kind of ritual. As you get closer, you see the single bottle laying on its side in the middle of the crowd. 

“What are they, twelve?” Peter whispers as Flash and Felicia kiss.

They don’t notice you two. They’re far too gone and enamored to see beyond themselves, and you’re grateful. Being the bystander looking in was better than watching Peter kiss someone else.

“Wanna go somewhere else?” he nudges.

You nod your head in silence and follow him like a lost puppy.

You two keep to the lakeshore and walk side by side until you can barely see the stray embers of the bonfire in the air. 

A mile away, you eventually reach the west pier. It’s unsoiled with beer and degeneracy, the moon purifying the fresh water and wood. The two of you sit on the dock, feet dangling in the chilling water. By the time the night completely glossed over, the alcohol had too.

“It’s so… Quiet,” you say and suddenly you fear your voice may disturb the stillness and ripple through the water. 

“I like it.”

“Just kind of eerie, ya know?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll scare the monsters away for you,” he teases.

Peter places one hand on your back and rubs small circles, a new type of warmth now rippling through you. 

Without realizing it, you began to mindlessly kick your feet through the lake, ripples after ripples reaching out to touch the earth beyond. The wrinkles of water pulsate. Your heart does the same with each circle of his hand.

“Should’ve got another beer before we left,” you eventually murmur.

“I’m not fun enough for you?”

I just don’t know what to do with myself.

“You’re less fun without your little cult,” you tell him. 

“I’m retiring,” he tells you.

“Oh, God forbid.”

“I’m tired,” he says. “Let me be tired.”

When he lays his head in your lap, you don’t move. You barely breathe.

You wish you could feel the calm, shudder and move on, exhale the hummingbird out of your chest, and be done with it. 

It’s heavier than you can manage. The ease and calm of him scares you. He makes a home in you so terribly easy, and you can barely touch him without feeling dizzy.

Peter sighs. “What am I going to do without you, Bug?”

You wish he didn’t say things like that.

You get out a shaky, “I don’t know.”

But you do know. Peter’s going to be okay without you. You’ll just be some girl he used to know and move on just fine. But you on the other hand? You don’t know. You don’t want to.

It aches.

I’m tired. Let me be tired, you beg the cruel universe.

It twinkles in response. Ripples right through you. 

Your hands are in his hair. You’re dizzy, but you do it anyway. There’s a soft moan coming from Peter so you play and pull and tug, letting all the anxiety leave your hands like kneading dough. You’re gentle because Peter is gentle. Rubbing your back. Stitching up a silly mistake. And even breaking your heart. He does it so gently, you don’t know if he has a cruel bone in his body. Even if he was cruel, you’re not sure if it would offend you.

He closes his eyes. You drag your nails against his temple and roam freely. The night sky reminds you of fireflies and popcorn. Slow breaths and wishes. You count the dimples on the moon. Little distractions to ground you, even now. 

The moment feels infinite. Almost infinite, like those almost kisses. So close, yet so fleeting. You stop trying to make it stay. You let it ripple through you.

You feel a little brave.

“Let’s go swimming,” he says, eyes closed. He can smell it on you— the braveness, you think.

Your hands freeze.“Now?”

“When else?”

“It’s cold.”

“I’ll keep you warm, Bug,” he says, this time with his brown eyes wide, open, and tempting. “Trust.”

He stands up and holds his hand out for you before you can protest. Whenever he mentions trust, it does something to you. The cut above your shoulder blade is trust scarred onto your body. Were you supposed to stray from your habits now? On the last day?

You open your mouth but then your hand is in his and he’s guiding you to the obsidian. 

He takes off his shirt and shorts, throwing them on the dock. You follow suit, and by the time you fold the tie dye shirt into a neat square, Peter’s already in, yelping, laughing, coaxing.

You shiver and when you’re in the water, you shiver some more. 

“I hate you.”

“I know.”

“Is this your big plan to murder me? Drown me and run back to everyone else and play spin the bottle?” you grumble, less than satisfied.

“Duh,” he smiles proudly.

You’re treading water, feet barely reaching the sand, while Peter stands tall, the moon illuminating his handsome face.

“Why didn’t you wanna play spin the bottle?” you say impulsively. 

It shocks both you and Peter.

“Did you?”

“I asked you first.”

His brows knit together. “I don’t want to see you kissing someone else.”

Your brain short circuits. A laugh coils in your stomach and you want to ask if Ashton Kutcher is going to come out of the woods with his crew and yell, Gotcha! It makes more sense than what you think he’s implying. 

“What do you mean by that?” you ask.

“What do you want it to mean?”

Your limbs suddenly burn from trying to stay afloat.

“Do you need me to show you, bug?” he says.

His hand is out in front of you again like a life raft. You let him take you, pull you in his gravity. Show me. You glide in the water until you can feel Peter’s breath on your face and your chest is heaving against his. Show me.

Peter wraps his arm around your lower back and your legs have nowhere else to go but wrapped around him. He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Still need me to show you?”

 Show me. Show me. Show me.

“I think so,” you say so delicately you’re not so sure he hears you, but then his lips are on yours and the sun comes back in the dead of night, blooming in your ribcage.

It happens fast. He doesn’t let you hesitate, retreat back like the scared creature you are. He knows you. He kisses like he knows you. He keeps his promise. I’ll keep you warm. 

Soft, tender, and close to loving. His lips overlap yours and your gripping onto his back like this moment could dissolve in this lake. He grips you right back like you’ll run. You could. You might.

He deepens the kiss, more want, more need, less tenderness. He sucks on your bottom lip and the strength to run right out of you. 

Your hands wander feverishly. From his back to the crook of his neck and then his hair.

Now that he has you here like this, it makes things more difficult. 

You feel like a firefly. This small little thing of shine and glow, jutting around in a mason jar with Peter’s name sharpied on the top. 

His lips linger for a second longer and then he pulls away, resting his forehead on yours.

“Bug,” Peter says.

“Hmm?”

“You’re going to call me, right?”

His lips move in slow motion.

“Right,” you say.

[ladykailitha]

Can Anybody See Me?

I just finished this first part of my Eddie adopting Steve in his senior year after his fall from grace and wanted to put it up.

Tag list of 50 has now been filled. Any other requests for tagging will be denied. I’m sorry.

Edit: Also if you saw the title as something else? No, no you didn’t. And any reblogs you see with anyone instead of anybody are a figment of your imagination. (*thuds head on laptop* I have the title right on here...in my file *wails*)

*

“Mr Munson?” the teacher called.

Eddie’s head snapped to the front of the class from where it had been watching King Steve Harrington throwing up in the garbage can.

“When Mr Harrington is done spilling his guts, would you please take him to the nurse’s station?”

Eddie pointed at himself and mouthed the word “me?”

He looked around the classroom and was shocked to find that Steve’s friends were either trying not to look at him or were actually snickering.

The teacher sighed. “Yes. If you would please.”

“Yeah Munson,” someone called. “Freaks should stick together after all.”

Eddie made a note of who it was and vowed to never to sell to the asshole again. He stood up and walked to the back of the room. He knelt down next to Steve and put his hand on his back.

“Hey,” he murmured. “You okay?”

Steve looked up at him blearily. “Munson?”

Eddie looked up at the teacher. “Would it be okay if we take the bin with us? So we don’t disturb the rest of the class?”

The teacher nodded, looking relieved.

Eddie helped Steve to his feet and made sure the other boy had a good handle on the bin and gently walked him outside. The cool air of the hallway hit them like a truck. But Steve beside him sighed in relief.

Eddie finally got a good look at Steve’s face, blackened and bruised as it was. “Who did you in?”

Steve’s head lulled back like a rag doll. “Billy Hargrove.”

Eddie’s eyebrows went up and led Steve over to the wall next to the door. Steve slid to the floor, clutching the bin.

“Aren’t you two on the basketball team or whatever?” Eddie asked, moving to sit next to him.

“The king is dead, all hail the king,” Steve slurred.

Eddie scoffed. At least someone was getting something from their history class because it sure the hell wasn’t him.

“With the second concussion in two years, I’m off the team anyway,” Steve continued.

“Second?” Eddie asked, his eyes wide. “What the hell have you been doing man?”

Steve’s eyes focused momentarily. “Picking fights with boys that can kick my ass because they’re picking on kids that can’t defend themselves.”

“Actual kids?” Eddie asked his opinion of Billy dropping further than it already was.

“Does a thirteen year old still count as a kid?” Steve asked seriously.

Fuck.

“Yeah, yeah it does,” Eddie replied softly.

“I have this kid that I watch once and while,” Steve murmured, “actually I watch a half dozen, but anyway. Lucas Sinclair is really good at basketball and he tried out for the team. Billy decided to be a racist bastard about it. I clocked him and he laid me out. Literally.”

“Is that the reason for the...?” he waved at the bin and Steve’s face.

“Yup,” Steve said, closing his eyes. “Did you know that the nausea and dizziness of concussion can last longer than the actual concussion? Because I sure the hell didn’t.”

Eddie winced. “You up for the trek to the nurse’s office yet?”

Steve opened his eyes and looked over at the other boy. “I worry it’s the moving that’s making me puke.”

Eddie blinked and the cocked his head. “That’s a fair assessment, but you won’t know until you try.”

Steve nodded and then hissed. Eddie got his arm under him and gently lifted him to his feet.

Steve moaned.

“You good?” Eddie asked.

“Give me second,” Steve mumbled. He breathed heavily, trying to stop the world from spinning. “Okay. Yeah.”

Eddie moved them slowly through the halls to the nurse’s station. He didn’t throw up once which Eddie counted as a win.

“Messers Munson and Harrington,” the nurse greeted. “What causes you to darken my step today?”

Eddie grinned. “Nurse Ratchet, what a pleasure it is to see you again. I am here under orders to bring King Steve to you as he up chucked his lunch in math class.”

“It’s Nurse Kincade to you, Munson,” she bit out. “Put him on the table.”

Eddie steered Steve over to the table and looked him over. Steve was sweating from the exersion which considering he was in better shape than Eddie was that was a problem.

“Hey,” he whispered. “Do you want me to stay?”

Steve looked up at him and gulped. “Nah, man. You need to get back to class. You don’t want to be caught associating with me anyway.”

Eddie reared his head back. He was pretty sure that was his line. But he knew better than to argue. So he held up his hands and backed away slowly, listening to Steve explain to the nurse what had happened. Eddie grabbed the bin and cleaned it out before he returned to class. He had briefly thought to leave as a prank. But they would know it was him and he promised his Uncle Wayne that he wouldn’t get detention this year.

And while he also knew Uncle Wayne meant the school year, the year of 1984 was ending and he could at least last that long.

He got back to class and stood at the door. He really didn’t want to go in but class had fifteen minutes left and that was too long for him to wait. So with a heavy sigh he yanked open the door.

The teacher clocked him immediately. “You left Mr Harrington alone?”

Eddie threw up his hands again. “Dude wanted me to leave, I know better than to overstay my welcome.”

The teacher rolled his eyes. “And yet, here you are in my class for the second year in a row.”

Eddie grinned. “Aww, teach. That’s not overstaying my welcome, that’s tenacity.”

“This is algebra Mr Munson, not English,” he moaned. “Please take your seat.”

He could hear the snickering behind him, but he didn’t care. He thought about a boy who looked after kids that were barely teenagers and took beatings for them, to protect them. He thought about mismatched hazel eyes, one almost swollen shut. He thought about the inherent kindness of a beat down soul and wondered what made him kind in this cruel world.

*

Eddie spotted Steve at lunch, sitting by himself, pushing the food around on his tray. He was probably still feeling nauseous. He went to the vending machine and got ginger ale. As he passed by Steve, he looked at the bottle in his hand.

“Fuck,” he murmured. “I wanted a Coke. Hey, Harrington, you like ginger ale?”

Steve’s head snapped up in shock. “Uh, yeah. I’ve been known to like it on occasion.”

Eddie tossed it at him. “Here, you have it.”

He went and sat down by his friends. All three of them were juniors but he been friends with them since the talent show in middle school. They were in a band together called Corroded Coffin and they were pretty damn good if he thought so himself.

“What was that about, man?” Jeff asked.

Eddie turned to Jeff. He knew of all the boys at this table would understand why he threw Harrington a bone. He leaned in close so only his friends could hear.

“Harrington got his bell rung by Hargrove for protecting the Sinclair boy,” he whispered.

All three boys lifted their heads to look over at Steve who was sipping the ginger ale and starting to eat a little.

They hunched back into their circle.

“Looks like Hargrove got him good,” Gareth said. “What was the ginger ale for?”

“It’s good for nausea,” Eddie whispered. “He threw up in math class and I had to take him to the nurse’s station.”

“But I thought Carol and them were in that class, too,” Brian murmured.

Eddie shook his head. “They are, man. But Steve’s on the outs with the whole lot.”

Jeff frowned. “I didn’t think that Mr Harrington would have let his boy hang out with the Sinclairs.”

Eddie looked over at Steve and then back down to his friends. “I’m only telling you what he told me.”

His friends nodded. Whatever was going on, the Corroded Coffin boys were too far down the social ladder to be in the know.

Eddie looked over at the lonely boy one more time. Something didn’t feel right. Something else was going on, something darker. One didn’t simply go from the top of the social elite to less than the weirdos overnight for nothing. And Eddie was going to find out what.

Now with part 2 and part 3 part 4 part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9  Part 10 Part 11  Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21

[itsnevercasual]

RISK PART III

pairing: mafia!harry styles x singer!reader

summary: Harry is in town for some.. less than legal business, and you're a local singer trying to get your foot in the door, and also planning your wedding. And maybe Harry is a little too interested in you.

warnings: mentions of death & blood, mentions of abuse, cursing, that should be it!!

-

Almost immediately, his browser was flooded.

Y/N L/N and Mason L/N: The Internets Favorite Siblings

Y/N L/N - Youtube

Mason L/N - Youtube

Mason & Y/N - Youtube

#prayfory/n on Twitter

Y/N and Mason L/N’s Incredible Work with Band ‘The Diamonds’

Well, you two certainly had an online presence. He sighed and clicked on the first article.

Mason L/N (20) and little sister, Y/N L/N (15) have quickly become the internet’s favorite dynamic sibling duo! The duo rose to fame in 2012 when Mason began vlogging their adventures living alone in Miami.

After a near-death incident with her mother read article here, Y/N was put into her brother’s care. The two grew up in Wimberley, Texas, on a farm. Mason’s earliest videos on YouTube were in 2010, when he posted videos of 11-year-old Y/N singing onstage somewhere.

Since moving to Miami, Florida in 2012, at age 13 and 18, they formed a band called The Diamonds and started a successful YouTube career. Most of the videos, now posted on a shared account entitled Mason & Y/N, they show their day-to-day lives, backstage previews, clips of the songwriting process, and more.

Mason is the producer of his sister’s band— in which she is both the songwriter and lead singer. The band, though not as successful as their YouTube, has a decent following on both Instagram and YouTube.

Also featured on their accounts is Y/N’s childhood best friend— Jodie. There is nothing of Jodie online, so we aren’t sure of her last name. We only know the story of how Jodie moved right before Y/N’s near-death experience, and the siblings moved to Miami to see her again.

We look forward to seeing more of the iconic duo! Best of luck, L/N siblings!

Well, that gave him next to nothing.

Read More:

Smalltown Tragedy: Violet L/N attempts to murder daughter, Y/N L/N.

Jesus fucking Christ, Niall wasn’t joking about shitty.

He skimmed through the article.

Coming home from school—

Walked through the door—

Stabbed—

Authorities were quickly contacted by brother—

Violet pleads innocent in court case—

Y/N and Mason attest to their mother’s innocence—

Guilty verdict—

Sentenced to life in prison without bail or parole—

Added charges of child abuse after bruises found on both children—

Siblings go on news after the verdict was given—

Claim it was their father—

Well. He was starting to regret looking you up.

He sighed, running a hand over his face. After how nice you were tonight, he felt incredibly bad knowing this is what the result of invading your privacy was.

Yet, he didn’t shut the laptop.

He clicked back to the original search tab.

Mason & Y/N - Youtube

He pulled up the page, and his eyes widened.

925.4K Thousand Subscribers. 493 Videos.

Holy shit.

He scrolled to the last updated video—

BACKSTAGE AT THE DIAMONDS: LIVE AT DAYTONA BEACH BANDSHELL. June 1, 2016.

He didn’t want to watch it. He didn’t want to intrude anymore than he already had. That’d be wrong.

But Harry also never claimed to be a good person.

As he tapped on the video, your brother’s face filled the screen. Or.. he assumed, it was your brother. He looked similar to the articles of the two of you, only older.

“Hello, lovely people! We’re back! We are currently backstage at the biggest show yet of the best band ever—“

“Oh, my God, you’re so stupid,” a voice laughed. It was slightly familiar.

The camera turned, and he realized why. It was you.

“Y/N tries to be rude, but we all know I’m her favorite here.”

“Uh, no, bitch. I’m her favorite. Back off.”

Jodie.

“Dude, you have a boyfriend. You back off!”

“Yeah, but Ni’s not here yet, so… I win.”

“How does that even— okay. Anyway, my lovely sister is currently shoving food down her face—“

“Mason! Shut up, oh, my God! I’m literally curling my hair, you ass!”

“Hey, language!”

“Oh, boo-hoo. You taught me how to cuss when I was, like… seven.”

“.. Yeah, I did do that. Alright. Whatever. We’re gonna give the camera to Y/N so she can give y’all a sneak peak at the set list!”

The camera was now sitting in front of you. Younger you.

“Hello! It’s the better sibling—“

“Hey!”

You grinned at him, “And this is the setlist for tonight, which is super-duper top secret. So… shh! Okay! We’re opening with my personal favorite, Girl I’ve Always Been! And then we’re gonna transition that… somehow… into Vicious. And then.. I Should Hate You, little break to introduce the other Diamonds, Should’ve Said No, Picture to Burn, All-American Bitch, Stranger, another little.. break thingy.. Florida, Happier Than Ever, and then we close with.. Better than Revenge! But we have an encore, so we come back for one song, which is Nothing You Can Take!”

He skipped ahead in the video.

“Jodie, where are we?”

“Backstage!”

“Ni, what are we about to do?”

“You’re about to kill it onstage!”

He skipped a bit.

It was a circle of you and a bunch of girls, and one of two guys, that he recognized. The same people who’d played with you tonight.

“We worked our asses of for this, and we’re gonna make it count, right?”

“Fuck yeah!”

“Okay, Diamonds on three. On.. two.. three.. Diamonds!”

Skip.

“Y/N, how you feelin’?”

Harry could hear the crowd and music in the background, and he assumed that you were about to run onstage.

“I’m gonna puke!” You laughed.

“Ew. Don’t.”

“Gee, thanks. Real supportive.”

“I’m being honest—“

“Y/N, you got ten seconds.”

You screamed.

He skimmed the rest of the video. Some of it was clips of the show, some of it was after.

Well, that didn’t do anything except make him feel shitty. One, because he knew he shouldn’t be watching, and two… because you and your brother seemed close, and he, obviously, was dead.

He went back and clicked on the Twitter link.

#prayfory/n on Twitter.

Daytona News: Internet Star Mason L/N Fatally Shot in Robbery.

thediamondsupdates: OMG. GUYS IM ACTUALLY SOBBING WTF I FEEL SO BAD FOR Y/N. SHE WAS THERE😭😭 #prayfory/n

Bingo.

He clicked on the article.

Late last night, after The Diamond’s Only Night Only on Main Street, the internet star siblings Y/N and Mason went to a gas station for celebratory snacks. Unfortunately, while they were checking out, the gas station got robbed.

Y/N told Daytona Police that the robber had aimed for her when he shot, but her brother shoved her at the last second. Both Mason L/N and the store clerk, who is yet to be identified, died. Y/N came out with only a few scratches. Witnesses say she tried to keep her brother alive while waiting for police.

The siblings were swarmed by paparazzi as they got hauled into the ambulance, where Mason unfortunately died on the way.

Harry clicked back to the hashtag.

user001: omfg guys someone got a video of the store after the robbery where mason l/n died. ONE VIDEO LINKED.

He clicked play, knowing he’d regret it.

“Oh, my fucking God,” the person recording spoke.

You and Mason were covered in blood. You were in hysterics, holding your brother on your lap.

“Mason! Mason!” you were shouting. “Someone call an ambulance! Oh, my God! There’s so much blood— why is there so much blood? Mason, answer me! Are you okay? You have to be okay—“

The video panned away from you as you screamed, showing the store that’d been ransacked.

It ended.

Harry shut the computer and went to bed, feeling sick to his stomach.

-

When you woke up the next morning, it was to a weight on your chest.

“What the— Jodie, get the fuck off of me. I’m gonna die,” you grumble, shoving her.

She falls off the bed with a thud. She gasps, “Are you calling me fat?”

“No, you called yourself fat.”

“You’re so mean in the mornings,” she pouts.

“I’m only mean when you wake me up at ungodly hours by sitting on me.”

She shrugs, “Oh. Yeah. Well… come on, get up.”

You whine. The bed was comfy.

“Up!”

“No, I’m tired.”

She stands up and yanks your arm. You, too, fall off the bed.

“Ow! What the fuck?”

“I didn’t really think that one through,” she admits.

“Clearly. Alright, I’m up now, I guess. What did you want?”

“We’re going to brunch with Harry and Ni. Get ready.”

“Brunch? Harry doesn’t seem like a brunch guy.”

“What do you mean?” her brows furrow.

“He just.. is very intimidating—“

“He was nice to you, though, right? He better have been, or I swear—“

“No, he was,” you quickly cut her off. “He just… seems like he’d rather gouge his own eyes out before her went to brunch.”

She sighs in relief, “Thank God. I like him, so I didn’t wanna kill him for being rude to you. But, yeah.. probably. But he basically does whatever I say because, as he admitted once and only once, I’m like his little sister and he feels bad saying no. That, and I’m annoying when I don’t get my way.”

You snort, “That’s… yeah, that seems more likely.”

“But.. Niall also said he likes you, too. Maybe not in the, y’know, little sister way, but you’re right. He is usually an asshole, but he was extremely friendly yesterday. Kinda threw me off, to be honest.”

“Dude, I thought he was gonna bite my head off.”

She laughs, “Yeah.. oh, well. Get dressed and dress slutty!”

“Why slutty?”

“Because we invited Asshole of the Year, and if he shows up, he’s gonna wish he was Angel of the Year.”

“Jodie..” you sigh.

“I know. You don’t wanna piss him off. But.. if you just happened to grab a slutty dress… what’s the harm?”

“Get out,” you laugh.

-

You don't wear the slutty outfit Jodie wanted you to wear, mainly because the brunch spot was a nice restaurant and you don't want the looks from grandmas.

Instead, you wear a white dress with small, green leaves. You throw on heels that were slightly dressy, but comfortable and also barely make you any taller. You put a green ribbon in your hair after tying half of it back.

You haphazardly do your makeup once Jodie began spamming your phone, urging you to hurry up.

You rush out of the room, sighing once you saw the other three sitting at the kitchen island.

"Sorry I took so long. We can go, now, though!"

“Took you long enough,” Niall teases.

“Shut up. This is why you don’t have any friends.”

“I have friends!” he protests quickly. “You! And— Harry!”

“Mhm. Got any more?” you laugh. “I don’t count because I’m friends because of association. You get one point for Harry, though. I guess.”

“No point from me,” Harry spoke up. “We’re work friends.”

“I knew I liked you.”

Harry smirks at you.

Niall glares at the two of you. “I hate you both.”

You grin, “Aw. Love you, too.”

“Aright, children. We’re gonna be late,” Jodie reminds you.

The three of you chorus agreements and head to the car. Niall drove, Jodie sat in the passenger seat, and you and Harry got into the back.

“You know, you look crazy familiar.”

“Who, me?”

“No, the ghost sitting in between us. Yes, you.”

He pauses before shrugging, “Probably just got one of those faces. I don’t remember meeting you before.”

“Yeah, that’s what’s weird. I swear I know you, but I’d remember if I met you.”

He smirks, and you regret phrasing it like that. “Oh, really? What’s that supposed to mean, lovie?”

Lovie? What the hell? Is he a psycho? Are you a psycho?

Connor. Engaged to Connor. Can’t break up with him.

“Nothing. I just meant I have, like, a good memory,” you huff. “You’re right. You’ve probably just got one of those faces.”

One of those faces.

One of those faces.

One of those faces you know you recognize.

-

Brunch was short, but sweet. The food was good, and it was fun. Connor didn’t show.

You and Jodie made Niall and Harry wait in the car while the two of you ran into Sephora to restock your respective makeup collections.

“I kinda wanna try a new perfume..”

“I thought you always got that.. whatever one it is, because it’s Connor’s favorite?”

“I do. But.. the smell has been giving me migraines. Plus, he’ll get over it. He can hardly stand to be around me for longer than, like, twenty seconds, so… I doubt he’ll even notice.”

“Seriously, I still don’t get why you’re getting married. To him, of all people.”

“Because. I do love him, even if he’s an ass. And it’s.. safe. He’s safe.”

“Safe from what?”

You huff, “If music doesn’t take off. He has a good, stable job.”

“The band will never take off if you get married, babe. He hates the band. He’ll make you quit, and you know it.”

“Then maybe it wasn’t mean to be,” you shrug.

Jodie stops in her tracks. “How can you— no. Absolutely not. I do not care if you love him or if you wanna marry him. You are not throwing away your dream for some guy! Any guy! If it was— fuckin’, I dunno, Harry, who was like this—“

“Harry? Ew! I just met him—“

“He was the first person that came to mind! The point is, if anyone you dated pulled that, I’d say the same thing. It isn’t just because I don’t particularly like Connor.”

“Jodie—“ you sigh.

“No,” she cut you off. “You’ve been singing and writing songs since as long as I can remember. That was all you wanted. Since we were six, you’d tell people you’d be a singer when you’re older! You and Mason planned this for years! You can’t just quit because some stupid, no-good, ugly guy tells you to! Music is who you are. If not for yourself, then for me. For Mason. The band was meant to be, but maybe you and Connor weren’t.”

“Jodie.”

“I know. I know. But I’m serious. If Niall treated me like this, you would’ve roundhouse kicked him by now.”

“It’s complicated—“

“But it doesn’t have to be,” she argues.

“.. I don’t wanna talk about it. I don’t, okay? I won’t quit music whenever we get married, okay? He’ll get over it eventually.”

-

When the four of you return home, Connor is on the couch. He's fuming.

You roll your eyes as you walk through the door, ignoring him. The others seem to follow your lead, both not acknowledging his presence.

“Where the hell have you been?” he asks, storming over to you as you set the Sephora bag on the kitchen counter.

“You’d know where I was if you bothered to show up.”

“I wasn’t invited.”

You gave him a deadpan look, turning to Jodie, Harry, and Niall.

“I did invite you, dumbass,” Jodie scoffs.

“Yep. Invited,” Niall nods.

“.. Invited,” Harry echoes, visibly confused but still going along.

“Well, excuse me if I didn’t feel welcome after my own girlfriend told me to leave my own house when she was gone—“

“Not your own house. Your name isn’t on the lease. And why is that? Oh, right. Because you don’t pay fucking rent like a grown adult.”

“I don’t got a job right now, babe. I’m not stable—“

“Oh, and I am? I sing for a living. You think that’s stable? No. But I do it because I want to, and when I’m not making enough there, I have another job. Jesus, you act like you can’t problem solve.”

“That isn’t the point.”

“Then what is your point, Connor?” you sigh, crossing your arms and leaning against the kitchen island.

“My point is that you care more about your career than me!"

"Connor, babe, that isn't true, I just-"

"It sure seems like it."

"I just.. I really love it, and it's-- it's what I wanna do with my life, y'know? I don't mean to make you feel that way. I invite you to every show, you just.. don't show up, and-- and that's fine, but I try to include you."

"Yeah, whatever. I guess I forgive you."

You smile, "I love you."

"Love you, too."

The two of you retreat to the bedroom, and it was silent for a moment.

"What the fuck?"

"Welcome to a normal day for us, Harry. Havin' fun yet?" Jodie sighs, patting his shoulder as she walks past him.

-

The next day, you and Jodie went out to look at wedding and bridesmaids dresses.

"So, what are we looking for here,?" Jodie asks you as the two of you stop for coffee in between hitting dress stores. You'd been aimlessly trying on dresses for the better half of the day, and none of them felt right. "I feel like you were just trying on everything, but you weren't happy with a lot of them. So, when you envision your wedding, what is the exact dress you want?"

"I want.. like.. flowery lace with a decent neckline. I want it tight, but kind of flowy once it hits my legs. And.. bell bottom sleeves. The rest I could adjust, but bell bottom sleeves are a must."

"Flower lace, tight top flowy bottom, halter neckline. Got it," Jodie grins. The barista calls your name and you run to go grab the drinks and snacks. The two of you began walking down the street.

"So.. how does Ni know Harry, anyhow?"

"Uh... work, I think? I can't even remember, it's been so long! I think they met before Ni moved here, and then reconnected through work. I could be wrong, though. Ni only told me once when I first met Harry, and that was years ago," she laughs. "But I think it's work, mostly. You don't mind him staying, right? Because, he's sweet, don't get me wrong, but he's also kind of... promiscuous, I guess? Not that he's.. pushy about it! He just is extremely flirty and doesn't really have boundaries sometimes."

"No! No, God, no, he's perfectly fine. I like him. I was just wondering, because I can't remember either of you mentioning him ever," you explained.

"I'm sure we have once or twice, you've just got the memory of a goldfish."

"Shut up! I do not!" you giggle as the two of you walk into the next dress shop of the day.

"Hello! How may I help you?" a woman greets the two of you.

"Hi! My friend here is getting married, and she has a very specific dress in mind! She wants flowery lace, halter top neckline... kind of tight at the top and slightly flowy at the legs? Oh, and bell bottom sleeves. That's the only ones that are non-negotiable."

The woman nods and glances at you.

"I'm pretty sure we've got something exactly like that in your size. I'll bring you a few options."

"Thank you so much!" you tell her and Jodie and you set your things down and sit on the couches by the changing rooms. The two of you talk idly about plans for the band until the woman reappears.

"Alright, love, here's a few similar to what you want. But I think this one is closest to what you want," she smiles kindly as she hands you a stack of dresses, and then one singular one.

"Oh, it's beautiful!" you gush.

"Try it on!" Jodie tells you. You laugh and walk into one of the changing rooms. Obviously, the first dress you try on is the one closest to what you'd envisioned. You couldn't help the smile on your face as you looked at yourself in the mirror.

"Hurry up!" Jodie urges.

"Calm down, woman, I'm coming!" you huff as you push the curtain aside and step onto the pedestal.

"Oh, Y/N/N... I think this one might be the one. It's gorgeous!"

"It fits you like a glove," the woman grins.

"I love it!" you squeal. "Here, get a video of me in it. I wanna show Ni whenever we get home."

"Okay. And.. recording!" Jodie tells you.

You spin around in the dress, and it has just enough train to spin with you a tiny bit. You squeal in excitement and jump up and down. "I love it! Bury me in it, honestly."

"I won't send it now just in case he's with Connor, so we'll show him when we get home. But.. and this isn't me saying don't get the dress, I think you should, but I thought Connor didn't want you to get a... revealing dress, I guess is the words?"

You pause and your smile fades, "Yeah, he doesn't. He likes the ballgown ones more, but.. it's my wedding, too, right? I should be able to get my own dress. Besides, he won't see until the day of, and then it'll be too late to be mad. And he can't be mad on our wedding day," you shrug.

"Fair enough. How much is this dress, again?"

"Oh, I forget. Turn and let me check that tag, dear."

You turn so your back is to the store owner.

"It is... three thousand dollars."

You and Jodie both pause. Three thousand? You weren't sure you had that type of money. Not yet, anyway.

"Y/N, I can-"

"Jodie, absolutely not. You can't pay for my wedding dress."

The woman looks between the two of you awkwardly.

"Um.. is it possible to put the dress on hold?" you ask after a beat. "It's just.. I wanna make sure that price is good with my fiancé."

"Oh, of course, love. What's your name?"

"Y/N L/N."

She grabs a sticky note and scribbles it down.

"It'll be on hold for about.. two weeks, does that sound good?"

"Yes, please. Thank you so much."

-

"'Eyyyy, they're back!" Niall cheers as you and Jodie walk in through the door. He and Harry were both on the couch drinking beers, watching something on the TV. "C'mon, I wanna see the dress!"

You and Jodie both laugh and move to the couch. Jodie sits between Harry and Niall while you perch on the armrest as she pulls the video of you in the dress up on her phone.

"Awwe, Y/N/N, you look gorgeous," Niall grins.

"Thank you! Took us forever, but we finally found one that is exactly what I wanted."

"Where is it? I wanna see it in person!"

You and Jodie both hesitate. "Uh.. we.. didn't get it."

"What?" Niall furrows his brows in confusion.

Harry finally chimes into the conversation, "Why the hell not?"

"It was.. um... three thousand dollars. We put it on hold, but.."

"Y/N, how many times do I have to tell you to just use our card? You know I have enough money-"

"I know. Jodie offered, but I feel bad using your money. I don't even know if Connor would like the dress, so maybe-"

"Fuck Connor. Sorry," Harry suddenly says, "excuse me if this isn't my place, but you're the one wearing the dress. If you like the dress, get the fuckin' dress, Y/N. You look great in it."

".. Thank you. I just- I don't really have three thousand dollars," you sigh.

-

At damn near four in the morning, Jodie and Niall prefer to be asleep. However, Harry didn't really seem to care all that much when he came barging in.

"What's the name of the shop?"

"What?" Jodie asks harshly.

"The dress shop. The one Y/N found that dress she likes. What's it called?"

"It's... fuck, it's, like, Wedding Dreams or some stupid shit like that."

"Why are you even asking, Harry? It's fucking four in the morning, go to sleep," Niall grumbles.

"I have to buy a three thousand dollar fucking dress."

"What?"

-

a/n: when he buys ur wedding dress cause ur broke how cute

taglist: @angeldavis777

[delulu-with-wandanat]

International Affair

Welcome to my shameless self-insert series🤭 Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Last

Reader Description: Masculine style, They/He, AFAB, International Student, 20 Years Old. Sometimes will be describe using masculine terms (man, boy, handsome, etc)

Pairings: Wanda Maximoff x InternationalStudent!Reader

Warnings: Specified age gap (Wanda is 34).

Summary: For their summer break, Y/n decided to spend it in a little town called Westview. It was there when they met Wanda Maximoff. A woman in her 30s with two kids, who seems to be attracted to the college student despite being married.

New York University's tuition was fucking ass. It really is, at a whopping $64,000 tuition fee per year. And that's only the tuition fee, the total estimate of studying in NYU plus living cost was probably over $90,000. Exactly it's fucking insane. Despite receiving a sponsorship from their parent's good friend and also financial aid from NYU, he still needed to figure out how to pay it back.

Sometimes they feel like smacking their head for choosing to study in a city where it's known for its back bank breaking living cost. Can you blame him though? Those tall buildings, shining lights, bustling nightlife, sounds of gunshots, and a huge opportunity for a creative person such as themselves, along with a dash of capitalism. Y/n couldn't help but be fascinated. That American dream that he had been chasing since he saw the Devil Wears Prada.

It was now summer vacation. Instead of going home for the summer, Y/n decided to join this Homeshare Summer program. Basically an elderly person provides home for students to share during the summer. The benefits are plenty, but most notably, cheaper housing rent. His roommates also joined this program, together they sublease their apartment. Adding extra funds to their breaking bank account.

In return, the students must help their elderly host with basic domestic needs. Mostly light household tasks; preparing and sharing meals, tidying up, chores, walking a pet, etc.

Y/n ended up matching with someone in a small town called Westview somewhere in New Jersey. As much as he loves New York, he wanted to spend his summer somewhere else in America.

He matched with a lovely widow named Melina Vostokoff. He learned that she has 2 daughters, both whom are adults with their own respective career. She needed a companion, understandably so, and Y/n was more than happy to assist her in anyway she might need.

"Y/n." Melina called.

"Yes, Mrs. Vostokoff?" Y/n looked up from their laptop, they were sitting on the dinner table editing some footage.

"Oh dear, please, I told you to call me Melina."

"Sorry, Melina. Force of habit." He said with a smile. "What's up?"

"Would you please send all this batches of cookies around the neighborhood? I already have a list of houses on where you can drop them." Melina is known for sharing batches of cookies for free around the neighborhood. Why? Out of kindness.

And also the fact that she loves baking, but ended up not being able to finish it all. So she shares them around the neighborhood.

"Sure, Melina! I'll do that right away."

So he sets of to drop off delicious dessert for Westview citizens. Melina had told them that this was a good chance to ask around for a summer job as well. Which is what he had initially planned to do anyway. Finally they reached the last house, Maximoff Household. They weren't so lucky with the other neighbors, but last one's a charm right? He rang the doorbell.

A person then opens the door. "Hello, I was just-" Holyfucking shit. This woman was absolutely gorgeous.

"May I help you?" She ask, god her voice is sexy.

"Uhhh..." Snap out of it! "Sorry! I'm Y/n, I'm the student staying over the summer at Mrs. Vostokoff. She told me to drop off her Bi-Weekly batches of cookies."

Wanda wasn't stupid, she noticed their nervousness and found it adorable. "Lovely to meet you, Y/n. I'm Wanda, Wanda Maximoff." She offered her hand.

"Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Maximoff." He shook her hand.

"Do you go to Westview University?" She was rather intrigued by the younger one.

"No, ma'am. I actually go to NYU, I'm studying film production."

Wanda raised an eyebrow and smiled. "How impressive. Though I must ask, why choose to spend your summer here?"

Damn... her smile.

"Mainly a much cheaper living cost, other than that I figured It'll be good for me to explore other parts of America. New Jersey is not far so it's a good place to start."

"Ah, an International student I see. Is it one of those Homeshare programs?"

"It is!" The student beamed.

What a charming smile he has, Wanda thought to herself. "Say, how old are you, Y/n." She ask while leaning against the door frame, her tone was... rather flirty.

"Um... I'll be turning 21 this year." Wanda hummed at the answer. For what reason Y/n doesn't know either. "Here are your cookies, ma'am." Well shit, he was getting nervous again. Obviously, Wanda staring at him with a look he can't quite pin.

"Oh! Thank you, dear. My sons absolutely love Melina's cookies." She took the container from them.

"Well that's no surprise, I could live off from those cookies alone." They said while laughing lightly. "So I take it you've lived here for a while?"

"Yes, I've lived here for years with my twin boys and husband." Damn it, they thought. "Anything you would like to know?"

"Yes actually! I've been looking for a summer job, but I haven’t had any luck."

"Well, lucky for you, a friend of mine who owns the Cafe in town is looking for a new Barista. She just recently opened the position."

"That's great news! Thank you so much for letting me know, Mrs. Maximoff." They said with a smile, Wanda had another idea in mind.

"However, I think they're only offering part-time. If you're looking for some extra work, I may need a few... help around the house. Would you be interested?" She asked with a devilish smile.

Y/n, being too excited at the possibility of finally landing a job, failed to notice the flirty undertone in Wanda's sentence. "Absolutely!"

"Splendid! Come over to my house tomorrow and we'll discuss the details."

"I will see you tomorrow, Mrs. Maximoff. Thank you again!" The young man said with a bright smile, he started walking backwards onto the sidewalk.

"See you tomorrow, Y/n." Once they turned their backs on her, Wanda bit her lip. She had multiple things in mind for Y/n to help her with.

I did a quick research on the law of international students working in the US. I didn't get into detail but it basically said yes but there are restrictions. So ignore the actual laws, and y'know just - whatever man it's a fanfic :') When I saw the estimated cost of studying in NYU i almost cried-

Also I hope you guys don’t mind I go with a more masculine reader for this one (i really want to be called a good boy by Wanda)

I hope the reader description doesn’t confuse you guys, if it does. Its ok, i self inserted myself and im very confused abt my gender-

[jungle-angel]

A Boy And His Critters (Bob Floyd x Reader)

Summary: You and Bob think your oldest child might be an animal whisperer

Warnings: Mentions of birth, pregnancy, cuteness overload etc.

Tagging: @floydsmuse @callmemana @attapullman @withahappyrefrain @bobfloydsbabe

It was late in the afternoon in early spring, on a day when the hawthorn trees in your yard had just begun to bud and flower. Your birdfeeder already had more than enough visitors, your three cats, Freya, Thor and Pumpkin, having eyed them from the living room window. Already there had been fifteen calf births within the last two days with Bob, his father and his brothers and sisters having to wake at some ungodly hour to help with the births.

You were in the living room of your home in Montana, the soft Disney piano music playing from the speaker on your laptop. Bob lay on the spread out quilt on the living room floor, one pillow under his head and the other under his tummy while he gently rocked Baby Rudy in his little baby hammock. The sun streamed through the windows as you sat close to your husband and baby, the other three outside with their grandparents or aunts and uncles while you were busy carding the freshly shorn sheep's wool from the week before. You set aside your brushes and quickly took a snapshot of the sweet sight, hoping to add it to the photo album later.

You heard a loud meow and felt that familiar bushy tail brushing against you, looking down to find Thor rubbing against you. "You need a good brushing," you chuckled, teasing him with the carding combs.

"S'it the cat again?" Bob mumbled with a yawn.

"Yep," you answered, getting back to your work. "Rudy asleep?"

"Mmmhmm," Bob answered. "M'gonna go see if Dad needs help and come back for a nap."

Bob rose from his spot and kissed you before heading out to the barn to see if his father needed any help. "Hey sleepyhead!" the older Floyd greeted, tipping his black cowboy hat a little.

"Hey Dad," Bob answered sleepily. "Everything good?"

"Yeah everything's lookin good," Joe answered. "The hands have it all down so we don't have to worry until the spring auction. The baby go to sleep?"

"Just went down for a nap," Bob yawned. "I think I might too, my eyes are starting to itch."

Bob and his father conversed back and forth, totally unaware at first of the clanking of a metal bucket and the hurried footsteps of five year old Auggie.

"Bud?" Bob asked when he finally saw. "Whatcha doin?"

"Nothin Daddy," Auggie chirped.

"Doesn't look like nothin," Joe chuckled.

"I gotta go milk the cows, Papa!" Auggie announced.

Joe and Bob were humored to say the least, more so when they saw Smokey, the crotchety old rooster weaving his way in and out from between Auggie's legs. They followed behind him to make sure he didn't get into trouble, when he approached the female dairy cow that Joe and Irene had taken in, singing in his chirpy little voice, one of the farm songs he had learned in his kindergarten class at the so-called "hippie school" he attended with the other Dagger children.

"Holy shit," Joe chuckled. "Get a load of this Bobby."

Bob was thunderstruck when he saw the old bat following Auggie into the barn with Smokey still clucking away between his little cowboy boots. Normally it would take two or three of the hands to lead her in, but here was Auggie, five years old and barely up to his father's hips, leading her into the stall with no issues.

"Un......believable," Bob laughed.

"How the fuck does this kid do it?" Joe wondered out loud, a broad smile on his face at the sight of his grandson.

Bob quickly pulled out his phone and began recording, hoping to be able to show the others when they had a chance to come by. Auggie chirped away as he milked the cow until a startled moo came from her.

"Sorry Peach, but that's what Daddy does to Mommy and it works."

Bob stifled a squawk in his throat but not before Auggie began yelling at him in his best Shrek voice.

"AYE! GET OUT ME FUCKIN SWAMP!!!!!"

"August Robert!" Bob laughed.

Auggie hurried over but Bob was in too good a mood to discipline his son. "Sorry for using a dirty word, Daddy," he apologized.

Bob picked his son up and kissed his cheek, Auggie's glasses falling slightly off the bridge of his nose. "I'm glad you said sorry, but Daddy should remember the rule the he and Mommy put into place."

When Bob was able to go back inside, he showed you the video including the one of Auggie's Shrek impression.

"You'd think he was an animal whisperer by the way Smokey follows him around," you laughed.

"Sometimes I like to think so sweetheart," Bob yawned as he lay on the couch.

You set aside your carding combs and the wool, covering Bob with the spring quilt and snuggling in beside him, the two of you proud as ever of Auggie.

[octuscle]

My biggest dream was to backpacking in europe between the end of high school and the beginning of college. But I didn't do it. In a few days I'll celebrate my 50. birthday and my wife told me she has a special present for me realizing my dream from my youth and getting a young lover for herself when I'm back. Now I've this countdown on my phone from your corporation. What's going on?

You think it's a bit silly when you get on the plane. With hand luggage only. A large rucksack. Nothing else. Otherwise, when you get on the plane, you usually have a suit on and your laptop with you. Today? T-shirt and functional pants. Cell phone with extra powerful power bank. You feel dressed up. And you look really dressed up too.

When you wake up shortly before landing in Paris, you stroke your chin. Shit, you can't have grown that much beard between New York and here… Anyway, now you have to make your way to Gare de Lyon somehow. The TGV to Vezelay leaves in four hours. And from there, the first stage takes you along the Way of St. James to Strasbourg. With your little bit of school French, you'll manage quite well. In the metro, you look at your reflection in the window pane. You are a miserable tourist. An ageing man in ugly functional clothing. But the beard looks pretty cool…

When you finally arrive at Vezelay station, it's late. You are tired. You've booked a hotel room near the station for your first night in Europe. A bit of comfort. By the way, the Chronivac timer has expired. The display shows that the transformation is in progress.

The hotel is relatively elegant. You stand out at breakfast. Yes, you are freshly showered. But you could go to the hairdresser again. And although you've had a fresh shave, you've already got a shadow of a beard again.

Now it's getting serious. You're standing in front of the hotel. The rucksack on your back. You're already hot. And your first stage of the day is 25 kilometers. How much is that in miles? And why are you doing this to yourself…

The day is hell. You're sweating like a pig. Your feet hurt. You have a sunburn. On the one hand you're hungry, on the other you feel like puking. And when you arrive at your stage destination, you realize that you can't get accommodation without a reservation. As you pass a building site, the foreman asks you if you are looking for work. You reply that you need somewhere to sleep. He replies that that is not a problem. If you give him a hand, you will be given dinner and a place to sleep. You don't really feel like doing any more physical work. And you've always been a failure as a handyman. But somehow you know how to mix concrete and pour a foundation. And as you drink a beer in the evening sun at around 7:30 p.m. and talk to the other craftsmen, it feels very normal. One of the carpenters asks you if you're from the north of France. Because of your strange dialect. You look at him questioningly. And say that you're from Buffalo. He asks if that's near Lille. You have obviously arrived in France.

When you wake up the next morning in your bunk in the trailer, it's 05:30. You were expecting a hell of a muscle ache. But you feel like ripping out trees. You wash yourself briefly with ice-cold water in the rain barrel and then continue on your way. You've promised to help out for two more days before you move on.

Your wife mocked you when you said you wanted to take time out to do two months of work and travel in Europe. Sometimes you realize that she is simply much older than you. But shit, so is the French president's wife. And he should be about your age. 45 years old, as far as you know. Just four years older than you… Well, he's got further than you. But you look hotter than him. And the fresh air is obviously doing you good. Your wife is really suggestive when you facetime. You didn't even know she was into phone sex. But it's a nice change. Normally you tend to fuck colleagues on the building sites where you're helping out. It's more of a man's world. Something for real guys. And if you're anything, you're a real guy.

You've been on the road for six weeks when you finally arrive in Strasbourg. Shit, it's expensive here. Prices completely spoiled by tourists and European bureaucrats. Fortunately, you soon find a job here too. Not as a construction worker, though. But as a waiter in a bistro. And you can even sleep above the bistro. On the very first evening, you notice that very few guests spend the whole night here. A constant coming and going. And when you have to go to the toilet across the corridor, a not at all bad-looking guy in a stuffy suit asks you if you'd like to come up to his room for a moment. He slips you 50 euros. A hell of a lot of money for a blowjob or something. Should you feel cheap or like a hooker? Who are you kidding? Back home on the other side of the pond, you're the toyboy of an ancient lady. She's already 50 years old.

Strasbourg was awesome. But you only have three more weeks before you have to go back. The new semester at university starts. And your GILF is waiting for you back. She told you yesterday how much she misses you. You went out of your way to make her squeal with ecstasy at the end of the phone call. The PayPal payment arrived immediately. Together with the money you earned as a hustler and waiter in Strasbourg, you can now enjoy your last days to the full. You love the wind on your nipples. Maybe a hot trucker or something will pick you up as a hitchhiker. Tonight you should be in a place called Karlsruhe. Then it's not far to Frankfurt. And from there it's back to Buffalo. Someone there is eagerly awaiting her young lover.

[nico-di-genova]

A Lesson in Braking

Chapter 2

Read on Archive of Our Own

A/N: hehehehehehe (my only thoughts while writing this fic).

Warnings: NSFW and a brief mention of anti-harm dorm furniture.

“I fucked an old guy last night,” Lance says to Esteban, when he’s lying on the floor of his dorm room, head resting on the Spider-Man pillow he bought Esteban for his birthday last spring. “Behind the Barnes & Noble. Hand job.”

Esteban hums. He’s  sitting at his desk that he’s moved to slot beneath the single small window of his room, curled over his laptop and working on some complex string of numbers. Three weeks into the semester and Esteban is already drowning in assignments – Lance doesn’t envy him.

“He ate my cum,” he continues, picking at a fraying edge of the pillow. When he pulls at the red string it snags on the fabric and then releases, growing longer in Lance’s grip. He should buy Esteban a new one, maybe a whole bedspread to match. The thought occurs that he could buy a matching set, just to sleep on during the nights when he’s too drunk to get back to his own place and crashes in the living room.

Esteban hums again, pushes his glasses further up his nose, keeps clicking away on his laptop so that the number sequence only grows longer. Lance can only catch pieces of it from where he’s lying on the floor, head angled backward to stare up at Esteban as he works. But even the small bit he can see is enough to give him a headache.  

“When I kissed him I tasted it.”

That gets him.

Esteban sighs, leans back in the chair as far as it will go given its anti-tip design – dorm furniture made to prevent kids from hanging themselves from their light fixtures – rubs at the bridge of his nose and then falls back forward with a groan.

“You’re telling me this, why?”

Lance pouts, tips his head further back on the pillow so he can get a better look at Esteban with one arm on the back of his chair, leaning down to stare at him with mild judgement.

“You don’t want to know about the old man sex I had?”

“I can barely tolerate hearing about the normal sex you have.”

Lance laughs. The spider-man plush, also bought by Lance from the birthday trip to Disneyland last spring, rises and falls on his stomach with the movement. Technically, he has homework for his intro to Marketing class, but it’s more fun to laze around on Esteban’s dirty floor, talking about his sex life, than it is to learn about how to make people buy things. Besides, he’s grown up listening to his dad rant about his successes in the industry, so much so that his first word might as well have been entrepreneurship. It shouldn’t be a hard class to pass.

The dorm room is so tiny he almost runs the whole length of it, one foot nearly to the door, his head at the base of Esteban’s chair, one knee propped in the air. One of his arms is spread wide enough that it’s laying underneath Esteban’s bed, fingers toying with the shoelace of a sneaker that’s been kicked off underneath. It’s a familiar sight by this point, Lance taking up space in Esteban’s room, his life, with ease and spreading out enough that he can be found in nearly every corner of it. Esteban always makes room for him, sometimes will join him on the floor when his course load isn’t too much. But junior year is already different from the two prior, kicking off with a speed that is giving Lance whiplash.

He misses Sovi, the freshman dorms that once made him feel caged, but provided infinitely more freedom in that they weren’t tied to the paths that had led them here.

“My normal sex life just involves Pato, you’d rather hear about me fucking Pato?” He asks, smirks, just barely dodges the pencil Esteban flicks down at him.

“I don’t want to hear about you fucking anyone! Get a journal!”

Lance muses, “I guess there was also that one guy a few weeks ago. From that party in Q,” the building a few doors down from Esteban’s. It sat on the shore of the lake and far enough away from the central hub that university police tended to overlook it. Esteban had called Lance four beers deep a week into school and told him to get there quick, didn’t specify where ‘there’ was, so Lance had to use Find My to even locate him. When he’d pulled up the party had been in full swing on the third floor, and he was welcomed into the cramped apartment by Esteban who reeked of alcohol and weed. Lance ended up fucking one of the guys who lived there, riding him hurriedly and enduring the guy keeping a sweaty palm pressed to his mouth so he didn’t make too much noise in the room they’d locked themselves in.

 Esteban squints at him, “You said that guy was shit.”

“He was.” He came first and then didn’t even bother to get Lance off.

“So why the fuck would you want to talk about it again?”

“Because you don’t want to hear about the good old man sex.”  

Esteban’s nose crinkles in disgust, “Well how old was he?”

“I didn’t ask.”

The mechanical engineering is quickly forgotten, Esteban spinning around fully in his chair and staring at Lance with wide eyes. Lance grins up at him innocently, flutters his eyelashes, scoots over on the pillow as a silent invitation for the man to join him on the ugly blue carpeted floor. Esteban doesn’t take it, yet, Lance is still confident he can convince him.

“How old did he look?”

“I don’t know, forties maybe?”

“Forties?! What the fuck, Lance!?”

“What?”

The deadpan stare Esteban gives him isn’t new, it’s pretty standard actually. “You are insane. And stupid.”

Lance, because he likes testing his luck, pushing at the boundaries of his and Esteban’s friendship, seeing where the line is so he can be prepared for when it snaps, keeps going, “I’m seeing him again tonight.”

He wishes he’d been filming, just so he could preserve the way Esteban’s eyes get impossibly wider. Finally, Esteban gets out of the chair, but he doesn’t join Lance on the floor, instead he paces the length of the room, hands held on his head and mumbles a rapid string of words that Lance doesn’t quite get but he thinks are mainly swears.

“You are joking, yes? Tell me you are joking.” Hands on his hips, towering over Lance, he looks like a giant. Tall and lanky with big eyes behind his wire-rimmed frames.

Lance hadn’t been. He’s been texting Fernando since late last night, ignoring calls from his dad in the process. So far the conversation has consisted of little substance, just enough to establish that Lance is a junior, Fernando is retired, and lives in one of the mansions on the other side of the lake that is right outside Esteban’s prison cell-sized window. Mainly they’d talked about Fernando’s cock, how Lance is upset he didn’t get to see it, taste it – how he’d like to return the favor preferably outside of the backseat of a car and somewhere a bit more comfortable.

He wants to be called beautiful again, reverently, spread out on silk sheets and spread open by Fernando’s fingers. He blames the accelerated horniness on the dry summer he’d just had, the time spent at his father’s house with little else to do and no one to hook up with because Lawrence had insisted on spending as much time as he could with Lance. They’d gone to the track to watch a few races, the office where Lance was meant to be shadowing, galas and banquets, and the golf course most mornings so Lawrence could ensure Lance actually had something to show for the tuition he was fronting. Lance knows it was mainly a last ditch effort on his dad’s behalf to maintain their relationship, before Lance slipped off back to Florida and began predictably sending him to voicemail. Which is why he had even bothered enduring it in the first place, when he just as easily could has gone off to the Mykonos with a group of guys from his frat.

He'd refrained from debauchery all summer, was paying the price for his abstinence now. But, like always, the cost was something to which Lance paid very little, until the bill began to raise eyebrows, as Esteban’s now are.

“Lance. Tell me you are joking!”

“Why would I be joking?”

Esteban glares down at him, while Lance sprawls out further across the thin carpet, concrete flooring beneath digging into his shoulder blades, and smiles. It’s wide, lazy, slow to draw across his face. The sort of shit-eating, self-assured, smirk that Esteban hates.

“It was good sex, Este! He did this thing-“

“Stop! No! Stop! I don’t want to know.”

Lance stops, goes quiet, but continues to smirk. In his pocket, he feels his phone vibrate, probably Fernando again. They’re meant to be meeting in a few hours, once the suns gone down enough that being outside doesn’t make him feel like he’s melting. When Fernando can take him to the bar in the shopping plaza nearby and treat him to a beer before he fucks him senseless, as he’s been promising all day.

He doesn’t tell Esteban this, figures he’s maybe traumatized him enough for the day. Instead, he changes the topic to Esteban’s course load, feigns interest in the math still open on his laptop. Esteban is all too willing to explain it to him, to turn his attention away from the phone Lance pulls from his pocket and grins at with cheeks turning red.

Fernando has sent him a photo of his outfit, button of his slacks undone, zipper pulled low,  hand holding the waistband below his hips. He has a tattoo on the inside of his forearm, close to his wrist, something Lance hadn’t noticed in the dark of his car last night, but that he now can’t draw his eyes away from. It’s a cross of some sort, produces the sort of sacrilegious thoughts that he can’t linger on for too long for fear of losing his religion.

‘Wear something nice,’ Fernando’s text says, when he manages to read it.

Lance doesn’t own much that fits the description, other than a suit he saves for formals, but he figures it maybe doesn’t actually matter that much. Fernando promises to rip whatever it is off of him anyway.

Esteban throws another pencil at him when he tries to show him the photo, holds his hand up to block the view and then lands the writing utensil right on Lance’s nose.

------------

His dad calls when he’s fresh out of the shower of his own apartment, steam curling in the air around him and his phone vibrating steadily against the granite countertops of his humid bathroom. He answers before it goes to voicemail, figures he owes his dad this because it’s the third time he’s called since that morning, and he doesn’t want to risk pissing the man off too much.

“Hey,” he says as he’s wrapping a towel around his waist, slicking his wet hair back out of his face with his free hand. He leaves the phone on speaker, lets his dad’s voice fill space as he busies with getting ready.  

“I’m going to assume you’ve been ignoring my calls because you are going to class.”

He only has one class on Tuesday’s, and it’s finished by noon. Advanced golf merchandising, a pointless elective where he’s meant to be learning the management of a retail location. He takes notes, enough to retain the important bits, but he already knows management isn’t where he’s going to end up. His dad would secure him some corporate position within his company before that was even an option. Which, he doesn’t want either, can’t stand the thought of being forced to wear a shirt with a collar every day.

“Yeah, I just got back from campus,” he lies, he’s been hiding out at Esteban’s since class ended, it’s seven now. The lie comes too easy, but the truth would only hurt the both of them – that Lance is avoiding his father because their conversations hurt more than they help these days. That Lance is growing, but it’s in a direction away from Lawrence, from the idea of who his dad thought he would be.

His dad wishes Lance were still small, and Lance wishes that too, but only because when he was a child hurting his dad only resulted in a brief scolding. Now it leads to awkward silences that neither of them know how to fill.

“Class is going well?”

“Um, easy so far, yeah.” They’re only three weeks in. “Other than this financial accounting class, it’s brutal.” He’s already had to ask Esteban for help, already knows he’s going to need to visit the library for tutoring.

He wipes steam from his mirror with the palm of his hand, catches a glimpse of his dripping reflection. Somehow, he needs to assemble himself into something relatively attractive within the next ten minutes, only for it to most likely come undone the second he slides his helmet over his hair. There’s a twisted sort of humor in him wondering how best to style himself for Fernando, while he’s on the phone with his father, pretending to care about classes that had stopped being fun once Lance realized they were actually supposed to lead to something.

“You spent all summer looking at the books,” Lawrence says. Which is true, but it had made more sense when things were hands on. Now it’s just a jumble of words and numbers on a whiteboard, a professor who knows the course is meant for weeding out those who are too weak to continue, and who looks at Lance every time he shows up late with a knowing sort of disappointment.

People didn’t used to look at him like that, it’s a growing sentiment the more Lance stumbles.

“Yeah, I know. It’s just- it’s different. All reading and equations and- I don’t know. I’m not a numbers guy, dad, you know this.”

“You got it pretty well while you were here.”

Only because he’d felt his dad’s eyes on him the whole summer, felt the pressure and the weight and need to prove he could do something. His professor doesn’t bother to look at Lance once he’s sat at a desk, which means Lance zones out, doodles designs in the margins of his notes and then wonders why the numbers don’t add up while he’s doing homework later.

“It’s different,” the exasperation in his voice is audible, he pauses where he’d been drying his hair with a towel pulled from under the sink. Closes his eyes. Breathes. “But I’m trying. I’ll- I’ll figure it out.”

“I know you will, Lance. I didn’t say you wouldn’t.”

They’re being careful around each other, the eggshells just beginning to crunch beneath their feet. Neither one of them want a fight and Lance can feel the tension of it through the phone, the tightening of something in his chest that threatens to break every time he speaks to his father now. This is why he lets it go to voicemail.

Fernando texts him, he sees the notification come through as he’s staring at the phone, hands braced on the bathroom sink. Probably asking if he’s on his way. Lance’s hair is still dripping water in cold tendrils down the back of his neck, a puddle forming on the carpet at his feet. He hasn’t even bothered to find an outfit or brush his teeth.

“Look, dad- I- um, I gotta go. I have a, uh, a study thing with Pato-“

“Oh, okay, yeah. I’ll talk to you soon.”

Lance closes his eyes again, bows his head, tries not to care about the hurt that’s audible in his father’s voice and finds that it somehow manages to dig between his ribs anyway. He hangs up before there’s the chance for the line to fracture further, and then he busies himself with texting Fernando back.

‘You are still coming?’ Fernando asks.

Lance says he’ll be there soon, and then he focuses on the toothbrush in his hands, getting himself ready, and ignores everything else.

-------------

“I need a drink!” Lance yells over the music, leaning further into Fernando, who holds him up with ease. “A shot!”

Fernando’s hand on his waist tightens when Lance rocks on his feet. They’re standing in the press of bodies on the dance floor, people on all sides. The crowd makes it easy for Lance to press against Fernando, the flashing lights adding to the disorientation. No one notices the way Fernando’s got one hand gripping Lance’s hipbone, the other on his ass, tucked into the pocket of his jeans and cupping the curve of him.  

They’re the same jeans he’d worn last night, pulled from the crumpled heap on his floor and slid back on because he couldn’t find anything else. If Fernando has noticed he doesn’t say anything, too distracted by the white linen button-up that Lance wear, only half done-up and exposing nearly the full expanse of his chest in the multicolored lights. Lance knows it puts the chain around his neck on full display, makes his collarbones stand out, shows how broad he is, and produces the impressed reaction Fernando had exhibited upon first seeing him.

He’d bought Lance his first drink, and then the first requested tequila shot, leaning on the bar top and staring at the exposed column of his neck as Lance tipped the liquor back and downed it with practiced ease. Lance had seen the way Fernando’s eyes had darkened as his adams apple bobbed, looking from the corner of his eye just to see the response that would be elicited with the movement.  

“What do you want?” Fernando asks now, hand on his hip coming up to pull Lance down to him so his lips just barely brush over Lance’s ear.

He shudders, breath stuttering when Fernando’s fingers tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck and pull just enough that there’s the promise of something better later. He’s been teasing Lance since Lance first arrived, the ghost of a touch, a tongue tracing over the sweaty line of his neck, enough to have him hard in his jeans but never doing anything to solve the problem.

It’s the most public foreplay Lance has ever engaged in, even if everyone is too drunk or too involved in their own games to even notice.

“Vodka?” Lance yells, knowing he probably seems young for only ordering shots, but he’d only just turned twenty-one last October. Most of his experience with alcohol has been bagged wine fountained before entry to a party or the mix of Kool-Aid and whatever liquor could be procured into a giant tub for jungle juice. Shots are simple, uncomplicated, and he knows he can handle them. Plus they hit fast, or at least feel like they do, give him the liquid courage needed to grind against Fernando as Pit Bull blares around them in the crowded bar.

The Keys is a mixed sort of space, half occupied by college kids who were too lazy to drive all the way to Rusty’s and half-filled by the locals who are looking for fun outside of their mansions. It means he and Fernando don’t draw attention, Lance fits in with the group of kids in their backwards caps and low cut shirts, Fernando blends with the guys in their pressed button-ups and black slacks. He just looks hotter than the others, the pants hugging his waist and ass well, clearly tailored. And the peak of a tattoo Lance gets on the back of Fernando’s neck as he follows him back up to the bar, Fernando’s hand around his wrist towing him through the crowd, separates him enough from the older guys smoking cigars outside on the patio. He wants to know what the tattoo is, slide Fernando’s shirt off his shoulders and trace the ink with his tongue.

But that’s for later, for now he lets Fernando guide him, lean him against the bar top, slide a hand back into the pocket of his jeans because the shape of his palm over his ass is becoming familiar. He flags down the bartender, orders two shots of Vodka and then they tip them back together. Lance can feel how flushed his neck is getting, wonders if the red of it is spreading to his chest, his cheeks. His hair that was still slightly damp from the shower is frizzing in the humidity of the packed space, falling over his forehead.

Fernando stares up at him, lips wet with vodka and his own spit when he licks them, Lance follows the movement, starts to lean forward like he intends to taste the lingering alcohol himself. Fernando stops him with a hand on his chest, fingers splayed across bare skin, index finger dipping into the hollow of his clavicle. Lance shudders, Fernando feels it.

“Let’s get out of here, yes?”

“Yes.”

Lance can’t drive his bike, just drunk enough that he knows he couldn’t keep his balance. Instead, he climbs into the passenger seat of Fernando’s Aston Martin, and deposits his own keys in the cupholder, casting a forlorn look back at his gear in the backseat. The same seat he’d come undone in last night, now occupied by his motorcycle helmet with the sticker of a cat waving the Canadian flag – something Pato had found online and ordered because ‘it’s Canada, Lance! You know, you!’. Fernando had asked him about it when he parked earlier, traced the outline of it before Lance had taken his helmet off, lifted Lance’s visor so he could see his eyes more clearly as he did so.

When he looks back at Fernando in the driver’s seat the man is staring at him. Lance knows what it looks like when someone wants him. He knows the way Pato gets all slack jawed and dopey-eyed, eyes flicking to Lance’s lips every two seconds even though he wouldn’t even try to kiss him. But Fernando’s look of want is different, more demanding and all-encompassing. He looks like he’s plotting the best course of stripping Lance out of his clothes before they’ve even reached their destination, like he is thinking of the best way to take him apart.

Maybe it’s because he’s more experienced, or maybe it’s because he’s less. Lance doesn’t know enough about him, anything really, to know if he is the first man Fernando has hooked up with or not. They still haven’t found much time to talk, or maybe just haven’t wanted to make the effort. Lance is okay with that, his idea of foreplay is not long discussions and get-to-know-you’s. He doesn’t have the patience for that, much prefers Fernando’s method of cutting to the quick and easy of it.  Which Fernando does when he leans across the console enough to grab Lance by the chain around his neck and pull him in for a kiss.

Lance is still not used to the kissing, just opens his mouth and lets Fernando’s tongue slide into it because he’s not practiced enough. He’s okay with letting Fernando take control, likes how he doesn’t have to think about it, just follow. Fernando tastes like vodka, and Lance swallows the familiar taste of it when their spit mixes and he can no longer tell whose is whose.

When Fernando pulls back Lance tries to chase him, is stopped again by a hand on his chest, firm and unyielding.

“You are still okay with coming to my place?” Fernando asks, and something in the way he says it is slightly sobering. It makes Lance remember his bike two spots over, prepared to be abandoned for the night and hopefully still there come morning.

“Yeah. Definitely.”

“I will drive you home, instead. If you want. Up to you.”

“No. No I’m good. Trust me.” He’d prepped himself in the shower and everything, knew what he was getting into before a drop of alcohol ever touched his tongue. “I’ve been thinking about this since last night.”

Fernando eyes him, glances down at his chest where his skin is still red and hot and bare against his hand.

“Okay. God, you are beautiful.”  

The praise shoots straight to Lance’s cock, has a quiet moan escaping him, something he only just barely manages to bite back with the press of his teeth into his bottom lip. Fernando catches it anyway, grins like he’s realized the praise wasn’t just a one-off from the hand job last night, but something Lance actually enjoys.

"Don’t worry, pretty boy,” he promises, “Make you feel better soon.”

[k-slla]

I see your requests are open. 🙏🏼

Can you write something where reader is a hunter and she and dean aren’t particularly friendly. Maybe she thinks he’s a bit of a dick. Reader wears baggy clothes and doesn’t really dress like anything other than a hunter. There’s a case where she needs to look feminine and sexy and dean says she can’t do it and she proves him wrong obviously and ends up turning him on ridiculously in the process. So much that he ends up mastabating in front of her and it’s super hot!!! 🥵 🙏🏼

Minute Past Midnight

A/N: Hi, anon, thank you for this request, I hope you'll like it!

Warnings: 18+ONLY, enemies to lovers, mutual pining, mutual masturbation, fingering, implied unprotected PinV, car sex, teasing (takes place around se10-11, so possible spoilers)

WC: ~5k | My Masterlist

All mistakes are mine! Feedback is appreciated!

Enjoy!

“What do you mean by “Y/N will get it done”? Have you actually seen her?” Dean took a mean jab at you. You couldn’t help but scoff. “Gee, thanks, Dean, for the word of confidence.” You snarled at him as you got up from the library table, where you and the boys were putting together your next game plan for stealing the Compass from Jacob Styne. The one and only device that could help you to find the Book of the Damned to remove the Mark from Dean’s arm. Because, well, you had to be honest with yourself - Dean had changed a lot with it. It was expected of course, with the Mark it being a curse and all. At least you didn’t have to deal with him when he was still a demon. That would have been the last drop for you, so you were very grateful that Sam and Cas got that handled on their own.

“Of course she can do it, Dean! We’ll just have to find a way to get to him.” Sam turned the laptop towards Dean and you, nervously pacing around behind Dean’s chair. “And I’ve done it already. His family will be hosting some kind of gala, for marrying off their daughter, which..I don’t know..sounds kind of.. actually a lot of weird to me.” Sam said, lightly grimacing at the screen. 

“So, we’ll have to gatecrash their party.. Don’t you think they’ll recognize us?” You were a little skeptical. Sam gave a quick look over your clothes. “I think we’ll be safe, if we just look the part.” You groaned, knowing what this will lead to. You’d have to wear a gown. Yuck. There was a reason for you why you dressed the way you dressed, baggy jeans and oversized sweaters were your go to, and that reason was comfortability and practicality. That was important for you on hunts. 

“Well, I’ll be looking for a gown then. When’s it happening?” You sat atop the table next to the one boys were sitting at. Sam focused on the computer for a minute, looking for the exact info on the party. 

“It’s..in two days.” Sam finally said slowly. You gulped comically loudly. Two days to find a dress, shoes, and figure out the whole situation with your hair and make up. It..will be great.

Dean suddenly got up from the table. “Well, we’re screwed then.” He sighed loudly and turned to leave to the kitchen. “What do you mean?” Sam asked curiously. Dean turned around and looked back at you two. “Sorry, but look at her. She hasn’t seen a dress for once in her life. What makes you think she can seduce Styne AND steal the Compass from him? We might as well accept the fact that the Mark is not coming off my arm. We’re screwed!” Exasperated yell left his lips, making him push some books off the shelf next to the door he was standing. 

“Jesus fucking Christ, honestly, Dean! Is there anything you can do and not throw a fit like a six year old with it? Have I ever let you down in the past five years that we’ve known each other? Have some fucking faith in me. I'll get it done. And even if we don't get the Compass, we'll find some other way then.” Now you had lost your temper too, and your breathing quickened when you saw Dean storming back to stand in front of you. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.” He said with a feigned sweetness. “But as long as you look like this?” His eyes ran over your outfit, and he didn't even need to say anything specific about it, you knew exactly what he meant with that look. Who would ever look at you? “I will have a hard time trusting that you can seduce anybody. So yeah, I'll start thinking of plan B.” He turned to leave again, walking straight past the books he'd pushed off before.

You glared after him angrily. It got personal for you, and you were determined to prove him wrong.

For the whole next day you were looking for a dress for the gala. It was exhausting. The plan was for you and the boys to attend the gala, and while they were keeping an eye out for anything suspicious, you were “entertaining” Jacob Styne, because he was probably the one who's possession the Compass was in. 

But you did it. You found the perfect dress. Silk black spaghetti strapped A-line gown with a deep neckline and a slit running dangerously high up your thigh. You were nervously pacing in your room, before going out to Sam and Dean. You were so out of your comfort zone. You couldn't have any weapons on you, if you wanted to get really close to Styne. If anything goes wrong, you have to trust the boys to get you out. 

“Y/N, come on! We'll be late!” You heard them call you. You stopped on your doorway and took a few deep breaths to calm your nerves. “Here goes nothing.” You whispered quietly.

Walking into the War Room, where Sam and Dean were waiting for you, you suddenly got self-conscious, but you couldn't show it out. You felt naked. Dean choked a little on his whiskey.

“I know, I know. I look ridiculous. He's not gonna fall for it.” You mocked him annoyingly and grabbed your phone from the table. 

“Actually..you look…nice..really nice.” Dean said slowly, shifting in his chair uncomfortably.  “Thanks..you do too.” You said carefully as your eyes traveled down his body. He really did look good in a tuxedo. You noticed that Sam wasn't dressed. “Wait, why aren't you dressed?” 

“I'm not going. You two are.” Sam smirked. “Come on, you really thought it would work if you marched in there with both of us in tow?” He asked when he saw your suddenly blank face. Those bastards played you. Sam knew you would never agree to go there with Dean alone, and he waited until the last minute to tell you that. Now that you're dressed to the nines, you had no other choice. What was supposed to be maybe even a little bit of a fun night for you, just got awkward. You did not want to be alone with Dean. Not at all. He was too big of a dick for that. And with that revelation, the last bit of your good mood was gone.

“Whatever. Let's just go.” You turned around quickly, so that the skirt of your dress twirled in the movement, revealing your leg from the slit. You heard a groaning behind you, followed by a low “fuck” from Dean. He got up from the chair and you looked back to see if he followed you. Instead, he held his tux jacket in front of his crotch and was really flustered. “I- ahem, I forgot something..uhh, in my room. Be back in 10. Mmm.. actually..make it 15.” You rolled your eyes at him “Is this a joke?” You asked incredulously. He looked back over his shoulder. “I can't go out like this! I'll have to take care of it.” He hurried towards his room. 

“For fuck’s sake, Dean! Hurry up!” You yelled after him, not bothering to hide your annoyance. “Fucking joke..” a quiet mumble, meant only for yourself, slipped past your lips.

Sam stifled a laugh. “Good luck, Y/N, you'll need it.” 

About an hour later, you and Dean walked into the manor. Both grabbed a glass of champagne and tried to keep a low profile for a while to gather some information on Styne.

“So, I'll go find Jacob and get the Compass from him. I'll call you when it's done or when I'll need some back up. Go and “mingle”, I guess..” You smiled at Dean and started to make your way to the other side of the room to the bar, where you saw Jacob sitting a bit earlier. 

You clumsily “stumbled” when trying to sit down and caught yourself at Jacob's shoulder, pouring a little Champagne onto his lap. “I'm so so sorry, sir!” You quickly grabbed some napkins from the top of the bar and started to pat his pants dry. “I am really sorry.” You looked at him, batting your eyelashes. “It's alright, miss. All's good.” Smiling at him widely, you managed to sit down next to him, lightly brushing your bare leg against his. He flagged down the bartender, who didn't leave him waiting. “Let me buy you a drink. What would you like?” he smiled at you charmingly, making warm blush climb up your cheeks and you almost forgot why you were there in the first place. He was handsome, you couldn’t deny that. You turned to the bartender and said the first drink that hopped into your mind. “French 75, please.” 

“You heard the lady, and Whiskey for me. Neat.” 

Both of your eyes were dancing on each other's faces. For you, that was just an act, but you had no idea what he was thinking. Your mind was occupied with Dean and some lucky girl who he probably had with him already, but you had to get that sight out of your mind immediately.

“I haven't introduced myself yet. Jacob Styne.” He said and took your hand to place a kiss on it. “Irene Rivera.” 

“My pleasure, Miss Rivera. What would you say, if I suggest taking these drinks to my room?” 

You bit your lower lip teasingly. “Mm, I’d say “lead the way”.”

You walked through the maze of hallways, remembering your path for later to send directions to Dean in case you needed some rescue.

You got up to his room and as soon as he closed the door, he put away your drinks and his lips crashed onto yours and hands started to feel up your body. You knew he was searching for any hidden knives or a gun. He wasn't stupid, and you definitely weren't stupid to take weapons with you. In turn you moved your hands over his chest, feeling something possibly resembling the Compass in his jacket's pocket.  As you faked your pleasure of his hands on your body, you pulled away from his kiss, panting hard. “May I- may I use the restroom quickly?” He pointed towards the right of you. 

You shut the door behind you and exhaled deeply.

After getting your phone out, you shot a quick text to Dean. 

“In his room. He has the Compass. 2nd floor, left hallway from main staircase, last door to the right. Be here in 10!” 

You stared at yourself in the mirror, giving a little pep talk. “You can do this. Just a little sleight of hand. Probably a little more kissing. Nothing you haven’t done before.” You took a deep breath and walked out of the bathroom.

He was sitting down on the couch already, with your drinks in hand. 

“Join me.” You sat down close to him and took your drink from him, but you didn't dare to take another sip from that. Instead, you put the glass to the side table and went to straddle his hips, kissing him carnally. “I think we were in the middle of something.” You whispered against his lips, cringing on the inside from how desperate you made yourself sound, but it was all just part of the job. With intention to slip the Compass out of it, you started to push his jacket off his shoulders. His kisses moved down to your chin, drawing low moans out of you, and then up again along your jawline.

“Tell me, Miss Irene, how stupid do you think I am? Did you really think that I would fall for your little scheme?” He whispered into your ear and caught your hands to keep you strongly in place. You started to struggle with desperation to get off of him. “Fuck! Let go of me!” When you saw he had no intention to release your hands, you kneed him hard to his balls and got off his lap.

“You stupid bitch!” He groaned out of pain and quickly tripped you with his leg to stop you from getting away. “No! Dean!” He pinned you down to the floor, one hand holding your wrists while the other one closed around your neck. “Dean! Help!” You screamed out before he cut off your air. “Dean? Not as in Dean Winchester?” Your eyes started to water quickly, you still tried your best to fight him off, squirming under him as much as you could. Where was he? “Please.. don’t..” But Styne clearly enjoyed the view of you squirming under him, slowly starting to give up the fight. “Oh, sweetheart, it’s too late to start begging now. If Dean finally decides to join us, this party will be really fun!” he grinned down at you.

“I don't think so.” Dean had stormed into the room and hit Styne in the head with his gun. It had no effect on him and his hand was still around your neck. “You have to try harder than that if you want to sav-” Dean suddenly pushed him off of you and held against the floor while five shots rang through the air. You gasped loudly and coughed hard to normalize your breathing again.

Your ears were ringing loudly from the shots fired close to your head. Dean helped you up from the floor and pulled you into a quick hug. “Are you alright?” You gathered yourself before nodding at him. Dean let go of you and squatted down to search Styne’s pockets for the compass. After securing it in his hands, he guided you out of the room. You heard quick steps coming up the stairs, from more than one pair of feet. You had no gun and there was no way that Dean could take all them on alone.

“We have to hide.” You whispered and pulled him towards a door, you were happy to discover it to be an empty closet. “In here.” Both of you held your breaths, as you stood in the small space, your bodies pressed tight together, and you waited for them to pass your door.

You felt something hard press into your thighs, and while you knew that he wouldn’t even see it because you were backed against him, you still felt the need to lift your eyes up. “Dean..” You said slowly. “What?” he whispered back. “Please..please tell me that it’s not your boner pressing at my thigh?” you blurted out, without thinking. Dean started to choke on air after your question. “Wha- uhh..it’s not..just uh..my gun...”

Not knowing what had just possessed you to make you this bold, you turned around as quickly as you managed in the small room and palmed his dick through the pants. You had never been this forward with a man before so you blamed it on the adrenaline rush from the fight before. “Really? Is that the same “gun” you’re holding in your left hand, or one for backup? Because..” you looked up at him through your lashes and continued rubbing his cock. “..this one’s much bigger…and thicker.” You squeezed him tightly, making a trembling breath escape from his lips. “Don’t do this, Y/N..please, not now. Don’t tease me like that.” he begged quietly, trying to back away from you. Squinting your eyes, you smiled at him. “What? You don’t like being teased? Am I too mean to you?” You let the words roll slowly off your lips, enjoying the strained expression on Dean’s face. “Heh, ahem, just a little, yeah..” He gasped out as you let go of him. You brushed your thumb over his full bottom lip. “Take it as retaliation. You’ve been a complete dick to me for the past five years. Payback’s a bitch, isn’t it?” You smirked at his speechless face and opened the door slightly, to check if it’s safe to go out again.

You heard yelling coming from downstairs, as Jacob’s family tried to find whoever was responsible for his death. “If we do it quickly, I think we can sneak out of here.” You whispered over your shoulder to Dean and slipped out of the door, checking your left and right before motioning Dean to follow. You quietly snuck through the hallways, trying to avoid getting caught. Unfortunately it didn’t go that well.

As soon as you got downstairs, you were spotted and under direct fire. Dean started covering you, but it still wasn’t enough and you got grazed by a bullet in the shoulder. “Ow, fuck!” You shouted and ducked down immediately. “Are you okay?” Dean asked between shots. “Yeah, just a graze. I’ll be fine.” You were almost at the front door and when Dean pulled it open, both of you bolted towards Baby.

Safely in the car, Dean pulled away from the spot with the squeal of the tires. “Let’s get onto the main road, then we’ll make a little stop and I’ll help you with your shoulder, alright?” He took a quick glance at you. “Okay, yeah, thanks.” you said quietly, looking only at the road. 

You were driving in silence, only sounds coming from you were occasional groans, when you moved your arm. Luckily it seemed to you that the cut wasn’t that deep that you’d need stitches, although you knew you'd let Dean make the final decision. 

After a few minutes he pulled aside from the road, got out of the car and walked to the trunk to get the first aid kit. You followed his lead and climbed out of the car. Sitting on the hood, you kept the pressure on your wound until he finally joined you. 

“We only have some vodka here to clean your wound, it’s not the best, but it’ll do until we get back to the Bunker.” He gently removed your hand from your shoulder to take a closer look at the wound. “I think you won’t need stitches. But it’ll hurt like hell.” You only managed to nod a little, knowing very well that it’s going to hurt. 

“Wait, wait, wait.” You stopped Dean from cleansing the gash. His proximity and smell of his spicy, leathery cologne made you slightly dizzy and...needy. “I need a sip of that.” you reached out your hand and waited for him to hand you the bottle. “Uh..okay.” He couldn’t hold back his surprise. You chugged three big gulps from the bottle, enjoying the warmth of alcohol spreading inside you.

That's what you thought it was. Or it was just the effect of Dean on you. You handed the bottle back to him, and the last of the vodka left in there, he poured onto your shoulder, making you bite down on your fist. “Son of a-!” Dean immediately applied pressure on the wound, slightly lessening the stinging sensation with that. “Shit, that hurt!” You couldn't hold back a light laugh. 

“Told you.” he said with a small smile while he dried your skin around the graze before applying a bandage over it. “All done. You'll live.” He leaned onto the hood of the car next to you.

Your eyes locked into his and you smiled fondly at him, gratitude clear on your face. You tried to remember the exact moment you actually fell for that man. Was it at the first sight, when he had saved your life? Was it just after he invited you to live and hunt with them a few years back? Or maybe it was the moment when you saw how desperately Dean was ready to fight for his loved ones. He was always ready to save his baby brother, no matter what it took from him. He may seem like a complete dickhead at first glance, but in reality Dean was the most selfless, most compassionate man you had ever met.

“Thank you, Dean.” He looked at you with a surprised expression, as if he didn't believe you had really said those words. “Hey, no worries. We were caught in the fire, I'd patch you up again if needed to. We did it though. Got the Compass.” Comfortable silence fell around both of you as you sat there on the hood, enjoying the brisk air around you. You were admiring the stars in the clear night sky when Dean suddenly broke the silence. “You did good today, Y/N.” You snorted loudly. “Yeah, right. I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you saving me from him.” You said quietly and kicked your eyes down to the ground. “Damn it, woman, take the compliment. You know that I don't usually give them lightly. You did good. You're a good hunter.” 

You rolled your eyes at him. “Really? So that's why you've been a jackass to me for the past years?” 

“No. Not because of that.” You raised your eyebrow in confusion.  

“It's because..well.. you're…you.” He suddenly seemed nervous. “Dean, you're not making much sense.” 

He took a deep breath and held it for a moment before continuing. “You're you, Y/N, amazing and beautiful in your most natural way. I’ve thought all these years that if I was just an asshole to you, it would be easier for you to push me away and for me to not think about you all the time. But I was wrong. It is not easy for me to get you from my mind.” You turned away your gaze from him, to hide one tear that freely ran down your cheek. You had no idea. You had no idea that your feelings for him were reciprocated. All this time you've been thinking that he really sees you just as a hunter, not even as a woman.

“Dean, I-” He cut in before you could finish the sentence. “Yeah, I know. You don't feel the same and don't know what to say. You don't have to say anything. Honestly. I get it. I know that I'm not the easiest to be around, not to speak of being someone you'd ever fall for.” He sighed and got back into the Impala. “Dean, wait!” You hurried after him, climbing into his lap as soon as you got into the car.

“Stop it!” You panted, slightly out of breath. You turned his chin up, face towards you and looked him straight into his eyes, that were glimmering even in the darkness. “You can't just say all those things and then run away from me without letting me answer, because..” you got lost in his eyes and the warm breaths leaving from his slightly parted lips started to intoxicate you with the way they were flowing over your skin. You knew that no words could really give away the feelings you had for him, so you gathered the courage and just kissed him hard.

At first you felt like Dean didn't know how to react to your kiss, but as soon as you started to nibble on his lip, asking permission to enter his mouth, he deepened the kiss and his fingers slipped under your dress, with blunt nails digging into your hips he pulled you closer. You chuckled against his lips, feeling his erection through his pants again. “Really? You're hard again?” He bit your lip teasingly. “Mm, not again sweetheart, since we were in the closet actually. Haven't really gotten time to do anything about it.” You shimmied backwards on his lap, leaning against the dashboard. You knew you were both waiting to release some of your past sexual frustration, but you were pretty sure neither of you had protection. “I'm not on the pill, do you have a condom on you?” 

“Ah, fuck. No, I don't.” Dean sighed defeatedly, running a hand over his face. You leaned back in to kiss him.

“Well, no worries, we can still have some fun, you know?” Your hand started to work on his belt buckle, to free his dick from the restraining boxers. You took his hand into yours and spat into his palm before guiding it down to his cock and slowly started to move it up and down. “I want you to jerk off.” His laughter rang through the car. “And what are you going to do?”

Without another word you moved back on his lap, leaving as much as free space between you as you could. You lifted both of your legs on the seat on either side of him, opening yourself completely to him, revealing your drenched lace underwear.

Your dress was moved up enough so it was just resting around your waist, thanks to the long slit it had. With a devilish smile, you hooked your fingers into your underwear and started to pull them away.

Due to the position you sat in, when they reached your knees, they were pretty much into Dean's face and you were not expecting what he did next. Dean lifted your left leg from his right and slightly bit down on your inner thigh, making you yelp, before pulling your underwear off with his teeth. “Ugh, fuck…you're delicious.” He muttered quietly, your panties still in his mouth. He pulled them out of his mouth and threw on the seat next to you. “Can't wait to eat you out. Can I please?” He looked at you with bright green puppy dog eyes. “Not now.” You whispered and slowly slid your fingers between your glistening folds, teasing Dean.

“Well, I'm going to play with myself. I hope you're not just going to watch?” You cocked an eyebrow at him and pushed one finger into your dripping pussy, making Dean groan at the sight of you. He began to slowly stroke his cock, catching a bead of precum with his thumb and spread it along his shaft, with deep sighs leaving his lips.

“Fuck, you're so beautiful. Big. Thick.” You moaned yearningly, wishing he'd be inside you right now instead of your fingers. The sight of him slowly massaging his dick, head resting on the seat, sighing and groaning softly, made you even more aroused, and you knew you wouldn't last very long.

“Did I really turn you on before we left for the gala?” you whispered, breathing slowly getting heavier from the pleasure slowly building deep in your core. “Yeah..you really did.” He offered a half-smile, as his eyes fell down between your legs, where you had your middle and ring fingers sunk as deep as possible into your pussy, while your other hand rubbed your clit. “What were you thinking of when you were masturbating then?” You had your eyes closed and you imagined him in his room, jerking off earlier in the evening.

“Look at me, Y/N, then I'll tell you.” He said quietly and you immediately locked your eyes with him, still fucking yourself with your fingers. “I was imagining having you in there with me. Feeling your beautiful lips around my cock, sucking hard, almost choking on it, or having you spread out on my bed, screwing all the hate you have against me out of you.. making you cum on my cock..” You ran your thumb again over his lips. “Oh, Dean, I don't hate you..never have..never will, but if hate-sex is what turns you on, I can always pretend.”

“Please..I need to taste you more, Y/N, so bad..” he begged and you pulled out your fingers, clenching around nothing when Dean lifted your hand to his mouth, closed his eyes, and began sucking hard on them. With one hand still rubbing himself, the other one found his way to your pussy, not letting you be empty for long, his long fingers filled you perfectly. That angle was so much better for him to finger you while you went back to rubbing your clit. You clenched around him hard, moaning and whimpering when his moves sped up, hitting the sweet spot deep inside you. “Oh, fuck, Dean, I'm-!” He was still sucking onto your fingers, and you had to brace yourself on the roof of the car with your other hand, when an intense orgasm overpowered all your senses. You had forgotten what words were and only whimpers were leaving your mouth when he continued fingerfucking you through your climax. You had now completely ruined his pants with your juices, but he clearly didn't mind, as he watched you coming off your high while he started to jerk himself off. “You're so fucking beautiful right now.” You were squirming in his lap, as he continued rubbing your clit, all sweaty and breathless from your orgasm. “The view I have right now.. fucking hell, you're..” he gasped and shut his eyes as he finally came hard, cum spurting onto your stomach. “Fuckk..!”He continued to stroke himself until he was all out. Both of you were out of breath, when you leaned into him to close the gap between you.

Your kisses now were much sweeter, slower. “I ruined your dress, babe.” He whispered. You smiled against his lips. “I ruined your pants, so I guess we're even.” Your fingers ran through his hair, gently scratching his scalp, making him moan softly. “Thank God you always make us pack up some extra clothes for the hunts. Wouldn't want to explain this to Sammy.” 

You reluctantly pulled away from his arms and sat next to him, both of you still half-naked and not bothering to cover yourselves. “I think he'll be happy for us. Or at least that much, that he doesn't have to be afraid that we'll jump each other's throats.” For some time, you sat there in silence, still not able to think clearly. Even after that intense orgasm that you had, there was still desire burning inside you for his cock. “Dean…” you started, slowly moving your hand up his thigh again. “What if we make a little detour before going home?” You looked up at him with big doe eyes. “What do you mean?” He smirked at you. Your smile widened. “What if you fuck me right now like you imagined and afterwards we buy some morning-after pill and hope for the best?” You were clearly blinded by the arousal, but as you learned, so was Dean, when he hungrily pulled you back into his lap.

“Are you really sure about this, Y/N?” He purred against your neck. “Yes, I'm sure.”

Basking in the afterglow, you were both again breathless and speechless. “Oh...uhm..fuck..that was..yeah.” Dean had a hard time finding words to describe what you both just experienced. “Yeah..I know.” You smiled at him, totally satisfied with yourself now and you knew Dean was too.

Taglist: @jackles010378 @cevansbaby-dove @deanwinchestersgirl87 @alternativeprincess94 @il0vebeingdelulu

[stevenbasic]

Growing into the Job, Post 408: Babysitting, p3

“So, how exactly are you going to pay for all of this?” Randi asked me, her eyes rising up from her laptop from where she sat on the couch, several cushions away, “You’re broke from the divorce, aren’t you?”

“She, um, gave me debit card,” I answered, not taking my eyes off my own screen - the big tv in Melissa’s mom’s great room. I’d figured out a way, with Randi’s help (and permission) to use the television to surf the web. I hadn’t been online in a while and at first Randi was reticent about letting me use it. I explained, though, that I just needed to do some shopping.,After some arguing, and, well pleading, she finally relented and said I could, as long as she could supervise. So, sitting here on a quiet Thursday afternoon after having endured not just one but, I think, three blow jobs while watching the first part of Melissa’s interview for Channel 5, I put another set of shoes into my Amazon cart. Yes, I was dependent on a woman’s money and being policed in my internet habits by a 20-something year-old.  At this point, though, I was nearly beyond the embarrassment and humiliation of the situation. Nearly. “She said I could use it for whatever I want.”

When I said ‘she’, there was no question of who I was talking about, and Randi’s eyes lit up with a smirk.

“Melissa’s got you sucking from her bank account already, huh?” Randi quipped, the bank account/teat analogy not lost on me but not rankling me quite as much as it should have. Quite. “How much did she give you?” 

“ I- she gave me two thousand dollars,” I answered. Maybe I was relaxed from the half-hour or so I’d spent in Randi’s mouth and the quick nap I’d taken after, but admitting my financial dependence on my girlfriend didn’t bother me much. Much. I’d kept an eye on my online cart; I still had a good cushion in my budget and moved on to looking for shirts…in the “Youth” section. “I’ll be careful not to run out.”

“Well, if you use it up I’m sure she’ll let down some more money for her needy little man,” Randi finished, “Melissa’s got very big…accounts.” Her smoky voice was still deliciously throaty from the blowjobs. 

Again, haha, with the boob analogy and a - fuck me - stirring in my sweatpants.

“Yeah,” I answered, this time finally feeling myself flush. Randi certainly had a way about her, a way to find my buttons, and she obviously loved to push them. I always thought of her as pushy, a little critical, and with a somewhat rough, randy (hey-oo) sense of humor. She had a penchant for deliberately pressuring me, and sometimes seducing me, way beyond my comfort zone. Today, in fact, was our third private tryst, and it was an unspoken fact that it came with her best friend’s nodding approval. I understood Randi’s seductions as mostly practical. They were calculated, mercenary, career-advancing moves designed to trap me in a corner and use my own weaknesses against me. She knew I didn’t have the strength of will to say no, and her advancements almost seemed like an amusement to her, practically a prank. On some level, though, both Randi and I knew there were heavier machinations at work. She’d never admit it but my cock down her throat filled some deeper instinct, some sort of connection that flowed through me, her, and all the girls.

Yeah, so Randi was maybe becoming more than just a brash prankster who liked making men horny and stupid, getting her kicks from pushing them to risky and humiliating sexual acts. Something important was quietly happening, surfacing in her - like it was in lots of the girls at the office. Randi was no doubt an acerbic, short-tempered young woman but she was smart, and given the context of her being overwhelmed with all of the new demands on her life I got the sense she knew she was moving upwards towards some greater role than just Social Media Director at a geriatrics practice in the Midwest. 

With Randi pestering me, I’d unconsciously found myself stroking the debit card Melissa had given me. I never told anyone, but  I nearly always kept it in my pocket. Weirdly, having it around made me feel safe. Now that I had it out next to me, I couldn’t help but hold it close. 

“Maybe I’ll buy something nice for her,” I muttered, not even realizing what I’d said out loud as I navigated my way toward the ‘Women’s Clothing’ section. Amazon had certainly started using curvier, more athletic models these days. Maybe they felt the need to start living up to their name haha. 

“Oh, you want to get Melissa something? I know she was talking about a dog collar,” Randi offered. 

“Really? Why?” I asked, “Is she thinking about getting a new pet?”

Speaking of, Melissa’s moms cat - ‘Tiger’, I think - sauntered across the room, between the television and where I sat. Had it been around here the whole time?

“Hey, cat, what’s up? Need your litterbox changed?” Randi teased. 

The thing paused, fixed Randi with a death stare, and moved on. 

Randi chuckled, and turned her attention back to me. “Anyway, no more tv,” said, putting her laptop aside, “you and I got some chores to do.”

Oh yeah, that. Laundry. 

Five minutes later, at Randi’s command, I found myself back upstairs gathering up not only my own dirty clothes from the bedroom but Melissa’s as well. Panties, bras, socks and athletic gear were all strewn haphazardly about the room. Most of the time I was a bit too distracted to notice, but she really was a mess and a half sometimes. Finally, with a bit of work, all the clothes found their way into the already half-full laundry basket sitting in the corner. Apparently not satisfied with the bra from which I’d still needed to breathe, I took the chance to surreptitiously sniff Melissa’s dirty clothes. Good god, the smell of her was like a drug. I just couldn’t get enough. This must be love, right? I was alone, and suddenly horny again and was considering rubbing one out right th-

“Hey, dude..!” came Randi’s voice, calling up to me from the bottom of the stairs, “What’s taking so long? Are you rubbing one out?”

Sigh. 

I was still strong enough to carry the now-overflowing basket down the steps and to the laundry room, where Randi supervised me separating out the delicates (mostly Melissa’s lingerie) from everything else. We’d started the load of regulars, some towels and a robe were already in the dryer, and Randi had - Whoah! - picked me up under the armpits to boost me to sit on the washer while she went through what looked like another pile of bras that had been set atop the dryer alongside me. 

My feet dangled off the edge as I watched Randi pick through them, looking at tags, setting some aside to go through the next load. 

I recognized a few of these bras. Old ones of Melissa’s, from months back.

“Uhh…” Anything to do with Melissa’s bras did seem to enthrall me. 

“These are ones she’s outgrown, she told me I could have them,” Randi explained, holding up a white underwire whose band and tag I recognized from an old Insta post of Melissa’s. 

“R-really?” I managed. 

Sidelong, Randi glanced at me and her smile curled into something a bit more predatory when she heard the crack in my voice. “Yeah. I’m basically as big as she was when you hired her.”

Randi’s tone suggested she knew exactly how captivated I was.  “Well, I’m taller now than she was then, so 34GG’s don’t look as ginormous on me as they did on her,”  she dryly explained, “But don’t worry I’m a growing girl.”

Though I’d been confronted with this before, the sheer absurdity of the fact that yes all the women around me seemed to be getting taller, stronger and bustier still boggled me. “h-how does this happen??” I asked with obvious futile impotence, sitting on the washer and eye-to-eye with Randi, who must be over six feet tall at this point. 

“Dude, haven’t you figured it out yet? The Melissssy Effect?” she snipped, white lace brassiere still in her hands, “Spend too much time around her and you start becoming what she needs you to be.”

Yes, right…wait, what?! I knew it, I felt it, this influence my new Office Manager was having over our staff… and over me <shiver>. I think I’d secretly known it all along. I could ‘feel’ it, but it was just too ludicrous to get my head around. “H-how..??”

“Plain and simple,” Randi answered sharply, “She’s magic.”

My brow furrowed. “T-there’s no s-such thing as magic,” I muttered, hearing for myself the uncertainty in my voice. 

To my reply, Randi cocked a dark, sculpted eyebrow. “I dunno. I wouldn’t be so sure.”

My throat caught, blood rushed behind my eyes. “C’mon…she’s not ‘magic’,” I insisted, again with the hesitation of a man whose worldview had been crumbling around him already. “Magic’s impossib-”

“Okay then she’s ‘science’,” Randi retorted, “You believe in science don’t you?”

“Yes but…” The science was even more unbelievable. 

“Or, maybe she’s ‘religion’. Or - I dunno -  maybe she’s all three,” Randi concluded a bit uncertain herself. Her tone seemed to signal that there were things about what was happening that she didn’t fully understand herself. “I honestly don’t fucking know.” Irritated, she obviously wanted to move onto something else. 

The washing machine vibrated underneath me, the dryer rumbling alongside. 

She held the big white bra in her hands, making a bit of a show of it. She wanted me to look up as she inspected its full satin cups. Despite knowing what she was doing, I couldn’t help but grow silent, my mind captivated by the sight. 

“Anyway, since we’re on the subject,” she began again, “now that I’m as big as she was when you hired her - and we all know you hired her for her tits - I want to make as much as she did.”

Wait. 

“Wh-what?” Now we’re talking salaries?

“I want a raise. A big one.”

“Y-y-you want to make as much as Melissa? Our Office Manager??” The shock of it pulled my attention out of Melissa’s bra cup and back to Randi’s crooked smile. 

“Well, not as much as she makes now of course…” Randi offered. 

Makes…now? Melissa’s pay should be the same as- 

“She gave herself a raise, didn’t you know?” 

My expression must have been one of shocked incredulousness, and I felt myself gaping, confused. 

Randi chuckled at my consternation, and her hand drifted down to find my erection alive and well in my sweatpants, clear for her to see. After a brief second of shock, my body tensing at her touch, I realized just how obviously turned on I was from this predicament I found myself in. With well-practiced proficiency, she slid her hand down the waistband of my pants, and pulled my hard shaft out into the open air. Fuck it was huge, startlingly so on my skinny, 4’7” frame. She smiled as she gave it a squeeze. 

I groaned, my eyes fluttered, but - passively - I didn’t complain. Suddenly I was distracted from the surprise of Melissa’s raise and the insult to my already-crumbling authority, and all my attention was centered right where Randi wanted it. On her.  

“Face it, buddy,” Randi said, as she took my cock and wrapped it into one of the white satin bra cups of Melissa’s bra, causing me to shudder and moan anew. My vision swam and already my loins sparked and clenched. “We’re all getting richer. We’re all getting more beautiful, taller, stronger.” She began to stroke the bra over my throbbing, nearly ten-inch shaft. Her voice was smoky and low. “All of us are getting bigger, all of us -  except you.”

“Oh godddddd….” I groaned, and - Jesus, that was f-fast - came into Melissa’s bra.. 

As the orgasm wracked me, I fell forward from where I sat. my face planted itself into Randi’s - my savior and tormenter’s - waiting bosom. “Shhh…deep breath,” I heard her chuckle, waiting until I inhaled before speaking again. She felt me melting. “I smell like her don’t I?” 

Nnngh…nnngh…nnngh….Melissa. Yes, she did. A sharper edge to it, perhaps, but Randi’s scent was all but exactly Melissa’s. 

“We’re all starting to get to be more like her,” Randi drawled as she milked me through my climax, into the satiny cup of her friend’s enormous bra, “and not just the tits.”

Nnngh, nnngh, nnngh. Into the bra I came, until my pulses waned. 

Still gripping my spent manhood and the bra with one hand, Randi pulled me back from her chest with the other. She took one of my hands into hers, and opened it up so we were palm-to-palm. We both marveled at the lopsided size comparison, how my fingers went just past the first joint of hers. She chuckled, and turned her narrowed eyes back onto me as she brought my hand up to her lips. Gently, she started kissing my fingers, looking into my eyes with a suddenly tender intimacy that was unusual for Randi.

“Being with me is kinda like being with her, hm?” she said, both of us aware of this weird energy - and Melissa’s unseen presence - in the room, “You can think about her when you’re with me. She’s your girlfriend, I don’t mind.”

Randi kissed my fingertip, sucked gently on my index finger to the first knuckle. She was still rubbing me, massaging me through the squishy bra, and she saw my eyes fluttering again. “C’mon I know you can do it,” she whispered. 

Astonishing even myself, I began to swell again. 

“Oooo there you go,” Randi chuckled, as her hand - assisted by the cup of the bra and now the lubrication of my last release - began to squeeze and stroke me anew. “Women really have so much power over you, don’t they?” she posited, feeling me hardening, “such amazing things we can do, Melissa, all us girls.”

“M-Melissa..?” I groaned. 

“Shhh remember, I’m getting to be just like her. And she’s not jealous. Being with me is like being with her, she’s told you herself,” she purred, sucking my index finger into her mouth and then out again, like she was sucking a dick, “But…there are still some special things of my own I can do. My own particular talents…”

I groaned. Was she actually going to do this to me again?

“Let me show you why they call me ‘The Mouth’.

At that she started feeding my fingers - two three four…five - in between her lips, and then slid them into her mouth. Her lips closed over them, and I felt the muscle of her tongue moving slowly underneath my fingers.

I shuddered in pleasure and she chuckled as I watched, eyes searching mine as I began to realize what she was about to do. 

She moved on to take in my entire hand. 

My eyes went wide. She had my whole right hand in her mouth, to the wrist.  She still grasped my forearm which, by god, was not much longer or thicker than my cock, between her fingers. Her glossy lips were closed in a tight seal around my scrawny wrist, and - drawing in her cheeks - she sucked on my hand powerfully. Her tongue continued its unseen gymnastics around my palm and fingers like an eel. I felt the sharp edges of her teeth bite delicately into my wrist, while all the while her eyes remained locked on mine, staring into my shuddering depths.

She hummed pleasantly, the vibrations of her vocal cords shivering all the way up my arm. I was beginning to groan again, in new pleasure. What was this girl capable of??

With another tug of suction, she began to show me. 

I gasped in disbelief as she took in the first few inches of my arm. My eyes stayed locked on hers as - oh my god - she didn’t stop.

She ate more of my arm, lips sliding up and up and up my thin limb as she still hummed into my bones. I felt my hand slide down into her throat and soon she had me to the elbow. 

“o-o-oh my god Randi…” I stammered, now staring down at the spectacle. She’d taken my entire forearm into her mouth, her lips closed around the joint of my elbow. I could feel my hand squeezed by the top part of her esophagus, and she swallowed several times on purpose, squeezing my hand and wrist in a muscular embrace of warm tightness….and drawing me in further. 

Deeper and deeper she fed me into her mouth, her lips inching forward slowly, gaining territory with each gentle swallow and pull. She was a snake, a she-cobra, devouring its prey and I watched her throat bulging with the thickness of my arm down inside it. The start of my withered bicep, then the middle. Randi kept going. 

My cock was throbbing hard now, fully back at erection and still being stroked by Randi now with both hands through Melissa’s bra. Though I couldn’t take my eyes off the horrid spectacle of my arm down this girl’s outrageously distended mouth, hers still bore into mine with insistence, unblinking, not wanting to miss a moment of my reaction.

Randi sucked me in again and I heard the first real gag out of her. She had my upper bicep and then - my god - her jaw widened even further and her lips closed around my shoulder, and came to a stop. Her big head, her mane of straight black hair, was right there, her eyes staring deeply into mine. My jaw hung open and quivering, she’s swallowed my entire arm. My entire arm is inside her, down her throat. 

I felt the acid of her stomach burning my hand, threatening to eat away at it.

She hummed deeply again and jostled her head, shaking my whole torso like a panther with its prey. Then she growled, suddenly baring her teeth at me, showing me two rows of teeth clamped down over my shoulder. There was absolutely no doubt that, if Randi had wanted to, she could have bitten off my entire arm. She growled once more and - nnnnnngggguuugggghhh -  I felt myself orgasm again, unngh, unngh, unngh - into the already sodden bra. How did I have anything left in me?! Her tongue lapped under my armpit, and she sucked on my arm like one giant cock, her entire alimentary canal closing tightly around it and milking it in rhythm with my climax…

=============================================

Thanks to reader GrillFan for his insightful character analysis of Randi, much of which is included here, Joyce Julep for inspiring the arm-eating scene, and once again RiF for proofreading.

[seeminglydark]

1. since john tries to stay away from tech as much as possible, i think it would be funny to see what would happen if he got his hands on like a secondhand e-reader or laptop and what it would look like if he tried to use it. it would also be cool to see if or what kind of stickers he would use to decorate it.

2. i know it’s kind of a difficult topic. but since i’ve been reading your comic, I think the “Creaky” storyline is one of my favorites. Being able to escape a difficult upbringing and being able to find solace and comfort in found family. I’ve imagined that with the help of his newfound friends, John would go back to his father’s house and take back some of his most prized possessions because I think John would be the type of person that would value things and attach those objects to memories of people. I think it would be fun to see how John adapted to a new environment and being able to live freely (full-time) and thrift for clothes and other things. I think it would be interesting to see his thoughts of when he entered his first apartment and see how he decorated it and see how it has evolved into the glimpses that we’ve seen.

hahaha while i understand what you're asking here, he would of course one hundred percent fumble it, the last thing he had was a flip phone from the early 2000's when he was in highschool, so of course he wouldnt be good with laptops or anything. as far as an e-reader goes, john is severely dyslexic (undiagnosed, so untreated) and reading is already a huge struggle, which is why he uses the walkman and listens to audio books. the truth is, were he to get his hands on these things, he simply wouldnt use them. but its fun to imagine him like my 80 year old dad doing the ol' point and shoot typing style with two fingers! Caro and Maddie show him things on their phone and on the internet all the time anyway, so hes not missing the good memes ha! Creaky is also my fave storyline, I'm so glad you're enjoying it! To answer your first question, no, he wouldn't actually go to his dads at any point, and even if he did, none of his stuff would still exist sadly. on a brighter note, he DOES get to retrieve some of his old things, either after hooking back up with Caro (who has his battle jacket, fuck belt and a few other things) and because his Highschool pals Georgie and Dee would totally have a ton of his stuff in the back of Dee's van, so he'd get his walkman, some clothes, his cross earrings that belonged to his mom, and a few other precious things, and you are right, he does connect objects to people. His biggest problem is not remembering much about what some of those connections were. Another factor here is the fact that there is a protection order between he and his ad put in place by Maddie's stepdad Dr Parker, John's dad isnt allowed within a certain amount of distance to John so, going to his house wouldnt be allowed. Even with his friends (in Seemingly Dark, the Fenris chapter) facing down with his father is almost impossible because of his fear and trauma. There will be more about that in the future! on the second note, im actually in process of turning Creaky into a stand-alone book! Which is why I haven't drawn anything here in reply to Johns reactions to new places, new friends and new environments, its all things I want to explore more in depth in the new version of my fave story line. <3 Heres links to some of the progress on the New Creaky! and here!