#but kindness is just nice. maybe i gave in to peer pressure and care too much about whether i'm seen as a good person or not

[pumkinception]

This is mi Secret Santa gift for @taloyo. I love your art and I hope you enjoy my little gift!

You can read here on tumblr or in AO3 if you prefer.

Kei didn't say anything as he stepped into Kai’s house. On paper, Kai supposedly lived with his uncle, but in reality Kei was pretty sure he could count with a single hand the number of times the man had been in the house this year.

After leaving his shoes in the genka Kei continued to follow Kaito towards his bedroom. As they entered, Kei mumbled, "This is a stupid idea."

Kaito looked at him and smiled. He sat down on the bed that was pushed against one of the room's walls. "Well, how are we doing this?"

Kei felt his blood pressure go up for a moment. "You were the one who wanted a piercing," Kei grumbled as he entered the room. He dropped his backpack at Kaito's feet and sat on the bed. "Why am I the one that’s supposed to have a plan?"

"I mean, from the moment you accepted, I supposed you’d want to take care of everything," Kaito said as he grabbed Kei’s backpack and started to rummage through it. "That's just the kind of person you are."

Kaito pulled out a bottle of rubbing alcohol with a sound of triumph, and before he could continue, Kei quickly took the backpack from his hands. Kei didn't say anything, feeling vaguely embarrassed. He did, after all, have everything planned. 

"Well, I didn't actually bring a piercing, so I hope you at least took care of that." Kei said as he pulled the rest of the supplies. He pulled out some seringues in different sizes; he wasn't sure about the size of the piercing, some gauze, and a marker.

Kaito laughed and got up, walking towards his desk and grabbing a small jewelry box and a handheld mirror that Kei hadn't noticed before.

"This used to be my mom's," Kaito said, settling the box and the mirror into the bed between the two of them. "I thought I could use one of her old earrings."

The silence rang clear for a couple of seconds between the two of them. Kaito usually didn't talk about his mom. Kei didn't know much about the woman who used to be Kaito’s mother. Maybe he’ll find out more about her today. 

Kaito opened the jewelry box and stared at the content: "Help me choose an earring."

Kei stared at Kaito for a second. The atmosphere felt heavy, and all Kei could hear was the sound of jewelry moving against each other and Kaito’s breath. 

Kei gave a small sigh before peering into the box as well. The first thing he saw was a couple of loose hoops. He quickly dismissed those. They wouldn't be good for the healing process.

Kai grabbed one of the earrings and showed it to Kei. After a quick look, he dismissed them too. The backing was missing.

Continuing to look, Kei grabbed a small bag that was separated from the rest of the jewelry. Kei poured the contest onto the bed and hummed as he saw the earrings.

All of them were single earrings. Earrings that at some point had lost their pair. As he looked, an earring caught his attention immediately. Between the lone earrings, a smiley face shone. Kei grabbed it and held it up. It reminded him of Kai. 

It was bright and yellow. Terribly eye catching and distinct between its peers. At least to Kei.

Kei saw Kaito look up from behind where he was holding the earring. "Look at this one." 

Kaito blinked, somewhat confused. Although Kei had no idea why. "Do you not like it?"

Kaito didn't say anything but grabbed the earring, he held it in his hand and stared at it. "No, I like it."

Still holding the earring, Kaito pulled a few rings from the box. They were iron with black accents. 

"Huh," Kaito mumbled as he held both things in his hands. "I wonder if my mom had a punk phase."

A pleased smile appeared on his face. Kei thought it was a nice expression.

After a second Kai exclaimed. "Well! Now that we have the earring, it’s time to get to work!" Kaito quickly started to scoop up the box and the rest of the jewelry, leaving behind the lone earring in order to clear the bed.  

Meanwhile, Kei prepared everything. 

Kei grabbed the different seringues that he had and looked at the earring. The needle needed to be bigger than the earring in order to avoid unnecessary pain while putting on the earring. As he was choosing, Kei felt the bed move; Kaito had returned. 

After choosing the correct needle, Kei grabbed the alcohol and some gauze and filled it with alcohol. He grabbed the chosen earring and started to disinfect it. After that, he left it on top of the bed, grabbing at the alcohol-soaked gauze. 

Kei looked up from his work and found Kaito looking intently at him. An embarrassed blush appeared on his face. "What? Do I have something on my face?"

"No, haha." Kaito said it with a smile, as if it were nothing. "I simply like your serious face." 

Kei felt the blush on his face intensify, and he pushed a hand towards Kaito’s face. Kei’s hand found his target in Kaito’s cheek, and he pushed to make Kaito stop looking at him. 

"If you have time to stare at me, you should at least already know which ear you want to get pierced on, right?" Kei said as he pushed at Kaito’s face. Kaito just laughed and squirmed against Kei's hand.  

After a couple of seconds of pushing, Kaito turned his head into Kei’s hand until his cheek was smashed against the fleshy part of Kei’s hand and Kei’s thumb rested behind his left ear. Kei's hand was now awkwardly cradling Kai’s face. 

With a twinkle in his eyes, Kaito said, " How about this ear?"

Kei felt his heart beat go faster as he stared at the way his hand was splayed across Kai’s face. It felt warm, and soft. And Kaitos' smile made something stutter in his lungs. Without thinking he moved his finger across Kai’s face in a facsimile of a caress. Kei noted duly the way Kaito's face changed as he let out a small gasp. His gaze was fixed on Kei.

The atmosphere felt heavy, charged, like something could happen at any moment. It made Kei nervous.

And in the next second, Kei moved his fingers and pinched Kai’s ear. 

"Ow ow, wait, wait" Kaito complained, and Kei let go of Kai’ ear. Kei then quickly turned to grab the alcohol and another gauze. 

By the time Kei looked at Kaito again, Kaito was pouting while holding his ear. 

"What was that for?" Kai said with a grumble. 

"Just checking your ear," Kei said with an ease he did not feel. He poured alcohol into the gauze and passed it to Kaito. "Clean the area, while I prepare everything else."

Kei grabbed a marker and removed the cap. Kai popped an eyebrow with a silent question. 

Kei gestured towards the mirror resting on the floor "It’s so you can see where I’m going to perforate"

"There's no need. I trust you," Kaito said like it was nothing as he rubbed the alcohol-soaked gauze across his ear.  

Kei stared at him and let the words wash through him. They felt warm. Kei closed the marker cap and mumbled that he was going to the bathroom to wash his hands. 

When he returned, Kai had already finished. Kei sat next to Kai on the bed, their knees almost touching.

Before touching Kai's ear, Kei grabbed the alcohol bottle and let a small amount fall onto his hands, disinfecting them one last time. 

He grabbed the syringe pack, opened it, and removed the needle, taking care not to touch the needle itself directly. 

"Move your head. I need to have a good look at your ear" 

Kei grabbed Kai's ear, pulling on the lobule. Kaito had an attached lobule, Kei noticed vaguely. 

"Are you ready?" Kei asked, lifting his eyes to Kai’s face, catching Kaito looking at him from the corner of his eyes. 

Kaito smiled warmly."Always"

Without saying anything else, Kei stared at Kai's ear, deciding where to perforate.

After deciding, Kei put the point of the needle against the flesh of the lobule and let out a deep breath. “Here we go,” Kei mumbled. His heart felt heavy, clumsy, yet fast in his chest. He was somewhat nervous. He could feel Kaito looking at him, even from the corner of his eye. 

Kei pushed the needle in and stopped breathing. It was giving more resistance than Kei thought it would give. After a second he pushed with a little more strength. Kei’s shoulder felt tight with tension.

And after a breath, It went in. Kei cracked his neck to look at Kai's reaction.

Kai simply blinked. "Huh, I expected it to hurt more," Kaito commented lightly. And Kei felt the air return to his lungs. 

"I’ll put the earring in now, then." Kei grabbed the earring from where it was resting in the alcohol soaked gauze, it was still a little wet. 

The needle was still piercing Kaito's ear, so Kei pulled it out slowly, always keeping an eye out for Kai's reaction. Noticing that his expression remained calm, Kei quickly pushed the earring inside the hole. It went easy; afterwards, he grabbed the backing and screwed it in. As he screwed, Kei took notice of Kai’s neck and nape. It was tan, like the rest of Kai. 

As he finished, a small idea popped into his head. It was childish, not like himself. Still, without thinking more of it  he blew into Kai’s ear. 

Kaito let out a scream and fell sideways into the bed, holding his ear between laughs. Kei started to laugh too. 

They laughed, and as soon as one started to calm down, it would trigger the other one to laugh, and so they stayed like that for a couple of minutes, in a short buckle of unexpected joy.

After a final laugh, Kaito sat up and stretched to grab the hand mirror. They were sitting side by side in the bed once more.

Kai let out a hum as he stared at his reflection, a smile growing and growing in his face the more he stared. 

"It came out great, Kei!" Kai spoke suddenly, turning to look at Kei. Smile big, stretching across his face. 

Kei felt a flash of pride run across his spine, and without thinking, he straightened his back. A grin appeared on his face. "It does look quite good, better than expected actually."

"Well, I guess I now have my very own personal piercer," Kaito said in a joking manner. 

"I’ll actually charge you next time," Kei returned. 

Kaito returned to look into the mirror, and Kei distracted himself by looking at Kai. 

After a few more minutes, Kai suddenly said as he caught Kei’s eyes once more, "Hey, Kei. Thank you. Really." His words felt like they meant more than what was said.

Kei felt something on his hand, and a quick look told him that Kai had moved his hand, his pinky now resting against Kei’s. 

Kei did not move his hand. 

"It would do it again." Kei’s words also meant more, but for now, with the easy atmosphere and the gentle intimacy, he decided not to pop the bubble they had created. 

Kei moved his eyes to the smiley face in Kai’s ear. They still had time. He did not have to decipher everything between them today. 

For now, they would just enjoy the rest of the day.

[caught-the-lovebug]

OK HI IM THE PERSON WHO WANTED TO LEAVE A LETTER IN THAT BOYS LOCKER BUT WANTED TO DO IT ANONYMOUSLY I HAVE A MAJOR UPDATE.

ok so throughout the next few weeks of that post i chickened out multiple times thinking that i shouldnt do it and on the day of valentines my Spanish teacher gave us flowers and I thought, hey why not I have a flower now this is the perfect opportunity but I still wasn't sure and was like extremely nervous so I messaged my friends, and they practically (affectionately) peer pressured me into doing it. I made the note in the shape of a heart and found out how to fold it to make it look like an envelope and I wrote a short note basically just saying, what u like about him and I think he's special and really cute and I left the flower and the note in his locker while he was having a private lesson (were in band). I almost went back to get it, but I decided not to and afterwords I felt pretty good. A few days of passed and Friday (2/17) we were walking to our local Walgreens idk how we got to this conversation but he was like "there's some things I want to figure out before I die" and I asked what he wanted to figure out, and at first, he was really vague about it, but then he got more specific very slowly and he like mentioned he found something in his locker, and I just immediately knew he was talking about the note. Long story short, he cried happy tears after reading it, he has a picture of it on his phone and he wants to figure out who it. He said the handwriting look familiar, which is my bad because since I kept chickening out, I kind of rushed to the note at the last minute and hand wrote it instead of printing it like u said (which is why I was surprised he said he cried, because honestly after putting it in his locker I thought it was pretty cringy or cliché and kinda rushed). He also said that he has a feeling that me and my friend (we'll call them S) had something to do with it. I think this is because a few weeks before after I had told S about my crush on him S wenr to go ask him about any crushes he had. AnyWho, we moved on from the conversation after that but i did text about it later though, he thinks it was a girl (which is true) and maybe I'm looking too into it but I have a feeling he might know it's me cuz when I asked what he would do if you ever met the person who sent him the letter, he said "I guess if I know the person I could just say that I like them back" and maybe I'm looking too much into it, but that felt like a hint. All my friends think it is and think I should tell him but I don't think I'll be doing that anytime soon. Honestly I'm just happy that it made him happy says he's kind of depressed and just the fact that something I made, made him so happy that he cried just makes my heart swell.🥹🥹🥹🥹

Thanks for your advice! (Even though, if at the end, I technically didn't take it fully lmao 💀)

Ahhh!! That's an amazing outcome!

You made someone you care about really happy and that's So Special and Good. I'm so glad it turned out that way.

Don't worry about not following my advice exactly, I only give it to help give people like you options or think about how They want to do things. It also sounds like you put a lot of care and thought into it even if you think it's a bit rushed.

Honestly, my instincts are to tell him! He's likely either figured it out or has a strong idea but doesn't want to be wrong.

Especially the "I'd tell them I like them back"... That feels odd to say if you don't think you know who. To me anyways.

But! If that's not what you want to do, then you don't have to push yourself. You did something incredibly nice and made him happy and you can crush away knowing that. It's entirely up to you. And as long as any decision you make feels good, that's great. And if you decide not to, you can always change your mind later.

Good luck! And I'm So Happy it went well!!!

[bb-eilish]

Hey I read all your (becoz I couldn't stop myself after I started) .... So I wanted to request a fred angst (which has like extremely heavy angst, cuz I'm ready to cry) but happy ending I guess and something in the lines of them both hating eachother to realising that they are soulmates.... Don't have to do if you feel pressured tho... I know it sounds weird I'm sorry 😭😭😭😭

Oh my god i can relate so hard

Pairing: Fred Weasley x fem!reader

warnings: Heartbreak, mild cursing, kissing.

Today was awful, truly the worst day you’ve had in a long time. You failed one of the biggest tests, your mother sent you a howler about it as well. The embarrassment still fresh in your mind as you remember how everybody heard how badly you failed.

All you wanted to do was go to Fred’s dorm and cry, he always made your day better. You’ve never met someone you’ve connected with this much, he’s like your other half.

You drag your feet to his door and stop in your tracks once you hear him talking to somebody, probably George.

“We have to be quick, George. She’ll be here soon”

“Why are you running from her? Shouldn’t you tell her what’s going on?”

“You don’t understand, I can’t look her in the eyes and tell her i’m leaving for good. That’s why I wrote her a letter”

Your breath hitches and a knot grows in your throat, tears rushing to your eyes. You can’t seem to move as you hear footsteps getting closer to the door.

The door opens and your glassy eyes meet stressed ones, “Y/n-“

“You’re leaving? And you weren’t even going to tell me in person?” The hurt evident in your voice, tears freely running down your face.

“Y/n, I…” His eyes look everywhere but yours, the fact that he can’t even explain himself causes you to clench your fists in anger.

“Well fine, if I’m not even that important then go. I thought cared about me but I guess I was wrong. I’ll make it easy for you, we’re over” You wanted to hit him, do anything that made him hurt the way you did but decided against it.

Before he can say anything you’re basically running away, muttering a, “have a nice life”.

_______________

The next week was awful, you’ve never been more depressed in your life, your friends have done everything they can to help you. You appreciate their kindness but it’s in vain, you’re not sure what to do with yourself. Whenever you were upset you’d go to Fred and he’d make everything better, the thought only makes you feel worse.

You loved him so much and he couldn’t even tell you to your face that he was leaving, you gave him all of you. He ripped your heart out yet all you wanted was to see him again, missing him more than ever. You wondered what he was up to, wondering if he’s missing you too or if he found someone else.

_______________

You’ve graduated Hogwarts a few years ago, getting your dream job as an auror. You’ve healed from what had happened with you and Fred but you still think about him every now and then. And every time it drifts into your mind you’re angry just like the day he left.

After him you didn’t date anybody, afraid that they might leave you too. Or maybe it was that you had hope you’d meet him again. You denied the latter over and over and over again.

You shake your head from the thought and check your to do list for today, the last thing on there was going to the bank. You usually do things online but you’re having internet issues and you need to cash a check.

Walking into diagon ally a smile instantly stretches across your face, the first years around you frantically looking for different items.

You notice a new shop, peering in the window you see that it’s packed. Hundreds of students having a field day in there, you decide you can cash your check after you see what the big deal is.

Stepping inside you see thousands of toys, all of them seemingly meant for pranks. No wonder this is popular, whoever is running this is probably loaded.

You walk in some more and can’t help but to think of the Weasley twins, they would love this place. You clench your fists at the thought.

Eyeing a pygmy puff, you put a finger in the cage to pet it, the little ball of fluff snuggling up to you.

“Ah I see one of the pygmy puffs has caught your eye, they are quite cute arent they?” A voice chuckles from behind you, instead of the warm smile you’d usually adorn, a look of shock consumes your face.

No wonder this place seemed so familiar, you take a shuddered breath before turning around, “Are you alright Mis-“ His voice dies in his throat as you turn around fully.

“Y-y/n” He mutters, eyes huge.

“Fred” The anger settles in your voice, soon your face as well.

“Can I talk to you in private?” He asks, leaning in closer to whisper in your ear.

You nod before you can think it through, he grabs your hand and pulls you through the crowd to an office looking room. The feeling of his hand on yours makes a knot start to grow in your throat.

He shuts the door behind you, “what do you want” you sneer.

“Can you please just let me explain myself” He asks, voice clearly annoyed.

“What is there to explain? You didn’t care about me enough to tell me you’re leaving in person” You coldly spit.

“I did care about you, I couldn’t possibly look you in the eyes and tell you I was leaving. It was unbelievably hard”

“Do you know what I went through when you left? I wasn’t myself at all, I couldn’t function without you. You were always there for me when I was sad so I didn’t know what to do with myself with you gone. I gave you my all and all you could do was give me some lousy letter” Your voice raising at the end, angry tears spilling out of your eyes.

“Do you think it was a cake walk for me? I have never stopped blaming myself. I always think about you and how much I fucked up” He yells back, a scowl sitting on his features.

You chuckle dryly and confess, “The worst part about it is that every day since then all I wanted was to see you again. I’ve never gotten over you even after what you did” You avoid his prying eyes while wiping away stray tears.

“You still think about me?” His voice much softer than before, he walks closer to you and grabs your jaw lightly.

“I’ve never stopped thinking of you either, y/n. I’m so sorry for what I did” His teary eyes held your wide ones, his confession stunning you.

“I missed you” you sniffled as you wrap your arms around him, your makeup is totally ruined but your heart feels better now now that you have closure.

“I missed you too, darling” The nickname making you cry more, you’ve missed everything about him. The way he made you feel especially, you pull your head away from his shoulder and peer into his teary eyes. Closing the gap between you, kissing him after all these years made you unbelievably giddy.

Nothing else mattered in the moment, he kissed you harder and only pulled away to catch his breath. Reconnecting the kiss, this time you pull away, “please don’t leave again” you whispered sorrowfully.

“I’ll never leave you again, darling. I love you” You blushed like a teenager, a loving smile etched on your face.

He smiled at you too, making your heart leap. “I love you too, Freddie” He connects your lips once more, a few moments later you pull away again to chuckle, “I have to cash in a check before the bank closes” He rolls his eyes playfully and kisses you on the cheek.

[bratdesire]

Your Dad, My Daddy

Pairing: Ukai Keishin x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ smut, age gap, older man/younger woman, barely legal, squirting, rough sex, daddy kink, alcohol mention, questionable ethics, d/s dynamics, overstimulation, degrading language, touch of subspace, unprotected sex, breeding kink, slight dubcon if you squint but it’s all consensual, Ukai’s dick is pierced, exhibitionism(?)

Genre: Smut, just so much smut

Word count: 9.4k

Author’s note: Here is my contribution to the new HQHQ collab!! You can find the masterlist right here! Big big thank you to @sempiternal-amour and @inaflashimagine​ for beta-ing this monster fic, ilysm <3 This is so incredibly self-indulgent, I even inserted my nickname ~for spice~. Anyways, enjoy my incoherent screaming uwu

Summary: When you go over to your friend’s house for a study session you don’t anticipate meeting her very attractive father, and you surely don’t anticipate the very same man fucking you over their couch.

“Hey, I apologize in advance for anything weird my dad says or does. You know how dads are,” Hitomi explains as she pulls into the driveway of her house. 

It’s small but nice and well-manicured, situated in the cul de sac of a middle-class suburb.

“Dad, we’re here,” she shouts up the stairs, setting her keys on the small table next to the front door. Hitomi’s gaze drifts to the tall, dark haired man sitting at the kitchen table and your own gaze soon follows. “Oh, there you are.”

She quickly pecks the man on his cheek before walking over to the shiny silver fridge, pulling out a couple bottles of water. “Dad, this is Bunny, Bunny this is Dad,” she gestures between the two of you. 

When her father glances up from his phone to give you a nod of acknowledgement, you’re taken aback by how handsome he is. 

You can tell from the slight wrinkles around his lips and the crinkles by his eyes that he’s definitely a much older man, but other than that he’s flawless. The angle of his jaw is sharp but soft, lower face darkened by his five o’clock shadow. His chocolate brown eyes are complemented by plump, pink lips that would look even better swollen and shiny with saliva. Dark, shiny locks are gathered into a low ponytail and you wonder how they would feel fisted in your fingers. He’s gorgeous in a rugged, mature way that boys your age aren’t and could never hope to be. 

Hitomi never told you her dad was hot but then again, why would she? 

“Mr. Ukai, it’s nice to meet you,” you greet him.

He waves his hand in the air dismissively, “Ah, you can just call me Keishin. No need to be so formal.”

Hitomi mutters a frustrated “shit” under her breath and it takes you a few moments to tear your eyes away from the man in front of you. 

“I left my textbook in the car, I have to go grab it,” she sighs then turns to her dad. “You, don’t scare off my friend, please.” 

Keishin puts a hand on his heart, a falsely serious expression on his face. “I won’t, scout’s honor.”

She just rolls her eyes, exiting the kitchen the same way you entered. The front door slams shut, leaving you alone with your friend’s very hot dad.

Keishin looks up at you then quickly looks away, unsure how to interact with his daughter’s friends. “So is, uh, Bunny your real name?” he asks, nervously rubbing the back of his head.

Leaning against the table he’s seated at, you fold your arms across your chest, fully aware of how low cut your top is. You don’t miss the way his eyes briefly flicker down to your cleavage then back up to your face. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” you challenge, raising an eyebrow at him.

“I… I’m just trying to make conversation,” he laughs nervously.

“Hm, well, the short answer is no. You’ll have to get to know me a bit better before I give you the long answer.” 

He snorts, pushing his chair back and rising to his full height. “What gave you the confidence to speak like this to your elders?”

Taking a step towards him, you twirl a piece of hair around your finger and shyly peer up at him through your lashes. “I don’t know, but maybe you can teach me how to behave.”

A light blush colors his cheeks and his eyes widen with surprise. “I-I don’t know what you’re implying, but it’s not... appropriate,” he stutters, taking a step backwards to try to put some distance between you.

You sidle up to him, reaching out a hand to caress his well-muscled arm. When he makes no move to stop your petting, you bite your lip and get on your tiptoes to whisper in his ear. “Who said we had to be appropriate?” 

His mouth is slightly agape, lips moving every so often, as if he wants to say something but doesn’t. “I—” he starts.

The sound of the front door slamming open makes you both jump apart, trying to appear as casual as possible. 

“I got it! We can go study now,” Hitomi proclaims, waving the book around in her hands. She glances at you, then at her father and notices the way you’re completely turned away from each other. “Oh my God, Dad, what did you do?” she groans.

He holds up both hands in surrender, shaking his head emphatically. “I didn’t do anything! Why do you always think I did something?”

Your friend strides over to lightly punch his shoulder, a disapproving but loving expression on her face. “Because you’re weird and lame. Besides, between you and Bunny, I’m always going to assume that you’re the guilty party.”

You find yourself chuckling at their banter, touched by how close they are. It’s evident that Hitomi and Keishin care a lot about each other, regardless of how much they tease each other and guilt twists in your gut when you remind yourself that you were flirting with him. She likely wouldn’t forgive you for trying to sleep with her dad and it would cause a great deal of damage to their relationship, possibly beyond repair if she knew he was into girls her age. To make matters worse, you’re two years her junior. What man would sleep with a girl younger than his daughter?

But your morals are tossed right out the window when you take in the sight of Keishin’s radiant smile—all straight, white teeth and eyes that shine like pools of dark honey. It’s in that moment that you decide you’re going to seduce that man if it’s the last thing you do.

Sorry, Hitomi. Kind of.

---

“Okay, so L-Tyrosine is one of the twenty amino acids used by the body to synthesize proteins. It is also an aromatic amino acid derived from phenylalanine by hydroxylation in the para position—oof!” Hitomi’s droning is cut off by the pillow you send hurtling towards her head.

You sit up on her bed, squealing obnoxiously as you stretch. “Hitomi, I love you, but please shut up. My brain is melting. We’ve been at this for three hours now, can we take a break?”

She closes the textbook in her lap and pushes it to the edge of her desk. “Fine, fine. We can take a twenty minute break, but we have to go right back to studying because finals are this week and I cannot afford to fail,” your friend warns, despite how she whips out her phone at lightning speed.

Picking at a stray thread on the comforter, you gently try to get her attention, “Hey, Tomi?”

“Hm?” she responds, barely glancing up from the video she’s watching.

You’re not sure how to broach the subject, but you’ve never been one to beat around the bush so you just come right out and say it. “Has anyone told you your dad’s kinda hot?”

That makes her stop, her head jerking up from her phone at lightning speed. “What!? That old geezer?” She sounds dumbfounded, incredulous at the prospect that someone would be interested in her father.

“Yeah girl, he’s a total DILF,” you confess, making a little fanning motion with your hand like you’re burning up inside just thinking about him, and it’s not that far from the truth.

Hitomi makes no effort to hide her feelings, disgust clearly evident in her delicate features. “Ew! You have to be joking. Please tell me you’re joking.”

“I’m not joking! He’s really sexy,” you muse dreamily.

She claps both hands over her ears, yelling at the top of her lungs to drown you out. “I never want to hear you say that my old man is ‘sexy’ ever again!”

You childishly stick your tongue out at her. “Hey! I’m just speaking the truth. You have to have had friends say the same thing.”

Removing her hands from her ears, she brings one up to stroke her chin, seemingly deep in thought. “Now that I think about it, back in high school my friends were a lot more enthusiastic about coming over once they met my father.”

You feel vindicated by her personal testimony, even if she thinks you’re gross. “See? I’m not the only one who finds your dad ridiculously attractive.”

Hitomi gags dramatically as if she’s going to puke and judging by the look on her face, she just might. “Please, no more, I’m begging you.” 

“Fine, fine I’ll stop, but don’t act surprised when I become your new stepmom,” you tease, wiggling your eyebrows at her.

“You’re younger than me, don’t even joke about that,” she shudders in horror. “Okay, with that we need to get back to studying amino acids and proteins.”

“Whatever you say, future stepdaughter.” You muster your best motherly voice, sickeningly sweet and a touch passive aggressive.

This time, it’s Hitomi’s turn to throw a pillow at you.

---

Since the day you met Keishin, you haven’t been able to get him off your mind. Even when you’re in class trying to learn about the sodium-potassium pump, you find your thoughts drifting to his hands, his lips, him. He’s simply become too distracting to ignore.

More times than you care to admit, you’ve fucked yourself with your fingers to thoughts of how his fingers would feel pumping inside you. You fantasize about how his hand would feel around your neck, squeezing with just enough pressure to make your vision hazy. His name is always on the tip of your tongue when you orgasm and when you finally let yourself moan out ‘Keishin,’ you know enough is enough. A man his age has to know exactly how to make a woman scream and writhe in pleasure, but you need to experience it for yourself or you’ll die trying.

You’re not oblivious to the way he looks at you with hunger and longing in his eyes, you know he wants you too and you’re not above using dirty tricks to show him just how much you want him. 

If he’s too proud, too noble to give in to his urges, you’ll just have to break him. His resolve may be strong, but yours is stronger.

Your efforts begin innocently enough, gently probing him for more information about himself so you can get to know him better.

“I’ve noticed you don’t wear a ring. Is there a Mrs. Ukai in the picture?” you ask innocently.

Keishin clears his throat a bit too loudly, refusing to meet your questioning gaze. “Nah. It’s just me and Tomi, always has been.”

“Any… future Mrs. Ukai in the picture?”

The corners of his lips twitch slightly, the barest of smiles tugging at his handsome features. “Can’t say there is. Between the store and coaching volleyball, I don’t really have the time to date.”

You nod and make a noise of acknowledgement, relieved by the confirmation that he is in fact very, very single. You’re a lot of things, but you’re not a homewrecker.

On another occasion, you’re seated on their plush leather couch and Keishin’s in the well-worn La-Z-Boy recliner to your left. You’re watching some Adam Sandler movie on Netflix, but it’s paused while Hitomi is in the bathroom.

You take your alone time together as an opportunity to question him more, toeing the line of what would be considered proper. “So, Keishin, how old are you? I know Tomi’s twenty-one so you must be…” you trail off, hoping he’ll humor you.

He takes a swig of the beer in his hand and your eyes instinctively flicker down to watch the way his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “Old.”

You roll your eyes and prop your chin up on your hand, readjusting your position on the couch so you’re leaning closer to him. “Obviously, but just how old?”

“Why do you want to know so badly?” he asks, head tilted and a well-groomed eyebrow lifted questioningly.

“I was just wondering if you’re older than my dad,” you tease. 

His shoulders shake slightly as he chuckles, amusement dancing in his eyes. “I’m forty-four. Do I have him beat?”

“He’s forty-two, so just barely.” Your steady, unwavering eyes lock onto his own, which are glassy and unfocused from the alcohol. When he brings the bottle to his lips once more, you nonchalantly add, “Maybe I should call you Daddy instead.”

Keishin coughs and sputters in surprise, causing him to choke on his beverage and a spray of sticky beer splatters across your face. 

Apologies tumble out of his mouth as soon as he realizes that your cheeks and hair are dripping with the craft IPA he was drinking. “I-I’m so sorry! I’ll get you a towel,” he blurts, shooting up from his chair. 

In his panic and embarrassment, he rushes toward the linen closet and you can’t help the giggles that escape your mouth at how uncoordinated he is, now several drinks in. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s not that big of a deal,” you reassure him, wiping your face with the back of your hand for emphasis.

He returns from the rummaging around the hall closet, a dark blue towel in his hand, which he offers to you with a nod of his head.

No matter your protests and assurances that you’re fine, Keishin is even more insistent in offering you the towel to clean yourself up. When you refuse to take the towel from him, he kneels down next to you and leans in to dab at the foamy liquid that has soaked into your hair. 

Your breath hitches in your throat when you feel his fingers on your jaw and you almost squeak at his close proximity. He hasn’t let you near him since your first encounter and now he’s right in front of you, so close that his breath curls around your cheeks, smelling of malted hops and the slightest hint of peppermint. You can map out the slight freckles on the bridge of his nose and each long, curled eyelash that brushes his cheeks each time he blinks.

He’s truly a beautiful man, all sharp angles and rough stubble and you can feel your cheeks warm when you realize that he’s right there. If you leaned forward just a little bit more, your noses would brush against each other. 

A deep, rumbling voice interrupts your daydreaming. “Kid, are you even listening to me?”

You blink a couple times, coming to the realization that he’s been trying to talk to you for the last few minutes, but you were too busy admiring his beauty.

Keishin shakes his head as he leans back on his heels, using one hand to rub his face wearily. “As I was saying, you can’t just… say things like that. I know young girls sometimes have fantasies about older men like me, but I’m telling you now that it’ll only end badly,” he sighs. “I’m not a righteous man, I have my vices. God, do I have lots of them, and I don’t need another one.”

He mumbles the last sentence, barely loud enough for you to hear, despite how close you are.

Another one? Is he admitting that the attraction is mutual? You have to know, you just have to. Your body practically aches from how badly you want him.

“Keishin, I—” you start, reaching out to touch his arm, but he stands abruptly and quickly turns to shuffle away from the couch.

“This just isn’t a good idea, kid. Just forget about me, alright?” he says, his back to you. A tinge of regret and hesitation seeps into his words, as if he wants to take back everything he’s said.

After the beer incident, the man is even less receptive than he was before, making every effort to avoid being alone with you.

Even still, you’re not discouraged because he never outright rejected you. If he had, you would’ve stopped your pursuit weeks ago, but he only seems to be trying to maintain his composure as a righteous man.

Righteous men are wolves in sheep’s clothing, always putting on a facade so they can claim plausible deniability when they’re caught with their pants around their ankles. But no matter how honorable or virtuous a man tries to be, none of them can resist a wet, willing pussy laid out in front of them and Keishin is no exception.

That’s why you’ve shown up to their house the last few weeks in skirts far too short to be considered decent, flashing little peeks of your underwear each time you move too much or bend over too far. Each time you bend over to grab a pencil or a piece of paper off the floor, Keishin is always conveniently positioned behind you so he gets an eyeful of your pretty lace panties and the little dark spot where your wetness has soaked through the fabric. 

After you retrieve your item from the ground, you look over your shoulder to make direct eye contact with him and say ‘oops,’ without a hint of regret in your voice. You revel in the clenching of his jaw and the way he exhales loud and heavy through his nose, frustration mounting each time you try to provoke him.

When your ass and clothed pussy are on display for him, you make sure to wiggle your hips a bit, an open invitation to fuck you the way you both want to. It never fails to elicit some sort of reaction from the older man, ranging from a few groans and a choked cough, to making a very hasty exit, a book or some other object held over the front of his jeans. 

Without fail, Hitomi expresses her concern each time her father storms out of the room, red-faced and breathing heavily. He just waves her off, telling her he’s not feeling well, but you know the truth. He’s painfully hard, painfully hard from you, even if he doesn’t admit it.

Truthfully, if you weren’t trying to get him to fuck you so hard you can’t walk you would applaud his self-control and restraint. Even after weeks of teasing and provocation, the man refuses to give in to his desires.

That’s okay. If he’s not going to come to you, you’ll just have to take matters into your own hands.

----

It all reaches a tipping point when you’re unable to go home for winter break and Hitomi offers you their guest room to stay in for a few weeks. 

Apparently she never asked her father for permission, if Keishin’s shocked, slightly panicked face when you walked through the door with your suitcase was any indication. When he tried to question Hitomi about whether or not it’s such a good idea for you to stay, she wasn’t having any of it and told him that you’re a friend in need. 

Hitomi’s so sweet and caring that you feel a twinge of guilt for plotting to seduce her father in her house when she’s none the wiser. She just wanted to lend a helping hand by letting you stay with them, oblivious to your true plans, but what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.

Now that you’re under the same roof, all you really want to do is ambush Keishin as soon as possible, but you have to plan around Hitomi’s schedule so you have bide your time. What’s the saying? Good things come to those who wait?

And wait you do. You wait for two whole weeks, in fact. But then the stars align so perfectly that some otherworldly force must be looking out for you.

Hitomi is gone to work and won’t be back until the middle of the night when her shift is over, while Keishin is home reviewing footage from his team’s latest game. 

He told you he does this right before a big game so he can tell his players what they need to improve on and get in that last bit of refinement before the day of. When he clued you in on his strategy you just nodded and hummed, not really listening, mostly focused on ogling his muscles through his thin t-shirt.

Your nerves have been buzzing since you woke up this morning, sensing the heaviness in the air. You’re wearing your prettiest lace panties and its matching bra and frankly, you’re feeling pretty damn confident. You look good and you know you look good. If you were trying to seduce any guy your age, they’d drop their pants as soon as they got a little glimpse of your underwear, but Keishin’s not any guy your age. He needs a little convincing, a little push in the right direction, and you’ll be the one to help him.

You’ve flitted around the house all day, just trying to find the right moment to pounce. 

Currently, Keishin is sitting in the living room watching the recording on the big flat screen in the living room. He looks preoccupied with taking notes on the notepad in his lap, but it’s now or never, you suppose.

Before you try to talk yourself out of it, you stride over to where he’s sitting and put your hand on his shoulder to get his attention.

“Hey. Did you need something? I’m kind of busy analyzing my team’s last game.”

Not wanting to lose your nerve, you wordlessly swing one leg over his, then the other, planting yourself firmly in his lap. His entire body goes ramrod stiff, hands jerking away from your body as if you’ve burned him.

“W-what do you think you’re doing?” he stutters, alarm evident in his voice.

When he makes no move to throw you off his lap, you wrap your arms around his neck and lean into him, pressing your chest to his. 

“What we both have been wanting to do since the day I met you,” you purr, lips barely brushing against the shell of his ear. He shivers when you gently nibble on his earlobe and your confidence only grows as you discover that he wants this just as much as you do.

“I d-don’t know what you’re talking about. This isn't right. I’m your friend’s father and I’m... old enough to be y-yours,” he mutters, running a hand through his already messy hair, conflicted with how to proceed.

You can’t tell whether he’s trying to convince you or himself, so you decide to give him a little encouragement.

Leaning back slightly, you run your hands down his chest and bite your lip. “Are we going to keep playing games or are you gonna fuck me? Because if not, I’ve got several guys back at college who—”

You’re cut off when Keishin’s hand wraps around your throat, the other braced against your back to pull you flush against him. 

“You think your little stunts are cute, don’t you?” he growls, his minty breath washing over your face.

“What, you don’t think so, Daddy?” you pout, batting your eyelashes at him innocently.

His eyes flash with something hot and primal and you can feel the gush of wetness between your thighs. “I’m getting a little tired of them,” he growls.

“This,” you palm at the bulge straining against his pants, “Tells me otherwise, you know.”

The hand around your throat tightens, cutting off whatever bratty remark you were about to make. “I’ve had enough of you prancing around my home in tiny skirts and flashing me your panties when my daughter is around. It’s unbecoming.”

“Then t-teach me a lesson,” you gasp, struggling to speak with Keishin’s fingers so firmly wrapped around your throat.

The way he grins is downright sinful and it stokes the fire already raging inside you. “Careful what you wish for, little girl.”

With some manhandling on Keishin’s part, you’re shoved toward the couch then pulled back onto his lap, but this time you’re on your stomach and both your wrists are pinned behind your back.

“Before we go any further,” he starts, trailing his fingers down your spine and leaving goosebumps in their wake. “I have to ask… How old are you?”

You twist around to look him in the eyes, a defiant smirk on your face. “Old enough.” Your mischievous giggle is cut off by a swift, firm slap to your ass.

“Watch the lip, brat. I need a little more reassurance than that.”

“Since you’re just so concerned, I’m nineteen. Perfectly legal and more importantly, legally fuckable,” you say, punctuated by an enticing wiggle of your hips.

“Jesus, you’re two years younger than Tomi. What am I doing?” He seems lost in thought as the honorable side of him fights a losing battle against his baser, carnal instincts. Whatever reservations he has are thrown aside when you start to wiggle in his grasp, maneuvering yourself over his crotch to grind yourself against his hardness.

Keishin gathers your hair around his fist, harshly jerking your head so far backwards that your spine aches from the unnatural angle.

“Stop fucking squirming. You just don’t know how to behave, do you?” It’s phrased like a question, but he shoves two of his fingers in your mouth so you can’t respond. 

You knew Keishin would be the perfect dom, but the ease with which he settles into the role makes your head spin and your insides throb. Latching onto his digits, you lick and suck like the good girl you are, coating them in saliva as he hums in appreciation.

“Foo wans tuh behav wen thith is wutt I ge fo bein ba?” you ask, garbled and muffled by the fingers massaging the back of your tongue. 

A series of harder, heavier spanks make you squeal and squirm even more in his lap. He gently rubs his hand over your warm, stinging flesh as he speaks. “Such a troublemaker. Just what am I going to do with you, hm?” He tries to sound admonishing, but you can tell he’s smiling behind his words.

His hand leaves your ass, no doubt raised to spank you again, but before he can, you bite down on his fingers. Not too hard, just enough for him to jerk them out of your mouth. “You can do whatever you want to me, Daddy.” 

You jolt when his thumb rubs against your pussy through your panties. They’re soaked with your slick, the material clinging to your skin uncomfortably. The barest touch has you gasping and pushing your hips back for more. You’re so sensitive from the teasing and you’re so turned on you just might pass out if you’re not filled up soon.

Keishin just laughs darkly at the pathetic humping of your hips and you can feel the rumbling in his chest. “This is what I love about girls your age. So sensitive…” He pulls your panties aside and gently eases a finger inside you, then another as you moan and shake in his lap. “And so reactive. I bet you’d cum just from me putting my cock inside this tight, wet cunt, wouldn’t you?”

He speaks with a hint of condescension that has you clenching around his digits, coating them in sticky, syrupy strands of your arousal as they pump in and out of you. You’d almost be embarrassed at how worked up you are if you had more self respect, but you don’t. All you can focus on is the way his fingertips curl into the little spongy spot inside you that makes you whine.

“Why don’t you try it and find out?” The challenge in your voice is severely dampened by how breathless and wrecked you are even though you haven’t really even done anything.

His fingers pull out of you with a lewd squelching sound and you can hear him suck them into his mouth. “You taste even better than I imagined, but I want to taste that sweet pussy of yours. Up, little girl.” He coaxes you from his lap and onto the couch so your back is nestled into the cushions.

Sweat is making hair stick to your forehead and you’re breathing so heavily you’d think you just ran a marathon, but Keishin is looking down at you like you’re the most beautiful thing in the world and it nearly steals what little breath you have left in your lungs.

Oxygen is the last thing on your mind when his lips slot themselves between yours, soft yet demanding as they suck and lick. The movement of his lips doesn’t falter when he pulls your shirt over your head to reveal your light pink bra. Keishin pulls back to kiss along your collarbones, neck, and chest, his teeth occasionally nipping your sensitive flesh and leaving goosebumps in their wake. He expertly removes your panties with one hand so you’re left in just your plaid skirt, exposing your heated flesh to the coolness of the living room. 

You’re nearly naked but he’s wearing far too many clothes for your liking, so you blindly grab at his shirt, but your fingers are shaking too much for you to get a good grip. Once he realizes what you’re trying to do, he puts his hands over yours and helps you take off his shirt. You nearly start drooling when all of his hard, rippling muscles and smooth, tan skin are finally revealed to your greedy eyes that can’t seem to settle one thing. You don’t know if you’ll get this opportunity again and you want to remember everything in painstaking detail, especially Keishin’s gorgeous body.

He momentarily disentangles himself from you to remove his jeans, leaving him in just his Calvin Klein boxer briefs. The outline of his cock is evident as it strains against the blue material and you reach out to stroke it, but he just takes your hand in his.

He brings it to his lips, then kisses up your arm until he reaches your lips. “All in due time, sweet girl. I want to taste you first.” Your mouth is claimed in another hungry, bruising kiss and you squeal when Keishin takes your lip between his teeth and bites, blood rushing to the surface of your skin. 

His head dips down to leave featherlight kisses and teasing licks down your chest and stomach before he’s resting between your thighs. You whimper pitifully as he spreads your legs, awaiting the feeling of a wet tongue or his fingers against your folds. When he doesn’t move for several beats, you come to the realization that he’s just watching the way your cunt twitches and clenches around nothing and the wetness that drips onto the couch each time your muscles contract. You quickly bring your legs together to hide yourself from his scrutinizing gaze, but he simply pries them open with little effort.

Keishin grabs your chin so you’ll look right at him, squirming from the intensity of his gaze. “Don’t you dare hide this pretty pussy from me, do you understand? I am going to devour you until I’ve had my fill and you’re going to just lie back and take it.”

You nod obediently, your impudence quickly dying, giving way to the burning ache between your legs that can only be sated by a long, hard fuck.

With a satisfied hum, he settles at the apex of your thighs and licks a long stripe from your quivering pussy to your swollen clit and your hips jerk from the contact. Strong hands pin your hips to the couch as you writhe in his firm grip. He gives your clit a soft, quick kiss before he takes it into his mouth and sucks. You grab fitfully at his hair, back arching and hips pressing into his mouth as you gasp and groan from the incredible feeling of his tongue on your sensitive flesh.

His tongue teases your entrance and your cunt twitches, anticipating the first thrust of his warm, wet muscle inside you. He occasionally dips into your hole, but never breaches your entrance and you think you might go mad if he doesn’t give you more.

“I-I need more, give me more,” you manage to gasp, grabbing a fistful of the pillow underneath you as the tightening in your belly gets stronger.

Keishin removes his mouth from your cunt just long enough to admonish you for your lack of respect. “You need to have more manners if you’re going to demand things of me,” he says, before latching back onto your swollen, twitching clit.

“Daddy, pleeease I need more. Ah! I want to cum!” Your voice is so high-pitched and whiny you almost don’t recognize yourself, but you’re nearly delirious from pleasure and your impending climax that’s been dangled over your head for what feels like hours.

“Now who am I to deny you when you ask so sweetly?”

He thrusts two of his digits inside you, reaching deep inside you and rubbing against your g-spot as he sucks your clit back into his mouth. You’re almost screaming at this point, clawing at his hair and humping your cunt against his face. The familiar tightening in your belly signals that you’re about to cum and your moans and cries get faster, louder as the promise of white hot pleasure is just within reach—

It’s almost embarrassing how fast you’re teetering on the edge of climax, as if you’re a virgin school girl that’s never touched herself before. But maybe that’s the difference that years of experience can make. 

Not that you care. You just want to cum.

“Fuck, Daddy, I—I’m close!”

Sensing your impending orgasm, the man uses his free hand to slap your cheek then grabs your throat. “Uh-uh-uh,” he tuts, “Ask Daddy for permission to cum.” You’re clamping down on his fingers impossibly tighter as he fingers you even deeper, and the way he sucks on your clit renders you incapable of speech. Each time you open your mouth to try to speak, more desperate, wanton noises escape your lips.

You’re about to fucking burst at the seams and you feel like you’re on fire, but you want to be a good girl for your daddy, so you use the last bit of brain power you have left to ask for permission.

“P-pleaaase Daddy may I ahhh! May I cum!” you ask, but you can’t even hear Keishin give his approval from how loud the blood rushing in your ears is as you finally cum.

You try to muffle your cries with the back of your hand, but he grabs your wrist and wrenches it away from your mouth.

“Don’t do that. I want to hear you scream.” His tone is clipped and short, not caring how rough he is with your delicate flesh.

If you weren’t already cumming, you would have from the pleasure that’s so intense, it’s almost painful as your body is wracked with tremors. Your legs snap around Keishin’s head and you grip his hair even tighter as wave upon wave of your orgasm washes over you. You hear someone screaming and wonder what’s happening, when you realize it’s you, you’re the one screaming as you ride out your climax.

He greedily slurps and sucks up every single drop of your release that you can give him, as if he was stranded in the desert for a thousand years and your juices are the first sip of water to hit his dry, parched tongue. Your cunt is already so sensitive, painfully clenching around his fingers, but he just. Doesn’t. Stop.

“Fuck, K-Kei, wait ‘s too much,” you weakly protest, but your body is too spent to resist so you just lie there, twitching and gasping as he keeps sucking on your overstimulated clit.

His lips detach from your poor, abused bud and you almost sigh in relief before the fingers inside your cunt pump faster, stimulating every inch of your gummy walls.

Keishin leans over your sweaty, exhausted form, one hand braced on the couch, the other buried inside you. His fingers are hitting a spot inside you that makes you feel the urge to pee, so you try to push his hand away but it’s futile with how much stronger he is than you. 

“Hold onnn, I’m g-gonna—” you slur, panicked, but it’s as if he didn’t hear you.

His digits are relentless, rubbing and stroking and you’re a fucked out mess. You don’t know what he wants until an uncomfortable tightness shoots through your cunt. You cry out as clear liquid gushes out of you, splashing all over you, the couch, and Keishin. If you were more coherent, you might be mortified because you just… pissed on him—

To your surprise, he’s laughing as he removes his hand from inside you, ignoring your halfhearted groans. “I was hoping you’d do that,” he says, holding up his hand, shiny and dripping with your juices. 

“D-Do what?” you pant, unsure of what just happened and why Keishin seems so smug.

He uses his discarded t-shirt to wipe his hand off, then dabs at your stomach where a sizable puddle accumulated. “Squirt,” he responds. When he sees your confused expression, he follows up with, “It’s not piss, if you’re worried about that.”

“Ooookay.” You’re too dazed and exhausted to argue with him or question him further, so you just flop into the sofa and close your eyes.

“C’mon, little girl, don't tell me that’s all you’ve got. You were talking so much shit earlier and I have so much more to give you.” Despite how tired you are, his words spark new arousal in your belly and defiance revitalizes you, movement returning to your limbs.

You slide a hand down your stomach and spread the puffy lips of your cunt, sliding a finger through your wetness. “Of course it’s not. I’m ready to take that hard cock of yours, Daddy.”

“Attagirl, that’s what I like to see,” he praises, dropping his underwear and sliding them somewhere you can’t see. 

His cock is gorgeous, but that doesn’t come as a surprise, considering the man it belongs to. It’s thick and curved in a way that you know will reach the deepest parts of you.

What you weren’t expecting is the many piercings adorning the shaft and the one that goes through the head. A long curved barbell enters through the tip and exits through the underside of his glans. Three evenly spaced rings are embedded in the skin where his shaft meets his balls. You’ve never seen so many piercings on one man, let alone in such a sensitive place, so you gawk at the smooth metal rings that shine in the overhead lights.

“You’re… You have…”

He grins widely and it’s so devilish you think he might swallow you whole and honestly? You’d let him. You’d let him do whatever he wants to you. “Haha, yeah I get that reaction a lot. Never seen a pierced cock before, huh?”

“No, but there’s a first time for everything. I’m dying to see how those,” you point to his piercings, “Feel inside me.”

Keishin wordlessly climbs on top of you and rubs the head against your wetness, spreading it along his shaft to ease his entry. “They’ll feel fucking incredible, but you’ll have to beg for it.”

You scoff, reaching to grab his hips so he’ll fuck you already, but he scoots backwards so you can’t touch him.

“Naughty girls that misbehave don’t get fucked, so you’d better smarten up quickly,” he warns, making you gasp as he thrusts his cock against your clit.

He lazily nudges the head over your flesh, occasionally letting it catch on the tight ring of muscle around your hole. When he slots between your pussy lips, you try to wiggle and hump your hips in his direction, in hopes that he’ll slide right in.

But he doesn’t, and you’re about to go mad with his cock so close, but so far away.

“Please fuck me Daddy. I need your cock so bad!” You’re on the verge of tears, the buildup of the last few weeks overwhelming your senses.

Making a noise of sympathy, Keishin pets your hair affectionately and kisses your cheek. “All you had to do was ask.”

His hips pull back, then he’s thrusting inside you, sheathing himself to the hilt in your tight heat. You whimper and whine at the sudden intrusion, but any pain you feel is overshadowed by the way that his cock is filling you so full. The burn and stretch hurts so fucking good that your orgasm hits you like a freight train, fast and hard and blinding. Keishin fucks you through it, his cock touching all of the sensitive spots inside you and the pleasure is so strong you have to screw your eyes shut as you cry out and fall apart around him.

When you open them again, the man is staring down at you with the most shit-eating grin you’ve ever seen. “See? I said you’d cum as soon as I put my cock inside you.”

Using all the strength you can muster, you slap his arm. “Shut up and just fuck me.”

“You still haven’t learned your manners, but I just can’t wait to shoot my cum deep inside this cute cunt of yours,” Keishin groans, pulling almost all the way out before burying himself back inside the hot, welcoming clutch of your pussy. 

You can feel each of the metal rings on his cock, foreign and strange, but the odd feeling soon fades to little shocks of ecstasy each time they brush against your insides.

The lewd slapping sounds of skin on skin are all you can hear besides the occasional moan or hiss from the man fucking you within an inch of your life, not that you can focus on anything else right now.

You nudge at Keishin’s shoulder and he stops the rapid pistoning of his hips, an almost annoyed look on his face.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, but you just smile and push him backwards onto the couch, just like you were. He grunts in surprise as he falls backward, but he quickly quiets down when you climb on top of him and sink yourself back down on his length.

You both moan in unison as he fills you once more, the tip of his cock pressing against your cervix each time you force your cunt back down on him. His hands wander to your tits, grabbing, squeezing, and pinching the sensitive buds of your nipples. 

Ever the troublemaker, you can’t resist making a jab at him now that you’re on top. “I wonder what she’d do if she knew you were with me right now. What would your daughter say about you taking advantage of a young, helpless girl?”

Keishin takes that moment to pull you against him, thrusting hard and rough into your gummy walls that never stop pulsing around him. You’re shaking and gasping, your tongue lolling out of your mouth in your pleasured delirium. “With the way your greedy, sloppy cunt is clenching around me, I wouldn’t say I’m taking advantage of you,” he points out, only slightly out of breath. “But you get off on this, don’t you? Letting an old man like me fuck you. I’m old enough to be your father.”

“Like you’re any b-better,” you bite back.

You cry out when Keishin starts rubbing your swollen clit in tight little circles, your third orgasm fast approaching. 

“Fuck! I can—urgh, I can feel your pussy pulsing around me. I’m g-gonna cum,” he grits out, thrusting impossibly deeper inside you. He's pressed so far into you, he’s just thumping the head of his cock against your cervix. You scream and write in his arms, seeking to relieve the sharp burning in your womb just a little bit, but he has you firmly locked in his clutches. “Be a good little girl and cum for Daddy.”

Almost on command, you shake and moan, loud and long, as you cream all over his cock and coat the base in milky white. “Oh fuck, oh god! D-Daddy I’m cu-mming!” you wail with the last of your energy.

You’re so exhausted you go limp against him and let him use your body as a fuck toy until he reaches his climax. Keishin follows soon behind you, his thrusts growing sloppier and less coordinated as he mumbles obscenities under his breath. “Shit shit shit, fuck I’m cumming! I’m gonna—fuck!”

With one last thrust into your fluttering, over stimulated cunt he orgasms, his legs shaking as he shoots rope after rope of cum into your quivering womb.

You both lay there for several minutes to catch your breaths. You’re so sore and boneless you can barely move, but you manage to extricate yourself from Keishin’s long limbs. Leaning into the arm of the couch, you let your eyes flutter closed and allow sleep to take you.

You’re awoken by a warm, wet washcloth rubbing against your sensitive folds and you whine, sleepily wiggling your hips to get away from the discomfort. “Kid, I know it doesn’t feel good but, uh, it’s kind of a mess down there. You can go back to sleep, just let me clean you up.” Keishin’s familiar timbre comforts you so you settle back down, still half asleep.

“Mmm, Keishin?” you mumble, making grabby hands at the man.

He takes one of your hands in his. “Yeah?” he responds as he wipes the washcloth between your legs with his other hand.

You rub your face against his hand before placing a sloppy kiss on top of it. “Thank youuuu,” you slur.

Keishin just chuckles and rubs his fingers over your knuckles. “Yeah kid, you’re welcome. Just get some rest, alright?”

You’re asleep before he even finishes the sentence.

----

When you awaken it’s dark, most likely the middle of the night. There’s a blanket thrown over your unexpectedly clothed body, which is now covered in a worn, oversized shirt. It smells like fabric softener and musk, so you figure it must be Keishin’s.

Looking around, you bolt upright when you realize you’re not on the living room couch anymore, you’re now in a large, comfortable bed.

The sound of a deep, rumbling voice draws your attention to the bathroom connected to the room you’re currently in. “Oh, you’re finally awake,” Keishin says sheepishly as he emerges from the bathroom, then points to the nightstand next to you. “There’s some water and ibuprofen, you should take it. Even if you’re not sore now, you will be later.”

You chuckle tiredly as you stretch your overworked muscles. “I’m already sore, so I’ll definitely be taking these.”

He sits awkwardly on the side of the bed, unsure how to treat you after your little encounter. His brows are furrowed, a deep frown on he’s seemingly deep in thought.

“Whatever you’re thinking, just spit it out.” His head immediately snaps to you, eyes guarded and unreadable.

“What we did downstairs, it’s… not right. I’m supposed to protect young, impressionable girls like you. I’m a father—I would die if Tomi was after a man more than twice her age.”

You pull the blanket off of you and climb over to where the older man is seated on the mattress. “Keishin, let me ask you something.” He lifts his head, expectant. “Did you enjoy what we did? Because I did.” He nods slowly, still unsure what you’re getting at.

Taking his face in your hands, you tell him what you’ve been thinking for weeks. “At the end of the day, we’re two consenting adults who partook in consensual activities. Even if someone wants to clutch their pearls because you’re older than me, who cares?”

“Yeah, I get that, but… It has to be some sort of ethics violation on my part. You’re younger than my daughter, Bunny.”

“Even if it is, you have to allow yourself to live a little. Life is too short to deny yourself pleasures the world has to offer, and I don’t know about you, but I was very pleased by our… tryst.”

A cute blush spreads across Keishin’s cheeks as he remembers everything he said and did to you. “Aha, I was too. So, um… Would you want to do that again, sometime?” he asks, running a hand through his hair like he always does when he’s nervous.

You giggle and tackle him on the bed, wrapping your arms around him and squeezing. “Of course I do. We can even do it now, if you’d like…”

A couple hours later, just before Hitomi comes back, you limp across the hallway to your room and pass out, falling into a deep, dreamless sleep.

And that is how your little arrangement begins.

Most of your time is spent with Hitomi, mostly shopping and going out to eat when she has the day off, or just watching Netflix in her room when you’re both too tired to go anywhere.

However, in the wee hours of the morning when you’re sure that she’s asleep, you sneak up to her father’s bedroom and get fucked so hard and so good you can barely make it back to your bedroom before the sun rises.

It’s a good arrangement, you think, you both get what you want and your friend is none the wiser. You figure no harm, no foul. At the end of the winter break, Keishin will likely want to cut things off with you and you’ll go back to your college dorm as if nothing happened.

But the winter break isn’t over yet, and you plan on making the most of it.

Keishin has been fucking you into the mattress for so long, time no longer even makes sense anymore. 

You’re sweaty and exhausted, muscles so sore and shaky, but the thrusting between your legs shows no signs of stopping anytime soon. The harsh grip on your hips will likely bruise, but luckily you can hide them, unlike the few close calls you’ve had with poorly-placed marks on your neck.

Despite your exhaustion, you continue to meet Keishin’s thrusts by humping your hips back at him.

He gives your ass a harsh spank and fucks into you harder, making you whine and clench around him. “You’re an insatiable little thing, aren’t you? So fucked out and dripping with my cum, yet you still want more,” he says, but all you can do is gasp in response. You’re too far gone to produce any meaningful response. “What am I going to do with you?” If you had the energy, you’d tell him whatever he wants, but you don’t and the familiar tug of an orgasm is too hard to ignore.

“Fuck Daddy, I-I’m—”  

Suddenly, his phone comes to life, Hitomi’s face lighting up the screen as it vibrates. The pistoning of his hips slows, then stops completely as he reaches over and grabs it off the nightstand.

He suddenly pulls out of your sore, abused cunt and you almost whine at the loss before he buries himself back inside you. The way your face is pressed into the mattress makes it difficult, but you manage to turn your head to see what Keishin is doing behind you.

Your eyes widen and you try to wriggle out of his grip when you figure out that he’s going to answer his phone as he keeps fucking you.

A hand wraps around your neck, lifting you up from your position on the bed and you have to follow its movement to prevent your windpipe from getting crushed. You’re pressed against Keishin’s hard chest, and his cock is nestled right against your cervix. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll just stay still and take it like a good little girl.”

The harsh grip on your neck releases and you’re shoved back into the bed, falling onto the comforter.

Keishin sounds completely normal when he answers his phone and it almost pisses you off—how can he be so unaffected when you’re at your wit’s end? 

He chirps into the phone, “Hey sweetheart, what’s up?” The only indication that anything is amiss is the slight breathlessness in his voice and the occasional curse under his breath.

He forces himself even deeper inside you so forcefully that you’re afraid he’ll punch straight through to your womb. You know it’s not possible, but with Keishin, it just might be. He’s always full of surprises, especially when it comes to your body.

“Oh yeah, sure I can drop it off to you later. I’m just a little… preoccupied at the moment,” he says with a sharp thrust of his hips and you can’t help the moan that escapes your lips. Keishin stiffens above you, waiting to see if Hitomi heard you through the phone.

“No, Hitomi, I’m not watching porn! But hold on a second, I think someone is at the door.” He sets the phone on the bed, muting the call as his cock hits your g-spot and you’re shaking, practically shivering in his arms. A couple of hard, coordinated rubs of your engorged clit and you’re cumming, gushing around him and keening as your muscles clench uncomfortably. You scream silently and fall limp onto the bed, unable to hold yourself up any longer. 

You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve cum, but it’s to the point that each successive orgasm borders on the edge of pleasure and pain.

“Better keep quiet, wouldn’t want my daughter to hear you getting your pretty little cunt stuffed full of my cock,” Keishin snarls into your ear and you feel yourself clench painfully around him. Your body is just so worn out, but you know he won’t stop until he’s satisfied. “Or do you want her to know what a slut you are for her father?”

You shake your head vehemently, but the man inside you just chuckles as he keeps fucking you.

“Oh my god, oh fuck I-I…” You’re babbling nonsense to no one in particular.

“Ahh it was just-fuck, it was just some dude trying to sell me security cameras. Anyways, I’ll see you later honey, I love you.” His last few sentences sound rushed, urgent and you can tell from the twitching of his length that he’s close. The moment the phone is hung up, Keishin cages you between his body and the mattress. “Your cunt feels so fucking good, I’m gonna fill you up with my cum. Would you like that?”

You try to nod and make a noise akin to ‘mhm,’ but you’re not sure what it sounds like. You’re not really sure of anything right now, but what you are sure of is you want him to cum inside you.

“I could never deny you anything, sweet girl,” he groans.

Keishin fucks into you harder, faster, and it feels as if he’s quite literally rearranging your guts, he’s so deep inside you. He reaches down between your legs and pinches your sensitive bud between his fingers. “Think you have one more in you, hm?” he asks, but he doesn’t wait for your answer. Of course you do.” He rubs your sore clit the way he knows will have you shaking and coming apart around him.

“Fuck Daddy, fuck I’m cumming!” you squeal, writhing and squirming from the painful, aching tightness of your orgasm as it builds once more. 

“Ergh, fuck yeah, cum on Daddy’s cock as he fills you up. You’re such a good fucking girl for me, I love this sweet pussy.”

You shriek as you cum, your climax so strong that your vision blurs at the edges and you convulse, sore muscles twitching with overuse. 

“Daddy’s gonna breed his sweet little girl, fuck, feels so fucking good!” Keishin groans, burying himself as deeply as he can inside you and shooting his cum into your quivering hole. You sigh in relief at the feeling of his warm cum flooding your womb, thankful he finally came because you couldn’t have lasted much longer in your state.

He flops next to you on the bed, sweaty and exhausted from your hours-long fuck marathon. Throwing an arm over your waist, he pulls you to his chest and buries his nose in your neck. 

Hitomi’s not supposed to come back for several hours, so you both deem it safe to fall asleep as you are. Just when you’re about to drift off, your phone buzzes from the bedside table.

You reach for your phone, expecting it to be some spam email.

Your heart stops, the whole world seems to freeze when you open the text message.

From: Tomie <3

So when were you going to tell me you’re fucking my dad?

[a-wild-rosette]

Hey saw your 'Ranboo Negative' post about how you don't think he's a good character? (i'm sure that's what you said) and i was wondering if you wanted to expand on that?

(no pressure i'm just not the biggest fan of him either and like hearing people who agree with me lmao)

Hi anon my beloved.

I don't usually write crit but I'm mad enough today so :D here we go :D

So I'll admit that his entire like, enderwalk mystery and such doesn't engage me as much because mystery isn't my most favorite genre and I just feel like there are too many questions and mysteries keep piling up on top of each other. But like, that's probably just a personal preference thing.

But like on a character development, especially emotional and the way the character interact with the world? Yeah not into that. Here's why.

1. People excuse his actions too much and there is literally no consequence on Ranboo for his actions whatsoever.

c!Ranboo is the type of person who is nice, but not kind. The kind of person that stands for nothing and therefore falls for nothing. Instead, other people suffer the consequence of his actions.

Like Ranboo gave Techno back his weapons and stood by and watched at people were tortured by Techno and Tommy. Twice, may I add, with Fundy - one of Ranboo's supposedly closest friends, and Connor - an innocent bystander. No one ever calls him out on it, and he can go on and deny what he did (or didn't do, more like) was not bad. Or like the whole ordeal with Doomsday. He basically talks a big game of being loyal and choosing people, but in Doomsday the only person he chose was himself and his own safety.

He betrayed L'Manberg. He left Tubbo and Tommy to fight for their death even though he said he was going to fight with them. He abandoned every other person who cared about him, only to go and team up with the people who destroyed the country of the FOUR PEOPLE who had always wanted to protect him (Tubbo, Tommy, Niki, Fundy). He refused to pick a side, and by that, he picked the side of the tyrant. In the face of injustice, inaction is an action in itself. But yeah, while everyone else lost everything, Ranboo has everything to gain. He has powerful allies, a home that he can fill to the brim with richness, and in the end, everyone who he has hurt? Tubbo goes out of his way to protect him against Quackity's (reasonable, albeit quite harsh) criticism. He's still friends with Tommy, you know, despite being friends with one of the dudes who blew up Tommy's country. Even Fundy and Niki still care about him in the aftermath. He didn't lose anything - everyone else in L'Manberg did.

Somehow, he never had to stop and reconsider his stance on everything and who he supports, he never had to stop and considered "hey, maybe i'm not as good of a person as I want to be". AND HE COULD DO IT because no one calls him out on his action (or inaction, more like). It's always "oh no he's a victim because he has memory issues". Cool motive, still murder :) He's still a person with autonomy, and "peer pressure" is still not a good enough excuse to hurting people. And you know for sure that, even if Ranboo hurt someone *again*, it's gonna still be "justified" by whoever he didn't hurt :) (Not naming names here but it starts with Ranboo and ends with apologists). Actually, just look at the outpost situation with Las Nevadas right now :D

You see, Ranboo can do things that are really just... frustrating at best and downright annoying at best, and the amount of people going hearteyes at him still is enough to overwhelm any meaningful criticism in character :)

2. In fact, the consequence of Ranboo's actions fall onto other people. Or like, people justify Ranboo’s actions by demonising other characters. C!Ranboo does this too. 

Not just other people blaming Ranboo's actions on him being "peer pressured", Not just like, people getting hurt because Ranboo didn’t support them. But Ranboo himself pushing the blame on other people to maintain the view that he was blameless. 

c!Ranboo wants to be a “good” person so bad that he went to a lot of length to justify himself, blaming any wrongdoings on other characters, putting himself in the victim role to explain away his actions. He wants to be a good person, a “reasonable person” who would bring “peace” to the server and resolve conflict, but he refuses to actually do the hard things, because being “good” means taking a stance, being “good” is hard and needs effort, efforts that Ranboo does not have the drive to put in. So instead, he chose the easier thing: explain his actions away. He wasn’t bad, he couldn’t control other people’s actions. He was just a victim. Oh no! 

Like when he called Fundy a coward for wanting to team up, for “choosing people, not sides” - the exact things Ranboo preached. Like when he yelled at Tommy for when his plan to kill Dream failed, even though he and Tubbo helped Tommy without ever trying to stop him or make him more well prepared. He denied any of his involvement in any plan that went wrong and pushed the blame onto the people around him. And even in the Las Nevadas dispute just now? He also subtly hinted that Tubbo was the one who made the decision, not him. He’s the reasonable one here. As if he didn’t help Tubbo. As if he didn’t antagonise Las Nevadas right along his partner. 

And I would be more lenient with this trait if it weren’t also supported by literally everyone around Ranboo. Like, take the time when Phil told Fundy he had “a lot of redeeming to do” and expressed that Tubbo also had things to make up for, and then compared Ranboo with them as the poor, manipulated victim. Deliberation or no, that comparison push a narrative between Ranboo and Tubbo and Fundy, between the “good” victim and the “evil” perpetrator. Or, like, take the times where everyone blames c!Dream for manipulating c!Ranboo, even though there is no hint about that actually happening. Ranboo’s “victim” narrative keeps being reinforced, which, again, gives him no space and no dissonance to actually reconsider his stance. 

3. There's no stake for c!Ranboo's character.

When L'Manberg was still around, Ranboo clearly showed his loyalty didn't lie with the country. He had no emotional connect to the place, and he failed to see how the country meant so much to the people who built it and fought for it and saw it rise and fall. Even his emotional connection to Tubbo and Tommy was chalked up, by himself, as "they were nice to me, so i'm nice back". Relationships, in season 2 at least, were just a tradeoff of favors and niceties to Ranboo, and whether it was the case or not, Ranboo convinced himself that was the case. This gave him a detachment from *everyone*, because at the end of the day, the emotional stake wasn't there, loyalty was not in ss2!Ranboo's vocabulary.

And right now? Ranboo is in full life, he has a whole chest of totems. The closest thing he has to a stake is Tubbo and Michael, but like, meta-wise? I don't think Tubbo is dying anytime soon, and Michael is also probably safe because no one would be cruel enough to use Michael as a plot, when cc!Ranboo and cc!Tubbo are clearly really attached. Ranboo is rich, powerful, with a powerful husband, and a whole fucking lot of plot armor. And while, yes, his attachment to Tubbo and Michael is a positive development (and the *only* positive development actually), it's also paled a bit when Ranboo is still allied with the people who destroyed Tubbo's home, not to mention he was there against Tubbo when the Syndicate threatened him. The emotional connection between him and Tubbo was still not strong enough for Ranboo to reconsider the people he supports.

I’m gonna be patient for now, but honestly the way the character is being excused over and over both in canon and by the fandom is really frustrating to watch. 

[jackrrabbit]

be a little bad /// Hawks x f!Reader (18+)

Summary: College AU 🍺 Frat boy Keigo pours you your first drink and decides he’s going to help himself to more of your firsts.

A/N: Hawks just makes so much sense as a frat bro 🤧 @koiibito​ thank you for working through ideas w/ me…& remember when I told you this was going to be short?? whoops 🤡

Tags/warnings: dubcon/coercion, inexperienced reader, fuckboy Hawks, overstimulation, alcohol, inebriated sex, problematic frat culture stuff, idk what to call it but peer pressure? to drink etc., all characters are adults

How long have you been sitting here?

You feel like there’s some kind of immense weight holding you down, making it impossible for you to stand up off this ugly couch that’s been crammed into the corner of the room to make space for the dance floor. You and this couch have become good friends over what you think has been the past hour—at first you occupied yourself by looking at the people playing beer pong, but after the fourth time you had to decline one of the players’ offers to join, you decided to stop making eye contact. So you sit on the couch, you stare at your phone, and you wish you were back at your dorm—or, better yet, back in your hometown with all your high school friends.

But you’re not. You’re here, multiple time zones away from anywhere you can call home, and all of your high school friends are asleep. And the one person—the one person you’ve managed to make friends with since orientation is the one who dragged you to this freaking frat party and then proceeded to abandon you. Apparently he didn’t feel the need to tell you that as a new pledge of this frat, he’s going to be on “door duty” checking ratios and giving sardonic responsibility talks for the next two hours.

Which leaves you here, sitting on the couch and trying to avoid the more questionable stains that you can barely make out in the seizure-inducing strobe lights. There’s a can of beer icing down your palms and you adjust your grip so it doesn’t leave a damp spot of condensation in your lap. It was your friend who gave it to you before he disappeared (“you don’t even have to drink it,” he’d said, “just hold it and no one else will pressure you to get another drink”).

It smells foul. You’ve had sips of beer before, and you can never understand why people drink it voluntarily. But maybe…maybe now that you’re in college, maybe now that you’re an adult, you’ll enjoy the taste. You raise the can to your lips and chug down a heavy gulp.

Ugh. Still gross. You wince and wipe your mouth.

“Not a fan of natty, huh? Good taste.” A hand appears out of nowhere to pluck the can away from you and you jump, nearly smacking your forehead against the stranger’s chin. He pulls back. “Whoa! Careful there.”

“…That’s mine,” you say half-heartedly as the guy tilts up the beer—your beer, your decoy drink—and takes a long draught.

“You’re not missing out. This stuff is piss,” he says, grinning down at you.

He’s not the first guy to hit on you at this party (what is it about lost-looking girls that draws frat boys in like moths to a flame?), but he is the best-looking. Long, swept-back blond hair; equally long eyelashes; a hint of scruff on his chin—he’s pretty and masculine at the same time. You let him take the seat next to you and lure you into a conversation, and he’s nice, too—laughing with you about how bad the beer tastes and sympathizing with your criticisms of your first experience at a frat party. You fall over yourself apologizing when he lets slip that he’s a brother (“social chair, actually, so if the party sucks it’s on me”) but he tells you it’s okay, that no one likes going to parties alone, not at first.

His name is Keigo Takami. He’s a junior, a marketing major, and he joined the frat in his first semester. According to him, the fraternity is a great group of guys (“I mean, they’re a bunch of jackasses, sure, but they’re well-meaning jackasses for the most part”) and all the rumors about frat parties are overblown.

“Seriously, you’d be having fun if you were drinking,” Keigo tells you. “These parties aren’t intended for a sober audience.”

“Sure,” you scoff, but it’s not serious. You are having fun, talking to him.

He gasps, mock-offended. “Don’t believe me? I’ll prove it to you. Stay right here, okay—don’t move a muscle.”

When he gets up, the dense crowd on the makeshift dance floor parts to let him through to the stairs leading into the upper floors. It’s kind of amazing. Everyone else (yourself included) has to wade through, pushing and shoving past the teeming throng to get anywhere, but for Keigo it’s effortless.

He’s back in just a few minutes, holding—oh god, how typical—a red plastic cup filled with a kool-aid red liquid that smells sickly sweet. Is it actually kool-aid? You take a whiff and can’t detect the tell-tale bitter alcohol fumes. “Is this…?”

“Mm, that’s jungle juice. The frat’s secret recipe. It’s good, try it.”

You raise the cup but hesitate. Is this really a good idea? You’ve been warned about stuff like this so many times. You don’t have to do it just because everyone else is.

Keigo catches your hesitation and frowns. “What’s up?”

“It’s nothing, I just…haven’t…”

“Hm? Don’t tell me this is your first drink? Aww, little freshman baby.” He’s mocking you, looking down on you, and you hate it. You’re not a baby. You can play with the boys.

You make eye contact with him before you tip back the cup and gulp down the juice, letting the full contents slosh down your throat. It’s syrupy-sweet and tastes like fruit punch and oranges so it goes down easy, a lot easier than you thought it would. A drop slides out of the corner of your mouth but you lick it up when it runs over your lip.

Keigo whistles. “Damn, down the hatch. That was…that was kinda hot.”

If you’re blushing, you hope he thinks it’s because of the drink.

He’s faster when he gets you the second cup. It doesn’t even taste like alcohol. Keigo won’t tell you what’s in it or how much (“secret recipe’s gotta stay a secret, y’know? It’s in the bylaws”). Halfway into the second cup you start to feel dizzy, which Keigo says means it’s working. He pulls you up off what you’ve semi-affectionately begun to think of as your couch and guides you onto the dance floor. The music is heavy and blaring loud, thudding through the speakers and making the walls shake, making you shake as it travels through the sticky floor up into your body. You sway haphazardly but Keigo’s got you by the arms, pulling you out of the way of the crowd, pulling you into him.

“Looking a little unsteady there, baby,” he says, and—and, you hear him, you do, but he’s talking to you from underwater (or, no, that’s just what it sounds like? or—) um. Beaming his voice into your brain or something?

Keigo laughs and you giggle and it feels good. “Better finish that or you’re gonna spill it,” he says, putting his warm hot hand over yours, guiding the cup back up to your face so you can finish off.

You’re in the middle of the dance floor surrounded by writhing bodies so it shouldn’t surprise you when someone’s elbow smacks into your back and jostles you so the jungle juice spills, spills out of your mouth dripping down your chin onto the dress. You process the interruption a second too late and the sticky red liquid is already staining your skin. …Feels good, you think first, because the drink is cool and refreshing and it’s so hot in here, steamy warm, everyone pressed up against everyone else like you’re pressed into Keigo, and then oh no—oh no your dress—but at least it’s a dark color, at least the stain won’t show—

“What did I tell you about spilling?” you sort of  hear Keigo say, and then you sort of feel the weight of his hand wiping away the juice from your mouth, and then he sticks his face up close to yours and oh my god oh my god he’s kissing you.

There’s something indescribably weird about it, his tongue thrashing over yours like he’s trying to lick the juice out of your mouth while you try not to flinch back from the taste of the beer he was drinking earlier. But he’s so solid, so steady, the only still thing in a room full of movement—when your eyes move away from him into the twisting mass of bodies and flashing lights you feel dizzy, so you keep your gaze locked firmly on him. He wraps his arm around your back and you instantly feel better and lean into him, lean into the kiss.

You’re drooling by the time he stops kissing you. “So sweet,” Keigo says, wiping a pearl of saliva off his mouth. “Little sloppy, but I can work with that.”

You don’t get it. You don’t even know if you would get it if you were sober. What you do get is Keigo’s hand wrapped around your upper arm, pulling you through the crowd to the staircase. Once again the people move aside for him, like the Red Sea for Moses, you think with a little laugh and he looks back at you and raises an eyebrow questioningly.

You stop, halting at the base of the stairs and squinting up at the bright yellow light in the stairwell, so invasive and clinical after the strobing darkness of the bottom floor. There’s something hard pressing into your side when you try to lean on the wall. There’s a name for that thing, isn’t there? B…ban…bannister, right? You grip the bannister with one hand to hold yourself still and resist Keigo tugging you higher up the stairs.

“W-Where’re we going?” you ask. It’s weird—your voice doesn’t sound like drunk people in movies. It’s not slurred or unintelligible. To your own ears, it just sounds high, and fast, and…nervous.

“Going upstairs,” Keigo says patiently, still pulling gently at your arm. “Gonna get some air, ‘kay? I’ll show you something cool.”

“O-Okay…” Something cool? You want to see something cool, even if you’re practically tripping over the stairs trying to stumble up them.

One of the brothers is guarding the entrance to the upper floors (no doubt ensuring that wayward attendees don’t try to take the party upstairs into the personal bedrooms). He nods at Keigo when he passes, but when he catches sight of you—you with your hair mussed, lipstick smeared, flushed cheeks and wobbly steps—his eyes narrow. “She good?”

Even in your boozy haze, it doesn’t escape you that the question isn’t directed toward you. He’s asking Keigo.

“Her? She’s fine, she’s fine.” Keigo throws his arm over your shoulders like you’re old buddies. “I’m taking her to my room, it’s so fucking hot down there I can’t breathe.”

“Yeah…” the other guy says, gaze still focused on you, but he doesn’t move to the side to let you through.

“Oh, come on.” Keigo steps up onto the same stair as him so he can look him in the eye. “I said she’s fine, didn’t I? She’s having fun. Aren’t you? Tell him you’re having fun, (Y/N).”

His tone isn’t any less sociable than before, but—are you imagining it?—he’s not really asking, is he? “Um, I’m having—having fun?”

Oh. Oh no. Why did that sound like a question?

The brother waits a moment, and then shrugs and steps aside. “Whatever, bro.”

Keigo’s bedroom is on the third and highest floor of the sprawling mansion where the fraternity makes its home. Flags are pinned to the walls—one with the colors of your university and one with the fraternity crest—and on top of his desk there are trophies lined up in meticulous rows: track and field, swimming, cross country, fencing. The bedroom is a rare single, one of only a few in the crowded house, which Keigo explains is because he earned it as a member of leadership when he was elected social chair (“it was unanimous—well, almost, a couple of the douchebags voted for themselves but—“)

You’re trying to listen, you really are. But your head is spinning. Now that you’re out of the feverish swampy heat of the dance floor downstairs, you feel marginally more sober—and also more aware that you’re inebriated. Keigo’s voice is steady and soothing like the rest of him. The timbre, the intonations, the casual lilt and dip of his speaking make more sense to you than the words themselves.

“Here, have this. It’s rum. Tell me what it smells like…” Keigo puts something in your hand—a tiny little cup, a plastic shot glass—and you have to use all your concentration to hold it still enough to let him fill it with red-brown liquid out of an unlabeled bottle.

When you carefully lift it up to your face, you can smell the alcohol. It smells sweet, too—like vanilla, vanilla and something fruity and heavy. Bananas?

But mostly it smells like alcohol.

“It smells like banana bread, doesn’t it?” Keigo asks, pouring himself a shot too. “Try it.”

You take a tentative sip but even that meager amount is sickeningly bitter in your mouth. You hold it on your tongue for a second trying to taste the ‘banana bread’ and then swallow a few moments too late, hoping you don’t look as disgusted as you feel.

“Not like that,” Keigo laughs, tipping his own shot back and downing it in a single go. “Like this. Your turn.”

“…Keigo…” You’re not sure what you want to say. You don’t want the shot, it tastes bad and you’re already drunk. You’re a smart girl, a careful girl. You should know better. You do know better. But it feels like—it feels like, even though he’s not making you do anything, somehow it’s too late to say no.

“C’mon, (Y/N). It’s just a little shot.” He taps his empty glass against your almost-full one. “And look, if you don’t want to, I’ll just take you back downstairs…is that what you want?”

Back downstairs. Back to sitting by yourself and waiting for your friend and turning down offers. Is that what you want?

Keigo’s gaze dips down to the ground and he shifts a step forward. “Now…maybe it’s just me, but I don’t think you want that. ‘Cause when I saw you sitting on that couch, you didn’t look like you were having such a good time, hm? Am I right?”

“…um, I guess?”

“Yeah…you looked so sad and lost and lonely I couldn’t leave you alone. Admit it...” He reaches up and tucks a wayward lock of hair behind your ear. “You were waiting for someone to catch your interest. You were wishing a guy like me would come rescue you. If I’m wrong, I’ll take you right back downstairs and leave you by yourself for the rest of the night, okay? But if I’m right…”

You can smell his hot breath on your face—vanilla and sugar and bananas and rum.

“…take the shot.”

It’s not so bad the second time. You’re quicker and you don’t bother holding it in your mouth. The liquor sears your throat clean and when you get over the unpleasantness, it really does taste kind of like banana bread.

“Ohhhh… Not so bad, is it?” Keigo takes the glass from you. “God, you—you complain, but you really take it down like a champ.”

“Alcohol tastes nasty,” you reply, wrinkling your nose. “Why’d people do this for fun?”

“It’s not about the taste, not at first,” Keigo laughs. Weird. It’s like he’s always laughing.

“Then what?” At your next exhale, you squeeze your eyes shut and reopen them. Ah. Ah. The room is moving again, spinning, contracting and dilating. There’s something relaxing about it, like you’re being rocked on gentle waves in the ocean. You feel floaty, comfortable, pleased.

“Well…it’s nice, isn’t it? Isn’t this nice? Helps you not think so much, not worry about the consequences.” Keigo’s arms are wrapping around you again, anchoring you in place. His torso is warm and hard against yours. “Lets you be bad.”

“Mmm…” You blink up at Keigo, admire his jawline and his lashes and his pretty gold eyes. He looks like a boy you would’ve had a crush on in high school, an older boy who never would’ve given you the time of day.

His hand is rubbing circles over your back, shifting the fabric of your dress along with his palm. “So what do you say?” he murmurs. “Wanna be a little bad?”

You do. You want to be bad and naughty and reckless. You want to make dumb, drunken decisions that you’ll laugh about with your friends in a few years. You want to do things you’ll regret, because you’d rather regret the things you had the guts to do than the ones you were too scared to try.

You inch your arms up past Keigo’s shoulders and tangle them in his fluffy hair, tugging gently at the different strands until you work up the nerve to pull his head to your level and kiss him. Even though you initiated it, he immediately takes the lead and the force of his mouth writhing against yours has your neck twisting back to accommodate. His tongue pushes against yours again but you don’t mind it this time. Your spine is arched and you’d probably be falling backward if his hand wasn’t bracing your lower back before sliding down to grab your ass.

“God—“ he breaks the kiss— “goddamn, look at you.” He’s gripping your dress, lifting it, pulling the fabric up over your hips and up to your waist at the same time as he showers kisses over your cheeks and your jawline and your neck.

You lift your chin (how strange that you’ve never done this before and still it feels so natural) to let him bite and suck scarlet marks onto the thin skin of your throat. “Keigo—“

“Baby,” he sighs, his breath stirring the hair falling over your neck. “You’re gonna be a killer, I can tell… You’re sweet now, but fuck, you’ve got no idea.” His hands are under the hem of your dress giving your ass another squeeze before he pulls the skirt up.

“Killer? What do you...” He’s backing you onto the bed, kicking off his shoes, and you do the same.

“Shh, that’s for me to know and you to find out. Arms up,” he tells you, and you slowly comply, letting him take the dress off your shivering body to leave you in your panties—no bra, not in this dress. Keigo holds the dress in his hands for a second before he drops it to the floor. “This—you know what, this is how I knew you were a virgin, this little dress, who the hell wears a dress to a frat party—“

“A virgin?” Hearing him say the word hits some kind of trigger in you and your eyes go wide. Without thinking, you fold your arms over your breasts and pull your legs up to your chest.

“Not a virgin virgin, it’s just what we call freshie girls who’ve never been to a party before—“ Keigo starts to clarify, but when he catches your reaction (your overreaction), his eyes narrow and he sits on the bed over you, knees straddling your legs. “Wait. Are you—you’re not actually a virgin, are you?”

You look to the side, cheeks hot, wanting to deny it but knowing there’s no way you’ve got the mental fortitude to really convince him.

“Fuuuck,” Keigo breathes, leaning over you and framing your face with his hands. “Baby. You just keep getting sweeter, don’t you?”

“Shut up,” you whine, covering your face with your hands. “’s embarrassing…”

“You should be glad I asked, or you’d be…like crying and bleeding and stuff, right? God, it’s been a while since I had a virgin.” He scratches his forehead and then his hand comes down to absently stroke the soft inside of your thigh.

It tickles. It tickles and you feel goosebumps rising to attention on your leg and a silly little laugh bubbles out of your throat. An involuntary shiver passes through you.

Keigo smirks and ducks down to kiss the skin of your inner thigh. It’s light—it’s nothing—but the rough stubble on his chin scratches over your skin and you giggle again. He nudges up higher on your body, so close you can feel the heat of his breath through your panties, and his hands grip around your waist to keep you in place.

Everything’s moving so quickly. You wonder in the back of your mind, the tiny part that still has a decent grasp on sobriety, if you’re ready for all of this. Then you wonder if anyone’s ever ready. How are you supposed to know? When it’s the right time, are you not supposed to be nervous? You are nervous, but the liquor is taking the edge off, making you more comfortable, maybe even keeping your mouth shut when the sober version of you would’ve stopped this a long time ago. You don’t know.

But what you do know—what you do know is that Keigo is easing your panties down off your legs and then nosing back in to kiss up your thighs and latch his mouth over your pussy.

“Mm—oh, fuck—“ What are you saying? You’re not a moaner, you don’t even say ‘fuck’. You’ve always been able to keep quiet when you’re by yourself. It’s like Keigo’s tongue flicking over your clit is pulling the voice out of you.

He wriggles the tip of his tongue over that sweet spot and the breath falls out of your lungs in what is undeniably a whimper. You feel so tense with the effort of keeping still, blood rushing to your pussy, and your thigh spasms where it’s nestled next to Keigo’s cheek. “You ever done this before?” he hums between licks.

“N-No…ah!”

“Ever cum?” His tongue returns, licking you up and down in lazy strokes, spreading your juices all over your dripping cunt.

“…hahhh, yesss…” Yes, you’ve had an orgasm before, in your own bed on your own fingers. When you do it to yourself it’s detached and methodical, a means to an end. You keep your mouth closed and you barely move and you get it over with. It’s not like this, wet and sloppy and out of your control, teasing, giving you almost exactly what you want but not quite.

You’re moaning. You’re moaning. You can still hear the throbbing music of the party downstairs, and you’re moaning your little heart out, whimpering, crying with little ah-ah-ah’s that anyone who can hear would recognize immediately.

When you do it yourself, it’s not like this. It’s never like this. Keigo moves from slow to quick unpredictably, always pulling you down right when you feel that pressure building in your core. It feels good enough that you’re annoyed—no, not annoyed, downright pissed when he sits back up on his heels and licks the wetness off his own lips.

“What’re you—I was, I was gonna—“ you start, trying to organize your thoughts. It had felt good. You’d wanted it, wanted more, and now your pussy feels all warm and wet and needy, pulsating with the lust he stirred up in you.

“Gonna cum?” Keigo leans down and kisses you, long and slow. “Sorry…but I’m selfish. When you cum, I wanna feel it.”

His arms flex in the yellow lamplight as he pulls the collar of his shirt over his head. You’re sprawled over the sheets on your back, not sure what you can say so you just watch. It helps that there’s plenty to look at—the hard planes of his abdomen forming the tell-tale dips of a six-pack, perfectly-formed lean muscle (all those sports trophies, you think to yourself), and the V of his hipbones disappearing under the hem of his pants…which he’s currently taking off as well. There’s something to be said for the benefits of spending more time at the gym than you do at the library.

Every part of Keigo Takami is impressive—he’s a work of art in human form. And when he pulls down his boxer briefs and his cock springs out to bob against his stomach, you’ve gotta admit that that is pretty impressive too.

Impressive…and intimidating. You bite your lip looking at it. Keigo pumps himself up and down, and every time his fist moves down to expose the thick pink head, you wonder the same thing: how is that supposed to fit!?

Keigo must see the sudden anxiety on your face, because he smiles (reassuringly? arrogantly? or is he just delighting in your discomfort?) and lifts you like a kitten with his hands under your armpits. “Up, up, on your knees, legs together—perfect. Now turn and put your hands on the wall.”

It’s so much easier to follow his instructions than try to consider what would happen if you said no. His callused hands petting over your waist make you feel like you’re doing the right thing. But—still—the nagging anxiety of having something so big in your pussy doesn’t go away.

You hear a drawer opening, and you turn away from the wall to see Keigo squeezing a clear liquid from a bottle in his hand and spreading it meticulously down the shaft of his cock. Lube? That’s good, you’ve heard from your more experienced female friends that it’s good to be extra wet the first time…but there’s something else, something you’re missing, isn’t there?

You try to think, try to ground yourself and understand, really understand what’s happening to you. What are you missing? The bed is squishy and soft under your knees, the air is windy somehow (is there a fan on? you hadn’t noticed), and the music downstairs is so loud you can feel the vibrations through the wall you’re pushed up against. And. And. You try to think. What are you forgetting that you’re not allowed to forget?

You can feel his cock, too. Keigo’s hands grip the flesh of your hips and he leans his chest into your back, brushing your hair over your shoulders so the two of you can touch skin to skin. The head of his cock bumps against your mound, raw and hard and heavy. Skin to skin.

Skin to skin.

It hits you in a wave of panic and you whip your head around and push desperately back at Keigo’s solid shoulder. “Wait! Wait, Keigo—the condom? Are you wearing a condom?”

His hand wraps around your wrist and pins it back against the wall, and he bows down to nip a a little spot on the crook of your neck. “Calm down, we don’t need one.”

“No, we—we need it, I need it!” you squeak out, trying to push away from Keigo but he’s got you sandwiched between him and the wall and those perfect muscles you were admiring earlier are definitely not just for show.

“I said calm down. I’m not gonna go inside.”

“…What?”

He rocks his hips forward and his dick bumps up under your pussy again. “Ever heard of thighfucking?”

No, you’ve never heard of thighfucking, but you’re an intelligent girl and you might be drunk but you’re not so drunk that you can’t piece together what he means. Your interpretation is reinforced when you feel Keigo slathering liquid—lubricant—over the lips of your pussy and between the tops of your thighs. It feels cold and weird—slippery slick, like lotion—but even the barest second of his fingers brushing over your clit reignites the need from when he ate you out and you shudder.

“Keep those knees together for me, baby,” Keigo says, and with no further delay he pushes his cock in between your thighs, aiming it perfectly to slide between your pussy lips so the head will bump up on your clit.

“…ahh, Keigo, wait—oh!” The full weight of Keigo’s body shoves against your back every time he thrusts. You’re too weak for this, too delicate to stay in position. Your elbows buckle under the pressure and your face is about to smack directly into the wall until Keigo laces his fingers in your loose hair and yanks you back from it.

He’s got no trouble holding you down, keeping you perfectly posed with your soft thighs molded tightly around the cock driving between them. Your head is craned back from his hold on your hair and he lays hungry kisses over your mouth, your cheek, your neck, anywhere he can reach. He’s right—he is selfish, and you know that this position is about him, not you, so it takes you by surprise that the longer he fucks his cock between your thighs and your dripping slit, the more heat you feel rising up in your cunt.

It’s not right. It’s not supposed to be like this. Your first time doing anything with a boy isn’t supposed to end up with him using you like he’s humping a pillow, thrusting his slippery cock into your thighs and groaning in your ear. It’s all wrong, and it’s definitely wrong that you’re getting off to it.

But now you know why he ate you out and left you high and dry (well, not dry) without making you cum—because the heat and the friction and the feeling of every ridged vein sliding over your clit, his hips smacking with a wet slap against yours, the smooth head grinding over your pussy—all of it is making your thoughts swirl like your brains are sloshing around in your head, and not just because of the alcohol.

“Fuck,” Keigo purrs, ducking forward to bite the shell of your ear and then running a soothing tongue over it. “Fuck, baby, you like that? Is that virgin pussy getting all wet on my dick? You’re twitching, I can feel you…”

“…Mmph, ah, I, I—please—” You can’t really talk, not when he’s knocking the breath out of you with every thrust. But you need more. It’s not fair, having to make do with the uncontrolled jerks of his cock over your upper thighs and the outside of your pussy. He’s fucking you like he couldn’t care less about whether you get to cum—which, if you had the ability to think about it, he probably doesn’t. Certainly not as much as he cares about your soft, lubed-up skin squeezing so deliciously on his cock.

You grind your hips down a little, sticking your ass back toward him to get a better angle and—ugh, ugh it works, the pressure on your clit increases, and you keen desperately, begging him to fuck your thighs faster harder deeper. He yanks on your hair, snapping your head back so your whimper chokes up into a squeal, and—god, are you imagining it?—but you swear you feel the stiff length of his cock throb in between your legs with the head nudging on your belly.

“Uhnn…baby, baby, baby,” Keigo chants in your ear. His voice is heavier and jagged with the puffs of breath that are coming out in time with the roll of his hips into yours. It sounds…needy, almost. “G-Good girl, keep those legs tight, just—just like that…my good little sweetheart, angel, virgin. Gonna make me cum? Yeah? Make me cum with these pretty fucking thighs?”

“—Keigo, I’m—mm!” You can’t say it, even the thought of announcing you’re cumming like some kind of pornstar makes you cringe, but even if you don’t say it, there’s no way he doesn’t feel the electric shock that passes through you, sending tremors through your body.

You’re crying out, loud, louder than the music downstairs maybe (or at least it feels like it). There’s nothing you can grip for purchase so one hand just scrabbles against the bare expanse of the wall while you curl the other into a fist and dig your fingernails into your palms.

Fuck, is it the alcohol? Is it the liquor that’s making it feel like this, so overwhelming and heady you don’t even know where you are? You vaguely try to remember how you got here (something about blond hair, an easy laugh, and sugar-sweet liquid coating your tongue), but it’s not important, who fucking cares when the cock pistoning between your thighs is still rubbing up on your clit, still stimulating you, still sending sparks of heat up through your spine and making it impossible for you to breathe without moaning, much less think.

“Keigo…Keigo I came, please ahh—it, it hurts,” you whimper, trying to shift your hips up off his cock to relieve the pressure on your sensitive clit—but he won’t let you.

Keigo’s grip on your ass digs in deeper, harder so he’s probably leaving bruises, and the hand in your hair pulls your head back toward his. His voice is a growl, so low and scratchy that it sends a chill up through your body. “Don’t move. Don’t you—don’t you fucking move. Stay right fucking there.”

It scares you.

It scares you, but his dick is rocking over your pussy, making you crazy, making you lose your grip on whatever other physical sensations you can still feel. You’re limp except for your thighs pressed into one another as tightly as you can manage, letting Keigo hold you up. It doesn’t hurt, not really—but it’s horrible, it’s too much, it’s like you’re trapped on the edge, cumming and cumming and cumming and cumming while you squeal like you’re being tortured, and you are, you are, you are, you are—

—it's torture.

But not pain. It doesn’t hurt. It’s mind-bending, oppressive, awful, you want it to stop but—oh god oh god—you’re helpless and you don’t get to make it stop, you don’t get to make that decision, it’s up to him. He decides, Keigo decides, and Keigo decides to keep fucking into your thighs, keep spreading your pussy lips apart and teasing your clit, so you just roll your head back and stop trying to convince yourself it doesn’t feel incredible.

You barely notice him speeding up—you probably wouldn’t notice at all if you couldn’t hear the beat of your moans, paced in time with his body slamming yours against the wall, increasing in frequency. He releases your hair (you swear you can feel blood rush back into your head when you’re finally able to lean forward) and his hands go back to your hips, guiding you to rock yourself back on him so his last few rabid thrusts finish with the head of his cock rubbing firmly against your stomach.

“Ugh, goddamnit fuck, baby, yesss, stay still, stay right there,” Keigo groans, and you’re so blissed out from the overstimulation that you barely even feel the twitching of his cock between your legs and the spurt of thick, hot liquid on your stomach.

Oh.

Oh god.

When Keigo finally picks his hands off their bruising grip on your ass, you drop directly onto the bed, barely remembering at the last second to roll over onto your back so his semen (his semen, which is spread over your lower belly like a Jackson Pollock painting) doesn’t stain his sheets.

You stare at the ceiling and what do you know, there is a ceiling fan, blades spinning in lazy circles that make you sick when you try to follow them. So you close your eyes.

What are you feeling? What are you supposed to be feeling?

Anger, probably. Fear? Well, you won’t deny that there are hints of both of those emotions swimming underneath the hazy surface of your drunken psyche, but they’re overshadowed by what you’re really feeling, which is relief, relief that the stimulation is over, relief that it felt good, relief. And—since you’re too out of it to stop yourself from admitting it—satisfaction.

There’s a rustling, paper slipping against paper, and then you can feel Keigo wiping his cum off your bare stomach with a tissue and then dabbing at the smears of wetness between your legs. When he’s satisfied that you’re clean, the bed creaks as he lays down next to you. He’s panting.

Reluctantly you open your eyes and roll onto your side, propping yourself up on an elbow so you can look down at him: golden hair spread out in a halo around his head, pale lashes and brows, a healthy glow of sweat over his forehead. You hadn’t seen it before, but there’s a tattoo curling over his biceps from where it must originate on his back—red feathers, wings, inked permanently into his skin.

Angel, Keigo called you earlier. But really, between the two of you…he’s the angel. In appearance, if nothing else.

His eyes drift open and the corner of his mouth tilts up, pleased to see you inspecting him. “How was that? Did you have fun being naughty?”

You and him both know exactly how much fun you had, and if you said it you’d just be stroking his ego. “You’re not a good guy, are you,” you say instead.

“Never said I was.”

“Then why didn’t you…have sex with me? For real?” you ask after a beat. The question’s been weighing on you.

“Don’t tell me you’re complaining.” A hand comes up to comb through your mussed hair unhurriedly.

“I’m not…” You still want to know, though.

“Mmm…baby. You didn’t want this to be your first time. Believe me, you’re not supposed to lose your virginity to a guy like me. No—don’t pout, come on. Your first time is supposed to be, like, soft and special and romantic, right?”

The girl you were one month ago, before you moved away from your hometown to come to college, she would have agreed. But you’re not that girl. You’ve been to your first college frat party, you’ve had your first drink and your first shot, you’ve kissed a stranger and you’ve done…sexual things with a man for the first time. And you’re okay with it. So you roll your eyes. “I’m not some fourteen-year-old drawing hearts in my notebook. I don’t need soft,” you tell him, hoping you sound bold and sarcastic.

Keigo chuckles and pats you on the head. “Don’t knock soft fucking, it’s got a time and a place like everything. I just couldn’t do it. Not when I saw you sitting there looking so lonely—you were like, hmm…like a rabbit in a den of wolves. You looked delicious.”

Oh god, you’re blushing again. This isn’t good for the nonchalant cool girl persona you’re trying to cultivate for yourself.

He cups your chin and runs his thumb over your lower lip. “I don’t think I could’ve been soft with you if I tried.”

A sharp rap on the door has both of you tensing, and Keigo only has a second to yank a blanket up from the foot of the bed over your naked bodies before the door is slammed open so hard that it bangs against the adjacent wall. “Jesus, get the fuck out!” he barks to the intruder, and it’s weird to hear the authoritative note in his voice reminding you that within this house, he’s someone who commands respect.

You tuck your face into Keigo’s chest and hope wildly that the person who just walked in 1) didn’t see anything and 2) isn’t the friend who brought you to the party, because if word gets around that you’re the girl who ‘slept’ with an older frat boy at the first party of freshman year, you’ll never live it down. Regardless of your own sexual liberation or whatever, you’re well aware that this isn’t the kind of reputation you want to start your college career out with.

“Sorry Kei! But we need you downstairs, we’re out of alc and the music stopped and no one knows how to fix the speakers!” the brother says, shielding his eyes with his hand, but he doesn’t leave the room. At least it’s not your friend—you breathe a sigh of relief and Keigo automatically smooths a hand down the back of your head in response.

“I’m kind of busy,” he seethes, and—you’ve gotta admit, there’s something marginally funny about seeing him caught off guard like this. You bite down on a laugh and he looks at you curiously, one thick eyebrow quirked.

“I’m really sorry, man, but the President said you’ll be on puke clean-up duty tomorrow if you don’t get your ass down there. His words, not mine.”

“Tomura, of-fucking-course…shitty incel has it out for me…” Keigo curses under his breath. “Give me five minutes.”

As soon as the door is closed, you’ve got your feet on the floor, groping around the discarded articles of clothing for your dress. You smooth down your hair with your hands and hope you look like any other tipsy freshman instead of a girl who just got pseudo-fucked. Keigo winks at you and taps his cheeks under his eyes; you take the hint and wipe away the smudges of mascara and eyeliner that migrated out of place during your…activities.

Your phone is safely in the pocket of your dress and you’re all but ready to leave the room (hopefully there won’t be anyone in the hallway to see you) when Keigo, still pulling on his pants, tugs you back by your wrist.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hey,” you reply uncertainly.

“Aren’t you going to give me your number?”

What? Really? You’ve heard plenty about how frat guys like him operate, and nothing Keigo’s done (except the whole ‘no penetrative sex’ thing) has led you to believe he doesn’t fit the stereotype. And the stereotype doesn’t involve sleeping with the same girl twice, especially if that girl is an awkward freshman who is apparently too innocent for him to get his dick wet with. “What do you want my number for?” you ask.

“Do I have to spell it out to you?” Keigo’s fingers lace with yours and you stumble forward into him so he can kiss you.

It’s light, chaste even, but it’s not fair because he knows, of course he knows—a kiss like that is going to leave you wanting more. “Yes,” you tell him, just to be contrary.

Keigo laughs again, and you do your best to memorize the sound of it. “It’s so the next time you decide you want to be a bad girl…you know where to find me.”

[beyondspaceandstars]

While You Sleep

Chapter 9

Relationship: Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: N/A, just fluff this time! Summary: Soulmate!AU - Throughout life, you’re given glimpses of your soulmate through dreams. As you sleep, memories flash in your mind showing you the life your soulmate has lived. Everyone around you raves about how their soulmate reads great books or volunteers in their spare time. But you can’t relate as your dreams end up being more like nightmares. Through initial images of death and violence, you come to learn your soulmate is the Winter Soldier.

(a/n: yes i really used some cliche scenes expected from a bucky fic but come on you have to, right?)

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

If you thought you were scared before your first encounter with Bucky, your feelings as you got ready for this date were unbelievable. 

The pressure really felt on this time. 

In the anxiety of nervousness and self-doubt, you had bought a whole new outfit for this date. You stood in the mirror, checking yourself over as you adorned a lovely knee-length, flowy dress. It had little flowers decorated all over it. The fabric was soft and comfortable, easing worries just a bit more - if you felt good, all would go good, right? The entire thing was complimented by a new pair of flats. You even spent more time on your make-up, making sure everything was just right and accentuating all your features pleasantly. 

The more you did, the better you felt, until you realized there was no more to do. Once your hair was laid gently over your shoulder in a cascading braid, you had to face the fact that it was almost game time. Glancing over, your clock told you Bucky would be here any minute.

Still, back at the mirror, you couldn’t help yourself from fidgeting. You tweaked your braid, fixed the invisible wrinkles on your dress, even reconsidered your lipstick color choice… But then it happened. Your phone’s ringtone sang throughout your room, giving you a jumpscare. You had to take a deep breath before crossing the space and answering the call. Bucky’s name flashed on the screen.

“Hi, Bucky,” you said.

“Hi, doll,” Bucky responded, a little sing-songy tone in his voice. His cheeriness was practically contagious through the phone. Your heart fluttered. “I’m outside whenever you’re ready.”

“O-Okay,” you sputtered out, letting out a cough to cover it but it didn’t work well as Bucky let out a light chuckle at your nerves. You chose to ignore it and continued, “I’ll be down in a second.”

“Alright,” he said. “See you soon.” The line disconnected. You sighed, gripping your phone probably too tightly. Closing your eyes, you inhaled then exhaled, centering yourself, letting your pounding heart come down. 

One last look in the mirror and you realized that it was game time. There were no more preparations you could make. Your soulmate was waiting downstairs and off you went to get swept away.

Bucky wasn’t the only thing that greeted you when you exited the apartment building. He was standing by a taxi, one arm leaning against it like it was the world's most romantic chariot. A smile broke out on your lips as you approached him. 

“Good evening.”

Bucky gave a nod, “Good evening.”

He kept staring at you, taking you in fully and shamelessly. You blushed under his focused eyes and quickly looked away. Motioning towards the taxi, you said, “Is this our ride for the night?”

Now he was smiling as well. “Just to get us there.”

You hummed, interested. “Where is ‘there?’”

“Gotta get in the taxi and find out, sweetheart,” Bucky said with a proud smirk as he opened the door. He extended his arm out dramatically, motioning for you to slide in. You mumbled a shy thank you, still feeling your blushing was out of control and got comfy in the cab. 

Once Bucky was also settled in, he leaned in very close to the driver and whispered the destination. You pretended not to notice but had to admit, he sure was sticking to the whole surprise thing. It made you feel quite giddy inside knowing he was going through all this just to surprise you. To give you a (hopefully) nice date. 

Once the taxi driver understood the address, Bucky leaned back and the drive began. You stared out the window, watching your neighborhood pass by, as you tried to ignore Bucky still staring at you. It was like he was really focused on you like he was searching for something. It made you feel all kinds of warmth under your dress. 

“You look beautiful,” Bucky finally said, breaking the backseat silence. Your heart that was once pounding suddenly was going a million miles an hour. Uncontrollably, you whipped your head to look at Bucky. You met his eyes which were looking at you with such wonder and longing. Oh yeah, it was getting warm in this taxi, you thought.

“Thank you,” you said, shyly. You still didn’t understand where this nervous, antsy of you was coming from. You had been around him plenty of times, even had a bit of a fight that night in your fucking apartment, but now this was what you were scared of? A date? You had to shake your head to literally shake off the nerves, something that was becoming a habit of you now. 

Eventually, you forced yourself to add on to the conversation, “You look great, as well.” And that certainly was the truth. Bucky had cleaned up nicely. His hair was slicked back casually. He wore a soft sweater and black slacks. The outfit was paired with dress shoes. The entire look just felt… Classic but in the best way. In a way that was Bucky at heart. 

You two fell into silence again but it was more comfortable, like Bucky’s words had hidden messages telling you to calm down. This was just another date, as couples do, and you two had been through crazy stuff - cough, cough… the fucking apartment showdown. Well, maybe that was a bit dramatic, you thought, but it sure felt hostile in the moment.

Moments later, the taxi stopped outside some… dance hall? You peered up at the sign, quizzically. You had no idea these places even existed anymore. This was already turning out to be the most unique you had ever been on but it wasn’t like you had been on many. 

You were about to get out when Bucky stopped you. Confused, you watched him run around the front of the taxi and stop at your door. He opened it for you, as any gentleman would. He offered you his hand and helped you out. After paying for the cab, he came back to join you, offering his arm for you to take.

“Dancing?” You asked as you two walked towards the entrance. “You’re taking me dancing?”

There was a faint blush creeping up on Bucky’s neck. “I am,” he said. “Back in the day, when I wanted to woo a girl I took her dancing. I hope that’s okay with you.”

You giggled, “Yeah, it’s...” Your words abruptly stopped as you were suddenly hit with the realization: you didn’t fucking know how to dance. Even in your own time period, you couldn’t be thrown out anywhere expecting to bust some moves. Your feet stopped moving before you could enter the hall.

Bucky turned to you, concerned. “Everything okay, sweetheart?” 

You wouldn’t look at him and instead looked past him, through the clear doors of the dance hall, watching the couples spin and twirl about. “I don’t know how to dance.”

Bucky waved a hand in dismissal and continued walking. “There’s no need to worry, doll,” he said as he opened the door for you. “You can follow my lead and you’ll be just fine, okay? I’ve got you.”

Your heart skipped a beat as Bucky placed a hand on your lower back, leading you around the hall. The music was loud, more on the big band side, though. You saw up-close now as the couples flung each other around, laughing in awe at one another. There was a bar off at one end where patrons moved around it with beverages. The place was fairly crowded as well, something you didn’t really peg Bucky for being enthusiastic about, but his face lit the second you two walked in. There was something like a sense of familiarity in his eyes.

You didn’t comment on it, though, and instead took his arm again, letting him guide you to the bar first. You were silently thankful, hoping a nice drink would loosen you up - at least, enough to actually get you on the dance floor. 

Bucky ordered for you two which you actually appreciated. Part of you enjoyed seeing him take charge like this. Plan the date, open your door, order a drink you might like… The care of it all made your heart sing. 

Retrieving the drinks, he handed you one. You thanked him as you took the drink and looked it over. The drink was something dark poured over ice. An orange peel and cherry bobbed in the liquid, next to the ice. You sipped it, letting the taste of whiskey and orange essence hit your tastebuds. 

“It’s lovely,” you said and took another sip. For as nice as it was, you weren’t exactly well versed in cocktails. “What is it?”

“An old fashioned,” Bucky answered as he took his own sip of the drink, letting himself lean in closer to you as you two stood at the bar. He still watched you with a curious intensity that made your skin all kinds of heated. “I-I’m glad you like it.”

A silence fell over you two once more as you sipped your drink and let your gaze wander back to the dancing pairs. They moved so majestically and vibrantly across the hardwood floor. Engrossed with one another, trusting as they spun about. You had to admit, it did look quite fun. 

“Up for a bit of a dance after this, doll?” Bucky drawled, a hint at what sounded like a little Brooklyn accent peaked out, making you grin. He must’ve been absolutely transported back in time and you were so thankful you could be there with him. 

You took a drink, probably more than you should’ve in one gulp, and said, “Maybe if this drink kicks in soon I’ll let you show me a few moves.” You smiled to yourself. “That is, assuming you still have moves.”

Bucky raised his eyebrows at you as he stared at you above his glass. “Excuse me?”

You giggled, “Well, you’ve got a few years in you. Just want to make sure you can show a gal a good time.”

Bucky scoffed and then, without any other warning, he grabbed your drink from your hands. Slamming both the glasses on the bar counter, he gripped your hand in his and dragged you out to the floor. You shuffled to keep up, giggling loudly at the fire you had sparked within him. It was amazing what a little banter could do to him. Once he picked an area, the band began playing a new song and Bucky fell into the rhythm quickly. 

You stared, a bit stunned watching him move. But Bucky wouldn’t let you just stand there for long. Getting into the beat, he grabbed both your hands and began instructing you on the steps. Thankfully, it wasn’t as serious as you thought it would be. This was just a dance hall, after all. Everyone was too caught up in their own lovers to pay attention to others. You watched his feet intensely, as you kicked and stomped, feeling a bit clunky but Bucky, you glanced at him every now and then, was watching you with a hint of pride in his eyes. 

Suddenly, he decided to get daring and spun you out, quickly pulling you back into his arms. You let out a laugh, enjoying the spontaneous move of it all and reveling in the feeling of his arms around you. Following that, you fell back into the rhythm. As you got more confident, you could actually look at Bucky better and saw he looked just as pleased and excited as you were. You felt you two had melted into the crowd well despite you feeling like a sore thumb. 

The twirling was probably your favorite and you were very pleased with your dress choice. As he moved you, it would flare just slightly around your thighs, making you feel like fabric just drifting in the wind. Bucky seemed to like it as well as his hands felt like they made a point to never leave your body, always prying and begging for you close. 

Eventually, after a couple of upbeat songs, the music turned down, now on the more slow side. Bucky, however, seemed very prepared for this as he pulled you into his body without a second thought. His hand landed on your lower waist, your front pressed to him securely. His metal hand was entangled with yours, lifted away from your bodies, as you two moved in a small circle. 

You and Bucky finally really locked eyes for what felt like really the first time in the entire dancing sequence. His eyes looked at you so softly, so in total awe. Maybe there was even a hint of admiration just lurking, you noted. You felt yourself blushing intensely, but then again, when weren’t you like that around Bucky?

Bucky eventually spoke. “You were a natural, sweetheart.”

You shrugged, a small smile on your lips. “I think I just had a really awesome teacher.”

“Oh, yeah?” He grinned. “He must’ve been great. Taught you some nice moves.”

“Mhm,” you nodded, “he’s the absolute best. Really good-looking as well. That’s a nice bonus.”

“You’re making me blush, doll.”

“Good. That’s how I get all the time around you. It’s time you had a taste of your own medicine.”

Bucky threw his head back, letting out a loud laugh. “Really, honey?” His eyes met yours again. You jumped at the new pet name. It felt so much more...domestic. “I make you blush? Make you feel a bit warm?” His tone got lower as it was just above a whisper. A shiver ran up your spine. 

You bit your lip, contemplating how far this was going to go. “You make me feel many things, Bucky. Good things.”

His grin had turned to a full teasing smile now. He didn’t respond, though, just nodded with a mischievous expression now coming across his features. You were going to ask what he was thinking about when the music stopped and the band announced they would be taking a break. It sounded like Bucky let out a sigh of relief as he promptly took your hand and began leading you off the dance floor.

“You hungry, doll?” He asked, stopping next to the exit, hands in his pocket now, looking all casual. But the casualness was a nice cover, you thought, as his expression held everything but unsuspecting. 

You hummed. “I could go for something.”

He nodded, still smiling. “I planned to cook you dinner. Is that alright?”

You gasped, “I get to go to your apartment now?”

He laughed as he took your hand again, now leading you out of the dance hall. You two began making your way down the street, hands gripped tightly together. 

“You will get to see my apartment but fair warning, it’s nothing special.”

You scoffed. “Yeah, like mine was a real looker.”

“At least yours looks lived in.”

You looked up at Bucky quickly, mouth open now as if you wanted to say something but you didn’t really know what. He wouldn’t look back at you now and instead just kept leading you to presumably his apartment building. You turned your sights back on the sidewalk, watching the cars and people rush around in the nighttime landscape of the city, as you let Bucky guide you. 

It was a fairly nice area he lived in, an estimated taxi ride away from you. The area was really bustling with people now and there were shops and eateries galore to browse. You glanced in the windows as you passed, watching others mingle about and eat their dinners. 

Eventually, Bucky stopped in front of a building and pulled open the door. He let you in first, still ever so the gentlemen despite you not knowing where the hell you were going. Neither of you dwelled on this though as Bucky took your hand again and led you to his apartment. You felt yourself getting antsy the closer you got but you didn’t understand why. As much as you wanted your flirting to get you a little bit somewhere, this was dinner. A nice lovely dinner with your soulmate. One that he planned to cook. (Could he actually cook, though? You debated this as you went.)

Bucky unlocked the door and let you in. Sadly, he wasn’t too far off from the comment about it not looking lived in. There wasn’t… much of anything. There were the essentials - kitchen, couch, stools, television - but nothing that screamed Bucky. Or that he even actually stepped foot in here. 

But you weren't about to say any of this. You lingered by the kitchen counter. “It’s cozy.”

Bucky chuckled, “Thanks for trying, doll.”

You frowned. “I-I mean it. It’s nice. Clean and… and formal.” Well, you thought, what could you expect from a former soldier?

Bucky raised his eyebrows, though, not buying it. 

“Alright,” you sighed, “it could use maybe some personal touches but your space is your space. Who am I to judge when mine looks like it's falling apart?”

“Yours has personality,” Bucky shrugged as he slowly took steps towards you. You were leaning against the counter now, arms crossed watching him approach. 

“That means it's a trainwreck.”

He smirked, “It means it fits you and I like you, so, naturally, I’m going to like your apartment.”

Your heart pounded in your chest. “You like me?” You asked and winced at your words. Apparently, you were having a hard time growing out of this silly schoolgirl crushing phase. 

Bucky nodded, now pretty close, staring you down. One hand came to rest on the counter beside you, slightly trapping you in. “I do like you.”

You couldn’t get over how close he was now. Even during your slow dance, you don’t think he was like… this. Towering, confident. Your eyes flicked to his inviting lips quickly before returning back to his eyes. They held amusement and… Was that a hint of amorousness in them? Your pulse was racing.

“Enough to make me dinner?” You let out a breathy chuckle, trying your hand at humor to figure out what was going on here. You didn’t mean to be practically dismissing these advancements but you also couldn’t believe they were happening. You thought it was just some sweet back and forth in the dance hall, a possible side effect of the adrenaline from dancing getting to you two. But, no. This fact was simple. Bucky wanted you. 

“You know,” he sighed, “I don’t think I’m really hungry.”

“Oh?”

“At least not for dinner.”

You were barely able to let out a gasp at his confirmation before Bucky’s lips were on yours, hot and heavy.

[touyasdoll]

Some Dom!Hawks x Unfortunate!Reader for ya. Was supposed to write Miruko, but nah. Hawks decided to show up instead. 😅🙄 Needy bastard~

- IR

You had wanted to be a good girl today, but you really, really just couldn’t. You had promised Keigo you would behave if he took you to the office with him, but it seemed like everything in the world was conspiring against you.

You tried to keep calm, counting down and up, naming 5 things and all sorts of little tricks as you went about your day, helping deliver things for your husband and occasionally others. You intended to hang out with some of the analysts or other members of the Support Department for a while, and kept that in mind as the morning went on, but life was not kind to you. By lunch you were done.

People had been snippy, co-workers and civilians alike, coffee was spilt down your shirt when you turned around and crashed into a hovering member of the PR department — she yelled, you bit your lip and apologized, the strap on your favorite pair of shoes broke causing you to collide into a sidekick, gaining the attention of everyone nearby as he “politely scolded” you for “recklessly running around like that”, you were told off by a secretary who wrongly saw you as an intern for going barefoot, you were told off by several people for going barefoot, as if you had a choice when the office was all the way at the other side of the Aerie. All in all, the morning was horrid and as you finally reached his office, you opened the door and threw yourself down on the couch.

“Well, now~ I’ve heard someone’s been a naughty girl today~”

You froze up at your husband’s words and peered over the pillow you were clutching. You couldn’t help the glare that came to your face as you met his eyes, taking in the sharp look. How could he just…

“Fuck you!” you growled out before burying your face in the pillow and turning your back to him. How dare he assume you were causing trouble?! You had promised and done your best to keep it, even with everyone being terrible! You felt hot tears well up, but stubbornly refused to cry.

“‘Fuck me’?” he bummed out the question in a calm, even tone and you knew you had messed up at hearing it. You should just apologize and explain, prove you were being good all day, but you were too angry to be good. Too hurt. You clutched the pillow tighter, stress gripping it. “Not with that attitude. I don’t tolerate bad little girls who break promises, you know, yet here you are. I suppose we should do something about that.”

You stilled as your heard him stand. Your quick, stealthy husband, making noise as he slowly walked to you, doing a very good job at psyching you out, making the air heavier, tenser, in the room. You felt like prey, not a predator as your Quirk, Kestrel, dubbed you. You didn’t give in to the atmosphere of the room, the aura your husband was putting off as he walked over to you.

“Stand up.”Keigo spoke easily, but there was warning and order in his words. You were on thin ice, but you didn’t care. You had been trying to be a good girl and he didn’t care! If he didn’t care, then you might as well be a bad girl!

“No!” You refused, hunkering down.

“Stand up.”

“No!”

But it did nothing as you were easily plucked from the couch and stood on the floor. You didn’t know what else to do but refuse him, yet Keigo didn’t say a thing else. He carefully removed the pillow from your grip, ignoring your pouting, your glare. You made to walk away but he easily caught you by the wrist and dragged you down, over his lap as he fast down on the couch.

“I don’t tolerate bad little girls who break promises, acting like little brats who can’t have their way.”,he stated lazily, a hand on the back of your neck as another stroked down your spine, over your rear end.

“I was—“

His hand squeezed the back of your neck and you shut up.

“I didn’t say you could talk,”he warned, tone still casual. “And I didn’t teach you bad manners. Did I?” The pressure of him stroking down your spine came again and something within you just suddenly dropped the rest of the way.

You gave off an annoyed little growl, emotions still high. Even if you now used your manners.

“No, Daddy.”

“That’s right. I didn’t teach you bad manners. I also didn’t teach you to misbehave,” His voice pierced something in you and you started to squirm in his hold, trying to stand up. It was fruitless as his arms are tightened around you. He repeated his words from earlier, “Yet here we are. I suppose we should do something about that.”

You gulped, internally cursing your decision to even get out of bed today. Your stomach tightened as you felt a hand tug your pants and panties down. The cool air hitting your bare skin felt like a sting all its own

“And would you look at that~? I have plenty of time. right. now.”

Smack! The first strike came so quick it took you by surprise, despite knowing this was to happen, and you yelped. “No no no! I wasn’t being bad today!”, you cried, squirming in place. “Please, Daddy! I wasn’t being bad!”

“Oh, even if you were good earlier, you definitely haven’t been nice any since you came back here,” he reminded, giving another quick smack and then another. And another. It stung and you knew he wasn’t near done. Kei— Daddy was many things, thorough being one of them.

He was going to punish you and good, mark you up and make you remember who was in charge. He had taken the rest of the afternoon off, hoping to have some fun, but really. Who cared if he spent it tanning your hide and then admiring the view as he worked?

You ended up propped up on the couch, your hands bound since you squirmed so much, face down on that pillow you had gripped, with your ass in the air facing your Daddy, red with the marks and signs of his strikes. He was rather proud of his work, his efforts in teaching you well and making it stick. It had taken you a while to remember to count, making him start all over again. He wasn’t pleased, which is why you had a plug in you after all of that, stretching your sore ass and keeping you open with not nearly enough to clench onto. It was also the reason your neglected pussy was throbbing with need. You whimpered as your body shifted. You were not going to be a brat in Daddy’s office ever again!

Hawks smirked to himself as he went over some submitted paperwork. Maybe when he was done with all his things you would of learnt your lesson and stopped being such a little terror (he knew it wasn’t all your fault, but then you had come in with the attitude…). Then he could remind you how good girls were treated when they behaved for Daddy, starting with that wet cunt, dripping onto his nice clean couch. He was… hmm.

Maybe he has to remind you a little early. He really hasn’t eaten anything since breakfast… He stood up, stretching his wings and arms.

“Babygirl, spread those legs some more. C’mon, open up. That’s right, good girl. Daddy missed lunch.”

— End

Oh shit 😳 that last line fucking took me OUT

[eideticmemory]

PERFORMANCE | MATTHEW GRAY GUBLER

Description: You film a sex scene with Matthew Gray Gubler, and have a big urge to try it off camera.

Word Count: 2,953.

Rating: M.

Warning/Includes: Sexual intercourse, choking, 18 year age gap between adults.

You filmed the sex scene in one take.

The cool air trailed over your bare breasts as you laid against the bed, Matthew’s torso between your legs, his lips on your neck. You had never done a sex scene before, but you knew it shouldn’t have felt this good. You knew your moans should’ve been fake, your facial expressions exaggerated, your body working in an absentminded rhythm. But you found yourself trembling, weak, releasing breathy moans into his ear. All from the feeling of Matthew creating friction between your legs. In an unscripted moment, he gropped your boobs in his hands, and the force sent your back arching. You became so focused on the sensation of his body, the heat trapped under the duvet cover, and his lips as they pressed against yours, the eyes of the crew were drowned out - long forgotten.

When the director yelled “cut!” you pined for Matthew’s lips, the sudden loss of them leaving a bitter feeling in your stomach. Holding eye contact with him, you allowed him to help you out of bed. He promptly handed you your robe, and you couldn’t help but watch as he began to put on his own. Your eyes raked down his body, studying his skin, his torso, his chest, his hips. Your arms folded over your chest to hold the clothing in place, you quickly removed yourself from set and disappeared for the rest of the day.

It would be hours before you got over the feeling. The intensity, the passion, and the pure embarrassment of allowing to let yourself get carried away. It was silly to think a man, of Matthew’s status and age, would find a way to express any sexual attraction towards you. It was wildly unprofessional of you, not to mention completely inappropriate considering the 18 year age gap. But, fuck, you couldn’t help but think about it.

After a substantial amount of time locked away in your dressing room, you finally gathered the courage to head out and head home. You kept your head down as you went to exit the set, eyes trained on your feet. Headphones in, you weren’t sure someone had called your name, but you still stopped in your tracks. When you turned around, one earbud in your hand, you saw Matthew, racing over to you. 

“Hey,” he smiled. “You going home?”

“Yeah,” you shrugged. “Tired.”

“Aw, man,” he sighed. “I was hoping we could, uh, run some lines together? Prepare for tomorrow’s shoot? But if you’re tired, then—“

“I’m not tired,” you interrupted him. The words flowed from your mouth before you could catch them. “We can run lines. That’s-that’s cool.” 

He gave you a soft smile, his eyes peering into yours. “Awesome. My trailer?” 

You gave him a speechless nod, still attempting to catch your breath at the sight of him. You followed him into his dressing room, with him opening the door for you to grant you entrance. You stepped in shyly, and set your bag down on the couch. 

“Nice place you got here,” you said.

He closed the door behind himself and laughed, “Thank you.”

You dug your script out of your purse and sat down beside the accessory, flipping through the pages awkwardly. “So, what scenes did you want to rehearse?”

“How about,” he whispered, holding his own script in his hands. “Our second love scene?” 

You cut your eyes up at him, your breath caught in your throat, “You teasing me?” You pouted.

“Teasing you about what?” He smirked. 

You shyly shook your head, and looked down at your toes as he took a seat beside you. “I’m sorry,” you whispered. “Sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

Matthew’s eyes went wide, the shock of yours words having him taken aback. “Uncomfortable? [y/n],” he chuckled under his breath. “You made me...the complete opposite of uncomfortable. I might have been, um, a little too comfortable. It’s a sex scene. It happens.” 

“What do you do...um, when-when it does happen?” You couldn’t bring yourself to look him in the eye, but you could see he was smiling. 

“Just rehearse,” he shrugged. “Get aquatinted with the other until you fall into your own groove.”

“Wow,” you looked up at him, a sly smile on your face. “So much wisdom.”

“Is that a jab at my age, kid?” He gasped, trying to keep from laughing. “Because I gotta tell you, that hurts.”

“No, no,” you shook your head. “So, let’s get aquatinted then. Um, page 67?” You asked, pinning the paper in your script. 

He nodded, “Yep. So, again, we have to improvise the scene. The initiation, the tension, the act itself.”

“Right. So...how should we start?”

“Hm...” he hummed. “Can you start reading your lines? We can do some quick improv.”

You shrugged, “Sure.” 

You set your script down and began to recite the words from memory, staring at the space across from you as directed, and putting on a somber face. “I don’t know why you came here,” you murmured, presenting a voice on the verge of breaking. “You want to sit here and pretend to care about me, when we both know that’s not the case—“

Matthew watched you for a long time before he started kissing your neck, “I wanted to see you,” he breathed against your skin. “I had to see you.”

You draw in a shaky breath, feeling Matthew’s hand on your leg. “Had to see me? See me? You-you haven’t called me since...since....” You trailed off, Matthew’s lips now tracing your jaw with soft kisses. His mouth felt nice. Like it was meant to be on your body. 

“You okay, [y/n]?” Matthew whispered in your ear. By now, your bodies were pressed together, your shoulder leaning into his chest as his hand moved to your inner thigh. 

“Yeah,” you replied. “I’m fine.” 

“You don’t get touched often, do you?” He asked. 

You sucked in a sharp breath, and only shook your head no in response. 

“How?” He kissed your cheek. “You’re so beautiful.”

“I’ve never...” You licked your lips. “Never...never, um...”

He pulled away from you instantly, his eyes concentrated on your face. “You’re a virgin?” 

You looked away as you nodded. “And please don’t give me the whole ‘22-year-old-virgin’ speech. I know it’s lame.” 

“Hey, look at me,” He pressed his fingertips into your chin and lifted your head up. “It’s not lame. Not at all.” 

“However,” you spoke quickly. “I’m-I’m not entirely attached to this virginity. I’ve been meaning to get rid of it, actually.”

He looked at you for a moment, and scoffed, “[y/n]...”

“What?” You whined, turning to face him. “Did you not see me earlier? I’m a complete mess for you.” 

“I don’t want you to regret this. I don’t want you to feel pressured or uncomfortable or anything like that. And I don’t want you to regret choosing me.”

You stood to your feet, calmly positioning yourself in front of him. You pulled your shirt over your head and dropped it to the floor, your bra following. You began massaging your breast as he watched. “I could kind of tell...that maybe, you liked these.” 

He bit his lip, “Fuck, [y/n].”

You boldly straddled his lap, pressing your boobs into his chest. “I...I don’t want to pretend anymore.”

“You...have no idea what you’re getting yourself into,” he whispered. “At all.”

You placed a sweet kiss to his lips, “Show me. Please?” 

So, he did. He kissed you, fiercely, and had you laid out on the couch in seconds. He expertly removed your shorts and panties, tossing them to the other side of the room. His enjoyed the view of your body as he kneeled down between your legs. “You’re so beautiful,” he told you. “And so lucky.”

“Lucky?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. His finger presses against your clit and rubbed you in small circles. “Because I’m taking it easy on you tonight.”

You gulped, and started pant at the small touch. You watched him as he leaned down and kissed your labia. “You’re already so wet,” he commented. He drew a finger over your slit, “Here, see?” He placed the covered fingers against your bottom lip and you instinctively opened your mouth to suck on it. 

“Good girl,” he purred. “Perfect.”

He dove his head in and ate you out. There's something about the way Matthew does it. Like he's starving. Like he's dying and you’re the cure. Like he's in the desert and you’re the only drink of water. He devours you. Completely buries his face and presses his tongue down with so much force, it sends chills up your spine. His hands are tight on your thighs as his tongue encircles one spot on your clit, the one he knows drives you wild.

Embarassingly quickly, your orgasm built in your stomach. When you first noticed it, you began to pull at Matthew’s hair. Push his head away, clench your thighs together. But he only responded by swatting your hands away, putting one hand around both your wrists and the other on your breast. 

“M-Matthew,” you whimpered. “Ah, fuck, I—“

He looked up at you, his eyes peering into your soul from under his eyelashes. He sped up the velocity of his tongue, the muscle applying immense pressure to your bundle of nerves. 

“Mm,” you whined, attempting to pull your hands from his grasp - no success. “Please, please, please.”

You tried so hard. So hard. But it was good, and it was Matthew, and you came. His name falling off of your lips and your chest heaving up and down. He rolls his tongue along your slit, the stickiness covering his mouth. He stared up at you, hungrily, “So, so lucky.” He whispered.

Matthew pulled a condom from his pocket, and hovered over you as he pulled his pants down to his thighs and released his cock. You licked your lips, to which he gave you a knowing smile. Condom on, he sat beside you on the couch, “Ride me.” He commanded.

“What?” You murmured. “I-I don’t know how to do that.”

He chuckled, “I’ve got you, just come sit on my dick.” 

How can you say no to that? You sat up and straddled his lap once again, body shaking with anxiety. 

“You okay?” He asked. 

You nodded, holding yourself up on his shoulders. His hands guided your hips as you slowly, very slowly, sunk down onto his cock, the length and girth filling you up. You let out a vulnerable whine, biting onto your lip. 

“Stay with me, babygirl,” he said. “You’re doing so good.”

With his erection fully buried inside your, you fell against his body, sitting completely still. He asked if you were okay again, and you replied by sitting up, looking him in the eye and saying a quiet, “Yes.”

“Okay,” he whispered. His hands gripped onto your ass, waiting to guide you. “So, you’re just gonna raise your hips up, like this,” he pushed your thighs up, his cock pulling out of you about halfway. “And then you’re gonna come back down.” He relaxed his arms, allowing you to take his length back inside of you. 

Immediately adjusting to the movement, you started to bounce on him, slowly, awkwardly, and he loved it. 

“Oh, yeah,” he moaned, leaning back to watch you. “Fuck yeah. There you go, baby. You got it.”

You smiled at the encouragement and absentmindedly started to rock your hips faster, the sensation of his dick sending you into a trance. 

“Fuck, fuck,” he swore. “Your pussy is so, so fucking good. Give it to me, beautiful, give it all to me. I want it.”

That’s when you lost yourself. You supported yourself by placing your palms on his chest and continued to ride him, quickly, eagerly. Beads of sweat formed on your forehead and you couldn’t stop your jaw from dropping. You’d been touched by other guys, kissed by other guys, eaten out by other guys. But it wasn’t like this. Nothing was ever like this. 

"Look at me," he said. "Look at me."

There's a hint of pleading in his voice, but just enough power to compel you to open your eyes. 

“Let me pound you,” he requested. “Hm? Let me make you come on my dick, huh?” 

And before you could fully nod, he stilled your hips, grasping them in his hands and angled himself before slamming into you. You threw your head back and let out a guttural moan. Shivers racked your body as his hips picked up this new momentum, fucking you so hard and so fast that the couch wobbled. 

“Ah! A-Ah!” You cried out.

“C’mon, [y/n], you can take it. Say you can take it.”

“I-“ you stuttered. “I can take it. I can take it.”

“Mhm, yes, you can.”

Staring into Matthew's eyes while he's pounding into you is a religious experience. When you open your eyes and make that first bit of contact, his jaw drops and this strangled moan came out. 

"Is this good?"

"Yes."

"Tell me it's good."

"H--huh—fu--it's good."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"How good?"

"So good."

"Say it again."

"S--so good."

It is. It's so good. He buried his face in your neck, making the loudest groans possible against your skin. And you felt his tongue licking from the base of your neck to the edge of your jaw, slimy and icky and drool dripping down your skin. So dirty, so disgusting, Jesus christ. He knows the spot. The one right on your jaw line that sends you over the edge. And he sucks on it endlessly while one hand begins to play with your boob, teasing the nipple between his fingers. Then there’s his tongue again, making it's way to your ear. 

"Say my name."

"Oh, my G--god."

"Say it." And he nibbled on your ear. Your eyes rolled back. "Who's fucking you?"

"M-M-Matthew." 

"Who?"

"M--fuck-Matthew."

He found your clit, such ease, such speed. He presses his middle finger down, the pressure alone making you squeeze his bicep with all your strength. You squeaked, you gasped, you trembled, you tensed up. "Fu-ck."

And he rubbed in circles, quick, hard. Hard. 

"A-ah. Fuck. M—Matthew, please." There were tears in your eyes. Literal tears. He looked at you and wiped them away, not breaking the gaze for a second.

"Oh, baby, you're so close."

You nodded.

"Your legs are so tense, you can b-barely hold your eyes open, your pussy's so tight, fuck." 

You were so, so close. 

"Am I right?" 

"Yes."

"About what?"

"I'm gon-Ah! I'm gonna come."

"Yeah?"

"Uh-huh."

"Then do it." And his hand moved at super sonic speed, the motion of his fingers moving at almost the same tempo as his hips.

That did it. The curve, the fingers, the way he looks at you. You threw your head back. You came. It was good. It was long. His hands. Your throat. Fuck.

“Oh, come on, baby,” he cooes. His hand smacked your face, lightly, just forceful enough to pull you from your daze. “Don’t wear out on me now. That was only number two. I know that’s not all you’ve got.”

“Matthew,” you whimpered.

“Hm?” His hips have slowed to this sweet, tempered rhythm, the tip of his tongue pressed against your bottom lip. The steady pumps send shivers through your spine. “Do you want to stop, baby?” 

You dug your nails into his shoulders, your eyes soft and pouty, misted with tears. 

“[y/n],” he calls. “Say the word, and I’ll stop.”

“I don’t want you to stop,” you shook your head. Quickly, harshly, your face flushed and your body quivering. 

“That’s my girl,” he murmured. “Can you give me one more? Just one more, baby.” 

“Matthew, I can’t,” you whine. “I can’t, I can’t come again.”

“Yes, you can, you can give me a third one. Watch,” His thumbs locates your clit once again, the mere touch drawing a shaky moan from your lips. “One more, baby. That’s all I want. Just one more. Can you do that for me?”

You nod, weakly, holding his face in your hands. 

He's real good about making sure you come again. But when you do, after you ride it out, it's all about him and you’re all for it. He grabs you  by the throat and watches you tremble, sticking his thumb into your mouth. 

"Fuck. Fuck!" he moans. "Mm, am I being too rough?"

Rough? Yes. You could feel him in your chest he's pounding you so hard. It's sloppy and uncoordinated and you feel like you could come again in seconds with the amount of force he's using. 

"No. Keep going." You begged. 

"Fuck." His voice, so dark, so deep. 

He grips onto your throat harder and leans in. "Where do you want it?"

This man is so hot.

You do nothing but stick your tongue out, exposing your throat. He laughed and nodded, biting his lip as he pushes into you harder and harder. 

The transition from your pussy to your mouth was quick. The second he was down your throat, he came and he held onto your hair while he did. He tensed up, eyes screwed shut and head thrown back. "Agh! Uh! H-huh! Fuck. Fuck."

What calms you down, after the waves and waves and waves of intensity, is the sound of Matthew’s heartbeat. You end up with your ear pressed to his chest as you two bundle up on the couch, your fingertips tracing his sweaty skin. 

He kissed your forehead, “You okay?”

“Thought you said you were taking it easy on me tonight.” You giggled. 

“Oh baby,” he huffed. “That was easy.”

[penguintransporter]

Tiny Clouds (Serge Gnabry oneshot)

You need to ban me from here 😂 I don’t know if it’s the fact that I am on my holidays, or if it’s my mum’s homecooked food, but I have been writing and updating more than ever before. Anyway, you should all thank @disneydaddyevans​ for giving me the idea to write this little piece that is so cheesy, but I couldn’t help myself. Inspired by his fashion sense and the overall cuteness that the man oozes. Read, heart, reblog, and tell me what you think about it. Also, I wasn’t sure if I should use to name for my OC or just “Y/N”, so I stuck with the way I usually write. 

“Max… Max—Maximillian,” Dolores hissed quietly, stopping dead in her tracks, barely fifty meters away from where they were heading. “That,” she pointed her index finger at the outside of the Museum of Urban and Contemporary Art with a horror-stricken face, “it doesn’t look like a regular exhibition opening. Look at all the press. Are you sure they will let me come in wearing this?”

“There is nothing wrong with your outfit, Lola,” her friend replied, using her nickname – a deep chuckle escaping his throat. She couldn’t help but glance down at her attire, narrowing her eyes at the worn-out jeans and a woolly pullover she had knitted for herself, some two years ago. It was already losing its shape and growing lint on several spots.

When Maximilian asked if she would like to join him for an exhibition opening, Lola agreed without thinking twice, not expecting to be thrown into the middle of what seemed to be a huge media fuss. If she was being frank, she could have googled what the exhibition was about or what the artist’s name was, but with her long shifts at work and three papers due for her night courses at the university, Lola completely forgot to do so.

“If you say so,” she mumbled back, glancing once again at her outfit – eyes narrowing at the stubborn stain on her Converse high-tops. For a moment she contemplated licking her thumb and trying to rub the dark spot away, but she decided against it once she realised that it was highly unhygienic and probably a very weird thing to do in front of all the people that mingled around her.

It wasn’t like she hated or didn’t like fashion – on contrary, she thought it was fun, but Lola found comfort in being practical rather than being stylish, and the older she got, the more overwhelmed she felt with the fast pace of fashion and trends in general. There were too many terms, too many weird combinations being pushed in the foreground, so she decided that it would be the best for her if she stood on the sidelines of it all like a spectator rather than participant.

“I am being honest,” Max added as she caught up with him and they slowly made their way towards the entrance – camera flashes that tried to capture very important people hurting Lola’s eyes. “Moreover, I think that jumper is incredibly cute with its tiny clouds. Or are those sheep?” Max asked, grinning down at her as he adjusted the collar on his trench-coat.

“Tiny clouds,” Lola remarked, “better than your Inspector Gadget coat though, if you ask me,” she joked back, making her friend laugh out loud before he placed his arm around her shoulders and pulled her into the crowd.

The main exhibition room wasn’t as packed as Lola had expected it to be, and once they were ushered inside by an artist friend of Max, they made their way around it - slow-paced and without any rush or pressure. They stopped ever so often to read the description, comment or even chuckle on some of the art pieces that they didn’t find very interesting. 

Lola had visited the museum only a handful of times before this, but whenever she was here she enjoyed the look and feel of it. From the minimalistic approach to the main rooms and furniture, to the small and narrow hallways that led to different rooms with unique art exhibitions and graffiti on the wall. 

“Maximilian!” a deep, mature voice called out from across the large room, and Lola reflexively turned her head in the direction of it before seeing a tall and a lanky man in a pressed suit trousers and white button down striding towards them. She could vaguely recognise his face as one of Max’s artist friends, but she couldn’t remember his name. “Maximilian,” he repeated as he stepped closer, blocking Lola’s view of the art installation in front of them, forcing her to look away from it, “there is someone I want you to meet,” he breathed out as both, Max and Lola curiously peered at him. “He doesn’t have a lot of time, but he plays for your favourite team, so I thought you’d be happy to meet him.”

**

“Maximilian, this is Serge. Serge, this is Maximilian, and…,” the artist friend trailed off, looking down at Lola with an awkward smile, “sorry dear, but I don’t remember your name.”

Lola smiled back nervously, shifting on her feet a little. “Dolores,” she answered, looking first at the man in front of her before glancing at the good-looking athlete only to find him looking back at her curiously, “or Lola for short. Nice to meet you.”

“It’s lovely to meet both of you,” Serge replied politely, sticking both of his hands in the pockets of his wide trousers, and Lola couldn’t help but glance at his well-put outfit that looked very expensive and taken care of. “Are you an artist too?” Serge asked looking in Maximillian’s direction.

“No, no,” Max replied, mimicking Serge’s posture, “just enthusiast. By the way, great season with the team...”

Next to them, Lola was wringing the exhibition brochure she picked up on the entrance in her sweaty palms - bits of the paper sticking to her skin. She wasn’t shy or easily intimidated by other people, but there was something about being in the crowd that made one stick out like a sore thumb with her outfit. It was turning her into a nervous wreck even if she didn’t want that.

Having Serge Gnabry in front of her didn’t help either.

“And what about you, Lola?”

Lola felt her heartbeat quicken at the sound of Serge’s voice saying her name, and when she looked up at him, slightly confused, he had a gentle smile on his face, patiently waiting for her answer. His brown eyes were focused on her face and her eyes, and she suddenly felt at loss of words.

“Lola is not an artist either, but an avid knitter instead,” Max interjected with a grin, and Lola looked away from Serge’s eyes and up at her friend – her eyes narrowing a little. “She’s once knitted an entire winter scarf on her way to Hamburg,” he added as Lola felt the heat rise to her cheeks, but she managed to push it away casually.

“It was a nice scarf, though,” Lola sheepishly smiled, feeling the insides of her stomach flip excitedly when Serge chuckled before the silence fell upon the three of them. To keep her thoughts straight, she looked down at her smudged Converse, knowing that Serge probably waited for her to elaborate or keep the conversation going. The only problem was that her mind was blank, her palms sweaty, and all the words she wanted to say seemed to be stuck inside her throat. “I real—really enjoy knitti—,”

“—Serge!” a middle-aged woman wearing a shapeless dress and thick, white-rimmed glasses approached them in a hurry, interrupting Lola in the middle of her sentence. “We have Thibaut from Revver magazine outside. It would be lovely if you could just answer few questions for him.” The woman sent an apologetic smile towards Lola, and Lola only smiled back weakly, not really knowing what else to do.

She looked away to mask her disappointed for ruining her chance of talking to Serge, not noticing the lingering gaze he gave her before he walked away.

**

An hour into the evening, Lola found herself walking along one of the walls covered in graffiti on her own after Max excused himself to go outside for a “much needed smoke”. Rather than just standing alone and waiting for her friend to come back, Lola continued to walk along the painted walls before seeing another room that was adjacent to the main room, and which seemed to be empty.

Smiling at the several people who quietly talked among themselves outside, Lola pushed her way inside, quickly being mesmerized by the colours and style of the art that occupied the tiny space she was in. It was a collection of the tall yet narrow murals – each one describing a different story that captivated Lola’s curiosity, and she found herself forgetting about the time. 

“You don’t like to talk much, do you?”

Lola looked in the direction of the voice before shyly smiling once she realised it was Serge who stood behind her. Quickly, she looked away, feeling her cheeks redden at his words. He moved closer, stepping mere few meters away from her before interlacing his fingers behind his back as he observed the same mural as she did – his lips curled into small smile.

Lola breathed out a short breath before opening her mouth to speak. “It’s actually difficult to shut me up once I get started, but I easily get intimidated around people who…,” she trailed off, unsure in how to phrase her ridiculous insecurities, “nevermind,” she finished, glancing towards Serge for a brief second.

“Are you intimidated by flesh and blood, Lola?” he asked before stopping for a second, “That’s your name, right?”

She nodded, stepping closer to the wall, reaching out to touch it, as if that would help her figure out what kind of materials did they use for it. 

“Flesh and blood in trendy, expensive clothes. I will be honest with you,” Lola shook her head a little, pointing at the large museum room where the actual exhibition was presented, “I felt so out of place over there, so I came here.”

“Well, maybe they are expensive,” Serge commented with an amused smirk, “but how many of us are actually wearing a knitted pullover we made ourselves. That’s the real style, if you ask me.”

Lola felt the warmth evade her face yet again as she moved away from the wall, straightening her back and looking at him. “How do you know I knitted it?”

“Pure guess,” he shrugged nonchalantly, “Did I guess right?”

“Yeah,” Lola admitted, “And these are tiny clouds, by the way, not sheep,” she quickly added making Serge chuckle a little. “It’s the confidence and courage,” she muttered, and Serge muttered a small ‘mhmm’, urging her to continue. “I wish I had the courage to experiment a bit more. For example, I like what you are wearing. It’s very,” Lola stopped for a moment, thinking of the word to use for his immaculate outfit, “…fashionable.”

Serge laughed a little at her words, and she curiously peered up at him, waiting for him to speak. 

“I don’t think there is anything wrong with what you are wearing,” he responded, looking down at her, “but here…” he trailed off as he turned around to face her before untying the neckerchief he was wearing around his neck and holding it out for her. “May I?” he asked, taking a step closer, and Lola felt her heart start beating faster because of his proximity but she nodded slowly. Serge nodded as well before putting the scarf around her neck, tying it in a loose knot. “There you go,” he mumbled.

Lola smiled, looking down at his hands as he adjusted the ends of the scarf, folding them so that they sat nicely against the curve of her neck. 

“Thanks,” she mumbled, touching the neckerchief with her fingers – the silky material soft against her skin.

“Now you’re wearing something fashionable,” Serge commented, emphasizing the word ‘fashionable’ with air-quotes.

“Fashionable, I guess,” Lola smirked, “but you should take it back. It feels so wrong to wear it,” she added with a small and nervous laugh.

“Wear it tonight, and you can give it back to me some other time,” Serge replied, sticking his hands in the pockets of his loose trousers, turning around so that he was facing the wall again. “That’s if you want to meet up, of course.”

Lola was quiet for a moment, trying to stop the butterflies in her stomach from going crazy, but she couldn’t stop the smile that made its way on her face.

“I do,” she answered, moving so that she was standing next to him – her eyes trying to focus on the tiny details on the mural. “I do want to meet up.”

They stood next to each other in silence for a few seconds – neither of them looking away from the wall. “Friday maybe? Sunday afternoon works too. We don’t have to dress up.”

“Friday works for me,” Lola answered, “but if we wait on Sunday you might get a pair of knitted mittens as a thank you gift for making me look,” she stopped to raise her hands in air-quotes, “fashionable.”

“Only if they come with tiny clouds,” he stated, looking at her at the same time as she looked up at him.

“If you want,”

Serge nodded – his eyes never leaving hers. “Then it’s Sunday afternoon.”

“It is,” Lola nodded.

“Perfect.”

**

Thank you for reading, and this really needs some editing. I apologise.

[mikauzoran]

Lukadrien: Zebras Can’t Change Their Stripes: Chapter Ten

Read it on AO3: Zebras Can’t Change Their Stripes: Chapter Ten

The days slowly passed and coalesced into weeks which gradually became months, and, still, nothing seemed to be happening romantically between Marinette and Adrien.

“I wish they would just get it over with already,” Luka groaned, letting his forehead thunk against the table in the pub. “It’s killing me having this hang over my head.”

Marc grimaced as he reached out and patted Luka on the shoulder. “Luc, we all love you and want to support you, but I think your dwelling on losing Marinette and Adrien to each other has reached an unhealthy level.”

“You’ve been on about it for five months now,” Jacob sighed into his Bourbon.

Josie took another shot of Tequila and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Honestly, I don’t think you have anything to worry about when you and Adrien are already practically married.”

Luka blew out a snort. “Josie, it’s not like that between us.”

“Sure, it’s not,” she scoffed. “And I guess you and Adrien tell other people ‘I love you’ all the time too?”

Luka’s face flushed. “Those are platonic ‘I love you’s.”

“What about the handholding?” Jacob challenged, weighing in on the matter. “You didn’t hold my hand that much when we were dating, but you and Adrien are always walking around holding hands or linking pinkies.”

“It’s…platonic,” Luka insisted, trying to keep his wits about him as his friends ganged up. “Adrien is a really tactile person. Holding his hand helps him feel grounded.”

Marc cleared his throat, setting his limonade aside. “I usually stay out of this kind of thing…”

Luka deflated, knowing that all was lost if Marc were eschewing his neutrality.

“…but you and Adrien kiss each other on the cheek an awful lot for it to still be considered platonic, Luc. Adrien doesn’t interact with us like that. Maybe you should start to consider that it’s not totally platonic on his end either,” Marc gently suggested, not wanting to push too much but feeling like desperate measures were warranted after so much time had passed with Luka continually chasing his own tail.

“And what about the way you two are always snuggling and nuzzling each other?” Josie chimed in with a fresh attack (and none of Marc’s subtlety or finesse). “And the nose touches? Friends don’t touch their noses together like that.”

Luka winced, straightening up to grab his glass of water and sip at it sullenly. “I’ve told you before. Adrien was kept isolated from other people until he was thirteen, and he was raised in an abusive, affectionless home. He’s not very good at determining what’s socially acceptable, he sucks at boundaries, and he’s deplorably touch-starved. You can’t judge his feelings by his behavior according to normal societal standards.”

“Maybe not,” Marc agreed, “but we can compare Adrien’s behavior towards you with Adrien’s behavior towards others. While he is affectionate with us, it’s nowhere near as affectionate as he is with you.”

“You should ask Nino,” Jacob suggested, leaning forward to grab a slice of bread from the basket in the center of their table.

“I witnessed Adrien licking Nino’s cheek the other day when they were baking together,” Luka grumbled. “I don’t think Adrien’s affectionate behavior indicates much else besides the fact that he’s comfortable with me.”

There was a brief stretch of discontent silence filled by the mumble of the other pub patrons before Jacob spoke up again:

“But you told me a month ago that you and Adrien had started having sleepovers. That’s got to mean something, doesn’t it?”

Marc and Josie both whipped their heads around to gawk at Jacob and then Luka.

“Wait. What?” Marc choked.

“You and Adrien hooked up?!” Josie gasped.

“No-no-no!” Luka set his glass down so that he could frantically wave his hands to accompany his denial. “No. Not like that. He just—I was just—One night we were lying on his bed watching a movie, and we started to fall asleep, so I was going to get up and go to my own room, but he said to just sleep there, and…and I was so tired that I did.”

Josie arched a skeptical eyebrow. “And then what?”

Luka’s gaze dropped to the table. “And then the same thing kept happening? Though, recently, he’s been asking to sleep in my bed from the start, so…I don’t know. He likes snuggling, and he doesn’t like being alone. When we were teenagers, he used to use me as a body pillow all the time when we hung out and he spent the night. The bed sharing and the snuggling aren’t really new.”

“It’s just different now that there’s no Juleka or Rose or Capitaine to walk in on you if things start getting spicy,” Jacob snickered.

Luka reached out and smacked the bassist soundly on the arm. “It’s not like that. It would be criminal to make a move on Adrien. He trusts me.”

“Maybe we’ll all get lucky and he’ll make a move on you first,” Marc sighed, picking up his limonade and taking a long pull on the straw, lips puckering at the sweet and sour tang of the drink.

“Amen,” Josie clucked. “At any rate, you and Adrien need to sit down and have a ‘define the relationship’ conversation before you drive the rest of us nuts. This has gone on far too long, and I’m starting to consider having an intervention.”

“Josephine,” Marc warned lightly as Luka growled, “Don’t you dare. Things are still a little unstable for Adrien, and he needs to be able to feel safe in his own home. Don’t you dare tell him about my feelings and take that peace of mind away from him.”

Josie let out an enormous sigh, putting her hands up in surrender. “Luc, you’re such a martyr. It kills me.”

Jacob reached out and rested a hand on Luka’s forearm. “Honestly, I don’t think you’re giving Adrien enough credit. He’s a tough guy. I don’t think he’ll spook if he finds out how you feel.”

Luka bit his lip. “…I’m more concerned about him feeling indebted to me and pressured to try to pay me back, honestly.”

Jacob winced and gave Luka’s arm a supportive squeeze. “Yeah. Okay. That’s legit.”

“I don’t think you have to worry about him feeling obliged to return your feelings,” Josie added softly, all teasing and belligerence gone from her voice.

“I agree,” Marc seconded, putting a hand on Luka’s shoulder. “I genuinely think that Adrien is interested in you.”

Luka hung his head and shook it. “Thanks, guys, but…I just don’t know. I’m still too beat up over Marinette to put my heart out there again and risk what’s left of it getting pulverized.”

Josie opened her mouth to say something supportive, but she caught sight of a familiar blonde entering the restaurant over Luka’s right shoulder and snapped to attention, warning her friends, “Look sharp, Gents. Baby Boi incoming.”

Marc and Jacob casually withdrew their comforting hands from Luka so as not to draw suspicion, and Luka nearly vibrated in his seat from the sheer willpower it took not to turn around and stare.

Adrien entering a room always took his breath away, and Luka was afraid the raw emotion written on his face if he turned to watch would be too obvious.

“Hey guys!” Adrien greeted as he closed in on their table. “Mama-Marc…Jojo…Jacques.” He went around the table anticlockwise, giving each of their friends a set of air kisses to the sides of their cheeks.

He received a warm welcome of hugs and kisses and claps on the back in return.

When he got to Luka, Adrien sank down into the chair that had been saved for him on Luka’s side of the table and shone a brilliant smile on his roommate.

“Hey, You,” Adrien breathed, voice soft and intimate as his eyes bubbled with warmth and affection.

“Hey.” Luka internally swooned.

That smile, those eyes, and that tone of voice always did him in.

Adrien topped it all off by leaning in and placing a whisp of a kiss on Luka’s cheek, lingering for a breath and making Luka dizzy.

Luka mentally chided himself for being such a lightweight in love, but Adrien seemed to know how to effortlessly press all of Luka’s buttons.

Adrien drew back with a coy smile, holding Luka’s gaze for just a second before turning to the rest of the gang.

“Sorry I’m late. We got a last-minute order for two-hundred macarons, so things were a little crazy, and Tom needed me to stay later to clean up, since the macaron order put us behind.”

Even as Adrien’s attention was on the other three, his arm snaked around the back of Luka’s chair possessively, proving that Luka was still, at least subconsciously, on Adrien’s mind.

It was the little things like that that gave Luka a torturous glimmer of hope.

“No worries,” Marc assured with his usual golden retriever smile. “Sorry work was so hectic.”

“Yeah, you’re good. Luc already ordered for you, so it’s not like you held us up or anything,” Josie informed with a wink and a sly smile.

“No harm done,” Jacob confirmed, giving Adrien’s arm a light punch. “Sorry work sucked.”

Adrien turned back to Luka with a face glowing in gratitude. “You ordered for me? Thank you so much.”

Luka’s ears started to burn like dry leaves. “I got you the vegetable tart and Evian to drink. I hope that’s okay.”

Adrien nodded, stressing, “That’s perfect. Just what I wanted.”

He then peered curiously at Luka’s glass.

“And what are you having?”

Luka rolled his eyes in fond exasperation. “Water.”

Some days Luka thought it was sweet that Adrien cared so much about Luka having a healthier relationship with alcohol; some days Luka felt like a child being supervised.

But then Adrien smiled his most innocent smile at Luka, and Luka’s mild irritation vanished.

“I’m really proud of you, you know?” Adrien metaphorically cut the final string keeping Luka suspended over the shark tank.

Luka was a goner, completely turning to goo at Adrien’s praise.

“I’m so proud that you’re staying sober despite hanging out with those two lushes.” Adrien quirked his head at Jacob and Josie who burst into peals of slightly tipsy giggles.

Luka gave his eyes another roll. “They are enough to drive a man to drink, aren’t they?”

“Be nice, Luc,” Marc scolded even as he chuckled at Josie and Jacob’s expense.

“It’s okay,” Josie snickered. “I mean, it is true.”

Jacob shrugged good-naturedly and took another sip of his Bourbon. “So, what else did you do today besides bake macarons, Adrien?”

Adrien blew out a sigh, leaning back in his chair. “Today was kind of busy. I had business and acting classes back-to-back, and then I went for my therapy appointment before heading to the bakery for my shift.”

Josie let out a long whistle. “You really did have a jampacked day. Just thinking about it makes me tired.”

“It wasn’t so bad.” Adrien tried to reassure her. “My schedule was a lot worse as a teenager with school and modeling and all of my extracurricular activities.”

Josie groaned. “Don’t remind me. I had almost forgotten about how much I want to hit your father over the head with a clipboard.”

“I don’t know how you managed so well,” Marc confessed, grabbing a slice of bread from the basket as he slowly shook his head in wonder.

Adrien’s cheeks colored as he smiled bashfully, trying to convince them, “It really wasn’t that bad.”

“Yes, it was,” Jacob snorted.

“You’re just that amazing,” Luka whispered—perpetually in awe of Adrien—as he leaned in to press a kiss to Adrien’s cheek.

“Hm?” Adrien didn’t quite hear Luka over the cacophony of the pub and turned to ask him to repeat what he had said.

As a result, the kiss intended for Adrien’s cheek ended up on the corner of his mouth.

Luka pulled back with a start, and the two stared at one another in disbelief for a moment.

It was like the first time Adrien had kissed Luka on the cheek on his way out the door. Back then, they had both pulled back and stared for a beat before deciding that cheek kisses goodbye and hello were now something normal that they did.

A hush seemed to fall over the entire pub as Luka waited for Adrien to spring back in alarm.

Instead, Adrien’s initial surprise thawed into a content smile, and he slowly, intentionally moved forward. He pressed the softest, lightest, sweetest kiss to Luka’s lips, and it was absolute perfection.

Luka’s entire body tingled as he applied just the smallest amount of pressure back.

In truth, he wanted to dive right in and drown in Adrien, but this, now, was enough for the moment.

Adrien gradually pulled away and gave Luka another dazzling smile before turning back to the rest of the band.

“So, what did I miss? What were you guys talking about before I got here?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Josie interjected. “Nuh-uh. Not so fast. What was that?!”

Adrien blinked and tipped his head to the side. “What?”

Jacob let loose a short burst of laughter. “Don’t ‘what’ us. You know what. What was that?!”

Adrien looked to Luka (who was currently no help because metaphorical fireworks were going off in an epic display in his brain) and then shrugged.

“Nothing. Obviously, just an accident.”

“Pft!” Marc looked away to avoid spraying his friends with spittle as he was caught off-guard by a skeptical laugh.

“Right. An accident,” Josie scoffed.

Adrien shrugged again unflappably. “He was obviously aiming for my cheek. It’s not a big deal. It’s only a big deal if you make it a big deal, and I’m not going to.”

Josie glared at her uncooperative adopted little brother. “Right. Well. It just so happens that before you got here, we were talking about you and your very good just-a-friend Marinette.”

Adrien’s brow pinched into a miffed frown.

Josie’s lips quirked upward into a smirk as she felt she’d regained control of the situation. “How is your just-a-friend Marinette?”

Marc cast a surreptitious glance Luka’s way to ascertain whether Luka was okay with the topic of conversation, but Luka was still in a delirious daze over the kiss and didn’t seem fazed.

“Marinette’s fine, thank you,” Adrien replied cordially, stubbornly digging in his heels and refusing to let Josie win their ongoing contest of wills.

Josie’s eyebrow arched impishly. “Is she still just a friend, despite the fact that you work at her family bakery and her father wants to adopt you as heir?”

Adrien rolled his eyes, leaning in to grab a slice of bread. “Yep. She’s still just a friend. Thanks for asking.”

He took an unconcerned bite of the sliver of baguette.

“Are you sure?” Jacob chimed in with an air of amusement. “Not only does Tom have you set to take over the family business, but Marinette’s got you working modeling her designs too. Does Marinette know you two are just friends?”

“Yes,” Adrien answered emphatically. “Marinette and I are definitely on the same page about our relationship. Working for her family is just a matter of convenience. They’re friends doing me a favor because not a lot of people are comfortable hiring Adrien Agreste, and, I mean, I have to put myself through school somehow.”

Though, Adrien had often thought that he wouldn’t mind becoming a baker. He enjoyed the work, and Tom had such a passion for it that it was hard not to catch his enthusiasm. But it wasn’t like Adrien was going to tell his bandmates that because it would only give Josie and Jacob fodder with which to tease him.

“Not to split hairs over trifles, but isn’t Luka putting you through school?” Marc hummed, raising his straw to his lips.

“Et tu, Marc?” Adrien groaned at the implicit betrayal.

Marc shrugged, shooting Adrien a sheepish smile.

“I’m going to pay him back someday,” Adrien asserted. “Once I’m a famous actor…or successful business owner or something. I’m not sure which one of my degrees is going to be profitable first, but I’m going to pay him back as soon as I can.”

Jacob dropped his joking tone and rested a hand on Adrien’s arm. “Relax. We know you will.”

Further discussion on the topic was interrupted by the arrival of the meal.

 The pub wasn’t far from their flat, so, after saying goodbye to the gang, Adrien and Luka walked home hand in hand. They released their hold on each other when they reached the apartment building and had to proceed one by one up the narrow flight of stairs to the third floor.

As Luka finished locking up behind them, he bit his lip and hesitated before remarking, “…So…about that kiss…”

“Don’t worry about it,” Adrien assured as he shrugged off his coat and hung it on the coat tree next to the door. “It’s not a big deal.”

A thought hit Adrien like a bolt of lightning, and he whirled around to study Luka’s expression. “Unless I made you uncomfortable?”

“No!” Luka’s voice thundered in the quiet apartment, and he cleared his throat and lowered his volume before continuing levelly, “No, kissing is good. I wasn’t uncomfortable.”

“Good,” Adrien exhaled in relief, the sudden burst of tension gradually dissipating from his body. “I’m glad I didn’t screw anything up.”

Luka’s tone turned soft and fond. “No. You’re perfect, Perfect Fifth.”

“I don’t know about that,” Adrien chuckled, stepping in to carefully unloop the scarf from around Luka’s neck.

Luka’s cheeks flushed at the intimate gesture combined with Adrien’s proximity. He hoped Adrien might mistakenly attribute Luka’s rosy cheeks to the cold.

“Hey,” Adrien whispered.

Luka quirked an eyebrow, brain refocusing on Adrien—every blink of his eyelids, every twitch of his muscles.

Adrien licked his lips and looked up at Luka with an expression filled with raw vulnerability. “May I sleep with you tonight?”

Luka’s stomach flipped, and he had to fight to tamp down his visceral initial reaction. “O-Of course. …Why do you ask? Is something wrong?”

Battling back shame, Adrien nodded. “It’s dumb. I know I shouldn’t be upset about it, but there was this jerk at the bakery today who had a bone to pick with my father and took it out on me instead.”

Luka’s fingers curled into fists, and his teeth sank into his bottom lip. His body started to tremble as instant rage ignited within him.

Adrien took Luka’s hand and gently undid the fists one by one, a grateful smile hovering on his lips.

“Shh. I’m fine,” he promised. “Tom let the guy have a piece of his mind, and Sabine told him he wasn’t welcome at the bakery anymore, so it was fine, but—”

“—That’s not fine,” Luka hissed, pulling Adrien into a protective embrace. “It’s not.”

Adrien let himself go slack, relaxing into Luka’s arms. He’d been longing to retreat there all day, and finally being wrapped up in the safety and warmth he’d craved felt exquisite.

“Orpheus,” he breathed, surrendering himself to be cared for and fussed over.

[queenofimagines]

Request: “Hi! Can you do a request where the piggies are at a beach party and the kooks show up and one of them tries to drug you but JJ notices you acting weird around the kooks and takes you back to the chateau and takes care of you? I know it’s weird but I love angst mixed with fluff and ur a really good writer I feel like you can do it! ❤️❤️”

Warnings: Unconsensual drug use

Notes: None

The party is in full swing. With multiple kegs stationed around the beach for everyone and the various drugs that you were sure the kooks brought being graciously distributed, you had no doubt that tonight would be a banger. Oddly enough this party wasn’t planned by you or any of your friends. A kook, one of Rafe’s friends or cousins or something, had decided to throw this party to “promote business”, which you could only guess meant that the illegal substances being passed around were courtesy of him. Since your arrival, numerous people had come up to you offering to share whatever it was they were smoking or taking, but neither you nor the rest of the pogues were very keen on harder drugs. The most that the Pogues had ever really done was weed, and even then you had only smoked once, disliking the tickle in the back of your throat when you smoked. JJ had often suggested edibles but you had heard they were sometimes unpredictable and decided early on to stay away from them. Your friends were very much respectful of your decision and even went so far as to step in when they saw someone peer pressuring you. The amount of times JJ had physically stepped between you and whoever it was trying to coerce you to just try whatever they had was astounding, especially since JJ was basically an advocate for bad behavior. It was just such an instance that landed you where you were now. 

JJ was in front of you, shoving the boy that had been a little too pushy when convincing you to try the cocaine he’d bought from Rafe. The boy was harmless, you could tell just by looking at him, but JJ was about ready to rock his shit, so you quickly got in the middle of the two, gently coaxing JJ to back down with the promise of a dance instead. Time seemed to fly by as you and JJ drank one cup of beer after another, both of you beginning to feel the affects early on in the night. After being crashed into by a young girl you didn’t recognize, your beer spilling on your white tank top as the teen profusely apologized, you quickly left to get another beer after telling your accidental assailant not to worry and to keep partying. JJ quickly began to dance with her, both keeping distance as they danced.

With how crowded the area on the beach that had been designated as the dance floor had been, you were surprised to see so many people hanging out near the kegs. The group was so packed you could barely even see the keg, let alone get to it. You tried as politely and unobtrusively as possible to weave your way towards the keg when a heavy hand fell on your shoulder.

“Need some help?” Turning around it was yet another face you didn’t recognize, although you would have to admit he did look a little familiar, at least in the sense that he dressed and held himself in the same manner that many other kooks did. He flashed you a smile, holding out his hand for your cup.

“Oh uh... Yeah thanks.” You replied, handing him your cup. The boy grabbed your cup and made his way through the crowd with ease, filling your cup before making his way back to you. You briefly lost sight of him when someone bumped into you, saying a quick sorry before moving on.

“I haven’t seen you around here before.” He said, still holding your cup.

“Ah, well, I don’t make it up to Figure 8 very often.” You replied awkwardly, waiting for him to hand you your drink.

“Makes sense, I’d definitely remember someone as hot as you.” He said, eying your chest. You felt uncomfortable, quickly realizing that the beer you had spilled on yourself earlier had made your shirt see through and the boy was now blatantly ogling your boobs. The once seemingly unsuspecting boy had now seemed like a sleaze as he made no effort to hide the once over he gave you, even moving to the side n an attempt to get a look at your ass.

“Okay, well I’ll just take my drink and get going.” You said, desperate to get out of the situation. He handed you your drink with a smirk, the complete opposite reaction that you normally would have expected when blowing a guy off.

“See you around.” Was all he said as you turned back to the dance floor to find JJ. When you finally spotted his mop of blonde hair nestled in a dark bandana, you practically ran to him, still feeling the boy’s eyes on you. When you reached him you found all of your friends together, all dancing and drinking and all in all just having a good time. You instantly felt safer and began to dance with them, drinking and laughing along to whatever they were saying, though if you were being honest you couldn’t really tell anymore. As time went on and your cup slowly emptied, you felt like your body was becoming heavy. You found it hard to focus, trying to spot your friends but finding that all the faces surrounding you were unfamiliar. You then felt a hand gently cup your waist, instantly thinking it was JJ, you leaned into the person, only to find the the cologne was much to expensive to be the one JJ usually wore. You looked up and saw the blurred face of the boy who had helped you before, an unsettling smile slinking onto his face at the state you were in. The boy slowly began to lead you away from the crowd. Somewhere in the back of your mind you knew this was a bad idea, but you were much to out of it to put any of your thought together as the boy led you to a more secluded part of the beach.

JJ had noticed you were gone before anyone else had, he figured you must have paired off with someone but when he took a headcount of the Pogues, he realized everyone was still here. He knew you would never let yourself be alone in a sea of strangers in such an inebriated state but as he looked around her couldn’t find you anywhere. His eyes almost skipped over the retreating figure in the distance, but when he took a closer look he realized it was you after you looked back towards him, a confused expression gracing your features. JJ wasn’t sure if the guy you were with was your friend, most people on the island were friendly with you and often hung out with you at these parties, but as you stumbled in the direction the unknown boy was leading you, he felt like something was off. At first he brushed it off, turning back to his friends and trying to dance along to the music, but as time went he felt more and more uneasy, finally deciding to follow you just in case something was wrong. When JJ looked jack to where you had been, you were gone. Panic slowly rose in him as he ran to try and find you. It didn’t take long as JJ had found that you were one of the most easiest people to spot, his eyes always finding you wherever he went if you so happened to be there too. a group of boys were surrounding you, all of them talking to each other and attempting to keep you upright. JJ knew that you would never agree to that many people touching you, especially if you didn’t know them.

“Hey!” He called, quickly walking towards the group of boys.

“Hey! What’s up man?” One boy asked, stepping in front of you.

“What’s going on?” JJ asked, deciding not to answer the boy’s greeting.

“Oh nothing.”

“Nothing? Really?” JJ peered behind the boy to get a look at you. He knew something was wrong and his one goal was to get you out of this as safely as possible. No violence, a mantra that you seemed to repeat to him every time he was about to get into a fight, just like you would be saying now if you could.

“She doesn’t look alright.” JJ said flatly.

“She’s fine.”

“You alright, sweetheart?” JJ asked you. You couldn't answer, barely able to. register much of what was happening around you.

“I said, she’s fine.” The boy insisted.

“Look man, she’s obviously not alright, and you fuckers obviously aren’t from around here. Let her go and I’ll see to it that none of you get arrested for assaulting an unconscious girl.”

“And what makes you so sure we will get arrested?”

“What makes you so sure you won’t?” JJ knew the kind of guys these were. They weren’t from around here and he was sure they weren’t privy to the way the Outer Banks worked. JJ knew that if they did decide to keep going, nothing would happen to them, in which case he wouldn’t heed your no violence policy, but he also knew that if he played the role just right, maybe the boys would think he was the sone of an important official or something. And he was right.

The boy in front of JJ hesitated before calling for his friends, all of them quickly leaving, but not before shoving you towards JJ. You stumbled into him, holding on to his shirt for dear life as you swayed on your feet.

“JJ?” You asked.

“I’m right here, sweetheart.”

“I don’t feel very good. I’m tired.”

“It’s okay, you’re okay. Let’s just get you back to the Chateau and you can have a nice long sleep, okay?” You nodded your head in agreement. JJ began walking towards the Chateau before picking you up bridal style after realizing you could barely walk. The he arrived, he laid you down on the bed that John B had lend him. JJ debated on whether or not he should switch your shirt out for one of his, ultimately deciding to do so, thinking about how gross you’d feel if you woke up with spilled bear still on you. He threw your shirt into a hamper and left to get you a glass of water for the morning. When JJ was done, he stood next to you, gazing down at your peaceful face and reflecting on how odd this whole situation was. You were the one that always made sure everyone else was safe at these parties and here you were, drugged, JJ was sure. He was just relieved that he got to you in time.

JJ turned to leave, when your voice gently disturbed the silence.

“Where are you going?” You asked.

“I’m going to sleep on the couch, I'll be right here.” You shook your head, unceremoniously slapping your arm down next to you.

“Jus’ sleep ‘ere” You slurred. JJ hesitated before slipping under the covers where you immediately curled into his side and fell asleep. JJ softly threaded his fingers through your hair, thinking about how tonight could have gone very differently. He almost cried at the thought of you getting hurt, even moe so at the thought that if he hadn’t been there to stop it from happening, no one else would have. That night JJ promised himself that no matter what, he’d always look out for you the same way you looked out for him.

[domesticmail]

the one where you and mat become parents

a/n: starts as angst, ends as fluff!!! this was supposed to be a blurb but i got really carried away aksjfahskdjfhdskfjh, 2.3k words about u and mat trying to have a baby!!

shameless plug: go read my other hockey stuff here!

warnings: there is a little bit of internalized sexism for a second, so just beware!! 

Your eyes brimmed with tears, hands shaking. The test quivered between your fingers, the sole focus of your attention, the cause of the anger and disappointment writhing in knots in your stomach. Your expression turned bitter as you looked away, biting your lips to keep the tears back, refusing to acknowledge the single blue line glaring back at you.

“Honey?” Mat put a hand on your waist. He came up behind you, peered around your body at the tiny test you were gripping, white-knuckled.

You felt him exhale heavily, his arms enveloping your waist. “Oh, baby,” he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to your neck. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

You dropped the test and turned in your husband’s arms, pressed your face into his shirt and started to cry, tears streaming down your face. “It’s not okay!” You cried. “It’s not, Mat, we want a baby!”

“I know, we do,” he said gently, moving one hand to pet your hair. He laid a kiss to the crown of your head. “We want a baby.”

“And I can’t give you one,” you said bitterly. You weakened in his embrace, leaned all of your weight against him and sighed.

Shocked, Mat pulled away from you. He wiped your cheeks with both thumbs, cupping your face in his hands. “You don’t need to give me a baby to make me happy,” he insisted. “You’re perfect, with or without a baby.”

“But you want - “ You began, but Mat cut you off, raising an eyebrow.

“If we want a baby, we will try again.” He put a hand under your chin. You met his gaze with weak eyes. “There’s no you or me in this situation. It’s us. We’re a team, remember? Any decision we make - if we want a baby, if we don’t, if we want to adopt, whatever - will be a team decision, yeah? Say it with me. Making a baby is a Team Barzal decision.”

“Making a baby is a team decision,” you murmured, sniffling.

“No, no, it’s a Team Barzal decision.”

“Mat - “

He shook his head. “This is important.”

You sighed, looking away. He used his hand on your chin to make you look at him, gently guiding you back to face him. “You have to say it, babe. It’s my new thing.”

Another heavy sigh. “It’s a Team Barzal decision.”

Your husband’s face lit up in a grin, clearly pleased. “See? Wasn’t that hard.”

You sniffled grossly in response. Your nose was clogged now, head all stuffy, and your voice was all throaty and hoarse, so you sounded a bit like you had a cold when you said, “Do we want to try again?”

“My half of the team is ready to try again. Is your half?”

You opened your mouth to say yes, but hesitated. Seeing that one blue line - that negative, your nightmare,  - had killed you a little bit. You had been so nervous, so excited when your period had been late, you guys hadn’t even been trying but hey, you were financially stable, you felt like maybe, possibly, hopefully, you were ready for a baby! Mat had been ecstatic when you told him, had ran to the store almost immediately, those puppy-dog brown eyes full of joy and affection, looking at you like you were the only person on the planet.

You nearly crumbled when you saw that line, felt like you were going to fall over and dissipate into the wood floor of the hallway, just a pile of ashes. You were so excited, so ready, you hadn’t even known you’d wanted a baby until it’d been a possibility, and now you were exhausted.

Mat watched you hesitate and added, “We don’t have to try again. If your half isn’t ready, we’re not trying again.”

Your heart had broken and you hadn’t even been trying. How painful would it be then? If you were trying?

Could you take that feeling, that sinking, crumbling, breaking, shattering feeling? Were you that strong?

The short answer was you could, and you were. 

You did it again and again and again, three more times, and each time it killed you a little less.

And then, finally.

After the fourth test, you told Mat you’d try naturally one more time. If it didn’t work, then maybe it was time to have a conversation about where you wanted to go next - “Where Team Barzal goes next,” you’d said, smiling weakly, trying to make it a joke but only halfway succeeding. 

He’d done what he’d always done, smiled and nodded and told you he’d love you no matter what, that he’d be there for you regardless of what happened. “Your body, your rules, baby,” was his favorite phrase recently.

You were lucky to love someone so kind, so selfless. You knew he wanted kids, wanted to see little baby Barzals running around, clinging to his feet, begging him to make pancakes even though he just made waffles for them two minutes ago - so maybe if the fifth try didn’t work out, you’d go to IVF. That wouldn’t be bad, you hoped, but you’d had an aunt who was on IVF, and it had taken her three rounds to get pregnant. Two of those times, you know, she’d had her heart broken.

That was the aunt you’d watched tear herself apart over not being able to have kids. She was so ashamed, she didn’t even want you to bring it up to your cousin - that was absolutely forbidden. She was afraid it would make him feel bad. As if he cared.

Your mom had made sure to not pressure you to have kids after that. You’d only been thirteen, but she’d started asking you more about careers and college and post-grad plans than kids and a family, hoping, if you went down your aunt’s path, you wouldn’t beat yourself up over it. “Kids and a family are good for people who want kids and a family,” you remember her proclaiming to you at the dinner table. “If you don’t want kids, you don’t have to have them. It’s your body, Y/N. Not having kids doesn’t make you any less of a woman.”

To her credit, she’d tried really hard.

When you went to the doctor for your fifth try, to see if this was the one that would pan out, you tried not to get your hopes up. You sat quietly in the passenger seat of the Team Barzal Toyota camry, wishing Mat could’ve been here. He was pulled away, on the road for a few days - insisting every morning, without fail, that you call him, tell him if you felt different, and reminding you every day, “I love you no matter what.” You were going to wait until he came home - tomorrow - to tell him the news, good or bad. You wanted it to be in-person. 

You didn’t want to go to the appointment alone, so you asked Mat who he wanted to go in your place. You offered up your own sister, but he refused - there was only one person he would trust to go.

So that’s why Tito was driving you to the hospital. Mat had clarified for him - “If you’re in that room and not me, I’ll kill you,” being the warning he chose - that he would simply wait outside the office in the waiting room, to be there for emotional support. If you weren’t pregnant, you had somebody there to hold you. If you were, you had someone to talk to, to help you prepare. But under no circumstances was he allowed to say anything to Mat. He was to keep silent on all fronts. 

Tito was quiet in the front seat, letting the radio play softly.

All you were thinking was, “Not having kids doesn’t make you any less of a woman.” Over and over and over again.

Walking into the doctor’s office, you felt your heartbeat quicken. After checking in (and an uncomfortable conversation with the front desk woman about how no, Tito wouldn’t be coming back with you, he’s not your husband), your husband’s best friend gave you a hug. “I’m here if you need me, okay?”

You nodded. “Thank you, Tito. Really.”

He hugged you again, harder this time, then let you go and took his place in the room. A nurse came out and called your name; you followed her back.

The same doctor from last time appeared after the initial check-up procedure. “Mrs. Barzal, nice to see you again!” He greeted.

“Good to see you too, Dr. Green.” You smiled nervously.

“Mat not with us today?”

“No, just me.”

“Okay. Julie already handled all the formalities, and you’ve done this before, so this should all be old hat, right?”

You nodded.

“Fantastic.” He handed you the cup and gestured to the bathroom. “I’ll leave, let you get situated, and I’ll be back in a couple minutes, yeah?”

“Sure.”

A few minutes later, you handed him back the cup, he took it and left the room, and you sat quietly on the examination bed, hands folded in your lap. The only noise you could hear was your heart pounding in your chest, slamming against your ribcage. You gave yourself a mental pep talk: “You’re not any less of a woman if you don’t have kids. Mat will still love you. If the team,” - that’s what you’d taken to calling the two of you, your marriage, the team - “wants to keep trying, we’ll talk about IVF and maybe try that. And anyways, there’s always adoption -”

Three knocks on the door. “Ms. Y/N?”

“Come on in,” you said.

Dr. Green entered, holding his signature clipboard in one hand. “Well, I know this was our fifth try, right?”

You nodded, feeling like someone had dropped a lead ball in your gut.

“Usually by now couples have gone to IVF, which, admittedly, is a tough process, and can be a lot of waiting. For some couples it doesn’t even work, which is a whole different heartbreak - oh, I’m sorry, I’m rambling.”

You looked at him expectantly, gave a weak smile. “No worries.”

He peered over his glasses at you. “Most couples go to IVF, but...I’d say you should be glad you kept trying.”

And just like that, you felt weightless. The lead ball in your stomach disappeared. You felt your heart nearly burst, oh my god, you were pregnant, you’re gonna have a baby, you and Mat are gonna have a child, a little kid, a baby - and then your brain reminded you, “He didn’t say you were having a baby.”

Shit.

“Dr. Green,” you said carefully, trying to suppress a grin. “Am I pregnant?”

The man grinned. “I’m happy to inform you, dear, you are pregnant.”

You burst into tears and laughter, a smile lighting up your features. You raised your hands and yelled to the doctor, “We’re having a baby!”

He chuckled. “You’re having a baby!”

You walked into the waiting room and grinned at Tito, who picked you up in a hug. “Congrats, Y/N! That’s great news!”

The drive home was full of excitement, you and Tito rambling over each other about how happy Mat was gonna be, how he was gonna freak out, you were gonna have to buy baby stuff, would Tito help baby-proof the house? Would he babysit? Was he okay with ‘Uncle Tito’ or did he want to just be ‘Tito’ instead? Planning, questioning, wondering, everything, every emotion was in the front of the car that day. Needless to say, you were ecstatic.

Mat, on the other hand, was dying. He wanted - no, he needed to know if he was having a baby. Was there gonna be a little Barzal around in nine months? Was he gonna be a dad? The suspense was killing him.

When he finally came home, he burst through the front door with no warning, dropping his bags on the ground. He didn’t even wait to take his shoes off, just headed right for the bedroom, where he thought you’d be - where you weren’t.

You were in the kitchen, watching your husband run at breakneck speed to the room. “In the kitchen, honey,” you called after him.

He peeked his head out of the doorway, saw you standing at the island, cutting tomatoes for a salad. Took a few tentative steps towards you, hesitant, not wanting to be too excited but so nervous, so ready, let this be the one, please - he looked at you with pleading eyes. “So?”

“So…? How was the trip?” You asked, not looking him in the eye. You knew if you did, you’d give it away instantly. You wanted to hold onto the apprehension for just a little longer.

“Who cares about how the trip went,” he groaned. “Are you…?”

“Am I what?”

“Y/N! Are you pregnant?” He asked, breathless. “Are we having a baby?”

You met his gaze slowly, a grin forming on your features. “Mat,” you said quietly. “You’re gonna be a dad.”

“I’m gonna be a dad?” His hands went straight to his hair, elbows up, eyes wide. “I’m gonna be a dad.”

You laughed, smiling big. “You’re gonna be a dad, honey!”

“Holy shit, we’re having a baby!” He yelled. “Y/N, we’re gonna be parents, we’re having a baby!” He laughed loudly, running and enveloping you in his arms. He planted a kiss on your  forehead, then your lips. “We’re having a baby!”

“We’re gonna be parents,” you giggled, cupping his jaw with one hand.

Those puppy-dog eyes looked into yours again, like he was trying to show you just how much he loved you with only his gaze. “I love you, honey, I love you.”

“I love you too, Maty.”

He exhaled hard, then grinned. “We’re gonna be the best parents.”

tagging my mat simps lol I love u guys.  @starkeybabie @heypope @fav-imagines @young-beezy @brock-mcginny @softstarkey @mtkachuk​

[laddieseddiemunster]

Hi! Thx for replying by for specification, I really loved the rebel aspect about the little sister imagine and maybe you could do one for like when it’s the day after she drank the bottle and the guys didn’t find her in the cave but can sense her around the boardwalk. I read in a few that when a new member is added they can feel it so that’s the route I’m going for. If not it’s cool.

Thank you for this ask! I really love the whole little sister concept with the lost boys. This ended up kind of turning into a wholesome fic cause I didn’t want to copy my other one. Hope you enjoy!

New Arrival (Lost Boys & 13 y/o Sister!Reader)

warning(s): mentioning of kidnapping, sneaking out of school, alcoholism, peer pressure

Some might say you were too young to be ditching school, but the hell with them, right? Though you weren’t sneaking out of school to a party. No, you were meeting up with friends to go exploring through some abandoned places. Sure, these places could be haunted, but the slight fear makes the experience more fun for you and your friends. Nothing spooky has ever happened before, so why should something happen now?

One of your friends came up with the idea. It was supposed to be a celebration for you and your friends most hated teacher because they had just gone missing. It was the ‘I’m glad you’re gone and I hope you never come back’ type of celebration. You didn’t know exactly what abandoned place you were going to, but wherever it was, it seemed to be really closed off near the mountains.

This abandoned place was beautiful, but it didn’t seem too abandoned. It was a cave that looked like it was something else originally, but it was decorated so nicely that you could hardly tell. The only problem was, there was some fire lit in the cave to bring light in, which probably means someone was in here not long ago.

Instead of deciding to leave, you chose to stay because you didn’t want to look like the one that was all scared. You’ve been to many abandoned places with your friends, but the slight fact that this place could possibly not be abandoned gave you the creeps.

As you all gathered up in the center of the cave, one of your friends thought it was a great idea to play a game of truth or dare. You made the smart move and decided to go with truth, because there was no way that you were doing a dare in this cave. One of your other friends decided to go with dare, and the dare they got was to crawl through the tunnel up hidden in the cave that no one had the balls to go into. You were thankful you didn’t have to do that.

Unfortunately for you, it came a time where you used up all of your truths, and now you were forced to do a dare. If you chose truth for a certain amount of times, then you had to do a dare no matter what. One of your friends came up with that idea, and you were currently hating them for it.

Your heart beat started to pump faster and faster as you thought of what horrible dare you would have to do in this cave. The answer to your question, was not thrilling or exciting as you might have guessed. Your friend handed you a tall looking wine glass that had been sitting on a table when you had first gotten to the cave. Your friend told you that for the dare you’d have to take a sip of whatever substance was in this glass.

Both of your eyes looked down in the direction of the bottle in your hands. The liquid inside was blood red, and it didn’t smell too appealing either. You almost gagged and immediately shook your head. There was no way you were going to drink this. All your friends started to whine and tell you that you had to do it because it was a dare. They started to chant “chug!” over and over again. You realized that if you didn’t drink it, then your friends would never let you live this down. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. “If I die it’s their fault,” you thought to yourself before putting the opening of the bottle up to your lips.

The substance burned your throat the second you swallowed a tiny portion of it. You let the bottle drop onto the floor and smash into thousands of pieces. You started to cough as you felt the burning from the liquid practically in your chest now. Your friends crowded you asking if you were okay, but you couldn’t answer them. You were barely able to breathe, more or less speak.

While you were trying to catch your breath, you heard some screaming coming from the other end of the cave. You thought this day couldn’t get any worse, but boy, were you wrong.

The screaming was coming from your friend that was given the dare to explore one of the tunnels in the cave. Well, they were now squirming out of the tunnel, and they looked scared shitless. They were screaming loudly that you all needed to leave now, and you definitely weren’t going to argue with that. The rest of your friends now looked pretty afraid, so you all grabbed your things and left as quickly as you could.

Your friend started to calm down when the cave was no where in sight and you all were safe. They claimed that they saw a couple people hanging from the roof at the end of the tunnel. A couple of your friends thought it was all a bunch of bologna. Some of them actually wanted to go back and investigate, but you were quick to shut them down. There is no way in hell that you were going back to that place.

->

The boys woke up and immediately noticed something was off. They could feel in their blood that a human had just been turned. Though, they didn’t know how. David could tell that it was from his blood, so he knew that someone drank the bottle. That, or one of them didn’t fully kill someone, and they hoped to god that that wasn’t the case.

Once they all saw the broken bottle of David’s blood on the floor they knew what had happened. They could also smell in the air that their were humans in the cave just a couple hours ago. Their main concern wasn’t to go out and kill some people that were in the cave, the main concern was to find you. A new vampire out in public could be dangerous. Lots of terrible things could happen that they didn’t want to think about. They knew they had to find you. Before Max did.

->

You didn’t feel too bad after a couple hours. You were able to breathe, and the burning in your chest went away. It was almost like nothing had happened. Well, so far.

Once you felt 100% you decided to take a walk around the boardwalk. Your friends were most likely already there. You met up with them there almost every day. Your mom dropped you off at the boardwalk before scurrying away to the nearest bar. It wasn’t a surprise to you at all. Sometimes you wondered how your mother even remembered to pick you up after school cause of all her drinking. You hoped one day she’d get some help for herself and you, but you’ve been hoping for that for years.

After your mom dropped you off you decided to look around for your friends. You usually met up with them around the carousel, but when you got there, they were nowhere to be found. You figured that they were probably still spooked over what happened at the cave, so you decided to go for ice cream because you knew it’d be a while before your mom would come to get you.

While you were in the line to order some ice cream, you started to feel a pounding in your chest. It felt like your heart was about to explode. You fell onto your knees and tried to take a few breaths. You could practically hear your own heart beat. It sounded like your heart was a ticking time bomb that was ready to detonate. A couple people in the line crouched down to your level and asked if you were okay.

As you looked over at the people trying to help you, you noticed that a weird feeling appeared in your throat. Almost like a thirst. Not a thirst for water though. You could practically smell the blood from their veins. It was quite unsettling, and the thirst in your throat kept increasing. It was like you were looking at them as if they were a meal. The people didn’t understand. They probably thought you were about to pass out.

The thirst was too much for you to handle, so you pushed past the people to try and stop it. Of course, that didn’t work at all. There was hundreds of people walking around, and you were stuck right in the middle of the crowd. The thirst didn’t go away, and the crowds only made it worse. The pounding in your chest didn’t help much either. You felt like you were dying, and no one around you seemed to care.

Your vision started to blur, and now your head was pounding along with your heart. You almost felt like your legs were about to give out. Until you felt someone grab onto both of your shoulders to keep you upright.

“Are you okay, kid?” Your vision came back and you looked up to see who was talking to you. It was a tall blond looking rocker, who definitely was considerably a lot older than you.

“Y-yeah! I’m fine,” you tried to get away from him, but he wasn’t budging. He hard a firm grip on your shoulders.

“Oh good, you found her,” you turned to your left to see a shorter blond with curly hair. He had a leather jacket on that had lots of vibrant colors. Since you had been on the boardwalk a good amount of times, you knew who these guys were. They were a part of the biker gang that was known for being feared. These guys were bad news.

“Wh-what?” The fact that they had been looking for you only sparked red flags. Luckily, your thirst started to become manageable. You didn’t quite feel it anymore. It was strange that the second these guys showed up was the second your thirst started to wear off, but you weren’t exactly complaining about it.

“Uhh, kid, you’re going to have to come with us,” the shorter blond said trying to take your hand.

“No!” You pulled your hand away from him, but the taller blond still had a grip on you.

“Kid, listen, you’re a-”

“No! Let go of me!” The blond rocker now grabbed onto your wrist. He was pretty strong, so no matter how hard you pulled, he didn’t budge one bit. The two remaining members of the gang had now joined in. Four against one.

“This is the one, right David?” The shorter blond asked. David. Now at least one of them was revealed.

“Yes,” the one called David said. He was definitely the leader. You recognized him because he always led the pack whenever you saw them around the boardwalk. “We have to take her back.”

You cursed under your breath realizing that you had to get out of this and fast. “Help me! I’m being kidnapped! Help!” You screamed for anyone to hear, but everyone just kept walking. It was like you were deaf upon ears.

“Stop it, kid! Ow!” The blond rocker yelped in pain as you bit down hard on his wrist that gripped onto your arm. He still didn’t release you, no matter how hard you tried. The other two blonds laughed at the two of you.

“Jesus Paul,” the brunette scoffed. “You’re scaring the hell out of her!”

“You’re not being kidnapped,” the shorter blond said with a mischievous smile appearing on his face. You could tell that he liked scaring people. “Well, not literally.”

The brunette shoved the shorter blond aside and walked towards you. “What’s your name?”

“Why would I tell you that?” You replied trying to back away from him.

“We’re not here to hurt you. You’re not being kidnapped,” the brunette said and turned back to glare at the shorter blond. “We’re here to help you.”

“From what?” You asked still unconvinced.

“We’re gonna explain that. Just tell us you’re name first,” the brunette said.

You rolled your eyes at told him your name. They all followed by telling you their names. The brunette was Dwayne. And the shorter blond was Marko.

David pushed Dwayne aside to walk towards you. “Let’s get to the point, okay?” You nodded even though you didn’t know exactly what he meant. “You drank from the bottle, didn’t you?”

You gasped softly. Dammit, you knew that you shouldn’t have drunk from that bottle. All because of some stupid dare. You shut your eyes and nodded.

David sighed. “Look kid, this is going to be really hard to explain, and I can’t do it here. You’re going to have to come back with us.”

“How do I know you’re not going to hurt me?” You asked not fully trusting them.

David chose not to put his hands on you. He felt that that would probably freak you out even more. “I swear to you that we won’t. We are here to help you, and protect you.”

“Protect me from what?” You asked.

“Yourself in a way.” You gave David a questioning look. What the hell was in that drink? “Listen to me very carefully,” you nodded. “You’re no longer...human. That drink contains something that turns you into... one of us.” He said which didn’t help your confusion.

“It’s hard to explain, but I can explain it better if we’re not in public. You’re going to have to trust us. If you don’t, it can be bad for you.” David said which still didn’t make much sense to you. But, you wanted to know what was the matter with you, so you nodded.

The boys took you out of the crowds and towards their motorcycles. You still didn’t exactly trust them, but if they could fix whatever was wrong with you, then you were willing to take the risk. David motioned for you to get on the back of his bike, and you had to take a breath before getting on it. Millions of thoughts raced through your brain, but you tried to convince yourself that these guys might actually be trying to help you.

The ride was actually kind of thrilling. You could tell David had no intention of driving slow. It didn’t surprise you when you saw them stop right in front of the caves entrance. You hoped to never see this cave again, but it didn’t look like this cave was ever going to leave your life.

You walked in trying not to look at the broken glass on the floor from the ‘wine’ bottle.

“Is this what you drank from?” Marko asked picking up some of the broken glass.

You gulped and nodded.

David and Marko shared a glance. Unfortunately, it didn’t look like a good one.

“Y/n, we are not exactly human,” David started. “You’ve seen all the missing posters around the town I’m sure?”

You nodded again.

“Those people are missing because of us. We are...killers. We have to feed from people to survive. If we feed, we will never die.” David said. You started to fidget. Maybe they weren’t trying to help you. Maybe they wanted you to be their next victim.

“So, you’re...cannibals?” You asked hoping that that wasn’t the truth. The two blonds started to laugh, but Dwayne glared at both of them internally telling them to stop.

David shook his head. “No, we’re...” David took a deep breath. He didn’t like stating the exact name of what he was, “...vampires.”

You scoffed in disbelief. You weren’t only in the worst place in the world, but now these guys claim to be vampires.

Marko and Paul shared a glance and mischievously smiled at each other. You were about to call them crazy, until you saw both of the blonds faces change completely. Their eyes turned golden, and their teeth were now sharp fangs that could pierce anyone’s skin.

Before you could scream, Dwayne put his hand over your mouth. “It’s okay, they’re not going to hurt you.” He tried to sound reassuring, but it didn’t work too well. The blonds turned back to normal after a few seconds, and you started to calm down. After Dwayne took his hand away from your mouth, you started to put two and two together.

“Is that what...I am?” You asked hoping that your conclusion was incorrect. The last thing you wanted to be was a vampire.

David nodded. “In that bottle, was my blood. Since you drank it, you’re now one of us.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Vampires were supposed to be fake! Not real! You couldn’t imagine killing people in order to survive. “Is there any way to turn back?”

David looked away before shaking his head.

“You mean I’m stuck like this forever?!” You raised your voice. This was worse than death.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Marko said.

“It’s worse than it looks!” You fired back making Marko look to the ground.

“Well, on the bright side you’re going to be our sister now,” Paul said with a smile.

“I don’t want to be your sister!” You said which made Paul’s smile fall. “I want to be normal!”

“Look, I understand that you probably want to think this over. There is a bedroom over there if you want to be alone.” David said pointing over to a room that was covered with curtains. You wondered why. You didn’t want to argue with them anymore, so you got up and walked over to the bedroom closing the curtains behind you. This was definitely the worst day of your life. You had to bite your lip to fight the tears that were threatening to fall. Crying wouldn’t help anything at this point.

You ended up spending the night there. The boys brought you food before the sun came up, but you never said a word to them when you came to give you the food. You woke up the next day assuming that it was morning. Instead, it was six in the afternoon. The sun was probably already down. You groaned realizing that your mom was probably pissed right now.

A couple minutes later, Dwayne, Paul, and Marko walked in your ‘bedroom’. You sighed and sat on the bed trying not to look at them. Marko walked to the side of the bed you were closest on, and he showed you a teddy bear that he had been hiding behind his back. He gestured for you to grab it, and you hesitated before grabbing it. The bear was brown, and it had a big smile on its face. You looked over at Marko and he shrugged his shoulders with a grin. You smiled and hugged the teddy bear tightly letting your head rest on the toys head.

Paul walked over to you and showed you a cake he had been hiding behind his back. On the top of the cakes was writing made out of frosting that said “Sister?” on it. You chuckled and took the cake.

“Is this...breakfast?” You asked not exactly knowing what to name this meal.

“Hey, if you don’t want it, I’ll eat it,” Paul said laying down on the bed.

“Did you write this?” You asked Paul pointing at the writing on the cake.

Paul nodded.

“Well, you have terrible handwriting,” you giggled looking at the words on the cake that were so hard to make out. It looked like someone drunk had written it.

Paul glared at you before grabbing the teddy bear and throwing it at your face. While you were distracted, Paul took his chance and wrestled you down to the bed and grabbed the cake looking like he was about to drop it on your face. You screamed for him not to do it.

“Take back what you said!” Paul pretended to be angry, but you could tell that he was just playing. Though he probably would drop the cake on your face.

“I take it back!” You gave in and Paul put the cake down on the bed.

You looked over at Dwayne who looked like he was trying not to bring up the elephant in the room. “Where’s David?” You asked him.

“He went out.” Dwayne said with a frown on his face. “Look y/n, you’re not a full vampire yet, you’re half. In order to be full, you’ll have to make your first kill.”

You looked away from Dwayne. Your good mood was now gone. “Do I have to make a kill?”

“Well, it’s probably best that you shouldn’t right now,” Dwayne said which gave you some hope. “You’re pretty young, so it’d be best if you wait til you’re older. It’ll be hard, but you’ll be able to do it.”

You sighed. “Will I ever get to see my friends and family again?” You asked Dwayne.

“It’s probably best that you don’t. You won’t be going to school anymore, so it’d be hard to explain to people why you aren’t going,” Dwayne replied.

“I’m not going to school anymore?” You asked.

“Well, as long as you’re with us, then no,” Dwayne said. No school? You hated school. Maybe this life wouldn’t be so bad after all. Then you remembered about your mother. You couldn’t just stop seeing her. Even though she wasn’t the best mother, you still loved her.

“What about my family? I can’t just leave my mom. I’m all she has!” You told them.

“It’s probably best that you don’t see her. If you see her and she calls the police, it could be bad,” the brunette explained.

Your mom was probably worried sick about you. The least you could do was check up on her, and make sure she’s okay.

“Can i at least go check up on her? Just to see if she’s okay? I won’t talk to her, I’ll just look through the window,” you suggested.

Dwayne looked over at Marko and Paul for an answer. They both shrugged their shoulders.

“Okay,” Dwayne agreed. “But just this once.”

You were glad that they were letting you see your mother, but at the same time it felt like they were controlling your life. You didn’t choose to be like this, but now you can’t get out of it. All because of a stupid dare.

Dwayne drove you to your mothers house. It sucked because you wanted to see how she was doing, but you couldn’t speak to her. You could only look through the window. You hoped to god that this wasn’t the last time you’d ever see her. The thought of that made you sad.

You told Dwayne to stay on his motorcycle, and that you wouldn’t be long. As you walked over to the front window you noticed a car pulled up in the driveway that you had never seen before. You shrugged it off and decided not to pay much attention to it. You crouched down next to the window and took a look trying not to look suspicious.

When you looked inside your house, you saw that your mom was sitting down on the couch. She looked like she was talking to someone, but you couldn’t see who. Suddenly, someone walked over to her. It was some guy you had never seen before. He grabbed onto the back of her neck and started to kiss her. She definitely wasn’t trying to push him away. He ended up getting on top of her, and she let him.

Your breath hitched and you started to see red. You mother didn’t seem like she was worried about you. It looked like she was having the time of her life. You had been gone for almost a full day, and she cared so much about you that she was hooking up with some guy in your own house. You knew she wasn’t perfect, but this was crossing the line.

You felt tears start to form in your eyes, and you tried to blink them away. Some still fell, but you were so angry that you didn’t care. Angry and sad. Angry because you just realized that your own mother didn’t look like she cared that you hadn’t been home for almost a day. Sad because of the same reason. She obviously didn’t care. She cared more about alcohol and this random guy more.

Dwayne noticed you wiping away tears from your eyes as you walked back to his bike.

“Are you okay? What’s the matter?” He asked.

“Nothing. Just drive,” you ordered him as you hopped on the back of his motorcycle.

“Is she okay?” Dwayne turned around to face you. He saw that your lip quivered and that your eyes were watering.

“Yeah, she’s just perfect, okay?” You barked back not looking at him.

“Tell me what happened,” Dwayne said while grabbing onto your arm.

“Nothing! Just take me home!” You said with a slight whimper. Dwayne decided not to keep bothering you with the question. Obviously something happened, but you weren’t going to tell him. Dwayne was a little surprised that you told him to take you home. Because you meant the cave. You wanted to go back to them. Dwayne realized in that moment, that whatever you did see, made you not consider the place with your mom ‘home’ anymore.

Dwayne said nothing to you on the ride back to the cave. He didn’t want to upset you any more than you already were. Dwayne wasn’t planning on telling the other guys about what had happened. They’d probably get worried and shower you with more questions.

David was already back at the cave when both you and Dwayne came back. When you walked in, you noticed that Marko and Paul had big grins on their faces. Too bad you didn’t feel like smiling along with them.

“Where’d you guys go?” David asked.

“We went for a ride,” Dwayne said which was half the truth.

David nodded before standing up. “Y/n, I got you something.” You sighed. You weren’t exactly in the mood for any more gifts. All you wanted to do was lay down in bed for the rest of the night. It was a terrible day, and you felt like nothing in the world could make it better.

Before you could tell him that you weren’t in the mood, David pulled out a black leather jacket that looked around your size.

“I thought that sense you’re one of us, that you should look like us,” he said handing you the leather jacket. You took it in your hands and admired it for a few seconds. It wasn’t too crazy like Marko’s, but it did have some design. The front had some golden print, and some beads were stamped on the upper part of the sleeves. The edge of the sleeves also had some golden printing. There was no zipper or buttons. It looked like a smaller version of David’s jacket.

“If you don’t like it I could go get another one,” David suggested.

“No! No, I like it,” you said still admiring it. You had never owned a leather jacket before. Up until now of course.

“You could decorate it, too,” Marko said pointing to his very decorated jacket.

You still felt a little hurt from the past situation, but you weren’t sad anymore. You felt welcomed by the guys. Even though they’re vampires, they’re now your brothers. Whether you like it or not, that’s not going to change.

“Try it on,” Paul said and you obeyed. You pulled the sleeves over your arms and noticed that it was a perfect fit. David sure knew how to pick the right size and jacket. You couldn’t exactly look into a mirror to see how it would look, so you looked over to your new brothers.

“How do I look?” You asked them.

“Like one of us,” David said and you smiled.

[ibis-gt]

Poker Night

dippin my toes in the writing pool again with a short one about anya and felipe! there’s a bunch of side characters in this one that i just now made up so don’t worry if you have no idea who they are, i don’t either skdjfklsf

just under 2.5k words, kind of hurt/comfort. warnings: fearplay, threats of violence, bullying, peer pressure, felipe not having a very good time at all

Felipe looked around at the five giants seated at the table he was currently sitting on and forced a smile. Once again, Anya asked him to come along to one of the parties her friend Emily often hosted, and once again she’d dropped him off at the husbands’ table while she caught up with her friends. Quite literally dropped him off, plucking him off her shoulder and depositing him on the wooden tabletop with a “Play nice, fellas!” as she waltzed off.

Usually, they did play nice - Anya was built like a brick shithouse and would defend her tiny human husband with every ounce of strength she had. But tonight there’d clearly been some drink passed around, and now the five giants eyed Felipe with varying levels of displeasure. Seth glared at him with annoyance, Rolf looked bored and disinterested, Leo seemed resigned to essentially babysitting the tiny man, Amos heaved a sigh and rolled his eyes, but it was Bruno that really worried Felipe. Bruno was staring down at him with a mostly blank expression, but Felipe could see gears turning in his head, and he could tell it was going to come out to trouble.

He jumped as Bruno suddenly clapped his hands together, beaming brightly.

“Who’s up for a game of cards?” Bruno produced a deck from his pocket and began to shuffle them. The others took an interest, nodding their approval.

That took Felipe by surprise. It sounded harmless enough. “Yeah, that sounds like fun. Uh, don’t know if I’ll be able to play, though.” The cards were probably as big as he was, and he could maybe hold onto two at a time. Any more than that, and there would be serious delays as he figured out what to play. “Oh, don’t worry, I know how you can participate,” Bruno assured him. This was not, however, reassuring.

He dealt out a hand to each of the giants at the table, then began sorting out a set of huge wooden chips. Each one was about two feet in diameter. They had different colors and markings to indicate their value, but Felipe wasn’t sure which one meant what, and no one seemed like they were about to explain it to him. 

Felipe shuffled his feet and glanced around nervously. He hadn’t been dealt a hand, and he didn’t know what Bruno had in mind, but he didn’t think it would be all that fun for him. His suspicions were proved right when Bruno tossed a few chips in the middle to start the betting, then grabbed him by the back of his shirt and dropped him next to them. Felipe let out a quiet grunt as he hit the table and looked up in confusion. A few of the giants seemed to have caught on and were grinning down at him, but for the ones who were slower on the uptake, Bruno announced, “You’ll be one of the chips, of course.”

Felipe sat bolt upright and stared at him wide-eyed. Then he laughed nervously, trying to calm himself down. “Oh, haha, good joke! No, but seriously. What am I...” he trailed off, turning from side to side to see their faces.

Silence. Everyone stared at him. Some were still grinning, some were serious. Leo spoke up.

“C’mon, Bruno, you know Anya wouldn’t like that. Just let him sit it out.”

“Oh, lighten up,” Bruno grumbled. “It’s not like she’s gonna find out, is she?” He looked around the table, getting a head shake ‘no’ or a shrug from each in turn, then down at Felipe. “Is she?” he asked again.

“Uh…” Words failed him. He wanted to say yes, emphatically yes, he’d squeal at the first opportunity, and in fact he was going to stand up and start waving his arms and shouting right now to get her attention. But truth be told, Felipe was terrified. Everyone had been drinking and he didn’t know how deep in their cups they all were. Who knows what they’d do if he didn’t go along with it? Maybe if he was quiet and played along, they’d get bored and leave him alone. “...no, sure, she won’t. Ha.”

“Good,” Bruno said, giving him a smile that was not in the least bit comforting. “Then let’s start.” He threw in a few of his own chips. The others followed suit, betting based on whatever combination of cards they had. Felipe flinched every time a chip hit the table. They were being careful - none of the tossed chips hit him, but they landed close enough to worry him. He hunched his shoulders and tried to make himself as small as possible.

Bruno won the first round. He grinned that awful grin again and reached out, putting both hands around the stack of chips and pulling them in close. Felipe, still seated, was dragged along with them, back pressed up against the palm of Bruno’s left hand, trying to resist the urge to his feet and push back.

“Hi,” Bruno said, looking down at him. A few of the others chuckled.

“H-hi,” Felipe stammered, forcing a smile. “Uh, so, what - ”

“Chips don’t talk,” Bruno interrupted, and started dealing out the next round of cards. Felipe shut his mouth and hunkered down, hoping Bruno wouldn’t get any good hands. He was lucky for one round, and Bruno only tossed in two chips before folding. The next round, though, Felipe’s luck ran out. Bruno glanced at his cards and the corner of his mouth went up just a little. He tossed in four chips, then snagged the back of Felipe’s shirt again and dropped him down in the middle. Rolf whistled and looked at his own cards, tapping a chip thoughtfully on the table.

“How much is he worth?” Rolf asked. “Like, how do I meet or raise or whatever?”

“I don’t care,” Bruno said. “Whatever you think he’s worth.”

Rolf threw in six chips. Felipe wasn’t sure if he should be offended or flattered.

Seth ended up taking the hand, and as soon as he slapped his cards down in triumph, Felipe scrambled to his feet and jogged over to him, not wanting to be pushed across the table again. There was a snort of laughter from one of the other giants but he paid it no mind. Seth raked in the chips then looked down at Felipe, tilting his head to one side, seeming to appraise him. Then he gave a horrid grin of his own and pinned Felipe down with a thumb on his chest.

“Ain’t chips supposed to be flat? So you can stack ‘em?” he asked, clearly thinking he was being clever. “Should I…” The pressure increased slightly, and Felipe began to panic and struggle, trying to get himself out from under the thumb.

“Cut it out,” Bruno growled. “You hurt him and Anya’ll have our asses.”

The pressure disappeared as the thumb lifted up and away. Felipe got to his feet and backed away from Seth, eyes fixed on the giant. He felt like his knees were going to give out. Being meek and quiet hadn’t helped one bit, but now he couldn’t find his voice to call out for help. His throat was dry and tight from terror and it felt like his heart was lodged in it. Seth scowled at him and poked his chest with a finger, knocking him on his back.

“Go on,” he grumbled. “I’m bettin’ you. Hope I lose.”

Lose he did. Leo took that hand. He didn’t look too happy about it, either. “Well, come on then,” he sighed, and Felipe managed to stand on his shaking legs and wobble over. Felipe looked up at him with wide, hopeful eyes. Leo was the least happy with this setup, other than Felipe himself. Maybe he’d speak up now that he had him and could put an end to the whole thing. But Leo didn’t meet his eyes, just picked up his next hand and tossed a few chips in. Okay, next best thing, Leo never bet him and he could stay put and as far away from Bruno as possible. And Seth. Actually, just all of them.

Leo only managed to hold onto him for two hands before Bruno spoke up.

“Don’t get greedy, now,” he called. “Let us have a shot at him, too.”

Leo sighed and finally glanced down at Felipe again. “Okay, you heard him,” he said. “Get.”

Felipe got. Rolf won. Then Amos. Then Bruno. Then Bruno again. Each time, he’d slap his cards down as he reached for the chips, not giving Felipe time to register his victory. He seemed to delight in pushing the little man around and didn’t like it when Felipe tried to walk himself over to whoever had won him that time. Unfortunately he seemed to be the best at the game they were playing, with an impeccable poker face and a decent winning streak. Since he was also the dealer, Felipe half suspected he was cheating, but he lost often enough not to irk anyone else at the table. Bruno started to play with him whenever he had him. He’d dangle him by the back of his shirt and gently swing him back and forth, or pin him under his palm and drum his fingers on the table. Once he even picked Felipe up and began to toss him up in the air and catch him, not very high, but enough to get a frightened yelp out of him. Bruno seemed to think that might draw too much attention, though, and quickly set Felipe back down, shaking like a leaf and trying not to hyperventilate.

Rolf looked about as uncomfortable as Leo had when he won Felipe for the first time. Felipe caught him glancing at Leo and looked up at the giant too, but the combined effort of their stares still couldn’t persuade Leo to speak up, and Rolf didn’t seem to have the nerve to try on his own. Felipe changed hands a few more times before ending up with Bruno yet again. At this point he was fighting back tears. He desperately wished they’d get bored and give it up already, but it seemed pride was on the line for Seth and Amos, and Bruno was enjoying himself immensely. Felipe’s mind started to wander towards what would happen when the game was over for good. What would whoever had won him do? Would they try to take him home? Stuff him in a pocket or a cupboard for later? Or would they make him do something public and embarrassing? More embarrassing than being reduced to a literal object to be passed around, that is.

Just then, his saving grace appeared. He practically melted with relief as he heard Anya’s voice.

“Hey, y’all, what’re you up to? Where’s Felipe?” She caught sight of him and smiled. Despite how terrified he was, his heart sang out at the sight of her. She was still the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. The others shifted nervously in their seats and glanced at each other, except for Bruno and Leo. Leo’s eyes were locked on Bruno and his face was grim. Bruno looked at Anya with his perfect poker face intact, although he was betrayed slightly by a small trickle of sweat down the side of his face.

Anya took in the scene and started to pick up on the energy at the table. Her smile started to fade. “No cards for you, honey?” She asked Felipe. “Are you helping Bruno, then? I’ll tell ya right now he doesn’t need it. He’s just about the best player here.” She looked around at everyone and then back at Bruno. She looked at the chips on the table all around Felipe, took in his posture, his expression, the way he was trembling ever so slightly. Her smile was completely gone now, and she set her jaw. When she spoke again, her voice was flat. “He’s not helping you, is he. He’s not playing at all.” 

Anya held out her hand palm up to Felipe, and he nearly tripped over his own feet sprinting across the table towards her. He leapt into her palm and wrapped his arms around her thumb, pressing his forehead to the tip. “Thankyou thankyou thankyou thankyou,” he gasped, his fragile facade of calm completely gone. The tears started to flow and he let them. Who cared anymore. He was safe, he was with his wife, the whole rest of the world could go to hell.

“You sons of bitches,” she spat. “I can’t believe you - ”

“Anya,” Felipe squeaked, and she held him up, her face instantly softening. “Let’s just go. Please.”

She looked like she was going to argue, but instead she shot a look at the cowering, ashamed giants, and stalked off. She headed for the exit, putting a hand on her friend Emily’s shoulder on the way.

“You set your husband right before I do it for you,” she warned. Emily spun around to glare at the husbands’ table.

“What kind of bullshit did you pull this time, Bruno?” Emily called, just as Anya slipped out the door, Felipe held to her chest.

She put a fair amount of distance between them and the house before lifting him up close to her face so she could see him better, the light dimming as evening approached.

“Honey? Are you okay? Do you want me to drop you off at the house and go back and kick their asses?”

Felipe managed a strangled laugh through his tears. “No, no, I don’t care. It doesn’t matter,” he lied. “I just want to forget it all.” That bit was true enough. He was so embarrassed by the whole thing. He wanted to pretend like it had never happened.

“I’m so sorry, I should never have left you with those idiots. I knew they’d be drinking, too, and Bruno always gets that mean glint in his eye when he drinks…”

“Wasn’t your fault,” Felipe said, sniffing and wiping his nose on his shirt. “They were just being dicks.”

“Did they hurt you? Because I’ll tell you right now if they did, I swear I’ll - ”

“No, no, they didn’t. And I’m not just saying that so you won’t go twist ‘em into pretzels. I’m fine, really.”

Anya gave him a Look. She rubbed his back with her thumb, working the tension out of him bit by bit. “I believe you that they didn’t hurt you physically,” she said softly. “But I don’t believe you’re fine. You were shaking like a leaf, honey. They scared you. You can admit it. There were five of them, they’re several times your size and could’ve snapped you like a twig without thinking about it.” He shivered, dropping his gaze. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. I’m never leaving you alone with them again. You poor thing. Let’s get you home.”

[purplebass]

#2 Celbratory Fic! And it's another one with Jesse and his uncles + cousins. This time, Jesse spends time with uncle Gabriel, Thomas, Anna and Grace. You can just say is a continuation of this other fic I've posted a few days ago. The next fic will be about Grace and Christopher (also: anon, I hope you don't mind I'll use your prompt!). I also hint at this in this fic. So, happy reading! ✨

Characters: Jesse Blackthorn, Thomas Lightwood, Gabriel Lightwood, Anna Lightwood, Grace Blackthorn, Lucie Herondale

Jesse sat across his cousin Thomas in the carriage, and it was a bright morning. He forgot how hot the weather could turn towards the summer season, and wished he hadn’t worn a coat, because the air in the vehicle was stale, and he was sweating. Too late. Too late and too bad the windows seemed to be stuck, but at least they had almost arrived at his uncle Gabriel’s house.

“Are you adapting well?” Thomas asked him.

“Uncle Gabriel and aunt Cecily are very kind,” he said. He accepted to live at their house for the time being, while he continued training to become a shadowhunter. “And Anna decided to give me her room while I’m there. I can’t express my gratitude enough.”

Thomas smiled. “Don’t mention it. You’re part of our family. But even if you weren’t, we would still help you, Jesse.”

Jesse couldn’t help but grin, and blush a little. He remembered when he was a child. His mother never failed to mention how his uncles and their families were corrupted, evil, and they needed to be kept at arm’s length, if he ever were to cross paths. But his relatives had been nothing short of welcoming.

“Looks like we’re here,” Thomas announced, glancing outside. “By the angel, uncle!” he exclaimed next, as he opened the door to get off.

Jesse exited after him, and saw his uncle Gabriel touching the side of his shoulder. “Is everything alright?” he asked. Thomas seemed to have stormed inside already.

Gabriel looked up, and winced a little. “Yes, yes. I wanted to open the door for you, but Thomas beat me to it,” he shrugged. “Did you have fun at Gideon and Sophie’s?”

Jesse nodded. “They took me around Idris. It was really nice,” he said. He had seen Idris already, when he was a ghost. But seeing it during the day was something entirely different. He liked the shadowhunter city, and the life that came with it. Although, if he had to be honest, he preferred the area where Blackthorn Manor was located, at the edge of Brocelind forest, where there was nothing else but vegetation around him. And Herondale Manor.

“I’m glad, I’m glad,” Gabriel replied. “When you’re ready, we will accompany you to the manor like you asked last time. Do you still want to renovate it?”

“I think it’s my duty as the last Blackthorn alive.” It felt weird to utter the word alive without thinking himself dead. I am alive. I am alive. I am living. “And I want to see if there is something that can be salvaged from the ruins. You know, family heirlooms, and things like that.” There weren’t many things in the manor that Jesse had cared about, because admittedly, there hadn’t been much to begin with. He hoped that most of the items he used whenever they were there, like the old books which probably belonged to his father or grandparents, hadn’t been destroyed in the fire. He had cherished those books. They were one of the few goods that had given him a glimpse of how his father might have been around his age. He didn’t live that long, after all.

Sometimes, he found himself thinking about Rupert. How life might have turned out, if he hadn’t lost his life before he was born. Now his uncles, aunts and cousins were the closest thing he had to a family. His uncle Gabriel offered to teach him how to use the bow and arrow, which had surprised Jesse. He hadn’t asked anyone to help him with training. He was happy someone offered to help him.

“I’ve always wanted to learn how to use it, but we didn’t have one at Chiswick,” he told Gabriel in the training room of the London Institute, where there was more space available to practice.

Gabriel had made a face. “Strange. There was one which belonged to me, but maybe,” he had shaken his head, lost in thought. “Nevermind. Let’s get started, shall we?”

And then he had spent the day learning how to hold the bow and shoot. It hadn’t been easy, and his shoulders were a little stiff, but he had managed to pull a few good shoots by the end of their session. His uncle had patted his shoulder lightly and had congratulated him. It felt good.

“Not bad for your first time,” he had commented. “How did you find the bow?”

“I think I like it.”

“If we train more, you will get even better. No pressure.”

Jesse wasn’t sure if the bow and arrow was his weapon of choice, but he surely wanted to know more about it. “Thanks, uncle Gabriel,” he had replied, making his uncle’s face brighten.

It was the first time he had called him uncle.

Gabriel and Jesse reached the drawing room. Perched on an armchair, newspaper in hand, sat his cousin Anna Lightwood. “About time, cousin. My tea’s got cold,” she said, twirling the cup in her slender fingers for show. It was empty.

Jesse had heard a lot about Anna. Had seen her while he was a ghost as well. She had a reputation for being fashionable and very direct, confident. Two things he didn’t think he was, but not everyone was perfect, and he was sure that Anna had demons of her own. Perhaps, someday they would talk about it like cousins did. He believed.

“You know that our family’s carriage is slow, Anna,” said Thomas from the window, his arms crossed on his chest.

“Right. Anyway, you’re here, finally,” she said, rising from her seat. “Are you excited that we’re about to redo your wardrobe?”

“I trust your judgement” he answered. “But please, don’t make me ridiculous.”

“You, ridiculous?” Anna’s eyebrows shot up in disbelief. “You could never be ridiculous with such features. Trust me on that. I will make your black hair and green eyes combination shine.”

“If you say so,” he pursed his lips. “Grace,” he said then, as his sister crossed the threshold. She had been staying at the Lightwoods as well, but lately she had been spending more time at Grosvenor Square, where the Fairchilds lived. She told him that she liked to help his cousin Christopher in the lab, and that she wanted to learn more about science. Jesse couldn’t object about that, because he knew that his sister could never truly pursue what she wanted. He just wanted her to be happy, and if science was what she was interested in, so be it.

“I’m sorry I’m late, but I had to change.”

“Did my brother burn something again?” Anna asked. “Last time I wanted to watch what he was doing, he ruined my tie.”

“And he almost burnt my eyebrows once,” Thomas reminded them.

“Nothing of the sort,” Grace said. “It’s late, isn’t it? Shouldn’t we go?” she asked hurriedly, as if she didn’t want to continue that conversation. She barely talked about what happened in the lab, and he guessed she didn’t want to. Not that he wanted to know. He respected her privacy, but not everyone did.

Thomas stayed behind because he had something to do, whereas Jesse, Anna and Grace decided to take a walk to get to the shops where they could find something for him. They didn’t disguise themselves, which he liked. It made him feel part of the world again, to be seen by people. The street Anna had taken them teemed with pedestrians going about their day, and they reached the clothing shop soon. It had a big sign on it, and some dresses on display.

Anna decided that purple and burgundy were Jesse’s color, and she chose a couple of waistcoats. She insisted that she would pay, saying they were a welcoming gift. Now they were visiting the third shop, which was a three floor building which sold different items for men and women alike. He believed they had bought several pieces already, but Anna was convinced that he needed a coat for the winter season, even if it was almost summer. Ah, and a bathing suit. Really? As she was looking around to find the perfect piece, he decided to take a tour around the store, since he had never seen one like that before.

He was by himself as he waited, because Grace excused herself that she also needed to look for something. He walked around and glanced at the accessories and the clothes, until something caught his eye.

“I don’t think that is her style,” Grace said, reappearing by his side as if she had appeared out of thin air.

He lifted a brow. “I don’t know who you’re talking about,” he feigned ignorance. “And how do you know what her style is?”

“You’re right, I have no idea about that. Although I’ve paid attention to her, I’m not sure.”

“About what?” he peered at her as she was checking something from the same rack.

Grace gave him an unreadable look. ���She seems fickle. I’m worried that now that she managed to bring you back, she won’t be interested anymore.”

“I understand your concern, Grace,” he told her flatly. “But I can assure you, it’s nothing like that.”

“Has she told you she loves you already?”

“How do you know that?” he asked, blushing, glancing away.

“She did,” Grace said, inclining her head. “I can’t believe it. I thought she would never.”

Jesse didn’t know how Grace had realized that, but he could tell that she understood his feelings, and she didn’t want him to get hurt. He was about to ask her something, when Anna interrupted them.

“This looks refined, cousin,” she commented. “Lucie will like it,” she added, before she stormed away again.

Jesse and Grace exchanged a glance, and the latter grinned. He felt his cheeks warm, and he walked away before his sister could notice he was blushing.

...

A few hours and several bags of clothes and accessories later, they all went back to the Lightwood residence. Anna was pleased with what she had chosen for Jesse, and said that she’d be looking forward to seeing him in one of them at the next event, whatever that might be.

“Anna has a good eye for fashion,” Grace commented, holding two bags of clothes as well. “Do you think she likes us?”

“Why wouldn’t she?” Jesse shrugged. It was a curious question he did not expect.

“Well, you’re her cousin, whereas I’m -” Grace stopped mid-sentence, making Jesse wait. “Lucie.”

She turned abruptly, as if she had been caught with her hands in the cookie jar. She glanced at Grace, then at him. “Hello, Grace. Hello, Jesse.”

“What are you doing here?” Grace asked bluntly. It sounded a bit like an accusation, but considering the conversation they had had in the shop earlier, he expected it. Grace was wary of Lucie.

Lucie sighed, and managed a smile. She wasn’t wearing a hat nor gloves, and he suspected she had been waiting for them. He glowed inside. She came to see him. Which excuse would she use today? He bit his lip expectantly, amused.

“I had to run an errand for… for aunt Cecy,” she mumbled, clutching her hands nervously. “She needed something to do something, I guess.”

Grace wasn’t convinced at all, but she let her go. “See you next time,” she just said, then gazed up at Jesse one last time before leaving them alone.

Once Grace was out of sight and out of earshot, Lucie advanced. She offered him her best smile, which he exchanged with one of his own.

“Nice excuse you’ve got here, huh,” he said.

“Was it that obvious?”

“She already knows, Lucie,” he revealed, to which Lucie just nodded. “You know that Anna took me shopping today,” he changed the topic quickly. He opened his arms, and she hurried to him and put her hands behind his back, and her head on his chest. He closed her in an embrace, and interlaced his fingers behind her neck.

“Did you buy a lot of things?” she asked excitedly. “I can’t wait to see you in one of the suits you bought with Anna.”

“You will see them soon enough, I think. Isn’t there a party next week? At the London Institute?”

“Is it?” she glanced up. “I didn’t. Why has no one notified me?”

“Do not sound so angry,” he chided, a smile dancing on his lips. “No one knows.”

“Are you teasing me, Jesse Blackthorn?” she raised an eyebrow.

“Yes,” he admitted. “I have something for you,” he said, and produced a small pouch from his pocket. “Here.”

Lucie examined it, and then looked inside. There was a silver comb with a butterfly decoration in it. “It’s precious,” she told him. Unable to hide her joy, she hugged him again, this time more tightly than before. “I really like it.”

“I’m glad,” he remarked, caressing the back of her neck. “I had to make up for the one I couldn’t retrieve from Chiswick.”

“Nevermind about that. I like this one more,” she said, and raised her head so that he could kiss her.

Someone cleared their voice, and they separated. It wasn’t a secret that they were together… to most. But probably, not everyone had caught up.

“Does Will know about this?” Gabriel asked, but they could tell he wasn’t serious, just curious. And he was smiling.

“Come on, Gabriel. Leave them alone,” Cecily intervened, taking her husband’s arm to lead him away, winking at them. “They were just embracing.”

“He will know next week,” Jesse said, making Gabriel and Cecily stop in their tracks. “That I plan to spend the rest of my life with Lucie, however long that might be.”

Lucie opened her mouth in surprise, and looked at him. “Jesse, are you...”

“Yes. Are you?”

“Undoubtedly, yes!” she exclaimed, embracing him again.

“Did he just propose to her or it’s my impression?” Gabriel wondered out loud.

“He did. Yes, he sure did,” Cecily said, and dragged a blabbering Gabriel away, while Jesse basked in his own happiness with Lucie, and he felt alive.

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