#to pick her up from their house because she doesn’t know how to drive

[dreaming-medium]

No Contact

Pairing: Bang Chan x Reader

Word Count: 7.6k

Tags: ANGST with a happy ending, amnesia, memory loss, grief, pining, yearning, hurt/comfort

Summary: It was one of the worst car accidents the city has seen. You weren't supposed to be in that car, but you were. When you lose your memories from the incident, Chan is ordered to stay away for your recovery's sake; but it takes a larger toll on him than anyone could have imagined. Until one day, he just can't take it anymore.

A/N: inspired by this post. Angst ahoy <3 I had too much fun writing this. Maybe I like writing emotions. Enjoy <3

—————————————————————

No contact. That’s what Chan was told was best for you. That’s what was going to help your healing process. 

No contact whatsoever. No texts, no calls, no little surprise visits. No fucking contact. None. 

He was told it would just hurt you if he talked to you— that he would just make it worse. That you would only become more confused and upset. It would be absolutely detrimental for him to see you.

Hell, it might even make you worse. 

It’s killing Chan slowly. Every single day feels like torture for him. The days get exponentially worse. He feels like a hollow shell of his former self, like the wind goes through him when he steps foot outside. It feels like his shoulders are permanently sagged forward. 

But the worst part is that you don’t even know it. You don’t know how he’s collapsing inwards like a dying star. 

It was one of the worst car accidents the city has seen in years. A friend was driving you home that night; Chan had begged to be the one to pick you up, but no, you said it was fine, the friend was heading that way anyway. Why make the unnecessary trip?

You told him he needed sleep. Always putting his needs before your own. You always did. 

He should’ve put up more of a fuss. He should’ve put his foot down. He should’ve already been outside the house in his car with the passenger seat warmer on by the time you left that stupid party. 

He should’ve gotten out of the car and opened the door for you and had a cold bottle of water waiting in the cup holder. He should’ve kissed you on the cheek and asked you all about your time. He should have been there.

But he wasn’t. 

A drunk driver slammed into the passenger side of your friend’s car at a speed that you shouldn’t have even survived.

Miracles do happen, though. But what a price to pay for a miracle. 

For as long as he lives, Chan will never forget the sheer panic and terror he felt when the call came in from your mother. You were already at the hospital undergoing emergency surgery.

He was the last to know. 

After all, he wasn’t your emergency contact. He’s only your boyfriend.

Was. Was your boyfriend. Was? Is that the right word? He isn’t. But he is. There was no breakup. 

Is that what he’s going through right now? A breakup? 

You’re not on a break. But what is this? What is this loss? This severance is so horrible. 

It’s fucked up. It’s a fucked up, amnesia induced breakup. 

Memory loss is a funny thing. Doctors scratch their heads and shrug their shoulders without any answers. The brain is a tricky thing. 

Chan did what he was allowed to in that hospital. He sat in that stark white room under those harsh LED lights and he waited until you were awake. He even waited much longer after that because only two visitors were permitted inside your room at a time— and he wasn’t about to force his way in and kick one of your parents out. 

He let your sister go in first. He even let your cousin go in before him. But when it was finally his turn… 

He never got to see you. 

“The last five years?” Chan asked with a tight throat. Did he even have any more tears left to cry? How is there any liquid left in his body?

“She says doesn’t remember anything, Chan.” Your mother’s voice was just as hollow as his. “She was asking about her freshman roommate.”

A doctor stood in between him and your mom. “It’s best if we don’t throw everything at her at once. Amnesia victims rarely never get their memories back, but we’ve found that it needs to happen organically. Seeing her will overwhelm her and that could stunt the healing process.”

Chan’s mouth opened and closed several times but no words came out at all. His heart may have stopped. 

Does that mean…?

No…

“He can’t see her at all?” Your mother asked quietly. “Not even to visit? He doesn’t have to mention he’s her boyfriend, he can just say that he’s a friend, or a coworker, or—“

The doctor cut her off. “No contact. Not until we’re a bit through recovery and she’s starting to get her memories back.”

Chan was suddenly in a chair. 

When did he sit down? The Doctor’s hands were on his shoulders and he was looking down at him with a sympathetic stare.  

“It’s not forever, son.”

Chan was only able to nod. His mouth was so dry, the back of his neck felt clammy. His head was spinning.

Books often speak of moments as ‘Earth-shattering’. Of moments so catastrophic that the planet stops spinning on its axis and time stands still.

He gets it now. 

The doctor spoke a few more words to your mother before walking away. She looked down at Chan sadly. 

Your mother sat on the chair next to him and wrapped him up in a hug. His world was falling apart around him. You were slipping through his fingers. He couldn’t even see you.

Hot tears poured down his face while he sat there with his head in his hands. Why does it feel like he’s losing you? Why is this the only way? Why are these the cards that are being dealt?

Why didn’t he pick you up from that fucking party?

“She loves you, Chan… she’ll come to her senses, I promise, I promise.”

It’s been two months, one week, two days and eight hours since he’s talked to you. That long since he’s known peace. Since he’s known any sort of comfort. 

You’re the last thing he thinks about before he closes his eyes at night and the first thing he thinks about in the morning. No matter how many times he wakes up and feels the cold bed next to him, it never dulls the ache in his chest.

It’s not a healthy mindset, he knows. And it’s not that you were codependent on one another, that’s not it at all. You were just… ripped away from him. 

Food has no taste. The sky isn’t as blue as it used to be. Clouds don’t make fun shapes like they did with you by his side. The stars are still in the sky, he thinks, he hasn’t had the guts to look at them. 

God, you love the stars so much. You always talked about how pretty they are— how absolutely breath-taking you think the universe is. Chan would simply listen, he would always listen. All he ever wanted to do was listen.

How is he supposed to look at anything the same way? How is any day supposed to be normal when half of his life is suddenly missing. What’s the point of making music if you’re not there to listen to it?

5:00 PM is the hardest hour to get through. You don’t open the door to his apartment when you get off work. You don’t tell him about the things that happened during your shift. 

He can’t leave little snacks out on the counter for you to eat when you get home like he used to. 

Mice would get to it before you did. 

His lonely apartment is slowly losing your smell. He could spray your perfume, sure, you keep a bottle at his place, but it’s not the same. You somehow made the scent sweeter by letting it linger on your skin. 

All of your old toiletries are still there where you left them. Your spare toothbrush has been bone dry and untouched since 9:28 AM that morning. Your shampoo bottles are still half full and waiting for you on your shower shelf.

It had rained a few days before your accident. You had started a puzzle on his dining room table that day– you told him it was the perfect rainy day activity. It was a picture of different comic book covers. It’s now collecting dust. Unmoved and unsolved. 

Just like him.

It was a battle and a half to throw away your leftovers from two nights before your car accident. He felt like he was throwing away your normal life, your tiny domestic traces. 

He didn’t want to cleanse you from his life, but you were washing away. Your ghost was eroding with time. 

Your spare car keys are still hanging on the key ring. Your rain coat is on the third hook draped right over your work bag. Even your phone charger is still plugged into the wall on your side of the bed.

Did you know you forgot to put your favorite gold earrings on that night? You left them on the nightstand. They’re still there, don’t worry. Right next to the glass of water you drank half of. 

Do you even remember them…? He got them for you for your first Christmas together. 

There are so many signs of a life interrupted integrated so deeply into his. 

You’re a clock whose hands stopped suddenly at 1:24 AM. 

This sort of haunting is unbearable. You’re not a phantom in his life, though. You’re something so unattainable that he had once but it was taken away with empty promises of return. 

It’s like you’re a shiny diamond hidden away beneath lasers and traps like in those stupid, cheesy spy movies you love so much. 

Do you know what he would give to watch one of those with you in his arms right now? 

Chan feels like he’s banging on the glass of a one sided window, screaming for you to remember him. Meanwhile you’re on the other side only staring into a mirror, trying to pick up the pieces from before. 

Your mom sends him updates on your condition all the time. He knows that you started working at the local library about three weeks ago. 

You had worked there in college before graduating and getting your last job. It was one of your favorite jobs you ever had. That library was so special to you. 

To him too. 

It’s the library where he first met you. 

The same library Chan finds himself in front of now. 

He shouldn’t go in. He can’t go in. He absolutely should not go inside. 

Bang Chan you should not and cannot go inside this library. Under no circumstances should you step foot inside this building where your other half is working. 

Absolutely not. 

The door emits a soft ding when he opens it. Electronic. Quiet. Peaceful. 

There’s a certain type of silence that sits in a library. It’s closer, thicker— warmer. It’s an expected silence. They’re supposed to be quiet. 

Chan can hear his sneakers take every step on the carpeted floor. There’s no one sitting behind the front desk; that’s where you usually were. 

His eyes look all around, but there’s no sign of you anywhere. A few people toddle around the shelves. 

There’s more soft beeping coming from the self checkout. That’s new. They didn’t have that when you worked here years ago. You probably hate it. 

On the day he met you, you were wearing a pair of dark green pants and a black long sleeve shirt. Your hair was clipped behind your head and pieces were falling over your face. 

Chan was only in the library to look for the bathroom. He was on his way to lunch with a friend, but he just had to stop somewhere. The library was the closest option. 

When he had heard the sound of books falling, he investigated and found you in the center of the carnage, the glasses on your nose sat crookedly and you rubbed your head. 

Your eyes met. He was a goner. 

How disgustingly poetic that he finds himself here now. Where he really shouldn’t be. He was quite literally prescribed a restraining order against you. 

Chan meanders around with his hands in his pockets, the silence getting louder and louder the further he gets inside.

Maybe you’re not working today? 

No one is anywhere to be seen. He’s checking down all the aisles but he doesn’t see you anywhere. 

Maybe it’s for the best that you’re not here. He’s not supposed to see you anyway. He’s breaking the doctor’s rules by doing this anyway. 

He needs to leave. He needs to get out of here. 

His feet stop in front of the very aisle where he saw you for the first time. 

Empty. 

You-less. 

If he thinks hard enough, Chan can picture you in front of him, laughing quietly with the most adorable, embarrassed blush on your cheeks. 

What a moment. 

Is it possible to spend eternity in that moment? Obviously internal clocks can be rewound, paused, flipped every which way; can he go back to that day? Can he go back to the day where every single poem suddenly made sense?

He would take any day, really, any day that had you in it. Birthdays, holidays, late night dates, Hell, he’d even take a day where he only saw you when you dropped off a drink for him in his studio. 

Anything, he would take anything just to see your smile bloom on your face while he watches.

“Can I help you find something?”

His breath catches in his throat, it feels like he’s physically punched in the chest. That voice. That beautiful, melodic voice. He hasn’t heard it in person in months, only in videos he had on his phone. 

Slowly, Chan turns to face the source of his favorite pitch. 

His throat immediately tightens. 

There you are. You. Beautiful you. 

Standing right there. Looking at him like a complete fucking stranger. 

“I…” his voice is hoarse. Chan can feel the tears in his eyes begin to form. He didn’t think this through, did he?

You’re staring at him expectantly, waiting for him to say anything. You’re waiting, come on, Chan. Speak up. Say something. 

Looking up at the shelf, you look back down at him with a smile. “A history guy, hm?”

No.

“Yeah.”

You giggle. “I always had a thing for History.”

He knows. 

“Really?”

“Mhmm.” You respond with a grin. 

Specifically Ancient Rome. He knows. 

You continue. “Specifically Ancient Rome.”

Chan nods and clears his throat. His palms feel so sweaty. His chest is almost panting. Every single cell in his body just wants to lunge forward and wrap you in a hug. 

He wants to bury his face in your neck and sob while you hold him. He wants to tell you that he missed you so much. He wants to tell you how your pillow is losing the scent of your shampoo. He wants to tell you that he’s been DVR-ing your favorite show so that you can watch it later. He wants to tell you about his day. He wants to kiss you until you’re breathless. He wants you to hear the new song he’s been working on.

But—

“If you need anything, let me know.”

You start to walk away.

Chan feels his heart physically break. It’s happening again. He’s on the other side of that one way mirror. It’s happening again! No, no please. 

His eyes widen, the words get caught in his throat. Fuck, Y/N, please!

“W-Wait!” he says quickly. 

You turn around with a curious look. 

“The Odyssey,” he blurts. “Where uh… where can I find it?”

Your eyes light up. “Oh, I love The Odyssey.”

He knows. You collect different translations of it. 

“I collect different translations of that book, here I’ll show you where it is.”

With a little hop in your step you lead him towards all the classics. 

He watches you like you’re an oasis in the desert— maybe it’s because you are. You’re what he’s been crawling towards for two months. 

You lead him all the way to the shelf where the Odyssey lives. Your nimble fingers reach forward and grab one of the copies. 

Green nail polish. You still paint your nails green. You picked that habit up a year after he met you. 

The memories have to be there, Y/N, they have to be. Chan bought you that first bottle of green nail polish as a joke on Saint Patrick’s Day. 

Y/N, please. 

“This translation is my favorite,” you whisper and hand him the book. 

Chan smiles sadly and takes the book from you, unable to meet your eyes. He knows if he gazes into those gorgeous eyes that he’ll lose it. He’ll fall to his knees and cry. 

“Thank you,” he whispers back. 

You stand there for a moment, he can feel your eyes on his face. He always has been able to tell when you were looking at him, it’s a little, secret superpower. 

From foot to foot, your weight shifts. 

You only do that when you’re confused. Why are you confused? Y/N, are you confused?

“I’m sorry…” you start, sounding so unsure. “You remind me of someone…”

It feels like a defibrillator was hooked up to his chest. Chan’s eyes widen and he finally looks up at you. 

You’re looking at him so carefully. He can see the gears turning in your head. Your tongue pokes out of your lips and wets them. 

Y/N, please. 

“I just… I can’t figure out who. Do I… do I know you? I was—” You stop yourself. 

Fuck. Fuck! What was he supposed to say? Fuck! 

Chan wants to scream. He wants to grab you by the shoulders and cry that he’s your soulmate, that he’s the person that knows you better than anyone else in this world. 

Yes, you do, you do know him. And he knows you. He knows how you take your coffee, what movies make you cry, what color jell-o is your favorite. 

He knows that you never wear matching socks and you always lift your feet when driving over railroad tracks. 

He knows that when you were 6 you ran into the corner of a cabinet and that’s how you got that scar next to your eyebrow. 

Chan knows that your entire life you wanted to be an author but you’re so scared of failure that you decided not to chase after it. 

He knows everything. 

“I just have one of those faces, I guess.” It comes out of his mouth so strained. 

You stare back at him so carefully. Do you see right through him?

“Maybe,” you say slowly. You don’t believe him. He knows that tone. You absolutely do not believe a word he’s saying. “Are you sure?”

Chan swallows, he grips the book in his hand tighter. The lump in his throat almost doesn’t go down, more tears prick at his eyes. 

“I would never forget a face like yours,” he chokes out. 

Your eyes widen and you blush, looking to the side with a smile. You always were a sucker for cheesy compliments. 

After thinking for a second, you reach into your pocket and take out a little slip of paper. 

“Here,” you say after scribbling something down. Holding it out, Chan sees it’s your phone number. He has it memorized. “If you ever need more books to read… or find… call me.”

Chan takes the paper with a racing heart. He gives you a smile, his dimples showing. “I think I will,” he whispers to you. 

Another few moments pass of you just staring at him before you nod and giggle nervously. “Well, I gotta get back to work, so..”

Chan nods and moves to the side. You walk past him. 

Your perfume curls around him like a blanket and he craves that sweet serenity he finds when he holds you close and breathes you in. 

Three steps after you pass him, you turn around. “Oh, I didn’t catch your name.”.

“Chan,” he answers softly. 

“Chan,” you repeat. It goes right through him. 

Your voice. Your sweet, beautiful, melodic voice. Finally, he heard you say his name again.

“I’m Y/N,” you whisper to him with a friendly smile. 

“Nice to meet you, Y/N.” Chan has to physically force the word ‘meet’ out of his mouth. 

“You too, Chan.”

And with that, you were gone, retreating back into your fortress of papyrus. 

—————————————————————

A bad idea was going into the library that day. 

An even worse idea was texting you the day after to ask how your day is going. 

And then an absolutely fucking idiotic move was asking if you wanted to go to dinner with him. 

And the worst part? You said yes. 

So, now here Chan was, standing in front of the mirror in his bedroom getting ready for what you thought was a first date, but to him was just a dinner date. 

How is he supposed to do this? He’s not, that’s how. 

Chan fiddles with his bracelet right before his phone rings. 

His heart drops when he sees the caller ID, your mother. 

“Ah, fuck…” he whispers before grabbing his phone. Of course you were going to tell your mom, you tell your mom everything. 

“Hello?” he asks warily into the phone. 

“Hi, Chan,” she says slowly, she sounds nervous, why does she sound nervous. 

“How are you? Is everything okay?”

“It’s Y/N…” Her voice lowers. Chan’s heart drops. “Before you panic, she’s okay! It’s um.. she’s getting ready right now… for a date…”

Chan isn’t moving. Yes, he knows you are. He knows it. But words won’t form in his mouth. 

“Channie.. I’m starting to wonder if that doctor isn’t right.. I can’t stand the thought of her finding someone else when you’re waiting for her… I tried to talk her out of it but she just seems so floaty and happy. God, I feel sick to my stomach.”

His jaw clenches. Now or never. 

“It’s with me,” he blurts. 

Your mom goes silent. Then a huge sigh comes out of her mouth. 

“I wish I could say I’m angry,” a little laugh follows it. “I think I’m only angry that you didn’t say something.”

He tells her everything, down to the way he pretended not to know you. 

“Well, you’re going to have to tell her eventually.” Your mom sounds unsure, herself. 

“Or maybe she’ll remember me.”

“What if she doesn’t?”

Chan sits down on the edge of his bed. His eyes are staring at the wall, unfocused. 

She’s right. What if you don’t? 

“Then, I’ll just … do it all again.”

Silence greets him on the other side of the line. Another tiny laugh comes from your mom. “I always knew you two were perfect together. Just like two magnets, you always come towards one another.”

—————————————————————

“I’ve never eaten here before,” you say with a chipper smile on your face from across the table. 

Yes, you have. 

“Really?” Chan asks, taking a sip of his water. 

“I pass it all the time and always wondered how the food was.”

He looks back down at the old menu. 

This restaurant was more than special to him. It’s where he took you on your first date. It’s an old fashioned burger joint with the greasiest, most delicious French fries in town. 

The first time you guys came here, you talked and talked until the place closed. And even after that, you drove around and talked until it was late. 

“I’ve been here a few times, it’s really good. The milkshakes are some of the best I’ve ever had.” Chan’s sweaty hands fiddle with the menu. 

He’s more nervous now than on the first date. 

“What’s the best one?” you ask with a smile. 

A small laugh comes out of his nose. “The peanut butter one.”

It was your favorite. 

“Yeah but then you can’t have any,” you say so nonchalantly, looking down at the menu. 

His eyebrows knit together. “What?”

“‘Cause of your allergy.”

He stops. 

You stop. 

He has a peanut allergy. Chan has a peanut allergy. 

His lips purse like he’s going to say something but you beat him to the punch. 

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out. “I… I don’t know why I thought that.” Your hands grip the menu a little tighter. “Maybe I’m thinking of someone else?”

Chan shakes his head. “No, no, it’s okay. I… I do have a peanut allergy. Maybe I said something before?”

You stare at him for a long second before looking back down at the menu once more. “Yeah… um. Maybe.”

He definitely did not say something. 

Dinner continues on. Chan listens to you talk and pretends he’s never heard your stories before and he tells you ones he knows he’s said before. 

The entire time, you were beaming at him, just like you used to before the accident. Your face never loses its constant happy glow. He’s not sure that the muscles in your face know how to frown.  

You’re the last two people in the restaurant. The staff doesn’t seem to mind. Maybe they recognize you both. Maybe. 

A lull dips into your conversation. Both of you know you should leave. Neither wants to. Especially the broken man sitting across from you. 

Chan takes the last sip of his drink. The bill has been paid for about an hour at this point. You’re looking down at your lap with a pink flush on your cheeks. 

You bite your lip and look up at Chan carefully. 

“Are you… are you sure I don’t know you, Chan?”

He stares at you. Did you know that you always bite your lip like that when you’re confused? 

“I just… I really feel like I know you. There’s just…” you pause, trying to find your words. He knows you want to tell him about the accident. He knows you want to say it but you don’t want to weird him out. 

What the fuck is he supposed to do? What is he supposed to tell you? 

“Something happened to me a little while ago, my brain’s been… fuzzy since then,” you explain shyly. “I know you said you don’t know me but I just… I can’t help feel like that’s not true.”

Chan’s jaw clenches, his knee bounces anxiously underneath the table. His head turns to the side in his typical nervous tick. 

Your mother’s words echo in his mind, his tongue suddenly feels like it’s swelling to the size of his mouth— making him unable to speak. Should he tell you? Is it now or never?

“I don’t mean to make it weird, Chan.”

He licks his lips and opens his mouth. 

Your phone rings. 

A sigh of relief comes from deep within Chan’s chest. 

Reluctantly, you pick up the phone and hold it to your ear. “Hello? …. No, I didn’t know…. Yeah, of course…. Sure… Yeah, see you tomorrow.”

Just as quickly as you answered the phone, you hang up. 

“Sorry,” you mumble. “Someone called out of work for tomorrow, they need me to come in.”

“Do you need to get going?” Chan asks, looking down at the time. It’s well past 10 o’clock. 

A sad smile crosses your face. “I mean… probably.” The time on your watch flashes back at you. He can tell you don’t want to go home yet. 

“Come on, Y/N, I’ll walk you home.”

Chan’s already standing up from the table, picking his jacket up off the back of his chair. You watch his movements and slowly get up, your movements screaming reluctance. 

—————————————————————

It’s three dates later when the two of you are walking down the street towards your house. It’s only a few blocks from here, but you both decide to take a tiny detour through the local park. 

“I have to say I’m a little excited to meet your friends,” you giggle. “I hope that’s not weird.”

You already have. 

“It’s not weird at all. I’m sure they’d like you.” Chan nudges your arm with his elbow, his hands staying in his pocket. 

“Changbin sounds like a blast.”

He was your favorite before.

“The two of you…” Chan thinks over his words carefully. “The two of you would definitely cause some mischief.”

And you have. 

A tiny lull of comfortable silence falls over the conversation. 

Both of you meander towards the swings. A cold wind blows through the air but neither of you react to it. 

With a tiny giggle, you sit down on one of the swings and hold onto the chains on the side. 

You are just so… you. You’re just your authentic self. Amnesia or not, you haven’t changed a bit. It’s so charming.

“I can’t remember the last time I went on the swings.” You start to move your body back and forth, not too much but enough to get the tiny thrill the toy brings. 

Chan walks up and stands next to you, his hand coming out and grabbing at the chain of the swing next to yours. 

The brightest smile stretches over your face. 

God, it really doesn’t take a lot to make you smile, does it? He guesses that means it doesn’t take a lot for him either since he smiles when you do.

He can’t help it.

He watches you move back and forth, the cold breeze kicking up a bit more and blowing dead leaves across the sidewalk. 

“What’s wrong, Chan? Allergic to swings?” you tease. 

He rolls his eyes with a smirk. “No, I just far more enjoy watching you have fun.”

Your cheeks flush. If he didn’t know you, maybe he would’ve chocked it up to the cold. But he knows the difference between your blush and the elements now. 

“You’re a smooth talker, Bang Chan.”

“It comes easy with you, Y/N L/N.”

Another laugh from you. 

“Shameless flirt.”

He puts his hand on his chest in mock hurt. “Ouch! I just speak the truth, that’s all. Not my fault I like seeing you blush.”

Every word that comes out of his mouth feels so natural. If he really thinks about it, he’s in a weirdly unique situation. Not many couples get to start over, to feel those butterflies again. But here he is, his palms starting to get sweaty as he imagines kissing you. 

Would you call it a first kiss? Maybe. 

It has been four dates. It wouldn’t be.. inappropriate to kiss you, would it? The two of you kissed on your third date a few years ago. 

He wants to kiss you so bad. 

Should he? Shouldn’t he? God, why is this so hard?

Chan reaches out and grabs the chain of your swing, pulling it to a very gentle stop. 

“Uh oh, fun police,” you tease and look up at him with a grin. 

Looking down at you, Chan allows his eyes to look over every detail of your face that he already had memorized. You haven’t changed at all except the new scar on the side of your forehead from the accident. 

It’s the same eyes, same nose, same chin that he fell in love with so long ago. 

The same asymmetrical eyes that you’re so self conscious of but he loves. Your hair is wind blown and splayed every which way. It adds a childish charm to your features. 

Very carefully, Chan moves his free hand down to cup your cheek. His warm palm soothes your ice cold face. He hears your breath catch in your throat at his touch. 

His thumb swipes over your cheek, fingertips run down the soft lines of your jawline. Eventually his thumb ends up under your chin which he tilts up. 

Your eyes sparkle. They somehow capture the light of the lamps around the playground. But they’ve always done that. 

You’re always so enchanting.

Is this a good idea? 

Is kissing you the best option? 

But does he even have the strength to stop himself now?

Almost three months without feeling your lips on his has been torture, and here he is, with you in his hands and there’s still this nagging feeling that he should stop. 

One look into your eyes quells that anxiety. 

Your eyes keep flickering down to his own lips, the shaky breath you let out is hot against his fingers. Everything feels warmer compared to the air outside. 

He can’t take it anymore. 

Chan leans down and presses his lips to yours. They’re warm and slightly chapped.

But, my god, he’s never felt anything this heavenly before. It’s like his entire body unwinds. Like a fire was lit inside his stomach. 

He moves his hand to the back of your head and keeps your lips pressed against his. Your head tilts to the side slightly. It’s just like he remembers. 

It’s just the first kiss, he can’t let himself get carried away. He can’t. 

He can’t let his fingers wind through your hair. He can’t melt into your touch on his cheek. He can’t let himself drown in your lips. 

But he is. 

He’s letting you consume his very soul in one kiss. 

How can something feel so healing yet hurt so badly at the same time? It’s like you’re ripping open a wound and bandaging it at the same time. 

No matter how hard he tries, he can’t bring his lips away from yours. Your hand slides down to caress his jawline with those soft, manicured fingers. 

Your lips open and close over his like mirror images. The feeling shoots straight down into Chan’s gut. It’s like the first time for him all over again. 

Those butterflies are going insane in his stomach. Your scent kicks up in the wind and he can’t help but take a large breath through his nose. 

God, he can’t stop himself. It feels too good. 

His hand moves from the back of your hair to cup your cheek and bring you closer. 

He immediately stops. 

Why is your face wet?

Chan pulls away from the kiss and looks down at you with concern written all over his expression. 

You’re crying. Why … why are you crying?

Your eyes open and you look at him confused. 

“Chan?” you whisper. You’re confused too. What?

“Why are you crying, Y/N?” he asks with a thick voice.

Your eyes widen and your own hand comes up to swipe at your cheeks. Sure enough, you’re met with tears. 

“I… I don’t know,” you say so quietly. “I-I’m not sure.”

Chan starts backing away, your eyes snap to focus on his. Your hand shoots up to grab at his to keep him there. You’re still so confused. 

Emotions are flying through your eyes. It almost looks like someone is clicking a light switch on and off in the back of your mind. A lightbulb is flickering in your soul like a dying neon sign in an old shop window. 

Every muscle in your face is twitching.

What’s happening?

“Channie—“ your own voice cuts off by a sob. 

Chan’s heart jumpstarts. You haven’t called him that… not in two months… that’s what you and your mother called him before the accident. 

Are you…? Are you remembering? What’s happening?

Please. 

Slowly, your hand falls from his. 

Chan stays there, unmoving like a statue. What’s happening inside your mind right now? It looks like you’re reaching and reaching for something that you can’t quite put your finger on. 

He's watching you struggle. It’s like when you can’t remember a word. It’s right there. It’s on the tip of your tongue.

You gulp, your eyes leave his and you look down at your lap. The dirt crunches under your feet as you shuffle your shoes around.

Chan swipes his thumb over your cheek, brushing away the tears. He’s biting back his own. 

“It’s okay—“ “I’m sorry—“ are both said at the exact same time. 

He knew it was coming. He knows you. But you don’t know him. Not anymore. 

But you do.

“It wasn’t the kiss. I—“ 

“It’s okay, Y/N.”

You know him. 

“Chan, I really loved the kiss.”

Chan. Not Channie. 

He brushes his thumb over your lips. “It’s okay,” he repeats gently. “You don’t have to explain.”

His other hand comes up and tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. Your eyes slide shut at the sensation. 

Your bottom lip quivers and you pull it into your mouth and bite it. With a tight swallow, your throat bobs. 

“It happens sometimes,” you whisper. “It’s from the accident I had.”

Chan continues to soothingly rub your skin with his thumb. Slowly, he kneels down to be in front of you rather than leaning over. 

The dirt is cold on his knee. It seeps through the fabric of his pants. He couldn’t care less. 

“You don’t have to talk about it,” he whispers back to you. 

You shake your head gently, your hands folding in your lap. “No, no. I… I want to tell you. I need to tell you. It’s been happening more and more whenever I’m around you. It’s like every touch, every word you say bounces around my brain and makes me feel the worst case of deja vu.

“Every time I’m with you I feel like I’m trying to recall a dream I had last night but I just can’t remember what it was.”

You’re rambling. You only ramble when you’re overwhelmed and scared. 

“Chan, every time I’m with you it feels like some part of me is screaming to be let out.”

Your eyes open and you stare right through him. Chan feels his heart squeeze and almost stop completely. Despite your best efforts, the tears keep coming. 

“I was in a car accident a few months ago. I had such a severe concussion that I lost the last five years of my memory.” 

How is your voice so even?

Chan’s jaw clenches. Fuck fuck fuck. 

He knows. Yes, Y/N. He knows. Fuck, does he know! If anyone fucking knows, it’s him. 

“I—“ he starts but you cut him off. 

“Please,” you choke out and take a deep breath. “And since then I’ve been getting bits and pieces of my memory back. Sometimes they’re in large chunks, other times they just … come back.

“When I try to think about my life before the accident. There’s this… person there. Someone important. Someone so, so important that it physically hurts me to think about how I don’t know who it is. They’re a constant. And I love that they’re a constant.”

Your hand comes up to clutch at your jacket right over your chest. 

More tears come out of your eyes. The whites get more pink the more they flow. 

“But I know them. I do! I know them like I know the back of my hand. I-I know they love music. I know they take milk and sugar in their morning coffee. I know they don’t get enough sleep at night.”

Louder and louder your voice gets as you grow sadder and sadder. The sobs between thoughts wrack your chest. 

Him. You’re talking about him. 

Chan’s hands hold your face gently. His thumbs can’t keep up with how much you’re crying. 

Nothing has ever hurt this bad. 

You know him. You just don’t know it’s him. 

Nevertheless, you continue. “I remember that they have the most obnoxious phone alarm in the morning. I remember the passcode to their phone is 032518. I know that they have this one black sweatshirt that I love to steal even though it’s their favorite.”

Chan’s own eyes begin watering, he can’t stop it. You know him. You know him. You’ve remembered him this whole time and you didn’t even know it. 

You reach up and grab one of his hands and place it on your heart. Underneath your jacket, he can feel your heartbeat thudding violently against your chest. 

That same heartbeat he’s been dying to listen to while you play with his hair and tell him about your day. The heartbeat he would give anything to hear as he falls asleep. His throat gets tighter and tighter. 

“I’ve been surrounded by bits and pieces of a ghost and no one wants to help me. No one will tell me anything, and I’m so confused, Chan. I can tell that there’s something that everyone is avoiding telling me.”

A gust of wind picks up through the playground. It nips at his cheeks. It’s now he realizes how many tears are falling. 

A sob tears from his throat. 

You grip his hand tighter. 

“Tell me It’s you, Chan.” You’re begging. You’re actually begging while keeping his hand pressed against your heartbeat. 

“Tell me that you’re the person that I see in my dreams. Tell me you’re the one that loves when I draw hearts on the bathroom mirror after I shower. Please tell me that you’re the one that loves the smell of lemon cookies but can’t stand the taste.”

Oh, god, Y/N.

“Tell me that you’re the one that wanted to pick me up from the party that night but I said no.”

He breaks. 

He breaks right down in front of you. Every single ounce of self control leaves his body and he grabs you out of the swing, yanking you towards his body and holding you against his chest. The emotions that were being kept at bay come out like a raging storm. 

He falls backwards into the dirt, you come crashing into him. Your arms wrap around him at the same time he wraps around you. 

Chan buries his face in your neck, one hand on the back of your head and the other firmly around your waist. 

Wails leave his mouth as he holds you to him. They’re deep and come from the very depths of his soul. The wound that’s been open for months is bleeding.  

Every lonely night. Every dinner where he cooked for two instead of one by accident. Every long day he came back to an empty apartment. It’s all coming out. 

You’re crying just as hard as he is, both of your hands gripping the back of his hoodie like a lifeline. 

Your body in his arms is like a piece of a puzzle. Like he’s the dusty one sitting on his dining room table and you finally came in and finished it. 

Weeks and weeks of grief come crashing down on him. He can’t lie anymore. Not to you. Never to you. 

“It is me,” he cries into your neck, his hand running over the back of your head, feeling your hair slip through his fingers. It’s just like he remembers. “It’s all me, Y/N, It’s me.”

Your cries get louder, your body starts shaking in his arms. 

“I’ve missed you, Y/N,” he cries harder. “Fuck, I’ve missed you so much. I missed my girl. Oh my god, I’ve missed you.”

Chan can’t pull you close enough, he can’t get you close enough to his body. You shift around and press yourself into him. 

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I’m so sorry I didn’t pick you up that night. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you. I’m so sorry you got hurt.” 

Every ounce of grief is surfacing and clawing its way out of his throat. 

“I’m sorry I had to lie to you these last two weeks. I’m so sorry, Y/N. I was so broken without you. I broke the doctor’s orders. I needed to see you, Y/N.”

Despite how hard he has you gripped against him, you manage to pull away slightly. You sit up in his lap and look down at his red, tear soaked face. His eyes are puffy and his chest is sputtering with sobs. 

Both of your hands cup his cheeks and swipe away the tears the same way he did for you only a small bit ago. There’s a sad smile on your face. 

“Please don’t apologize, Channie, it’s okay. I forgive you.”

Channie. You called him Channie.

He cries harder and buries his face into your chest. Your arms immediately come around him and keep him there, fingers threading into his hair. 

You’re still crying. Both of you are. 

“I know you were just doing what you were told to,” you whisper into his hair. He can hear your voice reverberate in your chest. 

All he can do is cry. 

Months of build up led to this moment. Endless days of going through the motions just for the next to be as dull and tedious led to him falling into you in the middle of a playground at night. 

The only thing you do after that is hold him. You press kisses to the top of his head and whisper that you forgive him over and over. 

Each one adds a stitch to the wound, shutting it.

You’re finally in his arms. You’re finally back where you belong. 

“I missed you,” he says again, his cries dying down. He doesn't know what else to say. There's so much he wants to tell you, but everything dies on the tip of his tongue.

“I missed you too, Channie. My heart missed you so much.”

He sniffles and looks up at you. You pull your sweatshirt sleeve up and wipe away his stray tears gently. 

“Every day it just felt like something was missing. It was you. You were missing.”

Chan can’t find any words to say. He just stares at you. 

"I don't care how long it takes to remember, or even if I never do. I need you by my side for it, Chan."

His eyes sparkle at you for a moment but he leans up and captures your lips with his once more. It feels even better than the previous one.

The two of you relish in the contact, holding each other close and clinging to the closeness of it all.

It's taking everything within Chan not to start crying again. He's worried than any moment now, he'll wake up and this will all be some cruel dream.

But when you pull away from his lips, and he opens his eyes-- you're still there. You're still in his arms and smiling at him like you always did.

The burn is soothed.

“If you think about it,” you start with a tiny smile. “We’re lucky— in a way.”

His entire face screws up, even more confused. “Lucky?”

“How many people get to say they fell in love with the same person twice?”

Chan blinks twice before it feels like his entire body thaws. 

You and your glass half full attitude. He’ll never fucking get enough of it. 

His arms wrap around you again, bringing you down into his chest. You let out a breathy giggle 

“You’re never leaving my sight,” he breathes out. “Never again, baby, never.”

“I don’t ever want to, Channie. I never will.”

#skz x reader #stray kids x reader #bang chan x reader #chan x reader #bang chan x y/n #stray kids fanfic #skz fanfic #skz x y/n #bang chan #bang chan fanfic #stray kids fanfiction #bangchan fanfic #bangchan x reader

[tojikai]

SUNDERED

Pairing: Gojo x reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 ...+

Genre: Angst

tags/cw: angst, mean!gojo(kinda), babydaddy!gojo, babymomma!reader, motherhood, insecurities, arguments

word count: 3.2k

One woman’s life lesson is another woman’s better man.

❧ babydaddy!Gojo intentionally runs into you when you’re buying groceries just to show you his girlfriend. The woman was your classmate from high school. At the first meeting, she was shy and tried avoiding your gaze but Satoru just had to call you and ask something about your daughter. Completely unnecessary but he’s just that much of a jerk. Once was considered an accident. But when it happened two, then three times, you already know that you have to change your shopping schedule.

❧ babydaddy!Gojo picks up his daughter from your house an hour late, rubbing on your face that he overslept because he spent “some time” with his girlfriend last night. Distasteful and disrespectful, but you let it slide cause he seems happy. You don’t want to be a killjoy, right? You were never his girlfriend, to begin with. Just someone he got pregnant from a one-night stand. 

❧ babydaddy!Gojo posts pictures of his day out with his daughter online. His girlfriend carrying your kid as the three of them wear matching Mickey and Minnie Mouse headbands. You could only scroll past and continue your work to busy yourself. Maybe you should stop lurking around social media and just use your phone for important messages. Maybe you should also lose feelings for someone who never harbored genuine ones for you in the first place.

❧ babydaddy!Gojo always lets his girlfriend open the door for you when you’re picking up your daughter from his house on weekends. He leans back on the couch, watching you grab your daughter’s things, opening his arms to cuddle with his girlfriend before you even get to walk out the door. It made you feel pathetic and small but what can you do? There’s simply no place for you in that house.

❧ babydaddy!Gojo insists that you spend more time together for the sake of your daughter. You agreed to it and now, you had to sit in the back of the car with your daughter as he drives his girlfriend to work. It made you feel sick and nauseous that you were only able to spend half a day with them before you decided to go home and sleep the day away. Maybe when you wake up, you’ll find it in you to hate him.

“Mommy? Call her, love.” Gojo used a higher voice to encourage his daughter to call you. He knows that he was foul for what happened earlier. But what is he gonna do? He can’t reject his girlfriend’s request, plus it was only a ride. It’s not like she was with you for the whole day. Still, he doesn’t think it’s the reason why you left early. You might be feeling…tired. Even if it was Saturday yesterday and you have no work. You might still feel fatigued on Sunday, right?

“Mama!” The little girl mimicked pointing upstairs. Satoru sighed placing her little bag on a nearby chair as he made his way upstairs. He figured that if you’re still asleep, he could just wait for you to wake up and just look after his daughter here. You’re a single mother for 4 days a week, and on top of that, you also have work. You literally don’t have time to rest. He told himself that he needs to stop messing around just to get a reaction from you. 

Reaching your room, Satoru knocked on the door three times, calling out your name when you didn’t answer. “Wait a second.” You voiced out from the other side, “I’m just gonna call my mom, can you wait for her?” You suppressed a cough at the end of the sentence but it didn’t go unnoticed by Satoru. “Are you sick? I could take her back to my house, we’ll look after her until you feel better. ” The suggestion made your stomach churn. They get to play house with your kid and here you are, being miserable.

You shook your head, realizing how bitter you sounded. She wasn’t unkind in any way to your baby but something in you hurts when you think of them giving your daughter the family experience that you cannot provide. You and Satoru tried to work things out but you just can’t get on the same page. Instead of trying to be better for you and your daughter, he decided to fuck around and date someone else instead. 

You wouldn’t say that your name was clean. What with a couple of threats such as finding someone who could act right. You just didn’t think that he’d really leave. It hurt but now you’re getting yourself used to the feeling. Maybe he just couldn’t act right with you. Because why is he so good with his girlfriend now? She tamed him, as he once boasted to you during a fight.

“I’m stuck with a child that I have with you, but not with you.” He pointed out, leaving a searing pain in your chest. “There’s no way I’m letting that happen.” Tears were starting to form in your eyes as the words come out of his mouth. How could he say something so cruel to you, the mother of his child? All you did was tell him that his girlfriend was getting kind of too much after she told you what to do with your child. And now he’s making you the villain.

“I just told her that—” You tried to explain, voice starting to shake. “If that’s all you did, she wouldn’t come to me crying, Y/N.” You just can’t believe that you’re fighting over this. You already have so much to think about and now this, you also have to be cautious about his girl. “She told you herself, I just didn’t want her telling me how to raise my child!” 

“Of course, she wouldn’t tell me that you’re being harsh to her. Unlike you, she’s actually kind and considerate of other people’s feelings.” You looked down, letting out a strangled sob escape your throat before quickly wiping away the forming tears in your eyes as you turn away from him. Why was he never this defensive of you? He didn’t even try to fight for you when his girlfriend convinced him to take your daughter with them on a trip. Without your permission.

And now he’s talking as if you’ve been nothing but a disturbance in his relationship with her. Everything's just unfair. Yet, you just let it slide because you wanted nothing but peace for your baby. “I don’t want to have this conversation with you anymore, Satoru. You’ve said enough.” You sniffed, walking to your daughter’s room to check if the noises woke her up. Satoru was left standing there, processing all the things that he said.

He watched you disappear into the dark hallway of your apartment, shoulders shaking with your head hung low. Even if he can’t see your face, he can tell that you’re crying and it made him feel like shit. He went overboard, didn’t he? “Fuck.” He threw his keys on the couch, running his fingers through his hair. He wanted to apologize but at the same time, he wanted to prove his point. His girlfriend was only trying to help and you took it the wrong way.

At that time, Satoru thought that maybe she was right. You’re just getting kinda jealous that she could spend time with your daughter and Satoru more and now you’re being too sensitive, letting out your irritation on her. She said that it was a natural feeling for a mother to feel that way but Satoru can’t let you treat his girlfriend like shit just because of your pettiness and jealousy. You have to learn to adjust and accept that some things are gonna be the way they are because of your setup. 

As for you, you felt hurt. Neglected even when you know that you’re not supposed to receive as much attention, much less protection from him. His priority is your child, but not you. You have no choice but to talk and work everything out with them for the sake of your daughter. You know that you could start dating someone of your choice but you wished that it would be that easy. You just want to focus on your daughter and if you’re gonna find someone, you want them to love her as much as you do. 

You wonder what you lacked that couldn’t soften him the way he did to her. You started to think that you’re the problem and that is why you couldn’t fix him as easily as she did. 

You stood up, opening the door for him seeing your two-year-old, reach out to you. “Mama’s sick, love, sorry.” You covered your mouth, blinking away the heaviness in your eyes. Satoru watched you pack your daughter’s things. “If you’re gonna be busy, just tell me. I’ll just contact Mom. She can be with you for a few days, just until my cold is gone.” You murmured, counting the diapers to put in her baby bag. 

You don’t want to be away from her, but letting her stay with you when you’re like this puts her at risk and that’s the last thing you want. You can’t stand seeing your daughter through pain and you’re pretty sure it’s the same for his dad. Begrudgingly, you placed the bag in front of Satoru before reaching over for her favorite toy. You smiled at how she squealed when she saw it.

“You know we’re never too busy to take care of her. Just rest, so you’ll get better soon.” You swallowed, nodding your head slowly as you thought of what else they should take. “Yeah, I’ll be picking her up.” You kept your distance from her, sitting down as you felt your head spinning a bit. “Do you...do you have medicine, though? I could get some if you want,” Satoru can tell that you’re really sick and despite his situation with you, he can’t just let you be when you’re like this. You’re still the mother of his child. 

“No, it’s fine. I have some here. Just take care of her.” Your voice was hoarse and your daughter was starting to reach out for you again as if sensing that something was wrong so you urged Satoru to get going. “Be good, okay?” You waved as she watched you with her curious eyes but waved back, nonetheless. You wouldn’t admit it but you feel envious that they could be happy together with her. You’re afraid that one day she’ll prefer being with them over you.

As for your feelings for Satoru, you hated thinking or talking about it. You’re obviously in love with him, but you wouldn’t acknowledge that yourself, either. You fought too much, you hurt each other too much. Other than that, there’s no point for your feelings now that he has someone he really loves and truly cares about. 

You never experienced the boyfriend-girlfriend stage with Satoru. It’s like one day, you just woke up and you’re already parents. You can’t blame him for not having real feelings for you. You do your best to be as civil to them as you can be but sometimes his girlfriend’s just out of bounds. And after a couple of painful fights with Satoru regarding her, it just became too much for you. 

You’re just tired of feeling like a wedge to someone’s healthy relationship. That’s how Satoru makes you feel and you just can’t take any ache from that. 

Another thing that you deny to yourself is the hope that you might fix this all. There are always what-ifs in your mind, and you would never tell Satoru about them. He’ll probably laugh at you and your threats that you’re gonna be with someone who truly makes you happy. You would never destroy his relationship just because yours didn’t work. If you have to cover your eyes, look away and pretend to be deaf every time they’re around you, you would. 

You often think about what it would be like if he settled down with his girl; if they decided to get married and have a family of their own. You don’t want your daughter to feel left out. You don’t want her to feel like she doesn’t have her own family in the middle of them. You also wondered if you’d have moved on by then. You hope so. You don’t want to be this pitiful and heartbroken forever.

------------------------------

After a couple of days, you’re finally feeling well. You got up early and sent Satoru a text that you’ll be picking up your baby in a few hours. You missed her and her giggles so much. The house was clean during the past days but you very much prefer it to be messy, as long a she’s there. You’ll never mind getting up in the middle of the night or waking up extra early for her. 

Arriving at Satoru’s residence, you rang the doorbell as you waited patiently for someone to open the gate for you. You were hoping that it would be your baby girl, extending her short, chubby arms to you but instead, it was Satoru’s girlfriend. “Come in, she’s still playing inside.” She smiled at you, opening the metal door wider. “Thanks, I messaged Satoru that I was coming to pick her up. Is she ready?” You asked her as you walked to their front door.

“She is, but she’s kinda fussy about it. Satoru bought her a huge playpen and she just wouldn’t get out of it. She’s enjoying a lot.” She tucked a hair behind her ear and you can’t help but feel conscious of how you look. Opening the door, you were welcomed by the sight of Satoru lying down with his daughter in the said enclosure. She was fiddling with a toy as they watched on the big screen. 

Her favorite toy was at the corner, and for some reason, it left a pang in your chest.

“Sweetie, someone’s here for you.” You hated the way she phrased it but you know that she doesn’t mean for it to be offensive or rude to you. The little girl looked up with her binky in her mouth, blinking before smiling at you. “Oh, you’re already here. She wouldn’t let me out of the playpen.” Satoru explained, probably thinking that you didn’t appreciate that it had to be his girlfriend opening the door for you. 

“It’s alright. I don’t mind.” This place always made you feel like you’re an outsider. Probably because you are and it didn’t help that they’re making you feel like it. “Mama!” She waved at you, pointing at the screen as she sat down. “That’s a nice show, love. Maybe we could just continue watching it at home?” You know that she doesn’t have a big playpen there. The screen isn’t that big, either. She suddenly lied back down, whimpering as she kicked her tiny feet. You felt like telling her that you’d work hard to buy her that too.

She doesn’t want to go home yet and that’s what you feared. 

“Baby, mom’s here. She missed you.” Satoru called out but to no avail. He came to lift her up, trying to see if she was just being too lazy to get up. Her eyes were glued to the television as she sucked on her pacifier. She was too into it, pointing the show to everyone before smiling at you. Oh, how you missed that smile. “Let’s go, now.” You cooed at her, softly clapping your hands.

When you tried to reach for her as Satoru leans her close to you, she started wiggling around. “Down, Mama! Wait.” Her cute language never ceases to make your heart swell with joy despite the fact that she’s trying to get away from you. She runs away, stopping to look around before going to Satoru’s girlfriend and hugging her leg. She was in awe when she picked up your daughter. 

So… she’s who your daughter’s referring to by…Mama. You could almost hear your heart shatter at the realization. Since when did she start calling her Mama?

“You don’t wanna go home yet? But Mom’s here.” She talked in her baby voice and you don’t know if you’re gonna be happy that she treats your daughter really well or jealous that she came running to her when she don’t want to do something. Satoru went up to them, leaving you standing a few meters away. You don’t like what you’re seeing aside from your daughter.

“It’s not good to ignore Mama.” Satoru tapped her nose with his finger which she cutely swatted away, eliciting a chuckle from him. “Y/N, I was thinking… maybe I could just, uh, take her home later in the day. This playpen just arrived yesterday and you know how kids are…” He laughed nervously, struggling to find a nice way to say that your daughter won’t be coming home yet.

“Yesterday, I was joking about giving her playmates and she was so excited, she was running around.” His girlfriend giggled as she shared. It was a simple story yet it was a thorn to your heart. Why does it seem like your every nightmare is coming to life? You just smiled at her, understanding that she was talking about giving your daughter siblings. Satoru was silent, but you didn’t dare look at his face. You know that it’s in their future plans and you don’t have to see him smiling about it too. 

“That’s adorable..” You don’t know what else to say, so you just nodded your head slowly, blinking quickly so as to bring yourself back to reality. His place was huge compared to your apartment. The playpen looks so much more comfortable than the crib she has at your place. She has new toys and a mom and dad by her side. So, now she doesn’t want to leave. Suddenly, you can feel the weakness in your knees from when you were sick starting to come back. You cleared your throat as you straightened yourself.

“J-just take her home later. I, uh, bought something for her.” You lied, knowing that you still have to go looking for something you can buy for your lovely child. You wanted to snatch her away from Satoru’s girlfriend, her other mom, but the giggle flowing out of her lips are too precious for you to ruin; the smile on her face as she tickled her tummy was too priceless. Look at them, you told yourself as you started to feel farther and farther away from their little world. They’re a picture of a happy family. 

“I’ll see you later, honey…” You whispered, giving her head a pat as she looked up at you with her big, cerulean eyes. You didn’t wait for any of them to walk you out, you just let your feet take you out of their home, not daring to look back for the fear of breaking down. Your fingers tremble along with your lips and the tiny droplets of rain felt like acid on your skin. Maybe what they say was true. We experience people differently.

One woman’s life lesson is another woman’s better man.

NEXT

#angst #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo angst #gojo x you #gojo satoru angst #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen angst #jjk #jjk x reader

[simpjaes]

paid in & paid off

Jay made the mistake of paying his best friend to date you, it was a big mistake. He only did it to get you away from a different man who wasn’t treating you right, and because he couldn’t do it himself. The fact that his best friend breaks the rules and decides to catch feelings drives him up a fucking wall. Why? Because Jake should know better than to go as far as sleeping with his girl, or rather...erm, his step-sister.

 ៸៸៸ sim jake x afab reader | park jongseong x afab reader 

 ៸៸៸ minors dni

 ៸៸៸ wordcount: 30k

 ៸៸៸ genre: college break au, summer setting , smut, stepcest 

 ៸៸៸ content tags: angst, smut, fluff, more dominant jay, inexperienced jake, infidelity(?), jealous and possessive behavior, risky sex, jay is mean, jake is a total loser posing as a dude who knows how to pick up girls. reader has hair that can be grabbed and pulled during smut scenes.

 ៸៸៸ !WARNINGS!: dub-con, step-cest, jay is a narcissist, manipulation, possessive behavior, use of degrading names such as: dumb, stupid, whore, and slut. i am not responsible for your inability to consume the right content for you. 

 ៸៸៸ side characters: sunghoon as your ex boyfriend, heeseung as your ex boyfriend’s best friend 

 ៸៸៸ a/n: thank u for 1k followers <3 lets just call this one a late new years gift and a thank u for indulging me! btw, this isn’t edited!

៸៸៸ nsfw tags under cut

៸៸៸ nsfw tags: jake is a boob guy, big dick jake, thick dick jay, degradation, finger fucking, doggy style, mating press, unprotected sex, hair pulling, pussy eating, crying, being pinned down, but also!!!, soft and passionate fucking, riding, marking out, blowjob/deepthroating

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Jay knew his dad was quick to love, but quick to marry wasn’t really something he was expecting. It took the span of a single semester for him to not only learn that his father had a new girlfriend, but that he was eloping with her, meaning, Jay would be coming home for the summer to an entirely different home life.

He knew nothing of this woman and barely even knew what her name was but it’s not that big of a deal to him, considering he’s out of the house anyway save for holidays and summer breaks. It’s not like he’s going to have to deal with it too often. Afterall, he’s an adult, and so is his father. If anything, the man deserves to feel some love after sending Jay away to one of the best colleges around. Why does it matter that the marriage happened so quickly? 

It doesn’t. 

It’s much the same for you, if not the exact same thought process on the way your mother calls you and dotes on her new husband as if she’s one of your best friends calling you after a hook-up. You’re even a bit excited to head home once finals are over to see your much-missed mother and her new husband. 

Your mother is more detailed in her descriptions of the new life though. Her husband is tall, he’s handsome, he has money, he has a son with the highest GPA on his campus. You weren’t too inclined to process the information at the time though, considering she had called you dead in the middle of crunch time for finals. 

All you know is, your mother is happy and you’re happy for her. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“Why the fuck are you here?” Jay asks upon returning home and walking through the front door.

The first thing he noted was that there is a girl sitting on his father’s couch, and she’s far too young to be his new wife. Upon her turning to face him, presumably to see who is walking into the house, he notes that it’s you. 

“No fucking way.” You start, standing up and brushing off your legs of imaginary dust. “You’re the son my mom mentioned?”

Jay looks at you with a bit of shock unable to be hidden within his expression.

“I have a fucking sister? And it’s you, of all people?” Jay huffs in an annoyed way, ultimately because, what kind of shitty luck in life is he set up for? 

The only reason this is his reaction is because, well, the two of you have history. Kind of. To him, at least, probably not to you. 

He remembers the first time he ever saw you, bright eyed and bushy tailed during his freshman year on campus. He thought you were pretty, but it’s not like that thought would go anywhere further. It’s the fact that he found everyone beautiful on campus, solely because he knew he must have been surrounded by people as smart as he is, or perhaps as well off financially as his father is. 

The day he decided that you’re really pretty was during a gen ed class that year. A class that he really could have done with his eyes closed if he’s being honest, but still, his eyes stayed open due to being paired with you for a simple single-class project. Where the two of you were to separate from the other pairs and come up with some sort of argument on a whim regarding a given topic. 

You were great at arguing, even better than him perhaps. 

And from that moment forward, he noticed you more and more through the semesters as you grew as students, despite only having one other class together during that time. 

He noted during that single other class period he shared with you some year and a half into his educational journey that you were one of the only students who didn’t boast about their GPA, which led him to believe you’re probably a little bit dumber than the other students. 

He also noted that you’d hang around the hockey team a lot as time went on, specifically Sunghoon and his friend Heeseung. Those two were rowdy, loud, and always threw the best parties. Or so he’s heard, it’s not like Jay ever showed up to them or anything. His GPA was far too important to not prioritize. 

Eventually, he’d end up noting that you would always be all over Sunghoon. A clear indication that he should keep his eyes to himself, especially with the way Sunghoon would occasionally make eye contact with him after eying his presumed girlfriend for too long. 

Dating Sunghoon though? Yeah, you’re probably a little more than a little bit dumb.

Still, it was just a little college crush that would never turn into anything further. He didn’t need more than the ability to glance at you from time to time and remember how well you argued in that first semester of college. After all, there are tons of other pretty girls on campus too, some that are also probably far more intelligent and not wasting their time on the meat-heads that barely keep their GPA up enough to attend the school. 

That’s why he’s shocked to walk into his father’s house, happy to be home, to find none other than you sitting on that couch. 

And now you’re standing up, facing him, and looking at him for probably the first time in several semesters. He’s actually a little shocked that you remember him at all. 

“Did–” You pause, looking at him confused. “Did your dad not tell you?”

Jay slowly shakes his head, dropping his bag and slipping off his shoes. 

“Probably didn’t think it was too important.” He finally says, shrugging and stretching his arms out above his head after the long drive. 

“It’s pretty important, actually.” You laugh awkwardly, having just gotten to your new home yourself, waiting for your mother to come out of her shower. “This is fucking awkward.”

Jay nods and then walks past you. 

“Hey wait, where are you going?” You ask, confused by the atmosphere in the room. 

“To my room?” He says back in a sarcastic tone, internally conflicted over the fact that his father forced him into crush-hood with someone he is now related to by marriage. 

Still, that’s something he will keep to himself. After all, it was just a small crush that never went away due to not having a reason to stop thinking you’re pretty.

He has a reason now, and he’s still happy to be home despite the awkwardness that’s now living beside him. If anything, he can fill his free time with his old friends rather than becoming friends with you. And he does, entering his room, locking it, and immediately sending a text to his long-time friend that he hasn’t seen since last summer. 

Speaking of said long-time friend. Jake grew up down the street from Jay and as expected, chose to stay home with his family rather than travel for college. He loved them too much to leave them, plus the college here was good. Not as good as the one Jay goes to, but still a great accomplishment nonetheless. 

Jake has a perfect GPA, a perfect family, perfect hair, and a very imperfect way of living up to his own accomplishments. 

For instance, not going with Jay to university despite having a high chance of making it in. He didn’t even try, didn’t even fucking consider it. Jake is the type who is both entirely lost in the world and one hundred percent okay with it. He doesn’t know who he is, who he wants to be, or what to do about it outside of following the general rules of life. 

Be born, learn to talk, learn to walk, go to school, go to college, work, die. 

Still, he is Jay’s best friend, which is why he is the first person he texts upon returning home. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

The first dinner with your new family felt strange at best. You have a brother figure now, a father figure, and your mother is smiling for reasons that aren’t you or her new favorite show on tv. It’s both nice and insanely weird to experience sitting at a dinner table with more than just yourself. 

Things were always casual with your mother. Dinner is whenever, eat wherever. But as you look at her, you see her trying to fill a role for the handsome man she’s now married to. You don’t dislike the guy but as her daughter, who she raised almost entirely on her own, you’re cautious about him. 

And looking at Jay? It’s a little bit strange for you. He was so quiet on campus, which is a stark contrast to his loud and vibrant father. The two of them are still alike in some way when it comes to their ice cold stare that can’t be as icy as it appears. 

You remember working with Jay maybe once or twice throughout your semesters, and he was very well spoken. To the point that it almost felt as if you were working directly with a professor rather than a college student. He was clean back then, and somewhat brooding in his own way. It still rings true today if you remind yourself of his attitude upon meeting you in the living room. 

“Jongseong,” His father clears his throat with his son’s name, a smile forming as he places his cutlery to the side. “How did your finals go?”

Jay perks up at the ability to talk about himself and his accomplishments as he looks to your mother. He smiles at her, and you can’t help but think he’s putting on some sort of act. He never smiled too often when you did see him. 

You snort. 

“Jongseong?” You say, laughing at the way his father is so formal. “I thought your name was Jay?” 

Jay was mid-sentence when you so rudely interrupted him and his shiny GPA, as he shot his head to you. 

“Okay,” He says shortly. “What’s your GPA then?”

His father and your mother share a quick glance at each other, seemingly worried that the two of you appear to already be acting like siblings that do not get along. 

“Pfft,” You snort, rolling your eyes. “My GPA is just fine, Jongseong.” 

You’re just kidding around, but you can’t help but press when you note his, almost immediate, annoyance. Which to you is a bit too uptight if you’re being honest.

“So what is it then?” He glares, huffing out through his nose. “Because mine is a weighted 4.7.” 

It’s the fact that you already hate that he’s challenging you. You had no idea that his GPA was so high already, revealing that he must take extra honors classes and advanced courses by this point. Probably making straight A’s in most of them, if not all of them. 

You swallow around your spoon, your cheeky smirk falling almost instantly. 

“Point taken.” You roll your eyes. 

“What is your GPA?” He asks again with a smug smile. 

“I told you, my GPA is fine.” You argue. 

Jay thinks you must have fallen off of your ability to argue, because you’re really not putting up a fight like you did during that first semester. 

“Doesn’t seem fine.” He laughs, grabbing his cup and glaring at you from over it. “Probably just hiding that you’re failing,  just like that boyfriend of yours.”

You pause, actually mad now. 

“Excuse me?” You stare at him, dropping your spoon and clenching your fist. 

“Jongseong!” His father raises his voice at the family mishap, taking your mother’s hand on top of the table. 

Both you and Jay shoot your heads to him.

“That is your sister, don’t be rude.” His father says in a booming voice, reminding Jay that he can’t be petty like this to you. 

Despite wanting to. Mad that he still thinks you’re pretty even with the new discovery, even more mad that he enjoyed pushing your buttons just now. 

What’s worse is the way he glances at you and sees you snicker at his scolding before flinching as if your mother kicked you from under the table. 

He grimaces at the situation, at you, and then smiles at his father. 

“Sorry,” He says, scratching his forehead before grabbing his cup again. “Would have been nice to know I was coming home to a sister though.” 

His dad’s eyes widened before narrowing at his son, annoyed that his own flesh and blood is acting like such a child over this matter. 

“Jongseong–” He warns, and then your mother is speaking up.

“Wait, you didn’t even tell him that I have a daughter?”

The apologetic look that takes over your new step-father’s face is interesting because, honestly, it is a weighted question. You’d like to know why he didn’t tell Jay too, then again, maybe it wasn’t intentional. 

With that, you watch as Jay stands up and leaves the kitchen, leaving his plate there presumably for someone else to clean and can’t help but do the same.

You can see that familiar look of hurt on your mother’s face and feel it best that you sink away into your own room, which still needs to be set up and rearranged anyway. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

A week and a half since you’ve been to your new home, a week and a half of awkward family dinners, a week and a half of being shunned by your new step brother, and a week and a half of your boyfriend not texting you back.

Safe to say, this summer is starting off on the wrong foot for you and you’re already wanting it to be over so that you can at least focus on schoolwork, rather than the fact that it feels like everyone on this earth must hate you. 

You sit in your room once again after an awkward dinner, hearing your mother and Jay’s father talk quietly in the living room about being in love or something, you’re not sure, you don’t really care. 

At this point, being here rather than your mother’s old house just makes it worse. None of your friends are close enough to just up and visit you, Sunghoon certainly isn’t going to come un-bore you, and it appears that the only form of entertainment you can focus on is your own self-doubt at this moment. 

Why not go hang out with Jay? At least pushing his buttons would be more fun than wallowing in boredom and self-pity. Surely it would be more fun, surely he’d probably have some fun too, since he seems so fond of pissing you off already.

Up you go, onto your socked feet as you head for the door and just across the hallway to his cracked door. 

You don’t even knock before stepping inside as if it’s your own room.

You note that he jumps, startled at your presence. That split second of seeing him before, from behind, it seemed like he was quite focused on his pc, but his little surprised jump leads you to believe he was a bit too focused on it. 

“Sup bro,” You smile, flopping down on his bed in a grand entrance. “Watching porn?” 

Jay rolls his eyes, closing out his tabs because, well, he was gonna but hadn’t yet opened the website or closed his door. 

“Why are you in my room?” He asks, not turning to face you yet.

“I’m bored.” You admit, eyes looking at how messy his bedroom is. Posters on the wall, clothes thrown all around, abandoned dumbbells lying in the corner.

 If anything, you’re a little shocked that Jay is so messy. He appeared so clean cut and well-put together back before you were forced into close proximity with him, his room is a huge mismatch in your head right now. Like, wow, he has personality? His clothes aren’t all boring tones of white, beige, and gray? He likes music? Arguably pretty decent music if the posters are anything to go by.

“Your room is disgusting.”

“Then leave.”

You pause, sitting yourself up and staring at the back of his head.

“Why are you so fucking rude?” You ask, glaring a hole through the mess of hair on his head. 

“Because you’re incapable of having an intelligent discussion and still try to talk to me.” 

God, he’s so robotic when he speaks to you, it’s so disheartening. So emotionless, so boring.

“Jongseong.” You say, mostly to try and elicit some type of emotion out of him. 

He swivels his chair around to look at you, just as annoyed as you expected him to be.

“Stop calling me that.” He warns, leaning forward and narrowing his eyes. “Why are you bothering me right now?”

You shrug, eyes looking up and around his cluttered room again before sighing. 

“I’m bored,” You try to say nonchalantly. “And lonely now that my mom is too busy with your dad.”

Jay tilts his head at you in curiosity, almost seeming interested in your issues before smirking. 

“Yeah, well,” He chuckles, turning back to his computer. “What makes you think I’m not busy?”

You stand to your feet, huffing in defeat. 

“Listen,” You say, nearly tripping on a neglected shirt on the ground and grabbing his chair to force him to turn around. You see that it’s annoying him, which is great. “We should at least try to get along.”

Jay stays silent, looking past you and to his skewed bedroom door before sighing. 

“So, I guess you’re not as stupid as you seem then?” He offers, looking up at you from his chair with a stupid smirk on his face. Seemingly proud of how much he intends to talk his shit at you. “Smartest thing i’ve ever heard you say.”

God, he’s so fucking annoying. Why does he act like that? So pompous with such an ego. Which is really pathetic when you think about it and all of the times you never once noticed him on campus. Sure, there were a few times that you did, but what gives him the right to act so high and mighty? No one even knows who he is save for the professors who deal with his constant ass kissing.

“It’s embarrassing for you to think that your high GPA is all that's worthy of a person. You’re so stuck up, you know that, Jongseong?” You argue immediately, backing away and sitting right back on his bed. “It’s no wonder you’re such an asshole, you should go get your dick sucked or something because this is ridiculous.”

Jay pauses. 

“I’ve had my dick sucked plenty.” He laughs, because he’s not lying. “Still, sex doesn’t make me that dumb.”

The way he looks down on you is demeaning and offensive, if you’re being honest. And somehow, you’re shocked by those words, like entirely floored that he’d even say such a thing to you. You told him to get his dick sucked to loosen up that up-tight shitty personality, not because you wanted to fucking know that he’s not the virgin he parades around looking like. 

Still, you’re floored that he’s focusing on that single aspect of your comment. Simmering on it, insulting you for having sex. Calling you cock-stupid basically. 

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” 

“You think half the school doesn’t see you practically ride Sunghoon in the hallways?” He rolls his eyes. 

“Maybe you’d have a brain in that little head of yours if you weren’t too busy letting him fuck it out of you.”

You lean back in disgust at him, reminding yourself that not even Sunghoon wants to talk to you right now. Sad that he’s almost right about it. Sunghoon does fuck you stupid, and you probably are fairly obvious about it considering there have been more times than you can count that he’s been just as hot and bothered mid-class day with you.

That doesn’t matter now though, considering he won’t fucking text you back. 

“Well, maybe you’d feel better knowing that I’m about to break up with him.” You huff. “Again. So maybe then, you’ll stop basing my entire existence on the fact that I get fucked like any normal person.”

Jay stops for a moment, seemingly pleased with what you just said. 

“Hmm,” He hums out, looking at you with a less annoyed gaze. “Maybe he hasn’t rendered you completely incompetent then.”

And with that, you’re done. You stand to your feet with a scoff and immediately head for his door. Only to bring Jay’s attention further to you. He presses your buttons on purpose, of course, but it’s fun for him. It’s not like you weren’t doing the same thing. He really thought you’d at least fight him a little more in this argument, and he finds himself confused as to why you’re actually offended. 

Soft, gullible, and stupid?

“Wait, hold on.” Jay says, noting the way you stop. “What did he do?” 

Of course he’s nosy, of course he wants the details, you think. And of course you’re going to stay and give them to him considering your mother is too wrapped up with someone else to hear about your relationship problems anyway. 

“I don’t know.” You give in immediately, prancing back on his bed as if you’re in a girl’s room and hugging one of his pillows. Which, mind you, somehow smells good despite the room looking like it should smell like dried sweat and cum. You’re pleased with the aroma as you breathe in to continue.  “He hasn’t texted me back since the last day of class, and I already know what that means.”

Jay leans forward in interest, for the first time listening to you rather than complaining about you. If anything, he’s invested in the break up solely because his past-self did find himself a little jealous that you wasted your time on such a man. 

“What does it mean, then?” He asks. 

“He’s probably with that girl he was with last summer.” You admit, voice cracking only a little bit. “He promised he wouldn’t but this would be the third time if it’s true.”

Jay was going to say something, but you cut him off.

“I broke up with him last summer too, and just a few days before the semester started he called me and begged for me to take him back. Something about how it won’t happen again this time, that he promises he will block her for good, and that he’s sorry.” 

Man, you are dumb. Which is a shame, because even for someone like you he doesn’t think that’s very fair. He knew Sunghoon was an asshole by his appearance alone, but like, cheating? On someone that’s as hot as you? With a body like yours? Really? 

“Huh.” He says, pinching the sides of his chin as he thinks. 

“Last time, he didn’t even respond when I broke up with him. I was finally feeling better when he decided to come back.”

“Then, just don’t let him this time?” 

You sit for a moment, thinking about if you’d have the ability to actually stay away from Sunghoon. He’s hot, and good fucking lord is he good at pleasuring you. Part of you was okay with the kind of, like, fling thing you had going on with him. The first two times he ignored you for someone else hurt, but you’re not hurting as much now.

You’re just annoyed now, because if Sunghoon would just be honest, maybe the two of you could work out something. How come he is rendered single during the summer but you’re not? After all, if you so much as mention another guy to him he gets mad. Hell, he even argued with Heeseung in front of you simply for hugging you around the waist rather than over the shoulders. 

“You know,” You start, trying to come up with some sort of solution. “I always think I won’t, but he always says the right things to make me believe him, even just in the moment.” You pause to take a breath in. “Things are so good during the semester, then he’s just gone when we are away.”

Jay thinks hard about this, and even harder about the crush he had on you previously, knowing that it’s still there despite trying to pretend it isn't. Knowing that he’s glad you and Sunghoon are in this back and forth. He’s happy you’re going to leave him, and not entirely because he’s cheating on you.

It’s partially because he doesn’t want to have to look at you with him. As wrong as that is. It didn’t hurt too bad before he knew you. After all, you were just a pretty girl to look at. But now? Seeing you around the house? Knowing your daily routine? Forced to be close to you and loving it despite pretending he hates it? 

It’s sad, really, that Jay immediately became more interested in you the moment he knew it was not only against the rules, but morally wrong. Still, ss dumb as you are, he knows he’d treat you right. 

And you know, if he could, he would. He would try and swoop in considering he’s around you during your breaks and has the full ability to be there on campus as well, unlike Sunghoon. Never would either of you have to be apart from each other. 

There are several issues with this though. Obviously. And he has to keep reminding himself each time he thinks about it. He doesn’t fucking see you as his step-sister. You’re still just that pretty girl with the pretty lips, who wastes her body on men who don’t want her. You’re not his type at all, and yet? You’re entirely the girl of his dreams.

Logically, he clearly isn’t your type either, if Sunghoon is anything to go by. 

By marriage, he is now your brother. By marriage, he is now barred from openly glancing at you and your body. By fucking marriage, Jay is forced into a guilty mindset of wanting to disobey every moral direction in his head involving you.

The good news? By marriage, he is now obligated to protect you as your brother. So, is it really a taboo that he’s happy to see you think about leaving Sunghoon? Of course it isn’t.

And he’s gonna keep telling himself that. 

“Then maybe, since you’re away from him and he’s out doing his thing, you should–” He internally panics for a second, knowing he’s talking too quickly to stop himself. “Maybe you should go out and have some fun too.”

He immediately regrets it upon saying it. Why the fuck would he insinuate you should go out and fuck more dudes who would probably treat you just like Sunghoon does? He has to think fast, and he has to think now.

You watch him, amazed by the fact that he isn’t arguing with you. He’s actually helping you, and offering some pretty solid advice. 

“Like, I should just cheat on him?” You stare. 

“Well, no. You’re breaking up with him, aren’t you?”  He continues, tuning out to what you’re saying and tuning in to his head in order to figure out how to bar you from actually heeding the advice. 

You take a moment before nodding, it’s not like this would be anything new to Sunghoon anyway. 

“I’m sure you’ll meet someone here that’ll be better.” He finally adds to his advice, entirely half-assing it because you’d better not. Unless that person is him.  “Perhaps you wouldn’t want Sunghoon back by the time fall semester starts.”

And with that confirmation, you smile at him. 

“Aw,” You say snidely. “Look at us, getting along and shit.”

He stares forward, narrows his eyes just like before, and then turns back to his PC. 

“Now get out.” 

And for the first time, you don’t argue. Feeling a little better about joining his family now. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“A hundred dollars a month.”  Jay emphasizes in a hushed tone to Jake. “Just hear me out, she’s hot.”

“Jay, that’s your sister.”

“Okay? Are you going to do it or not?” 

“Make it two hundred.” Jake counters, leaning close and staring his best friend in the face. “I gotta say, it’s a little weird that you’re paying me to do this. I’m only just finding out you have a sister, dude.”

Jay keeps his face calm, trying to appear like this is simply to help out his lonely step sister. In reality, he’s doing this solely so he knows what is happening with your relationship status, and he is absolutely praying for Sunghoon’s downfall. 

Plus, if he pays someone to date you, it makes up for the fact that he can’t give it a shot himself. Jake can easily get your focus off of Sunghoon for even just a little while, he’s sure of it and considering he’s his best friend, he knows Jake wont cross any boundaries and keep this to strictly business. After all, Jake can just break up with you by the time you’re over Sunghoon, and who will be there to comfort you?

Exactly. Jay will be there. 

Essentially, your step-brother will have full control over your love life for a mere two hundred dollars a month. 

All so you don’t go out and actually meet someone else. All so he doesn’t have the jealousy in the back of his brain nagging at him. All so he can, kind of, in his head, keep you to himself. 

“Well, to be fair –” Jay offers to Jake, noting how long his hair has gotten. “I’m just finding out I have a step sister too. But listen, she’s got this asshole going back and forth with her and I can’t let him keep doing it.”

“So, what you’re saying is that, you’re paying me to get your sister’s mind off of him?” Jake raises a brow, stunned by the fact that he hasn’t seen Jay all year and this is the first thing they talk about upon meeting up again. “Why me?”

Jay smiles.

“You’re my best friend, anyone else would cross a boundary. Just date her ‘til she moves on or something, I don’t know. I don’t want to watch her be taken advantage of by someone like him.” He explains, as if he’s not trying to take advantage of the situation himself.

Jake nods, not really needing to think too much about how good of a deal this is. 

“What makes you think I could pull her though? You just said that she’s hot. Since when can I pull hot girls?”

“Well, you probably can’t,” Jay laughs, “But you could probably play the part pretty well if you act like your GPA is garbage and like, i don’t know? Act cool? She seems to like the idiot edgy guys.”

Jay is pleased with the way Jake instantly accepts, and doesn’t focus on the fact any longer that he called his step sister hot, or at least, until he does.

“Okay. Act cool, maybe paint my nails–” Jake’s eyes light up. “Oh! Do you think she’s into, like, band guys? I can pull out your old guitar and say you’re teaching me to play so I can get bitches.”

Jay smacks him across the head for already acting about as dumb as you’d probably like, then actually considers the fact that it’s a great idea.

“Wait, yeah actually.” Jay smiles. “Would probably be best if she doesn’t know we are friends too. Use that as an excuse to come over and hangout and stuff.” He trails off momentarily before Jake speaks again.

“So, is she actually hot though?” 

Jay freezes, because yeah. But he really can’t just say that again considering the circumstances. Plus, why the fuck should Jake care? He only said it before as a means to convince him to take the deal.

“You’ll like her.” He avoids saying anything else, ignoring the feeling in his gut that he knows Jake is going to be all over you the second he gets the chance. “Just–listen, there are rules involved in this.” Jay finally warns, tapping his wallet.

“Rules? Okay, go on.” 

“For two hundred a month, take her out. Just dates. Talk to her and hang out with her, I don’t know.” He starts, waving his hands around as if he’s trying to think about what he’s saying, and ultimately, beating around the bush. He notes quite quickly though, how Jake looks at him as if he just stated the obvious.

“I mean, like, don’t fuck her. Don’t kiss her, don’t be weird.”

Because that, somehow, feels worse than knowing you’re already wasting your body on Sunghoon. 

Jake tilts his head in confusion.

“How exactly are you going to pay me to date her and not act like I’m interested?” He asks, furrowing his brows. “What if she tries to kiss me? What if she tries to fuck me?”

Jay laughs, or snorts, really.

“Please.” He waves him off. “I doubt that will be an issue but if, for some insane reason it does come up– just tell her you’re saving yourself or something.”

And at the end of the day, Jake accepts the terms of the deal, not yet pocketing the money because Jay tells him that he needs to go home before you come home. 

Why? Because he’s not looking the part. If you walk in and see this loser sitting in front of him, you’ll automatically know that Jake is a close friend of Jay’s. You need to not know that. 

So, with that, Jake goes home with a plan to come over for “guitar lessons” the following day, at a time where Jay knows you’ll be home. And then? After the initial meeting, he will get his first payment. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

He knew it. Jay fucking knew you were a slut. 

Jake didn’t even have to try that hard. Honestly, it’s almost pathetic to watch. If anyone on campus found out, if Sunghoon found out how you’re acting right now, he thinks your reputation would spiral straight into the gutter. 

And while he shames you for unintentionally falling into the trap, he feels proud. Proud that his best friend is able to play a part so well. 

Jake came over, dark hair unbrushed but somehow intentionally styled, flannel hanging off his shoulder, where a ratty black tank covered his chest underneath. Ripped jeans just tight enough to show off, just loose enough to make it look like he knows how to wear these kinds of clothes, and he wears them well. Nails painted, and it even appears that he intentionally chipped them. 

Hell, he barely recognized his own best friend when he walked through the door. 

“Holy shit.” Jay had said upon sizing him up. “What the fuck?” 

And Jake just smiled at him, with the same loser-filled dopey grin as he always had before the two of them went to Jay’s room, made sure the door was open, and plugged in the guitar for maximum noise level.

After all, His father and your mother go on date nights like three times a week it seems. There’s plenty of time to be rowdy college kids if need be. 

And the need is definitely here. 

It wasn’t long by the time you came home, curious as to why you were hearing the sound of guitar strings being plucked terribly. When the fuck did Jay play a guitar? Arguably, if this is what he does when no one is home, maybe he’s a little more likable in the fact that his hobbies aren’t sitting around and jerking off while staring at his GPA. 

When you walked into the room though, prepared to annoy the fuck out of your step-brother, you stopped upon seeing him look the same as ever while sitting just in front of….some guy.

Just, some fucking guy. 

A hot fucking guy. 

With a guitar on his lap, with your step brother offering direction to him.

Jay looked at you, noted your curiosity of his best friend-turned-pretend-stranger, and then glared. 

“Can I help you?” He had said, taking the guitar from the guy and propping it up on his lap.

You stood there, feeling the eyes of the other dude staring you up and down before shaking your head 

“Uh, no.” You had responded before awkwardly slinking away and into your own room.

And honestly, it would have ended there if it weren’t for the fact that Jake was immediately whisper shouting at Jay about how you really are hot. Making plans on how to get you back in the room, or perhaps how to get Jake out of it and beside you.

It wasn’t hard really, as Jay reminds himself how it all went down. His own discomfort aside at how Jake appears to act much like he does in his own head. 

“Just finished up the lesson, you wanna come eat something with us?” He had said, far too out of character.

“You give fucking guitar lessons?” You responded, entirely confused by the fact that….Jay was the one who played the nice sounding strums, not the guy in front of him, the one that appeared to be the type to be the one giving the lesson.

“Yeah? Are you coming or not?”

You paused, and ultimately joined them upon Jay stating that you could starve for all he cares. 

And that’s when Jake started his act. 

Sitting next to you, looking at you, asking about your interests, telling you that Jay is helping him learn the guitar because he has dreams of forming his own band someday. That he’s in college but doesn’t really care much for it, that his dreams lie in the stars still and no desk or nine to five job would bring them down for him.

Jay did want to smack his best friend across the head for that lame line, but you seemed to think it was poetic, or romantic, or some shit. It only further reminded him that you’re entirely too dumb and he needs to be here to make sure you don’t get all caught up again with a guy who doesn’t look at you the way he does. 

The way he can’t stop looking at you, actually. 

Jay watched as you fell in tune with his best friend’s pretend-persona, and arguably Jake was far more charismatic than usual. If he chose to really dress like this, or act like this, Jay thinks he could probably pull any girl he wants. 

And he watched, and he watched, and he watched. Up until the third time Jake pretended he was going to leave so as to not intrude in the home any further. 

Jay didn’t have to make the excuse that time. It was you. 

And that’s when he noted that you are, absolutely, unmistakably, a fucking slut. 

Why? Well, it could be due to the fact that after having a quick meal, you ran to your room and came back out dawning your own fucking tank top, showing off a pair of nice tits that you seemed to hide from him. Which, his head shouldn’t be in the gutter about that but man. He and Jake were both stunned at how you decided to present yourself. 

Could be due to the fact that it’s like, you met Jake for a solid hour and immediately started sucking up. Using a cute voice that Jay knows for a fact is fake as hell. You whine about Sunghoon, like you’d struggle to truly break up with him, but you’re still all over Jake like you’ve been flirting for fucking years.

It could also be due to the fact that you invited Jake to stay longer by inviting him into your room under the guise of “checking out your music selection.”

Jay was left to his devices by that point, where you led his best friend to your room and closed the door in his face with the argument of, “Jongseong, since when were you so interested in what I listen to anyway?”

He huffed in annoyance at you saying his name and then slamming the door on him, he huffs in even more annoyance as he steps back and leans against the wall thinking hard about the plan he’s come up with. 

The fact that he’s living with a total skank who never once looked at him the way you did to Jake all fucking day. Is he that boring? Really? He knew you liked edgy guys based on Sunghoon. Such a pretty boy, despite getting rowdy and dirty during hockey practice and matches. Jay never understood how he kept his face pristine, and also never understood why girls liked him at all when it came to how much of an asshole he was. 

And then there’s Jake, playing the part of someone Jay assumed you’d like. It’s the fact that you do like it, and it’s entirely different from himself. Even if you weren’t now related by marriage, he probably never would have had a fucking chance with you to begin with.

Even with all of that clicking in his head, he still finds himself wanting you more now than he ever did before. With that fucking tank top, and that stupid fake voice you were using, and with your stupid interest in his stupid best friend.

This was probably a bad idea. After all, he could have just left it alone but no. He just had to be in control of who you’re dating. At the very least though, Jake knows to keep his hands to himself, and that’s the only thing that comforts Jay in regards to this deal.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“Jongseong?” Jake laughs when you close the door and trap him in your room with him. Eyes glued to you and the sweet deal Jay offered up. “I’ve never heard him called that before.”

He’s lying, of course. Jake has been in and out of this house since he was a child. He’s heard the name hundreds of times, if not thousands. 

“I know, right? I couldn’t help but laugh when I heard it the first time.” You snicker, putting on a show when you head to your unpacked box of disks and vinyls. “I don’t think he likes it when I call him that, so I try to do it as much as possible.”

Jake offers you a crooked smile, messy hair dangling in front of his eyes as if they were somewhat….shy? Like he’s being bashful in this room with you, but you try not to think about that because, well, look at him. 

He doesn’t seem like the shy type. 

“Maybe I’ll start doing it too then.” Jake laughs, standing awkwardly behind you when you bend over to pick up the box. Immediately he chokes up, stepping closer unintentionally because honestly, who wouldn’t think with their dick at this point? 

And when you stand back up, turning with the box, you jump at how close he’s gotten. 

“Oh!” You breathe in surprise, looking away shyly for a moment, wondering how lucky you must be for your boring ass step brother to invite such a nice looking guy into the home. “Um, you have a nice smile.” You add out of nowhere, and then immediately feel embarrassed. 

“You have nice tits,” is what Jake would say in response if he were for one, allowed to, and two, not a nervous mess about being alone in a room with such a pretty girl.

Only now does he realize how difficult this might be to get through. For two hundred dollars? Well, it’s a sweet deal if you actually want to go on a date with him, and given the persona he’s given himself, he thinks he could probably get away with asking tonight. Which is insane, because he really thought he’d be paid another two hundred just to get to that point. You’re entirely into him though, and he hates to admit that he might be entirely into you too. Jay would kick his ass if he knew what’s going through his head right now.

“I like your tank top,” Jake says instead, wanting to reach forward and snap the strap of it solely because he feels confident enough to do it, but he doesn’t. The words are actually quite lame, and are a blatant show at how bad he is at talking to girls. Thankfully though, you know, since he’s supposed to sound like a guy with two brain cells, it kinda works out. 

“It matches mine.” 

You smile shyly yet again, entirely in tune with the idea of taking Jay’s advice and having some fun yourself. Perhaps with this guy. But for now? You have to at least pretend you actually want to show him your music collection.

And of course, Jake has to pretend he actually cares about it when you sit down on your bed and start sifting through the boxes. 

“Huh, you like some pretty heavy stuff. I wasn’t expecting that.” Jake compliments, though uninterested in a music taste that isn’t his own, it’s insane how the two of you do listen to some of the same bands. 

“Oh yeah? Why not?” You ask, sitting up straight and making sure your chest looks good enough to keep his eyes glancing down at them.

Because he hasn’t stopped looking, really. 

“I dunno,” Jake shrugs, watching how your tits squeeze together and he can’t tell if it’s intentional or not. No girl has ever tried to show off for him like this, and he’s enjoying it a bit too much. “I, um,” He loses his train of thought when you lean back, letting your breasts fall into their natural position as you look at him. 

“My eyes are up here, Jake.” You smile, watching him tear his eyes away and swallow around a lump in his throat. 

“Oh, right.” He lends a nervous chuckle, one that he feels is entirely out of character given the personality he’s supposed to have. “Can’t really help it, they’re nice.”

Ah, right back into the act, perfect. 

He almost panicked at the forwardness too, because Jake would never have the confidence to say such a thing to a woman on any other day. 

“Oh? You can’t?” You smile, leaning back up and pushing the box from your lap. “Maybe I should cover up then?” You add, staring right at his flannel. 

Jake notes your line of sight and then looks down at his own shirt. 

“What?” He says, pinching the collar of the flannel and shaking it. “You already wanna wear my clothes?” He smiles. 

“If you wanna see me in them.” You comment shortly, sizing him up for the billionth time. “Or out of them.”

Well, it’s safe to say Jake wasn’t prepared for that. This deal is going a bit too smoothly, and he just knows that Jay must not have any idea of this side of you. His sister, right here, insinuating Jake should like, take her clothes off. Or rather, take his clothes off of you.

It’s against the rules but goddamn is he feeling the spark with you. Right in his pants, actually. Embarrassingly. 

“I’ll give it to you right now if you go out with me tomorrow night.” Jake avoids the situation smoothly, while offering an alternative. “Then, we can talk about getting my clothes off of you.”

You nod, feeling your heart skip beats at flirting with a man that isn’t Sunghoon. 

“Hand it over then.” You reach out, leaning in real close to him. “But, I’d still rather you keep staring at my tits.”

Man, following the rules Jay set in place is gonna be way, way, harder than he thought. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Jake could get used to this, really. Taking you on dates, anyway. What he can’t get used to? Dodging anything more than dirty talk and then coming over just the next day to see the confusion on your face as to why he isn’t picking up your hints. 

He wants to, like really, he really, really, fucking wants to. You’re so blatant with him on dates, rubbing up on him, whispering slutty little words that only drive his cock to pulse and beg to be used. He can’t bear it, especially knowing that these very dates are paid for by your own step brother.

 Still, if he were allowed, he probably could have gotten himself between your legs on the very first day he met you. 

“No, dude, she was all over me this time, even more than usual.” Jake explains to Jay during another guitar lesson, pleased that he’s actually learning how to play. “She even mentioned that guy Sunghoon and said I was way cooler than him.”

Jay was pleased, he could say. Save for the jealousy that only grows each time he watches you take Jake away from his lesson to hang out with, without him. Save for the fact that you only continue to prove that you like any guy who isn’t him. In reality, why would you? He knows there is logic to this situation, but he is finding it harder and harder every day to think logically around you. 

Jealous. He’s jealous. He’s mad at how bad you want it from Jake. Hell, you’d probably take it from anyone at this point as he eyes his best friend and his new found fashion sense. It matches him, and acting like an idiot seems to match him too. Maybe Jay should consider not brushing his hair and dumbing down a little bit too. 

Then again, this could just be the resentment in him building up. He’s the only reason Jake has a girl throwing herself at him. Both you and Jake should be far more thankful for what Jay has brought upon the three of you. 

Still, he’s pissed about how good the plan is working, and before long, he’s hoping that Sunghoon will be long forgotten when Jake finally asks you to be his girlfriend. Then he can toy around for a bit before breaking up with you under the guise that “you’re just not his type.”

“I had the idea that she was easy,” Jay explains, rolling his eyes at his best friend. “No wonder Sunghoon kept coming back, it’s like he knew she would throw herself at him at the drop of a hat.” 

Jake pauses, furrowing his brow. 

“Why would you even say something like that?” Jake asks, tilting his head. “Aren’t we doing this to like, help her?”

Jay shakes his thoughts out, realizing how awful that must have sounded. 

“Yeah, yeah.” He waves off his edgy best friend. “Of course. I was just saying.”

There's some awkward silence in the room now as Jay’s internal panic takes over. He doesn’t want his reputation on the line for this. Even just to Jake. Perhaps he’s being too resentful with his words, only able to offer passive-aggressive remarks out loud when it comes to you. 

“I just thought that if we got her away from him, maybe she’d stop throwing herself at guys that don’t care about her, is all.”

Jake gives him a look of further confusion, maybe even some concern. “Um, isn’t that what we’re doing right now?” 

Damn, Jay really should’ve thought that through. Is he losing his touch? Is your stupidity rubbing off on him now?

“Yeah, but you’re not touching her so, maybe it’ll help her learn some fucking self restraint? I don’t know dude, just be a good boyfriend, fuck.” 

Jake raises his hands in defense, realizing he basically interrogated Jay of his choice of words, and perhaps thought too deeply into them. Still, he can’t help but feel like Jay holds some type of hatred within him for you, which is weird, considering the lengths he is going to try and “help” you. 

“God, relax.” Jake reaches forward to grab his best friend by the shoulders. “As much as she throws herself at me, I guess I can kind of understand what you mean.” 

Jake understands far too well, having gone through one too many dates while trying to contain himself to give in to your every hint or insinuation of at least kissing. 

He happens to miss the way Jay glares at him for his words though. Because in all honesty, no one is allowed to talk about you like that but him, and there was something in him that broke to hear Jake insinuate that you’re a slut. Like Jake isn’t the luckiest guy in the world right now to have you throwing yourself at him? 

Bullshit.

“I’ll be a good boyfriend, I promise.” Jake finally adds, checking his watch. “She’s gonna be home soon too. I’ll try and get her to hang out in the living room this time so you can see what I mean though.”

Jay wants to refuse the option to watch even more than he already has to, but there’s something in him that kind of can’t resist it. 

“She likes horror movies, you know?” Jake continues, giving Jay information that he probably should have already known, but somehow doesn’t. “I’ll tell her that you wanted to watch the new one, and I’ll pay to rent it since, you know, you’re paying me to do this.”

Jay shrugs casually, anticipating the image of you and his best friend all tangled up on the couch, while he’s stuck at the end by himself. With no one. Alone. 

“Yeah, that’s fine. Dad’s probably gonna be home but I can ask for the living room.” 

“Oh shit, wait–” Jake thinks hard. “What if he sees me looking like this? Acting like this? She’s gonna find out that I've been lying this entire time about us being friends and shit.”

Jake only panics because he believes he’s acting more with Jay than he is with you. If you were to find out that he’s been lying, you’d be so angry at him. But do you know what scares him more? Jay finding out that he maybe kind of actually likes you more than he’s supposed to.

Jay sighs in defeat because his best friend is right, if his father finds out that Jake is running around acting like this, dressing like this, he’ll definitely say something about it.

“You know…” Jake finally says, staring at Jay’s TV. 

“No.” Jay immediately shuts the idea down, not at all wanting to experience the two of you tangled together on his own bed. 

“Dude, come on. Why not?”

Jay rolls his eyes in an annoyed huff, pinching the bridge of his nose as he stands to put the guitar away, ignoring that there was no practicing at all today. It’s just been hours of talking about you. And how you’ve managed to find yourself a summer job so fast, and how you’re entirely horny for Jake, and how–

“I don’t want to see my own sister try and get in your pants in my room.” Jay tries to explain as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Then, immediately he gives in. Solely because the sudden thought of you lying in his bed at all again is something that….might help later.

“Jake, so help me god if you so much as brush your hand across her tit I’m going to slice your tires.”

Jake smiles in victory, nodding to his best friend with the promise that, at least tonight, he wouldn’t do such a thing. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Every day you find yourself wondering why it is that Jake appears to be so into you, yet constantly shooting you down. 

When you try to kiss him, he leans in, his eyes start to close, sometimes you can even feel his breath on your lips then, he just– pulls away?

When you try to insinuate that you want to touch him, or want him to touch you, you can physically see his reaction. The way his ears go red, his eyes go dark, and occasionally you even catch a glimpse of what’s in his pants growing heavy and strained. 

It’s driving you crazy, really. With the way he talks all that shit but doesn’t live up to it. He’ll say some of the nicest things, he’ll dirty talk you in the middle of a restaurant, he’ll even make promises to follow through with it too. But he never does. You find yourself wondering why you even continue to text him back, or why you consistently keep this fucking flannel he offered up to you on the first day of meeting. 

Every single date, you’ve worn it, just to see if he’s got the nerve to take it off of you. And every single date he pretends like it wasn’t his flannel to begin with, despite his hungry stare constantly staying on you. 

So now, as you awkwardly half-lay on Jay’s bed with him, Jay separated and on his computer chair, you wonder why he’s even here. 

Sure, Jay gives him lessons but as far as you know, it’s a little strange that he stayed over to watch a movie with you presumably, only to invite Jay, and to you know, watch it inside of Jay’s room.

Are they like, friends now or something? Well, arguably they had to have at least been friends on some level, but still. It feels awkward hanging out with Jay when you’re trying to get his “friend” to rail you. 

Either way, you guess you don’t mind too much when Jake is actually next to you. Most doubt sinks into the back of your head and the confusion is replaced with that of extreme arousal. Something about this guy, Jake, is alluring and feels…right? Is that the right word for it? Like, correct? Or maybe, meant to be? 

You know, maybe he’s waiting on sleeping with you because despite his edgy appearance and his dead-beat goals in life, maybe he really is just a big softie and wants this to work out long-term. God, you hope you’re right about that.

Doesn’t stop you from trying though, as the movie reaches its climax and you move your hand under the covers against Jake’s legs, feeling the rips of his jeans and sliding your hand through one of them. Gently, attempting to feel the warmth of his skin in a discreet and somewhat cheeky way. 

You hear his intake of breath at the touch, his shoulders stiffening as he stares forward to try and focus on the movie. Still, you feel his hand move lower, lying it directly on yours with only his thin, ripped denim separating the touch. 

“Oops.” You whisper to him, slowly massaging the thick of his thigh with your finger tips, toying with the way he reacts.

You don’t notice the way his eyes shift to Jay, who was already glaring at the movement he noted under the covers, on his fucking bed.

Jake, on the other hand, feels like he’s between a rock and a hard place right now. 

He’s being paid to pretend to like you, being paid to not genuinely like you, being paid to not touch you, and practically being paid to ask you to be his girlfriend only to break up with you.

Which fucking sucks because he maybe, kind of, likes you? A little bit?

A lot, actually, especially with your cheeky little whispers and sneaky little hands. 

Arguably though, Jay should have known better than to expect Jake to not feel some type of way towards a girl like you. To Jake, it’s insane anyone could simply pretend to be into you without actually falling in deep. You’re not only hot, but you’re fucking funny too? You laugh at his jokes? You cuddle up with him? You’re actually a lot smarter than Jay gives you credit for? And you appear to want to kiss and touch him just as bad as he does.

So, it’s torture really, that he’s so close to breaking. So fucking close to kicking Jay out of his own room just to feel what your hands alone could do for him but, he refrains. 

He suffers, sitting here with this not very good horror movie, pretending his cock doesn’t ache for you. Pretending his own best friend doesn’t see how much he wants it. Yet, still hoping you see. 

And you do. You do see it. 

You feel it too, as you shift your hands out of his ripped jeans and move them upwards as silently and secretly as you can while remaining focused on the movie. You brush your pinky up and against the dick you clearly want so badly at this point. And the way Jake flexes it, almost intentionally lifting his cock up for you to know he likes it, despite the risk of Jay seeing. Despite the fact that he hasn’t done this at any point when the two of you were alone. 

You smile to yourself, pushing your hand closer, closer, closer, until you grab it.

There goes his stiff shoulders again, there goes a soft sigh, and you’re fucking beaming.

Jay sees the way the covers are moving over the lap of his best friend, and honestly? He’s appalled over the fact that Jake was right. You fucking throw yourself at him with no shame, to the point that not even being in the same room as your step-brother would stop you enough to have some fucking self-restraint. 

He watches for a while, about five minutes or so. Studies the way Jake makes attempts to arch away from your touch as if he’s following the rules of the deal but, Jay isn’t stupid. Jake, of all people, should know that. He can fucking see the way he also arches into your touch too, despite it all being under the blanket he sleeps under at night. 

It’s not until Jay sees you throw your leg over Jake’s, and you lean in really close to him to the point your face is hidden in his neck and Jake appears to be listening to something you’re saying, that he decides to put a stop to this. 

Neither of you are even watching this movie. You’re encouraging Jake, surely. You’re trying to snake your hand down his pants. You’re trying to fuck his best friend, right in front of him. 

It feels like an insult, or perhaps an intentional act of defiance and god knows Jake wouldn’t be able to resist if Jay himself feels a twitch in his pants at the scene unfolding, even through this frustration. 

Why are you like this? Why do you just–do this to yourself? To him? To his best friend? Why do you seem to know how irresistible you are? It’s almost at the point that Jay wouldn’t even want to put a stop to it solely to see what your hands could to for him if this life wasn’t so fucked up. 

Still, he has to put an end to it. Jake is breaking the rules. 

“Are you really trying to do that right now?” Jay asks out, and he watches the way you snap your hand back and lean away from Jake. 

Both heads turn to him, and he huffs out a sigh of frustration that shows you crossed a line. 

“What do you mean?” You ask, trying to pretend that you weren’t doing anything at all to the pretty boy sitting next to you. 

“God–” Jay grimaces. “You’re really gonna play dumb after arguing with me that you’re not?”

You lift past Jake, staring at him. 

“You can be a whore all you want, but to assume I want to see it? You’re disgusting. I’m your fucking step-brother.” He finally says, as if it’s final, and as if to convince himself that every word he spits is true. 

Jake remains silent as he listens to the way Jay speaks to you, quite offended for you, maybe even a bit pissed off about it himself. Then again, it could just be because Jay is dead set on cock-blocking him. 

You though? You feel silenced, a little embarrassed, and entirely turned on by the fact that Jake’s first time letting you actually touch him, was right here. Maybe he’s into that. You know, like, being caught or something. Still, the quickness in which Jay shames you isn’t shocking at all but for him to have an ego to the point of assuming you did this for him to watch? Insane, he’s so fucking stuck in his head to believe that everything a person does, is because of him. 

A fucking text-book narcissist.

“And you.” Jay says, shifting his eyes over to Jake. “You could do better.”

Ouch. That stings a little bit, as your eyes avoid looking towards Jay and fall onto Jake, who only swallows at his words. 

Without another word, you shift from the bed, stand to your feet, and walk out, leaving the two in the room alone.

Jake feels, uh, bad? 

Or rather, he knows he’s supposed to but he simply doesn’t. After all, it’s been two paychecks from Jay now and he still hasn’t asked you to be his girlfriend solely because he finds himself wanting it to last. 

Even without the sex. Even with the intense edging he’s being put through. Even with the fact that he’s hard as a rock as Jay attempts to scold him, he doesn’t feel bad.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Jay finally offers to the silence of the room upon turning off the movie. “Did we not agree that you’d–”

Jake huffs out, annoyed for the first time.

“Dude, shut up already.” He rolls his eyes as he turns to his friend, wincing at the way his cock is going soft and sensitive. “Don’t tell me you didn’t fucking see me try to stop her.”

Jay thinks that through for a moment. Not entirely blaming Jake for like, eventually giving up and letting you touch him but also entirely pissed that it’s happening for Jake, and not for himself. 

“You did a bad fucking job of it.” He gripes back to him. “If you give in to the fact that she has no self-respect, you’re just as bad as Sunghoon and I’ll just go find someone else to take care of her.” 

Jake pauses because he's right in terms of the deal but god. It’s not like he can just out and say “hey, so i think i actually like her and wouldn’t be against actually dating her, like for real, also i hate the way you talk to her so if you don’t stop i might have to punch you in the face.” 

“I’m not going to give in.” Jake lies, knowing for a fact that it’s only a matter of time before he does. “She still cries over Sunghoon and I’m genuinely trying to make this situation better here, Jay, so fucking relax.”

Jay wants to believe him, but truly, he doesn’t. Solely because there’s no way he won't give in considering what he’s just witnessed. At this point, you might actually end up wanting to be with Jake for good, and Jay will lose his control of the whole situation. 

“Plus, you can’t just go find some stranger to do this, they’d definitely fuck her, day one.” Jake makes a good point to his friend, reminding him that he isn’t the dumb guy he’s parading as. 

Jay does take those words into account. Honestly, he really would have the entire control taken from him if he paid someone else to do this. At least he can threaten Jake with friendship, or guilt him or something if he does step over the line.

“Hurry it up then, I don’t want this shit to last all summer.” Jay finally huffs out, slightly defeated that this is his fault anyway, but still trusting his best friend and understanding him on some level. 

“Okay, I’ll go ask her to be my girlfriend right now.” Jake smiles. “The sooner I ask, the sooner she gets over him, and the sooner all of this can be over with, right?”

He hopes he’s wrong.

Jay nods reluctantly, and Jake is instantly out of the room and able to breathe the biggest sigh of relief in his life. It’s insane how he’d rather be with you over his own childhood best friend, but whatever. Life works in mysterious ways or something. 

And as Jay sits in silence, glaring at the spot on the bed where you had his best friend’s dick in your hand, all he can do is feel angry.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

You hear the soft knock on your door and already know exactly who it is. It’s not Jay, it’s not his father, and it’s certainly not your mother. 

The knock is gentle, almost reluctant despite knowing he’s allowed to walk into your room at any point, without so much as asking. 

“Come in.” You smile to yourself, trying to push the awkward situation that just happened out of your mind. 

The door opens and Jake steps inside, looking to the floor and seemingly avoiding eye contact with you. Part of you wonders if it’s because he finally had the balls to let you touch his dick, but another part of you knows it’s probably because Jay just chewed his ass out for letting you do it right in front of him.

“Sorry about doing that,” You look away now, trying to deafen the silence in your room into a numbness that doesn’t feel nearly as awkward as it does right now. “I shouldn’t have done that in front of Jongseo-”

Jake immediately shakes his head at your words, sitting down on your bed and grabbing your face in his hands. 

It’s a shock, actually, that only now he acts the way you expected from the beginning. 

“It’s my fault.” Jake explains, holding your face to look at him. “I wanted to make you my girlfriend before we did anything more–” He continues, already leaning in to kiss you for the first time without shying away from it. “I didn’t want you to think I was just trying to fuck you.” 

And man, that hit you right in the heart, especially because he said it, and then immediately kissed you before letting you answer him. As if he was afraid you’d say no or something. As if he’s trying to prove something right now. 

He certainly is proving it too, surprising you in the way he’s a decent kisser though not entirely great at it. Such a confident and pretty boy seems to not have nearly as much experience with girls as he lets on. That alone was something you picked up on, because let’s be honest. 

No one but Jake would get that obviously hard at a restaurant over spilled water on your tits. 

And when he pulls back from the kiss, he feels elated in the way he just lied straight to Jay’s face. Promising to follow through with the deal, which also held the promise of no physical contact with you. 

He really walked straight out of his best friend’s room, went to your room, and kissed you. He couldn’t be prouder of it when he pulls back, heart pounding in defiance, and looking at you for an answer. 

“You want me to be your girlfriend?” Is the first thing you ask, feeling his hands fall from your face and land against both sides of your hips as you look at him. “And that’s why you let me make a fool of myself trying to get in your pants?”

You both smile before chuckling and looking away from each other at how blatant that question was, because you both know how true it is. 

Only Jake knows how true it isn’t supposed to be though. 

“Yeah,” He answers, looking away from you and ignoring the chill on his shoulders from the air in your room. He really should stop trying to dress like a slutty man for you, honestly. It’s no wonder you were all over him.

“I kind of don’t think it would be a good idea if I fuck my guitar teacher’s sister without at least taking her on a few date’s first, you know?”

“Hah,” You roll your eyes briefly before flopping back against your pillows and feeling the way his hands fall lower to the top of your thighs. They’re warm, and big. “You’re always around and I can’t say Jongseong has that many friends to begin with.”

Jake almost feels bad that he knows you’re right. 

“Arguably, you’re probably his only friend and he would feel embarrassed knowing you don’t even see him as one to begin with.” You laugh at how sad Jay really is as a person. “Just your guitar teacher, huh?”

Someone so entitled, so fucking rude. If anything, he should know by now that his lack of friends are determined entirely by his shitty personality. 

“I can see that,” Jake nods, staying put as you blink up at him from the pillows. “I mean, I like hanging out with him but I don’t necessarily like the way he talks to you. I can imagine he’d kill me if he knew I kissed you.”

You roll your eyes.

“I can assure you, Jake. He doesn’t give two fucks about me.” Your arms reach out for him, and immediately he intertwines his fingers with yours.

And it feels good for him to do. To have a girlfriend in some way, despite it not technically being real to anyone but himself and you. After all, a relationship built on a lie can’t last, can it? 

Maybe he really should just stick to the plan and pull back before it’s too late. Maybe you wouldn’t even be interested in him if he didn’t act this way. Or if he didn’t dress this way. Or talk this way. Or play guitar. 

How could he ever think he’s even in the right to do this to begin with? What? For two hundred a month? God, he fucked up yet, he doesn’t want to turn back now. 

There’s a chance it can still work, right? He can at least enjoy the time he has with you before he inevitably has to break up with you, right? 

You don’t have to know about the deal, and Jay doesn’t have to know about how he intends to break the terms of it. 

…Right? 

“So,” Jake finally says, looking away from you before turning and falling forward over you, keeping his fingers tightly locked with yours above your head as he lands his face in front of yours. “Will you be my girlfriend then?” 

You smile shyly, looking down before making direct eye contact with him again. Noting how his lips constantly form a natural pout in silence, and the way his eyes are always so bright. 

“What about when my break is over and I have to go back to campus?” You ask reluctantly, hoping that he isn’t like Sunghoon. “Are you just going to stop talking to me?”

Jake hates that he is in a position where he has to lie, going back and forth in his mind of whether to betray himself or his own best friend.

“I like you, you know?” He says, not breaking eye contact. Trying to will his words now to stick with you through the inevitable break up if that's what it comes down to. “I’d come see you every weekend.” 

You smile. 

“So, what? You think I’m just gonna let you be so far away all the time?” He continues, instilling a sense of comfort in your chest. “You think I’d be able to stay away from you for a whole semester? I can barely make it a few days as is.”

The way he chuckles at how silly your question sounds makes you feel…wanted? Almost needed?

And as you look up at him, with that mess of fluffy hair and big, sparkling eyes, all you can think about is how lucky you feel to have so many new people in your life this summer. Even Jay. You appreciate the fact that he brought Jake into your life, even if accidental. 

You’re happy your mom is in love, happy that his father appears to be good for her, happy that Jake is here right now, treating you like a goddamn person. 

Happy that Sunghoon hasn’t texted you. 

Happy that even Jay encourages you to keep your break-up status with the man, showing that he cares on some level for your well being. 

“You’re too good to be true, you know?” You say, sending Jake into an absolute world or happiness.

He’s never had a girl tell him that. Let alone a girl so fucking pretty.

“That still doesn’t answer the question, babe.” He finally says, ticking his tongue as if he’s being cheeky. 

“Oh, right.” You roll your eyes with a smile. “I thought I was being obvious with my answer, but I forgot that you’re kind of dumb.” You add with a smile, lifting your head to kiss against his nose. 

“I am kinda dumb, aren’t I?”

If only you knew how true that statement is. No GPA can explain why he feels so stupidly attracted and attached to you. He can’t explain it to anyone but you. 

Jay would kill him if he knew how real he wants this to be. 

“A little, yeah.” You laugh, kissing his cheek this time. 

“For you, at least.” He whispers, feeling like he’s being far more real than he should be and loving every second of it. “So, be my girlfriend.”

You roll your eyes again, lending him an even brighter laugh.

“You seriously think I wouldn’t?” 

And he just smiles, dipping down to kiss you again for the second time. 

You can’t help but feel elated by it, and the way he seems to break how eager he’s been for this. Elated by the fact that he waited, and he has done nothing but respect you as a person. 

Arguably, you don’t think you could ever refuse to be his girlfriend. With that rough fashion sense and entirely too-soft personality. It’s such a stark contrast when you think about it.

All of the cocky dirty talk, all of his boldness? It was clearly just a front that would make you like him because this is not at all what you expected. If anything, it’s a pleasant surprise that he did that for you. Showing off, trying to get your attention, then flipping on a dime when you give him the time of day. 

“You’re a lot sweeter than I thought you’d be.” You finally whisper out. “Honestly, I expected you to fuck the lights out of me and never call back the first day we met.”

Jake chuckles, trying to avoid how much that statement turns him on because on instinct he knows he shouldn’t be doing this.

“Can I be honest?” He asks against your lips, lending a small lick to the bottom one with a nod. “I really, really, wanted to.”

You pause, opening your eyes and seeing that he’s already looking at you. 

“I would have called you though.” He smiles, calming the immediate insecurity you felt about his statement.

Now though? The thought of knowing Jake wanted to fuck you since day one only drives you to like him more than you already did. 

“Oh yeah?” You smile, feeling his fingers release from yours and move right back to your hips. “Does it make me a bad person to say I would have let you?”

Jay would have called you a slut again over that. 

“No, babe.” He shakes his head with an amazed chuckle. “If that makes you a bad person, wouldn’t it make me a bad person too?”

Wow, the first man to ever speak to you as an equal. 

Jay would probably call him a slut too. 

“What about now, then?”

God, Jake really can’t resist. He’s already waited so long, and now that you’re officially his girlfriend…kind of, why should he? Jay doesn’t need to know that he’s trying to think up some way to get out of the deal. Really, Jay should be happy that you’ll be with someone who actually cares for you, right? 

After all, this whole plan was to help you. 

Why should it matter if it ends a little bit differently? All he needs to do is sit him down and talk to him. All he needs to do is not accept any more money, right? Technically, Jay isn’t the type to be that bad of a person. Like, he wouldn’t actually be mad that Jake caught feelings, right?

He’s not breaking the rules if it’s true. 

“If you can be quiet–” Jake says, leaning back and glancing around the room. “Jay was really mad about what happened in his room, I don’t want him to kick my ass thinking I came in here and railed his sister.”

You roll your eyes.

“Jay doesn’t give a shit. He probably thinks we’ve already been fucking.”

God, the dynamic between you and your step brother is so fucking weird, Jake thinks. You have such a weird view of him, and he seems to have such a weird view of you. You really think Jay doesn’t give a shit while he’s the one who seems entirely too protective of you while also being an absolute scum-bag towards you. 

“Still,” Jake pauses, pulling back entirely and sitting over you. “I’d rather your parents not walk in.”

“Then, lock the door?” You offer, eyes scanning his body and noting the way he’s always hard when he’s with you. Those tight jeans do nothing to save him the embarrassment, and part of you wonders how often he wore them on purpose. 

Plus, you can imagine he’s probably suffering after having already played with him briefly in Jay’s room. 

“Right. Doors have locks on them.” Jake dead-pans, standing up and wincing at the way his cock is entirely too obvious about what he wants to do right now. “I’ll just–” He points his thumb to your door before locking it and practically leaps back on the bed with you, laughing all the way.

And you know, the last thing Jake expected today was to share his first real touch with you, first real kiss with you, or his first time actually, like, pushing to break the rules. He’s a little nervous, seeing as how he’s maybe had sex with two girls in his entire life, but still.

He can’t possibly be bad at it, right? 

It doesn’t process in his mind how he’s absolutely breaking boundaries right now, and even if he did, he wouldn’t care. The way you laugh along with him sets his heart aflame, and the way you look at him shows him that this could be real. He could truly be your boyfriend, slowly reverting back to his normal self under the guise of a “bad boy” phase or something. 

And now, as you look at him, you note how soft he truly is despite all of those dirty words he said previously. He’s really just sitting on your bed, laughing like a boy in love and it makes you feel entirely different than how Sunghoon makes you feel.

“It’s nice, you know?” You say, glancing down when you reach out to him again, mostly to resume the position and pull him back on top of you.

“Hm?” He hums, following the pull and landing both of his hands on either side of your head, staring down at you as if he could eat straight through your chest and to your heart. “What is?”

“The fact that there’s someone here for me, I guess?” 

Ah, he’s a goner. Sorry Jay, the deal is over. 

“Do you think Sunghoon will try to get you back again?” Jake follows up. “You know I won’t let him, right? You’re my girlfriend now.” 

You smile, lifting your head a bit to kiss his plush top lip before shaking your head. 

“I’m sure he’ll try, but I don’t think I’m interested in him anymore,” You start, hearing the buzzing in the air due to the pure electric feeling in the room. “Now that I’ve met you, anyway.”

This is the point in which Jake is supposed to move back from you. This is when he’s supposed to whisper to Jay that the deal is done, and that Sunghoon is no longer an issue. This is the point that Jake absolutely shouldn’t be rolling off you, feeling your soft pillows hug around his head, and pulling you on top of him instead.

It’s like you’re meant to straddle him with how perfect you look right now.

“Oh yeah?” He smiles, losing the persona he’s supposed to have, unable to pretend like he isn’t smitten at this moment. 

“Yeah.” You say, smiling on top of him and feeling his length pulse beneath you.

You’ve wanted to get on him like this so bad, since the very first night you met him. He waited, he respected you, and now? He’s your boyfriend. He’d let you, right?

“You seem happy,” You rock back on him without warning, listening closely to the way he sighs out at the pressure you offer. “You said if I can be quiet, right?” 

He nods eagerly, unable to speak as he watches you move on him, hands reaching to brush the tufts of his dark hair out of his face. 

“Can’t make any promises, Jake–” You add, reaching down to the hem of your shirt and lifting it off of you in one motion. “What about you?”

Jake is stunned audibly. You heard his breathing hitch when your shirt blinded you from looking at him for a split second. And who could blame him? He knows he’s staring at the way your tits bounce with just the small lift of your shirt, bulging only partly over the lining of one of the cups.

 Immediately he throws one hand up, cupping one in his hand and bucking his hips upward at the ping of arousal centering itself in his body. 

“Can you be quiet?” You continue playfully, placing your hand over his and the other behind you, unclasping the bra with ease and letting it fall onto his chest. 

Jake immediately shakes his head because, no. Absolutely not. He will not be able to be quiet if any of his jerk off sessions regarding you are anything to go by. In fact, this situation could be quite telling about his lack of experience with women. This situation could be quite fucking telling to anyone outside of this room, actually.

“I thought not,” You smile, reaching down and lifting slightly to remove his ratty old t-shirt. “I don’t care if Jongseong hears anyway. He’s a weirdo, would probably be jealous.”

Jake would like to think you’re wrong about that, but something inside of him agrees with you. The way Jay reacts towards you is fucking weird and ultimately uncalled for. Then again, if Jake had to come home to a brand new sister, who is like– really hot, Jake would probably have a dilemma on his own.

Still, that’s kinda gross if it’s the case, so he tries not to think about it. 

“Let him hear then.” Jake finally says, confidence boosted solely because he is now thinking with his dick. 

His hands fall straight to your waist once you get his shirt off of him, his eyes stay glued to your tits, and all he can do is push and pull you over his length, praying that these tight jeans don’t rub him raw before he gets to pull it out. 

You can tell his body is acting on its own too, with the way he seems entirely gone for you over something so basic in terms of foreplay. After all, this is just grinding. It’s just tits. But you get it, as you stare directly at his toned body that has remained partially hidden from you until now. 

And it’s the way you’re just as shameless as he is when it gets hot and heavy. Your lips don’t leave his for the most part after that, at least until you hear his muffled moans as you’re soaking straight through your shorts and onto him. 

Both of you are kind of moaning into the kiss actually, and to you it sounds so loud, but you’re sure no one in the home has realized yet. Plus, locks. Doors have locks, so even if they did, you wouldn’t stop anyway. 

You can feel the way Jake wants to push, how he’s thinking a mile a minute in the way he kisses you. His tongue seems eager and messy, trying to kiss every part of you, trying to lick and taste your mouth in ways Sunghoon wouldn’t even do. 

Arguably, it’s sexy that he does this. So messy and dominating in the kiss despite being worse at it than he was when he came into the room. There’s something about the confidence in being bad at living life that turns you on. He could be bad at everything and you think you’d still want this with him. 

Even the way he moves you on his length is messy and not at all thought out. It’s jerky and almost frantic in the way he thrusts up out of time with your movements, like he’s chasing a consistent pressure on the whole of his cock. And like, if he wants that, maybe he should just pull it out for you. 

After all, even with the messy boy lying under you, kissing you like he’s desperate for it, you’re still wetter than you’ve ever been with another person.That’s an honest truth you can come to terms with too. Someone obviously so inexperienced? How does he make it feel better than Sunghoon’s expert hands? Fuck if you know, but you can’t help but love every second of how Jake writhes under you.

He acts like he’s never felt so good in his life, and that alone makes you feel entirely needed.

“Let me,” You say in a wet whisper against his lips, sliding your hand down between your bodies and attempting to undo his pants. “Jake, take them off.” You whine shortly after, unsuccessful with unbuttoning them on your own. 

“God, fuck, yeah, okay.” He responds frantically, out of breath. 

He lifts up, feeling you shift on his lap as you stay in place to your best ability and his eyes don’t leave yours when he undoes his own pants, blinking up with a pretty, glassy gaze and messy dark hair. 

All you can do in that moment is hug his head into your chest due to the sheer amount of endearment he gives you, brushing your fingers through his hair and halting his hands where they stay on his undone jeans. There, you grind, hiccuping what resembles a moan solely because he is genuinely just so fucking attractive. You can’t help it, you really can’t.

He’s in awe of the way you use him, hugging his face against your tits, which only allows him to attach his mouth to one of them and moan himself at what you’re doing to him. God, sign him up if this is how you fuck. Holding a person in place, grinding against them, smothering them with your pretty tits, moaning the whole time? He could give you everything. He wants to give you everything. All of him, all of the world, every shiny trinket that’s ever been made. 

Honestly? It doesn’t even matter that he couldn’t get his cock out yet, this is something he’s never had a girl do to him and it makes him feel entirely wanted. It’s an addicting feeling too, knowing that you’re chasing the feeling of what he has to offer under these restricting pants, and not being able to wait for it. 

“Babe–” Jake mumbles around your nipple, trying to fumble his pants down but being unable to, considering you’re grinding on his lap right now. “Baby, let me get it out–”

It’s kind of insane how you could have gotten off from doing this, fully clothed, fully ready to do it. But, he’s right, and that deep register of his raspy voice only drives you to pull off of him as quickly as you can.

“Mm, sorry, you’re just so,” You start, falling off of his lap and spreading your legs open to show him the wet spot on your shorts. “Shit.” You stop yourself, seeing the way he freezes upon seeing how you display yourself to him. 

“Shit.” Jake follows up the same words, not even caring how stupid he must look trying to kick these death-grip skinny jeans off of him. 

You do stifle a little chuckle at that blatant show of arousal from him, and you do him a solid by removing your shorts too, heart pounding and face warm when you see his cock spring free once he finally gets the pants down his thighs. 

Honestly, you don’t even let him take them off in full before you’re shoving him back to your pillows and smiling at the way he gives you a kind of half-drowsy smirk. You watch his eyes stare you down and you can tell he likes what he sees probably about as much as you do. 

“You look so nice in my bed,” You start, crawling over him and grabbing his hand, putting it straight between your legs. “I’ve thought about you every night.”

His eyes roll back in a glorious show of how much of a loser he truly is. A loser for you in full right now, as he feels the wettest part of you yearn for him. His fingers slip and slide so easy, and he plays with your folds in an instant. Drenching his fingers to the point that his own leaking cock wishes you’d do the same for him. 

“Me too.” He says, unable to string together a full sentence. “All night.”

You tick your tongue and coo out at him, feeling the way his fingers are gentle, staring down at the way his cock flexes every few seconds. 

“What do you think about?” You ask now, crawling over his legs and leaning down to blow against his cock. You see it twitch and stand proudly at the feeling of your warm breath hitting it. “I’ll tell you, if you tell me.”

His fingers can no longer reach the wettest part of you with the way you’ve moved on him, but he doesn’t mind considering when he looks down, you’re smiling at him with his length inches from your face. He chews against his bottom lip at the image before slipping his fingers into his mouth, tasting what could be if you’d let him. 

“Nothing as good as this.” He manages to get out from around his fingers as he stares down at you, elated by how he would never let another man experience this from you. 

You smile, nodding at the way he doesn’t lie before you lightly tap two fingers at the head of his cock, feeling the precum dribble with each tap enough that it’s almost dripping down his length. You focus on it only for a moment before you use the wet to coat his length in one long stroke. 

Another beautiful groan from him, fingers still wedged in his mouth as his eyes roll back again. Then, he’s rolling his head forward, looking down at how your hands grip him, and how your lips look so pretty when you kiss the underside of his length. God, it feels like he’s neglected himself despite jerking off every night to this exact image. Or rather, something that resembles this but could never feel as heavenly. 

And when you trail your lips down, kissing against his heavy and cum-filled sack, you feel his entire body flinch in sensitivity and a chuckled moan come from him. 

“Sorry–” he mumbles, reaching a hand down to brush against your cheek when you come back up to look at him. “No one has ever done that to m-”

“I’d do just about anything to you right now.” You cut him off, licking against the head of his cock and enveloping his entire length. 

He has no words, but so, so many thoughts. Would you really? Anything? Goddamn, he would do anything to you too. Not just right now, but any time. All you’d need to do is ask. All you’d need to do is push him down and sit on him. 

And it’s kind of cute really, how he speaks with his body alone. The way his hands grip anything he can get ahold of when you continue to take his cock further and further into your mouth. Up until the size of it is restricting your airways and he’s stuttering against the sheets with a death grip.

He could come right now if he isn’t careful, and he does his best to hold off. 

His grip stays tight against your sheets when you breathe through your nose and flex your tongue against the underside of his cock, the weight of his length making it nearly impossible to do. It’s great, actually, how he doesn’t fuck into your throat and render you unable to utilize your own skills to please him. 

The sweet, salty flavor of his precum is constant until you take him in too deep to taste it, and when you flick your eyes up, you can see that he’s amazed by how you do this. Part of you wonders if he’s ever been deepthroated at all, with the way he appears to breathe through it and tries to feel each clench of your throat.

God, your mouth is so tight around him too. So warm, tight, and perfect for him. With the way your lips stretch and your cheeks hollow out. He can’t bear to stare at you for too long when you’re doing this. Already he’s trying to hold in moans far too loud, already he knows that one right clench around him, he’s not going to last. 

And you love it. Quite literally, you are in love with the way he seems to struggle through the pleasure. So blatant and unashamed of how much he likes what you’re doing. Because honestly? Most men act like you could do more, most act as if you’ll never give the best head of their life.

Jake though? He makes you feel like you’re the only person who could render him a whimpering mess. Part of you wonders if he even knows how loud he’s already being. With his rasps and grunts, with his higher pitched sounds coming from his chest and forcing their way out of his wet and bitten lips. 

He really looks like this is where he belongs. Against your pillows, in your bed, cock out, eyes rolled back, hair cute and fluffed out against your pillows. 

You pull back slightly when your eyes threaten to become too wet to see him, easing the tension in your throat with each inch of his length that leaves you. And when you fully pull off of him with a pretty and wet little “pop!” sound, he regains all of his composure and stares right at you. 

“Holy fuck–” He says with a heaving breath. 

“Jake,” You start, clearing your throat before using your hand to gently jerk him off, lips landing against the head of his cock again as you speak. “You kind of act like a virgin, which is funny considering all of the things you said to me before.”

You smile as you say the words, precum still coating your lips.

He lends you a crooked smile, feeling entirely like himself in this moment and not at all ashamed of his lack of experience. He would think that comment would scare him, like he’s doing bad or something. But the way your hand works his cock is just enough to tell him that you love it. 

“‘M not a virgin.” He says, voice uneven. “But I can’t say I’ve fucked that many girls.”

That elates you. The fact that he’s so real about it. The idea that he held off with you for a reason that didn’t involve disinterest. It’s almost like he prefers sex to mean something, which is a long forgotten concept to you and anyone else in your life it seems. 

“That’s hot.” You comment, halting your hand at the base of his cock before releasing it entirely and crawling further up to straddle him right where you want him.

If he wasn’t already gone for you, he is now. He can feel the warmth of your pussy sit against his already sensitive and needy cock and it takes everything in him not to groan out. 

And well, he appears to have zero control of his volume because he does, in fact, groan out. 

Loud enough to probably alert the person who he wishes didn’t exist right now. 

You moan back at his desperate action, wiggling your hips as if to dig his cock into your thigh, smearing the mess seeping through your panties onto him. 

“All this time, I thought about how you could hold me down,” You start, noting how he is nothing like how you imagined he would be. “How you could fuck me hard, and deep,” You slide forward and back a little quicker now, letting the head of his cock bump your clit. “How you could ruin me if you wanted to.”

You’re the one ruining him though. You both know it. 

“It looks like I was wrong about those thoughts though, wasn’t I?” You smile at his panic when he shoots his eyes open. 

“No!” Jake half-moans, louder than he meant to once again. “I can do that.”

You wouldn’t have believed him if it weren’t for the fact that he definitely tries, lifting from your pillows and tipping you back onto your mattress. Before you even know it, your panties are off of you and he’s grabbing your legs, moving them to wrap around his waist.

Then he just stares at you with flushed cheeks and wet lips.

“I can do anything you want.” He continues, snaking his hands under your ass just to lift your lower half against the underside of his cock. “You want me to hold you down? Fuck you hard?” 

You nod, eyes sparkling up at him with a pleased sound at how he shifts who he is entirely for you. Thirty seconds ago you wouldn’t have expected him to change up like this, and it’s only lends you more to like about him. 

“Hold onto me, then.” He gives a gentle warning, wishing he could have like, ate you out first or something, but he’s too far gone now to imagine doing anything other than what you ask of him. He can get his head between your thighs another time, yes. He can lick you clean, making sure you know how much he wants you. 

And you do, you hold onto him, legs around his waist, hands in his hair, feeling the weight of his cock sit against your wet folds while his hands hold you in place.

And it’s like, woah. Okay, you already experienced how big he is but feeling it there is another thing. He’s quick to stuff your blanket up under you to keep you lifted, and then he’s immediately using one free hand to press down on your stomach, and the other holding his cock as he slides it himself through your folds.

He stares down at the way his length looks between your heat, so wet and glistening from the mix of arousal the two of you drip out. You wish you could see it too, with the way he wets his lips and keeps the bottom one caught between his teeth. 

And when you moan, his eyes flick up to your face, so innocent looking at this moment despite your kissed lips and heaving breath. Tits on full display, pussy spread out around his cock, god. He’s in heaven. He can most definitely hold you down and fuck you deep, it’s like he was born to do it, if he’s being honest. 

And then, in one movement, he pushes his cock down with his thumb and slides in, bottoming out in one motion while keeping his eyes on your face. With the way your jaw is slack, and your eyes close in pleasure. 

He does much the same, holding his breath as he feels the way your soft walls hug around him, strangling his length in a way he truly needed. You’re so tight, god, so, so, so wet. At this point, he’s not even doing it because you are asking him to, he’s doing it because he can’t help it. His body loses composure the second he bottoms out and feels the entirety of how much this pussy wants him. 

Jake doesn’t let you adjust, hell, barely even lets himself adjust before there's an echo of his thighs meeting the flesh of your ass. Consistent, deep, hard. Just like you wanted. 

Just like he needed.

And it gets to the point where Jake is burying himself so deep, that you can barely make out words. Moaning his name in hiccups, trying to say something but always stopping short of it. 

“J-Ja-J.” You hiccup through each thrust, waiting for him to kiss you, wanting him to kiss you, wanting him to ruin you like you asked, like he promised.

And when Jake is out of breath, listening to that pretty little stuttered mantra of his name, he does lean down to kiss you. Tongue immediately licking against yours to the point that he swears he feels little dribbles of desperate saliva leave the corners of his mouth.

All of it is hot breath, wet, wet, fucking wet. All over. 

His hips move faster, and he drives his cock in deeper, his moans only come out louder with each stutter of his name, and honestly? The death grip your legs have on him, keeping him from pulling out of you too far? He has no idea how he’s lasted this long already, but he loves himself a little more knowing that he’s making you feel good. 

“Yeah,” He grunts out, pulling one hand back to hold your leg tightly against him, and the other falling on his elbow above your head. He makes direct eye contact with you here, just inches from your face as he speaks with full confidence. “Say my name,” He says almost defiantly. Hoping Jay hears it and knows how good he can be for you. “I’ve been dying to hear you say it like this.” 

His thrusts somehow remain consistent as you shoot your hand to your clit, rubbing harshly at his words. You give him exactly what he wants, moaning his name in full against his lips with a desperate and bitten kiss from you, all while your pussy practically strangles the base of his cock with each deep thrust. 

His moan sounds relieved when you repeat his name, he swallows your hiccups up, proud that despite how fucking bad he probably is at fucking, you seem to love it. 

And when you rub against your clit just right, feeling his abdomen press your fingers against it harder, you continue his name. 

Breathing it out in a gasp before your orgasm hits you and he somehow manages to fuck you straight through it. His stuttered name coming out with each slam, never quite able to moan it in full again once you’re seeing stars. 

And when your ears pop, and your eyes feel tired, you look at him.

You feel him.

His cock moving desperately in and out of you, the sweat on his brow proving to you how much he wanted to do this to you and for you. 

He wants it so bad.

He wants you so bad. 

You reach up, feeling the sweat in his hairline when you run your fingers through the mess of hair on his head and push his face down. Your legs fall from around him, and instantly he’s moaning. 

“You don’t need to pull out.”

“Fuck–” He stutters, hips meeting your thighs once more before you feel him release strings of thick cum in you. Amazed by that single sentence, half-not even realizing a condom was nowhere in sight anyway. He doesn’t know if he could have pulled out to begin with but the words of encouragement shoot his orgasm straight through him. 

And the way he moans through it with uneven breaths? Perfect. He sounds perfect. The way saliva dribbles from the sides of his mouth as his lips desperately kiss against your neck and shoulders? More perfect. 

The way he pulls back to look at you after the fact? Twitching inside of you, unmoving, and not pulling out? God.

The two of you lay like this for a while, his cum bubbling out of you from around his sensitive and softened length by the time he finally decides to pull out. Which saddens him a little bit because he hates that he can’t have his cock in you at all times, but still.

And then the panic washes over him. There’s no fucking way Jay doesn’t know what he just did, and the fact that there were no harsh knocks on your door? That’s even more scary. 

His heart rate picks up instantly, but you somehow calm him as you continue running your hands through his hair, down to the back of his neck and scratching.

It’s like he mewls at the feeling, nuzzling against you as close as he can get before sighing. 

“Jay is going to kill me.” He mumbles against your skin with closed eyes. 

You hum out a small chuckle, feeling the sticky mess between your legs and somehow not feeling as grossed out as you normally would by this. 

“Jongseong isn’t going to do shit.” You smile, shifting to sit up and feeling more cum drip out of you. “I actually can’t wait to see the look on his face when I drag you to shower with me.”

Jake panics internally but he can’t stop himself from smiling at you with a nod. 

And he does follow you into the bathroom. Straight past the bedroom of his glaring best friend with the wide open door. 

He pretends to not hear the way the door slams when the two of you get into the bathroom, and desperately begins thinking of a way to make this work out for the better. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Jay heard all of it. Every slap of a cock driving into you, every breath, moan, giggle, and every fucking dirty word the two of you shared.

He tries not to think of the way he slouched against his bedroom door, straining his ears to hear all of it too. He tries not to think of how his hand could never live up to whatever the fuck you were doing to Jake either. 

Time and time again he could get off to the thought of you, but each time it just becomes more and more unbearable to see you face to face after. This time? Having to hear you with someone else? Someone that he, himself, was supposed to trust? It’s the most unbearable, and it hurts him inside to know that you liked it. 

It isn’t fair that he was stuck, alone against his door, biting back moans of a situation he hated more than anything. His best friend was in there fucking the daylights out of the only girl Jay has ever wanted like this, and all he could do was fuck his fist and release a half-sobbed moan in his own silence over it?

Honestly, the orgasm hit him harder than he’s ever felt when he heard you moaning the name of his best friend. The stuttered breaths of Jake’s unfinished name sounded just like his name, and his brain went insane wondering if that’s what you’d sound like if his cock was pounding you. 

Would you stutter like that for him? Would you moan out his name in such a pretty way too? 

“Jay! Jay! Jay!” 

It replayed in his mind over and over again up until he saw the two of you in the hallway. Jake appeared to be ashamed to look at him, avoiding his gaze. 

Jay felt pathetic, angry, and entirely empty. Jake fucked up big time, betraying his trust just minutes after promising the opposite. There is so much shame within him right now, but none of it lives up to the fucking rage he feels towards Jake.

Never in his life has he ever felt so betrayed by not one person, but two. As if you knew you had such a hold on him to betray him at all, but still. It pisses him off more than anything that he still has to hear the two of you in the bathroom now, unashamed of what just happened behind your closed bedroom door like your parents aren’t just downstairs and probably aware of what their slut child was doing. 

He seethes for what feels like hours. All the way until Jake slinks out of your room after the parents went to bed, and into the night without a word to him. 

Days, even. As the sounds of you fucking Jake haunts him. 

What’s worse? Jake ignores his texts even when he’s being nice. Inviting him over for a “lesson”, begging him to come talk, saying he isn’t angry he just wants to know where the deal stands. He ignores him even on his payday, which arguably, Jay wasn’t going to pay him this time but as a bribe to get him to talk to him? Of course he texted him again.

And with the way you’re leaving every other night, Jay can tell it’s because you’re going to see him outside of his control. Likely because Jake suggested it, and no part of him feels thankful that he can’t hear what the two of you are up to behind his back.

He could rip his hair out at this point, when each family dinner feels empty and filled with disgust. Looking at you and wondering what it must have felt like for Jake to get between those thighs that seem to open for just any man that would lie to you. You eat quietly, sometimes shooting him a happy smile as if you can’t tell that he’s rotting in front of you over the fact that you’re happy with someone that isn’t him.

He can barely look at you when you’re home without the thoughts flooding his brain, rendering him jealous and resentful of everyone in his life whether they’re involved in this situation or not. He doesn’t hold back remarks each time you come back home either, bright eyes with a sex glow surrounding you.

“Out spreading your legs again, I take it?” or  “Can never get fucked enough, can you?”

He says them proudly to you, as if it’s any indication that he likes you far more than Jake ever could. But, to his dismay, you look happier and brush him off without a single furrowed brow or argument. You’ve been nicer, and you even walk with better posture now. 

He wishes you would argue with him about how untrue his words are, but you don’t. Which renders him only further angry because you don’t deny it, and that you agree with him. The issue is that Jake is on the receiving end of why those words are true.

Jay only wants them to be true if he is on the receiving end.

He wants you to spread your legs every other day for him. He wants you to never be fucked enough….by him. Not by Sunghoon. Not by fucking Jake.

And then? Three long and agonizing days after Jake’s payday, he finally texts.

Jake: we need to talk. 

Jay: come over then

Jake: no, i’m not coming back to your house until we talk. 

Jay: yours then?

Jake: yeah

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Things were instantly awkward for Jay when he stepped through Jake’s door. It’s like he could tell you’ve been here recently by the feeling in the room alone. You always leave a room so alluring, so stupidly bright. 

Jake even appears happier, much like you do when he manages to take note of how you act back at home. 

Still, Jay doesn’t come too far into the house out of fear he may very well end up breaking things if it comes down to it. Instead, he stands in the doorway, shoes still tied on his feet, eyes still heavy with an exhaustion that only he can explain. 

“I know you know what’s been going on,” Jake starts, raising his hands in defense as if to try and save both his friendship and new relationship. “I want you to know that I didn’t mean for any of this to happen, but it did, and I want to at least tell you that I’d treat her right.”

Jay stares forward, feeling his imaginary monarchy fall. His gaze goes straight through Jake and to the room behind him as he listens to him say words that any sibling would love to hear. All he can feel right now is buzzing, goosebumps on his skin threatening his sanity over the fact that he's always gotten everything he ever wanted, except for you. 

And he didn’t even want you like this until he knew he couldn’t have you.

“You promised me.” Jay starts with a harsh tone in his voice. “You went straight into her room and started fucking her? And now you have the audacity to ask me if you can date her?!” He bites out with angry brows, now clenching his fists.

Jake should have known better than to think he would be reasonable about this, given how he’s acted throughout the entire situation. Still, he’ll never stop thinking how fucking weird it is. How Jay is entirely protective over you despite consistently making sexual remarks, staring for a little too long, paying a stranger to date you just so you get away from your ex boyfriend. 

For all Jake knows, if it wasn’t for you confirming the situation, he could argue Jay would have made up lies about Sunghoon being a bad boyfriend too. 

Jay is jealous and Jake fucking sees it. 

“You literally paid me to date her. So what if I actually want to be with her now? Why is that such a bad thing?!” Jake retorts, throwing his hands up as if everything Jay is saying doesn’t make any sense to a normal person.

Which is true.

“I paid you to pretend, not to actually want her!” Jay raises his voice again, despite being in Jake’s home, despite being his long time childhood friend. Over all, trying to appear more threatening as a means to regain his control. 

“I don’t understand why you’re not okay with this.” Jake starts, much calmer than Jay. “What? You're gonna keep her from dating anyone ever again?”

Jay stands down at those words, knowing that if he could he would. Knowing that it must be incredibly telling to Jake, who isn’t as stupid as he acts.

“Why? You’re mad because you can’t be with her? And if you can’t, then no one can?” Jake adds with a smile. 

Immediately Jay storms up to him, fisting Jake’s shirt collar in his hand. 

“You think I want to be with trash like her?” He seethes out in a hot whisper, body telling on him in the way his words don’t match the defensive stance he takes. “I just don’t want you fucking my sister.”

“The deal is off, Jay.” Jake says in an even calmer tone, almost smiling. “Besides, I already fucked her.”

Jay intensely stares at him, anticipating the next word Jake says ending in a swift punch to the jaw.

“Multiple times.”

That breaks him. 

What he thought would end in a physical altercation appears to be ending in his own begging. His own self-pity at how sad he is for himself over this overtakes every thought in his head. He is desperate to get you, and desperate to make sure Jake leaves and never comes back.

“I’ll pay you double what i’ve already paid to break up with her.” He bribes. “Triple.”

“You can’t just keep her, she doesn’t want you.” Jake continues, pressing all of the buttons of a friend he used to trust with his life. “She doesn’t even like you.” 

Jay stands there, releasing the grip on Jake’s shirt and taking a step back. He knows Jake is right, and he hasn’t done anything to make you like him either, but still. Why does everyone else get parts of you that he can’t have? 

“Jake, you’re misunderstanding.” He tries to reply in a calmer voice. “I’ve known her since freshman year and I’ve watched her get hurt. I don’t want anyone around her.”

Jake laughs at him. And honestly? It shocks Jay with the way his friend has changed in just a matter of weeks. It’s the fact that it’s his fault. 

“You’re fucking weird, dude.” Jake continues to laugh. “You know me better than anyone and you don’t even want her to be with me? Of all people?”

Jay listens, trying to ignore how his truth has to come about another way. If Jake wants a fight over you, so be it.

“Sunghoon? Yeah, I get it but, the fact that you won’t even let me be with her? When is it what she wants?” 

“Break up with her, this is my final warning.” Jay dead-pans.

“Or what?”

Jay stands there, directly in front of a friend he just threw away over a girl. Staring at him with such immense hate in his eyes that even Jake feels a shiver run down his spine.

He says nothing when he shoves past Jake and walks straight out the front door, only speaking before closing it with a “You have a week to break it off.”

Jake rolls his eyes at the words, shrugging at the situation despite knowing the sadness of losing a friend will hit sooner or later. Really though? Deep down, Jake knew that Jay had a thing for you after the way he’s been acting. 

And it’s like, Jake knew he was bad at talking to girls but at least he doesn’t call them sluts and whores, or make them think he would rather be run over by a fucking tank than to say anything nice to them. 

What’s worse is that he gets it. You’re entirely likable, lovable even, and it’s going to take a lot more than a couple of threats to pull Jake away from you. Likewise for Jay it seems. Step-siblings aside, there’s no way Jay didn’t have a crush on you before you became his step sister. Anyone would have a crush on you.

Still. That’s weird, and there’s nothing Jay can do to have you. With or without Jake, you’d never want him after the way he spoke to you. You’d never fuck family, nor would you ever be interested in a guy like him anyway.

At least with Jake’s false persona, he acted more like his true self than he meant to when he was around you. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

A week goes by and there is no word of Jake ending it with you. 

In fact, you’re still leaving every other night to see him, coming home with a little bounce in your step and a stupid fucking smile on your face. Jay can’t stand it anymore. 

He thought a week was him being nice. Giving Jake, who he still cares about, mind you, enough time to come to terms that this will never work if Jay is around. Once again though, Jake didn’t listen. The once lost and intelligent guy now appears to know exactly what he wants in life and it’s so fucked up to Jay that it just so happens to be his girl. 

A girl that isn’t really even his, and the only ownership he has over you is a title that makes him want to gag.

Step-sister.

Jay has come to terms by now that he is willing to end his longest friendship over you. He is willing to defy his own moral standards for you. He is willing to love you, touch you, and be anything you need. The only issue is the fact that he’s already fucked it up for himself.

Jake was right in saying you don’t even like him. Not as a friend, not as a step-brother, and certainly not as a boyfriend. It truly is his own fault too, but things can change. 

And they will change. 

“Why do you act like Jake is the best thing that’s ever happened to you?” Jay asks, leaning against the frame of your bedroom door with his arms crossed. 

“Oh, am I?” You look down shyly, smiling because you can’t stop. “I guess I didn’t notice.”

Jay lends a short nod and a smile to himself, feeling more and more calm as the seconds pass and he steps into your room. 

You, on the other hand, are elated tonight solely because of the date Jake took you on just the day before. He was so sweet, and so nice. Even going as far as eating you out in his car simply because he couldn’t resist, and missed you too much in the twenty four hour span of not seeing you previously. 

You wish you could talk about it with Jay, you wish you could thank him for bringing Jake into your life and let whatever fucked-up relationship you have with him die so that it can be replaced with something more pleasant. 

“Thank you, by the way.” You say meekly as he enters and wanders around your room, staring at several of Jake’s shirts hanging in your closet. 

“Hm?” Jay responds off handedly, reaching into the closet to feel one of your soft t-shirts. 

“Thank you for letting me meet Jake. I was shocked that day you invited me to eat with you guys, so I assumed it was to help with the whole Sunghoon situation. It did help, you know?” You smile fondly, thinking of your boyfriend and how nice he looks when he’s holding your hand.

“Ah–” Jay turns to look at you, letting one of your soft shirts fall from a hanger so that he can run his fingers through his hair with a stressed look up at your ceiling. 

You watch as he takes in a deep sigh before hanging his head.

“Listen, I have something to tell you about Jake.” He finally says, walking to your door and closing it before sitting on your bed and looking at you with a serious expression. 

“What is it?” You tilt your head at him.

He watches your face of confusion, seeing how heavy the feelings are that you’ve managed to grow for a man you were never meant to have feelings for. The way you swallow around a lump in your throat shows him that you’re going to listen to him, and possibly believe him.

For the first time, Jay isn’t going to be lying to you about Jake either.

“Jake is only dating you for the money I give to him every month.” Jay admits, knowing you’re about to bombard him with questions as to why he’s paying Jake to do it. 

“What?” You question again, dead-pan staring at him.

“I paid him to date you because I trusted him not to be like Sunghoon, and you seemed really hurt by what happened.”

“What?!” You echo yourself, furrowing your brows at Jay and the way it’s the first time he’s ever looked at you in such a soft way. “How much?!” 

“Two hundred a month. I dropped off his last payment last Sunday.” He lies.

You pause, reminding yourself that just the Saturday before he was holding you close to him on his couch, telling you all sorts of nice things that made your heart double in size. 

“He only learned to play guitar because we thought it would be your type. Jake is more of a loser than I am. If you had met him just a day earlier, you wouldn’t have looked at him twice.”

You remain silent, listening to all of this fucked up information.

“Here pretty soon, he’s supposed to break up with you.” 

And now your face is hot, and your eyes are burning. All of those words Jake said to you felt entirely genuine. The way he kissed you, touched you, and even the way he looked at you felt so real and electrifying. 

There’s a part of you that doesn’t believe a word Jay is saying, but there’s also a part of you that wonders how much of it is true. You’ve seen Jake’s room and his selection of monotone and earth tone clothing that you’ve never seen him wear before. 

“I don’t believe you.” You say, crossing your arms, looking away from Jay, then sniffling. “It would be so fucked up if you really paid some guy to pretend he liked me.” 

Jay shakes his head in mock sadness for you.

“I set rules, you know? He wasn’t supposed to let it get so bad. He wasn’t supposed to sleep with you or even kiss you, I know that he did though.” Jay says, reaching a hand out to yours. “I keep seeing how happy you look and can’t stand that he’s doing this to you. I just wanted to help.”

You blink up at Jay. 

“Why did you care so much to help me get over Sunghoon? So much that you’d pay Jake to do this?”

“Because I didn’t want to see you be taken advantage of. I see that it was a bad idea now though, because Jake definitely took advantage of you when he could.” He looks down, still in mock sorrow for you. “I wanted to punch him so bad when I paid him last time, with his stupid shit eating grin like he’s won the lottery or something.”

“Do you–” You pause, trying to process the information. “have proof?”

Jay nods, pulling up the few text messages he and Jake have sent about the situation. 

Jay: do you think she fell for it? you completely changed vibes bro

Jake: yeah for sure i got a date tomorrow with her

Jay: if i knew it would be this easy i wouldn’t be paying you so much

Jake: money AND a girl? best deal ever.

Right then and there, upon reading those texts, the crying really does start. You question your ability to read feelings, body language, and words. You really thought Jake meant everything he said, and over all you’re just learning that…well, he’s a great liar.

“I know what I did was wrong, but I’m trying to make it right.” Jay soothes, scooting closer to you and hugging you against his chest. “I’m here whether you’re mad at me or not.”

You shove him away from you initially, but he uses his strength against you to hold you against him tightly. It’s the first time Jay has ever hugged you, the first time he’s ever comforted you while simultaneously being the cause of your shattered heart right now. 

“Why are you like this?” You ask in a truly pathetic voice, raspy and full of overwhelming emotion that you don’t know what to do with. “Why did you have to do that?” 

Jay takes in a deep breath, readying himself for whatever reaction you could possibly give to his next, very carefully thought out words. 

“Because I’ve liked you since freshman year, and now you’re my sister.” He says in a sweet whisper against the top of your head. “Because you never noticed me before, and you barely do now, but I wanted to help your situation somehow without making it weird.”

He feels you cry harder against him now, your hands gripping his shirt without intention as you try and work through the even bigger flood of information now. It’s true that you didn’t notice Jay too much, and he never indicated any type of feeling for you. He could have been your type, if he had made an attempt to get to know you, but he never did. He became your step-brother instead. One who would do nothing but ridicule you and pay men to fuck you, apparently. 

And as you cry, all you can do is raise that same gripping hand and land it harshly against his chest in a punch that feels weak to him. Over and over again, and he just takes it. Sitting there hugging you against him in a way that keeps your abuse weak and pathetic as you release the emotion on him. 

“I would have been able to do more for you if it wasn’t for Jake taking advantage of my own weakness.” Jay now says, trying to land the final nail in Jake’s coffin for you. “In some way, I think I would have made you happier.”

Your attempts to hit the anger out of you fall short with each passing moment as your fingers find purchase back in his shirt, and the feeling of being enveloped by an apology overtakes you in full.

You can taste your tears against his shirt, feeling sorry for yourself for dampening him like this. Feeling sorry that he likes you and knowing you don’t like him back. Feeling sorry that the only person you’ve ever felt strongly for like this, never felt a thing back for you. 

You’re worth two hundred dollars to both of them. 

And when you pull back, feeling Jay allow you to pull away, you just stare at him with an empty and broken expression. 

Jay can’t help but think you look even prettier with a broken heart. Mostly because he knows he’s the only person here who can fix it for you. He knows exactly what’s going through his mind when he leans forward and kisses you without hesitation. 

You are shocked by the action, feeling unfamiliar lips on yours for just a moment before you’re shoving him back with a grimace.

“What the fuck?!” You yelp, baffled and entirely disgusted. 

Jay says nothing as he stares at you as if he’s lost his mind. His mouth is slack when he looks at you and it’s a face that very nearly scares you. Especially when he takes your face in both of his hands and does it again.

A harsher kiss, with him holding you there against his lips, running his hands down to keep your body from pushing him away again. 

“Let me make it better.” He pleads in a desperate whisper between his forced kisses. “Just this once.”

You’re not sure what’s happening right now, as you sit stiffly in his grasp, feeling him plead and kiss against you like a mad man. Wondering why you’re not fighting after hearing his broken voice. Wondering if he feels just as broken as you do right now. 

This is your sibling by marriage, trying to give you something that he should not be giving you. Indulging you in truth, too much truth. And maybe you’re going a little crazy too, because you just let him.

And you let him, and let him, until he’s releasing his grip on your body forcing you to stay close to him, and gently caressing your face through his one sided kisses. 

“Please.” He whispers just against your lips, pulling back a few inches to look at you. 

And when you look at him this time, it feels raw. That’s the only way you can describe this situation of immense loss inside of you. Forced away from someone while being totally suffocated by another who only seemed to want to hurt you before all of this. 

“Jongseong, no.” You warn, not entirely understanding why you don’t fully agree with your own words right now.

Maybe it’s because you want to be wanted, or needed, or loved at this moment. 

“Don’t call me that.” He whispers, leaning forward again, kissing you on the corner of your mouth. “Why won’t you let me try?” 

You take in a deep breath, wondering the same thing.

Because he’s your brother?

Because he paid Jake to break you more than Sunghoon ever has?

Because you want to let him try, solely to numb yourself from everything else for the night?

“I–” You start, staring forward and straight through him. “I don’t know.”

He smiles, spreading his legs wide beside you to adjust himself solely because he got to feel your lips on his. His hands stay against your face as he looks at you through this, and notes only slightly the way you reach your hands up to grip his biceps. 

“You don’t?” He asks. “Why do you throw yourself at everyone but me then?”

Those are words that should hurt you more than he already has, but they don’t. He’s not wrong. If you were more careful of the people you lend your body to for pleasure, maybe you wouldn’t continue to get hurt. Maybe everything he’s done really has taught you how to pick and choose better people.

Sunghoon, Jake, and now him. 

Now him.

It feels so final, like a last hurrah of hating yourself before you decide to never let another man into your heart again. You won’t date Jay, you won’t even think of him as someone you could be with solely due to the circumstances.

But for some reason, there is something you will do and that happens to be living up to all of those insults he threw at you before. Dumb, whore, slut. 

And you’ll do those things solely to make yourself feel better right now. Sex isn’t healing but when a person appears to want you this badly, it kind of is in its own way. A reminder that at least you’re wanted on some level, especially when you’re running circles in your head over what it could be that you keep doing wrong. 

This time, Jay is shocked when you’re the one who leans forward, your hands falling from his biceps straight to his hands over your face. You cry when you kiss him, feeling utterly insane that you’re doing this, not knowing why you’re going to keep pushing, and absolutely ignoring that you’ll regret it. 

“If you want to fuck me so bad, just do it then.” You say, more as an insult to him, yourself, and the entire situation. 

What’s worse is, you said that so Jay would pull back and come back to his senses. Anyone who hears those words should know that it’s an all or nothing question. Any decent person, any selfless person would deny fucking you in this state. 

And while you want him to fuck you at this point, just to prove how badly he’s wanted to, you equally wanted him to just be here for you in the way he was supposed to.

Jay doesn’t pick up on the cue though, and instead jumps right in. Kissing you back and pulling you down with him against your mattress. 

The bed feels less pretty with Jay lying in it with you, but his lips work better than Jake’s did the first time he kissed you so messily. You don’t mind only because you don’t care about a single outcome at this point. 

Everything bad that could happen to you has already happened. 

Jay wants you to like it though. He wants you to like everything about him. Even the aspects about himself that he can’t stand. And he kisses you in a way to try and force this outcome. 

Jake is still in the front of his mind though, as he takes his girl back on the same bed where Jake presumably took you away to begin with. 

And you’re so pretty too, with your tear stained cheeks kissing him in an angry way. Jay couldn’t be happier that you’ll take this out on him. He deserves it, doesn’t he? To be hated? Hated enough to be kissed by you? It’s wonderful, really. 

He stays like this with you for as long as he can, the fear of it stopping fizzling out with each passing minute that you only kiss harder, harder, harder. Up until he can’t stand the feeling of his cock in his pants, up until he can’t help but feel you up, relishing in your hot skin and the way you still shiver probably through the chill in your heart right now. 

His hand lands under your shirt, pulling your bra down just so he can eagerly circle his fingers around one of your nipples. Thinking so hard about the tits he’s wanted to see bare for so long, feeling it perk up against his finger in reaction. 

He throbs at it, even if you won’t make eye contact with him between kisses. Even if you kiss him like you mean it but clearly don’t. He’s taking what he can get, taking what you’ll give to him. 

“I heard you guys, you know.” Jay says, pinching your nipple before rolling on top of you just to dig his length against your leg. “You seemed so happy to gag on him, why aren’t you like that for me?”

You ignore his words, trying not to moan at the thickness you feel in his pants. Never once have you thought about what Jay could be packing, but it’s…bigger than you probably would have expected. Feeling it against you breaks that final barrier in your brain keeping you from being entirely turned on by the lack of morals you’re sharing with him.

This is the first thing you’ve ever shared with Jay outside of an argument. 

“Can you stop talking?” You ask in a huff, breath hitching when he adjusts his hips between your legs and rubs himself against the center of your heat. “It’s pissing me off.”

“Mm, I bet.” He smiles, using both hands to push your shirt and bra up to your collarbones, revealing your chest to him. He grabs both of them without hesitation, and studies the way they fit in his hand. “I’m trying to fix this right now though.” He nods to himself, smirking the same smirk he always gives you when he’s being an asshole and squeezing the tit that rests above your heart. 

You’re angry that you like it. You enjoy the way he grips tighter, and ruts himself harsher against you. Almost more desperately than Jake did. Rougher, so much rougher. 

“You can’t fix what’s happened.” You groan out, annoyed and equally as aroused. “So, stop trying.”

“Getting you wet can fix it.” He says, leaning back and placing both hands on your knees, spreading your legs wide. He stares at you and the dismay on your face, then down between your legs. It doesn’t take much convincing from him though, to have you bucking your hips up against your own will. 

You never knew Jay could be so confident or dirty. 

And when he backs up just to take off your bottoms in one swift motion, you don’t even hide your face. Because you don’t care what you look like right now, or what he sees. You’re already past the boundary and at this point your body wants what it wants. 

Quite frankly, you hope he fucks the morals right out of you. You hope he fucks the emotion out of you, and renders you a shell of a person that can no longer feel pain in any capacity. 

“Well, well, well.” Jay gloats as he gets back between your legs, noting how you’re already wet. Not entirely wet, but definitely turned on. “Can’t believe you’re wet for your own brother.” 

You roll your eyes, wishing he’d stop focusing on that. You’re barely related. Just by marriage, anyway. 

“Stop talking.” You argue. 

And, well, for the first time he listens to you. 

If you knew you could shut him up by putting a pussy in his mouth, perhaps you would have done this sooner. Then again, you likely wouldn’t have considered it before now. 

Anything he could say to you right now is muffled, and all you can hear are groans and grunts each time he tries to lick straight into you. Through you almost. His tongue is just as harsh as everything else, neglecting your clit and going straight for what he wants in his mouth. 

He licks and laps at you without shame, knees planted on the floor and fingers spreading you open against his lips. His eyes stay open though, staring up at you, only blinking slowly when he gets a taste of something particularly sweet. 

You try not to reach down like you always seem to do for Jake. You really do try, but it’s like an instinct thing, you guess. You find your fingers in his hair, gripping the strands much harsher than you usually would this time. 

If he’s rough, you can be rough too, right? 

You drag him up by his hair, listening to his shameless moan of pleasure at how you treat him. You plant his face directly against your clit, and he’s just as harsh with his tongue against it. Flicking it, swirling his tongue around it, side to side, up and down, before he circles his lips around it and sucks with another one of his embarrassingly sexy moans. 

Something about him liking this to the full extent is so good. It’s so wrong, but it’s so, so, fucking good. 

And as you hold him there, his fingers slide into you as if he knows exactly how to do it. You’re shocked that he does, actually. With someone so invisible to the world to anyone but himself, he must have gotten plenty of practice in with all of the snooty book-smart girls back on campus. 

You hate to admit that they’re kind of lucky. Jay is clean with it. Goes straight for the pleasure spots and doesn’t fuck around at all. Sunghoon was always messy with his fingers, smiling and playing with you and the way you’d whine for him to hit a particular spot again. Jake, on the other hand, would never know where to land his fingers, but he’d find it and keep hitting it when you’d make that one specific sound. 

Jay knows where it is, and he knows he does. 

You know he does.

To the point that you can’t help the moans that fall from your lips. Almost as shameless as he is, avoiding the fact that you do like this. You do like the entire situation that surrounds it. After all, you’d never get fucked like this is it wasn’t from Jay, right? If he didn’t go off and set you up for failure first, right? 

Fuck Jay.

Quite literally. Fuck him for being so good at ruining everyone. 

“I hate you.” You whisper between moans, already feeling the tears bubble up again. You hate him so much, and you hate everything about how he really could have been something had he tried before. 

You hate that it feels so good.

You hate that he chuckles at your words, vibrating his voice against your clit and making you shiver.

You can’t stand that he can fit three fingers into you with ease, proving how wet you are for him. 

And even more do you hate the way he pulls back, staring up at you as he quickens his fingers, hitting that same spot, over and over again with a filthy smirk on his glistening lips. 

“Hate me all you want,” He says in a smooth voice, listening to the sounds of how wet you are gushing out and against his palm. “You seem to love what I can do for you.”

You groan out again, from deep in your chest as you try to close your legs around him, as if to push him out of you but you can feel the way he easily keeps one of your legs spread out and open, preventing the act. 

And as he listens to the sounds of your body, it all clicks in his head. It’s no wonder Jake wanted to be with you so bad. The taste of you, the smell, the sounds your body emits to be fucked? He wouldn’t let anyone take you from him. Sunghoon too, no wonder he kept coming back. That girl he always fucks during the summers surely doesn’t stand a chance against you. 

No one could look so sweet and sound so arousing like this but you. Not a single other person in this world could have his cock straining against his pants like this over the act of giving head. If anything, Jay hates giving head. But you’re clean.

You taste sweet. 

He could eat you out for days. 

“God, just fucking look at you.” He groans to himself when he stares at his three fingers plunging into you, hitting that same spot since he started. 

He can feel the squeeze of your pussy around his fingers each time he drives them in deep, pushing them together. And you only squeeze more and more as he does it. He knows exactly what this means. 

“Already?” He asks snidely. “Just from my fingers?”

You stay silent only because you couldn’t speak if you wanted to. Never has a man assaulted your g-spot so well before, and you’ve felt it building up this entire time. Your whole body feels weak, your eyes feel fogged over, your brain is going numb as you relish in the pleasure rather than the reality just outside of it. 

“Fuck, Jay.” You manage to get out, not even shocked that you just said his name in regards to this situation.

Nothing shocks you anymore.

And it’s like music to his ears to hear you sing his name in pleasure. It’s not a stutter of Jake’s name this time. It’s really his name, and he feels so fucking elated by it. He fucks his fingers in faster through the eagerness of hearing you willingly say that to him. He even dips down, his shoulders keeping your legs open just so he can lick around the same hole his fingers are stretching out, and right there is where he wills for you to come.

He wants to feel it drip against his tongue, he wants his fingers and face to be fucking soaked in you and all of that hate you claim you have for him. 

It’s not a shocker to him that you do, either. He knows how to touch a pussy, you’re not a puzzle for him. But at least your cum is sweeter than he’s ever tasted. He laps it up like a fucking dog, moaning through it as you hold your breath. Your legs shake, your cunt clenches, your clit throbs, and he’s the reason for all of it. 

He works you through it so well, to the point that you’re out of breath and looking at him as if he is your boyfriend. Only now do you wish that your mother didn’t have to go off and marry his dad. You could have easily dated this asshole just for the way he gives head and uses his fingers alone.

Yeah, maybe you are a slut. 

“Mm, I heard that.” He coos out, licking up the last of your orgasm before lifting and resting his head just below your belly button. “You moaned my name.” 

You’ve never seen him smile like this. His eyes have never looked so bright before. You’re mad that he looks attractive between your legs, with his lips dripping in your own arousal. You hate that you like it. 

“I did.” You say, leaving no room for him to respond. 

After all, he probably said that just to try and get a rise out of you. 

“You’re going to do it again, you know.” He responds anyway, now standing and reaching for the button on his pants. “And again.” 

You watch him, not wanting to believe that you’ll be moaning his name again tonight. Thinking that this is the end of it, though you should have known better. He’s going all the way. 

“Roll over.” He says now, almost demanding in a way that makes you immediately follow the direction.

You roll over perfectly for him, presenting an already fucked and pulsing hole for him to rub up and against. He actually has to blink up at the ceiling with a deep breath before really getting a good look at this angle. 

A perfect ass, perfect cunt, all wet and willing for him of all people. You’re right where you belong at this moment. Against your bed, with his cock out and ready to fuck you until you forget Jake ever existed. 

“Damn.” He comments, thumbing at your pussy lips and gripping himself with the other hand. “Have you ever looked at yourself in the mirror like this?”

That’s a weird question, but yeah. 

Still, you don’t nod or answer. You just stuff your face into the very same pillow that Jake laid against the day you straddled him. If you breathe in hard enough, you can almost smell him on it. 

“I’m sure you have.” Jay answers for himself, now spreading your cheeks and getting a good look at both holes. 

Then, he leans forward, takes off his shirt, and slaps his cock against your swollen lips. Over and over again, watching the strings of your previous orgasm connect him to you. He pushes, and pushes, rubbing it between your lips and relishing in the image of his cock against you.

Where it fucking belongs.

And then he’s releasing a string of saliva, letting it drop directly onto the head of his length before he pushes the tip in. 

God, he’s thick. Just the head alone feels so much bigger than you’ve had before and it’s a bit unfamiliar. Because, of fucking course it is. 

Still, he stays like that. Pushing his tip in, out, in, out. 

Over and over again, giving you small sighs from his throat at the feeling until you can’t fucking stand it anymore.

You’re the one who pushes back, slipping another inch of him into your tight and wet walls, gripping your sheets much the same way Jake did when you went down on him.

“Fuuuuck,” Jay moans out slowly, using both hands to spread your cheeks and get a good look at the way you’re the one who wants more. “Didn’t expect you to be this tight, baby.”

You ignore his words, knowing they’re more insulting than you need to hear right now. 

And then, you feel his hand move to the small of your back and push a perfect arch out of you, his other hand pushing forward to grip your tit. He slides all the way in this time, bottoming out before staying in place just to feel you adjust around him.

“Let me feel how tight you really are then,” He smiles from behind you, finger flicking your nipple and flexing his cock inside of you. “Squeeze it.” 

You clench on demand, not because he asked for it, but because the feeling of his fingers on your nipple forces you to do it. It’s a slight pleasure that always shoots straight to your pussy and you can’t fucking help the moan. You’ve always been weak to have your nipples played with, and Jake really indulges you in that. Jay is doing the same without even fucking knowing what it does to you. 

“Goddamn, I just know they’ll miss you.” Jay breaks out in a moan, boasting about having his cock in you and feeling the way your perfect cunt jerks it off for him. “Wouldn’t let anyone fuck this pussy again,” He continues to ramble to you, spilling out his filthy desires. “My pretty slut of a sister, giving it to me like this?”

You gasp when he finally moves, pulling out nearly all the way before stuffing you full again.

“Finally letting me see what all the hype was about?” He degrades, keeping his pace slow just to hear you give into his words with each moan. “I’ll give it to you, you’d like that wouldn’t you?”

You nod against your will, never realizing that maybe you like being called these names. Jay, once so quiet and stoic, now talking to you in a way you never could have imagined. You don’t know why it’s so hot. You won’t think too hard into it, nor will you ever bring this shit up again either. 

“Wouldn’t you?” He repeats, leaning down against your ear. “I’ll be the one to fuck you the way you need, won’t I?”

His hips pick up at that point, driving those long and languid strokes into you at a quicker pace, with so much ease and confidence that you almost find it hard to think he’s lying. Maybe the only person you shouldn’t be fucking really is the only one who could fuck you the way you need it. 

“Jay,” You hiccup against your pillows, trying to lift, but his hand only pushes you further down, keeping that perfect arch for him to hit your g-spot much like he did with his fingers. “Jay,” You try again, wanting to say something and not yet having the ability. 

“That’s right.” He encourages you through his own stifled grunt, putting all the force in his body behind his thrusts now. “Say it.” He continues, now moving the hand from your tit to your hair, forcing your head back and your arch to reach pure agony. 

God, that slight change in position nearly does him in. The way you gasp out and let him force you into a shape that only a gymnast could achieve. So flexible. So slutty. You’re perfect. 

“God, Just fucking say it again.” He groans, now releasing your hair and gripping your ass, forcing you to ride back on him, trying to memorize the way your pussy walls hug around him, trying to memorize the way you moan for him, the way you’re wet for him, the way he’s finally fucking you. 

“Jay–” You moan out, lifting on your arms yourself this time, ruining the arch but pleasing him all the same when you bounce back, to the point that he’s chuckling out his groans and biting his bottom lip to the point he may actually be bleeding. 

You are truly so unbelievable to him.

“So needy for dick.” He tuts, trying to keep his composure as he stares down at the scene of you riding against him. “Just gonna ride me like the filthy slut I always knew you were?” 

You hiccup, chasing the pleasure for yourself and you alone. Loving the numbness in your brain right now, and the way his cock pulses inside of you. You feel like you could burst with every color of emotion you’ve ever felt in your life, but you refrain. 

You bounce back harder, harder, harder, until your knees buckle and he slips out of you when you fall flat back onto your stomach. 

He thinks it’s cute though, in the way you fucked against him until you couldn’t anymore. Rendering your body a melted mess of a woman, where he can easily move you to roll over, and take you for all your worth. So he can fuck you better than anyone ever has, so he can remind you that while you’re dirty, and give yourself to just about anyone, you’re proud to have given it to him too. 

And as you lay there, staring up at him when he pushes your legs up to your chest, slipping right back into you with a pornographic moan of his own, you can’t help but see him as anyone other than Jay. 

He’s too attractive, he fucks too good. 

Except it is Jay. You’ve moaned his name. It’s his cock inside of you, he’s the reason you’re so close to your second orgasm. 

And goddamn, do you need it. 

You need it so much that your fingers leave marks against his shoulders as you try to hold onto him. All you can hear are his breaths of the words “Yes.” and “Mhm.” encouraging you to scratch him harder and deeper as he fucks into you.

He knows you feel good, mostly because of the way you finally make eye contact with him, and the way you look at him as if you want him to be the one fucking you right now over anyone else. 

“You really are just–” He starts, in awe at how pretty. “So fucking pretty.” He laughs this time, slamming his hips into you at a pace that forces small moans out of you with each pointed thrust. 

And you are shocked by his sudden kind words. This whole time you never could have guessed he had some weird little crush on you, and event through him fucking you, you couldn’t tell. But now he suddenly wants to say you’re pretty? 

You don’t get him. Nor do you even care to understand, because what he’s doing right now is enough to distract you from the inevitable situation that will follow. 

You remain silent save for the few moans you offer, trying to focus solely on the way his cock splits you open. And man, he really does fuck hard. Each slam into you feels like you’re seeing stars, to the point that you can feel your throat go dry from your slacked lips.

To the point your tits are squished under your legs painfully. 

To the fucking point that the saliva that does collect in your mouth only falls out of the corners of your mouth.

Jay is so quick to catch it too, leaning down and squishing your tits even more painfully as he licks up each dribble and revels in the warmth of your mouth. He doesn’t kiss you though, no, no. He likes seeing you cock-drunk for him too much.

You’re really letting him fuck you, and you’re really just letting him do whatever he wants? All it took was losing Jake as a friend? He’d do it over and over again just to experience this in all the different ways he could imagine. 

And as he thinks about it, with your pussy clenching him so tightly, he finally releases your legs and focuses on getting you off once more. He lands his fingers right between your legs, aggressively rubbing your clit in time with each of his breathless thrusts.

He’s out of breath by this point, sweating, and his hair is falling against his face only to stick to his forehead as he gives it to you the way you deserve. He wills it out of you, unsatisfied if he can’t get you to come at least twice on him.

Then, he encourages it. 

“Come on, baby–you’re close, right?” He grunts, already feeling dangerously close to his own orgasm. “Let me feel it,” He continues, staring straight into your eyes as if he’s telepathically forcing the orgasm out of you. And it works, he can feel the clench become suffocating around his length, forcing his own eager orgasm to the surface.

“Fuck, yeah, this is what you wanted.” He nods to himself frantically, fingers stuttering against your clit as he grinds his cock into you as deep as he can manage, holding it there as he witnesses your second orgasm along with his own. 

And both of you are whispering moans and strings of “fuck” and “goddamn” and even a few of his name. 

It only drove his orgasm to keep spurting out of him far past your own high. You feel it, and you watched him do it. He didn’t pull out, nor did he even ask if he needed to. He fills you to the brim and only keeps going, lending short thrusts as if to push the cum deeper and deeper into you until he’s entirely drained and spent. 

There, he pulls out without a single glance to you before he falls onto your bed, letting the mess on his cock seep into your sheets. That’s when he looks at you, out of breath and sparkly eyed as he pushes his hair out of his face. 

He fucking smiles at you. 

“Feel better?” He asks through deep breaths, reaching his hand up to your cheek and caressing it as if he actually cares.

“No.” You say numbly, feeling more hollow than you did before giving in to the temptation of a situation so fucked up. “I feel worse now.” 

“Aww,” He coos, lifting on his elbow to look at you. “You should’ve told me, I could have kept going.”

You stare at him, unsure of how you feel about any of this. Certainly not wanting it to happen again, but somehow knowing that it very well might. 

On your terms. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Things are weird after Jay goes back to his room. He even cleaned you up a little bit using one of Jake’s old shirts with a chuckle. Even nodded to you, saying you should give it back to him unwashed when he inevitably breaks up with you. 

It made you cry the instant he finally left you alone. Which is so fucked up because you couldn’t even tell if you wanted to be alone or not. You almost wanted him to stay and pretend to love you for a little longer despite how wrong it was. 

At the end of the day though, Jay got what he wanted, and you’re still here having to clean up the trail of destruction he leaves behind him. 

The first thing you need to do is talk to Jake and lay it out straight to him. You want to tell him you know the truth, but most of all you want to ask why he did it. You want to know why he was so good at lying, and you deserve to know if any of it at all was real.

Because if he so much as nods his head that any of it was real, you’d never talk to Jay again. In fact, you’d never even look at him again. Especially after what just happened. Regardless of if you liked it, regardless of if Jake really did lie to you, you’d tell Jake everything.

Even if it makes you weird for letting Jay fuck you. Even if it’s weird that you fucked yourself against him.

You’d give everything to Jake if he’d accept it, and all you can do now is hope that somehow this situation is flipped on its head. 

Though there’s no way it could be. 

So, you lay there, alone in your bed wishing so much that you had someone to tell you that everything will be okay.

The last thing you needed was for that person to be fucking Sunghoon. 

The bright and unknowing text makes you cry harder, but you still respond to it. 

Because at the end of the day, you really are dumb. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Approaching Jake the next day felt like a whirlwind of emotion in your chest. Wondering if everything Jay said was true, wondering if it’s a lie. 

You don’t think you’ve ever hoped more for anything. For Jake to explain it all, for him to make promises and never break them. For him to still want you even if you don’t want yourself. 

He sees your face fall the second you look at him. You look nervous, scared, maybe even a bit broken. Which is insane compared to how you normally look at him, or act around him. He immediately panics too, especially when you don’t lift up and kiss him like usual.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, sitting with you in his driveway after a silent drive over. “Things feel really weird and I’d rather you just tell me now because I feel like I’m going crazy.”

“Jay told me everything.” You say, voice breaking throughout each word as you try your damndest to keep the tears from falling and making you look more pathetic than you already do. 

Jake is silent when he hears you say that. Reminding himself of the threats Jay threw at him last week, and wondering why he, himself, didn’t try to work things out further with Jay so the truth wouldn’t have come out this way. 

You probably hate him. After all, this whole relationship is based on a lie, but that doesn’t mean he lied about his feelings. Because he fucking meant everything. 

“Can we go inside to talk about it?” Jake asks gently, turning to you in a timid stance, seemingly curling in on himself. He reaches out to you, but you flinch away, not wanting to be touched by anyone. “Please?” 

You try to look at him but the second you do, the tears well up to the point you’d rather just go back home. You feel so tired. Your legs are sore from what Jay did with you, your heart is sore from what Jay told you, and your really, really, just want to sleep it all away. 

“Did he really pay you?” You ask through your tears, shifting closer and closer to the door just to create distance so you can breathe. 

“Please, just come inside.” Jake pleads, face flushed and heart buzzing at the fear of losing you. 

Angry over the fact that Jay would really stoop so low. 

“No.” You dead-pan, staring out the window. “I don’t want to go inside with you.”

That really shatters Jake. Entirely, actually, in the way you say it so confidently. He knows you deserve answers though, and you’re probably sick of people toying with you and your little frail heart strings. 

“Okay.” He says in a sigh, breathing out and pushing himself against the back of his driver’s seat before turning to look at you again. “He did pay me, but I need you to tell me what he said to you.”

You feel that last bit of hope dissolve with his confirmation. Why does it matter now what Jay said? It’s probably true, right?

It takes you a few minutes to regain composure, crying hot and salty tears next to a man on the verge of breaking someone’s arm over this. 

“He said he paid you to get me away from Sunghoon. That you lied the whole time, and that you were planning to break up with me soon.”

In that instance, Jake sees red. 

You can hear him breathe through his nose trying to control how badly he wants to raise his voice, not at you, but at Jay. Jay isn’t here though, no. Jay is at home, daydreaming about how he had you once and for all, and the way he set it up for Jake to have no room to wiggle again. 

You hear Jake call your name, trying to get you to look at him, but you can’t. You try to keep your eyes out the window, solely because you refuse to look at him if he can’t come up with some type of excuse for you to cling onto. 

Jake is good at lying though, you remind yourself. 

“I didn’t lie the whole time.” He starts, leaning himself back against the seat of his car and trying to think up a way to explain it that doesn’t make him look worse than he already does. “There’s no way I can explain this without it making me look bad but–” He stops, lifting in his seat and reaching for you, forcing you to look at him. “I only lied to you about wanting to start a band, everything else was real. I stopped taking his money. I tried to tell him the deal is off because I want to be with you, I–”

You look at him this time, letting the information sit right in the center of your brain.

“He got mad when I told him I didn’t want to break up. He offered to pay me triple to do it, then threatened me when I ignored him.” 

Maybe he’s not lying. 

“I’ve known him since childhood, I only took this deal because I thought he was genuinely just trying to get you away from some asshole. But when he didn’t even want me to be with you, I realized–”

“He fucked me, you know?” You say, shaking your head with a sad laugh. “I let him. I don’t know why but,  I did.” 

Jake freezes, his apologetic tone leaving his body in an instant.

“Are you fucking joking right now?” He asks, clenching his fists before loosening them to grab your face on both sides. “I need you to understand that I lied to you before I knew you. I didn’t mean to hurt you, I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

You stare forward in a numb way, feeling his warm hands caress your cheek like it doesn’t look like he wants to murder someone right now. 

“I don’t care if you slept with him. He’s the one who took advantage of you, not me.”

Only now do you think your tears dry up, choosing to believe Jake, choosing to hate Jay. Both with all of your being. 

“I need you to promise me not to tell anyone.” You say with a hollow voice. “I need you to make a lot of promises to me after this if you still want me.”

“Wha-” Jake is dumbfounded by your words. “If I still want you?!” He continues, that angry expression now turned at you. “You think I don’t want you now? Because my own best friend decided to become a piece of shit? This isn’t your fault.” 

You feel lighter at those words, your legs feel less sore, your heart starts beating at a pace that you can hear. 

“I let him though.” You say, trying to look away but feeling Jake hold your face and keep it from moving. “I believed him over you.”

Jake nods, softening his features in an instant when he lunges forward to kiss you. 

“Let’s just– let’s go inside, okay?”

You nod slowly, feeling slightly dissociated about all of this, especially with the way your entire life and moral status shattered within the span of a day and a half. 

And when Jake walks you inside, he sits with you on the couch with no indication of taking advantage of you. He looks just as hurt and confused as you do despite being Jay’s co-conspirator at one point.

“Sunghoon texted me.” You add to the whirlwind of mishaps. “I responded, but then he ghosted me again.”

Jake nods, listening to you before the room falls heavy and silent. The only comfort you feel comes from the warmth of his side pressed against yours. 

“I really hope you believe me when I say I meant all of what I’ve said to you. If I was really going to break up with you and do what he wanted me to do, I wouldn’t have slept with you.” 

You pause.

“You wouldn’t have?”

Jake shakes his head, proving to you time and time again that he is nothing but a man who cares about how other people feel. If he were to continue the deal and have no feelings for you by the end of it, you genuinely believe the blow would have hurt less because he would have made sure of it. 

“As much as I wanted to sleep with you from day one, I wouldn’t have if I wasn’t as attached to you as I was, or still am.”

Everything always feels better when Jake is the one talking, explaining, navigating. It’s like there’s nothing in the world he can’t do. A situation that felt like it couldn’t be fixed, suddenly feels mended and unbelievably stupid to you.

Jay is pathetic, and you gave in to the way he spoke to you, you gave him what he wanted, and what did he do? Smile because he got his way? Chuckle at your pain? Get off on it, even? God, you’re so stupid. 

“I believe you.” You finally breathe out, feeling an immense amount of weight lifting off of you. “What should we do, then?” 

“Piss him off? What? He doesn’t have anything on me after this anyway. He isn’t gonna run and tell your mom he slept with you or anything, I know for a fact his dad would beat his ass.” 

You chuckle, which feels morbidly uncanny to do right now, but you worried you’d never be able to crack a smile again. 

“So, what else then? What else did you lie to me about?” You ask, blinking away lighter tears now. 

“My gpa isn’t a 2.1.” He looks away, feeling bad that he lied to you at all. “It’s a 4.3.”

Oh. A smart boy. 

“I don’t usually paint my nails or wear ripped clothes, and I’m kind of a loser. I’ve only slept with like two girls before you.” He continues, looking at you with sparkling eyes. “I think I like this look on me though, so in a way I wasn’t even lying about my fashion sense past the first day, if I’m being honest.”

You smile, reminding yourself of how genuine he felt when you were with him back then. 

“Only two girls?” You pin point that quick statement he made. “I definitely wouldn’t have guessed.” You laugh sarcastically, sniffling a bit due to the sheer amount of crying you’ve been doing. 

Jake rolls his eyes at you. 

“Isn’t that proof enough to know I wouldn’t have done any of this with bad intentions?”

You smile, nodding, feeling like you’re worlds away from the pain you felt this morning. 

“I can’t believe he did that.” You finally let out, leaning closer to Jake and gripping onto his arm as if you need more balance. He lets you, feeling happy but still angry at the man who used to be his most beloved friend. 

“I’d like to say the same, but unfortunately I’m not shocked.” Jake shakes his head in pity a Jay, the guy who thinks he has it all. “He’s always been awful to other people, but never to me until now.”

You nod in agreement.

“I barely noticed him before my mom decided to marry his dad. It’s going to be hard going back to campus without you. He’s probably going to sabotage me more or something.” 

“Nah,” Jake shakes his head languidly. “4.3 GPA remember?” He continues, wrapping both arms around you and hugging. “I could transfer.”

And for some reason, you can’t help but feel excited knowing Jay may have had you once, but he will never have you again. You can’t wait to see the look on his face with Jake rolls up on campus, tainting any plan to get close to you. Even more? You know Sunghoon will be fuming to know he fucked around and found out.

After all, with your mother so lovey dovey with Jay’s dad, you could always spend the summer with Jake instead. Leaving Jay all alone, where he fucking belongs.

#enhypen smut #sim jaeyun smut #park jongseong smut #jake smut #jay smut

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer Park Steve AU part 3

part 1 | part 2

(tw: guns, accidental death)

Robin’s already in full panic mode by the time Steve pulls up to her place, flinging the passenger door open and throwing herself into the car with so much force that the car bounces on its wheels a little. “Drive!!”

“Jesus Christ, good morning to you, too.”

“Steve!”

Steve starts to drive.

Beside him, Robin flips the visor down to look at her reflection; groans and scrubs her hands down her face in misery at whatever she sees. Steve doesn’t really get it. He thinks she looks beautiful, with her hair gently moving in the breeze from the open window, with her freckles lit up by the early morning sun.

“Ugh,” she says, turning to look at him, “I can’t believe I look like a zombie and you’re gonna make me late to the first day of school.”

“Wow.” Fuckin’ ingrate. And when he was just being so nice to her in his head. “How about a thank you, huh? ‘Thanks for picking me up, Steve. Thanks for bringing my backpack, Steve. Sorry you almost got shanked by your neighbor, Steve.’”

“You what???”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Um, yes it very much does matter, what the—”

“—I’m just saying, a little gratitude? Wouldn’t hurt you.”

He licks at the corner of his mouth, spritzes wiper fluid to clear the bugs off the windshield. Robin’s eyes are bulging out of her head, but he really doesn’t want to talk about how he still feels the ghost press of steel against his throat, so: “You’re not even right, by the way; I don’t know why you’re complaining.”

“Huh?”

“School started yesterday. I’m making you late for the second day of school.”

“Yesss,” she draws the word out like he’s stupid, rolling her wrist in a hurry up and get it motion, “but everyone knows that syllabus day doesn’t count. The first pep rally is the real first day of school.”

Ah, there it is.

Steve steals another peek at his best friend while they’re on a straightaway, notes the nervous twitch of her hands as she goes back to fussing at her reflection; the way she’s clumping her lashes together with seven coats too many of some drugstore brand mascara. She’s wearing lipstick. “This is about Vick—”

“—Don’t talk about—”

“—It’s about Vickie, isn’t it?”

“Ughhhhh.” Robin folds forward and thunks her head against the dash. “Fine, okay? Fine! Yes! This may have something to do with a distressingly cute fellow marching band member. Are you happy now?”

“Ecstatic.”

“Oooh, big word for you, Steven.” She swats him on the shoulder, face all twisted up in offense. “Stop laughing!”

“Stop hitting me,” he laughs. “I’ll dump your ass out on this highway.”

She gasps and narrows her eyes at him. “You wouldn’t.”

Steve eases his foot onto the brake.

“Okay, okay! Mercy! I’m being an asshole, alright? I’m sorry. I’m just— I’m stressed! Being gay is very stressful.”

The knife incident pops back into his mind. “Yeah,” he mutters, “I imagine it is.”

—

He catches himself slouching down into his seat a bit when they pull up to the school. Has to force himself to sit upright, hears his mother’s tutting in his ear about bad posture and the message it projects to the world.

It’s not that he’s embarrassed to be here; really, he isn’t. He’s just hoping to avoid being spotted by the nuggets now that they go here, too, lest he be accosted for evading his chauffeur duties.

God.

Dustin’s nerd shit is infecting his brain.

Robin grabs her bag out of the back seat, plants a parting peck on Steve’s cheek as she gets out of the car. “See you later?”

“Yeah, I’ll pick you up for work.”

“Love you, dingus.”

And then he’s alone again.

With Robin gone, Steve finds himself driving. Wandering and aimless, like a ghost who doesn’t know he’s gone. It’s not like he has nothing to do — he’s supposed to be out finding a second job, finding a way to support himself and his mom, because he’s the man of the house now. Because his life has turned into one of those shitty, overcomplicated word problems from math class.

If a recently widowed mother works no hours and her minimum-wage son works as many as Family Video will allow, how much mold-riddled dogshit housing can they afford?

Not much.

Inevitably, he finds himself circling the scorched bones of Starcourt, driving tired loops around the barbed wire perimeter. His ghost likes to guide him here; can’t shake the place where he shook off the mortal coil.

He didn’t know it at the time, but Steve Harrington died the day the mall burned down. Embarrassing, to not hear the death knell as his family name went up in smoke.

It was hard to hear much at all that night, between the concussion and the fireworks and the shrieking of a monster being torn apart, but the memory caresses his mind now in cruel whispers: the headrush of victory; the blood and the sweat; the relief that they’d won, they’d done it, it’s over, they won.

Steve tugs at his bad ear ‘til the ringing subsides.

Some fucking grand prize.

The thing is, you can’t go around exploding an eldritch horror without alerting the US government, and the US government can’t go around letting major investors in a hostile commie invasion keep their assets once they find out about their treasonous schemes. It happened fast: the arrest, the bail, the impending trial and the seizure of property. Richard Harrington was once a small town god on an invisible throne, making deals with devils in shadowy boardrooms, and suddenly he was looking at life in a cell.

Maybe it was a blessing he died before his reckoning was due. Maybe it was no accident at all.

The second, and perhaps more important, thing is: stray bullets don’t care about your looming court date.

Dad had a habit of cleaning his guns while he was drunk, nursing a whiskey in one hand while he polished the gleaming barrels with the other. Pointless, really, because the guns were always pristine to begin with. Dick Harrington didn’t hunt. Didn’t shoot. Claimed the pistol was for home defense, that he kept it loaded in case anyone ever tried to hurt his family, but Steve knew the truth.

His dad just liked to flirt with death. Liked to handle pretty, deadly things, stroke his fingers over ruthless metal and feel the rush of power when he walked away unscathed.

He didn’t walk away that night.

Didn’t even face death standing.

Sliced through his femoral artery and rolled right out of his chair.

They found him lying on the ground in a dark, sticky puddle, gasping like a fish as blood spurted from his thigh. Crazy how fast it happened. Steve had been in his room when the shot rang out, and he barely managed to reach the bottom of the stairs before the gurgling noises stopped. Just boom! whizz! bang! and Dick Harrington was gone.

Maybe it’s a good thing, too, that they lost the house.

The image of his mother in the hallway that night — shellshocked in the doorway, one pale hand shaking in front of her open mouth, features wide and wet with waking horror as she stared into the room — was enough to make him never want to step foot in the place again.

So now they live in a rundown piece of shit on the wrong side of town, with hideous burnt orange carpet and wood paneled walls, with cracks in the ceiling and cigarette burns in the walls, some parting gifts from whatever feral hick lived there before them, and it feels like another cruel, cosmic joke. Like the universe is delighting in the Harringtons’ comeuppance; like the blackened beams and brick rubble of Starcourt are all twisting to form one great, mocking mouth; the better to smile and laugh at their misfortune.

You bought your bed, now you have to lie in it.

He didn’t even know that the Harringtons owned Forest Hills until it was the only asset left to their name.

He’s pretty sure his dad bought it more as a joke than a genuine investment. Meant to teach Steve a lesson, like how he used to bring home Waffle House applications whenever Steve got a C on a report card. This is your future if you don’t straighten up, son.

Kill yourself, dad.

Oh, wait.

You already did.

—

part 4

#trailer park steve au #steve harrington #robin buckley #platonic stobin #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fic #my writing #my fic #tw: guns #tw: death

[steviesbicrisis]

Steve’s best relationship wasn’t even a relationship. He could barely call it a fling, a flirt. They never even went on a date. They never kissed.

Steve still thinks of it as the best whatever-it-is he has ever had with someone.

At the beginning it was mostly infuriating, how quickly Eddie managed to win the kids over, compared to Steve’s months of work as babysitter/nailbat swinger/monster fighter. Steve had to literally bleed multiple times to get an ounce of respect, Eddie only had to run a nerdy club about fictional bleeding and monster-fighting.

Then somehow, and Steve still has trouble pinpointing when and how it happened, everything changed.

Taking the kids back home from hellfire became something he impatiently waited for.

He and Eddie would barely talk for a few minutes and he would find himself replaying the conversation in his head for days. Anything he could say to get a reaction out of Eddie became fundamental, and if he started by picking subjects to piss him off, he ended learning about Eddie’s favorites, because few minutes after hellfire were never enough and Steve needed Eddie to talk as much as possible, until the kids were begging to drop it and go home.

Steve never questioned the change, most likely out of fear. He doesn’t think he ever was clueless, just really scared about what would potentially mean to be staring at another dude’s eyelashes as he goes on a rant about why Ozzy Osbourne is the best artist of his generation. Or blush whenever said dude would call him “baby”, or “sweetheart”.

Steve convinced himself that the thing he and Eddie were having was as good as it was going to get, nothing more.

Then Chrissy Cunningham died, Eddie ran, and Steve realized that the thing will never be enough for him.

He couldn’t not have Eddie. Not watch him as he entertains a bunch of freshmen, as he stomps with his worn out sneakers on top of forniture, as he puts his terrible music on to push away anyone who doesn’t care enough about him to stay.

Steve needed to see Eddie being alive, doing what his heart desires, and he needed to be next to him when he does.

Obviously, this realization came at the worst possible time.

Steve tried to tell him so many times: when they found him at the boathouse, when he was hiding at refer Rick’s house, when they were taking a stroll in the upside down, and even when they were driving a stolen trailer to a gunshop.

But, it seemed, Eddie had come to a realization just as important and he tried his best to avoid Steve at every given chance.

Steve tried to initiate the conversation as Eddie did his best to run away from it. And he ran until Steve had no chances left to tell him how he actually felt.

———

Steve doesn’t know if he’s allowed to say he lost something he never had. To mourn a relationship he never began. A partner that, technically, never became a partner.

After Eddie dies, Steve has no one to be next to but he can’t say he ever did.

Steve just exists waiting. He can’t tell if he’s waiting for the pain to go away or for Eddie to jump out of a bush and yell “ah! I got you sucker!! By the way, I’m in love with you too.”

For obvious reasons, that never happens.

What does happen, is a call.

It’s a normal Tuesday, as normal as you could define it after Hawkins almost collapsed into the upside down. Steve got into a routine, between checking on the ones at the hospital, helping out at the shelter, allowing Robin to check on him to see if he’s still alive.

The call happens while Robin is doing her kitchen check up - aka making sure he has food and that he’s eating it-, so she picks the phone like she did a million times before.

“Harrington residence, this is Robin” she says, cheerfully.

Steve doesn’t pay much attention to it as he’s folding his dad’s old clothes that intends to donate to the shelter, until he hears Robin’s loud gasp.

“What is it? Is it the hospital? Is it Max?” He rushes to the other room where Robin is.

She doesn’t answer but she gives him a look as she passes him the receiver.

Steve goes quiet, a million thoughts going through his head as he takes the phone from Robin.

He’s still unprepared when he hears that unmistakable voice “Baby”.

Steve gasps for breath “Eddie?”

Is that really you? What happened? Are you hurt? Isn’t this impossible? Is what goes on in Steve’s head, but he ends up just asking “are you okay?”

He can hear a chuckle, Eddie’s wicked chuckle, a further confirmation that it is him, “I’m- hanging in there… are you okay?”

Steve finds the question absurd. He isn’t the one who got left in the upside down, the one that got eaten by demonic bats, the one who died before Steve had the chance to tell him how he felt.

He answers truthfully nonetheless, “I’m… I’m not okay.”

“I’ll be there soon, I promise.”

“Please Eddie, come quick.”

“I’ll break the sound barrier for you.”

#if you can’t tell #im in my RWRB era #if you watched the movie then you might like this? #just felt inspired honestly #that ‘baby’ lives inside my head rent free #also Kas Eddie we always love to see him #basically Eddie and Steve got close during the school year but Steve realized his feelings only during the events of season 4 #Eddie dies but comes back #because this is the only way I can cope with it #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve and eddie #stranger things #steve x eddie #platonic stobin #robin buckley

[russo-woso]

Hey!!

Could you write one where r is a awfc player and dating Leah, they fight before training and Leah leaves first, and r gets in a car accident

Also please a happy ending

Thnx :)

Why you? | Leah Williamson

Warning injury, hospitals

“Baby, I’ve got a surprise for you.” Leah told you, wrapping her arms around you whilst you made you and Leah breakfast.

“What?” You asked, excitedly, looking at leah with a grin.

“I’ve booked us a table at our favourite for tonight. Just you and me.” Leah revealed and your smile turned to a frown.

“Le, I promised Less I’d show her around London after training. She’s new. She doesn’t know anything about London. She wanted me to show her around and I couldn’t say no.” You explained to Leah resting your hands on Leah’s hips, rubbing your thumbs over them.

“You never spend time with me anymore. This is so unfair, Y/N. I feel like our relationship is only one sided at the minute. Do you even still love me?” Leah asked and your heart raced at the thought of Leah thinking you didn’t love her.

“Le, of course I love you. Please don’t think I don’t.”

“Well it doesn’t feel like it. I just… I love you so much, Y/N but you’re spending more time with Alessia then you are me.”

“Because she’s new. She doesn’t even know how to get to her house, Leah. I promise we’ll go out tomorrow night.” You repeated your reasons but Leah shook her head at you.

“Tell her to get someone else to do it. Im going to training. I’ll see you there.” Leah said, and grabbed her keys before heading out the house.

You felt terrible. That’s the only word you could think of to describe how you felt.

Leah thought you didn’t love her anymore. And that thought killed you.

You loved Leah more than anything in the world, and she didn’t know that.

Later on that morning, you jumped into your own car, that you barely ever drove because you’d go in Leah’s car, and set off to training by yourself.

“Alessia, hi.” You said as she picked up her phone.

“Hi, Y/N. I’m just driving into training. You okay?” She asked, as you continued to travel through the busy streets of London.

“Yeah, all good. I’m so sorry but can I cancel tonight? Leah surprised me with a table at our favourite restaurant and I’ve barely had anytime to spend with her and I just feel so bad. I’m so sorry.” You justified and you heard Alessia laugh.

“Why are you saying sorry? You’re allowed to spend time with girlfriend. We can organise for another day. Maybe Leah can come with us next time.” Alessia suggested and you hummed in agreement.

“Yeah, maybe. Anyway, thanks less. Oh, and if you see Leah at training before I get there can you please tell her that I love—” You started to say but finished it with a scream as you saw a car speeding at you head first.

Alessia didn’t know what had happened.

One minute you were talking to her, before a deafening crashing sound appeared in her ear, and then silence.

“Y/N? Y/N, are you okay? Fuck.” Alessia panicked, thoughts racing round in her mind.

————————

“Where’s your missus, Leah?” Katie asked, her thick Irish accent being able to be heard from a mile away.

“We had an argument this morning. I was jealous of how much time she was spending with Alessia. I booked us a table at a restaurant and it turns out she’s taking Alessia round London to show her the best spots. She’s just being kind and caring and I got fucking jealous. I’m the worst girlfriend.” Leah’s hands flew to her face, covering it as she mentally screamed at her childishness, feeling guilty for how she treated you.

“Leah!” Alessia ran into the gym, out of breath as if she’d just ran a marathon, tears running down her face. “It’s Y/N. I was on the phone to her and she cancelled because she said she felt bad for not spending time with you but she screamed and a loud crashing sound was heard and then the phone went silent. I think…I think.” She couldn’t finish her sentence, all worked up and her breathing uneven.

And within just seconds, Leah’s phone rang.

Unable to process what Alessia had just told her, Leah hesitantly picked up her phone and answered it.

“Hi, is this Miss Williamson?” A voice on the other end asked.

“Yes. Is everything okay?”

“Hi, you’re the first point of contact for Miss Y/L/N in case of an emergency. Y/N was involved in a car accident. She’s on the way to the hospital now.” The woman explained and Leah’s hand covered her mouth to stop a scream from escaping.

“Which hospital?” Leah managed to get out, her voice cracking.

“St Albans City hospital.”

With that information, Leah put the phone down, immediately running to the car leaving everyone confused.

————————

“My love, I’m so sorry.” Leah sobbed as she sat down in the chair next to your bed.

The doctors had put you in a medically induced coma because the pain would have been too much for you.

You had a cast on your left leg, stitches on your face, a neck brace around your neck and wires all over your body.

“Why you? Why did this have to be you? If only I hadn’t of been jealous. I’m so sorry I did this to you.” Leah continued to cry, her tears dropping onto your bed.

Leah grabbed your hand cautiously, rubbing it.

“I’m so sorry I got angry at you. You were just being a good friend to Alessia. I’m so sorry I made you think that you didn’t love me. I’m so sorry I got jealous. I thought I was losing you Y/N, yet it’s brought me here where I could lose you forever. Please don’t leave me. I can’t live without you, baby.”

After hours of just looking at you, constantly apologising for you being in this situation, Leah was told that she had to go home.

At first she refused, she refused to leave your side, but after being assured that you were in good hands, she left.

She got no sleep that night, stressed and worried that she’d get a phone call saying that you’d passed.

At some point though, she drifted off to sleep, her mind taking her to a place where she could relax.

————————

The following morning, Leah walked through the hospital room doors, expecting to see you fast asleep in a coma.

What she didn’t expect was to find you sitting up eating breakfast.

“Baby, hi!” You exclaimed, you voice hoarse and quiet.

“Y/N.” Leah breathed out, tears finding her cheeks once again as she walked towards your side, her arms gently wrapping round your body.

“Hi, le. I’m sorry about yesterday. I should’ve spent more time with you. I canceled with Alessia but then I couldn’t make it either way.” You apologised and Leah shook her head at you whispering light no’s at you.

“No, no, don’t say sorry. It’s not your fault. It’s mine. I was jealous of Alessia. I’m so stupid. I was being a child. I made you end up in here. I’m so sorry, Y/N. I’m so so sorry.” Leah cried and you brought her in for a hug.

“Le, please don’t cry. I’m okay. Look, I’m okay. I know my face is all fucked up and my leg is in a cast but I’m okay. It wasn’t your fault.”

“I love you so much, Y/N. I couldn’t lose you.” Leah stated as you cradled her head.

“I love you too, Le. I love you so much. Oh and Le, before I forget, I booked us a takeout slot for dinner tonight at the restaurant. I want to spend time with my girl.” You told her and a giggle escaped her lips.

“You get woken up from a coma and the first thing you do is book an order?” Leah asked, not believing your story.

“It’s true.” The doctors said, coming in to check you were okay.

“At least this time I know I’m definitely free.” You joked, lightening your the room even more.

“I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you too, Le. So so much.”

#woso community #woso x reader #woso #woso imagine #womens football #woso fanfics #leah williamson #leah williamson x reader

[plasticferal]

keeping score | matt & chris sturniolo.

prologue: 'they say love is the sixth sense that destroys all other five senses’

authors notes: 1.9k, explicit language, reader discretion is advised. welcome to my first series, please enjoy the ride.

they both want you. the only way matt and chris can agree to settle who wins is through competition, one where you’re the prize. your own heart is torn between the two brothers. the thing is though, love doesn’t keep score.

they have two very different experiences to offer. two sides of the same coin. a coin you refuse you flip and settle on.

matt is the first to catch your eye in any room. he makes you nervous. butterflies, stuttering, awkward laughs, stuttering over your words. all of it. you like him. you’re unsure if he feels the same toward you.

however, you also like chris. the compliments he showers you in, the subtle flirting, the way he softens his tone around you, how giving he is, the way he’s so shamelessly himself. the list goes on. he’s different. 

it’s a weird triangle of intrigue and unrequited feelings that lingers and is never acknowledged.

you’re already convinced it’ll never happen. with either of them. you’d be putting too much at risk considering how deeply you value your friendship before anything else. the fear of falling in love, and losing them both. 

which might just be your karma for being into both brothers. 

they occupy the living room. you’re upstairs, using nick’s bed to take a nap while he showers, and he takes long showers. he’s always given you a safe space in the house, to make it feel like home. 

you love to annoy chris and matt by stealing their clothes, blankets, soft drinks out of the fridge, tagging along to every late night drive and fast food pick up. 

they share everything with you, but you designate yourself in nicks’s room as to not stir up any terrible, rash decisions on your accord.

being fast asleep and tangled up in crisp, cold, silk sheets, it’s a deep sleep. completely escaping into your dreams.

you’re left unaware of the chaos that’s about to ensue in the living room between the two brothers who occupy your mind. chaos is the score in which reality is written upon.

“you like y/n, right?” matt asks chris. 

you’ve had a strange feeling for a while now that matt is trying to set you up with his brother. which, as flattering as it is, it’s bittersweet. 

matt is sinking lazily into the lounge while scrolling through his phone, on the furthest left. chris is on the furthest right with his feet kicked up on the coffee table. 

they’re in direct view of each other on the L shaped couch. not in a literal sense, just in proximity. neither brother is actually looking up from a screen of some kind.

“what?” chris snaps his head toward matt, diverting from the television for a moment. 

“just answer the question.” matt huffs.

“of course i like y/n. she’s the closest person in our life besides like, nick” chris shrugs, going to look back at the screen again. 

matt groans in disappointment at his response. 

“you know i don’t mean it like that.” matt sits up slightly, readjusting his position and posture.

“god here we go again.” chris runs a hand down his face, fearing his brother's next words. 

“how do you really feel about her?” matt pries. 

unusual for him. out of character even, chris is usually the one who needs to know everything all the time, and is never afraid to ask the hard hitting questions, as annoying as it may be. but not with this topic of conversation.

the difference is, chris does it because he’s genuinely curious. matt asks questions for his own selfish reason, to chris’s oblivion. 

chris needs reassurance that he’s making the right decision in not pursuing you. matt needs to know if or when he’s going to have to compete. little does he know that time is nearing. 

“man, i don’t know. i just- i like her. can’t we leave it at that?” chris’s tone is anguished. 

“you’re avoiding the question-”

“i answered your question!” chris cuts matt off before he can fully form his sentence, and matt’s jaw tightens. 

“fine, whatever.” matt waves his hands in the air with defeat before diverting back to his phone, leaving chris to linger on his words.

“i’m never gonna make a move. i know how you feel about her, too.” chris huffs, as though he’s annoyed at the response he’s had to give.

“what’d you mean?” matt gives chris a glare, like he’s daring his next words.

“you know exactly what i fuckin’ mean” chris scoffs, shifting in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest and pulling the sleeves of his gray hoodie past his knuckles.

matt takes a loud inhale through his nose and exhales through his mouth 

“we can’t just keep pretending that we both don’t want her.” matt drops his phone onto his stomach face down, being slightly slumped. 

“i’ve been fine pretending” chris throws the hood of his sweatshirt over his head to hide his eyes more from matt, a natural reaction to not enjoying the grilling. 

“well if you don’t make a move, i will.” matt’s tone is serious.

“you wouldn’t.” chris deadpans, a sincere tone of disbelief seeping from his lip that he’s now biting the corner of.

“you’ve been saying you’re gonna make a move forever and haven’t done shit."

he knows it’s not nice, but there’s something about the lack of passion from chris despite the obvious crush just makes matt's skin crawl. if someone is going like you and not do anything about it, matt is more than willing to shoot his shot, give you what you deserve. 

“that’s not fair” chris twists his face, glaring at his brother. 

"i think it’s more than fair play at this point, kid.” matt scoffs.

if looks could kill, matt would be dead.

all those times you’ve perceived matt bringing up chris to entice you have just been a ploy to gauge how both of you feel. he knows it’s manipulative, but no harm, no foul.

the worst part is, chris isn’t actually even sure he wants a relationship. he’s infatuated by you, undoubtedly. matt on the other hand would marry you with a paper ring. 

they’re both scared of their own feelings, and the intentions that might come along with them. they don’t ever want to hurt you, but their carnal desire is misleading their moral compass.

“alright then,” chris starts, matt’s words hitting a nerve for him. he slaps his hands onto his thighs and sits up in his spot. 

“how do we settle this? who gets her?” chris continues, staring at his brother intently now.

“i don’t think we get to make that decision.” matt shakes his head, bringing his hand to his mouth as he begins to bite his nails, which muffles his words.

“you’re right, we don’t. but we’re gonna have to compete for it to even be an option.”

“compete” matt repeats chris’s words with a sour huff, a slight arrogance in the sense that he doesn’t view his brother as a threat. 

not when it comes to you, and there might be a small part of that statement that’s correct. you have a sweet spot for matt, which fires up chris even more. he is conscious that he’s the underdog, as much as you try to show an even amount of attention to the both of them.

“what’s wrong? you scared you’ll lose?” chris taunts. 

“that’s the least of my worries.” matt scoffs, his mind traveling down every possible path this terrible idea could go down. 

“fine, then you won’t be afraid of a little competition.” chris says nonchalantly, pushing back with the same energy matt’s been giving, turning the tables.

“what’s your plan here? we just tally up the moments we get with her until someone wins? to boost our own egos?” matt speaks with his hands.

“i do love to have my ego stroked” chris grins to himself, the thought of you crossing his mind as the words leave his mouth. his train of thought tends to wonder easily.

“seriously, chris, how do we plan on settling this?” matt rubs his hands together, like the action you do when you’re trying to stay warm. 

“i think there’s only one answer to that.” chris responds, in a “duh” tone, without explicitly sharing what’s on his mind.

their sixth sense of being able to unpack each other's minds sparks like an electrical fault in the moment. of course, neither of them hate the thought of getting you in bed. they just hate the thought of you being unaware. 

somehow it’s more challenging than falling in love, or securing a relationship. betting to sleep with you is actually the hardest challenge of them all, let alone covering all the bases in order to attain it. 

the intimacy, the intensity of it all. it just seems so unattainable. it requires them, and you, to be completely and utterly vulnerable. 

“that seems kind of, objectifying.” matt shifts his demeanour, ironic considering he sparked the conversation. 

“it wouldn’t be a competition without a challenge.” chris acknowledges, and unfortunately for the both of them, he’s right. 

“this sounds so fucked up” matt says, running his hand through his scruffy hair.

“first brother to five points takes all. all of her.” chris speaks, confidently setting up the challenge. 

essentially their plan is to see who can get the closest to you, and let the other brother suffer in watching it happen. which occurs points. loser has to back off of you completely. unless someone gets to you first, in which case all their hard work flies out the window. they won’t be making it easy for each other.

“points won’t matter when i get her into bed first.” matt’s smug, knowing it’ll make chris go insane. 

“so i take it that you’re up for the challenge?” chris ignores matt’s words with a prompt, because if he doesn’t disregard it, he’ll lash out. 

matt considers it. at least he acts like he does. he knows his answer. if he wants you, if either of them do, they have no choice but to compete. neither of them are sure if it’s love or lust, but they’re about to find out. 

they are certain of one thing though. they like everything about you. the way you look. the way you smell. the way you sound. they know exactly why they want you. it’s the first time ever someone has been able to grab the attention of both brothers. hence the severity of the agreement.

“when do we start keeping score?” matt responds, and that’s all the reassurance chris needs in his brothers answer. 

as if on command, you trudge down the stairs in a sleepy state. their eyes snap toward you simultaneously, and you blink repeatedly to make sure you’re seeing them right. 

you are their favorite part of every day, so it’s not out of the ordinary for them to acknowledge your entrance, but you can feel the intensity of their eyes on you with a different energy. 

with foggy vision still clearing as you rub your heavy, tired eyes, you let a small yawn escape. they both melt at the sight, despite you feeling like you’re in your least desirable state. 

you’re not even paying attention to their back and forth bickering. the sound of their voices muffling through your ears. whatever it is they’re saying, they’re not saying it loud enough for you to hear before you even make it down the stairs.

“now.” chris states, eyes snapping back at his brother as they both raise off the lounge.

all is fair in love and war.

tag list: @luverboychris @floofparker @fake-sturniolos @letstripsturniolo @imwetforyourmom @mattsneezing @mattslolita @breeloveschris @rootbeerworshiper @mattstattoo @mxqdii @tay-laaaaa @pettydollie @lacysturniolo @annamcdonalds67 @landrysflannel @goandcomebsck @sleepysturnss @call-me-ninaaa @lustfulslxt @txssvx

#chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #chris sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x reader

[stylesloveclub]

Prose (part 3)

In which y/n is Harry's favorite student, and she accidentally kisses him. 

+++

A perfect day for y/n includes plugging in her headphones, getting herself a little starbucks treat, and going to the bookstore. 

After her week of midterm hell, she decided that she deserved this. She hadn’t been to the bookstore in a while, and none of the books she has right now are piquing her interest. She deserves her chai latte, she deserves to take a break from studying, and she deserves to have a day to herself. 

She’s unaware of her surroundings as she walks through the fiction aisle. She has two books under her arm that she’s deciding between getting (she’s on a college girl budget, she can Not afford to be buying more than one book a week), but a third one sitting on the new release shelf catches her eye. It’s by one of her favorite authors – but it hasn’t been released in paperback yet, and hardcovers are so expensive. Maybe she could see if the library has it, instead. 

She puts it back on the shelf, and side steps along the aisle, scanning all the books displayed all organized and pretty. When she gets a house, she’ll turn one of the bedrooms into a library, and display all her books with a bunch of cozy candles and a reading nook and it’ll be perfect. That’s the dream, she sighs. 

She moseys into the non-fiction aisle… not really her go-to genre, but when she’s at the bookstore, she’ll be there all day. There’s another girl in the aisle with her, with a book cracked open, reading the author’s note. Y/n is careful not to get too close, staying a couple steps to the side and looking over all the titles. Another figure joins the girl standing to her right – a tall male who looks oddly familiar. 

Suddenly she’s smelling vanilla and smoked wood. 

She peaks over discreetly, and recognizes the curly brown hair and hunched shoulders instantaneously. Harry stands close to the other girl, his chest brushing her arm as he looks over her shoulder at the book she’s holding. He’s got a book of his own tucked under his arm, and his signature smirk dimples his cheek as he whispers something to the girl. Y/n wonders what they’re talking about, feeling a pang in her chest as he quietly giggles with this other, pretty girl. He's dressed much more casually than his usual button ups and slacks that he wears to class. Nike shorts and a gray hoodie, with a brown pair of sunglasses pushing his unruly curls out of his face. 

This is the Harry that exists outside of class. He wears hoodies and goes to bookstores on the weekends and has friends that she doesn’t know about. She’s suddenly overwhelmed with how much she doesn’t know about him. For example – is this pretty red-headed girl his girlfriend? 

She swallows thickly and averts her eyes, pretending like she didn’t notice him. She doesn’t think TA’s enjoy seeing students outside of class (even if they are also the kind of TA to drive students home when it’s rainy or late at night). Plus, what would she even say? Hi Harry, is this pretty girl your girlfriend? Because I was actually hoping you were single and also I have a huge crush on you and sometimes I think about what it’d be like to kiss you– but I’ll try to keep all that to a minimum if you are actually in a happy relationship! 

She takes a couple quiet steps back towards the romance aisle – not only her favorite genre, but a safe escape route from any possible awkward encounters – but of course, OF COURSE she’d accidentally knock into a display table and knock a few books down. 

She quickly bends down to pick up the books and pretend like nothing happened, but she’s not quick enough to escape Harry who curiously calls out, “Y/n?”

She smiles nervously. “Hello.” 

The look on Harry’s face is one that could light up the darkest room. He smiles excitedly, his bunny teeth on display, and his eyes brighten with familiarity. He turns to the girl next to him, bursting, “Madeline– this is her!” 

“Y/n?” Madeline chirps, her voice light and fluttery like a bird. 

“Um, yeah?” Y/n’s eyes flicker between Harry and red-headed Madeline. Does Madeline know who she is?

Her confusion is obvious, her head tilting slightly and her lips pinched to the side. “Madeline is another one of the graduate students in my year–” Harry explains. “She TA’s for one of Dr. Richmond’s other sections.” 

Y/n nods, still confused.

“I’ve read your essays!” Madeline bubbles. “Harry and I always talk about our favorite students and send each other the really good essays!” Harry’s cheeks turn pink as Madeline exposes his favoritism towards y/n, but he supposes it’s not that much of a secret. Y/n’s eyes glance towards him curiously, who stands with his lips curled in a bashful smile. 

“Oh,” y/n doesn't fully know what to say, feeling shy and nervous but flattered at the same time. “That’s so nice, I… I didn’t know TA’s did that.”

“Oh yeah, we also send each other the bad ones…” Madeline prattles on, while Harry brushes his knuckles against his nose, almost embarrassedly. What a coincidence to see her here, when he’d literally just been telling Madeline all about his favorite student — the only student to show up to his office hours, who had so many good thoughts on the books that they were reading, and who wasn’t even an English major! The two graduate students always complained to each other how the students that they TA-ed didn’t seem to appreciate the books they analyzed together – how hard it was to get students to participate, which is silly since they literally signed up for those classes voluntarily. It’s rare to have students who genuinely want to talk to them about whatever they’re reading in class.

Madeline rests a hand on his bicep, “I’ll go check out this book and then we can go back to yours, yeah?” He has no idea what else she might’ve said within the past minute, too caught up in his own thoughts, but he nods as she walks towards the register. That leaves him alone with y/n. 

He stuffs his hands into his pockets, and y/n tucks her books to her chest protectively. She’s silently analyzing what Madeline might’ve meant when she said that they’d go back to his place. He nods his chin towards the books, “What are y’getting?” He genuinely can’t control the way his eyes glimmer with fondness when he looks at her. 

She reveals the covers to him. “Well, this one’s called Rebecca… and this one’s called Bunny.”

His lips twitch, “Bunny?” She nods. He thinks about the way y/n’s nose tends to twitch like a little bunny. What a fitting book. 

“What book are you and… Madeline getting?” 

“Er– just a book Dr. Richmond wanted us to pick up for him. For the section Madeline TA’s for.” 

She nods. He rocks back and forth on his toes, staring at her with that fond glimmer still in his eye. 

Madeline comes skipping back a few seconds later. “Ready?”

With a wave, Harry and Madeline head out. Y/n carries on with her book shopping, Harry lingering in the back of her mind. 

+++

“Okay everyone, that’s all for today,” all the students in the room start shutting their laptops and zipping their bags as Dr. Richmond closes his own book. “Don’t forget to do this weekend's reading, check the course site for the next essay prompt… and, um… yeah, that’s it.” Harry quickly stands from his corner of the classroom, tapping Dr. Richmond lightly on the shoulder. “Oh!” Dr. Richmond exclaims into the mic, “Wait– everyone pause, Harry has an announcement.” 

The shuffling and murmurs die down, as Harry stands in front of the lecture hall with his hands folded behind his back. “Um– Just wanted to let you all know that your essays have been graded. Scores will be posted by the end of the day, and if you have any questions or want to go over your papers, you can come to my office hours. Thursdays at 5.” 

He gives a soft, close lipped smile, and everyone resumes their chattering. Y/n is the only one who approaches Harry’s desk.

“Hi,” she fiddles with the straps of her bag nervously, “Can I know how I did?”

Harry, who’s packing up his books, gives her a teasing side eye, a sly smirk on his lips, “Didn’t I just say come to office hours?”

She shrugs, “Was hoping you’d tell me early. Since I’m your favorite and all.” 

He breathes a laugh through his nose, looking around the classroom to scour if anyone’s still there other than the two of them. He can’t even bring himself to deny it. “M’not supposed to have favorites,” is all he has to say. His cheeks tint pink and he smiles bashfully, both of them knowing fully well that his favoritism is undeniably there, even if he’s technically not supposed to let it show. 

“Come on Harry,” she pleads, wide eyed and pretty, “I worked extra hard on it since I had that extension. I literally spent all weekend on it.”

He clips the buckles on his briefcase and looks at her with an exaggeratedly heavy sigh, “I suppose I could make an exception. Only ‘cos you worked so hard on it.” She beams at him. “We’ve got t’go to my office though. There’s a discussion in here right after us.”

“Okay,” she starts toward the door, trotting eagerly ahead of him like an excited little bunny. “Do you mind if we stop by Starbucks first? It’s on the way to your office.”

+++

The Starbucks line is short. Harry goes first. “Could I have an americano, please?” he orders. He then looks back at y/n, “And um… also one of those chai drinks? With the pumpkin spice?” he smiles charmingly at the barista, and ignores the way y/n rushes to his side. 

“Wait– Harry, you’re not getting that for me are you?” she whispers, tugging on the sleeve of his coat.

The barista asks Harry what size he wants the pumpkin chai. He turns to y/n, “What size d’you usually get?”

“No, Harry– you can’t–”

“A medium should be good, I think,” he says to the barista, brushing off y/n’s complaints. 

She pouts as he whips out his card and taps it on the reader. “Why are you allowed to get me drinks if I’m not allowed to get you drinks?”

He shrugs, walking away from the register. “Because I said so.”

+++

It’s exactly when they settle down in Harry’s office that Madeline makes another appearance.

“Hey Harry,” she says, knocking on his door and peeking in. “Oop– Hi y/n. Did you see Dr. Richmond’s email about the grad panel? Do you think you’ll go?”

“Umm,” Harry sits in his chair and unlocks his computer with pursed lips, “Dunno. Don’t really want to. S’not mandatory, is it?”

“No. I’ll only go if you go. It’ll be boring, otherwise.”

“Nah,” Harry scrunches his nose. “Lets not. M’tired. And m’having some office hours right now,” he says with a nod towards y/n. 

“M’kay,” Madeline shrugs. “Nice to see you, y/n!”

Y/n has no reason to dislike sweet, kind, bubbly Madeline, other than for the fact that she seems to be exceptionally close with Harry. She feels a pit in her stomach when she sees the pretty girl bounce away, carefree and happy. Of course, she has no good reason to be jealous, because Harry is just her TA, and he’s just nice to her because she comes to his office hours, and that she should have absolutely no expectations of anything to come of her crush.

Harry pulls out the folder of all the graded papers, and shuffles through the names until he gets to hers. He hides her score from her, staring at her teasingly. “You sure you wanna see it with me right here?”

She nods eagerly, eyes wide and excited.

“Okay…” He drags it out, looking down once more at her paper before revealing the big 100% written at the top of her paper.

Her jaw drops. “Really?” 

“Mhm,” he says with a big smile. Leaning in, he whispers, “the only perfect score in the entire class, too.” 

Her smile grows wider, and she’s speechless, staring at her score. She was proud of the essay, of course, but she’s always nervous about getting grades back. There’s always room for improvement, she knows, but most professors are pretty ruthless with the criticism.

“S’not that surprising, is it?” he asks with a quirk of his lip. Surely she must’ve known that she’s a good writer, no? 

She shrugs. “I didn’t… I didn’t think it was going to get a perfect score.” 

“It was brilliant, really,” he says, “And not just because m’playing favorites. I showed it to Madeline too, and she thought it deserved a perfect score as well. You’re so cohesive and elegant with your words… s’well deserved. You’re writing is on par with some of the graduate students in my year, honestly.” 

Y/n feels her cheeks heating, flipping through the pages. Despite the fact that he gave her a perfect score, it doesn’t mean that her paper is empty of any criticism. He’s made little notes all over the margins, playing on her ideas and telling her ways he thinks she could build upon them in the future. Her eyes lightly skim through his notes and the generous amount of praise he’s written for her. “Love this,” he wrote, highlighting a certain section of her essay. “Wish you talked more about this in the intro,” he writes at another point. He’s still advising her on how to get better and what she could improve on, but… “You met all the rubric requirements. By our grading standards, it’s perfect.”

“No deductions for submitting it late?” she asks nervously.

“Y’didn’t submit it late. Dr. Richmond gave you an extension. I told him how many units you’re in, and how you’re not even taking this class for any credit towards your major – and he agreed that you deserved some slack.” He takes one of the papers from his stack of essays and uses it to playfully smack the top of her head, “stop worrying about that.”

Her chest bubbles with relief and she smiles. “Well… thanks for letting me get it back early,” she says. “I, um– I’d love to talk about it more in depth but I don’t wanna bother you… like, if you wanted to go to that thing with Madeline, we can be done.”

Harry groans, “oh my god, please no. I don’t wanna go to that panel. I’ll take any excuse not to go.”

“Are you sure?” y/n tilts her head. “Madeline seemed– like it just seemed like you two were… like…” she doesn’t know how to end that sentence, and has no idea where she was going with it in the first place.

Harry tries his best to fill in the blanks for her. “Madeline and I just usually go to these events together ‘cos they’re boring and it’s awkward to go alone. She’s my thesis partner so we usually stick together.” Harry rubs his eyes tiredly, “I really don’t wanna think about my thesis though. I spent all weekend grading, I just wanna go home and nap. Not go to a panel of a bunch of thesis advisors. That sounds miserable.”

Y/n nods, chewing on the inside of her lip. “Oh. Yeah, that doesn’t sound fun.” 

“Yeah,” he lets out a deep, tired sigh. “Anyway.” 

Y/n’s lips kiss her teeth as she rolls her lips inwards. “Well– I should head out then,” she stands up quickly, suddenly feeling awkward, “I don’t want to keep you here if you’re tired.” 

“S’no trouble,” he says, sitting up. 

She turns about herself, grabbing her bag from the floor and her jacket from the back of her chair. “No, honestly I’m kind of tired too,” she rambles, “I’ll look over the notes you left for me and come back during office hours.” She reaches forward to grab her essay from the desk, unaware of the way the sleeve of her sweater is dragging across his desk and snagging onto the lid of her half full iced chai, sending it onto the floor. The lip pops off of the drink when it meets the ground, and she gasps as his hardwood floors are suddenly covered in her pumpkin spiced drink. 

Harry rolls back from the splashing drink quickly, trying to avoid getting his nicely pressed pants stained, while y/n gasps, having no idea how her drink ended up on the floor. “Shit!” she exclaims, dropping her paper back on the desk and checking for the culprit of the mess. She nearly facepalms when she realizes it was her own hanging sleeve and unawareness that made her coffee spill to the floor. She drops her things back on the floor, “Oh my god, Harry, I’m so sorry.” She frantically looks around and sees a roll of paper towels on his bookshelf, rushing to his side of the desk where the majority of the mess is and kneeling down. She lays a ton of paper towels down on the floor, letting them soak up the drink, and looks on his desk to sadly find that her drink stained the edges of a few of his graded papers. “Oh my god. I’m sorry.” 

“Hey, s’no big deal,” Harry’s quick to reassure her. He rolls back closer to her, a hand on her shoulder. “Just an accident.”

“But the papers–”

“S’just the edges. I once spilled an entire cup of soup on a stack of ungraded papers and had to just give everyone 100%.” He smiles, “That’s not what happened with your essay though, obviously.” 

She huffs out a laugh. He always manages to make things better when she’s stressed. 

He gets out of his chair, kneeling down next to her in his well pressed trousers to help with cleaning up the soaked paper towels. “No, Harry, I can do it,” she resists, leaning forward at the same time as him. Their foreheads nearly collide as she pushes his hands away, wanting to clean up her own mess. His chocolate brown curls have flopped onto his forehead, and his face is so close to y/n’s that she can actually feel them brushing against her forehead. He looks at her through his lashes, his eyes bright green. Her own eyes are wide and round, staring at him sweetly. Their faces are extremely close, her hand is encasing his, and they are both incredibly aware of it. 

Y/n’s lips part, as if she wants to say something, but she finds herself unable to create any coherent sentences. Harry similarly, stares at her through his lashes, his breath bated, his chest tight. 

Her eyes flicker down to his mouth. She stares at his pretty, pink lips, not curled into their usual, charming smile. He’s serious and deep in thought, his eyebrow furrowing. She’s too distracted by his lips to try and figure out what he might be thinking about. The air around them is tense, and neither of them say anything.

 There’s something so magnetic about him. She doesn’t realize that she’s leaning in… closer and closer to those pretty, heart shaped lips. 

Suddenly, y/n has inched so close that their noses are brushing. She can feel his gentle puffs of air against her lips. She’s so close that Harry has to flutter his eyelashes shut in order to not get cross eyed from staring at her. His heart thumps in his chest, and he swallows thickly. In a moment of weakness, he finds himself leaning towards her, and for the briefest moment, their lips brush, his bottom lip tickling her cupid's bow. His hand reciprocates her embrace, his fingers tightening around her palm. 

They both know they shouldn’t. “Y/n,” Harry croaks, and her heart flutters. “We shouldn’t…” Her heart immediately deflates, and she pulls back, embarrassed. Her gaze drops to the floor disappointedly, feeling stupid and foolish.

Harry can’t bear the distance between their lips– can’t bring himself to refuse the pleasure of having her soft lips against his. He likes her – of course he does! She’s smart, she’s pretty, she’s kind… but she’s his student. That’s the only thing that’s hindered him this entire semester. The guilt of falling for one of his students, when he knows how wrong it is. 

The guilt isn’t strong enough, apparently. He follows her forward with enough force to connect their lips in a kiss. 

It’s soft and harsh at the same time – their lips are gentle, but his stubble is scratchy. The kiss is sweet, but the tension behind it is rupturing like an overflowing dam. He’s caught her by surprise, kissing her just seconds after telling her that they shouldn’t. But she’s not upset about it. She’s too busy reveling in the taste of his mouth, experiencing the feeling of his lips against hers for the first time, after daydreaming about it for weeks. 

It doesn’t matter that they’re both sitting on the floor, hovering over a spilled chai tea latte. 

It’s perfect. It’s exactly what she imagined. 

He feels warm, his skin soft, his lips sweet. His woody vanilla scent drenches her senses, and she’s lightheaded from how magnificent it is to finally be kissing Harry. Wonderful, amazing, charming Harry, with his dazzling green eyes and his soft, brown hair. Those boyish dimples and pretty pink lips, the same pretty pink lips that are puckered against hers right now. 

He brings a hand up to cup her jaw, his fingers gently making their way to tangle in the hair behind her ear. She feels his thumb on her cheekbone, caressing her softly, and it sends a blaze down her entire body. His rough, calloused fingertip, worn down from all the writing and papers he graded, grazing her soft cheekbone as if he’s afraid to break her. As if she’s the most precious thing on the planet.

Leaning forward on her knees, she inches closer to him, pressing herself more firmly to him and reciprocating the eagerness in which he initiated this kiss. His fingers tighten in her hair and his eyebrows furrow. Her lips are the sweetest, softest thing that he’s ever tasted, cloud-like pillows that he wants to kiss on for the rest of his life. 

He’s desperate to get closer to her – he wants to kiss her until she’s breathless and whimpering his name. Lean forward so that she’s lying on the floor and he’s hovering above her, his hand on her hip. Teasing his palm up her leg, under the edge of the skirt she’s wearing, while he fits his hips between her legs. He wants to pick her up and get her on the couch, spread her legs and kneel between them. Kiss up her pretty thighs, suck marks on her pretty skin–

Footsteps echo in the hallway outside of his door. They both jolt away instantaneously. The headrush of their magnificent first kiss starts to fade, and the reality of the situation starts to sink in.

They are in his office. The door is unlocked. She is his student.

Harry’s chest rises heavily and his eyes flutter open, hoping to meet her pretty irises – but her gaze is firmly on the floor, where she’s wiping up the last of her spilled drink and bunching up all the used paper towels together in her fist. She dumps them in the trash under his desk quickly, and stands before he even has the chance to move.

“Hey…” he tries to say, but he can barely find his voice. He’s stuck in a trance.

“I should go, Harry,” she says quickly, avoiding his eyes. Her lips are still swollen, a reminder of how not even five seconds ago, he’d been kissing her without a care in the world. His cheeks are flushed, and he looks up at her like a confused little puppy, distraught and wanting more affection. 

But it’s so wrong. Her heart aches, a mix of regret for being so stupid, but also regret that she pulled away. It’s too much for her to process.

She grabs her bag from the floor, and is out of his office, without another word. 

Harry’s fingers graze his lips. He’s left alone with his thoughts, and the lingering taste of her on his lips.

+++

For the first time in seven consecutive weeks, y/n doesn’t show up to Harry’s office hours. 

Harry spends the hour grading essays, alone. A cup of black coffee on his desk, and his floors sticky with the remnants of pumpkin syrup.

+++

Y/n spends the hour that she would have spent in Harry’s office hours, alone in her room. She’s glued to her phone, an incognito tab pulled up as she tries to calm her racing mind.

“Is kissing between a student and a TA prohibited?”

“Student-TA relationships”

“Rules on dating TAs”

“Will I get in trouble for hooking up with my TA?” (Yes, it was just a kiss. But hypothetically… if they were to hook up… would she get in trouble?)

None of the search results do much to calm her guilty conscience.

She wishes she could just appreciate her kiss with Harry for what it was – a sweet kiss with the most attractive, amazing, wonderful, perfect boy she’s ever interacted with. But there’s just the small, annoying fact that he is her TA and she’s scared that she’s gonna get expelled for that sweet, innocent little kiss.

She’s spent days worrying herself over it. Biting her nails and picking at her cuticles and tugging at her hair. Some people on reddit say that it’s no big deal, that graduate students and undergrads date all the time! But other people tend to disagree, saying it’s a bad idea, NO MATTER WHAT. No matter how sweet or handsome or kind that graduate student might be. No matter how much you might like him, no matter how innocent it all really is – just two people who like Frankenstein who get along swimmingly well.

The whole TA thing is just… a minor detail. Only partially relevant. 

Despite her reluctance, she still does show up to class because Dr. Richmond takes attendance and she doesn’t want to hurt her grade just because of some stupid, silly mistake.

She wonders how Harry feels about it all. He probably has more at stake than her – he’s the graduate student, after all. Does he regret kissing her? Or, like her, does he only regret the fact that she’s his student, and how risky it is? They’re playing with fire. 

Whatever the case may be, y/n decides to put the fire out. Her crush on Harry was meant to be a silly thing, something to keep her coming to class and motivate her to stay on top of her work. This has gone too far. 

She needs to wake herself up from whatever fantasy world she’s living in, and come back down to reality.

+++

Harry’s eyes are on her for the entirety of Dr. Richmond’s lecture.

He’s discreet about it, of course. It’s not like he’s outright staring at her. But he watches her from the corner of his eye, has her in the back of his mind as he tries to pay attention to whatever Dr. Richmond’s rambling on about.

He needs to talk to her. Needs to sort this out and make it right. He knows that she’s in her head about this – he can tell from how she refuses to even look in his direction. But he needs to tell her that it’s alright, that she’ll be okay.

Y/n bolts out of the lecture as soon as it’s over. Harry, as quick as he tries to be, can’t manage to pack up his things and follow her out fast enough. He tries to get past the students as quickly as he can, giving half-hearted answers to their questions and telling them all to come to his office hours instead – but it’s not fast enough. 

By the time he’s out of the classroom, she’s halfway home already.

+++

The same thing happens at the next class, too.

The normally active y/n, who eagerly participated in discussions and answered all of Harry’s questions was quiet as a mouse today – feigning a headache to the classmates around her. She kept her head low, kept her eyes away from Harry. 

And when class was over, she was out the door before Harry could even look in her direction. 

+++

there's part 3!! pleeeeaaaase lmk what u rhink and give her a rb and a comment i love u guys so so much!!! 

Prose (part 4) is already posted on patreon! 

Prose Masterlist

#harry #harry fic #harry smut #harry styles fic #harry styles fan fic #harry styles smut #ta!harry

[lululandd]

part-time psycho;

pairing: yandere!ghost x f!reader

wordcount: 1,921

warning: mentions of murder, implied cheating, jealousy, possessive behaviour

note: please understand this is fiction, i do not condone any of these behaviours irl (also on ao3)

summary: 

He’d be out drinking with his work friends, he said. Won’t drink too much because he had to drive home after, he said. You don’t have to pick him up because he doesn’t know what time he’ll be back, he said. Some of his friends might get super drunk and he might have to drive them home, he said.

Those were the things you remember him saying before he kissed you goodbye. 

You were roused from sleep by the sound of the front door slamming, and then people talking. There was an unfamiliar voice besides Simon’s, but you try not to listen too hard. But even your sleep-addled brain noted how odd that there were giggles and chuckles one moment and then… dead silence. Something felt wrong, the little voice in your head—the voice that kills people in horror movies, Simon would say—tells you to go check to see what it is. Groaning a little to shake the lethargy from your bones, you get out of bed and walk towards the stairs, but you only made it halfway down.

A woman was sitting on top of him, on the sofa. The woman Simon introduced you to months ago. His co-worker, his teammate, the person that has taken a bullet or two for him and vice versa. You can’t lie, she intimidated you from the very beginning. Their apparent closeness, their easy banter that you can never follow, the countless inside jokes, the way her hand always landed on him when she thought you weren’t looking, and her features. They were so similar to yours, and you don’t know which is worse, whether you came into his life first, or her.

Drowsiness left you as anxious dread seeps in. They spoke too quietly for you to hear, but you don’t care. Friends don’t sit on each other's laps like that, and certainly not facing one another. Feelings of inadequacy filled your mind as you walked briskly towards the front door and took off, grabbing whatever coat was on the hook. You just had to get out of there, far away from what you had just witnessed. Wiping the tears that blurred your vision, you notice your feet take you to the nearest pub, and you stand outside dumbly for a couple of seconds. 

That night was bitterly cold, and you wished you had taken a thicker coat. Putting your hands in your pocket, you realise you have no money. You didn’t take anything but the spare house keys, your phone, and the coat on your way out. The slippers you're wearing are the fuzzy kind meant for indoors. Digging in your pockets, you hoped past you left a couple of quid in there. You found two tenners in the inner pocket, and you shuffled inside to get a drink or two.

The pretty bartender with the large earrings noticed you immediately and asked whether you need help and if she should call the police. Glancing at the mirror behind the bar, you saw you were a complete and utter wreck and she was right to be worried. You made sure to convince her that you were just sad and not some victim of domestic abuse before ordering some shots. She gave you a worried look before grabbing the drinks.

You downed both drinks in quick succession as soon as they arrived. The first burn hadn’t even registered fully before you chased it with another one. Today’s not the day for sane choices and comfort, you need to dull the pain as quickly as you can.

It’s funny, being tipsy. Your brain doesn’t even know when it started, you suddenly are. It doesn’t matter much anymore that Simon had brought a woman that looks much like you home, you can live just fine without him. It’s not like he’s the best boyfriend anyway, he left so often and so long sometimes you don’t feel like lovers. Maybe he had already demoted you from that position long ago and you were too stupid and blind to notice.

It took you a while to realise someone was sitting next to you. Letting out a deep sigh that definitely lasted longer than you thought you could, you didn’t even have to look to know it was him.

“Will you be coming home tonight?”

You’ve heard this tone before. It’s the careful one he uses when he knows you’re upset. The voice that is laced with sympathy and understanding. But this time you don’t know if that question was borne out of malice or legitimate concern, so you ignored him. The glass of water that the pretty barkeep gave to you looks very interesting right now.

The silence stretched for a painful amount of time before it was Simon’s turn to sigh. “Would you believe me if I told you I was drunk and rejected her advances?”

You were bitterly reminded of how she was sitting on his lap earlier. How close her face had been to his. How her hands had been curling on his neck, and his hands probably sitting on her waist. You didn’t see or didn’t remember, but that’s where your mind placed it, the only logical place it could be.

He slid his car keys your way. “Wherever you’re going, at least take the car. Don’t take cabs this late at night.” And when you didn’t react, he left.

You left the pub after your fifth glass of water and a repeated play of Justin Bieber’s ‘Baby’—the staff were laughing while you heard one yell out profanities from the backroom—to check on the car. It suspiciously had your wallet, his hoodie, some cash haphazardly thrown on the front seat, and a large knife when you checked the glove box. You looked at your phone and mass texted your friends to see which one of them was awake and kind enough to let you crash at their place for the night.

One of your best friends replied, and you decided to go there immediately. They kindly offered their place for a week or two, but you ended up leaving on the second day. You had calmed down a little, and your friend suggested you talked this out instead of just making more and more assumptions in your head.

“The longer you’re not talking, the more your brain makes shit up.”

You joked that they just wanted you out asap and it ended up in a pillow fight that made you forget about your problems for a little while.

Driving home was the hardest. The scene keeps replaying in your head and your brain racks up the jealousy. How long have they been going behind your back? Is he just dating you because he can’t have her for some reason? Was whatever he was saying true, that he rejected her advances?

You found a parking spot not far from the house because for some reason you didn’t want him to see you coming.

As you opened the front door, you were met by two set of eyes looking bewildered at your direction. Simon’s arms were still on her waist while hers were draped over his shoulders.

Fuck these people.

Fuck him.

You threw Simon’s car keys on the floor and walked out, ignoring his pleas for you to wait and listen.

There was only one place to go now. Your parents. They welcomed you graciously, knowing you had a fight and wanting some space from your boyfriend even when you didn’t tell them at all about what happened. A week went by without any calls or texts from Simon, you decided it was time to go back and pack the fuck out of your stuff to live with your parents for a while. Why should you even think about being with him when he doesn’t even try to apologise. Living with your parents has reminded you what love could–should–be. Waking up next to each other every day, knowing they’re safe and within reach and not whatever it is you have with Simon where he goes missing for months at a time without contact. It was nice waking up to the sight of your parents chattering about, jokingly telling you to not burn the house down as they go to work, reminding you of your teenage years.

Thankfully Simon wasn’t home when you went to pack. It’s decided that you’ll only take your clothes for now and leave the paraphernalia for later. If you’re lucky, his job called while you were away and you can pack in peace.

But you weren’t so lucky.

“You’ve lost weight.” You jumped at the sound of his voice. Simon was a deathly quiet man when he needed to be. You didn’t hear the front door being open and shut or even his footsteps. He looked awful, his face unkempt with bloodshot eyes, his hair mussed, and his clothes dishevelled.

“I’m not wearing makeup so I look shit.” You retorted.

You had to look away as soon as you saw him bristle. He stayed silent for a while, his gaze focused on every facet of your face before going back to staring you down.

“Why are you lying?” His voice came as a quiet snarl, a low gruff that sounded like it hasn’t been used in days. 

“Because that’s also what you’re doing.” You threw the meanest look you could towards him, and you’d like to think that’s why he broke eye contact with you. Unable to help yourself, you continued, “Rejecting her advances my ass, Riley.”

Hearing his last name, he proceeded to cut across the room and reached for you, strong arms instantly curling around your waist as he turned you around to face the open armoire. You felt the need to run, to fight back, but what else could you do but submit? The man is 193 centimetres of pure trained muscles that can hold you full nelson for however long it takes him to fuck you in front of the mirror until he feels satisfied, while you run out of breath carrying the neighbour’s fat tabby for two minutes. You are a little rabbit at the mercy of a wolf.

Weak.

Pathetic.

“I'm truly sorry you had to see me when I tried to lure her into a false sense of security.” He pulled you even closer, your back gently bumping against his chest. “If I drove you to where her head is buried will you finally believe me?” 

Only half the words registered in your mind, “Simon this isn’t funny.”

Trying to wriggle away awarded you with a hiss and him nuzzling on the crook of your neck. 

“Wasn’t joking, love.”

“Simon.” You pleaded desperately. You felt sick. You knew he was a dangerous man, but he had told you, convinced you, that he would never hurt y–

Realisation hits in a revolting wave of nausea. He had never said he wouldn’t hurt others. “Simon?”

“Yes, dear?” He muttered, lips pressing intently against the sensitive parts of your ears.

His hold no longer felt safe, there’s desperation and a dangerous kind of hunger lingering underneath his touch. “D-did you keep a trophy? Of her, I mean.”

You think if he could just show you some sort of proof, you could somehow take it and just start running.

“Why the fuck,” Simon’s voice was suddenly laced with seething fury that you flinched in his arms. “Would I keep trophies of people that caused you pain?” His statement chilled you to your core and you stopped trembling for a moment. 

A choked, terrified whisper escaped you. “S-Simon?” Sickness curled your stomach, your knees buckled as you swayed. You don’t know when your Simon had left and replaced with this monster, or whether there was a Simon at all in the first place.

You felt his lips twitch and curl into a smile on the junction of your neck. "Yes, love?"

“Why was that plural?”

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #yandere simon ghost riley #yandere!ghost #yandere simon riley #yandere mw2 #scuffed writing #scuffed yandere #call of duty #yandere call of duty

[s-brant]

Jealousy, Jealousy

Nancy and Y/N are best friends. The problem is, Y/N and Steve have been secretly hooking up for weeks, and when Nancy asks for advice about possibly getting back together with him, Y/N doesn’t know how to feel.

“wow genuinely your steve fics are so good and seem to be super well thought out i’m literally scared that a prompt i send won’t be good enough!! i dont know i want to say “we shouldn’t be doing this” sex w steve because i’m a whore for it”

7k (18+)

Warnings: smut, penetrative sex, exhibitionism, praise kink, very slight dub-con if you squint due to wording but not really, it’s also just assumed reader is on the pill, and strong language.

This is wrong.

She knows that she shouldn't be thinking or feeling any of the things she is at the moment, but, when she looks up from her spot on the floor in the Wheeler's basement to find Steve staring at her, she cannot ignore the butterflies that stir to life in her stomach. Those pretty brown eyes of his are quick to avert back to the task at hand, but, for the short few seconds that they lock eyes, his lips twitch with the urge to curl up into a smile at her.

The thing is, Y/N and Steve have been secretly fucking for a few weeks now. In her defense, she didn't actively seek him out for the sake of having sex with him.

It was dark and rainy that night, and she was caught up in the storm on her bike as she pedaled home from cheer practice, eyes nearly shut from the wind that blew up the street at her face. The uniform she donned all afternoon was drenched from the downpour, and her hair stuck to the sides of her face as well. It annoyed her that she was two miles from home and her useless mother couldn't be bothered to part with her boyfriend to drive to get her, sure, but she tried not to let it bring her down.

Then, out of the gloom that hung over Hawkins, the headlights of a familiar BMW came up over the hill in the road to shine in her face, and she knew it was Steve before he even had the chance to slow to a stop and roll down his window to talk to her. If anyone else did this—even him a few years ago when he'd been the king of Hawkins High School—they'd come off as a creep, but it was Steve. Her best friend Nancy's sweet, if not a little clueless, ex-boyfriend who babysits her brother and his best friends. There was nothing to worry about.

He asked incredulously, "What are you doing out in this?" The doors to the car unlocked with a click. "Come on, I'll take you the rest of the way. You're gonna get sick."

So, she went. Her bike barely fit in the back of the car, and once she slammed the door shut, he wasted little time in driving off into the rainy night.

"Where do you live?" he asked.

She shook her head.

"I was gonna go ask Nance if I could crash in the basement. My mom didn't answer, and when she doesn't answer, it's probably not a good idea to come home unless I want to walk in on something that'll make me wanna bleach my eyes. Learned that lesson the hard way."

The sound of his melodic laugh filled the car, then, when she just stared at him, the amusement fell from his face.

"Oh, you're not kidding?"

It was her turn to laugh.

"I wish," she said, cutting him a sidelong glance before setting her sights back on the road ahead. "She and her weirdo boyfriend literally demand that I don't come home on nights he's over. Apparently, it's their constitutional right to fuck on the kitchen counter, I don't know."

There was a dip of silence in which neither of them said a word after that.

In his peripheral vision, he could see her fiddling with the hem of her soaked cheer skirt awkwardly as she avoided looking at him at all costs, and, suddenly, something changed.

Y/N had befriended Nancy shortly before their breakup, so he hasn't been in close proximity to her many times. Seeing that they've been broken up for a year, he doesn't have a reason to interact with her except for when he's picking up or dropping off the kids from the Wheeler's house when she's hanging out there. But, that night in his car, she was acting strange around him. Strange in the way that girls used to act around him all the time back when they hoped and prayed for a chance with the most popular guy at school. He didn't understand why she was behaving in such a way now, though. The way he saw it, he was a loser who couldn't even get into college like his other classmates and worked at Family Video.

What he didn't know, however, is that she didn't think he was a loser at all. If anything, her view on him then made a complete turnaround compared to when he was dating her best friend. When she got stuck with him and the kids last year at Joyce Byers' house and watched him go head-to-head with Billy in defense of Lucas, she knew a small part of her heart would always belong to Steve Harrington. She was the one to clean the cuts lining his face, as well as the blooded nose caused by the beating he took, and place bandaids from under the Byers' sink on each one of them. After that, she didn't see him again outside of fleeting glances in the hallway and through the windows of his car parked outside the Wheeler's place until recently.

He said, trying to keep his cool with the smoking hot girl he never noticed last year due to his Nancy-induced heartache sitting in the passenger's seat of his car, "I just dropped Dustin off at Mike's and Nancy was on her way out to see Jonathan."

She asked, "How about your place, then?" and the rest was history.

It wasn't even a half hour later that she was laid back on his couch with his head buried between her thighs and a hand gripping a fistful of his hair as she panted for air amidst the build-up to her orgasm. Then, after she woke in his bedroom and snuck out of the front door before his parents could notice her presence in the house, it wasn't long before they crossed paths again...and again and again. She'd wait around the back of the school where she knew Nancy wouldn't see for him to pick her up from school after his shift at Family Video, and they began to develop a routine of swimming in his pool, having dinner together since his parents couldn't be bothered to hang around with him, and having sex before he had to drive her back home in time to do her homework before bed.

As far as she was concerned, they were just having fun and not labeling whatever it was that was going on between them. Steve, on the other hand, was already imagining how her name might sound with his last name attached to the end of it.

Now, as they're sitting in Nancy's basement and helping the kids with the projects they waited until the very last second to start, he's still fantasizing about all the things he wants to do with her. Not just sexually, either. He's been trying to work up the nerve to ask her on a date for the past few days, but every time he tries, his nerves get in the way. That voice in the back of his mind sings its doubts, telling him that she'll never want him in the same way that he wants her. No one has ever wanted him to be the one, so why should it start with her?

When Steve gets up from the couch to pay for the pizza they ordered to the house, Nancy casts a look over her should at him to ensure he's too far to hear and scoots closer to Y/N while the kids are engrossed in their own conversations.

She whispers, "Can I tell you something? It's about Steve..."

Anxiety tightens the muscles of Y/N's chest as she tries to keep her face schooled into a mask of neutrality. Although she feels like the truth is written across her face every time she comes into the presence of her best friend, she is outwardly as calm as can be. She doesn't know whether or not she should take pride in the skill she's acquired in lying since she and Steve began hooking up.

What else can she do except nod?

Nancy goes on in a hushed tone, "I've been kind of having these...feelings for him again lately. Feelings I haven't had since we were together before. And I love Jonathan, I do, but I guess I'm just worried about what I'm missing. I just don't know if I made the right choice now that these feelings are back." As soon as the words leave her mouth, she shakes her head and shuts her as if that'll take them back. "That was so fucked up of me to say, I'm sorry."

The news sinks home inside of her like lead weighing her down at the bottom of her stomach. Part of the reason she hadn't bothered entertaining the curious side of her that wondered if Steve felt anything more for her in the quiet moments after they had sex, when he'd linger on top of her for a few seconds longer and murmur his praises into the warm curve of her neck, was because she'd be confronted with the issue of her best friend being his ex. Granted, they weren't best friends for the majority of the time they dated. She was more of a post-Steve thing, but that isn't the point. The point is, her own moral code, as well as girl code, dictates that Steve is strictly off limits. But, if that's true, why does she want him so badly?

But because of this, she cannot do anything other than force a reassuring smile on her face as she reaches for her friend's hand and whispers, "Thoughts aren't inherently bad or good, they're just thoughts. Everyone has doubts to themselves, but I think it's important to remember how well you and Jonathan work together. I mean, he was the reason you left Steve in the first place."

The words she doesn't speak aloud but feels clawing at her from the inside begging to be released are something along the lines of, Please, don't drag him back just to break his heart again in another year. Don't steal him away if you don't really want him. But, she can't say that, not because it isn't her honest opinion regardless of her current relationship with him, but because Nancy would know based on the waver in her voice that something is going on between them.

To her mortification, her words don't appear to help the difficult debate waging war on Nancy's mind. If anything, it muddles things further and creates more discourse.

"You're right, you're absolutely right, but..." Of course, there's a but. "What if my instinct is trying to tell me something and I'm ignoring it?"

There's a drawn-out pause, then—

"Maybe just wait and see how you feel for a few more weeks before you say or do anything. It might just be one of those things that comes and goes, y'know?"

Nancy is quick to nod, setting her focus back on the partially painted piece of cardboard belonging to Max's unfinished project. For another minute or so, Y/N can't do anything but focus on her out of the corner of her eye, worry stirring to life within that the happiness she's experienced in the past few weeks will be taken from her the second Nancy decides to talk about the feelings she's having.

Steve isn't hers, so why does she feel this nagging possessive instinct whenever she imagines her friend acting on the feelings she just admitted to having? She never realized until now, but she doesn't think she can share him. Whether that means they will soon need to have a talk about their arrangement and how the feelings she's having are getting in the way of it being just "fun" or not, she isn't sure, but she knows one thing.

She needs to find him.

Y/N sets down what she'd been working in favor of standing from her spot on the floor, knees tucked beneath her bottom on a stray cushion, and offers up a placating smile when multiple faces around the room perk up to see why she's leaving.

"Where are you going?" Mike asks.

"Bathroom," she says. "Be right back."

With a quick, worried glance at Nancy calms her nerves instantly. There's no suspicion present on her friend's face. If anything, she's too focused on the task at hand, as well as the difficult debate going on within her head over the whole Steve versus Jonathan thing that has existed since junior year of high school, to notice or care about her sneaking away to "use the bathroom". It allows Y/N's racing heart to slow momentarily as she ascends the old staircase to the Wheeler's basement and enters the main level of the house. Slowly, carefully, she shuts the door to the basement behind her to keep any conversation she may have with Steve as private as possible.

The bright array of cozy lights strung up around the Christmas tree positioned in the corner of the living room passes in her periphery on her way to the front door where she sees Steve talking to the pizza guy with one hand casually propped against the open door. She assumes it must be an old friend, perhaps someone who used to be on the varsity basketball or baseball team with him back when they were in school together, but it matters little to her who they are at the moment. The only thing she can think to do is stake her claim before it's too late. Or, at least, have one last good night with him before Nancy takes him back.

She waits with her back leaned up against the staircase railing and watches him take the stack of three boxes from the delivery man after handing him the cash as payment.

"Alright, have a nice night, man," Steve says.

The man lifts a hand to wave goodbye over his shoulder as he's turning to walk off in the direction of his parked car, and, with that, the front door swings shut. When he turns around with the pizza boxes balanced precariously in one hand, it's difficult not to flinch and drop them all to the floor at the unexpected sight of her standing there.

"Jesus Christ, you scared the shit out of me," he says after a second is taken to steady himself, one hand pressed over his chest as though to soothe his heart after the drastic shock it received. When she remains quiet, he furrows his brows, continuing, "You're really quiet right now. It's actually kind of creepy." His voice then quiets as a new thought comes to him. "...Unless it's a weird sex thing, then I might like it."

All she does is allow her lips to curl up a bit at the ends in a slight smile before she turns to walk down the hallway to the kitchen. The living room is being used by Mr. and Mrs. Wheeler to watch a popular movie Steve so kindly held aside at Family Video for them when they asked Y/N if he could do so. And, of course, since she was the one who asked, it was delivered right to Mrs. Wheeler the second he arrived tonight.

In fact, the exact words he said, although quietly so anyone at the store couldn't hear, when she asked was, "Sure. Anything for my girl."

My girl.

As she walks through the entrance to the kitchen with her back to him, she picks the two words apart over and over again. Particularly, she gets stuck on the first one. My. It lights a fire in the pit of her abdomen, desire flaring to life at the memory of him casually declaring her as something that belonged to him. My. A possessive word. One he had been comfortable in using. The question is, would he be comfortable with it the other way around? The voice in the back of her head can't help but wonder...

Is Steve hers?

He keeps eyeing her up suspiciously throughout the process of setting the pizza boxes down on the kitchen island one by one and checking to make sure they're what they ordered before the delivery man pulls out of the driveway. Once it's confirmed that they are, in fact, two plain cheese pizzas and one pepperoni for Max and Dustin, he pauses to call her odd behavior into question again.

Steve asks, "Okay, you're really starting to freak me out. Are you okay? Did I do something?" She doesn't allow her face to give away any of her true intentions as she walks around the island, making sure in her peripheral vision that there's no one around to see them as she approaches. "If I did something, you can just tell me—”

His sentence is cut off at the end by her kissing him to shut him up.

It's a surprise, sure, but it doesn't take him any longer than a second or two to realize what's happening and react accordingly. As if it's an instinct as natural as breathing, he kisses her back with an urgency that brings a flushed color to his cheeks and settles both hands on her hips to tug them closer. The warmth of his fingertips touching the stretch of bare skin between her slightly too-short sweater and jeans draws a barely-audible noise from the back of her throat. But, he hears it. He always picks up on those little things about her, whether they be sounds, expressions she makes, or anything of the sort.

The kiss is cut short a second or two later out of fear of someone walking in, but his hands refuse to stray from her hips when she pulls away with a look in her eyes he knows all too well. Her pupils are blown wide with lush, glazed-over in a way they never get outside of moments such as these, and he knows straight away what she wants from him.

He asks, "So, it was a sex thing?"

Finally, she can't help but break her act of stoicism and offers him a bright smile.

"Shut up and follow me."

"What about the kids—"

The sharp tug of her hand wrapped around his wrist brings him away from the kitchen island, bringing him along in every step she takes toward the entrance to the hallway. She doesn't bother to look over his shoulder when she next speaks. Instead, she gives his hand a reassuring squeeze to get the same sentiment across as the words leave her mouth.

"They think I'm in the bathroom. And, for all they know, you could be outside talking to the pizza guy," she offers.

It's settled, then.

Still, in the time it takes her to drag him down the hall and up the staircase behind her, Steve can't help but check over his shoulder multiple times to ensure Nancy, Robin, the kids, or Nancy's parents didn't see them leaving to go up the stairs. The last thing he expected tonight was for her to pounce on him like a feral animal and drag him upstairs to have her way with him in a house filled with people. They've done it in risky places before, like on the break room table at Family Video and his car parked at Lover's Lake, but they've never done it in a place as risky as Nancy's house.

Despite the mild confusion it causes, whatever it is that has gotten into her, he prays it never leaves. It isn't unusual for her to initiate sex with him. Hell, half the time, she's the one who leans in to kiss him first or calls to ask if he's home, but he has always been the one to initiate in situations like these. It was his idea to fuck her on the break room table just like it was his idea to bend her over the hood of his car at Lover's Lake last week.

Every door they pass and briefly pause at is a no-go. Mike's room? Absolutely not. Mr. and Mrs. Wheeler's room? Never. Holly's room? That would be the most deplorable thing either of them has ever done. So, when they reach Nancy's half-open bedroom at the end of the hallway, Y/N has no other choice but to pull him inside and push him up against the shut door.

In between the eager, open-mouthed kisses she gives him, he murmurs, "We shouldn't be doing this. Nance will literally murder us if she finds out."

She shakes her head into the kiss and pulls back, breathless, to say, "Then, we're gonna have to be quiet, huh?" before promptly reconnecting their mouths.

His face lights up at the mischievous tone her voice takes, and he can't ignore how his cock starts to strain against the tight denim of his Levi's at the mere thought of fucking her while everyone else is unaware downstairs. She can feel him smirk against her lips, his chest jerking with the sound of him chuckling to himself at how this girl has him wrapped around her finger.

And there it is. With a conflicted feeling of acceptance, he finally realizes he's falling in love again.

As soon as he realizes that this is real, that they're truly about to do this, Steve takes control of the situation in a matter of seconds. His hands make quick work of tugging her sweater off of her body. Her arms rise to make the task easier for him as he frantically undresses her and tosses the knitted fabric onto the floor behind the locked bedroom door. When she's free of the confines of her warm sweater, she then reaches for his shirt and rips it off with the same frantic nature he had with her. There's a time and place for unhurried, slow sex, but this is not one of them. By her estimation, they have five minutes to spare before their friends notice their absence and begin to question their whereabouts.

He hefts her up into her arms with his hands grasping the backs of her thighs to bring them around his hips, but right before he can set her down on the bed, she shakes her head.

"No, Steve, the headboard hitting the wall will be too loud."

This earns a scoff from him.

Though he'd never be dumb enough to bring up his ex while he's about to have sex with her, Steve is as familiar with Nancy's room as she is, if not more. After all, he snuck inside a handful of times and had to get creative so as to not allow her parents to hear what they were doing while they were asleep across the hallway. Her headboard does bang against the wall, that she's right about, but her mattress doesn't creak much, and if he puts a few of her pillows between the wall and the headboard...

He tosses her down onto the bed with ease and crawls up to meet her where she lays with her head cradled against one of the pillows. His hand reaches to the side to grab the other one and maneuvers it between the wall and headboard, then grabs one of the many decorative ones to do the same on the other end before coming back to her.

Ignoring her previous statement entirely, Steve asks, "You're real cute when you're nervous, you know that?"

The button and zipper to her jeans come undone with a few deft movements of his fingers, and she can't help but grin up at him in spite of her fear of getting caught as he pulls her pants and underwear down her legs in one smooth motion.

There's something better to her about being called cute or beautiful by him rather than the typical "hot" label guys have thrown at her. Don't get her wrong, being called hot is flattering in circumstances of one-night stands or even random compliments from those she likes, but having the guy you like call you cute or beautiful in a moment of heady desire is different. She knows by the way he said it alone that she isn't just an easy fuck to him. He genuinely likes her, and that's not something she ever expected to happen seeing that he used to be a well-known jerk as well as her best friend's ex-boyfriend.

He hardly has the chance to undo his own jeans and shove them partway down his thighs before she's tugging him down onto her with a needy plea for him to fuck her. Her arms wrap around his shoulders as he kisses her, his tongue invading her mouth without warning, and uses one of his hands to guide his cock through her sticky folds. When his tip rubs against her throbbing clit, she can't help but whisper more desperately, urging him to get on with it.

"Steve," she says, a sharp gasp escaping at the feeling of his tip against her entrance, "Please"—her hips press up to sink the tip of his cock into her a little more—"Need you."

Usually, he'd be the insufferable little bastard he always is and retort something like, "Yeah?" or "Tell me what you need from me," for the sake of getting her to blush for him, but they have already used up at least a minute of their time before things become suspicious, so he gives her what she wants without protest.

She cries out beneath him when he sinks into her with no opportunity for her to gradually adjust to his thick cock. Her fingernails dig into the soft skin of his shoulders with enough force to leave crescent-shaped marks indented into him. Before she can think to make another noise again, though, Steve's hand is covering her mouth.

His eyes have gone wide, and the smooth motion of his hips stalling for a second as he listens for anyone coming up the stairs before he pulls his hand from her face. Somewhere to the right of her body, he reaches to grab something she cannot be bothered to look at.

He says softly, "Gotta be quiet, baby," and stuffs the shirt Nancy left on the bed into her open mouth.

Y/N doesn't even have the chance to be shocked or turned on by the fact that he gagged her with his ex-girlfriend's shirt—while they're fucking on her bed—because he starts to move the second he's sure her noises won't get them caught. Well, at least, the noises coming from her mouth. As for the sound of their bodies smacking together, as well as the wet squelching sound that accompanies it from how wet she is, whether or not anyone hears that is left up to chance.

His arms are braced against the bed on either side of her head, caging her in and forcing her to look at him while he ruins her. It doesn't take much for her to feel that fire in the pit of her belly flare up. All it takes is the feeling of him pushing in and out of her, the spare hair at the base of his cock brushing against her clit on the upstroke, and she's melting in his arms.

Seeing Steve above her is like seeing every one of her wet dreams come to life. Sometimes she does dream about him. Whether it be when she's alone in her bedroom or sleeping beside him on nights they're both too exhausted to stray from his bed, she'll wake on the edge of climaxing with her hands balling up the sheets into a fist. When she's alone, she'll take care of it herself. When she's with him, she'll roll over and start nudging her face into the curve of his neck, peppering kisses there until he begins to stir from his sleep.

The sound of her muffled moans coming through the makeshift gag encourages him in his efforts to press himself deeper inside of her on every thrust. One of the hands beside her head grasps one of the posts of Nancy's headboard for leverage while the other slips down between their bodies to press down on the lowest point of her abdomen. When he puts pressure there, it intensifies the pleasure felt from the steady rocking motions he makes into her, and she can't help but buck her hips up to meet his thrusts.

The heel of his hand presses down right above her pubic bone, leaving his fingertips in a perfect position to rub her clit for her. He knows they have very little time, so he doesn't bother trying to get her to come from penetration alone like he often does when they're alone in his empty house while his parents are out. Before him, she never even knew that was something her body was capable of. That's not to say every other guy before him was terrible in bed, but there's a reason he gained a good reputation with the ladies in Hawkins. The first of which was that he had, as she already knew from girls who gossiped about hooking up with him, a big dick. The second and most important reason of all was that he knew what to do with it.

The sight of her breasts bouncing, although hindered slightly by the bra they couldn't be bothered to remove, brings him closer to his end quicker than he expected. He'd like to think he's experienced enough to spend more than a minute and a half fucking a girl before he feels himself getting close, but, with her, one would think he's a touch-starved virgin with how easy it is for her to work him up.

His forehead drops down to press against hers as he mutters, "God, you're fucking perfect," with the words pitching up into a whine at the end from how she clenches around him.

Just when he thinks he can feel her tensing up and writhing beneath him with the build-up to her orgasm, someone knocks on the bedroom door.

He goes as still as death, and Y/N, too lost in a world that solely consists of Steve Harrington and nothing else, looks up at him with her brows scrunching in confusion until she too hears what drew his attention away from her and caused him to stop.

"Y/N?"

Her eyes go wide at the sound of Nancy's voice, her hand coming up to rip the balled-up shirt out of her mouth in time to respond to her. But, of course, Steve would never let her off that easily. As she opens her mouth to speak, he starts to thrust into her again—slowly, deeply—and it takes everything she has not to whine his name as he rubs her sensitive clit in lazy circular motions to interrupt her train of thought. With the careful pace set and the pillows preventing the headboard from hitting the wall, the bed's constant shifting doesn't make enough noise to alert Nancy of what's happening inside.

She clears her throat and calls out before he can snap his hips forward into hers again, "Yeah? What's up?"

The doorknob rattles as though the person behind the door is trying to get in.

"Why is the door locked?"

Y/N looks up at Steve with pleading eyes that beg him to cease this torture and allow her the time to respond, but he doesn't. He just dips his head down to kiss at her neck, careful not to leave a mark behind, and leaves her to fend for herself.

"Um," she says, voice a tad louder than she intended from a particularly hard jerk of his hips, and rushes to cover up the accidental outburst, "I figured I'd change into my pajamas for the night. If we're gonna be eating a lot of pizza I don't really wanna"—a whimper is choked back at his fingers speeding up their movement on her clit—"be uncomfortable in my jeans."

"Oh, okay. Well, we're all downstairs whenever you're done." There's a dip of silence, as though Nancy is hesitating before saying what comes next, then, "Have you seen Steve? Dustin was looking for him when he came upstairs. None of us can find him."

Under his breath, he murmurs in annoyance with his hot exhales puffing against her ear, shaking his head, "Henderson."

Of course, Dustin would be the one to send Nancy upstairs in search of him when he's seconds from coming inside her best friend.

Her cock-drunk brain takes a delayed few seconds to conjure a believable alibi for the man fucking her into the mattress right now as she claws at his back and bites down on his shoulder to stifle the moans that try to escape the back of her throat. As Steve grows more and more confident with his ability to ramp up the pace and depth of his thrusts without the bed making too much noise, she starts to unravel rather quickly. She can sense it building in the bottom of her belly and starts shaking her head at him as if he can do anything to get Nancy to go away.

She has to concentrate all of her energy on keeping her voice steady as she says, "He said he was going out to get some soda for the kids 'cause he heard El asking Mike if you guys had some. He was just going to the store for it, so he'll probably be back in like ten minutes."

The second the last few words leave her, she tips over the edge, and his hand comes down to smother her mouth to prevent any noises she makes from echoing in the small room. Neither of them acknowledges whatever parting words Nancy offers before she retreats downstairs to the kitchen for dinner. Steve is far too preoccupied with watching and, more importantly, feeling her come beneath him.

The euphoria rushing through her has tears falling from her watery eyes as she embraces the intense high with her arms clinging around his waist for support. Now that he hears Nancy bounding down the steps, every one creaking beneath her shifting weight, he pounds into her with no thoughts present in his head other than those relating to her and the climax he chases with little care for how the bed begins to squeak beneath them.

"Steve," she cries out with tears slipping down her cheeks.

He brushes her hair from her face in a soothing, repetitive motion and whispers, "Such a good girl," as he pins her to the bed with his weight and uses the remaining scraps of energy left in him to slam his hips down against hers with a ferocity she can hardly cope with in her sensitive state. It doesn't take any longer than a few seconds for him to be tipped over the edge along with her.

His eyes are squeezed shut on instinct when he spills into her, hips jerking haphazardly, but she's quick to remedy that.

"Look at me," she whispers with a hand closing around his neck to force his head up, and he obeys without hesitation.

And, of course, she was right to tell him to do so. As soon as he meets eyes with her, the explosive pleasure felt in the span of ten or so seconds it takes for him to ride it out is heightened to a degree he rarely experiences it at. Even as it begins to slip away from him, he keeps rocking into her at a slow pace until the dying undulations of his hips give way to an exhaustion he can no longer ignore.

He pulls out of her, careful in his movements to mind her sensitivity, and falls onto his back on the empty space atop the mattress beside her. The second he leaves her, she's quick to tug her discarded panties back up her legs to avoid staining Nancy's bedding with his cum.

His hair-smattered chest has a thin sheen of perspiration over it, a drop of it rolling up and down with the rapid rise and fall of his panting breaths. Y/N watches its path as she turns onto her side and scoots closer as subtly as she can to savor the warmth emanating from his body.

Steve doesn't even pretend not to notice her sneaky attempt at cuddling up to him. He stretches his left arm over her head and uses the other to scoop around her waist, bringing her in to rest her head on his shoulder how he knows she likes to. They don't have much time to spare, but, for the next half minute, they lay together in the afterglow and pretend they have eternity to waste away together.

Breaking the silence, he groans and rubs his eyes, saying, "Shit, now I have to go get soda for the kids."

The sound of her giggling brings his attention over to the pretty girl laying with her head on his shoulder. Her hand trances circles in the layer of sweat shining on his chest, playing with the hair growing there whenever she becomes bored with her designated pattern of tracing every once in a while.

"Sorry about that. I couldn't think of anything else," she says softly.

He just shakes his head, then presses a kiss to the top of her head.

"Don't worry about it."

She's the first one to leave the bed to search for her discarded clothes, and once she gets up, he doesn't have many reasons to continue laying there other than the fact that he gets especially tired after he comes. Still, he forced himself to get up out of bed after pulling his pants back up into place and zipping them up.

Together, they redress in silence and listen to the sounds of the younger teens shouting at each other and laughing in the kitchen below them. It brings a soft smile to her face to imagine everyone having fun together after all of the heartache they've shared as a group.

"What are you smiling for?" Steve asks.

Her head snaps up from where it had been craned down to search through her backpack for the pajamas she mentioned to Nancy not long ago.

She shrugs.

"I just like hearing them have fun. They deserve it after everything they've been through."

The conversation drops back off into silence again after this, and he can't help but smile to himself as he thinks over what she said, trying not to look up and watch her redress while doing it like a creep. It's only another minute that passes before they're both fully clothed again—he in the same outfit he was wearing prior to their impromptu fuck, she in the pink matching pajama set he's seen her wear a million times. Once she runs her fingers through her hair a few times, it looks as though nothing out of the ordinary happened during her trip upstairs.

While he waits for her to fold up the clothes she changed out of, sitting on the edge of the bed, a nagging curiosity compelled him to ask her, "Not that I'm complaining, but what made you so..." He trails off for a second, trying to find the right word for it. "Horny. We could've just gone on a drive to the store together and pulled over if you asked."

For the first time since she dragged Steve upstairs, the words Nancy said to her in the basement come back to the forefront of her mind. This time, however, it doesn't haunt her as much as it had before she came to find him. There's a lingering sense of insecurity, but after what just happened, she has a good feeling he's been over Nancy for a while. If he weren't, he probably would've freaked out and stopped when she knocked on the door, but he hadn't. Instead, he decided to keep going for the sake of teasing her and acted as though his ex wasn't even standing on the other side of the door.

Y/N avoids making eye contact with him at all costs when she finally answers.

"Um," she says, "When you went upstairs for the pizza, Nancy said something to me about wondering if she made a mistake breaking up with you, and I guess I got a little...jealous..."

Before he can even take a breath, let alone process everything she said and come up with a coherent response, she continues rambling out of fear of what he'll say when he responds. Part of her still fears that he'll end whatever it is they have for the sake of rekindling what he had with Nancy.

"I know we aren't—like—dating, obviously, but I haven't been with anyone else since we started doing this, and if you wanna get back together with Nancy, I won't get in the way. I promise. If that's what you want, it's fine." She starts to pace back and forth in front of where he sits, dumbfounded, on the foot of the bed. "I just—I like hanging out with you, and I guess I like you, and the idea of seeing you with anyone else makes me go nuts, so—"

This time, it's his turn to shut her up with a kiss.

She was so caught up in her improvised speech, she didn't even see him standing up from the bed until his hands were cupping her face to pull her into a desperate kiss. It doesn't last any longer than a moment, but, fuck, it makes her even weaker in the knees than she already is from getting fucked by him a few minutes ago. Her hands shoot out to grasp onto his biceps, squeezing hard to keep herself upright, and he reciprocates by allowing one of his arms to cocoon around her back to provide her additional security.

When he pulls away, she starts to chase his lips, and he must fight the urge to smile hard enough to make his cheeks ache at the sight of it. The hand cupping her face moves to tuck her hair behind her ear, then drags his pointer finger along the edge of her jaw until she opens her eyes to see him staring at her.

"I don't want Nance, I want you."

Heat rushes to her cheeks in response to his honesty to add to the flush already present there from the strenuous exercise they endured together. And he loved it. He relishes in how bashful and skittish his unabashed desire makes her. Typically, she never lacks confidence in their time spent together. She was the one who suggested they go to his place that first night when he found her biking home in the rain. She was the one who dragged him upstairs demanding they have sex. Yet, now, she's turning all shy on him.

She tries her hardest to play it cool, though, shrugging and saying through a smile, "Good," before taking his hand to drag him over to the window he used to use to sneak into Nancy's room.

It's the same window she uses to sneak into her room on nights when Mr. and Mrs. Wheeler say no to their daughter's pleas to have her friend over, so she's quite familiar with how easy it is to enter and exit from. Thank God he has his wallet and keys stowed in the pockets of his jeans. If he left them downstairs, he could always go out and window and come through the front door pretending he "forgot" them, but that wouldn't be the most believable excuse considering how long he's been gone.

Seconds after she opens the window, he's crawling through with a fumbling awkwardness that ends with him bumping his head on the side of the house with a soft, "Ouch!" muttered into the cold night air.

When he's finally settled on the other side of the window, standing on the roof of the garage with his hands gripping the window sill, he takes another few seconds to look at her.

"I'm gonna miss you tonight. I didn't know you were sleeping here," he says, not wanting to leave just yet.

To this, she simply bends down, pokes her head through the window, and kisses him goodbye. Her hand grasps the hair at the base of his neck to guide him into it, and he returns the enthusiasm immediately, rising onto his tiptoes to deepen the kiss as if doing so will make the short time they're to spend apart easier somehow.

Their lips are still brushing when she pulls back to whisper, "I'm coming over tomorrow night, remember?"

He pecks her lips again, then pulls back, saying, "It's a date."

Throughout the ordeal of Steve jumping down from the roof and landing on his feet in the driveway with a muffled groan, she watches with a goofy smile on her face from the bedroom window. The look he shoots over his shoulder at her to check if she saw him stumble on the landing only widens that smile, and she knows he's blushing in embarrassment without the porch light being on to light his face.

It's only when he drives off in the direction of the nearest store that she shuts the window to keep out the cold that's raising goosebumps on her skin and turns to lean against it with a sigh. It isn't an exasperated one or even a sad one. It's a sigh caused by disbelief and joy. It doesn't matter that he's her best friend's ex at the moment. They'll find a way to break the news with as little fallout as possible when the time comes.

The only thing that matters to her at the moment is that he wants her.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #stranger things fanfiction #fanfiction

[rs-hawk]

Another version of Bestie’s Werewolf Brother where you two have fallen out of contact for years and when he finds out you’re having a baby with someone else because you start being friends with his sister again and he gets really possessive and starts stalking you again. He finds out you’re a single mom and suddenly he realizes he just wants a baby with you even if it’s not his pup 🥺❣️Mostly fluff plz but I’d love some smut too

Not you bringing out this trope when I literally posted it’s my fave. Lol. No smut all fluff but I might do more with this if y’all like it 🥰

When you got pregnant your boyfriend acted like he was happy. He lavished you in compliments and told everyone how excited he was to be starting a family with you. Your childhood bestie and you even reconnected, her excited about baby names and planning your baby shower. It’s like you picked up right where you left off.

When you ask about her brother, she’s obviously uncomfortable. She comes up with all kinds of excuses about why he doesn’t want to talk to you, or why he seemed to have just vanished off social media recently. You can’t help but feeling hurt but you keep it to yourself.

When you catch your boyfriend cheating on you, you end up packing up all your stuff in a night and moving back in with your parents. It sucks. You can’t help but feel like a failure. You start going for walks more at the local park, just trying anything to keep your mind off your predicament.

“Hey,” you heard a familiar voice say from behind you.

You didn’t know that he had already been stalking you for months. Ever since he found out you were pregnant. He thought he could get past it, get past you, but hearing that you had been with someone else drove him crazy. He wanted to be angry with you. To hate you, even, and that other man’s baby, but the longer he stalked you, the more he realized how much he missed you. How he just wanted to be around you again.

“Hi,” you said as you turned around, awkwardly holding your arms in front of your stomach. You knew he knew, but you couldn’t help but wish this wasn’t the first time he was seeing you after all these years.

“It looks like you’re doing well.”

You shrugged, moving your arms and shoving your hands in your pockets. “I guess.”

“My sister said you’re… getting engaged,” he managed to get out without growling.

“We were, but some stuff happened. I’m living back at home until I can find a place.”

He knew he shouldn’t be happy, but he was. After that, he started offering to help you with everything. Need someone to drive you to an OBGYN appointment? Needed help putting the bassinet together? Couldn’t figure out which kind of car seat to get? He was always there and offering to help.

You were surprised, pleasantly so. You’d never thought much about it, but you didn’t think that he would be so involved in your pregnancy when 1) you weren’t dating and 2) it wasn’t his baby. As the weeks passed, he started asking to touch your stomach when he saw movement. He came to your parents’ house all hours of the day if you even hinted that you wanted to see him or if you wanted something.

When you went into labor, your mother took you, much to his disappointment. He came to visit you of course, but he seemed a little off when he came in. His head was down, and he wasn’t nearly as imposing as he normally was, especially considering he was mostly shifted. Then a nurse came back in with the baby after giving a bath.

“Oh! Here’s Dad,” she smiled as she placed the small bundle in his arms, though she did admittedly look a little uneasy.

You started to correct her, but he just started at the little one in his arms with wide eyes. You’d never seen him be so gentle. His ears were perked up, and you couldn’t help but notice his tail started to wag. He shushed you mid-sentence as you tried telling the nurse he wasn’t the dad.

“Human babies are so tiny,” he whispered, rocking the baby in his arms.

The nurse looked between you before slipping out. He stayed almost the entire time you were in the hospital. Even your parents left more often than him. While he was attentive to you, he was even more attentive to the baby. Asking the nurses to show him how to swaddle. Reading up on when human babies can eat solid food (because it’s just a couple months for pups).

He’s the one that took you home. Your parents are excited when they see his car pull up and you’re admittedly a little confused. When you get inside, you see that he took it upon himself to baby proof everything. He put together an entire nursery when you were just going to have the baby sleep in your room in the bassinet. He even sprung to get a crib since he had read online that infants can only be in bassinets for a few months.

That’s when you realize that he really is the best for you. He’s always been the best for you, and he’s the best for your baby too. The baby fell asleep in his arms before he settled the tiny bundle into the crib. Tears pricked your eyes as you wrapped your arms around his back, burying your face in his shoulder.

“You’ll stay, right?”

A low rumble in his chest vibrated your body when he spun around, grabbing you up in his arms. “I’ll never leave again.”

#writers on tumblr #writing #fantasy romance #author #monster lover #monster romance #fantasy smut #monster fucker #monster fuqqer #werewolf fluff #fluff #fantasy fluff #monster husband #monster kink #monster bf #monster boyfriend #monsterfucking nsft #monsterfucking cw #tw monsterfucking #monster fudger #monster fluff #monster k!nk #stuff i wrote #authors #romance fluff #shapeshifter romance #werewolf romance #romance #romance author #romance writing

[toxicanonymity]

Uhhhh nightwalks Joel and reader getting high off their asses and then fucking

harder - 420 special, can read alone.

2.8k | Joel x f!Reader | night walks masterlist

IMG: dark profile shot of Joel that says, "lift heavy, talk dirty, smoke weed" and "night walks" in the bottom left.

He slowly rubs your thigh and says, “It's ok, pumpkin. Shouldn’ta had the windows open. Got hot workin' out.” He gets up and closes the windows, pulls the shades down, and double-locks the door. He dims the lights, too.  It’s still pretty hot inside.  You unzip your hoodie, and he wets his lips as you take it off. 

Ty 420 Anon, yard-spying bj anon, @missannwinchester, @xdaddysprincessxx , and everyone for all the great Qs, comments, and ideas. 👖

WARNINGS: 18+ Non-outbreak, AU pothead neighbor Joel, reader smokes, unspecified age gap, drinking, fingering, oral, unsafe vaginal sex (PIV), light choking, hard drug use, bad ideas. Mild dubcon bc drugs? (she has the intent before the drugs)

-

You start taking your night walks again.  You keep seeing your creepy neighbor Joel out in the wild anyway, and your efforts not to fuck him have been not only futile but increasingly weak. You’re walking your first lap around the neighborhood and a car pulls up to Joel's house.  A young woman gets out of the car.  She goes around back to his man cave where the door must be open because it sounds like he’s lifting weights.   Your stomach drops and your heart races.  Who is she? His estranged wife–if he even has one, you've never seen her–can’t be your age, can she?  Then again, if he can pull you . . . are you just one of many? 

Despite your best efforts, it doesn’t leave your mind.  When you come back around the neighborhood, your curiosity gets the best of you and you quietly prowl into the back of his yard.  His lights are on, so you can see clearly and it makes your insides turn.  In the window to the right, Joel is in the middle of sitting down.  He rubs his nose and eases back into the sofa with his hands behind his head, elbows out.  A look of pleasure spreads across his face. and he says “oh yeah.”   In the window to the left, she’s kneeling on the ground in front of him.  The gap between the windows spares you the explicit details.  Joel looks down, watching her and licking his lips and man, he looks hot.  Yeah, it actually turns you on.  

His eyes drift to the window and you quietly slink away before he sees you.  You walk around the block one more time and light up a joint, hoping to push away your traitorous gut reaction to this development.  You have all these thoughts like I should’ve given in.  . . .I should’ve come when he invited me. . . He finally gave up on me. . .  You know these thoughts make no sense.  They make you feel dirty.  He’s so skeezy and vile.  He’s been preying on you.  That’s what you want?

-

As you approach his cul de sac for the third time, she’s driving away.  That was so fast, you have to wonder if he paid her.  

“Evenin’, pumpkin.”  His voice startles you from the treeline.  He’s standing where you were. 

You don’t say anything.  You take a hit of your joint.  

“Yeah I bet you had a pretty good view from here,” he says.  

Your heart races and your face gets hot. 

You respond, “Have a good time?”

“Oh yeah, always a good time.  You wanna try it?” 

You scoff but almost, briefly entertain the idea. “I’m good.  How much does a blow job cost these days anyway?” You instantly regret the question.  Probably sounded resentful.  

“Depends how much you’re buyin’.” 

“What?”

“Ahh, blow job,” he says.  You're embarrassed by how loud he says it.  He slowly walks closer to the street – closer to you –  then stops when he’s a couple of feet away. He crosses his arms and his biceps bulges under his tight t-shirt.  “Blow job. . . that’s what you thought?  Well damn. I’m flattered, pumpkin. All jealous of my dealer spendin’ time with me.” As usual, you hate it when he’s right.  

“That’s what you call ‘contactless pick-up’?”

“That ain’t the weed girl.”

He walks around you slowly, like you’re a steak he’s about to carve up, then he puts his hand on the back of your neck and lowers his voice.

“That’s Michelle Pfieffer, baby.  Not Mary Jane.”  He looks at your joint and you hand it to him.  He's totally lost you.  "Never seen Scarface?"  He takes a hit, inhales, and holds. His broad chest swells with his lungs. Then he strokes your temple and squints at you, like he’s reading you, as he brings his mouth less than a centimeter from yours and exhales.  You breathe him in so cleanly, so greedily, barely any of it escapes into the air around you.  You hold, then turn your head to release the smoke.  It was too much, too soon, but you couldn’t turn him away. After successfully resisting a glance for several minutes, your eyes fall to the ample bulge in his PJs, sending a warm rush to your core. 

He smirks and strokes the nape of your neck.  You don’t say anything. You just stand there marveling at how genuinely hot he is.  Beautiful, even.  Shit, you’re really high. 

“C’mon,” he says and rotates around so he’s next to you, slightly behind you.  He squeezes your neck, and his forearm is resting between your shoulder blades when he starts walking you towards his basement.  You barely resist at all.  “Real bad girl shit, you’re gonna love it.” 

-

By the time you’re halfway to the door, his hand is no longer on your neck.  It’s drifted down to give your ass a brief squeeze, and for the first time since finding out his real intentions, you’re walking into his basement quite willingly. 

He nods to the couch.   “What do you want to drink?”

“Whatever.” You move a throw pillow out of your way and sit down. 

On the ottoman in front of the couch, there’s a mirrored tray with a credit card, loosely rolled $100 bill, and white powder residue.  She was doing a line, not sucking his cock. Now you’re even more embarrassed.  

Joel comes around the sofa and gives you an IPA.  

He sits down right next to you, manspreading with his hand on his inner thigh and his other thigh flush with yours.  He slowly rubs your leg and says, “It's okay, pumpkin. I shouldn’ta had the windows open. Got hot workin' out.”

He gets up and closes the windows, pulls the shades down, and double-locks the door. He dims the lights, too.  It’s still pretty hot inside.  As he slowly crosses the room, he wets his lips and watches you unzip your hoodie  You fold it up and set it in your lap.

"You gotta try this shit." He gets out his drug box. 

You hesitate and decline. 

“Girl as bad as you, never done hard drugs?” 

“Tried it, didn't like it.  It was gross.” 

“Bet it was cut with somethin’ gross.  This is good shit. maybe later though.  Hmm?"  He turns to face you, strokes your inner thigh, and studies your face.  

"Yeah I'm already high as fuck" you admit. 

He laughs.  “High as fuck . . . that makes two of us, pumpkin.”  You can see it in his eyes, too. He extends his beer to cheers yours.  

"Got all stressed out seein' me with another chick?"  

You take a long sip and observe the tent in his pants, resenting that he's right as usual.  He takes a long sip too then puts it down.  He leans in close, puts his mouth against your ear. "You don't have to say it," he whispers as he takes your beer out of your hand and your sweatshirt out of your lap, setting them on the table without fully leaving your space.  His cold hand slides between your legs, lightly trailing up your inner thigh over your thin joggers. Then he adds, "I can feel it."   

You’re already turning to face him.  Your legs open, making room for him.  “Yeah, that’s right” he says. 

You lean back, he gets between your legs, and his hands prowl up toward your shoulders, caging you to the couch.  He presses the hard silhouette of his cock into your inseam.  Then his mouth latches onto yours and your chest swells into him, your nipples hardening against his tight undershirt.  He makes room then his hand slides up under your undershirt – no bra – taking the shirt with it.  You help him pull it over your head.  Then he cups a breast and palms your hard nipple and your back arches.  You’re throbbing for him. 

“too hot for these,” he says, hooking fingers into your joggers. He begins to pull them down, then pauses when they’re at your knees.  He spreads you open with both thumbs and plants his mouth for a taste.  He licks and moans “Mmm’ into your cunt, then plunges his tongue inside, making your hips lift into his face.   

He comes up for air and says, "god damn you're hot," palming himself over his pants. He finishes pulling your joggers off.  "Hotter every fuckin time." He returns to grinding into you and sucks your neck. Holy fuck, he's hard.  So hard.  Your mouth falls open with a soft moan.  

"Yeah, you feel that? C’mon, let's get wild, baby."  He grinds into you a couple more times, says “yeah,” then sits back on his heels and gets the coke baggie. He picks up a small key ring from the coffee table.  Joel opens the bag and dips a key into it, getting the smallest little mountain of white powder on the end of the key, then he puts the baggie down on the tray.  

"C'mere a sec. It's just a little," he says.  You sit up while he makes a vertical fist and puts the smallest hill of white powder on the flat web between his thumb and forefinger.  It doesn't look like much, so you play along, closing a nostril and bringing your nose to his fist. You inhale and he says "attagirl," then with the same hand, he grabs your jaw and pulls your mouth into his for an aggressive kiss.  The back of your throat is dripping nasally, but you're tingling all over as his tongue invades your mouth with his hand holding your jaw.  Then that hand loosens and slides down to your throat and he pushes you back down on the couch, your head landing on the throw pillow. 

"Don't worry, pumpkin.  All yours tonight, every inch,” he says, stroking himself through his pants. That sends a bolt of desire right through you.  His hand slides down your chest  over your stomach to your dripping pussy and he says "you taste real fuckin good, you know that?" as he fingers you.  Then he licks his thick digits clean.  

He pulls down his waistband, frees himself from his PJ pants, then changes his mind and takes them off entirely.  He lays his hips onto yours, his stiff cock resting on  your mound and you tilt your hips in search of friction.   God, you need him so bad.  His face returns to your neck and you claw at his t-shirt.  He takes it off and admires you with red, half-lidded eyes while he's still sitting upright.  

"God you look so fuckin hot. . . “  He runs his hand lightly over your stomach, between your breasts, and back. You badly want him inside you. 

He takes the baggie and dips the key in it again. “Gotta do it, ‘fore I get you all sweaty.”   Then the cold metal on your cleavage makes your nipples harden and he inhales deeply.  He carefully draws a thin line along your cleavage, all the way up to your clavicle, then admires his work.  

"Baby you're the hottest thing ‘ever been in this room," he says and your heart swells a little, to your embarrassment. 

You watch him in a trance, wanting him back against your buzzing body.  He picks up and tightens the rolled up bill.  He strokes his naked cock with his other hand then lets it fall between your legs.  Your hips tilt, and his tip meets your entrance, nudging at your tight, wet hole while he braces himself on the couch.  Your legs open a little wider for him.  Your body is drunk with need.  Then he brings his head to your chest, the bill to his nose, and snorts the whole line, up to the bottom of your throat, and in the same swift motion, he plunges his stiff length into you with a groan, and you moan at the stretch of his girth.  

He tilts his head back and sniffles, staying inside you as he does it.   Jesus, who knew a cock could be so hard, or feel so good.  He retreats half way then pushes all the way into you again, bottoming out with a shudder. 

“God damn, baby,” he says, then begins to move his hips fluidly.  He feels so unequivocally good, you can’t even pretend he doesn’t.  No part of you can.  In a fucked up way, you feel like you’re exactly where you want to be in life, on the couch of this creep’s basement.   He grunts as he buries his rock-hard length inside you and sucks at your neck.  His cock fills you up just right, just the right amount of stretch, and the way he moves his hips, he’s rubbing you just right, too.  All you want is more of it.  

“Harder,” you hear yourself say.  

“What now?” he smirks with a hint of disbelief. 

“Harder, Joel.” He heard you the first time, he just wanted to hear it again. “Fuck me harder.”  Your hips lift into his and you wrap your legs all the way around him.  He rolls into you smoothly again, nodding, and you feel it building in your core.  You watch him in anticipation - his glistening biceps.  His absurd triceps.  His strong torso.  Something animalistic comes across his face. 

“Fuck yeah,”  he breathes.  

He slams into you with a grunt, and you moan.  You don’t bother trying not to.  Not tonight.  He hooks his arms under your shoulders for leverage and pounds into you again and again, to the hilt each time, grunting, breathing heavily.  You gasp.  He’s hitting that spot just right and he knows it.  You’re close to coming.  His messy hair bounces as he rails you.  

“Thought you’d never ask, baby,” he says.  

He moves one of his arms under your knee, putting that leg on his shoulder, and keeps railing you. It feels like your whole torso is being filled by him. You groan loudly, overwhelmed by him all up in your guts.   It’s like he’s been holding out on you – he was already so good and this is just ridiculous.  

“Fuckin’ love this pussy,” he pants, looking at you like a work of art as he fucks you.  Your back arches and you writhe under him, so close to the edge.  He somehow pushes even further.  

“And you love this cock, don’t ya?” You nod, tears prickling your eyes.  Sweat falls off his chest onto yours as he pummels you.  

“Fuck yeah,” he growls.  

“Yeah,” you pant, practically a whisper. You could do this all night.  

He slams into you hard again, tripping you over the edge, and you repeat “Yeah,” louder, which turns into a moan as you squirm under him through your waves of pleasure and your body jerks.  

“I know, baby,” he says. “Attagirl, yeah, come on this cock.” You continue to contract, and manage to stammer, “Oh God, don’t stop.” 

As your climax wanes, he hooks both his arms under yours again and says “c’mere,” as his hips  roll into you more gracefully again.  He kisses you, and moans into your mouth as he fucks you, and you quickly feel it building again.  You moan and he says, “hell yeah.” 

He pulls out and your gut reaction is”no,” before he can even help you into straddling him.  “Well hot damn,” he says and sits back for you to ride him. 

You push yourself up by your elbows, then begin to climb into his lap.  

“All yours, baby.  Ride it.”  

You can’t sink onto him fast enough.  You both grunt as your bodies are joined.  You roll your hips into him and his large hands move you on his cock.  He takes a nipple into his mouth and your head falls back.  You still can’t get over how hard he is.  You could do this all night, you think.  

But it isn’t long before his breath changes and you know he’s gonna come.  Yeah, you know he’s about to come, and yet, you can’t bear to tear yourself off his cock. He pulls you down flush against him with a groan and holds you there.  His head falls back. His hips lift, and he pulses enormously inside you, sending you for your second time.  You whine “Oh, God,” as you clench around him.  And he moans,  lifting his hips into you with each rope.  Then you cut his moan off with your lips on his, and he groans into your mouth.  

You sit on his lap with his cock still inside as you catch your breaths.  Eventually, he gives your ass a squeeze and says, “God I’m thirsty.” 

You agree, and get off him.  He hands you your beer and you take a long swig.  

“I’m spent, pumpkin.  Got too fuckin’ high.  You tired?” 

Yeah, you are.  

“Alright, let’s take a nap and do that again,” he says. 

 And you stay. 

-

A/N: I'm curious if anyone recognizes this situation, because it's based on a movie/scene that inspired the neighbor & drugs premise of night walks to begin with. I know where we're picking up from here thanks to @missannwinchester 👖 and still have many night walks ideas on the board from y'all, brewing and welcome.

-

TAGS

NW: @tehweeana@lokanda@blackvelveteen1339@cutesyscreenname@ele-meno-p lmk if i missed you

All joel: @ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @xdaddysprincessxx @queerly-anxiousus @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime  @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @jasminespringtime @romanarose @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @lokanda

#night walks!joel #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #creepy!joel #creepy!joel miller #toxicanonymity ☠️ #night walks #nightwalks☠️ #420 anon #cw dubcon

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Candles

Part 5 to Best Man Series. follow Christmas Party.

Joel Miller x F!Reader, Tommy Miller x F!Reader

Summary: It's Tommy's birthday. So why are you still looking for Joel to celebrate it?

notes: Its been 4 months but here's the next part for those of you still waiting on since December! The next part will most likely be the finale.

Warnings: unprotected sex (with Tommy), infidelity / cheating, pregnant reader, toy usage, dildo riding, breeding kink, oral m!receiving (with Joel), m!masturbation, short voyeurism, vaginal fingering, cum eating, jealous!Joel, emotions are FLLYYINNGGG in this one

18+ ONLY

- - - -

Joel Miller doesn’t get jealous. 

He’s at home, drifting off in thought as his hands do poor work on wrapping paper around the new pair of shoes and watch that he picked out. When Sarah, who’s focus is on brushing her doll’s hair and changing her bathing suit, starts yapping about how Uncle Tommy's kid is gonna be her best friend since she doesn't have any siblings to play with right now, all Joel can think about is you and Tommy together right now on his special day. 

What would it be like, waking up to you in a shared bed every day? To be the first to kiss you, smell your morning breath and sift his fingers through your bed head? To see your eyes shine from the sun reflecting off of them, twinkling with the buildup of a tear after a yawn.

What would it be like, getting a birthday blow job from you first thing in the morning? Even if you aren’t his wife, he’s thought about getting to have you all the time, just for him. He doesn’t get jealous of Tommy very often, because Joel Miller doesn’t get jealous, but he tuts at the idea that your mouth wrapped around his cock is a sight he gets to behold more often than Joel ever will. 

What would it be like, to not have to sneak around? To just have you loudly, unashamed, sloppily, proudly, the way you deserve, without constantly checking behind your back? To capture your lips in front of everyone like it were normal, to hold your pregnant belly like it was his, because damnit it might as well be.

It drives him insane he can’t mark you up the way Tommy can, less the two of you be caught in your affair. All he can do is pound you better, ruin you some more, and fill you with his seed. 

As if the last one hadn’t already reared its consequences in your growing belly. You’re too beautiful, too full of something special to be kept to one guy.

Still. He’ll only ever be second to Tommy.

What would it be like … to call you his?

“Dad…Dad!”

“What!”

Joel looks down at Sarah who’s got her hands on her hips and a stern look about her face.

Jesus, she really does spend too much time with me.

“The door,” she repeats, pointing downstairs. On cue, the doorbell chimes again.

He grunts as he lifts himself to his feet, brushing her head messily with his big palm before hopping down to answer.

It’s his dad.

“How old ya gotta be to leave your old man standin’ outside in the cold?”

Joel rolls his eyes, shifting to allow his father through the front. “It’s 79 degrees out.”

“Cold for my old bones,” he groans, feinting a shiver. “Share-Bear!”

Sarah bulldozers straight to his abdomen and wraps her arms in a big hug. 

Joel lightly tugs on one of her curly strands and she yelps “ow!”

“Go upstairs and get changed.”

She barrels upstairs to her room, leaving Joel and Miller senior. 

Joel continues tossing a bunch of tape on to the sad excuse of a gift before crinkling all the paper up and tossing it. He moves to search for a gift bag in the closet instead.

His dad sighs loudly. “Tommy sure got a nice beat goin’ for ‘im.”

“Sure does,” Joel notes, his attention more on the shoving past the vacuum.

“Good house, good job, kid on the way. A pretty gal.”

Joel closes the closet and turns towards his dad. “What’s your point, pops?”

“You know my point. He’s got it all together. You...”

“Me what? You don’t think I ain’t doin good on my own?”

“You shouldn’t have to be on your own. Sarah’s mom wasn’t...we knew she wasn’t gonna stick around. Its tough havin’ a kid to raise by yourself—“

“I wouldn’t trade my babygirl in for anything else in the world,” Joel snaps quickly. His eyes dart upstairs briefly. Its a conversation he hates when his dad brings up, especially when Sarah could just be lurking around the corner.

“Im not sayin’ that but.” Grandpa Miller shakes his head and takes a seat at the island. “Kid needs a mom. You need a woman. Someone to hold and kiss and make promises to. Someone to love.”

Joel drops the now filled bag on the countertop. I have that already. It’s just—complicated. “There a reason you stopped by? Other than to lecture me?”

His father grunts apathetically. “Just came by for some wrapping paper, but by the looks of it—“ He glances at Joel’s empty tape roll and bunched up pile of ribboned paper—“Guess I’ll go down to the store to get some.”

“Well you know where the door is.”

His dad follows Joel to his open front door to show him out. One aging father and one rapidly aging eldest son look at each other with a sense of sadness.

“Joel—“

“I’ll see you at Tommy’s.”

-

If you weren’t so pregnant, waking up before Tommy would have been so much easier to give him a blow job.

Instead. It’s half past 9, and you’re just rousing to consciousness. Fully well knowing Tommy has probably been awake for at least an hour but faking it just so he can wake up with you.

“Good morning birthday boy,” you grumble groggily, a soft smile spreading across your cheeks as you pull him in for a peck.

He grins and wraps himself around you. “Mmm Good Morning, little Momma. Ya know what I want for my birthday?”

You did know. He dropped hints like crazy and you already had it ready to go by your nightstand.

The thing about Tommy is…Tommy likes watching. It’s something you figured out when you were already dating after a year. Something about watching you touch yourself, spreading your legs on the bed and fucking yourself with a dildo, or grinding on his pillow and moaning as he stroked his cock from across the room, has him leaking in his palm with dirty words of encouragement.

And even with a hefty baby in your belly, his view of you bouncing on top of the sizable dildo was no different.

“Fuck, fuck that’s it angel. Takin’ that dick so good. Bet it feels good, huh?” He grips his balls with his palm while the other fists over his dick. Sitting upright in your makeup chair, fully naked and facing the bed, he gets a view of everything. His hungry eyes never once leave your body.

You nod. Your knees hurt, but the sight of Tommy’’s heart shaped eyes watching your milky breasts bounce, your lips spread to accomodate the girth of the silicon cock has you smiling for your deserving husband.

“It’s—not as easy with the bump…” you say fretfully. You feel like shit, not being able to give him the show that he wanted on his birthday. It’s a lot more difficult to angel and thrust a stick into you when there’s a planet blocking your view.

Tommy hoists himself up quickly, jerking his cock as he approaches you. He tosses the dildo and crawls over you before veiny hands caress along your hips, over your belly and squeezing your tits. “S’okay, little Momma. ‘m’here now. Daddy’s gonna make it better.”

You grasp his face with both hands and grin, pulling his lips to yours. At the same time, he slides his leaking member into your folds, forcing a grunt in the back of both of your throats as he bottoms out.

“Happy fuckin’ birthday to me,” he growls, fucking you steadily with deep strokes. “I get my one birthday wish today. Thinking’ I’m gonna leave a little present in this pussy. Have ya walk around all day with a lil bit of me inside.”

You laugh and gently tap your belly. “There’s a bit more than a ‘little’ bit of you inside me already.”

His stomach rumbles with a a chuckle. “That’s for everyone else to know who ya belong to. Nah, I’m talkin something just between you n me.” His arm holds himself above you as he rocks his hips with shallow ruts. “Shit, shit, ya gonna take it f’me? Gonna take my present on my fuckin’ birthday?”

You let out a high pitched whine, neck convulsing backwards as your cunt starts tightening around his length. 

Tommy locks your lips to his, tongue’s messily rolling into one another’s mouth. A string of saliva connect between the two of you when he pulls away, only for him to rub it against your breast.

“Tommy,” you moan desperately. You’re close, you’re about to tell him so: “I—“

“I love you,” he rasps. His eyes are shut tight as he finds that sweet spot inside, sending you over the edge before you can finish your thought.

 He thrusts a few more times before stilling. His balls twitch with satisfaction, each grunt from his chest echoing the spurts of his seed inside you. He feels at peace when he can be this close to you, his hand warm against your tight tummy and his soon-to-be kids.

His soon to be complete family.

His words rattle in your ears. You feel the opposite of light and airy after an orgasm. No, everything is heavy. Your head feels like a boulder stuck to the pillow. Yet empty. Your body so full yet feeling incredibly hollow right now. 

Tommy kisses your lips once more, not noticing the way you don't return the vervor. He sits up, wipes the sweat from his brows and slaps your thigh.

“You okay? Fucked ya a little too hard, baby momma?” He snickers.

You fake a laugh, hoping he’ll see you’re feeling exhausted rather than suspect anything is wrong.

Your husband kisses your forehead with a whisper “Stay in bed, you rest as long as ya need,” before walking towards the bathroom and closing the door behind him.

I love you. It should have made you feel surrounded by him. Comforted, secure, proud, inseparable, sound, cherished, warm, fuzzy, happy, truthful, light. Your husband confessing his love to you. 

Instead, it only reminded you of the dream had about Joel again last night.

Joel in your house. Joel in your bed. Joel dropping Sarah off at school and feeding your newborn with her bottle. Joel cooking in your backyard, Joel’s hands entwined with yours on a walk. Joel rubbing your shoulders and whispering sweet nothings in your ear. Joel kissing your cheek and telling you he lo—

You cover your face with the back of your hands. Tommy’s the one in your bed. Tommy holds your hand and kisses your cheek, and will be feeding and burping your baby, will be there for you forever and always because that’s what you promised to each other. 

You hold the ring on your finger up high in the air, its dazzling shimmer glints in your eyes. Your eternal promise, displayed on something so small yet so permanent, wrapped up in such a beautiful band.

The same ring that Best Man Joel carried in his pocket safely for months before you swore yourself to his brother. 

 You curse under your breath.

You’re still going to have to see him today.

-

He watches you crowd over Tommy seated at the head of the table, your hands lovingly on his shoulders. He thinks about his “one wish” for a while, but he only looks sideways towards you, holding your gaze for a moment before he confidently blows his candles. The room erupts in a rumble of cheers and clapping, but Tommy and you are only smiling at one another. He grabs your face and kisses you, smearing some icing on your nose. You laugh with him and rub it along his own, the two of you giddy and in your own world.

Joel Miller doesn’t get jealous.

And when you slice into the cake, nobody really understand why the cake is split between a blue and pink center. Everyones thinking the same thing--we already did the baby shower, it was going to be a girl!

“We might...have found out…there's gonna be another one,” you say sheepishly, your hands rollings over the heft of your larger than life belly that surprisingly has two little bubbas growing inside. 

Twins. you're having fucking twins. 

Tommy grasps your face and smears more icing on you, the two of you locking lips again and getting a little too pg-13 in a room full of raucous screeches that feel like nails on a chalkboard, shuffling chairs like a thunderous stampede. Everyone rushes to congratulate the two of you, how your lives are really starting, how exciting it must all be, what names you’ve been thinking of, its its everything you’d hoped it would be.

Joel Miller doesn’t get jealous.

Tommy knew, of course he did. Both of you planned it, to announce it like that. He’s got that smug look on his face, nothing of surprise. Just absolutely elated to share news that had been sitting on the two of you for who knows how long. Something Joel used to always get firsthand word from. You’re having twins. And he’s learning about it for the first time, same as everyone else. Tommy’s friends pat him on the back. Aunts kiss his cheek and even his dad smiles towards his youngest son’s success, all while the whole time, his ringed hand hasn’t left the curve of your swollen womb.

Joel Miller doesn’t get jealous.

He slips out the back of the room, everyone too engrossed in surrounding the happy couple. Nobody cared for Joel’s presence, not since the minute Tommy was born. Nobody would bat an eye for his absence today too.

…

You’re excited, you want to celebrate, and having everyone touching and surrounding you and asking questions wasn’t the way you wanted it. That’s why it was supposed to be during Tommy’s birthday, so there was something else to focus on.

But your body is on edge. It was attention from all that thrill. Jittery and warm under your palms.

Between your legs.

It’s hard to force Joel out of your mind whenever he’s in the same room. So when he dips out of the kitchen without making any gesture towards you, you didn’t hesitate to excuse yourself for a bathroom break. Nobody questions it, continuing their swarm around Tommy now who’s too eager for all the attention to really notice.

You don’t know what you expect from Joel. You don’t even know why you’re seeking him right now, and not standing by your husband’s side. You love Tommy. He’s everything to you. 

So why is there still this half of you that feels… like you need more?

Maybe your body is thinking on her own accord now, and that’s been a problem that needs to end. No. No you just wanted to talk. That’s all. He's your brother-in-law, for fucks sake. it’s natural you want to hear his thoughts. He’s gonna be a double uncle! He deserves a congratulations! Hope he’ll tell you congratulations too. Acknowledge it in some way. That its happening. That you and Tommy—are just you and Tommy. 

You wonder where the older Miller may have gone in such a small house. Sarah was still in the room, sneaking cake since nobody else seemed to care to slice it up, so where on earth—?

A callused palm wrap around your mouth and pulls you backwards into the dark bathroom, the door closing you inside with him warm and pressed tightly against your back.

“Shhhhhhhhh,” he whispers. The warmth of his breath makes you shiver, all the way down to the dampness spreading along your panties. Fuck. What was it about just ‘talking’ to him again? 

“J-Joel,” your voice wavers cautiously. “I—“ 

“You still gonna keep pretending you don’t want me?”

You face him as he turns the lights on and the two of you are caught in one another’s grasps. There’s a moment where you size him up, and he wonders if you’ll bluff his pass.

Instead, Like magnets that can’t resist their attractions, your instincts overwhelm you. Your eager fingers dig into the back of his neck and smash his lips against yours. The traces of icing still linger on your lips and tongue, the two of you devouring one another, fighting to get the last lick before coming apart to breathe.

Joel just smirks, his tongue swiping over his puffy lower lip. “Sweet,” he hums. His thumb brushes the bit of icing you didn’t know was still on your nose and puts it in his mouth. “How somethin’ so sweet come from someone so naughty?”

You quickly drop to a squat and roughly shove his hips back against the sink. Nimble fingers working swiftly to unbuckle his jeans and shove them down to his thighs.

You’re both panting through swollen lips, heart rate moving a lot quicker than the activities you’ve so far done would permit. He’s gorgeous like this—illuminated by the harsh florescent light above, his sincere, albeit sinful, smile and rosy cheeks watching you kiss his hardened length. 

He doesn’t force you. Doesn’t do anything to make you feel concerned. In fact, you’ve cornered him against the vanity, forcing yourself between his bent knees and inserting his tip to your wet mouth.

“Beautiful,” he whispers softly. His thumb strokes over your cheek as you guide more of his leaking cock into your mouth until it hits the back of your throat. He doesn’t take his eyes off of you, not even to blink. 

Your head bobs eagerly, swallowing around him. There’s just something about that huge dick of his that has you going feral. An itch you can’t scratch until his cum is either nested safely in your stomach or your womb. Maybe it’s because you’ll never be able to get rid of him. He’ll be around forever, and that means you can keep seeing him and his beefy horse cock forever. Forbidden yet yours for the taking. Every day if you wanted. 

The sounds of the party outside feel so remote compared to the events happening in such a little room right now. Just between you and Joel. 

The babies ain’t quite here yet so just you and Joel.

“Pretty pretty angel, sucking’ Daddy’s cock like that. What would your husband think? Suckin’ his big brother off in your house? I’d tell ‘im you got to your knees all by yourself. Little slut couldn’t wait for it. Second she saw me, needed my fat cock stretchin’ her throat, ain’t that right? Needed me to give ya something today too? Just that selfish, aren’t ya?”

You pull off his cock with a big gasp, smiling lazily. He slaps his cock against your open tongue with thick and wet patpatpats. 

He tsks you. “Pregnant gal, on her knees, takin’ cock like a slut. What a woman you are, little momma.”

You hum in approval, the drunken desire for Joel to fill your every senes clogging your brain.

Soft lips enclose around his tip again and he thrusts forward this time, holding his cock deep. You try to remember to breathe through your nose, even with his hairs tickling your lashes, but Joel pulls back enough to just his tip, and sets a gentle rhythm back and forth.

Joel’s head falls back against the mirror. His eyelids feel heavy each time he looks down to you. So full and rounded by a child—two children…if they're his, Joel’s having another daughter and his first son.

“Told ya you were made from breedin’. You’re gonna be like this the rest of ya life. Gonna put another baby in ya, then another—” he chuckles to himself, “N’another—havin’ ya suck cock not remember what number baby ya got growing’ in ya belly.”

He hisses through his teeth as you suck his member in and out, picking up pace. Your tongue works over his tip with each swipe, hand jerking off the base of his dick that you can’t fit. Any saliva and precum is immediately suckled and swallowed, leaving no evidence at the scene.

You’d gotten pretty good at that.

Joel’s beefy paw grasps the porcelain edge behind him as he hisses through his teeth. His stomach tenses, the veins in his v’line straining and you know he’s close. 

You alternate between sucking his balls and jacking off his cock above you. “What if I busted all over that pretty face? Have ya walk around your house with my cum on those lashes as everyone told ya what a cock hungry whore you are.”

You moan around him, your pussy so slicked between your thighs that it’s dripping down your pants. Its wrong. Fuck, you’re so wrong to want it. Want Tommy to see who’s marking you up, see how much you’d spread your pussy for Miller cock no matter if its your husbands his brothers.

His cock finds its way to your mouth again, and he starts thrusting lightly. 

“Swallow it, swallow it all. Want ya hesitatin’ to kiss Tommy after this. Knowin’ ya got my spunk in your mouth still. Fuck me babydoll, mouth’s a dream.”

His jaw drops low as he cums, and god what a sight. Your cunt throbs as he lets out pained breaths into the air, ready to cum if you were able to touch yourself right now.

You gulp down his salty load, lips suctioned to his tip and milking him clean to avoid any messes that might linger.

“That’s a good slutty wife,” he whispers down to you. Even on your knees, the heft of your pregnant belly is doing wonders to him. 

You lazily grin up to his smug grin. He knows you like showing him just how good you are at swallowing loads, like a good wife always does.

He pulls his softened cock out of your mouth, and you gasp a big breath of air, your hands still clinging to his thighs.

You feel his protective hands hoist you up to your feet. 

“Anything hurt?” He asks gently, holding your body flush against him as he rubs your tummy and hips. He feels much less tense than just moments ago when he pulled you in the bathroom with him. 

You shake your head. It’s not the first time you’ve gone down on a man while 30 pounds heavier with a baby. Your knees are a bit sore, but it’s nothing compared to the ache you’ve been feeling in your back for months now.

You try to pull away from Joel, but his arm is wrapped tightly around you. 

“Didn’t think you were pullin’ me in here just to suck me off. Why are you actin’ like this little snatch is happy from that?”

“I didn’t pull you—you pulled me,” you correct.

“You came lookin’ f’me. And you got on your knees all by yourself.”

His hands caress lower down your hip, gliding along your leggings towards your crotch. It should be wrong, the way your hand closes around his wrist to guide him closer, his digits dipping below the waistline and down your panties. 

He feels it: the soft squelch of your slick in your ruined underwear, pulsing madly. He grins and lets out a satisfied yet devious ‘ooooh there we go’ against your cheek. 

But there’s more. More dripping from here than he’s given you just from the thrill of sucking his cock.

He pushes his middle finger past your entrance and fingers out the glob of cum that had been deposited inside you earlier today.

“It’s —it’s Tommy’s birthday,” you moan, as if he needed an explanation as to why your husband’s seed is dripping out of your pussy. “Had—to give him—ooohhhhuugggg—his…gift—“

He continues to finger fuck you slowly, his younger brother’s cum practically pooling in your underwear. “Got one man’s cum in your mouth and a different one’s in ya pussy." He shakes his head. when he gets you like this, sometimes he would forget that you’re Tommy’s wife, after all. That Tommy gets you more than him. Gets to fill you whenever he pleases. Gets to hear your moans as loudly as he wants. That Tommy’s right to your pussy is his first and foremost, sacredly, forever and always.

That doesn’t stop Joel from seething at the thought of having to finger his brothers spent out of you.

"What, he didn’t make ya cum?” He taunts, picking up the pace. Even as you wreathe under his touch, your nails clench into his bicep, feeling the muscle work with each flick of his knuckle. “S’why you’re so desperate today? Wifey didn’t get her selfish little cunt pleased from your husband on his birthday?”

 "I did come …” you protest weakly. You squeeze your eyes shut, head tilted down as he works you open. It’s sloppy and sticky in your leggings, soaking the underside with your slick and Tommy’s cum being forced out by Joel’s big fingers relentlessly hitting the gummy spot inside.

His other hand grips your chin and forces you to look at him:

 “Then why you comin’ to me?”

There’s a prickle of a tear filling your eyes. You've been asking yourself the same thing for months. You don’t know from what; the brink of pleasure or guilt, but there’s a hefty stone that’s burrowed in your chest all day that you didn’t know needed to escape. The words are forced out of your chest with a pained gasp. 

"... I just want... more.”  

It should pain you to admit it, to be so selfish for these men, never feeling one is enough for you.

Normally He would kiss you right now, to hush your mind to reveal something so heavy, but instead, he holds your gaze, gritting his teeth with a snarl just barely poking along his lip. He wants to let your words sink into your bones, really grasp what you've been denying for too long. Suffer with it, even.

You hadn’t even realized he backed you up against the door, pressing his knee between your leg. You’ve become trapped and hadn’t even noticed. His fingers prod your entrance incessantly, reaching deep inside so there’s no way of you to wiggle out of his grasp. curling up and beating your g-spot better than Tommy can—at this point, its very possible you’ve had more sex with Joel than with your own husband.

And that makes the coil in your pussy snap.

Joel belittles you without any words while you fall apart against the wooden door holding you up. Working the heft of his palm against your clit until your brows are furrowing, mouth agape, walls clamping down tight around him as you cum. The door rattles with each little roll of your hips, and your moans aren’t hushed either. 

He watches, the way your eyes are glued to him, blown wide in guilt and in pleasure while little whines escape your lips. Unrelenting and stoic as he works you through your orgasm, granting no mercy nor even trying to shush your little cries from over stimulation. You don’t hesitate when he brings his fingers to your lips, swallowing them whole and sucking Tommy and your slick off Joel’s fingers. He wipes the rest off on your shirt.

Every emotion you feel with Tommy, you feel with Joel in moments like these. He holds you close to him as you breathe in his musky, minty scent. His shirt smells a bit like flowered softener and a hint of early morning sweat. Fumigated with the thick aroma of sex.

You're looking at the ring on your knuckle.

“I helped pick it out. Carried it for months. ’S practically my ring to you too.” He’s babbling now, getting lost in that hazy after-orgasm glow between two people who are connected by a strong, strange bond. “Sometimes …sometimes I think about stealing you away all to myself.”

He makes you two look in the mirror together, with him cradling your belly as you hold your ring hand to your chest. “Look,” he commands softly against your ear. “Kinda looks like our own little family.”

You hate that you kind of liked that idea. But then Tommy is in your mind, the man that you actually love, who fought for you, who you tied your vows to, and as far as you’re concerned, the father of your children. 

Angry, you try to break away and shove Joel, but he's used to it. Used to you closing him off right after these moments of pure insanity. He's not letting it happen today. This time he’s got a firm grip on you like a brick wall and steel wire melding you tight to him. He knows you don’t actually want to push him away. 

"You said you wanted more.”

It’s not a question: it’s a statement. A fact.

The very real thought, the one you tried to push away every time this happens, dawns on you: Joel is tired of sneaking around. Wants to have you when he wants. When everyone is watching. 

Not just sex. To be in your bed, making you dinner and watching movies, dropping Sarah off to school rubbing your back when you’re in pain, there for the babies when you deliver and every day after. 

You manage to push him off of you and shake your head. The chatter outside grows louder than the beats of your heart. Hoisting your pants back up into place, you go to grab the bathroom door, but Joels strong grip lays over top your and forces the door shut.

There’s a deadly, threatening finality to his tone. “I’m telling him.”

You turn back with a shocked expression, partially expecting him to be joking about it. Not that it’s funny. It’s not funny at all. 

But Joel hasn’t moved. Hasn’t cracked a smile. A man whose resolve has overcome his patience. His lips are tight, jaw tense as he watches you try to answer to that horrifying outcome. 

“Joel. No. Are you insane?”

“If its my kids you’re having, I have every right to be there for you—“

“But it’s NOT!”

“You know that? Tell me right know, you know it for sure. Say it ain’t mine, and I’ll never bring it up again.”

You go quiet, looking down at the belly that’s carrying your babies. You want to shrink away from your fears, from the men who’ve caught you between them with their words and their love and their touch. You’re Tommy’s wife. Yet here you are with Joel. Again. In your and Tommy’s house. And Joel’s hand on you, and on your finger is Tommy’s ring—Joel’s ring--TOMMY—

 It’s too much. Everything is closing around you, your lungs suffocating themselves under the pressure that you caused by seeking him out. Finding him and putting yourself in this exact situation ever. Single. Time. 

You yank the door again, desperate to escape, but Joel doesn’t budge. He refuses to let you walk away from the conversation. From him.

“You didn’t deny it,” he reminds you. he pulls your reluctant focus to him again. “Just say it: Tell me you want me. Tell me you lo—”

“I don’t.” You declare rigidly. Its too far. No, no, no,nonoNO. You expel those thoughts, his words, quick to cast them out before letting them enter your system. The next words rush out of your mouth with a deep ache seized in the pit of your stomach: “You’re just a good fuck.”

The air is thin around you. Something has dropped, a pin, a dime, a fucking boulder, between the two of you. Joel grits his teeth and removes his hand from the door, backing away from you with a scowl. He pulls it the knob open harshly and brushes past you quickly, not even taking a moment to check if anyone was nearby to see you emerging from the bathroom too.

He grabs his jacket and strides towards the living room. You can make out the commotion behind the wall; Sarah is having her own philosophy course to her personal audience, asking, "Whats the point of having so many candles if you can only make one wish!?"

Joel grabs her hand and dismisses them quickly. Her sad cries echo into the hall: “But why! It’s too early!”

Joel’s stern voice echoes in the hall as they make their way across the entryway.  “Because I said so. I’ve got work tomorrow. We’re leaving.”

She continues to complain, but Joel doesn’t have any heart to continue their conversation. Ushering her out of the house and slamming the front door behind them.

You stare at the door, having not moved from your place. 

The carpet beneath your socked-feet feels too shaggy. I hated this carpet. Its too fucking much for fucking Texas and every god damn person who sees it here.

You flinch when Tommy’s hand creeps along your belly. Disgusting your sniffle as a cough and wiping your nose. You worry he noticed, but he doesn’t do anything to push the matter further. “What’s up with him?”

You huff an annoyed sigh. “I don’t fucking know. He’s your brother. Just Leave me the fuck alone.”

Tommy observes  your face momentarily, the way you avoid his eyes. He pulls away. “I’m gonna let this one slide as a pregnancy hormonal thing,” he says lowly, a cold soberness to his tone. “Then you can tell me what’s botherin’ ya so much lately. Or not. I’ll let you decide.”

You cover your face with your hands, sinful hands that feel like dry leather and charred ashes. Hands that don’t feel like your own anymore.

It would be better if Tommy just walked away. So you can simmer in your guilt and pain, like any cheating wife would. Like a sensible man who doesn’t take that shit from his wife, no matter what her personal problems are. From a woman who’s secretly jeopardizing their marriage for… what exactly?

You wanted more…but…what did you want more of?

Instead, Tommy feels his lips quiver slightly. He brings your head to his chest, smothering you in his scent and his embrace, his love and comfort.

Your insides break down in a flood. Tears and hiccups suffocate you as you wrap your arms around your husband and sob into his denim jacket, the one you just gave him this morning as his first birthday gift from his new wife. 

Tommy’s never pushed you for anything. Maybe to his own detriment.

Deep down, you suspect, he knows it too.

Instead, he just holds you, swaying back and forth with gentle ‘shhh’ into your forehead. Never once faltering on the stretch of his hug, his arms holding you up and against him like a seatbelt built for a lifetime.

You feel like you just drove the car off a cliff.

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[sparkle-fiend]

Steve loves Valentine’s Day.

It’s a holiday celebrating love and romance; the whole point is to shower someone with affection (and hopefully get laid at the end of the night). What’s not to like about that?

With girls, Valentine’s was easy. Big box of chocolates, a dozen red roses, dinner at a fancy restaurant (and maybe a little jewelry or something - depending on how much he likes her). A sweet card, for sure.

Now that he’s dating Eddie, Valentine’s Day presents more of a… challenge. 

“Ugh, what am I gonna do Rob? We walked through the greeting card aisle at Melvald’s and he pretended to puke. He doesn’t want flowers or chocolate or anything.”

He knows he’s whining. He’s slumped dramatically in the single office chair in the Family Video breakroom, spinning slowly (like a pathetic little rotisserie chicken, according to Robin). He’s probably got about five more minutes before Robin snaps.

“Why do you have to do anything? You know Valentine’s Day isn’t even a real holiday – it’s just an excuse to get people to spend money on crap they don’t need…”

“Oh my god, stop! You sound just like Eddie. Valentine's isn't about spending money, it's about... showing people that you love them. Making them feel happy and appreciated and special. It’s about celebrating love.”

Robin tilts her head and her face goes a little soft, the way it does when he says something she wasn't expecting (but in a good way, not like when he says something so dumb that her body collapses and she says he's obliterated her will to live). 

"That’s actually surprisingly sweet Steve. Okay….” she sighs and looks up at the ceiling as she thinks. “Maybe... you could try making something? He liked those cookies you baked for movie night." 

“Those cookies were terrible.” Practically inedible. Eddie was the only person that ate more than one. (Which was either a true declaration of love in and of itself, or proof that Eddie will eat literally anything when he's stoned.) 

"I don't know, Eddie is pretty easy to please. You could give him like... a cool rock, and he would probably love it." 

Steve sits upright so fast he nearly overturns the chair. "Robin, you're a genius!!" 

She blinks at him. "Clearly. But also, why exactly?" 

Eddie is like a crow. He's forever picking up little odds and ends - cool rocks, stickers, shiny bits of paper. At Christmas, he collected the bows off of everyone's presents. Sometimes, he incorporates the stuff he finds into little props and models for his D&D games, but other times he just keeps it. He's got a whole drawer devoted to his little 'hoard', as he calls it. 

Steve explains all this to Robin, who just shakes her head in bemusement. "He is so weird," she says fondly. 

"Yeah," Steve agrees. He would have recoiled from that oddity in high school - would have been worried what other people would think. Scared they would judge him for associating with someone like that. 

He doesn’t give a shit, these days. He sees the way Eddie lights up with happiness at the smallest things, so full of excitement and passion, and it just makes him smile. He feels grateful that he gets to bask in that reflected joy, like a flower soaking up the sun.

Valentines is two weeks away, which gives Steve plenty of time to collect a bounty of little treasures. He hits the pawn shop, the thrift store - he even drives out to the weird antique shop about an hour out of town, which looks like a normal house on the outside and is crammed to the rafters with knick-knacks and bric-a-brac when you walk inside. 

He also trawls the quarry, the lake, and the woods behind his house. It's tough, because usually Eddie's little treasures just look like trash to Steve. He's not a very creative person himself, but he tries hard to see the world the way his boyfriend would. 

If that means Steve finds himself debating for over half an hour on which rock is more appealing, well – it will all be worth it in the end.

———

Steve stays over at Eddie's, the night before Valentines. (At this point, he spends more time at the Munson's house than he does at his own.) 

He wakes up early, slipping out of bed with slow, careful movements. As usual, Eddie rolls over with a faint grumble, bundling himself into a burrito of blankets to compensate for the void of warmth left by Steve's absence. 

He moves down the hall, avoiding each creaky board like it's a booby trap in the Temple of Doom, until he reaches the kitchen - which is where Steve breaks routine. He sneaks out the back door and races across the driveway in his boxers, hopping and cursing as the frigid gravel stings his bare feet. 

His carefully cultivated stash of gifts is in the glove compartment of the BMW. He already has a plan for which one will be first, so he grabs it and closes the door (slowly, slowly - the sound of Steve moving around the house is familiar, but a car door slamming in the driveway at this time of morning would wake Eddie for sure). 

The first gift is a blue jay feather he found in the woods, perfect and clean with vivid blue and black stripes. He tucks it carefully under the edge of the ash tray that sits on the porch railing, before slipping back inside to start breakfast.

Thirty minutes later Eddie appears, drawn by the warm smell of coffee and the sound of bacon popping in the pan. 

He drapes himself over Steve's back and murmurs, "G'mornin," sleepily into the shell of his ear, the way he does every morning after Steve spends the night. This time, Steve balances his spatula on the edge of the pan and turns so that he can wrap his arms around his boyfriend’s waist. 

He presses a cheerful kiss to the corner of Eddie's mouth and says, "Happy Valentine’s Day." 

Eddie groans dramatically and throws his head back, the rest of his bodyweight following. If Steve didn't have a firm grip around his waist, he would have toppled over backward; the move turns into an awkward backbend instead. 

"Stevie please, it's too early for that crap. Wait until I've had my coffee at least." 

Steve grins. He releases his hold just long enough for Eddie to yelp and scrabble for balance before catching him and pulling him close again. 

"Jesus Christ," Eddie gasps. 

"Careful," Steve says with a smug grin, laughing when Eddie shoves him in the chest and pulls away.

They eat breakfast together, and then Steve follows Eddie outside for his morning cigarette. 

"Holy shit, look at this!" Eddie turns to Steve with the blue jay feather pinched between his fingers, grinning with delight. He hasn't brushed his hair yet and he's got a smear of bacon grease on his cheek, but he's so beautiful in that moment - so full of joy it shines out of him, like a lighthouse.

Just because he found a feather. Steve smiles back, helplessly besotted. "Pretty cool." 

Eddie twirls the feather between his fingers before tucking it behind his ear. “That’s a sign that today is gonna be a good day.”

Steve presses his mouth to the edge of his coffee cup to hide his expression. “Yeah, I think so too.”

———

Eddie rolls into the Family Video parking lot around 2 in the afternoon to visit before his band practice. He strolls inside and leans against the counter, plonking a silver wrapped Hershey kiss down in front of Steve. 

“Kiss for a kiss?” he says, with a smarmy grin. Steve rolls his eyes, but he checks to make sure they’re alone in the store before swooping forward for a quick peck on the lips.

“I got you something too,” he says.

“Oh?” Eddie raises one eyebrow, managing to look both curious and skeptical. “Please tell me it’s not a cheesy greeting card.”

Steve flips him the bird before reaching into his pocket. He pulls the keychain out and lets it dangle from one finger in front of Eddie’s face.

His boyfriend’s immediate reaction is to wrinkle his nose in disgust. The keychain is a garish red plastic heart, definitely the antithesis of Eddie’s usual metalhead vibe.

But it’s also sparkly. 

Steve’s lips curl into a satisfied smirk as Eddie takes the keychain from him, reluctantly admiring the way light sparks off the flakes of holographic glitter embedded in the plastic. The cheap little thing shimmers like a ruby in the afternoon sun.

“Some kid dropped it. They never came back, so it’s yours if you want it.” (That’s technically true, although Steve has been holding on to it for nearly a month now, waiting for today.)

“Oh, well then.” Eddie stuffs the keychain into his pocket. “Finders keepers, losers weepers!” He sticks his tongue out, eyes wide and exaggerated – then leans across the counter and licks Steve’s nose.

“Gross!” Steve sputters with laughter. He scrubs at his face and looks up just in time to see Eddie wave jauntily on his way out the door, a second Hershey kiss left sitting on the counter in his wake.

———

After Steve's shift is over, he runs home for a quick shower and a change of clothes before meeting Eddie at the diner. 

He did his best to talk his boyfriend into going on a proper date, but the most he could get Eddie to agree to was milkshakes and a movie (my choice Stevie, not some lame romance).

Steve walks into the diner and spots Eddie at the back booth. He saunters over and sets the third present onto the sticky Formica table with a click. It's a small golden gear, nearly paper-thin. 

"Check it out. Found this in the parking lot." 

(That's a lie. Steve carefully picked apart a broken old watch from the thrift shop in order to extract a handful of the little gears.)

"Hey, cool! I bet I could use this in the model I'm working on." Eddie pulls the pack of cigarettes out of his coat pocket and drops the gear inside for safe keeping. 

"What's the model for?" Steve asks.

Eddie launches into an animated explanation of the character he's creating for a new Hellfire campaign - a sun-worshiping priest that intends to trick the party into becoming a ritual sacrifice. 

"... and that gear thing would look pretty good on the top of his staff." 

Steve doesn't understand much of what Eddie's saying, but he loves the way his boyfriend talks with his whole body, moving his hands and shoulders and head along with the words. He rests his chin in his hand and lets Eddie ramble until the milkshakes arrive, smiling like a dope the whole time.

Eddie has no concept of time, so Steve is in charge of making sure they finish their milkshakes and leave the diner in time to make it to the movie. As Eddie slides into the passenger seat of the BMW, he says, “Hey – you think we have enough time to stop by the Circle K?”

Steve turns in his seat as he reverses out of the parking lot. "What do you need at the Circle K?" 

"Snacks! You can't go to a movie without provisions Stevie! And don't say we can buy some at the concessions stand, because the prices they charge are ridiculous."

“Well if we stop now, we’ll be late – but I’ve got some Milk Duds and trail mix…” Steve doesn’t realize what’s happening until it’s too late. Eddie pops open the glove compartment in his search for snacks, revealing Steve’s little stash of gifts. 

Eddie frowns in confusion. “What the hell?” He rifles through the pile as Steve groans.

“Shit. You weren’t supposed to see those yet.”

“What is all this?” Eddie picks up a ring, turning it over in his hands. It's a bulky silver biker ring, like the ones Eddie wears every day - only this one is shaped like a bat with tiny ruby eyes. Steve is particularly proud of that one, discovered in a box of assorted rings at the pawn shop.

Steve gnaws at his lip and runs a hand through his hair, ruining all his careful styling. "I know you hate Valentines, but I wanted to do something. Just… to show you how much I love you. So instead of the cards and flowers and stuff, I tried to find little things you might actually like. For your, you know… your 'dragon hoard' or whatever you call it."

"So the keychain and the gear..."

"And the feather."

Eddie's eyebrow twitches. He stares at the contents of the glove compartment; at the water smoothed stone from the lake and the multicolored twist of ribbon, the vivid green marble and the tiny mother of pearl locket. He looks down at the ring still clutched in his hand, and blinks rapidly. 

Steve glances nervously between Eddie and the road, hands tight on the steering wheel. He's disappointed that the surprise has been ruined, but more concerned about Eddie's reaction. He'd expected the other boy to laugh or tease him, not this... whatever this is. 

Finally, Eddie clears his throat roughly and speaks. "Actually, can we just head back to my place? I've got something I wanna show you, and I don't think I can wait through the movie." 

“Uh… sure.”

Steve's brain is buzzing as he takes a left instead of a right at the intersection. He's worked himself into a bit of a panic by the time they pull into the Munson's driveway. "Eddie, I..." 

Eddie interrupts him, practically throwing himself across the center console as he drags Steve into a fierce kiss. By the time Eddie lets him go, Steve is panting. "Wha...?" 

"Wait here," Eddie says with a wild grin. He presses Steve back into the seat for emphasis. "Don't move." 

He takes the steps up the porch two at a time and fumbles with his key to get inside as Steve watches in a daze. He has no idea what's going on. 

After a few minutes, Eddie returns to the door. He's pulled on a t-shirt with a faux tuxedo printed on the front, and he's standing straight backed in the doorway with a towel over his arm, like some kind of maître d’. He waves grandly toward Steve, beckoning him toward the house. 

Steve snorts with laughter as he climbs out of the BMW. “What are you doing?” 

"This way sir," Eddie replies in a terrible attempt at a posh English accent. Steve shakes his head, thoroughly bewildered and increasingly amused. 

He walks past Eddie through the doorway and freezes in surprise.

The living room has been transformed. Eddie set up the gaming table in the middle of the room – set with a crisp white tablecloth, the Munson’s best dishes, and a vase full of red roses sitting in the center of the table, flanked by two candles. More candles twinkle softly from the coffee table, the end tables - even on top of the tv. 

"Eddie..." Steve whispers in awe. "What is this?" 

"Well, ah... I kind of jumped the gun a little. It’s supposed to be a candlelight dinner. If we'd gone to the movie, Wayne would have had time to get all the food set up. But it won’t take long, I already cooked everything. Just gotta heat it up."

Steve’s vision goes watery, smearing the candlelight into one big blur as tears fill his eyes. He blinks hard to clear them. “I thought you hated all this stuff.”

Eddie shrugs and rubs the back of his neck nervously. “Well, yeah I do. But you love it. So I wanted to surprise you.”

Steve grips his boyfriend by the front of his ridiculous t-shirt and pulls him into a bone-cracking hug, before pulling back just far enough to kiss the breath from him. 

In a pause between kisses, Steve rests his forehead against Eddie’s and laughs a little breathlessly. “What made you change your mind about the movie?”

Eddie bites his lips, already swollen from kisses. Steve can’t tear his eyes away.

“I don’t know. When I saw all that stuff you collected for me…” he clears his throat, staring at Steve with wide dark eyes. “I’m… I know I’m weird. I’ve known that my whole life. I never thought I would find anyone that would tolerate me, let alone… celebrate me like that.”

He kisses Steve again, sweet and soft. “I couldn’t sit and wait for two hours after that. I had to get you home and show you how much I love you.”

“I love you too.” Steve smiles against Eddie’s mouth. “You know… I’m not really hungry yet.”

“Oh yeah?”

Steve trails his hands down Eddie’s chest, hooking his fingers into the belt loops of his jeans and tugging. “Mm-hmm. I think we need to work up an appetite first.”

Eddie laughs in delight. “Sounds like a good idea. You know how much I like dessert before dinner.”

A happy Valentine’s Day indeed.

#steddie #steddie fic #my writing #Valentine’s day ficlet #I’ve been working on this over a week #and still ended up having to rush to finish for today #not real happy with it #I wish I was a faster writer

[joshlmbrt]

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ YOU DON’T HAVE THE TIME, YOU LEAVE THEM ALL BEHIND | truck driver!e. munson x mom!reader

w; mom and dad argument, chance is non-verbal, eddie not realizing what you’re truly saying, hurt AND comfort.

request; ‘thinking about “come home, the kids miss you” with truck driver!eddie … he’s leaving for days, when you argued the night before, regretting the words left unsaid … eddie cradling the payphone to his ear like it’s your face … any way he can hear your voice, if only for a moment, his heart breaking as you cry through the phone … they way your au has me in a chokehold, i s2g 🥹🥺💖💞’ - @reysorigins

an; the fact that rey went on my masterlist, read my fave au, and requested has me crYINGHHHHHhH, because i absolutely love this au with my whole heart and rey.

It’s different this time when Eddie leaves home - he’s off work, but leaving home. It doesn’t feel right. It doesn’t feel right with how he left things, slamming the door on his way out and driving off without a thought. 

The motel bed is lumpy, and it smells weird in the room. He’s sure he saw a bug crawl across the wall. And if he were to be killed, no one would know and he couldn’t call for help - the line to the phones being down. 

He’s pressing the heel of his hands into his eyes, his wet lashes flattening. 

“You knew what you were getting into when I told you about this job!” 

“But it takes all your time, Eddie! I barely see you. Chance barely sees you. He misses you when he’s gone!” 

“Oh, don’t use him against me!” 

“I’m not using anything against you, Eddie. I’m telling you how I feel because you asked! You did!” 

He did ask - that’s where he went wrong. Although it was a rhetorical question - ‘what do you want me to do?’ - he didn’t like the answer you gave him. 

He flips in the bed, eyes staring at the door as he tries blinking away the burn that would lead to inevitable tears. 

“There you go. Running away like you always do!” 

“I’m not running!” 

“You are! You’re running away because you don’t want to listen to me! I should’ve known better than to think you’d understand because you always want everything to go your way or you’ll throw a fit!” 

He’s shoving clothes into a bag, walking out of the room and towards the door. He can hear sniffles, but he’s angry and he doesn’t want to feel suffocated in a house filled with tension. 

He slams the door. 

He was acting like his father. 

Running away when things got too tough and he couldn’t handle it - didn’t want to deal with it. He remembered when there were nights when he heard his mom crying in her bedroom then the shake of the trailer when his dad would leave. 

He would always go into the kitchen and grab two cookies from the jar, walking into her room. He would climb into the mountain of covers, cuddling up to her side and hand her the cookie. She would always thank him. 

‘I’ll save it for later.’ She would always say, pressing a kiss to his temple. He would find them tossed into the trash. 

He hates to think Chance is doing the same. Consoling you when he’s the one who should be. Eddie grew up too fast - emotionally - to protect himself from the words of his family and other people. 

He lifts from the bed, rubbing a hand down his face. He had left his bag inside his truck because he didn’t know if he was going to sleep in the truck or a motel - or leave and go home. 

His eyes linger on the black phone near the bed, huffing out a sigh, pushing himself up from the bed and walking towards the door. He knows it was useless when he was handing the woman behind the window a fifty for a single night. 

There’s a pay phone on the other side of the hotel. He bites at the skin inside his cheek, pulling out a loose quarter that was in his pocket. 

He walks along the gravel, eyes staying on his shadow that follows him along towards the pay phone on the gravel that was lit up by a green color from the word MOTEL. 

He slips the quarter in, picking up the phone from the receiver. His finger hovers over the metal keypad, breath shuddering as he finally types in a number he knows by heart. 

It rings three times. “Hello?” You sound tired, congested with snot. His eyes squeeze shut and his forehead rests on the side of the payphone. He probably shouldn’t, he doesn’t know who has used it or touched it. 

“It’s me,” He breathes out. It’s silent. He digs into his pocket, searching for another quarter, lips pulling into a frown when he doesn’t find one in either pocket. “I just… I wanted to call and tell you I'm sorry,” His fingers grip the phone between his rough palms. 

“And what I said, I didn’t mean. You… you were just trying to tell me how you felt - I should’ve listened to you instead of immediately jumping on you.” 

You sigh over the phone. There’s a scratching on the other side. “I'm sorry too.” 

His brows pinch together. “Honey… No, you don’t-”

You’re cutting him off. “No. I am. I should’ve… I shouldn’t have jumped down your throat either,” You sigh again. “We should’ve sat down and talked about it like adults.” 

There’s a beeping and he presses his fingers between his eyes. “Listen, sweetheart. I don’t have much longer this quarter. But… I’ll, uh…” 

“You’ll come home?” There’s a quiver in your voice and his eyes open and head tilts when he hears it. He feels his own throat get heavy with emotion - he gulps it down like pins and needles. His thumb moves back and forth on the back of the telephone. 

“Yeah… Yeah, I’ll come home. We don’t have to talk about it tonight. We can tomorrow.” 

“That sounds good.” 

The drive home was quick. He had left his bag in his truck, again, jogging up the steps. He unlocks the door and opens it, stepping inside. On the couch, he notices Chance. A blanket over his small body, small snores escaping his nose. 

He walks over, carefully lifting his sleeping body. His cheek smooshes against Eddie’s shoulder, arms dropped by his side. Eddie rubs a hand up and down his back. 

He passes by you in the kitchen, a hand to your bicep, squeezing softly, before nudging Chance’s door open with the toe of his boot. He lies him down, placing the bunny closer to him and lifting the blanket over his shoulders. He leans down, pressing a kiss to his forehead before flipping on his dinosaur night light that circles around the room in reds, blues, greens, and oranges. 

He turns and walks out of the room, shutting the door quietly before walking to the kitchen. He watches you for a moment before walking behind you, hands rubbing up and down before slipping up to your shoulders. 

His thumbs dig into your tense shoulders, his lips pressing against the back of your head. He inhales deeply, catching a whiff of your shampoo and a spritz of your perfume. 

His thumb small lines against the base of your spine. “I’m sorry.” He whispers. 

You turn in his arms, lifting your hands and pushing his curls away from his face as you nod. “I’m sorry too.” 

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” 

“I just…” You pause, lips flattening as you look at his chest. His hands slide up your neck before resting on your jaw, rubbing at your cheeks softly. “I’m scared something will happen and you won’t come back.” 

“Sweetheart,” He pouts softly before pressing a kiss to the corner of your lips before resting his forehead against yours. He wipes away the fresh set of tears that fall down your flushed cheeks. “Nothing won’t happen to me-”

“You never know.” 

“Nothing won’t happen to me,” He repeats, fingers tightening their grip into a firm hold before they soften again. “I’m always safe. I always check everything. I’m safe. But I can always talk to Ron about shortening my days - I’ve been thinking about doing that anyway.” 

“Baby, I don’t want you to feel like you have to do that. And-” His lips are on yours to stop your rambling, Your brows lift slightly, hands circling around his wrists. His thumbs wipe under your eyes again when he pulls away slowly, giving you one last peck. 

“You’re not making me do anything that I don’t wanna do,” He whispers, nudging his nose against yours. “Like I said, I’ve already thought about having a talk about it. I miss you and Chance when I’m gone. I hate being gone so long.” 

Your lip trembles, he places the pad of his thumb against your chin - you still think he’s lying. “I’m not lying.” 

You nod a bit, looking down at the ground. He smiles a bit, pushing some hair behind your ear with one hand.

“You tired?” He whispers softly. You nod again. “Come on, sleepyhead. I’ll make you some breakfast in the morning and we can go to the park tomorrow.” 

You peek up at him, a small glimmer in your eye. “Really?” He huffs out a small laugh. 

“Really.” 

— @stveharringtn 2024

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ thanks for reading! comments, reblogs, likes, feedback is highly encouraged, welcomed, & deeply appreciated.

#cherry writes ✿ #dad!eddie munson x mom!reader #dad!eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson angst #joseph quinn x reader

[hearts4chriss]

Leather Jacket.

𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐒𝐒

Bad boy!Chris + Nerd!Black fem!

Part 03

prompt: where Chris catches his friends bullying you and has too make a big decision.

contains: ANGST! Bullying, crying, violence, use of pet names ( my girl, princess, baby ), major fluff at the end ( keepin that a secret )

it had been 4 days since that whole incident in class with us, resulting in me taking her home which leaded to me beginning to take her home after her physics club and my football practice.

accept one day, it took her a bit longer than normal.

See my practice ended at 5:30 and her club ended at 5:45. I didn’t know what was taking her so long, I figured they just got held up so I waited another 15 minutes.

That’s when I began to hear some rumbling as yelling behind the school as I was in the front.

I sigh dropping my bags down and begin to walk behind the school seeing something I-i didn’t want too.

There she was, in her uniform on the ground surrounded by 3 of my friends.

they had taken off her glasses and were holding them away from her and mocking her calling her “nerdy girl” , “freak” , “ugly nerd” and hurtful words causing my fists to clench and my heart pump.

they had took her bag and threw her papers everywhere and they just kept laughing at her and throwing insult after insult and it began to break my heart as I couldn’t watch her be in pain anymore

“Please-just-leave me alone-“ she shudders through her tears and my “friends” just laugh at her.

“or what? gonna go cry to your boyfriend?” Oh wait you won’t have one! You never will because guys don’t like pathetic things like you. They chuckled and kept laughing at her and I had enough of it.

“Guys what the fuck are you doing?!” I yelled and they all turned around and looked at me.

“Just picking on this nerd you should join”. One smirked at me and I tilted my head to the side and scoffed.

“No I’m not doing this- I’m not doing this anymore I’m done”. I stood my ground my fist clenching becoming more visibly noticeable and one of them give me a pity laugh as I’ve never been the one to turn them down

“What? She’s just a girl she’s nothing sp-“ I cut him off with a swing too the mouth causing him to fall and the ground as the other two immediately catch and go for me next

“What the fuck man your supposed to be our friend? Beating us up for some random ne-“ that resulting in two gut bunches two the other guys as they all fall down on the wall.

“Watch ur fucking mouth when ur talking about her”. I say through gritted teeth leaving them all a few angry punches causing blood to appear on my fists

I was pissed, how dare they talk about this innocent girl who doesn’t do anything and at that, she’s my girl, she’s my fucking princess.

“c-Chris”- I hear her little voice cry out weakly and my gaze immediately shifts to her.

her slump body lay in the corner and her glasses scattered off and scratches on the clear lenses, her books and papers scattered and she looked so in distress as tears and shakes consumed her body.

“baby..I’m right here I promise”. I say leaning down in a squat beginning to pick all her things up and put them in her pink backpack.

she looked up at with me with a shaken and scared expression and that’s when I realized she really was afraid and she was hurt.

“You mind if I carry you?” I asked her calmly and she shook her head and I scooped her into my arms carrying her bridal style.

She rested her head on my chest as I picked up my other bags I had left near the entrance of the school.

“It’s okay princess I got you”. I kiss the top of her head and she sighs tiredly as I placed her carefully in the front seat of my car.

I began to drive her back too her house and she just laid there in the seat looking so fragile, as if she’d been broken into a million pieces.

“Ur parents care if I come in?” I asked peering at her softly.

“N-no they’ll be okay with it-“ she stutters and I smile at how cute she was beginning to drive down her street.

I parked in her drive way grabbing her bag with her keys in it and carrying her once again.

I unlocked the door and was greeted with her parents who had a shocked look on my face

“Oh god what happened?!” Her mother says with a worried face.

“Some a- guys school were bullying her and I took care of it”. I said calmly watching my tone and language and her mother sighs.

“Thank you- her rooms just up this way”. She sighs again and I nodded thanking her carrying her upstairs.

“Did we just let Chris sturniolo be alone with our daughter?” Her dad whispers.

I suppose we all have our moments…

In her room

I lay her on the bed and rummage in her closet grabbing her one of my hoodies I’d left over from when we…you know. She really liked it so I let her keep it.

“Here honey”. I give her the hoodie and she sits up.

“Can you help me? Please?” She says softly giving me puppy eyes slightly squinted because she wasn’t wearing her glasses.

“Oh of course”. I say being quick with taking off her clothes my breath hitching seeing her in a matching white bra and panties but I shake my head and place my hoodie over her smaller body.

“wait- m-my glasses- where are they?” She said anxiously getting up searching her bag and scrambling

“Wait”- I was cut off by her pulling them out her bag, the scratches on the lenses seemingly broke her heart, she needed those glasses and she loved them.

“My glasses…” she sighs sadly and I come over to her pulling her into my arms.

“I’m sorry sweetheart, I promise I’ll fix all of this for you yeah?” I say facing her toward me and she smiles showing me her dimples and I instantly melt seeing her face like this.

Seeing how vulnerable she was with me, at her weakest point and she trusted me, the boy whose known for manipulating girls just like her, she was sitting right in his arms, my arms, peaceful and quiet.

She gained her trust for me, overtime even though I manipulated her into letting me fuck her, that wasn’t just a one time thing. I had grown too like her more overtime.

Seeing how she responded to my body, the way she would flush through her gorgeous brown skin, the way she’s stutter when I’d call her princess or baby or any of my nicknames for the matter. The way she’d sink into my arms whenever I wrapped them around her. The way she grew more comfortable with me had just made my heart pump with anticipation.

I needed to protect her, watch her, take care of her, make sure she was okay.

there was no sign or whatever to explain why my feelings are the way they are.

But there’s one thing I could say, something I never thought I’d say.

I think I’m falling for her

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#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #🫂 → his princess series !! #heartsforchriss