#so maybe this may be at least a part of it ?
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DCxDP Fanfic idea: Rude Kryptonian
Danny Fenton is prepared for a lot of things when Vlad calls his parents and asks to take his godson for a summer. Things would have gone differently if Danny's hero business hadn't made him a "troubled" kid. He was failing a lot of his classes, sleeping or ditching most classes and not to mention all the random injuries.
They were worried he was becoming some kind of gang member. (It hurt a little they assumed the worst of him and not worried that something bad was happening).
His dad was convinced that Vlad could somehow set him on the correct path.
Now Vlad had moved on from trying to be his stepdad and forced Danny to be his son, but that didn't mean Danny liked him. Or that he could forget what he put him through.
So he was less than happy to pack his bags and be driven to the airport to board Vlad's private jet. His parents lectured him the whole time, warning him to not be a bother to his uncle Vlad, and to behave. Jazz just looked anxious, practically begging her parents to change their mind.
They did not listen, and Danny was thrown onto the jet after getting past security. He was not surprised the plane went off course due to "mysterious" wealther a hour into the trip.
It was like they purposely flew into a thunderstorm, complete with harsh winds and rain. His plane crashed landed in the middle of nowhere thirty minutes later.
He was less surprised he was the only human on board - Vlad had tricked him once before with a ghost pilot. Why not again?- But at least no one, but Danny was hurt.
Jeez, couldn't Vlad think of anything more original? Then again, the definition of insanity is doing something over and over again, expecting different results.
Danny sat in his chair, having escaped the crash with only a few scrapes thanks to his powers, fuming at his parents and Vlad. He was so distracted he did not notice the hurried rescue team that surrounded the broken metal.
He did however notice the man who ripped off the top part of the jet, floating in the air in the most ridiculous outfit he's ever seen.
"Are you alright, son?"
"Are you?"
"What do you mean?"
"Look at you. Look at what you're wearing." Danny gestures to the stranger. He ignores how the stranger's blue eyes start to glow. "You can't honestly tell me you're alright in the head looking like that. "
The man frowns "You're not human"
"How dare you! I have rights!"
The stranger fumbles, looking suprised "no. No, I meant you're like me- a alien"
"I'm not illegal! I have papers!"
"Not that kind of alien-! I'm Kryptonian!" The man floats down to Stanford beside Danny's seat. He reaches out to carefully ripe away the metal trapping him. "I think you may be as well, based on your biology"
Danny squints "How do you know my biology?"
"I used my x-ray vision to-!" Danny gasps, reaching out to slap the man across the face before covering his body with his hands. The man seems more startled by the fact that he was able to push his face to the side and then the actual slap.
"Stanger danger! Creep! Fruit loop!" Danny cries, turning intangible and flying out of the wreckage. "Stay away from me!"
He flies at his top speed, ignoring the call from the man. He can feel him following, and yes, he may be faster than Danny, but he's also solid and visible. Danny uses his powers to his advantage, losing him after a twenty minute chase.
It's only after three days of trying to get home that Danny realizes he's futher away from home than he originally planned. As in an entirely different world? It feels like it since Amity Park doesn't exist, much less, his friends and family.
Thankfully, he finds a nice little city that reminds him of the ghost zone for him to rest in. His new neighbor is filled with colorful characters, and there always seems to ve something happening keeping him on his toes.
Maybe this summer won't be so bad after all.
Meanwhile, Clark is panicking that a new Kryptonian had fallen from the sky, crashing landing near Ma and Pa's place only to have the boy disrespect him and escape. Now it's a race against time to find him before it's too late.
Also he was a little mean.
But where would he go?
Gotham. Danny is in Gotham, and he's yelling at people who keep trying to spray chemicals at him. He's having the time of his life.
#dcxdpdabbles#dc x dp crossover#Rude Kryptonian#part 1#dimension travel#Danny is nothing but sass and spite#Clark is not used to being bullied as Superman
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what are your hobbies?
I have a garden that I love to work in every day.
During the lockdowns, I learned the difference between having a garden, and tending a garden. It turns out that I just love to tend my garden. I love to walk in it, smell all the smells, prune it and tie it up where it needs it, keep the soil healthy, and leave it alone when I've done enough.
In a lot of ways, I use my gardening time as a metaphor. One that was particularly meaningful to me lately came when I was pruning this feral tomato that showed up in one of my beds late last year. As a general rule, when I get any volunteers, I leave them alone, except to keep them away from things I've planted myself. But in this case, it was growing so fast and getting so out of control, I had to rein it in a bit, with some pruning and gentle redirection of the parts which were tied to the trellis.
I started thinking about the individual stalks as parts of my life experience: here's one that doesn't have anything growing on it, but if I follow it all the way to this point, I can see that it's providing support and nutrients to this huge, thriving, massively flowering hunk of the plant. It turns out that part may look like it isn't doing anything, but without it, this other part that's gorgeous wouldn't exist.
I could have just looked at it and seen a stalk that wasn't doing anything. I could have easily pruned it right then and there, and only after would I have discovered this lush, thriving, beautiful part of the plant that can't exist without this other part. I was so grateful that I took the time to look at the whole thing, to see that bare stem in context, to appreciate it.
I don't know if this particular metaphor lands on you, but it landed real hard on me. It inspired a wonderful moment of reflection and gratitude, and I also got excited for the ... I mean, it's at least a dozen, but maybe more ... little cherry tomatoes I'm going to get when they finish ripening.
I have recently noticed that, as long as I can remember, I have felt like I can't slow down, like I can't take time for myself, that I should always be working or trying to work. I've been working on healing as much of my CPTSD as I can, and part of that includes doing my best to give myself permission to slow down, to take entire days or even weeks off, because I have earned it. It's such a struggle for me.
And that's where my garden is a metaphor again: it may not be full of blooming flowers or tons of vegetables right now, but that doesn't mean it isn't growing. Maybe it needs to be watered and fed today, and tomorrow, I can just walk through it, and enjoy it.
It's one of my very few hobbies that are mostly private, that I keep for myself. I freely and enthusiastically share my love for classic arcade gaming, Tabletop and RPG games, and all my super nerd shit, so I like that I have this one thing that's just for me.
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If I had a cute pizza boy show up at my door, giving me free pizza with special 'sauce' for weeks on end I would either sneak a slip of paper with my number on it into the tip or try to invite him on a date, depending if I'm feeling confident or not -3-
I am a sucker for cute boys in a uniform what can I say?
Yan "Pizza Boy + Reader
If Brie had to pick something he disliked about visiting you - it would be taking your money.
"You really don't have to give me anything. Just doing what I love!"
One might call into question the fulfillment delivering pizza for a living may bring, but he wasn't lying. For the most part anyway. This job as fictitious as it was birthed the real feelings he had for you. If anyone should be paid it's you for putting up with his awkward attempts at small talk or when he nearly drops your food whenever your fingers touch. Taking your money felt like a bigger crime than everything he's done up to this point. He refuses to take it nine times out of ten-
Today you weren't giving him any chance to escape.
"I insist! You've been coming here for weeks, Brie. It's the least I can do for you."
No- Don't do that. How is he supposed to say no when you say his name like that? The day you ended up on a first name bases was the same day Brie's cheeks were sore for a full twenty-four hours for smiling so long.
"Take it. For me? You deserve it."
"Ha...." Brie sure of it now- You'll definitely be the death of him someday. "If it makes you happy. I can't thank you enough for your kindness."
"Hope I see you soon-"
The implications of your words are lost to Brie as he aimlessly drifts off back in the direction of his car, tripping over a crack in the pavement he's step over many times before. His spirits remain high as he corrects himself and hopes into the vehicle. He was good on cash and it'd be crazy to spend money you gave him. Brie digs his wallet out of the glove compartment- He'll keep the bills in a separate compartment away from the rest of his money for good luck-
"Huh?"
Something hits his foot. A small folded piece of paper nestled between the bills. A receipt you forgot maybe? His... His name is on it though. Next to a heart.
Brie snatches the paper off the floor.
"Buy something nice on the way home for me. Wish there was more I could do to repay you. How about dinner this Saturday?
Call me. XX"
Dinner? This Saturday? That almost sounds like...
"A date."
You. Him?? Brie reads the note aloud to make sure he read it correctly. He waves a hand in front of his eyes to check if they're working right. You, want to go out with him. On a date. He thought you were just being nice the last time you called him cute.
"Yes! Yes! Yes!"
The repeated hammering of his feet against the floor as he kicks his legs alerts dogs walking past his car with their owner. Brie waves bashfully as the dog walker from his side mirror. He brushes his hair out of his face, adjusting his posture as he places his hands on the wheel.
Brie drives over to the gas station nearest to him. He buys himself a bottle of iced tea with his tip money - assuring at least one dollar remains from his purchase to tape up in his car at a later date. He drinks from the bottle, taking smaller sips every other swallow to savior what was probably the best bottle of tea he'd ever had.
#Brie my oc#yandere#yandere x reader#yandere x you#yandere headcanons#yandere imagines#yandere scenarios#yandere blurb#male yandere#yandere oc#yandere insert#yandere drabble
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Mending
Jessie Fleming x Reader
Summary: Despite how great a girlfriend Jessie is, old hurt bleeds into your relationship with her and threatens to dismantle it.
Warnings: Mentions of emotional manipulation and abuse.
A/N: Bit of angst and hurt as reader recalls past experiences, but very much a comfort and reassurance fic. Happy ending. Based on this request.
"Hey, change of plans, instead of going out for dinner after the game on Saturday, Becky's invited us all to go to her house instead."
A heavy pit immediately formed in your stomach as you read Jessie's message. You totally forgot about dinner with her and the team on Saturday. Suddenly, the memory of you agreeing to come to dinner to celebrate Becky's milestone caps was vivid in your mind, unfortunately too late though.
You chewed the inside of your lip as you stared at her message and fret about what to do.
"Jessie, I'm so, so sorry. I completely forgot. I have [y/best friend]'s birthday that night. I didn't realize when I agreed that there was a conflict. We have reservations and tickets to an event that night. I'm really sorry - I don't think I can go to your game or to Becky's after. I wish I could though."
"I can't believe I didn't notice sooner. I promise I will make it up to you. I know you have plans the next day already, but maybe we could grab breakfast together?"
"All good. I have errands to run in the morning, so can't do breakfast."
You stared at Jessie's message. It wasn't warm like her usual texts. And she didn't offer an alternative or continue the conversation. Your chest tightened.
"That's okay! I wanted to offer. I'm really sorry, Jessie. I promise I'll pay closer attention next time. Maybe I could meet you after my event is over?"
"Or maybe I can skip part of something and join you for a bit that evening?"
A couple of hours passed - no response.
You stared at the messages with Jessie and fidgeted anxiously. You were supposed to be focused on a project right now, but you hadn't typed more than 50 words since Jessie texted.
You checked your phone incessantly. Your mind knew no new texts had come through, yet you checked with blind faith and hope that you'd see a message from her.
Logically, you knew she was probably just busy. She was at training, after all. But she'd made time to text you earlier. And she'd texted at various points of training before.
Your stomach churned, a heavy, deep pit inside of you, as you wondered if Jessie was mad at you for cancelling. And did she actually have errands that morning – or was she just upset with you.
The anxiety and unrest building inside of you was a feeling that was all too familiar and it hit you hard because of it.
You tried to remind yourself that Jessie wasn't your ex. Nor was she like your ex. She wasn't someone who would manipulate you, punish you with mind games and emotional warfare, and dangle her affection above your head as a reward you may receive if you were perfect enough.
At least Jessie wasn't like that so far. It had only been a couple of months. And you've seen people take great care and patience in slowly reveal who they are – and not for the better.
You sighed and felt a lump form in your throat. You hated being stuck in this state. You finally worked up the courage to leave your ex – and she didn't make it easy – but you wanted a better life.
You didn't want to walk on eggshells anymore. You didn't want to analyze every little action and word. You didn't want to try to anticipate your partner – doing your best to ward off her bad moods and brace yourself for when you weren't successful.
So, could you cancel on [y/best friend]? Well, anything's possible. But, you didn't want to. You gave up so much of yourself and your life on account of your ex and you swore you wouldn't do it again. Not even for someone as incredible as Jessie.
Yet, here you were making unprompted, borderline-desperate accommodations. The way you fell into old, bad habits left you dejected and ashamed. It felt like no matter how hard you tried to break cycles or damaging mindsets, simple things pulled you right back.
Several hours passed and you felt like you were going to be sick. Your mind was noisy with self-reprimanding thoughts and endless theories.
On your way home, you were looking at your messages with Jessie again when the typing bubble came up. Your body stilled and your breath hitched in your chest. You mouth was dry as you waited.
"You don't have to do any of that, Y/N. Seriously. Go to your friend's party!"
What did that really mean? Maybe it should've made you feel better, but instead you felt your worry grow.
You chewed your lip and typed out a reply.
"I can do both! I want to make it work. I'm sorry – that's what I should've said from the beginning."
"What? No. You don't need to. Go to [y/best friend]'s party."
"But I want to support you. And I don't want you to think I'm not prioritizing you."
"I'm sorry. I'm not sure what's happening. I think I've said something that's come across wrong. I'm not upset or bothered at all. I know you support me and prioritize me. And to be clear, you shouldn't prioritize me above yourself or everyone else."
You read Jessie's message. While you were dissecting everything she said, this message made you slow down and take a step back. It felt genuine – as far as you could tell. Maybe it was real.
"Okay. I'm sorry. I guess I was just reading into things and getting in my head. I'm sorry."
"Baby. Are you okay? What's going on?"
Without warning, you felt tears begin to prick at the corner of your eyes. You really wanted this relationship to be different. For you to be different, and you were ruining things anyway.
You were lost in your thoughts when your phone began to vibrate in your hand. You stopped in your tracks as your eyes shot down to see Jessie's name and picture. Your pulse quickened, but in a way you weren't used to with Jessie. Normally, it was excitement and anticipation, but in this moment you felt trepidation. You started walking again and reluctantly picked up.
"Hello?"
"Hey." Jessie's voice was warm and despite your concerns, immediately comforting. "I was going to wait for your text, but I thought maybe phone would be better. Things can get misconstrued easily with text. So...what's going on? Are you alright?"
"Yeah, I'm great." It pained you to muster up the false levity in your voice. "I'm sorry to worry you."
"You know, I'm the Canadian here, and yet you are doing an awful lot of apologizing. And you really don't need to," she offered with a soft laugh.
"I'm-" You stopped yourself with a near flinch before the word 'sorry' came out again. You took a quick breath and spoke evenly. "I'm okay. Really. Like I said, I was just getting in my head. It's all good though. Thanks for clarifying."
"Okay," Jessie said slowly, clearly not fully convinced. "I mean, can you tell me what I said that caused that? It definitely wasn't my intention."
You couldn't prevent your frustrated sigh from escaping you. You quickly spoke up to prevent Jessie from thinking it was about her.
"Honestly Jessie, it's okay. It's not on you. I just wanted to make sure I didn't upset you."
"Why would I be upset? I-" Jessie's tone was curious and not accusatory, but you cut her off.
"I wasn't paying close enough attention and I had to cancel on you. And I know your team was expecting me to be there too, so now you have to make an excuse for me." You swallowed and took a short breath, unsure if you wanted to go on or not. "And, I don't know. You seemed kind of curt? Or not that warm when you first responded? And then I didn't hear from you for a while..." Your voice wavered and trailed off as you heard your own words, a sense of anger rising inside of you at how pathetic you sounded.
"Baby," Jessie said affectionately, though you heard a faint laugh coming through the phone, "I'm really sorry. I was rushing to text you before we went out on the pitch, so that's why my texts were a bit more curt or blunt than usual, but I wanted to reply to you before I'd be gone for a while. I guess I didn't think about how that might be worse."
You listened to her reply, still feeling small, and failed to come up with a response before she spoke again.
"Are you free tonight?" She asked. "And by 'tonight' I mean in like an hour."
You stammered briefly, skepticism and confusion clouding your response before finding your voice. "Yeah." You let a beat pass. "Any reason why?" You asked tentatively.
Jessie laughed gently. "Because I'd like to come over and bring you dinner if you're up for it."
Your jaw clenched subconsciously. This didn't feel right. But still, you nodded. "Sure. That'd be nice." You couldn't stop yourself before you continued. "But you really don't need to. I've already caused issues today. Like, you don't need to change your plans or go out of your way. I'm totally fine."
"Sushi or Vietnamese?" She asked you undeterred.
"I-I don't know. Up to you."
"I would like your opinion," she continued lightly. It took you a couple of seconds to reply.
"Sushi."
"Done. I'll be at your place in about an hour, okay?"
"Jessie..." You weren't even sure what you were protesting anymore. It just all felt unfamiliar.
"I'll see you soon, babe."
True to her word, Jessie showed up at your apartment an hour later, sushi in hand.
"Hi," she said with a warm smile as she stepped in, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you in for a kiss. Even though your reciprocation was delayed and mild, she pulled back and still smiled at you sweetly.
"Thank you for having me over. I got you an extra order of those dragon rolls you like," she announced as she walked further in and set the bag down on your kitchen counter. She started retrieving plates from your cupboards. You stood passively behind, watching her move through your apartment leisurely.
"What can I grab you to drink?" She asked over her shoulder as she carried everything over to your table.
"I'm fine. I have some water," you told her, feeling like your voice was disappointingly meek. You refocused a moment later and straightened, taking a step towards your fridge. "What can I get you?"
"I've got it," she assured you lightly, holding up her hands, gesturing for you to relax. "I'll grab water. Take a seat. Dig in."
You slowly made your way over to the table. Your eyes remained fixed on her as you sat down. By the time she took her seat, you hadn't even retrieved your chopsticks off the table. She held your gaze and took a sip of her drink. She set the glass down and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.
"I was going to dig into things after dinner, but I get the sense it's heavy on your mind, so, if you're okay with it maybe we can just talk right now." It was more of a statement than a question, but she did leave the door open for you to object. When you didn't, she stood up slightly and shuffled over with her chair to sit right in front of you, your knees nearly touching.
"Is this okay?" She asked as she took your hands in hers. You gave a few faint nods and she offered you a small smile. "Okay. I guess I can start by clarifying – I didn't mean to sound curt or cold at all. I was in a rush and didn't think about how my words could come across via text. I'm glad you told me though, because now I know if there's something bigger going on I can approach things differently.
"If I don't have time to fully respond, would it be okay if I just tell you that I'm short on time but will answer you more later? And as part of that, tell you things are okay – I just want more time to give a full reply?"
Your posture straightened and you blinked as you processed her words. It just felt so strange.
"Y-yeah. That'd be totally fine." You shrugged before shutting your eyes and rethinking things. "But, that's silly. You don’t need to do that. I just should know and be able to not spiral." While you felt nervous and uncertain a few seconds ago, you now felt a wave of internal disappointment going through you. She brought you back to the moment by stroking the back of your hand with her thumb.
"I can communicate more clearly and intentionally," she assured you gently. "And you don't have to 'just know' - you're not a mind reader." She paused, holding your gaze before visibly exhaling. "But that does make me wonder. Why do you feel like you have to be a mind reader?"
You could almost feel yourself shrink under the weight of her question. You averted your gaze and could feel your hands starting to get clammy.
"Hey," she said softly, urging you to look back at her as she lifted her hand and gently cupped your cheek. "It's okay. I don't want to push you, but, I feel like there's something more going on here, and...I care for you so much. I want to better understand. Better understand you, where you're coming from, and how I can be a better partner to you."
You don't know what happened. All of a sudden you felt your face screw up as tears started to form in your eyes.
"I'm sorry," you said, your voice coming out strained. She shuffled in closer and cupped your face anew.
"Hey, hey. Don't apologize. It's okay to cry. Take your time. I'm here." She caressed your hand and though you couldn't hold her gaze for long, you felt her caring eyes upon you. "You can talk whenever you like – if you like."
A few stifled sobs snuck out of you and you rolled your eyes at your lack of composure. She waited patiently and laid a lingering kiss on your forehead. You took a few deep, steady breaths and began to speak.
"I-I don’t know where that came from," you explained, forcing a mild laugh. She didn't return your laugh and you grew serious once more. "I," you spoke and your words faded. You took another quick breath and set your shoulders back. "I'm just not used to being treated like that. Like you did just now. And," your gaze flicked away out of guilt, "I don't know what to do with it. And I have a very hard time trusting it."
Jessie pulled her hand away from your face to take your other hand again. "Okay. Um. Well, first off, I'm really sorry that you're not used to being treated that way. You deserve to be treated with respect and care." She exhaled quietly. "Can I ask how you're used to being treated?" She rushed to explain. "It's not really my business – and I don't want to open old wounds, but if I knew, it would help me ensure I don’t inadvertently make you feel that way again."
You sighed wearily, blinking back new tears. "Well, I guess they're clearly not old wounds since they flared up again so easily." You pulled your hands back and brought them up to your temples. "I'm so sorry. This is such garbage that you're having to deal with this. I thought I was better."
"Baby," she coaxed gently, placing her hands on your legs and leaning in slightly, hoping to catch your eye. "Please do not apologize. Your feelings are totally valid. And we all have our pasts, and we each have unique hurt and pain from our experiences. And some things are not easy to heal, and I think it's fair to say that in some cases, some things never do fully heal. But, I'm here to help you navigate anything you may be going through as best as possible. I'm here to care for you, not hinder you."
You dug your fingers into your face briefly before dropping them to your lap with a breath that was half sigh, half laugh. You looked at Jessie, taking in her soft brown eyes that searched yours with compassion and sincerity. How did she choose you?
"Oh my gosh." You sniffled. "No one's ever said anything like that to me. Certainly not my ex."
Quiet realization dawned on Jessie's face before she settled back in, remaining focused on you. She waited wordlessly for you to go on. You scratched the back of your head briefly, eyes trained on the floor before you forced yourself to look up at her.
"Remember how I said things with my ex were rocky at times? Well. That was putting it lightly, really." You took a breath. "She could be so affectionate and loving one moment – like I was the center of her universe, and then cold and cutting the next, like I was some burden she had the unfortunate task of dealing with. And she never meant what she actually said – I always had to read between the lines. She'd tell me things are fine, but," you laughed ruefully, "they were not. She'd be withholding, and curt, making passive aggressive remarks. But anytime I tried to address things or call her out, she would insist that it was just me and everything was fine.
"That is, until we'd inevitably have a blow out of some kind, and she'd make it very clear that it was always my fault. That I was being difficult and if she was being cold or mean, it was to protect herself and it was my fault for making her feel or act that way. "
Jessie let out a brief laugh of disbelief, looking at you in mild shock. "Are you serious? That's-" She caught herself mid-sentence, exhaling momentarily before continuing. "That's unacceptable. So she gaslit you and made you feel crazy."
"All the time."
Jessie sat back briefly, slapping a hand on her thigh as she shook her head. "Wow. That's so horrible." She leaned back in and grabbed your hands. "I'm so, so sorry you had to go through that. None of that sounds fair or right. That would've been so hard to navigate." You wiped at a stray tear and let out a short, bitter laugh.
"It wasn't fun. And as you can see, it's royally messed me up." Your lip trembled. "And now you're dealing with the fallout. It's not fair to you."
"Y/N." She said your name tenderly and gave you a reassuring smile. "There is no 'dealing' here – I...I really care for you. And I want you to know that you're safe. I want you to be open and honest with me anytime something bothers you or hurts you. I want to build you up and make sure you see yourself the way I see you."
"See?" You asked, giving her a look. "I’m having a hard time reconciling these two experiences. Realities."
Jessie sighed softly and nodded. "I can understand that. I can only imagine how hard it would be to be with someone who is supposed to care for you and have your best interests in mind, but they're unpredictable or inconsistent in their feelings and actions. It would be hard to adjust after being in a relationship where your partner shows up differently depending on the day. Or uses their affection as a weapon or a bartering tool." She sighed again and lifted your hand to kiss your knuckles before clasping your hand between hers. "I'm so sorry, babe. You didn't deserve any of that."
You shook out your shoulders in an exaggerated shrug. "Except I thought I did for so long. And – I don’t know – I'm scared, I guess. She treated me so well at the beginning. And then over time things changed. Sometimes it's hard to believe that I didn't cause it in some way."
Jessie gave you a frown of concern. "You didn't. I promise you that. Everyone is accountable for their own actions – you shouldn't take responsibility or blame for her behaviour. We can all get frustrated or upset with other people – it's inevitable, but that doesn't give someone the right to mistreat anyone else." She frowned further, her tone now lowering slightly. "And she's an adult – she should be able to express her wants or needs without playing mind games with you."
You looked at Jessie, your eyes glistening with tears. You shook your head.
"Why are you being so good to me?" You looked away, frowning as your own frustration bubbled up once more. "I'm not even mad about it these days. Because I can't change the past, and I learned a lot about myself, what I want, and what I won't put up with anymore. But the worst part is that despite how much work I've done and how far I've come – you're sitting here, being incredible, saying and doing everything I ever dreamed of and all I can think is how long is it going to last until you change." You went on adamantly. "I know you're not her. At all. But, I've been burned before by someone who claimed to care. And apparently I can't seem to get over it."
Rightfully or not, you expected Jessie to get frustrated with you or even insulted by what you said. Instead, she studied you quietly and eventually her expression softened even further and she gave you a faint smile.
"You're right. I'm not her. And I hope I never meet her, because it breaks my heart to know that she hurt you so deeply. I really hope you know, or will know, that someone who loves you doesn't treat you the way she did."
She took a small breath, readjusting her position in her chair and grabbing both of your hands again. She stared down at them and started to speak.
"There's been something that I've wanted to tell you, but I haven't known when the right time would be."
She looked to you with a soft smile.
"I know someone who loves you doesn't treat you the way she did – I know that for sure - because I love you." She let the declaration hang in the air for a moment before continuing. "I love you. I have for a while now. Each day I wake up missing you if you're not next to me, and when I think of you I think of all the ways I want to love you – show you I love you. I want to make your life even better than it is today and do that for the rest of my life.
"Today, even with just the thought that I'd hurt you or upset you, I wanted to see what was wrong, what I did and how I could fix it so we can move forward together. I wanted to know how I could make you feel better. And then learning that you maybe didn't feel safe – I 100% wanted to reassure you that you should always feel safe and comfortable to feel your emotions and express yourself. I would never want you to have to edit yourself or hide.
"And I don't expect you to just 'get over' things. You are free to feel the way you feel, even if it means you can't fully trust that I'm being honest when I say these things. I hope you don't have to question these things forever, but I need you to know that I will always reassure you. And maybe even more importantly, that my actions will reflect my words."
She gave a light shrug and continued, her voice now playful. "And if you didn't notice, I'm a very patient and tenacious person, and it just so happens I'm very set on loving you for as long as you'll let me."
By the time Jessie finished speaking your lip was fully trembling and the tears were you fighting back were rolling down your cheeks. She was watching you calmly, waiting, and you covered your face with your hands. Your shoulders shook with a couple of soft sobs as you absorbed everything she just said.
She rest her hands lightly on your legs and idly caressed your knee with her thumb while she waited.
"Please don't hide," she coaxed gently. "Take your time, but you don't need to hide." A few moments passed and she added with a chuckle. "And I'm hoping those are good tears."
You laughed through your tears and lowered your hands to give her a watery smile.
"Of course they are," you told her, your voice thick with emotion. She cracked a smirk, sitting there so relaxed. You smiled further. Even if it didn't seem like it in the moment, being around Jessie always had a way of calming you and making you feel grounded. You launched forward and pulled her into a tight hug, which she readily returned with a soft laugh. She turned her head towards you to kiss the side of your head.
"I love you, too," you whispered as you gave her a squeeze and she clutched you tighter. She pulled back enough to look at you and this time she had tears in her eyes as well.
"You mean it?" She asked with a crooked and hopeful grin. You gave her a little disbelieving frown as you laughed.
"Of course I do. Jessie, how could I not love you? You're everything I could ever want," you assured her. She leaned in and gave you a soft kiss.
"I just want you to know that even though I said it, it doesn't mean you need to. If you aren't quite there yet, that's completely okay. I'm not leaving until you tell me to."
You rolled your eyes in ongoing disbelief and gave a light shake of your head. "You can't be real." She scrunched up her face at you playfully and you leaned in, holding her face in your hands as you kissed her slow. "And for the record, I am very much in love with you."
When you pulled out of the kiss, Jessie was beaming.
"Then I'm a very lucky woman," she said decisively.
#jessie fleming#jessie fleming x reader#woso x reader#woso#canwnt#jflem#woso imagine#canwnt x reader#portland thorns
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Bruce Wayne, mentor to many- father to none.
I want the angst of B having to come to terms that he doesn't know ANY of his kids not anymore at least and maybe never and the fact his kids are just- used to it?
Visiting Dicks apartment, he finds a picture of him smiling while surrounded by a bunch of little kids in spandax uniforms.
Turns out he'd been a gymnastics instructor for about four years now and his most recent team had everyone qualify for state.
(Bruce didn't even know he still practiced)
Jason stopped accepting Wednesday night patrols, but when he looked into it he found out that was the night he went to DND nights with his roommates every week.
The roommates he met last semester after he decided to go to college and get an english major.
(Bruce didn't even know he had applied)
Checking the library he found a small pedastal plague put up by Alfred displaying just one book. It said Cass was the author.
Apparently she had gotten super into writing and published a book talking about language deprivation and lack of accomidation for deaf/hoh children born to hearing families.
She had a book signing last month, Alfred had gone and grabbed this copy now on display
(Bruce didn't even know she liked to write)
Tim finished a case early and let it slip he needed to sign off early to "meet up with his boyfriends" and hung up before Bruce could process.
It only took a small glance at his middle child's latest social media post to see him alongside Superboy (what was his name?) and a blonde boy he didn't recognize.
Both were leaned in to kiss his cheek and the caption said "Happy 3rd anniversary!!"
(Bruce didn't even know he was interested in boys)
Steph's birthday came around and Bruce got her a new account and shoved a couple thousand for her to buy whatever she wanted.
But he quickly noticed a pattern of everyone getting her- cat supplies?
Apparently She had adopted a cat about a month ago to celebrate her new apartment, Mister Mystery was his name, and she had asked everyone for supplies instead of other gifts.
(Bruce didn't even know she had moved)
He decided on some impromptu father-son bonding and tries to track down his youngest. But Damian is nowhere to be found.
He gets pretty close to calling an emergency meeting but the moment he messages Oracle she reminds him Damian is in Chicago.
Damian had won an art competition at school and his piece qualified for a gallery spot. The entire family had gone days ago and he was due back the next day.
(Bruce didn't even know he cared about art)
Then Duke- his youngest in terms of time spent. But one he had grown fond of just as fast as the others. Especially working the day shift the time they spent was limited.
Bruce got them both lunch, but it wasn't until halfway through eating that Duke had turned to him with panicked eyes and asked if the stew had shellfish.
Duke had a severe allergy, thankfully Jason had been just up the street and had an epi-pen ready before they took him to Leslies.
(Bruce didnt even know he had any allergies, let alone one so severe)
The worst part?
There was no blow up.
His kids didn't take his idiocracy as a personal insult or even raise a fight. They just rolled their eyes and moved on. As everyone crowded in the room, surrounding Dukes bedside he could hear Barbras voice.
"Its not your fault, Batman may be omnipotent, but Bruce doesn't know anything really"
He wasnt meant to overhear or maybe he was, Oracle had always been petty But he couldn't refute it.
"But you have us"
Well- thats just it wasnt it? Even when Bruce was absent- his kids had each other. But was that ever meant to be enough?
#bad parenting#bad parent bruce wayne#bruce wayne bashing#batdad#batsiblings#dick grayson#jason todd#cassandra cain#tim drake#timberkon#timkon#timbern#bernard dowd#konner kent#stephanie brown#damian wayne#duke thomas#barbara gordon#alfred pennyworth#character analysis#sunny rambles#bat siblings#batfam#batfamily
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exactly what he needs, pt. 5 ♡ ⋆｡˚ | other parts here
— pairing: nate jacobs x fem!reader
— type: ficlet (multi-chapter)
— summary: you have an unsettling exchange with cal, you spend the day with nate, then he takes you to a party with the express purpose of getting you drunk.
— tags: shopping with nate, learning to drive, partying, swimming
— tw: f receiving oral, humping nate's thigh in public, coerced intoxication, skinny dipping, reader touching nate's genitals at his suggestion while drunk, lying, dollification, guilt-tripping/emotional manipulation (sexual & otherwise), gas lighting, major invasion of privacy, sexual assault (reader is drunk and nate touches them in a sexual way, so i count it), love-bombing, vomiting, eating | there will not be a date rape in this after the party, i promise!
— word count: 15,729
— a/n: cal, during his convo w/ reader, isn't trying to be an asshole toward nate, he's trying to give her a genuine warning. the line 'he kills what he loves' i went back & added to try & i guess pull some kind of parallel between the two men, like when cal said 'i kill what i eat' on the show. bc i do think cal is capable of love. i think nate is only capable of obsession/infatuation, which is easy to mix up in the heat of the moment.
if nate seems different w/the reader than he does w/ cassie, it's bc he's obviously still hiding his true colors with reader.
the song I had in mind during the party is dangerous (oliver remix), which was indeed used during the show.
i hope reading this feels as ominous as it did writing it lmao.
When you wake in the middle of the night, it's with Nate's arm slung heavily over your abdomen, his hand hanging off the side of the bed.
You wiggle out from under him, still naked, before picking up his t-shirt and slipping it on before quietly unlocking his door and heading down to the kitchen for a glass of water.
Once you have it, you go to head back up to bed, until you hear his father calling to you from the living room, stopping you in your tracks.
You pad into the room, the light from the TV flickering against the dark which fills near every corner. "I was just getting a glass of water," you say, worried that he may think you were trying to steal from him in the middle of the night.
"Anything else you need?"
You shake your head, wishing you were wearing more than just a t-shirt right now. "I'm all set, thank you."
"Can I ask you something?"
You shift nervously as his eyes trail from your bare legs, back up to your face. "Sure."
"How is he? Nate?"
"What do you mean?"
He shrugs, glancing back to the TV. "He doesn't talk to me. Can't stand me, as I'm sure he's told you, or, at the very least, from what you can tell all on your own. I just want to know how he's doing." He looks at you again. "I assume he talks to you."
"If you mean in regards to you: no, he doesn't. You're the one thing he refuses to open up about. He...he seems fine, though. Most of the time, at least. He just seems to have this simmering-"
"Rage?" He finishes.
You nod. "I don't know if it stems from something that happened between the two of you, or if it's from however Maddy treated him, or something else." You glance down to the floor, then back up. "Maybe it's all of it. Maybe his life has just snowballed and he doesn't know how to deal with it. But you obviously care about him. So... I know what it's like to have an absent father." You pause. "I know it isn't my place, but...try to fix whatever is broken between the two of you before it's too late. Even if he hates you for it, he'll at least know you made that effort."
Cal grows quiet, for a long while, only the TV playing softly in the background. Then, "You're a smart girl, I can tell. Mature for your age. So, I'm going to give you a piece of advice." He leans forward. "Run. My son is not the guy for you. You can't fix him, and you can't help him. You can't give aid to a drowning man who chose to jump into the deep end in the first place.
"If you stay with him, he will ruin you. But I know you will anyway, despite this conversation. Maybe in spite of it. Just know that you're not the first, and you won't be the last." He leans back again. "No woman will ever make him happy, will ever live up to his perfect ideals of femininity. And, if they do, he'll fucking hate them for it. That anger he feels toward me? Give it time. You'll become the new punching bag. He kills what he loves"
You suddenly feel sick.
"Goodnight, Y/N."
You swallow, even if your mouth has now gone dry. "Goodnight, Mr. Jacobs," you say, turning away from him.
"Cal," he calls after you.
You turn your head back to look at him.
"Just Cal is fine."
You only nod before going back upstairs.
When you close Nate's door behind you, he's still asleep.
You lock it, then lean back against it, staring at him, your head spinning.
What the hell had just happened?
You watch Nate sleep, wanting to cry. But not for yourself. No. For him. He's only seventeen, and his own father is trying to drive away someone he's only just gotten together with.
You try to piece things together.
Nate dislikes him, of course. The incident in the kitchen had seemed a bit more aggressive than Cal just joking around with him.
So, maybe...maybe he's jealous? Jealous that his son is young and still has options, whereas, at his age, he's set in his ways. But that doesn't make sense, either. Cal is handsome, successful, wealthy, has—what seems like, at least—a lovely wife. Has two sons, who you're sure will both go far, given their dad's money, if nothing else. At least, in Nate's case, it will also be due to hard work and perseverance.
No wonder Nate hates this house so much, had been so eager to get you into his room and away from...him.
It'd been something in the way he had looked at you that had made your skin crawl. Like he could see everything under the thin t-shirt draped over your frame.
Then you wonder if that's true at all, or if Nate's disdain for him is just rubbing off, creating a perception of him that isn't even real.
You want to blame it all on being tired, but you can't just ignore what Cal had told you.
So you finally lie down next to Nate, his body quickly pulling your own against his—finding you even in his sleep—and you stare up at the ceiling.
You try to think back through every interaction you've had with Nate the last couple of weeks. Trying to find any blaring red flags.
This had all started out as a secret: the tutoring.
You wonder if you should've brought it up to his dad just to see his reaction. To see if it would even bother him. But, even if not, it's easy for children to be terrified of disappointing their parents so much so that they hide things that said parent would never even get upset over.
There'd been the Fezco story, which hadn't seemed quite right to you. Rue was a drug addict, a sad fact, but a fact nonetheless. However, she seemed to mostly mind her own business and keep to herself. She never seemed the kind to stir up pointless drama. So, why would she target Nate randomly?
You mentally file that away for further observation.
Then there was his dressing you and doing your hair, which still came off as a bit odd. But maybe it's just another way of him trying to show affection? And honestly...you kind of like it. Not in a sexual way, but in a way that makes you feel warm and looked after.
And it's less for you to have to worry about. At least if he's doing your hair, it saves you time and effort in fighting with it.
Him spending obscene amounts of money on you without your permission had been a bit much for your comfort levels, but as you look at him, your heart breaks.
He'd told you how with Maddy he'd done all he could to "get her to love him back". And you're sure that's what he's trying to do with you, because that's what she had taught him love is: financially transactional.
Honestly, you want to hold him just thinking about it.
What had happened to this poor, sweet boy to make him think that he alone isn't good enough?
From his father being cruel and overly-critical, to Maddy being emotionally and verbally abusive, to Cassie being controlling and possessive, he's done nothing but endure mistreatment after mistreatment from people that're supposed to love him and that he tried to love himself.
You stop trying to find something wrong with him then. Instead focusing on the good. Him giving you compliments, always getting the door for you, driving you places, taking you on dates, giving you sweet gifts, helping you with the groceries, opening up to you and you also doing as much with him...the list goes on.
You cuddle closer to his chest, thinking, as you drift off to sleep, that Maddy and Cassie have no idea what they've lost.
When Nate wakes the next morning, you're still asleep, pressed against his side. And as he lays there, looking down at you—you breathing softly—he says it for the first time in a quiet whisper.
"I love you."
You don't stir, even for a moment.
And he means it. Really means it this time.
Because he knows he's finally fucking done right by himself. He'd studied and observed and manipulated you for two weeks until finally getting you into his bed, and you'd played along beautifully. Backing down at every turn when he needed or wanted you to, letting him have control.
From choosing places you both went together, to ordering for you at the bistro, him choosing your clothes, doing your hair, driving you around, letting him touch you—even if you weren't entirely comfortable with it, but allowing it anyway because you knew it made him happy—to making yourself smaller and sweeter and more agreeable to him in his moments of anger and irritation... You were perfectly submissive and gentle and soft.
He'd only have to make a few more tweaks here and there and his work would be done. You'd be everything he's been waiting and looking for.
He lays back against the headboard, fingers dancing along the bare skin of your back—it'd only taken one evening to get you naked and spreading you legs for him in bed. And he didn't think less of you for it. If you'd been with anyone else before, he would, absolutely. But he'd seen the proof plain as fucking day while going down on you last night: you're still intact. No one else has touched you.
No, you'd done it because you were falling, whether you knew it or not. And because he had tons of experience over you. All you had known in that sweet, innocent little mind of yours was that you wanted more of what he was willing to give you. Because it felt so much better when it was coming from another person. From him.
He grabs his phone, scrolling through Instagram, checking his email, his texts, while he waits for you to wake up next to him.
When you wake, it's with your face pressed against Nate's side. It takes you a moment to realize he's already awake, sitting up.
You sit up as well, covering yourself with a dark blue sheet.
"Good morning," you say shyly.
He drops his phone onto his bedside table, giving you his full attention. "Morning, angel."
He leans forward, planting a soft kiss to your lips.
You reach up. "My hair is probably a mess," you say nervously.
He leans back. "You look perfect. But you can use the bathroom if you want."
You nod, standing, and Nate takes in your naked body before you slip on his t-shirt, walking into the bathroom.
Once you've relieved yourself, you brush your teeth, then gasp when you look in the mirror before starting on your hair.
You quickly open the bathroom door and Nate looks at you with a lazy look on his face.
"What did you do?" You ask, fingers reaching up to gently press against the dark purple bruise he'd left on your neck.
He smirks. "Oops."
Blood rushes to your face in embarrassment. "People will see this."
He shrugs. "Let 'em."
You cross your arms, feeling uncomfortable. "It...it looks trashy."
He sighs. "It looks like a hicky."
"Nate-"
He rolls his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. "So, what, did I fuck up last night, too? I thought you enjoyed it."
You withdraw into yourself. "N-no, you didn't. I did—enjoy it, I mean."
He lowers his hand, looking up to you with a hurt expression. "Do you regret it?"
You feel absolutely horrible.
You pad over to him, sitting down beside him, taking one of his hands in yours, the other coming up to cup his cheek. "No, of course not. I liked it...all of it. I'm sorry. I overreacted."
You wrap your arms around his neck, and his face quickly returns to normal as you hug him.
"I enjoyed it, Nate. That's the first time I've done anything. I'm glad it was with you." You whisper, pressing your body closer to his own.
He waits a moment, lets you sweat over a possibility of having truly hurt him, then you relax when his arms wind around you.
"If you don't want me to in the fut-"
You pull back. "No, I do." You don't really wanting to be walking around with love bites for all to see, but you'll just have to figure out a way to cover them up in the future.
You'd rather that than making him worry that you don't enjoy being intimate with him.
You press your lips to his. You look at him for a moment, giving him a soft smile before you stand, returning to the bathroom.
Once you've brushed your hair, and washed your face, you return to bed, sitting next to Nate.
You gingerly take one of his hands in your own.
“Are you hungry?” You ask.
He glances between your legs, then back into your eyes.
You blush, looking down.
“Are you?”
You shrug. “I could eat.” You look at him again. “Do you want me to make you breakfast again?”
He slowly moves his hand up your thigh. He doesn’t like the idea of his dad seeing you like this. Bare from your thighs down—more-so uncomfortable because you have nothing on underneath the t-shirt you’re wearing, even if he wishes you hadn’t bothered with putting it back on in the first place.
He stands. “Let me see if I can find you a pair of shorts or something.”
“I thought you said nothing you have will fit?”
He doesn’t reply as he pulls a pair of drawstring basketball shorts out of his dresser, turning around to hand them to you. “Put these on.”
You stand, doing as instructed, cinching the waist. They still look ridiculously big, but they stay in-place.
“Good enough,” he says before pulling on a t-shirt and putting on his sweatpants from last night—before going to sleep he’d taken them off, only sleeping in his boxers. He typically sleeps naked, but knew doing so last night most likely wouldn’t have been a good idea. Perhaps after you stay over a few more times he’ll strip one night, letting you wake up to his naked body pressed against yours.
He takes your hand as the two of you exit his room and he leads you downstairs.
You’d slept until nearly eleven, so the rest of the house is already up. He just hopes you sleeping so late isn’t a regular thing. But he understands that you’d exerted yourself a bit more than usual last night. He smirks at the thought.
Thankfully, the kitchen is empty when Nate leads you into it.
You lean back against a counter. “What would you like to eat?”
He seats himself at the island. “Do you know how to make an omelette?”
You smile. “Yes.”
You go to the fridge, pulling out a carton of eggs, some cheese, and you grab a bell pepper from a fruit bowl on the counter, setting it all down.
You begin pulling open drawers, looking for a knife, a whisk, and a bowl, and Nate just watches with idle amusement at you familiarizing yourself with his kitchen.
You and Nate eat side-by-side, his knee brushing against yours as he takes bites of his omelette.
He swallows. “I know I said it before, but you really are a good fucking cook.”
You glance at him and smile. “Thank you.”
Once the two of you are finished, Nate helps you load the dishwasher. “What do you want to do today?”
You lean back against the counter again and he plants his palms flat on either side of you, caging you in.
You grip the hem of his t-shirt. “I’m not sure.”
“I could take you shopping again?”
Your heart sinks.
You reach up, gently touching your fingertips against his cheek. Your eyes have softened as you look into his own.
“I know we talked about it before, and that you said that’s not why you did it, but I don’t ever want you to think you have to buy my affection, Nate. And I know you also said you didn’t want to talk about them anymore, but I’m not Maddy. My feelings for you aren’t transactional. I’m with you for you. And I’ll never try to control you like Cassie.”
You briefly think back to your exchange with his father last night and that well of sadness you now feel for him deepens. You wrap your arms around his neck, running your fingers through his hair. “I just want you. Exactly as you are. You’re more than enough for me. Please don’t ever feel like you have to bend over backwards to make, or keep me happy. I’m just glad I finally have someone to talk to and spend time with; that I'm not alone anymore.”
Nate slowly wraps his arms around you as well, wondering what the hell had come over you. He doesn’t dislike it. No, the very opposite. He likes it when you’re soft and kind with him. Not because he needs it, but because your feminine personality, especially in moments like this, more than compliment his masculine one.
All he can think is: this is exactly how it’s supposed to be. You submissive and sweet, loving and caring. Cooking and cleaning and doing as you’re told, letting him—one man—teach you about sex and your own body. Letting him make your decisions for you, like what you can wear, how to do your hair—he plans to expand that list drastically as time goes on. Also letting him think for you in the future, he hopes.
His sob stories about Maddy and Cassie had worked, apparently. A few truths, a few lies, and you saw him as someone who’d been used and taken advantage of by evil women.
You saw him as a good man.
He doesn’t wish he were. He knows what he is. He just hopes he can keep you blind to that truth for awhile longer. At least until after the two of you have started having sex.
He presses his face into your hair. “I’m so glad I met you. Even if it had to happen twice.”
You nod. “Me too.”
Neither of you are aware of it, but his mom stands just around the corner, tears stinging her eyes. And she knows her little boy has finally found the right girl for himself.
When you pull away from Nate, he caresses both of your cheeks, bringing his lips down to your own. His hand slips under the oversized t-shirt hanging from your frame , moving higher until he's cupping one of your bare breasts. He rubs the pad of his thumb against your nipple until it pebbles.
You pull away and he quickly moves his lips to your neck, sucking on that same hicky from last night.
You gasp. "Nate, what if someone walks in?"
He gently bites down and your hips buck against him.
He lifts you onto the counter, moving his lips back to yours, considering reaching his hand into his shorts that hang from your hips, until his phone vibrates in his pocket.
He bites back a curse at the ruined moment.
He pulls away from you with an irritated sigh and you wait patiently while he checks the notification.
He scans over the message, then looks up to you. "Do you want to go to a party tonight?"
You blink at him. "Like a birthday party?"
He smiles at your sweet innocence. "No, baby, a real party."
"Oh." You consider it for a moment. "I've never been to one."
He smirks, stepping closer to you, between your dangling legs. "I figured as much."
"Do you want to go?"
In truth, he usually wouldn't much care either way, but he knows this is a perfect opportunity to get you drunk, just to see what he can get out of it—out of you.
"I wouldn't mind it. It'd give us something to do tonight."
He give him a peck on the lips. "Okay."
He'd honestly thought you'd try to talk him into some fairytale movie night instead. He's pleased with your easy agreement.
"The party doesn't start until nine, which really means to show up after ten, at least. So we have the whole day ahead of us. We could run over to your place, get you changed, and pick up an outfit for tonight." He doesn't mention also getting pajamas for when he brings you back here after getting you loaded. You can either sleep naked or in something of his. But he'll make that decision then.
"Okay," you say pressing a soft kiss to his cheek.
"Once you've changed I'll give you your first driving lesson."
You still then, and he dislikes your sudden change in demeanor. He prefers you agreeable and cute.
"What do you mean?"
He raises a brow. "Don't worry, I'm not going to be putting you on the interstate your first day. I'll teach you some of the basics in the school parking lot."
He moves his hand back under your shirt, gripping the curve of your side.
"And that's all, right?"
He nods.
You gently grip his t-shirt. "Okay."
He smiles.
Once you and Nate have arrived at your house, he follows you into your bedroom. Before you can open your closet to find a proper outfit to change into, he beats you to it. You stand to the side, still unsure how to feel about him picking out your clothes.
You say nothing about it, however, telling yourself it's one way he shows affection.
He hands you the blue babydoll dress he'd bought you, then picks up a pair of matte silver flats from your small shoe rack at the bottom of your closet, setting them near your bedroom door.
Without a word, without even your permission, he opens the top drawer of your dresser and begins to browse your panties and bras.
"W-what're you-"
He looks at you over his shoulder. "I've already seen you naked, sweetheart. Am I not allowed to pick out your panties?"
You blush furiously—your cheeks hot—before sitting down on your bed. You don't answer as he turns back around, picking out a pair of sky-blue panties with tiny dark-blue flowers printed on them and a white bra with lace trim and a heart sewn in the middle.
He tosses the items on your bed.
"Stand up for me, baby."
You do as he asks and he slowly pushes the hem of the t-shirt you're wearing up. You lift your arms and he removes it entirely, dropping it on the floor. You feel the need to cover your bare breasts, but refrain as he rubs the pads of his thumbs over each of your nipples.
He then reaches down, puling at the drawstring of the shorts he'd given you to wear and they fall to the carpeted floor, pooling at your feet.
You feel beyond self-conscious being completely naked before him in the daylight.
And he can tell just by your shift in body language. Pressing your thighs together, hands clasped in front of your genitals. And you refuse to look at him now.
He cups one of your cheeks in his hand, his other arm resting at his side. "Are you insecure?"
You shrug.
His lip twitches. Good, he thinks.
Maddy had been too fucking confident in every way. And Cassie had been completely secure in her looks, her body. And he'd thought them both shallow sluts for it.
But you? You have humility. You need his approval. Because you have no idea what you have.
"Look at me, Y/N."
You do so reluctantly.
"Do you have any idea how fucking perfect you are? What seeing you like this does to me?"
He uses his free hand to grab at his erection over his jeans and fills with such fucking satisfaction at seeing your pure, innocent eyes widen when you look down.
You look back up to him. "O-oh."
He glances to your bed behind you, that teddy still in-place. He looks at you again, your eyes watching him, waiting for him to tell you what to do next.
And he revels in it.
"Lie back on the bed, sweetheart."
You give a terse nod before doing so.
He leans over you, grabbing your bear, before handing it to you. "Hold this."
Your brows furrow, but you take the plush object from his grip.
He stands back up, removing his leather jacket before tossing it toward your chair in the corner. He then kneels down on the floor at the foot of your bed. Finally, he reaches forward, grabbing your hips and bringing himself face-to-face with that pretty pussy of yours.
"N-nate, wha-"
He immediately gets you to shut up by throwing your legs over his shoulders just like last night and devouring your already-wet pussy.
You grip your bear tighter, your body relaxing.
Nate eventually removes his lips from your cunt after a few minutes, then starts planting firm, wet kisses against your inner-thighs. Slowly. One after another after another. Occasionally sucking in one spot here, another there, working at giving you a couple more hickys, marking your privates as his very own.
He does the same as last night, gripping your hips in his large hands, keeping you still.
You whimper quietly, so he blows against your weeping pussy and you wiggle your hips, trying to get closer and he grins.
He flicks the tip of his tongue against your clit and watches as you pulsate for just a moment.
He reaches down, spreading your labia with his fore and middle fingers and admiring your in-tact seal. Mine, all fucking mine, he thinks before putting his mouth back on you.
He looks up, sees you gripping your teddy bear, biting your lip, your back arched and he moans against you at the beautiful fucking sight of you spread open and completely vulnerable before him.
He has you so fucking duped—thinking he's some injured boy looking for love—when all he really wants is to possess every part of you.
But he knows he's the best thing for you. What you need.
Not any of the idiotic guys at school who wouldn't know how to appreciate you. Wouldn't know how to provide for or protect you. Wouldn't know the first thing to do with you, other than try to shove their cocks in your face, or between your legs.
No, he wants you for far, far longer, and for far more than just some quick fuck.
You're sweet, inexperienced, and all alone. Not even you know what you need, what you want, who you are. But he does.
He runs his tongue along your hymen and you cry out and his eyes roll in pleasure at the sound. Finally he's gotten you to make some fucking noise.
He does it again and your body shudders.
He does his utmost to ignore his cock straining painfully against his pants.
He removes his mouth from you again and he hears a sound escape your lips that's something akin to a sob.
He begins to kiss your thighs again, working his way down to your knees, then back up each side. He sucks against the soft skin, leaving angry purple bruises on both sides before blowing against your clit again. You throw your teddy down out of frustration and he knows he nearly has you there.
He blows again, flicks his tongue lightly against your clit, a kiss and then another on either of your thighs, lightly biting. And then finally, finally, you reach down, tangling your fingers in his hair and you move your pussy closer, your ass now nearly hanging off the edge of the bed.
He looks up at you. "This what you want, sweetheart?"
Your fingers tighten then loosen against his scalp. "Mhm."
He blows against your dripping pussy. "You want me to let you cum, baby?"
You look down at him and your cheeks are a lovely shade of pink, your eyes glazed over with lust. "Please, Nate."
"How about pretty please?"
You lie back down against your fluffy white pillows with their frilly cases. "Pretty please?"
He kisses your right thigh. "Can you say with sugar on top?"
You squirm your hips and he holds them each in an iron-tight grip against the bed.
You let out a small sob.
She's finally fucking crying, he thinks.
"With sugar on top, please, p-pretty please?"
He kisses your left thigh, sucking on that pretty purple bruise of his own doing.
"And a cherry?" He asks.
You let out another sob and he can see a tear slip from your eye, dampening a spot on the pillow beneath your head.
God it's hardly taken him any effort at all. But, then again, you have nothing to compare him to.
"Prettypleasewithsugarontopandacherry?"
It all comes out as one long, garbled word, you say it so quickly. But he deems it good enough. He knows he's humiliated you by making you beg. But that you're so desperate for it that you'll do anything to have his mouth back on you.
"Good girl," he says before getting back to work with his tongue.
You start crying. "T-thank you."
It's after another ten minutes—you whining and grinding yourself into his mouth, whispering his name quietly over and over again—that he finally lets you fall over the edge. And it's something beautiful to fucking behold when you do.
Halfway through, he'd spread your right leg wider, his hand squeezing your thigh, keeping it in-place. He'd found your left hand with his, twining his fingers between yours, your hand squeezing his every few seconds as you concentrated on trying to find your release.
And when you orgasm, your hand squeezes his so hard it hurts, even a bit. He keeps your legs spread as you arch your back, your fingers tugging against his hair, rubbing your pussy against his mouth. And once you've calmed, your hammering heart slowing, he keeps your legs spread, watching your ass and pussy pulsate slowly. It's only once they've both stopped that he allows you to finally close your legs.
He climbs up onto the bed, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you into his chest and you cry quietly for a moment and you can't understand why.
He shooshes you. "It's alright, baby. You did so fucking good for me."
He places a soft kiss to the top of your head and you close your eyes, pressing yourself closer to him.
You feel so...different. Your body feels hot all over, a pleasant soreness between your legs, your thigh muscles a bit more overworked than usual, and your head feels...a bit foggy somehow? You feel relaxed for once. Content.
And the way you feel about Nate in this moment... You can't think like that. Can't acknowledge that little four-letter word. You were being ridiculous. But you'd never felt like this before. Never felt the way you had last night in his bed, either.
You can't say it. If you do, you'll lose him. And you can't lose anyone else. Because you have no one else to turn to if you do.
Now that you know how good it feels to be cared for and wanted and desired, you don't ever want to be alone again.
You suddenly feel tired and feel yourself starting to drift off to sleep against his broad, warm chest, his hands rubbing soothing circles against your bare back. You press your palms against him and yawn.
Then, "You ready for me to get you dressed, angel?"
Your eyes slowly flutter open. "I'm so tired."
He smirks. You would be.
Wait until he starts fucking you multiple times a day. You won't have energy for anything else. Or, that's the plan, at least. All you'll want is to stay naked in his bed. Too exhausted to even get up and put a t-shirt on.
He squeezes your small, soft body for a moment. "I know, but I really wanted to give you your first driving lesson today."
Not that he plans to let you start driving—not that you have the means to do so in the first place—but because he knows you'll learn sooner or later, and he wants to be the one to teach you yet one more thing.
He doesn't want it coming from another man, even if it's your dad.
You're his.
He sits up and you bury your face in a pillow and all he can do is think how cute you look.
"C'mon, let's go get you cleaned up."
You look up at him, at his outstretched hand, and you take it, following him sleepily to the bathroom.
As you stand in the shower, Nate gently wiping down your naked body with a warm, soapy cloth, you almost want to cry from how loved you feel.
You just can't manage to wrap your head around how Maddy or Cassie could've ever treated him the way they did. How Maddy could've been so cruel. Could've only wanted him for what he could give her. How she could've been so materialistic when he alone is so...wonderful.
You suppose you understand Cassie losing it over the thought of losing him. But it seems so evil to try and trap someone so kind and thoughtful in a relationship they no longer feel safe or comfortable in.
God, no reason he doesn't want to talk about either of them.
And then his dad treating him so terribly and trying to drive you away almost immediately after the two of you get together... You wonder if it isn't so Nate won't be 'distracted'. If he's the type of man to try and force his son to live up to some ideal image of manhood he himself could never quite achieve.
Your heart swells with affection for Nate, just like it did last night and this morning both.
You're broken from your thoughts by him speaking. "Turn."
You do.
Once Nate has rinsed you off, even shaved your legs, and wrapped you in a fluffy towel, he gestures for you to sit on the toilet lid and you watch as he pulls out your straightener like the day before.
You sit silently for a moment as he runs it over your hair. Then you decide you have to finally ask about his interest in styling.
"Nate?"
"Hm?"
"Can I ask you something?"
He's quiet for a moment, then, "Sure."
"How did you learn to do hair?"
He raises a brow, even if you can't see it. "Just comes naturally, I guess."
"Is...is that something you think you'd like to do one day? Styling or barbering?"
He nearly laughs at you. A straight man as a stylist.
"No. I just like doing yours."
"Oh." Then, "Why? Do you not like how I do it?"
Your tone sounds hurt, if not also a bit worried.
Good, you're finally worried about what he thinks of your appearance. You want his approval.
"I didn't say that. I just like taking care of you; dressing you up."
Like a doll, you think, but you don't say it.
He drops his hands, the hot tool now hanging by his side. "Why? Do you want me to stop doing it? Does it bother you that much?"
You turn back to him, gripping the towel wound around you. "No. I didn't say that."
You echo his own words back at him and his jaw feathers, not liking it. He'd picked out your clothes for you, gave you an orgasm without asking for anything in return, bathed you, and was now doing your hair, and you wanted to get fucking smart with him?
His free hand twitches at his side.
"It means...it means a lot to me, Nate. That you want to do things like this for me. That you care enough to try in the first place. No one has ever been so sweet to me." A tear falls and you quickly wipe it away, looking up at him again. "You're the most selfless person I've ever met."
He softens, his jaw relaxing, his fist loosening. He kneels down. "You're sure you don't mind?"
You shake your head, giving him a warm smile. "You make me feel so..." You trail off. You can't say loved. "So cared for. And safe."
You lean forward, kissing him softly. He moves his free hand under your towel and it falls open. He slides his hand from your thigh, to your hips, then to your back, pulling you closer to him. Finally, you wrap your arms around his neck as he deepens the kiss, flicking his tongue against your lips, silently asking for entrance, which you immediately grant him. Just as you start to spread your legs, clearly wanting him to give you something more, he stands, returning to your hair.
And as he finishes up with the straightener, all he can do is bite back an amused smile at you having called him 'selfless'. As if the things he does to you are for you.
Once Nate has finished with your hair—parting the fronts on either side from the rest, then joining them together in the back with a light blue bow he clips into place—he leads you back into your room.
He kneels down in front of you again, slipping your panties over your legs—you gripping his shoulder for support as you put one foot through one side, then the same with the other—he plants a quick kiss to your belly, which makes you giggle—the sound making him hard again. He then puts your bra on you.
Once he's clasped the back, he grabs your new dress and carefully lowers it over your head, careful not to mess up your hair. Once he's tied the large bow at the back of it, he adjusts your Tiffany necklace.
The pendant still resting in his palm, he looks at you. "Can you promise me something?"
You nod gently.
"Don't ever take this necklace off unless I tell you otherwise."
You're quiet for a moment, then, "Okay."
Once Nate has slipped your flats onto your feet, he looks you over for a moment, his eyes honing in on the hicky he'd left on your neck.
You stare back at him for a moment, before reaching up and pressing your fingertips against it. "I think I have some concealer-"
He shakes his head, not feeling like bothering with giving you a full-face of makeup at the moment.
"Do you have any chokers?"
Your brows furrow. "The necklaces?"
"Mhm."
You shake your head. "I never really got into those."
Well, you're about to, he thinks. He offers you his hand. "Let's go."
You slide your palm against his.
Once you're seated in Nate's truck, you grab your seatbelt, until he holds it in-place before you can pull it across your chest.
"Let me."
You let go and wait as he reaches across you, buckling you in. "I-I can do that."
He gives you a peck on the lips and a smile. "It's fine, I don't mind," he states before shutting your door.
Just as you're perhaps ten minutes away from the school, Nate turns down an unfamiliar road.
"I thought we were going to the school parking lot?"
He slides his hand up your thigh, under your dress, until it's so close to your panties he can feel your heat. "Just making a little detour, something I want to pick up real quick."
Perhaps five minutes later he pulls up to a small, expensive-looking boutique. He exits the truck before you can ask him what's going on, coming around to your side. He goes through the same—but also slightly-new—rendition of opening your door, and now also unbuckling you. He grabs you by the hips, helping you down, then taking your hand firmly in his as he walks inside.
An older woman with straight grey hair, an orange dress, and glasses calls out to the both of you, welcoming you to her shop.
You greet her back, while Nate all but ignores her.
"What are you looking for?" You ask, looking at him.
"I need to see if they even have it first."
He looks to the woman. "Where's your jewelry section?"
She points to the back of the store. "Back there and to the right. Let me know if you need help finding anything. Or need something ordered in a different size or color."
He leads you alongside him, until he finds a small display of lacy chokers.
He releases your hand, picking one up, holding it toward you.
You shift uncomfortably from one foot to the other. "I don't wear them for a reason. They're called chokers for a reason. They're really uncomfortable and-"
He cuts you off by tying it around your neck. "You wanted to cover the hicky I gave you. So, unless you want to put on a sweater in this heat, I don't see any other options."
You go silent, feeling like he's wrapping a collar around your throat instead.
He notices your sudden change in demeanor.
"What's wrong?"
You reach up, gently touching the fabric wrapped around your throat. "I don't know." Your tone is unsure.
He flexes his jaw. He takes a calming breath, refusing to make a scene in public. He sighs, cupping your cheek. "I just thought I'd buy you one to make you feel better. You don't have to wear it if you don't want to." He smirks, trying to come off as playful, flirty even. "I might prefer it if you don't, actually."
You blush, a small smile coming onto your lips.
He nearly releases a breath of relief.
He's fine with letting you think that him putting a collar of ownership on you was all your idea. He's fine with letting you think it's something else entirely.
You look in the small mirror set up off to the side of the jewelry selection. "I guess it feels okay."
He picks up a few more then. "Anything you'd like to look at while we're here?"
You shake your head immediately and it displeases him.
He leans down, kisses you, then whispers against your lips. "We're not leaving until you've picked out something for me to buy for you."
He kisses you again and again, then pulls away.
"You're sure?"
He nods. "I told you yesterday that I plan to spoil you fucking rotten. I like buying you presents, sweetheart. So let me."
Even if he knows it's just another form of him love-bombing you.
You gently twine your fingers between his and begin to browse.
By the time the two of you are done, Nate has spent over three-hundred dollars on you.
You'd only picked out a pair of sunglasses and a cheap pair of earrings, hoping that'd be enough for him, but he'd shopped more for you than you had for yourself.
He'd bought you two more dresses, a pair of jean cut-off shorts with a light-purple shirt to go with them, a new pair of sandals, the chokers he'd picked up when you first came in, and a few bows for your hair, along with a couple bottles of nail polish.
Just as you'd thought the two of you nearly finished, Nate had stopped, you bumping into his backside.
"Sorry," you'd said, squeezing his hand, but he'd not been paying any attention to you.
And when you followed his line-of-sight, your eyes grew wider.
No. Not lingerie.
But it was too late. He was already leading you over to their wide array of options. From simple bras and panties, to thongs, garters, chemises, but Nate only shows interest in, of course, babydolls.
He picks up a burgundy one, holding it up to you, but not looking at you, but your body. He shakes his head, then flips through the other colors before finding a soft pink one. He removes it from the rack.
"Nate-"
He quickly cuts you off. "We'll get this one. I'd like to see it on you at some point."
He takes your hand as he leads you up to the register.
You'd stood silently by his side as he swiped a shiny black credit card, an unsettling feeling in your gut, but you merely pressed yourself against his side then—willing it away—and he'd pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head as he grabbed the decorative boutique bags off the counter with one hand, taking yours in the other as he led you back out to his truck.
You're silent the entire way to the school, Nate's hand wedged firmly between your thighs, and it feels like the choker around your neck grows tighter.
Once Nate has pulled into the school parking lot, he kills the engine, turning to you.
He'd noticed your silence on the way to your destination. Had noticed your refusal to look in his direction. Instead keeping your eyes on the passing scenery outside your window.
He knows he's moving too fast, doing too much. That it's making you uncomfortable. Perhaps more than uncomfortable. And he fears that if he pushes too much harder, right now, at least, you might just jump ship. You've only been together since Thursday evening. Not even a full two days yet.
But he's good with words, always knows exactly what to say after reading someone to get desired results.
You're no different.
He turns toward you, you still looking out the window. "Hey," he says softly, quietly. "Can you look at me?"
A couple seconds pass and then you do.
He removes his hand from between your legs, instead using it to take one of your own in his. He looks down at your hands, furrowing his brows. "I'm sorry if...if maybe I did too much back there. If I made you uncomfortable. That was never my intention. I just..." He looks out the windshield. "I see everything you've gone without. Things I never have. Nice clothes, shoes..."
He looks back at you then. "Even just someone to talk to. I just..." He sighs, acting like he's at a loss for words. "The last thing I want is for you to continue on that way. So, sometimes, I like to buy you gifts. Take you to nice places on dates. Above all else, I want to make sure you're always happy.
"I want you to feel as happy as you've made me in the time we've spent together. Because I've never met anyone like you. Someone so good-natured and empathetic and affectionate. I think that's honestly what it is," he says with a small laugh, as if he's just figured something out. "I've never had that before. From anyone. So it makes me want to...to be better. It makes me so fucking happy to do things for you. To take care of you. I feel like maybe you bring out the softer side of me—the best of me. A side of me I don't ever share with anyone else. Because every time I have, they've either used it against me, or taken advantage, or mocked me for it. So, I feel like I always have to keep it under lock and key.
"And now I feel like it's only served to make you uncomfortable and-"
You interrupt him by reaching up, pressing your palm against his cheek. Now you understood it better. It wasn't just about him liking to give you gifts. No. It went far deeper than that.
This—this young man right here—is who he's always been. But he's never felt allowed to show it. The last thing you want to do is make him feel, yet again, like he needs to hide it away.
This is the side of him that you want to see.
"It did. Because for a second it felt like...like maybe you're trying to change me or..." You don't want to say it, but you're both being honest. "Or maybe control me? And after only a couple days together, that frightened me. But now? Nate, this," you say, reaching down to take his other hand in yours. "This is the one thing you can give me that I actually need. Honesty. If I understand it—you—then it won't bother me. Whatever it is."
You rub your thumb against the back of his hand. "You don't ever have to be afraid of being like this with me. Of opening up. If anything, it makes me feel closer to you. I know some girls expect men to be masculine and tough all the time, but I don't. I just want you as you are."
He gives you a loving look. He reaches across the console, wrapping his muscled arms around you, his hand cupping the back of your head. "I'm so glad I have you now."
You nod. "Me too."
He pulls back the least bit, simply looking into your eyes, until you press a kiss to his lips, and then another, and then he grabs your chin, deepening it. After a moment, you climb across the truck, into his lap, your legs bent on either side of him. He quickly reaches down, sliding the seat back. He then reaches under your dress, into the back of your panties, squeezing your ass in each of his hands and you grind down against him, gasping lightly before pressing your mouth back against his.
His cock is already straining against his jeans, desperately aching to finally fucking be inside of you, but he once again tells himself no, even if he's already grown sick and fucking tired of it.
He then reaches into your panties, his palm flat against your slick pussy.
You pull away a bit.
"I want you to cum on my hand," he whispers.
You don't even think about it before you begin to buck your hips against his palm, bringing your mouth back down to his own.
In a few minutes, the truck is shaking from the movements of your hips, trying desperately to reach your finish, pushing down against him as much as the limited space the two of you occupy allows.
Damned bucket seats, you think.
Nate wants to shove a finger or two inside of you, but knows that seal is meant to be broken by his cock and his cock alone.
Eventually, you groan in frustration. He reaches up, throwing some hair back behind your shoulder, which your dress is beginning to slip off of. "What's wrong, baby? Tell me what you need."
You whimper, grabbing his arm, humping his hand, but it's no use on its own.
"Would my leg be better, angel?"
You look up at him and nod.
First, he reaches around, pulling loose the bow tied against your back, then pulling down the top of your dress, until that lacy little bra is visible. He quickly unhooks it at the back, tossing it into the passenger seat. He then grabs your hips, repositioning you over his left thigh.
"Go on, sweetheart, cum for me."
As you begin to grind down against his thigh—a shudder wracking through your body—he leans forward, taking one of your breasts in his mouth.
"Mm, so much better," you say quietly, head thrown back.
His hand is now soaked, but he reaches into the back of your panties once again, gripping your ass, feeling your movements as you ride his leg.
It's only a few minutes later that he begins to feel a wet sensation against his thigh and he pulls back, watching you.
Your face, neck, and chest are red with a sex flush, your soft breasts as well. He firmly grips your hips. "Come on, angel. Cum for me."
You begin to move faster, grinding down against him, whimpering, sighing.
"That's it, baby, I know. I know it feels good."
You whine, nodding your head.
"You look so fucking beautiful. Cum on my leg, sweetheart. You're almost there. Come on, baby."
It only takes a few more seconds before you fall over the edge. "Ah, Nate!"
You press your lips back to his, riding out your orgasm, bucking your hips against his thigh until you're sore and can't go anymore.
And his cock is throbbing from you saying his name as you climaxed. A sound he'd hoped to hear last night, or even this morning, but all that mattered was that he now had that lovely fucking sound in his head.
You only whispering his name in your room hadn't been nearly satisfactory enough.
Once your movements have slowed, you slump against him, your breathing ragged.
He holds you, hands rubbing against your bare back. He presses a kiss to the side of your head. "You did such a good job, angel."
You lie your head on his shoulder. "I did?"
He hums in approval. "I fucking loved hearing you say my name like that."
You pull back, eyes now hooded. "Really?"
He smirks. "Of course. Why wouldn't I like that?"
You gently plant your palms against his chest.
"Did you like that?"
You look at him from under your lashes and nod shyly.
He presses a kiss to your forehead. "Good."
You glance down at his erection, then back up to him. "Should I-"
He shakes his head. "I just wanted to take care of you. I enjoy helping you cum."
Lies, fucking lies. Yes, he enjoys knowing he's the one making you orgasm, but God if he doesn't want to pull his cock out and force it down your warm wet throat right now just to get some fucking relief.
But he can't. Not here. Not like this.
You nod.
He grabs your bra and begins dressing you again.
"Right blinker."
You glance at the levers on either side of the steering wheel. You know it's one of them, but unsure which one exactly.
You look at him.
"Try the lever on the left side."
A small green arrow starts blinking on the dash.
"Now left one."
A new arrow appears.
"Hazard lights."
Once Nate has schooled you on the various buttons and levers and switches his truck has to offer—you hope can you remember all of them—he makes you identify the brake and then the gas, then the gas and then the brake over and over, before telling you to adjust your mirrors, and finally instructing you to take the vehicle out of park and do a lap around the parking lot.
You don't go over ten miles per hour as you do as instructed, his palm resting on your thigh all the while for support.
One you've reached the spot where you first started, you press down on the brakes a bit too hard—the both of you lurch forward in your seats.
Your face grows warm and you look at him, gripping the wheel tighter. "Sorry."
He chuckles and you're glad you at least got him to smile. "It's ok. We'll work on that. Go ahead and go around again."
You do as instructed.
At the end of your lessons, Nate deems that you've done rather well. He'd had you drive around the parking lot a few times, reverse, park, even parallel park, which wasn't your favorite, but he tells you that all of it will improve in time the more he has you do it.
When he finally comes around to the driver's side to unbuckle you, you can't help but smile at how...special you feel.
He'd told you before you ever even switched seats that he'd never let another person drive his truck. Ever.
You'd thanked him for the privilege, then joked that you would only put, at most, a couple dents in it.
He'd told you he might have to punish you if that happened, his hand snaking between your legs.
On the way back to Nate's house, he'd called ahead and ordered the two of you Chinese for dinner, saying he wouldn't take you to a party on an empty stomach.
You'd merely told him thank you, twining his fingers between your own, his other wrist draped over the wheel.
As the two of you sat at the dining room table in his house, eating your dinner side-by-side, he'd fed you some of his Kung Pao chicken, your throat immediately burning. He'd laughed as you gulped down half a glass of water.
You ignored his telling you water would only make it worse as you drank more.
He finished half his food, putting the rest away in the fridge before coming to sit back down beside you while you finished, his body facing yours, pressing soft kisses to your hair every few moments as you ate your rice and chicken.
And at one point, when you'd finally looked at him, the look in his eyes was nothing short of adoring.
He merely continued to stare at you, his fingers threading through your hair. "You're so beautiful."
"Thank you."
He nodded, pressing a quick kiss to your lips before you went back to eating.
So polite, he thought. Even after giving you oral you had thanked him—thanked him—for getting you to orgasm. God, you were so different than anyone he'd ever had before.
As his eyes trailed over your body, he couldn't help but smile at knowing you're his.
Once you're full, he leads you up to his room, stripping you out of your outfit for the day, before slipping one of his t-shirts on over your head for you to relax in for the next couple of hours before he gets you ready for the party.
You seat yourself on the edge of the bed, waiting for him to decide what the two of you are going to do next, until he sits down on his lifting bench.
"Do you care if I work out for a little bit?"
You shake your head. "Go ahead," you say with a smile. Perhaps even a little eager to watch him.
He lies back, legs spread, feet planted on the floor on either side of him, then reaches up to start weight-lifting.
You lean forward, your legs crossed, elbows pressed into your thighs, head resting on your fists as you watch him with utter desire.
The way his biceps flex, his abs taught as he pushes the weight up from him, then back down, with little difficulty. You lick your lips as your eyes trail lower, somewhat wanting to see what you'd felt pressed against your heat earlier in his truck.
You know you had told him that you didn't mind him being softer, gentler, but the fact that he plays football, drives a big truck, and works out...it's all definitely a turn-on.
After a number of reps—you'd not bothered keeping count of just how many, you were otherwise occupied—Nate sits up, only glancing to you before starting with the leg lift next. And your eyes once again trail from his abdomen, all the way down to his muscled legs, dark hair littering both.
You feel warm, especially between your thighs. God, you can't believe he's all yours.
Who cares if he wants to blow large loads of money on you and dress you up occasionally if you get to watch him do this sometimes.
Once he's finished, you sit up straighter as he walks over to you. You look up at him.
"Sorry if that was a bit boring."
He knows you liked it. Can tell from how intently you had watched him, the obvious warmth of your cheeks.
You shake your head. "It wasn't," you say, your voice barely above a whisper you're so turned on.
He grips your chin, running his thumb alonger your lower lip. "No?"
You lightly shake your head.
"You liked it?" He pretends to feign mild suprise.
You nod.
He studies you for a moment. Then, he leans down toward you, forcing you to lay back on the bed.
He reaches between your legs and you gasp in surprise as he runs two fingers along your soaking wet folds. "That much, huh?"
You nod, then spread your legs wider, reaching down to the hem of his t-shirt, quickly removing it, leaving yourself completely naked before him.
A silent plea for him to do something—anything—to relieve that pulse going between your legs now.
He rubs his thumb over your clit and you smile, reching up to grip his broad shoulders.
"Did that feel good?"
You nod. "Y-yes."
He looks down at your pussy. "So wet for me, aren't you, baby?"
You spread your legs wider, the backs of your thighs now resting flat on the mattress they can't be parted any further.
And all Nate can think is how needy you fucking are. And he loves it. How easily wet you get for him, how you're already so willing to let him touch and taste and tease you. How you so easily hand over control of your body to him.
He presses a kiss to your lips for just a moment before pulling away, rubbing his thumb over your clit again.
"Mm, Nate..."
He smirks as you close your eyes, expecting him to give you yet another orgasm today.
Finally, he steps away, shutting the bathroom door behind him, the shower turning on.
Your eyes pop open and you shoot up in bed, bringing your legs back together, wondering why the hell he'd left.
Nate takes his time showering, hoping you're lying on the bed sexually frustrated from his teasing you, something he plans to do a great deal more of in-time.
He knows how powerful of a weapon sex can be, and with your experience being null...he never had that kind of upper-hand before. He's beyond elated that he does now.
He'd known Maddy had been lying when they fucked for the first time. When he had pulled out of her and there's been no blood, when she'd clearly known what the hell she was doing. But, because she'd been something warm and tight to stick his cock into, he'd resigned himself to not having a virgin like he wanted.
But you? You don't stand a chance against his sexual prowess.
Once he's showered and has also shaved, he jacks off thinking about the things he's done to you so far, but even more-so the things to come.
When he finishes, it's with cum shooting out, onto his hand, on the dark shower walls. Finally he feels some small form of release.
It's beyond fucking difficult maintaining control when it comes to being intimate with you, but he has a plan and knows he has to—must—stick to it. It's imperative that your first time with him is full of emotion and love and passion.
Because once the two of you have shared that moment?
His hooks in you will be permanently set.
Once Nate had showered, you'd not said anything about his teasing you. In reality, you kind of liked it... You knew he was being a flirt by doing it, if not also a bit of an ass, but for some reason all of that turned you on all the more.
The build-up to something else.
The two of you lied down on his bed for awhile, you naked, pressed into his side, one of your legs twined around his own while while some cheesy romance movie played—something he'd put on, thinking you would like it.
But you couldn't focus on that. Instead, all you could think about was how good this feels. This level of comfort and warmth and trust with someone to be with them like this. Naked in his bed, one of his arms around you, fingertips brushing against your hip, his other bent behind his head.
You think how lucky you are to have him. He's smart, handsome, sweet, so, so kind and giving and selfless, mature, determined...the list goes on.
He moves his hand up, his fingers working themselves against your scalp and you close your eyes, falling asleep listening to the strong, steady beat of his heart.
You're woken by Nate planting featherlight kisses against your cheeks, forehead, nose, chin, lips. Your eyes flutter open and you wrap your arms around his neck, stretching, arching your back. You smile up at him through drowsy eyes. "Hi."
You crane your neck up to kiss him and he melts into you. Literally melts.
Your softness, your graceful femininity, your love and desire for him and only him.
He pulls away for a moment, your gentle fingertips touching his lips as you look into his eyes.
"Time to get up and let me get you ready, angel."
"What if we stayed here in your bed?" You ask, your voice light and dreamy.
And fuck him if he doesn't consider it for a moment.
He shakes his head, then. He needs to get you drunk tonight.
"Sit up for me, sweetheart."
You keep your arms around his neck as he pulls you up with him, yawning as he disentangles himself from you, then takes your hand in his, leading your naked form into the bathroom as he turns on the shower.
Once he's washed you, the two of you go through the same rendition as that morning. And due to your still feeling sleepy, you let him do as he pleases as he brushes out your still-straight hair, forgoing any accessories. He then leads you back into his bedroom, seating you on his mattress as he goes through the bag he'd packed for you. He'd found a comely black dress in your closet that he'd actually been surprised you even owned, it showed so much skin. Well, a lot for you, at least.
But it'd also been shoved into the back, so it clearly was not a favorite of yours.
You raise your arms as he slips the soft black dress over your naked form. He admires it on you for a moment—it's a mini dress, with a plunging neckline, the sides cut out, leaving your sides bare, but against your back is a large bow.
He doesn't consider putting a choker back on you, wanting anyone who looks at you tonight to see the mark he'd put on your body, branding you as his property.
He then kneels down, slipping a black pair of pumps onto your feet which are covered in a pleasant floral pattern, small bows on each.
He then stands, heading over to his closet and throwing on a t-shirt and jeans, and a pair of clean socks and tennis shoes, shrugging on a zip-up hoodie before offering you his hand.
A small smile plays on Nate's lips the entire way over to the party. This afternoon had been so perfect. You naked in his bed, asleep in his arms, then sitting there contently—silently—while he readied you, dressing you up as he pleased. And now here you sit in the passenger side, entertaining yourself with his right hand resting in your lap, holding one of your own while your other traces idle shapes along his veins and skin.
As he slows for a traffic light, he glances at you, how beautiful you look. And all he can think is how much he loves you.
"Are you happy, baby?"
You look up at him, smile, then nod. "Yes."
The light turns green and he looks back to the road before the both of you.
Once Nate has parked, you feel your pulse rising under your skin. Flashing lights, and loud, thumping music come from the two-story house before you, numerous people coming in and out, milling around outside, drinks in-hand.
Once Nate has come around and unbuckled you, you stay seated. "There's a lot of people here."
He just looks at you, waiting for you to continue. "I...I get anxious in crowds."
He takes your hand in his, helping you down. "Just stay close to me, then, sweetheart."
You twine your fingers securely between his, your other arm coming up to wrap around his own and you press your body as close as you can into his side as you enter the strange domicile you've never been to before.
And Nate eats it up—you clinging to him so closely, afraid of being parted from his side—and he feels both a sense of satisfaction, as well as jealousy, if not also possessiveness, as young men's eyes trail along your young body. All of them want what they'll never have. You belong to him now.
He glances down at you and you're already looking up at him, completely oblivious to the men practically lapping at you with their tongues.
He gives you a quick kiss on the top of your head, then leads you further into the house, the music growing so loud you can feel the bass in your chest, intermixing with the wild beat of your heart.
Nate's eyes dart this way and that, looking for possible familiar faces—not because he wants to spend any amount of time with anyone but you tonight—but because he wants the word to spread like wildfire that you're already wrapped around his finger already. Completely devoted to him.
When he spots the kitchen, he leads you in that direction, honing in on the plethora of alcoholic drinks sitting out on the counter.
He releases your hand for a moment, your body pressing impossibly closer to his own, as he looks over the bottles, searching for something good to start you out with. Something sweet and sugary to get you drunk on before he has you start downing hard liquor to keep you that way for the rest of the night.
His goal is to get you drunk enough that you black out and forget what he has planned this evening.
He spots a bottle of sparkling cider and picks it up, pouring some into a solo cup, placing it in your small delicate hands.
"I-I don't drink!" You practially have to scream at him over the music.
His brows furrow, acting like he has no idea what you've said. He leans down, placing his ear close to those pretty lips that he'd put some pink lipgloss on before leaving.
"I don't drink, Nate."
He places his lips against your ear, his hand gripping your hip in silent encouragement. "Just try it, you might like it."
You look at him for a moment, then finally take a sip. And your eyes widen in interest before taking another one. He bites back a satisfied smirk.
"Do you like it?"
You nod your head fervently and he can't help but think how utterly fucking adorable you look.
He takes your cup, filling it nearly to the brim with the orange substance.
He, himself, grabs a bottle of Budweiser before leading you further into the house, seating himself on a couch before pulling you into his lap, one of his hands coming to rest firmly between your legs under your dress.
He takes a sip of his beer, then watches as you take another sip and then another from your cup. He reaches up, tipping it forward, forcing you to down a third of it in one go. Finally, he drops his hand, picking up his beer again and laughs playfully when you look at him, shaking your head with a smile.
By the time you've reached the bottom of your cup, you're already drunk. Your head feels light, like it's spinning. You lean back against Nate, resting your head on his shoulder.
"Did you finish it?"
You merely nod, a giggle escaping your lips.
"Want me to get you another one?"
You sit up straighter, then turn to look at him and burst out laughing.
He can't keep himself from smiling at you.
"Is that a yes?"
You nod, scrunching your nose up adorably before throwing your arms around his neck, pressing a firm wet kiss to his cheek, then kissing his lips. He notes that you taste pleasantly of apples.
You stumble alongside Nate as he pulls you into the kitchen, filling your cup again and you don't notice, as you go to take a sip, that he once again puts his index finger under the base, holding it in-place until half the cup is drained.
He glances behind you, seeing Maddy across the room, wearing some revealing purple dress that nearly shows her ass, Kat at her side.
He watches them as they watch you, Maddy leaning over to Kat, saying something to her, which he can't quite make out.
He thinks, if he's read her lips correctly, she said 'what the fuck did he do to her?'.
He looks down at you, cupping one of your cheeks in his hand. "Do you want to dance?"
"What?" You giggle again, hugging him affectionately.
When you pull away he repeats himself.
"Do you?" You ask, your words slurred.
He doesn't answer before grabbing your hand, leading you into the middle of the living room, pulling your body against his. He grabs your hips, shaking them this way then that, one of your arms slung over his shoulder, the other occasionally lifting your drink to your lips.
He then sees Cassie, who's been watching the two of you for God knows how long, so he leans down, pressing a long, passionate kiss to your lips, adding in plenty of tongue.
You moan against him and he has half-a-mind to reach into your panties, wondering if all the alcohol has gone where he hopes it has.
He refrains. He won't humiliate or disrespect you like that. Not in front of a crowd.
He moves his lips down to your neck and you throw your head back. He moves one of his hands under the cut-out side of your dress, under your panties beneath, gripping one of your ass cheeks. The other comes up to caress the back of your head as he begins kissing your neck, sucking on that purple bruise, keeping it firmly in-place.
He licks your neck when he sees Cassie finally walk away, chugging her beer.
Nate pulls back, looking down at you.
You smile up at him. "I feel so-" you laugh. "So good." you giggle a few times. "I want you so bad."
He raises a brow. "Is that so?"
"Mhm." You reply, kissing him.
He puts his lips right up against your ear. "I bet if I checked them, your panties are fucking soaked right now. Aren't they?"
He feels you nod and blood fills his cock.
"You wet for me, baby?"
You nod again. "Yes," you say breathily.
His fingers tangle in the hair at the back of your head, gently yanking your head back, and he devours your neck. He wedges one of his legs between your thighs, moving his lips back to your ear. "There you go, angel. Take what you need."
You grind against him and whimper.
He presses his lips against your own, teasing you with his tongue.
Your kissing grows sloppy, uncoordinated, your hips bucking randomly against him.
He pulls away and you pout. He pulls you back into the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of Jack Daniels before holding it against your lips. "Try this one, sweetheart."
You don't argue, you just drink, the whiskey dripping down between your breasts, which he quickly cleans with his tongue. You giggle. "Stop it," you say between laughs.
He holds the bottle to your lips again and doesn't stop until you've drunk more than a sufficient amount.
You tug against his shirt then and he gives you his ear. "I have to-" You laugh. "Have to potty."
He holds you against his side as he goes in search of the bathroom, hoping you can hold it and that you haven't broken that tab just yet.
He finally finds it at the end of a hall. He knocks once, twice, then opens the door, finding it empty.
You stumble inside.
"Can you go on your own?" He does not fucking want to have to wipe you, but will look after you if that's what needs done.
You nod your head, slamming the door in his face.
He leans back against a wall, waiting for you. And rolls his eyes when Cassie comes to rest back against the wall opposite him.
She takes a swig of her beer—because of course she's drinking beer—at least you like the sweet stuff, which he thinks certainly fitting for you—before crossing her arms over her ample chest.
He only gives her a bored glance before leaning his head back, taking a drink of his Budweiser.
"What does she have that I don't?"
"Jesus fucking Christ," he mutters while staring up at the ceiling before looking at her. "Are you serious right now?"
She shrugs dramatically, her eyes widening. "You never had any interest in her before. Didn't you call her 'fucking boring' one time?"
He shakes his head. "Doesn't fucking matter what I said before, Cassie. I'm with her now. End of story."
She laughs, but there's no humor in it. "She's not even your fucking type!"
He laughs, mockingly. He licks his lips, glancing away, then back to her. "You have no idea what my type even is."
"I thought it was me..." She mumbles.
He raises a brow. "Are you fucking slow or something? Alright, fine. You want to know what she has that you don't?
She nods her head dramatically. "Yeah, I do. Because it sure as hell isn't looks, or-"
His fuse is near-gone by now. "She came to me a fucking virgin, for one. I sure as shit couldn't have said the same for you."
She flinches.
"Do you know how humiliating it was to be with you? The way you acted sometimes-" He rubs his thumb against his brow, lowering that hand back down to his side. "You were nothing more than a greedy whore looking for attention, and that still hasn't changed even now. It's why you're trying to make a scene in the middle of a party in front of all our peers. I mean," he holds out his hands, palms face-up before her. "What did you really hope to accomplish with this?" He relaxes one of his arms back down to his side again, the other holding his beer to his lips for a quick drink.
"Look at the fucking way you're dressed for one. You might as well have walked in here naked-"
"Look at the way she's dressed!"
"I know exactly what she's wearing because I put it on her!"
Hurt flashes across her features, remembering when he had once done that for her.
"So, is that it, then, you just needed a new doll to play with?"
He leans back, lightly banging the back of his head against the wall. "You don't fucking get it."
"Then explain it to me, since I'm so ignorant."
He looks at her again. "She's everything I've ever wanted. You can't hope to hold a fucking candle to her. You, Cassie, you were just a toy for me to fuck when I had nothing better to do. You're the girl you brag to your buddies about making another notch in your belt for. She's the girl you marry and provide a life for."
Her lip trembles.
He shakes his head. "Even then, I don't brag about you because I'm fucking ashamed I was ever even with you. I'm probably lucky I didn't catch something, since half the guys around here have rode you like a goddamn Greyhound."
She explodes then. "Fuck you, Nate! I gave you fucking everything! I bent over backwards for you—to be perfect for you. I blew up my life for you! I thought we were in love and that...that we'd have forever together and...so what? What is it, then? Do you love her now?"
He throws his bottle at the wall, no more than half a foot from her head, causing her to jump in fear as it shatters, alcohol spraying on her. "Yes, Cassie, I fucking love her!"
Right as he screams it in her face, you open the bathroom door, hearing every word.
Both their heads jerk in your direction and you glance from Cassie to Nate, back to Cassie, before finally settling on Nate again. You let out a quiet sob. "I can't get them back on, I keep falling over."
He looks down, and sees your panties around your ankles. He suddenly softens then. "Oh, baby, c'mere."
He kneels down, grabbing your hand and placing it firmly on his shoulder. "Lift your leg for me sweetheart."
You do, head spinning as he slips one foot free. "Now the other side, angel."
Cassie watches, heart breaking at how gentle he is with you. The sweet names he calls you—something he'd never done for her. She was, at the most, Cass.
Finally, he stands, pocketing your lacy black panties.
You lean back against the wall to steady yourself, and he cups both of your cheeks in his hands and all she can do is stare at the two of you. At the look in his eyes—seeing that it's true; they're filled with love and devotion and care.
"Did you go?" He asks, his tone gentle, but concerned.
You nod.
He brushes a thumb over your lips. "Did you wipe, sweetheart?"
You nod again.
He presses a firm, yet soft kiss to your forehead, then your lips, before wrapping one of his arms around you, holding you close to his side, not sparing Cassie another glance as he tells you "Let's go get you another drink."
Cassie slams the bathroom door behind her, unable to think of anything else but how, if that had been her, he wouldn't have waited for her, wouldn't have helped, or tended to her. Would've most likely started a fight with her over how she was embarrassing him. How she was being a trashy slut.
What the fuck was so different about you?
Once Nate has gotten you so drunk that you can't even stand up on your own, he has to carry you back to his truck bridal-style. His jacket is draped over you to keep you warm, your face pressed against his neck while one of your hands grips his t-shirt for dear life.
He quickly unlocks the truck, his keys held firmly in one of his hands underneath you, and he lowers you into your seat, carefully buckling you in. He gently shuts the door, coming around to the driver's side. Once he's buckled in as well, he locks both doors, making sure you don't do something stupid in your stupor, like try and open it.
You lean your head back against the seat, holding his jacket over you.
"So dizzy..."
He turns the heat on. "Just close your eyes, baby. We'll be home soon."
You do, wishing the world would just slow down.
Once Nate has gotten you home, he carries you inside, and when he sets you down in the foyer, you slam back against the wall, back to giggling again.
He tries to shoosh you, holding a finger up to your lips, but you gently pull it down, trying to instead shove it under your dress.
He shakes his head. "Are you going to be a naughty girl tonight, then?"
You shrug, but barely, your limbs not entirely cooperating.
He leans down, pressing his lips to yours and you giggle yet again and his hand grips one of your inner-thighs.
He pulls back a little, glancing down the hall, then to you. "Do you want to go swimming?"
You nod enthusiatically, then immediately regret it as you press your forehead against his chest, willing the dizziness away. "Nooooo..."
"So you do or don't?"
"Swim mmm."
He takes that as a yes.
He leads you that way, you nearly falling on your ass halfway down the hall, but he drags you along, despite your stumbling. He grabs a couple beers from the fridge, intending on giving one to you outside.
Once you're in the backyard, he picks you up, slinging you over his shoulder. "Oooh noooo."
"Oh yes," he replies.
Your head slumps, bobbing with every step he takes, until he finally sets you down on a pool chair.
He hands a bottle of beer to you and you can't quite figure out the twist top, so he takes it from you, opening it, then handing it back. He watches in satisfaction as you take a long drink, licking your pretty pink lips.
He kneels down, not even buzzed and reaches his hand between your legs.
You hum with pleasure, closing your eyes.
"Look at me, sweetheart."
Your eyes pop open.
"Do you want to go skinny dipping?"
You nod.
He helps you out of your heels and then your dress, tossing the latter onto the chair you'd previously occupied.
He grips the back of his shirt, pulling it off, then toes off his shoes and socks before he reaches down, unbuckling his belt, and unzipping and unbuttoning his jeans before he pulls them, along with his briefs, off in one motion. You barely get a chance to look over his naked form before he walks the both of you over to the pool. He seats you on the side, your legs dangling in the warm water as he slips in.
He grips your hips, easing you in as well, wrapping your legs around his waist, arms around his neck, and his own arms around you to ensure you don't drown.
You gently lie your cheek against his shoulder, the only sounds to fill the night being the lapping of water, crickets and frogs, and the pool filter humming under the water.
"I love you," he whispers, knowing you won't remember any of this.
"Mmm," is all the reply you can manage, your body shaking with a small laugh.
"You're all mine. Every part of you."
You stay silent, enjoying the bouyant feeling of weightlessness and the warmth of him.
"Can you tell me that, angel? That you belong to me?"
"I..." you giggle. "I belong to youuu."
He hums his approval.
"I'm going to take your virginity tomorrow," he says, tone relaxed.
"Okaaay."
He smirks. You have no idea what he's even saying.
"And when I do, you're mine. Forever."
You only wrap your arms tighter around his neck. "Juuust get the home-" you snicker. "Homework done, 'kay?"
He doesn't say anything as he wades the two of you arond the pool. His studious little angel.
You yawn and he knows it's time to get out then.
You take his hand as the two of you exit the pool. Nate grabs some towels out of a nearby bin, but you laugh when he comes to stand in front of you. He fills with seething fucking rage when he sees that you're looking at his cock when you do it.
"What's so funny?" He asks, hands in fists at his sides.
"I've n-never seen one. In-" You cackle. "real life. It's so-"
If you're about to insult him, he knows he'll snap and do something he'll later regret.
"So preeetty."
All the tension releases from his body. Not quite what he'd been expecting, but he'll take it.
You look up to him with a drunken smile. "I l-like it."
He smirks. "Do you want to touch my cock, sweetheart?"
You nod.
He takes one of your hands in his, wrapping it around his member, which quickly grows harder in your grip.
"Feels funny."
"How?"
"Soft. Like vel-Velveeta."
He knows you mean velvet.
Your strokes are sloppy, unsure. He knows that you have no idea what the fuck you're doing, but it only turns him on all the more.
Just as he begins to consider asking you to get on your knees, he looks toward the house and immediately loses his erection when he sees his dad watching the both of you.
You frown. "What...w-what happened?"
You look up to him.
"You're exhausted. Time for bed."
You hang your head as he wraps your naked body in a towel. "Noooo..."
"Yes, c'mon," he says, taking your hand, grabbing your clothes and his in the other, slipping his shoes back on, handing you yours.
Once the two of you have taken a shower—Nate not wanting his sheets to stink like chlorine—he puts you to bed, lying down beside you, still naked.
Before you fall off to sleep, however, he reaches over, grabbing your phone from the nightstand.
He hopes to God you're not too drunken to answer his next question. "What's the pin for your phone?"
It takes a few tries and a lot of laughing, but you finally give him the four-digit code, which he immediately commits to memory.
And then you drift off to sleep, once again firmly against his chest, feeling safe and happy.
Meanwhile, Nate goes through every single app on your device. He's glad to see you have no social media, minus Pinterest and Letterboxd accounts, neither of which have any messages on them. He browses through your emails, finding nothing of interest.
He next checks your gallery, searching for nudes he's sure he won't find, even checking for hidden folders.
He finds naught.
Finally, after browsing your texts—you only having threads with him, your dad—which you haven't texted with in hardly three weeks, and Lexi—who you left on read Friday when she texted you asking 'what the hell is going on with you and Nate?'—he briefly considers blocking her number, but knows that decision, that action, needs to come from you—he installs an app for tracking your location, syncs it to the very same app on his own phone, and then hides it.
He makes it so that, unless you go into your settings looking through your app list, you'll never find it.
He tells himself that he's only doing it to keep you safe. But he also knows that if he ever catches you with someone else, he'll fucking kill him.
You wake before dawn with an extreme feeling of nausea. You practically jump out of bed—head pounding—and race to the toilet, barely making it as you kneel before it, vomiting up the contents of your stomach.
Nate wakes as well, sitting up, heading toward the bathroom in a panic to take care of you, before remembering that he's naked. He grabs a pair of briefs from the floor, sitting on his bench press as he pulls them on. He comes into the bathroom then, kneeling beside you and pulling your hair out of your way as you continue to get sick.
Once your stomach has calmed, you close the lid, flushing, then lying your head down. "Oh God."
He smirks, running his hand along your naked back. "Hangover?"
"Don't ever, ever, ever let me drink again."
He stands, grabbing a clean washcloth and running it under some cool water before wringing it out and holding it against your forehead.
You merely hum your appreciation.
"I feel so horrible."
"It usually goes down a lot easier than when it comes back up."
You groan.
He presses a kiss to your hair. "Are you cold or hot?"
"Both. My body is freezing."
He stands, grabbing a spare blanket from the foot of his bed, then returning to the bathroom, wrapping you up in it.
"Thank you," you mumble.
And then the feeling hits you again, so you throw the toilet lid open and vomit once more.
It's almost an hour later before you feel confident enough that, if you go back to bed, you won't get sick all over it. Nate puts a trash can on your side anyway.
He'd gone down and gotten you water, a bottle of Gatorade, and some crackers before coming back up and setting them on the table on your side of the bed.
He likes that you now have a side.
While you lie there, facing away from him and instead toward the side that the trash can is on, he also lays on his side, rubbing your back.
"I'm sorry," you whisper.
"For?"
"Embarrassing you, probably."
"What do you mean?" He asks.
"I don't remember most of it."
His hand stills, but only for a moment. So it worked, he thinks, a sick sense of satisfaction filling him.
"What's the last thing you do?"
You close your eyes. "It's like there's holes in my memory. I remember dancing. I think I went pee. I think...I think I went pee and Cassie was in the bathroom with me?" You pause for a moment and sigh. "I think you carried me to your truck. Did we swim?"
A muscle in his jaw feathers. "Just for a little bit. Then we came up and watched a movie until you fell asleep on my chest."
You hum in response. "Was it The Princess Bride? I think I remember."
He's glad you do, because he sure as hell doesn't, since it never happened. "It was."
"Oh."
You're quiet for a moment, then, "Have you ever been drunk?"
He nods. "A few times. I try not to make a habit of it."
You moan. "That's smart. Smarter than me."
He chuckles. "First time for everything. Including get wasted. Honestly, it's more on me than it is you. You've never drank before and don't know your own limits. I should've cut you off a lot earlier."
You press your face into the soft pillow under your head. "That's a lifetime achievement I could've lived without. But it's not your fault."
You lie your cheek against the pillow then. "How long until I feel better?"
He shrugs. "A few hours, better part of a day. Just depends how long it takes to work its way out of your system."
You take a sip of your Gatorade and chew on a cracker. Once you've swallowed you lie back down.
"Just close your eyes and try and get some sleep, angel."
You nod against the pillow. "Goodnight."
He presses a kiss to the back of your head, curling his body around yours, pulling you back against him. "Goodnight," he replies, even if it's now morning.
#fic: euphoria (nate jacobs x reader)#nate jacobs x y/n#nate jacobs x you#nate jacobs x reader#nate jacobs imagine#euphoria x reader#euphoria x you#i'm so mean to cassie i'm so sorry lmao#i prommy i don't hate her#she's just another one of nate's victims & someone who deserves sm better than the hand she was dealt#lana really went off with 'this is what makes us girls' huh
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May Fic Rec
Nicotine by honorarystar - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 3,404, sterek)
Stiles wants to take a nap at Derek's place. Derek thinks he smells too amazing for his own good. Or Derek's for that matter.
UST (An Unfortunate Series of Tropes) by ureshiiichigo - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 54,259, sterek)
Stiles and Derek sitting in a tree, M-A-R-R-I-E-D.
Wait, what?
Or: Stiles thought he and Derek were finally getting to be bros, and then Deaton had to go and ruin everything with his stupid spell.
For the hour of great humiliation by Naicele - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 8,278, sterek)
There are witches, but maybe they are mostly a plot device to get Stiles and Derek to spend time in very close proximity.
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“Stop that,” Derek growls.
“Stop what?” he whines, because, this situation is worthy of some complaining on his part
“Stop smelling like that,” Derek hisses, breath hot on Stiles’s ear.
“How do I stop smelling? Dude that’s insane,” he whispers back.
“What do I even smell like,” he adds and then immediately regrets it. Surely Derek can’t smell that on him, can he?
Point me where my life begins by Gotta_seduce_the_Rainbow - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 39,430, sterek)
When Derek wakes up without his memory, he is left with nothing but a note he wrote himself. He no longer remembers anything personal, not himself, not anyone else.
The note is pointing him towards the town Beacon Hills and once he is there, he is greeted by strangers telling him “Dude, I didn’t know you’re back in town”, which is confusing. Apparently, he grew up in Beacon Hills, but left a few years ago without telling anyone about it.
There is this one stranger, who calls him dude and has the most amazing scent. Derek might just want to start his new life here. With this person.
let’s make a reckless memory by EvanesDust - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 4,283, sterek)
[excerpt]
"Stiles…" Derek groaned, his head dropping between Stiles's shoulder blades as he thrust his cock against Stiles's hole. "God, please tell me you know that I love you."
Stiles clenched in response, desperately wanting to be filled, and nodded. They'd only been dating for a week when Derek first told him. It was New Year's, and they'd just kissed at midnight. "Y-Yeah, I know. I know you love me. I love you, too."
And he did. So fucking much.
"Good. Because I'm going to fuck you like I don't."
…or the one where Stiles surprises Derek by coming home for spring break, and they fuck in the sheriff’s station.
Can't Start a Fire Without a Spark by Nerdy_fangirl_57 - (Rating: T, Words: 8,945, sterek)
After the whole ordeal with the nogitsune Stiles struggles with proving to himself that he can be good again. He starts learning to control his spark in hopes that he could be helpful to the pack once he manages to channel it's power. Everyone thinks it's a great idea and are willing to help him anyway they can, but Scott, Scott doesn't see the point in it.
It's not like Stiles' tiny spark could ever be powerful enough to be an actual asset to the pack.
Stiles just wants a chance to prove himself.
Million Reasons by FireAndIceHeart - (Rating: T, Words: 20,474, sterek)
After a nasty fight between Derek Hale's Pack and three witch sisters, Derek kicks Stiles out of the pack.
His friends abandoned him and his father is always at work and Stiles has never felt so alone.
Well at least now he has the time to think of all the reasons why he deserves to be in the pack and figure out where it all went wrong.
That is...until he gets kidnapped.
I'm Only Human by DarkAlpha67 - (Rating: T, Words: 3,477, sterek)
Stiles has always placed other’s needs above his own… And no one ever took the time to notice the strain that burden had on him.
Until him…
*
In which Stiles neglects to take care of himself and ends up in the hospital where he will learn a werewolf pack is just another word for Family.
Hale's Theory of Exclusivity by kitsunequeen - (Rating: T, Words: 4,098, sterek)
For the request: "Stiles visits a wolf rescue/sanctuary type thing (like the one TW donated to!!) and gets really friendly with the pack alpha and then he comes back and Derek is all angsty because /another alpha's scent is all over Stiles/."
---
“You’re the one,” he huffs, “you’re the one who was always trying to assure me that my past relationships were unhealthy. That I deserved something better. And this? This is your idea of healthy?”
“Are you seriously throwing that in my face?” Stiles demands, tears suddenly pricking at his eyes. He wipes them away roughly, jamming his hand in his pocket. “That’s- that’s pretty shitty, dude.”
“Are you kidding me?” Derek seethes. How is this happening? How on Earth is this spiraling so badly? “I’m throwing it in your face? You go around pretending we’re exclusive, and I’m the one acting shitty?”
“You know what?” Stiles snaps, tears streaming freely now. The room is swirling with the scents of hurt and confusion and anger and betrayal and- “Fuck you, Derek.”
Happy Son Happy Spouse Happy House by alikatastic - (Rating: Not Rated, Words: 3,085, sterek)
Eli was so much like him, a stark reminder of who he was at sixteen. It was a grand statement of nature vs. nurture. Eli Hale might not have shared any DNA with him, but there was never a doubt that he was Stiles’ son, his pup. Stiles would do anything for his kid; missing sleep after a long case and threatening the Coach were small tasks for him. As long as Eli was happy, Stiles was happy, and if Stiles and Eli were happy, so was Derek.
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Wolfstar Microfic: May Prompt 1 - Accidental Eavesdropping
Word count: 734 @wolfstarmicrofic
The fact that soundproofing spells weren’t built into the four-posters was embarrassing for the entire school, honestly. You’d think they’d come standard these days.
James was sure Peter would have loved to hide his homesickness that first year. Though coaxing him out of the bed to talk through his feelings had been the beginning of them all trusting one another. While Remus had been the first to master the spell, they could still tell when it had been an especially bad moon, even without the painful-sounding grunts and deep breathing escaping the closed curtains. Sirius would have used it to cover the sound of James snoring, something that had become worse starting third year.
“Honestly mate! I’m starting to believe that your mother is an erumpent.” Sirius had said one morning, bleary-eyed and astonishingly tousled.
“You’ve met my mum,” James had replied.
“And she’s lovely,” Remus had chimed in, looking from Sirius to James and back again, dark circles under his eyes. “You should hear yourself, truly. Can’t be healthy.”
Now, by their sixth year, they’d all mastered silencing and soundproofing and privacy spells. But with the benefit of time and familiarity, they weren’t often used. Peter was more homesick at home than Hogwarts, James’s father had recommended a potion for his snoring, and Remus’s bad moons were fewer and further between. And the conversations often went late into the night; better to leave the beds unspelled and fall asleep talking.
And so it was that James, having taken a blow from a bludger—light enough that Madam Pomfrey told him to rest in his dorm, though forbidding him from the week’s practices—found himself in bed in the middle of a sunny Saturday. Light shone through the windows in unfamiliar ways this time of day and, the pounding in his head only slightly better with Madam Pomfrey’s ministrations, he drew his curtains.
He woke, dozily, to dim maroon and amber light within the curtains, and footsteps without.
“Peter?” It was Remus.
“Chess club,” replied Sirius.
“James?”
“Bludger. He’s in the Hospital Wing. Fine though.”
He was too drowsy to correct Sirius. The pulled curtains might have been a giveaway, but he often left them closed, diving through them in the morning and before bed. There was silence for a time, and he thought they might have left. James nearly fell asleep again.
“About last night,” started Remus. He sounded nervous. James was suddenly wide awake. Last night?
Last night they’d been out after curfew, first under the cover of the cloak (Peter as a rat, for space, though they were still nuts to butts) until Remus broke away, claiming the crouching was hurting his neck. Sirius snapped at him about Madam Pomfrey, but by that point they were far enough from the tower and Mrs. Norris that Phase 2 of the plan engaged. With a sigh, James handed the map to Sirius and they’d gone four different directions. Everything had seemingly gone to plan. Until Remus and Sirius hadn’t shown up in the dorm by the arranged time. Peter and James had fallen asleep uneasily, only to find them in their beds in the morning. Sirius didn’t mention anything at breakfast before practice, and the three of them had left Remus sleeping. The moon was coming, and he needed it.
What had happened last night?
“Look, Moony, we don’t have to talk about it. It was stupid.”
James propped himself up on his elbows, trying not to rustle the bedsheets. Talk about what?
“It wasn’t.”
“You—what?”
“It wasn’t stupid. Well, maybe the part where we didn’t lock the door—”
“Lucky that cat’s afraid of dogs,” Sirius said darkly.
“—but I’m sick of pretending I don’t feel this way.” Remus continued. “I think you are, too.”
Sirius paused, hesitant. “So you don’t want to be just friends?”
“I don’t think friends do what we did last night.” Remus was firm, a hint of a laugh creeping into his voice. “At least, I don’t want to touch any of my other friends like that.”
“I don’t want you to, either.”
“Only you.”
“Only me.”
Silence again. James strained to hear, then smiled widely at sounds that were distinctly not friendly. And then he heard Remus moan. Under his breath, he cast a quick spell to block out any further noises from coming through the curtains.
Upon further reflection, maybe the silencing spells should become standard practice again.
#wolfstar microfic#wolfstar#sirius black#remus lupin#remus lupin and sirius black#baby’s first fic#marauders era
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Cuddling w/ various HH characters 1/?
Writing this first part in a rush so if theres more typos and stuff than usual uhuhuh I apologize! Tackling a handful of characters and will do more later! Some hcs may sound familiar, due to me already writing cuddling hcs for fluff alphabet stuff! Not sure who I've already written though and even then I'm writing without rereading old stuff we are living silly
Characters: Charlie, Vaggie, Alastor, Angel Dust, Pentious, Husk
Notes: reader is GN, can be read as either romantic or platonic. Assume reader is fem for vaggie and masc for angel if reading as romantic
CWs: none
Charlie
Shes very warm! Shes like your personal heater! If you guys are cuddling in her bed you guys are soooooo cozy and comfy, shes got the best bedding! A little shy about some forms of PDA but nuzzling up to her on the couch in the common areas is fine! Loves nestling her head against your shoulder 8/10
Vaggie
On the opposite end, vaggie is very cold physically.. a bit muscular due to her days as a fighter, as well as seemingly keeping up at least a bit since her fall. Tense when cuddling, and let's you take the lead and rest how you want. It's not like she doesnt want to cuddle you shes just.. inexperienced and doesnt know exactly what you want unless you two are very close 6/10 shes got the spirit though!
Alastor
Average body temperature if not a little on the cooler side. Only let's you cuddle with him because you two are close and comfortable with each other. Despite this cuddling isnt a very common occurrence. While not technically cuddling, he will let you rest yourself on his back and shoulders while he sits and works on something. You better feel special, if you were anyone else you would be torn apart 4/10
Angel Dust
Warm soft and cozy thanks to his fluff! Let's you rest your head on his chest- though he ready for him to make a comment or two if you guys are a couple.. his extra arms come in handy with holding someone, so theres a bonus there! Does your hair sometimes when you two are huddled up together though it depends on the mood and the positions 7/10
Pentious
Oh poor.. poor boy... doesnt know where to put his hands- if you two are just friends he doesnt want you to get any wrong ideas. But if you guys are dating he doesnt want to put his hands in the wrong place and make you uncomfortable. His nerves make him a little slimy.. not the best.. cold but does warm up from your own body heat so HOORAY! Hes not going to be freezing for long! Wraps his tail around you if you're comfortable with it, it makes you feel secure.. 6/10
Husk
Soft, thanks to his fur! Sure it's a little.. eeeuugh...in terms of feel.. but maybe you can convince him to take better care of himself. Smells strongly of alcohol so it can be a little overwhelming if you're not used to it. Not much of a cuddler, though. So he doesnt cuddle with anyone often 5.5/10
#hazbin x reader#hazbin imagine#hazbin hotel imagine#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin x you#hazbin hotel x you#charlie morningstar x you#hazbin charlie x reader#charlie x you#charlie x reader#charlie imagine#vaggie x you#vaggie imagine#vaggie x reader#angel dust x you#angel dust x reader#angel dust imagine#alastor x you#alastor imagine#alastor x reader#radio demon x you#radio demon imagine#radio demon x reader#sir pentious x you#sir pentious imagine#sir pentious x reader#husk x you#husker imagine#husker x reader#husk x reader
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Maybe, Possibly, One Day.
Summary: All the years that went by before Daryl realized you loved him.
Pairing: Reader!Greene x Daryl Dixon
Era: Starts at the Greene Farm, ends at the Commonwealth
Genre: survival, comfort, falling in love
Word count: roughly 2800
Warnings: TWD typical violence, character death, grief
The first time he saw you, you were tending his wounds. His eyelids had barely parted, so little that you couldn’t tell he was awake. The gunshot barely missed him, just grazing over the side of his head. You couldn’t help but think about the scar it would leave. You felt bad for him, always searching tirelessly for that lady’s little girl and getting hurt in the process.
The bullet graze was oddly the least of his worries, though. The bolt that pierced through his abdomen may not have caused too much internal bleeding, but it was already nasty and oozing with pus. Your daddy made comments about going through the antibiotics so fast, but you didn’t care. You couldn’t bare to see another person die, not after so many had gone.
Through the slivers of his nearly shut eyes, he followed you around the bed. He watched you check his bandages, clean his wounds, rewrap him carefully. He took note of your gentleness. Hershel, Patricia, Beth, Maggie — they all had careful hands. You, however, were the most gentle and tender person he’d ever been touched by. You were so afraid of hurting him, even when you thought he was out cold. He couldn’t help but admire your softness, even if it meant you might not be cut out for the world.
He’d take notice of you after that. He never really did before, honestly. You were just one of the farmer’s daughters he’d met in passing, nothing more. After he was back on his feet, though, you’d catch his eye often. You were young. Younger than Maggie, older than Beth. He knew he couldn’t look at you that way. You know, the way that encouraged lingering gazes and any excuse to brush a finger against yours. No, he instead opted to look at you as someone to protect.
He told himself if things went bad, if the farm went up in flames and the dead were chomping their jaws at every turn, he’d look for you. He’d make sure you made it out of there, because you deserved that. And so, he did. When the farm was burning to ash, when walkers plagued the land and took out so many of your people, he looked for you. He found you, after Carol was already on the back of his bike.
He would have thought you were a walker had he not recognized your frame from behind. You were dragging your feet slowly, traumatized and exhausted from the events of that night. He slowed his motorcycle beside you and called to you. “Get on.”
There wasn’t exactly much room, and you found yourself hugging tight around Carol to prevent you from slipping off the back. Carol had to hold Daryl tighter to avoid slipping off with you. And there he was, chauffeuring two women he’d allowed himself to care for to safety, or some semblance of such, at least.
That night was a blur. You lost a lot. Everything, really, except the remainder of your family and your newfound friends.
The winter on the road wasn’t much easier. You had all learned to operate as a team, tactical and careful. Silence became your best friend.
Sometimes you’d find yourself staring at people, reading them, appreciating them for who they were. Daryl wasn’t exempt from this habit. You’d always been an observer, reading people well. You could tell he was a tad softer to you and Carol than the others. Sometimes he’d make sure you got the canned food you liked if he could save it for you. Sometimes he’d just give you that knowing look and remind you that he understood, that you weren’t alone.
He wasn’t chatty, not even when the prison became home. Still, he made time for Carol and you sometimes. He’d bring back a little trinket for you or a flower for Carol. They were tokens of his appreciation to you both, two soft souls who reminded him he could be soft too.
When the prison fell, when he lost Beth, he had given up hope. After the Claimers, when he found Rick again, he reasoned it couldn’t be that bad. Things could finally look up for him and his family, maybe, one day.
Terminus seemed too good to be true, because it was. The one good thing, he was reunited with most of his family, and especially you. When he saw you in that train car, when he heard your voice, he couldn’t stop himself from embracing you. It wasn’t a long intimate hug, but it was tight and secure and you felt something when he did it. That was the beginning of something, but neither of you knew it yet.
After Beth died, morale was at an all time low. Days blended together without food or water. You barely had the strength to keep walking. Daryl was a shell of himself after the events at Grady. You took notice but you didn’t pry. You did, however, sneak off after him once. It was one of many times he’d break away from the group and meet them back on the road. You had begun to think he had the right idea. It was exhausting carrying on with everyone in the street, trying to keep your mind set on survival instead of the image of your little sisters brains splattering all over you.
You followed him quietly, albeit not quiet enough to go unnoticed. You didn’t have the skill he had when it came to stepping perfectly on the crunchy leaves to not make a sound. It peeved him a little, truth be told. He went out to think of Beth, to cry, to let himself feel something finally. When he found a suitable spot to sit, he did, with no regard for your presence. You sat too, against a tree just a few feet away from him.
You enjoyed the silence of the forest. The sounds of nature and critters around you was second nature at that point. You didn’t even register it. You did, however, notice the two shoelaces tied around Daryl’s pants at the bottom. They were different colors, dirty and worn, and the familiarity brought a constricting feeling to your chest and throat.
“Are those hers?” You croaked, barely above a whisper. He glanced down at them, and looked over to you. His eyes were glossy and sad. He nodded and pressed his lips together tight, tears aching to burst through the damn of numbness he’d confined them behind. You sniffled and let out a quiet sob. The weight of your pain was too much for his hardened shell to bare. It cracked under the pressure, knowing he failed you, knowing he failed Beth, knowing she was gone and she wouldn’t have been had they not separated. It was just another tragedy to bare the burden of, just another notch on his belt. He broke. He cried. So did you.
You were the first to pull yourself together. When you stood and walked over to him, he looked up at you. It was a pleading, helpless look. Maybe it was forgiveness or comfort or something in between that he was begging you for. You didn’t know. But you crouched down beside him and curled up right there on the forest floor, laying your head in his lap and sharing your grief with him. It was like you gave him some of your own sadness and took a little of his in return. It was a lot to shoulder, so you’d do it together.
He flattened his legs as his knees were originally up toward his chest. Your head fit perfectly on his thigh. It was comfortable. You didn’t look at him. Your eyes were far away and spaced out. He watched you, though. He took in all of you. The imperfections on your soft skin, the layer of sweat that seemed to permanently coat your face and enhance your radiance. He saw the way your hair stuck down to your clammy flesh, the flush of redness from heat and sunlight. He watched your breathe and familiarized himself with the pace of your breaths. He admired you, much like he always had, but somehow it was deeper than before.
He found himself placing a hand on your side, and the other found the top of your head. He didn’t rub you in delicate circles or anything too affectionate. Just touching you felt like such new territory, but he was there. The weight of his still hands on your body was enough. You felt as whole as you could feel given the circumstances.
“C’mon.” He’d whisper after maybe fifteen minutes. “Can’t let ‘em get too far ahead.”
You stood and offered him a hand, which he only took to be polite. He didn’t use you to hoist himself to his feet, he used his own strength.
At Alexandria, when you all slept on the floor of the living room, he was the last to shut down for the night. He picked a spot close to you. Close enough to hear your breathing, but not close enough to draw attention or touch you.
He searched for you when the wolves attacked. He looked for you when he came back from recruiting with Aaron to let you know he was back home and safe. He’d find you when you were missing from dinner. He skipped gatherings with you. He grew fond of you in a way he hadn’t for anyone else.
He didn’t kiss or compliment you. Hell, it wasn’t so romantic at all, really. He’d just get that fluttery feeling when you stood close enough to touch shoulders, or when you’d both look each other in the eye and communicate silently. You always understood each other.
Your company was peaceful and welcome. You were soft and kind, sure. But, you weren’t weak. The only thing you’d never done that others had to do was kill someone, and that time was sure to come when the situation called for it. That day would come sooner than either of you thought.
You went out on a hunt with him once. Your duties at Alexandria were fulfilled for the day and you decided to tag along for some much needed peace that could only be found when you were alone with him in the woods.
There weren’t many tracks to follow that day, so you spent a lot of the time just wandering with him. He normally would turn back when he realized there was little chance of finding food. This time, though, you were there, and he could tell you needed the escape, so he accompanied you in your stroll and pretended to search for signs of edible life.
A snap in the bushes drew both your attention in the direction it came from. Daryl’s crossbow raised, your knife in hand. You suspected either a walker or an animal, never a group of rugged men dressed in rags and muck.
The men circled you both, outnumbering you by three more. They reeked of dirt, sweat, and blood. They eyed you with a predatory passion, the kind that a woman feared coming from a man. As hard as you fought, you and Daryl were no match for them. Daryl managed to take one out, you managed to injure another, but the other three managed to overpower you both.
One held you both at gunpoint while the other two went to gather some wood for a fire. Whatever they had planned for you, it wouldn’t be good. They intended on keeping you both for the night, that much was clear, but past that you were uncertain. While the other two were away, and the man you injured was wallowing in pain, the guy keeping watch over the two of you with a rifle was making sure Daryl understood just how angry he was at him for killing one of theirs.
You’d scream and beg him to stop but the man beat Daryl down nonetheless. Eventually Daryl stopped fighting, the pain becoming overwhelming and the fear that retaliation would result in harm coming your way creeping at the back of his mind.
Still, you begged, and when the man didn’t stop, you scanned your surroundings for anything of use. Your eyes landed on a gray rock with jagged edges. You glanced over at the man who was still kicking Daryl into the ground, then down at Daryl, who was watching you with a knowing look. His eyes said everything that needed to be said. He was telling you to do it.
Without a second thought you rushed over to the stone and ran up behind the barbarian, slamming the rock into the back of his bald head. The man stumbled and grabbed his skull, but he hadn’t gone down. You gripped the rock tightly once again and smashed him in the temple. He fell to the ground with a thud, but he was still moving, and that meant you weren’t done yet. You couldn’t be.
You climbed over him and straddled him, raising the rock high above your head with both hands, and brought it down on his face. You weren’t really sure if it worked. You had never killed anyone before — let alone in such a brutal fashion — so you kept going. Hoisting the heavy stone up and bringing it back down as hard as you could. By the time you stopped to catch your breath, the man’s face was smashed in, non recognizable. Blood and brain matter were speckled all over you.
You looked at the rock in your hands with horror and dropped it to the ground, scrambling away from the body in disgust. You were panting, hyperventilating. When Daryl finally pushed his aching body off the ground he rushed over to you.
His face was bloody and bruised, but you were his main focus. He dragged you to your feet and pulled you back toward home, all the while replaying the events of the day in his mind.
He always knew he’d kill for you. Hell, he’d die for you. But he never thought you’d do the same for him. He didn’t think you could. He didn’t believe you should have had to. He was meant to protect you, to keep your pretty skin free from the gore. He may have failed at that, but he did learn something: you’d kill for him.
He didn’t forget that, either. Not when he helped you clean up that night, not when he relayed the events to Rick and Deanna, not when months passed and it was all in the past. He was reminded time and time again what you’d do for him. When you killed Saviors, when the war was over, when Rick died and you made sure to stay for days at a time with Daryl at his camp in the woods.
It took him years to realize it, but he thought maybe you could love him. He thought maybe he loved you too. He thought, no matter what, he’d always find you, and you him.
After the Whisperers were gone, at the Commonwealth, between caring for Judith and RJ, he’d find as much time for you as he could. And one night, at your small apartment, he’d stand outside the door, playing with his fingers and gnawing at his cheeks until he took a deep breath of courage and knocked.
You’d open the door and smile at him the way you always did. Soft and subtle, but real. You’d step to the side and let him in. He’d follow you to the kitchen where you’d pour a drink for you both. He’d take a sip, then two, maybe three. He’d wait for the buzz to set in enough to gain some confidence in himself. Then, he’d find himself staring at you, taking you in as everything that you were. You’d ask him, “What?” With an awkward giggle. You’d wonder if you had something on your face that he couldn’t look away from.
He’d shake his head and shrug, unsure if he could find the words to articulate what he was thinking or feeling. He never had a way with words.
He couldn’t find the right thing to say, he’d realize. But he did think he knew what to do instead.
So, in the midst of the thick silence that consumed you both, in your dimly lit kitchen, he’d step closer to you. You’d stare up at him. He’d get close enough that you could feel his soft breaths tickle the baby hairs on your forehead. He’d reach up, slowly, unsteady, until his hands found your jaw. Then, he’d lean down, and his lips would find yours.
Masterlist // Taglist
tags: @kissmeunicornbaobei @thesadcatt0 @clairealeehelsing @duckybird101 @tmntfixationxreader @ryoujoking @blackvelveteen1339 @yondus-girl @ladylincoln @sunshinebug9 @saylum559 @yoowhatthefuck @duffmckagansbandana @celtic-crossbow @virginsexgod69 @dazzling-roaring-20s @l0kilaufeys0n7 @uhnanix
Divider credits can be found on my masterlist!
#daryl dixon#daryl x reader#twd daryl#daryl x female reader#the walking dead daryl#daryl twd#daryl fanfiction#daryl dixon fanfic#daryl x you#daryl x y/n
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To the Flame chapter fifteen
Series masterlist
Pairing: Dark!Javier Peña x afab!reader
Chapter w/c: 3.4k
Chapter warnings: physical abuse, like hardcore abuse pls heed the warning, manipulation, mental abuse, toxic relationship, alcohol consumption, alcoholism, description of injury, choking and not in the sexy way, noncon piv sex, noncon fingering, panic attacks, emotional distress, anxiety attacks, this is fucked, please just go in with caution, like fr i don't think i can sum all the fucked up shit in this chapter up
Chapter Summary: Is this the end?
A/N: Hey to everyone who's stuck by this story! This chapter is very intense and I just want to put it here that everything that happens here (and in this story in general) is obviously not okay. I am here if anybody needs to talk about anything at all. Take care of yourselves ❤
*****
You barely see kindness from Javi for the next couple of weeks. It was pretty much the same as the usual, but now you have to spend most nights with a terrifying man you don’t know. Whereas your husband used to come home, tired from work but still kind, there’s now a stranger who seems to not care at all. It’s happened so fast—the switch—that you think you may be in a perpetual state of shock. It’s hard to comprehend, but the difference is there. Easy to see when you just open your eyes. The biggest you’ve seen is how his first move once he gets home, is always to the fridge or the liquor cabinet. By dinner, he’s usually at least a few beers or glasses of whiskey deep, and by bed, he’s drunk enough to be slurring his speech and forgetting whatever he says the second it’s out of his mouth.
A couple of nights, he comes home a bit later, and you suspect that he’s been to the bar on those days because he comes home already drunk off his ass. You don’t know what’s worse—watching the buildup or being hit with dread as soon as he walks through the door. There have been a couple days where comes home and doesn’t touch a drop, and you savor them. Those precious moments you get with him when you know he’s listening to you and giving you his time instead of the alcohol.You like to just pretend that everything is okay on those days, because blissful ignorance is better than ruining those good moments by thinking about the bad. Knowing you have days like that, though, makes it so much worse when you go to him, wanting to talk or simply be around him, and then feel the disappointment when it sinks in that he’s already gone.
It hurts every time he does it, because it makes you feel alone again. You’ve come to understand that he turns into a different person when he drinks, a person you don’t know. This new person—this stranger—likes to hurt you. He’s rageful and hateful and relentless and overpowering. You take a sip of your coffee from where you’re currently sitting at the kitchen table and shiver at the memory of just last night, when he’d fucked you deep into the mattress and spilled within minutes before collapsing on top of you, dead asleep. You keep telling yourself that you wanted it, but you know better. You’d told him no, and when he ignored you, you’d gotten scared. So you let it happen. It’s your own fault for being weak and you know it.
Besides, that voice in your pounding head challenges, what kind of a woman doesn’t want to make love to her husband? What kind of woman doesn’t want to feel her lover’s touch?
It shames you both ways. Not wanting him but letting him take what he wants anyway. You think that you might be doing it because fighting would make it real. If you just let it happen, he’s not taking anything from you. Maybe if you just let it happen, he’ll stop.
Lies, that other part of your brain spits at you. The more logical one.
You take another sip to smooth out the knot that’s formed in your throat. You pretend that it was never there. You’ve been doing a lot of that lately.
It seems like every day gets worse. He gets meaner and he takes more and more. You can tell that there’s something making him do it, something controlling the impulse to pick up that bottle and down the entire thing. You wish desperately that he would just talk to you, or that you at least knew what it was so that you could help, but you’re just as useless with that as you are everything else. You want to kill the stranger inside of him. You want to pull him out and gut him and hurt him in every way he’s hurt you. You just want your Javi back.
But even then, it wouldn’t be the same, and you’re painfully aware of that. It’s still awful and wrong, even now, in those moments he is there. When the Javi you know and love is dormant and there to hold you like nothing’s wrong. The worst part because you don’t know if he remembers everything he does to you. It doesn’t make sense, because you know he sees the bruises that cover your body some days, the way you have to limp when you’re too sore to walk right. You see the glint in his eye when he reaches for you and you flinch away. He can see the physical bruises just as well as your mental wounds, but he acts oblivious, like he’s not to blame for your pain.
You ignore the tear that slips down your cheek as you catch yourself caught up in it again. It’s so fucking hurtful and confusing. You want to pretend, too. Pretend that none of it ever happened, but you’re the one who has to wear the consequences, so you have no choice but to face them.
You asked him one morning, when you’d woken up and caught him sober as he was getting ready for work, why he’d hit you the night before. The night before when he’d stripped you and taken you to bed and covered your mouth with his hand when you began to sob. You didn’t mean to, but as you’d tried to get him to stop, you felt skin between your teeth. Just to see if he remembered, you asked him. You know you shouldn’t have, but you were so tired and the hole in your stomach was so large that you needed to know. Just to see if you could find an excuse to forgive him and close it up.
But Javi had stopped and watched you for a moment before his eyes darkened and he looked at you like he was angry at you. “You fucking bit me. What did you think was going to happen?”
You’d just laid back down and let the tears ease you back to sleep. He knows what he does. You know he does. He just doesn’t care. But why? Why doesn’t he care? Regret it? Feel sorry? What happened?
You’ve become numb with each day that passes, more accepting of the fact that you need to stop letting your emotions control you. The anger, the fear, the hatred. You can still feel it lingering somewhere deep inside of you, waiting for the right moment to pounce, but you’re content to just ignore it for now. Ignore everything that makes you question why. It’s like a tightness around your heart, a shield that went up without your permission. And maybe it’s for the best, but you wish it would drop at least a little, because you feel like you haven’t been able to be yourself around Javi in days. You can tell he sees it, too. But he never says anything. Does he even care that you’re changing, that he’s the one who’s changed you?
You set your now-cold coffee down and look out the window. How the fuck did you get here? You’re so tired of your every day being this. Alone in the apartment, and then scared when you’re not. Sometimes, you don’t know what’s worse. There’s days when you get the idea to just leave, but you know better. You can’t. Your husband is still here, somewhere. You can’t leave him because it would break your heart completely, and not being around him at all is something you can’t handle. And even if he wasn’t, that man who’s replaced him would find you. You know it in your gut that he would.
You let out a shaky sigh, brush away your tears, and stand up. At least you have things to do today instead of sitting in silence. As far as you know, Steve and Connie are still coming over Sunday night for dinner. The house isn’t too messy, since you usually start your days with tidying up the mess from the night before, but there are things that can be cleaned more thoroughly. The kitchen needs to be scrubbed, the living room tidied.
Javi had woken you up before he left this morning and asked what you plan on making. He’s going to bring the ingredients home tonight so that everything will be ready for you to start tomorrow. You’re actually excited about that. Not just about seeing people again, but also about putting together an elaborate meal. Recently, it’s been whatever kind of soups or sandwich stuff that Javi brings home for you to make. It’s been too long since you made something more complex than a casserole.
You bring your mug to the sink and start with that, rinsing it and placing it on the side with the rest of the dirty dishes. You take one look at the massive pile and decide you’ll do that last. You absolutely despise doing the dishes, Besides, leaving it for last will be more rewarding once the pile is gone and everything is officially spotless.
You start instead with the living room, and then the bathroom, and then the bedroom. It takes all day, but you’re proud of the result by the time you’re ready for the kitchen. It all looks as good as the first time you cleaned it, not a speck of dust in sight, everything in its rightful place. You’re proud of yourself, and catch yourself genuinely smiling as you make your way to the dishes.
You’re in the kitchen, filling up the sink with water, when he gets home. Keys rattle in the door, making you jump in surprise. It’s only then that you notice it’s gone dark outside. Your eyes flick up to the clock, and your stomach churns when you see the time. It’s almost 12:00am. It shouldn’t take that long to go to the grocery store. You know immediately where he’s been. Your body goes taught as you hear the door shut behind him. He doesn’t announce himself, but you can hear his heavy footsteps as he walks through the house to get to you. They sound wrong, like he’s stumbling.
Your hands begin to shake as you push the faucet to stop the running water and wipe them down on your shirt. You feel more than see Javi’s broad form stop in the doorway beside you, and you contemplate greeting him, but you don’t know how his day’s been so you don’t want to start anything if he wants silence.
You pick up one of the plates from the pile beside the sink and dunk it slowly into the water before pouring a bit of soap on it, continuing to avoid eye contact with your husband. The gentle scrub of the sponge against the ceramic and the occasional drip of excess water is the only sound to be heard throughout the house.
You can feel his eyes on you, and you have to physically resist the urge to squirm beneath his heavy gaze. You just try to keep your breathing steady and focus on your task.
“Not going to ask me how my day was?” Javi’s voice is hard. Cold. It makes you shiver. Wrong choice, then.
“How was your day?” Your voice in contrast is meek even as you look at him and flash a smile. So small it makes you want to slap yourself. You just blink and keep washing the plate in your hands.
Javi sighs loudly as he leans against the door frame, as if thinking it over. “How was your day, sweetheart?” He starts to walk toward you, coming up behind you and putting his hands on your waist, ducking down a bit to press his lips to your neck.
“It was fine,” you say, though there’s a pang of hurt as you wish so badly that he was asking genuinely. That he wanted to talk to you, wanted to be here with you.
He nods against you, his hands traveling down to your waistband. You squirm a bit but try to hold still in hopes that he’ll just stop. “Just fine, hm? I can make it better.” Your eyes shut. Of course he wouldn’t.
“No, thank you, my day was good. I’m just tired.” You start to push his hands off of you, but he doesn’t allow it.
“Well, I didn’t have a very good day,” he counters. “I was looking forward to coming home and fucking my sweet, pretty little wife, ‘n’ then she tells me she doesn’t want me.”
Irritation prickles at your neck, warring with the fear that’s made a home there already. “That’s not what I said, Javi, and you know it.”
“Oh, but it is.” He pulls you tighter, slipping one hand down your shorts to feel your panties. You whimper, trying to get out of his grasp. “I’ve seen the way you look at me, baby. Fucking scared. disgusted”
You freeze against him.
“I don’t want you to be scared, sweetheart,” he coos. He brings the hand that’s not cupping your pussy up to your cheek, brushing away a tear with his thumb. “But your tears are so fucking sweet that I just can’t help myself sometimes.”
You shake as he slowly brings his thumb up to your lips, pressing harder and harder until you’re forced to let him in and taste the salty drop on your tongue.
“I do it for you, baby. You know it’s all for your own good.” He makes your head nod up and down with the hand grasping your chin. “Just gotta keep you safe.”
He pulls his thumb from your mouth, a quiet sob leaving you as he does so. He grasps your hip again and grinds your ass into his erection. “And you don’t even care to show your thanks.” He tuts, and even the mock disappointment in his tone makes you want to crumble and cry. “Thought you were better ‘n that, sweetheart.”
You’re gasping in quiet and shallow breaths at this point, your face heated with shame. You know it’s not him talking, but you can’t help but hate yourself for what he’s telling you. You’re a disappointment. He thought you were better. You’re a screwup to him just like you are for everyone else. The voices and taunts swirl around in your head until you’re so overwhelmed that you have to close your eyes to settle them.
“Stop!” The ferocity in your voice surprises even you. The anger and hurt revealed is raw and visceral, out in the open for him to catch a glimpse of what you’re feeling inside. “Get your hands off me, Javi.”
He chuckles darkly into your hair, his hand now coming to your throat. You swallow thickly and stiffen as he loosely wraps it around your neck, holding you close to him. He doesn’t apply pressure, but it’s enough to make you bite your tongue to stifle anything else that might want to slip out.
“I don’t think you’re really in a position to be demanding things, baby,” he says the words gently. “Why don’t you try asking nicely.”
You blink, and all you can think is that you’re so fucking tired. “Please let me go,” you give in and whisper.
“What was that?” His hand tightens ever so slightly, and then slackens again. You eye his booted foot next to yours, and get the idea to stomp on it, but you know why that’s not a good idea. You speak up.
“I said, please let me—”
He tightens his grip, crushing your windpipe as he holds to the point where you can’t draw a breath. “Thought I fuckin’ told you who was in charge,” his voice comes to your ringing ears. He keeps still as you struggle, even though you’re trying your hardest not to. “Don’t make me have to remind you, sweetheart. I don’t like to see you hurt, but I can’t promise anything if you keep acting so high and fucking mighty.”
He lets you go, and you practically collapse against him. He wraps his arms around you and you lose it.
“Leave me alone, you fucking bastard!” You scream at him with the first breath you can manage, spinning around and backing away as you push and hit at him, trying to get his arms off of you. If you can just get away, maybe you can lock yourself in the bedroom and wait until he’s taken his anger out on something else. You don’t feel bad at all as you claw at him. You manage to get an arm loose and you use it to land a slap to his face. His hold on you loosens the slightest bit, and you use the chance to scramble away even as your stomach drops as you realize what you just did.
You should have known better. It all happens in slow motion as your head comes into contact with the lip of the counter, right by the sink. He’s forced you back around and is now folded over you, using one hand to shove your shorts down and the other to pin the back of your neck down. “Fucking bitch!” he yells into your ear, and you know that you just made this worlds worse for yourself.
You heave wet sobs as he brings his fingers to your bare cunt and roughly shoves two inside, your hips bucking as you try to get away. You’re yelling something as well, something that sounds a lot like ‘stop’, over and over again.
You can’t focus on whatever words are spilling from his mouth now, only on the ringing on your ears and the water sloshing around in the sink only about an inch away from you. A jolt of deeper fear runs through you as you catch the gleam of it, and you scream and cry louder and struggle even harder, trying to do something, anything, before Javi gets the idea that just flashed through your head.
Maybe it was your own fault with all the screaming, or maybe he saw it at the same time you did, but his hand on your neck starts to move higher, until it’s on the back of your head. You resist as much as you can, not even feeling his defiling fingers anymore as your nose touches the soapy water and pieces of your hair grow heavy as they soak it up. You can tell the second you’re going to lose the fight, and you realize that you’ve never been so terrified in your life.
Between the sobs and screams and tears, you don’t get much of a breath before you’re being submerged. Your body flails wildly, and you think in that second that you’re going to die. He’s going to kill you. The terror running through your body is indescribable. You just want to scream but you can’t. You want to close your eyes and go before you lose the small breath you have and water floods your lungs. It feels like a nightmare, like it’s not real, can’t be happening to you. But it is, and you don’t understand why. What the fuck did you do to deserve this?
You push and push up with all your might, using your hands against the counter and your entire body to try to lift your head, but he keeps his hand on top, not letting you breathe the surface no matter what. You feel so pathetic as your body shakes with silent cries that you’re forced to hold in through the panic.
You almost forget about everything else until you feel his cock push inside of you, and you scream. You forget, and upon the burning sensation as he forces himself into you, you open your mouth and take in gulps of water. Your body surges with pain and fear as the burn spreads up to your chest and then to the rest of your body.
This is the end, this is the end, this is the end.
Everything you’ve ever known will be gone. Your family probably won’t even know what happened, won’t care. Nobody will. Maybe Javi will eventually, if he ever comes back. Your vision starts to go black, and your body slackens, your hands falling uselessly as you lose the energy to fight. He’s going to hate himself, you realize. And that thought may hurt you most of all. He’s going to be alone, just like you. You won’t be there to help him. Your Javi is going to be devastated.
That’s the last thing through your mind as your consciousness fades to black.
*****
The end.
******
LMAO JK
Next chapter will be up next Friday 😘
Series taglist: @corazondebeskar @yorksgirl @nerdieforpedro @axshadows @melaninmommy
@survivingandenduring @kewwrites @oldenoughtoknowbettersstuff @missladym1981 @sofiparallel
@koshkaj-blog @sheepdogchick3 @movievillainess721 @jessie8605 @casa-boiardi
@justlulu @iamsherlocked-1998 @hjzghi-blog @glitterymanboy @letstalkaboutshtufff
@untamedheart81
#pedro pascal#fan fiction#ao3#pedro pascal smut#smut#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal fanfiction#javier pena fic#javier pena x reader#javier pena fanfiction#javier pena x you#javier pena narcos#javier pena smut#narcos fanfiction#narcos smut#javier peña#javier peña x reader#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal fandom#pedro pascal character fanfic#ppcu fanfiction#dark pedro pascal#dark fic#dead dove do not eat
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🎂 Birthday Boy [Zoro x Sanji x Reader] - Part 1
🔞 MINORS DNI 🔞
You always get Sanji the best birthday gifts, and sometimes that extends to Zoro too.
CW: (for entire series) Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus, Pegging, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Double Penetration, Threesome - F/M/M, Voyeurism, Praise Kink, Begging, Everyone is bisexual cos I say so, Rimming, Pet Play, AFAB reader
WC: (for entire series) 6240
Masterlist || AO3
You'd been with Sanji for a few years now, and you knew him inside and out. Or at least you thought you did. He was entirely devoted to you, hanging on your every word, always by your side, always wrapping his arms around you and covering you in kisses whenever the slightest opportunity allowed.
But when he drank you couldn't help but notice the way his attention turned. How he would lay between your legs, drinking and smoking, his head resting against you as you stroked his hair gently, and his free hand idly rubbing your thigh. And yet, his head would move as he followed the movements of a certain green-haired man. And how on those nights he seemed particularly pliable, wanting you to assert yourself over him, to own him and take control.
About a year into the relationship you'd gone to an adult store together. Hand in hand you sought out various items to spice up your nights; blindfolds, silken ropes, small leather straps designed to redden the skin. But as you perused the wares you noticed how his eyes wandered to a bright green dildo, displayed on a mannequin held firmly in place by a harness. He was curious, but didn't have the courage to ask you.
So you'd bought it in secret, placing it in a gift box amongst tissue paper and tying it with a green satin bow. When he opened it on his birthday, his face flushed red and his hand covered his mouth to muffle a gasp, but he wouldn't take his eyes away from it. You'd taken great care to talk to the sales clerk, asking advice on how best to use it and buying a lubricant she'd recommended for use with it.
He wouldn't look at you, he wasn't brave enough, so instead you'd taken his hand, gently placing it on the dildo and letting him grow familiar, while your other hand laid gently on his groin, feeling the way he hardened and confirming that you'd been right in your assumptions.
“It's okay Sanji,” you whispered lovingly, “you don't have to be embarrassed. I just want to make you feel good. Do you think maybe I could do that with this?” You said, as you guided his hand to stroke the dildo, while your other hand stroked his own cock gently through the fabric of his pants.
He finally found the courage to look at you. All he managed to say was a nervous “yes, please”.
You pressed him back onto the bed and kissed him lovingly as you straddled him. Your hands unbuttoned his shirt and pushed it to the side to reveal his muscular torso. He whimpered as you ran kisses over his jaw and down his neck, gently sucking and nipping at his skin. Your mouth found his nipple and your tongue swirled around it, and he moaned softly, his hand gently stroking your hair while the other played with his untouched nipple. You were sure to give it some care before you moved further down, pressing kisses all along the center of his stomach.
His pants were tight as you unbuckled his belt, and he lifted his hips as you slid down his pants and underwear. His hard cock greeted you, eager for your attention, and you took it in your mouth, wrapping your hand around the base to service what your mouth couldn't reach. Your other hand gently ran circles around his asshole, testing the waters, while he moaned at the unfamiliar sensation.
“Sanji,” you cooed, looking up at him from between his legs, “may I enter you?”
He nodded shyly and rested his head back on the pillow, too nervous to watch, as he spread his legs anxiously for you. You put two fingers in your mouth, coating them slick with your saliva, before returning them to his needy asshole. You gently slid one in, moving slowly as he adjusted to you, letting out a deep groan.
You pumped gently, returning your mouth to his cock, and as he stretched around your finger you carefully slid in the second. He grunted as it entered him, and his hips jolted slightly, making his cock thrust deeper into your mouth. You smirked as you pleasured him, matching the timing of your fingers to the movements of your head as you went down on him.
You didn't want to take him too far like this though, that would ruin the birthday present. So you pulled your mouth away from him, removing your fingers from his ass as he whined.
“Hush my love,” you said, slipping off your own clothes and revealing that you were already wearing a harness around your hips. “I'll give you what you want, be patient”.
He whimpered as he watched you take the dildo from the box and slide it into your mouth, lubricating it with your saliva. Then you unbuckled a loop on the harness so you could slide the dildo into the holder, rebuckling it and securing it tightly.
Unknown to him, the harness also held a second dildo, a smaller one with a pulsating feature that had been deep inside you for the last few hours while you had waited to give him his gift. Your pussy was slick around it, and every movement made it press into you. You switched on the pulsating feature, it was connected to the main base and would send a pulse whenever the large dildo was stroked. Needless to say this setup cost a fair amount, Sanji clearly had expensive tastes when he had eyed it up in the store, not that he knew that. Anything for your birthday boy though, you'd thought to yourself when you purchased it.
He held his breath as you climbed back on to the bed, bringing a small bottle of lubricant with you. You settled yourself between his legs and squirted a generous amount onto the dildo, shuddering as you stroked it to spread it out and the movement was translated inside you. You squeezed the bottle over his ass and let the lubricant drip over his hole, fingering him gently again to make sure he was completely slick. You didn't want to take any chances of hurting him and scaring him away from something you knew he was curious about.
You kissed him softly as you lined the dildo up with his entrance. He whimpered quietly in anticipation as the head pressed against his hole. You sat back, kneeling between his legs and looking at his sky blue eyes, and he gave you a quiet nod of consent before letting his head fall back again and biting his lip.
You slid the dildo inside him gently. You went slowly, only a little at a time, giving him time to adjust. He moaned quietly and balled the sheets up in his hands as they lay either side of him. As you bottomed out you felt a pulse inside you and moaned in unison with him. You paused, letting him grow familiar with this new feeling.
“Are you okay my love?” you asked him, taking his hard cock in your hand and stroking it gently, “is this okay?"
“Y-yes,” he stuttered, “it feels- it feels good.”
You were relieved to hear those words, worried that he would change his mind now that you were deep inside him. Well, not you really, but the way the dildo inside your pussy throbbed as it gently pulsed, you felt like it really was you.
“Will you..” he whispered, “will you fuck me?”
He looked at you with two pleading eyes, glazed over with love and need, and you cupped his cheek gently with your free hand, pressing your thumb to his mouth and letting him suck on it. The way he looked at you sent a shiver down your spine, how could anyone be so alluring?
You let go of his face and his cock, and held his hips firmly as you began to rock back and forth. This was a new motion for you, and it took a bit to find a rhythm that reminded you of the way he usually fucked you, you figured if that made you feel good that maybe it could make him feel good too.
The dildo inside you gave a harsh pulse with every thrust, urging you to do it again and again. He moaned and held the sheets tight, his legs spreading wider for you as you fucked him deep and slow. As he adjusted you slowly increased your pace, your own need stirring inside you.
“H-harder,” he pleaded.
You quickened your rhythm, hovering over him with a arm either side to support yourself as he watched you face contort, your own pleasure spiking as you fucked him harder. He wrapped his arms around you, his nails digging into your back. The way he moaned your name and writhed underneath you, coupled with the pulsing inside your pussy, made you feel high, your climax approaching. He saw the way you weakened, knowing you were close, and slid a hand between your bodies to stroke himself as his own peak approached.
His moans increased in volume and pace, as did your own, and he spilled out your name along with a string of swears between heavy breaths. You sat back on your heels, wanting to watch him touch himself and whine as you fucked him.
“[Y/n], please,” he cried out, “harder, I'm- I'm so close”
Your movements became frantic, pumping him as hard as you could, crying out as the pulsing inside you brought you to your peak and you squirted over the dildo that was hidden deep inside you. He watched you cum, and the way you called out his name brought him to the edge. He came hard, strings of semen shooting out from his pretty cock and painting his abdomen as he panted and cried out that he loved you.
You fell against him, breathing heavily as his ejaculate transferred to your own abdomen, making sticky strings between your bodies. You pulled out of him slowly and he whined at the lack of fullness. Finally he understood what he felt like to be left empty, maybe next time he was inside you he would stay in for longer.
You rolled off of him, laying on your back beside him, catching your breath as your orgasm faded. It had not gone unnoticed by Sanji, who was a little confused.
“How-” he panted, “how did you, how did you make yourself cum?”
You chuckled and raised yourself on your knees beside him, unbuckling the harness and sliding the hidden dildo out of yourself. He watched hungrily as you removed it, your slick glistening on it. Not wanting to waste a good thing he took it from you and sucked it, making a show of swirling his tongue around it, not wanting to waste a single drop of you.
You gasped and smacked his arm playfully. “Dirty boy!” you exclaimed, smiling coyly at him.
“Waste not, want not” he replied after the dildo left his mouth with a pop, smirking at you.
You laughed and gave him a chaste kiss, tasting yourself on his lips. “My good boy,” you whispered. He practically purred at you.
“Happy birthday my love” you cooed. He sighed and laid back, stroking your hair and smiling contently.
NEXT PART ➡️
#one piece fanfiction#one piece smut#sanji x reader#zoro x reader#zosan#roronoa zoro#black leg sanji
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sorry if this is silly to ask but where did the joe bisexual talk come from?
not trying to start speculation or some shit i am just confused 😭 ik pete is the one sort of semi unconfirmed bi one but now i recently notice joe also being called bi…is it a bit? or part of a bit but also at the same time are people realizing joe has said stuff that may indicate hes queer or smth… SORRY this is stupid to ask i am just dumb
NOT SILLY TO ASK AT ALL lol it’s largely like. lighthearted based on fruity things he has said and done and i’ve compiled some things that people point out under the cut (this isn’t like meant to be real trutherism for joe being bisexual obviously it’s up to whatever the fuck he says and also not that it actually matters anyways since he’s been with one person for the last 20 years lol)
this post in particular is one i think about a lot because it’s a neat little compilation of a lot of his fruity moments lol. NEVER BEATING THE ALLEGATIONS I FEAR
having sex with multiple wo(men)
dude crushes…
youtube
looking for another moustache to kiss his moustache…in the same interview that he says being gay is fantastic? inch resting…
kissing men…(first pic iykyk)
also talking VERY enthusiastically about kissing patrick in particular lol
lewd gestures with a bottle (my gifs from here wink wonk self promo)
and then also people have dreamt about joe coming out as bi so yknow. maybe prophetic dreams, i made this in reply to one of them for funsies
lastly, since i can’t put too many clips here, my fobtwt friend richie has a great thread on joe fruity moments here.
this isn’t absolutely everything but it’s all the examples that come to mind lol
like i said this is not meant to be trutherism bc obviously it’s up to joe to determine what he is lol but i think much of his conduct points to being a kinsey 1.5 or 2 at least 😭 i always think about that post someone made (i dont rmr who rn…) that said that fob should bring back m&gs so they can hand out pamphlets on bisexuality to the guys. anyways no one be mad at me for this it’s all kind of lh and jokes and innocent etc 😇
#asks#anonymous#i am normal and it’s fine#i realized i didn’t read this full ask carefully bc you said what i said as one of the options#to answer ur question: its both kind of a bit but also like. in reality or smth
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this is a bit of an obscure ask but could you do some hcs for crushing on holm? i like to imagine he's surprisingly charming despite being so quiet and laid back... preferably with a reader who's the total opposite of him (loud, feisty, etc.)
spirit of pining
…ft! holm kranom x gn! reader
…tags! pining, fluff, confession, pre-relationship, relationship study, banter
…word count! 1152
…notes! i’m glad i can feed the holm fans on this fine day. writing for side characters truly is the activity of all time
Unless you’re somehow extremely subtle about your feelings, Holm probably knows or at least has an inkling.
Even though he finds you pretty interesting himself, he doesn’t make much of a move immediately. He tends to prefer taking it easy and not rushing things, so he’d instead just focus on spending time with you, letting things develop gradually and finding out more about you.
If you’re in the same party as him, you can expect a lot of light conversation and banter to fill the time while exploring the dungeon. Everyone else has sort of picked up on how you two always walk next to each other, and it’s pretty much become common practice during your explorations.
“You’d think after this long, they’d learn…..”
This probably shouldn’t have been funny to you, considering that up ahead, Kabru was struggling to yank his leg free from the grasp of a man-eating plant. Nonetheless, laughter caught in your throat as you approached the scene with Holm by your side. This situation didn’t give off much urgency at all, but you thought it was best not to dawdle.
“Quit it, that’s not nice!” Attempting to pout at him only resulted in an awkward expression between laughing and frowning, which only seemed to amuse him further. “Let’s go, before the poor guy is hanging upside down.”
Holm was even relaxed enough to maintain his half-lidded smile and loose grip on his staff through all of this. “I suppose you’re right… otherwise Kuro will get thorns up his nose again.”
Holm is generally a pretty lax guy, but he does his best to assist you whenever possible. This goes for all of his teammates, of course, but it’s more enjoyable to spend time with you, so he has a slight bias.
Sometimes he’s even able to push through his tendency to freeze up if you’re in desperate need of assistance during a fight, it’s pretty sweet.
If you don’t know as much magic as he does, he’ll be happy to teach you! (Fun fact, gnome-style magic is generally recommended for tallmen to learn as opposed to elf-style magic because of its lower mana cost!) He also may help you commune with spirits as well, such as his undine!
Speaking of Marillier, I think it would be pretty funny if she took a liking to you because her guardian does, too. Perhaps the spirit even picks up on his feelings.
Your cheek was now soaking wet from the glob of water that was almost nudging itself against your face, but you couldn't find it in you to be upset, finding the behavior rather cute. In fact, it roused curiosity in you more than anything.
After a few moments of searching, your gaze landed on the undine’s guardian, who was currently observing you with equal parts endearment and surprise.
“It seems like she likes you a lot.” The corners of his mouth perked up ever so slightly, a subtle change that clued you into his mood. “That’s pretty rare — she’s usually shy around others. Maybe it’s because I let you feed her before?”
A playful grin washed over your face. “Or maybe she’s taking after you! You know, because I’m your favorite and all!”
The gnome knew very well you were just teasing, so he merely responded with a chuckle and an utterance of “Sure, let’s go with that.”
What he didn’t tell you is that spirits do tend to be very intuitive, and pick up on the emotions of those around them… but he’d rather not dwell on that possibility at the moment.
A lot of time is also spent with you and thinking about you outside of dungeon work, too, which sets you apart from the rest of his traveling companions.
I imagine he even takes the time to write to his sister about you, only for her to write back that Kabru had long since informed her of your whole mutual pining deal. The man would be absolutely mortified about it.
If you’re not the type to take initiative, he’ll definitely confess eventually, but if you’re a more hold type, he’d likely let you tell him about your feelings at your own pace. He may find it cute to see you be so earnest, but he isn’t motivated purely by self interest — Holm is actually a pretty empathetic guy, and just really doesn’t want to rush you. After all, he hates having lots of pressure put on him, so he’d do his best not to do the same to you.
It was during a stargazing session that you’d told him.
He enjoyed these evening outings with you, and observing the sky was a common activity that you’d partake in together. Sometimes, he’d talk about the practical use of constellations, or even the air spirits that played a vital part in weather patterns, but often, mutual silence was just as fulfilling.
The intense stare you’d been giving him for the last few minutes was hard not to notice, if he was being honest, but you seemed not to know that he was already aware of your gaze, so he let it be. If you had something to say to him, you’d say it when you were ready.
“Can I ask you something?”
Ah, there it was. Holm took his sweet time turning his head to look at you. It’s not like you were going anywhere, after all. At least, if his desire to stay with you was reciprocated.
“Mhm, what is it?” The way you fidgeted with your clothes left him nothing short of charmed. Your eagerness truly was something to be admired… and admired, and admired some more.
Under the canopy of stars, there was little light to be found, making it a bit hard to see your face clearly. The movements of your lips were clear enough, though. “Well, I was just wondering if we could try going out again sometime… in more of a date-ish setting?”
The clumsy phrasing didn’t stop him from smiling warmly at your words. He wasn’t surprised or startled at all, but he had visibly softened.
“Of course, I thought you’d never ask.”
Your silhouetted form jolted sharply at his response. “You— you knew I would…?”
“Well, I had an inkling.” Far more than an inkling, really, but he didn’t want to embarrass you that much, as amusing as it was. To soften the blow, he added, “Or maybe it was just my wishful thinking. I feel the same, after all.”
“So it’s a yes?”
Even in darkness, those eyes of yours were as bright as the stars. How could he deny anything you said, really.
“Mhm,” he nodded in response. “Though, let’s keep this to ourselves, alright? Knowing the others, Mickbell probably started a betting pool on when we’d start dating. And he’ll probably throw a fit when Kabru ends up inevitably winning, so let’s delay that a while.”
#ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ fallow’s works!#dungeon meshi#dungeon meshi x reader#dungeon meshi imagines#delicious in dungeon#delicious in dungeon x reader#delicious in dungeon imagines#holm kranom#holm dungeon meshi#holm kranom x reader
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So Long London - Full Lyric Analysis
My Gaylor/Kaylor interpretation at a glance: Taylor uses the bearding narrative of her breakup with Joe as an allegory to talk about her reluctant decision to “break up” with her fans/kill off her public persona in the process of coming out.
The Joe bearding narrative was likely created for this very purpose - an "ex" who didn't allow her to "bejeweled" (be her whole self), who she tried to make it work with, tried to change herself for, before realizing she couldn't keep sacrificing her wellbeing, mental and otherwise. Read through this lens, this song is devastating, so prepare yourselves emotionally, maybe have tissues on hand.
I interpret a number of the "break up" songs on this album (almost all of them) as being about her reaching the end of her rope with being in the closet and trying to slowly change her fan's attitude towards her queerness. So many of these songs imply that she has hit her breaking point, and the metaphor of a failing romantic relationship is the perfect vehicle to express this shift.
I believe this precedent exists in her work, and for this particular chapter, was established with "You're losing me".
This is also one of a few songs on the album that conceptualize her fame (as obtained with her public, hetero persona) as a place. In this song, that place is represented by London (hence, "so long, London"). In Florida!!! she may be running away to Florida from this place, (after she comes out and needs to escape the backlash). In "I hate it here", she dreams of escaping this place, and imagines two other locales within the lore of her songs - "secret gardens", a probable parallel to Betty's garden and the "garden gates" in Cruel Summer, as well as the "lunar valleys" referencing the galactic landscape established in Down Bad.
Lets get into it!
Verse 1
“Saw in my mind fairy lights in the mist/kept calm and carried the weight of the rift/pulled him in tighter each time he was drifting away/my spine split from carrying us up the hill/wet through my clothes, wary bones caught the chill/stopped trying to make him laugh/stopped trying to drill the safe”
In this first verse, Taylor introduces the idea of her fans being like a partner who isn’t present in the relationship, and more importantly, a partner that is ultimately rejecting her true self.
“Fairy lights in the mist” - Taylor has used daylight/light images to represent the end of her closeting/her coming out for at least 5 years. Here she sees small pinpricks of light amongst darkness and the classic metaphor for hiding/confusion, etc - mist. She is saying that in the past she had hope, she saw a possible path forward to coming out while also keeping all of her fans.
“Kept calm and carried the weight of rift/pulled him in tighter each time he was drifting away” - Taylor reflects on her years of hoping that she could slowly introduce her fans the idea that she is not straight, then come out with minimal rupture in her relationship with her fans. She tried to keep the faith and looked past a lot of bad behavior on the part of some of her fans, convinced that she could make them see her and that their love for her would extend past their need for her being the persona they have grown attached to.
“Stopped trying to make him laugh/stopped trying to drill the safe” - ultimately, she gave up, having been rejected too many times - ignored when she clearly signaled her gayness and the masses of her fans just refused to acknowledge it. Beyond refusing to acknowledge it, they bullied those that did see it, demonstrating to her how reviling they found the idea that she might be queer. “Drill the safe” is a metaphor for trying to force something that will never happen, she is realizing she needs to let go of something that isn’t for her.
Chorus
“How much sad did you think I had/did you think I had in me/oh the tragedy/so long London/ you’ll find someone”
Taylor now must ask her fans, how long did you expect me to sacrifice my own happiness while you continue to ignore my pleas for you to see me?
“You’ll find someone” = you’ll find another idol/para social relationship to obsess over, identify with, etc. This is a reference to Dear Reader, when she sang “you should find another guiding light.” In that song, Taylor warned fans that she is not who they think she is ("you wouldn't take my word for it if you knew who was talking"), that the idea they have of her life is constructed, and strongly lamented her life choices, essentially telling fans they shouldn't look to her for life advice, because she is lonely and miserable. Here, the reference not only underscores the idea that they don't know her, but also that she is making the choice for them to "find someone" else, because she is choosing to come out of hiding, and in so doing, is also choosing to leave behind the misery that made her write Dear Reader in the first place.
Verse 2
“Didn’t opt in to be your odd man out/I founded the club she’s heard great things about/ I left all I knew/you left me in the house by the heath/I stopped cpr after all it’s no use/the spirit was gone, we would never come to/ and I’m pissed off you let me give you all that youth for free.”
I made a post about the "Heath" reference that you can read here. Please note the reblog of it that I added an addendum to about the Heath being a park in London. Heath was a doctor that practiced conversion therapy, meaning that her fans "left her at home" with someone trying to change her. By ignoring her signaling, they told her they didn't want the real her, which kept her in the closet, and I fear kept her more vulnerable to those who may have tried to manipulate her into trying to change herself, or deny her true self even behind closed doors.
"I stopped cpr after all its no use/the spirit was gone we would never come to" - again Taylor is using the of a failed romantic relationship to express her lost hope in salvaging the corners of her kingdom that ultimately won't accept her when she comes out. This is also an example of the frequent gothic/death related imagery Taylor uses on this album, a theme consistent with the idea that something is ending, that she is killing off her public persona.
"and I'm pissed off that you let me give you all that youth for free" Taylor has spent so many years choosing her fans and her current carrer path over the full expression of her life and happiness. Again, she had hope that the people who have given her endless validation and effusive praise for years would accept her for who she is. She is realizing that the love between her and at least some of her fans was conditional, and given what we know of how much her fans have meant to her over the course of her career, this was likely a devastating wake up call that took years for her to accept - undoubtedly a huge factor in her seemingly delaying her coming out so many times.
"So long London/Stitches undone/two graves, one gun/I’ll find someone”
Taylor has said her fans are her longest relationship; the imagery in this song reflects the idea that this is a break up with someone she has tried with over and over again. So she undoes the “stitches” that link her to them. This line references her song Glitch on Midnights, “fasten myself to you with a stitch” symbolizing being bonded with a romantic partner (which represent a portion of her fans in this song).
"Two graves one gun" is likely a reference to burying her public persona self, and the second grave could represent her fans (a parallel to the "cheating husband" in "Florida!!!"?) or it could be a shrouded suicidal thought - the second grave being her private persona - both selves being killed off. This lyric is one of my favorites in this song but I don't have a strong conviction on who the second grave is, I'm very open to others' thoughts...
Bridge
“And you say I abandoned the ship/but I was going down with it/my white knuckle dying grip/holding tight to your quiet resentment/and my friends said it isn't right to be scared/every day of a love affair/every breath feels like rarest air/ when you're not sure if he wants to be there/So how much sad did you think I had, did you think I had in me/How much tragedy/Just how low did you think I'd go/Before I'd self implode/before I had to go be free"
"And you say I abandoned the ship...white knuckle dying grip" Taylor emphasizes her wish for things to be different with this lyric, clinging to her ship as it sinks. We all saw her try to right the ship, she's finally choosing to let go and swim to safety (a nautical parrallel to the manuscript's "my trip to your shores"?).
“My friends said it isn’t right to be scared everyday of a love affair…if you’re not sure he wants to be there”
Similar to when someone is in a bad romantic relationship, i imagine her friends expressed their concern that her relationship with her fans is unhealthy. Although many of her friends are high achievers themselves, Taylor’s success is in another league (monster on the hill) and they would likely have expressed their hope that she can slow down and accept a slightly less monumental career in the interest of her mental health.
“How much sad did you think I had/did you think I had in me/Just how low did you think I’d go?” “before I self implode/before I have yo go be free”
Taylor imagines arguing with her fans in the throes of the break up, and in this passage it becomes clear that she is convinced they know the truth but are refusing to acknowledge it. That they allowed her to keep faking her straight persona for their sake. That she was a woman pushed to her limits by a partner (fans) who knew they were running her ragged, a partner that didn’t in fact love her, but loved what she could do for them.
So she asks them, how long did you think I could keep doing this before it broke me? How long did you think I would go along with this, be willing to sacrifice for you? how much would she fake/take the money to keep up the straight persona?
“You swore that you loved me but where were the clues?/I died on the altar waiting for the proof/ you sacrificed us to the gods of your bluest days”
The para social relationship is again a perfect match for the metaphor of a partner that uses you but doesn’t meet you in relationship as a full person. The praise puts you on an altar, but their actions don’t reflect the effusive words. “Bluest days” is a red herring to match the bearding narrative/fan rumor that Joe’s mental health affected their relationship, but also could be interpreted as the fans overlooking her truth in the interest of relying on the idea that their favorite pop star has the same boy problems that they do, their "bluest days" were the days they were torn up over a relationship or an unrequited love and needed her break up anthems, and they wouldn't have the same effect if they knew (and weren't in denial) that the songs are about women (or now about them, ironically).
Last Verse/Outro
“I’m just getting color back into my face/im just mad as hell cause I loved this place/for so long London/had a good run/moment of war son/but I’m not the one”
The first line here parallels the language in “you’re losing me”, which uses the metaphor of a relationship literally dying (“i can’t find a pulse”, etc). In this song she is leaving the relationship to save herself, and in leaving she is recovering her health, hence getting the color back in her face after being pale when sick and near death.
“This place” or London, is a stand in for the world, the Swiftverse that she created for and with her fans. It had been her life’s work, her source of pride, self worth, her legacy, but now she must leave, because it was built in large part around a self she created to make herself palatable to the fans she amassed. She can’t be that person anymore, and maybe in some ways “this place” doesn’t even really feel like hers. This parallels Florida!!!, "your home's really a town you're just a guest in/so you work your life away/just to pay for a timeshare down in Destin". She is just a guest in the musical world of the brand of Taylor Swift that she spent her whole life building ("the story isn't mine anymore")
To close, she repeats the main lines of the chorus,
“So long London/Stitches undone/two graves, one gun/you’ll find someone”
This repetition drives home the finality of this decision - her exit, her killing her public persona, her detaching herself from those that don't see and support her, and her reassuring herself that those people will find someone else to worship, and someone else to see themselves in, and her realization and relief that they aren't her responsibility anymore.
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There’s a competition going on between Tzuyu and Shuhua. Every weekend, one girl takes you home to take the lewdest photos of the two of you to send to the other girl. And each one tries to one-up the other, such as Shuhua making you ERUPT by sticking her tongue in your ass or Tzuyu facefucking you with her strap-on.
Friendships between members of different groups is something that makes extremely happy the fans and the multistan in kpop. I remember clearly the buzz that the pic with Xiaoting, Handong, Shuhua and Tzuyu made on the internet.
However fans don't know who took that photo: you. You've always been close to the kpop C-line, so you know well how naughty they really are. In fact that same dinner is a proof of that: you where there when the maknaes of G-Idle and Twice challenged each other in this lewd photo contest, and, well, you've been basically forced to be their assistant.
The first weekend it was Shuhua turn and you were ready to share your idea, but you should know better: Shuhua already decided the concept for that day, and actually already setted all the stuff.
She made you seat on her couch, immediately pulling down your jeans, stroking your cock with so much heat and power. "Come on, Oppa, become big and hard for me", she whispered in your ear, while her fingers were moving skillfully.
You thought it was such a cool start to begin with a handjob concept, but actually Shuhua plans were other. When she felt you were close enough, she powerfully pushed you back and lifted your legs.
Then she got on her knees, the perfect position for her next move: now that your ass was wide enough, she attacked with her tongue. The result? A perfect picture of your cock erupting an insane amount of cum on her head. "You did a great job, Oppa", she praised you, looking at the picture, while caressing your arm.
The next weekend arrived and you hoped for Tzuyu to be more gentle. And she was...kinda. You surely didn't expect her to propose you to be face-fucked by her strap. You didn't want to do it, but how could you say no to her puppy face?
Sighing, you accepted and just got on your knees. Maybe just simulating was good enough for the pic. "Oppa, it's not realistic enough", she commented looking at the result. You were about to complain that actually it was such a good shot, but Tzuyu anticipated you, starting to fuck your throat.
Few minutes after you were a mess, your hair a completely disaster and your face totally red, but at least the pic now was amazing. "Thank you, Oppa, you're the best", she thanked you, kissing your cheek sweetly.
The next couple of weeks it was a war: the girls really went all in with idea and concept, always insisting for the total realism of their shots. You were glad that they let you have fun too, letting you enjoy the process.
On the third week you fucked Shuhua from behind in the shower, the pic portraying her big boobs squeezed against the glass. On the fourth week you had this naughty ass training session with Tzu, so in the end the pic showed her on her fours, while your cock was savaging her ass and your foot was keeping her head against the floor.
After going on for what seemed an eternity, they opted to declar for a draw, under the advice of Xiaoting and Handong. But it was sad to conclude the competition that way, so all four of them decided to take a last picture: you could decided the concept and they had to accept.
Honestly you went for something very simple but also very exciting: the two of them had to give you a blowjob, completely naked, and when you were about to cum they had to suck your balls.
The fun part? You agreed with Ting and Dongie about a plan: with the excuse of "forgetting of taking the pic" or "the shot is bad", you three made the two maknae suck your cock and be covered in your seed for something like two hours.
But that was not the best part yet: even after the end of the challenge, let's say the girls got...addicted. So they may have in mind numerous challenge: the best lewd video, who makes you cum the most in less time, ecc...
#kpop smut#kpop thoughts#girl group smut#kpop x male reader#girl groups x male reader#twice smut#twice tzuyu#twice x male reader#tzuyu x male reader#tzuyu smut#gidle smut#gidle x male reader#gidle shuhua#shuhua smut#shuhua x male reader
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