#NOT for a family watch but teens and up certainly

[thunder28]

Renfield is the best!

So finally got round to watching this film.

A film about renfield overcoming a narcissistic, controlling, emotional manipulative and selfish Dracula. But I gotta say...Nicolas Cage is living his BEST life in this film. You can just FEEL it.

Its bloody, the fight scenese are great and there's always a sprinkle of humour in just the right amounts!

Its actually FUNNY where it wants to be, there's a corrupt justice system, a kickass cop women who takes NO shit and she hold her own and she's never the damsel in distress.

And then we've got this asshole who, funny enough, I really enjoyed throughout the film.

The incompetent criminal and comedy relief alot of the time but just unstable enough to keep you on your tongues, cos you just dont know what he'll end up doing. (he's so erratic- and yes, that is a bunch of cocaine in his arms he's running away with)

Its great. Would NOT recommend as a family film due to all the exploding body bits/gore but its not GORE like bright red, its slightly off and takes off the feeling of overdoing it with gore. Its a great touch.

Renfields character has SO much development in this film, emotionally as as a person and I love that for him.

Its got so many messages in this film.

We're all human and mess up alot of the time. But to be better, to get past our trauma's we have to accept that about ourselves and slowly move past them.

What a film. I would 10/10 recommend you watch it. Its not gonna change your life, but I think it will certainly improve your day.

#Renfield #Movie #Nicolas Cage living his best life #Dracula #Movie review? #10/10 film #Gorey film but not TOO over the top- in bits #NOT for a family watch but teens and up certainly #No damsel in distress here!

[everyonewooeverywhere]

MDNI 18+ BLOG -> ageless blogs and minors WILL BE BLOCKED

pairing ✭ farmhand!mingyu x farmer's daughter!reader

note ✭ this is very much inspired by the mingyu pictured above. (also i don't mention it explicitly, but girly's family is lowkey rich)

synopsis ✭ when your dad hires a hot new farm hand, you can't keep your hands off of him.

content/genre ✭ smut (18+ mdni)

word count ✭ 2.9k

warnings ✭ smut, mingyu and reader are horny af, outside sex (no one else sees them though), no prep, overall horny shenanigans i guess 🤷‍♀️, alcohol consumption, tipsy sex (they're not depicted as drunk, but they did have a couple drinks)

✭✭✭✭

Every time your father hired a new farmhand, they were always the same. While they never disappointed in the build department (they were always jacked, but that was kind of a requirement of the job), but they all looked identical. They wore the same brown scuffed boots. They had their hair in the same floppy cut with the same dirty blonde color. 

For a couple of summers through your teens, it had been fun. Your father would hire him after the final school bell rang for the summer. You’d introduce yourself to him when your father was nowhere in sight, and you’d spend the rest of the summer sneaking around with him and having your fun. When summer finally ended and school began, you’d bid him farewell and never speak to him again, and your father was none the wiser.

And it was fun! The first two times. Then every summer turned the same, and every single farm hand looked indistinguishable from the last with no discernible personality whatsoever. 

So, having just finished your second year of university, you were expecting more of the same. You’d have a gander, but you certainly weren’t expecting much from whoever your dad decided to hire this summer. 

“God, why couldn’t you have invited me to stay over at your house this summer? I’d take whatever hunk your dad decided to keep,” your best friend from school, Jennifer, whined over the phone as you pulled your car up the long driveway to your house.

“I did invite you, but you’re spending you’re leaving today for Spain, remember?”

“Yes, but y/n!” she whined again, “I need more muscly men in my life. This would be the perfect opportunity.”

“You’re gonna be in Spain for two months. I’m sure you’ll find at least one man muscular enough to fit your standard.”

“Yeah, whatever. You better have fun with this man without me.”

“Like I told you earlier, they’re so fucking boring. It’s not gonna happen.”

You put your car in park and began to gather up your purse and phone when you glanced up out the windshield to see probably the most attractive man you’ve ever seen in your life walking out your front door and toward your car. It was as if your severe doubts had summoned him.

Ever the chatterbox, Jennifer kept talking, “Well I’m just saying maybe you should keep an open mind. You never know what could happen. One magical night in the woods and you could be locked down for life. It’s just–”

“Jennie shut the fuck up.”

“Woah,” she seemed mildly offended, “sorry?”

“He’s hot Jennie. Like really hot. Not even a ten. Probably a twelve.”

“Ugh, you lucky bitch! I told you to keep an open mind,” you could hear her mother yelling at her in the background, “Oh shit. Girl, I have to go, but send pics! Please! I need to see the hunk you’re railing this summer.”

“Yeah, of course,” you mumbled while she hung up on you.

This man was really throwing you for a loop. Just based on appearance alone you could tell he was not the type of guy your dad usually hired. First and foremost, he was massive. Well over 6 feet tall and far more muscular than any guy you’d ever seen (and that was saying something), and the skin-tight black t-shirt he was wearing did nothing to hide it. His hair was dark and cropped, a far cry from the endless supply of shaggy blonde hairstyles you’d seen over the years. 

The cherry on top was when, after watching you stumble out of the car, he’d asked, “Where’s your luggage? I thought I’d help you carry it inside.”

“Oh,” you let out an awkward laugh, “It’s in the trunk. Thank you.”

“Of course,” he followed you around the back of your car and popped open the trunk, “I’m Mingyu by the way.” He stuck out a hand for you to shake it.

You grabbed the hand and he shook it with a firm squeeze. Holy fuck he has nice hands. “Y/n. It’s great to meet you Mingyu.”

There was no hiding the way you gawked at the way his muscles flexed when he carried your stuff inside.

✭✭✭✭

The idea of returning to your old ways was honestly exciting for you. Last night over Facetime Jennifer had gotten the whole rundown of your brief interaction with Mingyu. You fawned over his muscles, his cute lisp and the way he’d been such a gentleman to help you carry your luggage after what you assumed was a long day of work. 

She’d found his Instagram of course and found out that he was indeed just as attractive as you’d described (and he had cute friends too). 

This morning you felt more than ready to kick off what you predicted to be a great summer. And you weren’t starting slow either. You knew the routine of your father’s farmhands enough to know that Mingyu would start the day mowing the lawn around your house. He’d usually start later on Saturdays (today), too. Meaning that if you got out there by 10 am, he’d probably still be working his way around the lawn. Hopeful by the pool.

Which, by complete coincidence, is where you were. Laid out in your favorite bikini by the water. The dark sunglasses covering your eyes meant that your eyes were completely hidden, but it was obvious where you were looking. 

Not far from the pool, you could see Mingyu pushing the lawn mower through the grass of your backyard. The tight black t-shirt from yesterday was no more. Instead, he wore a white tank top that left his arms completely exposed. He glanced over at you a couple of times, but he never let his gaze linger long enough for you.

You watched him from your laid-out position in your pool chair for a good fifteen minutes before he disappeared into the shed, presumably to put the lawnmower away. While he was inside, you took a moment to stand and dip your toes in the water thoroughly enjoying the coolness of the water. It was nice, you had to admit, but you’d have to save that for later because, while you were distracted by the water, Mingyu had made his way to the fence that separated your pool from the rest of the yard. 

It was only when he cleared his throat that you noticed him standing there, leaning against the fence smiling at you with an eyebrow raised.

“Do you normally spend your mornings checking out your dad’s employees?” God his voice.

You stepped out of the pool, “Only when I think they’re worth my time.” You slid your sunglasses off your face and onto the top of your head as you approached the fence where Mingyu was standing.

“Charming. I’m assuming he hasn’t the slightest idea what you get up to, then?”

You laughed, “Of course not. I’m good at keeping secrets.”

“I’m sure you are.”

“So…” you brushed his forearm with the tips of your fingers, “What time do you get done?” You knew the answer of course, but it felt polite to ask.

“Seven thirty. Why? Hoping to get me alone?” He smirked

“I wouldn’t mind it.” You bit your lip as you no-so-subtly checked him out for the millionth time, “Meet me behind the shed at seven forty-five, ok? Don’t be late. I’ll bring booze.”

✭✭✭✭

Part of you wondered if he’d be there when you snuck out of your house at eight-fifteen. Yes, you were late, but that was part of the game. Your parents always went to bed early, and you were an adult. So getting out of the house unnoticed was no issue at all. If your dad noticed the six-pack missing from the garage fridge, you could just tell him you drank it or you could feign complete innocence. 

The weather was still warm despite it being completely dark outside, so your athletic shorts and oversized tee did just fine. You’d contemplated wearing a skirt but ultimately decided against it because you didn’t want him to think you’d give it up that easily. Even though you were already struggling greatly to contain your excitement.

He could hear the clinking of the glass beer bottles as you made your way to the shed through the freshly cut yard. As much as Mingyu would love to deny it, he hadn’t stopped thinking about you since this morning. Something about the way you were laid out in the sun this morning had left a permanent imprint on his mind. The secrecy of the situation was also incredibly appealing. It turned him on more than he’d like to admit, messing around with his boss’s incredibly hot daughter.

Mingyu wasn’t an idiot. He knew you were taking your sweet time on purpose. You’d made him wait half an hour just to see if he’d wait around for you that long. You wanted to see how bad he wanted it, and clearly, he wanted it pretty bad because you found him sitting on the bench behind the shed staring up at the stars.

“Sorry, I’m late.”

He laughed, “Sure you are.” He held out a hand.

You passed him a bottle as you sat down next to him.

“I thought maybe you’d changed your mind, but it seems you just enjoy the idea of making people wait for you.”

“Maybe,” you turned so your knees just barely brushed his thigh, “But you waited for me didn’t you?”

“Hey, maybe I just wanted free beer.” He gestured to the bottle in his hand.

“I know for a fact my dad pays you enough for you to afford your own beer.”

He laughed and leaned his head back against the shed, giving you a full view of his neck. You couldn’t help but imagine kissing his neck, leaving plenty of marks in your wake. “He sure does. It’s one of the many benefits.”

“What else do you like about the job?” You were genuinely curious about what was so appealing about doing nothing but manual labor for an entire summer. Even if the paycheck was really good.

He shrugged, “I don’t know. Gets me off my ass. Gives me something to do with my hands.”

“Oh? You good with your hands?”

“You just don’t let up do you?” He really did enjoy how insistent you were despite your attempts to make him pine after you by making him wait for you so long. 

“Not unless I’m asked to.”

You ended up talking with Mingyu for two hours. The two of you drank and talked about your lives, school, home, past flings, and relationships. By the time you two of you had finished off the six-pack you’d brought out, you felt as if you’d been out there forever. 

At some point, you’d put your legs over his lap. He caressed one of your calves with one hand while you played with the fingers of his other hand.

As much as you’d enjoyed this little conversation, the more you drank, the hotter he got, and you were hardly holding it together anymore. With every move of his hand on your calf, you could feel yourself getting wetter and wetter.

You took the hand that was already in yours and placed it on your cheek, “Mingyu…” you whined looking up at him.

“What, baby?” his thumb stroked your cheek.

You straddled his lap, sitting back on his thighs and moving down his neck and to his chest, “can we stop talking for a little bit?”

“Oh?” he questioned, lightly placing his hand on your lower back under your shirt, “What do you suppose we do instead?”

“Can I kiss you?” You asked leaning further into him so that your chests were touching.

“You can do whatever you want, baby.”

That was all the confirmation you needed to lean completely into him and kiss him. The kiss was long and more passionate than any kiss you’d experienced from your past summer flings. His hands were on your ass, pulling you to hover over his crotch where you could obviously tell he was hard. And that would have made you smug if you hadn’t been sitting in your own arousal for at least an hour. 

You kissed down his neck just like you had previously imagined. He let out a deep moan with every mark and bite you made. You had failed to realize that one of his hands had left your ass until you felt a hand brush over your completely clothed pussy.

“Baby, as much as I love these cute little shorts, can I take them off of you?”

Nodding furiously, you leaned back, pulled yourself off of his lap and pulled off your shorts and shirt, setting them on the bench beside him. Of course, you weren’t wearing a bra, something Mingyu had noticed almost immediately when you’d sat down beside him. Before you made your way back to his lap, you reached for the hem of that stupid, useless white tank top that covered virtually nothing. You pulled it over his head with ease. 

“Wow–” you whispered.

He laughed and pulled you back into his lap, “As flattered as I am,” he ran a hand up your side, “I could say the same thing about you.”  

Before you could even think about how to respond Mingyu’s face was in your chest, feverishly placing kisses on your tits. He grabbed one with his hand and rolled the nipple between his fingers.

You gripped onto his hair and moaned softly. Your hips rolled over his clothed dick multiple times before he finally shucked off his jeans which had become uncomfortably tight. 

“Can I please fuck you now?” he asked.

“Please,” you begged completely forgoing the chance to tease him for his politeness.

You pulled down the waistband of his boxers and grabbed him. Running a thumb over the tip, you pulled his cock out and pumped it a couple of times. “God, baby. You better hurry up.”

He slid your panties to the side and ran a finger between your folds, “you sure you don’t want me to prep you?”

You shook your head. So much for making him wait. “I’ll be ok. I don’t think I can wait any longer.”

He nodded and reached to grab a condom from his pocket. Of course, he’d come prepared. When he failed to open it fast enough, you snatched it out of his hands and ripped it open with your own teeth. You rolled it onto him after what felt like an agonizingly long amount of time. 

He positioned himself at your entrance and slid himself into you with relative ease. You threw your head back when he bottomed out. You covered your mouth in an attempt to keep yourself at least a little quiet. 

“F-fuck, Mingyu!”

“Shit, you’re so tight,” he grunted out, “I’m gonna need you to move, baby. Can you do that for me?” 

You nodded and gripped onto his shoulder. As you started bouncing up and down on his cock, he buried his face back in your chest, kissing and biting at your tits, collarbone, and neck. He left plenty of marks on your chest that were identical to the ones you’d left on his neck, maybe even darker. You had brought your own hand to your clit. Desperately trying to find your release. 

“Oh god Gyu, I’m so close,” you grabbed onto his hair.

He hissed from the stinging in his scalp, “Me too, angel, me too.” His face was in your neck when you’d finally reached your climax, and he followed immediately after.

You both sat there, chests heaving, for a couple of minutes, saying nothing.

“Wow,” was all he could say as he pulled you off his lap and helped you put your clothes back on, tossing the condom into the trash bin beside the bench. You made a mental note to take the trash out before your dad came out here tomorrow.

You laughed breathily, “You’re not so bad yourself.” 

He grabbed your wrist and pulled you into him. Your hands found their way to his chest instinctively. “Can I see you tomorrow night?”

“Oh, was that not enough for you?”

“God, no, that was perfect. But I wanna take care of you for real next time.”

“What did you have in mind?”

“I have a truck,” he nodded toward the red pickup truck in your driveway, “I can drive it down to the creek. The bed of the truck is actually pretty comfy when you put blankets and pillows down.”

Laughing, you said, “You want to fuck me in the woods.” He shook his head, “I wanna eat you out in the woods.”

God, this was gonna be a fun summer.

✭✭✭✭

“Girl, what!? It’s only been a day?” Jennifer’s voice rang through the phone. “Was it good?’

“For outside bench sex? Yeah, it was great. We’re seeing each other tomorrow night.”

She groaned, “Ugh, you lucky bitch. I’m so jealous.”

“What? No Spanish hunks?”

She shook her head, “not yet. But I’m hopeful!” 

“Do you still want updates, or are you gonna explode from jealousy?”

“No! Please keep me updated. I’m living vicariously through you.”

You laughed, “God you’re insufferable.”

“I know!” She batted her eyelashes at you, “You will keep me updated though, right.”

“Of course, how could I not.”

✭✭✭✭

thank you for reading! i knocked this shit out in two days (and you can probably tell 👀), but i'm genuinely surprised with myself.

anyway hope you enjoyed. reblog and like if you did! love hearing your thoughts

mwah~

#seventeen smut #mingyu x reader #kim mingyu x reader #mingyu smut #kim mingyu smut #seventeen x reader #18+ mdni #mdni #everyonewooeverywhere

[nathaslosthershit]

A Much Needed Interview (OP81)

(Part 2 of Teen Dad) Summary: After the shock of Oscar revealing himself to be a former teen dad, he joins an interview in the hopes of clearing everything up and limiting the overwhelming amount of questions he has been getting.

“Oscar, it is nice of you to sit down with us. I know it has been an interesting few weeks for you and your family. How are you guys all doing?” The interviewer asks.

‘Yeah, y’know, I had expected to one day have to open up about it all, but I never thought I’d have to do it the way I did. It has been fine, obviously my kids are young enough to not be impacted because they aren’t on social media, but it has been strange for my fiancée who is now getting hundreds of requests on her private account. I have sort of decided to take a break from social media because the response has been overwhelming and like none before. Mostly positive but I think a few people have gotten the wrong idea so I was hoping to clear everything up.” Oscar rambled. He was more nervous about this interview than any he had done before.

“Of course. Why don’t we start at the beginning, how did you and your fiancée meet?”

“We actually met at one of my races. She went to support one of her close friend’s brothers. After the race that I sadly didn’t do too well in, I saw her with her friend and I was kinda frozen in my spot, immediately head over heels. Sadly, it seems like everyone but her noticed. I was too scared to do anything so I just watched her leave. I think I sulked for days, totally regretting my decision to do nothing. A totally heartbroken 16 year old. I looked for her every single race until she finally came back a few months later.”

“Oh please tell me you finally got the confidence to shoot your shot.”

“Nope! I just stared at her and stuttered when she caught me looking then ran off. I then had an amazing race, I think part of me was just trying to make up for the embarrassment and luckily it seems my car got the memo. After the race she came up to me and asked for my number.” God, he was blushing profusely at the memory. He knew he would be getting slack for this for a very long time. 

“Such a story! The young Oscar Piastri was no ladies’ man.”

“He was absolutely not. Soon after we started dating.” Oscar awkwardly laughed, sensing what was about to come up.

“And then kids came shortly after?” The interviewer asked with care in his voice, certainly able to sense Oscar’s change in attitude.

“Yeah. Uh, obviously not planned. I don’t think many people plan to become parent’s at 18. It was a shock… I didn’t handle it the best at first, something I think I will always regret. She was scared and while so was I, I should have been more supportive. I was embarrassed for a while. Felt like a total idiot. I didn’t tell anyone outside of my family and made them swear to secrecy. I also began to isolate myself from friends because I couldn’t bring myself to tell them but also felt terrible lying. A few months in I finally snapped myself out of it and began to focus on all the wonderfulness that was to come. I loved her more than anything and I would be lying if I said I hadn’t already imagined a life together in great detail. By the time we found out it was twins, a boy and a girl, I was ecstatic.”

“Well mate, I don’t blame you for your feelings. I definitely would have been a terrible father at 18 so I salute you.” The interviewer joked.

“Honestly, I had the same thought for a while, even when I was excited to have kids. I had so many doubts about it, I mean how could I not? But when it came down to it, I couldn’t afford to be anything less than a great father. Of course I had my moments, and still do years later, but I wouldn’t be able to let myself be anything less than I am. If you love your kids enough, you find a way.”

“How did having kids so young impact your career? Obviously it didn’t hurt it too much considering you are in your second year driving in Formula 1.”

“Well, I decided I wouldn’t advertise my situation unless a team was very serious about me. Prema knew, Alpine did too and of course McLaren does. All were welcoming and accommodating, as much as they could be. I don’t think I would have gone with any of them if they weren’t cool with it though. I realized the minute my kids were born I would give it all up for them, which scared the hell out of me.”

“That is admirable. All these years later you are still with their mother, correct?”

“Yes! I asked her to marry me over break. Everyone close to us had been confused as to why it took so long but we had discussed marriage together many times and made the decision that because our relationship moved so fast with having kids so young, we would wait a bit. I mean, we are still young but I honestly couldn’t wait any longer. She is everything to me and the most wonderful mother my kids could have.”

“Have your kids been around the paddock yet? I assume they are old enough to understand what you do.”

“They have been to the factory and come with me to meetings when we haven’t had a sitter for them. Luckily, they are both very well behaved in public, they also really like watching the races on tv and have somewhat of an understanding of what I do. They don’t believe I actually drive the car though.” Oscar rumbled. Trying to convince his twins that yes, their father actually does drive the cars they see going super fast, has been an ongoing issue. They seem to believe he is tricking them but have no problem believing Uncle Logan and Uncle Lando drive the cars. It has definitely humbled him immensely.

“Well you will have to fix that soon huh? Will they be attending races in the future?”

“I am trying to work that out with my fiancée actually. They are almost four so we don’t want them traveling too far, I also don’t believe they will be able to be entertained solely by the race the entire time so we have a lot to deal with. But I think seeing them on the paddock supporting me will be one of the best moments of my life. I selfishly can’t wait for them to come.”

The interview wrapped up shortly after that. Getting to reminisce on the start of his relationship and how far they have come and how many wonderful things are in the future put Oscar in a deliriously happy mood. He couldn’t wait to get home to his family. 

Walking through the door, he was immediately welcomed to the sound of toddler meltdowns. Fully entering the house, he saw his very tired fiancée rubbing her face as she tried to calm her babies down. Clearly this had been going on for a while.

Despite how upset she looked, she immediately perked up at seeing Oscar had returned. But that immediately went away as she remembered the screaming kids and how messy the house and herself were.

“Sorry honey, I know you are probably so tired after the interview and meetings earlier and these two missed their nap so they are so cranky and I just-” He cut her off with a kiss. Once he pulled away she looked at him, perplexed. A kiss from Oscar was never unwelcome but it was the last thing she expected at that moment.

“Hey, look at me.” He said as he put a hand on her cheek. “I love you and our little family so much and you never, ever have to apologize for something as trivial as this. Why don’t you go get in the bath and relax a little and I will try to wrangle these two, okay?” 

In her eyes, Oscar had never been hotter than he was now. Now it was her turn to surprise him with a kiss, even more passionate than the first. They would have continued if it hadn’t been for more screaming from their two kids.

Still, Oscar wouldn’t change a thing.

#formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri #op81 fluff #op81 imagine #op81 x reader

[pxningfo0l]

It's a reoccurring pattern with Steve, getting come out to and then instantly shitting on the person's taste in people.

Robin comes out to him and tells him she liked Tammy 'The Muppet' Thompson and Steve immediately jumps onto making fun of her because obviously, he will. She sounds like a goddamn muppet! Robin may deny it, but he knows she knows he's right. And he never lets her forget it.

After the Byers family moves back to Hawkins, Steve gets closer to the Byer-Hopper twins (Not blood related twins, but with how similar they are they might as well be). He takes note of the way Will carries himself, the way he stares at Micheal Asshole Wheeler of all people when he thinks no one is looking.

The kid doesn't come out that quickly, so with Robin's advice, Steve takes his time, making it known how okay he was with Will's sexuality, even if he did have standards low enough to beat Robin's terrible Tammy Thompson taste (He says this to her and she reacts as predictably as ever- by throwing something at him).

When Will does come out to him, Steve makes sure he only freezes for a literal second, not wanting the kid to panic like he'd seen Robin do back then. Of course, as soon as he's done comforting and reassuring the kid that he's completely fine with him being gay, he immediately jumps onto making fun of his terrible crush on Mike, finding great joy in the bright blush burning the teen's face.

The next time someone comes out to him, he's more caught off guard than he was with Robin.

Not because he was shocked that Eddie liked guys, no. He might be stereotyping a little, but no straight guy goes that close to another man and calls him Big Boy all low and seductively, a teasing grin curling his lips, a glint in his eyes-

You get the point.

The reason why he's shocked is because Eddie comes out to him, and when Steve asks about crushes, Eddie says,

"Oh, I had the worst crush on you in high school."

Steve sits there, his jaw practically on the ground. The way Eddie says it, all casual, not caring about the consequences or the effect it has on Steve.

"Wh- I- Me?" He stammered out, incredulous. "Dude, I was the biggest asshole back then!"

Eddie chuckles at that, a low sound that sends further heat into Steve's already flushed body. "The me back then did not give a shit, let me tell you that man." He turns to Steve then, giving him a slow look, a gaze more like, and smirks. "I certainly understood why the ladies were so desperate for you and your gorgeous locks."

His heart is pounding like crazy, an audible thump in his ears. Thoughts race in his head, one after the other, all jumbled up until what comes out of Steve's mouth next is,

"So what, you've got a thing for douchebags? Seriously?"

Eddie shoots him another look, more confused than ever. "What?"

"You heard me," Steve says, feeling the next words come out of his mouth like a waterfall. "I was a huge asshole in high school dude. How the hell did you have a crush on me back then? Did you seriously have no standards? You'd really stoop that low just because I had nice hair? I have good hair, and I'm nice now! What's stopping you from-"

Steve cuts himself off with an audible clack of his teeth, a sound that most often comes from Robin when she shuts herself up.

Goddamnit Robin.

Eddie is staring at him with wide eyes, the cigarette between his fingers burning away. Steve wants to watch the smoke curl away, but he's too transfixed on Eddie's doe-like gaze.

Then Eddie's features smooth over, a terrible, terrible grin curling its way onto his lips, deepening that dimple on his cheeks. He leans forward eyes lidded just slightly, and says,

"What's stopping me from what, sweetheart?"

#woo #that was impulsive #im practicing with my characterisation and im not sure if i wrote these two well enough #pls be honest i wanna write fics on these guys #steddie #stranger things 4 #st4 #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #robin buckley #will byers

[snaillock]

would you do satosugu discovering their "friend" (both of them have a fatass crush on m!reader) is a teen dad, and just all of them chaotically taking care of a baby. (like those collage students raising a baby tiktoks?)

ok so technically i only write for blue lock buttttttttttt… i am more than willing to make an exception for this. this is also my favorite niche of satosugu fics so im super honored someone requested it from me

tags: male reader has a foster daughter bc hell yeah girl dads, unnamed child bc that's too much for me, reader is a sorcerer, found family but in a janked up kinda way, whipped satosugu, pre-hidden inventory so everyone is in high school in this this a long one yall

part two coming soon!

★ when assigned an extremely harsh mission, you find an orphaned child barely a year old within all the rumble. you soon found out her family was recently killed in the destruction. unsure of what would happen to her after this, you decided to take her as your own.

★ scared of any judgment, you didn’t tell anyone about her so only a few higher-ups were aware. luckily you were allowed to live off campus so you two could have more space and privacy.

★ however the physical effects of raising a kid all on your own at such a young age were certainly showing. you came to school visibly worn down, often falling asleep in the middle of class and taking more absences than usual.

★ the first people to notice, of course, were gojo and geto. as nosy as they were, they tried not to push it, knowing you had just come back from a really taxing mission. though they did get more and more suspicious whenever you didn’t let them visit your new place.

★ however one day, they did spot you out in public wearing a baby carrier with, of course, a baby they’d never seen before resting right inside. they immediately came up to you and bombarded you with multiple questions before you got them to chill out and explained everything.

★ wanting you to take some time off (and win you over), they offer to take care of her regularly. who were you to refuse? after all, it is free babysitting and you were already using up so much money hiring actual babysitters.

★ during their first babysitting job, you thanked them profusely before going back into your room and instantly falling asleep the moment your body hit your bed, taking a very well-deserved nap.

★ you see, gojo was already pretty hesitant about you having a kid around. this was before he took in megumi so he found basically any child gross and annoying. (though he’s somehow even more attracted to you now that you’re a dad.)

★ coughs dilf lover gojo i mean what?

★ so when gojo picked up your baby for the first time, she immediately cried when they made eye contact and he got so so personally offended that he started rethinking this whole babysitting thing.

★ the first thirty minutes or so of taking care of your kid went pretty okay. that was until she started crying again and neither of them knew why.

★ you see, these idiots have no idea how to care for a child.

★ they frantically tried to calm her down and figure out what was wrong without needing to wake you. they checked if she was hurt in any way, she definitely wasn’t hungry since they already fed her, nor did she need to be changed. gojo even called shoko to see if she could do anything.

★ when they eventually saw her crawling towards your room and sobbing right outside your door, hesitantly let her in to see her climb onto your bed and lay down with you, realizing she just missed you the whole time. that entire experience made them so exhausted that they almost climbed into bed with you. but when they saw the gratitude on your face after you woke up, it made it all worth it.

★ luckily the next few times they watched over her, babysitting got more and more easy as she grew used to them.

★ they start coming over so often to look after her that your place basically becomes their second home.

★ geto is in charge of doing her hair since the last time gojo attempted it, it was just a big mess of hair ties and ribbons. geto’s definitely not complaining since he loves to get her ready. in fact, geto does a lot of the responsible stuff when taking care of her since gojo, hmm what’s a nice way to put it, lacks a lot of the necessary skills.

★ oh yeah, remember what i said about gojo hating younger children? yeah, that completely changes as he spends more time with your daughter. he’s almost always playing with her or showing up with a brand new toy or stuffed animal just for her. he ends up loving her so so much and wants to be her cool fun dad.

★ unfortunately both of them are way too nice when it comes to disciplining her. they let her get away with so much. late bedtimes, too much tv, grabbing any treats she wants off the grocery store shelves. how can they not spoil such an adorable little girl like her!?

★ what’s also unfortunate is how they try to drag you into it.

“come on, y/n. let loose a little. cake for dinner does sound pretty appetizing right now.”

“come on. just let her watch ten more minutes before bed.” gojo lazed on the couch with her on his lap. “besides this cartoon is starting to get good.”

“come onnn… just let her buy it.” geto held up a sparkly pink dress you already told him she doesn’t need with his own sparkles in his eyes. “she’ll look so cute in it. i promise i’ll pay you back.”

★ their hearts explode whenever you’re affectionate with her. they love the way you gently rock her in your arms while humming a sweet lullaby, slowly lulling her to sleep. the way they see you kiss her forehead after placing her into the crib before quickly turning around and acting like they weren’t staring the whole time. they fall head over heels for you for probably the twentieth time by now since they met you but those times were definitely the hardest.

★ they’ve been in her life for a good while so when she begins talking more frequently, she starts calling them her papas as she does with you. gojo aka former “ugh kids are so gross and icky” feels his heart combusting whenever she calls him that and he owns that title proudly. meanwhile geto feels so endeared and honored that she sees him that way.

★ “we’re not the stepdads. we’re the dads that stepped up!” looking asses.💀

★ the secret of you having a kid doesn’t last for long since these two can’t keep quiet about it. they’re just way too happy and want to show her off. especially gojo who scrolls through 100s of photos of her while gushing about her to basically anyone who’ll listen. shoko and nanami are the most common targets whenever this happens.

★ he even ends up showing photos of you and your daughter napping together (that you had no idea he took), making you snatch his phone away in embarrassment.

★ whenever you guys go out on family dates to go to the beach or picnicking, geto always takes the time to dress her up with pretty hairstyles and cute little outfits. he absolutely loves doting on her.

★ they love her with all their hearts and would do absolutely anything for her. she’s so lucky to have three weird dads take care of her and raise her. a very odd and… unconventional family dynamic but an amazing one nonetheless. this family only grows bigger and bigger once gojo takes in megumi and geto practically adopts mimiko and nanako.

please read my rules before following

taglist: @userwithlotsoftime @lucas2060 @kiiyoooo

ayo we rocking with the star bullet points?? 🗣️⁉️

#★ snail.writes ★ #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x male reader #satosugu x male reader #satosugu x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x male reader #gojo x male reader #geto x male reader #gojo x reader #geto x reader #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jujutsu kaisen fluff #finished this up while watching drew gooden

[sexysadie23]

ੈ✩‧₊˚Lady Killer ੈ✩‧₊˚

Rafe Cameron

Tags | Bestfriend!Rafe Cameron x innocent!reader

Synopsis | Despite having moved to Figure 8 on Kildare in your early teens, you never had many friends. Certainly not in the kook academy, the only place you really had the chance to. But upon attending one of your parents��� country club events, the island suddenly doesn’t seem so lonely.

Warnings | Underage drinking and drugs - misogynistic comments (more exciting things to come in the series!)

Note | This is my first time writing a Rafe fic! This will be just a one shot of how these two characters met, but I will be making this a series eventually! I do include certain elements to reader ie. Being an only child and ‘doe eyes’. If you don’t like that - don’t read it! Reader is like so cute and obsessed with Rafe and he’s like wtf okay?

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For a long time, you thought there was something explicitly wrong with you. You’d moved a couple times in your life, so you’d never really had friends which stuck. You were simply just a phase in other kids your ages’ lives, only to be remembered as ‘that girl which was in our grade’.

It was lonely for a while, and you had learnt to find comfort in the little things. Friday nights in watching your favourite movies, reading in the library at lunch, the birdsong on the walk home from school. Yet moving to Kildare seemed to be where your parents finally decided for you set up camp, and you’d sparked an iota of hope that this is where you would find your people.

Your parents were moderately well off, though certainly not as rich as some families seemed to be at your new home. But you had always had the essentials. On top of them however, was a nice home, a vacation at least once a year and never any need for a part time job. After all, being the only child your parents wanted you to focus solely on your studies at the Kildare Academy, otherwise known as ‘Kook Academy’ - why, you didn’t know really.

You’d never had to wear a uniform before. You were so excited though at 14 years old - wearing your mary janes and blazer which was slightly too big. Your pink JanSport backpack which was bulkier than necessary, a Winnie The Pooh keychain dangling off of it.

“Mom, do you think they’ll like me?” The unadulterated hope in your eyes made your mother smile. She worried about you sometimes. With your wide eyes and kind heart, she feared you were too trusting, sheltered for your age.

“Just be your sunny self, sweetie and they will love you.”

But that was not what happened.

You tried, honestly you tried to make friends. Still nothing seemed to stick. People at the academy had been there for years, with it being a relatively small school full of people from Figure 8 with pre-established friend groups and social standing. You’d entered at an age where teenagers were enraptured with what their peers thought of them, and the girls at the school only judged you for your lack of designer handbag or lack of makeup, lack of status - or whatever problem they could seem to find.

You even came back to the gym lockers to change only to find ‘Chanel’ written over the exed out ‘Jansport’ of your bag. Your mother was infuriated, and insisted you use one of her designer bags to fit in.

You denied, however much you wanted to and were somewhat materialistic, you knew they would just call it a fake or find some other way to deface it. You’d simply washed the backpack, and continue to use it until graduation 2 months ago.

Summer vacations were hard for you. When you saw so many others at parties in big mansions or even on the other side of the island, ‘the cut’ as you learned, or people surfing with their friends, it only served as a reminder of your solitude. So much so that you had resigned to reading in your garden, window shopping online or following your parents around.

This included Midsummer’s. It was a sort of soiree to celebrate…well, actually you weren’t sure what. Being rich, it seemed? That’s what it looked like, as you sat there in your pink tulle ankle length dress, flowers woven throughout your hair tied simplistically with a white ribbon. You idly watched, sipping on a bottle of coca cola as your dad talked business with a fellow doctor from the island.

Obviously, there were kids from the academy there. Many of which you had just graduated with, and all of which were ignoring you - or just didn’t realise you were here. You never pondered too much on your friendlessness, looking at the positives in your life rather than the negatives.

The atmosphere at the party was thriving, and you adored the pageantry. One lady in particular, a blonde fussing over a curly haired tween with glasses was wearing an extravagant headpiece which looked like it could poke out your eye. A girl from the academy around your age stood nearby, wearing white with flowers in her hair as well. She looked pretty, but being from the academy you knew to keep your distance.

It was starting to wear you out, the fact that nobody had asked you a question in 45 minutes. Then and there, you’d decided to at least explore the venue, which had waiters and bar staff scuttling in and out every so often.

“Hi- excuse me.” You tap such a boy on the shoulder, and he swings round to meet you with shaggy blonde hair and blue eyes. “Would you happen to know where the ladies’ bathrooms are?”

He looks somewhat startled, as if he doesn’t actually know what you asked him. “What? Um, sure thing. Just uh- this way my lady.” He nods, in a somewhat boyish way, and leads you to the patio where you follow him through to where the ‘Ladies’ sign hangs on the door.

“Thank you so much, um…” you were selectively shy, but still had manners.

He grins. “JJ - Maybank.” He winks, before he sees something behind you, a blue jacket from whose owner rumbles,

“The hell’s the pogue doing here?”

The blonde smiles at you before dashing off, leaving you to the bathroom where you rearrange the ribbon in your hair and add some extra lip gloss.

You’d hid out there for about 10 minutes, not wanting to return to a party you were already invisible at.

The door to the ladies oscillated as you walk out, determined on telling your parents that you weren’t feeling well and wanted to return home. It sounded better than sitting here, suffocating in your own silence as you watched people from your grade slip each other sips of brandy while they laughed and joked with one another.

You walked past a locker room of sorts, and saw the very same blue jacket from your peripheral before. He appeared to be roughed up: shirt crinkled, a bit of blood on his nose which he held up to the ceiling.

It was curious, but sad to you. Maybe he was bullied like you too? Though you had never been physically assaulted. He looked a similar age to you, but even sitting down seemed much taller. Bigger in general, as his shoulders strained against his tux jacket.

You returned to the ladies and got some tissue from the dispenser. Before entering the locker room, you hesitated. Maybe he would be mean like the other rich kids. But your father’s doctor in you couldn’t let him sit and suffer.

“Hi, are you okay?”

Not looking at you, the boy- man, should you say replies, “God, Sarah I’m fine. Don’t fuckin’ tell dad about this shit alright? I don’t need him hounding me again.” His deep voice reverberated. Despite the harsh language, the smooth drawl was distinct. You liked it.

Your eyebrows furrow, confused at whoever he thought you were. “M’ not- I just came to give you this. You look hurt.” At the hand which was pinching his nose, and failing to stop the stream of blood - you shove a bunch of tissues into.

His eyes widen at the sudden handful of tissues and he lowers his head to look at you properly. He looks you up and down, realising that you are very clearly not his annoying sister.

“Oh, right. Sorry, thought you were my sister but uh, I’m a little bit…out of it right now.” He winced as he sniffled and tried to get the words out, happy that the blood seemed to be absorbing and steadily stopping. “Thanks for, you know this.” He said, gesturing with his free hand to his nose.

It was odd. He seemed weirded out that someone offered him help.

Happy that he didn’t tell you to go away like the other people from the Academy, you sat down beside him with a smile. He looked at you as though you were a bit crazy, but you attributed that to the bruise which was forming on his nose.

“You’re welcome!” You gave him your name, excited at the possibility of making a new friend. “What’s your name?”

This man, in the blue tux and white shirt which had splatters of blood on it now, looked increasingly confused at your eager demeanour. His immediate thought was that you wanted to fuck or hit a bump, given his reputation- yet you asking his name dispelled that thought. You really had no idea who he was. He was pleased about that, for some odd reason.

He could tell by your flouncy dress that you were definitely not a Pogue - thank god - but Midsummer’s was an exclusive islander event, so the other idea of being a touron was out. If not a pogue or a vacationer, then who the hell were you?

“I’m Rafe.” He said. The corner of his mouth twitched, finding it comical how he’s leaving his last name out. He needed to figure out if you had an ulterior motive or something. As most girls, even some of his friends- heck even his own father, often did.

You blushed at his eye contact, you’d never seen such a handsome boy.

He sniffled his nose and winced once more, holding his hand out for you to shake. Truth be told, he found this interaction hilarious. It wasn’t often that people didn’t know his name, or who his father was.

“Rafe.” You whispered, testing it out. “I like it.”

“Um, thanks?”

“Do you live on Kildare?” You asked, though you quickly felt stupid because you were pretty sure everyone at this party did.

“Yeah, yeah I do- look are you looking to hit up a bump or something? I don’t got anything on me right now.” He cut straight to the point. As much as he appreciated the tissues, he had to go and fuck up that Pogue.

This boy, he kept leaving you confused. “M’ sorry, I don’t know- a bump?” What was he talking about? You were only trying to help.

“Yeah princess. A bump. Coke?” He asked, looking equally as confused as you are. He couldn’t imagine why someone would wander into the club’s male locker rooms, not wanting anything no less. It wouldn’t matter anyhow, Barry’s been fucking around and sampling a little too much to get any product pushed at all.

You smile, suddenly understanding his generous offer. “Oh no it’s okay! I already got one the bar but I don’t like to have too many because it’s bad for your teeth.” You supplied, ever the daughter of a doctor and a dentist.

Yet Rafe Cameron sat there, rather stunned. He couldn’t figure out if you were stupid or just sheltered. Half the people his age at this party were already high, or certainly on their way there. Either way, he didn’t really have time to sniff that out.

He chuckled at your obliviousness. “O..kay. Yeah uh- look, I don’t really-”

“Ooh, pretty. Can I?” You got distracted easily, by the stacked rings adorning Rafe’s - very manly - hands. Not awaiting his answer, you grabbed his free hand and started spinning a ring round his finger. This particular ring was a class ring, fairly large and engraved with the wheat symbol.

He was very weirded out by how forward you were being. You looked like you were wearing princess peach cosplay : pink flouncy dress, kitten heels which couldn’t be ignored and a melodic voice that was almost soothing. So what the hell did a cute thing like you want from him?

“Most of em’ are heirlooms, you know generational.” He replied. It was like he wasn’t allowed to have his own hand back, seeing as it had become your new fixation. He felt as though he had a phantom limb, it was there but it sort of just had to sit limp until you were done with it.

“Is it real gold?”

“Course it is.” He smirked. He wouldn’t be caught dead with disingenuous jewellery.

“So pretty.” You whisper to yourself again, seemingly mesmerised by such a beautiful design. You blushed at his very masculine (why did you keep fixating on that?) hands, with lots of veins.

“Veiny…” you ran your fingers along one of his many veins. Then you looked at your own and just saw slightly chubby, much smaller than his, hands.

“Why do you have more veins than me?” You wondered aloud.

“Well, I don’t know don’t guys have like - more muscle n’ shit? I play golf sometimes too. Lotta handiwork.” Rafe shrugged. One thing he did not expect at Midsummer’s, a fucking bore fest every year, was to be interrogated about his veins and have his bling closesly inspected.

“Oh! Here? At the country club?” You ask, a glimmer of hope striking your eyes.

“Couple times a week if I can.”

You nodded. Maybe this Rafe could be your friend!! Because, “I just got enrolled at the country club too. My dad says I need to get out more…maybe I’ll play tennis. Or golf! Like you.” You were not one for exercise, but you can’t simply stay at home all day every day.

“I mean- that shit’s more like a guy thing in the club. Most chicks just go to the brunch or the sauna.” He says, being honest. It’s mostly just housewives who like the spa and gym facilities.

That dejected you. “Oh.” You said, looking down and finding his hands again.

Rafe noticed this and felt a twinge of guilt; “But, y’know, maybe you could still try it out. They got teachers n shit to help you.”

He was glad to see the smile return to your face at that. “I dunno. Just need to do something this summer.” Other than reading or dwelling on how your parents couldn’t hang out with you. It was becoming pathetic.

Rafe’s bleeding had finally stopped so he threw the tissue in the trash. “Is my nose all fucked up?” He asked. “My dad’ll kill me if he sees I got in a fight.”

Upon inspection of his face, you realised that he was very handsome. Perfectly symmetrical with a good jawline. “Uh-uh,” you replied. “S’ just a lil’ red. Like a reindeer.”

He smiled at the comparison, looking to the ceiling as he poked and prodded his nose. “Okay, it ain’t broken so that’s good.”

“Rafe?”

“Yeah?”

“Who’d you get in a fight with? Is someone bullying you?” You question with conviction in your voice, full of compassion and sympathy. That made the Cameron smile a genuine smile. Not many people cared or paid mind to his antics. Never had he been seen as the victim before either.

He laughed at the idea of someone bullying him. He was a Cameron - he was untouchable. The scrunch of your eyebrows which indicated your genuine worry for him was rather endearing though.

“Bullied? Nah. S’ just- s’ just these freakin’ Pogues y’know? Can’t trust em’, even on our side of the island.” He shook his head, turning to face you more on the bench. He got viscerally agitated at the mention of these ‘pogues’, whoever they were.

“Pogues?” You question. You’ve lived here for roughly three years and have never heard of this group. Were they a band?

Rafe noted your confusion once more. “Yeah, from the cut. Just a bunch of lowlifes and basket cases. Don’t associate with them, okay?”

You appreciated how he was giving you advice. No one ever really told you the ins and outs of Kildare, so you were grateful for his guidance. “O-okay. How do I know who is a Pogue?” You wondered.

“Well y’know. They’ll prolly try and steal from you. They look roughed up a lot. Not a lot of money on that side of the island.”

“Ohh. Okay. If they’re Pogues then what are we?”

He looked you up and down - yeah you were definitely part of that ‘we’. “I guess they’d call us kooks. Kooks and pogues sort of don’t mix. S’ why they’re on the cut and we’re here on figure 8 y’know. They just forgot tonight to stick to their land.”

Your eyebrows scrunched up, “So the Pogues beat you up? Should I talk to them?”

Rafe Cameron let out a closed mouth laugh as he was becoming increasingly endeared with your naïveté. Moreover, the way you seemed to truly care. Your big wide eyes focused on him as he considered how to answer.

“I mean they tried. You should see the other guy. But uh- nah. Don’t bother talking to them. They’re pretty set in their ways. Don’t bother going to the cut either. Nothing there for a girl like you.” He warned. He could only imagine the ways a guy like JJ Maybank could take advantage of you and your obvious innocence.

“Alright. Thanks for the advice Rafe.” You gave a tentative smile and blush. This Rafe was really handsome. You could tell from beneath his shirt and jacket that he was muscular. The way his thighs strained against his suit. His neck which had veins branching out all over and a prominent adam’s apple.

He nodded while pursing his lips. He went to speak but a figure appeared at the door.

“Rafe man, cmon’ let’s get out of here. Sarah’s ignoring me and the Pogues crashed. We need to go.” A boy wearing a similar suit to Rafe was. He was tall and blonde, but definitely not as cute as Rafe was! Not to you anyways.

“Uh,” Rafe looked at you and then to his friend. He looked like he wanted to say something. “Y-yeah Top m’ coming. Jus’ meet me outside alright? Shit’s in the glove compartment.”

You saddened at the thought of your new friend leaving. You were just getting to know each other!

He turned back to you and assessed you one more time. Doe eyes met his as you waited for him to speak.

“Maybe I’ll see you around huh? At the club or something.”

Your smile gleamed once more as the prospect of seeing Rafe again. He was just so nice and helpful! You were definitely going to have to use that membership now. Your head moved up and down to indicate a shy yes.

He smirked as he stood, looking down as you remained on the bench. From this angle, he looked just so much bigger. Like a predator eyeing its prey as he loomed over you.

“Alright then. Remember what I said, no pogues.” He warned again, sniffing his nose.

You nodded, still not fully understanding but trusting this Rafe guy’s word. He seems smart. “No Pogues.” You echo back, effectively bringing out his boyish grin.

“Okay, good. Good girl. I’m gonna go so just enjoy the rest of the party okay? Be seein’ you.” He said as he exited the room backwards, jutting his chin towards you before taking off entirely.

There was a fuzzy feeling brewing in your stomach. Glee. It was pure, unadulterated glee. What had started out as a boring party had turned into a monumental moment for you. You’d just made your first real friend on Kildare. And he hinted that he would want to see you again! And he was super pretty and muscular and tall! Though you didn’t know what that had to do with it.

You decided that you’d go home and go shopping for some country club outfits. Something to make you look cute, probably pink. You wilted at the thought of actually trying to learn golf, but if it meant you could maybe one day play with Rafe - then you would do it.

You just couldn’t wait.

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Author’s Note : Ahhh! My first fic. I love reader she is just so cute and wholesome like LOL she thinks this guy wants to be her friend. Later in this series she’s really only comfortable w Rafe since he is basically her only friend and is super shy w other people. This was just to set up and show how they met!! I hope you enjoyed :-D

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe smut #rafe obx #bsf!rafe #rafe outer banks #obx x reader #dark!rafe cameron #soft!rafe cameron #bunny girl #bunny reader #innocent!reader #rafe cameron #rafe x you #rafe fic

[dried-mushroom]

My Queen

Aemond 'one-eyed' Targaryen x reader

Warnings: mentions of violence, incest (uncle & niece), oral sex (m receiving), public handjob, fingering, missionary sex, porn with plot, short slow burn, Aemond is head over heels for you, soft! Aemond

Enjoy!!!!!

You were the firstborn daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen and Harwin Strong. No stark resemblance to the knight as do your siblings, as you were the only one born with silver Targaryen hair. This made you stand out compared to your brothers, as their heritage was a common topic for gossip, and they did not have a single feature from Ser Laenor, your mother's betrothed. You were still considered a true Targaryen and not a bastard child nonetheless.

It had been years since your family had been back to Kings landing, years since you'd seen your uncles, Aegon and Aemond. You had less than fond memories of the older prince as a teen, he was always trying to get you alone and mentioning how he could satisfy you better than any other lord or knight. You often ignored his words but sometimes he was just too vile to bare.

His brother on the other hand intrigued you. He was much quieter than Aegon, but he spoke to you often. Usually, it was only small talk when you ran into the prince. You honestly didn't mind, as you may have developed a liking for the younger prince. What you weren't expecting was he already wanted you for himself.

The clearest memories between you and Aemond were when your brothers and your uncle decided to tease him about his lack of claiming a dragon. You knew how cruel Jace and Luke could be, as they enjoyed making your life harder so to speak. You lectured them both when you found out what they did to Aemond and searched for the young prince.

When you found him perched against an old oak tree, with his head in his hands, you sat next to him. As he turned to face you, you could see how red and raw his eyes were, obviously from crying. You tried to apologize for your brother's behaviour but he didn't want your pity, instead, he told you not to worry, and that he would make sure he gained a dragon. He didn't enjoy being harsh towards you and apologized later that day by gifting you a book with a note inside.

Another less fond memory of your prince was the night of Lady Laena's funeral. The entire day had an aura of gloom, and you could tell the tension was tightening between your family and Aemond's. Rhaenyra and Alicent were clawing at each other's throats every time they were close and the rumour that your mother had birthed four bastards was certainly a rumour that the HighTowers were eager to entertain, just so that your mother was seen as an untrustworthily whore.

Yet you remained close to Aemond, usually strolling around the grounds of the castle together or watching him train to duel with his brother and Ser Criston. But that dreadful night something changed, that night he finally got one of the two things he always wanted; to claim a dragon. Vhagar, Laena's dragon was sleeping peacefully until Aemond woke her, and through his bravery and her compliance, He successfully bonded with her by commanding her to calm herself and serve him in High Valyrian.

He quickly got the hang of it and rides the dragon around High Tide before landing. Vhagar was the biggest dragon in Westeros and the most powerful of any dragons the Targaryen's had. Whilst his little flying escapade, Laena's daughters noticed his absence and could hear the familiar roar coming from their mother's dragon, so they rushed over to Jace and Luke to help them find who had stolen the dragon, which was meant for the eldest Velarylon girl, Rhaena.

You were resting against a cold stone wall, seemingly fazed, when your younger brothers and cousins rushed up to you and told you about your uncle. You suddenly recalled hearing the familiar noise of the dragon and Aemond had excused himself from you as he 'felt ill' earlier. You trailed behind the four as they went to inside the castle searching for Aemond. When they spotted the young prince, they all started arguing over who had a claim to the dragon. You stayed behind them, not entirely wanting to be there.

Without a second thought, Rhaena hit Aemond for an insult he had said to her about her mother, but the latter was stronger and threw her to the ground. Your brothers quickly joined in the fight. Jace pushed Aemond to the ground and he broke Luke's nose somehow. You felt conflicted, about who to defend; either your brothers or the boy you've liked for what seemingly felt like eons.

You tried to get in between Luke and Aemond to break them up. Aemond wasn't thinking straight and accidentally hit you with a rock he had in his hand, to use on Luke. As soon as he realised what he did he dropped the rock and started apologising profusely, but Jace thought it was the perfect time to get revenge on the prince for hurting his big sister and stealing their cousin's dragon, as he threw sand into the boy's eyes and Luke slashed the boy in the right eye, blinding him.

You quickly snapped out of your pain haze and quickly rushed over to the wailing boy, whose face was now covered in blood. You couldn't believe what your brothers had done. Everything became a blur after that moment, you remember blood soaking your light-coloured dress and guiding Aemond through the castle to his mother. Him clutching you tightly, still muttering apologies to you, your relatives spewing their disgust at you for aiding the prince.

The last time you and the prince spent time was the most memorable. It was the day your mother remarried to her uncle, Daemon. You, Jace, and Luke were told by your mother that you all would be leaving for dragonstone and to say your goodbyes, the handmaidens would pack your belongings but be ready to leave King's landing before noon. This sudden news upset you heavily as you would be separated from Aemond and your friends for God knows how long. You wandered around the castle soaking in each and every detail as if it were the last. You made your way to Aemond's chambers, worried about his reaction to your leaving.

The both of you got incredibly closer ever since that fight, seemingly you both were joined at the hip, always sharing longing glances that teetered on the border of platonic. Once you reached the door and knocked, the familiar face of your blonde prince greeted you, eagerly letting you inside his room. You picked at your cuticles, not wanting to share the news with Aemond. He noticed the disdain on your face, and spoke "What's wrong, Princess Y/N?" you sighed, "Mother wants me and my brothers to travel to dragon stone for some time, she told us to say our goodbyes and to be ready to leave at midday. I'm so sorry." His smile faulted, as he took in your words.

He felt almost ill, his beloved was leaving so abruptly, he didn't know what to say, as he knew he couldn't sway Rhaenyra. Without a thought, he closed the gap between you both, slowly pressing his lips to yours, in a tender kiss. He gripped the fabric of your dress, either in a plea to hold you even closer or to keep you with him even longer. You couldn't help but feel something hard pressing into your thigh, your cheeks were ablaze when you realised what that something was.

You broke the kiss, knowing you didn't have much time left. He must have realised and quickly retrieved something from one of his drawers. It was a small bracelet, decorated in emeralds, the Hightower colour. You couldn't help but smile a little as he slipped it around your wrist. You gave him one last peck before saying the last words you'd say to him for the next six years. "Please write to me, or maybe even visit, I won't forget you, I beg you to do the same, goodbye my prince." "I will my princess, don't doubt it. Goodbye y/n." You left his chambers, not realising his brother was waiting outside his door.

Aegon grabbed your arm tightly and whispered in your ear. "You're leaving? fuck sake, why can't Rhaenyra just send the twats you call brothers away, she really wants to torture me. " You tried wiggling out of his harsh grip, but he wouldn't let go, "You know, I get so fucking hard when you cross my mind, I can't stop thinking about you swollen with my seed, being my little whore and no one el-" Aegon's perverted wishes were quickly diminished as your younger brother called out your name from the entrance of the corridor. Aegon released your arm but said one last thing, "Goodbye my betrothed." You knew that was a sick joke, Aemond had already told you that Aegon and Helena were already betrothed. He just really wanted to fuck with you. You muttered a goodbye with gritted teeth and rushed towards your brother and out of the castle.

Six Years Later:

Your mother and Daemon had decided that it would be best to visit Kings Landing once again, for your ill grandsire and to reaffirm Jace as the heir to the driftwood throne. You wouldn't mind being back at King's landing once again, this time as an 18-year-old woman, you were soon destined to be betrothed to some lord or knight. Another reason would be to see familar faces, such as Helaena, both of you were close. The Velayron girls you missed as well, as they were always sweet to you.

The two men you were dreading to see were Aegon and Aemond. Aegon for the most obvious reasons, he is a fucking pervert. As for Aemond, he in a way broke your heart. He promised to write to you but never acted on that promise, you had written three letters to the prince but he never wrote back. All those years, not one fucking word to you.

At first, you were deeply hurt but you came to understand that you could not let such a foolish thing belittle you as you were to be heir to the iron throne once your mother became Queen, you could not be seen as weak. You begged your mother to let you ride dragon back to the castle but she insisted to take a carriage, to your disappointment. Later that morning you all set off.

When the sight of the familiar castle came into your vision, you became an internal puddle of emotions, relief for finally being back home, happiness for finally being able to reunite with old friends and uneasiness for seeing the boy you loved, a man. Once the carriage abruptly stopped, you all stepped out and you let out a sharp exhale as all the Targaryen decorations that you remembered had been replaced by religious symbols.

Your stepfather made a few comments about Queen Alicent and her father was behind that, humourous but wasn't appropriate. You all were greeted and You, Jace and Luke were allowed to wander the grounds for a while. You found yourself walking near where the duelling practice was taking place and heard the smooth familiar voice belonging to Aemond.

"Nephews, You've come to train?"

You couldn't help but sigh gently when you saw how attractive Aemond had become. His hair was twice as long (more to pull on), and he was more toned and adorned with a black eye patch from the accident between him and your brother. As you walked closer to Aemond and ser Criston, you took in how skilful Aemond had become with a sword.

You joined your brothers and when Aemond saw you for the first time in years he almost forgot what he was even doing. That's how mesmerizing you are to him. Once he managed to make the Knight yield he strode towards you three. Aemond hadn't seen you in six years and he couldn't tear his eyes away from you, how your beautiful blonde hair framed your face, how your eyes were just as vibrant as they were and he couldn't help but let his eyes linger over your figure in your black & red dress, how he could get a glimpse of your cleavage as he towered over you.

"My niece, how I have missed you."

His tone was sultry and he gave your hand a quick kiss before giving your brothers a nasty look.

"Jace. Luke. Can you give me and your sister a moment alone?"

They raised their eyebrows but walked away leaving the both of you alone. He sighed before grabbing both of your hands into his.

"My dear y/n, Before you speak, listen to me. I never wanted to break that promise I made to you all those years ago. Alas, my mother had other thoughts, she forbade me from any contact with you."

"But-But why? I never did anything to offend her?"

He knew how you felt, his mother was a confusing bitch. Wanting to place Aegon, a drunk who regularly commits infidelity, as King on the iron throne. Instead, he believed he himself should have a claim to the throne. He was the one who studied history and philosophy. He was the one who trained with a sword. Oh, what he would truly do to be King and have you by his side as his Queen.

"Her reasoning seemed uncouth, as it was since you were the daughter of Rhaenyra and bare no resemblance to Ser Laenor. My mother decided that you would be unfit for me. But I couldn't go one day all those years without a thought of you trickling into my mind. Hm, you're still wearing that?"

You looked down at your wrist and couldn't help it as the blush rose to your cheeks at his words, it was the gift he left you on your last day spent together, he felt an odd sense of pride knowing you still cherished that simple bracelet. He pulled you into a tight embrace with your hands still in his grip. His large arms wrapped around you almost lovingly, and he rested his head upon yours. He murmured into your hair but before you could ask what he had said you both were interrupted by a sharp feminine voice.

"Aemond! come here. We need to talk"

And with that, Aemond sighed before releasing you to follow his cunt of a mother. You turned around to find Daemon smirking at you and laughing as he walked away, and you could tell that today would be interesting, to say the least.

Once the clock struck midday, most of everyone had made their way to the throne room to start their petitions for the heir to drift mark. Your grandsire was too sick to sit on the throne so Otto and Alicent were the ones listening. You followed your family and stood with your younger brothers. Once Vaemond, your technical uncle had proposed he be the heir to the driftwood throne which had made your entire family worry as you all knew that the Hightowers were going to do anything in their power to weaken your family. But you couldn't help but smile when you noticed how Aemond was looking at you from across the room.

When it was finally time for Rhaenyra to speak for your brother and as soon as she started the doors opened to the throne. You all turned and saw your grandfather, struggling to walk down the stairs to his place on the throne. Daemon helped his brother onto the iron throne before letting him speak. The king had reaffirmed your brother's place on the driftwood throne and you were extremely happy for him. You placed a hand on his shoulder, telling him how happy you were for him. You couldn't see how Aemond balled his hands into tight fists of jealousy, he didn't enjoy seeing you touching any other males, nonetheless, the boy who took his eye when they were younger.

After that gruesome turn of events, you were expected to go to a family dinner, your family and the Hightowers together how could that possibly go wrong? That evening you had walked into the dining room, lit up by numerous glowing candles. You noticed how almost everyone had been seated and there was an empty chair beside Aemond. Once you sat down, you saw how he looked at you, abashedly adoringly. He leaned down and whispered in your ear.

"I can't wait for tonight, I have something special planned for you. I know you'll like it."

You shivered as his warm breath trickled down your neck. You both shot back up once you heard Alicent cough loudly. You both noticed how Luke was staring almost disgustedly at the scene in front of him, but Aemond just smirked at him knowingly. In the middle of Alicunt saying grace, you felt a warm hand on your skirts. Your eyes flicked open to meet Aemond's closed ones, he seemed awfully proud of himself. What he wasn't expecting was to feel your hand gently brush against his growing erection. You watched how his breath hitched as his mother finished saying grace. As each family member conversed with one another you were trying not to concentrate on the hand trailing up your inner thigh to your arousal.

"So y/n have you been betrothed yet? I have just never seen you with a suitor yet."

Helaena's words broke you out of your haze, you stumbled around your words.

"Uh, not yet haven't. I feel as if men just are not so attracted to me."

You didn't notice Aemond's slight disappointment at your words, as you knew how much he adored you, inside and out.

"Well I'm sure you'll find someone soon, don't worry marriage isn't so appealing as it seems"

The subtle insult to Aegon made you laugh, a sound Aemond treasured. He truly enjoyed seeing you happy, he also wanted to see the noises of pleasure you'd make, squirming on his cock. He took his middle finger and trailed it over your underwear, just over your wet slit. You let out a quiet mewl but contained yourself quickly as you remembered where you were, you glared at Aemond but found him already looking at you. As food was brought out one plate by one, you took the opportunity to seek a small sliver of revenge. When a servant placed a whole roasted pig in front of the both of you, bad taste in your opinion. You popped open Aemond's pants and slipped your hand inside and into his undergarments to pull out his already leaking cock. You both were concealed by the meal in front of you and the large white tablecloth.

You lazily stroked his cock, every so often you'd spread the pre-cum gathered on his tip, making him grip your thigh hard in desperation. He honestly didn't think you'd do this to him, he only had imagined you doing such things to him in his more...personal fantasies. What he was planning to do under the table would have to wait but he'd repay you back generously. After some looming stares, your grandfather spoke for one last thing before he passed, to have one evening with his family with their grievances put aside. Your mother had commended Alicent on her loyalty to her father and her devotion to her husband and Alicent had returned her graciousness, saying she would make a fine queen. Everyone drank from their cup. You kept your pace while everyone seemed finally happy to be in each other's presence, everyone was smiling and laughing with one another, unknowingly witnessing you jerk off your uncle under the table.

Aemond knew he wasn't going to last long as you were so good for him. He loved how you were pleasuring him, and he honestly loved how no one even noticed the debauched action you both were doing. You stroked him one more time before he let out an extremely loud groan and he came, warm spurts all over your hand. You sighed internally and meet the disturbed faces of your family. They all knew what you had just done to Aemond and how Aemond fully enjoyed it. Without a second thought he put himself away, dragged you out of your chair and out of the room. The entire room was silent until Aegon laughed loudly and congratulated his brother earning multiple stares of disapproval.

You and Aemond ran out out of earshot and leant against the cold wall of a stairwell, breathless. You couldn't help but laugh about the situation you both put yourselves in, rightfully you both just scarred your entire family and knew the lectures you were bound to receive the next day. The first one to speak was Aemond, stumbling around, trying to figure what he would say until what he had spend all day planning popped into his head.

"Thank you my princess. I truly enjoyed that, shall I repay the favor?"

"What are you offering my prince?"

Aemond took your hand in his, gently rubbing his thumb over your knuckles. He met your soft gaze before leading you up the stairs into his chambers. When he opened the door, you saw a simple (choice of flower) on the edge of the bed next to a small wrapping of parchment paper. You wondered how in all of kings landing how he knew your favourite flower. He guided you towards the bed and sat down, you subconsciously played with the petals of the flower now in your lap. Aemond places the small wrapped into your hand,

"Open it, I know you'll like it."

You took Aemond's words and carefully unwrapped the gift. You couldn't believe it, it was a beautiful ring, gold with small emeralds engraved on the sides.

"My dear y/n, Will you take me? be my Queen?"

You nodded eagerly as you pressed your lips to his.

"Of course my King."

He pulled you into his lap, his hands wrapped around you deliciously. You couldn't help but moan as he slid his tongue into your mouth. He had a tight grip on your skirts, pulling you closer to the hardness in his pants. He broke the kiss to trial small bites over your neck, leaving a purple trail in his wake. He couldn't help himself but grind you down on his lap, trying to get as much friction as he could. You were more than happy to reprociate. He mumbled curses under his breath as he layed you down onto the soft sheets, taking in your debauched beauty. He slowly unzipped your dress, pulling it off completely, leaving you only in a pair of undergarments. He could feel his cock twitch just looking at you, and he was on his knees infront of you, and lazily stroked himself through his trousers, tempting himself.

He quickly made work of his vest and the white shirt underneath. He was about to get rid of his pants but before he could even reach the button, he felt your mouth against his bulge, his hips bucked against you at the warm feeling. He squeezed his eyes shut as you pulled out his cock once again and this time wrapped your mouth around his tip. He moaned in ecstasy at foreign feeling, he couldn't help but thrust into your mouth, trying to chase more. You braced both your hands onto his thighs as you took more of his dick. He absolutely loved you like this; you were so beautiful it hurt. You could tell by his stuttering hips that it wouldn't be long until he came, you gave him one more long lick up his shaft and pulled his weeping cock out of your mouth. You could see the slight disappointment on his face but you reassured him.

"I want you to cum in me."

He groaned when he heard those debauched words leave your pretty mouth. He couldn't wait to ruin you. You laid back down, and he laid himself above you, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, pulling him closer. He slowly rubbed the tip of his cock languidly over your glistening slit, teasingly.

You whimpered, already too stimulated for his teasing, "please"

"Please what? You need to use your words."

"Please. I need you to fuck me."

Without a second thought, he slowly pushed his hips forward, entering you, you let out a gasp at the feeling of absolute fullness. Aemond let out a shaky breath, finally getting to feel you after longing for you for years. Aemond begun to thrust his hips quickly, You arched your back, as lewd sounds erupted from your mouth and cunt as the pleasure increased.

Groans escaped Aemond as he could feel your cunt squeezing him so tight, his platinum locks framed your face as he continued his ministrations. You could feel the tip of his cock bumping your cervix with every thrust, he tantalizingly dragged his cock out and in, pressing deeper and Aemond let one of his hands wander to your clit, fumbling the bundle of nerves in delicate circles

Aemond ducked his head between your tits, licking the mounds and swirling around your bouncing nipples. They grew more sensitive. He pinched one nipple and took the other in his toothy mouth, nibbling and sucking at your flesh.

"Oh fuck Aem, I think I'm going to cum."

Aemond practically whimpered against you, a beautiful sound, he broke away from your chest,

"Cum on my cock, my Queen."

The combination of the abuse on your pussy and tits, that tight coil in your stomach finally fucking snapped and you gushed, all over Aemond's cock and naval. It didn't take a minute more for Aemond to fill you up with his seed, you felt the warm spurts of his cum inside you and couldn't describe the feeling you felt, was it adoration? Was it love? you couldn't tell as he slipped out of you, leaving your pussy clenching at nothing and he laid beside you. You rested your head on his chest and gazed up into his eye, he whispered lovingly;

"I cannot wait until we are married on Dragonstone and you swell with our children."

You let yourself fall asleep unaware of the arguments that you and Aemond will deal with in the morrow.

The end

This was a draft from last year but since Hotd season 2 will be released I knew I NEEDED to post this. Hope y'all like it.

#house of the dragon #i am down bad #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #aegon targaryen #alicent hightower #daemon targaryen #rhaenyra my beloved #hotd #aemond one eye #daemon targeryan #hotd season 2

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Steve Harrington x fem!reader [14K] PART ONE OF TWO old money steve, an infatuated waitress, no labels, a disaster waiting to happen. some smut, some jealousy and too many mentions of monaco. 18+

And, baby, for you I would fall from grace

He came into the dining room of the club one Saturday afternoon. Sunkissed, tall, broad, stubble on his jaw and a gold chain glinting from the collar of his white shirt. He had a navy sweater draped over his shoulders, expensive sunglasses in his shirt's front pocket, an unassuming looking leather strapped watch on his wrist - but you’d learned well before then how to tell the difference between new money and old money.   

And Steve Harrington was old, old money. 

The watch cost more than your car and a year's rent on your apartment. Fuck, it cost more than you’d probably ever make working behind the bar of Hawkins’ country club. It cost more than the short black dress you were made to wear, the one that cinched you in at the waist and flared out over your thighs. It shone more than the gold plated name badge that was pinned on your chest, making your plunging neckline even more obvious. It cost more than the black heels that were part of your uniform, more than the five dollar balm that made your lips glossy and peach coloured. 

But still, Steve Harrington and his old, old money noticed you. 

—————

The restaurant was full, the bar even busier, the smoking lounge that sat through the double doors stuffed with leather chairs, studded couches, velvet footstools and table lined with cigars in wooden boxes. The full place smelled like bourbon and smoke, expensive cologne, perfume that cost even more. 

The Lake House country club was Hawkins’ finest institute, an old Manor House that was built on the shore of Lovers Lake, across the water from where teens liked to lurk in their cars and between tree trunks. The Lake House was where the town's elite came to dine, to drink, to lounge and talk. There were brunches with champagne and whisky, afternoon tea with ladies who wore diamonds and pearls, dinners with wine from 1802 and business meetings on the golfing green. Money poured from the club and filled the cracks in the old bricks, men with their daddy’s money bringing in their daughters, their sons, their wives. And when the family drove home in their Bentley, girlfriend’s arrived in red bottomed shoes, perching on laps in the smoking lounge like it was their jobs. 

Maybe it was. You weren’t supposed to ask. 

Your job was to stay behind the bar, a huge mahogany thing that took up most of the back wall. Everything was dark wood and lined with green velvet, the bar stools suede and gold studded, the bottles of alcohol on the glass shelves nothing less than a month's paycheck each. Martini glasses glittered, whisky was in the air like car fumes and the lime you were cutting into wheels was making the cut on your finger pulse.  

He walked in then, into the busy room like he owned it. The Harringtons were certainly wealthy enough to do so, but Michael Harrington and his wife simply liked to dine at the club on Sundays, take up on the tennis courts midweek and finish the day at the spa with a massage each. 

Six hundred dollars a session to hire out the court, four hundred dollar scotch, three hundred dollar steaks (eighty dollars more for the potato dauphinoise), five hundred dollars for a couples massage. Oh, and a one hundred dollar tip for the fucker unfortunate enough to have to deal with them. 

In cash, of course. 

But their son? Steve Harrington moved out of Hawkins long before anyone could work out if he’d grow up to be as cold as his father. Away from small towns, rumour had it he went to New York, an apartment in Manhattan, a job on Wall Street where he started at the bottom and worked his way up on luck, expensive vodka and daddy’s money. But then again, others said he spent his summers in Europe, talks of Italian villas, vineyards in Tuscany, selling yachts to the elite in Cannes, spending his time trading money through casinos, long months in Monaco during the spring. 

Seeing him back in Hawkins was unusual, uncommon, a goddamn rarity - but there he was, letting himself drop into the barstool in front of you like a Greek god etched from marble so expensive that you could barely afford to look at it. He sat with a friend, another twenty something that looked more man than boy because of their tailored trousers, crisp shirts, linen and cashmere and gold on their wrists, round their necks, family rings on their hands. 

Steve Harrington didn’t click his fingers at you like other members of the club did when they demanded to be served, but he did rap two knuckles against the bar top, a gold band on his middle finger hitting the wood. He had his shirt sleeves rolled up, careful and cuffed just below his elbows, the top three buttons undone to show off tanned skin and a smattering of chest hair. More gold, a thin chain settling in the dip of his throat, stubble along his jaw that looked like it was there deliberately, not because he’d forgotten to shave. 

You held your breath when you approached. You’d never served the youngest Harrington before - fuck, you’d never seen him here - but you knew who he was and the reputation dripped from him. 

Old money, older estates, acres of land, shares in companies that were so ridiculously rich you didn’t know what they were for. Fast cars, scandals in Europe, yachts with his name on it.  

Stomach in knots, you straightened up, smoothed down then front of your dress and put on the same smile you used for all the club members. “Gentlemen,” you greeted, “what can I get you both?”

Steve looked at you but his friend didn’t, his back to you as he surveyed the room, mumbling comments about the lack of skirt that showed up this early in the afternoon. You recognised him, a regular in the later evenings, Jonathan Byers, a fiend for a good cigar, an even bigger fan of the girls that held the poker events on weekends. 

“Two Macallans,” Steve told you, already fishing out a money clip from his trouser pocket. The clip was gold, engraved with his initials: SMH. “Twenty year reserve, no ice.”

He really looked at you then, thumbing through one hundred dollar bills, eyes raking up and down your frame as you stood and listened diligently. Even when you turned to pull the bottle of scotch off the top shelf, you could feel him watching, one eyebrow quirked, full lips parted just a little, the top of his tongue peeking from between. Steve looked interested, intrigued. Maybe just a little less bored than before. 

You kept your head down, polishing the tumblers before you poured, a three finger amount of the dark amber liquid and the smell of fire and smoke filled your nose. You’d watched enough men sit around the bar and swirl their drinks under the nostrils, waffling about notes of chocolate and spice before they sipped. It all smelled the same, no matter what price was on the label, like car fuel and burning. Steve downed the drink in one when you handed it to him, like he wasn’t swallowing liquid fire that cost him more than you’d make in a week. 

You watched as his throat bobbed, his lips coming away from the rim of the glass a little glossy, how he licked over his bottom one to catch any alcohol that lingered. Then he grinned, all perfect teeth and charm before he passed you six hundred dollars in notes. 

You nodded your thanks and went to the cash register, smiling what you hoped was politely as you tried to hand him back his change. Ninety dollars, pressed neatly in a pile of twenties and tens. The boy waved you off, still paying a lot of attention to the bare skin along your neckline, gaze running up the column of your throat. His eyes found yours when he finally spoke and god, they were the same colour as the scotch he just shotted.  

“Keep the change, honey.” Steve smiled again, a smug thing that made you aware of how warm your cheeks were. Then he slid on a pair of sunglasses he took from his shirt pocket and pushed his hair back with a hand, nudging his friend to drink up before they both slid off the stools. “Just make sure it goes in your own pocket, okay?”

You gaped at him. The Lake House’s policy when it came to tips - no matter how generous - was for them to be placed in a jar in the back office, ready to be split between staff, however hard individuals had worked, or not worked, that shift. 

The money burnt your fingers. “Um, that’s very generous but I can’t—”

Steve lifted a navy sweater he’d draped on the back of his chair, crushing the soft fabric with one hand. He used the other to reach out, plucking the bills from your fingers so he could fold them all together. His gaze met yours when he leaned back over the bar, unblinking, knuckles grazing the bare skin above your chest when he tucked the money into the neckline of your dress. It stayed there, hidden and you had to snap your jaw shut when Steve grinned at you before he pulled away. 

He raised a finger to his lips, like you were sharing a secret and not a sackable offence and his friend snorted, like he’d seen it all before. Maybe he had. 

“See you next time, honey,” Steve drawled, fishing keys out of his pocket. The silver logo of BMW glinted in the low lighting. “Thanks for the drinks.”

That was the first time you met Steve Harrington. 

Just to touch your face

The next time, he was with a group of people in the smoking lounge, all of them loud, most of them dirty rich and he had a girl on his lap. A waifish thing, pretty and delicate with a ruby pendant that settled in the dip of her chest. She held a martini glass aloft, one that you had to refill and you cursed The Lake House and its rules as your heels taptaptapped across the marble tiles. The hem of your dress swished across your thighs, your hand held a gold tray and the fresh martini swirled in its glass atop it, a well practised movement that made sure none of it spilled. The olive inside tumbled around gin and vermouth. 

Inside of the lounge, smoke billowed. Cigars and cigarettes poised between fingertips, hanging from lips that couldn’t help but spill secrets about their dirty businesses, the people they slept with before, the people they’d bed tonight. Nobody moved out of your way as you squeezed past tables and between the low sofas, leather and velvet brushing the backs of your thighs until you were able to present Steve Harrington’s lap warmer with her new drink. 

She took it from your tray, replaced it with her empty glass and said nothing. It was her hand on Steve’s chest that caused him to look away from the men he was talking with, a hushed sounding discussion about money in Monaco, about the company and its takings for that summer. He frowned at the girl and her pawing until he caught sight of you, his lips lifting in a smile that seemed more dangerous than welcoming. 

You smiled back, polite to a fault, throat going dry when you watched Steve’s gaze drop to that bare expanse of skin above your neckline. It wasn’t obscene, it wasn’t even suggestive. In fact, there was barely any amount of cleavage on show at all per the clubs rules but Steve was fixated on a freckle below your collarbone and the feel of his eyes on you made you fidget. 

You tucked the tray under one arm and tried not to shuffle on the spot. “Can I get you anything, sir?”

There was something in Steve’s reaction to your question. Maybe it was the ‘sir,’ the way you tipped your head towards him when you said it, soft and gentle and pretty. He knew you had to call all the members of the club such niceties but Steve’s eyes flashed and his lips parted, the hand he had on the arm of the sofa curling around the leather a little tighter. 

“A Macallan,” he asked, just like the first time. “No—”

“No ice,” you finished for him, nodding. “I’ll bring that right over.”

You blew out a breath when you turned, heels clicking on the marble as you made your way back to the bar. The lights were dimmed throughout the club in the evening, wall sconces letting out a warm glow, the huge fireplace in the main lounge roaring, popping and cracking with wooden logs. The whole place smelled like pine, like cedar and smoke and expensive leather. Women laughed softly, hanging off their husbands arms, dripping in pearls, in jewels, in false pretences. You smiled nicely at passing club members as you poured Steve’s drink, hands a little shaky from you out down to missing your lunch break, not excitement.

Definitely not nerves. 

You placed the chilled glass back on the tray, amber liquid shining inside the crystal, and made your way to the smoking lounge. Steve was alone when you returned, his lap empty, the girl gone. Not just from his lap, but from the room entirely. You scanned the lounge, expecting to see her on her way back, maybe with a complaint about the drink you made her, just to make you feel small but no - she’d been removed. Your heart skipped, an awful stuttering feeling that you didn’t want to feel. Lowering the tray, you offered Steve his drink, gaze cast down as you felt his on you the entire time. Steve leaned up, too close, taking his drink and smiling at you. 

You were just about to leave when:

“Why don’t you join me?”

The rest of the room was as loud as it was before, music under voices, laughter mixed with a saxophone record, conversations in the smoke. But Steve’s voice rang out almost too clearly from amongst it all. Still, you blinked at him, lips parting in surprise. “Sorry?”

Steve nodded at the seat next to him as he sank back into the couch, an arm thrown over the back of it as he took a sip of his scotch. The watch on his wrist caught the low light as he ripped the glass against his lips, cheeks flushed from the log burner. 

He was dressed in what you assumed he’d deem a little more casual than the last time you saw him. A black silk shirt, short sleeved and with the top few buttons undone again. No visible label, no ostentatious brand name on the chest but you knew well enough by then to know that just meant it was even more expensive. Black trousers, tailored for him and a pair of black boots with a sharp toe. His hair was less styled, maybe from the way his lost friend had been running her fingers through it earlier. Strands of it fell into his eyes and you swallowed hard when you realised you were staring. 

“Take a seat,” Steve asked again, lips curling up in amusement at your flustered expression. 

You blinked at him before you remembered to stand back up straight, tucking the tray back under your arm and hoping that none of the club's managerial staff were lingering nearby. You’d already spent too long away from the bar. “I, um, I can’t. I’m sorry,” you pressed your lips together and tried not to look too regretful. “I'm working.”

Steve snorted, a sound that should’ve been more unattractive than it was but it only made you want to hear what he had to say. He took another pull of his drink, barely wincing when the burn of it trickled down his throat. You did the maths in your head, wondering how it felt to be swallowing seventy dollar sips. He raised his brows and shrugged, looking around theatrically.

“And?” The boy smiled, equal parts pretty and smug. 

You were a little flustered, both at how nice he looked when he smiled and how bold he was being. You opened and closed your lips before parting them again, another polite smile there. “I need to get back to the bar,” you explained. “I’ll get into tr—”

“Trouble?” Steve finished. He shook his head and grinned, a megawatt thing that made you understand that, yes, all the rumours were true. That the famed Harrington Charm was very much a thing. But fuck, his father didn’t smile at you like that. In fact, he didn’t smile at all. “Oh, honey. No one gets in trouble unless I say so. Worried Frederick is gonna fire you?”

Steve dropped the name of your manager like they were friends. They probably were. He looked at you expectantly over the rim of his glass as he took another sip, licking the liquid from his lips. You wondered if he tasted as expensive as his liquor choices. 

You nodded, shrugging, grasping for a reason to say no to this boy - this man. The line at the bar was growing, annoyed looking men clicking their fingers at a flustered looking new girl who was trying to pour champagne into a wine glass. Guilt gnawed at your stomach. 

“He won’t fire you,” Steve assured. He patted the leather next to him, gold ring glinting in the warm light. “C’mon. Sit. I want to talk to you.”

You couldn’t help yourself. 

“Do you always get what you want?” You said it quietly, watching Steve’s lips curl into a grin when he heard. 

Another smile, mega watt, just for you. He tipped his head back and laughed, a pretty sounding thing that made the muscles down his neck stand out, chin tilted up to the gold leafed ceiling. 

“Yeah,” he told you, eyes dancing, cheeks flushed from the fire, the lights, the scotch. “I do.” 

You shouldn’t have done it. You weren’t allowed. There were strict rules about staff mingling with club members - fuck, it was written in red ink on your contract. You were too used to some of the clientele pushing the limits, trying to soften your boundaries with wads of cash, talks of a private plane to some European city where their wife didn’t like to visit. Older men, rich men, business men, family men. All looking for someone young and easily led and agreeable to have fun with between meetings and luncheons, someone to light their cigar and top up their drink for them. They liked to look at you like something to eat up, to chew up, to spit out when they were done and Frederick inevitably hired someone new and younger and prettier. 

You’d seen it happen before. Girls sucked into the lifestyle they could never have, coming into work with new shoes, red bottomed heels with their uniform dress, a Chanel lipstick in their purse, a Porsche waiting outside for them after their shift finished and in the end, a scorned wife in the dining room ready to throw a drink over them. 

You’d seen it all.  

But Steve Harrington was looking at you with so much intrigue. A pretty smile behind his tiny glass of three hundred dollar scotch, messy hair, bright eyes, that black silk shirt that looked easy to slip your fingers into. He was younger, more subtle with it all but the easy confidence in which he spoke to you had you squeezing your thighs together and wondering if your chest would stop feeling as tight. 

It didn’t. 

You sat down. 

Steve grinned, victorious and he moved against the leather sofa so he was sitting back against the arm, turned to face you fully. He brought one foot up to rest on his other knee, hand curling around his leg, and from there you could see the tiny brand on his loafers, a little gold insignia. Yves Saint Laurent. You wanted to laugh. His shoes cost more than you made in three months. 

“What’s your name?” Steve asked. 

You wore the same gold plated pin that every other staff member wore. The Lake House engraved on it along with the logo, a stupidly elaborate key. Underneath, your name was printed in bold letters, but Steve wasn’t looking at it. He was watching your face, brows raised expectantly. He wanted to hear you speak. 

Pressing the tray to your lap, you lingered on the edge of the couch, eyes darting around for your boss, or worse, the girl this man was last seen with. Was it his girlfriend? Did he have a wife? You weren’t sure how old Steve was, but you didn’t see a ring on his wedding finger, not that that meant much in a place like The Lake House. Wedding bands frequented coat pockets more than fingers here. 

You swallowed and told him your name, your voice cracking with nerves that you tried to laugh at but that came out wobbly too. Your shyness made Steve grin a little wider, his wide hands curling around his ankle as he lounged back against the cushions and appraised you with a look that shouldn’t have been proper for public. 

He repeated your name back to you and it sounded so much sweeter on his lips. He said it slowly, a low murmur that made your tummy clench, like he was tasting it out, tasting it on his tongue. “That’s a pretty name,” he said. “I’m Steve Harr—”

You laughed, sharp and surprised. “I know who you are, Mr Harrington.”

If Steve was shocked by his news, he didn’t show it. It was your job to know the members, after all. Their names, their families, the work they were in. Their favourite table, their favourite drink, the time they liked to dine, their preferred slot for playing a round of golf. So instead he smiled and nodded before holding out a hand. 

You took it and he squeezed gently, shaking it politely as he said, “well then, please call me Steve.”

You nodded, wondering if that was allowed. None of this was allowed. Fuck, you glanced around again, eyes a little wide, wondering if Frederick was in his office, god forbid, watching you through the cameras. Steve must’ve noticed this, because he swallowed down the last of his scotch and set the empty glass on the table. You’d have to move it soon. 

“Relax.” His arm stretched out along the back of the sofa, tanned and corded with lithe muscles. His fingers tapped a beat on the leather, close to your shoulder. “Nothing bad is going to happen.”

You laughed, a shaky, ironic sounding thing. You forgot who you were talking to, just for a second, your heart pumping. “That’s easy for you to say.” You swore then, a pained noise, because Frederick was marching out of his office, three piece suit right across his shoulders and his pocket watch swinging.

He was coming over. 

You made a noise similar to a squeak, drinks tray clutched to your chest and you made to jump up but Steve’s hand stopped you. Warm and wide, it took up most of your knee and you blinked at it in surprise. He didn’t move it when you stared at him and he still didn’t move it when Frederick approached, red faced and nostrils flaring. 

“Mr Harrington, sir, it’s so good to see you back at The Lake House,” your manager began, his voice a well practised purr. There was a slight British tinge to his voice, one you knew was fake. “Please take my sincerest apologies for you being bothered. I’ll be asking my staff to join me in the office for a much required conversation about professional boundaries. Please excu—”

“Fred,” Steve greeted warmly, his smile much more forced than the one he’d been giving you. Frederick twitched. “Nice to see you.” Steve’s hand still covered your lower thigh and squeezed slightly, in what you thought was supposed to be reassuring but his thumb on the inside of your knee made you too warm. “No need for anything like that, actually.” Steve said your name, wrapped it around his tongue and licked over his lip like he was savouring it before he continued. “—was invited to sit with me.”

The clubhouse manager hardened, a flash of annoyance going over his features and his neck grew more red in anger. He smiled through it, a tight lipped thing that Steve grinned at and you had to duck your head, panic ripping through your body. You couldn’t lose this job. 

“How nice,” Frederick finally ground out. He clasped his hands in front of him and glared at you from the sides of his eyes before he smiled at Steve again. “I hope my staff is doing her utmost to keep you pleased, Mr Harrington. Do not hesitate to ask for anything.”

You hated the way he said it, like any club member could get anything they wanted from you, just because they had enough money to be here. It made you square off your shoulders and lift your head, emboldened. Steve was watching you, that look of intrigue on his face once more. He nodded at Frederick and then gestured to his empty glass. 

“Actually, Freddie, could you be a pal and fetch me another?” His tone was too polite, bordering on patronising. Frederick’s tight smile grew tighter, a thin line that stretched across his ruddy face until you feared it might split. “A Macallan, no ice. Anything for the lady?” Steve turned to you and winked, a subtle thing that let you know everything was under control. 

But you knew better than to rock the boat, better than that, you knew not to drink on the job. Especially from the club’s bar. The only thing you could afford from behind the mahogany counter was the one thing Steve always refused. Ice. 

“No, thank you,” you murmured. 

Your manager had no choice but to walk away, his back rigid, proverbial steam coming out from his ears. You watched him snap Steve’s order at a poor, unsuspecting barman who then brought it back over on another shiny tray. He raised his brows at you when Steve thanked him for it and you shrugged, not knowing what was going on either. 

When he left, Steve turned back to you, leaning back into the sofa. He looked more tanned that the last time you’d seen him. Maybe it was the dim lighting, the warm glow from the sconces along the walls, the amber coloured shade on the lamp beside him. Maybe he’d just been back to Italy. 

Monaco. France. Spain. 

He took a sip, eyes dancing over you and when he brought the drink back down to rest on his knee, he spoke. “Have you worked here long?”

It took you a second to realise he was speaking to you again, his voice lower and softer than it had been with your boss. You noticed Steve has a habit of direct eye contact, always looking right into your own eyes as he spoke. It was a little jarring, the confidence, that bold type of charm that must come with always getting what you want. 

“Uh, yeah,” you scrunched your nose, trying to remember months and years. “Three years now, or close enough.”

“I should’ve come back sooner,” Steve quipped back, his smile easy, his eyes roaming over you. His ring tapped against his glass of scotch and you didn’t know what to do. Was he flirting with you? “Do you live in town?”

“Couple miles out, smaller place near Sugar Creek.” You weren’t sure why you were telling him this. 

“Yeah, I know it,” Steve replied. “Makes sense, why I hadn’t seen you around before. Did you go to school ‘round here?”

You felt like you were being interviewed. A handsome, rich man asking the questions, sitting easy in his throne and you had an awful, awful urge to please him with your answers. To do good. To be praised. 

“I went to St. Mary’s High in Green Bay,” you swallowed, your tongue feeling too big for you mouth. Nerves bubbled in your stomach. “Then I was supposed to move to California— Berkeley.” You winced, remembering. 

Steve looked surprised, eyebrows raised, nodding. “What was your major?”

“Social law.”

Steve hummed. “Smart girl.” There it was. That praise. You tingled with it. “What happened?”

You heard the words he didn’t say, the unasked question. ‘Why aren’t you there? Why are you here? Wearing that silly little dress and heels that hurt your feet and that fake, fake smile that makes your cheeks hurt so much you want to scream into your pillow when you get home every night?’

You pondered over what to say. How truthful to be. How blunt, how ugly and honest. Shit, you could’ve said. Family, parents, money, bad luck, worse circumstances. Housing, a broken down car, an apartment that fell through at the last minute, a scholarship that didn’t happen, an aunt that got sick, a mom who didn’t like to let go. 

Instead you smiled politely and said: “life.” 

Steve gave you a wry smile in return, one that told you he could see through it all and he knew exactly what you wanted to say. Like he knew you weren’t allowed to and you were playing by the rules. Frederick was at the bar, staring at your back until you felt your bones crunch with the weight of it. 

Steve finished his drink, slid his glass onto the table and ran a hand through his hair. “It was nice to talk to you,” he said simply. He took your hand, not to shake it like last time, no. Instead he held it for a beat or two, and when he took his away, neatly folded bills were left between your fingers. They burned. 

“For the table service,” he said as a way of explaining. You didn’t know if he meant the drink or you. “I’ll see you next time, honey.”

And then he left. You watched him saunter through the bar, nodding and smiling at people who greeted him, taking his jacket from someone at the door and then he was gone. 

That was the second time you met Steve Harrington. 

If you walk away, I'd beg you on my knees to stay

A week later you were clocking into work with the intention of heading to the staff locker rooms, ready to wrestle yourself into that black dress the club called a uniform. It was early afternoon on a Wednesday and The Lake House was quiet, a few greying women you knew to be part of the book club were sat having tea by a window, a group of men leaving the gym, sweat barely there, but the towels over their shoulders had designer logos stitched in the corners. 

Frederick found you with your heels in your hand, a look of disgust on your face as you kicked off your sneakers. He wasn’t even supposed to be in the girls locker room, but he shook his head at you and took the stilettos from your hand. 

“No,” he looked irritated, as if you should’ve known better. “You’re on the green today.”

You screwed up your nose at him. You were never on the green and you told him as such. “The schedule has me in the bar all day.”

Frederick huffed as if such questions were an inconvenience to him. He ducked, rooting around in your locker as his shoulder bumped your knee and he came back with the uniform you hardly had to wear. A white tennis skirt, bordering on too short with pleats that made the men tip well, even as their wives glared. A forest green sweater to match, the same colour as the club logo, white sneakers that were brand new from never being used. 

“Special request,” your boss told you in lieu of a real explanation. “Get dressed, they’re waiting. Hurry.”

You gaped at him as he bundled the clothes into your arms. “Who’s waiting?” You called after him. “What hole?”

“Any of them,” Frederick yelled back as he walked out of the locker room and down the hall. His voice echoed back to you, a daunting thing. “He booked out the whole course.”

Driving the beer cart over the green was always a nerve wracking experience. The drinks rattled noisily and the breeze kept catching at your skirt, threatening to flip it up over your thighs as you tried to manoeuvre the buggy around the man made dunes and valleys. You weren’t sure where you were driving to, or who you were going to meet, but you kept an eye out at each hole for someone, anyone. 

It could only really be one of two people, you guessed. Mr Donaldson was harmless enough, but he had a decade or three on your own age. Divorced and the owner of a film company in Atlanta, the man liked to frequent the clubhouse during the summers he spent back in Hawkins, pretending he was visiting his young daughter when he really preferred to lounge at the bar during your shift, trying to convince you that you just needed to see his condo in Georgia. 

The only other person you could think of that would request you and you alone, was someone you haven't seen since the week before. You’d looked for him, watched the cars coming into the lot to be dropped off for the valet’s to park but you hadn’t seen any BMW’s. Steve didn’t visit the bar, didn’t spend any afternoons in the smoking lounge - you didn’t even see him with Jonathan Byers at the poker night on Tuesday. 

You thought he might’ve left town again. Back to whatever European city he’d decided on for the week, for the month. Maybe he’d gone back to New York, maybe he had meetings. Maybe he had a girlfriend, one for each country. 

Mr Donaldson was the harmless option. Annoying, sure. But bearable. Safe. Mr Harrington… he wasn’t harmless at all. You knew which one you wanted to see. 

Sure enough, you turned the corner to hole eight to see a group of young men talking and laughing around their own golf cart. You saw some familiar faces, all known for being young, handsome and rich. 

Billy Hargrove of Hargrove’s Vintage Motors. Crude, sharp witted, too flirtatious, he was the next in line to take over his father’s company and fortune, selling refurbished vehicles for prices that made your eyes water. 

Jonathan Byers was there too, a young mogul who was up and coming in the art world. Once a critic, his photography had shot to fame after some black and white nudes of his then girlfriend were ‘leaked’ to the paper he once worked for. His family paid it all off as some sort of art nouveau exhibition, a look into scandal and sex in 30mm film. He lost his girlfriend but landed a gallery in the downtown neighbourhood of San Francisco. 

Eddie Munson, someone you actually knew from high school. A decent guy, there because he worked for it, illegally, sure - but didn’t they all? One way or another? Selling weed and who knows what else to the majority of the population of Hawkins made for a popular man, but Eddie brought in bank when he started selling to the elite, the rich kids of Hawkins High who preferred powder at their parties. He got into The Lake House with cold, hard cash instead of his family name and he stayed in the background of it, usually.

A few other men lingered, clutching at clubs and practising their swings, Wall Street leeches that were stuck at the bottom of the totem pole but still decided they had enough money in their daddies bank to be able to click their fingers at you and smack your ass as their Rolex’s jingled.  

Amongst them all, in black slacks and a white polo, was Steve Harrington. Sunglasses over his eyes, leather golfing gloves on his hands, he was smirking at something Eddie said before his head snapped to you. In fact, everyone was staring at you. 

You tried to keep your head high and your expression neutral, turning off the engine to the golf cart and doing your best to swing your legs out without flashing anything you weren’t supposed to. You kept your hands on your skirt, smoothing it down, hoping that you could get through this shift without any embar—

A long whistle, salacious and eager, coming from Billy Hargrove. A few of the boy’s laughed and Billy grinned, sharklike, letting his eyes crawl from your toes to your tits. “Damn, Harrington. You paid for one of the good ones, huh? C’mere, Sugar, daddy needs a drink—”

You were frozen, standing awkwardly by the back of the buggy where the drinks were kept in a cooler, a thousand dollar pick ‘n’ mix of whisky, scotch and gin for the men to choose from. There wasn’t any Bud Light at The Lake House, not even on the green. 

But Billy didn’t get much further into his catcalls, stopped by a hand on his elbow that tugged him away from you and the other men. The snickering stopped, a heavy silence falling over the group as Steve took Billy aside with nothing more than a touch to his arm. You watched as Steve slid his sunglasses off, his hard gaze on the other boy as he whispered something too low for you to hear. But Billy listened, albeit with a glare in his eyes, but he nodded, sharp and just once. His jaw flexed. 

You didn’t know what was happening. You didn’t know what to do. You found Eddie’s gaze, saw his soft smile, knowing. He winked at you, twirling a club in his hand as he waited for the game to continue. And it did, once Steve seemingly dismissed Hargrove. The other men started talking again, easy and light like nothing had happened, requesting different drinks from you that you pulled out of the cooler, ice making your hands wet and numb. 

And all the while Steve lingered at the back of them, sitting in the driver's side of the other golf cart, waiting with his eyes on you. He didn’t approach once Jonathan left with his glass of Glenfiddich, in fact, he didn’t make out like he wanted a drink at all. So you stood by the cart like you were supposed to and watched the men take turns at swinging a stick at a ball, yelling profanities when they missed, yelling more profanities when they didn’t. 

You couldn’t help let your gaze wander to Steve, the picture of luxury as he leaned back in the leather seat, one leg out of the cart and stretched across neatly clipped grass. He was lighting a cigarette, held between his lips as he lowered his gaze to his cupped hands, gold zippo flickering with an amber flame. He looked up as he blew out the smoke, eyes finding yours, grinning when you startled. 

Steve took another drag and asked, “you not comin’ to say hi?”

Three years of ingrained obedience made your feet move forward, doing as you were told at the words of another rich man. You felt unsure, walking across the green empty handed, but Steve hadn’t asked for a drink, so you stopped just shy of where his leg was stretched out of the cart. If you moved any closer, you would’ve been between his spread knees. You clasped your hands in front of you, pressed against your little, white skirt. It lifted a little with the breeze, a sharper wind than the day before that told the town fall was coming. 

Steve watched the hem catch and fall back against your thighs, brown eyes tracking the movement to see what little new skin he could watch but apart from that, he didn’t make any of the lewd comments his friend had. 

“Mr Harrington,” you said as a greeting. “Good afternoon, can I get you anything to drink?” You were polite to a fault, well trained, good mannered, an expert in making yourself small and only seen when spoken to. 

Steve ignored your question. He inhaled his cigarette again, cheeks hollowing out, lips pursing, jaw sharpening. He smiled at you as he blew smoke out of the side of his mouth, the wind taking it away from your face. “I told you to call me Steve,” he said and his voice was quiet, a low thing that made your face heat up. You tried to apologise, but he kept talking. “How are you?”

You blinked, surprised at his question. You didn’t think you’d ever been asked that while at work. “Uh, I’m fine, thank you. How’re you?”

Steve nodded and flicked ash onto the grass, letting it sink into the course. “I’m great, thank you. Better now you’re here.” He grinned when you fidgeted, lips parting, hands unsure what to do. You twisted your fingers together a little tighter. “You okay being out here?” Steve let the cigarette balance between his lips and you watched it move as he spoke around it. “I can let you go back inside, if you’d like.”

Normally such words would be used as a trick, a trap, a warning. A subtle threat from an unhappy customer that would ensure you did as they wanted, even if it meant staying later than you were being paid for, adding extra time to their spa passes, even if it risked your own employment. But Steve looked and sounded genuine, his eyes watching you as you worked up the courage to tell him the truth.  

“It’s okay,” you finally said, voice betraying how shy you felt. You sounded confident, in control. You felt nothing of the sort, especially when the boy grinned again, wider this time and god, he looked like he owned the world and everything in it. 

“Excellent.” Steve flicked the stub of his cigarette away and pushed his sunglasses back onto the bridge of his nose. He tilted his head at the empty seat beside him and said: “jump in.”

You stuttered over an excuse, an explanation, eyes a little wide as you looked back over to the rest of the group, the drinks cart you were supposed to man all day. “I— I can’t? I’ve to stay with the cart all day, if I leave it I’ll get into—”

Steve cut you off with a tsk and a shake of his head. His voice turned to liquid gold as he spoke, rich and sweet and awfully condescending. It made you drip. “What did I tell you last time, huh, honey? No one’s gonna tell you off unless it’s me. Now c’mon, you don’t wanna spend some time with me?”

You could’ve stayed. You were sure Steve wouldn’t have been mad. You should’ve stayed. You were breaking rules. All of them. But Steve was grinning at you from the front seat of the golf cart, tanned arms flexed as his leather gloves gripped the wheel and all of his friends played pretend, like they couldn’t hear what was going on behind them as they took another swing. 

You should’ve stayed. Maybe went back into the clubhouse, took off your sweater and skirt and played nice behind the bar in your usual attire, serving clients old enough to be your grandfather as they slipped fifty dollar bills into your hand just so you’d lean over for them again. 

You got in the cart. 

Steve positively beamed, a hot smirk that stretched across his pretty face and you barely heard the whistles and yowls of his friends as he sped away as fast as the buggy would allow. He went off course, cruising alongside the green and heading towards the path between the woods that took you to lovers lake. 

“Feeling bad today, Berkeley?” The nickname caused your heart to jump, confirmation that he’d been listening the last time you both spoke, that he’d remembered. 

But still guilt and worry gnawed at your chest and you looked around at the empty course, half expecting to see Frederick chasing after you both in the drinks cart you’d abandoned so carelessly. What did it matter, really? The price of everything in the cart was included in whatever it had cost for Steve to book out the entire fucking course for the day. A stolen scotch or two didn’t matter. Not really. 

You didn’t know how to reply, so you didn’t say anything at all, just sitting by Steve’s side like a baby deer caught in headlights, like a good little girl that wanted to know if it really was true, if Steve really could keep you out of the trouble he was leading you into. The boy must’ve seen your bleak expression ‘cause he laughed, pushing back the hair that the wind blew across his forehead. 

“Honey, it’s fine,” Steve glanced over at you as he turned down the dirt path to the lake. You could see his eyes shining at you through his shades, amusement making them glitter. “I promise.”

So you nodded and tried to smile, doing your best to relax into the seat and when the cart bumped over a fallen branch that Steve didn’t bother to avoid, the jostle of it made your thigh bump into his. He grasped at your knee as an apology of sort, murmuring something you couldn’t hear over the wind, but his palm engulfed your bare knee once more and fuck, fuck, you couldn’t think of anything else. His gold ring looked pretty against your skin, his tanned hand complimenting the dough of your thigh nicely and you tried to remember how to talk. 

“Is there something you needed my help with at the lake, Mr Harrington?” You didn’t think Steve needed any help on how to work speed boats or jet skis, but still, you weren’t sure what else to say. 

Steve laughed again, a pretty sound that made your toes curl and he slowed the cart to a stop at a shaded area along the shore, far enough away from the sandy embankment that the men on the lake in their fishing boats wouldn’t be able to see you. “C’mon now, I thought you were a smart thing,” Steve pouted at you as he turned off the cart's engine. His hand left your leg and you mourned the loss of it, heart jumping again when his hand curled around the back of your seat instead. “What did I tell you to call me?”

Your chest warmed like you were back in middle school, getting scolded by a teacher who you didn’t want to disappoint. It bloomed across your neck and face, only getting hotter as the entire sensation of it made you squeeze your clasped hands between your thighs. Steve’s gaze dropped to your lap, a quick glance down that made the corners of his lips curve up. 

“Steve,” you said quietly, sounding shy, reserved. Your body was giving away too much, you couldn’t let your voice join in. 

Steve nodded and the hand that was resting against your seat moved a little, brushing against your sweater until he could rub a thumb against your shoulder blade. “See, she’s a smart girl after all, isn’t she?”

You could only nod. What the fuck was going on? Hidden by the trees, on the edge of the water that was across from where you usually spent weekday afternoons. You could see The Lake House from here, could practically feel Frederick’s gaze out of the bay windows, boring a hole into the middle of your forehead as you sat with one of the most affluent clients on the rolodex. Steve Harrington had his arm around your back, his eyes on your bare thighs, his other hand ghosting along the hem of your skirt. He pulled at it, bringing it down the mere centimetre it had ridden up, knuckles skimming your too hot skin. 

He didn’t look away from it when he asked you: “And if you are a clever, little thing, d’you know why I brought you here?”

If it had been dark, if it had been closer to night, if the grounds had been empty and the lake was still, maybe you would’ve felt more scared than you were. If it had been anyone else, maybe you would have been sitting there in the shadow of the trees and cursing yourself out for being so stupid. Going with this boy - this man - letting him take you off alone and away from prying eyes, letting him touch your leg and get too close. It was stupid, wasn’t it? Despite what Steve said, this wasn’t smart, was it?

But you found that you didn’t care. You really didn’t fucking care. Not one bit. 

You shrugged, cheeks warm, too wary to say anything out of turn, too cautious to say anything too bold for fear of losing your job. Or worse, being rejected. 

Steve pouted. “No?” He tutted and sighed, a dramatic sounding thing and he let his hand fell back onto your leg, higher this time. You held your breath as he skimmed his palm upupup until his fingertips disappeared under the hem of your skirt that he’d just pulled down for you. “Well, I wanted to personally invite you the poker game with me tomorrow night. You know the one, don’t you? It’s in the lounge, nine o’clock.”

You tried to steady your breathing, exhaling sharply from your nose as Steve’s fingers wandered, never going higher, going slow and soft enough that you could slap his hand away if you wanted to. You didn’t. “I’m working that shift,” you whispered. 

His eyes met yours, his grin blinding. “Good, you’ll be there then.”

“Working,” you reminded him, the last syllable of the word hitching in your mouth as his fingers passed over your leg once more. You felt the cool metal of his gold band on the inside of your thigh. “I’ll be there to work.”

Steve nodded, like he understood, like he wasn’t planning to monopolise every minute of your shift, wondering how long he could keep you by his side at the poker table before you got too worried and scrambled back to the bar. “Of course.” He pulled back a little, his nose too close to brushing yours as you couldn’t help but lean in too, head tilted up to his like you did it all the time. “And then after that,” he took his hand from your thigh and you tried not to cry about it, ‘cause he used the back of his hand to push your hair away from your face instead. “You could come back to mine?”

 Oh, fuck. You couldn’t help the smile that fluttered across your face, the giddy, shy laugh that followed. You were flustered and it showed, and as much as it made Steve smile back, it made him hard as a fucking rock. 

“Shit, uh, god, sorry,” you shook your head, as if to clear it. You felt fuzzy, hazy, under Steve’s spell as he kept smiling at you, clearly entertained by your flushed face, your dazed expression. “I’m really not supposed to do that.”

You didn’t say no, Steve noted. You didn’t say that you didn’t want to. In fact, from the way your eyes dropped to his lips over and over again, Steve was pretty sure he could seal this deal with you faster than his last visit meeting with that winery in Sorrento. 

That wasn’t to say you were easy, no. Just real fucking cute. He had a forty percent share in that vineyard and soon enough, he’d have you too. 

“What?” He played dumb, all syrupy sweet smiles and his voice all soft. He traced a circle around your knee. “You can’t see me out of work? Surely Fredrick isn’t that much of a tyrant, honey.”

You squirmed under his gaze, the one that made you feel like he was undressing you. You were too warm and his innocent fingertips on your knee were making you wanna drag his hand back up your thigh and underneath the hem of your skirt. “We’re not supposed to involve ourselves with club members.” Your words felt dull in your mouth, heavy and cotton like. 

Pointless. 

Steve pouted, lips pursing like he was trying to get you to kiss him. He tutted; his warm, wide palm curling around your thigh again. He squeezed gently and your mouth fell open, panting, an invitation. “What if I want to be involved with you, hm? What then, honey?”

You let your head fall back a little, lips wet and parted, eyes closing briefly, because Steve let his fingers slide up a little further, the tips of his middle and pointer finger brushing, just fucking barely, across the cotton of your underwear. You knew you were wet and you knew that he did too. How could he not? The damp fabric dragged across his digits and you saw the realisation in his eyes, that flash of heat, that curl of his lips that made his smile a smirk. 

“Remember what I told you?” He let his lips fall into ‘o’ at your small noise, an almost whine that sounded blissed out. God, he could have fun with you. “Do you? C’mon smart girl, what do I always get?”

You blinked at him, sucking in a breath as you fought the urge to grind down on his hand. Steve took his fingers away, the damp tips of them trailing back down the inside of your thigh as he waited for an answer. 

“You told me,” you took another breath, looking around quickly, burning at the sight of the boats on the lake, the blurry people across the water by the clubhouse, sitting outside for afternoon tea. “You told me you always get what you want.” 

That was the third time you met Steve Harrington. 

Don't blame me, love made me crazy

The night after, you’d spent too long getting ready for your shift. Too long in the shower, letting the steam fill the tiny room, honey and peach scented body wash running in rivers down your bare skin, your razor chasing after it as you did your best to make every crevice of your body silky smooth. 

You told yourself you weren’t going home with Steve Harrington. You told yourself you couldn’t, that you weren’t allowed to. 

But you took the time to layer mascara on your lashes, fixing any smudges before finishing your makeup with a layer of gloss on your lips, tinted a rosy pink and drawing more attention to them than you’d usually want. Black dress, clubhouse mandated stockings and heels, freshly polished. You left for work with your heart in the back of your throat. 

The Lake House was quieter than usual on poker nights, mostly because each guest had to buy their way in. All players had to place a ten thousand dollar deal in with the croupier, pockets emptied and jackets checked at the door. It made the smoking lounge feel bigger, men seated around a large poker table, the dealer in the middle, chips stacked high and cigar smoke lingering in the air. It smelled like tobacco, leather, expensive cologne and money, and god, the tips were good. 

There were familiar faces around the table, Billy, Jonathan, Mr Donaldson, a few other men from the club that liked to order expensive drinks and call you things like ‘sweet cheeks’ and ‘sugar.’ The room was dimly lit, a soft amber glow that was kept in the room with closed drapes, velvet lined chairs, and bar staff that were trained not to speak unless spoken to. Everything was hushed and whispered, men talking money over glasses of liquor, cigars in one hand, their dealt hand in the other. 

Then there was Steve, coming into the room a little late with another suit on, sharp and with a matching black shirt underneath, looking like he didn’t give a shit. He didn’t look at you as he took his seat, smirking at something Jonathan said and sliding a wad of stacked bills towards the dealer. He got his chips, he got his cards and the game began. 

It took a whole twenty minutes before he raised his hand, a two finger salute that let you know he wanted a drink. You beat the other waitress to it, slipping in front of the new start - Vickie something - and your heels clicked as you made your way over to Steve. You already had a drink on your tray, poured the minute you saw his hand go up, his eyes still on his hand. 

A Macallan, no ice. 

You placed the tumbler on the table in front of him, knees bending slightly to make sure it didn’t spill. Without warning, Steve’s hand snuck along the back of your thigh as you placed your tray under your arm, ready to walk away. Fingertips traced over the crease of your knee, ghosting over your stocking. You watched his gaze flicker to the drink he didn’t have to ask for, a slight curve to the corners of his lips as he smiled his approval. He leaned back, head tipped up to you so you had to bend down slightly to meet him. His hand was slipping up the back of your thigh the whole time, hidden from the rest of the room, from the other players, your boss in the corner. 

You bent at the waist, feeling your skirt rise up, feeling Steve’s hand do the same. His thumb ran along the crease below your ass, over the sliver of bare skin between your underwear and stockings. 

“Smart girl,” he whispered in the shell of your ear, making you burn. His voice was low and a little rough from hardly talking, only communicating with nods to the croupier, dead face glances at his opponents. His chips were stacked high for his efforts. “You look pretty. How ‘bout you just stay beside me, yeah?”

You weren’t supposed to. But you did. You watched as your boss frowned, as Vickie looked surprised. Beside Steve, Jonathan snickered quietly and across the table, Billy narrowed his eyes. 

“Breakin’ some rules?” He mouthed to Steve. 

Steve ignored him.

The night came to an end close to one o’clock, once the bar was almost dry and Steve had most of the money. He accepted the passive remarks about his poker face, his ability to lie through his damn teeth, how he didn’t need all that money anyways. Then there were the handshakes and slaps on the back, good natured talks and invites to lunches, chats about business opportunities and stocks. And all the while you tidied, putting away empty bottles of thousand dollar whisky, pouring hundred dollar glasses of Malbec down the drain. Cigar ash on the table, white powder tipped dollar notes that everyone pretended to not notice. Heavy tips on the table top, damp from spilled drinks, pushed into your apron pocket while the men around you tried to get a peek up your skirt. 

And then Steve was leaning over the bar top and still ignoring Billy. He was watching you clean, eyes tracking the way your hands slid the cloth over the mahogany, and while your cheeks warmed at his attention, you let him. You were off the clock, your shift over. Bar closed. 

Home time. Maybe. 

“—you even listenin’ to me, Harrington?” Billy sounded annoyed, words twisting on his tongue, whisky making them come out a little slower than he wanted them to. 

“No.” Steve’s reply was short and bored sounding. 

“I said, you fucker, that I need a ride. S’posed to be on a goddamn flight at five o’clock and this fuckin’ tequila is makin’ me piss like a fuckin’ racehor—”

Steve didn’t take his eyes off of you as he took his wallet from inside of his suit jacket pocket. Using two fingers, he offered Billy a fifty, holding the bill in front of the other man’s face. “Take a cab.”

Billy looked offended at the suggestion. Disgusted, actually. “A cab? What do I look like to you, huh? Huh? A fuckin’ peasant?”

Steve just shrugged and slapped the bill on the counter anyway. “I’m having company,” he told him. Then he drained the rest of the one drink he’d ordered from you all night and met your gaze straight on. “You ready?”

Not, ‘would you like to join me?’ Not, ‘would you like to come back to mine?’ No. Just a simple question. ‘Are you ready to go?’

You nodded. Yes, you were ready. 

Billy laughed, a sharp and mean thing as he looked between you and Steve. Then his gaze turned salacious, drunk and lazy as he took in your short dress, your shiny lips. He nudged Steve and nodded towards you. “You not sharing this time, Harrington?” He tutted. “What a shame.”

You didn’t know what to say. If you’d been at a bar in town, standing on either side of it, you’d have listened to the twitch in your hand and lifted it, letting your palm meet Billy Hargrove’s right cheek, regardless of how much money was in his wallet. But Frederick was by the door talking to Mr Donaldson about summers in the Bahamas and you couldn’t do shit. 

So you turned your back, polished another wine glass and slid it back onto its shelf. 

“You know,” you heard Steve murmur. His voice was low, controlled. Dangerous sounding. “You keep letting your mouth run like that, and I’ll make sure you don’t have a reason to get that five am flight. One call and there won’t be no fucking meeting in L.A, do you understand?”

You didn’t hear Billy’s reply. In fact, you weren’t sure there was one. Instead, Steve walked to the side of the bar and brushed some invisible lint off of his jacket as he waited for you to untie your apron. You hesitated, watching as Fredrick disappeared into his office and then, and only then, did you step out from behind the bar to join Steve, letting him place his hand on the small of your back and guide you out of the clubhouse. 

He made it too easy to break the biggest rule in the book. 

—————

Steve drove you to a townhouse on the edge of town, the opposite direction from your own home. He took you there in his BMW, a shiny maroon car that looked brand new, with leather seats and shiny detailing on the dash. He didn’t touch you in the car, he just opened the door for you to get in and get out, only offering a hand that you took as you stood on his driveway. 

His house was lit up by lights on either side of the huge garage, another by the double doors. Three floors, a water feature in the front yard, a security system at the entrance. Steve pressed some buttons before something buzzed and clicked, and he opened the door with no grand flourish, extending an arm for you to enter first. 

Everything was sleek and polished, not quite the bachelor pad you expected, but luxurious all the same. Wooden floors and a large fireplace in the living room, the leather and suede of the clubhouse swapped out for a huge sectional, covered in cushions and throws. There was art on the walls, scenes of Greek tragedies, half naked women with dreamy looks on their faces, full curves and thick thighs. A shiny kitchen that looked barely used, bottles of scotch and whisky and gin on a golden bar cart in the corner, a full wall of books surrounding the biggest television you’d seen. The house smelled like Steve, like his cologne, like new leather and oak. 

His footsteps echoed across the room as he strolled into the kitchen, an open plan thing that let you watch him from where you stood by the front door. Steve held up a bottle of wine. Red, a label you recognised from work, something that Frederick charged far too much money for. In your opinion. 

“Drink?” Steve asked. 

You nodded, stepping into the room a little more. There were a few lamps on, a warm flow from each that cast shadows over the floor, up the walls. The curtains were closed, heavy drapes that kept out the night, kept in the secrets. Like you. 

Steve appeared at your side, passing you a glass filled with a little ruby coloured wine. He grinned at your quiet thanks and offered his own for a toast. The glasses clinked and you took a sip, dark cherries and bitter chocolate swirling your senses, or at least, you were sure they would’ve if you hadn’t decided to gulp it down. Steve laughed softly and took your empty glass, setting it on the coffee table with his own. There was a stack of big books in the middle of it, something about American architecture and cars of the sixties, a candle that had never been lit and a cigar box with his initials engraved on the lid. 

“Here, sit,” Steve suggested and you sank into the sofa with him. The boy immediately lounged back into the cushions, arms stretched out over the back of it as he appraised you, head tilted to his side. “You don’t do this often, huh?”

You turned to him, puzzled, your hands sliding nervously up and down your bare legs. Your dress suddenly felt shorter than ever and with the way Steve was looking at you - hungry, predatory, bold - you weren’t sure if you wanted to tug the hem down to your knees or take the full thing off and drop it at his feet. 

“Do what?”

Steve gestured to himself, to the huge living room you felt a little bit lost in. He smirked, “go home with guys you barely know.”

You swallowed thickly, wondering if it would seem rude if you reached out and stole the rest of his wine. If you’d feel braver and bolder if you were to gulp down more Malbec, if the price tag on the bottle would feel better on your tongue. “Not usually,” you said. You left out the part about how you’d be fired on the spot if your boss found out who you were going home with. 

Steve smiled, eyes shining at you like he thought you were cute. He patted the space on the couch beside him. It felt like a million miles away from you. “Come over here,” he said softly. You noticed how he didn’t ask, or suggest. It was an order, as gentle as it was. “I won’t bite.”

You scoffed a little, enjoying the irony of his words despite how he’d looked at you all night, like he wanted to sink his teeth into you, like he wanted to just eat you up. “You won’t?” You asked him, doubtful, even as you slid closer, your thigh brushing his. 

Steve dropped his hand to your knee, fingertips barely brushing your skin as she skimmed up and down, up and down. Each pass got him closer to the hem of your dress and you thought back to yesterday, in that stupid golf cart by the edge of the lake. How easy you made it for him, head thrown back, chest heaving, legs spread. You wanted that again, the feeling of his teasing fingers brushing up against the front of your underwear, lace this time, and already damp. 

Steve flashed a grin, all teeth, more bite than a smile and you resisted the urge to clamp your thighs together, trapping his hand between. You’d never been this hot for a guy, never been this easy to fold. You felt delicate with Steve, ready to crumple, ready to fold. 

“Not on the first date, no,” he assured you. 

Your brows rose into your hairline. “This is a date?”

Steve flattened his palm against your thigh and squeezed, leaning into you, nose brushing your cheek until you ripped your head for him and it skimmed the line of your jaw. Your breathing changed too quickly, stuttering to a hitch until it picked up, your eyes closing as you felt Steve’s lips brush against you in the briefest of touches. It wasn’t even a kiss. 

“What did you think it was?” Steve whispered, his words hot against your neck. You could smell his cologne, rich and peppery, could feel the slight stubble on his jaw scrape against your throat and you were desperate now, you needed him to kiss you. “What did you think I invited you here for, honey?”

His hand was higher now, fingers under the hem of your dress and you wanted to fall into him, you wanted to crawl into his lap and spread your legs, get properly dirty for him and pull your dress up around your hips and show him how you liked to be touched. Although, you had a feeling he wouldn’t need much help. “I, I don’t know—” you interrupted yourself with a gasp, Steve’s fingertips running along the lace edge of your underwear, teasing the crease of your thigh. “A one night stand, maybe.”

The boy laughed, a soft noise that was buried in the crook of your neck and he finally, finally, put his mouth on you. He kissed sweetly at the spot under your ear, grinned against it when you squirmed at the feel of him and then dragged his parted lips down the column of your neck. You felt the tip of his tongue, a tiny touch, teasing, warm and wet. 

“Just one night?” Steve tutted, letting his fingers slip underneath the edge  of your underwear. You were an elastic band now, pulled too right, fraught with unspent energy, ready to snap at the tension. “What if I wanted to keep you, hm?” His fingers ghosted over your folds, already slick and wet for him. If he was affected by it, he didn’t show it. He pulled at you gently, spreading you for him, a single digit touching your needy clit as he kept you open. It was filthy. “You’re too pretty for one night, aren’t you?”

You didn’t know what you were agreeing to, but you nodded anyway. You were sure you already looked wrecked, head slack and leaning against Steve’s shoulder, his lips now dotting over your hairline. Legs open, underwear pushed up and to the side by Steve’s hand, his one finger sliding up and down the seam of your cunt. The rubber band was getting tighter. 

Steve hummed, a deep, warm noise that rumbled in his chest. “Look at me, honey,” he ordered and you did as were told, eyes heavy and haze unfocused as you turned your head to face him. He was so close, the only evidence he was as turned on as you were, were his blown out pupils, his heavy eyelids. “There she is, oh sweetheart, you’re gone, huh?” he cooed. 

You thought he might kiss you then, you thought he might kiss you, finally. But he nuzzled his nose against yours - a surprisingly sweet thing - before he murmured, “take your clothes off for me.”

It was embarrassing, the way your lips parted and your cheeks went hot. You wondered if Steve felt it, the warmth that exploded from your skin at his words, the way your empty cunt clenched around nothing at his words. He gave you clit one more passing nudge before he moved his hands from you completely and sank back into the couch. One arm over the back of it, legs crossed, the other hand brought to his mouth so he could rub the finger he’d dipped along your pussy against his bottom lip. 

It was obscene. 

He nodded to the space between the sofa and the coffee table and licked his lips. “C’mon, honey, strip.”

You should’ve pulled down your dress and thrown what was left of his wine in his face before you slammed the door on your way out. This man, this rich boy with his big house and shiny car, was ordering you around like you were still at the clubhouse. Like he could flash his members only card and get what he wanted. He hadn’t even kissed you. He didn’t know your last name, and shit, the only reason you knew his, was because him and his family were at the top of the client list at the place you worked. 

You could lose your job over this. Worse, you could get your heart broken. 

Steve must’ve sensed your hesitation because he reached back over to brush your hair from your eyes, where it had fallen in a mess when you hid your face in the dip of his shoulder as he tapped at your clit again and again and again. He pouted, tsked in a way that sounded sympathetic. “Oh honey, are you shy?” Condescension dripped from him, words liquid gold, sticky sweet and trapping you. He ran the back of his knuckles down your cheek, his thumb dragging over your bottom lip. It was as close to a kiss as you would get. “It’s okay, hm? Am I not playing nice? Am I being rude?”

You didn’t know what to say. You were being sucked in by this man’s charm, his caramel coated words, the way his brown eyes turned soft as he took your hand and led you to stand up in the middle of his living room. “I’m sorry, honey,” Steve whispered. “How awful of me. Lemme try again, huh?” He kissed your cheek, a soft, lingering thing before he left you standing, sitting back in front of you once more. 

Steve pushed back his hair and let his eyes appraise you before he rolled his shirt sleeves up and leant back into the cushions. A king on his throne. And the entertainment for tonight? 

You. 

“Take your clothes off for me, honey,” he tried again, his voice softer this time, lower, dirtier. And then he smiled at you and added: “please.”

With shaking hands and a held breath that made your chest burn, you pulled the material down your shoulders, reaching around your back to tug at the zip. And when it fell open, exposing your skin to the warm air, it was too easy to let the entire dress fall down over your hips. It pooled at your feet and you stepped out of it, heels still on, legs covered in the sheer black stockings that the clubhouse made mandatory for poker nights. 

Steve’s lips made a little ‘o’ shape, an appreciative thing that made you pulse with need. You saw then how his dress trousers were tented at the front, an impressive bulge that twitched when you smoothed your hands over your upper thighs, a nervous reaction to being so exposed. 

“Oh,” Steve exhaled as he let his eyes rake over you. Soft skin between black lace, thigh highs pulled taught against your curves, tits pressed up in a bra you’d chosen as you thought him. You hoped he wouldn’t embarrass you, you hoped he wouldn’t ask you to do something like spin for him, show off for him. Because you would’ve. “Aren’t you a pretty fucking picture.”

He didn’t need to talk after that. He just lifted his chin towards your chest and you were pulling off your bra for him. You hated how the control of it all made you wetter, the space between your legs fucking throbbing as you waited for your next instruction. “Unless you want those ripped,” Steve was gazing at your underwear, eyes seeking out every dip and line he could make our in the wet lace. “I’d take them off too.” He didn’t let them hit the floor with the rest of your clothes, instead, extending one hand and crooking his fingers. 

A silent, ‘give them to me.’ 

And you did, watching as he slipped them into his trouser pockets, keeping his eyes on you, trailing them over your thighs that were slick with how wet he’d got you. He’d hardly touched you, you scolded yourself, not even a kiss. It was embarrassing, mortifying. It was the hottest thing that had happened to you. 

“Keep those on,” Steve murmured, talking about your heels and stockings. “And come sit back down for me, honey, yeah?” 

The fabric of the couch felt soft under your bare skin and you hesitated before you let yourself relax into it. There surely would be a wet spot underneath you, evidence of how turned on you were, but Steve didn’t seem to mind. 

“That’s it,” he encouraged softly. “Get comfy, hm? Such an agreeable, little thing aren’t you?” Steve was sliding off the couch as he spoke, one palm pressed to his crotch as if to stave off some of his own need. He knelt in front of you, mouth parting in a sigh as he dropped to eye level with your cunt. “Think you can spread those legs for me? Let me see you, honey, there’s a girl—”

He cut himself off with a low groan as you brought your feet up, heels on the edge of the couch as you spread your knees, sticky thighs parting. He could see all of you, fuck, he could probably smell you. The low light made every part of you glisten, the heavy rise and fall of your chest cast in an amber glow.  

“Oh she’s real fuckin’ pretty, isn’t she?” Steve asked you, eyes tearing away from your pussy to look up at you. “Spread ‘em wider for me, baby, can you do that?” Another moan from the boy as you let your knees fall apart, almost touching the couch. Steve smoothed his hands up your tights, bracketing your cunt before he did the same as before and pulled your folds even further apart. “Look at that,” he whispered. 

You couldn’t. You let your head fall back onto the cushion, eyes squeezed shut as you let your own hands fall onto your knees. You dug in your nails, crescent moon marks on your skin as your tried to keep a grip on reality. You were almost certain you’d come with just one touch. 

“Want my mouth?” Steve asked you and his voice was back to that sugar sweet drip, it was thick with an affection, like he was being so nice for taking care of you. You already wanted to thank him. “Want my tongue?”

His thumbs rubbed up and down your folds, keeping them spread apart, a dirty massage that made your clit pulse with each tiny movement. You nodded, letting out a uneven breath and Steve tutted. 

“You gotta look at me then, c’mon, Berkeley.” He nipped at your thigh, teeth biting at the skin and it made you cry out. “Look at me and tell me you want me to eat you out.”

Dirty, filthy, obscene, sinful. 

You were under no illusion that giving Steve an order made you the one in charge. He played you like a puppet, a boneless girl that wanted nothing more than to come all over this rich strangers sofa. You had a one track mind, no shame left, not when Steve was pressing his mouth over you folds, not licking into you, not yet. Just kissing. You wanted to cry. 

“Eat me out,” you begged, eyes glassy as you tried to lift your hips but Steve pulled away. He grinned at you, waiting. “Eat me out, please, Steve. Fuck, want your mouth yeah, please?”

“Where?” He asked, dragging it out. His voice was unholy. “Where do you want my mouth?” His thumbs were still moving, up and down and up and down. “Tell me.”

“My pussy, Jesus Christ,” you whined. You couldn’t ever remember being this pent up. “Please.”

“Oh,” Steve cooed, “she’s so polite.” And then he gave you no other warning, dipping his head so he could lick a stripe through your folds, the hot, wet contact of his tongue making you cry out. 

You were unraveling too fast. His thumbs had you taught for him, every part of you feeling his tongue, his lips. Steve groaned into you, a happy, pleased hum that told you whatever game this was, he’d won. He kept his tongue flat, slow, broad strokes of it going from your entrance to your clit until you were curling over him and clutching his hair, doing your best to not suffocate him. But Steve moaned louder and moved his hands to your hips, sliding down until they cupped under your ass and he encouraged you to grind against his face. Tongue still out, kept flat for you to rock yourself on. It was pornographic.  

Then Steve was mumbling into you, voice a rasp. “Good girl, honey, that’s it. Keep going, make yourself come on my tongue, yeah?”

So you did, obedient as ever, letting out a gasping cry as your legs shook, cunt still clenching around nothing ‘cause Steve had broken you with just his mouth. It was dirty hot, the way he dragged himself from your sensitive slit, tongue running over your folds even as you whined, licking over the crease of your thighs to get everything you’d spilled for him. You watched as he appeared between your knees, hair tousled, lips and chin shining in the low light, his cheeks flushed. It was ironic, how he looked more boyish after he made you come, expensive black shirt creased from where your legs had pressed against him, his own gaze a little fucked out. 

Logic would suggest that perhaps you’d get a kiss then, something soft and sweet to soothe you down before he fucked you senseless, before you got to wrap your own fingers or lips around him. Steve looked big, if the solid press of him against his trousers was anything to go by. Thick and still rock hard, an easy eight inches trapped taught against his thigh, just as impressive as his wealth and status. Your mouth watered. 

He kissed the inside of your knee instead, his heavy lidded gaze on yours before he offered you his hands to help you sit up and then said, “I better get you home.”

You blinked. “What?”

“Home,” Steve repeated. He passed you back your bra, your dress. Not your underwear though, no. They were still in his pocket. “I gotta be at the airport in—” he checked his watch, the picture of blasé. “—an hour.”

You pulled on your dress, a little speechless. This boy had just made you come harder than you’d ever managed yourself and now he was busying himself with lighting a cigarette he pulled from the packet in his pocket. Your eyes wandered, he was still hard. 

“What about,” you licked your lips, suddenly shy. You nodded towards his crotch, the absolute monster he packed in his slacks. “What about you?”

Steve grinned, bending down to peck your cheek as you wriggled into your uniform, trying to pull yourself back together. “I’ll live,” he told you, blowing out smoke as he spoke. “We’ll call it an IOU, huh? But my plane leaves soon, honey. I’ll cash that favour when I’m back.”

“When?” You blurted out. It sounded like something a girlfriend would demand to know and you cringed, but Steve kept smirking. He helped you slip on your heels, cigarette hanging from his lips that definitely tasted like you. 

“Unsure,” he told you casually, “there’s things I need to wrap up in Monaco before I can go to Tuscany for a few weeks. There’s problems at the vineyard and there’s a new plot I want to look at in Alassio too.”

All you heard was money money money. So you nodded and gave him a small smile, legs still a little wobbly from his touch, his mouth, his tongue. And when Steve dropped you off at the door of your too small apartment, he took your chin between his finger and thumb and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your jaw, just below your ear. 

The kiss goodnight to your lips didn’t come. You felt confused, a little stilted. But you got out the BMW and waved goodbye, wondering what you were supposed to do at three in the morning after Steve Harrington had tumbled your world upside down. 

PART TWO

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington oneshot

[hypewinter]

After Danny had officially moved in with Clockwork, he decided to do some dimension hoping. That's how he found himself in the DC universe and more importantly, how he met the Teen Titans.

It was meant to be a temporary friendship. He'd tag along with them on a few missions and then move on. But Danny found himself getting attached to this team. They quickly became like a second family to him and against his better judgement ended up joining the Teen Titans full time.

He was there during their many fights with Deathstroke. He helped them with the Judas Contract. He even played a critical role in beating back Trigon. Danny grew up alongside his friends and was more than happy to continue on the team when they reformed as the Titans. Danny truly loved his new life with his new family friends. But then the reset happened.

According to Clockwork, every so often, a reset happens within this universe. Origins get changed. Relationships get redefined. The timeline gets restarted. Everyone within the universe is given a new place. Sometimes even a new purpose. Everyone except for Danny, who was never a part of that world.

His friends had forgotten him. His spot on their team easily replaced by another hero. Danny was devastated. Clockwork had tried to comfort his ward, but Danny brushed him off every time. He assured Clockwork that he would be fine with time. After all, he'd already lost a family before, what was one more? Yet the ancient could see the boy withdraw more and more in on himself with each passing day. He couldn't bear it. So he made a rash decision.

The Titans had been suddenly transported to a weird domain. They found themselves standing before a massive clocktower. A vast expanse of swirling green surrounded them. They didn't even have time to process what was going on before the door in front of them was opening. A young man, around their age, stepped out. There was something familiar about him. No one could quite place it but it felt like they had all seen that stylized hazmat suit before.

The man's toxic green eyes widened in surprise. Then his form flickered into a small version of himself, a look of pain evident on his face. This form felt even more familiar, like the team was being bashed over the head with deja vu. The teen flickered back into a young man and this time, he was angry.

He yelled out for someone by the name of "Clockwork" and it wasn't long until a new figure appeared. He was older than the young man and wore a purple cloak. The Titans could see where he got his name from considering the giant clock in his chest.

The older man- Clockwork- went to speak but was quickly cut off by furious yelling. The young man was accusing him of doing something unnecessary as he pointed at the team. He hissed to send them back. Clockwork's form flickered to that of a baby who looked like he'd been scolded before settling on the form of an old man with a long beard. He wore a face of great sadness as he attempted to explain he was only trying to help but the young man would hear none of it.

The young man - Danny is what the team hears Clockwork refer to him as - repeated that Clockwork must fix his mistake and send the Titans back before turning and leaving without another word. The old man let out a feeble sigh as he watched the other leave. Then he turned back to the Titans.

"Would you like a cup of tea?" he asked.

It had certainly not been what the team was expecting him to ask them but if sitting down for some tea would give them some answers and better yet, get them home, then why not?

#dp x dc #dc x dp #dpxdc #dcxdp #winter's tales

[aonungslvr]

he’s…what?

pairing ; jealous! ao’nung x f!sully! reader

taggings ; 🪽⭐️🐚

summary ; ao’nung quickly falls for the sully sister after she arrives in his village, but who is this boy she keeps talking about?

3.1k words

when you and your family had first arrived in awa’atlu you hated it. the sound of ilu’s chirping and waves thrashing against the sand wasn’t normal. the smell of salt was disgusting. there were no trees to shield you from the suns rays or give you coverage when you wanted to be alone. no grass or cool dirt to dig your feet into.

this wasn’t your home; you belong in the forest. you had been chased out of your home after having a knife held to your throat by sky demons; obviously you weren’t happy to be here.

your nerves certainly were not eased when the tsahík of the metkayina, ronal, had grabbed your four-fingered hand to show the crowd. you were instantly met with hisses and snarls from the lighter blue clan. you gently trembled at her touch, less from fear and more from annoyance, and continued staring into the sand, trying to dig your feet into it like dirt. it was too hot; this wasn’t your dirt. your mother intervened, seeing your discomfort, and held you to her; raising her fangs towards the tsahìk. your father entered himself in hopes of calming the situation down, showing the clan his own 4 fingered hand.

when ronal had moved on and the attention focused on the leaders of the metkayina, you glanced up, seeing the ocean clan more clearly this time. you had noticed a girl and two boys closer to your family than the others; they looked around your age. the female was eyeing your youngest brother before her vision shifted towards you. she offered you a warm smile along with a small wave. you looked her up and down before giving her your own smile and wave, though you lowered your hand as you could tell she was now focused on your extra finger.

you looked beside her to see a taller boy with a bun, he had been the one to make fun of your brothers thin tails, the tail you all shared. you sighed and continued staring at the teen, for some reason you couldn’t stop. that was proved false when the boy looked your way, you diverted your eyes back to the sand as fast as you could. you hadn’t been able to see it, but the teal na’vi eyed you up and down silently. his shorter friend slapped his arm and laughed at him, whispering something you couldn’t quite pick up.

apparently whatever your parents and the leaders were talking about had been concluded. you heard the olo’keytans stern and loud voice speak out among the crowd, before he faced your family directly and spoke a bit softer.

“my son ao’nung, and my daughter tsireya will show you our ways.”

ao’nung and tsireya. the boy you had stared at spoke up in disagreement, leading you to his name being ao’nung, as well as him being the chiefs son. the kind girl had also made herself to be tsireya when she guided your family to your new home.

you walked among kiri, trailing shortly behind her. you followed tsireya and ao’nung had followed from behind you all, paired with his little friend.

“i do not like it here kiri.” you spoke as you looked up to face her.

she scoffed in return, “yeah me neither.”

“these are ilu, if you want to live here, you have to ride.”

you and your siblings were all hip length deep in the sea, surrounded by multiple swimming animals, they were called ilu. they reminded you of your ikran.

the ocean siblings had been tasked with training you all to learn how to survive within their clan, and it was time to tame your animal.

tsireya first helped lo’ak, you already knew why. it was quite obvious. he had settled onto the creatures back and held onto the saddle. he made tsaheylu with the marine animal and she took off. you watched as your brother had tried to hold on as best he could but was ripped off due to the speed and pressure that being underwater included.

he had failed miserably and tsireya continued to guide him, but you couldn’t all wait for him. (you’d be there for years.)

ao’nung had invited you over a few feet to show you how to get your own ilu. he explained the process just as tsireya had. you mounted the animal and waited for instruction.

“hold here, when you make the bond, you need to think with her. not against her. let her guide you.”

after seeing what happened with lo’ak, you figured that was a load of bullshit and you would be swept away too. you gripped on the saddle with one hand and grabbed your braid with the other.

“your position is wrong.”

the blue teen pushed your back down and shifted your legs. the feeling was different, the extra skin on his arms were odd. your heartbeat quickened for a moment and the ilu beneath you flapped her fins.

“there. remember, bond gentle.”

you connected your kuru with the creature, and took off. you panicked for a little until you were reminded with how dramatic lo’ak is. he had made this look like such a hard task, it really wasn’t too bad. the water pressure threatened you but you were able to manage. you tightened your grip and squeezed your eyes shut. as you felt the tide flow with you, you slowly opened your eyes. you instructed your ilu to slow it down, which she listened too.

the sea wasn’t horrible. there were so many new creatures you had never even known about. you looked among the fish and corals as you smiled at the sight. feeling your chest begin to tighten, you and your ilu went back up to the surface, swimming closer to where you had left the others.

tuk was the first to congratulate her big sister, “that was so cool (y/n)!”

“yeah way better then lo’ak”, laughed your eldest brother, neteyam.

“ok bro, who invited toruk makto?” your youngest brother was always the jokester, and you laughed at the reference.

looking back at your mentor, you noticed ao’nung hadn’t held any malice or laughter towards you, you took that as a good sign.

throughout the training of your family, you had sectioned off into unofficial groups. tsireya tended to assist lo’ak and tuk, while ao’nung helped neteyam, kiri, and you. ao’nung had tried selling you off to tsireya because he was upset he had to deal with three sully’s while his sister only had two. she had argued that having tuk was basically like having two in one, and she stood with her statement.

with annoyance, he taught you what you all needed to know to adjust to the ocean. most of his lessons were filled with sighs and reprimands when someone would do something wrong, but that had started to fade lately.

“what do you mean ao’nung is nicer? no he isn’t? he still makes fun of us during training…”

oh.

it had only began to fade for you.

well this was fine, neteyam was probably just exaggerating. after all, he was certainly a charmer yesterday.

. . .

“you are not breathing right.”

you and ao’nung sat on a jagged rock in the middle of the reef, he was giving you a private lesson on holding your breath because apparently you were falling behind. (not true.)

you looked at him as he demonstrated how to intake the air and hold it, but it just looked like normal breathing. you tried to repeat what he did but it still wasn’t good enough for him.

“what are you even doing? are you even breathing?”

you rolled your eyes and looked away from the teal teenager, he was so dramatic.

“pay attention to me forest girl,” he redirected your face back towards his.

he placed one of his wide hands on your smaller diaphragm and the other where your heart layed.

you panicked at the sudden contact and prayed he couldn’t feel your heartbeat pick up beneath his touch.

“eywa please i never ask for anyth-“

“your heartbeat is fast. that’s why you cannot breathe.”

thanks great mother.

despite the metkayina’s teasing, he had genuinely seemed to adjust to you. you two spent more one on one training together and even hung out when it wasn’t time to train.

it was nearing eclipse when ao’nung had come to your families marui, unfortunately, your father had noticed him first.

“what are ya’ doin’ here boy.”

the shorter navi hesitated for a moment until he was able to speak up,

“i’m- i’m here for (y/n.) sir.”

your father looked him up and down with a stern look on his face. ao’nung was convinced he would be thrown outside by toruk makto himself. jake grunted and leaded down into your new friends face.

“she’s back by 10 before eclipse. a second after and i’ll cut your tail off. she comes back with even a hint of your touch on her i’ll drag you deep into the ocean by your braid and leave you there. understood?”

“yeah- got it.”

“i said understood.”

“uh-understood sir!”

your dad sighed before finally alerting you of the conversation,

“(y/n!) visitor!”

you showed up at the door as your father was walking away, and was greeted with the sight of ao’nung shaking in the sand.

“hey ao’nung! you alright?”

he eyed the exit, indicating you to leave with him. once you step out he grabbed your thinner arm and ran towards the shore, looking back for the deadly gaze of jake sully.

“oh my god (y/n) why didn’t you tell me your dad is fucking terrifying.”

you giggled and brought your hand to your lips, trying to conceal it.

“whatever, no big deal, follow me.”

despite his ego being damaged, he led you along the shore, pointing out some shells he though you would like on the way. you two eventually made it to the more foresty part of his island, farther from the clan.

you were unaware this area existed and instantly fell in love. it had been months since you had seen a tree. the sight reminded you of your home and it brought you so much happiness. you glanced at the back of ao’nungs head as you continued to follow him where he led. you two made it to a part of the small forest that opened out into the beach. you could see the sunset and water clashing onto the sand all from behind a tree.

“ao’nung! this is so beautiful, it’s just like the forest!”

“well yeah, that’s what i was hoping for..”

he was hiding his flushed face but you could hear the smile he was trying to hold back.

“come!”

you grabbed his arm towards a tree you deemed was tall and had enough branches. effortlessly, you climbed up the tree. you jumped and stood on branches, easily making it to the high thin branch you wanted. you had planted your left leg and arms on the branch as your right leg hung down.

the lighter blue na’vi watched you and his mouth dropped open. he had made fun of your family for being poor divers, but god you were good at climbing. him and his friends would break the branches if they were to ever try that.

“get up here!”

“yeah…i don’t think so.”

you quickly remembered you were among the sea people now, and their bodies simply weren’t built for climbing like you were.

“ah right.”

you hopped down onto a lower branch then the ground, the teen boy staring in aw yet again. you ran up to him and pulled him into a hug while giggling.

“thank you ao’nung, really. this was great”

he scoffed in embarrassment and rubbed his neck,

“yeah, we’ll there’s actually one more thing. i was just wondering if you’d l-“

you cut him off before he could finish his question.

“this is just like what txäol would show me!”

what.

ever since the first mention of this “txäol” they kept coming.

no matter how many times ao’nung tried to get you to like him more, it always ended up as a talk about txäol.

“ao’nung this necklace is so pretty! it looks like the one txäol gave me!”

“txäol used to say that! he’s super funny.”

“oh eywa this shell would look great next to the flowers txäol gave me!”

you were beyond oblivious at the way ao’nungs eye would twitch when you brought up your best friend from back in the forest.

it was a comment on the gifts he’s given you, or the stories he used to tell you, or sometimes you would show the metkayina boy some things the omatikayan gave you before you left the forest.

ao’nung raised his concerns with tsireya first. she was pretty close to you, so he thought she might have some intel.

. . .

tsireya automatically burst out laughing when her brother questioned her.

“your-your joking right? sweet eywa, your so funny! your helpless brother- truly!”

“what- tsireya what are you talking about?! who is txäol?!”

“oh-oh my eywa i cant-“ she continued laughing.

“is he her boyfriend?!”

this just caused tsireya to start laughing again. she gripped her stomach and bent over, unable to stop the giggles that flowed out of her.

“whatever- your never any help! i’ll just ask her!”

and so that’s what he did.

the teal teenager approached you while you were mounting your ilu, getting ready to go hunting.

“(y/n)!”

you turned your head to the sound of your name and saw ao’nung riding his own ilu towards you.

“oh- hey! did you need anything? i was just about to head out.

he had been torturing himself over this question for so long he just cut to the point.

“is txäol your boyfriend?!”

you paused and had no words. your ilu had picked up on your shock and had even dropped her own jaw.

“t-txäol? h-“

you were cut off by the reef na’vi.

“if he is- just tell me. i understand if you have a lover back home that you can’t forget about. all i’m asking is you let me know!”

“he’s n-“ you tried to speak before you were interrupted again.

“i just can’t deal with the not knowing! i see you, (y/n), and i need to know if you see me too! you talk about this txäol guy all the time, so if your in love with him instead, tell me! i won’t be an-“

“he’s gay!”

oh.

bonus!!

the sky people had finally returned back to their planet, and wouldn’t be coming back this time. this meant your people were safe. you could go back to the forest! back to the forest…

when you first arrived at the reef, all you could think about was going home, and how happy you would be. but now that home was right in front of you, you just couldn’t. not without ao’nung.

you two had recently began courting each other, and had plans of mating once you both completed your rite of passages. you couldn’t leave him behind now. so if you couldn’t leave him behind..why not take him with you!

. . .

you yipped for your ikran, calling her down to the sandy shores.

“seyä! hi girl!” you rubbed her nose and cleaned off some sand off her head.

you mounted seyä and invited ao’nung to do the same.

“no fucking way.”

“she doesn’t bite!”

“yes the fuck she do? look at her!”

“aww you poor thing..is he being mean to you?”

you rubbed your ikrans head and made tsaheylu. she flapped her wings and screeched, scaring the hell out of ao’nung.

“yeah there’s no way i’m going anywhere near that th-“

he was cut off as seyä picked him up under his arms using her claws, flying up in the air. you giggled and grabbed ao’nungs hands, pulling him up behind you on the saddle.

“that wasn’t so bad- right?” you could swore you saw a tear running down his face, but he denies it.

. . .

the fly had taken a few days and you were exhausted, ao’nung had given you company and made sure to hold you extra tight when you were getting tired. if it wasn’t for him stopping you to make you sleep, you probably would’ve flown while sleeping.

after what felt like years, you finally arrived back at the forest. you flew over the trees until you saw the omatikaya people, your people. your smile had began hurting your jaw as you landed your ikran on a tree, hopping off and landing on the branches. you would just jumped right down but you had to help the metkayina.

“here- just..place this foot here. and then this arm right here.”

it took awhile (32 minutes) to get him down around 7 branches. it usually took you a few seconds, but who were you to judge.

he mainly just trailed behind you as you greeted so many friends you had missed. he felt like the outsider now, surrounded by darker blue people with thin limbs. he stayed back until he heard someone scream your name. a boy scream your name.

“(y/n)! oh my eywa- your back!” he ran up to you and embraced you in the tightest hug out of everyone else.

ao’nung looked this guy up and down and frowned at him, about to step in and announce himself as your boyfriend until you spoke up.

“txäol! oh i missed you so much-!”

oh. him. the metkayinas anger was reduced, but still present. this boy was all over you! how could he not be upset? he stepped up closer to you and wrapped his hands around your waist, hugging you from behind.

“oh- txäol meet ao’nung, ao’nung meet txäol!”

txäol raised his nonexistent eyebrows at how the boy hugged you and eyed you. he would definitely need you to tell him about everything he missed.

“i’m txäol, (y/n)’s best friend!”

“ao’nung. her mate.”

you kicked ao’nungs knee, trying to get him to be nicer. he was still jealous and god did it show.

“speaking of mates..” txäol started.

you stared and him and gasped. “your lying.”

“(y/n) meet ityea, my boyfriend.”

a shorter omatikayan male entered from the forest and held txäol’s hand. you screeched. like loud. ikran loud.

“txäol oh my eywa i can’t even- you guys are so cute!!” you hugged your best friend and spun around.

“right?! but no- you guys too! i can’t believe you found someone in another clan- you guys are adorable!!”

ao’nung backed up and grounded himself. right. he was gay.

#aonung #ao'nung x reader #aonung x reader #ao’nung x female reader #ao’nung x you #ao’nung x sully!reader #avatar #avatar the way of water #avatar fanfiction #avatar x you #co writes !! #this took way too long #i’m sorry #sully!reader #sully daughter

[seonghrtz]

teen!megumi ★ megumi can't help being jealous when he sees you talking to noritoshi kamo.

With the Kyoto Sister School Goodwill Event and the return of Itadori Yuji, Megumi hardly had time to talk to you. Not to mention the fact that he had hardly seen you since your third year had been suspended and the elders had taken the opportunity to fill you up with missions all over Japan. However, since it was the Goodwill Event, you were able to free yourself from the day's missions to accompany and help with whatever was needed ⸻ even though your students couldn't participate in this year's event.

And Megumi hoped to find you before the first activity of the day. Maybe you were walking around or helping to prepare something for the day's event, or maybe you were accompanied by Shoko, your best friend, or even Utahime, your senpai, whom you didn't see so often because of the distance. Or maybe Gojo had already found you and stuck to you like a magnet. The only thing Megumi hadn't expected was to see you accompanied by Noritoshi Kamo.

And he certainly didn't expect to feel a tightening in his chest when he saw the two of you interacting.

You and Noritoshi were from the same clan, the same family. You had similar abilities and maybe even more in common than just blood and lineage. Noritoshi had more in common with you than Megumi ever would and that bothered him.

Fushiguro didn't know why it bothered him to see you next to Noritoshi, he didn't know why your gentle smile towards the other Kamo affected him as much as it did at that moment. He had never felt that way before and he certainly didn't want to feel that tightness in his chest again so soon.

He watched as Noritoshi bowed to you with a slight smile on his face and went on his way, leaving you alone to go back on your way.

"Megumi." You smiled in his direction and moved closer to give him a firm hug. "I know you moved into the dorm, but that doesn't stop you from going home. You know that, don't you?"

Home.

As a child, Megumi didn't believe that he would one day feel comfortable enough to call a place home until he was taken into your arms. In a way, he understood why Gojo had fought tirelessly to win you over. You were like a saint sent to earth to help lost and desolate souls ⸻ and Megumi and Gojo were no exception to those lost souls. Perhaps the only thing that distinguished you from Megumi's biological mother was blood, but blood isn't always what defines a real family. And by what he considered a miracle, Megumi had found a family. Together with Tsumiki, you (and Gojo) were his family.

"Gumi..." You put your hands on his shoulders and looked worriedly at the boy in front of you, "Are you okay? Are you alright?"

"Can we have ice cream when this is all over?"

"Of course we can. We can go to that ice cream parlor that sells handcrafted ice cream!" You smiled excitedly, "But first you have to win an event." You hugged Megumi tightly and the boy returned the gesture with the same intensity. "But remember, no matter what the result, you will always make me proud!"

"Thanks, Mom." Megumi broke off the hug and smiled weakly in your direction.

Maybe Megumi didn't have to worry about Noritoshi Kamo and even less about the bad feeling he got when he saw the two of you. After all, it was Megumi Fushiguro who was your greatest pride.

© SEONGHRTZ, 2023ㅤ⸻ㅤall rights reserved. please do not copy / steal / translate / modify any of my works !

#五条悟ㅤ͏✷ㅤ𝑚. ͏𝑔𝑎𝑟𝑑𝑒𝑛 𝄒 #☆ . . seonghrtz !! #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk gojo #jjk megumi #gojo x reader

[cod-dump]

Ah yes hello it’s me again with my antics

one day Nikolai is like doing work in his office (I imagine price and him share an office in the house but price isn’t there right now) and Nikolai is just doing some paperwork for his construction and randomly teen!ghost walks in and says “dad, can you help me with my homework?” And Nikolai is just trying not to burst into tears after hearing Simon call him dad then like two hours later Gaz walks in and nik is like “you need something kiddo?” And Kyle is just like “I just want your company pops” then like later price walks into their shared bedroom and just sees nik crying in the corner is he’s like worried and shit price walks up to him like “what happened??” And nik through tear he just says “they’ve started calling me dad!”

-🫠

Undeserving (teen!Ghost au)

some slight angst (also before Roach’s addition)

———

It was sudden when the boys started referring him as ‘dad’ or ‘pops’ or ‘da’. It was so sudden that Nik had been an emotional mess for a few days since it started. Teary eyed, unable to look at them, wallowing — John was honestly worried about him for the first day.

“I’m fine,” Nik had assured him while looking like he was going explode from the unshed tears.

He didn’t feel fine. He felt so many things, all of them suggesting that he wasn’t fine. He was so happy but terrified. Nik never saw this for himself, this happy, domestic life with a family. He came here to repay his debt with Kate and her people, he never planned on anything like this happening.

He was just supposed to shadow a little boy until he was in a safe environment and in good hands. He wasn’t supposed to still be here. But he was, and it felt like the results from him deciding to stay and see how things would turn out for Simon were undeserving.

He didn’t deserve John. He was an amazing, wonderful man. Perfect in Nik’s eyes. His dedication to caring for Simon even though it was different from his usual work — that was strike one. Nik watched him go from caring for Simon as a basic guardian to loving him as his own son.

Strike two was witnessing the man defend his new life. He strayed from the front lines of hidden wars and bloody battles to something domestic, something soft and simple. Something that men like them tended to never get. And when John had it within reach, he took hold of it and refused to let go.

Of course, strike three was infamously John demonstrating his ability to protect his family and his home. He was a hardened soldier, and Nik witnessed his cold efficiency at his calling. Witnessed how familiar a gun was in his hands, how he seemingly detached himself from the reality that came with placing a bullet in another man’s brain.

John had Nik’s full heart, his adoration and dedication. Of course his children had that, too. Simon technically had Nik’s love first, even though the man still had yet to admit that. He had yet to acknowledge he cared about Simon long before he ever met his soon-to-be father and became enamored with him. It was impossible to deny that now when Simon and Kyle calling him ‘dad’ had him in shambles. He certainly felt he didn’t deserve it, didn’t deserve any of this.

“Nik.”

John’s voice never sounded sweeter than when they laid curled up in bed. Nik tried to not react but John had that special ability to always get a reaction from him. He shook when he felt John hold him from behind. He was so understanding, he didn’t deserve that.

“You know I’ve seen you cry before,” John whispered, still holding him so gently.

Nik let out a sob and John pressed a kiss to his head. He would hold him until he fell asleep. He would wake not feeling as conflicted. And later that morning when the boys greeted him, he couldn’t help but smile.

#🫠 #ficlet #teen!ghost au #call of duty #modern warfare #cod nikolai #john price #simon ghost riley #kyle gaz garrick #drabble #pricenik #dad price #dad john price #dad nikolai #dad nik #ask #thanks for the ask <3

[sex-storytime]

Best Friend

The door was unlocked when I reached the front of the new house. It was small, very small for a family of five, but I was thankful my best friend hadn't moved away. We had been friends since the first day of school and, to be honest, I had nobody else.

“Sophie?” I called out, having been invited over but not wanting to just barge into her house.

"It’s open, Jeff. Come in." Came her sing song reply, “I’m in my room, first door at the top of the stairs…” she continued, clearly exerting herself in some way.

I walked up the stairs to see the bedroom door was open and my best friend, Sophie, was lying on the floor. She was on her stomach, wearing only a t-shirt and panties. She had a pillow under her groin, folded at the corner. She held herself in a backwards arch, like doing a cobra pose in yoga. Her body trembled with effort. Her cute, round face was cherry red. Her light blue eyes glazed over and oddly empty.

What she was doing completely blew my mind. I'd been lost in my own world, walking down the hall, when Sophie said my name once more. It was a hot day, summer was just getting started, and I was already suffering under the sad reality that the house didn't have air conditioning. My minimal outfit of a t-shirt and mesh shorts felt like a full, fur coat.

"You should… Try this," she gasped, "Feels really good." She took a deep breath and collapsed flat on the floor. "Fuck." The word slipped out of her. Her long, golden blonde hair pooled around her head.

I stared at her as she lost herself for a moment. My friend's skimpy outfit revealed way more of her curvy body and tan skin than I was used to seeing. Her breasts looked particularly large in her baby blue v-neck. Her full butt was similarly flattered by her yellow, bikini-cut panties.

Sophie came back to consciousness. "Didn’t you hear me? Seriously, Jeff, come over here," she said, an edge of annoyance in her voice.

Tentatively, I stepped inside her doorframe.

"What's up?" I asked, playing dumb.

As a young man, the same age as Sophie, I knew what masturbation looked like, but I'd never seen anyone do it that way with a pillow. I was still a virgin and I knew Sophie was too. I certainly wasn't prepared for Sophie to openly share something so intimate with me.

Sophie and I had always been close. Unlike our friends who seemed to be suffocated by their close relationships -- fighting each other for air -- Sophie and I both basked in our shared spaces. We were playmates as kids and confidants as teens. I told my best friend nearly everything and had an easy expectation that she would do the same.

But we weren't, you know… Like this!

It was awkward when we watched a movie, and a sex scene came on. I felt uncomfortable helping fold Sophie's underwear when we did the laundry. Sophie had a nice body because she was super curvy and stuff. But I didn't, like, sneak on her in the shower or ogle at her bathing suit.

We were, you know, people. Until that random afternoon when my best friend called me into her bedroom while she was grinding her pussy against a pillow.

"Come on, we need to do this together. Try this with me," Sophie said. She wiggled her butt purposefully, clearly starting her process all over again.

"You mean, like, lying on the ground… pretending to…?" I asked.

"Not exactly," Sophie said. She looked up at me, her face pink and sweaty with exertion. "You put a pillow down. And you lie on top of it. Then you kind of press down. You know? Feels awesome. It’s not sex, Jeff!"

I can't say why I listened. It should have been weird -- OK, it was weird -- but for whatever reason I treated it more like my best friend was inviting me to try a new game or watch a movie. Gingerly, I stepped into her bedroom. Like me, Sophie was a bit of a geek. She had a flatscreen TV with a couple consoles attached. Her tan bedroom walls had posters from Breath of the Wild and Animal Crossing. Her room was a peaceful, welcoming place.

But in the moment, it felt almost foreboding. Like the air itself was all charged up. As soon as I stepped inside, I was hit with the scent of Sophie's honey-sweet perfume mixed with something else; instinctively familiar.

"Grab the one from my bed," Sophie said, breathily.

I took the pillow -- a sad, floppy, lime green thing whose filling had fled long ago -- and dropped it on the ground. I fluffed the pillow as best I could, then lay down on top of it. I adjusted myself till I had my genitals in what seemed like the right place.

"There you go," Sophie said, "Now just..." Instead of saying it, she did it. Arched herself again. Her wide hips swiveled slightly back and forth on the pillow. Again, I became very aware of her body. Her broad shoulders and long arms. Large breasts and bubble butt. Pretty face and light, sparkling sapphire eyes.

I tried to mirror the blonde teen. I pressed down into the pillow and wiggled a little. And, amazingly -- despite the fact that we were working with very different equipment -- I could kind of see what Sophie was getting at. Like catching a glimpse of a mirage from the far side of the desert.

There were a few problems that kept me from getting closer, however. One, the pillow made things too soft. For Sophie, the cushion gave her something to rub against. For me though, I got the sense that I needed something firmer. Honestly, the bare floor would probably have been fine!

But, ironically, the other problem was that I was massively turned on. The smell of my best friend’s pheromones… that agonizing look of ecstasy on her face… my penis erect and throbbing. Everything around me -- Sophie, what she was doing, what she invited me to do -- had led to the inevitable reaction. At any other time, an erection was the perfect way to start getting myself off. But not like this. Some instinctual part of me knew that if my cock was softer, it would be easier to press against the ground and, theoretically, might feel nice.

I looked over at Sophie. Unintentionally, we'd ended up facing each other. Quite close. I could see every detail of Sophie's face, screwed up with effort. She was clearly building toward another release. She clenched, held, then flopped in a strained, desperate rhythm. Over and over, like an odd kind of exercise.

I stayed in place, just lightly pressing down. There was the distant sensation that maybe something could be there, but I knew I wouldn't be able to reach it in the moment. Instead, I sort of teased myself while I watched Sophie take herself down the path to pleasure.

"Nothing?" Sophie asked, suddenly aware that I was staring at her.

"Well… Kinda?" I said, "I get the feeling it might work if some things were different. But not right now."

"Oh, OK," Sophie said, clearly disappointed. "That's too bad. I'm glad you tried it though."

"Me too," I said.

Carefully, I got off the floor. I tossed Sophie's pillow back on her bed. Sophie was still humping her pillow when I left.

I wandered away, feeling shell shocked. My penis was hard and my testicles tinged. I wanted nothing more than to bring myself to an inevitable release… but this was Sophie! My best friend! Unable to remember why I had ventured over to see her in the first place, I headed back home.

________

About an hour later, I was in my bedroom -- sweating my balls off while playing online -- when the thought popped into my head.

I could be doing it right now.

It was a random idea, borne of nothing, as if my subconsciousness had been chewing on this for a while and finally spit it out.

I put the controller to the side. Looked down at the grey carpet. My bedroom door was shut. The distraction of my repeated virtual deaths meant my dick was soft -- exactly where I needed it to be. I slid off my chair and dropped to the ground.

So, I took one of the two pillows from below my head, and I placed it on the centre of the bed. I then removed my blanket, pulled down my pants and released my aching penis free into the coolness of air. At that moment, my penis was like a solid stick dancing to and fro as if it was attached to a spring....

I then quickly climbed over my pillow and placed my penis on its lower edge side. I then covered my naked ass (and most of me, up to my eyes) again with the blanket. Like Sophie had shown me before, I pressed down with my crotch and arched my back. Like lightning, there it was. This was a very different experience than I was used to. This wasn’t like masturbation.

I lay still on my stomach for a few minutes, so as to let my penis feel the softness of the silky pillow.. The feel of the pillow below my steaming hot manhood was like cold water poured over ice... It had such a cooling feel. My body began to writhe, pulling instinctual primal urges from my deep subconceous. My body was trying to re-enact intercourse for the first time.

I was only dimly aware of the way I had been holding the topmost pillow, cradling it as one might a slender lover, the bottom edge trapped beneath my belly and coming against the glans of my turgid organ. Where before I would naturally reach down to clutch my manhood, my hips took over of their own accord, pushing my hardness further into the yielding cushion of the pillow.

Without much thought or effort, I turned flat on my stomach, my erection now lying between the mattress and the pillow. Sophie was right, it felt rather good to be compressed on all sides like that, to be enveloped in such softness. Moving my hips, I thought about how Sophie looked, her tight blue top and those pretty panties she wore. For the first time in my life I saw my best friend as a woman… I wanted so much to get between those slender thighs of hers, and break the final taboo between us.

This masturbation was vastly different from simply stroking off with my hand. Here was full body involvement. My toes digging into the mattress, legs taut, I rocked back and forth in the instinctive unthinking movements of copulation. Hands clutching the bed sheets, I gasped and grunted in a blatantly vocal way, the ecstatic pleasure rising along with my pulse.

Wet trails of pre-cum stained the pillowcase in advance of the inevitable orgasm. No longer in the vague mist of waking dream, I desperately held onto the fantasy of Sophie writhing beneath him, putting aside the nagging concern about what he was actually doing. I felt deliriously out of control, a sensation I never had while teasing and arousing himself by hand. The trigger of my climax was tantalizingly close, and I pushed even harder to tip himself over. I imagined thrusting deep inside Sophie’s virgin pussy, finally despoiling her, making her my own with this most intimate yet violent act. 

It was more work than stroking myself off, but it also felt fantastic in a slightly different way. Because I was lying on my stomach, in some ways it felt more like fucking, because I could imagine someone under me, feeling the same building pleasure.

Just when I felt myself begin to tire, I reached my apex. It had been at least a month since I had cum and my sperm was boiling up inside my balls. I was getting closer and closer to my orgasm and my penis felt impossibly huge. My balls tightened up at the base of my cock. I felt the building pleasure at the end of my penis, and the draining sensation in my thighs. My glans felt so big, and I felt that fullness at the tip, the need to release. 

With muscles tensing all at once, my orgasm overtook me, soon thick gouts of semen would be spilling from my body. I knew I wasn't going to be able to pull out of my makeshift vagina and as my testicles contracted, releasing a heavy load of sperm, the velvety caress of the pillow sheet triggered the start of my orgasm. As I felt the immense pleasure at the end of my penis, I felt my semen run up the length of my shaft. "Oh Sophie!" I groaned.

I felt my thrusts become more urgent and my cock was so hard, ripe and ready. My breath grew ragged, and my bulging penis grew even bigger between the pillows, the massive bulbous head was thrust deep inside and every inch of my massive cock was throbbing violently, pulsing and pumping. 

When I went over the edge it felt like my cock was going to burst… then the spunk rocketed up from my balls and launched violently out of the end of my sensitive glans. The first spurt felt like my entire life force left my body. The feeling was immense, my heart pounded in my chest as my body convulsed and then it felt like I was spurting the entire contents of my balls out of the end of my penis and deep between the pillows. My muscles spasmed, my cock throbbed, and I let my sticky seed jet into my sheets in ever dwindling volleys. The pleasure overwhelmed me. The effort to reach that place had been so much. The orgasm was a wondrous final reward.

Even after the initial euphoria had faded, I lay breathless on the pillows, my softening cock soaking in the sticky wetness of my spent passion. Too soon the spell was over. I rose onto my knees silently cursing the mess I had made to my bedding. It would be one thing if it were just my sheets, but to pump all that slimey man goo into the pillow where I laid my head at night. This would need some tactful cleaning!

I lay on the floor for a while, smelling my carpet. Muscles aching like I'd done an hours' worth of exercise. I drifted in and out of a strange, altered consciousness. Only dimly aware of the world around me until I knew I needed to hide the evidence of my ejaculation. I headed to the shower, still consumed with what I had done. Washing the goo from my genitals, I continued to stroke and caress myself according to habit.

I suppose I was, by most definitions, a well cut young man. Lean but not skinny, one would have thought that the last thing a dark haired college student needed to do was jerk off in order to achieve sexual fulfillment. In fact, I had spent so much time with Sophie that friends thought we were actually dating. I had never even considered it and laughed it off… but now?

I loved Sophie like a friend, and while I had met girls that were willing to be sexual, none had captured my heart like this -stroking my hardening cock under the warm flow of water in the shower.

________

I met up with Sophie several times over the next week or two and everything was strangely back to how it had been. Nothing needed to be said and we continued our friendship without any complications. The following weekend I was invited over for dinner, as I often had been, with Sophie and her family. It wasn’t anything special, her Mom had grabbed Chinese on the way back from work and we all loaded up our plates. They had a tiny, circular dining room table that her dad had found at a yard sale down the street. It was big enough for four, but not six, so Sophie and I set out stack tables in the nearby living room and ate on the couch.

For such a large family -- Her Mom, Dad, her two sisters and Sophie - dinner was upsettingly silent. I remembered how their meals used to be, all of us carousing around the big table, talking excitedly about what had happened that day. Here, though, the clatter of utensils and plates overwhelmed whatever urge we might have had to say anything to each other. And what was there to talk about, really?

I waited till everyone seemed truly lost in their own worlds, then I elbowed Sophie. She turned and glared at me.

"What was that for?" she asked.

"I did it," I said, under my breath, "I made it work. In my bedroom."

"Oh, awesome," Sophie said, her face shifting from slightly irritated to fully excited. Her eyes lit up like bright blue fire. "How was it?"

I looked down at the ground, shyly. I guess some things still felt strange to admit to Sophie.

"Nice," Sophie said, and gave my shoulder a playful shove.

After dinner, her siblings left to go hang out with their respective friends, leaving Sophie and me to watch TV with her parents. It's not that we didn't have our own social groups because we did. But most of our friends had gone away to University, while we were still local so we had fewer social options.

I suppose we could have gone out, the two of us, but it was awkward to wander around our old hometown. The thought of running into people, of having to explain that we were just friends -- I don't think either of us was anticipating that interaction. So, instead, we stayed on the couch and watched TV.

It didn't take long, however, for her Mom and Dad to shuffle off to sleep, and so we found ourselves sitting together on the beat-up couch. Almost close enough to be cuddling.

"You want to do it again?" Sophie asked.

"Huh?" I asked. I looked over at Sophie. She was wearing a long, light pink, sleep shirt that went down to her knees -- hiding her ample curves. She gave me a winking smile, like she was telling a dirty joke.

"Do you want to?" Sophie asked again. Suddenly, I realised what she meant.

"Here? Now?"

"Upstairs," Sophie said. She didn't wait for my response, just stood up and glided out of the living room. I mean, was I truly going to sit and watch TV by myself at that point?

Back in Sophie's bedroom, I found her already lying splayed on the floor, pillow strategically placed under her. She had lifted her sleep shirt up to her waist, exposing a pair of egg blue, bikini-cut panties.

Sophie grunted hello, then ground into the ground. "Do you need a pillow?" she asked, throatily.

"Nah," I said. I lay down on the floor. I could feel myself stiffening already, and I knew I needed to take the opportunity before the act became impossible.

Sophie's hardwood floors felt even better than my carpet. We were facing each other again. Hearing Sophie's gulping breaths, feeling her body tremble nearby, all of it conspired to take my experience from a solid 7 to a tremendous 10. Moments later, I was shooting hot seed into my shorts.

"Did you just cum?" Sophie asked. She looked about to hit the precipice, herself. Her cheeks were pinker than her shirt.

"Yeah."

She was going to town like there was no tomorrow, going faster and faster and never letting up...and the looks on her face were priceless!.. her eyes rolling, biting her tongue, I could tell she was totally unaware of her surroundings and I wished I had grabbed my phone to record her ministrations. I could tell she was about to cum... her body tensed up, her face was full of anticipation, and she was thrusting her hips relentlessly against her worn out pillow.

"Aaaaaeeeeeeiiiiiii," Sophie was suddenly overtaken by her own orgasm. It had only been a mtter of seconds since I had climaxed and I watched in amazement as my best friend had the most explosive orgasm of her young life! She folded and shook and jerked for at least two minutes before rolling over beside me, twitching gently.

Her eyes rolled back, and she collapsed. "Fuck, that was good…."

Sophie picked up her head and met my eyes. Her look was dreamy, distant. Yet there was something focused beneath the surface. Like she was making a decision.

We shared a goofy grin.

"That's it for you?" Sophie asked.

"Pretty much," I said. I had no doubt I could squeeze another orgasm out of myself. But the rubbing took a lot out of me. Something about it was so much more taxing than the usual stroking off.

"Well, OK," Sophie said, "I'll see you in the morning?"

I knew, right then, that she wasn't making the usual, trite statement. It was an appointment.

A promise.

________

Sometimes it takes a while to settle into a new habit. Retraining your body, your mind, to incorporate a different routine. That was not the case for Sophie and me. We were barely past our first day of this and already our fresh tradition felt expected. As if we had been doing it our entire lives and would continue to do so forever more.

Sophie called it pressing and so that's how I came to think of our activity. It wasn't always at the same time or even every day, but we managed to have regular regroups. One morning we might wake up, press together, and get ready for the day. Or after lunch, we'd have an afternoon press in between doing chores or playing games or whatever. And if we missed both of those (or were having a particularly 'active' day) we'd go for a press after dinner, right before exhaustedly wandering home to our beds.

Outside of our little meetups, everything else was normal. We weren't flirty with each other. We didn't even talk about what we were doing. We always wore clothes when we did it -- Sophie with some sort of shirt and panties, me in my t-shirt and shorts. We met up, pressed, and went back to our lives. Like all of this was happening in some separate, bubble universe.

The way everything became casual, however, was also nearly our downfall. Three times, with three separate people, we were almost caught.

The first was my fault. It happened a little over a week after we'd started our escapades. Her family had finished dinner and was watching TV. It was one of those rare evenings when all o them were home, and Sophie and I found ourselves sitting on the floor, in front of the couch.

Sophie turned to me, mid-episode, and cocked her eyebrow. She subtly jutted her chin. That was all I needed to know. I gave her a single nod.

It was on.

A moment later, Sophie said she was feeling tired and went to her bedroom. I waited what felt like a good amount of time (but was probably only two minutes) and followed her upstairs.

I found Sophie already lying on her pillow. She gave me a big, goofy grin as I lay down next to her. The process of this had made me start to chub up, but I'd learned to (literally) push through such things. We humped the ground together, the sounds of boring TV news playing in the distance.

There was this strange intimacy to our act, stolen in little moments. For the most part, I stayed within myself, engaged in my own fantasies. But then I would hear Sophie make a little gasp as she hit the right spot. Or I would grunt with the exertion of the act. Sometimes we'd accidentally bump each other -- arms or legs, never anything more. It was strangely reassuring, an encouragement of the illicit actions we were sharing.

"What are you guys doing?"

I froze. I slowly turned my head to the source of the sound. Her younger sister, Lauren, was standing in the doorway. In my haste, I'd forgotten to close Sophie's door. Damn!

Lauren was 17, mousy and thin, with bright red hair (the same colour as her Mom’s) that hung almost to her waist. She was wearing her usual workout outfit -- a tanktop and yoga pants. She eyed us, confused, like someone searching for an obvious word but unable to find it in the moment.

"Nothing," Sophie said, like this was a perfectly satisfying answer. She didn't even get off the pillow. Just spun around and stared up at our younger sister. "Go away."

Lauren did not do that. Instead, she stayed at the door, narrowing her eyes like she was processing everything.

"It's fine, Lauren," I said, the panic rising in my throat. "We're hanging out."

"We're planning your birthday gift," Sophie said. This was a particularly bad lie, since we were doing nothing that looked like planning. And Lauren's 18th birthday was still a good two months away.

But while her youngest sister was super sweet, she wasn't very sharp. She wasn't a dope, just far too trusting. The kind of girl who couldn't understand that people might lie to her for their own benefit.

"Oh!" she said, brightly, "OK." And quickly scampered away.

I wasn't going to argue with our good luck. I got off the floor, gently closed Sophie's door, and returned to what we were doing.

The second time we almost got caught, though, was on Sophie (somewhat). It was a Saturday afternoon, a week or so later, and she found me watching TV in the living room. She was wearing a white t-shirt with a pink lettering on it, as well as a pair of green sweat-shorts. Her breasts and bottom seemed liable to break out of both at any minute.

Sophie gave me our signal and I got off the couch. But instead of leading me back to her bedroom, Sophie shook her head.

"Here," she said. That one word was shocking, for all that it implied. I glanced around the room. Right out in the open? We were sure to be seen.

"No one's home," Sophie said, "They're all out doing errands or whatever." She grabbed a pillow off the couch -- blue, small, and squarish -- and dropped it on the floor.

"Are you sure?"

Sophie gave me a chastising look. You'd think that would be hard based on how she was lying on her groin, getting ready to fuck the hell out of that poor cushion. But, somehow, my best frind still managed to look disdainful. I shrugged and dropped next to her.

I have to admit, changing our surroundings did something to the whole experience. I'm not saying we got bored of the usual stuff, but after weeks of it, there was a sort of numbness to the routine of it all. Doing it in another place -- a room where we spent so much time with the rest of our family -- gave everything a sharper edge.

I went over the top first. Unlike Sophie's peak, mine required some post-orgasm maintenance. So, I got up to go find a tissue. Fortunately, my splooge had mostly stayed in my shorts, though I had a drop or two on my leg.

As I went toward the bathroom, however, I felt a hand on my chest. I stopped in place. Standing in front of me, right at the top of the stairs, was Sophie’s oldest sister, Jessica. Her twenty-three-year-old sibling had obviously seen everything. So much for an empty house.

Jessica raised her eyebrow at me in a way that was totally different than Sophie's come-hither gesture. It was more like drawing a dagger.

"Tell me you two aren't doing what I think you're doing," Jessica said. Even though it was a weekend, she was dressed in a nice, pink blouse and a dark navy skirt. She had her auburn hair tied back in a severe bun. She'd done her makeup, as well, making her angular features appear almost devastatingly beautiful. I felt very much like a turd she'd found on the stairs. "Tell me this isn't what it looks like," Jessica repeated.

I paused. I didn't know what to say, except to parrot it back. "It isn't what it looks like," I said. Like that was going to make a difference.

Jessica's green eyes, remarkably similar to Sophie's, hardened.

"It's not," I said.

"OK," Jessica said. I braced for the impact. Instead, her oldest sister stared me down for another moment, then spun on her heel and walked away.

Later, I told Sophie about it, expecting her to freak out. Instead, she laughed.

"Don't sweat it," my blonde, best friend said, a smile still playing on her cute face. "Jessica's not going to do anything."

"I don't know," I said, "She seemed pretty angry. She could tell your parents we wre having sex together!”"

"We weren't and Jessica's always angry," Sophie said. I couldn't argue with that. "I'm sorry she caught us. I didn't realise she was home. But Jessica's not the tattling type. She's happy to ignore us. Trust me. We just need to be more careful."

Our last brush with danger came soon after. It was by far the most chaste, yet it felt like the riskiest moment of all. Sophie and I had spent the day out and were headed upstairs to my bedroom for our evening session. But as we were about to go into my room, my Mom called after us. Sophie and I shared a nervous look. We walked back down to the kitchen.

My Mom was waiting there for us, hands on her hips, in standard disapproval position. Our kitchen was so tiny, it made my mother look like a giant. Even more imposing than usual.

"You two are up to something," my Mom said. Her voice was not kind.

The sink was running behind her, stacked to the brim with dishes. A reminder of yet another indignity we'd had to endure with our house: it didn't even have a dishwasher.

"We're hanging out," I said, shrinking under my mom's pointed interrogation.

Mom shook her head. "It's more than that. I see you two sneaking off at all hours. Always in your room with the door shut. What are you doing?"

"Nothing," I said.

"Nothing," Sophie said, "Like Jeff told you, we're just hanging out. Playing games. You know."

Mom's glare deepened, like Jessica's had done. Her eyes narrowed, a mirror of Lauren's from earlier.

"You're up to something," she said, "And I don't like it. Your father and I, this family, we're all going through a lot right now. It's bad enough as is and if you go and do something stupid to make it worse, even the tiniest, littlest bit..."

"We're not," Sophie said, "We won't. I promise."

Mom's look didn't soften, but she let out a deep breath. "Fine," she said. She waved us out of the kitchen but stared at me. "You're old enough that you don't have to live with me anymore. So, I expect you to be on your best behavior if you want to stay under this roof?"

"Of course," Sophie said with a look of horror on her face.

"Understood," I said.

We escaped back to my bedroom. That night's session felt strained and anxious. Rushed and unfulfilling. But we still did it.

And that was the larger issue. For all those close calls, for all the very real consequences that came with them, we never stopped what we were doing. We didn't step back or rethink our actions. You'd think that with everything that had gone on, with every warning sign we'd passed, that we'd learn our lesson.

Instead, we escalated.

________

"Do you ever think about stuff?" Sophie asked, "You know, when we're doing this?"

We were both post-peak, lying back like bomb victims on Sophie's hardwood floor. It was surprisingly comfortable after a good, hard climax. The room sank of cum.

"You mean, like, other people?" I asked.

"Yes," Sophie said, "I mean, you're not focusing on how you're making it with my bedroom floor, are you?"

"Of course not," I said.

"So… do you picture anyone specific?" Sophie asked.

"Ahhhh… well," I mumbled, thinking of how hard I had cum the first timeI had thought of Sophie, "No. No one specific. It's kind of random. Just 'a girl,' you know?"

Sophie rolled onto her side, giving me a dubious look.

But I recognized a no-win situation when I saw one. If I said I thought about Sophie, I was an sex-obsessed pervert. But if I said some other girl, then I risked hurting my best friend's feelings. So, I turned to my only defense, and turned the question back to Sophie.

"What about you?" I asked, "Do you ever think about anyone?"

"Not really," Sophie said in a mocking voice, "Just, you know, 'a boy.'"

There was a heavy pause. Each of us waited for the other to crack under the weight of it.

"We’re friends aren’t we? We promised your Mom we wouldn’t be anything else. So come on?" Sophie asked, her voice suddenly quiet and questioning. “Tell me who you fantasise about?”

“No way!”

“You’re useless!”

"You started it," I replied. Oh, so very mature.

"Fine," Sophie said, with an exasperated sigh. "There is this one guy at school. He's kinda tall with dark hair. Muscular. Sometimes I picture him."

"This guy have a name?" I asked. 

"Probably?" Sophie said, "I've never talked to him. I see him in class sometimes."

"It'd be weird if he didn't have a name," I said, "Like, if he was called Random Hotguy or whatever."

"Yeah, Let’s call him Randy," Sophie said.

"Well, that seems appropriate," I said.

I played at being coy, but I couldn't help but feel a little hurt as Sophie described a crush who was almost the exact opposite of my skinny, short, light-haired self. I knew it was stupid to feel jealous. For one, she was Sophie, we were friends and nothing more. She was right, we played together, we weren’t ever going to be lovers. My Mom had nothing to worry about, this little blonde haired hottie was completely off limits. For another, I'd literally forced her to say something. So, what did I expect, exactly?

But that didn't stop me from seething in the moment. And so, I felt the need to take some measure of revenge.

"There is this one girl," I said.

"Do tell," Sophie said.

"She's, um, got brown hair. Brown eyes. Short. She's skinny but in kind of a cute way."

"And where did you find this alluring coat rack?" Sophie asked. Her face was turning sourer by the second.

"You know, around," I said.

"Like around my house maybe?" Sophie asked.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Please, you're obviously talking about Lauren," Sophie said, “I see the way she looks at you. You’re rubbish at flirting by the way.”

"I'm not perving on your little sister," I retorted.

Sophie rolled her eyes at me. 

"Fine. Maybe a little bit," I said.

Sophie shook her head, dismissively, “You always had a thing for redheads and now my little sister is coming of age… she’s small, freckled and has the figure of a boy!”

"She does not!" I gasped. "What's your problem with Lauren? She's your sister, isn't she? Family are supposed to support each other."

"I just think you could do better than that jailbait," Sophie said. I realised it, suddenly. Sophie wasn't playing around. Her feelings were actually, honestly hurt. As if she hadn't done the same thing to me moments before.

"Well, what about Randy?" I asked. "I mean, the guy doesn't even have a real name. Don't you think you should set your sights a little higher?"

Sophie went quiet. She pursed her lips. The air in the room felt thick and heavy. Filled with anger and resentment. More than either of us could carry. After weeks of unbreakable buoyancy, this one silly conversation had popped us both.

I started to get off the floor, but Sophie stopped me.

"There is this one other guy," she said. Her cheeks went a little red.

I realised Sophie was making a peace offering and, fortunately, I was smart enough to accept it. I let myself be held in place.

"He's really cute, kinda handsome," Sophie said, "Light brown hair. Nice body." She ran her eyes up and down me, like punctuating her point.

I let out a loud sigh and lay back down on the floor. "Seriously?" I asked.

"I mean, you're right next to me, and my little sister isn't blind or stupid," Sophie said. "You're turning into a man, so it's kind of hard not to think… of you. I see your face. Your eyes. You're actually quite attractive, you know that?"

"Even though I'm short and skinny with messed up hair, and have an actual real name?" I said.

"Even though," Sophie said.

"Well, as long as we're being honest, there is this other girl I sometimes think about," I said, "She's very pretty. Gorgeous, honestly. And her body is like, wow. She's really hot."

Sophie looked down at herself, dubiously. "Not too fat?" she asked.

"Oh my God, no, she's got curves her sister would kill for!" I said immediately. "She's practically fucking perfect."

"Wow," Sophie said. She breathed it out in a little sigh. Almost like one of the sounds she'd make when she was about to peak.

"Anyway, I know I shouldn't but..."

"It's OK," Sophie said, "I get it.

"Like you said, it's hard not to," I said, "In the moment. You're there, you know? Feeling you bump against me. Hearing your little noises. It's kinda awesome, actually."

"Kind of?" Sophie asked, but I could see she was teasing. "You sure you wouldn't rather a certain skinny redhead?"

"I think I might prefer blondes," I said. A pause. "Are you OK with that? I know it's wrong and all, but."

"I'm fine with it," Sophie said. She put her hand on mine. Just that little touch felt electric. "As long as you're OK with me doing it, too."

"Yeah," I said, "Yes. I'm OK with that."

Everything seemed settled. The next day went on as normal. Even that night, when we held our regular pressing session, it was like nothing had changed.

But when Sophie reached her apex, she gasped out. "Oh Jeff," she said, "So good."

Then dropped limp to the floor.

________

And so, we started talking.

Again, never outside our little meetups. We didn't get flirty in the kitchen or tease each other in front of the TV. But when we'd press, it was like one long running conversation. Whether we were talking to ourselves or communicating with each other I can't say for sure. But we became downright chatty as we made ourselves cum.

"Oh, that's the spot. Right there," Sophie said.

"Fuck that's nice," I said, "So good."

"Gonna cum... So close," Sophie said.

"Ah... cumming..." I said.

Nothing else changed.

There were times when I wished for more. I imagined Sophie taking her shirt off, her pert tits trembling as she took herself to paradise. I thought about grabbing her hand when I came. Or, for that matter, us giving up on the floor and grinding against each other.

These were passing thoughts, fast fantasies, that usually disappeared immediately post-press. Despite our daily actions, the things we said to each other, I kept Sophie filed safely away as my best friend. I was unable to imagine ever storing her under a different category. Our enduring friendship actually meant more to me than sex.

Summer stretched languid around us. Her Dad, Mom, and her olde4 sister Jessica all got busy with work. Little Lauren disappeared all day to be with her friends. Dinners with her family were few and far between so Sophie and I mostly hung out with each other.

The next step was probably inevitable.

"Fuck that feels so good," Sophie said as she pressed down on her pillow. We were back in my bedroom, doing what we did best -- getting ourselves off while we got on with each other.

"You like that?"

"Oh yes," Sophie said, "Oh Jeff you have no idea… How good this makes me feel."

"I'd be damn better than a pillow," I said.

"And I'm sure I'm much more than a floor," Sophie said, "Do… do you want that? To… feel my body -- AH! -- beneath you?"

"So soft and warm," I said, "Your breasts. That ass."

"So hard," Sophie said, "Aching. Thrusting. OH! Oh fuuuuck. I'm getting close. Are…are you gonna let… me cum for you?"

"Please. I'm there, too. Let go, Sophie. I want to see it. Feel it. Feel you cum."

"Oh OHHH! Ah! AHHH! Oh yes! FUCK YES!" Sophie shook. Shuddered.

As if her orgasm sparked mine, the pleasure overwhelmed me. Hot spurts shooting down my leg.

"Oh, fuck that really turned me on," Sophie panted.

She rolled over and kissed me on the top of the head.

It was shocking, that sudden contact. Like another wall had been broken through. I swear I could smell the dusty, chipped plaster as Sophie busted through yet another barrier.

I rolled over to look at her. I'm sure she saw the shock in my face. Instead, Sophie shrugged.

"Just thanking you," Sophie said.

"I didn't do anything," I said.

"If you say so," Sophie said, and she winked my way.

I started to get up. Flopped back. Like I said, that hardwood floor was incongruently comfy after an explosive orgasm. I imagined a pointy rock might feel the same at that point, honestly. That was the thing about cumming, everything around me felt soft and welcoming. My mind, however, became far sharper.

"What are we doing?" I asked.

Again, Sophie shrugged.

"No, seriously, what is this?"

"Fun," Sophie said, as if it were obvious.

"So, we keep doing it," I said.

"At least till we go back to University," Sophie said, "Why not? You have something better to do?"

I had to concede that I did not. The friends that I might want to talk to had all gone off to their lives. The people I very much did not want to see were right outside our front door. It was too easy to feel trapped by a bunch of circumstances that were out of my control.

Sophie seemed to be feeling the same thing. She sat down next to me, leaning back on her bed frame.

"Look, the past year has been so hard," Sophie said, "Dad losing his job. Then losing the house. Our new place... I know it's where we live but it's not home. Even the smells are so unfamiliar. I don't like it there. I don't like this. It sucks for you too, right?"

"It's fucking miserable," I said.

"Right," Sophie said, "And this is just... Look, I'm not saying it's my life or anything. It's a distraction. But it's kind of keeping me sane right now. So, I don't want to stop. We'll move on when it's time. I know we will."

"That makes sense," I said, "Honestly, it's helping me, too."

"We'll reach a certain point," Sophie said, "It'll be easy. One day we'll stop doing it and it won't even feel different. You'll look back and realise 'oh, it's been so long since we did it.'"

"Just like that?"

"Don't you think so?" Sophie said, "Besides it's not like we're doing anything serious here. We're not even touching. We're not being stupid. We're  ot lovers or anything."

I thought back to that kiss on the head Sophie had given me. For a moment, I realized that we were both deceiving ourselves. But that's the thing about a mirage. It's all about how badly you want to see it.

“Just friends.”

________

The summer got hotter. Sophie's Mom talked a big game about buying some window air conditioners, but they never materialized. Sophie and I, already down to t-shirts and shorts, were running out of ways to stay cool. I knew it was bad when Sophie said it was even too hot to press.

I reached the breaking point one afternoon when the knob of my bedroom door melted off in my hand. I wish I was exaggerating, but there I was, standing stupidly in the hallway, with a broken knob in my hand and no way to get back into my bedroom.

Instead, I went in search of Sophie. I headed to hers and discovered Sophie lazing on the couch, stretched out and miserable. She had on a pair of red mesh shorts and a white, ribbed tank. Her top was slightly pulled up, uncovering her cute tummy.

"This house sucks!" she said, writhing in discomfort.

I held up my doorknob as evidence.

"What's that?" she asked.

I explained and she giggled, then groaned. "Oh my God, your knob has  melted off. I really hoped I might get some more use out of it."

"Funny. Well, we could go out," I ventured.

"It's hotter out there than it is here," Sophie said, "Let's watch a movie. About something cold."

"Do you think that'll help?" I asked.

But Sophie was already surfing the screen. Finally, she settled on some old rom-com called The Cutting Edge about competitive ice skating. It was barely watchable, and it didn't help me feel any cooler. But Sophie seemed happy, and it was too hot to argue. It's not like I could go back to my bedroom.

About halfway through -- the female lead kept saying the words 'toe pick' -- Sophie paused the movie.

"I want to take my shirt off," she said, in a strangely matter of fact tone.

"OK?" I gave Sophie an odd look.

"You can take yours off, too," Sophie said.

"Yes, I'm aware of that," I said, "It's a little different when I do it."

"Look, it's really hot," Sophie said, seemingly unaware of the double entendre. "And I'm super uncomfortable. Seeing me in a bra won't even make the top ten of things you've witnessed from me lately. So, I'm going to do this and you're going to be OK with it. OK?"

Oh, I was way more than OK in that moment. Did I mention Sophie's chest was amazing? It was much more than that. Sophie had such perky breasts. I knew it, despite the fact that I'd never seen more than the shape of them under her shirt. So yeah, no, I was more than alright with Sophie taking her shirt off on the couch. If anything, I was sad that she had already set the limit at leaving her bra on.

But this was weird right? Tell me I'm not strange for thinking it was weird that my best friend was going to take out her titties in the middle of the living room in front of me, as casually as pouring herself a drink. She wasn't even my girlfriend!]

Yet, no matter how I felt about it, Sophie was doing it. Sophie reached down for the bottom of her tank and pulled it over her head. You'd think she was ripping off a band-aid, not exposing her twin holiest of holies to her besotted childhood friend. But Sophie kept it casual.

I more than made up for Sophie's lack of concern, however, with my own reaction. I gaped. I gawped. Sophie sat back on the couch in nothing but a lacy black bra and a pair of tiny, scarlet shorts. You'd think she'd just showed me the mysteries of the universe. And, to some extent, she truly had.

There are no words to describe what Sophie had revealed to me. Her bra covered a good portion of her breasts, but still. Her boobs were pert, full and proud. They looked perfectly shaped and wonderfully peachy. I know I'm doing a lousy job of describing them. I'm sure you're thinking 'dude, they're just boobs, and your best friends boobs at that.' But I'm telling you. That's my point. They were so much more than anything I can describe to you. Like discovering the sun after a lifetime of darkness.

And, again, I was only seeing about a third of them thanks to Sophie's lacy bra.

"Ahem," Sophie cleared her throat, dramatically.

"Sorry," I said, and did my best to stop staring. It was like trying to look away from a black hole, so strong was that pull to peek.

"Ahem hem," Sophie did it again, even louder this time. She gestured to my chest.

"Oh," I said, "Right." I didn't remember agreeing to this literal tit for tat, but I wasn't going to step away from it, either. I pulled off my t-shirt, sticky with sweat, and tossed it aside.

"Very nice," Sophie said, looking at me appraisingly.

"You know, I'm completely bare while you're still wearing your bra. It seems to me it would be more even if we were both topless," I said. I mean, can you blame me for trying?

Sophie smirked and shook her head. "Mmmmm… Nice!" she said. She turned the movie back on.

We finished the film, both of us staying in our state of half-dress. You won't be surprised to learn that I missed most of what was on the screen. Look, I'm sure that Moira Kelly was kind of cute for her day, but compared to Sophie's luscious, stupendous, lace-covered chest, nothing else could compete.

I spent the entire time stealing glances when I thought Sophie wasn't looking. It wasn't enough. A lifetime's pass to stare wouldn't have been enough.

When the movie was over, when the guy finally got the girl, Sophie looked my way. I was ready to get berated for my inability to keep my eyes off Sophie's mounds. Instead, she raised an eyebrow. Pointed her chin. Well, I guess it wasn't too hot after all.

"Here's fine," Sophie said, sliding off the couch.

Instinctively I looked around. If the house hadn't been empty, I was pretty sure we'd have already been caught by now. I joined Sophie on the living room floor.

Sophie reached for a pillow off the couch. She didn't bother grabbing for her shirt. Oh. My. God. As if things couldn't get any better. Seeing Sophie lying on her stomach -- about to pleasure herself with a pillow -- with her breasts hanging near-free in her bra? I swear I felt my sanity start to snap.

"You like my titties?" Sophie asked, her face cinched as she pressed down.

For some reason, the word 'titties' sounded strange coming out of her mouth. The sight of her humping the floor was more than enough to overwhelm my momentary pause.

"You look so sexy," I said. I settled into the floor. Honestly, I was too hard at that point to hump. It didn't matter. Watching Sophie was more than enough.

"Oh, that feels so good," Sophie said, "Seeing you staring. Am I truly so amazing, Jeff?"

"You have no idea," I said.

"Think about it. Doing this. Holding me. Squeezing. Would you like that? Do you -- OH! -- want to feel my body while I do this? While I cum for you?"

"Yes… fuck yes," I said.

"Oh Jeff, I wish you could..." Sophie froze mid-moment. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Then why aren't you... you know?"

"Oh," I said. I was surprised she even noticed that I wasn't stuffing myself against the floor. "Well, um, you see. It's kinda hard to do this when I'm… this hard."

"Aw, did looking at my titties give you a stiffy?" Sophie asked. Boy, she really did like using that word for her breasts. "I thought getting an erection was supposed to help you with this stuff."

"It does," I said, "It would. It's just, when we do it this way, if I'm too worked up, it hurts when I try to, you know, make things happen."

"Well, what if you did it a different way," Sophie said, "You know, the way that it would work with you erect… and on your back?"

"I… I don't know."

"Take it out," Sophie said, "Show me. It's OK. I want to see it. Please?"

"No bra," I said. If I was going for it, then I was going for it.

Sophie didn't say a word. She reached back and unsnapped her black, lacy lingerie. She pulled it away and finally, her bare breasts hung free. They were better than I'd been picturing. Plump with phenomenally pert, pink nipples. I lost track of time. Of myself. My whole universe shattered by such a simple moment.

"Your turn," Sophie said. I noticed she'd stopped humping the pillow completely. She was waiting for me to get set.

I stood up and shimmied my shorts and underwear down in one go. My penis popped up, sticking straight out, like an overwound jack-in-the-box. I grabbed it immediately. Unable to control my urge to stroke myself.

Now, it was Sophie's turn to gasp. She stared up at my dick like it was an obelisk. A great and powerful object of desire.

"Wow," Sophie said. It seemed she wanted to add to that sentiment, but her brain was no longer in the business of making words.

I sat down on the couch. My bare bottom stuck to the canvas. Sophie spun herself on the ground so she could tilt her head up and see.

"Do you like it?" I asked, repeating what Sophie had said before. "Is my cock really so amazing, Soph?"

"Stroke it," Sophie said, "Show me. I need to see you masturbating."

Like I required a command by that point. My instincts had already kicked in. I gripped my cock and worked the loose skin back and forth. I was only using my hand, and dry at that, but it didn't matter. It felt incredible.

Meanwhile, below me, Sophie began trembling as she took herself to town on the pillow.

"Oh, Jeff," she said, "Feels so good... Your cock. So thick. Oh, I want it. Jerk it for me. Cum for me?"

With everything that had already happened, with all that we were doing, I wasn't going to last long. Fortunately, neither was Sophie.

Sophie rolled up on her groin, pointed her beautiful tits to the sky, then stiffened. Froze in place. Eyes glazed over. Mouth open. Finally, she broke. She let out a short, sharp sob as the pleasure squeezed out of her.

At that same moment, my cock exploded in my hand. A huge fountain of creamy spunk rocketed out and splattered on Sophie's face. I cried out as my orgasm overwhelmed me.

Sophie rolled over onto her back. She jammed her hand into her shorts and buried it in her pussy, working it like she was trying to rip the poor thing off. She stared up at me, eyes filled with hunger despite having already reached her peak.

I hit her perfect tits with my second shot of my pearlescent seed. I splattered her face again with my third. Sophie gasped and groaned as I bathed her in my sticky essence.

Finally, I puddled onto the ground, splayed out next to Sophie. The last of my load leaked out over my fingers. Sophie rolled over and kissed my forehead again. She stank of pussy and sperm. Desire and satisfaction. Man and woman, in a way we're never supposed to experience.

"You got me," Sophie said, gasping for breath, "Got me good."

"Sorry," I said.

"No way, that was awesome," Sophie said. "I'm going to need a shower now though."

"Me too," I said.

Sophie didn't miss what I was implying. For a moment, my best friend stared at me. She had my cum in her silky blonde hair... On her heaving tits. Both of us were barely clothed. Was I really asking for that much more?

To my surprise, Sophie actually seemed to consider my offer. But then she giggled, jumped up and skipped away.

________

July rolled into August. The heatwave ended, and while it wasn't exactly comfortable, we left unbearable back in the rearview mirror. I thought, after everything that had happened, that we'd progress more. Maybe Sophie would repeat her performance and take her top off or ask me to show her my dick. But none of that happened. Instead, we went back to regular old pressing.

At least for a little while.

In the meantime, life didn't stop moving around us. With time to school getting closer, needs outside of masturbating with Sophie began to take precedence. We drove to University a couple of times to make sure everything was set with the registrar and to get our supplies for the year.

Sophie's little sister, Lauren, was getting ready for her last year of high school, and we helped her get set up. Lauren was going to join us at Uni after high school, so we took her with us to see the campus, too.

Sophie and I did our usual chores -- food shopping, laundry, cooking meals. Her parents were still working like dogs, but her older sister, Jessica, got a bit of a break midway through the month and we met her in the city for lunch. Jessica made no mention of the previous 'incident' and certainly we had nothing to say about it.

Jessica and I never really saw eye to eye. I guess her height and around five seven or five eight but it was difficult to judge her shape in her bulky sweater and loose fitting jeans. Her face was the picture of pure beauty with finely arched eyebrows above green eyes that sparkled like rare treasures and lashes that looked long enough to braid. High, delicate cheekbones gave a remarkable sharpness to her features, as did her dainty nose that rested above the soft pink lips of her narrow mouth. Tiny orange freckles dotted her smooth face as if placed there by the skillful dance of a master's paintbrush on a fresh white canvass. Surrounding it all was a thick mane of lustrous red curls that were pulled back in a tight ponytail, with one unruly strand defying restraint to hang down the left side of her face. Even her voice was beautiful, I realised in awe.

There were hints of Sophie in her looks but where my best friend had curves, Jessica was willowy and slight. As the three of us ate lunch together I noticed she would look up at me, through her long eyelashes, every time Sophie was preoccupied with something. When she noticed me noticing her I became confident that something had changed between us. Jessica smiled. She would lean towards me… her fingers would linger on mine… where there was once hostility I now sensed  a mutual attraction transcending the familial relationship that comes with me being friends with her sister. 

Later that week, when I spent time at their house, Jessica no longer avoided me. She was flirting with me! Relishing times when Sophie was indisposed to place her hands on mine, or massage my shoulders. As timel progressed, the touches became more frequent, the greeting kisses moved from the cheeks to the lips and the private, affectionate glances and sexual innuendo between us became more titillating. I admit to being a willing participant with her in escalating the physical and mental aspects of our closeness… and Sophie was none the wiser.

Toward the end of my most recent visit, Jessica approached me after lunch while Sophie was otherwise occupied, and she told me she greatly enjoyed having me stay with them, especially appreciating my warmth toward her. I did not know where her conversation was leading, so I just let her talk.

She moved close to me, put her hand on my arm, looked into my eyes and told me, "I’m single and I think you’re growing into a very attractive man. To be honest Jeff, I have been thinking about you for many months. I hope that doesn't shock you."

Without breaking eye-contact, I put my hand over hers and replied, "Sophie… wouldn't be happy with me if she knew…”

“She's not here. Don't you find me attractive?”

“Yes,” I gulped, “I've been thinking about you, too, in ways that are not appropriate." I immediately felt that I may have been too presumptuous about the intent of her words, but I was wrong.

She quickly said, "You're not dating my sister, you're just friends! I just want you to know how I feel, Jeff," and she leaned against me and kissed me, twice, both times softly, and then more firmly a third time which clearly indicated to me she had a pressing need for intimacy.

I put my hands on her waist and pulled her tightly against me, feeling for the first time the pressure of her breasts against my chest and the contact of her thighs on mine. I continued the increasing passion of that third kiss and when I put my tongue on her lips she eagerly opened her mouth and an audible groan rattled in her throat.

Our first passionate encounter ended abruptly when Sophie called to us from another room. We separated quickly with both of us a bit stunned by what had just happened.

I spent the rest of the afternoon contemplating the joys of passionate, fulfilling sex with a willing and eager woman, something that had become a distant memory for me. My mind's eye repeatedly undressed Jessica and visualized us fucking each other to multiple orgasms. I knew I was very likely overreacting, but I reveled in thinking about the extraordinary pleasures we could share.

The three of us went to a cozy restaurant that evening, and our flirting spoke volumes although it was necessarily subtle due to Sophie's presence. Jessica was seated across from me, and during the meal she rubbed my leg under the table with her bare foot. It was a simple, suggestive act, and I found it very pleasing and highly erotic. I felt my cock becoming firm, and I liked it.

When Sophie left us to use the restroom, I said to Jessica, "What's happening here?”

“I know what you two were doing… that day… but I also know she hasn't gone all the way with you. I really enjoy spending time with you, Jeff. I like our flirting and… I'm willing to give you what she won’t.”

“What? Are you serious?"

"I am serious, Jeff. Honestly. I have strong feelings for you, and I want to act on them." She reached down and ran her hand up my leg… towards my swollen member. She slid her hand down my inner thigh and traced the outline of my cock with her long fingernails. God, that felt great. I stared at her hardening nipples as they protruded through her top and stared into her emerald green eyes. Jessica smiled a wicked smile as she rubbed my cock through my pants, pre-cum was soaking my underwear. Even if it only went this far – I was in heaven.

She continued to squeeze my cock, I was sure I was going to cum inside my boxers.

"Jess… stop!” I gasped.

"Oh poor thing, you need relief don't you." 

I gulped. She took her dainty thump and rubbed the pre-cum stain at the tip of my cock. I was in heaven and my cock jerked in response. She continued to rub my pre-cum and my cock head below. My glans was enlarged and ripening for the older sister. 

"Jeff, your penis is huge!" she hissed. Her eyes were glued to my cock.

“Please, Jessica!” I said, not even knowing if I wanted her to stop or continue.

“I know you want to spare my sister's feelings, Jeff. That's so cute and so very chivalrous of you… here she comes,” then she whispered as Sophie approached the table, “I want you and it is going to happen sooner or later. If she doesn't make her move… I’ll be waiting to make mine.”

She smiled and all I could do was smile back. Sophie misread the situation and assumed we were simply getting along.  Jessica made some excuses and left me with her younger sister… and sporting an uncomfortable erection.

“I see you still have a thing for redheads,” Sophie giggled, noticing the bulge in my pants but not realising just how true her statement was. We both watched her older sister walk out of sight, her hips swaying gracefully, her red mane of hair bouncing.

The next time we met at their house Jessica smiled knowingly but made no moves with her sister so close by. In other words, they acted like perfectly normal siblings, and we enjoyed our summer break as best we could, considering the circumstances. I guess only Jessica knew we were slipping away for shared masturbation sessions every now and then.

"I want to try something different this time," Sophie announced when I snuck into her bedroom. It was a random Wednesday and after sharing pleasantries with her big sister, she'd given me the chin jut, and here we were, getting ready to get off under the watchful eye of Link and Tom Nook, eyeing us from Sophie's bedroom walls.

The fact that Sophie had spoken up at all already had me nervous. Sure, we talked dirty to each other during the act, but we never came out and discussed the mechanics of what we were up to. Not really.

I assumed Sophie meant that she wanted me to jerk off again. Which, I was totally up for. I was all prepared to let her know that I was fine with it (in exchange for seeing titties), when she swerved so hard it nearly knocked me over.

"I'm just thinking," Sophie said, "Instead of using the floor or a pillow or whatever, it might be nice to try it together."

I raised an eyebrow. Wasn't that what we'd been doing?

"No, I mean, like. If you were pressing on me. And I was pressing on you. It might feel even better, you know?"

I was too shocked to respond. What was Sophie suggesting, exactly? Did she sense her sister wanted sex? Was she offering me her body?

"We'd wear our clothes," Sophie said, as if that made things better. "It would be the same as always. Sort of…"

It was that sort of that really set it apart, wasn't it? I think some part of me was convinced, even after what we'd done during the movie, that this remained normal behavior… just friends… not boyfriend and girlfriend… not lovers. Normal. Well… not that you could tell someone about it, and they wouldn't stare at you in horror. I mean, I wasn't going to proactively bring it up at parties or anything. But I thought it was something I could confess to if needed.

This, though -- what Sophie was suggesting -- was so close to actual sex with Sophie, I didn't know how to respond. Would I, like, touch her? Would we kiss? Would she grab my butt while I pressed against her?

"Well, we'll have to touch," Sophie answered, "Definitely no kissing, though. And as to your butt, well, you do have a nice ass. But I'll try to restrain myself if you will."

"I don't know, Sophie," I said.

"Pleeeeeease," Sophie said, "If we don't like it, we can stop. I promise it'll be awesome, and I bet it'll feel way better than doing it on the floor. And it won't be anything different than we're already doing. It's almost exactly the same thing. Truly."

"So, you would, like, lie down. And I would be on top of you. And we would sort of, um, align?"

"Exactly," Sophie said. She clapped her hands. Somehow, it seemed, I'd agreed to do this without realising it.

My buxom, beautiful, blonde best friend climbed onto her bed and lay on her back. She patted the comforter, like asking a puppy to jump up and join her for a snuggle. Per usual, Sophie was wearing a t-shirt and tiny shorts. Yellow and green, respectively.

I had on a shirt, as well, and a pair of gray sweat-shorts. The thought of lying on Sophie clearly appealed to one part of my anatomy, because I was already achingly erect. For once, my hard-on was going to be an advantage when we went to press.

I climbed onto the bed. It was oddly soft, like trying to crawl across a Bounce House with fifty kids going to town on it. I dragged myself next to Sophie. Our faces so close, our noses could practically touch.

"Like this," I said.

"Whole body," Sophie said.

I climbed over Sophie. She spread her thighs. Holy fuck. This was oh-so-very-much like fucking. The clothes did not make a damned difference, I swear they didn't.

Sophie seemed to be rethinking her idea, as well. Like the sudden closeness finally brought it home to her about what she was about to do with her best friend. She gave me a nervous smile as I adjusted myself. But she didn't stop me.

Gingerly, I aimed my groin over Sophie's. Then I slowly lowered it down. My hardness pressed into her. I couldn't tell if I had the right spot or not.

"Little higher," Sophie said. "To the left."

Through layers of clothing, I couldn't truly tell whether I was pressing against a leg, a tummy, or a pussy. But Sophie sure knew when I hit her cleft because she let out a long, satisfied sigh.

"There you go," Sophie said. She brushed her long blonde hair out of her eyes. "That's the spot."

Sophie looked up at me, expectantly. Again, we shared an anxious grin.

"OK?" I asked.

"Yes, OK," Sophie said.

I became very aware of her soft, warm body. Her breasts pressing into my chest. Her legs on either side of mine. The smell of her shampoo -- apple-y and sweet. Her full lips and cute little tongue. The endless blue-sky of her eyes. Not a cloud in sight for miles.

Sophie seemed to be examining me in the same way. Her eyes and body adjusting to mine. She put her hand up to touch my cheek, then ripped it away like it burned her.

"Sorry," she said, "Habit."

I didn't have a good sense of Sophie's sexual experience. I knew she'd had boyfriends and I was sure they'd done more than kiss. I didn't bother asking because she was my best friend, and it was none of my business. She certainly never inquired about my (meager) dating history and I was never going to tell her about the kiss I shared with Jessica.

Now, though, intimately on top of each other, I wondered if this was something Sophie had shared with someone else. We say 'virginity' like it's a singular thing and I suppose it can be. But there are all sorts of 'virginities' if you think about it -- an endless number of intimate acts we can experience for the first time. I couldn't help but wonder if Sophie was sharing one of those with me in that very moment. The same way I was giving my own to her.

"You can press," Sophie said, "I'm ready."

I nodded. With my hardness firmly slotted against Sophie, I ground down.

Sophie's eyes flashed. She giggled. Then groaned.

"That's. Definitely. The spot," she said.

"Uh huh," I agreed.

We pushed against each other for as long as we could, then broke. Gasping. Did it again. In some ways, this experience was almost expected. It's what I'd been picturing every time on the floor, after all. And yet it was so different than anything I could have imagined. Beyond my fantasies into something truly unimaginable. Wonderful in every way.

I pressed into Sophie and her hands reached up and gripped my butt, pushing me down into her.

"Sorry," Sophie said, but she didn't stop.

I grabbed her shoulders for purchase, in response. For a moment, I thought about reaching lower. I was afraid that one wrong action would end things. I can't imagine how that would have happened. But in the moment, I swear it made sense.

Sophie's gasps and groans got faster. Our actions more frantic. We worked each other to our release. Unlike before, we didn't talk. We didn't need to. All the stimulation we required was right there, with each other.

"Fuck! Soph! I'm close!" I managed to squeak out.

"Do it," Sophie said, "Let it go."

A moment later, I felt the warm spurting wetness of my ejaculate spill into my shorts. There was something almost painful about it. Strained. The bliss overtook me. I felt Sophie's hand on my head. Stroking my hair lovingly. I became very aware of sharing this intimate, vulnerable thing with Sophie. It made everything more satisfying, yet also scarier.

When I got my strength back, I rolled off of Sophie.

"That was nice," she said, "Thank you for letting that happen."

"Did you...?"

"No… Not really," Sophie said.

"I'm sorry," I said, meaning it.

"No, don't be," Sophie said, "Honestly it was totally awesome. Just different. I loved it."

I nodded, letting myself believe her. If I thought the floor was comfortable post-cum, you can only imagine how nice it felt to be in Sophie's soft warm bed. I let my head loll against the perfumed pillows.

Then Sophie said something that totally blew my mind.

"I think it would be better if we do it without pants next time," she said.

There wasn't a word in that sentence that didn't make my heart race.

________

Fortunately (or not, depending on your perspective), my best friend didn't mean naked, which is what I initially thought she intended.

"No, we need underwear, silly!" Sophie said, clearly trying not to laugh, “We are not going to ruin our friendship by doing something stupid.”

We were in my bedroom this time. Keeping things fresh, I guess. It was a few days after our previous encounter, and I'd spent the entire time on tenterhooks trying to figure out what Sophie had meant by 'without pants.' Obviously, I guessed wrong.

"That would be way too much like actual sex," Sophie explained, as if this were a totally logical way to draw the line. "Also, to be honest we've had to cut back on some necessities because of, well, everything. You know, medical things. So, I'm like, not safe. At the moment. Having at least a layer between me and any of your little swimmers is probably for the best."

"Wow, I'm sorry," I said, "That sucks."

In all that we'd been going through, basic needs like birth control had never occurred to me. I guess being a guy afforded me a few more luxuries than I had realised. I wondered who else in the family was going without at the moment. Things that had never occurred to me.

"It's whatever," Sophie said, "Honestly, it's not the end of the world. Not like I have a boyfriend or anything right now. And Mom thinks we'll be able to get things back to how they were in a few months, so I'll be good to go."

"OK," I said, "Still, is there something I can do to help?"

"Well, you can start by taking your pants off so we can do this properly," Sophie said. I mean, if that wasn't the sexiest thing you've ever heard, what is?

I smirked at Sophie and lowered my bottoms, careful to keep my boxers in place. Sophie shucked off her own shorts and hopped up onto my bed. She lay back, unable to keep from making a silly giggle.

"OK, same as last time," Sophie said.

I wish I could tell you that I was used to being in such close contact with Sophie by then. But getting on top of her was the same disorienting experience all over again. I was dizzy like I'd climbed a mountain, rather than mounted my sexy younger sibling.

I rested my hardness on Sophie's sex. Well, she was right about one thing, pressing with just underwear on was way different. The thin cloth seemed barely able to contain us. I swore I could feel the heat and dampness of Sophie's pussy. I was certain she could feel the warmth of my hard-on. The fly of my boxers never felt so precarious.

I pressed and Sophie moaned. She wrapped her arms and legs around me, holding me close. I became very aware of how much we were bare skin to bare skin… Her legs on mine. I buried my head in the crook of her neck. Her scent overwhelmed me as I ground into her.

"Oh Jeff." Sophie humped up into me. I could tell the pleasure was taking hold of her this time. "This is amazing! You're so good."

Both of us were slick with sweat. My room was already hot, but now it felt like we were baking. My muscles ached. How was this so much work?

"Getting... close..." Sophie said.

I pressed down as hard as I could. Sophie made this strange, high pitched, strained noise. Then punctuated it with a gasp. The effort put me over the top as well. Both of us came hard, wrapped around each other.

When it was over, Sophie smiled and gave me a peck on the lips. I was so enraptured by my orgasm, by Sophie's, I didn't even startle.

"Yup, better with just underwear," Sophie said. She pushed me off of her and I saw an oozing creamy mess emerging through my underwear. I'd left a pretty large mess on her panties and she had a few streaks down her thighs, as well. The liquid was white, so I knew it wasn't only Sophie's lubrication. My sperm seemed to make her soaked panties define her swollen labia… I was struck dumb at the sight!

"Mmmm, it came close. No further, though," Sophie said, "It would be way too dangerous. I better take these off."

I nodded my agreement, eagerly, but she simply laughed and danced into the bathroom to clean up.

________

Despite everything going on with her family finances, there was one area that her parents swore we could not skimp on: their baby sister Lauren's eighteenth birthday party.

They invited everyone we could think of to the house -- family, friends, neighbors -- whoever wanted to come plus quite a few people who probably didn't but showed up anyway. They rented a tent for the backyard, plus tables and chairs. They had catered food, a live band (some of Lauren's high school friends, apparently), the whole thing.

If there wasn't too much food, too many people, and too much noise there was an overabundance of one thing: alcohol. And that's what got me into trouble.

I was invited, of course, and I spent most of my time trying to enjoy myself. In some ways, it was nice, seeing all these people -- family and friends that I'd managed to avoid all summer suddenly felt welcome. At least mostly. Every conversation was tinged with the fear that someone was going to start interrogating me about what was going on with me or Sophie. It gave even the sweetest moments a sour twist.

About a couple of hours into it, I was walking back from the bathroom when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned and saw Sophie standing behind me, grinning from ear-to-ear. She was wearing a sleeveless, summery dress with a pink, floral pattern that showed off her curves. Sophie had a beer in her hand and, judging by the look in her eyes, quite a few more in her belly.

"Hey Jeff," she said, a bit too loudly, "There's someone who wants to say 'hi.'"

"OK?"

Sophie took my hand and led me out to the backyard. There had to be at least twenty people out there, impressive considering the size of our lawn. Sophie pulled me straight through the morass to the back, where her sister was lying back in a recliner. She was nursing a beer and her red hair, a gene she shared with her big sister Jessica, hung past her shoulders. She wore it straight and her eyes were sparkling blue like Sophie's. The three sisters only really differed in their figures. Jessica was tall and willowy, Sophie was curvaceous and Lauren was petite. She had the body of a gymnast and rarely stood out in comparison to her older siblings.

"Jeff, you remember Lauren, don't you?" Sophie said, then collapsed into giggles.

Of course I knew Lauren. Lauren was Sophie's eighteen year old sister… the birthday girl. She was a sweet, quiet girl who spent years staring at me as if I had arrived from another planet. She spotted us, and her face lit up. She, like Sophie, had a light dusting of freckles on her fair skin, which went well with her hippie look. Tonight she wore a choker and a crop top with a floral print on it, which, I noticed with a slight twinge, accentuated her smaller breasts beautifully. Clearly the top wasn't conducive to a bra, because her nipples pushed through the fabric in the cool night air. I looked away, scolding myself. Lauren was Sophie's little sister, and though I had always thought she was stunningly beautiful in a wood nymph kind of way, I loved Sophie and was content to admire Lauren only in stolen glances.

"Thank god you're here," Lauren said, hugging us. "I was worried I’d have to talk to more people I don't know. Seems like I've made a lot of new friends."

"You could use a few friends, little sis," Sophie suggested, raising her eyebrow. "And there are a good amount of guys here trying to talk to you."

Lauren scrunched her pretty face up in mock distaste. "Not interested," she said, and I could have sworn she looked at me while she said it.

"You're gonna have to date at some point," Sophie said. It was something she'd talked to me about before, this beautiful sister of hers who didn't seem to want to return anyone's advances. We'd tried setting her up with some of my friends, but she'd always shot them down.

I did my best to say hello and wish her a happy birthday while also ignoring Sophie. The blonde sister was schmoozing around the garden, drunkenly flirting with every guy in turn and demanding that they date her younger sister. I did, indeed, remember Lauren. Lying back in the sun, she was even cuter than my mind had given her credit for. The petite redhead extended her hand, and I gave it a little touch.

"Don't mind Sophie," Lauren said, "She's had a few too many, I fear."

"What about you?"

"Oh, definitely don't ignore me," Lauren said. She gave me a sly smile.

Sophie started laughing even harder somewhere in the background.

"Jeez Sophie, take a breath," I said.

I sat on the end of the lounger and talked to Lauren for a bit. She was back from school for a couple weeks. She had all sorts of fantastic stories about the adventures she would go on when she was old enough. She wanted to escape life in this little town, eat amazing food, and basically having the experience of a lifetime.

"What about you?" Lauren asked, "How's your summer been?"

"Oh, just hanging out," I said, very aware of Sophie's presence. I'm sure my cheeks flushed as I said it.

"Yeah, Sophie told me all about it," Lauren said. My heart slowed. A rush filled my ears. Sophie hadn't told Lauren everything everything, had she? "She said you guys have been sitting around the house watching movies or whatever. Sounds miserable."

"Oh, yes," I said, relief flooding me. "That's exactly what's been happening."

"Well, I can't say it's exactly been bad for you," Lauren said, eyeing me meaningfully, "You look good, Jeff. You filled out."

"Oh, um, thanks," I said, "You do too. Even cuter."

"Cuter, huh?" Lauren said. Her smile radiated warmth. She sighed and her eyes seemed to glaze over. “Do you think I’m cuter than my sisters?”

"OK, OK, meet and greet time is over," Sophie said, breaking in. Her voice abruptly serious. "Come on Jeff, we need to go give Lauren her birthday presents."

"Let's give it to her later, you're in no state to…" I began. Sophie glared at me so hard, I felt my bones begin to crack.” 

"Wait here," I onceded and darted back into the house. When I returned I was carrying two small boxes. "This is for you," I told her.

“Open the bigger box!” Sophie gleefully instructed, “It was my choice… just so lover boy here doesn’t get embarrassed.” 

Lauren sat up and did as she was told, carefully unwrapping the first box. Inside was a very skimpy lingerie set. Sophie was right, she had chosen it, paid for it and I had nothing to do with it. The material looked like silk, quite expensive, and bright red. Lauren held up the lacey bra and panties with a very happy look on her face.

“Thanks, Sophie! You listened! I am in desperate need of some sexy lingerie and this looks… wow!”

I think my face was as red as the underwear.

“I’ll give you a show sometime,” she said, her eyes never leaving mine.

“Maybe wearing that you’ll finally get laid!” Sophe chortled.

“Then maybe you should wear it!” Lauren joked back, “You’re such a prude, Soph! Thank you though. Thank you both.”

“You’re welcome,” I replied as Sophie slumped on the lounger, clearly running on empty. “This is for you, too.” I handed her the second smaller box.

“Jeff chose it, I had nothing to do with it.” Sophie mumbled as she lay back.

Lauren looked dismayed. "I can't accept a gift from you, Jeff," she said.

"Just have a look," I begged.

When she opened the box she found a thin gold necklace that held a small ornament made of two different metals elaborately interwoven. "It's amazing," she said. "What is it?"

"It's a Celtic knot. The two strands are interlaced to form an endless loop. I bought it because it makes me think about how you and your family have become intertwined with my life. You’re the sister I never had… and you only turn eighteen once. I wanted to get you something you could keep."

She caught her breath. "That's beautiful, Jeff. But I can't..."

I interrupted her. "It's a common enough design that wearing it won't mean anything to anyone else, but you'll know what it means to me," I told her. "Please accept it." I took it from her and proceeded to drape it around her neck and engage the clasp.

She stood up and walked over to the window to look at her reflection. "It really is beautiful," she murmured. Then she turned and kissed me. "Thank you, Jeff."

Suddenly her eyes focused on Sophie… who was already out like a light. "She’s lucky to have a friend like you.”

I was still reeling from the kiss. Fortunately Sophie hadn’t noiced. She wouldn’t be noticing anything for a short while at least.

“Let’s let her sleep. I need something to eat and I need protecting from all these strangers. Sit with me, Jeff?” 

We stood in the kitchen drinking cold lemonade and chatting. I loved talking with Lauren. She was smart, funny, and a great listener when I droned on about Sophie, or school, or whatever. I always felt so comfortable around her. I often told her things I wouldn't tell my Mom, or even my best friend, and she always gave me excellent advice. She was a little firecracker when she got to know you, but otherwise she was distant and answered to no one.

That particular evening, I was telling Lauren about my YouTube channel and the stream Sophie and I had made the night before.

“Don’t you have a love life?” Lauren slipped into the conversation completely nonchalantly.

“None to speak of…”

“Have you ever thought about… getting it on with Sophie?”

“God no! Of course not.” I replied, probably too defensively.

“Good.”

“Good?”

“I mean you can if you want to but I know she can be… distant. Cold.”

“Sophie is not cold…”

“I meant sexually. She’s such a geek and she’s still a virgin!”

“Are you?” I replied, trying to break the conversation. But she answered immediately.

“Of course I’m not a virgin!” This was news to me! And suddenly, I didn’t know how to take it.

“I know you’re a virgin though,” she said in a lower voice.

“So,” I said, taking a quick sip of lemonade.

“Have you done anything… with a girl?” asked Lauren.

“You know I have. I have told you about every one of my failed relationships.” I said sadly, “Maybe I am just a prude… or maybe I really am just bad boyfriend material.”

Lauren laughed, “Oh, I'm sure it's not you, Jeff.”

“It must be. It's like I have some kind of repulsing special power.” I joked, trying to lighten the conversation.

“You just haven't found what you're looking for yet,” Lauren said.

“I'm not even sure how to keep looking.” I sighed. “Maybe Relationships are not worth the hassle?P

Lauren sipped her drink slowly, and there was a long pause before she spoke.

“Jeff.” She looked me in the eyes. Hers were blue, with patterns identical to Sophie’s. Somehow I'd never noticed that before. “Have you considered that maybe you just aren’t looking in the right places?”

I was a little shocked by her question.

“What makes you say that?”

“Well,” she put her glass down on the counter, 'it seems to me that you spend an awful lot of time with Sophie. Girls are going to keep their distance while you two seem so close. I get that you're not but… you're never going get with anyone else while she is taking up so much of your time. She's never going to put out, and…”

“And what?” I asked, my voice surprisingly quiet.

“And I was wondering... I mean, have you ever thought about you and me?”

“Us? Together?”

Lauren nodded. I had to think before answering. The air between us had changed. The conversation was becoming dangerous, but in an exciting way.

“Yes”' I replied. “I've thought about what it would be like.” Lauren smiled gently and nodded. I felt free to continue. “Like, sometimes, if I see you with your boyfriends I… feel… protective… jealous.” I felt myself blush slightly.

'I’ve thought about you, too,' said Lauren. “Have you ever kissed Sophie?'

“A few times,” then I added to throw her off the scent, “when we were younger.”

It had been a hot day, but until that moment I had not been aware of it. Now I felt my whole body getting warmer. I'd never talked about this with anyone, and I wasn't prepared for how exciting it felt.

“So, when was your first proper kiss with Sophie?” she asked.

I glanced down at Lauren's bare stomach, at the smooth, tanned skin that disappeared into the waist of her shorts. Then I slipped my eyes back up her body, to the swell of her breasts. Her nipples were hard beneath her top.

“We aren’t like that… I haven’t… we haven’t…” I replied, suddenly very nervous. I wasn't sure if she was pressing too far. I wasn't even sure where too far was. She grabbed my hand and led me to the empty dining room.

“Well… I need a proper birthday kiss,” she said, closing the door. “It's something I want to share with you. You’re special, Jeff, and I want to kiss you.”

“I don’t think we should?”

“But it’s my birthday? she pouted, “and you have no idea what it is even going to eel like.” She stared at me with a kind of serious expression. “You just have to experience it to know.”

My stomach was tingling. Neither of us spoke. I put my empty glass down and found myself moving very slowly toward her. We were in a moment. I'm sure you've been there, too. You're with someone, and you both stop talking, and there's this incredible tension in the air because you know what's about to happen, and it's terrifying and wonderful at the same time.

Lauren had been leaning against the table. She stood up straight and turned to face me dead on. I took another step and began to reach out with one hand. I hesitated, and let my arm fall back down. But the look in her eyes made me reach out again, and this time I touched her arm. The simple contact of my fingers on her skin made me feel it was okay. My final step was quicker, and it brought me right to her, mere inches away. I tilted my head, parted my lips, and leaned forward.

My eyes didn't close until our lips met. At first it was a shock, like jumping into cold water. Then my fear blew out like a flame, and it didn't matter anymore that I was kissing Sophie’s little sister. All that mattered was the softness of her skin, the smell of perfume and shampoo, the comfort of her hands on my hips, and the warm, delicate dance of her velvet lips. She was right: it was like nothing I had experienced before.

The first kiss was brief, maybe only six seconds. Our lips separated, and I opened my eyes to gaze into hers. She might have been about to ask me how it felt, when I pressed myself closer and kissed her again. I put my free hand on her waist, my thumb resting against her stomach. My whole body seemed to come alive. My lips were at the center of an electrical storm that raced through me, lighting me up. It was almost more than I could bare.

The second kiss was much longer, and when it was over, I was breathless. Lauren's blue eyes were sparkling. I'd never seen her look more beautiful. That brief moment, as we stood there gazing silently at each other, changed everything for me. It was like admitting to myself all the unformed thoughts and feelings I'd had since I was a little boy; things that I'd been afraid to explore in the naked light of day. After all the fumbling and let-downs of my experiences with other women – though there hadn't been that many – this suddenly felt perfectly right.

Lauren slowly took my hand from her arm and placed it on her bikini top. I was shaking slightly. At first I couldn't move. Then I began to stroke her, curving my hand to the shape of her small breast. I felt the outline of her rigid nipple beneath my palm, and she sighed as I brushed across it. I took notice, and pinched her nipple between my thumb and finger.

“Harder,” she whispered.

I pinched her again, and this time she sucked in breath and bit her bottom lip. I felt a surge of arousal, knowing that I had given her pleasure. For the first time, I could see that I was capable of making someone feel good, on equal terms.

Lauren was breathing hard. She kissed me this time, resting one hand gently on my face. Her other hand moved to my waist, pushing my T-shirt up and holding my side. She caressed me softly at first, then became firmer as she moved up toward my chest. I closed my eyes and let out a fragile moan.

That was when she stopped.

I opened my eyes, my chest rising and falling rapidly, my legs quivering. Her hand was still on my side, but her head was turned slightly away.

“We should stop,” she said.

I panicked. Had I done something wrong? My mind was racing. I felt drunk, and none of it made any sense. All I wanted was for her to keep touching me.

I asked, “Why?”

At that moment the front door opened, and I heard the muffled sounds of her Mom coming into the dining room. I still didn't move. I wanted to cry.

Lauren looked into my eyes. “I want to go further,” she whispered, “if you want to?”

Then she removed her hand and stepped away. I straightened my T-shirt and picked up the empty glasses from the counter. Mom walked into the dining room, preoccupied by the tray of food she was carrying.

“Oh, hi!” she said to Lauren. She looked at me, and I knew that my cheeks must have been flushed. I gave a shaky smile and turned away, back to the dishwasher. “You'll never guess who I just ran into,” her Mom went on.

“Who?” Lauren asked.

And suddenly everything was normal again. her Mom and Lauren talked just as they always did, and I got out of there as quickly as I could and went up to Sophie’s room. As soon as my door was shut I almost collapsed onto her bed. I'd never been so excited, so intensely aroused, in my life. I was dizzy, and I wanted to scream. I closed my eyes and replayed the whole scene in my head, reliving certain details over and over.

When I ventured back downstairs the party was almost over, most of the guests had left. Sophie was still sleeping in the garden and Lauren was saying her goodbyes to her friends.

Jessica caught my arm and told me what a wonderful gift I had bought her sister. Her green eyes seemed to dance and, for the first time, actually looked at me with warmth and respect. Lauren bounded towards us, fingering her necklace and Jessica disappeared into the kitchen. As soon as he was out of sight she planted a huge kiss on my cheek.

“I think my sister is warming to you!”

“Yes, I think she is.” I said, still just as confused as ever.

“Come on, let’s mop up the food before Sophie wakes up with a bad case of the munchies. Mom and Dad are on taxi duty for some of the guests so we will have the dining room to ourselves.” She grabbed my hand and dragged me back into the snug room with the leftovers displayed on the table. As we began to eat, Lauren started to talk.

We talked about Jessca’s recent break up. We talked about some drama her friends were experiencing. All the while, as her right hands were feeding her face… and right foot was casually caressing my leg.

"So what do you know about pleasing a girl, about having sex?" Sophie's little sister asked.

Though now sporting a raging hard-on that filled the front of my boxers, I was still uncomfortable with this conversation. However, I was equally as interested in seeing where it was going.

"I picked up a few ideas from some porno movies and experimented a little… with some ex-girlfriends," I confessed.

"Well," she said, "forget about most of what you have learned from the porno films because for most girls, that's not how it works in real life."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Number one, most girls don't want cum blasted all over their faces. Number two, there's more to it than her sucking you off and you fucking her afterward."

I had never heard Sophie's sister talk like this before, she was being so frank. But, it was definitely a turn-on as I sat across the table from her. Trying to conceal my excitement, I shifted in my seat again so my hardened cock would have some more room in my boxers.

"Ok, tell me more," I encouraged her.

"Girls, at least for me and most of my friends, like to have some attention paid to us as well."

"What kind of attention?"

"Well, one of the best times I had with a guy started very innocently," she began. "We had been making out in my room and he was doing a number on my neck. Nibbling and kissing on my neck and shoulders. It was giving me chills, not to mention making me completely horny."

I could tell from her tone that the memories were still vivid, as her breathing changed slightly and her face became a little flush with color.

"I wasn't planning on doing anything more with him," she continued, "but the more he focused his attention on me without wanting anything right away the more I began to want him."

I so wanted to reach down and rub my cock right then and there, but I was afraid if I did Lauren would freak out or something. So I just sat there, listening intently and contracting my pubic muscles now and then to make my cock move ever so slightly inside my shorts.

"After making out for a little while longer," Lauren continued, "I unbuttoned my blouse for him, figuring he would get the hint."

"Did he?" I asked quickly.

I was having no trouble picturing the scene in my mind as I imagined what he was going to do to Lauren's little, perky tits.

"Oh yes, Jeff," she answered. "He sure did. He undid a few more buttons and took off my top."

"Were you wearing a bra?"

"Nope," she replied, smiling. "I often go without a bra under my tops. It's just one of the advantages of not being too gifted."

My earlier glimpse of her breast confirmed her statement as I was now fully erect and throbbing. All I wanted to do at that moment was to feel my hardness, but I was still able to realise that having this conversation was one thing, playing with my cock while Sophie's sister sat only a few feet away was another thing completely.

"He began to lick my nipples, ever so lightly," Lauren continued. "Then he took one in his mouth and began to gently suck on it."

From my position across the table, I could see she was enjoying her own story. As she shifted in her chair, her pajama top betrayed her erect nipples as they were now pressed firmly against the fabric.

"Do you like having your nipples sucked," I asked cautiously, not sure just how far I could question her before she would decide not to answer.

"Oh yes, most girls do, but don't go all hard and heavy on her nipples all at once. They should be licked or tongued, gently at first, then harder. Same thing goes if you start to suck on them. Vary it up and watch for her reaction. She'll let you know how she likes it, soft or hard or a mix of the two."

I was having a hard time keeping my hand above the table. As I listened intently to Sophie's sister, I reached for my glass and accidentally knocked a fork onto the floor. Leaning down to reach for my utensil, I gave a quick glance under the table at where Lauren sat. My heart nearly jumped from inside my chest as she had her legs spread wide, offering me a view at the now-wet front of her panties. I banged my head on the underside of the table as I quickly sat up, desperately not wanting to get caught staring at Sophie's sister's pussy.

"Dropped my fork," I managed to say as I set it back on the table. I had never looked at Sophie's sister like that before, but found it to be incredibly erotic to see just how much she was enjoying the conversation. I found myself wondering what her pussy looked like underneath those panties. Was she shaved, trimmed or natural? Did she have a tight slit or were her pussy lips full and inviting? Was it sweet smelling or musky in a hot sex kind-of-way?

As if she knew I snuck a peek at her, she gave me a sly smile before replying.

"Well Jeff, you better get another fork then."

"Um, I guess so."

As I stood up from the table, I had completely forgotten about the raging erection that now filled my boxers.

"Mmm-hmmmm," I thought I heard Lauren whisper to herself as I passed by.

"What?"

"I didn't say anything," she lied.

Realising now what she was talking about, I quickly sat down at the table again, not wanting her to see just how turned on I was.

"Now, where were we before I was so rudely interrupted," she teased.

"Um, I think he was sucking on your nipples"

"Oh, yeah," she replied distractedly. "Well, after that I wanted to see just what he was willing to do for me. Now mind you, I really hadn't given him any attention yet."

"Was he getting impatient?"

"Probably, but if he knew what was good for him, which he must have, he kept his mouth shut. Well, at least for a few more minutes anyway."

"What did he do?"

"Well, he unbuttoned my jeans and slid them off. Then he began to lick my pussy through my panties."

"No shit?"

"No shit," she answered. "Now, if you want your girl in the palm of your hand, don't be afraid to go down on her. Because if you do, chances are that she will return the favour at some point."

"Um, how do you... what do you do when you go down on a girl like that?" I asked, feeling somewhat stupid.

"Well, this is one area that your porno experience will come in handy. Each girl is different in what she likes, but me? I like for him to start slow, with long licks of his flat tongue. I like him to flick my clit with his tongue, but not too much, because that makes it really sensitive. Anyway, after he flicks his tongue over it, having him suck on my clit really makes me wild. You know where a girl's clit is, right? It's at the top. Don't worry, you'll find it when you are down there. It's like a little nub at the top of her pussy. Then, I love to be tongue fucked. I love to feel a guy's tongue in my pussy, licking my walls up and down. And don't be afraid to use your hands."

As she continued, she again shifted in her seat, standing ever so slightly as to bring one of her legs up into the chair to sit on. It was then Sophie's sister did something that I never expected, not that having this conversation was, but this went way beyond that. Almost nonchalantly, her hand rose slowly off the table and moved down between her legs. My cock immediately rose even further. Sophie's sister, whether it was a conscious decision or just force of habit, was beginning to masturbate right in front of me.

"Think you can remember all of this?" she teased.

Lauren was looking me directly in the eyes, not blinking or gazing to one side or the other, as she continued to play with herself. She wanted me to know what she was doing as she smiled and licked her lips before continuing. It was definitely a conscious decision.

"After he had worked on my pussy for some time, I was ready to do anything for him," she admitted.

"Nice," was about all I could muster at that point.

"So I returned the favour and took off his pants. And I gave him a blowjob he'll never forget."

For the first time, I imagined my cock in Sophie's sister's mouth, sucking me for all she was worth as she looked up at me with those stunning blue eyes. The sound of Lauren's voice again snapped me from my early morning fantasy.

"I'm going to tell you something, Jeff. As great as most women seem to think huge cocks are for sex, I prefer sucking on one that isn't so big. If it's too big, all it does is choke you and then I can't enjoy what I'm doing, so you're not going to enjoy it as much either. A nice, average sized cock is perfect for sucking. You know, something like yours."

My eyes nearly bulged out of my head when I heard her words. I was so flabbergasted that I couldn't even muster a single syllable.

"Oh, come on," she continued, "I've seen you at the pool enough times to know you're pretty decent down there."

Her comment about my cock blew me away, as did the thought of her eyeing me in my swimsuit. I know Sophie's sister dated quite a bit in high school and college, but I never figured that she would be checking out my penis at the pool, much less make a comment about my size.

"So, did you suck him until he came or did you save it for something else?"

As this point, it seemed like we were trying to outdo each other so I wasn't hesitating to put out some very direct questions.

"Nope, though I have sucked a few guys off until they came. But one thing, if you find a girl willing to swallow, please give her some warning before you pop off. If we are going to swallow for you, I think that's the least you could do."

My cock was raging now, as hard as I could ever remember. Lauren still had her hand between her legs so I didn't see why I should hold back any longer. Watching for her reaction as I moved my hand under the table, her eyes seemed to light up and I definitely heard a soft moan escape her lips as she realised I had taken my hard cock in hand and began to stroke it slowly.

"So what are you going to do now, Jeff?"

"Same as you, Lauren," I replied, smiling.

I slid my chair back from the table so I had a little room to spread my legs out. Reaching down with my free hand, I slid my boxers down and released my cock from the cotton confines. Still fully erect and standing tall, I began stroking myself to an orgasm I never anticipated would be caused by Sophie's sister.

Lauren took my lead and slid her own chair back from the table. Though neither of us could see the other's hand, we both knew there was no turning back at this point.

"So, how do you like to be fucked?" I asked.

Lauren paused a bit before answering as the squishy sounds coming from her wet pussy had betrayed what previously had been subtle fingering. The look on her face told me that she had one, if not more, of her fingers buried in her pussy in an attempt to bring herself to orgasm.

"Mmm, I love riding a nice, hard cock. I love being in control. Deciding how deep I take it. Whether I want to just grind on it or slide my pussy up and down that smooth shaft."

Her words had me on the verge of cumming. As I pictured Lauren riding my cock, I could feel it building inside me, ready to explode.

"Can you feel it when he cums?"

"Oh, yes. It swells right before he ejaculates. When I know he is close, I clench my pussy tight so he can't help but shoot it deep inside me."

My breathing was becoming labored now as I was ready to shoot my load all over the diningroom floor. Pre-cum had dripped down my shaft, providing all the lubrication I needed to finish jacking off.

"Come for me."

Lauren's request was not totally unexpected, but sounded strange nonetheless.

"Make yourself cum for the birthday girl."

My hand began stroking at a feverish pace as I neared my own orgasm. As I quickened my pace, Lauren did likewise as she fingered herself toward relief.

"Mmmmm, I'm cumming,"

As she cried out, Lauren's petite body shook as ripples of pleasure flowed throughout her being.

I watched Sophie's sister's orgasm intently as I stroked myself. She exhibited a sensuality I had never seen in a woman before, much less in Sophie's sister. This exhibition of pleasure was all I needed to meet her demands.

"Uhhhnnnnhhhh, fuck," was all I could manage to say as my cock erupted in a stream of come. I masturbated fairly frequently, but this was more intense than anything I had ever experienced before. Spurt after spurt of white hot spunk splashed onto the floor as I slouched into my chair.

Several minutes passed before either of us could manage to speak. What had been the most erotic situation either of us had probably experienced had now turned into a somewhat uncomfortable silence. Lauren composed herself, rose from her chair and began to walk out of the kitchen. As she looked back at me, still sitting at the table with my cock in hand, she smiled.

"Thank you," was all she said before leaving the room.

________

I headed back into the kitchen but everyone was long gone. Hearing a noise from the stairs I looked up to see Lauren disappear into her bedroom. Then I heard a noise behind me.

“There you are! Oh you’ve been with Lauren. I knew you always fancied her!”

“Sophie, lower your voice!” The blonde sister looked rather disheveled, but still beautiful. Her face however looked like thunder.

"I'm going to get a drink," Sophie announced. She headed into the dining room, grabbing my arm. "And so are you."

"Sorry," I said, as Sophie dragged me away, “You fell asleep…”

“She’s in love with you, dummy!”

I tried to explain about Lauren, but Sophie wouldn't let me.

"Why would you introduce us if you don't want us to talk?" I asked. We were both standing in the dining room. I could swear I could smell the cum her little sister and I had just released in there. Sophie had stepped up to mixed drinks, finishing a rum and coke way too quickly for my liking.

"I thought it would be funny," Sophie said, "You know, after what you told me last month. But instead, you had to go and make it all weird."

"Weird?"

"Flirty," Sophie said, "That's not cool. You can't just, like, come on to my little sister in front of me, OK?"

"I kind of feel like she was being flirty with me," I said.

"Whatever," Sophie said, putting her cup down forcefully. "It's not OK so don't do it."

I should have let it go at that. I can't play dumb; I knew exactly what the problem was. And if Sophie had been flirting with one of my friends I'd have been equally upset. But at that moment, well, Lauren was super cute. And I hadn't lied before, I really had crushed on her pretty hard in high school. To have her get all bothered about me, that was the kind of ego boost I couldn't back off of.

Like Sophie had said, our time together was going to end. We weren't in some forever relationship. So, what if I tried to play the field a little? Was it so wrong to want to be a boyfriend instead of a beating-off buddy? And yeah, maybe I'd had a little more to drink than I'd let on, as well.

So instead of being a supportive friend and letting it go, I pushed the issue. "I can do what I want," I said, "You're not in charge of me."

Sophie scowled at me. "Fine, go back to your red headed slut," she said. I waited for the argument. Wanted it. Instead, Sophie gave me one last angry look, then flounced off. "See if I give a shit."

By then, I was too miserable to care. My big victory had turned to ashes. All I could think about was what I'd said to Sophie. How much I'd lost for what little I'd gained. I searched through the house to find Sophie. But she'd melted away. Finally, after about ten minutes of searching, I found her slumped in the bath.

"Heeeeyyyyyy," she slurred out when she saw me. "It's my favorite best friend."

Oh damn, she was far drunker than before. She staggered out of the bath using my arm to support her and I helped her onto a couch.

"Look, Sophie, I want to apologise," I said, the words spilling out of me.

"Don't worry about it, Jeff," Sophie said, "Come sit with me."

I nestled next to her on the couch. Sophie immediately lolled over me, clumsily wrapping her arms around my shoulders. Her soft chest pressed into mine.

"Ummm, Sophie?"

Sophie ignored my half-protest. We were cuddling very intimately on the couch. The house was empty, Jess had disappeared into the night and Lauren was in her room. This was way beyond friend-level affection, and I was too worried about getting caught to be relieved that my earlier transgressions seemed to have been forgotten.

Sophie squeezed me tight, then shifted so our faces were nearly touching. Sophie moved in to kiss me. Not a kiss on the cheek, nor a little peck on the lips like Sophie, herself, had once done. Like Lauren, Sophie had shifted straight into make out mode.

I did my best to slip from her grip before Sophie could complete the kiss. She was surprisingly strong, but I managed to escape. She grabbed me again, though, and held me centered. She leaned in again, this time pressing her lips to my ear.

"I want you to make love to me," Sophie said. Her tongue tickling on my sensitive flesh.

"What?! Sophie, no," I said.

Again, I pushed her off me. Did I want to have sex with Sophie? My conscious mind, my rational aspect, had already decided no. That what we were doing might be dangerous but full intercourse with my best friend was straight up wrong and so wouldn't happen.

But in my heart (and other places further south), I had to confess that the answer was yes. Yes. Oh fuck yes!

In that moment, though, that choice didn't matter. Sophie was too smashed for me to trust her. I didn't want her having regrets. Instead, I forcefully pushed her off me. Sophie fell back into the couch.

"I want to FUCK!" Sophie cried out, throwing her arms in the air. I looked around the room, but fortunately no one else heard her. Or at least they were polite enough to pretend they hadn't.

"Sophie, please be quiet," I said.

"Quiet me," Sophie said, "Stick that big dick inside and shut me up. Make me scream your name. Give it to me, Jeff. I need it."

"No," I said. I held Sophie forcefully by the shoulder.

"You don't want me?" Sophie asked. She shifted from lusty to sniffly in a second. It was a frighteningly fast transformation.

"You're drunk," I said.

"I'm fine," Sophie said, starting to stand up. "I thought you cared about me, but I guess I was wrong."

"I do care about you," I said, "I do want you." God it was hard to confess to it, but I knew I had to. It was freeing to finally speak it. Like jumping out of a plane. Thrilling and terrifying all at once. Heart racing. Stomach twisting. "But not like this."

"Why not?"

"You've had too much to drink," I said, "I won't take advantage of you. If you feel this way, sober, in the morning. We'll do it."

"I want it now," Sophie said, pouting. "This is your one chance, Jeff. You turn me down, you'll never get this pussy. You wont pop my cherry. You’ll never see my big tits or my sweet body. Don't you want it? Don't you want to fuck me? Give it to me good? Fill me up with all your naughty little spermies?"

"I do," I said. Well, maybe not that last part. Getting Sophie pregnant seemed like a really bad idea. But the rest of it? Yeah, I was up for that. But not if Sophie might not mean it.

"Then do it, or I'll find someone else who will," Sophie said.

Again, I searched the room while Sophie spoke, desperately hoping that no one could hear. I needed to get her out of there before she got herself in serious trouble. I wrapped my arm around her back and lifted her off the couch.

"Where are we going?" Sophie slurred as I slowly walked her back towards the stairs.

"Time for bed," I said.

"Finally!" Sophie said, "Took you long enough."

"Not like that," I said, "You need to sleep it off."

"What's the matter, Jeff, am I not hot enough for you?" Sophie asked, then belched. Her breath smelled like a still.

"Let's just get you some rest, OK?"

I helped Sophie up the stairs and led her back to her bedroom. The further we went, the slumpier she got, until I practically had to carry her through her doorway. Carefully, I lowered her onto her bed. She grunted lightly as she hit the mattress and then sighed, smacking her lips with sleep.

For a moment, a protective and perverse part of me considered stripping her out of her party outfit. But I decided it was probably safer to let her sleep it off in her dress. I ran off to the bathroom, grabbed a wastebasket, and put it next to her bed.

"If you need to throw up…" I told Sophie. She was already halfway to dreamland.

"You have to fuck me," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. I wasn't even sure if she was aware she was talking to me.

"In the morning," I said.

"No," Sophie said, grabbing my arm so tight, it felt like an eagle latching onto a branch. Her eyes went wide and suddenly she was wide awake. "Now! Do me right this second or it's over between us. You can go back to stroking it all by your sad self. I swear to God, it's now or never."

"Fine, we'll do it now," I said.

Sophie smiled at me, then softened. She let her head lay back on the pillow again. "Thaasss a good boy," she murmured. "Ravish me."

"I just need to get a condom real quick and I'll come right back."

"OK," Sophie said. Her eyes were already fluttering shut. "Come back and give it to me. So good."

I extricated my arm and tiptoed back from the bed. Sophie's eyes were shut. She was still murmuring, but I was pretty sure she was passed out or close to it.

When I got to the door, she repeated my name. I froze.

"I love you, Jeff," Sophie said, absently.

"I love you, too," I said.

"No, I mean I love you love you," Sophie said.

"Yes," I said, "Me too."

A moment later, Sophie went completely silent. I waited to make sure, then slipped back outside of her bedroom.

________

I never did find a condom but when her Mom and Dad returned a short time later I explained what had happened and they thanked me for being such a gentleman. Jessica wasn’t going to be coming back home so they offered me her bed to sleep in and I must admit… I was pretty exhausted. That had been a roller coaster of a day.

It was well after two in the morning when I climbed between Jessica’s perfumed sheets. It had been a long night and I was ready for a good night's sleep. The house was completely dark as everyone had apparently gone to bed. I was exhausted, but wide awake. My mind raced with everything that had happened with Sophie -- all that we'd said and done. And hadn't done.

Eventually I guess I fell asleep because the next memory I have is of someone knocking on Jessic’s bedroom door. It felt like they were beating on my skull. Too much alcohol and not enough sleep had left me in quite a state.

Carefully, I got up from bed. I realized I'd never changed out of my slacks and dress shirt from the night before. I limped to the door in the early morning light.

Sophie was on the other side, looking quite a wreck herself. Her dress was half off her shoulder and her golden blonde locks were sticking up all over the place, like a cruel parody of the big hair you'd see in an 80s TV show.

"Hi," Sophie said, looking down at her feet. "I think I threw up last night. In a trash can."

"I left it there for you," I said.

"I thought so," Sophie said, "I don't remember a lot of last night."

"You got drunk," I said.

"Figured that part out," Sophie said. She pushed past me and then dropped onto my bed. I was pleased to see (and smell) that she was at least vomit-free. She snuggled into the pillows. "I hope I didn't do anything too embarrassing."

"You really don't remember?" I asked. I sat down next to her. Sophie quickly shied away. Like I'd shocked her.

"I remember drinking a lot," she said, "Last night was hard. It was super uncomfortable to be around those people and realise they have their own lives. You know? Like, when we needed help, where were they? But when we throw a party, they all show up."

"I know," I said, "It was hard for me, too. Do you remember bringing me over to say 'hi' to Lauren?"

"Sort of," Sophie said. She snuggled into my pillow more. "I remember Lauren and I were talking, and she saw you. She said you'd gotten, like, super-hot. I'm sorry, Sophie. I thought about what you'd told me before. About how you'd think about her when we... It made me jealous. I know it shouldn't have. It's not fair, but it did."

"It's OK," I said, "I think I'd feel the same way if one of my friends was perving on you."

"Or if Randy Hotguy was at the party, putting the moves on me?" Sophie asked. She gave me a smirk and, despite it all, she looked so beautiful lying on her big sisters bed in the morning sun.

"Yeah, fuck that guy," I said.

"Well, I kinda couldn't handle it with Lauren," Sophie said, "So I told myself it was funny, instead, and tried to make a whole joke out of it. And then you were flirting with her for real and I got really upset. Like, even more than before."

"I'm sorry," I said, "I shouldn't have done that."

"Of course, you should have!" Sophie said, giving me a shove. "She's a hot girl and she's totally into you. You don't owe me anything, I'm your friend. I don't have any right to get in your way."

"Still, though," I said, "I could tell it was hurting your feelings."

"Yeah, so I went to go drink more after that," Sophie said, "And then I woke up in my own bed. I guess you helped me. I didn't, um, do anything else, did I? Nothing embarrassing?"

I looked down at the hardwood floor. "You're fine," I said.

"Oh no," Sophie said, "I didn't hook up with some dude, did I? Or worse, one of our stupid, ugly cousins?"

"No, nothing like that," I said.

"Come on Jeff, what happened?"

"You don't remember any of it?" I asked.

"I swear I don't," Sophie said.

"I, um, well I found you sitting on the couch. And you kind of, um, propositioned me."

"Propo-wha?"

"You told me you wanted to have sex. With me. Right there."

"Oh shit."

"You were, um, kind of explicit, being honest," I said.

"Oh God, I'm so sorry," Sophie said, "Look, Jeff, that whole thing about 'truth-in-alcohol,' you know that's not true, right? Like, I don't want to. It's not that I don't think you're... Oh, Goddammit."

"It's OK," I said, "I get it. You were drunk. I knew it too. You don't have to explain yourself."

"But you didn't," Sophie said, "I mean, we didn't have sex."

"No."

"Even though I kind of forced myself on you?"

"Not gonna lie," I said, "You didn't make it easy." I intentionally eyed Sophie's body and she immediately understood. "But no. I figured, if it was something you wanted, it could wait till we were both sober."

"Thanks Jeff," Sophie said. She sat up and kissed me on the cheek. All things considered, her breath wasn't all that bad. "I'm sorry I said those things to you. I shouldn't have. Look, I don't want to hurt your feelings. You know I care for you a lot. And what we've been doing, I mean, it's awesome. But we aren’t going to do that. No matter what I said in the moment."

"No, I get it."

"You're not mad?" Sophie asked.

"No, I agree," I said, "That's too far. Even for us."

"OK. Thanks. Seriously," Sophie said, "I know a lot of guys wouldn't... Anyway, I'm lucky to have you in my life."

"I'm lucky to have you, too."

We shared a quick, chaste hug. It felt nice to hold my curvy best friend in my arms. I could feel myself responding so I stepped back. An erection was not at all appropriate for that moment.

"I'm going to go clean up," Sophie said as we broke. "I need to apologise to Lauren for getting smashed on her birthday. Buy Mom and Dad a replacement trashcan. Make a fresh commitment to Jesus."

"I support your new life choices," I said.

Sophie got up and tousled my hair. "You should clean up, too," she said, "You look like crap."

It seemed a lifetime ago since Lauren and I had masturbated for each other, but neither one of us had made the slightest mention of it the next morning. I helped her parents clean the house while Sophie nursed her hangover with the help of her little sister. 

There had been a few awkward moments over the next few days after our conversation, the relationship between Lauren and I had returned to normal, with Lauren doing her thing and me doing mine. I had chalked the whole experience up to a couple of horny kids who let a conversation about sex go way too far.

Things slowly settled back into normal. Well, almost normal, in any case.

We spent the whole day cleaning the house -- it was quite an undertaking after the evening before. Sophie was clearly not the only person to have gotten a little out of hand.

As I was wiping down the dining room table, and the sister’s working on the living room, their Mom pulled at my elbow. She motioned for me to join her in the kitchen. She looked very serious -- her mouth turned down like it was meant to make that shape.

"I saw what happened with you and my daughter last night," her Mom said.

Oh no.

"Oh God, I can..."

"I just want you to know," their Mom continued, breaking through me like a battering ram. "I'm really proud of you."

"Wait, what?"

"Sophie was way too drunk last night. You saw what was happening and stepped in. Took care of her."

"Oh, yes," I said, "Yes, I did."

"You're a good friend," she said, "I know this has been hard on you. It's been rough on all of us. But throughout it all, I think you've managed to do just be there for her… for them. You've been steady, a rock the whole family can rely on."

"Thanks," I said. I hadn't realised that she saw me that way. I'd never thought about things from that perspective.

"You've given up a lot. I'd understand if you needed time, you know, to let your guard down, or whatever. Blow off some steam. But in the meantime, I want to thank you. For everything. You’re already a part of this family, remember that."

"It's fine," I said.

It truly was.

The next day marked the last week in August. Her parents and Jessica went back to work. Lauren started going out with friends for her last, pre-high school, hurrahs. For our part, Sophie and I hung out but not like before. She insisted she didn't remember what had happened the night of the party, but the change in our relationship was there, just the same.

Finally, a full three days following the incident, Sophie jutted her chin my way and we ended up in her bedroom. We didn't touch each other or speak; we went back to the basics. A quick press and that was it. But it felt like a breakthrough.

"Turns out being behaved is kind of boring," Sophie said with a shrug after we'd both peaked. I had to agree with her, of course. I assumed that was it, and we'd go back to this way of existing for a little while longer.

But something was different. The idea of intercourse had entered our minds. We'd joked about it before. Taunted and teased. Now though, it felt more like a when than an if. Even though neither of us would admit it to ourselves. Let alone each other.

________

Once again I had been invited to Sophie’s house. She was home alone and thoughts of just how far the boundaries of our friendship could be tested flooded my mind. I wanted her. I loved her. But I also loved and respected her family. The door ws unlocked and I let myself in, heading up the familiar stairs. Sophie was in her bedroom when I saw her. She was wearing a pair of red, bikini cut panties, a yellow blouse, and nothing else. She was lying on her tummy on the floor, facing the far wall, her legs kicked up in the air. Golden hair pooled on the carpet. She had on her headphones, listening to music, and was lost to the world. But to me it looked exactly like she was pressing.

I don't know why I did it. Well, I know why. But not why that moment or why that way. I stepped into Sophie's room. I knelt behind her. And before she became aware of my presence, I climbed on top of her, lowering my shorts-clad crotch onto her panty-covered bottom.

Sophie gasped, then stilled. I waited for her to throw me off, to tell me no, but she didn't. Sophie held in place. My hard-on poking into her perfect ass.

I took it as permission and pressed down. I heard Sophie gasp as the first bits of pleasure filled me. The softness of her bottom, the warmth of her body, it was perfect for what we were doing. Sophie arched herself upward to meet my thrusts.

"Jeff," she said, and I knew that she was about to put a stop to this. I lifted myself off her ass. "This would be better with just underwear."

I froze. Obviously, I wasn't expecting that. I took off my shorts and tossed them to the side. Now in boxers, I leaned back down on top of Sophie. Grinding down, I had to admit this did feel way better. The danger of it only amplifying what we were doing.

We lay like that, moving against each other. When we'd done this before, there had always been this sense of urgency. Even when we had all afternoon to get off, we always raced through.

This time, though, was different. We took our time. I don't know whether it was the position we were in, or the feelings we'd expressed, but we didn't rush. It was almost leisurely. The two of us slowly grinding against each other, savoring every sensation.

But something else was also happening. The previously mentioned precarious nature of the fly of my boxers meant that, as I humped into Sophie's ass, my penis was starting to pop free. I could feel the fabric of Sophie's panties tickle the skin of my dick with each press.

Sophie must have felt it too. She reached back with her hand, stopping our coupling. I thought, once again, that she was drawing the line.

Instead, she pulled her panties down her legs and tossed them off. She lay back down on her tummy.

"Sophie, are you sure?" I asked. The argument roiled inside me; I could almost picture a chivalrous knight fighting a crazed barbarian. A funny metaphor for what I was feeling. And I'm sure you can figure out who was winning.

Sophie tapped her headphones, as if to say that she couldn't hear me over her music. I supposed that was my answer. I took off my own underwear. Both of us were now naked from the waist down. I lay down on top of Sophie. My cock nestled in that most precarious of places.

Bare skin to bare skin. I could feel the heat of her pussy, emanating out like a tiny sun. My hardness against her soft, wet spot. I didn't need to move; this was already beyond anything I'd ever felt.

But I did move. I pressed down. Sophie rubbed up at the same time. The two of us groaned in unison. We didn't need words. We humped against each other. Totally connected. Well, almost totally. Our bodies decided to fix that distinction for us.

The first time, the head of my penis grazed Sophie's pussy so slightly, I hardly noticed.

The second time, my dick actually held for a moment, right at the entry to Sophie's pussy, before slipping away.

The third time, my cock actually went inside. No more than an inch. Barely the head of my head. And yet.

Both of us froze there. Right on the precipice of penetrative sex. I waited for Sophie to tell me 'no.' I waited for my own conscience to cry out. None of that happened. Instead we both sat up.

Sophie was blushing but determined as she started undoing the buttons of her blouse.  I was getting lucky. Once Sophie's blouse was off and she had slipped off her headphones, she seemed to freeze, not knowing what to do next. Manfully I stepped into the breach, first unclipping her bra.

I think I mentioned that she was a very attractive package. Naked, I have to upgrade that rating and mark her as sensational. It was at this point that I decided to deviate from her planned course and start prodding around the edges of a situation too good to be true.

I sat on the side of her bed, smiling and letting my appreciation of Sophie's figure show. I reached out and took her hand and drew her towards me. She was trembling like a deer, wondering if the wolf pack was closing in.

Still smiling, I suddenly flipped her across my knee and spanked her hard, giving her half a dozen solid smacks on her pretty little tush.

I then flipped her around again, sat her on the bed and glared at her.

"Now, sweetheart," I said, "you will tell me precisely what you think you're doing and why you're doing it. You can tell me sitting there, or you can tell me while you're across my knee having your bottom spanked, but tell me you will."

Sophie was astounded. I was supposed to be kissing and seducing her, or being seduced by her, not spanking her and making demands.

She dithered for a moment, and tried to bluff, but as soon as I went to put her across my knee again she collapsed and started crying and trying to talk through the tears.

Not understanding a word she was saying, all I could do was draw her to me and hold her while she cried on my shoulder. Not that this was any hardship. I defy any man to not feel really masculine when a delectable and naked young woman is cuddling you and crying in your arms.

Eventually the crying stopped and Sophie seemed ready to talk, so I sat back, prepared to listen.

"It's Lauren," Sophie told me.

"Lauren?"

"She asked me if she could date you… and by date you, she meant-," she said.

“I understand. It’s ok. I’m not going to have a relationship with your sister if it means losing you.”

"I was wondering what to do," Sophie continued, "and then I realised I have been denying you… denying myself… all these years."

I was speechless. But not for long. I thought the whole thing over and then told her in a calm and considered way that I thought she might be making a little error.

“We don’t need to do this just because you fear losing me. I am always going to be here for you.” 

Sophie was crying again now, but also looking belligerent.

"Just go away," she said. "It's my problem and I'll work it out."

"No. I'm your problem. In case you haven't noticed, you're naked, and I’m naked and we need to talk this through."

"I want you to choose me..."

"Now that I know what you’re worried about, I'm quite willing to go along with you to a point. Are you prepared to listen to my suggestions?"

Sophie glared at me, but nodded.

"OK. Earlier, you were gritting your teeth and preparing to lie back and think of giving me something so very precious because of your sister. Now you are much more relaxed, assuming that it is not going to happen, and you've been too upset with everything to even remember why we do this."

Sophie flushed at this point and covered her breasts, but didn't really resist when I gently pushed her hands back down away from them.

"Now what I propose is that I will make love to you for a while, getting you used to having a man touch you and letting you get used to touching a man. We don't have to have sex. We can always leave that for another time.But I am not going to just be a one night stand. If we start making out tonight, I will expect to see you every night for at least the next week. Then when we do make love, you will have some idea of what you're doing and, on subsequent days, I'll be able to teach each other more."

"But we won't be having sex tonight?" Sophie said.

"Not unless you really want to," I told her. "Are you on the pill?"

When she shook her head the next question was obvious.

"Did you do anything about getting yourself some condoms?"

At her shocked look, I assumed no.

"So how did you intend to protect yourself from unwanted pregnancy?"

The thought had obviously never crossed her mind. All she had been concentrating on was getting her hands, and other parts, onto the object of her little sister's desires.

"It doesn't matter right now," I told her. "Do you… want to be in a relationship with me?”

“Yes, Jeff. Are you prepared to give us a go?"

I spent some time thinking. Her initial plan had been to get laid and then get me out. Now she had to consider if she was willing to spend the week learning about sex, and us becoming more than just friends. I finally nodded.

"What are you going to do now?" she asked, and I could see her nerves and the fear of the unknown emerging, along with a flicker of interest. She was finally starting to get curious about what was going to happen.

"I am going to sit down and enjoy the cup of coffee we're going to make together," I said. "No, don't worry, you won't need to get dressed to make it. You can do it while undressed and it will help you to relax with being nude in front of me. Besides," I added, "you have a nice figure and I like looking at it."

Finally, a bit of her spirit started to re-emerge.

"If I have to make it naked, then it's only fair that you should be naked as well," she said defiantly, "so I can get used to seeing a naked man."

I bowed my head in acknowledgement and removed all my clothes. Sophie was blushing, but not backing down, and she watched with interest as I stripped. She blushed even deeper as she realised I still had an erection, and she looked pointedly elsewhere.

We returned to the kitchen where I sat and watched while Sophie made the coffee.

Who knew that having a cup of coffee could be so erotic?

Sophie started off slowly, trying to hide her body while she worked, knowing that she was naked and being watched by a naked man.

And then it slowly dawned on her that she was NAKED and that she was being WATCHED by a NAKED MAN. Her breast swelled slightly, causing her nipples to become erect and her breasts and nipples brought themselves sharply to her mind. Suddenly Sophie was standing slightly straighter, throwing her shoulders back a little and projecting her bosom.

I suspected from the way she started to sway when she walked that she was also starting to get hot and wet, and was becoming even more acutely aware of herself and the fact that I was watching her. And she was enjoying it. It was exciting and it was turning her on.

I have to admit that Sophie's gathering excitement was also turning me on. Even more so, I should say, as I'm sure my cock set some sort of record for instant erection when I first saw her naked.

Anyway, we sat and enjoyed our coffee, and if Sophie seemed to need to pick up her cup and replace it every few sips, with the accompanying swaying of a pair of lovely breasts, what could I do but enjoy the show?

All good things must come to an end, and eventually we finished our coffee. Sophie put the cups on the sink while I just pushed my chair back a little from the table.

When Sophie turned from the sink to look at me, I just held out my hand to her while continuing to sit. Sophie walked towards me and took my hand and I drew her close and directed her gently down onto my lap.

I could see she was a little nervous about having my erection pressed into her side, but I ignored it, just turning her face slightly to face me so that I could kiss her. This time, the tension that had been there earlier was gone, replaced by an honest curiosity.

We just kissed naturally, with me holding her gently, until by some chance my hand reached up and cupped Sophie's breast. She froze for a moment, waiting, but when I did nothing more she resumed kissing me.

Very soon I was playing freely with her breasts, taking it slowly and letting Sophie get used to the feelings my hand coaxed out of her, enjoying hearing her gasp as I pinched her nipples slightly.

It seemed right after a while to drop my head to her breast and start kissing them lightly, tonguing them and sucking lightly on her nipples. With my hands now being in the way I just let it slip down Sophie's body until it was resting in her lap.

Sophie promptly dropped her hand to cover mine, not wanting it to go exploring just yet, but that she quickly found was an error. I promptly guided her hand around to where my erection was pressing lightly against her side, and directed it to touch me.

Sophie let her hand just lie next to my erection, feeling it pressing against her hand but not actually taking hold of it. My hand drifted back to her lap and was gently stroking her mons, with the occasional bit of pressure to pass the message deeper into her.

I continued nibbling and paying attention to Sophie's breasts, not rushing anything, not trying to ease her thighs apart so I could explore deeper, and not pressuring her to actually do anything to my cock.

After a while I could hear her breathing tense a little as she made a decision, and then her hand closed smoothly over my cock and started to explore it. At the same time her thighs relaxed a little more so there was room for me to slip my hand between them if I wanted to.

If I wanted to? Of course I bloody wanted to, but the time wasn't right. I continued to take things slowly, letting Sophie's excitement build, creeping up on her, not charging up and scaring her.

I also wanted to tell her the sort of things she could be doing to my cock with that little hand she had holding it, following with suggestions describing the things a warm and wet mouth could also do to me. And I would, sometime during the coming week, I most definitely would.

Instead, I suggested that maybe we would be more comfortable in her bedroom, where we could continue her education lying down.

This time I escorted her to the bedroom, gently walking her in and easing her onto the bed, where I lay down beside her.

"Now," I murmured, "if I remember correctly, I was getting acquainted with your breasts."

Leaning over her, I again started to muzzle her breasts, maintaining a nice tension in them. At the same time I shifted my position so that her hand fell onto my erection, apparently of its own accord, and Sophie again started her hesitant exploration.

The main difference now was that my hand was extending its reach, happily sliding between Sophie's thighs, pressing and stroking her labia, lightly scratching her inner lips as she slowly flowered under my touch, encouraging deeper exploration. Deeper exploration is what she got.

It wasn't long before my fingers were delving between her lips and pressing inside her, tracing along her inner paths. She gasped when I pressed a finger lightly against her hymen, knowing that the only time she'd be closer to losing her virginity would be when it actually happened.

Moving away from her hymen and vaginal passage, my fingers drifted around inside her, finally touching on and teasing Sophie's clit. She gave a little scream when I did that, her hips lifting off the bed in shock. She dropped my cock at this point, trying to concentrate on the teasing I was doing with her clitoris, not knowing if she should be demanding I stop or begging for more.

From the slight groan she gave when I drew back, I suspect she wanted to demand more.

At this stage I reached off the bed and groped for my trousers. Or to be more precise, the pocket of my trousers and the little packages I had in there. I extracted those little packets and tossed them onto the bedside table, bar one which I kept.

"At some stage," I said as I relaxed next to her, "you're going to have to work out how to put one of these on a boy. Why don't you try it with me?"

Sophie looked at the condom and then at my cock and blushed, but as I mentioned earlier, she had spirit. She glanced at the instruction on the packet and then took me in hand and started rolling it on as though she'd done it a hundred times before. She had it over half on before she gave a little jerk, and turned to look at me with her eyes opened very, very, wide.

It had suddenly dawned on her that the only reason she had to put a condom on me was because it was going to be needed. Her eyes switched back to the task she was doing, and she completed it and then sank back onto the bed without looking at me.

“Jeff, there’s something else?”

“What’s that?”

“I meant what I said.”

“When?”

“When I propositioned you for sex.” She looked directly into my eyes, “I’m in love with you.”

“I meant it too… I love you, ophie.”

"Wait...wait," she said, exhaling heavily, trying to catch her breath, "just… one second."

"Is everything ok?" I was very confused, and not in the mood to be teased.

"Everything's perfect Jeff, it's just...if we do this," she moved her hair from her face, " if we have sex, we can't go back. What I wanted to tell you was… I love you. Not in a family way and not as a friend, but I'm in love with you. Are you ready for that?"

"Sophie," I looked into her deep blue eyes, I couldn't break my gaze, "I have loved you for so long… and I'm prepared to love you everyday for the rest of my life."

"No one can know, Jeff. We have to keep this a secret. My sisters couldn't handle it."

"I know, I know… I'm ok with that as long as you are."

“Then I am ready for you… lover.”

“We don’t have to-”

“Fuck me…” she breathed.

I hooked one of her ankles with one of mine and gently but steadily moved her legs a lot further apart. Her body responded smoothly, and I could tell that although physically she was ready, mentally she still wasn't sure.

I moved between her legs, positioning myself for what was to come, and then I reached up and turned her head so that she was looking directly at me. Keeping my eyes firmly on her, I pressed my erection against her slit, moving it slightly to ease her lips a little further apart, then pressing the head slowly between her lips and into her.

Sophie was looking at me, hard, wanting to look down and watch was happening to her body, but also desperate for the encouragement I was giving her. I wasn't sure what I was saying but it obviously worked, as a tiny smile flittered across her face before a look of concentration came upon it.

I could feel her hips lifting slightly, encouraging my entry, assisting me to push home and down a warm tight passage. I don't think either of us really noticed when I pushed past her hymen, brushing it aside like a stray cobweb. Sophie may have winced slightly, but she was concentrating too hard on these new and exciting feelings to worry about a little twinge of pain.

Now that I was in Sophie I was quite content to just rest for a moment, enjoying the feel of her surrounding me. Sophie, for her part, also seemed happy to just rest, getting used to the feeling of having a man inside her.

We lay quietly, joined together, neither speaking. Then Sophie took a big breath and wriggled slightly against me, wanting more than just having me there, even if she wasn't sure what the more she wanted was. In return, I wriggled slightly back at her, laughing at her sudden intake of breath.

Deciding the time for more vigorous action had come, I slowly pulled out, watching Sophie's eyes widen at the slow drag of my cock inside her, and then hearing her give a little cry as I thrust sharply back inside her.

Again I did a slow withdrawal with a sharp return, feeling Sophie starting to move in unison with me. Soon I was moving faster, setting up a nice rocking motion, getting Sophie to match me as I moved.

I'm not sure what I was saying to her, but I was whispering words of encouragement as Sophie thrust herself up to match whatever I was doing. We fell into a steady rhythm, letting our own pleasures blossom and grow while contributing to the enjoyment of each other.

The foreplay we had indulged in had left Sophie's body ready for the culmination, and now that we were actually in session, so to speak, her climax was coming up fast.

Not quite fast enough for me, however, as I could feel my own climax rushing down upon me, and I was in no mood to try to hold it off. Thrusting sharply, I still managed to slip a hand between us, darting my finger into Sophie and flicking her clit again.

The extra touch was like lighting the fuse. She screamed and exploded under me, while my own climax hammered into her.

Afterwards we lay for a while, still joined, relishing the quiet contentment coming from pleasure mutually shared.

Then I withdrew, making a quick trip to the en suite to remove the condom and cleaning myself before returning with a warm cloth and towel so that I could help Sophie clean up.

Then we resumed the quiet lying together, neither interested in speaking.

Sophie was half asleep, cuddling me, when I asked her the question.

"Would you like me to go home now, or would you rather I stay the night? I'd rather I spend the night here, and we can continue this in the morning."

Sophie didn't actually say either way, she just opened her eyes a bit wider and smiled, then snuggled closer holding me there. I didn't fight it.

________

'Wake up Jeff. We did it! We’re no longer virgins!"

I looked at the clock beside my bed and groaned. It was only 3am. Sophie moved her body over mine on the bed and grabbed my wrists. She leaned forward and began to lick my face. I always hated when she did that when we were kids. I began to buck my hips to push her off me. Suddenly Sophie gave a jump and pulled her face away from mine. She got a devilish look on her face. I looked from her face to her chest for a fraction of a second. She was still completely naked.

Suddenly Sophie was leaning in and I thought she was going to lick me again. My hips shot up again and Sophie ground down against me. Now I knew what had caught her attention. I had morning wood and when I bucked against her she felt it hit her. She locked her lips to mine and began to kiss me. She kept trying to push her tongue into my mouth and I was slowly losing my resolve.

Sophie was grinding her pussy against my cock as it strained against her vulva. Sophie began to moan and I opened my lips and let her tongue invade my mouth.

Sophie's grip on my arms loosened and instead of pushing her off I slid my hands under her, found her breasts and a second later her nipples. I began to stroke and lightly pinch her nipples while our tongues twined together and her hips ground against my hard on.

I kept playing with her tits as we kissed. I took my right hand and slid it slowly down her belly until I found the top of her panties. She let me roll her over to her back as I began to stroke her clit before finding her gash with my middle finger.

"Suck my nipples again, Jeff."

I moved down and sucked her left nipple into my mouth I flicked the pebble like nub a few times with my tongue before nipping it between my teeth and pulling away gently. Sophie pushed her hips against my finger as I inserted into her pussy.

I threw the sheet off my body and Sophie began to drool at the sight of my throbbing member, She gripped it tight in her hand and began to stroke it slowly.

"If you do that too much longer I'll cum all over the bed." I warned her.

She released my cock long enough to strip her sodden panties and then she had me in hand just a millisecond before she had me in her mouth. There was no slow encapsulation, Sophie swallowed my member whole. I felt the head bump against her soft palate just before her throat opened and accepted it. She had both hands on my hips and was directing me fuck her face.

I was in heaven as Sophie licked and sucked my cock with the head going into her throat every three or four strokes. I was on the edge of blowing my load.

"I'm going to cum, Sophie."

She just kept sucking away like I hadn't said a thing. My balls started to tingle and my cock got thicker. Sophie held my cock in her throat as the first jet of cum shot out. Then she pulled back keeping a tight seal with her lips as I kept pumping jet after jet of cum into her mouth. I could feel Sophie swallowing while I came. When I was totally spent Sophie sucked even harder as she milked the last drops of cum out of my shaft.

Before she could say a word I grabbed her hips and flipped her to her back just before diving in to lick her pussy. I lifted her hips with my hands to give me better access to the whole slit. My tongue was moving up and down and in and out. I found her clit and began to focus all my teasing there as I worked my left hand free so I could plunge my fingers inside her. Sophie was moaning non stop as I worked my magic with my tongue. Suddenly my hearing went dead as she clamped her thighs to my head and Sophie's whole body went rigid as she had her first orgasm of the morning.

I stopped everything until she relaxed her hold on my head. Once I could move I slid up her body and kissed her mouth hungrily, Sophie turned around and went down on all fours. I knelt behind her, reached down and put the head of my cock at the entrance to her pussy and I thrust inside in one fast push.

"Yes, let’s do it like this!."

I just nodded and went in for another kiss. Gradually Sophie began to roll her hips. I took my cue and began to thrust in and out matching her rhythm. I sucked her right nipple into my mouth and Sophie cried out my name as she had another small orgasm. I could feel her pussy convulsing on my cock as I thrust inside. Because I had cum in her mouth I was going to last a lot longer.

Sophie began to urge me faster and faster and soon I was pounding away as fast as I could while she rolled her hips from side to side. Sophie began to cum harder than she had the first two times. It was hard for me to keep my speed with her pussy grabbing at my cock. I slowed my pace until she came down a little from her orgasm. Once again Sophie was crying out for me to pound her fast. I was drilling her into the mattress when suddenly I felt my balls tingling again. As my cock thickened Sophie wrapped her legs around my hips and refused to let me pull out.

“Keep fucking me!” 

I pushed forward a little further. Sophie lifted her hips to ease my passage. My head snuck in. Halfway down my shaft. I pulled back. Thrust again. Sophie grunted. Finally, I was fully buried inside Sophie's body. Without a condom between us the sensations felt hotter, wetter and one million times better.

“I’m not wearing a condom!”

Sophie turned and looked back at me. Her expression was unreadable -- a mix of total joy and absolute concern. Fear, desire, sadness, exultation. All in one. I was feeling it too.

I drew back slightly, then pushed forward. Sophie's face twisted as the sensation overtook her. Eyes rolled back. Lips curled. She turned forward, resting her head on her arms.

We rolled against each other. Together, truly, for the first time. I heard Sophie make all those familiar noises I'd known from before -- the little gasps and groans. Squeaks and mewls. But now they were coming because of me.

"So good," she gasped.

I couldn't respond, already wrapped up in my own pleasure. The heat of Sophie's pussy, her warmth and wetness, it was like nothing I'd ever experienced. Amplifying everything from simple sex to something beyond what we have words for. Intimate beyond intimacy.

I was fucking Sophie. I couldn't get past that fact. It was integral to the experience. The wrongness of what we were doing. The rightness of it. Everything about the physical act was overwhelmed by the emotional part of it.

I reached my hands down and found Sophie's amazing breasts. I squeezed those massive mounds, using them like handholds, as I humped Sophie from behind. I didn't ever want this to end.

"Getting... close," Sophie said. Her voice strained. God, I wanted her to cum so bad. But her words had a secondary effect.

"Me too," I said. I was very aware, then, of what we were doing. Had done. The consequences racing towards me, but I couldn't look away.

"Don't stop," Sophie said.

Our movements became frenzied. Moving in synchronicity; racing in opposite directions -- Sophie trying frantically to reach her orgasm, me trying desperately to escape mine.

"Don't stop," Sophie said it again. "Don't you dare stop."

"Trying..."

“Cum inside me, Jeff.”

Sophie's body undulated under me. Even though I was on top, she was clearly in control. She arched and shimmied. Rubbed and cinched. Moved her body on my cock like I was only an object. Faster. Faster.

Finally, she stopped. Stilled.

"Ohhhhh" the word slipped out of her like steam. Pitch rising till it left my spectrum.

I'd seen Sophie's orgasm so many times, I could replay it in detail on the back of my eyelids. Heard it so often, I could write it as a symphony. Even smelled it, her femininity filling my nostrils as she flooded.

But I'd never felt Sophie's cum before.

Her pussy clamped down, sealing shut like it was one of those vacuum storage bags. Air tight. Her butt slammed downward. Her back arched. We don't need to invent a cock-milking machine. Sophie already has the perfect one built in.

"Sophie, I'm..." My inner knight took one final, desperate swing.

"Dooooon't. Stooooop," Sophie said, a low deep rumble I could barely make out.

It didn't matter what she'd said. It was already too late. The pleasant tingle in my penis turned into a spark, racing fire down my shaft and straight into Sophie's unprotected pussy.

I let out a long, strangled cry. A river of sperm burst into Sophie's snatch, while an ocean of illicit bliss rolled over my body. I jammed my dick as deep as it would go. Squeezed Sophie's breasts so hard, there would be bruises after. Pressed as hard as I could as plume after plume of pleasure arced out of me.

Vaguely, I was aware of the woman beneath me, enduring her own ecstasy. She told me after, feeling my hot cum splash against her cervix had triggered a chain reaction, taking her already extant orgasm and exacerbating it. Like pumping gasoline into a fire.

Sophie burst. Her brain blew out. Her body shivered and shook. Wordless, primal sounds escaped her lips. She came like she was crazed by it. Like I'd unlocked the higher function of her pleasure centers. Both of us awash in the chemicals of reproduction. Oxytocin and dopamine. Endorphins and adrenaline.

My cock finally gave up trying to find more cum to pump into Sophie's fertile pussy. It didn't shrink, so much as it lay down, exhausted. Sophie's body went limp. I fell with her. Her soft skin felt almost too hot. We rolled off each other, sweaty.

We laid there still coupled until my cock softened and slid softly out followed by a stream of my cum. Sophie and I were touching each other all over exploring with our hands. Neither one of us wanted to be the first one out of the bed.

"I need to wake you up like this more often. That was fun."

"I could get used to it. But I think going to sleep like that once in a while would be fun too."

"Oh fuck," Sophie said. I couldn't tell if it was in celebration or regret. Maybe a bit of both.

She rolled over and sat up. Absently, she dipped her fingers in her pussy. They came out covered in white goop.

"Oh fuck," she said it again. "Oh, fuck me."

Reality raced over me. That post-cum rationality burst forth. What we did. What we'd done. Whatever post-sex satisfaction I had earned was obliterated by guilt. I'd just had sex with Sophie. Changed our relationship forever. Inseminated her unprotected pussy. All of it. My most forbidden dream. My totally enrapturing nightmare.

"Sophie, I'm sorry," I said, "I didn't mean to." My apology felt so stupid in my own mouth, I couldn't imagine how idiotic I sounded to Sophie.

Sophie didn't say anything. She rolled over and held me tight, like cradling a crying baby. Her bare bottom pressed against mine. I felt a stream of my own semen drip out of her pussy and land, warm, on my thigh. The tickle of her pubic hair on my rapidly shrinking cock.

"It's OK," Sophie said, shushing me. "It's alright. But if we fuck as much as that I'm going to need to go on the pill."

Of course it was too late for that. One of my little swimmers had already found one of her eggs.

We stayed like that, half naked in her bedroom, holding each other close for as long as we could. Neither of us knowing what to say. What to do.

Staring down a suddenly very uncertain future. She kissed me and snuck out to the bathroom as I headed downstairs to grab another coffee and do some cleaning of my own.

I kept the lights off as I made my way up the stairs, as all of the bedrooms were located on the same second floor hallway, though on opposite ends. Entering Sophie’s room, I noticed she was back in bed and fast asleep. I listened at Lauren’s door but there were no signs of life. I decided to head to Jessica’s bedroom and once inside began to strip down and felt the cool breeze from the open window flowing across the room. As I kicked my clothes to the wall, I moved toward the bed.

CLICK

As my eyes slowly adjusted to the sudden and unexpected burst of light from my table lamp, I was stunned to see Lauren lying in her big sister’s bed, a thin, white sheet giving the slightest hint of her nude figure underneath.

"Wha, what are you doing here," I stammered as I stopped in my tracks, unsure of just what direction my life was now about to turn.

"Oh nothing," Lauren replied matter-of-factly, a wry smile spreading across her face as she turned off the light. "I just wanted to see if you remembered anything I taught you."

#lovers #fucking #Jessica #Lauren #Sophie #redhead #Blonde #first time #just friends #Popping cherry #losing virginity

[eddiemania]

Babysitter

Part two of "Babysitter"

Description: Babysitting Eddie the Freak Munson's little brother was something you genuinely did not expect to be doing this summer (and him watching you while wandering around shirtless was surely not in your plans)

Warnings: smut, babysitter!reader, grinding, fingering, drugs, skirt kink

"Seriously?! The damn newspaper?" you groaned, throwing the document down on the table where both your parents sat. They observed your furious movements with confusion and annoyance before your mother spoke up.

"I don't get why you're so upset. Where did you think you got all the other jobs from?" she questioned as your dad remained silent, "Well, certainly not from here!" your mouth dropped.

You couldn't believe your eyes.

This summer your parents your mom, decided it would be a brilliant idea if you stopped simply "suffocating yourself on that damn bed" as she specifically called it, and started doing something more productive, like the other teens your age did.

So instead of just washing cars or walking some neighbors' dogs, she thought babysitting random children around Hawkins would be so much fun that she was almost offended when you did not start jumping around with sparks of excitement at her vision.

Of course, despite the multiple arguments you two had, the final decision was made and the moment July approached, you already had your first appointment with the Whitlock family.

You didn't particularly dislike children, but the responsibility of a random goblin was terrifying enough. However, it did not seem half as bad when you got to negotiate the money you would get out of it.

And just like that, up until the 19th of July, you had gained over 280 dollars by babysitting twelve children in total. Honestly, it did seem quite odd that the words "y/n y/l/n is babysitting" spread around Hawkings so quickly, but now it all made sense.

Your mother had actually paid Hawkins Post to place your name and phone number under the services section, and you were furious.

You didn't know whether it was the fact that your name was just traveling around the town or that it did so without your consent, but the look on your face as you watched your mother was definitely out of a horror movie.

"Is it a bad time to tell you, you have another appointment?" she apologetically said before smiling, causing you to throw your hands up in the air, "Are you joking right now?!" you scoffed, pacing around the living room.

"Come on y/n it's money," your father finally spoke, making you roll your eyes. Your mother began approaching you, reaching inside the back pocket of her jeans before pulling out a small piece of paper, with a few words written on it, "Don't bail for no reason," she said and handed the note before leaving the room.

Once the paper was in your hands, you quickly glanced down at it, the words making your eyebrows connect with confusion.

"Wayne Munson, 34234 Forest Hills Trailer Park"

Wayne Munson? As in Eddie Munson?

Eddie The Freak Munson from your school?

Your eyes were wide and the only thing that kept you from letting out a tremendous groan was your father's presence inside the room. It couldn't possibly be true. It was probably a coincidence.

What were the chances for two different Munson families living in the same trailer park? Well... zero.

You rushed upstairs to your room, spinning around as you let the information sink in. You knew well what the entire school thought about Eddie and his interests and even if you weren't part of the "Mocking Eddie the freak" club, you certainly had no desire to go anywhere near his place.

You never got the chance to have a normal conversation with the guy, -well, except that one time your teacher made you pair up with him so that he wouldn't fail the chemistry project- but from what was going around, he wasn't anything other than a wasted, creepy, drug dealer who finally got some attention after the infamous 'Reefer Rick' himself went M.I.A.

But considering the situation, that man, Wayne, would not ask you to babysit Eddie, which meant he had another kid living with him in that trailer, something you were confident no one else knew about.

"The appointment is from 7:00pm to 12:00am. Five hours or fifty dollars, depending on what makes you want to go," your mother interrupted your thoughts by knocking on the door.

"Ten an hour? I've gotten fifteen once," you rolled your eyes, trying to sound logical, "You've also once got seven an hour, yet you did not complain," she fired back at you, to which you groaned, "Mom-"

"y/n ten an hour is more than enough for someone that lives in one of Forest Hill's trailers." she glanced down at you with a disapproving look towards your behavior before you sighed in defeat.

"So?"

"This is the last job I'm taking, deal?" you smiled, "y/n-"

"Deal?" you cut her off.

"Fine,"

☾

Three hours had approximately passed since then. You looked down at your watch, which pointed at 6:45pm. Forest Hills was about ten minutes from your house, so quickly, you grabbed a skirt and a t-shirt from your chair, took your bike's locker keys, and rushed downstairs.

The way to the Trailer Park was easier than you expected, with all the streets surrounding it being almost empty, with no sign of actual residents.

You glanced down at the information again the moment you got off your bike.

"34231... 32... 33..." you mumbled under your breath as you looked around.

34234.

You took a good look at it. It wasn't anything too odd, just a simple trailer with some junk laying outside of it. The van he always came to school with was parked outside. The railings towards his door were old and rusty.

Random deflated balls and toys together with squeezed cans of beer were thrown under and in front of the stairs and a few empty glasses sat alone on the picnic table shelter.

You took a deep breath before slowly approaching the railings, making sure no one you could possibly know was around by any chance.

Once you were certain, you placed your fist on the door, cautiously knocking three times, but there was no response. You knocked, again and again, frowning at the lack of reaction.

The moment you were about to step away, though, a loud groan caught your attention. "Come here, you little shit!" a familiar voice yelled whilst you heard two loud pairs of footsteps running around in your direction.

"Ricky!"

The door was opened, and your gaze was immediately drawn down. There stood a little boy with curly hair and big brown eyes staring at you as he bit the hem of his 'Snorks' themed t-shirt.

"Hello little guy," you beamed, quickly bending down to play with his fluffy hair. You could obviously tell the Eddie Munson was the one standing behind the boy, but you simply didn't have the courage to peek up just yet.

"Hi," the little boy smiled widely, his two front teeth missing. Your heart melted as you observed his puffy cheeks, "What's your name mister?" you asked in a childish tone when he began jumping around, "Ricky," he said, immediately running back inside the house, losing him off your sight.

You swallowed, getting off your feet and feeling tense the moment your eyes caught his. "Hey," Eddie smiled awkwardly, gesturing for you to get inside, "Hi," you forced a gentle smile, finally getting in the trailer.

You inspected the place. It was genuinely not bad. A few band posters and an impressive amount of caps on the wall caught your attention immediately. A few toy cars were thrown around together with random bags and boxes of delivered food.

"Thanks for coming here, I really don't know how to handle him on my own," he said, as you looked at his eyes seemingly traveling across your body, examining you, or rather your skirt.

"Yeah, no problem," you only said, picking up a toy from the ground. "Do you live here alone?" you proceeded to question, being unable to tell if anyone else was there.

He sat down on the couch before shaking his head, "I live with my uncle Wayne, but he's away for a couple of days, and looking after Ricky hasn't been much of a success." he rubbed his temples.

"Oh, I thought your uncle called me," you replied which made him avoid your eyes, "Well that was me. I know we never -like- interact at school since you know," he rubbed the back of his neck, "You're you and-" he finally glanced at you, "I am me,"

As he was about to continue, you cut him off, "It's okay Eddie," you managed to let out, catching him off guard, "I get it,"

"What's your name?" Your eye contact with him broke the moment Ricky appeared from behind his leg as he still gripped it, "I'm y/n, it's nice to meet you, Ricky!" you smiled when his little hands were wrapped around your torso, hugging you.

"Hey, Ricky!" Eddie tried to stop him, but you laughed it off, making him understand it was okay.

The boy sat next to you, taking the toy you were holding off your hands. "This is Mr. bubbles," he spoke and started rumbling about it for approximately five minutes.

You and Eddie awkwardly sat and listened to him, except your mind thinking about other things. He was definitely not as bad as you expected from the little seconds of interaction you had with him but you still didn't want to rush your expectations.

After about half an hour of you looking after the little boy playing around and Eddie doing something that you couldn't really see in the kitchen, he finally spoke up.

"Is it okay if I go take a shower?" he questioned. He obviously hadn't hired a babysitter before and you could tell, "Yeah, no problem,"

Ricky then immediately dragged you down on the floor with him as he lied on his belly, making you beam, "I want big curly hair like Diddie" he spoke when the bathroom door closed.

"Like who?" you frowned with confusion, unable to understand some of his words, "My brother, Diddie" he replied, pointing towards the door, "Oh!" you messed his hair a little.

You then took a good look at him once again. His hair had curls, just like Eddies but they were significantly shorter, almost like an outgrown buzz-cut.

"Are you growing them out?" you smiled and asked, but he shook his head, "Dad doesn't like long hair," he responded as his hand drove a toy car across the floor, "But Eddie has long hair," you connected your eyebrows, "Dad doesn't like Eddie a lot," the boy finally glanced at you helping you understand what the situation was.

You immediately felt like it was your responsibility to change the subject, so you grabbed a toy and played with him for a couple of minutes.

The entire time you could hear the water running down the shower, so when it stopped, Ricky immediately ran towards the door, "Diddie!" he yelled with excitement, barely opening the door before Eddie shut it again, "Hey dude! Wait a second!" he laughed which strangely caught you off guard.

You had certainly never heard Eddie Munson laugh before. It was genuine and loud. You had been at his Trailer with him for about two out of the five hours you had to stay and although you did not interact much except for times to talk about his little brother, you could not understand why people despised him so much.

"Diddie!"

"Okay, okay! I'm done," you looked outside the window, only listening to his voice leaving the bathroom, "What's all the eagerness? Is y/n torturing you?" he looked at you as he tried to get your attention.

You turned your head with a smile, "Hey!" you laughed but your brain stopped working when you realized he only wore a towel low on his waist.

His chest and arms had various kinds of tattoos. Tattoos you couldn't see before. One of them began at the top of his inner hip, barely visible as the rest of it continued under the piece of fabric he covered himself with.

"y/n I'll have to contact Hawkins Post for child abuse," he teased, something he hadn't done before during your time together, "No, y/n is good," Ricky smacked his leg, making you let a small laugh out.

"That's Diddie abuse," he frowned at his brother before the little boy ran towards you, climbing and hiding behind your back. "Don't involve me in your vendetta," you smiled at Eddie, something he returned.

God, did he look oddly good? His pick necklace was the only thing on his torso and his back was perfectly defined. You couldn't help but keep on staring at that tattoo on his hip, but when he called your name, blood rushed through your cheeks, the thought of him catching your stare frightening you.

"Yes?" you cleared your throat, "I think we should put that big ol' guy to sleep," he softly laughed, his gaze falling on the little boy behind you having his eyes shut. You immediately glanced at your watch, was it already 9:00pm?

You nodded before gently taking Ricky's hand, having Eddie lead you to the child's bedroom which appeared to be pretty simple. He had a little bed with barriers on the side. Once you saw them, your head turned to Eddie.

"He is a pretty energized sleeper," he chuckled, watching you from the door. You smiled, nodding in response, "You can wait outside, I'll be okay," you then spoke, watching him leave and close the door behind him.

"y/n are you gonna stay here?" Ricky asked, opening his eyes slightly, "Yeah for a little while," you nodded, realizing you had to be alone with Eddie for the hours you had left.

Usually, the parents were away leaving you alone inside their house, which meant you could either relax or maybe play some music, but this time, you clearly weren't alone...

By the time you finished thinking, you noticed the boy had shut his eyes entirely. Your gaze fell on the planet at the end of his bed, which you took in your grip before tucking him in and making sure the barriers were attached properly.

You left the room and made your way through the tiny hall right into the living room where the lights had been turned off, only the TV playing in the background.

Eddie sat on the couch, apparently clothed, a cigarette between his lips as he observed the device with boredom. "He's asleep," you spoke, making him turn his attention to you, "I'm so thankful y/n," he said as he approached you, his presence inches away from yours.

Eddie suddenly smiled and raised his index finger at you, motioning you to wait for a second as he passed by you, making his way towards the small spaced kitchen.

You slowly walked over to the couch where he was sitting, shortly listening to his footsteps approach you.

"Since your shift ends in like two hours I figured you might be a little hungry," he awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, placing a homemade pizza on the wooden table in front of you right before squishing the cigarette he was holding between his fingers into the ashtray.

"You made this?" you smiled, watching him nod in response before sitting down right next to you, with quite a cautious space of about one and a half people.

"Do you um..." he swallowed, pointing at the old, half-damaged TV, "Do you want to watch something? Hammer House of Horror starts at 9:30," he questioned, "Oh my God! I love this series!" you smiled widely, which he immediately returned.

"To be honest I didn't expect you to babysit," he said, your head turning to him, "Me neither. My mother pressured me to do it so that I wasn't inside the house 24/7," you responded, rolling your eyes as you slightly slid on the end of the couch, reaching to grab a piece of pizza as you felt your skirt slightly hovering higher on your thigs.

Of course, he looked. Every slight movement caught his attention even though it shouldn't. "24/7? Don't you hang out with your friends?" he tried to not be stiff, but you could tell how much he despised your friend group by even mentioning it.

"Well everyone's kinda busy, I guess," you responded while looking at your white converse, "You guess?" the boy frowned, making you sigh, "When it's not for alcohol and popularity, they have no good intention," you took a bite, surprised at how good it was.

"And I'm the loud freak," he rolled his eyes as he got up, moving towards a cabinet. You didn't respond. Even if you never told anything bad about him, you would always listen to your friends' conversations regarding him and his tendencies, maybe even chuckle at some of the comments.

"Is it okay if I smoke?"

You glanced down at him waiting for a response. Considering he was already smoking, you knew it wasn't about nicotine this time, but you didn't mind, it was his place anyway.

He approached you, rolling his blunt the moment he sat down and you quietly observed him.

He was wearing a black, sleeveless Iron Maiden shirt and a pair of sweat shorts. You were used to him wearing his jeans and his leather jackets, so that comfortable look was new to you.

"Do you want the first?" he asked, stealing your attention away from his clothes. You had never done drugs before so you kindly declined, watching him inhale slowly before letting out a heavy amount of smoke, his head falling back.

"You are an excellent chef," you beamed as he turned his eyes to you, "Oh yeah? Are you sure the blunt didn't get to you?" you both laughed, noticing him move closer towards you.

You sat there quietly for about two minutes watching the ads on the TV before you finally spoke up, "I didn't know you had a brother," you said and he smiled, "Yeah... Ricky's my soft spot, but he lives with my father, so I don't get to see him often," he responded, making you question whether you should continue this conversation or not.

"How come? If you don't mind me asking of course!" you move your hands quickly, making him smile, "It's okay," he chuckled, inhaling once again, "Well Ricky's young and I am not. I came here to live with Wayne since I couldn't take his shit anymore," Eddie shrugged, making you nod.

"Could I... Could I give it a try?" you suddenly questioned before he gave you a confused look, "Are you sure?" the curyhead asked, making you nod.

He approached you, his face inches away from yours as his hand was brought up to your lips, his big fingers holding the blunt right between them. You have him a quick look before lowering your face and placing the rolled paper between your pink lips.

"Now inhale," he instructed you, his voice so low, it was almost like a whisper. As you did so, his eyes didn't leave yours for a second. You didn't know where you found the courage to maintain the contact, but you did, and it felt... different.

"Good," he pulled his hand away, letting you exhale, a few coughs escaping your mouth, "Who would have thought," he smiled, "Eddie Munson smoking weed with y/n y/l/n on his couch," he grinned.

"You're right, I'm supposed to be working here," you rub your forehead with guilt before pulling away, about to stand up, "Hey," his hand gently grabs yours, making you sit back down, "Ricky's sleeping, just talk with me, here," his eyes were heavy and his lips slightly curved.

His lips were full and vibrant.

"My mom will slaughter me," you slightly giggle, grabbing his hand before inhaling once again, which was the first time you ever had physical contact with each other.

He liked it. He carefully observed your face with his fingers in front of it. Your hands both grasped his bigger one, and your expression numbed when the smoke escaped your lips. He really liked it.

"Not bad, hm?" Eddie smiled, noticing you relaxing more, "Not bad at all," you whispered back. "Is your mom going to pick you up?" the boy then questioned before you shook your head, "Then you can stay a little longer so I have company,"

You nod with a slight blush on your cheeks that was thankfully invisible due to the low lighting of the room.

"You're really nice. Sweeter than all of my friends," you admit, making him touch his chest dramatically, "y/n! You're showing kindness towards a small, little peasant, like me!" Eddie spoke, making you gasp, "Oh, shut up," you laugh with him.

"For real though. I wish we knew each other earlier than this stupid mess of High School,"

He lets your words sink in before his eyes turn to you, "We can learn each other now," he speaks quietly, making you turn your head, "But I get why you might hold back," he adds.

"Weird, satanic, freak Eddie Munson and a cheerleader from Carver's circle," he laughs, exhaling smoke. You roll your eyes, almost breaking the distance between your bodies, "You're way cooler than Jason, for the record," you smile.

"Yeah, that's enough blunt for you," he chuckles making you groan, "I'm serious,"

"A little determined, aren't we now, y/n?" his face turns to you, inches away from yours and your breath hitches, "Is it pity, or is it something else?" he asks.

"Huh? It's nothing, I'm just being honest," you quickly respond, "You know what I think?" Eddie smiled, his face even closer this time, your lips barely away from touching, "I think it's the older guy that mommy and daddy don't approve of situation," he whispers, "What? No, I-"

"Are you sure?" his eyes examine yours from that close-up distance you two were in. You breathe heavy, smelling his freshly shampooed hair, his perfume, and weed all in one. You rethink his words. You were a senior too with just two years of difference from him. He was always mocked by every other person your age and yet there you were, smoking with him, only knowing him for barely a day.

Without thinking of it, you slightly move your head, your lips brushing over his, when his hands grab the back of your head, slightly pushing you closer to him.

It felt different. It wasn't just a plain kiss. You were kissing Eddie Munson and maybe he was right, It did turn you on that it was him.

"Come here," he whispers, sitting back on the couch before placing your legs on each side of him, placing you on top of him. He softly licks your upper lip, waiting for permission to enter your mouth, and you immediately give it to him.

As your tongues explore each other's mouths, his hands study your body cautiously, not wanting to make you feel uncomfortable. He carefully caresses your back, only over the elastic of your skirt.

His lips gently abandon yours as he begins to trace a path on your soft jaw, slowly moving toward the beginning of your neck, "Eddie," you breathe out, your hands around his neck, and your eyes shut closed.

His name sounds good when you say it, it makes him feel things he didn't even know were possible, "Sweetheart, can I touch you?" he speaks against your neck, not breaking contact once.

"Yes, please," you say with satisfaction and he grins, "So polite all the time," Eddie says. All you can hear is the sloppy kisses on your skin and the low-volume TV when you feel his large hands sliding down your body, grabbing your ass with lust.

Your skirt dances as he caresses you, and you instantly feel his erection. The more he touches you, the more it grows. You softly moan, taking his hands into yours as you guide them on your touch-starved thighs.

"I've been craving those pretty thighs ever since I first saw you in that little cheer skirt," he sighs, squeezing your legs as he pulls away from your neck, looking at you right in the eyes, "You never noticed me y/n, no matter what I did," his hands travel higher from where you placed them, under the hem of your white skirt.

"No matter how many times I had to get on top of tables and shout like a maniac, you never noticed me," he begins kissing your lips softly again, his index finger wandering around the sides of your little panties.

"I always noticed you, Eddie," you reply against him, your voice shattering the more his fingers played with your underwear, "Yeah, just not the way I wanted you to,"

Eddie immediately grabs your hips under your skirt, pushing you down to put pressure on his aching erection, making himself let out a soft moan as your clothed cunt hovers above his tight sweats.

"Oh God," you whine, holding tighter onto him, "Is it okay if-" as he's about to finish the sentence, his house phone interrupts him, making him groan in frustration, "Sorry about that," he rolls his eyes as he keeps on kissing your collar bones, "Eddie, wait,"

The curlyhead immediately stops, looking at you concerned, "It could be my mother," you bite your lower lip nervously, "Do you want to pick it up?" he hums but you shake your head as you begin to peck his neck carefully, "Oh beautiful, that's it," he keeps grinding you against him when the phone finally stops ringing.

His hands keep exploring, suddenly stopping above your shirt to look at you for permission. You give it to him, about to help take it off but he stops you, "Come here," he picks you up off the couch when you place your palm over your mouth to avoid making any sound as you pass the hall.

He places you on his bed and instantly locks the door behind him. The moment Eddie turned around your shirt was off, and his lips slightly parted, eyes fixated on your breasts.

He sits on the bed, crawling towards you the moment he begins placing small kisses on your chest, cupping you over your bra, "Sit on top of me pretty," he groans as he places his back against some of his pillows, watching you climb on him.

"Eddie," you say as he kisses and sucks on your breasts, "Yes beautiful?" the boy responds, his eyes looking up at you, "I-" you grind faster, "Please I need you," your hands lift up your own skirt and he breaths heavily at the view.

"Are you sure baby?" he questions one last time before you nod. His hands make you turn around, your ass against his clothed hips as you still remain on top of him. You're confused at the sudden turn, but you trust him.

"How many times I've thought about you..." his hand is under your skirt again, playing with the hem of your panties as your back remains against his chest, "Did things thinking about you," he pushed his hand in your underwear, his middle finger gently rubbing your clit as his mouth remains against your ear.

"I once skipped class because of my filthy thoughts about your pretty little body," you moan when he begins to rub you faster, your back arching in pleasure as he leaves a couple of kisses on your earlobe.

"My pretty little cheerleader, aren't you now?" he moves further down your cunt, caressing in and gently playing with it before circling your entrance, "Why didn't you approach me?" you struggle to let out between your quiet whimpers, "I'm a little shy sometimes y/n,"

His middle finger enters you fully, causing you to let out a loud moan. He begins taking a pace, which keeps getting quicker and quicker. "So shy," he keeps finger fucking you while his other hand holds yours over your waist just so that you stay in place.

"Oh God, Eddie," you nag, your free hand grabbing the one fucking you, just to make him understand you needed one more digit. He grins, adding his ring finger only to watch you fall apart more.

"I can't wait for my dick to be in there," he whispers, the hand that held you still letting go off your waist and instead, finding its way to your clit, where it kept on rubbing.

You moan faster and faster, pushing your ass against him just so you can hear his groans and curses coming out of his lips, "Can I come?" you question and he moans, "What a well-behaved girl," Eddie praises, keeping on with his movements, "Help yourself, beautiful," he smiles, allowing you to come all over his thick, ring-filled fingers.

You become a moaning mess, falling onto his bed as you try to catch your breath, your stomach rising up and down from the heaviness of your breaths.

Eddie smiles with satisfaction as he carefully places himself on top of you, slowly licking and kissing your bare belly. You quickly reach behind your back, unclasping your bra before throwing it on the floor next to you.

He almost chokes before kissing higher, finally able to place your nipple between his lips and suck, causing your back to tingle from the sensation.

Your fingers get lost in the maze of his hair as you gently push him closer to you. He moans. He loves it. Every single second of his face is buried inside your breasts is like heaven to him.

His hands carefully climb up your skirt, slowly pulling your panties off before placing them inside his pocket, "I might need those, you know," you giggle, feeling his smile grow against your breast, "I'm sure you have plenty of other ones that I can also steal," he chuckles, releasing you off his mouth to let you observe all the hickeys he had painted your body with.

"I'll hang that on my wall," he gives you a boyish grin that makes you laugh, "You are so stupid, Munson,"

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #stranger things smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #babysitter au

[musicforastylesrestaurant]

Hi hun, would you be in the mood to write something about dadrry dealing with his kids terrible twos pls

The Terrible Two’s.

masterlist || ask me anything <3

blurb masterlist is here.

authors note - something about lhh being a dad does something to me i simply cannot describe so enjoy my loves…!

word count - 1.4k

in which, travelling with your husband around europe hasn’t been the most smooth sailing, especially when your daughters currently experiencing her terrible twos.

Faith Anne Styles.

After dating your boyfriend Harry for just over a year, you fell pregnant at the lovely age of nineteen and now both of you are at the age of twenty one and had a beautiful baby girl.

The perfect mix of both of you.

But life wasn’t all that swell.

As you stand backstage at the One Direction concert in Oslo, Denmark ,the pulsating excitement of the crowd seeping through the walls from the support act McBusted.

You watched as your boyfriend, the charismatic Harry Styles, attempts to navigate the treacherous waters of your two-year-old daughter Faith's terrible twos.

It seems that tonight, the tantrum monster has reared its head, threatening to disrupt the carefully choreographed chaos of the concert.

Great timing there, Faith Baby.

You glance around and notice Niall, Louis, and Liam, all observing the situation with wide eyes and amused expressions.

Harry, ever the doting father, crouches down to Faith's level, his brows furrowing in concern.

"Hey, baby love," Harry cooed gently, his voice a soothing melody in the midst of the chaos. "What's got you feeling so gloom and doom, eh?"

Faith's tiny face contorts, her little fists clenched tightly as she lets out a shrill cry. The sound reverberates through the backstage area, drawing amused glances from the rest of the band.

Louis, unable to resist a cheeky remark, leans over to Liam and whispers, "I think little Faith here is giving Harry a taste of his own teenage rebellion. Karma's a funny thing, innit?"

You never knew Harry in his pre teen years, however from the stories that you had been told by his family and fellow bandmates, he was a bit of a cheeky chappy.

And you couldn’t help but think that Faith, at just two years old, had developed some of his cheeky persona.

Before going down for naps, she would negotiate about how she wasn’t tired and then proceed to jump out of her crib, running through the house the same way that Harry would.

If you ever went to the shops or the park, then you would often catch her talking to random strangers as she held onto your hand or sat in her stroller, waving at them and being the kind girl she is and due to her father most likely doing the exact same thing.

You knew your two year old shouldn’t be interacting with strangers but she was just simply too adorable.

Liam chuckles and nods in agreement, but their attention is quickly pulled back to the unfolding drama.

Harry tries a different approach, his voice filled with patience and understanding. "Faith, darling, let's try to use our words, yeah? What's making you so upset?"

But Faith's wails persist, growing louder and more intense with each passing moment. She falls to the floor, kicking and flailing her arms, her cries echoing through the backstage area.

You watched as Harry ran a hand through his shoulder length hair, you could see slight stress lines appearing on his forehead.

He took it exceptionally hard when Faith would be upset, no parent liked to see their child sad but Harry absolutely hated it. He would always sit with her until she felt up for talking and although she was only a two year old and could hardly form a coherent sentence he would nod his head and listen to every word she said.

Faith idolised him.

Niall chuckles, watching the spectacle unfold. "Well, she's certainly giving us a show, isn't she? The drama of the terrible twos."

Tell you about it.

Harry shoots Niall a slight glare, finding absolutely nothing about the situation taking place funny in the slightest,before refocusing his attention on Faith.

He kneels down beside her, speaking softly amidst the cacophony. “Hey, my love, I know it's frustrating. Let's take some deep breaths together, okay? In and out."

But Faith's tantrum continues to escalate. She starts throwing toys and objects around, her frustration seemingly endless. The backstage area is filled with the commotion, drawing curious glances from the crew members and dancers nearby.

One thing you hated was gaining unnecessary attention.

Louis leans closer to Liam, a mixture of amusement and awe on his face. "I never thought I'd say this, but Faith might just give us a run for our money in the energy department."

Liam chuckles, nodding in agreement. "That she does. But Harry's got this. He's a patient one, that lad."

Harry tries different tactics, attempting to distract Faith with a toy or a silly face. But her cries persist, and the tantrum shows no signs of abating.

The band members exchange glances, a mixture of amusement, sympathy, and mild concern. This is uncharted territory for them, witnessing Harry deal with the full force of a toddler tantrum.

Harry's voice remains calm, though a hint of exhaustion seeps in. "Faith, sweetheart, I understand you're upset. Can you tell daddy what's wrong?"

But Faith's words are muffled amidst the tears and screams, her frustration rendering her temporarily speechless.

She continues to lash out, her tiny body wracked with sobs.

You step closer, offering your support. "Harry, maybe it's best if we take a break. Find a quiet spot for her to calm down."

Harry nods, his eyes filled with determination. "You're right, love. Let's find a quiet room where she can settle."

Together, a crew member leads you as well as Harry and Faith away from the backstage chaos, seeking Together, you lead Harry and Faith away from the backstage chaos, seeking refuge in a nearby dressing room.

The familiar scent of hairspray and the faint echoes of music provide a contrast to the storm of emotions still raging within Faith.

Gently closing the door behind you, you find a comfortable corner where Harry can sit with Faith in his arms. The room is dimly lit, allowing a sense of tranquillity to settle in.

Harry cradles Faith, his touch gentle and reassuring. "Shh, my love. We're here in our little haven. Take your time, sweetheart. We'll wait until you're ready to talk."

And if it was up to both you and Harry, you would both wait an eternity.

Faith's cries gradually subside into sniffles, her breath hitching as she tries to regain control, gripping a strand of her fathers long curls whilst the other grips onto the hem of his shirt.

Harry's soothing presence provides an anchor in the midst of her emotional tempest.

You sit beside them, offering a comforting smile. "It's okay, Faith. Mommy and Daddy are here for you. We love you, no matter what."

Faith looks up at you, her tear-stained cheeks glistening in the soft light. Her eyes search yours, seeking solace and understanding. You gently stroke her hair, allowing the silence to envelop the room, giving Faith the space she needs to collect herself.

Minutes pass, and the tension begins to dissipate. Faith's breathing steadies, her tiny frame relaxing against Harry's chest.

The storm of her tantrum has run its course, leaving behind a weary calm.

Harry speaks softly, his voice a comforting lullaby. "Sometimes, my love, we get overwhelmed. It's okay to feel angry or frustrated. But remember, we're always here to help you through it."

Faith nuzzles closer to Harry, finding comfort in his words. She wraps her tiny arms around his neck, seeking solace in his embrace.

The best father daughter duo.

The door creaks open, and Niall peeks inside, his eyes filled with concern. "Is everything alright?"

You nod, a sense of relief washing over you. "Yes, No, Faith just needed some quiet time. She's calming down now."

There was no doubt that Niall was Faith’s favourite uncle when it came to the four boys.

Niall steps into the room, his face softening as he gazes at the scene before him. "You're doing a great job, you guys. Parenting isn't easy, especially in the midst of all this craziness."

Harry smiles, gratitude and weariness mingling in his eyes. "Thanks, Niall. It's a learning process for all of us. But moments like these remind us why it's all worth it."

The sound of music drifts through the door, a reminder of the support act performing still in full swing. The energy of the crowd and the rhythm of the songs pulse through the walls, but in this small sanctuary, you find a moment of calm amidst the storm.

As Faith's breathing evens out and her grip on Harry loosens, you lean in and plant a tender kiss on her forehead. "We love you, Faith. And we're here for you, always."

Always and forever.

For eternity.

#musicforastylesrestaurant #harry styles #harry styles angst #harry styles au #harry styles blurb #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles masterlist #harry styles fake ig #harry styles headcanon #harry styles x oc #harrystylesdrabble #harry styles fake social media #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harrystylesxreader #anon #harry styles one shot #harry styles writing #harry styles x yn #harry styles x you #dad!harry #dadrry

[kryptonitejelly]

flyboy universe - because i saw this and my brain went flyboy

jake being a menace, just something quick and fast, because merry christmas 🎄

“He could not,” the voice of one of Jake’s older nephews, a cousin’s son, rings out, hitting both your ears even before you step into the threshold of living room.

“He could too!” Another one of the brood protests, female this time, a niece of some sort.

“Could what?” Jake’s voice comes up behind you, filling the air with the question that had been hanging in your mind. You feel a palm coke to rest lightly on the small of your back, as he guides you both into the room.

“This,” the same female voice proffers up a phone from her perch on the sofa, in both Jake and your direction. You both catch sight of the video on her phone, only to see a two teens post football game, a boy running towards a girl with her arms outstretched, only to pick her up with a one arm lift.

“She thinks her boyfriend could pick her up like that,” the nephew supplements, a snigger hanging off the back of his sentence.

“He could,” the girl protests again, glaring daggers.

“That’s easy,” Jake says casually, as he tugs the back of his backwards baseball cap down, pulling the cap more securely on his head. It earns him a snort from both teenagers, and you watch them give him a once over, from head to toe.

“No offence Uncle Jake,” his niece begins, “I know you fly planes and all, but you’re old.”

It earns a chuckle from you, as you turn your head to catch the amused smirk that accompanies the amused glint in Jake’s eyes. Clearly, you find yourself thinking to yourself, they hadn’t seen their uncle on the beach with a shirt off. The oversized tees, sweaters and flannels he had been living in over the family Christmas break certainly hadn’t helped his case.

“Oh yeah?” Jake tilts his head slightly, his tone conversational and too casual, “wanna bet?”

“Ja-,” you begin, only to be cut off by an eager teen.

“How much?”

“20 for each of you,” Jake counters casually, slipping an arm around your waist, pulling you into his side.

You watch the teens exchange a look, before one answers on their collective behalf.

“Deal,” the response echos out just as a stream of adults, Emma, and a few cousins along with Grace enter the room.

“Ya’ll betting?” Emma asks first, eyeing the four of you.

“Apparently I’m too old,” Jake teases, slightly mocking but with no malice.

“To do this,” his niece shoves her phone out at the group of adults, the video replaying in screen. It creates a few knowing chuckles, and head shakes which go undetected by the unsuspecting teens.

“What did you bet?” A cousin asks.

“20, for each of us,” his nephew supplies, gleefully.

“Alright then,” his niece bounds onto her knees, hands resting on the back of the couch to look determinedly at Jake, “show us.”

You feel Jake’s fingers squeeze your waist lightly, and you look to meet twinkling green eyes.

“Oblige me?” He asks, “I’ll share my winnings,” he says to a snort of protest from the teens.

“I want 80%,” you caution him before stepping away, crossing the space to the other end of the vast living room.

“Watch and learn kiddos,” you see Jake say, throwing a wink to the two teens. You glance towards the side, to see amused grins colouring the features of the few cousins, Emma and Grace who are standing off towards the side.

It happens, Jake begins striding towards you, his pace slightly brisk, legs bringing him across the foyer in easy steps, before he bends, arm circling your leg, going beneath your butt cheek, and hoisting you up easily; you throw your arms around his neck in response, anchoring yourself, just as he tilts his head up for a kiss, which you meet by giving him a peck on his lips.

“No way,” you hear the teens exclaim, while grumbling, jaws slack in slightly shock.

“Pay up,” Jake turns, you still secure in his arms, as he grins at the teens.

“You really should pay more attention to Grandma’s photos,” Emma supplies with a laugh as she tilts her head towards a row of photos sitting atop a nearby mantle, “rightmost.”

You see the teens squint, only for their jaws to drop further open, as they catch sight of a picture of you and Jake from years ago, him in his football attire, with you hoisted up against him in one of his arms, you both grinning at each other in pure, unadulterated teen excitement.

The teens sigh dramatically as Jake takes a step back closer to them.

“I don’t have cash with me,” one protests.

“Venmo,” Jake drawls, as he bends his knees slightly to set you down.

“Uncle Jaaaaake,” his niece whines, as the adults standing at the side filter back around to settle into various parts of the living room.

“A bet is a bet,” Jake laughs, as he turns to kiss the side of your temple.

#flyboy #flyboy drabble #flyboy idea #flyboy universe #jake seresin #jake seresin x you #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x y/n #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin imagine #jake hangman seresin x you #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin imagine #hangman seresin #hangman seresin x you #hangman seresin x reader #hangman seresin imagine #hangman x you #hangman x reader #hangman imagine #hangman #top gun maverick #top gun imagine #top gun maverick imagine #top gun #not cm #top gun christmas