Night Nurse

This was something I didn’t know I needed 😩😫😩😫

Ocean Eyes

Austin North x Reader x Drew Starkey

Summary: Your boyfriend and his best friend have a lot in common. For one thing, they both like watching the other fuck you.

warnings: unprotected sex, voyeurism, threesome, mentions of cockwarming, p*rn with a plot

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies

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When your boyfriend’s best friend said he wanted to watch one night, you were a little too tipsy to take him seriously, let alone consider the awkward aftermath of such a request. Everyone was drinking and saying things they didn’t really mean or give a second thought to, so naturally you figured the other man was no exception. You let out a light laugh as his words reached your ears beyond the low music, wrapping your arms around your boyfriend from behind.

“You’ll have to ask Austin.”

Your tone was light, words slurring just a tad as you said it before resting your cheek against his back. You could feel the vibration as he laughed, hand reaching up to rest over yours on his stomach. When he threaded his fingers through yours, you lifted your gaze, catching his eye as he glanced over his shoulder. There was a small smirk on his pink lips before he glanced over to the third party in this conversation.

“Yeah, sure,” he lightly said. “Why not…”

It was his shrug and the shared chuckle between the two that led you to believe it was all jokes.

However, an hour and a half later, when Austin was leading you upstairs by the hand—and Drew was only a step behind—you started to think that the conversation wasn’t as lighthearted as you’d led yourself to believe. You gave the other man a weird look over your shoulder, convinced he was just taking a joke too far, but when his blue eyes met yours, there was an excited glint there that gave you pause.

“Wait, you guys are serious?” you finally wondered to your boyfriend, blinking at him with parted lips when Drew followed you both into the room.

Austin’s hands were on your waist as he pulled you against him, chest flush with yours, and you didn’t know if you should blame it on the alcohol, but you couldn’t ignore the excited flip in your stomach when you heard the lock click behind you. The faint sound of music bled through the walls, reminding you of the party still going on downstairs.

“It’s Drew,” was his simple response, shrugging at you like the other man was practically nothing. “Just pretend like he’s not even there.”

Those last words were a whisper as he leaned in, lips grazing yours almost unsurely, as if testing the waters and giving you time to back out. Drew, your boyfriend’s best friend—and your friend—was very quiet, making it easy to do just as Austin suggested. You were deep in thought as you looked between his eyes, thinking about how much you really wanted to have sex with your boyfriend.

There had never been a time when you wanted to have sex with him, and you didn’t have sex with him. You were starting to understand less and less why tonight needed to be a first just because Drew was sitting in the corner. You knew that if you looked over at him, you’d lose your nerve, and you didn’t want to. Reaching up, you covered Austin’s hands with your own, humming to yourself.

“Okay,” you whispered in a small voice, just loud enough for him. “He’s not even there.”

You kept that in mind as Austin kissed you, allowing your eyes to close and kissing him back. The alcohol in your system definitely helped with the nerves that were threatening to take over, and you had to remind yourself that Drew only wanted to watch. It wasn’t like anyone was suggesting more than that, and the thought of that was so nerve-wracking that your current reality seemed like nothing in comparison.

It wasn’t long before you were kissing your boyfriend and touching him the same way you did when you two were alone. In fact, when he was propped up on the bed and your knees were on either side of his waist, you’d forgotten about Drew entirely. You were only concerned with being as close to Austin as possible, one hand traveling down his torso before stopping at the waist of his pants.

He huffed when you did, and you giggled at his frustration.

You could feel how hard he was, and the only thing that prevented you from prolonging the inevitable was how badly you wanted him inside of you. When one of his hands grabbed yours, you didn’t stop him, smiling into the kiss as your hand was guided past the fabric. Sliding past another layer of fabric, your fingers grazed the length of him, wrapping your hand around him and feeling satisfied at the shudder you felt.

With one arm curving around your waist, Austin lied back completely before rolling you both over. He was moving to gently push at the bottom of your skirt while you stroked him, hand sliding and gently twisting around his cock. Soft lips met the expanse of your neck, and you threw your head back to give him more room, a soft moan escaping your lips.

You were still stroking him when his fingers grazed over you, a thin layer of fabric preventing skin to skin contact that was quickly removed. The cool air against your wet pussy lips forced a shiver down your spine, but another quickly followed for a whole other reason, and your chest arched up against your boyfriend’s.

One long finger stroking your walls felt like a tease, and when he added a second, your toes curled. Whatever moan was threatening to climb out of your throat was swallowed by his lips, mouth covering yours in a hungry kiss. The feel of his fingers inside of you almost made it hard to concentrate on caressing his cock, fist tightening ever so slightly around him and pulling a groan from his mouth.

His other hand was just dipping underneath your shirt before he pulled away completely.

“Get this off,” he murmured, helping you pull the thin fabric over your head.

He wasted no time in reaching for your bra, easily unhooking it, the pink thing thrown haphazardly on the floor somewhere just as he leaned down. When his lips covered one of your breasts, a hardened bud against his tongue, you reached up to thread your fingers through his blond locks. Your gaze was on the ceiling even though your lashes kept fluttering, eyes open half the time.

You were intently focused on getting naked, happily lifting your hips when he reached down to pull at your skirt. Determined to be on even ground, you tugged at his shirt, and you smiled up at him when he sat up to give you what you want. However, when Austin reached behind his head to yank it off, your eyes caught sight of someone you’d wholly forgotten about.

Drew’s gaze was intensely focused on the sight before him.

The reminder of his presence had actually given you pause, a brief feeling of self-consciousness filling you. You figured it was noticeable, because your attention was pulled away from the other man, Austin’s hand resting on your cheek as he softly pressed his lips to yours. The kiss was tender, meant to be reassuring, and it did its job.

“He’s not even here,” your boyfriend whispered against your lips. “It’s just you and me.”

You nodded, repeating those words to yourself, teeth pressing into your lip when you helped him get his pants off. From the corner of your eye, you were reminded of Drew’s presence again, but you forced yourself to keep your gaze on Austin’s cock, reaching for it as you sat up. Not wanting to see Drew at all—knowing you’d probably lose all your nerve if you so much as made eye contact with him—you leaned over and wrapped your lips around the length of your boyfriend.

Cheeks hollowed and hand around the base of him, you bobbed your head and slid your lips over what you could reach. You didn’t ease into it, satisfied at the sound of Austin’s sharp intake of breath, and you only grew more comfortable at the feel of his fingers massaging over your scalp. It was a soothing feeling that contrasted against the heat between your legs, making your eyes roll.

You couldn’t stop yourself from reaching between them, touching yourself. You brushed your fingers over your clit before sliding them between your folds with ease, moaning at the feel, the vibrations traveling to his cock. The sounds of your mouth were loud in the room, saliva coating his length and making the glide of your tongue along his shaft seamless.

Again, you didn’t know if it was the alcohol or simply getting caught up in being with your boyfriend, but you’d once again forgotten about Drew on the other side of the room. When Austin pulled you off of him, hands on your cheeks as he pressed his mouth to yours, you could only moan into the kiss as he pushed you back.

With your back flat against the bed, you parted your legs with ease. A hand was on each ankle as your boyfriend bent them, making himself comfortable between your thighs before pushing his hips forward. The tip of him grazed you, making you suck in a breath between your teeth, and when he just barely slid past your lips, you exhaled. When he continued moving closer, you threw your head back, lips parted, and you didn’t even realize his name fell from your lips once he’d completely sheathed himself inside of you.

No time was wasted, Austin’s thrusts already picking up a steady rhythm. His knees were pressed into the bed as he towered over your frame, and your own knees were slowly pushed towards your chest. You were hyperaware of the length of his cock at this angle, thighs pressed together with the soles of your feet on his stomach. Every pull pulled a shudder from you, and you groaned his name again.

Every thrust made you wetter, Austin pulling out until only the tip remained before thrusting back inside of you to the hilt with ease. Your lashes kept fluttering, and you got lost in the feel of him fucking you. You were half focused as you trailed your hands up towards your chest, touching yourself and pressing your head into the pillow. You heard your boyfriend curse, and you turned your head to the side, barely peeling your eyes open.

You briefly tightened around Austin.

Your gaze met a familiar blue one, and you couldn’t stop the way your stomach flipped at the reminder that you were being watched. Drew wasn’t even touching himself, just sitting on the loveseat in the corner of the room, unwavering gaze focused on you. It did something to you that you didn’t know how to explain, fluttering around your boyfriend’s cock again.

His best friend’s hands were occupied, one wrapped around a beer and the other just resting on his leg when you lowered your eyes. You watched the way his fingers occasionally twitched—as if he desperately wanted to do something with them. Such a thought just made you wetter, and to your dismay, it was noticeable. A soft laugh reached your ears, and when you turned your head forward, Austin was grinning at you.

It was mischievous and haughty and proud all in one—you’d been caught.

You liked that Drew was watching you, his blue gaze focused on the way your boyfriend fucked you into the mattress. You never thought you would like to be watched, something you’d never entertained thoughts of before, but there was a brief wonder if it had nothing to do with being watched…but being watched by Drew.

When Austin lowered your feet and parted your thighs, you gasped. You were so pleased at the feel of him completely lowering himself against you that you didn’t care how he chose to maneuver you both along the bed. His face was pressed into the crook of your neck, leaving kisses along the skin, and your legs were completely spread to accommodate him as his knees found comfort underneath your thighs.

Your hands ran along his back, nails grazing his skin and occasionally pressing into it. When his lips trailed over your jaw before covering yours, you moaned into the kiss. All the while his thrusts didn’t stop, the force of them jostling the bed, and when you could feel yourself dripping around him that’s when your position registered in your brain.

Drew had the perfect view of Austin’s cock sinking into you, stretching you out and sliding between your folds.

The realization turned you on so much that you could feel that familiar tightening deep within your gut. Your nails scratched along your boyfriend’s back, a choked gasp leaving your lips. You attempted to lift your hips, meeting his thrusts and feeling almost…feral. Your moans and whimpers filled the room, hands sliding over his arms when Austin pushed himself up to hover over you. Your legs fell around him as he repeatedly hit something inside of you that made your breath hitch.

Your boyfriend leaned down to kiss you again, and when he pulled away, your eyes lowered.

Underneath his arm, you could see Drew, your gazes connecting. The sight of him staring at you made you clench down on Austin’s cock again, and it was hard to swallow down your moans. You felt hot and tingly all over—as you always did—but it was so much more in this moment. You couldn’t stop staring at Drew, and when he lifted his arm, bringing the neck of the bottle to his lips, something about the way his eyes glinted in that moment sent you over the edge.

You wrapped your legs around your boyfriend as you came, unable to hold back the sharp gasps that left you. You clung to him, squeezing your eyes shut and trembling at the knowledge that Drew was watching you come. Your own orgasm triggered Austin’s, the blond finishing inside of you, and his thrusts grew slow, lazily pushing into you as you milked his cock.

There was a loud roaring in your ears, and you knew that Austin said something, but you didn’t hear what it was. Stars floated in your vision, and you had the brief thought that you’d never come that hard in your life. You were still catching your breath when your boyfriend pulled out of you, and your hearing only just returned as you watched Drew come back into the room.

You hadn’t even noticed him leave.

You looked between them as he handed your boyfriend a small towel, and you realized that Austin had been speaking to him, not you. When he kissed down your frame, small towel in hand to clean up the mess between your legs, your gaze traveled to the other man standing by the bed. Any hint of self-consciousness you’d felt before was now gone, and all that remained was a dull heat, unable to make sense of your thoughts as you forced yourself to break eye contact.

You’d thought that things would be awkward. After all, it wasn’t every day that your mutual friend wants to see you and your boyfriend have sex, and it wasn’t every day that you two follow through on the suggestion. Everyone had been drinking and feeling bolder than usual, so you figured at best, things would be awkwardly written off as uncharacteristically drunken antics, and at worst, you wouldn’t be able to look your friend in the eye ever again.

You had never considered a third option.

You were sitting in Austin’s lap—not unusual—and despite the fact that your eyes were on the screen, you weren’t actually focused on any part of the movie. Carlacia and Madelyn were mostly talking through it anyway despite how hushed the conversation was. No, something else was going on that had all of your attention.

Your boyfriend’s fingers were dancing along your waist. It was a normal thing for him to do whenever you were near. It was even normal for them to barely dip into the waistline of your jeans occasionally, fingertips gently grazing the skin there. His other hand was on your arm, and his chin rested on your shoulder, and he’d periodically turn his head to kiss the skin just under your ear.

None of these things were abnormal.

Drew observing all of these things was abnormal.

The dirty blond was seated on the couch across from you, and despite your fixated gaze on the TV, his own stare was obvious out of the corner of your eye. It was odd, it was new, and under any other circumstances, you might’ve jokingly said something—a snarky or teasing comment always ready at the back of your mind. However, there was one simple fact that made you bite your tongue.

Austin knew that Drew was staring.

You didn’t know how you knew that, but the fact of the matter was that you did.

Maybe it was in the way Austin chose to sit down directly across from his best friend, pulling you into his lap. Maybe it was the silence between them and lack of interaction with everyone else, used to the odd comment or discussion about whatever was happening on screen. Or maybe it was the way Austin would sometimes stare straight ahead at Drew, not even pretending to pay attention to the movie even if only for a few seconds.

Drew was watching you…your boyfriend knew…and he was feeding into it.

Why?

The most obvious answer seemed the craziest to you. After all, it was one drunken night that you chose not to read too much into. Apparently, you were the only one to hold that sentiment, quickly looking away when you glanced over, eyes meeting a familiar blue pair. You fought to ignore the way your face heated up, telling yourself you only felt weird because Austin and his best friend refused to act normally about this.

You didn’t want to acknowledge how you still thought about Drew’s stare as he watched Austin slide his cock into you. You tried not to linger on how much it had turned you on to hold his gaze while your boyfriend fucked you, fingers twitching and possibly yearning for something to touch. You kept telling yourself that things could go back to normal if it weren’t for the two blondes playing whatever game they decided they liked.

It wasn’t just you sitting in Austin’s lap during a movie. It was the other week when he’d kissed the back of your neck, just barely bending you against the counter in the kitchen. Drew had been on the other side. It was last Tuesday when your boyfriend twirled you in the new dress he bought you, asking Drew what he thought—something he’d never done before. It was yesterday when you bought a milkshake, Austin suggesting that you let Drew have a taste too despite the fact that there was only one straw.

No one was more relieved than you when the movie ended, and your friends started to leave your boyfriend’s place one by one. You looked forward to being able to finally relax, and you tried to ignore the way Drew lingered, seeing the rest of your friends off alongside you. You convinced yourself that he would be leaving right after he used the restroom, but the way Austin pulled you into his lap the moment he disappeared had you second guessing yourself.

“Drew’s still here,” you whispered to him when his lips met yours.

When he barely pulled away, his blue eyes searched yours. Your boyfriend’s arms were circled around your waist, and there was an expression on his face that you couldn’t quite name. Despite that, your heart still skipped a beat in your chest at the sight of it, and for some reason, a warm sensation settled between your legs when Austin pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“Is that okay…?” he softly wondered, something else unspoken in that question.

There was no alcohol in your system today, so whatever answer you gave to the silent question in his eyes when he pulled away would be all you. There wouldn’t be anything you could blame it on, and you swallowed at the thought of what happened that night no longer being confined to a drunken and impulsive choice at a party. Your heartbeat felt so heavy and loud, but the twisting sensation deep in your gut overpowered that.

It was a reluctant admission, but you liked having Drew watch, breath shaky at the mere memory of his eyes on you while Austin was inside of you. It brought on a kind of arousal you didn’t think was possible for you, and you knew that your eyes told an answer before your lips did by the way the corner of Austin’s mouth curved upwards just so slightly.

“Yes,” you barely breathed. “That’s okay.”

You closed your eyes when he kissed you again, his hands sliding to the small of your back. The TV was off, and the only light that bled into the living room came from the kitchen. You felt more nervous than last time, and you almost wished that you did have a shot of something in your system. When Austin got your jeans off, your panties going with them, you were embarrassed by how wet you already were.

When your boyfriend’s fingers touched you, the soft laugh that reached your ears was more sly than humorous.

You didn’t need to admit to him that you were turned on by Drew watching him fuck you—it was obvious. Not only was it evident in the way you were already dripping at the thought, but also in the way you pulled at your boyfriend and his clothes, needing him naked and on top of you in any way.

Your knees were pressed into the couch, hands digging into the arm of the couch, when you glanced up. Austin was behind you, a hand on your hip while his other stroked himself. Your heart felt like it was about to jump out of your chest, even more so at the sight of a familiar figure standing at the entrance to the living room.

The light of the kitchen behind him created a shadowy outline of your friend, but you could still make out his features. His blue eyes sparkled in the limited lighting, and you didn’t miss the way his tongue darted out to touch his lip. Austin’s fingers danced up your spine before he slid his cock into you in one smooth thrust.

The swift intrusion made you gasp, and you dug your nails into the fabric of the couch. Your boyfriend’s cock was soaked in your essence in no time, each thrust smoother than the last as you only grew wetter at the sight of Drew watching you. With no TV or music on, the rest of the house was quiet.

The only thing that could be heard was Austin’s soft grunts, the gasps and whimpers you tried to bite back, and the lewd wet sounds of your boyfriend’s cock plunging into your cunt. You almost felt ashamed of how wet you were, but you couldn’t find it in you to. You eagerly pushed back against Austin’s movements, meeting his thrusts.

You lowered your head for just a moment, unable to hold it up. The sound of skin slapping against skin soon reached your ears as his thrusts became rougher. You closed your eyes, focusing on the feel of your boyfriend’s cock easily sliding along your walls, stroking that fire inside of you and making your toes curl. Austin bent over you, and you shuddered when his lips grazed your ear.

“Can he touch you?”

The question was evenly whispered into your ear, the nature of it startling you, making you lift your head.

Your lips parted at the sight of Drew standing so close, now. You hadn’t even heard him move, and Austin’s lips were still at your ear as you stared at his best friend, your lashes fluttering at the feel of the long and slow movements he’d now adopted. A drawn-out moan crawled from your throat when your boyfriend completely pulled out before slowly dipping his cock back into you.

Your arms gave an answer before your lips could.

You reached out towards the blond before you with one hand, the other twisting into the fabric of his shirt. His hand was tight on yours, steadying you as the force of Austin’s thrusts jostled you. You were surprised to feel Drew’s free hand on your face, thumb brushing along your lips and pulling at them. It wasn’t hard to imagine what he was thinking about when he slipped his thumb past them, and without even thinking about it, you wrapped your lips around the appendage.

At the glint that passed through his gaze, you sucked on it.

You were so close, and you knew your boyfriend could tell. He could always tell, and you only moaned his name when his hand rested on your throat, pulling you back against his chest as he sat up. The hand that was intwined with Drew’s guided it to your chest, and your eyes rolled at the feel of him taking your nipple between his fingers.

“I’m…” you gasped, words dying in the air as your breath hitched.

Austin’s thrusts were growing sloppy, uneven, and you could feel your own body starting to tighten.

“Fuck, look at you.”

Drew’s voice had you mentally tumbling, clenching down on Austin just after he started to spill inside of you. You frantically grabbed both of Drew’s hands as you did, tightly squeezing them as you came around your boyfriend—hard. Drew didn’t let go, keeping hold of your hands as he watched you push back against Austin, still fucking yourself onto his softening cock.

There was a dull buzzing beneath your skin all over, and you were very aware of Austin’s fingers harshly pressing into the skin of your waist and Drew’s hands against your clammy ones. Every lazy push onto your boyfriend made you shudder some more, remnants of your orgasm still passing through you, and if he minded the overstimulation, he didn’t protest. A thin layer of sweat coated your skin.

When the other blond pulled out of you, you collapsed in Drew’s arms, fighting to catch your breath. When your boyfriend said something about running you a bath, you only gave a hum and a lazy nod, eyes drooping as you rested your cheek against Drew’s torso. You didn’t want to let go of his hands, and you desperately tried not to read into that.

If anyone noticed the way Drew’s fingers would graze your waist when he walked by, they didn’t speak on it. You hoped that no one would think anything of him resting his hands on your shoulders sometimes or the way he was always the last one to leave Austin’s place whenever he had people over. You liked to think that you and Austin being the last to leave his place maybe evened it out.

You were addicted to the overwhelming feel of your boyfriend’s cock inside of you and his best friend’s eyes on you.

The first time had been an impulsive alcohol fueled decision. The second time had been a sober level-headed one by all accounts, a reluctant silent admission of what you wanted. The third and fourth and fifth time was pure indulgence of unrestrained desires, gaze meeting a familiar blue pair every time as you put on a show for him.

Sometimes he’d stand near, pinning your hands down while Austin fucked you or fisting his hands into your hair while you moved your mouth over your boyfriend’s cock. Each time, Drew got a little more bolder and participated a little more, never kissing you…never fucking you…but leaving you wishing that he had.

You thought of the times you came around Austin while staring at Drew. One leg on the counter chair while Drew watched from the living room. Holding his gaze as he stood behind the couch, watching you push yourself down onto Austin’s cock over and over again. Head hanging off the bed as you stared into his eyes upside down, your boyfriend curving his hips into yours.

You knew it was only a matter of time.

…and sometimes you wanted it, usually in the heat of the moment when you could only think about being held down and fucked into the bed. However, once the moment passed, you sometimes found yourself wondering if that was a good idea. The situation you found yourself in was already messy, and actually having sex with the other blond man would just make things messier.

At least, that’s what you thought.

Already he touched you and navigated around you like he was your second boyfriend instead of whatever he actually was. It wasn’t something that was ever discussed—at least to your knowledge—and Austin didn’t seem to mind whenever his best friend would touch you and stroke you and cup your chest. That was fun in the name of the heat of the moment though, and it was fun that never progressed into anything more.

It never occurred to you that Drew and Austin were on the same page.

…and only waiting for you to catch up.

The moment Chase left the house, Austin guided you to your feet, his cock slipping out of you with a soft ‘pop’. Keeping your boyfriend nice and warm inside of you had tested you more than you thought it would. Especially around your friends who were none the wiser—all except one. Drew’s heated gaze told you that he knew what was going on even if Austin never did, and every brush of your thighs as you walked to his room only made your arousal worse.

You could only focus on chasing your high when you finally sank yourself down onto Austin’s cock. It was still wet from your juices, enveloping him with ease as you dripped down your thighs. You both let out the same soft sigh, your boyfriend’s hands immediately finding a home on your waist. For the first time in a month, you forgot all about the other person in the room.

Your hands were flat against Austin’s chest, steadying yourself to slide up and down his cock. You kept pulling yourself up until only the tip remained before completely covering him again, lashes fluttering. When you leaned over to kiss him, he grinned into it, arms snaking around your waist before bending his knees, pushing himself up into you.

The shock of it made you gasp, nails pressing into his shoulder as he sat up. You circled your hips in his lap, your boyfriend’s lips grazing over your collarbone and teeth nipping at the skin of your chest. When his hand slid from your waist and up in between your breasts, you let your head fall back. The same hand slowly snaked around your throat as he pushed himself to his knees, and with your head almost touching the mattress, he jerked his hips into yours.

You moaned at the feeling, and when your eyes focused, you were reminded of Drew’s presence.

Even upside down, the intensity in his gaze was undeniable, and you could only think about both of their hands on you. Too many times you thought about Drew’s lips on yours or the feel of his weight pressing down on you or what his cock would feel like inside of you. As Austin thrust into you again, you let out a choked whine.

“Fuck me,” you moaned, hand reaching out to him.

You didn’t miss the smirk that danced along his lips as your words reached his ears. Austin pulled you upright then, pulling you into a kiss as he fell back. You were eager to start working your hips over him again, sliding yourself down onto him and clenching every time you lifted yourself. When you sat up straight, hands pressed to his stomach, your boyfriend was grinning up at you.

You didn’t quite understand why until a hand curled around your throat.

Your gasp was loud—from both shock and excitement—and when Drew pulled your head back, his lips covered yours. The kiss was hungry and head-spinning, his other hand covering a breast while Austin had a tight grip on your hips, lifting his own hips and still fucking you. Drew’s hand tightened just a tad on your throat, and you moaned into his mouth.

When both of his hands slid down, he pulled you off of your boyfriend.

Back flat against the bed, you looked up at him in wonder as he got undressed, Austin briefly sliding two fingers into you, curling them and making you excitedly jolt. When Drew made himself comfortable between your legs, he was stroking himself, and you watched with parted lips. It was only just hitting you that you were about to fuck someone who wasn’t your boyfriend, and when Drew dragged you closer, your stomach flipped.

When the head of his cock pressed against your opening, you excitedly rolled your hips. He chuckled at that, tightening his grip and holding you in place. As he slid into you inch by inch, cock brushing along your lips, you let out a silent moan, mouth formed into an ‘O’ shape.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he breathed, resting against you and basking in the feel of you wrapped around him. “She’s choking me.”

His awe didn’t last for long, pulling back before swiftly thrusting back into you. The bed shook from his movements, and just when you were about to reach down and touch his hands, Drew grabbed one of your legs. He pushed it towards you, resting his hand on the bed there to keep it in place, your leg bending over his arm. The new angle had you gasping, his cock hitting something in you that wouldn’t allow you to catch your breath.

You could admit to yourself now that you’d wanted this since that first night. You hadn’t just been turned on by the sight of him watching you, but in the back of your mind, there was curiosity about what it’d feel like too. You recalled the twitch of his fingers, and how on some subconscious level, you’d known it was you he wanted to touch.

Your nails pressed into his shoulders, this new length and girth making you flutter around him. It was just like you imagined, feeling stretched out and so full in a different way than what you were used to, squirming beneath him to adjust. He snapped his hips against yours, gaze lowering every so often to focus on where he disappeared into you. You followed his lead, mesmerized by the glistening of his cock, the length covered in your essence and evidence of how badly you wanted him.

His free hand was pressed into your hip so firmly that you knew it would probably bruise.

You liked the thought for some reason, a shudder passing through you at the thought of walking around with a mark given by him. Every push of his cock into you resulted in you clenching down on him, as if trying to pull him back in and keep him there. You were thankful when he let your leg fall, letting you wrap your legs around him, hooking your ankles at the small of his back.

With your head just at the edge of the bed, you were unsurprised to see Austin approaching you, his hands resting on your cheeks as you tilted your head back. Opening your mouth for him, you let him dip his cock into it, sliding his length along your tongue. You could feel Drew nipping at you, teeth grazing your skin, and you shuddered at the onslaught of sensations. You only had a brief reprieve when he flipped you over, hands pressing into the bed just as he pulled you back onto him.

Your boyfriend’s hand found a home in your hair, pulling your face closer to him. His cock went in easier this time, gliding back and forth over your tongue. You sucked in your cheeks, sliding your mouth over the length of him, a moan escaping at an intentional thrust from Drew, and Austin groaned at the feel. When his hands tightened against your scalp, you relaxed your jaw.

You couldn’t deny the way you tightened around Drew as Austin fucked your face, hips gently surging forward as he used your mouth. When you looked up at him, your gaze met his, and your heart fluttered at the way he cupped your face. You noted that you could taste yourself on him, and you held his blue eyes with your own while Drew continued to plunge his cock into you, chasing both of your highs. The heavy breathing from both of them affected you, and you couldn’t stop yourself from reaching down and touching yourself, the tips of your fingers lightly meeting Drew’s cock.

When Austin came onto your tongue, he stilled in your mouth, sighing above you before partially pulling out. He stroked himself onto your tongue, lightly tapping the tip of him against it, and only pulling away when he was satisfied. When you came around Drew, your head fell back down against the bed, stomach tightening as you shuddered beneath him.

He didn’t stop fucking you even when you collapsed, hips slapping against your backside until he finally came too, thrusts growing sloppy and slow as he finished inside of you. You were still trembling when he did, vision just a tad fuzzy, and when your boyfriend laid down beside you—still out of breath—you rested your head on his shoulder.

Drew took his time pulling out of you, and you felt so wet and satisfied and exhausted. You could feel him tracing patterns into the skin of your back after a while, and when your boyfriend started playing with your fingers, you only worried about who you were going to shower with.

Fortnite C.S

pairing: chris sturniolo x fem!reader

summary: chris is playing fortnite while also wanting the reader's attention

author's note: don't attack y/n for not playing fortnite its apart of the plot 😭😭 y/n is so goofy guys 😝

warnings: sassiness, cursing, attitude, horny chris

Chris was playing Fortnite, his eyes on the screen, and his fingers clicking and moving fast on the keyboard. He was very concreted in his game.

I was just chilling in his room in silence while Chris was obviously the opposite, considering he's playing Fortnite.

Chris loses on his game, and let outs a quiet breath, leaning back in his chair, deciding to take a more humble approach to not be loud, considering I was in the room with him, and also because he had lost a bunch of times, and simply decided to accept the defeat.

Suddenly the thought of me hits Chris, remembering I was also there, and he should probably check on me to see if I'm okay, considering the silence felt uncomfortable, and he frankly missed me.

He turns his head to look at me before spinning the entire chair around to face me with his undivided attention on me.

"Hey, baby," Chris called out, the sound of gunfire and explosions echoing in the background. "Come here for a sec."

I look towards him, hesitating in case he's streaming on twitch, knowing we like to keep our relationship mostly private.

"You're not twitching?" I ask softly, walking over anyway, and glancing from him, then his screen in confusion from what he wants from me.

"Nah, just wanted to see you," Chris replied with a genuine grin. "Come here and sit with me." He patted his lap, almost as if he's excited or insists on the idea.

I immediately start to chuckle, knowing that's a dangerous move as I play with his hair softly, him leaning into my touch.

"Oh, no, play your game, Chris." I encourage, looking towards the screen as my hands work on his hair willingly.

"You're not talking to your friends, are you?" I ask playfully, my eyes darting towards him, then the screen, the idea of anyone hearing this conversation right now being very concerning to me.

Chris lets out a breath of air, glancing towards his screen, and resting his palms on his thighs, "Nope, just you," he replied, his voice low and husky. "That's all I want right now." He tilts his head to the side, his gaze telling me he's being genuine.

My face softens, feeling my heart warm up of the thought of Chris wanting me.

I don't hesitate to slip into his lap, but sitting carefully and slowly, so I don't put my entire weight on him.

"That's it," Chris whispered, wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling me closer. His free hand found its way under my shirt, tracing lazy patterns on my stomach. "You feel so good."

The thought of Chris wanting me sexually gave me butterflies, but his sex drive was very bad, so we have to lay off that.

I remove his hands from me, ripping my eyes from his computer screen to look at him.

"No, stop," I command softly, putting his headset carefully back onto him.

"Play your game." I whisper, genuinely wanting to watch him do something he's passionate about.

I don't like games or Fortnite, but if Chris likes it, then I wanna try to get into it just so we can play together, bond over it.

Chris frowned slightly, but he didn't argue. He put the headset back on and focused on the game, occasionally glancing at me out of the corner of his eye to see if I was watching, and to just simply admire me.

My presence made Chris slightly nervous, which made him sweat, causing him to get bad at the game even more than he already was.

I wrap my arms around his neck over his shoulders, my eyes on the computer screen as I watch him curse under his breath either from trying to be humble as he got a kill, or trying to stay calm as he got killed.

"Shit, I thought I had him," Chris muttered, turning his head slightly to glare at me.

I took towards him, causing him to earn a dirty look from me, confused with what it has to do with me. Unless he just wanted to tell me, but he can use his critical thinking skills to know that I also saw him get killed while trying not to.

"Bitch, don't look at me like I did it." I mumble, looking towards the screen again.

Chris chuckled softly, shaking his head slightly. His fingers danced across the keyboard, strategizing his next move.

Right here-Chris Sturniolo

summary: chris is your best friend, he has been for a couple years. one night you and chris are laying on his bed talking about anything and everything, somehow the conversation leads to sex, where you tell him a confession, leading to him taking your virginity.

contains: smut, fluff, swearing, aftercare, chris talking u through it, virgin!reader.

-----------------┌─── ∘°❉°∘ ───┐-----------——

9:43pm

chris and I have been laying on his bed together, staring at the ceiling as the conversation rapidly switches between topics.

"remember like the first time we met, how it took us a solid hour to start up a real conversation" chris laughs,

"i was working chris! i was like 16 i wasnt gonna risk my job to leave from behind the counter to talk to you" i nudge him with a grin.

"working at topgolf.." he teases back, "i mean i only knew nick from middle school, but i did serve your food and we spoke!" i say defensivley.

chris shakes his head, rubbing his eyes before he adjusts his chain which hangs around his neck.

"what was...." chris starts, thinking about what to say next. i tilt my head on the pillow to look over at him.

"your worst sex experience." chris asks casually with a stupid smile on his face,

my heart sinks slightly, truthfully im a virgin, and i'm almost 21. chris has no idea about this.

a silence fills the room, i clear my throat "well- uh"

"oh my god how bad was it" chris laughs.

i feel tears somehow prickle at the corner of my eyes, it doesn't bother me that much.

a small laugh exits my mouth, chris looks over at me "are you okay-?" chris says with a small laugh.

"yes! yes i'm good-" i say, sitting up and crossing my legs.

"chris can I tell you something" i sigh, wiping my face as a nervous smile forms.

"anything- hey you know about that time at graduation when i went the wrong way when i went up on stage to get my fuckin' paper thing." he yaps,

"oh my god and they had to guide you in the right direction" i scoff back.

"stopp" chris groans, sitting up and pushing me over onto my side, "now speak"

"this is like- the wrong time but.." i start,

"i've never done like anythingg.." i say, dragging out 'anything'

chris goes silent,

"like you've never fucked-" he says, but i cut him off "yeah."

he nods understandably, "thats okay!" chris chirps. "are you planning to loose it or not?" chris asks

"well, i've always wanted to its just like i'm worried that i wont fully trust the person who i hook up, and it'll just be a desperation thing- i don't know though." i say, opening up to him

"yeah, that makes sense." chris nods.

"but i really want to, like its always on my mind" i groan, flopping my head back down onto the pillow.

"i mean we could fuck" chris says with a shrug, i laugh it off,

he's clearly joking...?

"no like honestly think about, i'm horny 24/7, your wanting to loose your virginity, and you trust me i think?" he continues rambling with a cheeky smile painted on his face.

chris says stuff, a lot of stuff, and i'd say 90% of it is unserious

"chris... stop fucking around this is a serious topic" i scoff.

"no, like actually- deadass." chris says, slightly more nervous than earlier.

i go silent, sitting up in bed and looking down at him "yeah?" i ask quietly, chris sits up aswell "i can't tell if you're being serious chris"

he grabs my jaw, "i'm serious.." chris leans closer to me, my heart thumps aggressively as i stare at the brunette's lips, which are practically begging to be kissed.

chris's hand falls slowly from my jaw to my hand, "like 100% serious right?" i ask again, my mind now not being able to comprehend that chris could be inside me in a matter of minute.

"100%." he says,

i rip my white tank top off from over my head, chris scrambles to remove his shirt, i pause for a second as chris's eyes lay over my exposed chest.

"chris- I don't know what i'm doing this is gonna be so embarrasing for me" i start, but chris interuppts me

"shh- sh." he shushes me, grabbing my hand again, "do you want me to talk you through it?"

i nod, playing with chris's long fingers as an anxiety reaction, "can you tell me with your words what you want please?"

with a wobbling breath i start, "please talk me through it, i- uh.. i need you? please."

chris nods, "oh shit wait,yeah- if you want i'll go get nick and matt out of the house, they won't think we're doing anything 'cause they know that i don't bring girls over to fuck,- and they wouldn't think we'd do shit together"

i shake my head 'yes' rapidly, "thank you."

chris stands up off the bed, throwing on his shirt and unlocking his door, he walks out of the door, closing it behind him as i lay back in his bed,

anxiety rushes through my veins, my bare back presses against the soft plush of his mattress that i have been so used to for so many years, where chris told me all about his first hookup at 16, now hes gonna be mine on this same bed.

i hear his distant chatter with matt, "hey we need some shit from target from tomorrow, take nick with ya hes probably interested in childrens toys" he says with a laugh before matt agrees,

chris walks back into the room a minute or two later, his cheeks instantly turning maroon again as he says me laying half naked on his bed, he takes a deep breath "matt and nick are going to target in a few, you okay?" chris asks, discarding his shirt to the side of the room again.

"yeah! i'm just nervous." i laugh slightly,

"about what?" he questions, flopping down on the bed next to me,

"i just feel like it's gonna hurt- or i mean.. i don't want this to change things between us, 'ya know?" i sigh.

i hear matts van pull out of the driveway, the small pebbles crunching under his tires.

"it won't hurt." chris says, his voice serious, yet reassuring.

chris sits up off the bed, he turns around to face me. i sit up aswell, i feel chris's large hands wrap around my waist, pulling me closer to him on the edge of the bed.

"i'm going to take these off, yeah?" chris says, his fingers lingering on the waistband of my shorts.

"yeah." i smile up at him, laying back on the bed. chris pulls my sweat shorts and panties down to my ankles in one yank, his eyes widening as i feel his gaze drawn between my thighs.

"so perfect," chris says, his voice raspy.

"okay- wait." he whispers, rubbing his eyes, "can I ask, when you say you've never done anything, what's the most you've done.. sexually" he almost cringes at his words.

"um.. probably just doing stuff with myself.?" i reply, chris nods "okay good."

"okay, just try not to be too loud, the neighbours are always in their backyard" chris laughs, hovering above me, his face directly ontop of me as i lay on the edge of the bed.

my eyes widen as i feel a veiny cold hand on the inside of my thigh, "you sure?" chris asks for the 80th time,

"chris i need you, yes- please."

i close my eyes, the brunette presses a finger against my hole "just gonna stretch ya out a little bit first hm?" he says from above me before pressing his long finger deep inside of me,

"fuck." i whisper under my breath, my back arching slightly off the bed.

he begins to curl that finger inside of me, adding another finger quickly

"look at me."

he says, i squint my eyes open, soft whimpers escaping my lips. i lock eyes with him as he continues to thrust his fingers in and out of me.

a desperate gasp escapes my mouth as i feel his mouth attatch to my clit, "oh my god- fuck oh my god." i repeat under my breath.

"gonna finish already for me?" chris says with a hint of a cocky tone in his tone.

i let out a loud whine which echoes through the room as i feel my orgasm rapidly approaching "you got it, im right here." chris says into my ear.

i instantly clench around his fingers, the knot in my stomach snapping with a moan of chris's name. "there she is, let me hear you."

i flop my arms above me on the matress as chris pulls his fingers out of me, he wipes them on my thigh before starting to yank down his sweatpants, leaving him in his boxers

“tell me when your ready okay?” chris says, sitting down on the bed next to me as i lay down,

“chris”

“yeah?” he replies

“thank you, you didn’t have to do this.” i say with a small smile, my cheeks still flushed.

“no honestly i’m more than happy to do this” chris laughs, earning a nudge from my elbow to his rib.

i sit up on the bed, giving chris a certain look. he nods, standing up off the bed and pulling down his boxers.

i stare very obviously at his length, my eyes fixed on the long vein which follows the whole left side of his cock.

“you okay?” chris laughs slightly, i look up at him “yeah, no- just nervous.”

chris grabs my hand “listen, i’m going to talk you through everything, it won’t hurt, i promise.”

“okay.” i reply, “what position do you want me in?” i ask slowly letting chris’s hand go.

“just lay down on your back, wanna see your face okay?” chris says with a smile.

i lay back down, my bare back hitting the soft plush of chris’s matress. chris takes my hand again, “squeeze my hand if you need a break” he whispers.

i breathe in heavily, then out as chris positions himself between my legs.

“can you spread a little more for me sweetheart?” he asks, the pet name making me clench around nothing.

i spread my legs further, chris admires me, the position i’m in right before his eyes.

“there we are.” he says under his breath,

“i’m just going to give you the tip, and if it’s uncomfortable tell me okay?” chris says, squeezing my hand lightly as he rests his tip against my core.

“please.” i breathe out, looking up at his addictive eyes.

chris slowly pushes inside of me, a burning sensation as i stretch around him. i let out a pathetic moan. he pauses,

“you took the tip, feeling okay?” chris asks, looking down at me, his brown hair flopping on his forehead as he leans down to hear my awnser.

“feels new.. but good.” i whisper, chris nods.

he nods before pushing further inside of me, i arch my back off the bed, strings of whimpers exiting my mouth, i squeeze chris’s hand hard, he instantly stops

“chris- how much more?” i ask, overwhelmed

“you took half, should we try the other half aswell?” chris asks in a serious tone.

after a few seconds i reply “yes.”

chris places a kiss onto my lips, i kiss him back.

my eyes widen, i guess it was a good distraction because i barely notice chris pushing deeper inside of me, i let out a pleasured moan “fuck- chris”

i feel him bottom out, he has small droplets of sweat sitting on his forehead, his pale cheeks are a deep red.

chris starts to speak after about half a minute of silence, accompanied by our shared heavy breaths. “can i move?” he says, “yeah.” i reply.

he slowly starts to thrust in, and out of me. almost pulling out, but then pushing back inside of me, his pink tip pressing against my cervix lightly.

“you’re doing so well, let me hear those pretty noises.” chris says, his voice low and croaky.

i fill the room with loud moans

“look at me, look at me.” chris says, grabbing my chin which is tilted upwards from throwing my head back. he tilts my head down, locking eyes with me.

“you feel so good around me mhm?” chris groans, my eyes squinted but still staring into his.

“i’m not gonna last long chris.” i whimper out, chris nods

“that’s perfect, i’ll tell you when to finish and you will” he replies, i nod frantically.

i feel my high coming, with every thrust i clench around chris.

“ready..” he says, almost whines,

“you okay?” i ask, my breathing intensifies

“just need to cum, real bad.” he replies, his voice strained.

and with that, i finish with a scream of his name.

chris instantly pulls out, painting my chest and stomach with white streaks. “fuck y/n, oh my god, fuck-.. fuck.” chris throws his head back, stroking his length a final few times.

he falls down on the bed beside me, propping himself up on his elbows.

after a handful of seconds he sits up, pulling me onto his lap. “you okay? you did so well, took me so well.”

“i’m okay.” i laugh into chris’s chest.

“let’s get you cleaned up.” chris says, tapping my hips then carrying me into the bathroom.

he places me down on the countertop before grabbing a damp cloth.

he pats my inner thigh with the cloth, he lets out a small laugh,

“yeah?” i question

“i never woulda thought you’d be screaming my name.” he says casually.

i scoff as chris leaves the bathroom, he comes back with the clothes i was wearing earlier he starts to redress me, his concentration at an all time high.

after chris had redressed he helps me off the counter, “cmon let’s go get something to drink.” chris says, grabbing my hand and leading me out of his bedroom.

i’m met with nick and matt, leaning on the kitchen counter. my heart stops, i thought chris got them out of the house?

chris instantly drops my hand “thought you guys were at target.” he says with a embarrassed laugh.

“we got 2 minutes down the road then decided to get it another day.” nick says, eyes fixed on chris’s.

“so are you two offical?” matt asks with a smile, chris’s head snaps round to look at him “what do you mean!” he says defensively

“trust me, we heard those fucking screams” nick laughs, slapping chris’s bicep.

“no guys, i can explain i swear.” chris starts, following nick and matt close behind, as they walk into the living room.

“it wasn’t what you think-“ chris rambles, i can hear the smile on his face.

i laugh to myself, shaking my head with a scoff.

————-

House of Balloons

Topper Thornton x Reader

Summary: It was storming the night he told you that no man in Outer Banks will ever love you like he does

warnings: Dub-Con, stepcest, loss of virginity, jealousy, underage drinking, kook!reader, non canon ages

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | ➥ divider by @firefly-graphics

⭑

You should’ve guessed that things weren’t right the night your brother punched your very first boyfriend in the face.

Your anger over his actions was only trumped by your embarrassment. The other unsuspecting teenager had been completely blindsided, falling out cold on the floor of the party while you had been temporarily frozen with shock. No matter what excuse Topper gave that night—words slurring and pupils blown—you hadn’t wanted to hear it. Your humiliation and confusion and irritation had made you shut him out completely, only made worse by your fears coming true when you were swiftly dumped two days later.

“He was too old for you, anyway,” was his only comment on the situation.

You’d been fourteen then, and your boyfriend was the same age as him.

Your dating life after that was sparse to say the least, hardly anyone wanting to go near the girl with the overprotective brother. Nonexistent wasn’t the right word to use. After all, you still took the odd brave guy or two up on their offers, skipping class and sneaking out of your room just to have something like the same experiences your friends were having. It worked for a time.

Until they decided they wanted something with less effort and trouble, and you supposed you couldn’t blame them.

“If you’d actually been honest with me, I could’ve long told you those guys were assholes and not to waste your time.”

That was what Topper told you the night you’d finally decided to confide in him, his expression lacking anger…but only holding disappointment. You didn’t know why that bothered you more than him being mad. Maybe it was because you looked up to Topper in ways that should’ve been reserved for your father. The day he married Topper’s mother, it was like you became less in his eyes, the older man finally gaining the son he always wanted.

Topper could be a suffocating dick sometimes, but the way he cared about you was comforting.

“What did you expect from me when you literally ran my first boyfriend off?” you wondered with a roll of your eyes, applying your blush. “Sue me for wanting to have the life you did.”

You could see the blond lounged along your bed in the reflection of your mirror, his blue gaze briefly lifting from the phone in his hand. He watched you sift through the myriad of lip glosses in your drawer before finally speaking.

“Yeah, I remember him. He was an asshole who with a preference for ‘fresh meat’, an asshole I explicitly told to stay away from you,” he told you.

You paused at that, catching his gaze in the mirror, and the corner of his lips twitched when you sighed.

“You could’ve told me that,” you mumbled. “You just kept saying that he was an asshole who didn’t deserve me. Surely, you knew that was like catnip to a high school freshman, right?”

You threw him a look.

“I blamed you for months when he broke up with me.”

Topper only shrugged.

“I knew you’d thank me one day,” he smugly replied, and you bit your tongue, refusing to give him the satisfaction even though the damage was done. “Besides, I did what any good brother should do—look out for you until you’re old enough to make your own choices.”

Done with your makeup, you merely pursed your lips, staring at him through the mirror as he scrolled on his phone. The longer the silence stretched, that was when Topper finally lifted his gaze again, and you scoffed the moment his eyes met yours.

“You’re trying to pretend like you’re still not a controlling asshole, and it’s actually upsetting,” you huffed, standing. “Like I didn’t see your eyebrow twitch the other night when I told your mother I had a date.”

Before you could grab the dress at the foot of your bed, Topper beat you to it. You watched him run a hand through his blond strands, making his way to your closet as your words hung in the air.

“That’s because you don’t have the best taste in guys,” you heard him throw over his shoulder.

He was in your closet, and the sound of shuffling fabric and moving hangers reached your ears. When he came back out, there was an entirely different dress hanging off of his hand, and you could only eye it as he neared you. He slowly held it out to you, blue gaze boring into your own.

“Your graduation dress looks better on you,” was his only comment.

You eyed it again, silently—and reluctantly—agreeing. You were slow to take it, met with the very smirk you didn’t want to see, and Topper’s voice carried into the bathroom as you shut the door behind you.

“Still, you’re eighteen, now, and I have to let you do what you want,” you rolled your eyes at his remark. “Even if what you want are lower-class Pogues who can’t even afford to take you on a proper date.”

Your dress wasn’t even zipped all the way when you swung the door open, face pinched as you glared at the other man. Topper was leaning against the wall next to the bathroom, and the lack of humor on his face told you that wasn’t a joke. You told yourself that this wasn’t surprising, very much aware of how classist your brother could be, but it didn’t do anything to lessen your anger.

“Could you be any more of a snob? His family doesn’t have a vacation house and a two-car garage, so now he’s low class?” you scoffed.

Topper tilted his head at you, an expression on his face that begged you to be serious.

“He’s not even picking you up. You’re meeting him at the beach. You call it romantic, I call it cheap and lazy,” he elaborated, straightening and invading your personal space.

You clenched your teeth when he reached out to gently touch your arms, forcing you to turn around without a word. One of his hands lightly touched your hip, holding the dress in place while his other pulled on the zipper. You could feel his cool breath against your neck, and you were unsurprised when another nagging comment met your ears.

“Maybe I wouldn’t have to be the asshole you think I am if you actually picked men worthy of your time,” he whispered.

When you looked at him over your shoulder, Topper merely shrugged, his expression telling you that he wasn’t happy about it, but he wasn’t going to stop you. Again, there was that disappointment flitting across his features, and it unfortunately had you second guessing things. Some part of you knew that Topper was right, but his quick dismissal of your potential boyfriend made your stubbornness rear its ugly head.

“Don’t wait up for me,” was all you told him as you grabbed your purse.

The only response you got was a slight snort, but Topper said nothing otherwise, both of you knowing that despite what you requested, he was absolutely going to.

The night Topper kissed you, you were drunk out of your mind.

That potential boyfriend became an official boyfriend who turned out to be a piece of shit. Your breakup coincided with some silly party your parents were throwing, Topper being your only age mate on the whole property, so it was only natural that you found yourselves on the back deck that connected to his bedroom. It was dimly lit and hidden away from any curious gazes that might be in the yard below.

“Can you just…not say I told you so?” you mumbled, finger tapping against the glass in your hand. “It’s bad enough that I told the whole family to account for him being here tonight.”

When Topper reached over to steal your drink, fingers grazing yours as he did, you let him.

“You know that’s not my thing,” he said, voice low. “Besides, it’s not like it’d do any good.”

You couldn’t hold in your soft chuckle, louder laughs in the yard overpowering yours, but theirs lacked your bitterness.

You didn’t even know why this breakup bothered you so much. The whole relationship lasted a month, but that did nothing to soften the blow. You’d dived head first into the relationship—as you always did—and so those thirty days just felt like ninety in your mind. You’d been hopeful, excited, and you recalled something a friend said once…about so much of the relationship happening in your head.

You were reluctant to admit that she’d been right.

Not unlike before, you’d made up so much of his personality. You’d given him attributes and an entire personality that didn’t align with reality, and that was why you felt blindsided. Looking back, there was nothing about him that told you he was a patient and loving and understanding guy, so was it really a shock when broke up with you? It’d been a month, and you weren’t ready to have sex with him, and so he responded in a way that guys like him usually did.

Anyone could’ve seen that coming, and yet…

“What’s wrong with me?”

You almost didn’t realize you’d said that, the words coming out in a small whisper before you could swallow them down. You liked to think it was the alcohol talking, but you knew that the brown liquor you’d snuck away was only just making you more honest. You were entertaining thoughts you normally preferred to ignore and shove down.

“Hey…”

Topper’s tone told you that he’d heard you loud and clear, and you only shook your head when his hand gently touched your arm.

“I mean…” you shrugged, throwing a hand out. “Am I not good enough to actually get to know?”

Topper said your name, and you heard him sit the drink down.

“If I don’t put out, am I just…not worth the effort?”

His voice was firmer this time when he said your name, and you hadn’t realized that he moved closer until his hands were on your arms and making you face him. There was a frown on his face as he eyed you, that blue gaze of his tracing your features.

“Stop letting these assholes get to you,” he told you. “You’re better than every single one of them.”

His advice was easier said than done, and so you didn’t respond, only frowning back at him before your eyes fell to the wood, tracing the lines in it.

“You have to say that, Topper,” you sighed. “It doesn’t exactly hit the same coming from you.”

You heard him release a heavy sigh too, his hands coming up to frame your face. When you were forced to look at him again, there was a look in his eyes that you couldn’t name. Topper’s blond hair wasn’t in its normal neat state, the light strands kissing his forehead as he ran his gaze over your face. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking, and so you were relieved when he voiced his thoughts.

“I’m saying it because it’s true…because I don’t actually have to say anything,” he continued, an edge to his voice. “I don’t have to tell you that I think you’re an insecure little girl who dates losers because you don’t have your father’s approval.”

You flinched at that, frown deepening.

“I don’t have to tell you that it pisses me off that you just don’t learn,” he bit out, and you hated how much his words stung.

…because they were true.

“You go after these guys who shouldn’t even have the confidence to approach you, and what kills me is that every time they break your heart, you go out prepared to repeat the process-.”

“Jesus, Topper!” you slapped one of his hands away. “What the hell?”

You sat up straight, tearfully glowering at him. The other guy didn’t look all that sorry, and you angrily wiped your face with a scoff.

“Is this your idea of comforting me?” you choked out.

The blond briefly looked away, and he at least had the sense to have some shame, a sheepish glint passing through his eyes. You watched him swallow, jaw clenching as he seemed to be choosing his next words carefully.

“You could just do so much better,” he finally said, tone thick with disappointment. “…and you choose not to.”

You bristled at his words.

“Let you tell it, no guy is good enough for me, so you’ll have to excuse me if I don’t take your critique to heart,” you spat.

“No guy is good enough for you.”

Topper wasn’t looking at you, but instead was staring straight ahead, one arm resting on a bent knee. The sounds of the party still provided some background noise, but you weren’t focused on that. You were more focused on the tightness in your brother’s jaw, a coldness in his blue eyes that wasn’t unfamiliar to you. Of all his friends, Topper was considered the nice one—the respectable one—but you were probably one of the few people who knew just how nasty he could be.

It was something that only one other person was able to bring out in him.

So…you didn’t know why you said it.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were jealous.”

You were trying to get under his skin…but you didn’t know that you were already there.

“Maybe I am…”

Topper’s tone was even, devoid of all humor, and he slowly turned to look at you.

His response took you by surprise, and your lips parted, prepared to jokingly tell him to shut up when his expression gave you pause. There was no mirthful twinkle in his eye, not even a mocking or condescending glint that told you he was playing along and trying to bother you just as much.

Topper was serious.

“Maybe I am jealous,” he continued, shifting to fully face you, now. “So, now what?”

You frowned at him, blinking a few times as your mouth opened and closed. You were all too aware of your heart in your chest…among other things. Like the fact that you two were alone and Topper was really close, and you’d had way too much to drink. The party downstairs felt so far away, and you briefly squeezed your eyes shut.

No, you and Topper didn’t share blood, but this revelation you were slowly coming to terms with unsettled you beyond belief. Topper couldn’t be jealous…not of your exes…because that implied that… You shook your head, looking away and having the strong urge to lie down.

“Do you know what it’s like? To know you give asshole after asshole a chance, and there’s nothing I can do about it?”

“Yeah, because-!”

“I know what I am, Y/N,” he cut you off. “You don’t have to remind me.”

He bitterly mumbled that last part, and you finally looked at him again.

“Topper…you can’t be jealous of my exes,” you slowly told him, the words coming out in a whisper like you were afraid to say it out loud.

You were all too aware of just how close he’d gotten, and it was hard to focus on anything else. You wanted to leave—needed to leave—but you couldn’t bring yourself to move. You watched his blue eyes flit over your face, studying you and drinking you in, and you sharply inhaled when you saw his hand lifting out of the corner of your eye.

“Well, that’s too bad,” he quietly responded, hand coming up to take hold of your jaw.

You pushed against his arm—and chest—but the blond wouldn’t budge, and a bout of panic took hold of you.

“Topper-!”

The rest of your words were swallowed and forgotten, his lips moving against yours in a kiss. It—in combination with the alcohol—made your head spin, and you gasped against his lips. He took the opportunity to taste the inside of your mouth, moving closer and pressing his chest to yours. One hand against his chest and one against his arm didn’t deter him, and you jumped when an arm tightly snaked around your waist.

You were practically forced into Topper’s lap, and the more he kissed you, the more you forgot about the party downstairs.

The alcohol made it hard to focus on what was important, your brain getting distracted and becoming preoccupied with the taste of alcohol on his tongue. You were hyperaware of his hand pressing into your waist and the way his other hand was so warm against your jaw, his thumb tracing patterns into your skin. The ministrations had your body heating up, and although you knew why you needed to stop, you couldn’t work your limbs to try harder to.

Your head fell back when Topper’s lips traveled to your throat, and he let your face go, fingers dancing down your frame.

When they found comfort on your thigh, your dress riding up in the commotion, you shuddered. They felt so hot against your skin, and the heat traveled all the way to your stomach, settling deeply there. Without thinking, you parted your thighs a bit, and you felt Topper hum against your throat. The sound was soon followed by his hand disappearing between your legs, and you involuntarily bucked your hips closer.

You were shocked at how easy it was for him to push a finger into you. It dragged a breathy yelp from your lips, your hand coming up to grab onto his shoulder when he added another. You spread your legs more, hips lifting, and you heard Topper curse as he sank his fingers into you. You couldn’t stop moaning, the alcohol making you lose all sense of caution, so you weren’t shocked when he kissed you again.

“Topper,” you gasped against his mouth.

It was wrong, and you remembered why it was wrong…but you couldn’t stop. Before where you’d been trying to push him away, you were now pulling him closer, lifting your hips to meet every curve of his fingers and toes curling against the wood of the balcony. You were dripping around him, now, something that would’ve embarrassed you had you been in your right mind, but at the moment, you only wanted to come.

When you did, he let your waist go to cover your mouth.

You couldn’t stop murmuring and mewling into the palm of his hand, his other hand still pushing fingers into you and circling your bundle of nerves with his thumb. Stars danced in your vision, and you felt the blond lean in and press kisses against your throat and collarbone. You were still trembling when you started to frown, all too aware of his fingers inside of you as you wondered what you’d just done.

You ignored the heat of familiar gazes as you grabbed your things, wanting to be literally anywhere else.

Hitting a few balls with Rafe turned into hitting a few with Kelce and Rafe and then eventually Topper and Kelce and Rafe. The arrival of your brother had triggered a drastic mood shift, and as much as you’d tried to hide it, you didn’t think you were doing a good job. Especially once the gathering was moved inside to get something to eat. Unable to pretend anymore, you feigned an illness.

“Y/N, at least let me drive you…”

“I’d rather walk,” you told Topper, avoiding his eye and declining his offer.

There was no doubt in your mind that the other two picked up on the tension, confirmed when Rafe’s voice carried as you exited the building.

“Geez,” he’d exhaled. “What’s going on with you two?”

The question still lingered in your mind all the way back home.

What’s going on with you two… How loaded that answer was, and you yourself couldn’t even convey it fully. Memories of the party had plagued your mind for weeks, now, and despite how you should feel about it, you were learning that it wasn’t so simple. Your stomach flipped for multiple reasons as you recalled the feeling of Topper’s hands on you.

The entire ordeal was beyond dubious, your head in the toilet later that night only proof of how much you’d had to drink. Finding out that your brother thought of you in ways a brother shouldn’t should’ve gone in a whole other direction. The lack of blood relation did little to lessen your uneasiness and guilt, chest aching uncomfortably at the memory of his fingers inside of you.

Your parents were married, had been for eight years, now.

You were well and fully settled in as a family unit at this point…and yet…

That did nothing to lessen the heat deep in your gut when you thought about Topper kissing you and touching you in ways no one ever had before. It was something that kept you up at night, and on particularly bad nights, you found your own hand drifting between your legs to try and replicate the same feelings he’d pulled from you under the cover of darkness while your parents had been none the wiser.

To say that things were awkward and messed up was an understatement.

You were angry with him…but you couldn’t stop thinking about him. It was a source of great conflict for you, and unsure of how to act around the one person you’d trusted the most, you simply opted with ignoring him and avoiding him as best as you could. Not only was this noticeable to any and everyone you knew—your combined presence a normality—but it also pissed Topper off.

Very much.

“You can’t ignore me forever.”

Those were the words that greeted you a few days later as you washed dishes. His mother was out, and your father was upstairs in his study, and despite the fact that you very much wanted to do what he said you couldn’t, you acknowledged him, anyway.

“I can try…”

When he said your name, it was softly spoken, but you weren’t oblivious to the edge in his voice.

“Can we talk for a sec…” he suggested. “I mean, like, a real conversation.”

“I don’t have anything to say to you-.”

“That’s a lie, and you know it,” he breathed, his hand coming up to rest on your arm. “You have a lot to say to me, and I don’t care if you just want to curse me out because you’ve never held back before.”

Roughly dropping a plate back into the water, you took a deep breath. Facing Topper, you really looked at him for the first time in weeks. You hated that despite the circumstances of what happened that night, he looked different to you…less like a brother… Such a thought made you briefly close your eyes, and when you opened them again, you were angry again.

“What is wrong with you?” you breathlessly wondered.

Your tone had his jaw clenching, and you watched him look away. You didn’t pull your gaze away as he pressed his tongue to the inside of his cheek, and when he looked at you again, you were surprised to find a hint of anger in his blue eyes.

“You’re treating me like…like I’m some kind of pervert,” he whispered.

Your heart did clench at that, and you couldn’t pretend to ignore how that accusation made you feel. You were closer to Topper than you were to anyone else, and despite your anger, you still loved him—cared about him. No, you didn’t think that, but the circumstances of that night—and the circumstances surrounding this entire situation—were messing with your head.

“…and instead of like the guy who has always cared about you.”

You swallowed.

“I fucked up that night,” he admitted to you. “I messed up, and I can see that it’s freaked you out, and I’m sorry.”

Your eyes burned at his apology, and even though some part of you wanted something else just as much, you knew that an apology was what you should want more than anything. That night had to be a one-off thing, something to never be repeated. If you wanted to keep your sanity and have things go back to normal, you had to forget about it, and you had to convince Topper to do the same.

“Topper, we can’t…we can’t do anything like that ever again,” you whispered, and you watched his face even out. “I can’t tell you how to feel…”

The blond nodded, swiping his tongue between his lips.

“…but I’m telling you that I need things to go back to normal…”

Topper’s shoulders sagged at that, and you struggled to swallow.

“You’re the one person that I can talk to about almost anything…and the one person I know I can count on, and… I’m feeling really unsure about that, right now, and I don’t like that, and it’s scary…”

You trailed off when Topper wrapped his arms around you, gently shushing you.

“I’m sorry,” he quietly apologized again. “I’m sorry, and you’re right.”

He pressed his face into the crook of your neck, and you shuddered when his lips grazed your skin as he spoke.

“I was being a selfish asshole that night,” he whispered. “Obviously this can’t be anything else.”

His hands moved up and down your back in soothing gestures, and while it was reminiscent of something he always did to calm you, you couldn’t help but let your mind wonder about what other meaning it might’ve always had. Telling yourself that Topper cared more about what you wanted instead of chasing the high of an alcohol fueled night, you hugged him back, accepting his apology.

It was storming the night you lost your virginity to your stepbrother.

The loud rain and harsh winds and booming thunder all seemed to work together to drown out the sounds of your breathless moans and surprised gasps. Topper’s forearms were pressed into the pillow on either side of your head as he snapped his hips against yours, the mix of pain and pleasure jumbling your brain. With the power out, the only source of light came from the occasional flash of lightning.

A late-night conversation had dwindled down into nothing the longer the night dragged on. Dozing off at his side wasn’t abnormal, your descent into fatigue made all the more quicker when accompanied by the sound of rain hitting the window. Despite your brief rough patch after that night, you and Topper started treating each other like you always had. It wasn’t without difficulty. After all, there were nights where you still woke up with the memory of his lips touching yours, but it was easy enough to ignore…

Waking up to the feel of an arm around your waist and a hardness against your thigh was not.

You feigned sleep, unsure of what to do or how to proceed and even unsure if Topper was awake and wholly aware. The wind knocked the shutters against the window, and the room was briefly illuminated by a flash of lightning. The thunder and rain were all you could hear, even deaf to your own breathing, but especially Topper’s. However, when you turned your head, you learned that the blond was very much awake.

You didn’t have time to properly gather your thoughts about the kiss, Topper pulling you against him and rolling on top of you before you could. Your mind had been going a mile a minute to make sense of what was happening, and by the time you did, it was too late—his bare chest was pressing against yours and his arms were caging you in.

“Oh my God,” you’d breathed the moment he pushed his cock into you.

The words had escaped from both the shock and the pain, repeating them as you also registered the way your stomach flipped.

“It’s okay,” he whispered in the darkness, a miracle that you could hear him. “You’re okay.”

Were you?

“Topper,” you’d murmured, your tone making your thoughts clear.

“I fucking love you,” was his defense. “Don’t you get that?”

He remained still inside of you for some time, both of you quietly going back and forth.

“We can’t do this,” you’d hissed.

“You saying we can’t isn’t the same as you saying you don’t want to…”

It was the truth, and you weren’t going to lie, but you could only manage to shake your head.

When he started to move, you gasped, somehow getting used to the feel of him in the time you argued. Feeling him pull out before pushing his way back into you had your back arching, absentmindedly lifting your hips. Every reason as to why you shouldn’t do this became less and less important the longer he fucked you. Your nails clawed at his skin, and Topper hissed at the feeling.

He nipped at your neck, teeth gently pulling at the skin while he plunged his cock into you. You felt so full and so stretched in a way that your fingers—nor his—could compare to. All that was left of the pain was a dull ache, even that becoming overshadowed by the pleasure his thrusts brought to you. You were thankful for the storm, sure you wouldn’t even be able to keep quiet if you tried.

“None of those assholes loved you,” he panted against your lips, fingers twisting into the hair at the nape of your neck. “None of them will ever love you like I do.”

Your fingers pressed into his arm and back, breath hitching at a particularly hard thrust.

When he kissed you, just like that night, you kissed him back. Only this time, you weren’t drunk. You were perfectly sober, and you moaned against his lips at the feel of his cock sinking into you. This was the wettest you’d ever been, dripping around him and making a mess of his sheets, no doubt. His hair was damp with sweat, the soft strands pressing against your forehead, and his skin fared no better. Your hands slid over him with ease, a thin layer of sweat coating both of your frames.

Topper was still fucking you when the thunder stopped, and the rain slackened. It was still dark, but you found yourself biting your lip in an effort to not give yourselves away. You found it difficult, the blonde’s cock hitting something inside of you that made you shudder and clench down onto him. When his hands trailed down to grab onto your waist, his fingers dug into your skin as he lifted your hips for you.

You could just make him out in the darkness, his gaze holding yours as you held onto him and fluttered around his cock. You could feel him push himself to his knees, and you dazedly reached down to cover his hands with your own. He stroked something inside of you that pushed you closer and closer to the edge, and the moment you fell over, you sank your teeth into your lip so hard that you tasted blood.

Your vision momentarily went completely dark, only able to focus on the feel of you tightening around Topper. You took note of his hands on your waist, your hands on his, the movement of the bed and the soft rain outside. As your breathing slowed, you also noticed the sloppiness of his thrusts, and your vision refocused just as the blond pulled out.

His sigh reached your ears as he came onto your stomach.

Aside from the rain, the only sound in the room was that of your soft and labored breathing. You were equally awed and shocked, almost feeling like you’d just had an out of body experience. You were trembling, but not just because you were cold, and sensing this, Topper wrapped his arms around you.

“Topper…”

Your tone was unsure, too many emotions fighting for dominance as you marinated in the aftermath of what just happened. His chest was to your back—heart still racing—and his only response was a quiet ‘tomorrow’. The hand that wasn’t resting on your stomach found a home on the front of your throat, and Topper softly repeated himself when he pressed a kiss to the back of your neck.

TUMBLR FAM. WAKE up!

New photos of Drew Starkey for interview magazine!!

Best Friends Brother~ Jeremiah Fisher

WARRING- Shower Sex, Unprotected Sex

"I'm going to shower now." You told Conrad.

"All right, I'm going to take a nap." Conrad Yawned.

After getting a towel from the bathroom closet, you turn on the shower.

After changing out of your clothes, you head to the shower.

"Can I join you?" A voice asks. You turn around and see Jeremiah standing outside of the shower, naked.

"What? No, get out!" You try to cover yourself. But he steps into the shower with you away.

"I said get out Jer. This can't happen again. The last time, Conrad almost caught us.”

"But he didn't." He said this before pulling the shower curtain shut.

"We can't do this." Before you can say anything else, he kisses you.

"He won't find out." He said

"I don't want to risk it." As you turn to leave, you tell him.

"I know you want this, so stop denying it." He moves toward you.

He reaches over and places his hand on your arm, drawing you toward him.

"We can't." You mutter. He kisses you after pushing you up against the wall.

He drops to his knees and raises an eyebrow at you. You give him permission by nodding your head. He licks at your folds, the warm shower water hitting his back.

"That feels so good." You moan.

"Shh, we don't want Conrad to hear." He says.

You bring his head closer to your pussy and pull his hair between your fingers.

He gets up and gives you a kiss. He grabs your thighs and thrusts hard into you without any warning.

You tried to stop your moans by biting your lips, but they kept coming out.

He keeps a steady pace while trying to get you to reach your peak.

"You need to be quiet. We don't want to get caught." Jeremiah keeps you quiet with two fingers in your mouth.

"I'm going to cum." You try not to scream as you moan.

"Cum for me, y/n."

You cum, rolling your eyes to the back of your head. To calm you down, Jeremiah shoves his fingers into your mouth again. You can feel him tremble and release.

As you both catch your breath, he places you on the ground. "We need to be more discreet next time." You said .

"Who says there's going to be a next time?"Jeremiah jokes in a playful way. You laugh and act like you were hitting him.

"I said there's going to be a next time." You say it in a serious manner.

"I'll take you up on that offer," Jeremiah said .

"It's not an offer, it's a demand." You smirk with a glare

"Okay, whatever you say." Jeremiah throws his hand up jokingly.

“I’ll see you later.” Jeremiah smirks leaving the bathroom.

MasterList

❥𝒯𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒷𝓁ℴ𝑔 𝒾𝓈 𝓅𝓊𝓇ℯ𝓁𝓎 𝒻ℴ𝓇 18+ ℐ 𝓌𝓇𝒾𝓉ℯ 𝓃𝓈𝒻𝓌 𝒸ℴ𝓃𝓉ℯ𝓃𝓉 𝓈ℴ 𝓅𝓁ℯ𝒶𝓈ℯ 𝒹ℴ 𝓃ℴ𝓉 𝒾𝓃𝓉ℯ𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓉 𝒾𝒻 𝓎ℴ𝓊 𝒶𝓇ℯ 𝒶 𝓂𝒾𝓃ℴ𝓇

❥𝒫𝓁ℯ𝒶𝓈ℯ 𝒹ℴ 𝓃ℴ𝓉 𝒸ℴ𝓅𝓎 ℴ𝓇 𝓉𝓇𝒶𝓃𝓈𝓁𝒶𝓉ℯ 𝓂𝓎 𝓌ℴ𝓇𝓀

ℒ𝒾𝒶𝓂 𝒟𝓊𝓃𝒷𝒶𝓇

Steamy

Get A Clue

I Hate You

𝒥ℯ𝓇ℯ𝓂𝒾𝒶𝒽 ℱ𝒾𝓈𝒽ℯ𝓇

Best Friends Brother

𝒞ℴ𝓃𝓇𝒶𝒹 ℱ𝒾𝓈𝒽ℯ𝓇

The Roommate

Rafe Cameron

3AM

See You Later Daddy

Escapism

Topper Thornton x Reader

Summary: Your brother always stayed up with you whenever you couldn’t sleep and nothing has changed now that his best friend is the reason for your late nights.

warnings: Dub-Con, stepcest, cheating, toxic relationship, semi-public sex, jealousy, secret relationship, side of Rafe x reader, lots of playing in Rafe's face, kook!reader, non canon ages

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | ➥ divider by @firefly-graphics

⭑

You were a shitty girlfriend.

Perhaps, in some ways, you were being too harsh on yourself because it wasn’t like Rafe would ever win boyfriend of the year. The blond came with a plethora of issues that could only be fixed with therapy—something you probably wouldn’t even be able to pay him to do—and he chose to handle every single one with one horrible coping mechanism after the next. When it was all said and done though, you really only had yourself to blame.

It wasn’t like you were a stranger to the man before you started dating him.

You knew Rafe well—you’d grown up with him—so was it really his fault that you chose to ignore every single thing you knew about him in the hopes that he would mature and change? Was it his fault that you forgave him time and time again with the hopes that he could still change? Was he the asshole for being him or were you the asshole for going into this with the expectation he’d be something he wasn’t?

“Come on,” Topper would say to you in the dead of night. “You and I both know what he’s like—what he’s always been like.”

It was usually after he’d listen to you cry over Rafe and whatever girl he’d kissed or whatever awful thing he’d said to you, pupils blown and alcohol on his breath. He’d pull you to sit back, hands rubbing over your arms in an attempt to calm you down. It was always well into the night when you both should’ve been asleep, but per your routine as of late, you’d be waiting up for Rafe to call or text or walk through the door.

Anything to let you know he wasn’t passed out drunk in a ditch somewhere.

“Rafe can take care of himself just fine.”

Or some variation of that would reach your ears, and you’d press your hands to your face in exhaustion. You’d never miss the bitterness—borderline malice—in Topper’s voice as he said something like that. You knew it wasn’t directed at you, but more so your relationship with the other blond as a whole and his frustration with it. Topper never wanted you to date Rafe, and you knew he took no pleasure in watching Rafe prove him right.

Rafe may have been his best friend…

…but you were ten and Topper was twelve when his mother married your father. He’d been protective of you since day one, having been an only child before that, and you knew that he hated having to let you make your own choices and mistakes with the guy you’d both once called a friend. If you and Rafe came out of this relationship intact, you doubted you’d ever call him ‘friend’ again.

He’d hurt you too much for that.

You weren’t a bad girlfriend for thinking such thoughts. Nor were you a bad girlfriend for trying to break up with him on several occasions, something Rafe would always talk you out of with promises of remorse and change. You didn’t even think you were a bad girlfriend for venting about your frustration and hurt to his best friend—your stepbrother.

You were a shitty girlfriend for allowing something to continue that should’ve ended years ago.

Fed up with talking about Rafe and how badly he’d hurt your feelings earlier in the day, Topper had pressed his lips to yours, effectively shutting you up with a kiss. A kiss that you returned, shoulders sagging and a weight lifting off of your chest as his arms circled around your waist. Rafe had called you a nag hours before, subsequently telling you he wouldn’t be staying over before hanging up without another word.

It had hurt you, but you were sure Topper was just relieved to have you all to himself.

Or at the very least, wouldn’t be tempted to fuck you anyway—Rafe under the same roof be damned.

You both were quiet in the dark living room—your parents asleep upstairs—and the longer you kissed him, the more you just wanted to forget about Rafe. The t-shirt you wore was bunching up under the blonde’s hands, and you gasped when his mouth trailed down to your neck. You could feel how much he wanted you, and any other night you would’ve loved to drag this out, but much like Topper…

You just wanted to feel him inside of you.

You never wore any underwear to bed, both for convenience and just because. It was something Topper had come to appreciate, and when you helped him pull his shorts down, cock springing free, you couldn’t slide down the couch fast enough. He hooked one hand under your thigh, helping you and dragging you closer, the other squeezing his cock with long strokes.

He rubbed the tip of himself against you a few times, coating the head in your essence, unsurprised at how wet and ready for him you already were. The feel made you bite the inside of your cheek, lifting your hips in an attempt to get him to sink into you even if just a little. You didn’t miss the soft chuckle that rang through the air.

“I’m sorry,” he huskily told you, pushing into you with one slow thrust. “Is that better?”

You hated his mocking tone, but not as much as you loved the feel of him stretching you out. You clawed at him, pulling him closer, sighing into his mouth when he finally kissed you again. The movements of his hips were slow, too afraid to do too much and make too much noise. The pace was enough to make your head spin and was definitely enough to make you squirm beneath him. When you started lifting your hips to meet him halfway, he groaned into the kiss.

Rafe was the furthest thing from your mind.

Sliding your hands up Topper’s frame, you threaded your fingers through his hair, nails lightly dragging along his scalp. By the way he shuddered against you, you knew that he liked that. Every snap of his hips into yours had you swallowing down every noise that threatened to escape. His cock stroked your walls in a way that made you squeeze your eyes shut.

Shifting, you felt his hand slide down to rest on the inside of your thigh, pushing it and spreading it until your leg hung off of the couch. At that, you did gasp, a choaked sound escaping your lips before you snapped them shut. His free hand was beside your head now, forearm resting on the couch cushion. You both were quiet, but your soft labored breathing could still be heard if you listened hard enough.

When you softly moaned his name, he shushed you.

“I want…” you fought to catch your breath enough to speak. “I want you to come inside of me.”

You felt another shiver travel up his spine, head falling into the crook of your neck at that. You knew he wasn’t close, but you felt like making that known. It wasn’t something you both made a habit of, but you loved the feel of Topper spilling into you, cock twitching as he coated your walls in his release. When you pushed against his hand, he got the hint, and you circled his waist with your legs, ankles hooking at the small of his back.

Topper took his time fucking you.

He often did, feeling no need to rush or no fear that you’d get caught. You didn’t know if he was just that confident in how quickly you could pull yourselves together or that it simply wouldn’t happen. Some part of you wondered if maybe he just didn’t care. You knew that couldn’t be true for several reasons, the most pressing being your boyfriend.

It was funny.

Rafe had probably cheated on you more times than you actually knew of, but the minute some other guy looked at you for even just a second too long, he was gearing up for a fight. You didn’t know if he was performative or just that skilled at compartmentalization, but you hated it. What good did it do for him to act so noble and possessive when way too many people knew how much he’d embarrassed you over the past six months?

You didn’t doubt that he’d try to kill Topper in some coked out rage if he ever knew.

Topper’s hand was cupping your breast under your shirt as he pressed kisses to your neck and jaw. He was whispering in your ear, telling you how good you felt and how wet you were, and how much he wanted to feel you coming around him. He knew what to say to send you over the edge, and at the first sound, he covered your mouth in another kiss to swallow your moans.

You squeezed him tight, walls clenching as he fucked you through your climax, cock plunging into your soaking cunt as he chased his own. His thrusts grew sloppy, and they weren’t as languid, and his blond strands kissed your forehead as they grew messy and awkward with sweat. Your legs had long fallen around him, and you pressed your hand against his lower back.

When he came, he buried his face into where your neck and shoulder met, groaning into the skin. You shuddered at the feel of him spilling into you, still clenching around him as remnants of your orgasm finally started to dissipate. His breathing was heavy against your skin before pulling back just enough to touch his forehead to yours.

You could only hear your efforts to catch your breath.

“I love you. You know that, right?”

You nodded, positive he could feel the action against his forehead. You fingered the top of his shorts, and you bit your lip. You didn’t say it back often—something you still had trouble accepting and admitting—but you told him enough so that he’d never doubt it.

“Can I stay in your room tonight?” you quietly asked him. “Rafe probably won’t come over until after noon…if he comes over, at all.”

You tried not to let your voice shrink at the thought, but Topper caught it anyway. Pulling out of you and sitting up, he grabbed your arm and pulled you with him. Righting himself, he pulled you to your feet, his other hand pushing his hair away from his face.

“You know you never have to ask,” he told you.

His hands were comfortably on your waist as he followed behind you, guiding you upstairs.

“What…? You got a problem or something?”

You knew it was coming when you were the only one who wasn’t laughing, unamused as he recounted his tale of how he’d cornered Pope. You’d never known the other guy to get into any trouble or bother anyone, and while you knew there would never be anything you could do about whatever petty rivalry your brother and your boyfriend and their friends involved themselves in, Pope just seemed like low hanging fruit.

He wasn’t even the type to fight back.

“I just don’t find it funny,” was all you said, squinting under the harsh rays of the sun. “You know Pope’s not even like that. I might’ve laughed if it were JJ or…I don’t know…someone who would actually put up a fight.”

Rafe’s entire demeanor clouded over at that, and you were prepared for whatever was about to come out of his mouth when Topper spoke.

“Rafe,” the other blond warned. “Chill.”

He seemed to anticipate Rafe’s ire just as much as you did, and Rafe paused, glancing at his best friend before huffing. He leaned back in his chair, eyeing you with that cold blue gaze of his. The sun shone off of his dirty blond strands, the tresses curtained along his forehead, and you watched him bring his hand up to rest against his lips before finally settling on a better response than what you both knew you almost got.

“So, what are you trying to say?”

Choosing to end this fight before it even began, you sighed, looking away.

“I’m not saying anything, Rafe. You can do whatever you want,” you murmured. “You always do.”

He heard that loud and clear, and the laugh he let out wasn’t humorous in the slightest. You heard him roughly get up from his seat, chair scraping against the wooden floor. You watched him snatch his glass off the table, mumbling something about needing a refill but not before making a comment to Topper that was solely intended for you.

“Get your sister, Top,” your boyfriend drawled, making you cross your arms over your chest.

You could feel the man in question’s eyes on you, and you avoided his gaze.

“Sometimes I swear you like fighting with him just as much as he does you.”

At that, you scoffed, looking at him in disbelief.

“I didn’t laugh because he beat up Pope Heyward…and that was apparently a problem,” you pointed out to which Topper merely shrugged, unable to disagree. “I apologize for not finding it funny.”

“Babe,” he softly said, reaching out and touching your arm. “He’s a Pogue, and you know how Rafe is.”

His excuse for Rafe’s behavior only made you roll your eyes, and you heard him sigh as you reached for your stuff. He said your name, trying to get you to sit back down, but you were only more determined to leave once you caught sight of Kelce walking up the steps to the restaurant too. Dealing with all three of them at once was enough to give you a coronary.

“Where are you going?”

You didn’t answer Rafe as you passed him on his way back to the table, ignoring Kelce too when he said hey to you. You hated to take it out on him when he didn’t actually do anything this time, but you knew his mindset was just as bad as Rafe’s, and so you figured it was preemptively deserved. You didn’t need to be a genius to know that Rafe was going to talk shit about you the second you were out of sight.

It was one of those days where you really felt emboldened to finally break up with him for good. Rafe hadn’t been good to you nor right for you since the beginning, and you knew that if Topper was a lesser person, he would’ve said ‘I told you so’ a million times by now. You were grateful that he didn’t make you feel worse for being naïve enough to ever believe in Rafe Cameron.

Although, some part of you wondered if having you crawl into his bed night after night was satisfaction enough.

It was hours later when he was softly apologizing for both his and Rafe’s behavior, fingers digging into your waist as you pushed yourself down onto him. Rafe had long fallen asleep, his light snores easing your worry as you’d snuck out of your room. Topper was awake—as you’d hoped—and it was true that you’d only intended to talk. Rafe’s attitude hadn’t been much better when you finally reunited again, something you were sure Topper had overheard.

“You really want to talk about Rafe, right now?” he’d whispered, hand sliding along your thigh.

“Topper,” you’d quietly hissed in warning. “Not…tonight. He’s…”

You didn’t need to finish that sentence, feeling no need to as you gestured towards his door. The blond had fixed you with a look that made your stomach flip, a hint of a smirk dancing along his pink lips as he held your gaze.

“That’s never stopped us before.”

You’d swallowed at that, feeling unsure, but that was a feeling that had never stopped the other man before either. The first time he’d ever kissed you, you’d felt unsure, but Topper hadn’t cared, holding you to him and fingering you on the back deck while his mother threw some grand party downstairs. You still remembered the way you came around his fingers, an admission of insecurities somehow leading to your first ever sexual experience—and with your own stepbrother no less.

“Topper,” you’d quietly warned when he brushed his lips against yours. “Rafe…”

“Do…not…talk about him, right now,” he’d slowly said, fingers grazing along your folds just as slow.

Despite your hand against his shoulder, he’d laid you down, lips finding the skin just under your jaw.

“He’s the last thing I want to talk about, right now.”

…and he’d meant it, curving his fingers into you while pressing open mouthed kisses to your jaw and throat and collarbone. Any protest you had was swallowed down and quickly forgotten at the slick feeling between your legs, Topper’s fingers sinking into your cunt with ease. Your own twisted into the fabric of his shirt, hips lifted towards his hand, fighting to swallow down a whimper each time his thumb circled your clit.

“Fuck,” he’d cursed into your skin. “I love how wet you get for me.”

It wasn’t long after that that he was hurrying to get inside of you, shirts and shorts discarded as he pulled you on top of him. When you sank down onto him, he’d sighed, throwing his head back and lifting his hips. With your hands on his stomach, you’d lifted yourself until the tip of his cock just barely remained inside of you before sliding back down.

You gently bounced on top of him, hyper aware of who was just in the other room. You could tell that Topper wasn’t a huge fan, feeling that you had to pick one between being on top and being gentle, but it couldn’t be both. When his hands slid up your frame, they rested on the sides of your neck before pulling you down. Your eyes fell closed when you kissed him, and you gasped into his mouth when he lifted his hips, driving himself up into you.

You mentally cursed, realizing you’d been tricked.

With his hands quickly sliding down to snake around your waist, Topper wasted no time in lifting his hips to push his cock up into you. The force of his thrusts had you squeezing him in more ways than one, lips parted and eyes tight as he roughly fucked himself up into you. His bed shook under his movements, and you couldn’t stop yourself from whining into his mouth, the sound of him sinking into you reaching your ears.

“Fuck, you’re dripping,” he hummed, one hand coming up to rest on your cheek.

When his bed knocked into the wall, he halted his movements, using the moment to both catch his breath and listen. Your own heart stuttered, digging your nails into his chest because you’d literally told Topper so. Once Rafe was knocked out, it was usually pretty hard to wake him up, but it would be just your luck that this night of all nights he’d be a light sleeper.

You really didn’t want to imagine the chaos if he left your room in search of you only to find his best friend balls deep inside of you.

When no worrying sounds reached your ears, Topper took that as a sign to continue, knees bent as he thrust up into you again. You could tell he was close by the way his cock twitched inside of you, and something nagged in the back of your mind about that. When you attempted to pull yourself off of him, he held you tighter.

“Topper,” you gasped, a warning in your tone. “Don’t-.”

Your words were abruptly swallowed when he rolled you both, pinning you beneath him and jerking his hips into yours. The rough and fast pace had you momentarily forgetting your train of thought, weakly pushing against his stomach. You both knew why you didn’t want him to finish inside of you, but he didn’t seem to care about Rafe possibly sinking into you in the early hours of the morning with his best friend’s cum dried along your folds.

You yelped when you came, a roaring sound in your ears as you felt him do the same, filling you up with a grunt. His hips didn’t stop snapping against yours the entire time, fucking you through it and fucking his cum into you. He had you completely caged beneath him, and all you could do was quietly milk his cock, toes curling as you scratched at his back.

When clarity finally hit, the fog lifting, you roughly pushed him away. You didn’t miss his quiet chuckle, and you didn’t spare him a glance as you reached for your oversized t-shirt—his t-shirt.

“You’re such an asshole,” you mumbled, pulling it over your head and slapping his hand away when he reached down to slide his fingers between your sticky folds.

You didn’t spare Topper another glance before hurrying out of his room.

You kept your eyes on Rafe as he flew down the road, the loud music making his truck almost vibrate. He was ignoring you, preoccupied with his conversation with Kelce who was in the passenger seat. It was funny because the only one with a right to be mad was you, recalling the fight you’d had on the beach not even an hour ago.

“She was all over you, and you just stood there and let it happen,” you’d yelled at him, feeling humiliated for the umpteenth time.

“I barely remember what that girl even looks like,” was his reply, pupils blown. “It was nothing, baby.”

You had slapped his hand away when he reached for you, unmoved by the way his countenance darkened. The sounds of the party just down the beach only served to remind you how you felt when you walked up on him with his hand on some girl’s waist, her lips trailing kisses along his neck. You could tell she was drunk, and instead of pushing her away, Rafe just entertained it.

Your eyes had only met for half a second before you were turning away.

You didn’t even know why he chased you down the beach, and that was what you’d told him.

“You’re not sorry…you don’t feel bad, and you know what? You’ll probably do worse two weeks from now, so why are you even here?”

You’d shrugged at him, certain your confusion was evident on your face.

“Look, it was nothing,” he’d spat at you. “Once again, you’re making a big deal out of nothing.”

That had actually made you laugh, tears kissing your eyes.

“If you caught me cozying up to any guy with half the effort that she was with you…you would lose your shit, and you know it,” you’d sneered, watching his jaw tick. “I would love to see the look on your face if I fucked someone else.”

He’d gotten in your face, his finger almost touching your eye.

“I was barely touching her-.”

“That wasn’t the case three months ago,” you threw in his face. “…and I can only imagine what I don’t know about.”

Rafe’s nostrils had flared, and for a split second, you swore you saw some shame pass through his blue gaze. It was gone just as quickly as it came though, anger replacing it instead.

“You wouldn’t dare, you wouldn’t fucking dare,” he bit out, invading your personal space. “I said I was sorry, and you said you forgave me, so don’t think you can use that as an excuse to go fuck some asshole who clearly doesn’t value his life.”

His words had only made you angrier, and you had to bite your tongue to keep your face even, recalling the feel of Topper’s cock inside of you just thirty minutes before Rafe came to pick you both up. You and your boyfriend had stared each other down for a few moments more before he spoke again.

“I’d love to see you do that,” he finally said, shrugging. “I would love to see you try when you can’t even stick to staying broken up with me.”

His words had the desired effect, and you’d felt your face fall.

“Now, you’re trying to convince me you’d ever have the nerve to cheat on me?” he’d wondered, fingers grazing his own chest. “Don’t make me laugh.”

He’d left you with a scoff, and you hadn’t been able to stop your tears from spilling over. All you’d ever tried to do was routinely look for and believe in the best in Rafe, and you couldn’t believe that he threw that in your face like some insult. Maybe it was an insult though…because how many times were you going to let him show you exactly who he was? How many times were you going to let him play in your face?

The day after you’d confronted him about sleeping with some girl—only privy to the information because of none other than Topper—you’d cried yourself to sleep. It was always little things before that, but that incident was what broke you, allowing Topper to slip into your room and wrap his arms around you. It was reminiscent of a time where he used to sneak into your room almost every night, your parents none the wiser to what went on underneath their roof. You’d been eighteen then, Topper twenty, and you both mutually agreed to putting a stop to it.

However, that night, his mind had clearly gone to the same place yours had.

When he kissed you, you’d pulled him closer, and two years after you ended your forbidden dalliance, you resumed it again. For a few hours, you’d forgotten all about Rafe and what he did and just basked in the feel of Topper pushing his cock into you, embarrassingly turned on because of how much you’d missed him. You hadn’t paid any mind to the countless phone calls and texts that were blowing up your phone, no one else but Rafe and his vain attempts to fix what he did.

The day you forgave him, you knew you were making a huge mistake.

Rafe throwing the grace you’d shown him in your face had you stomping to his truck. You’d ignored the feel of eyes on you, knowing it wasn’t Rafe, opting to slide in the backseat without acknowledging him. Kelce—ever the standup guy—just pretended not to notice the tension between you and his friend as he slid into the passenger seat. The moment Rafe’s truck was on the road—music blaring through the vehicle—you’d grabbed Topper’s hand.

He didn’t protest at all when you dragged it across your thigh, pushing his fingers between your legs.

…and that was how you found yourself watching Rafe, keeping your eyes on him not because you actually wanted to, but because you didn’t need him looking over his shoulder. Even if he did, it was dark, but still, you weren’t exactly emotionless as Topper slid his fingers in and out of you. Your lips were parted, and your chest was heaving, and even though all that could really be heard was whatever rap song Rafe put on, you were still pulling your lip between your teeth.

You reached out to grip the door handle when Topper added another finger, his hand soaked in you, and you reached down to place your own hand on top of his. You spread your legs a little more, and you couldn’t stop yourself from lifting your hips a bit. You were thankful for the music, certain that if the truck were quieter, they’d be able to hear the wet sounds of his fingers pushing between your folds.

He pulled them in and out of you for the duration of the ride, just slowly stroking you and teasing you. Every time you started to tighten around his fingers, he’d stop, just letting them sit there long enough for you to come down from a high that quite never happened. Like clockwork, he’d start moving his fingers again, and he only fully pulled them out of you—underwear snapping back into place—when Rafe pulled into his driveway.

He'd sucked them clean by the time Rafe and Kelce opened their doors, and when your boyfriend saw that neither of you were moving, he paused. You crossed your arms over your chest when he glanced at you, throwing him a frown.

“I need to talk to Y/N for a minute,” Topper told him, and Rafe only scoffed.

“Please do,” he mockingly said, tone full of arrogance as he wrongly assumed what the conversation would be about. “…because I didn’t do shit, and I’m tired of your sister blowing things out of proportion.”

That last part was aimed at you, and you only coolly met your boyfriend’s gaze before he slammed the door shut.

“He’s such an asshole,” you mumbled, staring at his back as he walked away. “I’m breaking up with him. For good this time.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

Topper’s tone was dripping with sarcasm, and you rolled your eyes at him.

“Yeah, we both know how much you’ll hate having me all to yourself again.”

The words were barely out of your mouth before you turned towards him, reaching to slip your hand down his pants the moment Rafe was inside of his house. Wrapping your fingers around Topper’s cock, you slowly stroked him, uncaring as to how risky that was. You were just angrier than you ever were at the realization that Rafe didn’t appreciate how gracious you’d been, and how many other girls would’ve dumped him months ago for everything he’d pulled. In fact, you wouldn’t be surprised if Rafe respected you less for it.

That realization didn’t hurt as much as you thought it would…because you’d long stopped respecting him in return.

You moved to settle in Topper’s lap, facing away from him as he lifted his hips enough to only just pull his pants down. One hand was pulling at your panties, yanking them aside just in time for you to sink down onto his cock. You couldn’t stop yourself from moaning as he filled you up, throbbing inside of your heat. It was almost too easy, courtesy of his fingers and how wet he’d made you.

You lifted yourself slightly, moving over him and hanging onto the headrest of the driver’s seat while Topper lifted his hips too. His grunts and labored pants were a little loud, but that was only because you were alone. Rafe nor Kelce was going to hear anything from all the way out here in a closed vehicle. You clung to the seat harder as you thought about Rafe’s haughty tone and that challenging look in his blue eyes, so certain that you’d never do to him what he did to you.

So certain that you’d never have the guts.

Speaking of, it felt like you could feel Topper deep in your stomach as you rode him. His hands were tight on your waist as he bounced you on top of him, cheeks grazing his thighs with every movement. One of those hands slid around you, reaching under your dress and resting on you, fingers rubbing over your cunt.

“You’re doing so good, babe,” he whispered in the otherwise quiet truck. “Just like that.”

You knew that this couldn’t take long—and Topper knew it too—and feeling you come around him always sent him over the edge, so your eyes rolled when he started circling and dragging his fingers across your clit. He lightly pinched it, making you jerk, and the fact that you were fucking him in Rafe’s own backseat had you coming hard.

The broken moans that tumbled out of your mouth should have embarrassed you, but you were too concerned with sliding yourself up and down his cock, squeezing him tight and making him come too. Topper wrapped an arm around your neck, pulling you back against him as you came together. Knowing that you’d stayed out here long enough, he was gently pushing you off of him the second he started to soften.

You could feel him dripping out of you, and you hurried to put your underwear back in place.

“Did you talk some sense into her?” was the first thing Rafe greeted you with the moment you both made it back inside.

You ignored him, hearing the tone of Topper’s voice as he said Rafe’s name. You knew that it would just be another useless talk of him almost begging Rafe to do better. The older blond never listened to his friend though, and you knew it didn’t twist Topper up too much, always happy to make you feel better when your boyfriend fucked up.

He took advantage of it every time.

Like now, for example.

Your hands clung to the railing of the back porch, head bowed as Topper drove into you from behind. Rafe was asleep in his own room—Kelce asleep in a guest room—and you couldn’t help yourself. You needed him again, sneaking into his designated guest room and begging him to fuck you. He was never one to protest, pressing his lips to yours and pulling you against him while murmuring something along the lines of ‘not in here’.

There were too many people in the Cameron household for him to touch you on the same floor as everyone else.

You kept pushing yourself to your tippy toes, thighs squeezing together with every slow stroke of his cock. Rafe’s t-shirt was pushed up your back, and the light slap of skin against skin reached your ears as well as the wet sound every time he slid between your folds. When he leaned over you, chest pressed to your back, one arm curled around your waist.

“You love this,” he murmured, nipping at your ear. “You love fucking me right under his nose…especially when he really pisses you off.”

If you’d tried to deny it, the way you tightened around him would’ve exposed the truth anyway. You did. Rafe underestimated you, and you loved proving him wrong, especially with his best friend of all people. You moaned, pushing back against him at that. Topper only chuckled, twisting a hand at your roots and pushing you back down over the railing again.

After coming around him twice, the insides of your thighs were embarrassingly sticky, and when Topper eventually stilled against you, pumping you full of his cum, that only made your predicament worse. When he pulled out of you, you reached down to wipe away some of the mess, fighting to catch your breath and reminding yourself that you’d have to make a stop to the bathroom before rejoining Rafe.

Topper was silent the entire ride home, and unlike with Rafe, you had no one but yourself to blame in this situation. Whenever you happened to glance over, you’d catch sight of his clenched jaw, cold blue eyes—so much like Rafe’s—focused on the road. His knuckles were white from the strain of his skin pulled taut over them, a death grip on the wheel of his jeep.

You didn’t speak because there wasn’t much you could say.

So fed up with Rafe’s blatant disrespect—and the pitying looks the odd girl threw you at the party as he danced with some stranger—you hadn’t thought of who else you’d be hurting when you grabbed the nearest guy and pressed your lips to his. You were so far gone with the alcohol, and the satisfaction you’d felt only drove you to close your eyes at the feel of his lips moving against yours.

It had also caused you to momentarily forget about your boyfriend, a misstep that was quickly remedied when you found yourself covered in alcohol.

Several of his friends—Kelce included—had been struggling to hold Rafe back as he tried to make his way to you. His angry shouts could be heard over the music, and you suspected that the bloodthirsty glint in his blue eyes was what drove your poor unsuspecting victim to slip away. Watching him get further out of reach only drove Rafe crazy…until his angry gaze landed on you, as if just remembering your presence.

He was screaming at you, calling you every name in the book, and you’d taken a step back as his friends struggled to keep him from getting to you. Only one stood off to the side, and when you remembered Topper’s presence, you hadn’t been able to keep the sheepish look off of your face. Adopting the older brother role, he’d quickly stomped towards you, yanking your arm as he pulled you along and away from your enraged boyfriend.

“I think its time you call it a night,” he’d evenly said.

That was the last thing he’d said to you, holding you as you stumbled to his car.

When his phone rang again, cutting through the silence in the vehicle, he finally answered it.

“Rafe, she’s drunk,” Topper told him the minute he picked it up. “…and you can’t act like you didn’t have this coming a little.”

You shifted in your seat, thinking to yourself that you’d gotten back at Rafe many times over. You didn’t hear what your boyfriend—possibly ex-boyfriend—said on the other line, but it was loud, and you could pick up on his tone. Topper chuckled to himself, and if you hadn’t been looking at his face, you might’ve thought it was genuine. His frustration with both Rafe and you—mostly you at the moment—was all over his face.

“There’s a whole list of shit you’ve done while drunk or high. You can talk to her tomorrow,” he told his best friend, meeting your gaze. “I’m handling it, so if you come over, I’m telling you now I’m not answering the door.”

You looked out the window at that, swallowing at the venom in both his voice and his gaze.

Your parents weren’t home, out of town for the weekend, and you were never more grateful, certain you’d never been this drunk in your life. Topper was still ignoring you as he helped you inside, and when you stumbled away from him, leaning against the table by the entrance, you gave him an apologetic look.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled.

Before you could do it, he was dropping to his knees, angrily taking off your shoes. You flinched at the way he threw them across the room, slowly rising and staring you down. The house was quiet—too quiet for comfort—and you licked your lips.

“Topper-.”

“It’s already bad enough seeing you kiss him and be with him and fuck him,” he spat at you, pointing outside. “Even worse when he treats you like shit, and you just won’t leave.”

You frowned at him, tears kissing your eyes.

“I’m…sorry for just hoping he’ll do better…”

“He won’t!”

Topper’s voice bounced off of the walls, and you shrunk away from him as he got in your face.

“How many times does he have to show you that? Why do you still expect better from him, so much so to the point where you’re kissing random guys, now?” he wondered, rearing back away from you with a frown. “Yeah, you wanted to make Rafe angry, but we both know the truth.”

You looked away, pressing your lips together when Topper stepped closer. You could feel his breath on your cheek as he exhaled through his nose, the atmosphere tense.

“Rafe’s mad because you dared to play his own game,” he slowly whispered. “I love you, and we both know it’s me you’re really with, not him, and I’m fucking pissed.”

You swallowed with one look into his eyes, finally finding the strength to face him, and your heart skipped a beat at what you saw there.

Before you could say another word, his lips were on yours, fingers digging into your arms. The sequence of events happened too fast for your drunk brain to catch up with, only gasping when he reached down to press his hand into the small of your back, yanking you closer. If it wasn’t for him holding you, you would’ve tripped over your own feet as he forced you into the living room.

Topper’s teeth nipped at your throat while he pulled at your dress, something Rafe had bought.

“I fucking hate this dress,” he quietly confessed as if reading your mind.

The sound of tearing fabric reached your ears as he forced you to bend back, his arm around you keeping you from collapsing. He kept you against him as he laid you down on the floor, in a hurry to get you at least half naked. His other hand reached behind his head to yank off his shirt, and you only had the sense to hold onto his arms while he kissed along your chest. When his pants were pushed down just enough, he pushed into you with a grunt.

You scratched at his skin at the rough entry, but it took no time for each thrust to become as smooth as they always were whenever he got his hands on you. One of your hands clawed at the rug, and you moaned—loud—when he gripped the hair at the nape of your neck. You suspected that Top had done a line or two tonight, gasping at his uncharacteristically tight grip.

He was fucking you so good that you almost missed the sound of a vehicle in the yard. When you did, your eyes flew open, and you attempted to look around towards the window. You guys were too close to the couch to see over it, and when you whined, pushing against him, Topper only grabbed your hands and pinned them down beside your head.

“Topper, I think…”

You couldn’t get it out, groaning as he curved his hips against yours.

“Fuck him,” he breathed, pounding into you.

The harsh knocks on the door didn’t faze him, and Topper only let one of your hands go to reach down and reach under your thigh. He rested that leg over his shoulder, pushing it towards you as his nose brushed yours, lips parted as he thrust into you. You were dripping around him, teeth sinking into your lip as Rafe knocked on the door again, trying the locked handle. Somewhere, you could hear your phone vibrating…and then Topper’s after a while.

The man on top of you didn’t care, stretching you out, pushing his cock into your tight hole.

“Break up with him, or don’t,” he whispered to you, pressing a kiss to your lips and then your nose. “…but what you pulled tonight is not happening again.”

You drunkenly nodded at him, mewling as he slowed down his thrusts, the sucking sound of his cock plunging into you reaching your ears. You heard your phone vibrate again.

“You know where to find me when he pisses you off.”

Glasses

Husband!Oscar x black!wife!reader

Word count: 2k

Content warning: fluffy fluffy, Oscar is a stubborn husband, a little sexy flirtatiousness at the end, just your typical married couple and we love it, reader is hot for Oscar and his glasses (I mean I would be too tf)

A/N: bear in mind that i don’t have glasses idk how the process goes lmao I just made shit up so sorry if it’s not accurate I guess. Who cares we’re in make believe land rn

Sorry for typos && bad translations if any

(I know these aren’t glasses glasses but… you get it lmao)

"Mama..." Rafa says poking your arm, you look down at him and smile. "Yes?"

"Why is Dad making that face?" He asks pointing over to Oscar who's holding his phone down in his lap with his head tilted up slightly so that he can see the screen better. You shook your head. That old bastard was a stubborn one. You have noticed for months now that Spooky is squinting to read everything, he's holding things at certain angles just the see the words correctly. He even has the kids reading things for him when he flat-out can't make out any of the words.

And of course, you've confronted him about it, saying if he wanted you could schedule an appointment with an optometrist and get his vision checked but he tells you— "No, mamita, I'm fine."

Stubborn Jack ass.

You roll your eyes and sigh dramatically. "Mi hijo, maybe you can talk some sense into your big-headed father. Because he won't listen to me." You say loud enough for your husband to hear. He grumbles and looks over at you, so tempted to say something disrespectful but your son is there. You wiggle your eyebrows taunting him.

"Papa, I think you need gafas."(glasses)

Spooky breathes heavily like a dragon, you swear smoke comes out of his nose too. "Mira, baby, let me just take you to check your eyes. If I'm wrong I'll eat my words and do anything you want."

His ears perk up at the offer. "Anything?"

And you knew what that tone meant. Spooky had been asking for another baby sooner rather than later but you constantly rebuttal with the fact that your third child, Emilia, was only a year old and you refused to have two under two. "Yes, anything." You reply confidently knowing you'd win this battle. He says it's a deal and you smile proudly keeping a reminder to make his appointment later.

-- --

In the days leading up to the appointment, he swore up and down that you'd be wrong, that you'll soon be walking around with a round belly all over again and he couldn't wait to see it. You remain quiet and shrug, occasionally giggling at how cocky he was about this.

After dropping the kids off at your mom's, you two head over to the Optometrist. You're pleasantly greeted by the woman at the front desk who asks you who the appointment is for. Oscar finds himself a seat and huffs like a child. You roll your eyes and mention his name. "I'm assuming you made the appointment." She smiles light-heartedly. "That obvious?"

"Trust me, I've got one at home whose chain I have to pull to even get him to the doctor. They're all like that."

You giggle and look over your shoulder at him as he pouts and looks at his new shoes. The receptionist says she'll let the doctor know you two were there and be back to guide you to a room. You take a seat next to Oscar who immediately puts his hand on your thigh, squeezing at your supple flesh. "So, what do you think the next baby will be? I hope it's a boy, I can't lie."

"Will you shut the fuck up? You are not winning this bet, Diaz."

He looks around before trailing his hand up your dress, your eyes widen when his fingers brush over your panties. "Who you talkin' to like that? Don't let this bet get you fucked up."

You swallow your attitude and shrink in the chair, he removes his hand and gently kisses your temple. Maybe he'd get another baby out of you regardless.

It wasn't long before you two were called in. Once in the room, Oscar was told to sit in the chair that was hooked up to everything while you sat in the extra chair not too far from them. He starts by asking Oscar about his medical history; and if anyone in his family has problems with their vision but he says, "Not as far as I know."

You watch as he's asked to read the chart across the room and he instinctively squints, you cover your mouth to stop your giggles.

Even with the act of squinting he ends up getting a lot of them wrong.

He's tested furthermore and, honestly, it was not looking too good. He was struggling so much that it was truly getting to him, his nails scape at the jeans over his knee caps-- taps them once in a while whenever he lets out a frustrated sigh. You were beginning to feel bad for him, wanting to whisper the letters to him so he didn't feel so... shitty.

The lights in the room turn on and the optometrist sits in his chair. "Mr. Diaz, unfortunately, I do think you'll need some prescription glasses. You are more farsighted in your right eye than you are in your left. The left eye seems to be fine for now. So, I will put in an order for a pair of lenses and when they're ready we'll give you a call to pick out the frames."

Oscar sighs, he sounds so defeated. You two thank the doctor and make your way out of the office building and back to the car. He sucks his teeth while buckling his seatbelt, he crosses his arms and waits for you to put the car in drive but you don't budge. "Why are you acting like this?"

He shrugs. "Let's just go."

"No. What are you upset about?"

"I'm old."

There was a moment of silence, took you a a minute to realize he was serious. "I'm old, mama. I can't see shit, I'm tired, I'm cranky. I'm fucking old. Next thing you know I can't play with my kids, can't play Fútbol con Rafa, dios mio." (Soccer with Rafa, my God)

He was genuinely spiralling. "Papito, I hate to break it to you but we're supposed to get old." You say to him but it (obviously) doesn't help.

"Lo sé, mi amor, pero, they still have to make it to middle school and high school, I gotta see them through college."

"Who says you won't? Mi marido, (my husband) we will be there for all of their events, for all the big changes. We will still be there when they all leave the nest to create their own, and when they come back to visit." You reassure. "I'll still be next to you in a rocking chair. We are not going anywhere, anytime soon. Entiendes? No hay prisa." (Understand? No rush)

He nods, still pouting. You lean over and plant a loving kiss on his lips. "If you ask me you will make a sexy Abuelo. Glasses and all."

"En serio?" A little bit of confidence coming back to him.

"Sí, papi chulo." You purr pulling him in for another kiss. "You know we have a lot of time before we got to get the kids." He grumbles his lips travelling down your neck. "Let's go before you get us in trouble in this parking lot."

He shrugs. "Wouldn't be the first time."

You laugh. "I know, I don't want to relive it."

-- --

Days passed and Oscar finally got the call to pick up his lenses and choose the frames, you offered to go with him but he said he wanted to surprise you. You'd been waiting all day excited to see what would walk through the door.

You sighed flipping through the selections on Prime, the house was quiet with the kids either distracted or sleeping and you were bored-- until you heard the car door slam shut and his keys jingle right outside the door. The door swings open but he doesn't enter, not yet. He calls out for you and when you answer all too eagerly he chuckles at your excitement. "You been waitin' on this all day?" He asks.

"Yes, hurry the fuck up." You rush. He appears from behind the door and stands with his arms slightly open. "Cómo me veo?" (How do I look?) He asks. Your eyes widen and your jaw slacks. They were simple black frame glasses, they weren't obnoxiously thick or oddly small, and they were good enough to fit him. You sit up on your knees and lean over the back of the couch. "You look... good. Muy guapo, papito." You slur feeling a heat spread in your lower belly. His eyebrows raise in surprise, he knows that look anywhere.

"Quierida..."

"Oscar... " You had the filthiest line ready for him to hear until a pair of footsteps descended from the steps. "Whoooooa! Elliana, Mira! Papa got glasses!" Rafa announces rushing down the stairs to get a better look and shortly another set of little feet made their way over. The two children were so interested in what was on their father's face and how different he looked. "Can you see better?" Elliana asks and he smiles giving her a sweet kiss on her head. "Sí, mi corazón. Thanks for asking."

Rafa turns to you. "Mama, doesn't Dad's glasses look cool?"

Their eyes were on you but you could feel the taunting nature of your husband's eyes. "Yeah... mhm, he looks... they look-k good." You stammer causing Oscar to smirk.

He had seemingly found an upper hand on you with these glasses and he wasn't afraid to use it over the next week. He had them on even when he didn't need them to see that look on your face— the lust, the adoration— your pupils seem to expand whenever you see him in those spectacles. He just looked fucking hot.

It was the best when he walked around in his grey sweats, alone, with no shirt. Just his tattoos and glasses to complete his look and you ate it up every time. You tug on your bottom lip as you paint the picture in your mind. But why imagine, when you can just go see. The house was quiet, all the kids were sound asleep, you shifted out of bed as carefully as you could to not wake Emilia. Once you are successful you grab the baby monitor and creep downstairs, the television is off and the whole first floor is dark-- the only form of light shines through the windows courtesy of the moon. 

"Why the fuck would you do that!?" 

Ah yes, of course, he was in his habitat. The basement. You sneak your way down to see that the ceiling light is off and he just has the ones around his monitors on, though they are bright enough for her to see where she's going. His back is turned and he's so zoned in that your presence goes unnoticed for quite some time. You cross your arms and dramatically clear your throat to let him know you're here. "Yall give me a minute, wifey is here." You can hear the collective; "Hi wifey!" "Hola señiorita!" "What's good Mrs. Spooky?" 

You smile and greet them right back before he mutes his mic. "What's up?" He spins his chair to give you his full attention. "Emilia's awake?" 

You shake your head. "No, she's still sleeping. Just came to hang out." Your eyes ogle the print in his sweats. He follows your line of sight and chuckles. "You sure?"

"Mhm." You swing your leg over his legs and perch yourself on his lap. "I mention how fucking good you look in these glasses?" You purr leaning in. "They havin' an effect on you, ma. That I can see." He hums ghosting your lips with his. "And that's why you should listen to your esposa (wife)more." 

Your lips finally meet and it's not long before you two are practically nibbling at each other with a mutual desperation to end the sexual tension that's been created over time. "Let me hop off the game-" 

"No, it's okay. They can't see you right?" You smirk gnawing at his jaw. "No, they can't."

You reach between your bodies and slide your hand into his sweats. Oscar reaches up to adjust his glasses and when they begin to fog up he cleans them off and reaches to put them on his desk when you stop him. 

"The glasses stay on, Diaz." 

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