*BANGING POTS AND PANS TOGETHER* APPARENTLY VREL SAID HARPER'S FAVOURITE POSITION IS THE STAND AND CARRY!!!!!!!!!!!11111111!!!!!!!11!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
HARPER'S FAVOURITE POSITION IS LIFTING UP THEIR PARTNER AND FUCKING THEM (WHILE FACING EACH OTHER) DO YOU HEAR ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! IM GOING FAWKKING INSANEEEEE WAUUUUUUUGHGHGHGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
YOU MAKE ME WEEP 😭 I MISS YOU AND I HAVEN'T BEEN ON. can't wait for the semester to wrap up. but i did get a job for the summer hahaha!!
i'm trying to get pregnant by kylar or eden. so far i have FAILED.
honestly, i must ask how you would think wren would be as a parent. would love to hear any thoughts on that!!!
THIS GOT BURIED, IM SO SORRY!!
DW, we know how Eden and Kylar are. Non stop fuck nasty machines.
Okay, for Wren as a dad, it... Depends?
Like, does he like you as a fuck buddy or does he... Like you, like you? Like Like... Like Love Like?
Cuz if its the first one, I think the best you get is that he's going to be not present at all. Like he sends money, he's going to show up some days to absolutely dazzle your kid with a horse ride and presents and shit, and then won't come and visit for another 8 months. He's flighty as fuck, he's busy. Your kid will have his beautiful hair, maybe his soft brown eyes. Maybe your kid will always love him because he's the cool fun dad who spoils them when he does come around. Maybe they get disenchanted by him by the time they hit their teens. He doesn't pick up when they call, he doesn't come to important events. Maybe one day he comes by with a couple of presents and they flatly turn down going out for a day with him. You might get to watch his face fall a bit. Maybe just his eyes just get a bit duller.
Your kid goes off to hang out with friends and you and Wren get to have a drink together for the first time in ages, since his attention is normally on your kid, never you. He's down. Says he wants to do better. But you know him by now. So you just offer a pat on the back, and wonder if this is the last time you'll see him again, since he's finally been turned away by his kid, and has no reason to come back anymore.
NOW, if you're someone he actually fucking likes?
My god. Wants his annoying input in everything you do. Choosing a flat? "Sunshine, babycakes, darling, its cheaper to get a lil cottage out on the farmlands, and then I can come by every night after work and-" Deciding on a crib? "Sweetheart, muffin, angel face, let me see if i can get it handmade, never should trust the plastic shit, fuck, I slept in the top drawer for the first 3 months of my life, baby-" Like its cute, but shut up babe.
He's going to be in your damn life. Even if you say he can take a backseat, he's fucking taking that backseat out, taking out the gear stick and putting his seat there. Fuck you.
Somehow got into your phone to get a copy of important upcoming dates, and he skids into the ultrasound, all sweaty, just as you're getting your gown on.
He's going to be your fucking best friend in this. That's Wren as a lover, boyfriend, partner, it's as a best friend who really wants to get into your pants and deigns to bombard you with sloppy kisses just because he knows it makes you swat at him.
He would sometimes not show up days in a row, but it's never months. Just a few days, and he comes back with an oversized plush under his arm, or a stupidly big cake or something.
He loves that kid man. He's always gonna love his kid, but they aren't an afterthought anymore. He wants 50 more hours in the day, so he doesn't have to choose between work and his home.
Wren's also fucking terrified. He knows the town he lives in, its why he wanted you in the farmlands, not in town. Will beg you to consider homeschooling. In his perfect world, his kid never steps foot in town, and gets to grow up with nature, and feeling safe. Doesn't matter what age, he wants to be old as fuck, and have his 40 year old kid still at home and training horses or something.
Wren, overall, as a parent would love his kid. But his relationship with you would decide how much he wants to actually be there.
content warning. wren is trying... so hard. not many contents to be warned of, excep with leighton, then it has bondage, filming and taking pictures.
characters. wren. avery. bailey. leighton.
AND THERE'S THREE MORE CHARACTERS TO COME, I JUST WANTED TO PUT THIS OUT CUZ OTHERWISE MIGUEL IS GONNA SLAM FUCK MY THROAT ALL DAY.
OKAY SO:
Wren is incredibly surprised by the text. The little specialised notification sound he assigned to you never goes off that much anymore, unless there's an emergency. He takes a moment to check his phone, waving on some of his friends as he tucks his gloves away in his back pocket.
His stomach squirms a bit at the sight of your name on his screen. It always used to do that, especially when you two first got together, and when you gave him his little one. Fuck, even if he barely sees you, you still got him feeling... Some sort.... Of... What the fuck?
Sunshine: Hey Wren. Thought you should know that I've been seeing someone for a while now and he proposed a few days ago. He just wants to let you know, for Junior. DW, you don't have to come to the ceremony or anything.
What the fuck.
What the fuck?? and 2. He's going to have to know when the fuck exactly the fucking wedding is so he can...
He can... Do what, exactly? Fucking stand up, and object? On what grounds?
"HEY JORDAN! I fucked that pretty thing and they had my baby! I get eternal dibs, right?"
"I fucked them first, no one can fuck them after!"
"I want more babies with that lovely piece of ass, this isn't fair!"
"I'm a deadbeat who last saw my kid three months ago, and this means I-"
Wren squeezed the phone tightly.
Daddio: Want me to watch the kid on the wedding day? Make a day out of it?
Sunshine: Nah, they're excited for it. Get to be in the wedding party and everything, y'know, with the rest of the family.
Fuck you. Fucking fuck you. Fuck you.
Daddio: Coolio. Congrats.
Why didn't you tell him the moment you got with some guy? Why didn't his kid pick up the phone and quietly beg for Dad to come and take you both away from this fucking prick, sleeping in his fucking house?
Why didn't he fucking swing by, a bouquet of something for you, a pack of condoms in his back pocket (maybe with some holes pricked into the foil wrapper), a big ole cow plushie for his baby. Make it obvious who gets to be with his family, and its' not some fucking guy he doesn't even know the name of.
But he knew why. It's why other ex-husbands, or co-parents, or whatever, get to be invited to the ceremony.
Fuck this.
Wren doesn't get to go to the wedding. No, he doesn't get to see who is the new stepdad in town, until he swings by, two months after the ceremony and honeymoon (the honeymoon where you trusted one of your fucking friends with his kid, not him), wanting to surrpise his baby on their birthday. After a few upbeat knocks, the door swings open and-
Avery:
Are you shitting his actual bricks? You're fucking him.
"Wren." Avery's lips slip into a small smirk before returning to a neutral look. "How nice of you to drop by."
I'll fucking drop kick your ass-
"Dad!" A shout rang out and his kid appeared just behind Avery, little face light up like the sun.
But before Wren could say anything, Avery settled his hand on their small shoulder.
"Hey, what did we talk about?" The business man offered an easy going smile but his kid immediately straightened up their posture and fidgeted a bit.
"Inside voices for the inside. Sorry, Miste- Sorry, Avery." Wren ground his teeth as he watched his baby blink up at the blond, who just gave their shoulder another squeeze before looking back at him.
"You should have called ahead, Wren." Avery says smoothly, his hand not dropping from where it sits. "We're about to head out for dinner."
Dinner. He knows about those fucking dinners. When you were vulnerable and in need of money and this fucker would take you out to dinner and parties and the fucking hotel. Those restaurants were so fucking stuffy and he knows his kid is gonna hate it. The snooty waiters, the fact you can't even get a soda, and you... You eat what Avery tells you to eat. Wren bite down on his tongue. He opens his mouth to tell Avery where he should stick his fancy dinner-
"Wren?" You appear behind Avery, who immediately drops his hand from Junior's shoulder, and instead snake around your waist.
"Sunshine!" The smuggler immediately lets slip, even with the darkening of Avery's eyes and brightening of his kid's. Gotcha. Some hope in that department. "Dropped by to give out some gifts to someone who might just... Be a year older?"
His kid almost starts vibrating with excitment as Wren feigned ignorance. Even you cracked a little, soft smile.
"Anyway, thought you might wanna also get one of those horse rides I keep promising." He shrugged, knowing that he was really coming off as the coolest dad right now. "Might suit better than one of those fancy lad dinners, eh?"
Avery's face was dark as he glared at Wren and you worriedly rested your hand on his side. The smuggler's stomach tightened. He wasn't just famous for being a fancy pants out here. He knew what Avery was truely like. Green eyed rage monster. For probably the second time in his life, he felt a tinge of regret. If he got you in trouble with Avery... Fuck.
"But dad!" Junior squeaked up, blinking their wide eyes. "The dinners are soooo cool! They give me a seperate menu and when we went last time, Miste- Avery said that we wanted to taste test the kind of cakes they had, to be ready for my brithday!"
Wren's mouth fell open as Avery smirked at him in victory. This piece of shit was turning his kid into a fucking townie.
"Hm. Maybe you can do your... Horse riding tomorrow. In fact, I'd love to go with. Pay for a proper lesson."
That fuckin bastard-
"Why don't you come with on Friday?" You suddenly blurted out, and your kid lit up again, reaching their tiny hand up to cling to yours. Avery looked less pleased, giving you a side eye after he nearly crushed Wren once and for all.
"... Friday?"
The businessman's victorious grin returned.
"...The parent-teacher meeting, Wren."
Bailey:
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!
Shitting fuck!
He was late. Only by 10 minutes, but fuck, it's been years since he's been to one of these things, he had no idea how long it took to talk about how great his kid is at drawing within the lines!
Wren pushed past another couple and their snotty son and checked his hand again. The inked on details were smudged from the sweat, but he could still make out a faint, "Room 3" and stopped right in front of the door. Fuck.
Stepping in, four heads looked over. You, looking wonderful, fresh, like you could use another kid from him. Junior, lighting up at the sight of him and raising their little hand in a meek hello. The teacher, checking their watch with a slight frown, and-
Fucking christ on a jackass. Why the fuck was he here?
To be fair, Bailey seemed to be thinking the same thing, both for himself and for Wren. Was there something in the orphanage contract that every orphan's future kids also belonged to the caretaker or some shit? If so, Wren was willing to haul Bailey from his chair and beat his ass right here, right now.
“Wren.” You nodded at the chair next to Bailey, tilted away a bit. “... You’re-”
“Late, I know.” Wren didn’t mean to snap, but the little frown on his kid’s face made it obvious it came out far harsher than he meant it to be. What he didn’t expect was the clear look of disdain aimed at him from Bailey. Like he was no better than the dog shit on his heel. Jesus.
Not to totally diminish the ground he gained with you lately, Wren hooked his foot around the chair leg to yank it closer and dropped down, giving Junior a grin and a wink.
“... As I was saying, they have returned to the good work they were doing before and it seems they have even improved when concentrating in class” The teacher ignored Wren, focusing on you and Bailey. “I am quite surprised, actually. Some of the issues they were having before, poof! All gone.”
“Issues they were having bef- What issues?” Wren cut in, suddenly frowning.
The teacher eyed him, probably shot his kid the same look when they were talking in class.
“You were unaware of some of the bullying? We-”
“Bullying?” Wren whips his head around to stare at you.
It takes him a moment to realise that Bailey’s gloved hand had at one point crept over to rest on your thigh.
“There was-”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” The smuggler struggled not to raise his voice again, but it evidently wasn’t fucking working, with the looks being given to him.
“I-”
“We.” Bailey cut you off with a dark look aimed at the blonde. “We wanted to settle it before… Asking for your expertise.”
Wren felt something in his gut grow hot and uncomfortable. Bailey. Bailey was the fucking monster who “took care” of you your entire life, and now he was sitting here, one hand on your thigh, taking care of his kid. How fucked were you? Were you in trouble, and why didn’t you tell him? Or did you willingly let this fuck into your house?
He sat there, boiling with anger, barely able to give his kid a few smiles until the end of the session. Wren stayed behind a moment, as you bundled your child up in their jumper and herded them out, Bailey’s towering frame hiding you from his eyes as he walked behind you.
“... Hey, can you put this number on the contacts? Just to keep me updated with this stuff. Y’know. Incidents.”
The teacher blinked up at him.
“... I’ll have to ask the parents to allow-”
“I am one of the fucking parents. I’m the father!” Wren snapped.
She blinked again, far more confused than ever. Bringing the contact papers out, she tried her best to obscure the page from him, but he saw anyway. Your name at the top… With Bailey’s name and number directly under. What the fuck was happening. The last time you two fucked, you were still under that fucker’s thumb, what the shit is he doing going to parent evenings?
Wren ignored the startled look from the teacher as he grabbed his jacket from the back of his seat and stomped out the room, shoving past some scandalised looking parents as he looked around. He will fucking punch that fucker’s nose in and take you home himself. Demand some fucking answers. See if he’s hurt you. Kiss where he’s hurt you better. He’ll be there in the morning when Junior wakes up.
Making his way out of the weird crayon scented hallway, he eventually got to find the exit, only to stop on the steps out, cold wind ruffling his hair.
His kid was in an expensive car, squinting at the bright light of an ipad, probably playing one of those surfing games. Totally oblivious to what was happening outside. Bailey, resting against the door, his gloved hands squeezing at your sides as he spoke low, intense. Too close. Too intimate. Especially for what he knew of your relationship.
Did he snake in while he wasn’t there? Did he stop seeing you as an orphan one day, and started to see you… The real you? The way Wren saw you? Did he see you and-
Bailey was kissing you. Just something quick, his hand briefly cupping the back of your neck before pulling away and adjusting his gloves. The two men made eye contact for just a moment, but Bailey’s smug tilt of his lips said it all. That the two men had switched lives within a heartbeat. One was surrounded by loved ones, even if coerced. They got a warm house and a place in bed next to you. The other was on the outside, with only his work.
Wren was going to beat that fucker’s face in.
Leighton: (Wren’s Day Off)
He was so fucking excited.
The two of you never bothered with shit like settling visitations in court, custody hearings or child support, or shit. You both knew that Wren wouldn’t be able to raise the kid by himself, with how much he works… Not to mention his hobbies. Wren usually just sent you the dates he had off of work, and you’d usually let him know if his kid was able to come hang out with him that day.
Finally, today was the day he got to fully spend with his kid. Show them how to do some tricks when riding, maybe start teaching them how to play poker… And he got to spend some time with you.
The two of you would usually share a cup of something warm as his baby ran around, trying to find their good coat and boots. A fond look shared between the two of you. A spark of something.
So, when he knocked on the door, and you opened it, dishevelled and blushing, Wren was rather taken aback. He knew that look.
You had been fucking.
Flushed and breathing quick, and fucking gorgeous.
“Wren! Didn’t expect you so early!” You breathed, tightening the robe around yourself.
He said nothing as you led him in, fluttering around by the kitchen counter to assemble the cups and put on the kettle. Wren just watched your bare legs, with the bruises and rope marks wrapping around them.
“... Where’s the kiddo?”
“Oh, outside in the garden. They’ve taken an interest in guessing all the flowers and they’ve just been having fun drawing the plants.” You gave a soft laugh and Wren struggled to join in.
Keep busy, outside, while you get stuffed with cock. It made him mad, but mainly because he had imagined that plenty, but with the two of you. Getting one of his friends to watch his baby and tug you to his room for a drink and a sweaty, nasty fuck.
God, he’s gagging for a fuck.
“... I’m going to go for a piss.”
You hummed and waved him away, knowing he knew his way through the house. He wasn’t going for a piss. He was gonna snoop.
Fuck you, he had a right to know.
Wren made his way to your room, and inched the door open before freezing up. He could hear your shower running in the ensuite. A camera was set up on a tripod. Ropes tied to the bedposts. Polaroids scattered on the dresser. Against his better judgement, he dragged his finger over one to pull it closer.
You.
You tied up, with a blindfold.
A fat cock sunk into your poor hole.
Wren cast his eye over the other pictures. Bound, gagged, blindfolded, toys stuffing your hole full, a fat cock resting against your drooling lips.
So lost in the pictures of you he once got to see for himself, he didn’t notice the door swing open and someone pause in the doorframe. Towel drying his hair, Leighton just watched the smuggler, looking somewhat amused as Wren stared.
“Should we send you out to the garden too, now?” Leighton drawled, his wedding band glinting as he tossed the towel to the side. “You interrupted us.”
The smuggler almost jumped out of his skin with a low cuss. The headmaster just watched him, looking pleased and smug as the other man backed out of the room a bit more. Wren never wanted to die so much before in his life, but something about… This entire morning was going to fucking haunt his nightmares.
He did pocket one of the polaroids though, just to put up on his pinboard.
content warning. uhhh... nothing much actually. angst mostly
characters. wren. harper. niki. remy.
Harper:
Sunshine: Kiddo is sick, so they can’t make it out there today.
Daddio: What? Sick with what?
Sunshine: Just a cold, I think, but they’re staying in bed, Wren. No exceptions.
Wren was on his way before he even finished reading the text. For what, he had no fucking idea. Shit, when he was ill, he just threw back three fingers of whiskey, had something deep fried and greasy and went to bed. But he wanted to check up on his kid, his baby.
He might have broken a few speed limits getting there, but it didn’t matter.
“Wren? I already told you-” You looked fucking stunning, in your old bathrobe, holding a glass of watered down orange juice.
“Not here to take them out, don’t worry. Just wanted to check up on the kid.” He gave you a smile.
“Well, Ha-”
Your name was called from deeper in the house and Wren’s easy grin disappeared. You’re fucking kidding him. He knew that voice, from the times that little shit would come to the farm to examine and test and-
“Coming!” You called back, switching the orange juice glass to your other hand and gestured for Wren to come on in as you walked towards the bedrooms.
Wren kicked the door close behind him, knowing he definitely left a dusty boot mark and not caring as he followed after you. He fussed with his satchel, bringing out a little bag of freshly picked apples, stolen directly from Remy’s stash.
His kid’s room always made him smile. Pictures of him and you and one where you were all together, a few wonky horses painted on the ceiling, looking like a pretty forest with all the green. Now…
Now that little asshole was sitting on his kid’s bed, one lithe hand resting against their forehead.
“Hmm. Probably forgot to go out with a scarf, didn’t you?” Harper said in a light hearted tone, teasing the poor little mite, before noticing the two new arrivals in the room.
The bespectacled blond gave you a stupidly soft smile, one that made Wren feel slightly sick. Harper took the orange juice from your hand, making sure to tug on your wrist a bit to drop a kiss to your skin.
“Thank you, mouse.” He smiled, which didn’t even slip when his gaze slipped over to Wren, but his eyes felt sharper. “Hello, Wren.”
“Harper.” He replied, his tone icy.
“Dad!”
Wren immediately brightened and smiled down at his kid, who struggled to sit up. You hushed them gently.
He got to spend the rest of his day in that little dappled room, as you and Harper dipped in and out, to refresh kiddo’s drink, to hand over some pills, but largely left them alone. Wren should be a bit happier about that but… Even as he sliced up the apples and watched them munch and crunch, he felt unneeded. He wanted to come in here, be the hero to his sick kid and his ex partner, but he was simply not… Needed.
When Wren leaves, he takes a moment to watch you and Harper, the doctor whispering something into your ear that makes you snort and push him away as he grins. He can’t fight his own frown as he tugs on his jacket.
Niki:
There was a knock at the cottage door that had Wren jerking out of his light snooze, from where he was sitting back in one of the poker chairs.
“Wren! Brat at the door!” One of his friends called, sounding pretty fucking rough from their game last night.
Poker games always brought back memories. Like when you humped his cock at the table and he fucking bred your pretty hole into hell. Though, it wasn’t a memory to share around proudly. Not gonna point out the chair to his kid and tell him, “hey kiddo! That’s where you were conceived! And the third to last time Sunshine and I fucked!”
Opening the door, the sun took a moment to fucking blind him before he raised his hand to blink at the two figures.
Niki was fiddling with his camera bag as his kid grinned up at him, holding a little bag.
“Happy Father’s Day, papa!” They chirped, before extending the gift bag, practically bouncing on the tips of their toes.
Oh fuck.
“O-Oh yeah! Thanks, kiddo!” Wren immediately fixed a bright smile on his face, taking his present. “You didn’t have to come all the way out here, I was gonna come drop by today anyway!”
Niki gave a discreet, disbelieving little cough. The smuggler frowned at him.
“Why are you down here, Nik?”
The photographer paused in his rustling through his bag, twisting his lollipop stick a bit before fixing him with an unimpressed look.
“Shutterbug wanted me to walk them down. Y’know.”
Shutterbug.
You… And fucking Niki.
“Just dropping by to give you your gift before I take the kid into town. They wanted to drop by the cafe before we head to the studio.”
“The cafe has milkshakes 30% off on Father’s day.” Junior told him matter of factly, almost sounding like the photographer himself when listing prices for his shoots.
… They were going to spend Father’s Day together. He was just a stop along the way.
“Sounds good.” Wren cleared his throat before speaking again, worried about sounding croaky. “Want me to-”
“We’re good.” Niki immediately cut him off, shouldering his camera bag. “C’mon, we should get going now.”
Wren watched them head off, Junior’s little hand reaching up to grab onto Niki’s waiting one. He bites his bottom lip and slowly unwraps his present.
A little green mug with big white lettering. “World’s Best Dad”.
Remy:
“You’re kidding me.”
“Why would I be?”
“You don’t even have to-”
“Have to bring them? Have their tutor ask where they were for bring your child to work day, and have them say that they stayed home?” Remy gave him a look that screamed how much he thought Wren was being an idiot right now.
“But to the farm-”
“Not to the farm, c’mon. Just to the riding school.” Remy idly kicked the gate to one of the pens, making one of the cows quieten down. “They love horses, they’ll have a great day.”
Wren hummed, rubbing his gloved hand against the back of his neck.
“.. I could, y’know, do it.”
“Do what?” Remy eyed him.
“Take them to work.”
That made Remy pause in his tracks, finally stopping to turn around and stare at him.
“You.”
“Me.”
“Take them to work.” The farmer said slowly, as if not sure if Wren was actually understanding his words.
“Yeah.”
“Wren. You don’t have government recognised work.”
“Well-”
“Wren. You’re not taking my stepkid to stand in a fucking cave, or to the goddamn prison. Or sit in on… What, a poker game?” Remy rolled his eyes, his gloved fingers dragging slowly over the whip hanging at his side.
“C’mon, Rem. I never get to see them anymore.”
“Yes, you do. You’ve seen them more in the last week than you have before I married my darling.”
Wren winced. It was technically true that he saw his kiddo trotting around the estate, giving him an excited wave whenever they saw him.
“Spending time with them, Remy, not just seeing ‘em. Can’t you like… Make this an exemption?”
“Not really.” Remy headed back out of the barn, idly slipping an apple from his pocket to run a gloved thumb over its unblemished skin. “Can’t we do this later? Set something up where you can babysit when we go on dates or something.”
Wren opened his mouth to argue but the farmer was already off, heading back towards the house. He didn’t want to be a dad that thought of spending time with his kid as “babysitting”, he’s their father for fuck’s sake. But he felt the fight leave him when he saw you, sitting serenely on the back porch, look up at Remy with a loving look. Parting your perfect lips when he drew near, and took a bite out of the apple in his hand when he offered it. Holding his wrist as you did so, apple juice slipping down the farmer’s gloved fingers. The kiss dropped to your forehead. The almost seductive way you cleaned up the mess from his palm.
The smuggler curled his fingers into a fist before sharply turning away. He’ll fight with Remy later.
Sleep? What is sleep? Keeling over before I even finish typing this out. Dead.
content warning! incest?, step-cest?, whitney being a bitch
My dear anon, you’re just asking for the wrong person to rile up, aren’t you? Whitney is petty by nature, I just know, fucking remembers each and every time you disobey them and by god, if they aren’t going to make you pay it back twice as hard. Big brother Whitney would be no different, with a bit of a possessive streak in him, of course. Y’know, he gets protective in the sense where no one else is allowed to bully you but him. Bunch of kids called you a “slut” as they passed you in the hallways, snickering amongst themselves? Pulls up the next day with bruises littered across their bodies, oozed, dried blood from their busted noses barely hidden by the cheap bandage slapped over it. Somehow though, it’s fine for him to call you his whore whenever mommy and daddy aren’t looking, backs turned to your older brother’s wandering hand, giving your thigh a firm squeeze.
You’re his younger sibling. It’s only his job after all to look after you, even if he does in the weirdest of ways, typical Whitney that he is. Friend wants you to come over to study? Yeah, Whitney’s not letting up on the supposed plans that you made with him before, having not remembered of it he claims but truly, he just made that shit up on the spot. Ends up with you sat on his cock, quivering legs draped over his thighs as you try to concentrate on the paper set in front of you, vision blurry from the tears spilling over your flushed cheeks. Wants you to refer to him as your big brother in front of the others, even if the thought makes the heat rush up to your face after the many times you’ve called him that during fucking, almost getting caught each and every time he pumped into you.
Getting a call from someone? Buzzing phone vibrating off in the distance with the bully reaching for it, glancing down to read out the number of whoever is fucking calling you this late at night. Grin forming on his face as he realizes it’s the goddamn freak, nosy little shit that’s always at your side, following you around like some lovesick puppy. Yeah? Want to be so damn clingy to his precious little sibling? Have a go at it, picking up the call, legs snugly wrapped around his waist, Kylar’s greeting cut off by your moans, only to pause once they realize what’s truly happening. You’re getting.. fucked. No question there, by who though?
Kylar doesn’t have to wait long to get their answer, breath heavy against your skin slicked with sweat, urging you on to call out for your fucking big brother. He’s already balls deep inside of you anyway, shamelessly whining out for him as your fingers curl into his hair, flooding your slutty hole full of his cum. Your big brother’s fat cock that you’ve grown so addicted to after sinking down on it for the first time, hips firmly held by his rough hands.
Think it’d be funnier if it’s a video call too. Just a glimpse of your wet hole fucked wide open for the briefest of seconds, sprawled out on the bedsheets before it quickly moves over to Whitney’s face shooting Kylar the most shit-eating grin on earth. Ends the call right then and there, leaving the loner to deal with the conflicted arousal between their legs
Thinking about him, frustrated and horny, nothing is really getting him. No matter how much he sifts through the pages of those dirty, raunchy magazines stolen from his dad’s drawers, maybe the old cassette tapes with over the top porn, clearly outdated in this day and age, flickering screen idly gazing back at him. Nothing is enough, nothing is actually getting it up for him, well, till he sets his sights on you. Stupid bitch that you are, snoozing away with your body comfortably tucked awayunder the covers, gripping at your pillows sheets as if you were calling for daddy and mommy.
How could the bully resist such a face either? Lush lips slightly parted, eyelashes fluttering gently in their wake with your chest slowly rising up and down, in sync with each and every one of your breaths taken. Good for you. Big brother’s here to keep company, push the fucking thoughts that’s been nagging at the back of his mind away. With a low grunt, he settles himself on top of you, not bothering to be gentle about it either, knees planted to each of your side, your blissful sleeping expression facing his crotch. How cute. Don’t even get to see his rock hard erection in his pants, jutted against your cheek as he slips a hand past his waistband, freeing his aching cock in much need of stimulation.
Starts off.. mostly tame, rubbing a hand over his leaking slit before finally gripping at the hard length, stroking it, fucking jerking himself off right in front of your face and you don’t even suspect a thing. How the fuck aren’t the slicked, wet sounds of his cock being roughly stroked not waking you up? God knows why but the delinquent doesn’t hesitate to take advantage of it, picking up the pace as he feels himself nearing climax, pumping his cock full of you.
Maybe it was a spur of the moment thing or just that fucking expression of yours, peek of your wet tongue against your lips, visualizing how that same tongue could be sucking on your big brother’s fat cock instead. That’s all it took, groaning out a curse under his breath as hot, white strings of cum spurt out of his cock, messily landing across your pristine skin and staining the sheets beneath.
…Yeah.
What a goddamn surprise you’ll be waking up to tomorrow.
content warning. landry jerking it to stolen footage of you and whitney. that's it. he's a lovely lovely criminal <3
Landry relaxes into his chair, lightly turning the beat up phone between his fingers, the pub music muted behind his door. lightly tapping the screen against his knuckles before deciding and swiping the screen.
"Dumbass." Landry muttered, slightly surprised by the lack of password. "The fuck they teaching in that school these days.?"
His painted nails tapped against the screen, musing slightly before switching to Whitney's messages, scrolling through them before checking his emails, just delaying his own gratification.
Finally exhales and switches to the picture album.
Staring from the oldest to the latest, there was only a few pictures of flaccid cocks, most probably blackmail before he got to you. Staring with obviously forced shots, that prick's hand yanking open your shirt, exposing your pretty nipples.
"Cute." Landry mused, zooming in on them. He preferred when nipples were soft, not even hard yet. Far cuter than those stiff little things he eyed through your tank top when you took refuse with a beer in the summer. "Real cute."
Was the most cute when the photos became far more... Compliant. Your cheeky grin as you showed off your pretty ass, smiling back at the camera, cum splattered across your back.
He scrolled through dozens of these snapshots, showing off your thighs, your ass, cum painted skin. Landry paused at one really pretty picture, your lips pried apart by thick fingers, your tongue on display, with opaque white liquid dripping off the tip.
"C'mon." Landry flicked from the picture section to the video, scrolling through before passing the one Whitney had jerked off to in his bathrooms. "Don't quit your day job, blondie, even Niki can keep the fucking camera from shaking."
Finally freezing on one particular one, he settled into his chair, zipping his trousers down before pressing play. His cock was stupidly hard in seconds, are per usual when it came to you. Camera wonky, tilted angles, showing you pressed up against his own bathroom stalls, a certain someone's cock roughly fucking into you, your gasps and please to slow down, to take it easy, that you're making too much noise.
"Not loud enough, slut." Whitney's voice sneered off screen and Landry rolled his eyes with a sigh, contemplating on muting the irritating snot and weighting it against missing out on your noises.
Honestly, the blond brat shouldn't run his mouth like that. At least if he knew what kind of people would be willing to break his nose and fuck you in front of him themselves.
Leaning back, he ran a thumb over his throbbing balls before gripping the base and spitting on his own head, letting the saliva slowly drip down over the crown, just the way he liked it. Steely eyes focused on you abused ass, sharp hipbones digging into your skin. Poor cute thing. Idiot probably just thinks spanking its enough. Landry preferred biting. He'd be sure to make you wince once you sat down, squirming as you pout at him. Give you rub burn from his stubble from how much time he'd spend between your thighs, make you squeal and try to push his head away. Grab your wrists and kiss your palms before pining them down anyway and ruining you further.
He jerked his cock faster, watching your fingernails scratch at the walls for any sort of grip before giving up and digging them into Whitney's thighs instead.
His stomach knotting, Landry tossed the phone onto his desk, instead using his hand to dig in his fingernails to his thighs, closing his eyes to loose himself in your whines, the feeling of his, no, no your fingernails pushing in deep enough to hopefully draw blood as he fucked his fist.
Too soon, far too soon for his liking, he was spilling ropes of cum over his hand and desk, swearing quietly as some landed on Whitney's stolen phone. With a low sigh, he used tissues to wipe off his semen, before dabbing at the phone, smirking as he got his own fluids into the cracks, smearing it more than wiping it off.
Tossing the tissue, he sat back in his chair.
"Until next time." He murmured, locking the phone before pulling out the sim card, and his sim card reader connected to his computer. "The phone goes back but you, little thief, get to stay right on my hard drive."
After seeing Vrel's answer about Bailey, willing to be bought for a date in exchange of a good amount of money, my delulu ass had to draw something about it—
Can I just say that Harper's fixation on the pc is just so oddly pathetic yet cute
Like 100% the man is a pervert to probably all of his patients, and is up to all sorts of shady shit... but Vrel confirmed in a comment at one point that Harper indeed has a fixation on the pc, and my brain is just going brrrrr... Like man just his entire insistency to get you on medication to get you more pliable... calling you in to see him every single week to touch you— I mean examine you.. cough cough.
Using hypnotization so he can encourage you to do lewder mindless behavior, and so he can take pictures of you— (which I'm sorry but we all know he jerks off to secretlv)
Seriously his general need to touch you, see every part of you, and in the asylum, his personally supervised showers especially are so uneccesarry other than the mere fact he's an absolute simp for the pc…
And speaking of the asylum, his kissing lessons????? and the assessments with him intervening when anyone touches/gropes you when he hasn't planned it??? and a big big oof is also his need that before you're free to leave the asylum... that he calls you in for a last private assessment and all professionalism is gone from this man's mind. He even seems sad he can't justify keeping the pc at the asylum, and it doesn't take long before he's already groping and trying to kiss. Like the man is down bad, even stuttering when he says he'd like to keep seeing you every Friday at the hospital still 💕💕💕
Also another scene that lives in my head rent free is that one scene on Remy's farm where he suddenly and impulsively kisses the PC before Remy comes back, like tongue and all... causing Harper to pull away immediately as soon as Remy comes back and stuttering... Like s i r.
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romaincrisis
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