#< not necessarily but for the sake of tagging

[daflangstlairde-art]

"Extremophile" 3/4

Part 3 of ocean depths

Summary:

You drown every minute, every second, with every breath you take. You haven’t breathed for so, so long. The icy waters are inside you, deep, deep inside you. All you could ever feel is cold and colder. You haven’t seen the sun in... so... long. It was so far away from you that you couldn’t even picture it anymore. And here was the sun himself. Here was that gasp of air that burned. You’ve been so cold for so long, the warmth feels like death. — Alt summary: It's not easy but boy do I drag Killer (and everyone around him) kicking and screaming towards a healing arc

Chapter 3: "an orchid" 4293 words

—

Killer was bored. He was bored as hell. When wasn't he bored? 

“Hey,” Dream greeted, with a small smile and a wave, “I guess I don't have anything to pass onto you today, so, I brought something of my own?” 

Luckily there was a clown here to entertain him. What a delight. 

“It’s also a bit of a... an apology gift?” Dream continued, rubbing the back of his neck. “Last time I was here, I... kind of freaked you out, and I didn't mean to,”

Killer shrugged. “Whatever,” he hadn't even bothered to stand up upon Dream’s arrival, why would he care about that? 

“Right,” Dream strode over, holding out... 

“...A russian nesting doll,” Killer deadpanned, though he did take the object to inspect it.

(Pointedly avoiding even the smallest point of physical contact with Dream. Not even a brush of their fingers.) 

“Yeah! I– Night told me about... your conversation, and... I agree with him,” Dream said. “Oh! Ink helped me paint it!” 

It was customized. As Killer opened it up, all the dolls had black eyes and a replica of his soul painted on. He snorted. This felt like mockery, honestly. And the thought of Dream of all people being a bully was very funny.

It was made from hard wood. Killer discovered this as he tried to crush one of the pieces with a hand and it didn't buckle. Shame. It would've been fun to watch Dream hide away the hurt that would've caused. 

“Well now that that’s out the way,” Killer stored the thing in his inventory, pushing himself to his feet. Dream stepped back to give him space. Or maybe he was (justifiably) scared that Killer would attack him again (he might). “Take me to– ugh, Underfell,” 

Dream blinked, confused at the changed topic. 

“Where Dust is,” Killer clarified for him. “I’m sick of this place,” 

Dream paused. Then, his expression brightened with a grin like a sunrise, though what that was for, Killer hadn't a clue.

“Yes!” Dream exclaimed. “I mean– of course I can,”

And in barely a few minutes, they were in Dust’s Underfell with Dream knocking at the door. Killer mimed rolling his eyes.

It was some time late in the afternoon. There was the sound of several locks being undone, and then the door opening. 

Red regarded them with a flat look. 

“What,” he asked. 

“Hello!” Dream greeted. 

“Hi?” 

“Here for Dust,” Killer cut in, directly to the point. 

“Right,” Red turned to the inside of the house. “EY DUST BUNNY! GET YOUR ASS DOWN HERE!” he yelled. Killer snorted. 

Dust appeared in the space next to him, a hand on Red’s shoulder. Already prepared with a glower, but it eased up when he saw them. Probably because of Dream’s presence. 

...Except he pushed Dream away. And stepped toward Killer. And put an arm around his shoulders, punching him in the sternum with no harmful intent behind the action. You could even call it friendly. 

“Finally decided to stop sulking?” he teased.

...What. 

Since when was Dust so damn touchy? Since when was he... what, affectionate? What the hell did this place do to him? Wasn't this Universe supposed to be, you know, rough around the edges or something? Violent? What? 

“I don't sulk,” Killer shoved him in return. 

“Sure, and I've never killed a soul,” Dust rolled his eyes, amused, though he did let go. “Seriously though. It's nice to see you here,” 

...What? 

This was like that ‘you're my friend’ bullshit that Dust pulled. 

Dream was beaming at the two of them. Killer stepped on his foot harshly, making him yelp and stumble away. 

Dust whacked him upside the head for it. Killer elbowed him in the ribs.

“Fuckin’ Christ,” Red muttered, dragging a hand down his face. Turning around leaving them to it like he wasn't associated. 

“You’re as much of a freak as ever,” Killer replied to Dust’s comment at last. 

“And you're as much of a jackass as ever,” Dust replied, not offended even in the slightest, just grinning in amusement. Damn him. “Thanks for bringing him,” he turned to Dream. 

“Of course! Anytime.” Dream nodded, smiling still. “Will you be staying here, Killer?” 

“Sure,” Killer shoved his hands back in his pockets, “Beats being bored.” 

“I support your decision entirely,” Dream stated, and Killer narrowed his eyes, considering stabbing him. “In that case, Dust, you should expect to see us around occasionally, if that's okay?” 

“Sure,” Dust shrugged. “Just don't forget to knock,” 

“Of course,” Dream nodded. “Well, I’ll leave you two to it!” he waved at them with a smile, and in a flash he was gone.

“Come on,” Dust shoved Killer inside. “I wanna see you try Edge’s cooking,” 

“Not worried I’ll dust him on the spot?” Killer teased. 

“Good luck trying,” Dust immediately countered, closing the door behind them and redoing the locks. “If you're going to be an asshole I’ll just kick you out and back to your depression hole. Have fun being bored out of your mind,” 

Good point. Currently it would be more interesting to have people around. When they got boring, Killer would resolve to pain and murder, but he had no reason to waste resources right now.

—

The ‘fell brothers got him a mattress in Dust’s room. That’s where Killer spent of his time really. Just used to it. 

Except when Dust kicked him out of bed to do random shit. Like cleaning the house. Or watching television. Some of it boring, some of it a little less boring. 

At least there were things to do. Even if they kind of made Killer itch for violence. So far, the only decoration to his side of the room was grooves in the wall where he threw his knives in boredom. 

...And that stupid nesting doll from Dream. 

Well. Killer wasn't going to complain (that's a lie, he complained a lot) — at least it wasn't the emptiness. 

...In the dark of night, sometimes Dust couldn't sleep. Sometimes Killer was awake as well, restless with a craving for something to fill the void. And they... chatted. Like they did before, when they were both still with Nightmare. 

It was... 

...nice.

—

When Killer’s name was yelled from the living room, he already expected it to be Night or Dream. 

“Hello,” Night greeted passively. 

“Should've closed the door on his face, maybe a broken nose would make the sight nicer,” Killer commented and Red snorted.

“Hell no, I’m not getting involved with y’all,” Red didn't waste a moment to leave. Fair enough. 

“Test number one,” Night mentioned, lifting... a folded chess board? 

“All you'll succeed with that is boring me to death,” Killer pointed out, striding over to drag him inside because the idiot still hadn't entered. What, was he going to play chess from the doorway? 

Close the door, lock all those stupid locks because apparently this was just how Underfell is. 

“Well. Give it a chance,” Night reasoned. 

“Whatever,” Killer walked over, flopping on the ratty couch. Might as well indulge him so he leaves quicker. If Night wanted to sabotage his own stance by intentionally boring Killer, well, that was his business. 

There was no chair across the low table. Killer watched as Night, hesitantly, sat on the couch too. As far away from Killer as he could. Killer snorted. 

Night opened up the board and started quickly setting up the chess.

“You are familiar with the rules,” Night stated. It wasn't a question because he already knew the answer — Corrupted Nightmare had played with him once. 

“Nope,” Killer said, just to be annoying. “Never even heard of it,”

Night had the audacity to roll his eyes. He even looked amused. Where did all that guilt and hesitation go, huh? 

“You take white,” Night said before Killer could instigate his suffering. 

Killer sighed, and played some classic first move. 

He already knew how this match would go. It was obvious — chess was one of Night’s favorite things, the nerd, and he’s had decades to get good at it. Killer wasn't an idiot if he could say so himself, but chess? It never really caught his fancy in particular. He wasn't much of a strategist. 

They weren't even talking. Just sitting in silence, moving some wooden pieces around a checkered pattern. It was nothing.

Time ticking forth. The quiet sound of the pieces hitting the board.

As Night started snatching his pieces off, it was only being confirmed who’d win. And it wasn't even taking long. 

“...You’re not actually putting effort in, are you,” Night finally caught on. 

“I told you,” Killer sighed, lounging on the couch without much care, “it’s boring. And you’ll win anyway. What's the point?” 

“That’s unfair,” Night huffed, “You agreed to play fair. That was the deal.”

Killer groaned, letting his head flop back. 

“It’s stupid,” he growled. “This is a waste of time. I agreed to your damn bet, not to play pointless games,” 

“Yes,” Night reasoned, “and this is part of the bet.” 

“No, this is you being an annoying asshole,” Killer said cheerfully. “Haven't you learned? No one actually wants you around. At least when you were a mean asshole, you were an asshole with a personality.”

With how he was leaning back, Killer couldn't see the other’s face. But he didn't need to. The pause that followed made the hurt audible. 

Night quietly breathed in. Breathed out. 

“...You’re frustrated,” he stated.

Killer mimed rolling his eyes. “Fantastic counterargument, totally defeated my point,” he returned sarcastically. 

“No,” Night corrected, “you're frustrated. I know that because I can still sense the emotions of others. When you get bored, you get frustrated. That's an emotion.” 

Silence. 

“What a delightful existence,” Killer spoke slowly. Cold and venomous. Pushing himself to sit up so he could stare at Night. “Being able to feel either emptiness or frustration.” 

“But it’s a feeling,”  

“It’s torture.” Killer growled. 

“But it's a feeling,” Night insisted, and in a blink Killer threw a knife at him. 

Night yelped, but barely managed to dodge to the side. As if Killer could put a dent in his HP that mattered. 

“And when you’re bored, you want to do something!” Night continued, even as Killer got to his feet. “That’s a feeling too!” Night also scrambled to his feet to avoid the next stab, the blade sinking into the couch instead. 

“I’ll show you what’s a feeling,” Killer snarled, grinning. “Ever heard of pain?” 

But before he could throw the next readied attack, there was a ping! 

His soul was grabbed and he was slammed back into the wall. Not enough to be a killing blow, barely chipped anything from his HP. 

“Don't put holes in my couch,” came Dust’s flat voice from the stairs. “Do you know how hard it is to get furniture around here?” 

Killer breathed harshly, still glaring at Night. He dissipated his conjured knife, huffing. Whatever. 

Night was wrong. This yawning chasm inside him wasn't an emotion. It was a feeling the way hunger was a feeling. It was a desperation, a self-preservation instinct from the brain’s desire to not self-destruct. It was cold. 

“My apologies,” Night’s gaze had moved to Dust, a little wide eyed. “Dust– I–” 

“Yeah yeah, you already delivered your sorry’s,” Dust waved a hand dismissively. “Look, man, it’s not like you ever hurt me in particular,” 

Night’s eyes, perhaps unintentionally, flicked to Killer before returning to Dust. “But I intentionally kept you in the worst possible mental state you could–” he rushed out.

“Yeah, and I left,” Dust shrugged. “And you're not that guy anymore, right?” 

“Unfortunately,” Killer chimed in. “You gonna release me now?” 

“Are you going to damage more of my property?” Dust fired back. 

“I’ll damage your face.” 

“Oh you want me matching your ugly, Tar-Eyes?” 

Killer barked a laugh. “Damn you! I’m prettier than you could ever be,” 

“My boyfriend would beg to differ,” 

“Boyfriend?” Killer raised his brow ridges. 

Dust cleared his throat, glancing away. Killer started laughing. Oh now this was news, how interesting. 

Throughout their interaction, Night’s gaze had flicked back and forth between the two of them. Observing them with something pinched in his expression. 

“Game over, Nighty,” Killer stated as his soul was finally released from the directed gravity. “Pack it up,” 

“...But we didn't complete it,” Night pointed out. 

“And we aren't going to, because quite frankly? I cannot be bothered,” Killer nodded generously. 

“Better listen before he starts dishing it out again,” Dust chimed in, amused. “Trust me, he ain't scared to take it,” 

“Oh like you’d know, you can barely leave a scratch on me,” Killer taunted. 

“It barely takes more than a scratch for you to crumble,” Dust fired back easily.

“Wanna test that hypothesis?” Killer growled, grinning. 

“Yeah, let me go put my egg-handling gloves,” 

There was a quiet snort, and Killer looked over to see Night covering his mouth. Killer could still tell he was smiling, though god knows why.

“I’ll uh, leave you two be,” Night cleared his throat, back to awkward. Swiftly gathering up the chess pieces and folding the board.

—

It’s clear the ‘fell brothers aren't exactly keen on your company, but they tolerate you. Perhaps they even mildly respect you, if only out of fear.

...Dust... interacts so easily with them. It’s clear he cares about them, and that they care about him. 

(He’s been carrying himself so much more easily ever since he left Corrupted Nightmare’s whole operation. 

...Good for him.)

“Hey,” 

What’s more peculiar, weird even, is that Dust acts that way with you, too.

“You okay?” he asks, even though you've done nothing but lay in bed all day. Staring at the ceiling. Getting lost in the passage of time. The damn passage of time. 

“Couldn't be better,” you reply with a flat look, grinning. It is the truth.

Dust rolls his eyes. 

“Move over,” 

“Oho, baby want cuddles like the good ol’ times?” 

“Move over or I'll move you myself,”

“You know what they say, don't threaten me with a good time,” you tease and prod. Always pushing buttons. Always looking for a reaction. For something to fill the emptiness.

Sadly there’s no longer a Corrupted Nightmare to rip you apart and make you feel tangible enough to be ripped part. 

All Dust does is shove you to the side with a foot. You can't be bothered to protest. He flops down beside you, easy and comfortable. He isn't scared of you. He doesn't cower and cry like some frail minnow. It's what you respect about him.

“Found some books about ancient human philosophy recently,” Dust mentions. 

“Uh-huh,” 

“It's pretty interesting. Most of them say incredibly obvious things, just in a fancy way,” 

You both chuckle. 

“A lot of them are from this place called ‘Ancient Greece’ and stuff, a lot of what I’m pretty sure are the classics...” 

Aaand so Dust starts telling you about some ancient humans with different sorts of beliefs. How different schools of thought or sciences developed from their statements. 

It's... it's whatever. It's pretty boring really. Philosophy isn't your thing. Mostly because nothing is your thing. Nothing interests you. 

...But... 

The time doesn't pass as slowly, when it’s being used for something. The silence isn't as suffocating, broken by Dust’s... company. 

So. 

It's not that bad.

(...It’s nice.

...

...maybe you missed this.)

—

“Nothing? Really? You didn’t feel anything?” Dream was frowning at him where he sat across their impromptu beach blanket thing. 

“Nope!” Killer affirmed cheerfully. 

“Did– did you really have that bad of a time?” Dream’s frown was tinged with some sadness. 

Killer shrugged. “Not particularly, no. It was mostly just...” he flicked more sand off his arm, “...boring,” 

Dream’s idea was to take him for a ‘beach day’ for a couple of hours. His hypothesis being that if Killer was relaxed and in a very pleasant space, he’d feel... ugh, “safer and more comfortable” to... “express his emotions”.

It failed. Sure, the sun against his bones was pleasant sensation-wise, and so was the sound of the waves close by, but that was about it. The most Killer got out of it was relentlessly teasing Dream for “taking him out on a date”, trying to get a reaction from him. Dream was annoyingly composed and used to his bullshit. Killer ended up trying to manually catch fish by stabbing them with his knife. 

It lasted a few short hours. The sun was still high and bright. Killer’s jacket was off. They were basically having a beach picnic right now, how romantic! 

“Right,” Dream sighed, face in his hand. He always looked exhausted. He couldn't hide it even from Killer. It got better as the Stars slowly chipped at Corrupted Nightmare’s defenses, getting Dust and Horror to turn over a new page; and it got a lot better as Corrupted Nightmare was un-corrupted; but still. Killer assumed there was a lot of damage control to be done, even with the help of Night. 

That’s the prize you get for living like that. Dream does this to himself, in Killer’s humble opinion. 

“Well, thank you for giving it a shot,” Dream re-composed himself. Still trying to look on the bright side. Jeez, Killer was getting tired just looking at him, hah. 

He shrugged in response. “Just a waste of my time. Nothing new.” 

Dream studied his expression. Probably trying to figure out where he went wrong. Killer would advise him to look somewhere much farther, more along the lines of the distant past, such as: the moment he was born. Were these ‘guardians’ born...?

“...Aside from that,” Dream picked up conversation yet again. Maybe this was just an excuse for him to have a break. “How have you been?” 

Killer blinked slowly at him. 

“You know, the usual,” he leaned back on his hands, “Killing parents, torturing their children, that sort of thing,” he counted off casually. Even if he’d actually done nothing of the sort. He’s mostly been chilling with Dust. And when the itch to cause harm got stronger, when his soul began going crazy, Dust usually indulged him with a fight. It wasn't ideal, but it was keeping him more or less on his feet. 

There was a quirk to Dream’s expression that almost looked like amusement. 

“Right,” he nodded. “I... guess you want me to return you to your... fun activities?” 

Killer sighed, leaning further until he laid his back on the blanket thing. Watching the bright blue sky and the even brighter sun above. 

“...Eh,” he shrugged. “I’m not in a rush,” 

Dream chuckled. 

It seemed he was content to remain in... peace-adjacent silence. Listening to the timid waves sloshing against the shore, just a few paces away from them. 

As calm as it was, however, the minutes ticked on. Eventually, they started to grate on Killer. Silence was boring. 

“Why are you trying so hard to ‘help me’?” he brought up, since Dream had never properly answered. “You are aware I’m one of the worst people just in general. And I’m not “corrupted” like your brother.” 

“I’m aware,” Dream confirmed. “But, well, the whole idea of ‘I believe anyone can change and be good’ wouldn’t hold much weight if I didn’t believe anyone can change and be good, if they tried,” he pointed out. Killer could respect his integrity. 

“But that’s not really where the catch is,” Killer pointed out. He was pretty sure they’ve had this conversation before. “The catch is in the last part. Whether they want to. Whether they try,” 

Of course anyone had the potential to be just about anything. Willpower is one hell of a force. But pure potential wasn't the matter. That demonic god that destroyed his world over and over until they finally got to him could choose, at any time, to not do that. They had that power more than anyone. 

But they didn't. They made those choices. And so did Killer. 

“...Do you want to be evil, Killer?” Dream asked calmly, after their brief pause. When Killer turned his head to look at him, Dream was watching the waves with a tired expression. 

Killer scratched his skull. He shrugged. “It can be fun,” 

“Yeah,” Dream nodded, and Killer blinked. “That’s the thing. You don’t want to be evil for the sake of being evil, do you?” 

...Hm. Interesting that he thought so. 

“And I think,” Dream reasoned, “like Night also thinks, that if we figure out the core reasoning behind your actions, we can find what you really want. And we can work with you. And we can help you,” 

Fun theory. 

“That didn’t answer my question however,” Killer nudged the topic aside with a foot. “Why do you want to help me that bad?”

Dream huffed a soft laugh. “It’s what I do,”

“Oh please,” Killer scoffed, “Don’t give me that cop-out,”

“...Why do you want to know?” 

“I’m bored, sunshine,” as if it was anything new. 

Dream glanced at him. Again, that slight quirk to his mouth, like he was amused or something. 

“...You’re curious,” he offered a correction. 

“Whatever makes you sleep at night,” Killer shrugged. Curious, sure, why not? People are freaking weird. Might as well try to figure them out. It’s one of the few varieties in life. Better mental stimulation than the sameness of everything else. 

“I...” Dream looked down at his hands. “Well, you can look at it mathematically if you want. There isn’t much worth to just... hating you forever, punishing you for your actions. That doesn’t get us anywhere. But if a bad person becomes good, to use simple terms... that’s an overall net gain, isn’t it?” 

...Huh. Much more pragmatic than Killer expected. He would’ve betted on something a lot sappier. 

“And everyone has a will,” Dream continued. “It’s not that you can choose to do good at any time, sometimes it’s a little more complicated, but when you remove any external factors forcing people’s decisions... I do think they can choose to do good. No matter what they’ve chosen in the past.” 

“But why not just kill me? There, that removes a bad person,” Killer pointed out. It’s the solution he’d always utilized. Simple and effective. 

Dream frowned a little. “...Did Corrupted Nightmare prefer killing?” he posed a leading question. 

And the truth was... no, not really. He wasn’t against it, obviously, especially when the death of one person could cause the grief of many. He rarely stopped Killer from indulging in it. But he got all prissy when the gang would do nothing but murder (even if it was literally their speciality). 

“Do you expect a corpse to feel bad?” Nightmare had snarled. 

“If we go down that route, ad absurdum, it would just be... endless destruction until nothing is left,” Dream answered. 

“Which wouldn’t exactly give you an increase in positivity,” Killer finished. He supposed it made sense, if he was trying to understand Dream’s point of view. 

“...I wouldn’t say it like that, my goal was never to make all of the Multiverse wholly positive, but... yes, sort of,” Dream nodded. 

“Really?” Killer glanced at him. “I thought that was the idea. Good and evil fighting to win, blah blah blah,” he waved a hand. 

“...No?” Dream blinked. “Although I suppose I understand the confusion. Many people think that.” he reasoned. “...It’s what got Night...” he muttered quietly, trailing off. His expression pinching with a concoction of emotions unfitting for his title. He shook it off quickly. “No, the idea had always been about balance. That’s why I fought against the Corrupted Nightmare. He wasn’t negativity as it should be, he was more. He was an overwhelmingly consuming force, tipping the balance towards his extreme,” 

“And you’re not doing that?” Killer asked. “You don’t want everyone to be happy, Dreamboy?” he teased. 

“No!” Dream exclaimed, to his surprise. “That’s not good for anyone. I want to help people, not– people have a natural range of emotions for a reason. Negative feelings are just as important — sadness is essential to processing grief, anger is what tells you to defend yourself or what you stand for–” he began ranting, in a way that was clearly repeated many times for many, many years.

“Besides you of course,” Killer interjected, and Dream stumbled over his words. 

“What?” he looked at Killer. 

“You’re not allowed to be sad, are you?” Killer pushed at those buttons, grinning. “Because it’s all about mathematics, right? People need the Guardian of Positivity to always be positive. And you serve the people.” 

Dream stared at him, mouth flat, brow ridges pinched. 

Killer chuckled. He was so good at striking a nerve.

“You’re a liar. So desperate to prove your stance true, you’ll tear yourself apart for it and not even let anyone see,” he continued, until Dream turned away, unable to look at him. “And you’re cruel, to claim everyone is right to feel bad, but then turn around and never do that yourself. What sort of example are you setting, sunshine?” Killer mocked. “You want me to accept and show my emotions? Where are yours?”

Dream stiffened.

He was a fool if he expected this evening to go any differently, really. This is what Killer did. He was made of hurt. His own, others’, it didn’t matter. He was fluent in all the dialects. 

And so they sat in silence. Dream likely didn’t have much more desire to talk to him after that, which was fair. Though the conversation was a degree of... enlightening. Killer had discovered nuances to Dream’s thinking he hadn’t expected.

He also expected this to be the end of it. 

...So he was reasonably surprised, when Dream spoke up, quiet but steady, 

“...Yeah. I guess you’re right,”

(...They stayed there for a little longer.)

[theloopus]

no cause like. the way both BJ and Hawkeye are characters that in many ways are defined by their rage and the way that rage exists alongside/in spite/because of their pacifism and their strong sense of identity as doctors, caretakers. you know? while at the same time manifesting so differently in each of them. anger turned sideways is Hawkeye. i envy [BJ's] serenity although there must be a volcano under there somewhere. Hawkeye wearing his anger on his sleeve, BJ repressing it until it explodes. and what that means in terms of their relationship. ugh!!!

[sonicranger1]

Can't believe i'm forced to say this again but alas- (<- No one is forcing me to do this)

BESTIES! ERROR AND NIGHTMARE AREN'T CANON TO INK! DREAM IS NOT CANON TO INK!

The only one that could possibly be canon to Ink is Swap if we take into consideration the canceled comic Comyet did a long while back! And the art Comyet has done with Ink and Error I'm 99% sure is just a what-if, not canon interpretation on how they think they possibly would interact together

Everytime I see someone with their full chest exclaim how the dream twins or Error are canon to ink I internally die inside I'm sorry

[hadesknockedupintheunderworld]

That scene towards the end of the S3 trailer

The one where Shadow is running to save Sonic from disappearing

What if by that scene, the main conflict is changed? Nine is no longer actively trying to get ahold of Sonic, to drain the paradox prism energy from him. Just like Shadow and his focus on saving Green Hill over the Shatterverse before, he concedes that *nothing* will exist if they can't fix the paradox prism (assuming that the crew comes to the conclusion that they need to fix the paradox prism to have a chance at fixing the rapid breakdown of the shatterverse).

What if after episodes of fighting Nine and avoiding having his prism energy taken from him, Sonic gives himself over willingly. Nine has just realized how far he took things, how tunnel visioned he became on a goal with the sacrifice of things (and a person) he cared about. What if he feels guilty, resolved to help fix the universe they live in before anything else, and Sonic *asks* him to drain the energy this time?

And no matter what Shadow or Nine or anyone else says, no matter how uncertain doing so would make Sonic's fate uncertain and put it at stake, they can't refute the argument. Doing this could kill him (just like back on Ghost Hill, when Sonic asked for Nine to give him energy to match that of the prismatic titan), but is there any other way to save the shatterverse?

I'm not sure what the answer is myself, but perhaps they hope so. They're running out of time, and if they can't fix it, all of them will die. So, they all form a plan.

What if Nine feels this guilt as he drains the prism energy from Sonic? What if he feels more awful (and a little jealous) when it's up to Shadow to ultimately save him (because Shadow's the only other one who can move quite as fast)?

What if Shadow runs and runs, desperate too to make sure that Sonic won't die? What if he's frustrated at Nine and Sonic (because why did it have to come to this?), but also frustrated at himself (because maybe if he could have been there with Sonic, or maybe if he was the one searching the shatterspaces before, maybe he could have stopped all this before it went too far, maybe he could have kept Sonic safe from this fate)?

What if Shadow enters that shatterspace with Sonic in his arms, hoping so badly he'll pull through, trying not to think about what'll happen if he doesn't?

And what if Nine is the next to enter the shatterspace, arriving before anyone else? What if Nine watches Shadow hold Sonic's barely existing form and feels a pang of jealousy, and a waterfall of guilt. What will he do if Sonic doesn't pull through?

[tulipe-rose]

Kazuha, sweetie, I'm not your biggest fan, but I'm going to be incredibly honest with you right now, and that's because I don't really understand what you're expecting from Heiji atp.

You're his self proclaimed, so called, 'older sister'. The first thing you do when you meet a friend of his, or a supposed girlfriend to be more accurate, is introduce yourself as his older sister. Whenever anyone claims that there's any romance between you guys, you refute it and call him your stupid little brother.

GIRL.

EVEN I STARTED TO GET MIXED SIGNALS AT ONE POINT. If not for the blushing we clearly see as the audience I would've been soldified in my belief that it's unrequited love for Heiji. Dramatic irony at it's finest.

Either way– WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM HIM?? You keep brother-zoning him to the point where only the Hattori Heji himself could be so stubborn to ignore this weird girl reverse psychology that would keep any other guy at a two meter distance.

Don't think you're any better, though, Heiji. If any third party who had never watched dcmk before had to give their opinion after looking at the overall confession bull crap you've been stalling these past three decades they'd think you're trying to impress Shinichi, not Kazuha. Won't blame them, I myself am pretty confused.

Who is this confession for???? KAZUHA.

THEN WHO TF IS SHINICHI TO THIS RELATIONSHIP AND WHY IS ONE UPPING HIM DETRIMENTAL TO Y'ALL?? WHY DOES HIS OPINION MATTER?? WHAT EVEN IS THE POINT OF THIS CONFESSION ANYMORE?? You're not even trying to think like ‘Oh, I'm doing this because Kazuha only deserves the best’ NO. IT'S ALL BIG BEN THIS KUDO THAT. I feel kinda bad for Kazuha.

Don't even get me started on how awkward it is to keep being so possessive over her when y'all aren't even an item (I'M LOOKING AT YOU TOO SHINICHI. GLARING REAL HARD HERE.). If she's seeing some other guy (which would never happen because of course she has fallen head over heals for you. Ugh- this is triggering my gag reflex.) then leave her be, because you either act like a chicken after being all bark and no bite or idk, grow a spine and fricking confess??? You can't go around calling her yours and then noping out of a confession. God my blood pressure keeps spiking because of these blockheaded teenagers I need to go take a few deep breaths.

I would like to know what they actually even talk about or bond over. From what I understood, Kazuha really likes the sound of his katana when he practices, which is high-key weird and makes me feel deaf cause how do you even hear that sort of stuff? And... What does Heiji like about her again? These guys need to explain what they like about their crushes more often. Or at least maybe ask themselves about it every once in a while, yk, just to make sure all of this stress is worth it. I will NOT be talking about Aoko and Kaito purely for the sake of my heart and blood pressure; they can only handle one dcmk couple at a time.

In conclusion, a man with an unresolved inferiority/superiority complex–because he somehow has both–so severe he cannot function without making it about his rival should not be looking for a relationship before seeing a therapist. Thank God his actual friendship with Shinichi isn't an eighth as bad as you'd think it should be; they're one of the most iconic duos ever, let's just keep their love lives outta the mix (Heiji is high-key supportive though, so there's that ig).

Edit: Came back after I realized I phrased my opinion on Heiji and Shinichi's friendship in a way that was easy to misinterpret. What I mean to say is that they're my favorite dcmk duo but I just can't stand how Heiji prioritizes one upping Shinichi rather than getting his feelings out there. I say Heiji ditches Kazuha as a love interest and forms a trio with Shinichi and Shiho. They'd be unstoppable homies that would do the unspeakable for each other.

[sciderman]

i relate to peter parker because i’ve had six crushes this year alone

damn son save some for the rest of us!!

[guiltyonsundays]

Incredible sequence of posts on the dash just now

[jackienautism]

the ppl who say that sam doesnt have any personality are just fucking stupid

[moe-broey]

VIVID fucking idea I had last night....

Background info, I think Moe has some really distinct tendencies that Alfonse ends up being able to immediately identify it by (and finds a lot of comfort in doing so). One of which, is it doing a quiet, hesitant, but steady knock. Persistent, but with long pauses in between.

ENTER..... the Vision........ just. This entire sequence. "You'll never hear from me again". Into, the quiet knock only a few hours later. Into bursting in with the MOST enthusiastic, "HOLY FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" Moe really is Some Type of Guy LMFAOO

Fave panels.......

[bluebudgie]

now that ive set the record straight that half of my rats are awful people to varying degrees i can go back to the regular content of woobifying them

[wonderfullyalone]

tell me why i come on tumblr and expect nuance from no nuance dot com

[dykesbat]

art is amazing bc of how flexible it is! which is why the connection between art and consumerism is so interesting bc tht intentionally limits what is and isn’t art which serves both capitalism and facism. but art in its barest bones is inherent to all of humanity and taking art as a form of hobby is something so powerful to me..

[rowarn]

IF YOU NEEDED ME !

simon riley/reader – 7.1k words sale of a lifetime mini series !

tags: smut, childhood best friend!simon, virginity for sale trope, unrealized feelings, soft!simon, protective!simon, virgin!reader, afab!reader, no prns for reader

cw: loss of virginity, cunnilingus, wet & messy, fingering, creampie, mid-sex love confession, a little arguing but nothing crazy tbh, petnames (love, lovie, sweetheart)

; he remembers the way you would look at him when you were children, all smiles and bright eyes. he never thought he was deserving of such happiness. but now, with you shyly covering your bare breasts, in his bed, he feels like he’s the only man deserving of you.

or.

he may not have been the first man you picked to give your first time to. but looking back, you realized he was the only right choice in the end.

Meeting some unknown, shady guy out on the street outside of a seedy bar wasn’t the smartest decision you’ve ever made. Nor was it how you actually intended to spend your Friday evening. But it was the only option you had at the moment, so you swallowed your nerves and forced yourself to stay put at the spot the guy had chosen despite the fact that being out on the street made you feel x10 more nervous and vulnerable. 

You could hear the loud music and chatter inside the bar every time the door opened to let someone in or out. There was a chill in the air that had you contemplating actually going inside and just telling the guy to meet you in there – you were about to give the bastard your damn virginity, the least he could be was accommodating to your temperature struggles. Plus, you could really use a drink.

A car, expensive by the looks of it, pulling up to the curb had you pausing in that train of thought. You recognized him from his profile picture when he stepped out of the vehicle – Lucas, you recall being his name. Whether that was really his name or not didn’t matter; all that mattered was he brought what he promised.

“You have the money?” you asked when he approached you, giving him a tight-lipped smile as a greeting.

“Yeah, got it in the car. All cash, I hope that’s alright,” he grinned, a sight that made a shiver go down your spine. His tone didn’t match the smile, all transactional and dull despite the glimmer in his eyes.

He wasn’t necessarily unattractive but he certainly wasn’t your type. There was a look in his eyes, one that made your skin crawl because you felt like you were nothing but a piece of raw meat in front of a starving, salivating predator. 

“We should get going,” he said, hurrying to open the backseat of his car for you.

You paused, “Aren’t we going to go inside or something?”

He looked confused, grip on the door tightening for a moment before he bursted out laughing. When he saw the shocked look on your face he sobered up, “Sorry, sorry, that was rude of me. Sweetheart, this isn’t a date. I’m just here to get what I paid for.”

“Oh…” you swallowed around the lump in your throat at the condescending tone, humiliation making your cheeks burn, “Right.”

Tears stung the back of your eyes and you quickly averted your gaze so he wouldn’t see how much that stung. Of course, you knew it wasn’t a date. This was a transaction. But you at least thought you’d get to know the guy who was about to take your virginity. You should have known better.

A man who was paying for your virginity wasn’t bound to be someone you could trust to feel comfortable around. You quietly sigh, resigning yourself to this all for the sake of some fucking money. 

You settle into the car, heart jumping into your throat when the door slams. It feels as if you’ve just sealed your fate and you can’t deny that you’re scared. 

But there’s an envelope next to you that you can see stuffed with bills and you clench your fists, trying to calm your racing heart by closing your eyes and breathing. 

You just hope this decision doesn’t cost you your life or something. You’d hate to imagine what that would do to a certain someone.

Suddenly, the car jostles. Your eyes snap open and you see Lucas is jacked up against the side of the car, a very familiar form caging him in. His scarred hands grip the man’s shirt in tight fists. You can’t hear what they’re saying but you can see Lucas is chattering frantically, gesturing wildly with his hands in an attempt to quell the angry man in the skull balaclava. 

You curse to yourself, a different kind of terror shocking through your system. Lucas is thrown to the side and you wince at how hard he hits the pavement before the car door is jerked open.

You can’t even say anything before a strong, rough hand wraps around your arm, yanking you out. You stumble once you’re on your feet, falling right into his chest. 

You try to pull away but his arm clamps down around you. 

Lucas is cursing and screaming his head off, words you don’t even bother to try and decipher because you’re too preoccupied with the masked figure that made his sudden appearance. Nerves make your knees shake and from the look of pure rage in his eyes, you know you’re in deep shit. 

Lucas opens the car door and slams it before driving off, tires squealing against the pavement before he vanishes. Along with that wad of cash that was going to be yours in just a short time. 

Suddenly you’re angry, shoving your hands against his chest to get him away from you.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Riley?!” you shriek, shooting him the fiercest glare you could muster.

“I should be askin’ you that,” he sneers, “The hell were you doin’ with that prick?”

“I–”

“Don’t answer that,” he snaps, cutting you off swiftly, “I know what you were doin’. If you needed money that badly you should have told me.”

“It’s not your concern, Simon!” you cry, resisting the urge to petulantly stomp your foot.

You’re so pissed. 

Simon Riley and you went way back, childhood friends. The two of you had always been in each other's lives. Simon especially was always there when you needed him, a beacon of safety and protection. Your best friend and someone you loved to the ends of the Earth. 

But right now, you’re so angry with him that you can’t seem to think straight.

How dare he show up now, when you’re about to do the most humiliating act of your entire life. How could he show his stupid, masked face here when you didn’t even ask for his help in the first place for a reason. 

“You are always my concern,” he shoots back, scarred knuckles turning white from how hard he clenches his fists, “I have always taken care of you. You should have come to me for help instead of puttin’ yourself in danger like this. You didn’t know that guy, what the fuck were you thinking?”

Anger makes your skin hot, sweat beading on your forehead, blocking out the chill that once made goosebumps rise. You feel ashamed that you were caught in this situation – that the man you’ve known your entire life knew you were about to sleep with some random asshole for a fat wad of cash. You don’t like that he’s made you feel ashamed and confronted you with it.

“Just fuck off, Simon!” you shriek, the only thing you can think of before turning on your heel and stalking away from him.

You don’t glance over your shoulder to check if he’s following because you know he most likely is – from a safe distance to make sure you make it inside your apartment alright but far enough that you can’t get mad at him for it. Your jaw is clenched so tightly that you feel a headache radiating down your neck. 

By the time you reach your apartment, the anger has simmered and all you’re left with is a festering shame that makes tears fill your eyes. You wrap your arms around yourself and quickly shuffle yourself inside, not bothering to check if Simon is out there or not. All you want is to get a hot shower and crawl into bed for the rest of the weekend. 

You do just that, letting the burning hot water scald your skin until you can’t feel any emotions except exhaustion. And then, you crawl into bed and let sleep overtake you without a second thought. 

When you wake up, it’s clear that it’s late into the afternoon. The sun is high in the sky and shining painfully bright through the crack in your curtains. You groan and roll over, slapping the bed to find your phone. 

You grab the device and unlock it, taking a moment to scroll through your notifications. There’s some angry messages from the guy from last night – cursing you out for setting him up to be jumped. It makes you roll your eyes before a particular notification catches your eye.

It’s from your bank – alerting you of a deposit. 

You sit up straight in your bed, brows furrowed before your eyes nearly bug out of your head when you see your bank statement. It’s more than you needed and you know exactly who was responsible. 

You jump out of bed, not even bothering to dress out of your pajamas before you’re shoving some slides onto your feet and storming out of your apartment. 

You’re so heated that you can’t even remember the walk to Simon’s place, your mind racing a million miles a second. You storm up to the door and slam your fist on it, the hard wood making your hand sting from how hard you pound. 

The radiating tingle of pain is quickly forgotten when the door swings open. 

Simon stands there, looking down at you expectantly. He leans against the door with his arms crossed over his chest. He wears an army-issued t-shirt that’s a bit too tight. The sleeves stretch taunt around his biceps and you can make out the swell of his pecs. It’s not very often that you get to see his tattooed arms, littered with scars since he tends to wear long sleeves most of the time. 

He doesn’t look at all surprised to see you, clearly having expected you. The apathetic look in his eyes just solidifies that you were right all along.

“What the hell is your problem?!” you cry without so much as a greeting.

He sighs, broad shoulders rising and falling with it before he opens the door wide and motions you inside. You duck underneath his outstretched arm, turning to watch as he closes the door and locks it. 

He wanders into the kitchen and you realize you can smell bacon. He doesn’t seem at all surprised by your outburst nor does he seem interested in acknowledging your question.

“Are you hungry?” he asks, only solidifying how unperturbed he is by your display of anger. 

“No!” you snap, “I want to know why you did that, Simon!”

He sighs again, much louder but doesn’t respond. You stand in the doorway to his kitchen, watching him plate his lunch – which is actually just breakfast food. He places the dish on the table and pauses, looking up at you.

“You needed the money, I had it,” he offered with a shrug of his shoulders.

“I was handling it on my own,” you say, “I-It was my problem to solve.”

“By sellin’ yourself to some prick?” he snarls, the anger he was masking coming out in a flurry.

“I wasn’t selling myself–” you refute but he slams his palms down on the table. His cutlery clatters with the action and you jump.

“I read that post you made,” he hisses, teeth bared, “There’s no fuckin’ reason you should be selling your virginity for some cash when I was right here the whole time!”

Your cheeks burn when he brings up your virginity, crossing your arms over your chest protectively, “I-It’s mine to sell if I want to! I needed that money!”

“And now you have it,” he says with finality. 

He takes a seat and you stand there, fuming. Your jaw is clenched, teeth grinding together as your mind races to find a rebuttal. He begins to eat, taking large, fast bites that just shows how he’s been conditioned to eat quickly by the military. 

“That’s not the point, Simon,” you huff, growing less angry and more frustrated by this conversation. You were just going around in circles. 

“Then what is the point?” he snaps, snatching his empty plate and angrily tossing it in the sink. He turns to you again, a frown evident on his face, “You got the money you needed safely. That’s all that matters.”

“It’s too much money, Simon!” you cry, “I was selling something in exchange for it!”

“I care about you,” he says, “That doesn’t matter to me. What’s mine is yours, you know that.”

You silently glare at him, wishing that the heated stare would get through to him. He stands unbothered, staring blankly at you with his fists clenched by his sides.

You hang your head, sighing, “I-I can’t take your money, Simon, alright? I’m already in debt and I’m not going to be in debt to you of all people.”

“You feel like you owe me, is that it?” he asks.

You nod your head, heart rate spiking when he stalks towards you. You’re close enough to smell his body wash and aftershave, a painfully familiar scent that you adore. He stares down his nose at you, brown eyes lidded and lazy. 

He reaches out suddenly, rough hand gripping your cheeks, smushing them together until your lips pucker, “Then give me a kiss as payment.”

“H-Huh?” you whimper dumbly, eyes wide in shock as his face grows closer and closer.

“It can be payment for a kiss, lovie,” he coos, syrupy sweet and soft, “Will that make up for it, then?”

The air in your lungs suddenly doesn’t feel like enough. This is a man that you’ve known almost your entire life so you’ve obviously thought about him in a romantic sense at some point. Hell, when you were a teenager you even had a crush on him. But he never once looked at you any other way than as a friend so you quickly got over it – or maybe that’s just what you told yourself. Because as you stand there, staring into his eyes, you realize that kissing him would feel like a dream come true. 

You find yourself nodding despite the inner turmoil going on in your head. Simon huffs through his nose before leaning down and pressing his lips against yours. 

There’s a shock of electricity that goes through you at the contact. Your eyes flutter shut as you lean into the kiss, letting him take over. He works his lips expertly against yours, eventually abandoning his hold on your face in favor of wrapping his arm around your waist. You gasp into the kiss when he suddenly yanks you closer, your body pressed close against his. 

He’s warm and sturdy against you, a solid form of muscle that makes you feel safe and content – just as he always has. His hands are big and rough as they grip your hips, kneading the soft flesh there as he gets lost in kissing you. 

“S-Si,” you find yourself muttering without realizing.

He hums in response, chuckling when you continue to mindlessly kiss him. He pulls back, one hand coming up to wrap lightly around your throat, thumbing at your jaw as your eyes slowly focus on him, “What is it, sweetheart? What do you need?”

“I-I don’t…” you swallow thickly around the forming lump in your throat, “I don’t know. I just…”

“Show me,” he breathes, softer than you’ve ever heard his voice. 

The sweet, tender look in his big, brown eyes is what gives you the courage to grab his wrist, leading it just under the hem of your shirt so he can touch your bare stomach. You give him a shy glance from under your lashes, hoping he’ll get the hint that you want more. 

You want him.

Simon, in all his experienced wisdom, understands immediately what it is you’re aching for. His hand travels up further, pausing at your ribs, just under the swell of your breast. Your heart hammers in your chest when your gaze meets his. His eyes are lidded, long lashes obscuring his pupils but still burning into you. 

He stares deep into your eyes, waiting for any sign of hesitation as his fingers creep higher and higher. You suck in a breath when he cups your breast in his palm, squeezing lightly to feel their weight. 

A large, calloused thumb creeps up, passing ever so softly over your nipple until the bud peaks and hardens under the attention. You sigh at the feeling, new shocks washing over you that you’ve never experienced before. 

Sure, you played with yourself plenty – you had a healthy masturbation life, you’d say. But you’d always just been focused on reaching an orgasm, never on the build up. You imagine, however, it would never feel as good by yourself as it does with him.

He pinches your nipple between two fingers and you whine, lips parting as the sound escapes. Simon takes the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth. Your hands grab his shoulders, desperately clinging to his shirt as you lose yourself in the sloppy kiss. 

Drool drips down your chin – it's messy and hot between the two of you. His hand switches to your other breast to give it the same attention as the other. You tremble in his arms, overcome by the insatiable throbbing between your thighs. 

You shift on your feet, the fabric of your panties stick uncomfortably to your core. You’re so wet, wetter than you’ve ever been in your life. By the time he pulls back, there’s a string of saliva connecting your lips to his. 

“You want more?” he asks, voice gravelly as he speaks, as if he’s drunk. You nod your head and he clicks his tongue, “You gotta tell me, sweetheart.”

“I-I want more, Si,” you whisper, feeling your cheeks burn as you admit it. 

“Let’s go,” he hums, taking your hand in his as he leads you around the couch towards the hallway.

“Where?” you ask dumbly, hoping that making some kind of conversation would ease the nerves steadily building in your chest. 

“The bedroom,” he responds, stroking his thumb over the top of your hand as if he can sense that you’re nervous, “Wouldn’t want to be stripped down in the middle of the living room, I imagine.”

“N-No,” you squeak, cheeks burning even hotter at those words. 

You’re going to be naked. In front of another person for the first time. In front of him. Simon. 

“There now, lovie,” he whispers as he shuts his bedroom door behind the both of you. He takes your waist in his hands, kneading the soft flesh there, “It’s alright.”

“I-I’m just–”

“Nervous,” he finishes for you, smiling softly when you nod, “I know. We can stop anytime you’d like.”

“I don’t want to,” you rush out, hands coming up to press against his firm chest, “Just…d-don’t be upset when I don’t know what I’m doing.”

The tender way he looks at you sets your heart pounding like a little rabbit. A ghost a smile appears on his lips, “I would never do somethin’ like that.”

“I-I know, I just…” you look down at your feet only for him to catch your chin in his fingers, pulling you to look up at him.

You swallow thickly around the lump in your throat, holding your breath as he descends down. His lips find yours all over again, as exhilarating and mind-melting as the first time. 

Just the sweet, deep kiss he gives you has your nerves dissipating a bit – back to normal levels. You no longer feel the desire to flee, you just feel an intense longing and anticipation. You crave more from him.

As if sensing this, his fingers find the hem of your shirt. He slowly starts to pull it up, agonizingly slow. But you’re grateful for it, it gives you time to prepare before you’re bared completely to him. You lift your arms for him, a sign that you’re still okay with this. 

He pulls it up over your head and lets the fabric drop to the floor. But he doesn’t look down, he continues looking in your eyes, softly pecking your lips as his hands cup your breasts once more. 

When you sigh and lean into his touch, he finally lets himself break the eye contact. He sucks in a sharp breath when he sees how pretty your tits sit in his hands. He touches them softly, sweetly brushing over your nipples in admiration. 

“Perfect tits, lovie,” he coos, chuckling when you whine in embarrassment. 

His head descends, pink lips parting to take one of your nipples in his mouth. It’s hot but his tongue is soft when it circles and flicks at the bud. He sucks, popping off lewdly before switching to the other one. 

The sensation makes you squeeze your thighs together, imaging what that would feel like around your clit. Your hole clenches around nothing, drooling messily into your panties. The fabric was so wet by now that it couldn’t soak it up anymore, leaving it to slick up your thighs instead.

Your core ached, a feeling only Simon would be able to soothe. 

“Please, Si,” you finally break, whimpering pathetically. 

He detaches from your breast, lips wet and swollen from the worship he had been giving your now sore nipples. His pupils were blown wide, black swallowing brown and you were sure that yours looked the same. 

He stands to his full height, nudging you backwards until your knees hit the bed. They buckled at that, leaving you to fall back against the bed. Simon’s bedding was soft, the scent of detergent and his own body wash filling your senses. You relax at the familiar, comforting scent, sinking into the blankets with a bashful smile on your face.

To Simon, you’re an ethereal beauty. You take the air right out of his lungs with the way you look at him.

He remembers the way you would look at him when you were children, all smiles and bright eyes. He never thought he was deserving of such happiness. But now, with you shyly covering your bare breasts, in his bed, he feels like he’s the only man deserving of you. 

He scooches you up the bed, crawling on after you until he’s on top of you. Though you’re still wearing your pants, you feel so vulnerable beneath his weight. He’s heavy and warm and he smells so good. You can’t focus on anything except for him – he’s all around you and it’s exhilarating. 

Feeling bold, you reach up and tug at his shirt. He pulls it off with ease, revealing his toned, scarred upper body. You can’t help but trace over some of the ones you’re familiar with – there’s one from a time he fell out of a tree trying to rescue a cat that you had been crying about. He fell out of the tree on the way down, a jagged branch stabbing into his upper arm and slicing it open. There was another one from when you were teenagers, some other kids jumped him and he took a stab to his shoulder trying to protect you. You kiss that one and he softens, as if he’s remembering it too. 

He’s always been there for you, an overwhelming presence that you simply couldn’t live without. The fact you’re here, in this bed, about to give him your virginity is something that you never would have expected. 

And to think, you were planning to sell it off to some random loser. 

“I’m glad you stopped me,” you find yourself whispering. 

He looks confused for a second before he hums, nodding in understanding, “I am too.”

“I-I want it to be you, Si,” you whisper, the confession leaving you embarrassed. It’s true, all this time, you realize, he’s all you’ve ever really wanted. You had just buried it deep down so you no longer felt those sparks towards him.

“I’ll take care of you,” he whispers back, as if the two of you are sharing some secret little moment that no one else can hear about even though it’s just the two of you in this room. 

“You always do,” you respond, the words making his dark eyes light up. 

He kisses you deeply, moving his lips slowly against yours. When your hands come up to grip the back of his neck, he takes that as his cue to move down to your neck, then your collarbones, down the center of your chest between your breasts, the spot between your breasts, and finally your navel. 

You lay back, head in his pillows with your hands on either side of your head. You watch him, breathing labored as you wait for his next move. He pauses in his path, looking up through his lashes at you before his fingers find the hem of your sweats. You swallow thickly, holding your breath when he slowly begins to pull the fabric down. You lift your hips to help him, pulling your legs free while being careful not to kick him by accident. 

He keeps his gaze on you until you’re settled back down into the bed and the pants are forgotten on the floor to be collected later. Then, he looks down. 

Even though you still have your panties on, you know that the white cotton is soaked through and hides absolutely nothing from his view. 

You watch as he licks his lips, as if his mouth is suddenly bone dry. His hands are burning hot when he touches you again, sliding over your thighs to your hips. He leans down, pressing his lips against each of your thighs. 

His thumb reaches down, stretches over your pubic bone to touch the sticky fabric. You nearly jump at the sensation – someone’s fingers other than your own touching you there for the first time. Simon’s fingers.

As if he can’t help himself anymore, he tugs the waistband of your panties and yanks them down your thighs. You squeal when you’re jostled under the force. 

He holds the material up and you’re mortified to see just how wet they are. He runs his thumbs over the crotch and you whine, drawing his attention from them. He drops them to the floor and returns his hands back to you, gripping underneath your knees, so he can spread you all the way open. 

Your hands fly to your face, covering your eyes in embarrassment at how exposed you are. He doesn’t seem to mind, pressing a kiss over the top of your hands before moving back down your body. 

You peek through your fingers only to find him already staring at you with a sparkle in his eyes. He carefully spreads your slippery folds apart with his thumbs, the movement causing a wet, sticky sound to emanate from between your legs. The little bud of your clit is hard and twitching as it’s exposed to the cool air of the bedroom. When he’s sure you’re looking he leans down, pink tongue hanging out of his mouth. You stop breathing as you watch a fat glob of spit roll down the surface of the smooth muscle and splatter right on your clit. 

“Si-!” your squeal of his name is cut off when your eyes roll back in his head as that sinful tongue slides right over your bud. 

Your whole body twitches at that, hands falling away from your face so you can reach down and grab his hair. It doesn’t even seem like he notices your grip, focused on slurping up that sensitive nub into his hot mouth. 

You choke out a moan, tilting your head back into the pillows as your back arches. It feels just as good as you thought it would when he was giving the same, lewd treatment to your nipples. 

He continues to suck and lick your clit until your mind is completely blank and all you can think is him. Then, all at once it stops and he pulls back, letting your bud slip from the heavenly clutch of his lips.

“You ever have somethin’ inside you, lovie?” he asks, bringing up one of his fingers to swipe through the folds of your entrance, as if to show you what he intends. 

You swallow to moisten your throat before nodding, “J-Just my fingers.”

“How many?” he asks, growing more confident in prodding at the tight little hole. 

“T-Two,” you breathe, any embarrassment you felt long dissipated in the face of true pleasure.

“Alright, lovie,” he hums, “Just lay back, I’ll take good care of you, yeah?”

You nod and do as he says, turning utterly boneless against the blankets. The sweat already slicking your skin despite the fact you’ve only just begun makes the fabric stick to you. 

He prods at your entrance for only a second longer before finally, he pushes his thick middle digit inside you. Your cunt is so wet and pliant that it hungrily swallows it up to the very last knuckle. You clench around it intentionally, getting used to the feeling of the foreign finger inside of you for the first time. 

It feels so different compared to your own, thicker and rougher. The sensation is so strange but you can’t say you don’t like it – in fact, it feels amazing. You already want another, feeling like one just isn’t enough to give you that unknown feeling you’re chasing. It’s like you have an itch that needs to be scratched and only Simon can do it for you. 

As if sensing this, ever the reliable one, he carefully introduces a second finger. The stretch is unfamiliar, a burn around your entrance following as he reaches the last knuckle on that one too. His middle and ring finger stuffed snuggly inside your gooey little cunt as you whine and squirm from the feeling. 

Once you’ve adjusted, he slowly begins working them in and out of you. You slick up his fingers easily, streaks of creamy white coating his skin and making his mouth water. When he crooks his fingers up suddenly, prodding at that tender little spot inside of you, your entire body twitches and the most beautiful moan rips from your chest. 

He can’t resist leaning down and trapping your pulsing little clit under the flat of his tongue. He doesn’t slurp it into his mouth like before, instead, he just licks over it, pressing it down with the muscle. Your eyes are rolled up and your mouth hangs open as you moan and moan, tugging mindlessly at his hair as he works you towards your orgasm. 

It grows and grows, the unrelenting pleasure of his fingers fucking deeply into you and his tongue lapping sloppily at your clit like a mutt driving that knot in your belly to tighten. Drool spills out around his tongue, slipping down to meet his fingers where he easily fucks it into you – the added lubrication not needed but so very welcome with how much wetter and messier it makes you. 

“S-Simon…” you pant, gasping to catch your breath as the pleasure makes it hard for you to even think. 

He glances up at you through his lashes but doesn’t offer any other acknowledgement. There’s a knowing look in his eyes that tells you he knows exactly what he’s doing. He’s going to wring this orgasm out of your little cunt whether you like it or not. 

And fuck, do you love it. 

The orgasms you brought yourself in the deep of the night, little hands stuffed down your panties as you played with your clit and stuffed yourself with your own fingers was nothing like what you were experiencing now. Simon’s thick fingers and hot tongue were torturing your little clit until your entire body started to lock up.

You looked at him desperately, unsure what was even going through your mind besides him and how fucking good you felt right now. 

Just as you teetered on the edge of this orgasm, he suddenly changed up and swallowed your twitchy little clit into his mouth. He sucked, sending you flying over the edge with a shrill wail of his name. Your legs kicked and twitched, heels hitting him on the back as you trembled and shook through the orgasm that he eagerly fucked out of you onto his fingers. 

He suckled your clit, swirling his tongue around it until it was too sensitive and you were tearily pushing him away. When he finally released you, slipping his fingers from your cunt, you were boneless and twitching on the bed. You didn’t even try to close your legs when he pulled away, giving him the perfect view to watch your cute little pussy clench and messily drool cum in the aftermath of your orgasm. 

He popped his fingers in his mouth, eyes rolling and lashes fluttering at the taste of your cum tingling on his taste buds. As you came down, eyes closed and breathing heavy, he began pulling at his belt. 

You could hear the metal clinking as he dropped it to the floor, peeking your heavy lids open to see him pull the button of his jeans open. As he slowly pulled them down, his underwear went with and suddenly you were more aware than ever. 

His cock was something to behold. Thick and veiny, bobbing in the air where it hung – too heavy to actually stand upright. You’d seen dicks in porn before but none of them prepared you for Simon’s. Precum dribbled from the tip, creating a long, gooey string down towards the floor before it broke. 

He wrapped a big hand around himself, giving a few good strokes as he reached down to cup his own heavy balls. The hair wasn’t wild or offensive, but neatly trimmed short. 

“All good, lovie?” he asked, stepping out of the pool of his jeans and boxers so he could kneel on the bed again.

“All god-good!” you blushed as he laughed, leaning down over you to balance his weight on his elbows.

“You still want this?” he asks, hushed and sweet, 

You glance between your bodies to see that intimidating cock, drooling messily over your skin. You realize, quickly, that you’ve never wanted anything more in your life.

When you voice such, he looks relieved, like a weight was lifted off of his shoulders. He sits back on his heels and spreads your legs, pushing your knees up to your chest.

“Hold them there,” he orders, which you follow immediately. 

Your elbows circle around your knees, holding yourself open for him as he asked. He whistles low in appreciation when your cum-slicked cunt was spread and exposed for him to prod his cockhead against. 

He swipes the tip up and down through your folds, humming appreciatively when your little hole tries to suck him in every time he grazes past it. He nudges your clit, the little bud still hard and sensitive from your orgasm but so eager for more. He couldn’t wait to grant your wish and make you cream on his cock. 

You watch him with wide eyes as he starts to push into you. Your jaw drops as you feel that burning stretch, an ache settling between your legs as he continues to sink himself into you. 

“F-Fuck, wait, Simon!” you squeal and he halts immediately. 

He’s only reached just past the head of his cock but he reaches down to pet your clit. The pleasure shoots through you, making your toes curl and your walls relax around him. He keeps his eyes on your face for any sign that you want him to stop as he moves his hips again. 

More and more of his cock sinks inside and his thumb keeps working little circles over your clit until his hips are flush with yours. Your voice breaks as you moan when you realize you’ve taken every single inch of him. 

He’s heavy and throbbing inside of you and you clench around him intentionally, forcing a moan from his chest. 

He leans down, arranging your knees over his shoulders, folding you up and pressing down on  you. He’s heavy and it makes it hard to breathe but that makes it even better – the pleasure of being speared on that fat cock and being utterly helpless underneath this man is better than any fantasy you could have made for yourself. 

“Fuck,” he snarls, rolling his hips back before rocking them forward again, heavy balls slapping against you as he does, “Can’t believe you were gonna give this little cunt away to some prick.”

“S-Si,” you whimper, biting your lip at the feeling of him slowly and carefully rocking his hips against yours, “‘M sorry, sh-shoulda been you all this time.”

“That’s fuckin’ right,” he hums, “No one else gets to love you but me, sweetheart.”

“O-Only you!” you agree, nails digging into his shoulders when he hits that spot just right. 

He can feel you soaking his cock, drippy cum lathering him up to make every glide of his cock wetter than the last. He sits back up on his knees, adjusting his grip so he can pin your legs wide open, giving him the best view of your greedy cunt swallowing his length up. 

He begins to fuck you in earnest, pulling out halfway before sliding home again - nothing like the little movements he gave you to prepare you. He was going to show you exactly why you should only think of giving him this precious pussy for the rest of your life. No one will ever be able to fuck you as good as he can, he’s going to learn your body like the back of your hand and you’re never going to be able to cum as hard as you can with him. You’ll never even want to use your own fingers again when he’s done with you. 

You can’t do anything but lay there and take it, take the pleasure and take his cock. He hits so deep, prodding at your cervix in a way that aches but it only feels that much better when it’s mixed with mind-numbing pleasure. 

Simon looms above you, panting and groaning as he fucks you like he was made to. He angles his hips just right, blunt nails biting into your thighs where he pins you open, neither of you caring if he happens to break skin while he does. You don’t even register the bite of pain underneath the way his cock prods you g-spot so perfectly. 

Your own fingers would have been tired by now, no longer able to work that little spot like you need. Simon’s cock, however, is unrelenting. The pleasure builds and mounts uninterrupted, every stroke of his length sending you higher. His body moves fluidly, rolling his hips tirelessly so he can give you every ounce of pleasure your sweet little cunt needs. 

You’re creaming around him, a frothy, milky ring forming around the base every time he sinks in and becoming visible when he pulls back. It’s filthy and messy and makes your cheeks burn but Simon seems to not mind in the slightest.

“So fuckin’ messy, love,” he coos, breathy and slurred, “Look at that, pretty cunt needed some cock, huh?”

“Y-Yours!” you manage to choke out.

“What’s that?” he asks, a crooked, teasing grin on his face. 

“Y-Your cock! Only needed your cock, Simon,” you pant, reaching up to grope your own tits, pinching and rolling your nipples meanly. It hurts so good, making you clench around his cock. He moans at the sight, his pretty little virgin tormenting your own nipples.

“That’s right,” he hums, reaching a shaky hand down to thumb at your clit, “Keep pinchin’ those pretty tits, sweetheart. Don’t stop.”

You nod your head, unable to form a vocal response from the new sensation of your clit being played with while he fucks you. It feels so damn good that you could go drunk from it all. Everything in your brain is slow, thoughts of only him and how good you feel are all that’s there. Your entire world, right at this moment, revolves around Simon Riley. 

He knows it too, a cocky grin on his face as he works you to your orgasm. You dangle, almost helplessly, staring unblinkingly at his handsome face as he works it out of you. 

After what feels like minutes, but is probably only seconds, you cum. Hard.

Your head slams back against the pillows, back arching as you cunt clasps tight around him. You cry out in pure, unadulterated pleasure as he fucks you through it. His thumb keeps working your clit as it twitches and pulses under the digit, cumming nice and pretty for him just like he wanted. Just like you deserved. 

You cream his cock messily, it drips down his balls and down your ass to the bedding below. So fucking sloppy and wet, a perfect little cunt made to take his cock. 

His brows furrow, mouth falling open as his own orgasm mounts and builds. Now that your well-earned orgasm is out of the way, he can finally let go and allow himself to experience it as well.

“Where do you want it?” he grits out, teeth clenched from the ache of holding back.

His balls draw up, heavy and full. He feels ready to positively explode when you gasp, “I-Inside!”

His head falls back, the loudest, most drawn out moan you’d never expected to come from a stoic man like Simon falling from his lips. It’s deep and primal, full of nothing but euphoria as he spills into you. His load is hot and thick, drooling out of the sides of his cock as he slows his thrusts to milk the least bits of pleasure from the orgasm. 

When he comes down, he collapses. Your legs lock around his waist and he draws you tightly into his arms, neither of you caring for the way his weight crushes you. All you care about is being wrapped up in his arms where you belong. 

He pulls his neck from your chest and kisses your forehead. Then he kisses your nose. Then your lips. 

“Pretty,” he breathes, still drunk on the endorphins of the sex so his lips are a little looser than they’d normally be, “Always thought you were pretty.”

“Really?” you prompt, cheeks heating at his confession. 

He hums, “Glad you’re finally mine.”

You beam, “No one deserved me as much as you.”

He nods as if it’s the most obvious statement in the world, rolling off of you with a sigh. His cock unplugs your cunt and a gush of your mixed cum comes out, making you whine. He laughs softly, drawing you back into your arms. 

You’ve never felt safer and warmer in your life, knowing in that moment that you should have come to Simon all along. There’s no one in the world who would be there for you, more willing and able than he. 

this work belongs to rowarn. do not repost to third party websites or use for character ai. reblogs welcome and appreciated!

[rustedleopard]

@northstarscowboyhat borrowing your tags here.

I feel like the fact that Chujin did this unintentionally is even worse.

Chujin loves Ceroba dearly; I can't see him consciously choosing to exclude making a room for her in their house. There's plenty of space in their mansion for Ceroba to have her own room--hell, he built the damn house, giving her her own room would've been as simple as adding onto the blueprints when he was planning it out. Kanako has her own wing that breaks the symmetry of the layout of the home (and so does Chujin's office, but it at least kinda matches with the kitchen on the other end.... kinda...) because he knew that Kanako wanted her own space with a big comfy bed right underneath the window where the the light from the Swelterstone can shine in and her own videogame(s) and...! and...!

And what does Ceroba want? If Chujin didn't provide Ceroba with her own space in the house, then it's likely because she didn't express any interests strongly enough that he felt like it warranted a room in their home. Ceroba cooks. Ceroba cleans. Ceroba tucks Kanako into bed. Ceroba is the dutiful wife of Chujin and is nothing else outside of that in their relationship. You can see that with how Chujin is willing to get Ceroba involved in the illegal and dangerous work that killed him but begs Ceroba to not involve Kanako, their daughter, who "needs to live a happy life unaffected by [his] endeavors." He asks Ceroba to do this for him because she is his loyal wife and despite all the odds stacked against her, he knows she'll jump through hoops to get it done. But Kanako deserves to be happy.

The Ketsukane mansion drives me a bit nuts. You've already heard me talk about how Chujin used up his savings from his time in the Steamworks to build it but also just.

Ceroba admits that she initially found the estate to be too big for her tastes; she assumes that the size was Chujin's way of insinuating that they have a larger family together. This was Chujin's grand gesture of love, a passion project and his way of providing the best of the best for his family rolled into one. But, even though it wasn't his intention, the task of providing financially for the family fell onto Ceroba's lap. Every inch of it is the hallmark of craftsmanship, it's practically a palace. There's a kotatsu and fireplace in the heart of it even though the climate is far too warm to warrant those things. Chujin crafted every inch of Kanako's room with loving intention, right down to the video games, and he gets two office spaces for himself, and meanwhile Ceroba has... a closet full of clothing. Ceroba calls the garden he grew outside "almost like a reflection of [Chujin's] own SOUL." When Chujin started dying from the serum he created using a human child's SOUL, his garden started wilting and dying as well. There's an office that Chujin used for all the secrets he didn't want to share with his family baked right into the foundation of the home and right on top of it was the table that the family sat together and ate dinner at.

[mekatrio]

seto................

[sincerelyneo]

will you be reposting the jeno fic you had on your old blog? it was my fave 🥺

here it is <3

fireproof | l.jn

“‘cause no body saves me baby the way you do”

💿now playing: fireproof by one direction

❯ summary: Your brother Jaemin loves throwing parties when your parents aren’t home — but you hate it. In an attempt to escape the loud music and sweaty bodies you try and head out. But there’s no way your brother’s best friend, Jeno, is letting you wander around the streets so late.

❯ pairings: jeno x fem!reader

❯ genre: smut, brother’s best friend, college!au

❯ words: 8.4k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, smut, masturbation, minor mentions of drug use, drinking, marking, slight protective brother jaemin, begging, spanking, mentions of marking, unprotected sex (don't do this!), oral sex (m/f receiving), fingering, reader uses she/her pronouns, jeno fucks his best friend’s little sister.

a/n: i changed the title hehehe

This party fucking sucks.

You’re not even drunk. The vodka is watered down, you're sure of it. Your friends ditched you about half an hour ago — disappearing with some of the guys they had been speaking to and seeing. 

"Come to the party with us, they said." You mimic to yourself into your plastic cup. "It'll be fun, they said." 

You scoff taking another swig but pull your face at the awful taste that lingers in your mouth. There are better things you could be doing on a Saturday night, you think. You’re almost positive you saw a new show released on Netflix today. Or better yet, you could be reading some sort of erotic novel that would spice up your Saturday night more than this shit.

But the thing is, this party is at your own fucking house.

Your brother is throwing it. 

Every time your parents go away for one weekend he can’t help but jump at the opportunity to trash the place. You don't see why he can't just have a few of the boys around, have some beers and then call it a night. But no, that isn't exactly Jaemin’s style. 

Of course, he has to invite a bunch of random weirdos that seem to be snorting cocaine off of every surface in this house, and smoking whatever kind of weed they could find. And sure, you’re not impartial to a good night but this... this is not your idea of a good night.

At all.

Sighing, you push through the masses of people, seeing the sweaty bodies that are dry humping one another or eating each other's faces off so much you feel like you’re going to throw up at the sight. 

Stopping in your tracks, you reach into the back pocket of your denim jeans to pull out your phone, seeing that it is half-past midnight. If you know Jaemin — and you did — this was only the beginning of the night. The party is definitely far from over.

Fuck sake.

You put your phone back in your pocket and continue to manoeuvre around the bodies in the hallway. Your stomach growls and you think about how you're drinking on an empty stomach. The only thing open at this time is a Mcdonald's but you don't necessarily want to be that person that sits in McDonald's by themselves on a Saturday night. 

Still, you head for your front door and try your luck at an escape. As you reach your hand out to grab the door handle you smash headfirst into a body. Well to be more specific a chest. A hard chest.

"Ow, fuck!" You lift your hand up, rubbing your forehead.

"Sorry little Na, didn't see you there." You immediately recognise that voice. The deep slowness in which he talks. It’s the only voice that has a straight hotline to your core. 

Yeah, you couldn't ever forget that voice.

You stop rubbing your head and slowly look up, following the lines of his muscled chest that you can see through the tight white t-shirt he's wearing with a pair of denim jeans and converse. Yes you had already checked him out tonight, but you’re only human. And when your eyes meet that sharp jawline, hollowed-out cheekbones and those damming brown eyes, you involuntarily clench your thighs together.

You shun yourself because you know you can’t have him. And that’s the reason why you hate him. 

He's your brother’s best friend.

Lee fucking Jeno.

The worst man on this planet. for many reasons like for one he’s insanely hot. Like too hot. Who on this planet even needs to be that hot? But to make it worse he knows he's hot. Girls are always flying off his arm fueling his ego. He's also selfish and arrogant. 

But the reason you hate him the most, the reason you despise him so much, and avoid him at all costs is because of the burning need — it's past being a want it's a fucking need — to just devour him. Every part of you screams out whenever he is in the same room. 

And you hate it.

You have zero control over your words and actions with him — and he knows it with how much you’ve embarrassed yourself in front of him over the years. Your cheeks tend to grow red without your permission, and oh does he love to point that out.

Ever since your brother brought him home in his first year of high school, they have been inseparable — and you’ve been madly in love.

Well, you’re not in love with the boy. You just, you know, want to rip his clothes off. And let him fuck the living daylights out of you.

"Aw, there they are." He distracts you from your thoughts. 

His eyes are burning straight through you. As if he can tell what you’re thinking, how you’re feeling. And right now, you have very infuriating dampness in your panties that wasn't there 30 seconds ago. 

"Those rosy cheeks, are they for me, little Na?" You swat his hand away as it attempts to reach up to caress your cheek or some stupid shit like that.

"Stop that Jeno!” You snap at him, getting angry is your default with him.

It the perfect remedy to keep him away from you, so you don't do something stupid like fuck your brother’s best friend

“Please just get out my way.” 

"Such a pleasant girl, aren't you?" He winks. 

He fucking winks, and your pussy screams in delight. If you were any other girl, you’d be swooning right now. You’d be on your knees begging for it. 

Well, you won't be on your  knees for him.

Ever.

Especially not tonight.

"Just get out of my way, Jeno,” you push him rather hard. 

You knew it wouldn't make him budge if he didn't want it too but he dramatically moved out of your way of the door. You yank it open and dart through onto the front lawn. Halfway down the driveway, a sharp tug on your arm spins you around and you’re  faced with Jeno... again.

"Fuck sake, what do you want?" You shake your arm out of his grip but he doesn't let go. 

You give up, huffing and dropping your shoulders. The two of you are just staring at each other, so much so that you didn't even realise how close you really were. Your chests are almost touching, there is a hair width between you. And due to your height, if you looked forwards you’d be looking at the bottom of his neck, right where you see him gulp before meeting your eyes again. They seem to burn into yours, suddenly growing intense. 

He is the first to look away but he doesn't just look away, no. You watch as his eyes flash down to your lips. Your breath hitches, he sees that and when he looks back to your eyes again, he flashes you a knowing smirk.

Motherfucker. 

"Come back inside." He says as he throws his head to the side, signalling to your house.

"No," you all but stomp your foot.

"You're such a fucking brat, you know that right?" He growls, closing that gap so that your chests touch. There’s an electricity running through you, begging for him. 

"I'm not a fucking brat, I just don't want to be here at this shitty party!” 

You don't break his eye contact, chests still touching. He can sure as hell feel each heavy breath you take and probably every beat of your heart that seems to have sped up since he moved closer.

"Just go inside, go to your room, anything. Just don't fucking leave, your brother would have my balls if I let you go out alone this late at night.” 

You roll your eyes at the mention of your brother. You love him, you really do, but hearing the word brother leaves Jeno’s lips reminds you exactly why he’s even here.

It’s not for you — it’s for Jaemin’s sake. 

"I don't see why either of you care, you've got plenty of booze and girls to keep you occupied to not even notice me gone,” you stand your ground, trying to tug your arm once again but he still won't let go.

However, he has loosened his grip so it isn't so harsh, but it's still locked around your wrist. In fact, you’re sure you feel him drawing little circles on the inner skin with his thumb and that thought alone has you squirming no matter how much you try to ignore it. 

"I think I'd always notice when you're not there," Jeno says under his breath, his face lowering to yours. 

If you didn't know better then you’d think he was about to kiss you. But that can't happen. Can it? 

Everything but your core is saying no. Your whole body is screaming to open up your mouth and say please. But you ignore it — you always do— and try to keep a brave face. But as he gets so close, too close, your eyes automatically flutter shut.

You expect his lips to graze yours but they don't, instead, you feel his cheek against you , only faintly, as his lips skim your ear lobe.

"I think I'd always notice when you're not there because there won't be some childish little brat moaning about not getting her own way." 

Your eyes shoot open as he pulls back, laughing at your flushing cheeks. Your eyes narrow as you finally tug your arm hard enough this time that he has no choice but to release you. 

"I do not moan about not getting my own way and I am not childish nor a brat,” you sneer at him. 

"Sure,-" he huffs, laughing, crossing his arms over his chest. "Whatever you say." 

"Why can’t you just go inside and leave me alone,” you cross your own arms over your chest. 

"No can do." He stands there like some sort of bouncer, you look to your right and see the path only a few steps away. He watches you and says a low, demanding, "Don't." 

But you do it. 

You spin on your heel and run for it. But you only make it two steps before two large arms are wrapped around your waist from behind and you’re being sprung back into a hard chest. Jeno’s one arm sits tightly around your waist, his fingers digging into your hip and you squirm against him. To stop your wriggling, his other hand flies up to grab a hold of your throat, tilting your head back to the rest of his shoulder. 

His eyes flash to his hand around your neck and he takes a deep breath that causes his eyes to flutter shut. Then you feel something growing behind you causing your own eyes to grow wide. He leans forward, lips skimming yours barely. 

“I said don't." It sounded more like a growl than anything and a small whimper escaped your lips. "Are you going to walk inside or am I going to have to carry you?" He whispers still close to your mouth. If you lifted your head slightly, you’d be kissing.

"I'm not going back inside." You sternly reply, he just laughs and his hold loosens on you. 

But he doesn’t free you. Instead he throws you clean over his shoulder in a fireman's lift. 

“Put. Me. Down. Jeno." You scream, hitting his back, but he doesn't listen. Carrying on heading back inside your house. 

Your cheeks are bright red and you stop your attack on Jeno’s back and decide to clench his shirt in your fists and hide your face in it.

"What's going on here?" You hear Jaemin’s voice and your head flies up.

"Your sister tried to escape," Jeno says laughing, bending down to lower you to the ground. 

When he stood back up, you were so close your bodies touched again, your breasts rubbed against his firm chest and your nipples stiffened. His eyes glanced down to them and they darken, then he looks to you again and grabs your shoulders, spinning you around to face your brother. You automatically lifted your arms up and over your breasts to cover the obvious arousal.

"Come on Y/N, you know you can't be walking around aimlessly at night." Jaemin chastises you.

"I'm not a child Jaem," you roll your eyes with a shake of your head.

"So what? Grown ass people still get kidnapped!” 

You groan, I'm going to my room." 

You push past him and head towards the stairs. You turn around seeing Jeno’s smug face knowing he’s got his own way about you coming back inside.

But you won’t give him the satisfaction. You’ll  just sneak out the window and have your perfect escape. He won't know. 

Not like he’ll come to check — right?

You spin on your heel as you hear the sound of footsteps following behind you. Jeno’s there, eyes locked on your ass until he sees you looking back down at him and then cocks his head to the side and smiles innocently. 

“What are you doing?” You spit. 

"Just making sure you actually do go to your room." He flashes his infamous eye smile that has plagued your dreams since you first met him. "And that your windows are locked. Don't want you running away now do we?" he winks at you.

He’s so irritating!

With a huff, you turn around and storm your way up the last couple of stairs, making sure your stomps are extra loud. You can just hear Jeno snickering behind you and that only rattles you even more. When you reach the landing you turn immediately and head to the last door of the hallway and pull it open, stepping inside of your bedroom. You go to slam the door shut but a sneaker covered foot stops in between preventing it.

You immediately roll your eyes and groan. 

"Leave me alone Jeno." You groan, leaning up against the door with your back, pushing it.

"Let me check your windows then I'll leave."

"What kind of request is that?” You sigh, running a hand through your hair. 

"Just let me."

"No."

The two of you enter a stare off — one you both know he’s going to win. And he does, because you don’t even let two whole minutes pass before you’re huffing out a “Fine.” 

He makes his way over to your window, making sure it's locked, then he chuckles, drawing your curtains too. The only thing lightening the room was your bedside lamp that you had an awful habit of leaving on. That, and it was the perfect deterrent to make it look like someone was in there, keeping strangers from having sex on your bed.

“All done?” You ask, breathy. 

He smirks, his eyes flashing to your lips again and you swear to god if he does that one more time you’re either going to kick him in the balls or jump on him and kiss him. 

You force yourself to take a step back and take a deep breath which makes him laugh.

"Well goodnight little Na, don't go sneaking out because I will know about it." He walks off to the door and before he exits you say,

"And how would you possibly know that?"

He looks over his shoulder, his eyes flash up and down your body, "I just will,” he winks then closes the door behind him.

You huff out and stomp your foot like a child. God you needed to grow a backbone and stop letting that idiot mess with you. 

Storming into your bathroom you slam the door shut. You strip off your clothes and turn on the shower. Whilst waiting for it to get up to temperature, you sigh. 

"Let me just lock your windows for ya." You pull a face copying him. "Want me to check that for ya?"

Once you’re done in the shower you climb out of it and dry yourself with a towel. 

"He's so fucking annoying ugh," you say to yourself as you pull the bathroom door open and saunter into your bedroom naked. 

You don't even check to see if anyone was in there, too busy ranting about him. And when you feel the cold draft of your bedroom it makes you realise you had just walked into your unlocked bedroom naked. Immediately, you covered your body remembering the party going on downstairs; but on first glance, it appeared no one was in there. Still you quickly grab your oversized grey t-shirt from the end of your bed, throwing it on over your head, but skipping your underwear. 

Your room was fairly simple with white furniture, a wooden floor, soft pink bedding, a few cuddly toys. The bed lies against the far wall, opposite the door and you leave your lamp on to have a little bit of light to help you sleep. 

Trying to fall asleep you flip over so your back faces the light. You try a few different sleep scenarios but everything keeps going back to Jeno.

And the way his hand gripped around your neck. 

You flip over again, keeping your eyes shut, yet, Jeno just waltzes into your mind continuously. Like he won't leave you alone. You feel so much anger coursing through your blood, yet you have this strange pulling into your core. 

You need to give attention to it — so you do. And as soon as you slip your hand under the covers, the fantasies start rolling in. Jeno’s arms around you, grabbing at your waist, your hips, your ass, your breasts.

Your breath hitches.

His tongue in your mouth, along your skin, tracing your neck and stomach, then between your folds lapping at you. Your eyes shoot open as you clench your thighs together and immediately feel the wetness.

It was just too much to ignore. This wasn’t going away. You already knew that. 

You just needed some relief and then you’ll be free for the night. Jeno never needs to know and it’s not like you haven’t done this exact same thing before over him. 

Your right hand finds your centre first, sliding between the folds and instantly feeling the slick wetness there. Slowly and sensually, you begin moving your fingers in a circular motion. Eyes closing instantly, flashes of Jeno now being played before you.

In your mind, it was no longer your hand but his. Rubbing your clit, sending shivers down your spine and causing a small panting moan to escape you. 

Your left hand begins clutching at the sheets and as you feel your nipples peak and rub against the soft material of your shirt, you have no choice but to swiftly move your hand up and under to take hold of your own breasts and squeeze. You moan again as you begin to work your fingers faster over your clit.

Now in your head, Jeno stood before you shirtless. Seeing the ripples in the muscles of his abs, he flexes his arms, making you grow weaker. But you always felt like this whenever you saw him shirtless at the pool, or the beach. 

And you couldn't deny how fucking sexy he was — you wouldn’t?”

"What’re you thinking about?" 

You pause instantly, back arched, orgasm growing close and eyes squeezed shut. You can't decipher whether that voice was in your head or in real life so you just grow still and relax, trying to pretend it didn’t happen. 

Your breathing which was already heavy, grows even more so, this time with panic and worry. You don't want to open your eyes, scared of what you might see because you recognised that voice.

At least, you’re really fucking hoping Jeno’s voice is all in your head, because you’re seconds away from orgasm.

"I asked you a question." 

Your eyes fly open. He’s definitely not in your head. 

Ripping your hand away from your clit, you pull the other away from your nipple and force yourself into a seated position with your hands splayed behind to hold you up. You scream on instinct, he doesn't so much as flinch as he stands at the end of your bed. 

His eyes are dark, head low and looking up at you through his lashes. He has that smirk on his face, and his hands are fidgeting, rolling his fingers against his palm. Your eyes roam his body as your scream continues and you wish you hadn't, only because your scream turned into a moan as you spied his hard erection pushing against his jeans.

You gasp and look back at his face. 

"What're you doing Jeno?" You whisper-shout, even though the party downstairs would make it difficult for anyone to hear you anyway. 

Still, you didn’t want any party goers walking in on a flustered you in bed with Jeno and his very large, very prominent erection, standing at the base. 

Fuck. It's so big. You can tell from how it's breaking at the seams of his jeans to be let free. Your mouth waters at the sheer thought of his dick — wondering what it looks like, how it feels in your hands, in your mouth — how it tastes. 

Fuck no. Absolutely not. 

You shake your head, trying to rid the thoughts and ignore the fact your core is pulsing right now, begging for one last touch so you can explode into orgasm. You really fucking needed it.

"I asked you what you were thinking about?" He says lowly, and it causes your breathing to still.

“H-how long have you been standing there?" You whimper. 

He shrugs, “That doesn't matter, what does matter is-" he moves his head up, looking you dead in the eyes as he cracks his neck and then his fists in each hand. "-What you were thinking about whilst touching yourself? Was it me?" 

He smirks again and you stood up, throwing the duvet off of your legs. 

"Not a chance," He says sternly. You look at him again, face paling. 

"What do you mean, no?" you ask, cocking your head.

"I mean don't you fucking move-" His tongue came out to lap at his bottom lip as his eyes moved down your body, down your legs. 

You instantly went to grab the duvet again but he grabbed it first, ripping it from the bed and throwing it across the room. You get down on all fours, crawling to try and get it before him. 

"Jeno!" You exclaim, reaching your hand out for it but it was too far away. You look up at him on all fours, and from this angle... God. You gulp. 

"Give me my cover."

You try to wash away every fantasy of being in this position before him but you can't ignore the way you need his hard cock, seeping at the tip and begging for you to lick it, to suck it. 

Stop. No. Not now.

His hand comes to the side of your face, pushing a piece of your hair behind your ear and you shiver at the touch. 

"Lie. Back. On. The. Bed." He commands.

Your eyes flutter shut for a moment and then slowly, you move to follow his command until you are back down on the bed. You keep your legs closed and hands on your stomach. 

You weren’t sure why you’re listening to him — obeying him . But something in you, some instinct is just screaming at you to let this play out, see what he wants.

"Touch yourself." He says and you blanch, your eyes growing wide and you sit up again, but one stern look from him has you lying back down again. "Touch yourself and tell me what you think of, how you feel, tell me everything Y/N."

Your name. He never bothers to call you that. Usually emphasising how you’re his best friend’s little sister with the nickname he’d given you. But honestly, you’re thankful for the nickname because hearing your actual name from his lips, all nasally and sensual, sends you spiralling. 

It makes you putty in his hands. And as for your hands? Well, they slowly spread your legs wide revealing your soaking wet cunt to him. You keep your eyes pierced on him, watching how his breath hitches, eyes glued to you. The way he automatically grabs his cock through his jeans and squeezes is like a reflex. Closing his eyes only briefly before they're back on you, on your core. 

You feel yourself growing red, the heat of embarrassment consuming you whole as you slide your hand down your stomach. As soon as your fingers make contact with your clit, your hips are bucking off of the bed and your back starts to curve. Building up your arousal doesn't take long. You were already half there, teetering on the edge. 

Except this time your eyes lock onto Jeno’s for real whilst your fingers are moving, soft moans leaving your lips. You spy his own hand on his cock, he hasn't pulled it free but he moves his hand back and forth over his shaft. You can see the way his arms tense as he moves and watches you.

You throw your head back with another moan. Seeing him stood there isn't enough, you need something more. You need him climbing on top of you, replacing your fingers with his. His hot breath against your neck as he rubs you harder and faster. 

"What are you thinking about?"

"You." You say breathily.

"What about me?"

Your eyes shoot open to stare at him, he looks tense and flustered. Just as bad as you. His hand stops moving on his cock and you make a mental note that he might've been close. Too close. And this might be over too soon.

"Your fingers on my clit, rubbing me," you throw your head back as the fantasy flashes again. 

"Yes, and what else?" He growls. 

"Your mouth." You breathe again.

"My mouth, huh?" He bites and your fantasy continues. 

"Yes. Everywhere." You cry out, orgasm seconds away. "Your mouth on me, about to- God, Jeno I'm gonna cum,” your back arches, hips bucking, fingers moving so fast and rough. 

"Look at me." Your eyes fly open at the command. "I want you to cum whilst looking at me."

And you do. The sheer dominance radiating off of him is the final straw that has you crashing down. 

Your orgasm rips through you as your hips lift so far off the bed. You moved your fingers through your orgasm, riding it out but finally, your hips fell back to the bed and you let out a heavy breath.

Before you could even open your eyes again, you felt two large arms wrap under your thighs gripping your hips, and suddenly you’re yanked to the end of the bed. Your eyes snap open, and your head lifts up as you spy Jeno on his knees at the end of the bed, his mouth centimetres from your dripping pussy.

"J-Jeno,” you mumble, just the sight of him has you moaning. 

You’re not sure if getting yourself off in front of him was the moment you both decided to cross the line; but now him manoeuvring between your legs, you knew you definitely had. Regardless, you know now you aren't ever going back to the dynamic you had before. 

"I’m gonna make those fantasies come to life baby.” 

He doesn't miss a beat. His tongue comes out and swipes a long lick up and through your folds. All common sense leaves your head as you fall back against the bed. 

"God, you taste so good. I fucking knew you would." 

He’s thought about this? You know you have. 

He repeats the motion again, this time focusing on your clit, making sure to run a smooth stripe along it, circling it only slightly, enough to have you wriggling. One of his hands splays over your stomach, holding your hips down. 

"I want you to cum on my tongue. I want to taste every drop of you,” you gulp, looking down at him between your thighs. You don't miss the dark pupils in his eyes and that daring look, the one telling you to follow his instructions. 

"Jeno, oh my god,” you cry out, your head flying back as his mouth attacks your clit. He sucks it in, flicking his tongue all over in a frenzied motion. 

You know he knows all the right ways to make a girl squirm. And you are fucking squirming. All over the fucking bed, you’d be breaking free from him if he didn't have his large veined hand holding your stomach down. Your stomach is now on show. Your t-shirt has risen up to just below your breasts and you see the way his eyes watch the movement as you move about, tits bouncing around.

And as if he can hear your thoughts he says,

"Take your top off." 

You do it without question, lifting the hem and throwing it over your head. Now you’re laying there completely naked. His hand that was on your stomach comes up and takes hold of one breast, instantly taking your nipple between his fingers and you hear him, no you feel him, moan into your pussy. 

The vibrations cause you to cry out, hands knuckling the bed sheets. 

"You're so fucking hot Y/N, God." He murmurs before attacking you again, his mouth working wonders.

And that tongue. You’re so close. You can feel it. 

Then you feel as he slides two fingers into you. Jeno curls his fingers inside of you, hitting some sort of sensitive spot, and as soon as his fingers massage that area inside you and his mouth returns to your clit, you explode.

You don't even know if the music downstairs would cover your screams as you fell into ecstasy. His hand on your breast doesn’t  move, but the one that had been hooked on your hip moves to splay against your stomach holding you down as he laps at you, riding you through your second orgasm until you couldn’t take it anymore. He pulls his fingers out, then his mouth away from you at just the right time.

You lay there spent. Completely. 

Eyes fluttering open. Jeno stood between your legs looking down at you. His cock looked painful in his jeans. You had once felt exhausted and ready to fall asleep but as soon as you saw his erection you shot up in your seat. You immediately fumble with his jeans until his hand comes to your jaw, pulling your head up to look into his eyes. He stares for a moment before blinking, taking a deep breath.

"You don't have to- I didn't do that for you to-"

"I want to. I want this." You nod eagerly,"I want you.” 

You lick your lips and it's as if something snaps in him, that moment of care vanishes and he lets go of your chin.

"Well then, suck my cock,” he says, standing there and you do as you’re told.

You unfasten his jeans, pull them down and then his underwear. His large erect cock springs free instantly and without a second thought you take hold of him in your hand. Your hands look tiny against his dick. 

You move your hand slowly up and down his cock, and notice how his thighs tense, then his stomach and you follow your eyes up until you meet his face. His head is hung low, eyes dark and hands clenched by his sides. Keeping your eyes on his, you lean forward and spy the precum, flicking your tongue out and taking it in to swallow down with a moan that makes him grunt. 

You moved so that your face was closer to his balls, then you stroked your tongue all along his length, and felt the way he flexed beneath your muscle. There’s a cocky smirk covering your face when you move back to the top and suck his tip into your mouth.

"Do you like sucking my cock?" He asks, his hand threading into your hair to start pulling on the roots to yank your head backwards. 

"Do you like it when I suck your cock, Jeno?" You flip the question with a smile the power in your hands. You continue working him and he flexes his hand in your hair.

"That's how you wanna play?" He grins at you.

You pretend to think for a moment, "I’m not playing anything." You move your head closer down his length, licking  another long stripe hearing how he curses under his breath and thrusts his hips towards you. "I just want to suck your cock." 

With that, you take him into your mouth, sliding down until you reach your limit. You can't take him whole, he’s way too big for that, but you take what you can. He coughs and splutters a bunch of inaudible words, but you just pull back up and repeat the motion, continuing to take him back into your throat. 

His hand stays threaded in your hair, keeping a rough hold so that you can't pull away — not that you wanted to.  

You love every second. Even as you feel him tensing, his hips moving as he thrusts into your mouth. You look up through your lashes to see his head thrown back as he moans out and hisses every so often when you drag your teeth along his cock. You can tell he likes it as the precum coats your tongue. That and the way he doesn't tell you to stop. 

"Do. That. Again."

And you do, watching his head fall forwards."Such a pretty sight, my cock filling your mouth. What do you think your brother would think about this?" he smirks and your face falls pale.

You almost stop sucking his dick but he doesn't let you, slamming his hips forwards so his cock hits the back of your throat.

Your brother.

Not a thought you want to think about right now but it is something you needed to consider. This was his best friend. You’d finally gotten the man so forbidden, always out of bounds. The whole time you didn’t know that he wanted you as much as you wanted him. 

You moan uncontrollably, and it must send vibrations along his cock as you feel it twitch in your mouth, his thrusts become sloppy and his grip on your hand grows tighter. 

"Fuck, Y/N, I'm gonna cum." He grits out. "Are you gonna let me cum in that pretty mouth of yours?" 

You look up at him. You can't speak so you try to nod. 

"God, you’ve always been the death of me," He thrusts several more times as you slide your tongue all over his length and tip. 

You do it a final time as you take him to the back of your throat, gliding your teeth along him which must've been his undoing as you felt the hot steaming cum splatter against the back of your throat. 

You pulled him out your mouth slowly. Even as he is softening he is still thick and large. You kitten lick the tip as he hisses, causing him to loosen his grip in your hair and you sit back, making sure to obviously gulp so he knows you swallowed every last drop of him. Leaning forwards, his hand comes to your chin and he moves his mouth so close to your you think he might kiss you but instead he says,

"Good girl." 

You hate the way those two words made you clench your thighs together. You thought the two orgasms were enough but no, you’re ready for more. You need more. 

He’s quick to remove his shirt, and as he lifts his arms his abs flex. You are point-blank gawking at him standing before you, making him smirk. 

That snaps you out of it. Remembering you are sitting here, soaking wet and naked before him. You crawl back on the bed and then realise you have no duvet so you have to pull your knees to your chest and cross your arms over your knees to cover yourself. 

He watches you, laughs and then shakes his head. He then moves, shoving off his jeans and underwear the rest of the way off until they both land on the floor.

"Wh-What are you doing?" You ask stuttering, thinking he should actually be getting dressed to leave.

"What do you think I'm doing?" he asks. 

Can't he ever just give you a simple answer? 

Then you notice how his cock has sprung to life again and his hand moves to touch it. Moving up and down the length as he cracks his neck.

"You're h-hard again?" You stutter, eyes glued to the impressive size of him. 

"I'm always hard for you baby." He winks and for once, it didn't make you want to punch him. 

"Jeno, we can't." You shake your head.

 You’re already way past the line. Sex would destroy the whole scale. Still, the idea of him, his cock inside of you, whispering filthy things in your ear... it isn't something you can ignore. 

"You want it." He says point blankly. 

You gulp and remain silent. He moves onto the bed, kneeling and then crawls towards you until he is over you. His hair has fallen over his eyes — so fucking hot. "I know you want it, why try to deny it?" He cocks his head to the side, smugly.

"I-I'm not." You fidget. 

“Yes, you are." He ducks his head low, burying it in your neck. You feel his warm breath and your heartbeat rackets so loud. "You don't want to want me to fuck you,” His teeth graze your neck, sending you into a panting mess as he sucks and bites. 

He then pulls away and laps at the mark you know is there, the one he put there as a reminder tomorrow when you come to your senses that you did this.

"So I’ll ask again. What do you want?" He looks down at you, plump pink lips swollen and wet from his constant licking and biting them. 

You’re going to let your brothers best friend fuck you. And you’re going to love every second of it.

Not wasting another moment longer to think, you grab hold of his neck and lift your head whilst pulling him to you to smash your lips together. There’s heat, fire, and explosions of electricity. 

Your hands claw at his neck, his back, his sides. Anything to pull him closer. His crotch, his hard cock, grinds against your soaking hole and you groan out whilst continuing to kiss him. Both so desperate for each other. His hands skim down your body, kneading your breasts, your hips. He grabs hold of anywhere and everywhere. 

His lips detach from yours, giving you a moment to see how swollen they are before they're attacking your neck. He peppers kisses along your jaw, not sweet kisses but hard and sloppy kisses. Sucking and biting the skin causing your back to arch into his chest, pushing your breasts against him, making him moan. He thrusts his hips forwards, his cock sliding between your folds, hitting against your clit making you quiver.

"Fuck, we really shouldn't be doing this." He continues kissing you down your neck, reaching your collar bones that he also decides to leave marks on. 

"Jeno please," you cry out. Both of his hands move to your hips to hold you still. 

"Please what baby?" He smirks before moving lower to take one of your nipples into his mouth.

"Fuck Jeno,” you cry out as he flicks his tongue over the bud, biting it harshly so you cry out again then soothing it with a soft warm suck.

"Please what baby?" He repeats. 

"Fuck me. Now!”

"And what about your brother?" he brings him up again and you roll your eyes. 

"Stop bringing him up," You moan as he takes your other nipple into his mouth, repeating the process.

"He'll kill us if he finds out." he grins.

"Then he can't find out," You pant out of breath as Jeno moves.

His face is so close to yours that your lips are only just touching, his chest is pushed against you and his cock sits lodged between your folds. You try to shift to gain some friction against your clit but his grip holds you still. His eyes flicker across your face then he says,

"I won't tell if you won't?" His lips caress yours in the faintest of movements. You flick your tongue out to wet your lips, but in the process he bites onto your muscle making you wince then moan, "What do you think, huh?” 

There’s no room for discussion — your body won’t let you. 

"I won't tell if you won't."

He doesn't miss a beat once he gets your approval. His lips are on yours as his hips thrust forwards. His cock thrusting inside of you, tearing you open as you pull your mouth away to cry out.

"Holy fuck."

He stills once inside you, making sure to push as far as possible until his pelvis meets your skin. Your legs wrap around his waist instantly.

"You feel so fucking good." He breaks from your kiss to breathe. "I always knew you would but this-" he looks down to where you are connected and he thrusts further, trying to get deeper but he can't possibly. "-this is better than anything I could've imagined." 

"Move, please." You grunt trying to lift your hips to encourage some movement. His eyes fly open, dark and daring. 

"Beg me." He smirks and does a tiny thrust, a teasing thrust.

"Fuck off,” you pant, trying to do it yourself but he uses his hips to pin you to the bed.

"Beg." He smiles and cocks his head to one side. "Me."

You hated his arrogance. But fuck, you want him so bad. So badly that you will beg.

"Please fuck me, Jeno." He pulls out of you and you suck in a deep breath.

"Again." He grins now. 

You can't bear to look at him but looking down means watching as he holds just the tip inside of me.

"Please. Fuck. Me." You pant, half moaning, begging for him. 

He thrusts so hard into you, you wince and moan out in pleasure. He hit so deep inside that you’re sure you’ll bruise.

"Anything for you, Y/N,” he whispers in your ear before sucking and biting on the lobe. 

Then he's pulling out and thrusting into you. Again. And again. And again. Harder and harder each time. Faster and faster. You lose your breath, becoming a big ball of pants and moans — just like  Jeno.

God, the sounds he makes. You’ve never heard someone so vocal before, but fuck it's hot. The small grunts he makes when he fucks you, the groans when you clench around his cock and feel yourself building. He moves his hands under your ass to lift it, plummeting into you from a new angle, going so much deeper.

"Your pussy is so tight. Fuck,” He says between thrusts, and gritted teeth. 

He seems to have found a weak spot right under your ear that has you clenching like mad around his cock. And he loves it. 

"How have you just been there in front of me this whole time? How have I stayed away from you?" He seems to be asking himself because he doesn’t press you for a reply. 

He removes his lips from your neck and sits back on his heels, his cock still inside of you, slowing his thrusts and he lifts your legs up, moving them over his shoulders. His head moves from side to side, placing a soft kiss on each ankle and for one second. You’re dumbfounded as he looks at you, a daring smirk written across his face. 

He wraps his arms around your thighs, locking your legs in a straight position against his chest on either side of his head, and then he begins pounding into you again. However this time, he moves one of his hands to your centre, his thumb moving closer to your clit. You feel how it grazes your nerves. He strums it once. Twice. Three times then you're wriggling around like a mess, back arching off as your orgasm tears through your body and you explode into euphoria. Again.

He rides you through it, fucking you as you clench and squeeze around him. A string of curse words come out of him, you feel him so close but he doesn't cum. He stops stroking your clit as you batted his hand away, you didn't realise you had been clenching the sheets with white knuckles until you relax your hands and feel a cramp in your palm.

Jeno slows his thrusts until he stills inside of you, his chest is moving up and down with each of his heavy breaths. You move your legs off of his shoulders, enjoying the movements as your legs feel strained too.

But as soon as your feet hit the bed, he grabs you and flips you so you land on your stomach. He pulls your hips up and slides into you again.

"Fuck!" You scream as he slams into you unapologetically. One hand holding your hip, the other trails along your back as he begins fucking you from behind. He leans over you, still ploughing, and comes closer to your ear.

"I always wanted to fuck you like this, you are always strutting around showing off, your ass? Do you like teasing me?" 

You don't even know what you like right now. Mind too focused on needed Jeno to fuck you any way he pleased. 

He grins, then shoves your head back down into the mattress, straightening his back and fucks you harder than you think you’ve ever have been before. You couldn't keep up with the movements, head a complete daze from all of the orgasms that he had given you.

You come to a conscious mind when a hard slap lands on your ass, it makes your pussy throb so he does it again, and again, rubbing over the area and soothing it before doing it again. Each time it makes you clench around him. 

"Jeno," you cry out between thrusts.

"Yeah, baby?" His voice sounded so much deeper, which told you he was close. That and the way his thrusts grew random and unstable.

"Want you to cum in me," You moan, clenching the sheets again. 

"I'm not wearing a condom," He grits through his teeth. 

"I'm on the pill,” you manage to say between heavy breaths. You needed him to cum in you now. 

He shakes his head, "Last thing I need is to get my best friend's little sister pregnant." And that was that because he thrust a few more times, then pulls out, and instantly, all over your ass and back you felt a hot liquid splatter about. 

As soon as his grip left your hip you fell straight down onto the mattress, and your body was thankful for it. Everything hurt. He'd destroyed you. Fucked you, well and truly. And you couldn't stop the smile on your face.

"I'll go get a cloth." He said through some heavy breaths then climbed off of the bed and went to your bathroom. He emerged a moment later, used the warm cloth to clean up his mess although you notice him take a minute to look at it.

"Admiring your work?" You asked him through a laugh, he looked at you and shook his head chuckling. 

"Trust me, if I could take a picture I would,” he wipes it away. Then he returned to the bathroom to throw the cloth in the hamper but as soon as he stood in the doorway of you heard three loud knocks on your bedroom door. 

"Y/N? You in there? Have you seen Jeno?" 

You shot up in bed, suddenly not tired or spent. Jeno’s eyes grew wide too.

You lifted your finger to your lips and gestured to Jeno to stay in the bathroom. He didn't hesitate as he shuts the door. 

Jaemin would fucking kill him and you, without a doubt. Only moments ago you had his best friend’s cum covering your ass. 

"One second," you shout,  jumping out of bed and grabbing your T-shirt. Then you rush over to the door, paint on your best sleeping face and yawn whilst opening it. 

"Oh, you were asleep?" Jaemin stood on the other side, hands braced on either side of the door frame.

You fake another yawn. He looks behind you and you turn too, fearful Jeno was standing there but then you spied your duvet cover on the other side of the room. Jamein frowned and looked back to you. 

"I was hot." You shrug. 

"Shit sorry," He quickly says. "I just can't find Jeno anywhere.” 

"He’s your friend not mine.”

"I don’t understand why you two hate each other," He rolls his eyes and you can't help but scoff at the irony. 

Hate wasn’t exactly the word you’d use for the guy that was just 8 inches deep inside of you. 

"Well, he's probably off getting high or fucking some girl.” 

“Better not be in our parent’s bed again,” he huffs, and your eyes go wide. “Fuck, he better not be doing it in my bed either,” he says to himself. 

And with that, he storms away heading for his room. Chuckling, you shut the door and Jeno emerges from the bathroom, a towel now wrapped around his waist and he stands there facing you. 

"That was close."

"Too close." You sigh. 

He dresses himself as you climb back in bed, getting your duvet back on and covering yourself with it. He walks over to the door and pulls it open, peeking outside to check the coast is clear, then once he does he turns to look over his shoulder at you.

"Our secret?" He says.

"Our secret." You nod and he steps out, not looking back and shuts the door.

You lie back on your bed, head falling into your pillows and laugh. 

But then you shake your head processing it all, moving your hand to cover your mouth, looking at the ceiling. 

You just fucked your brother’s best friend.