#I think I’ll just collapse right here thanks

[theragethatisdesire]

scary dog privilege - best friend!eren x reader one-shot, 18+!!

hellooooo i have had this in my wips for like two entire months and i am giddy and ready to share it. this hopefully will just be a one-shot, but you guys know i love to create a universe for each of my erens so god only knows where we'll end up with this one. best friend eren appears to be my angstiest, broodiest one yet, and i love him lol. wanted to make some use of classic fanfic tropes, so here we get best friend eren and fake dating!! woohoo!!

beware: this is absolute, pure filth once you get into it lol

pairing: eren jaeger x afab reader

wc: 9.1k

DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. if you are a minor, please do not read below the cut.

CWs: smut, consensual hook-up, rough sex, biting, dirty talk, oral sex (fem!receiving), alcohol use, cussing, squirting, penetrative vaginal sex, swearing, use of names (baby, pretty baby, my girl), crying, multiple orgasms, eren being a menace per usual, jean's an asshole (i'm so sorry you guys know i love him but it had to happen)

have fun ;)

-

This is a terrible idea, and it had been from the start. You know it and so does he, but you had insisted. Now that you’ve made your bed, you have to lay in it, you suppose. You press your forehead to the cold, tinted window of Eren’s ridiculous muscle car, ignoring the vibrations from the rock music he’s blaring and the consistent fluttering in your stomach, and think back to your conversation earlier that week.

“Come on, Eren. It’s just one night!”

“And what about after? When you run into Sasha at the coffee place or Armin after work? Did we just suddenly ‘break up’?” Eren scoffs, pushing past you to grab a Red Bull out of the fridge. You collapse into one of the barstools in his kitchen, having prepared yourself to accept defeat from the moment you posed the question.

“I just can’t face him alone,” you sigh, “it’s only been four months and Sasha told me he’s hooked up with not one, not two, but three girls already. I haven’t even had a drunken makeout at the bar.”

“So? Just because Jean’s been whoring around doesn’t mean you have anything to prove.” Eren's tone is thoroughly unimpressed as he pops the tab to his energy drink.

“You’re my best friend. I just need one tiny favor.”

“Who would even believe us? It’s not like it’s a huge party- we know everyone going.”

You cock an eyebrow. “How many times have Annie and Mikasa tried to con us into a double date? Connie’s been teasing us for years, not to mention the waiter at lunch the other day–”

“Fine!”

“Fine?”

“Fine. I’ll be your date for one night. But all of the explaining is up to you. And,” Eren takes a sip, leveling a glare at you over the top of the can, “I’m going on the record as saying that this is a bad idea.”

He may be reckless, arrogant, and a bit of a brat, but if Eren Jaeger is one thing consistently, he was right. You chance a glance at your “date”. He’s in his typical uniform: black hoodie, black jeans, the little silver chain he never takes off, key swinging over his chest as he turns the car. He looks good, appealing even. If Jean dares to show up with a girl, she won’t consider you to have downgraded, that’s for sure.

You consider your own outfit, an anxious fist tightening in your stomach at the thought of seeing Jean for the first time as an ex. He would have hated it. Your nothing-to-the-imagination outfit is all thanks to Sasha.

You had clued Sasha in on the plan; you hoped having one more agent in on your secret would help sell the act. Sasha had gone all out, lending you an incredibly low-cut black top and some black leather pants that would have caused at least a twenty-minute argument with Jean. Had he not dumped you, you remind yourself bitterly. Sasha had insisted you borrow her all-black outfit to match Eren’s typical attire “just to be cute”. In hindsight, her enthusiasm about this whole situation should have been a red flag, but you’ve already gotten everything lined up, and it’s too late for regret.

It’s far too late for hindsight, too; you’re already ten minutes into receiving the official girlfriend treatment from Eren. He had worn you down on picking you up, opening the car door, the works. Hell, you wouldn’t be surprised if he pulled out a bouquet of roses at this point. You can hear his obnoxious tone now: Even if you’re my fake girlfriend, you’re getting the full package. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes.

Eren parallel parks smoothly on Armin’s quiet street, unusually busy with the buzz of a house party and lined with your friends’ cars. It’s Connie’s birthday, but Armin always hosts. It’s an unspoken rule at this point; you aren’t sure why he keeps volunteering, especially after Sasha had projectile vomited all over his bathroom at the last get-together, but again, dig your own grave and lie in it. You and Armin are in the same boat there.

When the car switches off, Eren takes a moment to consider you, wrapping and unwrapping his long fingers around the steering wheel, a nervous tic he’s had since high school. “You ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” you sigh, reaching for the door handle. Before you can wrap your hand around it, Eren leans over and pinches you harshly on the thigh. “Ow!”

“I open the door, remember?” Eren says, visibly annoyed.

You roll your eyes at him.“Isn’t this a bit much?”

“You think I’m going to be caught dead letting my ‘girlfriend’ open her own door? I have a reputation to uphold.”

You decide to bite back a snippy comment about the many girls who cried over Eren in college and cross your arms over your chest, pouting instead. “Fine.”

If Eren can be dramatic, so can you.

As naturally as if he had done it a hundred times, Eren slings his arm over your shoulders on the walk up towards the door; the weight of it, both physically and mentally, is heavier than you’re willing to acknowledge. When you catch sight of Bertholdt, Reiner, and Annie peering through the window, a flutter of nerves erupts your stomach; you reach a hand up to play with Eren’s fingers, absentmindedly spinning one of his rings and trying to sell the look as best you can. “We better pull this off.”

“It’ll be fine, just follow my lead.” Eren pulls you closer, kissing your hairline. Goosebumps rise all over your body; not at the action itself, but how disturbingly easy the affection seems to come to him. As Eren knocks on Armin’s bright red door, you pack that thought away and shove it to the back of your mind to collect dust.

“Hi…guys?” Armin’s friendly smile upon opening the door falters in confusion as he takes you in, absorbing the sight of you two intertwined on his doorstep. Armin’s wide, blue eyes flick between the two of you, and you can see the gears churning in his head, trying to make sense of how awfully close you and Eren are. Pitting your fake relationship against Armin’s intellect is the perfect first test; a nervous sweat breaks out under your skimpy outfit.

“Sup, ‘min?” Eren smiles back, the very picture of nonchalance, extending his free hand to shake Armin’s shoulder.

“Come on in.” Armin, ever polite, turns to allow for plenty of room for Eren to pull you inside. He doesn’t outright ask why Eren’s holding you, but his eyes betray his suspicions. It seems like your plan, as terrible as it is, is working. One down, a dozen or so to go.

Never dropping his arm from around your shoulders, Eren steers you into the living room where one of Connie’s favorite bands is already blasting from the speakers. Annie and Mikasa are curled up together in Armin’s recliner, hands interlocked as usual; Sasha and Connie are positioned at Armin’s bar cart, violently shaking two cocktail shakers apiece; Reiner, Bertholdt, Marco, and Jean are on the couch, arguing over something sports-related. With a sinking stomach, you notice that there’s only one unoccupied seat left in the room.

“My two favorite lovebirds!” Sasha cries, abandoning her cocktail shakers and rushing over to give you a hug. Upon Sasha’s impact, Eren drops his arm and grabs your hand that’s closest to him as a substitute, never taking his hands off of you. His actions are pointed, purposeful; every pair of eyes in the room looks between the two of you in surprise. You can practically feel a hazel-tinted laser beam burning a hole into your forehead. “You guys are so late; honeymoon phase gotcha already?”

“Laying it on a little thick, Sash,” you whisper into Sasha’s ear, cheeks burning. To your chagrin, Eren only curls his mouth in response.

“What?” Connie frowns, still shaking his drinks. “How long has that been a thing?”

You pause, your heart nearly stopping. You should have made up a story, you realize, something to explain–

“Just a few weeks.” The still-strange weight of Eren’s arm around your shoulder returns, and his jade eyes rest on you, adoration beaming through his always-cool gaze. Against your will, butterflies start dancing in your stomach; apparently Eren’s quite the actor.

“Yeah,” you jump in, grateful for Eren’s lead, “we just wanted to feel it out before we told everyone, that’s all.”

“Sasha knew.” Mikasa raises a suspicious eyebrow. Annie smirks at the two of you, a knowing look on her face.

“It’s about time.” Marco appears from the kitchen with a huge bowl of tortilla chips in one hand and salsa in the other. “Good for you guys.”

You can’t help yourself, finally meeting Jean’s eyes. He’s openly scowling at you, which is to be expected; where Eren is a criminally smooth liar, Jean wears his heart on his sleeve. You recognize that face all too well: anger to mask heartbreak, the same face he wore when you used to fight. For the first time, it occurs to you how cruel this plan might be, how Jean might react to you moving on with a mutual friend. Guilt washes over you, cold and heavy.

“Thanks for giving me a heads-up before you moved in on my fucking girlfriend, Jaeger,” Jean snips, taking a long swallow of his beer.

The guilt drops away from you as quickly as your jaw; you’ve forgotten what a prick Jean can be. Eren has been slowly guiding you over to the singular remaining seat throughout the conversation, and after Jean’s comment, he tugs you down firmly onto his lap. He rubs a large palm over your thigh, a blatant gesture of ownership.

“Not your girlfriend anymore, Kirschstein.” You can hear the distinct note of pride ringing through his voice, hear the nasty look leveled at Jean without turning to face him. It’s been fifteen minutes of fake dating, car ride included, and you can already feel the friendship line blurring. Your head spins.

“Anyway,” Armin, ever the gracious host, interrupts, breaking the awkward tension that has settled over the room, “what bar does everyone want to head out to later? Connie gets the first pick, being the birthday boy.”

The conversation in the room picks back up into a familial bickering over the evening’s next destination. All of your friends have become accustomed to the occasional awkward moment over the years now that some of you have begun to couple up; Mikasa and Annie especially are notorious for bickering like an old married couple, no matter who’s around.

“I need a drink,” you murmur to Eren, moving to stand.

“Do you mind getting me one, babe? Don’t want to lose our seat.” Eren pecks you on the cheek, smiling up at you as if everything about your situation right now is normal, natural for him. Jean’s eyes follow you every step of the way, and your face burns.

Over the years you’ve been friends with him, it’s never been lost on you that Eren’s attractive, not after the dozens of women he ran through in his college years. Peeking over your shoulder now, however, feels like you’re seeing him for the first time, seeing him the way the world sees him. Heavy-set dark brows frame his bright eyes beautifully, his jaw’s grown sharp and severe, and his lips are soft and pouty, stretching into a wicked smirk with sharp canines. He had grown into a heartbreaker, and he’s your best friend and now fake boyfriend– you swat away your private admiration as soon as it comes, taking a deep breath to center yourself and rifling through the bar cart in a daze.

“Want me to make you one?” Sasha waves a bright red concoction under your nose. “Connie and I made them- it has three different types of liquor in it, and you can’t taste any of it!”

One sip of the tiny cocktail straw has your nose wrinkling in disgust. You’ve worked behind a bar since the day you turned twenty-one, and the drink Sasha’s offering you tastes like an overly-syruped nightmare. “Um…no, that’s okay Sash. I’ll probably just stick to beer.”

Connie sticks his tongue out at you. “Boring!”

Predictably, Sasha pouts. “Okay, but we’re definitely making you take a shot. We can chill it in the kitchen, want to help me get some ice?”

Holding up a bottle of tequila, she cocks her head toward the kitchen and wobbles her eyebrows madly. You almost laugh; anyone who can’t pick up on a hint from Sasha is walking around with earplugs and their eyes closed.

“Fine. Let me just grab Eren a beer, and I’ll meet you in there.”

“Ugh, couples,” Connie rolls his eyes, wandering over to fiddle with the dusty karaoke machine that Armin claims broke years ago. You’ve always been dubious as to the truth of that, but knowing your friends, you can’t blame him.

Opening the cooler, you smile to yourself; Armin remembered your favorite IPA from the brewery down the road and stocked the cooler accordingly, nestling a few Hazy Daze’s between Reiner and Bertholdt’s domestics. You pick your way through the haphazard seating arrangements back over to Eren, holding a cold Budweiser bottle towards him. He pauses in his conversation with Reiner, grabbing your hand that holds the beer and removing it from your hand, bringing your knuckles to his lips, brushing them over in a light kiss. He looks you up and down lecherously as he does it, a dangerous curve to his lips.

You return a weak half-smile, doing your best to not appear outwardly shaken by Eren’s behavior and keep the what the fuck? thoughts from showing plainly on your face. Eren waves you off to the kitchen with a light pat on your bottom, innocent as ever.

“How’s it going?” Sasha asks, safe now in the privacy of the kitchen. Her face is already full-flush with excitement and that awful cocktail she was sipping.

“I mean, it seems like everyone’s buying it. Jean looks pissed, though.”

“What were you expecting? He’s always thought Eren had a thing for you.”

“Everyone thinks Eren has a thing for me,” you roll your eyes, “at least it’s working in my favor now.”

Sasha fixes you with a glare, wobbling slightly. “If you don’t think Eren actually has a thing for you, you must be blind. Deaf, too.”

“Sasha–”

“I mean, even if you hadn’t told me, I would have fallen for it. Is it not, like, weird for you guys? That it’s just natural for you two to–” Sasha burps, interrupting herself, and giggles. “Just makes ya think.”

“Sasha!” Connie calls from the living room. “Let’s do Eye of the Tiger first!”

“Woo!” Sasha shouts, abandoning you and running into the room to take part in the newly-revived karaoke festivities.

You stand alone in the kitchen, shell-shocked by Sasha’s observations. The truly irritating thing is that she’s entirely right. Not only do Eren’s little kisses here and there, the constant touching, even the pet names come naturally, it almost feels…nice. It’s as easy for you to receive his affection as it is for him to give it. You peek around the corner, grimacing at Sasha and Connie’s amplified wailing, just wanting to look at him. Really look at him.

Kicked back, beer in hand and jacket thrown over the back of his chair, Eren oozes charisma. Even doing nothing but holding a conversation with Mikasa, the room gravitates around him. Jean’s angry glare never leaves him; Armin has switched to drinking Budweiser, even though you know he hates it; Annie’s nodding along with whatever Eren’s saying; even Sasha and Connie are angling their performance around him, alternating between singing together and holding their microphones towards him, trying to elicit a reaction. He has this undeniable magnetic force, one that you aren’t exempt from.

You’d met him nearly a decade ago, in high school, and initially couldn’t stand him. His hair-trigger temper had hardly cooled with age, and his ego had gotten unthinkably larger, but you grew to find both of them charming– to a degree. One thing led to another, and before you knew it, Eren was the one cleaning you up and getting you drunk after every bad breakup, introducing you to all of your favorite sports teams and lending you jerseys for the games; hell, he even read that smutty fairy fantasy series you’d been obsessed with in college. Had the man you attempted Star Wars marathons with until you both fell asleep really looked like that the entire time?

He catches your stare, beckoning you over with one long, crooked finger. As his girlfriend for the night, you have to obey, even though you would much rather roll your eyes at the cliche.

“Missed you,” he mumbles as you sit back on his lap, breath hot against the shell of your ear.

“You too,” you respond accordingly, wrapping your arm lovingly around his shoulder. Eren’s eyes flit down to your cleavage, but knowing him, it’s impossible to discern if it’s part of the act, or Eren being himself.

His hands rest comfortably over the casing of your pants, one on your thigh and one on the small of your back, one thumb rubbing circles into your soft flesh. Reveling in the drag of his rings over your clothed body, you couldn’t help but wonder how they’d feel on your bare skin, on your throat, on your–

Surprising yourself at the dirty direction of your thoughts, you swallow your beer too quickly, coughing. Eren, who had coincidentally been taking a sip at the same time, laughs at you mid-sip, choking beside you and spraying beer out of his nose.

The entire room bursts into laughter; Eren regains his composure and joins in good-naturedly. You giggle along, relief coursing over your body. Sure, Eren might look a little extra handsome tonight and be a bit touchy because you asked him to, but he’s still Eren.

“They’re practically in sync already.” Hitch, Marco’s girlfriend who had apparently joined the party while Sasha and you were in the kitchen, rests her face on her hand dreamily.

“It’s a little freaky,” Annie observes with narrowed eyes, but the slight curve of her lip betrays her. Not only were they believing your little farce, but they were happy for you. That’s enough to make you flush a little, realizing how naturally everyone’s just accepted your fake relationship. Everyone but one person, at least.

Jean suddenly stands, ripping a beer from the cooler and storming into the kitchen. The laughter dies as quickly as it had come, everyone exchanging nervous looks.

“I’ll go talk to him,” Eren offers, nudging you off of his lap. You blanch.

“Eren, I don’t know if you should-”

“It’s fine,” Eren drops a soft peck on your forehead, walking away before you can stop him. You meet Mikasa’s eyes, wide and concerned. To everyone else, Eren’s walking calmly, not a hint of aggression in his gait. But you know him, know him well enough to catch the anger simmering in his eyes, quiet, but there.

Jean and Eren have always been friends, albeit reluctant ones at first, but too similar where it counted not to get along. That had abruptly come to a halt when you had fallen for Jean. At first Eren had been confused, but over time that confusion had melted into constant irritation. Jean and you were wrong for one another, you know that in hindsight, but at the time, you had chalked all the fighting up to a passionate relationship. The constant tears had driven Eren nearly to a breaking point; multiple times you had begged him not to bring his frustration to physical blows. And now, your fake-boyfriend slash best friend and ex-boyfriend with the two worst tempers out of everyone you know are “talking”. You bite down hard on the inside of your cheek to keep the worry in your chest.

“Are you alright?” The question comes from Armin, who’s placed a steadying hand on your shoulder. “I’m sorry that Jean isn’t taking the news well.”

“There’s no news,” Mikasa says low enough for none of the others to hear over the music, now standing directly behind Armin.

A neat little cross appears between Armin’s eyebrows. “They’re-”

“Faking,” she interrupts Armin, “they aren’t dating.”

Armin stammers, trying to correct her and apologize to you for her at the same time, but you just sigh. “How’d you know?”

“One of you would have told me,” she shrugs, “or at least I’d like to think you would.”

“It’s just…I couldn’t bear to show up alone, not with Jean here and apparently sleeping around since the breakup.” You cross your arms over your chest, grabbing your own shoulders tightly. It’s your fault, you know it is, but you had only wanted to feel a little less pathetic, a little less heartbroken. Drama had been an unfortunate and unexpected side effect.

“Why would Eren agree to that? It seems silly,” Armin muses, noticing your glare and immediately turning bright red, “I- I don’t mean you’re silly, just, you shouldn’t-”

“You know.” Mikasa bumps him. The slightest hint of a smile plays on her face, a knowing look directed at you. You frown, trying to look confused through the pink rising to your face.

A loud crash from the kitchen catches all of your attention, saving you from an uncomfortable line of conversation but making your heart beat that much faster. Dashing to the kitchen door, the entire house party hot on your heels, your thundering heart sinks.

Eren has Jean pinned up against Armin’s cabinets, forearm tight against the other man’s neck. Jean’s still seething at Eren, raw ego washing against the cool anger blazing in Eren’s eyes.

“Need to learn how to watch your fucking mouth, Kirschstein–”

“Eren!” Your voice is surprisingly firm, given the nauseating mixture of embarrassment, confusion, and panic swirling in your stomach. “Let him go!”

“Do you want to tell her what you said, or should I?” Eren hisses, nudging into Jean further. Jean’s eyes dart to you, back to Eren, and for a fleeting moment, you have hope that maybe this all can be resolved peacefully. And then Jean makes a fatal mistake.

He spits directly in Eren’s face.

Just as Eren swings, Reiner collides with the two, just barely catching Eren by his forearm before he can make contact with Jean’s cheek. Bertholdt, as always, is Reiner’s shadow, grabbing Eren by the shoulders and wrenching him away from Jean. It takes Connie, Reiner, Marco, and Bertholdt to restrain both of them, Armin standing in the middle and shouting how ridiculous the fight is above the curses.

“It’s my fucking birthday, Jean, come on bro!” Connie growls, pinning Jean to the cabinets with his back.

“Jaeger- back off!” Reiner manages to pull him back a few inches, hardly able to contain Eren, who’s struggling furiously, in his massive arms. Jean finally relents, slouching into the multiple arms holding him back. After several seconds, Eren does the same, never taking his eyes off of Jean. Into the shocked silence, Armin bravely speaks first.

“Maybe we should leave,” he suggests awkwardly, “take the party elsewhere.”

You pity him, poor Armin and his hosting inclination. Eren finally turns to face you. The wrath laid bare in his eyes sends a chill over your body.

“We are,” he spits, sparing Jean one last threatening glance before storming over, grabbing you harshly by the wrist, and practically dragging you towards the door.

“Eren, wait–” you try to reason with him and dig your heels in, but it’s fruitless. Eren’s strong, stronger than you, and you don’t stand a chance stopping him now that his mind’s made up.

He doesn’t drop the act at the car, ripping your car door open, waiting impatiently for you to step into your seat, and slamming the door behind you. As soon as he turns the ignition, the same angry rock music you had listened to on the way over blasts from the speakers; Eren makes no move to turn it down and neither do you. After so many years together, his temper rarely scares you anymore; it’s more of a nuisance than anything when it flares. You stare out of the window, seething with anger, arms crossed and foot tapping.

Five minutes into the drive, you realize Eren isn’t taking you to your house, but to his. What he’s thinking, you can’t be sure, but you go ahead and start making your plans to give him an earful and call your Uber the moment you get there. You just can’t wrap your mind around why he would attack Jean and embarrass you like that– Eren may have been a hothead, but rarely did he let his temper escalate to that degree, especially against a friend.

Eren whips his car into the driveway, parking with such force you nearly knock your head against the headrest. You reach for your door handle, ready to throw it open, but Eren’s faster. He hits the child lock button and slams his own door behind him, storming around the car.

“The fucking child lock button?” You leap out of your seat once he’s opened your door, glaring up at him with your fists curled by your sides. “Is that what I am, Eren, a child?”

“Come inside.” Eren’s voice is low, dangerous. You’re too angry to indulge his temper.

“No,” you snap, “I’m going home.”

No sooner have you pulled your phone out to call an Uber than Eren snatches it from you, sliding it into his pocket. He repeats himself, more forceful this time. “Come inside.”

You stand rooted to the spot for a beat, so angry you aren’t sure what you want to do more: run home, punch him, or kick his precious car headlight in. Eren simply glares down his strong nose at you, face unreadable as ever, rage still glittering in his eyes.

“Come inside, please,” Eren repeats himself again through gritted teeth. You decide you’ll indulge him and go inside, hear him out, and then punch him. At least it’ll catch him off guard, and you’ll have a better chance of getting your shot in. Without another word, you stomp up the walkway to his house, into the house, and into the kitchen, shoving your shoes off. Stupid fucking kitchens, you think to yourself, kicking your bare foot against the base of his kitchen island. Immature, but the little burst of violence feels good.

Whether Eren’s house smells like him or Eren smells like his house you’ve never been able to decide. The distinct scent of him envelops you: a boyish, sharp smell, laced with a hint of the weed he kept in the living room. Ordinarily it’s a comforting smell, but tonight, it nearly makes you sick with irritation. Fighting with Eren is something you do rarely, but you know the both of you well enough to buckle down. Arguing with Eren means you have a long, nasty, and emotionally gutting night ahead of you. You’re more than ready, fists shaking by your side.

“What the hell was that, Eren?”

He doesn’t answer, swinging the fridge open and grabbing a beer. He twists the top, tossing it aside carelessly and taking a healthy swig, bun bouncing on the back of his head, making no move to acknowledge your presence.

“Answer me!” Your voice rattles the cabinets. “Yeah, was the fake dating a stupid idea? Sure, fine, it was stupid, but starting a fucking fight with Jean on poor Connie’s birthday–”

“You didn’t hear what he said,” Eren says simply, still chugging his beer and avoiding your gaze.

“What could he have said to make you do that? What was so awful that you had to–”

“It was about you.” Eren finally brings his eyes to yours, staring you down through the little hairs that have escaped his bun with such intensity that it nearly knocks you clean on your ass.

Your heart stutters. “You– what did he say?”

“Told me if I wanted to taste your ‘slutty pussy’ so bad, I could just smell his breath. S’why he spit in my face.” Eren’s fingers wrap and unwrap around the beer bottle anxiously.

Your mouth drops agape, tears immediately springing to your eyes. No, you set your resolve, praying your body cooperates. “He…he said that?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you’d been fucking him?” Eren spares you another scalding look. Your temper flares at his anger, one fire against another.

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t play dumb,” Eren snaps, “this whole thing was your idea. What am I to you, just some toy you can dangle in front of your pussyboy ex boyfriend? How long have you been fucking him?”

“I haven’t been fucking him,” you hiss, “he lied because he was jealous. And you’re not some toy, you’re– you’re my best friend. I needed you.”

Eren freezes, eyeing you across the kitchen. His expression has changed, infinitesimally so, a pinch of the fury fading from his face but none of the heat. It strikes you that in the years you’ve known him, he’s never looked at you like this before, not once. “Say it again.”

“You’re my–”

“The other thing.”

“I needed you.”

“Again.”

“I needed– fuck, Eren, what is this? Some kind of game?”

He stalks toward you, silhouetted by the light behind him and looking sinful, closing you in. He’s forceful and shameless as he backs you into the counter, as quintessentially Eren as he can be. “Say it one more time.”

“I…needed you,” you indulge him, brain slowing down to pick up each little detail. His cologne– when did he start wearing cologne?– musky and thick in the air, one of his tattoos peeking above the collar of his shirt, the tangible sensation of emerald eyes dragging along every inch of you.

“I like the way you say that,” his tongue darts out, wetting his lips. You stare blatantly. His mouth is red, pouty, and full, bottom lip a little chapped from where he was chewing it in the car. “That you need me.”

Words are lost on you; even if you could gather something to say, it would probably get stuck in your throat the moment it materialized. His presence is choking you. He brings one of those massive hands up, cupping your jaw, running a thumb over your lip. His posture, looming over you, is demanding, almost hungry.

“Do you still?”

“Still?”

“Need me.”

You blink, eyes still watery. “How?”

“You’re a smart girl,” Eren murmurs, hot breath laced with beer fanning over your face, “you know. You’ve always known.”

You do know. When he ghosted a hand over your thighs at the bar, when you fell asleep on his chest watching a movie, the way he had kissed your head, nearly fought Jean, protected you at every twist and turn. You had kept it relegated to the recesses of your brain, slid a hand between your legs and allowed it to simmer to the surface, maybe for a moment, before pushing it back down. You had always known. He has you on the edge of a cliff, and with a thin gasp, you understand him now: he wants you to jump. And so do you.

“I still need you. Now.”

Something critical snaps in both of you. The countertop digs into your lower back, a beautiful, aching pain blooming up your spine to meet the sting of his teeth sinking into your bottom lip. He’s kissing you; this magnetic, maddening man is kissing you, hard. It’s all tongue and teeth, fingers wrapping in hair, hands exploring familiar places in a new way. Greedy, demanding sounds slip through his teeth as he paws at your clothes, squeezes your curves through the silken shirt Sasha had lent you.

“This shirt is ridiculous,” Eren pants into your mouth, “wish I wasn’t about to rip it off of you.”

A little whimper leaves your mouth at that, and your knees buckle. Eren catches you, grabbing you by your torso and lifting you up onto the kitchen counter; you use the extra height to wrap your legs around his hips. A groan from deep in Eren’s chest rumbles against your lips as he rolls his clothed cock insistently against you. The low, simmering heat in your stomach catches fire; he’s big, even through both of your pants, rubbing himself into where you need him most. A hand creeps up your neck, grabbing a fistful of hair and forcing you to look up at him. It hits you how large he is; six feet and some change of taut, corded muscle, bad intentions, temptation.

His voice is quiet and controlled, so close to your face that his nose moves against yours as he speaks. “I’m going to take you to my room. If that’s not okay with you, I need you to say it right now.”

You nod urgently, relishing the burn in your scalp where he holds your hair tight. “I want it- want you.”

Eren slides you off of the kitchen counter and holds you firmly around his waist, making a beeline for his room. You mouth at his neck, enjoying the little grunts he makes against your ear. You drop unceremoniously onto the bed, left to watch as he tears off his shirt.

Oh, and do you watch. It’s difficult to comprehend that your best friend is the man standing above you. You’ve seen him shirtless countless times, but not like this: chest heaving, covered in a thin sheen of sweat, muscles flexing as he reaches for your shirt, ripping it from you and tossing it away. Your eyes draw towards the defined v leading down beneath his jeans, and you wonder how it might taste under your tongue.

Your bra comes next, Eren moving down to take your lips in his again as he deals with the clasp. He pushes you onto your back, kissing down your neck, sneaking harsh bites in between the gentle presses of his lips.

“Careful, Eren– you’ll leave marks,” you gasp, pulling at his hair.

“Good,” Eren replies against your neck, emphasizing his point with another deep bite to your neck, “you wanted everyone to think I was your little boyfriend, didn’t you? Let them see.” 

Your panties grow damp and hot against your core at that; you have no other response than to choke out a stunted moan.

“Fuck, you have no idea,” he growls, traveling down, teeth scraping the top of your breast, “what you do to me. How long I’ve wanted you.”

Your mind falters, caught in the crosswires of Eren’s confession and the way you’re clutching his head to your breasts, fingers desperately threaded in his dark hair and pulling him as close as you could get him. His mouth is so hot it burns, even against your feverish skin. 

“Remember…” Eren muses, mouthing his way down your stomach, “remember college? When you’d wear those slutty little dresses out?”

“I remember,” you breathe, impatient and urging him towards your lower half.

“Used to come home from the bar and jerk myself off, thinking about this sweet little cunt,” Eren tears your pants down your legs, panties following, “could practically see it in those short ass dresses. I’d cum thinking about how you’d sound when I stuck my tongue in it.”

A lewd whine rips out of your throat before you can stop it. Eren’s pressing your thighs open now, and his words and the quick little swipes he’s making across your clit are making you dizzy.

“Fuck…” Eren trails off, eyes wide, “got such a pretty pussy. Just look at you.”

“Eren, please,” you’ve never been the begging type, but the bright green eyes peering up at you from where your legs are propped open by broad, strong shoulders take your sense away.

“I’ve got you,” he shushes you, grinning as he leans into your center. A thick stripe of a lick up the center elicits a groan from you both. “So fucking sweet. Knew you would be.”

Eren hooks his arms around your legs, dragging you down the bed to be flush with his face. Eren’s no amateur when it comes to women, you know that, but you had never dared to let yourself imagine what that might translate to in practice.

He licks little figure-eights around your clit, not quite hitting it; he’s teasing you, the antagonist that he is. You tremble under him, little gasps and whimpers puffing out of your lips. Eren smiles contentedly against your pussy, nose flush with your clit, nudging against it rhythmically as he licks through your folds, circling your entrance. You bring your hands down your body, grabbing a fistful of dark hair and pulling him closer to you; you don’t even know what you want, the singular word more ringing in your head like a church bell.

Eren chuckles. “You need something?”

“Stop fucking with me,” you breathe, inwardly cringing at the desperation in your voice, laid bare for him to see. You brace yourself, looking down to meet his eyes, and instantly regret it. The anger has faded entirely from his face, replaced by an unyielding hunger. A wet, wicked smile plays at his mouth; you can physically feel your cunt dripping just at the sight of him.

“You want me to stop fucking with you?”

“Please, Eren, I need you–”

“That’s all you had to say.”

And then, like he does with everything else in his life, Eren licks into you like his life depends on it, like he’s trying to drown himself in you. His tongue pushes in and out of your hole, swirling around your clit, and you can distantly hear the most obscene sounds you’ve ever heard slipping from your mouth. He’s so good, better than you’ve had in years; you throw your head back against the bedspread, hardly able to focus on breathing.

Just when you think it can’t get any more intense, Eren slides one long finger inside of you, curling it against a spongy spot in your walls that makes you see stars. He chuckles at the loud, long moan that you let out.

“My girl likes being full, doesn’t she?” He pumps his finger slowly, testing your limits. Your walls clutch down on him, begging.

“M-more,” you stutter, barely able to form a coherent word through your panting.

“What was that?” You can hear the shit-eating grin on his face.

“I need– fuck– I need more.”

“Magic word?”

“Please, Eren, fuck!”

“Good, good girl,” he coos, pushing another finger into you, “so sweet and needy for me, yeah?”

Your eyes fly open at the stretch, the fullness of his fingers moving inside you. His other hand comes up to push on your lower stomach; your head snaps up, and you frown at him, panicked.

“W-what are you– oh,” you hate yourself for it, but you can’t even speak as he applies pressure onto your abdomen. You feel strange; it’s just right and too much all at once. The familiar bubble of an impending orgasm swells in the pit of your stomach, but it’s more intense, wetter than you’ve ever felt it. 

“Close?”

“Mhm,” you force out through gritted teeth. Eren moves his elbow slightly, just enough to bear down on your hip bone where you’re pushing your hips up towards him unwittingly. “But it- it feels weird…I, I can’t–”

“Sh,” he murmurs, mouth back against your clit, “you can do it, just for me, I know you can. It’s going to feel so good, you’ll see.”

Your eyes roll back in your head as you teeter on the precipice, blood roaring in your ears. You want to, you need to–

“Cum all over my fucking face baby, give it to me.”

The band in you snaps, your eyes rolling back into your head. You can feel your cunt spasming around his fingers, pushing something out. Liquid sprays from you, all over Eren’s face, soaking the sheets beneath you. You can’t even hear the lewd sounds coming out of your mouth, too surprised at the gushing orgasm. It finally winds down, and once you gather the energy, you shove insistently at his hand still pumping in and out of your sensitive pussy.

“You have the messiest little cunt,” Eren chuckles at you, wiping his face and kissing his way back up to your gasping mouth, “knew you were a squirter.”

He lands a few gentle taps against your sore pussy, and you flinch. 

“I–I’ve never…” you take a shaky breath in between every word, “never done that before.”

Pride illuminates his face. “Really? I knew you could do it– just for me, right?”

You nod, sitting up on trembling elbows. “Your cock, I– I want it in my mouth. Please let me.”

You reach down to fumble with the button of his jeans, but Eren grabs your wrist, pulling your hand up to kiss it gently. “Next time. I’d never forgive myself if I busted before I got to fuck you.”

Too overwhelmed to answer, you simply nod again, sitting back as he shimmies his pants off. Once you catch sight of it, your mouth waters. He’s big, bigger than you thought, wide enough to where your fingers wouldn’t touch if you grabbed it, and long enough to make you gag. The thought goes straight between your legs, cunt still throbbing and clutching around nothing, and a rush of anticipation washes over you.

Eren flips you over onto your stomach, shoving a couple of pillows underneath your hips to prop your ass up. “Christ,” he exhales, landing a sharp smack to your ass.

“Please, Eren- oh!” You jump; Eren’s circling your asshole, using the mess you’ve already made as lube to pop the tip of his thumb in. “Eren…”

“You’d let me fuck you there, one day, I bet,” he mutters, more to himself than to you, you think. Your body tenses in response, the memory of your first glance at his cock fresh in your mind. Eren swears under his breath. “Maybe next time, then.”

You hear him spit, hear the slick sounds of him lathering himself up. You have a brief moment to think to yourself, with the last glimmering shreds of consciousness in your orgasm-dazed mind, that this is Eren. This is your best friend, pinning you to the bed by the back of your neck, rubbing your lower back, admiring you, fucking you. And then the head of his cock is pressing into you, and that last little bit of hesitation gives way.

“Oh, baby,” Eren bends over you to growl in your ear, “never gonna forgive you for keeping this perfect pussy from me all these years.”

“Eren, it’s so– oh my god,” you trail off, eyes rolling back into your head as a few more inches of him sink into you. The way your body stretches for him, the way he fills you, is unbelievable, sweetened by just the slightest burning sensation.

“Fuck,” he hisses, pressing his forehead into the back of your neck, “you feel so fucking good. Best I’ve ever had.”

You whine at that, pushing your hips back into his and forcing him to bottom out. Eren swears against your skin, nearly collapsing on top of you. Your cunt pulses around him, desperately trying to hold him. You can hardly fathom the weight of him inside you; you’re just so full, the word runs through your mind on a loop.

And when he rolls his hips into yours– you nearly start praying. He drags against your walls so nicely, you nearly cum again then and there. He works up a torturously slow rhythm, grinding his hips into yours. You bite down hard on your bottom lip, trying your hardest to suppress the obscene groan about to leave your mouth. You taste blood.

“Never giving this pussy up,” Eren grunts above you, “never letting you give this to anybody else again. It’s mine, isn’t it?”

You nod into the pillow beneath your head, tears pricking at your eyes. He’s picking up the pace now, and the exquisite push-and-pull rhythm of Eren moving inside of you coupled with the fact that it’s Eren moving inside of you is destroying any semblance of intelligent conversation you can muster.

“Say it’s mine,” his face is beside yours now. A hand grabs your hair, turning your face towards him. You know how dazed you must look, mouth open in a permanent gasp, eyes watery and full of hearts. “God, you look fucking incredible. Say it.”

“My…my pussy is,” you swallow hard around the delicious knot of shame in your throat, “yours. It’s yours.”

“That’s my girl,” Eren sits back up, thrusting even faster, “my pussy, my girl. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes,” you pant, canting your hips back against his, feeling your next orgasm approach embarrassingly fast. Eren understands, already knows your body as well as he knows you, and moves the angle of his hips just so to hit that spot he had found so quickly with his fingers earlier. You keen, drooling into the pillow, letting him fuck you stupid.

Eren shoves you over the edge for the second time that night. It’s toe curling, almost violent in nature, the way you cum around him, listening to him hiss as you tighten around him, vice-like. He fucks you through your orgasm for just long enough to see you through it, and flips you onto your back the moment you begin to twitch and shove at his hips, desperate for a break.

You slowly blink your eyes open in surprise, letting the tears roll down your cheeks, expecting to see Eren lining himself up, ready to fuck you senseless once more. Instead, he’s studying you, wiping a tear from your face, licking it off of his finger. There’s a moment happening here, an important one, one you don’t have the mental capacity to absorb right now.

“I want to see you now,” Eren says quietly, “need to see your pretty face when I cum, m’kay?”

You nod dumbly, not knowing how to respond to him in the thick air hanging between you. Before Eren can get any more words out of his open mouth, a loud ring startles you both.

Your phone is buzzing on the floor where it fell from Eren’s pocket; the name on the screen nearly stops your heart. Jean.

You stare into Eren’s eyes, a long, silent beat passes between you both. Your hazy mind is scrambling, grasping at anything you can say to take his mind off of the awkward interruption, but to your surprise, Eren cracks a grin. It’s a wicked grin, prettier than the devil himself and twice as evil.

“Your other boyfriend calling? Checking up on you?”

“He’s not my-”

“Better not be. Not after what I did to you tonight,” Eren’s voice drips with ego. Something in his eyes is territorial, carnal.

You find your words, but they come out quiet. “He’s not. Never again.”

Eren’s grin grows darker. He’s nudging your knees apart with his own, reaching down and pulling one of your legs to wrap around his waist. He’s pushing himself in now, the ringing of your phone fading into the background as the all-encompassing stretch of Eren inside you takes over your thoughts.

“Such a good girl,” he coos, thumbing at your bottom lip, “such a good mouth. Always telling me what I want to hear.”

You nod again, urgently this time, pulling your other leg up to hook them around his waist, hold him inside you, make sure he never leaves again. You’re addicted already; addicted to the pressure in your abdomen, addicted to the way his tip kisses your cervix, addicted to the taste of his sweat as you lick a strip of it from his face, cheekbone to temple.

“I…” you aren’t sure how to articulate how good it is, how good he is. A defeated laugh of your own making interrupts you. “You feel so fucking good. I feel so fucking good right now.”

“God, just look at you, all fucked out for me. You love it, don’t you?” Eren kisses your forehead, face to face with you after propping his elbows on either side of your face. “Love how I fuck you like a whore, don’t you? Tell me, baby.”

“I love it,” your voice is quivering, and you’re vaguely aware of tears streaming down your face. You’re overstimulated, you at least know that, but he just feels so good that asking him to stop seems more painful than letting him keep hammering into you.

“My pretty baby, you’re so fucking perfect,” Eren rambles, “so pretty when you cry for me.”

You can’t break away from his gaze, not through the tears or the rapid-fire speed of him fucking into you. Your legs are shaking so badly you can barely hold them up; Eren’s letting a flurry of little grunts and groans fly out, grabbing onto your cheek with one hand.

“Gonna cum soon,” he huffs, hips still pistoning into you hard enough to hurt, “gonna cum in your pussy, really make it mine, okay?”

“Okay,” you whimper, clamping down on him at the mere thought of it.

“Fuck, you like that don’t you?” He seethes against your forehead, thrusts beginning to falter. “You want to be mine? Want this pretty cunt stuffed full of my cum?”

You can feel him getting closer now, sloppy thrusts punching into your cervix, the ache of bruises forming on your inner thighs as he uses you, chasing his orgasm. You force your eyes open, meeting bright, hypnotizing green. Your voice is going to break, you know it, you hate it, you love him for it. “I– I want to be yours. P-please cum in me Eren, I need it.”

He slams into you one last time, holding his hips as tightly to yours as he can manage, cumming deep inside you with a breathless curse. You arch your back, relishing the feel of his cum in you, warm and filling. Even in your fucked-out mind, you know it’s a lot; you can feel the drip of it, seeping out around his cock and down onto the sheets. The leaden collapse of his body into yours, the gradual softening of him inside you, grounds you, pulling you down from the clouds and back into the bed.

It’s Eren on top of you, sweaty skin clinging to yours, his cum that you begged him for leaking out of your abused pussy. Your eyes shoot open. He’s incredibly heavy, your breath still coming out in short puffs as you try to catch it. He slides out of you; one last pitiful whimper leaving your lips as you find yourself empty.

“Holy shit,” Eren breathes out into the tension, a humorless and exhausted laugh punctuating his statement. As he rolls off of you, you’re overcome with the urge to smack him.

“That’s one way of putting it.” You scrounge around in the bed, trying to find the edge of the sheets to cover yourself with. Eren lays beside you, arm tossed over his eyes, as if the entire axis of your friendship hadn’t just flipped on its head. After a beat, you speak your mind, testing the waters. “I should probably call Jean back.”

That catches his attention. Eren sits up, scowling at you. “Why?”

“Maybe he wants to apologize.”

Eren snorts, rolling off of the bed and pulling you up with him, bridal-style; you aren’t sure where he’s taking you, but all the fight’s been fucked out of you, and you melt into his arms, eyes falling closed. “Who fucking cares?”

“I might,” you answer quietly, adjusting to the heat radiating off of his body. When your eyes open, you realize he’s carrying you to the bathroom to clean you up. Your heart thuds sadly in your chest, overcome with so many emotions you couldn’t begin to name them if you tried. You almost want to cry again, for a different reason now.

Eren sits you on the toilet, not responding to your small confession. He drops to his knees before you, reaches a long arm behind him over to the fixtures on his obscenely large bathtub, pushing the plug in and turning the water on. You draw your knees up to your chest, suddenly feeling incredibly exposed. Satisfied with the water temperature, Eren turns back to you, one hand placed firmly on each of your kneecaps.

“You don’t need him,” he says, solemn as you’ve ever seen him, “and from what I saw tonight, you don’t even want him. You know that now, right?”

There’s something about the way he says it, a hidden thread of pleading woven into his words. Your exhausted brain holds onto that, but your heart refuses to believe in it, broken and beating wildly in your chest.

“I just–”

“I meant it, you know,” Eren avoids your direct gaze, eyes flitting over every feature on your face, “I’ve been thinking about this for a long time. Meant every word of it.”

You pause, wondering absentmindedly if he can hear the pounding of your pulse. “Really?”

“We don’t need to get into it now,” he shrugs, “but you know that. You know I’d do anything for you. You know I’d treat you well. ‘M not a bad guy.”

Your chest aches. “I know, but Eren–”

“So that wasn’t the best sex you’ve ever had in your life?” He fixes you with a singular, raised eyebrow, so serious that you giggle in his face.

“You might have me there.”

“Better than horseface?”

“Watch it.”

The light returns to his eyes; it loosens a hard little piece in your chest, flooding you with warmth. It hits you just how much you love that little sparkle amongst the green, just how much you would give to see it as often as you can. “We won’t talk about it, for now at least. I’ll get us cleaned up, and we can go watch–”

“Mamma Mia,” you blurt, hopeful.

“No fucking shot. But we can watch something else of your choosing, if you let me eat you out again.”

“Eren!” You smack his shoulder, scandalized. Both of you laugh; your fake outrage is twice as funny considering the state of you right now, smeared makeup and bruises on your neck.

He grins crookedly back at you. “That’s not a no.”

[misted-dream]

BET YOU WANNA BE MINE ﹒⌗﹒🥀﹒౨ৎ˚₊‧ 재현 + fem!reader

in which . . . the last person you expected to show up in front of your door at midnight is jaehyun—your ex.

content&warnings | MDNI smut, profanity, mentions of dui, infidelity, angst bc exes, toxic themes (jaehyun is a red flag), oral f receiving, dirty talk, unprotected sex

word count | 3.2k

⋆.˚ . . . heavily inspired by roses by jaehyun of course

12:01AM

a knock sounds at your apartment door.

your tired feet shuffle slowly through the dimness of your living room, with the warm glow of the kitchen light spilling over.

a shadow bleeds through the gap beneath your door, blocking the hallway light in two different spots.

with the chain still attached, you twist the handle, opening the door only slightly.

you tilt your head, angling yourself to get a view of whoever’s standing on the opposite side.

…

without hesitation, you press your palm to the wooden surface, pushing on the door to shut it. hard.

“wait!” a voice calls from outside.

his voice calls from outside.

and you notice the door, in fact, isn’t shut when it should be by now; a shoe wedging in between the frame.

your body stills for a second, despite the alarms ringing in your head.

“is he here?” he asks, meekly.

for whatever reason, you decide to respond, “no.”

the ‘he’ in question is your current boyfriend, whom the ‘he’ outside your apartment right now knows enough about to render that question needlessly rhetorical. and useless.

you push harder on the door, trapping his foot tighter between the wooden board and its frame.

“can i just speak to you? 5 minutes,” he pleads, “5 minutes is all i need.”

you know him well enough that if you were to say ‘no’ to his bidding here, it’d be easy to assume he’d stay the night in the corridor outside—and then you’ll actually be fucked if your boyfriend saw him in that state tomorrow morning.

you roll your eyes, even though he can’t see you.

“move your goddamn foot.”

he does what you say; a part of him scared that you’re just gonna shut the door on him, but relief comes in the form of you standing there, the door swung open, and you looking straight at him.

“speak.”

he licks his bottom lip, glossing over it lightly. the bright lights overhead highlights his cheekbones, sculpting his face like a statue.

“yn…”

“jaehyun.”

this is the first time—first time in 7 months that you spoke his name aloud and not cursed him in the same breath.

he staggers a step behind him, and you instinctively reach out. upon realisation, you pull your arm back.

jaehyun clamps his eyes shut, his nose slightly scrunching up as if he’s recalling something particularly difficult to say. “i really—”

“are you drunk?” the sharpness in your voice shoots him awake with his eyes opened.

“no,” he replies firmly and adds a shake with his head, “no.”

you sigh. “how did you get here?”

“i have a car.”

“you fucking drove—are you insane?” despite every conscious effort to not get close to him, you find yourself tugging on his arm with your hand, pulling him inside before he has a chance to collapse on the floor. jaehyun shows absolutely zero signs of resistance to this.

the door slams shut behind you two.

“sit down,” you utter, more like a command than anything. “i’ll get you some water.”

jaehyun is drunk; there’s no denying it. but not drunk enough to not know how to navigate your apartment even in the dark. perhaps, he has your history to thank for that.

he sinks down into your couch with you shortly appearing next to him with a mug in your hands that you cup his fingers over.

“thanks,” he mutters softly, taking a sip of water.

“don’t think your 5 minutes doesn’t still stand,” you watch him pointedly. a sudden impatience ringing in his bones, jolting his posture upright.

jaehyun sets the mug down on the coffee table. eyes looking up at you as you stand over him.

he breathes out deeply.

he drops his gaze to the mug for a moment, looking as though he’s contemplating his words carefully. the slight hum of your fridge being the only thing you can hear, and suddenly it’s a thousand times louder than usual.

meeting your eyes again, he leans forward.

with every beat of silence that comes, a hammering picks up in your chest.

his lips part, and the words that follow fall heavily. "i think about you."

air is knocked out of your lungs momentarily. you feel your shoulders drop.

"i miss you," jaehyun's voice is like a needle. feeble, almost undetectable, and aiming straight for your heart.

the stabbing pain that you felt more than half a year ago when you and jaehyun broke up returns. your heart dropping straight to your stomach, sinking and stirring around in the acid.

you can only scoff.

"stop fucking around," your tone harsh and your voice coarse. you fold your arms across your chest, regarding him with slight contempt in your eyes.

"i'm not," jaehyun counters, "yn—"

"no," you sternly shut him down. "this isn't fair, you know it isn't fair."

you couldn’t stop the next words from coming out, a result of the long suppressed, built up anger and resentment you held towards your ex.

“you were the one who broke up with me, jaehyun.”

jaehyun only looks at your face. his brows softened, knitting together slightly as he studies the expression on it.

“i know,” he offers in the way of a comfort. arms reaching out to you and holding your wrists in his hands.

if it wasn’t for the overtly complex prism of emotions inside of you right now, there’d be more aversion to his touch. but his skin on yours feels so familiar. it feels right. so much so that you allow yourself to be pulled closer to him sitting there.

maybe less allow, and more just letting your body move to whatever stimulus in a catatonic state.

you’re standing in between his knees, looking down at him, and the urge to fall right back into your once favourite habits emerges from the pit of your stomach. but your mind is clear enough to keep to your discipline.

jaehyun picks one of your hands up to his lips. gently, he kisses the back of it; a gesture way too intimate but you can’t bring yourself to stop him.

“i fucked up,” his voice is low and steady as he brushes his thumb across your knuckles. “i know i did, and i shouldn’t have.”

he runs his other hand up your leg, soft like a feather caressing you. and suddenly, it’s like you’re brought back to reality—the fact that this is actually happening and you’re allowing it to.

“stop,” you pull your hand away from his grip, “it’s too late for apologies, jaehyun.”

when you were together, every time his name fell from your lips, it sounded sheepish, like he’s some high school crush that you’re afraid to utter the name of. and this time, it’s none different.

he settles his hand on top of your hips. “i’m sorry,” he voices completely disregarding what you just said.

you shake your head, “that doesn’t mean anything.” there was a time where you would’ve given anything to hear this from him. except now, as bitterness has steadily been building in you, you’d much rather have him beg and plead for your forgiveness instead.

“i miss you,” he says again. his glassy eyes telling of his desperation, which is only amplified by him pulling your waist closer.

you put your hands on his shoulders, holding yourself away as much as you can. “i have a boyfriend,” you throw out weakly, as if even you don’t believe it to be a strong enough argument against the case that is jung jaehyun.

“and i never should’ve let you get that chance. to be with him.”

all the anger and resentment you still felt towards jaehyun just a few moments ago seems to have dissipated. you relax your arms, your body moving in closer to his.

your eyelids flutter over jaehyun’s features. he’s always been handsome, but you don’t think you’ve ever seen him like this. under you, shadows casted on his face from your body, eyes dark with anticipation.

you fix your eyes on his, “i can’t do this to him.”

if you had known jaehyun would be coming, you wouldn’t have worn this particular pair of shorts. “i don’t care about him,” he says rubbing the bare back of your thigh with his palm.“this is about you. us.” jaehyun pulls your legs up onto the couch, sitting you on top of his knees.

his eyes glaze over you like honey, and memories of the two of you fill his mind. you have never been more beautiful than right now.

the tip of his thumb grazes the side of your cheeks, pushing your hair back. “tell me you don’t miss me, and i’ll leave.”

you stay in silence, completely enchanted with just a look from him that close to you.

“i thought so,” jaehyun admits lowly, like a whisper.

you can’t pinpoint where in the brief encounter tonight that jaehyun took control over the situation, but the thing is that he is certainly holding the reins.

he presses his lips on yours, gently at first, as if already savouring this moment for reminiscing later. as he feels you kissing him back, he pushes in deeper.

his hands slide your hips further down his lap. lips still interlocked, he kisses you like he’s a starved man and you’re his last meal.

he hums, mumbling against your lips, “i missed you so fucking much,” the vibrations sending a chill down your spine, “god.”

you catch a faint scent of his cologne, the one you bought for him ages ago.

“i need to taste you,” he pulls away from your mouth shortly, mumbling the words, “will you let me?” into you.

you peel yourself off of him, catching your breath and nodding. and if that wasn’t enough, you breathe out a shaky “yes.”

jaehyun picks your body up in his arms, laying you down on the couch with your head on top of the rest. you watch him hook his fingers into your waistband and pull your shorts down, an eagerness to his pace.

he looks up at your face through your legs, waiting for confirmation of any kind before he similarly pulls your panties down.

you give him a subtle nod, and the next second, your cunt is bare and exposed to him. instinctively, your knees press together, clamming your thighs shut.

“oh, baby,” he tuts, palms spreading your legs open for him again. “fuck,” he bites down on his lip, “i missed this pretty pussy.”

helplessly, you feel the heat underneath your skin bloom in your cheeks.

jaehyun runs the tip of his finger up your slit, letting out hums of satisfaction as he does so. you feel your back arch slightly just at the littlest of movements from him. you swear you catch a smirk from him before he starts sucking on your clit.

his tongue works up and down your cunt, covering it in a mixture of your own wetness and his spit. he moans against you, “i missed how you taste.”

your hands find their way into jaehyun’s hair, gripping tightly and trying to resist the urge to push him deeper into your cunt.

he laps his tongue over and over your clit, a finger dragging up and down your folds. he hums, “do you still like it like this, baby?” he pushes the tip of his finger inside of you, easing his way in from the slickness.

slowly, he drags his finger in and out of your cunt, swirling circles with his tongue on your clit at the same time. gently, he places his other palm over your lower abdomen, applying the slightest bit of pressure.

you can’t help your legs from squirming under him.

“oh, you do, don’t you?” his voice undoubtedly laced with an edge of cockiness. brash from the fact that he's convinced he still knows your body in ways that no one else does, not even your current boyfriend.

but you'd rather die than ever even consider affirming that.

you bite down hard on your bottom lip, keeping the whines you so desperately want to release inside.

jaehyun keeps lapping his tongue over your cunt tirelessly, pumping his finger smoothly into you. then, without warning, adding another digit, and another.

despite your best efforts, a small cry escapes you. nails digging deep into jaehyun’s shoulders as you feel yourself stretched out on his fingers.

“fuck, jae,” you feel him purr at your nickname for him

“yes, baby?”

you feel the tightening in your stomach, your legs threatening to squeeze shut. “i’m close,” you faintly manage in between soft whimpers.

“do it,” jaehyun murmurs, his voice muffled against you, “i need to see you cum again.” his fingers quicken their pace, “please. cum on my face, baby.”

you fight the urge to not give him what he wants, but truly, he’s too good at making you feel good. his palm presses a little harder on your stomach, tipping you that little bit over the edge as the pressure releases on his fingers. a blinding wave of dopamine flashes across your eyes, your walls clenched tightly around his fingers so much so that jaehyun struggles to move his hand.

jaehyun mutters as he watches you; eyes shut tight, back arched, and hands holding his face in place as you ride your orgasm out on him.

“mhm, that’s it baby,” he mumbles as you slowly come down from your high. “good girl,” he smirks before pressing a final kiss on your clit.

he crawls over your body, caging you inside his arms with his hands on either side of your shoulders.

your eyelids feel heavy, drooping low as you watch jaehyun push your hair away from your face. “you’re still the prettiest when you cum,” he smiles cheekily.

you barely manage to breathe out a breathy, “shut up,” causing him to chuckle over you.

“don’t believe me?”

jaehyun takes one of your wrists, pulling your hand down to palm the front of his jeans.

“you don’t even have to do anything—that’s how fucking hard you make me.”

you look down at your hand cupping over his bulge. then, back up into his eyes, fingers unbuttoning the top of his jeans. “what are you gonna do about it then?”

jaehyun laughs an unamused laugh, and you know too well what that means.

“baby, baby,” he gently shakes his head. “you’re going to regret saying that.” he unzips the zipper, pulling his boxers down until his cock springs up free from its confines.

the tip of it swelling red, precum leaking little by little at a time.

you feel your body tremble at the sight of his dick, even after all this time. the first time you had sex with jaehyun, you couldn’t walk straight the next morning.

he wraps his hand around his shaft, pointing its head directly at your cunt. slowly, he spreads his precum all over your slit—still sensitive from your orgasm. he drags his tip over your entrance, teasing you and enjoying every second of it.

your body writhes at this fleeting touch, the need to be filled up with his dick chipping away at your dignity.

“you want this cock, baby?” jaehyun brushes your cheek with his thumb, like he’s wiping away tears. “i’ll give it to you.”

he steadies himself with his palms firmly planted on the armrest.

then, in one swift motion, he thrusts his hips into you, the entirety of his length disappearing inside you. the sudden shock of it making you scream out.

"what the fuck?" you curse him with your head thrown back.

jaehyun only smirks before pounding into you again, harder this time, eliciting a groan of his own. "i missed how good you feel, fuck."

your fingers attempt to grapple onto anything within reach, but come up short. one of your arms swing itself over jaehyun's neck, drawing your bodies closer as he thrusts again.

the sheer size of him inside you makes you feel like you're being split open. you moan out his name, his hips bucking inside of you as a response.

"i forgot how well you take my dick," his arm buckles slightly under his weight, "isn't that right, baby?" jaehyun begins to build a rhythm with his thrusts, pumping deep inside you every time.

he leans down, connecting your lips together softly, "you're made for me."

his thrusts grows harder, ramming himself into you with the tip of his cock hitting the back of your womb every time. you're sure that it will probably bruise by tomorrow.

the filthy noise of his skin slapping onto yours echo in your ears, mixing in with his gravelly moans. "he can't fuck you like this, can he?" jaehyun spits.

your hand goes up to cover your own mouth, not wanting to let the almost pornographic noises out of you. this only causes jaehyun to pull it away, pinning your wrist to the couch.

"oh, i know, baby. he can't fuck you like i do."

it doesn't take much before you can feel yourself nearing another orgasm. so close, it's practically within reach.

"jaehyun..." you moan weakly.

"you're gonna cum again for me, huh?" he hisses, "how long has it been since he's fucked you properly? cumming twice for me first time i see you again?"

all you can focus on is your incoming orgasm. back arching into his chest, your hand struggling to break free from his hold.

"please," you plead, tears pooling in the corner of your eyes from the overwhelming pleasure.

"you want me to rub your clit, don't you?" jaehyun mutters in between hitches in his breath.

you nod, your body verging on begging him for it.

a knowing smirk plays on his lips. "tell me you're mine."

you let out a whine, frustrated that you can't free your hand to do it yourself.

"do it," he orders, "you want to cum? say you're mine."

"fuck," you pant, struggling to keep a steady breath. your mind hazy with overwhelming carnal pleasure, "fuck, i'm fucking yours. i'm yours."

"now, how hard was that?" jaehyun grins before snaking a hand down to rub circles on your sensitive nub.

within seconds, you feel your orgasm unravel itself on jaehyun's dick, walls closing in tight around him.

feeling you tightening around his cock, jaehyun buries his face in the crook of your neck. your hand holds onto his back, nails sinking into the muscle across his shoulder blades. you hear his muffled moans into your skin as he cums, releasing his load inside you and filling you up full with his cum.

curses slip past his lips as the two of you catch your breath, jaehyun still stuffed inside you.

the ringing from your orgasm begins to quiet down, and you give jaehyun a couple of taps on the shoulder. gently, he pulls himself out, and the sudden absence leaves your body aching for it again.

his body collapses next to you on the couch.

"fuck," he mutters under his breath.

"that was fucking stupid," you confess out loud, now that your head isn't clouded by pure animal instinct.

to your surprise, jaehyun agrees. "yeah," his chest rising and falling rapidly.

he shifts his weight onto his elbow, propping himself up. "but what are we if not stupid?" jaehyun leans in, pecking your lips quickly and then doing it again. a stupid, stupid grin on his face that you'd be lying if you said you didn't miss.

[ponderingmoonlight]

Satoru Gojo purposely keeping the scar you gave him instead of using reversed technique

Pairing: husband! Gojo x reader

Word Count: 1,6k

Synopsis: When his skin gets busted by your sheer excitement, it doesn't feel right to Satoru to use his reversed technique and simply heal.

Warnings: fluff fluff fluff, Yuji's "death" scnene in season 1, blood lol

Thank you dear anon for aggressively reminding me that it's canon for Gojo to not have any scars, it really helped me cooking up that fic! 🤍

Every step feels like hell, the only thing that keeps you from collapsing onto the floor being the reassuring hand of your husband on your shoulder.

This can’t be true, it’s just impossible. Yuji Itadori was a member of Jujutsu High for a few weeks, just started to get to know this world better. This was supposed to be an easy mission, the three of them should have made it out alive with ease. But apparently, Sukuna decided to show up. And apart from injuring Megumi, he violently took Yuji’s life by ripping his heart out. A heart made of pure gold, a heart so precious that you couldn’t help but care for that boy the minute you saw him.

But now he’s dead.

Your hands start shaking immediately the minute you step into this cursed room you visited far too often, gazing at Yuji’s body covered by a cloak. This isn’t a bad dream. No, the blood covering the white cloak tells you more than urgently that Yuji Itadori isn’t there anymore.

“Please tell me that there’s a chance he’ll come back”, you mutter.

Oh, how much both Shoko and Satoru hate to see you like that. It’s not a secret to anyone at Jujutsu High how deeply you care about your students, loving them like your own children. Of course, this isn’t the first time you’ve seen a student die in front of your eyes. In times like these, jujutsu sorcerers pass away like flies. But Satoru knows what you’ve seen in Yuji, that he somehow reflected parts of yourself. And still, you weren’t able to protect that boy, both Satoru and you coming too late to rescue him.

“I really wish I could, but he shows no signs of life. I’ll move on to autopsy now. If you want to say goodbye…Maybe do it now and leave afterwards.”

Satoru wraps his arms around you just in time before you slide onto the ground, holding you tightly against his chest.

“This is not fair”, you breathe out, head still not able to accept Yuji’s farewell.

He was so young, so full of life. He doesn’t deserve to die, he still had so much ahead of him. There needs to be something you are able to do. Aren’t Satoru or Shoko able to use their cursed technique?

“He didn’t show any signs of life for hours by now, (y/n). Not even Shoko or me are able to bring him back to life. I’m so sorry”, he mumbles against your ear out of nowhere.

So this is really how it ended? With Yuji getting killed by none other than Sukuna himself? Like in trance, your wobbly legs carry you to the autopsy table his lifeless body lays on. You want to stretch out your arm, want to look at that precious boy one last time before Shoko does her job.

But you can’t.

“I can’t look at him”, you blurt out.

With a swift motion, you turn around and burry your face against your husband’s chest.

“It’s okay babe, just look at me, okay? You don’t have to do this.”

Satoru’s arms keep you from losing yourself completely, soak up your falling tears while his head rests against yours. Oh Yuji, you’ll never be forgotten. All the laughter’s both of you shared, his potential, how he always cared about others. You will think about him every time the sun starts to rise, when new students get greeted, when you kill another curse-

“Hey, what’s up? Huh, what are both of you doing here, Gojo-sensei?”

This voice…

That was Yuji Itadori.

Out of instinct you turn around rapidly, not even noticing how the back of your head crushes into Satoru’s forehead with full force. He sees starts, blood taking his sight in an instant while his mind isn’t even able to comprehend it was Yuji who just spoke.

“Yuji! Are you okay? Are you hurt? You’re back!”, you babble out, embracing the boy in a tight hug.

“To be honest I don’t even know what happened last and I’m pretty hungry…Oh, you’re bleeding Gojo-sensei!”

You’re…bleeding? You turn around in confusion, following Yuji’s eyes.

“OMG SATORU!”, you cry out, the sight of your husband covered in his own blood shocking you to your core.

When did that happened…Was it…you?

“I guess you were so happy to see Itadori that you’ve forgot about me standing behind you”, he mutters amused.

“Babe I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just got so carried away and-“

“Don’t worry about me. Reversed technique, remember? I’ll be whole in seconds. Just look after Yuji, I love you.”

You let out the breath you were holding, the bright smile forming on your gorgeous face making Satoru forget the world around him for a moment. You are so caring, so passionate. And you are his wife.

“I’m a lucky man”, he mutters to himself while pressing the tissue Shoko handed him against his wound.

There you sit, gently caressing Yuji’s cheeks and asking him over and over if he’s okay.

“You really are. This isn’t a problem for you, right?”, Shoko questions with one glance at the laceration on his forehead.

The shocked look on your face replays itself over and over in his mind, lets a chuckle escape his lips. With the help but his reversed technique, it would be way too easy to get rid of that minor wound. Within seconds, there wouldn’t even be a scar left, just his flawless skin. But…it was you who did this to him out of sheer excitement. It sure would be nice to look into the mirror and get reminded of you daily, right?

“Oh, I might as well keep that”, he replies with a sly grin.

- a few weeks later -

You sit on the edge of the couch, desperately waiting for that time of the day. Even after being married to that force of a man for 4 years now, you find yourself getting all excited when he announces that he’s going to shower. Because going to shower means that he’ll come out just wearing boxers with his body still a little wet and his hair sticking to his face in that delicate way.

“Still waiting for me, huh? It’s not like you can see me naked every time you want, babe”, he finally purrs.

Your heart skips a beat. This man…How is it even allowed to look so breathtakingly gorgeous? The way a single droplet of water runs down his cheek, how he gently strokes his damp hair back.

Wait. You squint your eyes a little harder. What is that on his forehead?

“What do you have there?”, you question, rubbing your own hand against the ride side of your forehead.

This almost looks like a scar. But Satoru shouldn’t have scars. After all, he’s able to use reversed technique, healing himself in the matter of seconds. Is it just dirt? No, that definitely looks like scar tissue.

“Oh, it’s nothing”, he immediately tries to brush you off, pulling his hair back into his face.

“No way Romeo, come back here right now”, you demand.

With a swift motion you lift yourself off the couch and hunt after him.

“Is that a scar?”

“It might be…”

“Why didn’t you just heal it? Show it to me!”

When you finally catch him, you slick his hair back again. Only to be greeted what indeed looks like a middle-sized scar. But why and how did this happen, why didn’t he just heal like he usually does?

“You really don’t know where this came from?”, he challenges you.

You blink a few times. What the hell is your husband talking about?

“Why would I know where this came from?”

“Because it was you, (y/n)?”, he playfully bites back.

You? Your mind races, searching for a single moment you ever hurt your husband. You were never really able to even hurt him, no matter how berserk you went in training. When was the last time you even wounded him? But wait, there was this one time you made him bleed, that one time when…

“This was when Yuji woke up-“

“EXACTLY!”, Satoru cries out and gives you a round of applause.

“But why did you keep it? You said you’d be able to heal it…”

“Because I didn’t want to. This scar right here”

Gently, he takes your hand in his and traces the soft scar with your fingertips.

“will always remind me of what a wonderful human being you are.”

Oh. Your eyes turn glossy in an instant, staring up at your loving husband while he gifts you with the most breath-taking smile you’ve ever seen.

“Satoru”, you breathe out.

There is no time to waste. You wrap your longing arms around his tall frame tightly, aiming to never let him go again.

“Every time I look into the mirror, I think about my wonderful wife”, he mutters into your hair.

“Y’know, you could just take a picture of me or something-“

“No. I would rather just keep that scar of my wonderful wife smacking me over a student.”

You hit him playfully over his comment, a giggle escaping your precious lips.

“Come on, it wasn’t like that…”

“I’ll always tell the story like this.”

Tags: @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @hellkaiserinphoenix @lauv4chuuya @shadowfoxey @starlightanyaaa @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut  @mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0 @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @wxwieeee  @froufrousnowman @tomiokathedepresso  @gojosrealwife  @coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi @weebotaku21 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain  @risuola  @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper @baku2345 @polarbvnny @ruixrei @bam-bam-bam-bame-blog @lavenderdrxp@localhehecat @alicerhr @kayleegomez @belovedvamp @wifenanami @chilichopsticks @dlwlrmas-world @oikawarz @darkstarlight82 @satoreo

Dividers by @saradika 🤍

[pucksandpower]

Used to be Mine

Oscar Piastri x Reader

Arthur Leclerc x ex!Reader

Summary: Oscar stole everything from Arthur … his hopes, his dreams, his family name, and you

Arthur slumps in the hard chair across from Jock Clear’s desk, the Ferrari Driver Academy director’s words echoing in his mind. “I’m very sorry Arthur, but we’ve decided not to renew your contract for next season. You’ll be released from the program at the end of this year.”

Arthur feels like he’s been punched in the gut. This can’t be happening. He’s poured his heart and soul into racing for Ferrari’s junior program for years. His dream has always been to follow in his older brother Charles’ footsteps and race for the Scuderia in Formula 1.

“But … why?” Arthur manages to choke out. “I know my results this season haven’t been that great but fifteenth in the F2 standings-”

Clear shakes his head solemnly. “Your pace and racecraft simply haven’t developed at the rate we need to see to justify keeping you in the program, Arthur. I know how hard you’ve worked, but there are other young talents coming up behind you showing greater potential.”

The word “potential” hits Arthur like a dagger. Ever since he was a kid, that’s what he’s heard over and over — unfavorable comparisons to Charles’ unlimited potential. He always knew his big brother was special behind the wheel, but he’d clung to the hope that he could make it to F1 through sheer hard work and determination if not raw talent.

Clearly that hope was misguided. Arthur feels the sting of failure wash over him.

“I … I understand,” he forces out, struggling not to break down in tears right there. “Thank you for the opportunity.”

He stands up shakily, the room spinning. He needs to get out of here.

The drive back to his family’s home in Monaco is a blur. Arthur’s mind races, years of sacrifice and struggle swirling in his head. Endless days and nights on the simulator. Grueling hours in the gym, pushing his body to its limits. Tormenting himself over endless data traces, looking for even a tenth of a second to gain an edge.

All for nothing. The harsh truth is he’ll never be good enough. No matter how hard he tries, the Leclerc name will always belong to Charles. Arthur will be forever known as his little brother, the one who couldn’t quite cut it.

He slams his fist against the steering wheel, angry tears now streaming down his face. Why did he ever think he could do this? Why didn’t he just pursue something, anything else with his life? He’s wasted years chasing an impossible dream, and now he has nothing to show for it.

His phone rings, almost slipping out of his trembling hands before he can answer. It’s you.

“Y/N ...” Arthur chokes out, trying and failing to hold back his sobs.

“Arthur? Oh my god, what’s wrong?” You ask, panic in your voice even through the tinny speaker. Of course you can sense something is desperately wrong. You’ve always been there for him, the one person who truly understands what he’s been going through.

Arthur can barely get the words out between ragged breaths. “The … the FDA ... they’re releasing me ... it’s over ...”

There’s stunned silence on the other end of the line.

“Arthur, I ...” You trail off, at an uncharacteristic loss for words. You know how much this has meant to him. How much of himself he’s given to this endeavor. “I’m coming over right now, okay? Don’t do anything stupid. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

You hang up before Arthur can respond. He’s not sure if that’s a good thing or not. Part of him wants to wallow in despair alone. But mostly he’s grateful you’re coming. He’s not sure he can handle this by himself right now.

Sure enough, you burst through the front door only a few minutes later. Arthur has collapsed on the couch, head in his hands as the tears continue to flow.

“Oh Arthur ...” You sit down beside him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pulling him into an embrace. He turns and buries his face in your shoulder, no longer trying to hold anything back as ragged sobs wrack his body.

You just hold him, making soft hushing sounds and stroking his hair. You’ve seen him distraught before — after tough losses or crashes. But never quite like this. This is the cry of someone whose dreams have been shattered.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Arthur’s sobs begin to subside into hitching breaths. You grab a tissue box from the end table and hand it to him.

“Thank you,” he mumbles, blowing his nose loudly. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I just … I don’t know what to do. What am I going to do now?”

You take his hand and give it a squeeze. “First, you’re going to breathe. This isn’t the end of the world, I promise. We’ll get through this.”

Arthur lets out a shaky exhale, trying to calm himself. You always have been the level-headed one. He leans back against the couch cushions, keeping your hand grasped tightly in his.

“I really thought I could make it, you know?” He says quietly. “I’ve given everything to this stupid dream ever since I was a kid. But I’ll never be good enough, will I? Not like Charles.”

You open your mouth to protest, but Arthur barrels on, unable to contain years of self-doubt and insecurity any longer.

“Don’t try to argue. We both know it’s true. Charles was always the special one. The one with the generational talent. I was just … there. Doing my best to keep up, but always a step behind no matter how hard I worked.”

You shake your head vehemently. “Arthur, that’s not true at all. You’re an incredible driver. Your work ethic and determination are-”

“Meaningless without the talent,” Arthur interrupts bitterly. “That’s all that matters in the end. And I don’t have it, not like Charles does. I’m just … normal. Ordinary. That’s why Ferrari has moved on.”

You move closer, taking Arthur’s face in your hands so he has to look you in the eye. “You listen to me, Arthur Leclerc. You are anything but ordinary, understand? You’ve accomplished more by the age of 23 than most people could dream of in their entire lives. Making it all the way to F2 and the Ferrari Driver Academy is incredible, no matter what happens next.”

Arthur tries to turn away, but you keep his gaze locked, your voice rising in intensity. “If you were ordinary, you wouldn’t have been able to push yourself so hard for so long. Ordinary people would have given up a long time ago. It’s your extraordinary drive and passion that have taken you this far.”

Tears are welling up in your eyes now. You can’t stand to see him diminishing himself like this.

“Besides,” you add, managing a small smile. “I may be biased, but I’ve always thought you were the most extraordinarily kind, caring, and hilarious person I know. That’s a kind of specialness in itself, you know.”

Arthur lets out a choked laugh, wiping at his eyes again. Leave it to you to know just what to say to raise his spirits, even a little. “You always have been weirdly good at these pep talks.”

“Well, someone has to keep your head from getting too big,” you quip back with a grin.

Arthur mock-gasps in feigned offense. “Why, you little ...”

He lunges at you, starting to mercilessly tickle your sides. You squeal with laughter, trying in vain to fight back as you quickly devolve into a giggling, flailing mess of limbs.

You’ve been reduced to teary hiccups when Arthur finally relents, allowing you both to catch your breath. He throws an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close.

“You’re the best,” he murmurs softly. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You rest your head against his shoulder contentedly. “Let’s just take things one day at a time for now, okay? We’ll figure out what’s next together, like we always have.”

Arthur nods, feeling a deep sense of gratitude and love for his girlfriend. No matter what curveballs life has thrown your way, you’ve always supported and uplifted each other. He knows that won’t change, even if his racing dreams don’t pan out.

“Together,” he echoes, giving your hand one more tight squeeze. Whatever the future holds, he can get through it with you by his side.

Maybe his path won’t lead to Formula 1 after all. Arthur feels a pang of sadness and disappointment at that realization. But as long as he has his family — has you — to lean on, he knows he’ll be okay. That love and support is what has always truly mattered most, not chasing some impossible dream.

“You know, we should see if Charles wants to come over later,” Arthur says, the hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “I haven’t roasted his abysmal fashion sense in way too long.”

You burst out laughing at that. Only Arthur could find his way back to laughing and joking so soon after having his world turned upside down. It’s just one of the many things you admire about him.

“Oh my god, yes please,” you reply once you’ve caught your breath. “His outfit at the last race was literally a crime against humanity. Someone needs to intervene before he traumatizes us all again.”

The two of you spend the next little while cheerfully trading escalating insults about his big brother’s admittedly questionable clothing choices. The mood has lightened considerably, at least for now.

Arthur knows the sting of his failure will return, the questions about what he should do next weighing heavily. But you’ll be there for those hard moments too, just like always. As long as he has you — his best friend, his other half — he can face any challenge life throws his way.

The uncertain road ahead is daunting. But Arthur meets it with determination burning in his eyes. If he couldn’t make it as a Formula 1 driver, he’ll simply have to find a new dream to chase. A new mountain to climb. Whatever it is, he knows you’ll be alongside him every step of the way.

***

Six Months Later

The roar of the engines fades as the cars return to the pits after qualifying. Arthur can’t tear his eyes away from the timing screens:

1. C. LECLERC

2. O. PIASTRI

A Leclerc front row lockout at their home race. Except one of them isn’t really a Leclerc at all.

“Nice one, Piastri-Leclerc!” One of the McLaren mechanics calls out as Oscar climbs from his car.

Arthur’s gut twists.

Oscar just grins and plays along. “Thanks, it’s all in the family name!”

A few of the Ferrari mechanics chuckle at that as Charles emerges from his own car, beaming. He pulls Oscar into a hug. “A Leclerc one-two in Monaco, who would have thought?”

“There’s just something about being a local,” Oscar laughs. “Thank you for giving me yet another home race.”

You appear then, throwing your arms around Oscar with a squeal. “My two favorite Leclercssss!”

Arthur has to look away, his face burning. He knows he has no right to be jealous. Oscar is one of his best friends. And you … you made your choice a long time ago.

“Arthur?” Fred Vasseur appears at his side. “You okay?”

Arthur forces a smile. “Yeah, all good. Just … focused.”

“No need to be so tense,” Fred squeezes his shoulder. “You did a great job in the sim this week. That data helped Charles and Carlos a ton.”

“Glad I could help,” Arthur says automatically.

But his gaze is drawn back to where you’re still hugging Oscar tightly. You look so happy, so carefree. It wasn’t that long ago that your smiles were for him.

“You know,” Fred says conversationally. “I’m getting a lot of questions about what you’ll decide to do next. Every time you’re in that sim or out on track-”

“I’m fine being test driver,” Arthur interrupts, maybe a little too brusque. “Really, I am.”

Fred studies him for a beat. “If you’re sure. Just saying, the doors are opening ...”

The team principal moves off then, leaving Arthur alone with his swirling emotions. He can’t get swept up in maybes about his future. Not when his past is standing right there, laughing at some joke Oscar made.

You’d think after all this time, the sight of you wouldn’t affect him so much. You broke his heart so thoroughly when you ended things, he didn’t think there were any pieces left to shatter. But here he is, a mess of jealousy and longing, just because you gave Oscar a hug.

“Arthur! There you are!”

He turns at the sound of your voice. You’re hurrying towards him, Oscar and Charles trailing behind with indulgent smiles.

“We’re going to get some dinner if you want to join?” You ask brightly.

He has to swallow hard before he can speak past the lump in his throat. “I … don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Of course it is!” You grab his arm, utterly oblivious to his discomfort. “We’re all friends here, right?”

“Some of you were a bit more than friends once upon a time,” Charles points out with a wicked grin.

You shove him playfully. “Oh shut up!”

Arthur feels like he’s being stabbed in the heart. Your break up turned his life upside down. Hearing you joke about it so casually now is excruciating.

“Seriously, Arthur,” Oscar cuts in. “Come celebrate with us. We promise not to get too crazy.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Arthur tries again, harsher this time.

You frown, tilting your head in confusion. “Why not? I thought we were all past the whole ex thing?”

“I am,” he lies through gritted teeth. “I just … have some stuff to work on for the race tomorrow.”

“Oh come on,” you wheedle, giving him that smile that used to make him melt. “Take a break! Live a little!”

Arthur can’t take much more of this. He needs to get out of here before he says something he’ll regret. Or worse, does something stupid like pull you into his arms and kiss you senseless.

“Seriously you guys, I’ve got work,” he says, forcing himself to take a step back from you. “I’ll … catch up with you later, okay?”

He doesn’t wait for a response, just turns on his heel and stalks away. He can’t bear to see the hurt, confused look on your face.

Why did he think this would be okay? That he could spend day after day around you and it wouldn’t still hurt? Every smile, every laugh, every touch you bestow on Charles and Oscar is like a white hot poker in his chest.

He thought he was over you. He really did. It’s been months since you ended things, months since you shattered what was left of his heart into a million pieces.

He’d been so shocked, so heartbroken, that all he could do was sit there numbly as you walked out of his apartment. When he finally found his voice, hours had passed, and you were long gone.

“But I love you,” he’d whispered into the empty room.

He’d been so sure you felt the same. That what you had was forever. But you made your choice, as simple as that. Arthur never came first.

And now, half a year later, here he is. Living out some twisted version of his dream … but only just. A test driver for Ferrari instead of a race driver like he always imagined. Like Charles, who had achieved everything they both wanted.

Arthur leans back against the wall of the cool, dark room he’s found himself in. It feels like the pain of your rejection is never going to stop haunting him. Like no matter how much time passes, it will never be enough to make up for losing you.

He squeezes his eyes shut, trying and failing to block out the memory of your face, your smile, your laugh. All the moments of pure joy you two had shared. The dreams you’d whispered to each other late at night, tangled in the sheets.

Is this his lot in life from now on? To watch you move on, all smiles and teasing jokes with Oscar and Charles? To see everyone welcoming Oscar into the family while Arthur is shut out in the cold?

He’s startled from his spiraling thoughts by a knock at the door. “Arthur? You in there?”

It’s Charles. Arthur flinches, swiping a hand over his eyes.

“Yeah, I’m here,” he calls back, grateful that his voice doesn’t shake.

There’s a pause. “Can I come in?”

Arthur considers sending his brother away. He’s in no state for a heart-to-heart right now.

But he can’t bring himself to refuse Charles. Not when they’ve been through so much together, from the karting tracks of their childhood to the highest levels of motorsport.

“Yeah, okay.”

The door opens and Charles slips inside. He stops short when he sees Arthur, brow furrowing in concern.

“Hey … you okay?”

Arthur can’t even find it in himself to fake it. He just shakes his head mutely.

“Is this about Y/N?” Charles asks gently.

And just like that, the dam breaks. Arthur squeezes his eyes shut again, but he can’t stop the tears from spilling over.

“I thought I was over her. I really did,” he chokes out. “But seeing her with Oscar … celebrating like that ...”

Strong arms wrap around him then, pulling him into a hug. Arthur goes boneless, sagging against his older brother as the sobs take over.

“Shh, I’ve got you,” Charles murmurs. “Let it out.”

Arthur does. He cries and cries, shoulders shaking, as months of pent-up heartache pour out of him. Charles just holds him through it, rubbing soothing circles across his back.

“I’m s-sorry,” Arthur finally gasps out. “I’m being so stupid ...”

“You’re not stupid,” Charles says firmly. “Love isn’t stupid, Arthur. Especially your first real heartbreak. That shit hurts like hell.”

Arthur lets out a watery chuckle, finally pulling back and swiping at his eyes. “How do you always know exactly what to say?”

“Well, I am the wise older brother,” Charles grins. Then he sobers, studying Arthur carefully. “Seriously though … you know Y/N loved you, right? What you two had was real.”

“I know.” Arthur shakes his head. “Doesn’t make it any easier seeing her move on so quickly.”

“She’s not over you either,” Charles says gently. “That’s why she keeps trying so hard to act like everything is normal between you two.”

Arthur scoffs. “Could’ve fooled me with all the cuddling up to Oscar out there.”

“Oh come on, you know that’s just a joke,” Charles says with a roll of his eyes. “Oscar is like family to us, same as you. That’s all it is.”

“Yeah? Well it didn’t look that way to me.”

“Arthur ...” Charles puts a hand on his shoulder. “I think you need to have an actual conversation with Y/N. Clear the air once and for all. This lingering stuff is only going to keep eating you up inside.”

“What if she really has moved on?” The thought is like a vise around Arthur’s heart. “What if she tells me she’s dating Oscar for real or something?”

“Then at least you’ll know,” Charles says simply. “It will hurt, yeah. But not knowing, constantly wondering … that’s so much worse. Trust me.”

Arthur is quiet for a long moment, turning Charles’ words over in his mind. Maybe his brother is right. Maybe it’s time to rip off the bandaid once and for all.

He nods slowly. “Okay. I’ll ... I’ll talk to her.”

“Good.” Charles pulls him in for another hug. “No matter what happens, you’ve got me, okay? We Leclercs need to stick together.”

Arthur manages a small smile at that, feeling just a bit lighter. “Yeah. We do.”

As he follows Charles out of the room, he catches sight of you across the paddock, laughing at something Oscar said. A familiar ache blooms in his chest.

But this time, he doesn’t run from it. This time, he’s going to face it head on. His heart may end up in even more pieces … or maybe, just maybe, it will finally start to mend.

Either way, at least he’ll know. No more lingering what ifs. Just the truth, whatever it may be.

He takes a deep, steadying breath, then starts making his way towards you.

***

Arthur’s steps falter as he rounds the corner of the McLaren garage. There you are with Oscar, bodies intertwined, lips locked in a heated kiss.

It feels like all the air has been sucked from Arthur’s lungs. He can’t breathe, can’t think. He just … freezes, rooted to the spot, watching in numb horror as the two of you make out shamelessly right there in the open.

This can’t be happening. It has to be some kind of twisted nightmare. But no matter how hard he blinks, the scene before him doesn’t change.

You and Oscar are really kissing. Properly sucking face like loved-up teenagers, hands roaming over each other greedily. Oscar has you backed up against the garage wall, bodies pressed flush together from chest to thigh.

Arthur feels like he’s going to be sick.

Finally, mercifully, you two break apart, foreheads pressed together as you both gasp for air. Arthur should look away, he knows he should, but he can’t seem to make himself move.

“So much for keeping it professional in the paddock, huh?” You murmur, voice husky.

Oscar lets out a breathless chuckle. “Who cares about professional? Not when I’ve got you all to myself for once.”

He leans in to kiss you again, but you put a hand on his chest, stopping him. “We should find somewhere more private if we’re gonna keep this up.”

“My driver’s room?” Oscar suggests, already palming at the small of your back.

You shiver, pushing up onto your tiptoes to brush your lips against his jaw. “Lead the way, Piastri-Leclerc.”

And just like that, you’re gone, disappearing into the depths of the McLaren garage, hands roaming and giggling like lovesick fools. Arthur watches until the door swings shut behind you, cutting off that haunting sound of your laughter.

Then he’s moving without conscious thought, staggering back around the corner and out of sight. His back hits the cool concrete wall with a thud, but he barely notices. Barely notices anything except the ragged, gasping breaths being torn from his lungs.

He doubles over, hands braced on his knees as he struggles not to vomit right there in the paddock. It feels like someone has driven a white hot poker straight through his chest. Like his heart is being crushed into a million pieces all over again.

Oscar and you … together? Actually dating? How … how could you do this to him? To yourself? Everything you two had built together, every future dream you had shared … tossed aside so easily?

Tears burn at the corners of Arthur’s eyes. He wants to scream, to punch a wall, to unleash the searing agony and fury ripping through him. But he can’t make a sound, throat locked up tight with unshed emotion.

He should have known, really. Should have seen this coming. It’s not like you and Oscar were hiding your connection. The loving looks, the inside jokes, that easy intimacy and affection … Arthur had just been too blinded by jealousy and heartbreak to see it.

But to find out like this? To literally walk in on you two wrapped around each other? It’s a whole new level of pain, lancing through him over and over. He’s always imagined that you would have the decency to at least tell him first if you moved on with someone new.

Unless this has been going on for a while already, hidden from him in plain sight. Every laugh, every hug, every teasing comment … was that all a lie to cover up your dirty secret with Oscar?

Arthur’s stomach churns violently again at the thought. He swallows hard, fighting back the nausea. He can’t lose it here, can’t draw any attention to himself. He needs to get it together, block out the image of you and Oscar swapping spit.

Easier said than done when his brain keeps unhelpfully replaying the way Oscar’s hands were roaming over you, groping at you like you belonged to him. And that laugh … god, that beautiful, carefree laughter that Arthur would know anywhere. A sound that used to make his heart soar whenever it was aimed at him.

Now it’s like a knife in his gut to hear you giggling that way with Oscar, no doubt blissed out after a hot and heavy make out session. Arthur’s jaw tightens, a muscle ticking furiously. He would give anything not to have walked in on that, not to have that sound burnt into his brain forever.

At least now he knows the truth. The humiliating, gut-wrenching truth that you’ve well and truly moved on from him. And with Oscar of all people, like the ultimate slap in the face.

What kind of cruel joke is this? Arthur wonders, still fighting to steady his ragged breaths. He loses the girl he wanted to spend forever with … only to have one of his mates swoop in and take her from him?

It’s not just you that Oscar has stolen either, Arthur realizes with a sickening jolt. It’s everything. With you on his arm, Oscar is welcomed into the family, called a Leclerc at their home race. Arthur’s own last name, treated like some kind of lighthearted joke while the real thing is ripped away from him.

Oscar even gets Monaco as a home race, just like the actual Leclercs who grew up here. All because of some dumb joke about Charles adopting him. Arthur had laughed along with it at the time, never imagining the underhanded truth.

Oscar Piastri has wormed his way into having everything Arthur wanted more than anything. The career, the family, the girl … all of it, just handed to him on a silver platter.

White hot fury flares in Arthur’s chest, momentarily burning through the heartbreak. How dare Oscar do this to him? How dare he make a mockery out of Arthur’s dreams, out of everything the name Leclerc stands for?

Arthur barely registers that he’s moving until his fist connects with the concrete wall with a sickening crunch. He lashes out again and again, pummeling the unforgiving surface over and over until-

“Arthur! Hey, whoa!”

Suddenly there are hands on him, strong and insistent. Arthur starts, accidentally slamming his abused knuckles into a firm chest as Charles appears, grabbing hold of his shoulders.

“Easy, easy! What the hell are you doing?” Charles meets his gaze, eyes wide with concern.

Arthur blinks dazedly, pain finally registering from his torn up, bleeding knuckles. “I … I didn’t ...”

“What happened?” Charles presses, lowering his voice when Arthur winces. “Did you get into it with someone? Talk to me, please.”

Arthur opens his mouth, fully intending to tell Charles everything. About walking in on your incriminating embrace with Oscar. About the way it felt like his entire world shattered all over again. How Oscar has stolen every single thing that should have been Arthur’s by birthright.

But when he tries to vocalize the words, to unleash the storm of emotions battering him from the inside out … nothing comes out. His throat remains locked up tight, breath wheezing harshly.

Charles is watching him, eyebrows knitted with worry. “You’re really freaking me out here. What’s going on?”

Arthur squeezes his eyes shut, shaking his head helplessly. He feels like he’s drowning, lost in a whirlpool of jealousy and despair that’s slowly suffocating him.

When he opens his eyes again, Charles is still waiting, patient and steady as always. Something in his brother’s calm, anchoring presence helps Arthur regain just a little bit of control. Enough to grit out a few words.

“Oscar. And Y/N.”

That’s all he can manage. But judging by the dawning comprehension on Charles’ face, it’s enough. The older Leclerc lets out a slow breath, gaze turning sympathetic.

“You saw them together,” he says, not a question.

Arthur nods jerkily, jaw locked.

For a long moment, Charles is silent. Taking it all in, no doubt. Then … “I’m so sorry, Arthur.”

Arthur’s breath hitches harshly before he can stop it.

“Hey, hey.” Charles pulls him into a tight hug, tucking Arthur’s head under his chin. “It’s gonna be okay. I’ve got you, little brother.”

Arthur stiffens for just a second before melting into the embrace, squeezing his eyes shut once more. He takes a shuddery breath against Charles’ shirt, then another, just trying to hold himself together.

“I’m here,” Charles murmurs, rubbing his back soothingly. “We’ll get through this together, yeah?”

Arthur doesn’t trust himself to speak, so he just nods against Charles’ shoulder. He clings to his brother like a lifeline, grateful beyond words that Charles is here to anchor him when it feels like his world is crumbling all over again.

He has no idea how long they stay like that, locked in that tight embrace. Long enough for the sharp edges of Arthur’s anguish to dull, at least a little. Long enough for his ragged breaths to even out into something closer to normal.

Finally, Charles gives him one last squeeze before gently pulling back, keeping a firm grip on Arthur’s shoulders.

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up,” he says, eyeing Arthur’s bloodied knuckles with a wince.

Arthur follows his gaze, grimacing at the sight. “Shit, I ...”

“It’s okay,” Charles says quickly, sliding an arm around Arthur’s back. “I’ve got you.”

He guides Arthur through the paddock, shielding him from view with his body. Arthur is grateful for the discretion — the last thing he needs right now is prying eyes and questions about his meltdown.

They make it back to the cool shadows of the Ferrari motorhome without incident. Charles sweeps them into one of the private rooms, locking the door securely behind them.

“There, just us,” he says, squeezing Arthur’s arm reassuringly. “Why don’t you sit down and tell me what happened?”

Arthur sinks down onto the worn sofa, feeling numb and drained. He stares at his mangled hands as Charles darts away, returning a moment later with a first aid kit and a damp cloth.

“This might sting,” Charles warns, taking Arthur’s hands with surprising gentleness.

Arthur barely flinches as his brother starts cleaning away the blood and grit from his torn skin. He’s retreated deep inside his own head, memories from that hellish scene on an endless loop.

You and Oscar, tangled together so intimately. The way you looked at each other, breathless with desire. The easy intimacy and obvious hunger in every heated caress.

Arthur squeezes his eyes shut, but it does nothing to block it out. He’s never going to be able to unsee that, he realizes with a sick lurch. It’s seared into his brain forever, a brand new source of unrelenting torment.

“Arthur?” Charles’ soft voice cuts through his spiraling thoughts. “What happened? Talk to me.”

Arthur blows out a shaky breath, forcing himself to meet his brother’s concerned gaze.

“I went to find Y/N,” he starts in a dull rasp. “To … to get some closure, I guess. Finally rip off the bandaid like you said.”

Charles nods in understanding, staying quiet to let Arthur continue at his own pace.

“But when I turned the corner of the McLaren garage ...” Arthur’s throat works convulsively, the memory surging back in vivid technicolor. “They were there. Making out like a couple of horny teenagers.”

He falls silent again, the words cutting off as a wave of fresh agony washes over him. God, the visual is never going to stop haunting him, is it?

“Oh, Arthur ...” Charles murmurs, squeezing his hands gently. “I’m so sorry.”

Arthur lets out a bitter huff. “Sorry? Don’t be sorry for me, Charles. Be sorry for yourself.”

Charles frowns in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“Oscar,” Arthur grits out, white-hot anger flaring once more. “He stole her from me, sure. But he also stole our name. He gets to be a Leclerc now, a mockery of our home streets. Just because you stupidly joked about adopting him.”

He surges to his feet, unable to stay still with all this wrath and hurt burning through him.

“Everything that was supposed to be mine, Charles!” He shouts, prowling the room like a caged animal. “The career, the family, the girl … Oscar has taken it all! With a few laughs and some dumb jokes!”

“Arthur, that’s not fair ...” Charles tries, but Arthur barrels right over him.

“No? Well how about this — let’s see how funny those jokes are when Oscar decides he actually wants to be Charles Leclerc!” Arthur snarls. “He’ll take your career next, you watch! Take away everything that makes you special, everything that’s yours by right!”

“Arthur.” Charles is on his feet now, reaching out to grip Arthur’s shoulders firmly. “Listen to me. You need to calm down, okay? Oscar isn’t trying to take anything from us. He’s our friend!”

“How can you say that?” Arthur demands, anguish cracking through the rage. “Don’t you see what he’s done? What he’s taking from me?”

He’s breathing hard now, vision swimming as tears of mingled fury and heartbreak prick at his eyes.

“That was supposed to be my future, Charles,” he rasps. “Y/N and I … we had plans. Dreams of a life together.”

Arthur swipes angrily at the tear that escapes, blurring his vision. “Oscar doesn’t get to take that from me. He doesn’t get to make it all a mocking joke.”

“Arthur ...” Charles looks stricken now, shaking his head slowly. He pulls Arthur into another fierce hug, tucking the younger man’s head under his chin.

“I’m so sorry,” Charles murmurs, voice thick with emotion. “I’m so sorry he hurt you like this. You don’t deserve that … any of it.”

Arthur lets out a choked sob against his brother’s shirt, all of the fight abruptly draining from him. He’s just … tired. Wrung out and hollow, aching down to his very core.

“This wasn’t how it was supposed to go, Charles,” he whispers brokenly. “Oscar was my friend … how could he do this to me?”

Charles doesn’t seem to have any answers. He just holds Arthur tighter, rocking them gently from side to side as Arthur finally gives in to his emotions. He buries his face in Charles’ shoulder and weeps — for his shattered dreams, his shredded heart, and a future that now feels impossibly out of reach.

As the sobs gradually subside, a final bitter thought takes root in Arthur’s mind. If Oscar is going to steal away the girl Arthur loves, the family he was born into, and the future he had mapped out for himself ... then Arthur hopes to god the Monaco curse falls on Oscar just as harshly as it ever has for a Leclerc.

Maybe then Oscar will finally understand just how much he’s taken from Arthur. How many dreams and pieces of Arthur's very identity he’s carelessly crushed in his quest to make himself a Leclerc on everything but paper.

Arthur’s tears have dried, leaving his cheeks chafed and eyes swollen. But the hollow ache in his chest remains, throbbing in time with his ragged breaths. He stays huddled against Charles, taking what little solace he can from his brother’s presence.

It’s all he has left now. Oscar has snatched away everything else that ever mattered to Arthur. His future, his past, his home ... all of it, gone in a spiral of heated kisses and breathless laughter.

If the cost of having it all is the Monaco curse bearing down on him, then so be it. Arthur finds himself almost hoping Oscar gets everything he so greedily took, the consequences be damned. Maybe then, just maybe, he’ll finally understand an ounce of the anguish and heartbreak he’s inflicted on Arthur.

It’s a dark, vindictive thought, one that makes Arthur's gut twist with shame. But he’d too drained, too devastated to truly care. He just presses closer to Charles, craving the simple comfort of family as reality crushes him from all sides.

His dreams, his heart, his identity ... all stolen by a former friend turned ultimate betrayer. If the Monaco curse is all Arthur has left to cling to, then so be it.

[skzdust]

Ruin Me, Big Boy ;)

This is smut. MINORS DNI.

This fic was a request from @piratejoongie ! Thank you for the ask it very much inspired me ;)

Summary: You hook up with Mingi off Tinder one night.

Pairing: Mingi x reader

Includes: "good girl", "cocksucker", cock sucking, unprotected vaginal sex (USE CONDOMS PLEASE), tinder hookup but I've never done a tinder hookup so idk how they work irl but this is how I imagine it, PLEASEEEEE be safe with Tinder hookups though guys, Horny gay Wooyoung, Bestie Felix and Changbin, very background Chanlix

Word count: 1.4k

Taglist: @weirdowithaphone @caught-in-the-afterglow @palindrome969 @skzstan12345 @katsukis1wife @hyunjinsjeans @somethingkindazainy @silverstarburst

Network: @mirohs-aurora-society

Reblogs, likes, comments all appreciated!!

Masterlist

-----

“No.” You swiped left. “No.” Again. “No.” Again.

“God, when does this game get good?” Felix took a swig from his beer, leaning over the arm of the couch. 

“Yeah, I like playing tinder as much as the next guy, but come onnnnn, these men are lame as hell.” Wooyoung rolled his eyes. 

“Literally get interesting.” Changbin closed his eyes as he nodded in agreement. 

As if on cue, Mingi (25) popped up on the TV your phone was cast to, all dark hair and sharp jawline… and that smirk!

Your own jaw dropped. “Guys, I think I just fell in love.”

“I think I just got hard!” Wooyoung yelled. “Jesus Christ, look at that man!” 

“He’s mine!” You yelled back. “My tinder, my man! Claimed!” 

“Fuck!” Wooyoung collapsed back against the couch as you swiped right. 

The room erupted in screeches as hearts filled the screen, indicating you’d matched. 

“Message him, message him!” The voice was so high with excitement it wasn’t immediately recognizable as that of any of your friends, but you hit the ‘message’ button and stared at the text bubble for a second. 

“What do I even say to someone that fucking hot?”

“Here. Gimme.” Wooyoung wiggled his fingers, and you handed over your phone. Your eyes widened as you watched him type on the screen. “There.” 

You: Ruin me, big boy ;)

“God.” You laughed. “You’re gonna scare him off.”

“No, I’m not, we workshopped your profile forever. You look hot as hell. You’re gonna be thanking me.” You watched as he swiped into Mingi’s profile. “See, he’s looking for short-term fun.”

“Short-term fun.” Felix hummed. “I know that means hookups, but I kinda hope he sticks around. Just because he’s nice to look at.”

“He hasn’t even—” You started, but Wooyoung cut you off with a squeal. 

“He responded!” 

“Give me my phone!” You snatched it from his hand.

Mingi: I can do that, baby ;)

Your stomach leapt.

“Get his location right fucking now.” Wooyoung ordered. 

You began typing something out.

You: Time and place and I’ll be there

Changbin giggled. “Y/n’s getting some!” 

“Hell yeah, y/n’s getting some!” You took a sip of your cocktail as you went back to his pictures. “How do people even look like this? He’s so hot.”

Mingi: An hour and a half work? Here’s the address.

You looked up the address as soon as he sent it. It was a nice apartment building downtown. Felix’s boyfriend Chan actually lived there. 

“I’ll tell Chan you’ll be over there in an hour and a half.” Felix had a twinkle in his eye as he whipped out his phone. “If Mingi’s a dick, or a creep, you can go to his place.”

You nodded. “Sounds good.”

You: I’ll see you in an hour and a half <3

You went upstairs to get ready, showering quickly and changing into a matching underwear set and a cute but casual outfit. 

Wooyoung clapped as you walked down the stairs. “Beautiful, y/n. Tell me how he is. And if he’s into men. And if he might possibly be into me.”

“He’s hooking up with her, Woo. Not you.” Changbin said bluntly.

“Maybe he’s bi!” 

Felix ignored them, smiling at you. “Have fun and be safe, y/n, make sure your location’s on.”

You checked your phone to make sure you were sharing your location with Felix. “All set! Bye!” 

You made your way downtown, parking and walking the rest of the way. You texted him when you got to the lobby and leaned against a pillar.

You almost weren’t expecting Mingi to be real, but he walked out of the elevator with the gait and confidence of a supermodel. He was dressed in all black, he was tall, and in person that smirk had the cockiness of someone who could back it up, no matter what was required to do that.

Your pussy throbbed as he looked at you, his smirk growing. 

“Y/n…” He crossed the lobby, eyes looking you up and down. “You look even better than your pictures.”

“You’re pretty fucking hot yourself.” You managed to get out.

He laughed softly. “Oh, am I? A pretty girl like you telling me that is gonna inflate my ego.”

“Lucky for you, I like a man with a god complex.”

“God complex, huh? I think that can be arranged.” 

“Oh, can it?” You raised your eyebrows. 

“You’re gonna be worshipping me.” He winked. 

“I’d love to worship you.” You whispered back.

“Then come upstairs.”

—

As soon as you made it into his apartment, Mingi pushed you against the wall, trapping you in with one hand and kissing you hard. His lips were demanding, and his tongue licked into your mouth. You moaned, your head already growing dizzy from the kiss. 

“Good girl.” He hummed. 

“Mingi…” You whined.

He pulled away. “What do you want to do tonight?” 

You thought for a second. “I wanna suck your cock.”

He leaned in by your ear. “Can I call you a good little cocksucker?”

It felt like he’d lit you on fire. “Yes, please call me your good little cocksucker.”

“Then on your knees.”

You sank to the floor, unzipping his pants.

He pushed them and his boxers down, and his cock sprang free, already red and hard and big.

You reached around it, pumping the shaft a few times. “Fuck.” You whispered. You could barely wait to get it inside you.

“What, I thought you wanted to worship me.” He smirked. 

In response to that, you opened your jaw and pushed yourself down on his cock.

He groaned, his hand finding your hair and balling into a fist. “Fuck, such a good cocksucker. So good for me.”

You focused on the feeling of him in your mouth, the heat of his skin. He was easily the biggest guy you’d been with, but you didn’t let that intimidate you, pushing yourself further and further down on his cock. 

His grip on your hair tightened, and he gently began to rock his hips back and forth, gently fucking your face. “Good girl. Good fucking girl. Taking me so well, sucking my cock like you were made for it.”

You moaned around him, fighting to keep your jaw relaxed. 

His hips picked up the pace, quickly but gently fucking into your mouth. “Good girl, good girl, good— ngh!” He pulled out of your mouth to cum on your face, groaning as he stroked himself. As cum painted your features, you thought you’d never seen someone so hot. 

“You want me to fuck you now? Properly, not your mouth.” He panted.

“Yes.” You moaned. “Yes, Mingi, please.”

“Okay, my good girl. Lets’ go to my bedroom.”

You got up, following him into the bedroom. It was tidy, with grey sheets on the bed and an attached bathroom.

“Clothes off, and on the bed.” Mingi ordered. You hurried to obey, spreading yourself out on the bed for him.

“Fuck.” He said as he took off his own pants, his eyes raking over your form.

“Fuck me.” You whimpered. 

“Don’t worry, my good girl, I will.” He left his shirt on as he crawled over you on the bed. “I’ll fuck you within an inch of your life, if you’ll let me.”

“Please, Mingi, please fuck me within an inch of my life.”

“Fuck, begging?” He kissed you, hard. “You’re so fucking hot, y/n.”

He lined himself up with your entrance and began to push inside. You moaned as his tip stretched you.

“Perfect little— ngh, fuck.” Mingi pushed in further, his voice growing strained. 

You couldn’t say anything your mouth forming a little ‘o’ as you burned in pleasure. 

He seated himself fully inside you, and you stayed like that for a moment, with Mingi deep inside you, connected. 

And then he started moving, and you thought you might cum on the spot. He was big, but he felt even bigger inside you, especially as he started fucking you in earnest, pushing in and out with a fervor.

You moaned, clutching at the sheets. “Fuck, fuck, Mingi, ah, God…”

“Feel so good, my good girl, so tight around me, such a good little hole for me.” He grunted. “We gotta do this again, because God I love fucking you.” He caressed your cheek. “Takin’ my cock so well.”

“Yeah, anytime you want.” You breathed, meaning it.

“Anytime I want, huh?” He pushed into you in a hard thrust. “I’m gonna take you up on that, my good girl.”

“Please do.” You whined. “Your good girl.”

“I’m gonna ruin you for anyone else.” He whispered. “Ruin me, big boy, that’s what you said, right? I’m gonna fucking ruin you.”

[tasteracha]

take care of me.

word count: 2.1k

warnings: afab!reader, oral (f. receiving), multiple orgasms, teasing, edging, hyunjin x reader x minho - smut, MINORS DNI

synopsis: hyunho knows how to take perfect care of you. thank you my angel @astraystayyh for giving me this idea i love you endlessly <3

you had an itemized list of reasons why having two loving partners was the best thing you possessed. the never-ending attention, always having a moderator in arguments, twice as much love than you ever thought you deserved.

it comes in the form of little notes taped to your lunch bag telling you to have a great day, gorgeous ;), in hands brushed across your back as they pass you in the hallway, in your favorite snacks always being stocked no matter how busy they are. 

it comes in the form of you collapsing into hyunjin’s lap after an unbearably long day, your muscles melting into his body as you press your nose into the space between his neck and his shoulder, the scent of his cologne making your eyelashes flutter. 

“one of those days?” he murmurs, tracing his nails lightly against your back in a way that makes your toes curl in pleasure. 

“take care of me,” you stamp into his skin with your lips, a sigh taking over your body before you add on a please to the end of your poorly concealed demand. 

“take care of you like this?” he moves his hand to run through your hair, nails scratching lightly at your scalp. you melt further into him, your body shivering with his movements. 

“no,” you almost whine, wriggling your hips with the last of the energy you had left. he knows exactly what you want, he just loves teasing you, and craves the desperate little noises that he can pull from you like this.

“oh, like this then?” you can hear the smirk in his voice as both of his hands cup your ass, pulling you into him. you can feel his cock twitching in interest under your hips, and you nod fervently, thankful that he relented so easily. “alright darling, go to the bedroom and take your clothes off, i’ll be right there.”

you move with an urgency you didn’t think you had the energy for, stripping and leaving a trail of clothes in your path until you’re flopping down onto the bed. you can hear the shower running from the bathroom as you wait, and you let yourself feel a pang of longing for minho before you shake it away. it wasn’t unusual for two of you to be intimate without the other - the three of you were busy, and any room for jealousy and envy was discarded long ago in favor of respect and trust. 

at any rate, you’re sure he’ll join you as soon as he is done, even if he complains about having to shower again later. 

hyunjin enters the room in a flurry, dumping a selection of snacks and a water bottle on the bedside table for later. he climbs onto the bed and leans over you, dropping his head down to kiss you. you kiss him back, but when he runs his hands down your chest to cup your breasts you lose focus of it. he takes control, dipping his tongue into your mouth and nipping at your bottom lip with his teeth and you’re already feeling foggy and light-headed. 

his hands roam further down, teasing at your stomach and tracing circles against the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs. you’re helpless under him, little sounds flooding into his mouth from your throat from his touch. he dips his fingers into your folds just as minho enters the room, a towel wrapped around his waist and his skin still damp from his shower. hyunjin releases your mouth and a wet smack echoes through the room, so lewd that it makes you flush. 

“how is it that i just got here and you’re the only one who’s still wearing clothes,” he says, quirking an eyebrow up when hyunjin shoots him a lazy smile. he moves his hands back to your thighs and you whine, letting your legs fall apart in invitation. your gaze flickers back and forth between hyunjin and minho, a pout on your face as you silently plead one of them to touch you.

“awh, she’s so cute,” minho says, reaching his hand towards your chin. 

“if you pet me like one of your cats,” you hiss at him, the fog clearing a bit. “i’m leaving this room-”

“must not be doing your job well enough if she’s still talking like this,” minho cuts you off sharply, looking pointedly at hyunjin who was still running his hands along your thighs absentmindedly.

“well, i was waiting for your help,” hyunjin rolls his eyes at minho. “i know you hate it when i eat dessert without you.”

the way they were talking about you, like you weren’t a living, breathing person in the room with them, sent heat sparking along your cheeks and ears. it was embarrassing, it was humiliating, it was turning you on. the fog comes back with a vengeance, clearing your vision of anything except for the two of them.

minho takes his invitation for what it is, and hyunjin moves seamlessly to the side as minho takes his spot in front of you. hyunjin curls his hand under your thigh and moves it aside aside, leaving your legs spread and your pussy spread out for them.

“look at you, all wet for us,” minho taunts, a sharp glint in his voice that betrays his emotions.  “you’re only like this for us, right? no one else.”

the gentle possessiveness sends a lick of fire through your body. he knew you would never stray from them, would never even consider looking at anyone else when you had the most perfect men in your possession already, but he never got tired of being reminded of that. 

“min,” you whine, embarrassed as he stares openly at your pussy, laid bare for him to feast on by hyunjin’s hands holding your legs open. you try and close your thighs together but his grip is too strong.

“shh,” he moves in close, his lips a fraction of an inch from your folds. “let me have this.”

the first touch of his lips to your clit makes you jerk, and he pulls back with a wicked grin.

“stay still, baby,” his voice is dripping with condescension even as his lips are glistening with your slick. “don’t make me work for my meal.”

he dips back in, lapping at your pussy like a starved man, and it takes every ounce of control that you have left to stop from grinding against his face. he eats you out expertly, forgoing the teasing you knew he loved and if you had any mental capabilities right now you’d be grateful. instead, all you can focus on is the rapid heat building in your core that’s threatening to explode. 

wet, slick noises echo across your moans as he eats you out, spurred on by hyunjin narrating to him how good he is making you feel. you tangle your hands in his hair when you feel yourself getting close, holding him against you as your hips jerk in little motions, and he lets you use him. you come on his tongue, your walls clenching and absorbing any sounds of appreciation that he makes. 

after a few moments he lets out a little hiss, and you release your white-knuckled grip on his hair with an apology waiting on your lips. he stops you before you can say anything, taking your hand in his and pressing kisses to your fingertips in reassurance.

your orgasm leaves you lax and dazed, and you watch with heavy-lidded eyes as they switch positions again. hyunjin kneels over you, his clothes finally discarded and his cock hard and leaking as he looks at you. minho sits on the bed by your head, and he runs a hand through your sweaty hair. 

he’s hard too and you raise a hand towards his cock, wanting to feel the weight of it in your hand, but he stops you. 

“we’re taking care of you, not the other way around,” he soothes, his words a sharp contrast to the condescending words he had thrown at you earlier. “i am thoroughly enjoying this, don’t worry.”

he tilts your head towards him to kiss the confused look off of your face just as hyunjin fucks two of his fingers into you, stretching them out. the aftershocks of your orgasm hadn’t left you yet and you can feel your walls protesting him. 

“look at you, clenching around my fingers,” he says, amazement in his voice even though neither you nor minho were capable of answering him. “god, you’re so perfect, your pussy was made just for us to ruin.”

you didn’t have the words to tell him that you couldn’t stop your walls from closing down even if you wanted to; the onslaught of sensations left you incapable of controlling your own body, and it felt so good. you could taste yourself on minho’s tongue, could feel each knuckle of hyunjin’s fingers inside of you, and it was overwhelming in a dizzyingly euphoric way.

he loses his patience with his fingers quickly, stumbling in his rush to climb over you. his hair is falling over your face, shrouding you in his shadow and all you can feel is him as he runs his cock through your folds. your eyelids flutter as he presses the head of his cock into you, your mouth going slack against minho’s as you let out a sound you would surely be embarrassed about later.

minho, sending your inability to kiss him back, trails his kisses down your jaw to the side of your neck, right over your racing pulse. hyunjin bottoms out just as minho sucks, and you’re left shaking. 

“relax, darling,” hyunjin pets your thighs, “i can’t move if you’re this tight around me.”

“sorry,” you gasp, the word punched out of you from minho’s teeth grazing at your skin. 

“don’t apologize,” hyunjin shifts his hips back and you feel a gush of wetness leave you, helping the slide of his cock inside you. “i want to make you feel good. do you feel good?”

“yes!” you cry out when he rams back into you, immediately setting a mind-numbing pace. minutes, hours, days pass as he fucks you, filling you up perfectly in accompaniment with minho whispering into your skin about how you’re such a good girl and only for us, right?

you feel another orgasm approaching too quickly, and you try and clamp your legs to keep it away; it was too much, every nerve in your body felt like it was on fire and if you came you might actually explode in pleasure.

“baby, it’s okay,” hyunjin coos at you, draping himself across your body and tracing along your sweaty hairline with his fingertips.  “you’re doing so well. you can give us one more right? just come one more time.”

“ngh,” is all that leaves your mouth when you try and answer, the dual sensation of hyunjin’s cock fucking into you and minho’s lips still sucking at your neck enough to stop any words from forming in your head.

“you’re such a good girl, just one more,” hyunjin nods, like he was making the decision for you, giving you exactly what you wanted. 

you didn’t realize that minho was fisting his cock until he came against you, spilling over your stomach. the noise he makes rings right into your ear, a soft whine that was so him that it made you want to cry, and you couldn’t keep the waves of pressure back. your eyes roll back as you come with a cry, your muscles pulling taught like a bowstring as hyunjin keeps fucking you, chasing his own high. he pulls out a moment later, his hand flying across his cock until he comes with a growl, spilling over you. 

he collapses by your side and you’re sandwiched between the two men, heavy panting filling the room and your heartbeat lodged in your throat. you feel good, you feel so taken care of that you couldn’t even think past the twitches of pleasure still racking through your body. 

minho pulls away first and you let out a soft noise of betrayal, but he comes back just as quickly with a bottle of water pressed to your lips. he helps you drink and in your distraction hyunjin manages to clean your body free of their come. they settle back against you, fitting themselves into your sides like puzzle pieces, and you sigh in contentment. 

“how do you feel?” hyunjin asks, looking at you with fond eyes and a soft smile. 

“yes,” you answer, fully confident that it was the right answer to his question.

“oh, she feels good,” minho laughs, and it sounds like twinkling bells in your ear. 

[rainylana]

“My pussy.”

Eddie Munson x female reader

warnings: language, smut, fingering, rough smut, dom!eddie, use of a vibrator, spanking.

summary: eddie finds your vibrator in the bathroom.

to the anonymous user, thank you for requesting!

You were sitting in front of the tv, crisscross on the floor as the Andy Griffith show played in front of you. You were clad in your socked feet and matching pajamas, putting polaroids in your album. It was a calm night, a sweet, romantic one you and Eddie were spending together, just a relaxing night in.

“Hey, babe!” Eddie called from the bathroom. “Come take a look at this! You’ll never believe what I found!”

You grimaced. “In the bathroom? Gross, Eddie! I’ll wait out here, thanks so much.” You chuckled, shaking your head at him.

The sound of a high pitched whirring flooded your ears, and immediately, heat went to your face. You pounced up. “No, no, no, no, no!” You screeched and screamed, running to the bathroom.

You found Eddie, leaned up against the sink and smirking, looking proud and cocky as ever. His hand propped him up against the sink, the other swung your pink vibrator side to side like he was trying to hypnotize someone.

You screamed. “Eddie!” You quickly leapt for it, but he stood tall and held it above your head.

“I don’t think so!” He tsked. “Didn’t know you had one of these laying around. Am I not satisfying you?” His eyes darkened playfully, making you roll your eyes.

“Oh, please, Eddie, drop it.” You jumped to reach it. “Please, forget you- Jesus, you’re tall!”

He scoffed and handed it to you, buzzing still loud and when you got it, you quickly switched it off, face burning and hands shaking from embarrassment. “Sorry you had to see that.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He bounced off the sink to follow you into your bedroom. “We could have had some fun!”

“I don’t know.” You shrugged your shoulders. “I guess it’s just private, I suppose.”

Eddie smirked, taking a long stride over to you. He put his hands on your shoulders. “Well, my dear, I think I’ve been missing out. What do you say we add a little something new to the mix?” He kept his eyes on you, slowly walking you backwards to your shared bed.

You wiggled your brows and hummed, matching his lips in a hot kiss. You both fell to the bed in a heap, clothes flinging off to the floor one by one. You squeaked when he gripped your hips and spun you around, putting you face first into the mattress. He grabbed you and lifted your hips up to meet his face. She smirked, spitting in his fingers and rubbing them up your slick cunt. You gasped, reaching out to grab a pillow.

“Uh, uh.” He smacked your ass, making you squeal. “Keep your hands still.”

He pushed into your pussy, standing behind you at the foot of the bed. You moaned pathetically, drooling into the pillow so quickly it barely had even started. That’s the way sex was with Eddie. He knew you so well, knew all the right buttons to push.

You couldn’t help but blush when the sound of your vibrator turned on, and when it pushed at your clit, body bent over and ass up, you sobbed, a tear pushing past your lids. Eddie knew how stimulated you got and how quickly you did so. “Fuck,” You cried. “Oh, let me me feel you, please!”

“No.” He turned up the speed of the toy, smacking your ass with his free hand. “You wanna play with yourself without me? Then you’ll take your punishment and enjoy it.”

He spanked you again and again from cheek to cheek, making you jump out of your place and yelp from the sting of his hand.

“It’s mine.” He sneered. “My pussy.”

“I’m sorry!” You sobbed. “Just fuck me please!”

He slipped the vibrator into your cunt, the pink tip disappearing inside of you. He thrusted it in and out of you quickly, smacking your ass here and there until you were near purple with bruises. You saw stars as you came, panting heavily and shakily.

When you collapsed. He stood there with a dumb, goofy grin on his face. “See? Fun, right?”

[auroreliis]

I imagined a situation that I found funny.

Imagine, the entire Batfamily on the beach while making a point of hanging around the reader's neck so they can participate in family activities(Forcibly) . But the reader is not at all in the mood to be part of this fake family scenario, and decides to stay in the shade on the sand making a sandcastle :3 . Jason, seeing this, decides to provoke the poor reader, accidentally destroying the sandcastle :(. Angry reader throws sand in Jason's face. Causing yet another punishment and forcing the reader to sleep in Jason's room. Poor reader

Hot. It was really, really hot.

Of course it was hot. It was the middle of summer and you were sitting on sand that had been in the sun for hours. In this heat, what could you even do? You wanted to stay at home and sleep, but they didn’t let you.

They wanted you to come with them to the shore and practically dragged you there, ignoring your complaints. So, here you were, sitting under a palm tree on the scorching hot sand. Though, you had kind of stopped feeling the pain. You didn’t want them to come talk to you under the guise of you seeming “unoccupied”, so you started building a sandcastle.

Most of them were in the water, probably to cool off.

Yeah, the heat was starting to get to you…

For just a moment, you considered going swimming, but immediately decided against it.

First of all, they would certainly bother you. You could already imagine Damian wanting to compete with you to figure out who could swim faster (obviously him, but he wants to spend time with you). You could already imagine Dick carrying you around inside the water because you “can’t swim properly” (you can, he’s just looking for excuses to hold you) and you could already see Jason trying to “drown you” as a joke, despite the fact that you wouldn’t find it funny at all.

“Hey, aren’t you hot sitting there?”

Yes, that’s exactly what Jason would say to lure you into the water.

“Uh, hello? You there?”, Jason waved a hand in front of you face.

Huh, that wasn’t your imagination, that actually was Jason. You looked up unamused, ”No, I’m quite cold, really.”

He rolled his eyes, seemingly having caught your sarcasm,”Sure. So, wanna go swimming?”

And let you drown me? No fucking way. Oh, right, be polite…

“Um, no thanks”, you smiled awkwardly, not wanting to anger him and, as a result, Bruce.

“C’monnn, it’ll be fun. You do know how to swim, right?”, he teased, trying to rile you up.

“No”, you persisted, “Thanks…”

Jason crouched down next to you, clearly more persistant than you, “Oh, come on. Surely you’d rather spend time with me than Dick, right? If you remain alone for much longer, Damian will surely force you to do something with him.”

Ah…

Well…

You disliked Dick and spending time with Damian was…tedious.

Jason wasn’t any better, though.

Noticing your silence, he spoke again, “Not a bad sandcastle, but I could help you make it better.”

“…”

“We could compete and see who builds better sandcastles”, his smile was still present.

“Um…”, you looked around, trying to find a way to distract him.

“C’moooon. Here look, I’ll help ya”, he started adding sand to your castle.

“Wait! Nonono! Don’t touch that!-”, you froze after seeing your entire sandcastle collapse.

Silence prevailed for far too long.

You couldn’t think of anything to say. Jason, however, felt the need to salvage the situation.

“Oh, I’m…sorry.”

Sorry? He was SORRY?

The audacity left you speechless.

The only thing you could do was grab a fistful of sand at throw it at Jason. He dodged most of it, but he certainly felt your wrath.

To avoid further conversation with him, you got up immediately and left.

It took only a few steps for you to notice that what you had done was certainly punishment-worthy.

What would Bruce make you do? You shuddered as you remembered the time you had to hug and say 20 things you liked about Jason…yikes. Never again, you swore and yet, here you were.

You had barely gone a few metres, when you heard Bruce calling your name. When did he even arrive here? Was he here from the start?

You stopped walking and turned towards him. The look on his face was…stern. He did not seem very happy. Next to him, Jason was rubbing his eyes.

Wait, did you get sand in his eyes? No, you couldn’t have, he dodged it! Did he…lie to Bruce about what happened?

No, Jason wouldn’t do that-…

Well…would he?

Bruce called you over to him and Jason, so you slowly walked towards them, trying to come up with a good excuse to avoid doing whatever he wanted you to do.

[unknownmads]

thinking about dilf kiri😋😋

dilf kiri who’s officially hit his fourties face scruffy, body squishy, full of scars and stretch marks from years of being japan’s shield, and dark roots grown out from growing tired of redying it.

dilf kiri who hasn’t dated since his ex wife, divorcing because being a hero took too much time. Whose two girls adore him but their distance growing as they too age.

dilf kiri who is clearly too old for you but can’t help your attraction to him. having just started working at the cafe/ restaurant your friend owned near the red riots’s agency and lucky you did. you immediately recognized the big man, even with his hair grown out black overtaking his old red, face and arms littered with scars, bulkier with his age, out of his hero suit in something seemingly more comfortable, but same bright smile, red eyes, and same warms aura surrounding him.

dilf kiri who comes in with some of his buddies preaching about how much he loves this place. saying no other cafe compares with the atmosphere, drink, and treats. his friends making comments saying no wonder he’s gotten bulkier if he’s going here so often. you didn’t know he goes here often otherwise you would’ve started here MUCH sooner.

dilf kiri who comes up to order asking for a simple latte and croissant breakfast sandwich, your eyes taking in as much of him as you can before it’s his friends turns to order. one blonde with a black streak ordering a small box of treats and tea. The other blonde ordering a latte as well asking for extra expresso and a breakfast sandwich of his own. before heading back to his table takes a long gaze at you before smiling his signature smile “hey your new here aren’t you? i don’t think i’ve seen you working before!” you almost collapse from excitement from his very simple comment.

“Yea i just started today! hopefully you’ll be seeing more of me here!” you try to reply matching his cheer you see his smile grow a tad more if that’s even possible.

“yea i hope so!” he replies warmly before turning tail catching up with his friends at their table. Getting started on their drinks you drink in his body as he’s walk back to their table.

dilf kiri who blushes a little when his friends tell him how the cashier was checking him out, and most definitely flirting with him. of course he’s denying such a think with a “she was just being friendly and doing her job it wasn’t that.” swatting away his friends words with a grin but almost letting his mind wander.

dilf kiri who looks back over the counter checking you out with his friends thoughts in his head. you weren’t really checking him out right?? you wouldn’t flirt with him he’s probably close to double your age. right? who blushes even more so when you turn around locking eyes you smiling at him brightly from across the cafe.

dilf kiri who tried to compose himself when he sees you come over with their food and drinks, warning them while eyeing him personally to be careful of the hot drinks.

“so will that be all for you guys?” you try to gaze around the table but your eyes almost like magnets go back to the large man in front of you.

“yea that’ll be all thank you sweetheart” he replies for the table seeing his friends almost shoving him to take the shot with their eyes.

“alright i’ll be right back with your check will you pay all together?” cheeks clearly growing red form the nickname he threw in. this time trying to ensuring you look at all three men before the two blondes stare knives at their darker haired friend.

“nah i uh i got it covered, we’ll only be needing one check.” he checks with his friends before replying to you eyes locking with yours once more.

not breaking the eye contact “alright then i’ll be right back with your check” you smile brightly again keeping his gaze for as long as possible before breaking it when you walk too far to maintain it longer.

dilf kiri who’s cheeks redden when denki talks not so quietly about how he should ask out the server. trying to shush the friends as he continues about how she’s “Totally into you and you gotta take the shot!” you stifle your laughter when overhearing the conversation.

Dilf kiri who couldn’t bring himself to ask out you when you bring over the check but is left shocked and blushing when he opens it seeing you gave him a slight discount. he chuckles at the small gesture signing the check and writing something else before hurriedly scribbling it out then, handing the check back with his card inside. your face almost bright red feeling almost too forward with your gesture.

Dilf kiri who’s equally a mess hoping his gesture wasn’t too much or taking your signs wrong. Seeing that he hadn’t taken them wrong at all when he received his receipt seeing your number scribbled on it with your name under the digits. you quickly try to push out a “let me know if you boys need anything else!” before practically running back behind the counter.

dilf kiri who tells his friends to go ahead of him when they finish up their drinks and treats. telling them he’ll catch up in a minute as he heads to the counter.

“y/n.” your head spins around hearing your names seeing the tall man waiting at the counter for you.

“yes kirishima!” you quickly respond spinning around quickly to lock eyes with his almost spilling your drink in the process. his big hands reaching out to your arm to help balance you. blush growing in your face from his touch and realizing you outed that you knew him. “i’m so sor-“ you were cut off by his speaking before you could finish

“no it’s okay sweetheart, you okay?” he says referring to the almost spill which you quickly respond yes before he continues “well i’m glad you know my name, i actually just when i came to tell you. i’ll be sure to text you k?” soaring off his new found confidence given so graciously by you just from your reactions. you nod excitedly a soft smile on your lips confirming you heard him. He’s smiling brightly and heading out the door with a quick “see you soon!” but not before staring you down taking you in one last time before heading to catch up with his friends.

Dilf kiri who shoots you a text as soon as he leaves your cafe *hey it’s kirishima, when are you off so i can take you out?* you giggle like a school girl borderline like a maniac when reading the text practically feeling like you could fly.

✩✩✩

lmk what yall think i need lots of feedback so i know how to improve and better!!! HOPE YOU GUSY ENJOY!! IM GONNA DO MORE PRISON TOJI NEXT :3

[slushycoookie]

Miguel thinks of you... 

His stomach churns at the thought of you. You, a random citizen, he saves one day from a villian attack. Who says thank you when he drops you off on a nearby rooftop. All he tells you is to be careful before swooping down to continue his duty. He doesn't see you again after that.

At least until he saves you again almost a week later. From a building that was going to collapse. He recognizes you immediately when you say thank you again. Miguel was wondering if you were just unlucky, this being your second time in a dangerous situation. But you admit that you wanted to be there, so you could see him again.

Now he thinks you're crazy.

He unexpectedly snaps at you for putting yourself in harm's way. You try to convince him it was a good reason by showing him a large container filled with cookies. Saying that your words weren't enough to express your gratitude. He stares at the container, not sure what to think about the kind gesture. He likes cookies.

You say he can keep the container, implying that you have a bunch of them back home. Miguel didn’t know what to say after taking the container and thanking you. So he left. Once he got home, he enjoyed the misshapen treats, accidentally eating them all in one night. They were delicious.

He knew you said to keep the tupperware but it didn’t feel right keeping what was yours. Sadly, he had no way of communicating to you. Lyla suggested hacking into the cameras to look for you. Miguel didn’t want to do that. It was too creepy.

Instead, he looked for you. Hoping you didn’t stick yourself in another dangerous situation to get him to talk to you. He didn’t know whether to be flattered or concerned. Much to his luck, he managed to find you. Carrying bags of groceries in your arms.

His approach wasn’t the best when he suddenly plops down on the sidewalk to greet you.

“Hi.”

You jump at the appearance of the superhero but quickly compose yourself, “Oh, hi.”

“Need help with those?” He gestures towards your groceries.

“I’m fine.” You say, “You probably have important things to do.”

“I do.” Miguel starts, causing you to raise an eyebrow, “Like helping a citizen with their groceries.” He waits for you to answer, ignoring all of the passersby who gawk at his presence.

“Okay.”

Miguel picks you up with one hand, making sure you are secure. He swings you to your apartment and he tries not to laugh as you hold on tight, your face buried in his chest. He drops you off on the rooftop of your building. He gives you a minute to compose yourself from the new form of transportation as you still stick to his side for stability.

“I’ve saved you twice. I thought you’d be used to this by now.”

A breathy laugh escapes you, “The big difference between those times and now was the adrenaline.” Once you were good, he hands you the container that was inside a pack he was carrying. Your eyes lit up at the empty space, “Did you like them?”

“I did. Thank you.” His stomach twists at your smile. He’s now paying attention to the rise in his heartbeat and the sweat forming on his palms.

“I said you can keep the container though. You didn’t have to give it back to me.”

Miguel takes a step closer to you on his own, “I wanted to. Didn’t feel right to keep what was yours.”

“Or…” You take the container, a grin forming across your lips. “You want some more.”

It was his turn to laugh, “What kind of hero am I if I ask someone for more cookies?”

“A good one.” The look you give him makes him want to melt. Or run away. Why was he like this? “I don’t have a problem making more.” You place the container in one of your bags, “Do you have a preference?”

He rubs the back of his neck, “Those lemon sugar cookies were good…” He wanted to record the delightful sounds of your laugh so he could listen to it later.

“Okay, big guy. Same place tomorrow?”

“What, like a burning building?”

“No…” You point at the rooftop you two were standing on, “Here. I promise to not be in danger this time.”

“I’ll hold you to it.”

You gave him a wave of goodbye and he did the same before jumping off of the rooftop to see who else needed saving. He was looking forward to tomorrow so he could see you again.

A/N: I'm always writing everything but the thing I need to write LOL

[sexlapis]

Ho! I loooooooveeee your actor toji fics! Is it possible to get added to the taglist? Thank you ~

Also an idea: a bts scene of reader getting sick on set(perhaps even collapsing) due to fatigue and toji taking care of them- I feel like that'd be such a hit ship moment irl :D

thank you for liking my fics <3 you can be added to the tag list 🩵.

and omg yeah i love that idea of reader overworking themselves and toji looking after them :’). and yeah i didn’t make it a behind the scenes clip i made a short fic abt it bc i do not know when to stop.. like give me an idea and i will fly away w it like a bird liek..i don’t even think this is what you asked for srsly…i hope you don’t mind (but i’ll add it to my tojiyn headcanons hehe)

cw: actor toji x actress reader, hurt/comfort, angst to fluff, swearing, petnames (‘kid’, ik people don’t like this one but i think it’s so sweet & so toji :)), collapsing, mentions of skipping meals/not eating, poor sleeping habits, feelings of loneliness & inadequacy, crying, toji taking care of reader, i made this way more angsty than you asked sorry :(

wc: 2k+

you dragged yourself through the doors of the studio, immediately bombarded by directors, stylists, scrip writers and other cast members on your way to the dressing room, only fuelling your fatigue and stress.

sleep was a foreign concept at this point. five hours at most. so were healthy, filling meals - the last time you ate was yesterday at noon, and for breakfast today all you had was a cup of coffee, not helping your nervous, exhausted state.

admittedly, you were not doing very well. you felt that your acting was subpar and you felt lonely and isolated on set. while everyone went with their friends for a break or lunch, you sat by yourself in your dressing room, your only company being the silence.

sure, toji was also on set too, but he played a very minor role, so he wasn’t always there. and even when he was sometimes, he would hang out with the other crew members, which wasn’t a problem of course, but it did sting a little when he chose them over you.

you just felt so lonely, anxious and quite frankly upset at yourself and the circumstances you find yourself in.

there are a few knocks at your dressing room door and you weakly tell them to come in.

toji peeks is head in. “hey, kid. we start in five..” he takes a look at your weary face, dark eye bags prominent even through the makeup the stylists caked on and the frown on your lips and just knows something is wrong.

“are you ‘right?” he asks quietly, like you’re a deer who’s about to run away at the slightest of sounds.

“yes, i’m fine.” you lie, a voice in the back of your mind wishing he’d just ignore you like everyone else on this damn set does.

“‘you sure? ‘cause you don’t look-”

“i said im fine! just get out.” you snap, heart beating and breathing heavily at your own outburst.

fuck. you didn’t mean to say that.

but toji doesn’t look offended. he just nods and walks away footsteps fading as you put your head in your hands and sob.

so there you are, acting in front of the camera with your colleague in a scene where toji appears in too and you just seem off. everyone assumes it’s just not your day today and they’re not exactly wrong. you lines were slightly forced, tired and you were jittery and clearly apprehensive, like you didn’t even want to be here.

“cut!” the director calls out, more than annoyed with your behaviour. it was the sixth take and you’re really trying to make it believable, but it’s futile.

“this is the sixth take _____. this is ridiculous. get your act together. let’s take five.”

you look down at your shoes, face hot and chest thudding with embarrassment due to the director calling you out in front of everybody. tears well up in your eyes and you sigh, blinking them away as everyone starts talking again, walking away leaving you standing there like an idiot.

it all becomes too much for you. your empty stomach, oncoming headache, exhausted body, dry mouth, furrowed eyebrows, sweaty palms-

you let your script fall out of your hand as you stumble off the green screen, trying to get to your room before a hand is grabbing your arm. you turn around and it’s toji again.

“hey..” he leans down slightly to your height, scanning you over once. “you don’t look so good, _____-”

you shrug him off, vision becoming blurred with black static and limbs heavy and shaky. “i-i jus’ need to go. to my..uhm-” you stop, rubbing a hand down your face harshly. “i just-”

and then there is black.

౨ৎ

you come to and realise that you are laying on your dressing room couch, staring up at the ceiling. reaching up, you feel a wet, cool cloth on your head. you take it off. still fuzzy and body essentially lethargic, you try to sit up.

“hey, hey, hey.” toji whispers.

oh, toji’s here.

“take it easy.” he helps you sit up on the arm of the couch. he hands you a bottle of water and you drink it like a god.

“wait, what happened?” you ask, still confused and disoriented.

“you fuckin’ fainted that’s what,” he states bluntly. “scared the fuckin’ dogshit outta me.”

“oh.”

toji sits beside you on a chair, looking at you closely. you look down.

“the med team checked you out.” he tells you. “said you fainted, collapsed-whatever the fuck. ‘cos of stress and exhaustion. they even checked your blood sugar and said it was low as fuck.” he pauses. “not dangerously low,” he adds at the sight of your worried expression, “but.. low enough.”

you sigh, falling back on the couch. you think back to how the director shouted at you, how annoyed he was, and how humiliated you felt. tears start to form again and you cover your face with your hands, not wanting to cry in front of toji. you felt like you’ve had enough embarrassment for today.

toji leans forward. “what’s happening with you?”

the way he said it, so soft and concerned, makes the tears fall down and cause sobs to escape your mouth, hiccuped breaths falling from your mouth.

“hey, hey, hey..” toji coos. he reaches to you and makes you sit up again so he can take you into his arms. you let him, sobbing into his shoulder and sucking up all the comfort he gives you. toji’s big hand strokes your hair and the other caresses your back softly.

“shh, sh, sh…” he calms you down a little, you sobs turning into sniffles. he leans back and gives you space but his hands stay planted on your back. “tell toji what’s wrong.”

you hum sadly, looking down and gulping. “i’m..i’m tired. i wanna sleep..”

toji waits for you to continue. he can see you want to say more so he doesn’t hurry you along, he just rubs your back and nods to let you know you’re listening.

“i..” you take a breath, “i dunno what to do..i can’t do this fucking role.. i’m fucking tired half the fucking day and my so called colleagues don’t even like me!” you try to calm yourself down, taking another shaky breath. “and i just feel..lonely all the time..” you cry out the last few words, feeling another sob session coming up and toji pulls you close, letting you ruin his shirt with your tears as he rocks you back and forth in his arms.

“it’s okay, it’s okay..” he coos, resting his face in your hair.

you both stay like that for a few moments, you weeps dying down before toji talks.

“you can play this part, _____. ‘you have any idea how good your are, huh? you can act circles around half ‘these guys.”

you scoff, pulling your lips together. “i dunno about that..”

“‘m serious. _____, you can act, okay? ‘wouldn’t have made it this far if you couldn’t.”

“yeah but..this one’s hard..” you sigh, voice cracking but toji doesn’t let you start again.

“yeah, acting’s hard. but i can help you,” toji cups your wet face with his hands, wiping the tear streaks that paint you face, “we can all help you. the crew, your friends, that bitchass director. i’ll put a gun to everyone’s head to make them fuckin’ help you with this.”

you giggle at his seriousness and he huffs, relieved that you’re relaxing a little.

“they don’t hate you, y’know. everybody on set. the cast. they just think you’re a little shy and quiet. they don’t hate you, okay?” toji reassures you. you nod absentmindedly and he shakes your head from side to side to make you pay attention, making you smile, eyes crinkling even though they’re still tear stricken. “there she is..who the fuck could hate you, huh?”

“ugh, toji.” you roll your eyes, sniffling and rubbing your face. you pull away from him. “ugh..i just want my bed right now.”

“yeah..i know it ain’t my place but told the director that you’re taking a few days off. you need a break, kid.”

you didn’t even argue with him. you couldn’t.

“yeah, i do.” you agree.

suddenly, a loud rumble from your stomach erupts, it was like an earthquake.

toji laughs. “someone’s hungry.”

you groan. “‘m starving. haven’t eaten since yesterday.”

“we’re getting you something to eat.” he states, leaving no room for objections.

toji stands, holding his hand out for you to take. you do, his large, calloused hand dwarfing yours as he helps you stand up. “can you walk?”

“i will if there’s food involved.”

“that’s good.” toji chuckles, “how’s takeout sound?”

a/n: had to write a whole fic abt this i apologise 🥸 will add the tag list later i just keep forgetting the users </3

[rinhaler]

May I humbly ask for Satoru Gojo stepcest with noncon dacryphilia and breeding kink? No pressure it's just something that crossed my mind

of COURSE you may sweetheart! Thank you for the request, sorry it's a little short but I hope it's okay :3

warnings: 18+ MDNI, noncon, fem!reader, stepcest, step bro!gojo, vaginal sex, he pushes fingers in once and then pulls 'em out, dacryphilia, creampie, breeding kink, hair pulling.

words: 0.9k

“I knew you had a thing for Suguru… how embarrassing.” your step-brother teases you as he enters your room. You scoff, hanging up on your friend and tossing your phone down on your dressing table. “What? Something I said?” he chuckles.

“I can’t stand you, leave me alone.”

“Awe, don’t be like that, let me help. He is my best friend after all. No one knows him better than I do.” he reminds you.

The offer is intriguing and almost too good to refuse. He smirks as he watches your thought process through your facial expressions. You catch him, shaking your head and turning your nose up at his offer. You turn to look in yourself mirror, touching up your makeup.

“You got me. I can’t help, he’d never be interested in you.”

“Why would you say that?” you look at him again, pouting. “I’m minding my own business in here. You just came in and tried to ruin my day.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” he responds. “I don’t want you to fuck him.”

“Hah, why? Because you want to fuck me?”

“That’s right.” he nods, coming further into your room and shutting the door behind himself.

“Well that will never happen!” you slam your blush palette down on the table. You bend to pick up your purse, and you catch the way his head tilts in your mirror to check out your ass. “Satoru. Never gonna happen.”

He rolls his eyes as he steps closer to you. You’re too busy rummaging through your handbag to notice until he’s behind you. Before you can yell at him, his hand covers your mouth. You had no idea he was so strong, unable to fight him as he pulls you over to your bed. He collapses on top of you and shoves your face into the mattress.

“Sweetheart… you don’t have a choice.”

Your kicking does little to dissuade him, and neither does your muffled speech as you try and think of anything to say to stop this from happening. Of course, it’s all in vain. He pushes your skirt up to reveal your plump ass and lacy panties. His big hands make light work of ripping the material apart, giving himself easy access to your tight heat.

His fingers weave through your hair, pulling your head up away from the patch below that you had warmed with your heavy breathing.

“You cryin’?” he smirks. You hate that he can see what he’s reduced you to. You’re scared and tense and all too aware of what he’s about to do. He pulls out his cock with ease, fisting it a few times before lining it up with your tight hole. “If you tell me you want this, I’ll poke you.” he chuckles, the unmistakable laughter signifying that he’s going to get what he wants no matter what you say. It’s so annoying, normally. But right now, it’s harrowing.

“You—”

“Yeah, princess. I’ll poke you.” he moves his fingers to prod at your entrance, sliding two of them inside and coating them in your slick. “Juuuust like that. And it won’t hurt as much when you take my cock, it’s big, y’know.”

You ignore him, opting to put your face back into the mattress to stifle yourself for what’s to come. He shrugs, his offer and kindness isn’t going to be repeated.

“Suit yourself… guess I’ll have to be a little rough.”

He pushes his tip against your entrance, hissing as your hole swallows him beautifully. It’s almost like you want this. He pushes in further… further… further. Until your sopping cunt meets the base of his cock. Your slick coats his white, trimmed pubes and they look like diamond dust.

You cry out as he moves his hips, tears streaming down your face without any sign of stopping. He smirks, sadistically, understanding that you regret not taking him up on his generous offer.

“You can be as loud as you want, little sister. No one is home… so scream for me.”

As much as you want to, you fight it. You keep your screams to yourself, but the same can’t be said for your tears. He pulls your hair again, almost ripping it from the roots as he pulls your face close to his own. His head tilts forward so he can lick the salty tears pouring down your cheeks.

“Fuck, gets me goin’ when pretty things like you cry around my cock.” he tells you, hips stuttering as he continues fucking into you. “You know what else I like? Cumming inside. ‘nd I’m real close.”

“You can’t! Pull out! Please Sato—”

“Oh no. Does my poor little sister use condoms? You aren’t on the pill? Well, guess I’ll just have to knock you up. Suguru really won’t want’cha then, you’ll be aaaall mine.”

Your fingers grasp as the duvet material beneath you as you try to ground yourself, you’re close, but you’re hoping he’ll cum first. You leave your body in the final moments of this encounter, picturing which drug store is closest and which one opens earliest so you can get the morning after pill as soon as possible. All the while Gojo is fantasising how cute you’d look stuffed full with his baby.

He grunts as his balls tighten and empty inside of you.

“I should pull out… but I don’t wanna waste a drop.” both of his palms slam down on your ass, and he laughs at the way you jolt forward. “Not that is matters.”

“What… do you mean?”

“Well, sweetheart, you didn’t think that was it… did you?”

© 2023 rinitxshi

[pucksandpower]

All Locked Up

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: your boyfriend losing the key to your handcuffs was bad enough … but him calling Max and Lando to help look for them? You may never be able to show your face in public again

Warnings: 18+ content implied, mentions of accidental bruising, wrongful assumptions of violence

“Mon amour, have you seen the key to the handcuffs?” Charles calls out from the bathroom.

You strain against the metal cuffs locking your wrists to the headboard. “No, I thought you had it!”

Charles appears in the doorway, eyebrows knitted together. “I could have sworn I left it on the nightstand, but it’s not there.”

You rattle the chain connecting you to the bed. “Well you need to find it, because I’m starting to lose feeling in my hands here.”

“Right, right, I’m sorry,” Charles says, running a hand through his hair. He starts opening drawers and peering under furniture.

You watch him scramble around the room searching fruitlessly. After ten minutes you sigh. “Any luck?”

Charles slumps down on the edge of the bed. “No, it’s gone. I don’t know where it could be.”

You give him a pointed look.

“I know, I know, this is my fault,” Charles says. “Don’t worry, I’ll figure this out.”

He pulls out his phone and scrolls through his contacts. After a moment, he puts the phone to his ear. “Max? Hi, I need your help with something ...”

You groan quietly. Calling Max for help with this is guaranteed to be embarrassing.

“So here’s the thing,” Charles says into the phone, “Y/N and I were having some fun with handcuffs, and I seem to have misplaced the key ...”

You let your head fall back against the headboard. This day is just getting better and better.

“Yes, she’s still cuffed to the bed,” Charles continues. “I’ve looked everywhere for the key. Can you come over and help me find it?”

Charles looks over at you sheepishly. “Okay, see you soon.”

He hangs up and gives you an apologetic smile. “Max is on his way.”

You sigh. “Wonderful.”

Soon there’s a knock at the front door. Charles jumps up to answer it. You hear Charles and Max’s muffled voices for a minute before they enter the bedroom.

Max takes one look at you handcuffed naked to the bed and immediately spins around. “Whoa, okay, wasn’t expecting that.”

You feel your face flush. “Hi Max.”

“I told you she was still cuffed to the bed,” Charles says with a smirk.

Max keeps his back turned. “Right, you failed to mention she was naked though!"

“It must have slipped my mind,” Charles laughs.

“Can we focus please?” You cut in. “Find the key so I can get out of these cuffs.”

“Yes ma’am,” Max says. He and Charles start searching the room, checking under the bed and nightstands.

After twenty fruitless minutes, Charles collapses on the bed next to you. “It’s hopeless, the key is gone.”

You rattle the cuffs in frustration. “What are we going to do? I can’t stay chained up like this forever.”

Max thinks for a moment. “Maybe Lando can help? He’s good at finding things.”

Charles perks up. “Good idea! I’ll give him a call.”

You close your eyes in dismay as Charles calls Lando. This day just continues to spiral.

Soon Lando arrives, thankfully a little more tactful about the situation than Max. The three of them scour the apartment, but still no sign of the lost key.

You’ve resorted to making small talk with Lando to pass the time. “So how’s your season going so far?”

Lando leans casually against the dresser. “Oh you know, up and down. But I got a few podiums, so it could have been worse.”

You’re impressed. “That’s awesome, congrats!"

“Thanks! I think if I keep consistently scoring points, I might be able to beat Max in the championship this year,” Lando jokes.

“In your dreams!" Max yells from the living room. You and Lando laugh.

But then, Charles and Max return to the bedroom, both empty-handed.

Charles runs a hand through his hair. “I think we have to face it — the key is gone.”

You rattle the handcuffs in frustration. “So what, you’re just going to leave me chained up here forever?”

“Of course not, mon cœur,” Charles says, sitting down beside you. “We’ll figure something out.”

Max nods. “There’s always plan B.”

You look between the three of them hesitantly. “Do I want to know what plan B is?”

Lando grins and holds up a paper clip. “Lock picking. I found a YouTube video.”

Your eyes widen slightly. “That does not seem ideal.”

“Do you have a better option?” Charles asks, taking your hands in his gently. “I promise we’ll be careful. And if the paper clip doesn’t work, we can always call a locksmith.”

You sigh, relenting. “Okay, fine. Just please be gentle, my wrists are already sore.”

The three of them get to work carefully trying to pick the lock on the cuffs with the paper clip. You try to stay still, watching them fiddle with the tiny metal piece.

After several tense minutes, you finally hear a click. The cuff around your left wrist springs open.

“Yes!” Lando cheers. “Told you I could do it.”

Charles kisses your freed wrist gently. “See, that wasn’t so bad.”

With a bit more work, they get the other cuff unlocked too. You bring your arms down with a groan of relief, stretching out the sore muscles.

Charles pulls you into a hug. “I’m so sorry about all this. Next time we’ll be more careful.”

You laugh, hugging him back. “It’s okay, it all worked out in the end. But next time let’s stick to something that doesn’t require a key.”

Charles smiles. “Deal.” He turns to Max and Lando. “Thank you both for your help, I really owe you.”

“Anytime,” Lando says. “This was way more exciting than my usual Sunday plans.”

“Now, I believe you gentlemen should give me and my girlfriend some privacy,” Charles says, slipping an arm around your waist.

Max and Lando quickly start heading for the door.

“Have fun you two,” Lando calls over his shoulder. “But maybe put the key somewhere obvious when you decide on an encore!”

You and Charles collapse into laughter as the apartment door closes behind them. Charles pulls you into his lap and kisses you deeply.

“I really am sorry about all this,” he murmurs against your lips.

You smile, running your fingers through his hair. “It’s okay, it made for quite the adventurous morning! But going forward, let’s keep the handcuffs between just the two of us.”

Charles grins. “No complaints here.”

***

Later that evening, you and Charles are having dinner with his family. You’re seated at a table on the patio of a stunning Italian restaurant with a beautiful view of the water. The conversation flows comfortably as you all eat.

After the main course is cleared, you reach for your wine glass. As you lift your arm, the sleeve of your dress slides back, revealing the light bruising circling your wrists.

Pascale notices immediately, her eyebrows drawing together in concern. “Y/N, what happened to your wrists?”

You quickly tug your sleeves down, cheeks flushing. “Oh, it’s nothing. Just a little accident this morning.”

Lorenzo and Arthur lean in to peer at your wrists curiously. You self-consciously tuck your hands under the table.

“Are you sure it’s nothing?” Pascale asks gently. “Those bruises look quite bad.”

You open your mouth to respond, but Charles chooses that moment to get up from the table. “Excuse me, I’m just going to run to the restroom quickly.”

He squeezes your shoulder as he walks past, oblivious to his family’s concern. You watch him disappear towards the bathrooms, internally screaming.

Pascale reaches across the table to take your hand. “You know you can tell us anything, right? We just want to help.”

You shift awkwardly. “Really, it’s not a big deal.”

Lorenzo frowns. “Did Charles do this to you?” Arthur nods, looking worried.

“What? No!” You say quickly. “Charles would never hurt me.”

Pascale rubs your arm comfortingly. “You don’t have to cover for him, dear. If he’s hurting you-”

“No, no, it’s nothing like that!” You interrupt, face flaming. How do you even begin to explain this?

Just then Charles returns to the table. He immediately senses the tense mood. “Everything okay here?”

“Y/N has some bad bruising on her wrists,” Pascale says seriously. “Do you know anything about that, Charles?”

Charles’ eyes widen almost comically. “Oh, that! No no, it’s not what you think.”

“Can one of you please just explain what happened?” Lorenzo asks in exasperation.

You and Charles share an awkward look. There’s no getting out of this now.

Charles clears his throat. “So, Y/N and I were, uh … having some intimate time this morning. And I may have accidentally … handcuffed her to the bed … and lost the key.”

You cover your flaming face with your hands as Charles’ family stares at you both in stunned silence.

Arthur nearly spits out his drink. “Handcuffs? You kinky bastard.”

“Arthur!” Pascale scolds as Lorenzo tries and fails to hold back laughter.

Charles squeezes your shoulder apologetically. “It was just a silly accident. I promise I didn’t hurt her.”

You peek out from behind your fingers. “I tried to tell you it wasn’t a big deal.”

Pascale pats your hand affectionately. “I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions, dear. But thank you for being honest with us. Even if there are some things I wish I didn’t know about my son.”

Charles kisses your temple. “No more handcuffs though, lesson learned. Right, mon amour?”

You chuckle, relaxing now that the awkwardness has passed. “Right. I think we’ll stick to the fluffy ones from now on.”

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Workout Buddy

Sam and Dean Winchester & little sister!reader

Requested by Anonymojs

Synopsis: some drabbles of you growing up as the boys’ workout buddy

“I wanna try!” Dean turned in surprise when he saw you eyeing the weight rack that he’d just finished using. He wasn’t sure how you’d managed to get into the motel gym until he saw Sam hopping on the treadmill—he was supposed to keep you in the room.

“Really man?” Dean called out to Sam.

“She’s fine,” Sam insisted before putting in his headphones and starting up the treadmill. Dean huffed, looking around for something for you to do.

“Here,” he said finally, grabbing a weight bar that had no weights attached and handing it to you. “Like this.” He demonstrated with his own bar—although his had plenty of weight on it, of course.

“I do it!” Dean forgot his annoyance when he saw your huge grin as you curled the weight towards you, just as Dean had.

“Yeah, yeah you are,” Dean encouraged. “Now come over here and I’ll show you how to use the leg machine.”

…

“Hi Sammy!” Sam grunted in surprise when you suddenly jumped on his back. He collapsed from his former push-up position, almost smacking his chin on the floor before stopping himself.

“What are you doing?” He asked.

“I wanna workout with you!” You giggled. “Now up!”

Sam groaned, but listened anyway, pushing himself up before lowering back down, trying to continue his push-up count from before you’d jumped on him.

“Fourteen…” he muttered under his breath. “Fifteen…”

He was struggling to keep count with you giggling and squirming on his back, and eventually he gave up, just lowering and raising himself sporadically to give you a better ride. Your happy squeals and loud laughs were well worth the interrupted routine.

…

“C’mon Dean, it’s not too heavy!”

“Kid, there’s no way you’re gonna lift that.”

“Oh yeah? Watch me.” You pushed Dean aside and took his place under the weight rack, waiting to make sure he was there to spot you—you may have been acting tough, but Dean could lift a ton, and you were just a little afraid that he was right, and his current set was too heavy for you; not that you’d ever tell him that.

“Ok, easy,” Dean said as you slowly pushed up on the bar.

“I got it,” you insisted, your face screwing up in effort as you pushed with all your might. The bar clanged against its holder as it—very slowly, and with great effort—began to lift. “I got it!” You said, triumph painting your words this time. “I got it, I—“ you had slowly lowered the bar, but suddenly you found that you couldn’t lift it back up into the holder. “I don’t got it, I don’t got it, Dean—“

“I got you,” Dean soothed, grabbing the bar quickly with both hands before its weight could overwhelm you. The two of you managed to return the bar to its original position before you quickly stepped away.

“Ok so maybe that’s enough for today,” you insisted, breathing hard.

“Hey, you did good,” Dean said with a proud smile. “But you’re right, you’re done for now.”

…

“Can I come?” Sam turned to see you all dressed and ready to go for a run.

“You sure you want to?” He asked.

“Hey, I’m not Dean,” you insisted. “I happen to think that a little jogging now and then won’t kill you. So are we going or what?”

The two of you returned almost an hour later, sweaty and exhausted yet smiling.

“Gosh, now there’s two of them,” Dean groaned when he caught sight of you. “Kid, haven’t I told you how crazy running is? I mean, take one look at Sam and you’ll see it,” Dean continued, gesturing at Sam. You had to admit—Sam was a sweaty mess.

“Well when we’re running from werewolves and you run out of breath and get eaten first, then we’ll see who’s laughing,” you said with a grin.

“Yeah, yeah,” Dena grumbled. “Go shower, both of you, you stink.”

“Hey, thanks for coming,” Sam said to you as you both headed down the hallway of the bunker to your rooms. “It’s nice to have a running pal.”

“Right back at you. Now get out of here, Dean’s right, you stink.”

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl @chocorade @aestheticdaisies @inlovewhithafairytale @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl @casmustdiee @987coley

[wosoamazing]

Sick Days

Blurt/One-Shot | Diabetes & Love Warnings: Sickness (vomiting), Sever low blood sugar, passing out, mentions of seizures, hospitals, ambulances. This is probably crap but yeah.... wrote it and decide just to post it...

You were flopped against your Mum’s body as she held you whilst also trying to carry everything else, she stopped at the door to the gym, knocking before sticking her head in, 

“Hey Leah, I’m so sorry, I know we were meant to spend the night hanging out and I was taking you home but she is really sick and so I think it's best I take her home, hopefully then no one else will get it either,” Leah saw the way you looked slightly green and decided your Mum was going to need help, this was the first time you had been sick since your diagnosis and it looked like it wasn’t going to be pretty.

“I’ll still come if you want, help you with y/n and keep you entertained while you’re cooped up in the house,” Leah offered.

“Yeah okay. I’ll meet you in the car?” your Mum said, gaining a nod from Leah.

-

“You’re going with Russo right?” Viv asked as Leah entered the locker room.

“Yeah,” Leah said as she started frantically packing her things.

“Good, we were worried, y/n looks really sick,” Katie said “Keep us updated?” The Irish woman was pretty sure Leah sent her a nod of confirmation.

“Leah if either of you guys need anything just call, and I’ll be straight over,”

“Will do, thank you all, sorry for leaving so abruptly,” Leah told everyone as she walked out the room.

It had been a few hours since you got home and you kept vomiting, Alessia was getting worried and Leah was nervous that she would soon need another set of hands to help her, so she called kim. Your Mum was looking more green by the minute and seemed to be sweating a lot more than she should have. Leah was also pretty sure she heard your Mum coughing one of the times she went to the bathroom.

“Leah, can you call an ambulance?” Alessia asked just as Kim arrived at the front door.

“Okay, so it is bad, Leah you good calling the ambulance?” The older of the pair nodded at their captain as she was already dialling 111, “What do you need Alessia?” “Can you put some towels down beside her, she’s most likely going to vomit once I do this,” your Mum asked and Kim nodded before quickly running off and returning with some towels. She placed them in front of you and your Mum quickly gave you the glucagon injection, causing you to cry, before suddenly you had thrown up again, but you barely had the energy to do that, your cries were so weak and everyone in that room hoped the paramedics would be there soon. Your Mum was rubbing your back, trying her hardest not to cry yet, she didn’t want to scare you.

“I know bubba, I’m sorry, the ambulance should be here to help soon, I’m so sorry, I love you so much.”

Just as the paramedics walked into the kitchen, you were throwing up again and your Mum and Kim quickly stood up letting them get to work, Leah having told them everything they needed to know already.

You Mum stood up and immediately was pulled into Leah’s arms, where she just started sobbing violently, and Leah had to hold her tightly to make sure she didn’t collapse.

“We’re going to take her to Watford, they may then want to transfer her to one of the bigger paediatric centres, but it's best we get her stabilised first, unfortunately only two of you can travel with us, and they most likely will only let two of you in with her anyway at any one time,” The paramedics told the three women but mainly it was aimed at Leah and Kim, with your Mum being so out of it now.

“I’ll stay here and clean up, you go with them, Leah, just keep me updated,” Kim told Leah who nodded.

“You can sit in the back with them both if you want,” One of the paramedics told Leah who nodded before grabbing your Mum’s phone, and her keys before grabbing her own phone, and going to sit next to Alessia in the ambulance, who held onto Leah's hand like a lifeline.

You were wheeled ahead as your Mum and Leah, well more Leah were left to do some paperwork, Alessia felt a panic surge through her body when she saw your body start seizing, immediately you were surrounded by doctors, she started swaying slightly, accidentally bumping into Leah as her feet became unsteady, “Less, you okay? Less” Leah said just before Alessia passed out, “Shit, Less,” Leah dropped the clipboard and pen to catch her before lowering her on the ground, positioning her on her side.

“Why didn’t you tell us you weren’t feeling well,” Leah asked your Mum sternly who was now sat in a hospital bed.

“I ah-” “Is that what you were doing every time you went to the bathroom? Throwing up?”

“I’m sorry,” Alessia mumbled before beginning to cry, causing Leah to climb into the bed next to her, pulling her into her chest.

“We’re all here for you Less, you just need to let us be there for you,” “I just, I didn’t want to feel like a burden, and I just, I’m a single Mum, it’s just me,” “But it’s not just you Less, we are all here for you, her diagnosis has changed nothing, we will look after both of you, just like we always have. Would it make you feel better if I made everyone do a professional diabetes class rather than just going off what you have taught us? I mean I already have but I would be happy to sit through another one and force everyone else to do one too, I'm sure they would all be just as happy to learn so they could help out though. Does that sound good?” Leah felt Alessia nod into her shoulder before they both started to doze off.

[thatlotuscookie]

Hey hypno! Could you write a My Hero Academia request for Bakugo x Reader? Maybe something where the reader gets hurt during a mission, and Bakugo freaks out because he’s secretly been really protective of them but never admitted his feelings? Thanks in advance! I love your writing already and can’t wait to read what you come up with!

✧･ﾟ: a/n: first ask, yay! I really love this idea! Bakugo trying to hold back his protective feelings is so him. Since you didn’t specify a gender, I’ll make it a gn! reader so everyone can enjoy it. Thanks for the request—can’t wait for you to read it! <3

✧ Title: ✧ Fragile ✧ ✧ Characters: Bakugo Katsuki, Reader (Gender Neutral) ✧ Genre: Angst, Romance ✧ Rating: T (for Teen) ✧ Summary: A mission goes wrong, and you’re severely injured. Bakugo’s reaction exposes feelings he’s kept hidden. ✧ Content Warnings: Injury, blood, mild language, emotional distress ✧ Word Count: 1008 // 5.6k chars

A sharp, searing pain ripped through your side as you stumbled back, clutching your wound. You forced your trembling hand to reach for your comm device. "I... I think I’m hit," you gasped, your voice barely making it through the static.

"Fall back! We’ve got this, don’t push yourself!" Izuku’s concerned voice rang through your earpiece, but it felt distant—everything felt distant. The world around you seemed to dim, your vision blurring as the pain intensified. Your legs gave out beneath you, the ground hard and cold as you collapsed.

Through the haze, you barely registered the sound of hurried footsteps before a familiar figure appeared beside you, kneeling in the dirt. Blonde hair and the unmistakable flash of red eyes came into focus.

"Bakugo?" you whispered, blinking up at him as he loomed over you, his face ashen.

"Shut up," he growled, though his voice wavered. "Don’t talk. Don’t move, idiot. I’m calling for medics." His hands hovered just above your injury, trembling as though he didn’t dare touch you, afraid it would make things worse.

"Bakugo..." you murmured again, feeling the exhaustion wash over you. He looked almost... scared. It was a side of him you had never seen before.

“Why... why the hell did you jump in front of that attack?!” His voice cracked, his usual bite now laced with something deeper. "You could’ve gotten killed, you idiot!" His breath came out ragged, like the thought of losing you was too much for him to bear.

Despite the pain, you managed a weak smile. "Because... that’s what heroes do," you whispered, your words barely audible.

But that only seemed to make him angrier. His eyes flared with something raw—something vulnerable. "I don’t give a damn about that right now!" he snapped, but his voice broke at the end, the bravado slipping just enough for you to notice. "You think I care about that dumb hero crap when it’s you lying here like this?"

His words hung in the air, heavier than any explosion he’d ever created. The weight of them hit you harder than the attack that had taken you down. You stared up at him, heart pounding, butterflies fluttering wildly in your stomach despite the pain. "Bakugo... what are you—?"

"I couldn’t—" he stopped himself, shaking his head as if he was fighting some internal battle. His hand finally pressed down on your wound, but it was more than just an effort to stop the bleeding. It was desperate, like if he held on tight enough, he could keep you tethered to him. "I’m not gonna lose you. I won’t."

The words were barely a whisper, but they hit you harder than any of his explosions ever had. Your heart clenched as you looked up at him, his face so close, yet the vulnerability in his eyes made him feel miles away.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, not from the pain but from the overwhelming wave of emotion coursing through you. "Bakugo, I—"

"Don’t say anything," he cut you off, his voice rough, almost pleading. "I’m not good at this. You know I’m not good with feelings, with... with any of this crap. But don’t you dare die on me, got it?" His voice cracked again, and he turned his head, refusing to meet your gaze. "I need you."

Your breath hitched, his words settling in your chest like a spark ready to ignite. You had known Bakugo for a long time, had seen him fight, had seen him angry and fierce, but this? This was something else entirely. This was fear. Fear of losing you.

"Promise me," he said, his voice quieter now, barely above a whisper. "Promise me you’ll stay with me."

You swallowed hard, tears slipping down your cheeks. Your heart was pounding so hard it hurt, but it wasn’t from the injury—it was from him. From the way his hand shook as he pressed it against your side, from the way his eyes, usually so sharp and fiery, were now filled with a raw kind of desperation you had never seen before. "I promise," you whispered, your voice soft but firm.

His shoulders sagged slightly, as though a weight had been lifted, but the tension in his body didn’t ease. He turned his head, yelling for the medics, his voice harsh and commanding. Yet, even as he called for help, his hand never left you, a constant, warm pressure against your side, grounding you, keeping you here with him.

And in that moment, as the chaos of the battle raged on around you, all you could focus on was him. Bakugo Katsuki, the boy who had always been so strong, so determined to push everyone away, now clinging to you like you were his only lifeline.

"I train like hell every day," he muttered, his voice low, almost as if he was speaking to himself. "Not because I wanna be number one... but because I don’t want to lose anyone else."

Your chest tightened as his words sunk in, the full weight of his confession settling over you. He wasn’t just scared of losing you today—he had been scared of losing you all along.

"I don’t know what I’d do without you, idiot," he said, his voice barely a whisper now, filled with a vulnerability that broke your heart and made it soar at the same time.

As the medics finally arrived and began tending to your wound, Bakugo didn’t move. He stayed by your side, his hand still resting over yours, his fiery red eyes never leaving your face.

For the first time, you saw the real Bakugo. Not the explosive, loud-mouthed hero-in-training, but the boy underneath it all—the one who was scared to lose the people he cared about. And your heart ached, not from the injury but from the realization that maybe, just maybe, he had been trying to protect you in his own way all along.

Maybe Bakugo Katsuki wasn’t just made of explosions and fire.

Maybe, deep down, he was fragile, too.