#I’m not saying teens can’t watch and enjoy it

[tender-emotional-music]

Netflix needs to stop promoting ST as a teen show for season 5

[stevie-petey]

episode five: the flayed

Slowly Steve aims away, the sound trickling against another wall now, and you share a disgusted look with Robin. With a sigh, she squeezes your hand. “If we make it out of here alive, I promise I’ll throw you the best birthday party ever.” “I don’t know, I think Steve peeing five feet away from me will be pretty hard to beat.”

Summary: you have the worst birthday of your life, you almost strangle steve with your bare hands and then later get snot all over him, erica is your savior, dustin is doing his best, robin starts to suspect things, and the russians have opened a gate to the upside down. its all pretty miserable tbh. but hey ! at least steve won a fight !

Rating: general, some swearing

Warnings: fem!reader, use of y/n, violence, cursing

Words: 7.2k

Before you swing in: hi loves !! chapter five we get some more insight into bug and her very anxious mind. shes just a stressed out gal. bless her. anyways, bug aside im so so so excited to get to chapter 6. i have so many plans for her <3 but !!! for now pls enjoy chapter 5 and more chaotic steve n bug ;)

-

Everyone is screaming as you all fall. 

You lost your stomach about a hundred feet ago. 

Steve clings onto you, his chest sturdy behind you as your arms tighten around the kids. Their screams are deafening; you know that you’re screaming too, but the pounding in your head rings in your ears and drowns out their fear.

“We’re going down!” Steve screeches, arms now even tighter around you as he braces his back against the wall.

“No shit Harrington!” Robin is on the opposite wall.

Your nails dig into Steve’s arms, both from panic and from anger. “I fucking told you!”

As you scream at the teen, Erica and Dustin pry apart from you and run over to the vault’s buttons. They begin to argue, the rush of the room’s falling almost makes it hard to hear what they’re saying, but you know they’re freaking out just like everyone else. 

“Push the button!” You hear Erica yell at your brother, and he turns to her with pure melodrama to screech back at her, “What do you think I’m doing?”

Steve pulls you further into his chest as he screams at the kids. “Press something! Just press the button!” 

It’s a mess, the room fills with more screaming as everyone argues and pushes against one another in futile attempts to prevent the vault from plummeting even further. Your nails dig further into Steve’s arms and you close your eyes, too numb with fear to do anything else. 

Then, suddenly, everything stops. 

The room comes to a halt, you’re no longer plummeting to imminent death, and everyone crashes against the wall or ground while a giant box lands on you and Steve. 

He takes the brunt of the damage, the box having fallen from behind him, but the impact is enough to send you crashing to the ground with your elbow catching against the side of the shelf the box had come from. Groaning, your knee shoves into Steve’s body, causing him to wheeze in pain. “My groin, you’re on my groin.”

You ignore him and get up, not offering your hand to him, and make sure Dustin and everyone else is okay. Seeing your stoic manner, Steve groans. “A little help here, anyone?”

Again you ignore him and make your way further into the room and stand there, slowly coming to the realization of what’s happened. Your limbs feel heavy, your head is pounding, and you’re locked in an apparent elevator made by Russians after falling hundreds of feet below Starcourt. 

“Is everyone okay?” Robin hesitantly asks after Dustin has helped Steve up from the ground. 

“Fine,” you rasp out, body still in shock. 

Steve’s body is in its own state of shock as he starts to freak out yet again. “Yeah, I’m great, now that I know that Russians can’t design elevators!”

He shoves past Dustin and starts to jab at the buttons once more, but it’s no use. Robin tries to stop him, but Steve continues to press the buttons repeatedly anyways. He’s frantic, his eyes wide an wild with fear, and you stand in the corner as watch as he starts to realize himself just how fucked the five of you are in the current situation. 

After days of ignoring the possible danger, it’s now glaring in his face, and Steve becomes even more frantic when he notices that you’re still standing behind everyone, silent. 

He’s fucked up. 

“It’s an electronic lock.” Robin starts to explain, and you listen silently. “Same as the loading dock door. If we don’t have a keycard, it won’t operate, meaning–”

“We’re stuck in here.” Dustin announces, already having figured it out himself. 

The pounding in your head intensifies at your brother’s words as fear claws its way into your throat. You’ve spent the last two days pleading with everyone to listen to you, to be cautious and not go in over your heads about the Russians, and yet here you are: locked in a fucking elevator with Steve looking at you with utter guilt. 

You had been right the entire time. 

And yet no one bothered to believe you. 

As Erica announces to the group that if she isn’t back by uncle Jack’s party tomorrow then her mom will ransack the town to find her and Steve yells at her about how he doesn’t care about the party if you all end up dead in the Russian elevator, a defeated and deranged laugh begins to swell from your chest before it forms into complete hysterics. 

The laughs fall from your mouth in a frantic manner, and everyone slowly turns to look at you. Erica doesn’t understand what’s going on, though Steve, Dustin, and Robin share horrified looks; they all know that you’ve officially crossed the line that separates anger from insanity.

“Dead in a Russian elevator, huh?” You manage to bitterly spit out in between bouts of laughter. There are tears in your eyes, though no one is sure if they’re from laughing or anger or despair. “God, Harrington, you really fucked up.”

You’re practically wheezing now from laughing so hard, hunched over as the action takes over your entire body. You had been right, and yet you’re now stuck in an elevator with Lucas’ little sister and your own brother, responsible for their lives even though you’ve never asked to be. Ever. 

Steve tugs at his hair, just as overwhelmed as you are. He’s terrified of what he’s dragged you into, and he’s even more terrified that he was the asshole who refused to listen to you. Defensive, he throws his hands up in the air in defeat. “Why would you even listen to me? I mean, I’ve never been right a day in my life!”

“Oh, so this is all my fault?” Your body manages to move towards him, now standing toe to toe as you sneer in his face.

The laughter is now gone. 

“You’re the one who let me continue this stupid Russian adventure–”

“I begged you to listen to me, but you refused to!”

Steve lets out his own deranged laugh. “How was I supposed to know we’d end up in a goddamn elevator of death?”

“God, how hard is it for you to admit that I was right?” Your fists shake as they clench against your side, your voice is raw from screaming. “Would it fucking kill you to admit that maybe I’m not just some pathetic people pleaser and that I actually know what I’m talking about–”

“Guys!” Dustin shoves the two of you apart, afraid that you’ll tear Steve’s eyes out any second. He points up, gathering everyone’s attention again, and reveals an opening in the elevator’s ceiling. “What if we climbed out?”

Hope sparks in your chest when you see the opening and you’re the first to shove past Steve and the others and start climbing up the boxes to get to it. Dustin follows, then Steve, and when the three of you climb up and out of the elevator, the small spark of hope in your chest quickly vanishes when you look up and see the hundreds of feet the elevator has fallen. 

“What were you saying about climbing?” Steve’s voice echoes off of the walls surrounding the elevator. They’re smooth, pure metal and infrastructure, and you swallow down tears. 

There’s no way any of you can possibly climb up them. You’re stuck. 

Admittedly, Dustin handles this realization a lot better than you do. He immediately starts to come up with another plan, he has his radio, he can call for help, and as he comes up with new ways to reignite the hope with Steve, you wordlessly descend back down into the elevator. You don’t spare the two boys another glance as you leave, too emotionally exhausted and still shaking from the waves of guilt and anxiety that plague you. 

After you’ve silently left, Dustin turns to Steve. He feels just as awful as the teen, they both failed to listen to you, and now they’re left with your stoic anger that leaves them both feeling raw. “We fucked up, man.”

“She needs us right now,” Steve claps his hand against the boy’s back, his words strong but voice frail. “Let’s go.”

They climb back down into the elevator as well and find you, Robin, and Erica all sitting against the walls, silent. You must’ve already told the girls what the three of you found above. There’s nothing you guys can do now besides wait for whatever comes next, even Dustin can recognize that.

Your knees are drawn into your chest, your chin rests against them as you sit alone at one wall, and Steve doesn’t think he’s ever seen you so small before. Sighing, he looks at Dustin, who gives him a nod to wish him luck, before he makes his way over to you and sits down. You don’t react to Steve’s presence besides allowing your head to fall against his shoulder, and it’s enough to calm the relentless remorse he feels within him. 

No one speaks for a while.

The hours pass, the room silent as you all realize what the fuck you’ve gotten yourselves into. 

– 

You’re not sure how much time passes by, the walls within the elevator block out all possible sunlight, but eventually you figure it’s well into the night. After the initial shock had worn off, Dustin, Robin, and Erica had sat closer together and tried distracting themselves with sleep while you sat against the wall with Steve; your head never leaves his shoulder, and neither of you talk.

However, by what you figure is hour five, you desperately need air. You can’t sleep, the walls have started to close in around you once more, so you stand up, side step your sleeping brother, and climb up to the top of the elevator once more. 

Steve follows you; he always follows. 

He finds you sitting at the edge of the elevator, feet dangling over the ledge with your shoulders drawn in. Slowly he approaches you and sits down next to you, shoulder to shoulder, thigh pressed against thigh. You don’t say anything, and Steve again feels horrible for not listening to you earlier; he knows that for once it has to be him that is strong enough for the two of you.

“Talk to me,” Steve breathes out, pleading. It’s just you and him now, one one else, away from prying eyes. You’re safe with him, you will always be safe with him, but he needs to hear your voice and bring color back to your cheeks. “Please.”

Hearing the desperation in his voice, knowing that Steve has never once meant you any harm, that he’s just as scared and alone as you are, you finally break.

You throw yourself into Steve’s arms and sob. The tears come all at once, there is no build up. The moment you are in his embrace, the moment your ear presses against his chest and you hear his heartbeat, the tears come.

“I hate that I always end up here,” you cry into his chest, all that you’ve swallowed down now comes spiraling out of you. “I’m just–I’m so fucking frustrated. I–I keep doing this to Dustin, he’s always in danger because of me.”

Your voice hitches as your breath stutters. There’s more that you want to say, the guilt that has haunted you since Will biked home that fateful night swells within you, but your tears prevent you from voicing any of it. “I–I’m supposed to keep everyone safe but–God, it’s hard when no one listens to me. No one ever listens to me.”

You were supposed to listen to me.

Though you don’t say it, Steve hears it anyway. 

He’s silent through it all, frightened and aching, knowing you keep so much within you. Steve has never seen you cry before, he’s never seen you break like this, and he despises himself for being the reason why. 

Another miserable sob escapes you and all Steve can do is pull you in closer, furious at the world for the fact that he cannot fit you into his chest where he can keep you safe behind his ribcage, next to his heart.

You cling onto Steve and allow the last few years you’ve carried on your shoulders to finally crush you. “I just feel so useless–how can I…” you sniffle, try to steady your breathing as the words on your tongue terrify you. “How–how can I love if I can’t–I have to protect everyone.”

Your voice breaks once more and Steve allows you to take all the time you need. He continues to hold you through it, he presses soft kisses to your face, lips wet from your tears, he plays with your hair, he does whatever he can to engrave his apology into your body.

“I’m so stupid,” you pull away now, the tears slowing and embarrassment creeping through. You’re overwhelmed with your debilitating need to protect the ones you love, as if you cannot love someone if you cannot save them, and you know it’s stupid and immature to believe such things. As the exhaustion sinks into your body, you realize with a start what day has creeped upon you while in the elevator.

It’s July third. 

With Steve looking down at you with a sinful guilt in his eyes, you wipe your own eyes and laugh pathetically at your realization. “This entire situation is stupid. It’s my seventeenth birthday and I’m stuck in a fucking death elevator.”

Steve’s arms tighten around you and he draws in a quick breath at your words. It’s your birthday. He had thought he couldn’t feel worse about what he dragged you into, but he had been wrong. You should be in your room right now, tucked away from danger, celebrating the first moments of your birthday with Steve crawling through your window with the gift he worked so hard to convince the party to help with. 

Instead, you’re crying in Steve’s arms with imminent death looming over you because of him, and he thinks he’s never felt tears as heavy as yours. 

“I’m sorry,” he gently lifts your chin with the same finger that has caressed your face a million times. The soft gesture makes you weak, and when your eyes meet Steve’s, he brings his lips down upon your forehead. He lingers, his lips are rough but familiar, and there’s more he wants to say. The words build within him, all the apologies, but he knows they’d fall on deaf ears. You’re exhausted, you’ve revealed more to him tonight than you ever have before, and he knows the vulnerability stabs at you viciously,

Instead, Steve kisses your cheek next, then your other cheek, then the tip of your nose, your chin, your eyebrows, anywhere his lips can reach, and the action causes a small giggle to blossom within you. Hearing the sound he loves so much, Steve smiles. “Happy birthday, angel.”

Your hand comes up to his face, and though a part of you warms at what Steve has said, another part of you aches. Jonathan has always been the first person to wish you a happy birthday, a tradition from when you were kids and snuck into each other’s windows the second the clock struck midnight. Now Jonathan is gone and Nancy is angry and you’re tired of it all. With a bittersweet smile, you cup Steve’s cheek in the palm of your hand. “Thank you, honey.”

The world stills between the two of you for a brief moment, his face in your hand and your heart in his arms. It’s reminiscent of earlier in the breakroom, the uncertainty that drapes over you and Steve while the certainty secures you both to each other. 

It isn’t perfect, Steve’s uncertainty has hurt you, but he holds you with a certainty that makes you believe that somehow the two of you will make it out of this alive, together. He nuzzles his face into your palm as if he physically needs to be closer to you, and it settles something that stirs in your chest.

Exhaling, you rest your head in the crook of Steve’s neck and curl into him. He pulls you in closer, as he’s always done, and eventually you fall asleep, exhausted from everything.

Steve isn’t sure how long you sleep in his arms, his muscles ache from holding you, but he accepts the burn as punishment for the hurt he’s caused you. He sits there, staring at the metal walls, and falls asleep himself.

– 

You wake up to Dustin trying to contact someone on his radio. His annoyingly loud voice causes you to groan in annoyance, you’re warm, comfortable, and had been dreaming about something that left your chest feeling light. 

“Code red, I repeat, code red. Does anyone copy?”

Rolling over, a pair of arms hold you near a sturdy body, and you remember now that you fell asleep in Steve’s arms. Burying your face deeper into his chest, you groan again. “Make him shut up.”

“Good morning to you too, Y/N.” Dustin kicks your sneaker before going back to his radio. “This is a code red, I repeat, a code red. Does anyone copy?”

Steve sighs, sounding just as tired as you feel. “The kid has been at this for the last hour or so. Woke me up, too.”

You hear Dustin’s footsteps as he paces. “We are innocent children and we are trapped under Starcourt Mall. The Red Army has infiltrated Hawkins.”

“‘The Red Army’ is dramatic.” You mumble, still mourning that you’ve been woken up.

Dustin ignores you. “If we are found, they will torture and kill us.”

“How peachy.”

Steve snaps his fingers at your brother, motioning for him to shut up. “Hey, you gotta take it easy on that thing. Gonna drain the battery.”

“That’s what we’re worried about right now?”

“Go back to sleep, Y/N.” Dustin kicks your sneaker again with a scoff. “The mall just opened, so someone could be in range.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “What, you think Petey the Mall Cop is gonna rappel down here and save the day?”

You give a thumbs up to what the teen has just said. “‘Rappel’, good word choice there.”

“Alright, why are you two such cranky pants after getting to spend the night together?” Dustin asks, off put by your snarkiness. He knows you’ve never really been a morning person, but your face is still buried in Steve’s chest and you haven’t looked at Dustin since waking up. 

“Shut up, Dustin.” You and Steve say at the same time, both too drained to entertain his usual teasing.

Your brother sighs and changes the subject. “I heard you guys talking all night, did you at least figure out a way out of here?” 

You shift in Steve’s arms, now uncomfortable. Neither of you had talked about what to do next, for once you had been selfish and put yourself first, allowing yourself to cry. Sensing the brewing guilt, Steve covers for you both. “No, we’re still exactly nowhere, which is, ya know, probably just a little bit of the reason why we’re feeling just a tad cranky.”

“What he said,” you hide a smile in Steve’s chest, but he feels it anyways.

Then, because he’s Steve and is physically incapable of allowing you a moment of peace, he taps your shoulder. “Hey, uh. Not to ruin this, but can you get up so I can pee?” 

“Here?” You and Dustin exclaim in unison, both of you equally disgusted. 

“Well where else am I supposed to go?”

“Ugh,” you wrinkle your nose and get up, hating that Steve has a point. However, rather than stay and watch the guy pee, you decide to leave and check up on Erica and Robin. You’ve been up here long enough, anyways. “Keep your body fluids away from me.”

As you climb down, you hear Steve screaming at Dustin to turn away as your brother wishes you a happy birthday. 

They’re such idiots sometimes. 

“Did I just hear Dustin screech about someone’s birthday?” Robin asks you as you jump down the last box and join her side. She’s in front of the elevator’s panel, inspecting the buttons.

You wince, not liking the reminder of what today is. “It’s… my birthday.”

Robin gasps and grabs at your hand. “Is it actually? Oh my God–” She’s cut off by the sound of liquid splattering against a wall, and with horror the two of you realize that it’s Steve’s piss. Making a face, the girl calls out, “Can you redirect your stream, please?”

Slowly Steve aims away, the sound trickling against another wall now, and you share a disgusted look with Robin. With a sigh, she squeezes your hand. “If we make it out of here alive, I promise I’ll throw you the best birthday party ever.”

“I don’t know, I think Steve peeing five feet away from me will be pretty hard to beat.”

Robin laughs and you feel okay for a moment, enjoying the small respite, before the sound of glass banging against metal catches your attention. Turning around, you find Erica slamming one of the vials of liquid against the bars, and immediately you and Robin run to stop her. 

“Hey, be careful!” Robin snatches the cylinder from the girl and tosses it to you for safekeeping. “We don’t even know what that is.”

“Exactly, it could be useful.” Erica argues. 

You hold the vial up high so that she can’t reach; you know the Sinclairs, they’re speedy little devils. “Please elaborate.”

“We can survive down here a long time without food,” Erica jumps and tries to grab what you’ve taken, but you only hold the liquid further out of her reach. “But if the human body doesn’t get water, it will die.”

You’re momentarily impressed by the girl’s survival knowledge, but Robin is undeterred. “I hate to break it to you, but this is not water.”

“No, but it’s a liquid, and if it comes down to me drinking that shit or dying of thirst, I drink.”

“You are fascinating,” you breathe out, both terrified and in awe. As you stare at Erica in wonder, Robin seems to hear something and leaves your side to press her ear against the opposite wall. Frowning, you join her. “What is it?”

“Listen.”

You do as you’re told and press your own ear against the wall, and it only takes you a second to hear it too. Mechanical whirling, the same sound that you heard last night before all the walls in the elevator came crashing down and trapped you. “Shit.”

Robin nods grimly. “You get Erica while I warn the boys.”

Within a minute you’ve helped Erica climb the top of the elevator as you all hide up there. No sooner than when you’ve closed the roof’s opening, one side of the metal wall begins to open and the footsteps of men can be heard. 

Through the grates, you and Steve hunch over as you watch two men walk into the elevator. They’re big, dressed in a bizarre uniform, and one of them is smoking. They talk about something, their words are terse, and for a moment you worry they’ve figured out that you’re hidden above, but eventually they grab a few boxes and make their way outside. 

As the men move back and forth below you, grabbing more and more boxes, you look up at Steve and find him staring at the green liquid you still have in your hands. During the frantic rush to get Erica to safety, you had forgotten to set the chemicals down. His eyes narrow slightly, as if asking you if you’re thinking what he is, and distantly you remember how much force the cylinder seemed to be able to withstand when Erica was slamming it.

If you truly are on the same page as Steve, then it’s a fucking risky plan, but it’s the only chance you have. 

You hand the vial to him and nod, silently urging him to be safe. Then, you turn to the others and risk whispering what you and Steve have thought of. He keeps watch, hand on the small of your back to indicate to you when to stop talking, and soon the plan is formed. 

The moment the Russian men have left the elevator, Steve quickly jumps down from the roof and slides the chemicals underneath the rapidly closing door. You watch nervously, and when the cylinder miraculously holds up against the metal door, you exhale in relief. Steve waves for you and everyone else to jump down as well. “Let’s go!”

You jump down first and slide Erica’s backpack over to Steve before helping her down. Once she successfully slides under the door, you help Dustin down next. The glass starts to splinter under the pressure, the sound of it creaking fills you with dread, but you push the fear down and help Robin next. “Go, go, go!”

When it’s your turn, you hold your breath and will yourself to slide underneath the door to join the others. As you go under, you see the glass start to splinter even more, and you quickly roll onto your stomach and frantically wave at Steve. “Steve, you need to hurry!”

He scrambles underneath the door and only just manages to narrowly escape as the door comes slamming down. Steve instinctively covers you with his body as the glass from the vial shatters, and when you look up and see the green liquid now sizzling as it burns through the concrete floor, you shudder. “You guys see that too, right?”

“Jesus Christ.” Steve stands up and offers you his hand as he inspects the liquid’s damage.

Erica, Robin, and Dustin step forward now too, and the five of you peer over the liquid as it oozes and bubbles, melting everything it touches. You shudder again, you can’t believe that there were boxes full of it surrounding you earlier. 

“You still wanna drink that?” Robin turns Erica, smirking. 

“You guys think it’d be like drinking lava?” You ask the group, and everyone shakes their heads at you. Adrenaline is still coursing through you, your head feels woozy from lack of sleep and water, and you think you’re slowly losing your mind. 

Meanwhile Dustin turns away from you, and when he sees what surrounds you all, his heart drops. “Holy mother of God.”

Turning around, your heart drops as well. There’s a giant hallway that faces you, blue lights illuminating it, and it stretches deep into the abyss. You realize, now, that the elevator had been only the beginning. As you stare down the endless hallway, its length reminiscent of the tunnels you almost died in last year, it hits you that you’ve truly stumbled upon something horrible. 

The Russians have been here a long, long time if they were able to build such a vast and complex underground facility. 

And now you’re trapped within it, with nothing but your knives to keep you and everyone else safe. 

“Well, hope you guys are in good shape.” Steve’s voice breaks you from your thoughts. He pats Dustin’s shoulder and starts to lead the way. “Looking at you, roast beef.”

Unamused with the insult directed at your brother and still angry at the teen for dragging you into this mess in the first place, you trip Steve. He stumbles and only just barely manages to catch himself, which everyone snickers at and Dustin high fives you.

With a sigh, Steve grabs your hand and beckons for everyone to follow. “Let’s go, guys.”

– 

It’s a goddamn long walk. 

You’re miserable. 

It’s hot, you’re covered in sweat and grime, you're starving, and this is officially the worst birthday ever. Sure, you’ve never really liked your birthday, but holy fuck you didn’t think it’d be this bad. 

You’re snappier than usual with everyone, which a part of you feels guilty for. Robin tried making conversation in the beginning, but you only responded with curt, one word answers. It truly isn’t her fault, none of this is anyone’s fault, but the anger that simmers within you threatens to boil over and you’re too tired to control it. 

Yet Steve keeps your hand within his and walks by your side, unaffected by your unusual anger. He lets you remain quiet, he doesn’t take offense to your terse responses, and he smiles apologetically at Robin for you because he knows you’d do the same if you were able to; he’s there for you. 

Steve knows how much anger resides within you, and he helps you brave it. 

You love him endlessly for it. 

“You think they built this whole mall so they could transport that green poison?” Steve asks the group as they speculate about why the Russians even built this underground system in the first place. 

“I very seriously doubt it’s something as boring as poison.” Dustin responds, and you scoff at him. 

“Yeah, because poison is boring.”

He looks at you warily and decides not to risk further exasperation. “What I mean is, it’s gotta be much more valuable, like promethium or something.”

“What the hell is promethium?” Steve looks to you, but you only shake your head. Dustin’s the science whiz, not you.

Instead Robin answers him, though her response about some guy named Victor Stone and a cyborg only confuses both you and Steve more. 

“You’re all so nerdy, it makes me physically ill.” Erica cringes with disgust, and her theatrics are hard to resist smiling at. 

“No, no.” Steve interjects. “No, don’t lump me in with them. I’m not a nerd, alright?” 

“Why so sensitive, Harrington?” Robin asks him, smiling at his offense. “Afraid of losing cool points to a ten year old child?”

“He takes his cool points very seriously, Robin.” You now speak up, a slight smile on your face. You’ll never pass up an opportunity to tease Steve. Nudging him with your shoulder, you laugh softly and glance up at him. “Admit it, you’re a nerd.”

If it were anyone else saying this, Steve would adamantly refuse such a notion, but it’s you and you’re finally smiling at him again, so instead he huffs with amusement. “Yeah, alright. Maybe I am, but I still don’t know jack shit about Prometheus.” 

“Promethium,” Dustin corrects. “Prometheus is a Greek mythological figure, but whatever. All I’m saying is, it’s probably being used to make something.” 

“Or power something?” In their eerie fashion, Robin and your brother now seem to once again be on the same page. 

“Like a nuclear weapon?”

“Totally.”

You rub the temples of your head and sigh, your previously brightened mood quickly dims again. “Cool. Nuclear weapons are cool.” 

Robin mumbles a quick sorry to you, she wishes she could change the topic, but there’s a question that’s been on her mind ever since you discovered the Russians. “But if they’re building something, why here? I mean, Hawkins. Seriously, of all places.”

As Robin continues to drone on about how bizarre of a choice Hawkins is, you, Steve, and Dustin all slow down and let her and Erica walk ahead. They don’t notice your guys’ sudden change of pace, and the three of you slowly come together; you know you’re all thinking the same thing. 

The question has been on your mind for a while, too. 

“You think the Russians know?” Dustin finally asks in a lowered voice.

Steve leans forward, his own voice lowered as well. “About–”

“They could.”

“So it’s all connected?”

While the boys whisper to one another, you feel a shiver run through you. Again you remember the sweat that had been on Billy’s brow and how pale he had been. You remember Will’s fearfulness at Weathertop hill, how he had clutched the back of his neck. You remember Mrs. Waters, Jonathan and Nancy, Mrs. Driscoll.

Something isn’t right, and now there’s Russians in Hawkins with a giant maze of high architectural design. 

“It has to be.” You say now. “There’s too much to ignore. “

Dustin frowns at you. “What do you mean? Is there something else?”

“The Upside Down, I think there’s something wrong–”

You’re interrupted by Robin. “I’m sorry, is there something you’d like to share with the class?”

The three of you turn to her, wide eyed and caught, and before you can come up with some excuse to get her off your backs’, Dustin’s radio comes to life as a Russian man’s voice speaks through it. 

“Walkie,” you, Steve, and Dustin say at the same time, running towards where it resides in Erica’s backpack. 

The Russian continues to drone through the walkie’s speakers as Dustin takes it out and Robin extends its antenna. She brings it close to her ear and listens intently, and after a few seconds she starts to speak the language as well, echoing what the man is saying. “It’s the code,” she finally says. 

“Wherever that broadcast is coming from–”

“It’s close.” Robin finishes your brother’s sentence. “And if there’s one thing we know about that signal…”

Dustin’s eyes light up. “It can reach the surface.” 

“We’ll be able to call for help,” you breathe out, hopeful yet reluctant. It’s your only way out, but you also have no idea what lies within these walls. 

“Let’s go!” Robin quickly stands up, plan already formed in her head, and all you can do is follow. 

It doesn’t take long to figure out where the broadcast is coming from. Within a few minutes of walking, the walls begin to narrow and you hear more and more voices up ahead. You can sense that you’re drawing closer to the main area of the underground complex, and the closer you get, the tighter you clutch at your knives. 

You and Steve work together on guiding everyone. He scouts for places to hide while you keep an eye out for any danger. Slowly, the six of you dodge and weave in and out from corners, avoiding Russians. In an odd sense, the routine is familiar and comforting; you and Steve have done this a million times before, the two of you know how to keep the other safe.

As Steve peers over a corner with the rest of you hiding behind him, Robin whispers into your ear. “How are the two of you so good at navigating scary dangerous situations?”

Her question is innocent enough, but you can sense that she’s piecing things together bit by bit. You try to keep your face neutral, not give anything away, and shrug at her. “We make a good team, I guess.” 

Robin gags at this, which you’re thankful for. At least your response got her mind off of things. 

Steve motions for everyone to follow after him once the coast is clear after a few guards have walked past. “Clear, come on, let’s go.”

He moves swiftly as you stay behind and make sure the rest of the group follows. Robin looks nervously at you, feeling vulnerable out in the open. “Okay, that was close.”

“Too close.” Dustin breathes out as he follows her, which you roll your eyes at. You and Steve are doing the best that you can, given the circumstances. If your brother wanted to worry about safety, he should’ve considered it twenty hours ago. 

“Relax,” Steve reassures everyone. “Nobody saw…” His voice trails off as he rounds the corner.

Your jaw drops. It’s worse than you could’ve ever imagined.

In front of you is what you can only imagine is the main hub of the complex. There’s Russians everywhere, some dressed in guard uniforms carrying shotguns, some dressed in lab coats, and others look like glorified red astronauts. 

You’re hopelessly outnumbered, there’s too many of them.

Steve curses and ducks down, pulling everyone with him as he hides behind a cart against the wall. You try to steady your breathing, you grip the back of Dustin’s shirt tightly in your hand. He looks at you in shock. “Red Dawn.”

“Not now,” you close your eyes and breathe in through your nose and exhale out your mouth. “I’m trying really hard not to lose yesterday’s lunch.”

“I saw it. First floor, northwest.” Erica urgently whispers to Steve.

“Saw what?”

“The comms room.”

You whip your head around to face the girl, making your nausea even worse, and Steve can’t believe what he’s hearing. “You saw the comms room?”

“Correct!” Erica leans closer now, the insistence in her voice unwavering. 

Dustin frowns. “Are you sure?”

“Positive,” this is the most sincere you’ve ever seen Erica. “The door was open for a second, and I saw a bunch of lights and machines and shit in there.” 

“That could be a hundred different things.” Dustin says, skeptical.

However, you believe Erica. She’s incredibly pragmatic, she wouldn’t blindly say something that she didn’t believe in. She’s a Sinclair, their morals define them, and Erica’s rant about capitalism and a free market system yesterday only solidifies your theory that she hides away most of her intelligence. “If Erica thinks she saw the comms room, then I believe her.”

She smiles at you gratefully, and Robin nods her head at the two of you. “If Y/N is on board, then I’ll take those odds.” 

Steve stares at you, studies your face and your demeanor, and when he sees the set clench of your jaw and the determination in your eyes, he knows he trusts whatever call you make. He pokes his head out from behind the cart, the five of you mimic him, and even though you’re firm in your stance to follow Erica’s gut, it still strikes terror within you when you see once again how many guards there are.

Sighing tiredly, Steve faces the group. “We’re gonna move fast, we’re gonna stay low. Okay?”

You nod at him. “Good luck.”

Steve smiles at you, nerves now calmed, and starts to guide everyone. He masterfully weaves in and out corners, ducks behind carts when someone walks past, and for a brief moment you’re in awe of him. He’s grown so much since that night at Jonathan’s, when he had run away the second things got too intense, and now he’s the one leading. 

When he opens the door to the comms room, you’re almost overwhelmed with how proud you are of Steve. Then, naturally, as soon as everyone is inside, you turn around and come face to face with a very confused Russian guard. 

And Steve has locked you in a room with him.

Everyone freezes, unsure what to do.

“Nice, Steve.” You sneer at him. 

He looks at you incredulously. “Is now really the time?”

As you mock Steve, the Russian guard starts to reach for the gun at his side. Seeing this, you whip your knives out and display them to the man, the blades glint in the room’s red light. He narrows his eyes at you and tightens his grip on his own weapon, and for a moment you fear that you really will have to use your switchblade. 

However, Robin is quick on her feet and puts her hand up to lower your knives. She starts speaking Russian in hopes of calming the guard down, and it seems to work at first, but when the guard starts speaking back to her, Robin’s plan quickly crumbles; it’s painfully obvious that she doesn’t speak the language. 

The guard reaches for his gun once more, and before you can use your knives, Steve lets out a loud yell and throws himself at the guy, taking him by surprise. 

“Steve!” You find yourself screaming, it’s instinctual. 

For a moment all you can do is stand there and watch, stunned. The two men begin to fight, fists hitting skin as they shove one another, and you have just enough awareness to keep your knives raised in case you need to step in and help. You know Steve’s track record, yet as the fight progresses, you become less and less fearful for him. He’s holding his own surprisingly well.

Steve jabs his elbow into the guard’s stomach before grabbing a nearby intercom phone and slams it into the guy’s head. He falls, hard, onto the electric panel and hits the side of his head against it even harder. 

The moment he lands on the ground, the Russian guard is out cold. 

Panting, Steve stands over him and fixes his hair. You and Dustin exchange surprised looks, both of you ecstatic; Steve won.

“Dude!” Dustin exclaims with glee in his voice. “You won a fight!”

“It’s a miracle,” you breathe out in awe, now at Steve’s side as you check for any injuries. He preens at your attention, his eyes glow, and you can’t help but kiss his check. “Good job, honey.”

“Okay, okay, break it up.” Dustin shoves you away from Steve and then crouches next to the guard’s body, unhooking the keys from his belt loop. You roll your eyes at him while Erica questions what he’s doing. Over his shoulder, he responds, “Getting us our ticket out of here.”

Erica scoffs. “You want to walk all the way back?” 

“Well, we can hang out for a little bit, relax, have a picnic maybe.”

“Have a picnic? We came here for the radio.”

The kids start to argue, but you don’t intervene. Instead, you fix Steve’s hair with your fingers and gently grab his face, moving it around to make sure he isn’t hurt. His skin is still smooth, untouched. “No bruises this time.”

He winks. “Gotta keep this face pretty for you, don’t I?”

“Yeah you do,” you pinch his cheek, laughing softly. “It’s your only redeeming quality.”

“Hey now–”

Robin suddenly appears, looking panicked. You quickly let go of Steve’s face and walk towards her, now noticing the staircase that she’s just come from. There’s blue light at the top, there’s an energy to it that makes you uneasy, yet it’s familiar. 

“What is it?” You ask her, fearing that you already know. 

“There’s something up there.”

You follow her up the stairs, and your heart drops at what you see. Steve sucks in a breath, his hand on your back. 

There’s a room at the top of the stairs, similar to the one below, and there are several men sitting at control panels. Before them is a giant machine, its circular panel spins as it shoots a beam of light into what you can only describe as an open wound within the wall. It’s narrow, long in length, as orange light spills from it. 

When Steve’s eyes meet yours, you both know. 

It’s the gate. 

The Russians have found the gate into the Upside Down.

Anger courses through you, and this anger is a familiar one. It’s the same anger you felt the day Will went missing, when El sacrificed her life to save everyone, when the men at Hawkins Lab continuously got away with ruining the lives of everyone you love. 

After everything you, the kids, and everyone else went through to close the gate, it enrages you to see these fucking idiots trying to reopen it. You had almost died last year trying to end this bullshit, but now you see it had been for nothing.

The side of your ribcage burns, the scar reignited by your fury, and Steve feels your body tense against his. His eyes meet yours again, and without saying anything, you know he understands. 

Nodding, the two of you are in agreement.

You have to stop this.

-

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[zvdvdlvr]

Hi! Firstly, I wanted to say that I adore your imagines! Secondly , I was hoping you’d agree to write an imagine based on s3 e7. Specifically the end of it when he’s sitting on his couch rubbing his fingers the baby touched. Maybe that makes him realize he wants a baby of his own with you? Thanks in advance!!!🩵

what i want ✩ gregory house

🫀- synopsis. Greg knows what he wants, but he needs to know that you want the same thing.

🫀 - warnings. I got a little carried away… SLIGHT impregnation kink. OOC House but i dont care. i hope you enjoyed this, anon!! 🤍

Greg’s mind had been bizarrely silent.

Instead of the regular influx of thoughts that flooded his brain, Greg just heard his heartbeat and his breathing. Well, the T.V. too, but the point is that something was off.

The face of House’s watch read fifteen minutes before eleven o’clock at night, and Greg hadn’t thought if a single thing since the surgery.

The case was an unusual one- as always- consisting of a pregnant photographer who had a stroke. After fainting, House and the team had deducted that the baby (House consistently reffered to it as ‘the fetus’) was killing the mother. Eventually, her organs started to shut down so a surgery was needed to fix the baby to fix Emma.

During the surgery, the unborn child had reached out and clasped it’s tiny hand around Greg’s pointer finger. The baby’s arm wasn’t even the length of Greg’s finger, House noticed. Truly, Greg hadn’t realized how long he had been staring at the baby’s fingers until Cuddy had called his name twice.

Now House thought of that moment in the operating room. He pressed his thumb down lightly to match the amount of pressure Greg felt when the baby held onto him.

Kids were a nuisance. A waste of money, the reason why so many people had heart attacks, and disrespectful. But… they were also cute sometimes and, apparently, wanted nothing more than to make their mommy and daddy proud of them. Well, that’s what Wilson had said when Greg had asked why people wanted kids so badly.

Greg didn’t know if you wanted kids.

You were great with them at any age- infant, toddler, and even those devilish pre-teens. In fact, you seemed to glow whenever someone trusted you to hold their baby. You made sure to look up and find Greg: watching you like he always does. He can’t help but feel a wry smile pull at his lips when he pictures you, your own finger being clutched by your own baby.

Greg was torn; he didn’t know what he wanted.

“I think I’m going to blow up,” you sang as you closed the door behind you. Greg stays still, thumb still pressing on his pointer finger.

You toe off your shoes and start to unbuckle your jeans as you head for your shared room. Greg doesn’t look up when you eventually traipse back out wearing Greg’s sweatpants and and old shirt Greg didn’t know he had. You navigate yourself under his arms and carefully over his leg to lay carefully on him. Greg feels the slow puff of your breath on his neck as you exhale. “Did you eat already, love?”

Greg lets out his own sigh and he let’s his hands rest on your back. “No. Expired lasagna didn’t really sound too appealing to my refined taste,” he replies.

“What’s wrong?” You ask looking up at him.

Greg blinks at you. As he slowly meets your eyes, he starts to feel you hand gently raking his hair back and running your thumb over his prickly facial hair. Just like you always do.

And then it comes to him.

��Do you… want kids?”

Your eyebrows furrow. “I… don’t think so. I don’t- well, you don’t want kids, do you?”

“That’s not what I asked,” Greg chided, squeezing your ass. “Do you want kids?”

It takes you a ling moment to answer. So long, in fact, that Greg thinks you may have fallen asleep with your eyes open. “Probably not. I don’t think you want kids so I haven’t really thought about it. Why?”

Greg keeps going. “Would you want kids? With me?”

You lay your head back down on his chest. “Yeah. If you wanted them too.”

House doesn’t really know how to proceed with the conversation, so he lets you play with his fingers as you watch the baseball game Greg put on. “I want one.”

Your movements stop. Yet again, you peer up at Greg. This time with unhealthily furrowed eyebrows. One of your hands comes up to check your boyfriend’s temperature. “Are you okay? Do I need to call Wilson?”

Greg looks pained as his hands slide up your body to rest at your face. His thumbs rest on your cheekbones. “I want a baby with you, y/n,” he tells you, eyes flickering from your eyes to your lips. “I want- I want your womb to swell with our kid. I want a little extension of you to put up with when you’re working late. I want you to marry me and I want you to be the mother of my child.”

Your mouth dropped open. “That’s- wow.”

“Wow,” Greg repeats with an unsure smile.

“I’m not going to lie,” you say, cracking a smile. “I’m pretty turned on right now. I’m just really surprised that you have baby fever.”

Greg groans. “Tell me what you want, woman! I just rather uncharacteristically spilled my guts and you say ‘wow’!”

You snicker and support Greg’s neck with your hand as you lean up to kiss him. As expected, he wraps his arms tightly around your waist and reciprocates your passion tenfold.

“We could practice the baby-making for the honeymoon,” you whisper after pulling away from his lips.

Greg’s eyes flutter closed and you chuckle. “I would say ‘race you to the bedroom’, but I think you’re going to beat me anyway,” he rasps. You exhale a laugh through your nose as you start to press kisses from his lips hown to his neck. “Let’s go to the bedroom, yeah?” Greg asks, humping you pathetically as you kiss him.

“Fuck yeah,” you respond lowly, a dangerous smile in your face.

[iznsfw]

One Hop Ahead Of You

ARTMS' Jeon Heejin + woo!ah!'s Nana (Kwon Nayeon) x Male Reader Smut

18,039 words

Categories | bunny girls FTW, stepcest (kinda), blowjob, threesome, daddy kink, cunnilingus, angry sex, spanking, breeding

Bunny kpop idols are the best. There's Eunbi, Tsuki, then Heejin and Nana... Thanks for commissioning me this piece; sorry for the late post! Enjoy all the synonyms I could use for "but" :D

Phone on, headphones plugged, music loud. That’s your story for road trips such as these, and you’ve zero plans about rewriting the plot. 

The scenery of beautiful mountains and blooming trees can’t break your focus on your mobile device. Your parents can’t either, as hard as they try; they’ve told you once or twice during the whole trip to look up from the screen for once. No, actually, scratch that: they’ve berated you about it at least every five minutes, and you’re starting to grow sick of pretending you can’t hear them. Your nonchalant continued stares on your phone don’t exactly convince them you can’t hear a thing.

Yeah, this is what happens when you give your toddler an iPad. The boomers might be right for this one. You can’t live without staring down at a bright screen, clicking at a bright screen, watching a bright screen. Eh, well, so what? Technology is a necessity in these modern days, and it just so happens that you need this kind of distraction on the road trip. Your mother and father think otherwise, but that’s because they live like it’s still the 70s or something. You don’t know. That’s how parents are.

Mobile data serves you well anyway. Your combat skills do not. You’ve been trying to kill a character on this app for a while, and it stuns you how strong her damage is. You click the sickle attack button more times than you can count and choose a special damage in between three taps, but you still end up dead. You’re seeking vengeance because the player talked shit about you on the main chat, and it doesn’t look like you’re going to show them up. You've got two deaths to go before you're seen as a pathetic little shit who tries too hard, and five kills to cement yourself as someone who isn't.

God, you’ve been playing this game for years—how are you still not good?

“Jay,” you could hear your mother call out from the edge of your earphones. She’s driving, her ringed hands firmly on the wheel. She meets your subtle gaze through the rearview mirror. “Jay.”

Groan. That’s your job as a son: to moan, groan, and drone on about everything and anything. You’re exceptionally skilled in this profession. “What now, mom?” you ask.

She gives you a sarcastic but playful little grin. “Oh, so you can hear me.”

Alright, you’ll let her have that one. But still: “Only because you’ve been nagging me for the whole trip.”

“Now now, don’t talk to your mother like that,” your father chides. He’s a kind-looking dude; he’s got triangle-shaped glasses and stubbles of a dead beard on his chin. “It’s true, but rude. Very rude, not a good look.”

Your mother clicks her tongue. She gives your father a millisecond glare before returning to driving. “Hey.”

“Honey, you know I love you, but your mouth—”

“Leave it at that,” she warns, voice dangerously tight.

Your dad doesn’t heed her warning. “—can be a nuisance.”

“That’s it. I’m pulling over. And you’re driving.”

He raises his hands. “Okay, okay,” he says passively, “I’m sorry.”

They harrumph at each other for a while, then kiss and make up, and you laugh a little. Subtly, of course. Everyone knows that part of going through teenage years (well, you’re a little past being a teen when you’re nearly twenty years old, but your mind is still the same as when you were sixteen) is denying with all your heart that your parents make you happy. You’re just going with the flow, as usual. 

It especially doesn’t help that you’re already an adult according to the Korean age system. Adulthood brings a kind of defiant independence in you, which you don’t know whether it’s a good thing or not. It has its moments, you guess.

“Oh, look at that,” says your mother, nudging your father, “Jay’s laughing!”

“I’m not!” you reply, biting your cheek so the smile doesn’t grow. Must. Not. Show. Them.

Your father peeks at you from behind the headrest and grins mischievously. “See? We still got it, don’t we?” 

The car swerves, barely making you match your fist bump with him. For this, you allow a slight smile—as much as you like to hide it like a career-ruining secret, you love your parents. They’re like two peas in a pod. Your father’s a rambunctious joke-loving guy your playful mother falls in love with everyday, resulting in, well, having you. 

Plus, because of that, you haven’t felt the need to regret being born or despising your parents, unlike other people your age. Their love for each other inspires you, and although every moment with them is guaranteed to have you be a third wheel again, you don’t mind. You love seeing them happy.

“Now that you’re back to earth,” your mother says, “can you please appreciate the surroundings? It’s too beautiful to go ignored.”

“That’s right. They won’t surround you when we fly back home.”

“Dad,” you groan, rolling your eyes. But doing a little observing is the least you could do. You can go AFK on this match for once. You’ve still got more mobile data to last a few days, so worrying isn't needed.

Look up. Blink once. Twice. It’s like a whole new world. Humble homes peek from between forests in the lower sides of the mountains. The sun is shining brightly, casting a yellow light on the trees that decorate the sides of the swerving roads. And the sky… has it always been that blue? The wispy clouds are just the cherry on top.

This place is so different from the urban city where your apartment resides. There’s no smoke, no cut trees, no rising buildings. It’s nature in its most pure state. 

There’s no traffic either, but—

“Mom, look out!” you yell, but you’re just a little too late. Just a little, and it would count, but for this one it doesn’t.

You can’t do anything about it then. The large truck that ventures on the wrong side of the road has a mission. Whether intentional or not, it can’t turn back. It collides heavily into the windshield, and you’re wrapped in dizziness and despair as your old car launches backward, rolling in the air a few times before roughly settling on the very curved edge of the road. 

Then it slides downward. You’re stuck in a spiral blurred with green and wood. What you remember is the feeling of being tortured and tossed through trees, and the truck following suit. It chases you long after its mission is complete.

Another thing you recall from the accident, as you’re lying down on the rough grass with blood on the side of your head, are two rabbits that stare curiously at you.

They seem to be sisters.

-

Voices, male and female, scruff and saccharine. They fill your ears like music but you can’t open your eyes to see to whom they belong. They speak of confusing topics and jumbled words. Can’t get a grip of their meaning. All the while your soul is yearning to rise from sleeping when it feels like you’re dying and the force inside you is struggling in defying a black fate. 

Your body, however, is blank of any pain. How strange. Strange enough that it’s a strong alarm for you to finally open your eyes. They’ve been glued together for a while, so when your vision greets you, you surprise even yourself. There’s a person in a white lab coat, and a white blanket mantles you. Is this heaven? Isn’t heaven’s signature color white?

First things first: how the fuck did they let you into heaven?

“Ah, so you’re finally awake.” A man with a rounded cap smiles at you. “How’re you doing, bud?”

Blink. So… this isn’t heaven? Do they wear caps in heaven? You don’t think so. Whoever invented denim caps deserves a nice little throne next to Lucifer. “Um. Alright, I guess?”

What should you even say when you’re trying to piece together who he was? You know you’ve seen him before when you were younger, but you’re not sure exactly when. All you’re aware of is that he looks too familiar. Kind of like deja vu. The beard and wrinkly skin tell you of a tale old as time.

“Hello, I’m doctor Kim,” says the woman in the lab coat as she approaches you. She extends a hand to you and you shake it politely. “You experienced a car crash in the morning near the terraces. Luckily, a man saw the tragedy and dialed 911.”

“Tragedy?” you wonder out loud. You’re still alive, so why would it be called that?

Doctor Kim lowers her head. “Your parents died immediately from the impact of the crash, sir. I’m sorry.”

Grief comes strangely to you, even when you’ve heard the news. You’d say you’re mourning, because you are, in a way—from that moment, you miss your parents dearly and wish that time travel existed so you’d prevent the accident from happening. But you aren’t… crying. You don’t burst into tears on the spot. There’s not even wetness in your eyes to help. Moreover, you haven’t made a small prayer for easier things to happen. It’s like the stages of grief avoid you at all costs and don’t even bother to orient you about their loss.

Maybe you’re just in denial. You’ve been staring at a blank spot on the hospital wall for what seems like ages, and you’ve only been conscious for minutes. Something’s changed within.

Wonder who’d be your parent now that both of yours are gone. You’re an orphan. You don’t even know how to drive back home or go back to the convenience store where you make your money. All your belongings for the road trip that was supposed to go beautifully are gone in the accident. 

Bite your lip thoughtfully. “Was it quick?” you ask quietly.

The doctor knows what you mean. Whether she’s lying or not is the question. “Yes.”

That comforts you a bit. What eats your insides from guilt, though, is that you never bothered to enjoy the road trip with them. You were always stuck to your damn phone. You didn’t talk much with them during their final moments, and it would haunt you forever. It doesn’t show on your face, though—it’s completely empty, devoid of any expression or pain.

“You really don’t recognize me, bud?” the man laughs, like he actually couldn’t believe it. 

Blink. Then it hits you. “Chan hyung…?” you ask. Hope you got it right because you’re steepering on sureness now.

“Bullseye.” So you did. He sits down on the edge of the hospital bed and cups your hand. “I’m a friend of your parents. They told me to look after you in case anything happens. They really loved you, y’know? Still do.”

You look down meekly and nod. Yeah, he’s right. They did. The other part’s true, too; if they had souls and were secretly watching the whole ordeal going on, they’d still love you. That’s how unconditionally they did it.

“I’m on the emergency contacts list, FYI.” He hands you his phone. “They even had a will and all. I hate that we got to meet again like this. Could have been in better circumstances. But that’s life, you know. Plus, it was quick enough to be painless.”

Your hand, linked to the dextrose, hardens in pain as it wraps around the device, but you go on. There on the screen, see that your parents did in fact keep him on the emergency contacts. He’s telling the truth. Now you understand why he looks so familiar.

Look up from the screen, (like you should have in the car when your mother and father tried to make conversation with you.) “I—I used to play baseball with you,” you say in childlike wonder. 

Chan laughs. “So I did. I’ll be happy to look after you. Probably even be your father, if you’d like.”

Your heart rises. “You’d really do that?”

“Of course! Your parents were good people, and I’d be glad to have you in my care. According to them, you’re a pretty good kid. Hope that’s true.”

“No promises.”

He laughs. He’s still got the same not-too-serious sense of humor like he did years ago. “What do you say, kid?”

He’s being a good guy, a good friend to your parents even after they passed, and you appreciate it. But being his son this quick after so much time seems like… betraying them. You know that’s not how it works, and your parents would have loved for you to gel quickly with him, but you’re just not ready. Something’s pulling you back.

What could it be?

“I…” you say, fidgeting. You don't know the right words to put it. “C-can I think about it first?”

The look on his face drops, but he smiles anyway. He must be a really good friend to be this understanding. “Of course,” he replies, retracting his hand from yours, “shouldn’t have put you on the spot. Just tell me yes or no when you’re ready. Deal?”

-

Three days is how long it takes for you to recover. To be fair, you already were—your limbs are working, and that’s enough for you. The doctors, however, insist on a lengthier stay and you kind of want to start shit in the living room and tell them how they were money-greedy exploitative little shits, but you’re not in the mood to cause a ruckus. Maybe some other time, when you eventually break all your bones and wheel out of the hospital cursing them for the bill. But yeah, some other time would work. Of course.

“I took the liberty of packing your stuff up for you,” says Chan, bringing over a luggage bag. It’s full to the edge of the zipper with clothes and other essentials. 

You wonder how he went to your home and back here to the hospital this fast. “How did you—”

“I had some help,” he replies simply. You don’t question any further.

You’re in a clean pair of clothes now. You hated wearing the hospital gown. It’s like they attempted to make hospitals less sad by fashioning a bib into a larger size. There you are with your assumptions again. Maybe the stages of grief have come for you after all. Why do you feel angry all the time? This can’t be normal.

What stage would it be if you’re afraid to get into a car because of their loss? You step into it with shaky legs, looking back and forth, as if you’re scared the vehicle would lurch forward suddenly. To be fair, it is a possibility, but a rare one. Your fear, therefore, is completely irrational, yet there you are: suddenly scared of… cars?

Get in finally. The breath you let go, however, has been keen on getting out. 

Chan knows well to avoid the path your parents went on when they died. He avoids it for both of your own wellbeings. They were close to him, too. He would hate to go down the road they died on. Like you, he wants to remember them fondly, not like the injured bodies that he said goodbye to at the morgue. Again, it’s for the best.

“Hey, kid,” he says. His peer at you through the rearview mirror gives you painful flashbacks. “You okay?”

He’s more attentive than he gives himself away as; he somehow notices your blank stare at the window and weak smile. He’s got you figured out, and you suppose that’s a good thing—it just shows how he could play his role as your dad pretty well if you let him. But then there’s the sense of yearning in you that’ll end up in no good. It’s yearning for your parents to come back, the yearning for them to somehow have the breath of life in their lungs again and have them rise from the morgue and walk back into your life. If they do that, you’d make an oath to be the best son. 

Ah, you know that won’t happen. It’s impossible. It’s wishful thinking that won’t amount to anything.

“You could talk to me.” His eyes stare straight at the road, but he’s not really looking at anything. “I miss them, too.”

“I’m fine, hyung,” you say. You’re not, but who needs to hear that? Not the guy to whom your parents entrusted you to. You’re twenty years old—who needs to hear an overgrown child’s lamentations? 

You don’t want to burden Chan at all. What you don’t know is he’s actually willing to hear all of it. You should have lamented about not knowing his openness rather than everything else. It would only lead to more sadness. 

The sadness evaporates a little upon seeing his house. It’s a nice place, with two stories and a nice terrace to lounge at. Maybe, from the other side, it’s your parents’ way of still loving you: giving you a nice home and a nice (future?) dad.

They're still looking after you. Look up in the sky and smile. Chan catches it, and for a second you blush in embarrassment, but he smiles, too. "See?" is what he says, followed up with: "Everything's gonna be fine."

Trust him on that.

Open the front door and it welcomes you into his home. Its main color is pure white. You start to wonder how the white walls are unblemished even with its ruinable color. Maybe he had it cleaned up for your sake. The furniture's good, too, but all it's good for right now is to be a bed for your luggage when you start to arrange things. 

"Your room's right over there," Chan says, pointing to an open door to your left. "Feel free to get some food or water. Whatever you like. You're family now." He steps closer and pats your shoulder. "Always been."

Smile appreciatively. Resist the urge to hug him and replace it with folding a few of your clothes into a pile to bring it over to your bedroom. Graphic shirts in one pile here, underwear and sleeveless shirts in the other over there. Add your headphones on top of the pile and you’re ready to start adjusting to your new room. Just one look and you could already tell it’s bigger than the one back at home. Well, former home, to be exact. You keep forgetting this is a whole new place that’s going to be where you sleep, rest, and laugh.

That voice gets your guard down, and so does the girl standing in front of you. That deep voice certainly can’t belong to the sweet-but-indifferent-faced girl leaning against your door frame. Look around for a bit to see if it’s anyone else’s, but there’s no one around. Just you and the alluring woman blocking the pathway to your new room.

She gestures to the stack of clothes in your arms with her brows. “You plan on doing anything with that or what?” she asks. 

Yeah, that deep voice definitely is hers; you can hear it loud and clear. Not one syllable could belong to anyone else, no one but her. What’s her name? It’s—

“Heejin,” says Chan exasperatedly. Amusement is present in his tone too as he walks over to break it up and sling an arm around his daughter’s shoulder. “Don’t scare the new guy and let him in his room, please?”

“I’m just being curious, daddy,” Heejin explains. 

Oh, so that’s her name. Heejin. Jeon Heejin. Neat. Has a nice ring to it, but it somehow spells trouble. You swear those letters can’t make up that word, but with Heejin, it sure does. Not only does her name spell it, but so do her eyes that are way too observant, tracking your every move with prolonged glances, and the tilt of her head as if she were a trained German Shepherd rather than the animal she reminds you of: a bunny.

A bunny? 

Wait—

"Oh, it's you!" you say. Almost drop your clothes on the floor when you realize it. How could you not have caught on?

Heejin smiles. It brings the sense of familiarity to wash more over your mind like waves. "Thought you would never recognize me, Jay," she says. "Hi there."

Try not to gawk with all your might, but you do anyway. Just hope it isn't obvious because see here, the Jeon Heejin you know used to be a shy little thing, never wanting to come out and play with you when you were younger out of embarrassment. Now, she writes confidence into each and every one of her moves, with a dazzling little smile to go along with it. How did she manage the transformation? You need the tips ASAP.

"Oh, right." Chan slaps a hand to his face and shakes his head. "You two've met before, right?"

She's a little sleazy when she rests her back on the frame again and nods, eyes never leaving your body. If anything, she's the one who's gawking and even if, for argument's sake, you are, it's just an eye for an eye. The two of you are just amazed at how much the other has grown up. Nothing more.

(Or… ?)

"So it seems," she says bluntly.

"Ah, should have known. But it was a long time ago, wasn't it?"

"Mhm." Heejin looks you up and down and smiles. "You've grown up."

"So have you," you reply, because she has. Toned muscle clings to her arms and she’s let go of the rectangle-shaped glasses. Now, circular Harry Potter spectacles sit on the bridge of her pointy nose. She stares at you through them for a while. She's a CCTV; she's monitoring your moves in HD and watching you put your clothes in neat piles in the cabinet drawers. Heejin gives you a stare that lingers long after you're done folding them. She's thinking of something, and you're not sure if you want to know.

"Daddy," she calls out. 

You don't know what you're doing when you turn your head in her direction. Much less when she winks at you. Blush furiously and hide your face behind spread shirts.

Chan peeks from the living room. "Yeah, hon?" 

"I think Nana's waiting for you to pick her up? It's 3 p.m.."

"Ah, right. Can’t forget about that little rascal.” He wipes his mouth and gets up. “Help Jay with his stuff, please, Heekki?"

It only takes seconds for Chan to find his keys, but for you it takes hours. Your heart beats loudly at the thought of being alone with Heejin, and you can’t differentiate its drumming with being nervous or excited. When he finally gets out and you hear the car pull out of the way, you’re stuck. Heejin’s somewhere near the corner of your room but it doesn’t look like she’s the one who has nowhere to go. 

She’s stunning with all those locks of shiny dark hair curtaining her shoulders and fit body. Her legs do more than peeking out from her low-cut shorts as she navigates your new room. The round glasses that sit on her nose just pull her whole, gorgeous look together. You can’t believe how beautiful she’s become. She was always a pretty girl, but the maturity and growth that coursed through her early years of adulthood made her glow. It’s like you’re looking at a new, refined version of her.

“I’m sorry about your parents,” says Heejin. She picks away at a poster of a famous basketball player, name redacted. “They were good people.”

“Trust me,” you sigh, “I know.”

God knows you didn’t appreciate your parents much. It’s a pet peeve of yours to be reminded to be grateful in grave situations, but your mother and father were different from other pairs of parents. Others were abusive, neglectful, cruel. Yours knew how to take care of you while letting you dip your toes into the pool of freedom at the same time. Your parents loved you. Not a lot of people could say that.

“And they told my dad to take you in, huh?”

“Does that bother you?” you say, with an unintentional bladed edge to your voice. Realize how you said it and immediately shut your mouth.

Heejin blinks, disarmed for a while, then recovers quickly with a smile that’s just as dazzling as her. “For what it’s worth,” she says, taking the chance to place herself beside you a little too close for anything that isn’t lustful intent, “I’d love to have you over here as long as you like.”

You don’t know what to say. Her being this close with you is setting off fireworks inside of you. Put a pillow snug in your lap just to be sure and nod. “Thanks, Heejin.”

“Of course.” Heejin rests her chin on your shoulder and whispers so softly that it could’ve been your imagination deluding you again: “I’ll make your time here worthwhile.”

Jerk your head, but she’s already scampering to the door and exiting your room. She doesn’t even look back. 

“Hey,” you say, trying to break the ice that only freezes you, “Chan hyung said you would help me with my stuff!”

No response.

So you were right to think that she’s trouble. But god, would you love to be wound up in her.

-

You’ve stared at the ceiling for too long, but now, it’s not out of grief. It’s out of fear. Are you doing the right thing by wanting to fuck your sister? Well, she’s not exactly your sister yet, but she’s somehow related to you now considering her father treats you as a son, too. A stepsister, maybe? There’s no other fitting term than that.

What should you do? Is gawking at her and her desirable body going to make your parents in the afterlife proud? You’re sure they’d be disappointed. But is it your fault that Heejin’s grown into this naturally flirtatious woman? Not at all. Is it your fault that she’s so damn attractive? The answer is no, too.

It could be a yes though, because it isn’t Heejin to blame that her new brother wants to have sex with her. You’re both in the wrong, and two of those don’t exactly make a right.

Look around your room, then at the door where she leaned on as she successfully intimidated you. Is it locked? Fuck it, you don’t know, and you probably don’t even care. What you do know is that you’re too turned on by the thought of your new sister Jeon Heejin, and you need to do something about it.

(To the cracked hole in the fourth wall, you say, What? I have needs, too, you know. And you do, too—why do you think you’re reading this now?)

Lift your comforter just a little and slide your hand south. Cup your bulge, caress it, then spring it out. It’s already solid, and it doesn’t need too many strokes to have the blood rushing there completely. Your stiff rod aches for a touch, aches for Heejin, and stimulates itself to the thought of her as you start to jerk off.

You think of how she could swing those full thighs over each side of your face, and though her form would burden your chin, you’d happily eat of her. Bet that her pussy’d taste just as good as her lips. You’d lick and suck her clit while she moans and writhes until the two of you couldn’t take it anymore; her core would feel numb after the pleasure and your jaw would ache for days.

You recall how her lips were just inches away from you earlier, only barely touching the curve of your ear. Think of how those lips would feel much better if they were on yours. Yearn for your mouths to meet to the point that you’re moaning in each other, taking in the natural scent of skin and sex.

Finally, you think of the changes you’ve seen in her. Where was the shy, antisocial Heejin of yesterday? Now she’s grown, just like you, and looks far better than you’d imagine. She’s turned into this will’o the wisp goddess.

“Heejin,” you say, as quietly as you could, “Heejin, Heejin, Heejin—”

“God, I really turned you on that much, huh?”

Your pumps stop, and your sight catches onto the said woman you’ve been jerking off to. She’s in the same place as she was earlier, at her opening scene at the door frame. You’re more than happy to see the pretty Heejin, but she can’t show up now. Not when you’re jerking off. She can’t just appear in the corner like she teleported for the pure purpose to catch you in the act.

“Heejin!” you yell, pulling the covers onto yourself. “G-get out of my room!”

She’s wearing her sleep clothes now, but she still looks like she dressed to impress. Her body pulls together the skimpy shorts and loose shirt she sleeps in into something that could have been worn on a haute couture catwalk. Her raised brows, haughty eyes, and quirked mouth all show how she’s smugger than the word itself.

“Aww,” Heejin says, walking over to sit on your bed, “what should we do to you now, oppa?”

You’re horrified, to say the least. It’s your first day at a new house and you’re already doing something wrong. The bare minimum you should do in this situation is to tell the girl to fuck off. Tell her to go far away and flee to anywhere but your room. You can’t just stare at her like she’s a dream come true, even if she is.

Let’s see: you have your new sister on your bed who caught you jerking off. There has to be some other way this would end, but the two of you know where this leads. The question that remains is if you’d be able to hold back.

You make the first step to resisting the inevitable outcome. “Heejin,” you say, breaths shredded into panicked little gasps, “I’ll only say it again and no more. Get out of my room.”

She smiles sweetly and shakes her head. “Can’t make me. I want to know what you were doing, Jay.”

“No!” You won’t be saying it, you won’t dream of saying it, you’d rather die than to be caught saying it. It’s already bad enough when it goes unspoken. What more if you pronounce what you were doing with each syllable more embarrassing than the other?

“Then I guess I should just”—she tugs the covers off—”oh my, Jay oppa. You were touching yourself to me. And I thought I was just being narcissistic.”

Your cock leaks in the cold air. Heejin laughs tauntingly. It sounds so much more attractive than it should, especially when her voice is deep and rich. It sounds… sexy?

Oh, what are you doing? You should feel embarrassed, maybe even petrified at the mere thought of your childhood acquaintance slash new sister slash new crush seeing your dick. But your mind doesn’t brew with insecurities upon seeing her eyes glimmer with eagerness.

She can’t do this. No, no, no, you can’t do this either. Let fucking her remain a fantasy pirouetting in your head, not one that comes true. It’s so much more awkward when it translates into real life where you somehow think it into existence. 

Awkwardness isn’t in Heejin’s dictionary, though. She looks far from uneasy or disgusted. In fact, you swear there’s a small grin dimpling her cheeks. It’s like she’s actually flattered that you’re jerking off to her.

“If I knew you had such a big cock, Jay oppa…” she says, placing a hand on your hip to prop herself on it. You jerk involuntarily, which happens at the worst time; your cock almost brushes her cheek. “I would have let you fuck me in front of daddy. Or would you rather I call you daddy?”

“Why are you here, for god’s sake?” you say. You’re biting your lip to suppress your humiliated screams.

“Well,” she taps her chin, a feat that would be adorable if you’d just cast the situation aside, “I thought I heard something, and it was just as I suspected.”

“Fine, I’ll say it for the third time: Jeon Heejin, get the fuck out of my room.”

“Oh, that’s right. Say my name, oppa. Daddy.” She winks. “Say it and I might just put my lips on this big fat cock.”

“No, you won’t.” 

It sounds more challenging instead of intimidating, and it’s clear that Jeejin doesn’t cower away from dares anymore. “Watch me.” 

She lowers herself onto your lower body and admires your length with bright bunny eyes. “I’d let you blow in my mouth as much as you like. I’d fuck my throat on it and give it a nice good kiss. Oh, right, you wanna know how? Like this.” 

She engages with your dick into an open-mouthed osculation, swallowing the tip and suckling it, too. Groan, but when you pull your hand out to do the opposite to her head, she’s already sitting back up. You really can’t have your way here, not when your new sister knows of her danger and puts it to good use. She’s resourceful like that, and it both impresses and scares you.

Heejin wags her finger in your face as if she were scolding a trouble child. “No, no, Jay oppa,” she reprimands you. “That was just a teaser. If you really want me, jerk off to me. Say my name.”

You can’t say no to her. Well, actually, you can—you just refuse to. You’re fifty-percent scared of the outcome of making this deal with Heejin and fifty-percent excited. There’s an Alice-like curiosity in you that yearns to see what might happen. Would she really keep her end of the deal and suck you off? Or leave you with blue balls like she did earlier?

Wrap your hand unsurely around your penis again. She nods encouragingly. 

Do your usual routine: up and down. Murmur her name over and over, your gaze connected with hers. Her smile grows bigger as your pumps become less measured. You start to spiral out of control. How can you not when she’s just too fucking hot? Her succubus stare, thighs that look fuller as they rest on your mattress, her intent that grows more clear as she rubs your thigh. You’re trapped in lust, and you know you have to settle down a little before you completely lose track of all senses, but you can’t stop. How could anyone when there’s Jeon Heejin as she lives and breathes in front of you?

Say her name, say her name. 

Say it like a poem, say it like it’s one of fame. 

Say it like you’re about to cum, which you are, and your climax isn’t one that’s too far—

“That’s it, Jay,” says Heejin in a tone that’s almost loving. As your cum shoots an obscene, one-direction spurt, she replaces your hand with hers. “Cum for me. You want to fuck me so bad it’s pathetic.”

Her touch is as rough as it is soft. You say it’s too much in between thin whimpers of pleasure, but her flexed hand is determined to keep pumping. Her fist tightens and her jerks grow stronger. 

“Naughty, naughty oppa. Look at this thick hot cum. Is it all for me?”

You’re spraying all over her and her meaty thighs. Her shorts get stained and you try with all your might to contain the bursts of white, but you end up on the edge again. You end up releasing more. Your thoughts run in circles and bump into each other—they’re scolding you, hurting you, asking you why the fuck are you cumming from your new sister’s handjob. You’d answer them by saying you don’t know, but you know the reason probably more than you know yourself: 

Heejin is unbearably alluring, and her giving you a handjob is unbearably wrong. Strangely, both of these facts get you going. The mere truth that she shouldn’t be doing this with you makes you want more of it. Has grief taken a more different route in traumatizing you? Oh god, what would your parents think?

What would Chan think? He trusts you enough to be a good big brother to Heejin. Would you really throw his trust in you away, all for his irritatingly hot oldest daughter?

If you’d take a look at the situation—you having just ejaculated on her—it seems like it.

“No,” you say. It’s a crack in your integrity knowing that you could stress her name in any way or form, and she’d still be hot as fuck. It wouldn’t undo what she did to you and what you let her do. “P-please. We shouldn’t be doing this.”

“That’s what makes it fun, right?” She wipes your cum from her thighs with her shirt. “Besides, I did say I’ll make your time worthwhile.”

How does that work? A brother and sister, whether related by blood or not, should bond by having sincere talks and treating each other, not by having sex. 

(But she’s right about the fun part. Looks like Heejin is just as fucked in the head as you are.)

“I want to have some fun, Jay oppa,” she explains. She places her palms on her thighs caked with cum, and pouts. From that, you know you can’t resist. You wouldn’t dare. “Won’t you let me, pretty please?”

She’s both hot and adorable. Hot enough to drive you crazy and adorable enough to convince you to do any of the most mundane things out there. You don’t know how to do this with her. It seems like no matter how cute or sleazy she poses herself as, she’ll always get what she wants somehow. 

It’s dumb of you to even try, but you do: “Okay, what fun do you want to have?” Say this while collecting tissues from the little box at your bedside table to wipe down her thighs. You expected to use the tissues for self-love sessions and nights when the tears couldn’t stop. You never thought that you’d have to use them to clean your cum from your new sibling’s legs.

“You know exactly what I want: I want this”—she points at your cock—”in here”—then at the center of her shorts.

Immediately your already gray morals come out to play. “I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Heejin,” you say, biting your lip to stay quiet. It’s not intentionally hot or whatsoever, but Heejin’s mind particularly hangs onto that for a while. “We’re brother and sister now. We can’t do this. What if your dad finds out?”

“Aww, I get it. I do, really. But you’re so going to hit my guts if you fuck me right now.” She throws off her shorts, leaving her in nothing but a set of cute pink panties. Then, she scoots herself over so that your cock rests upon her small belly, right in front of her core. “See? You can spread me that well, and I won’t mind at all. I promise.”

Look at your cock and how far it can reach inside her, how it can push her walls apart. Oh god, it’s tempting. Everything about her, from her perfect face to her spread thighs, calls for you to forgo propriety and just fuck her. 

“This bunny’s waiting for you, oppa.” Heejin does more than wait and pulls down your boxers. Pulls down her panties. Pulls down your ethics and morality and principles and everything you used to go by; down they go into the river of fire. “This bunny girl’s gonna fuck herself on this cock. You want that, don’t you, daddy? You want me to ride you and call you daddy. Make me call myself your little bunny. Yeah, I’ve got you all figured out.”

What she’s doing may be wrong, but what she’s saying is right. You, in all unfiltered honesty, want to see Heejin bounce on you and ride you endlessly. Her toned thighs and calves are made for it. She deserves getting what she wants after jerking you off.

But does Chan deserve this: have his new son and his daughter betray his trust? Turn the family upside down all because of lust? 

Oh, who cares what he thinks? When Heejin slides her pussy down your cock in one try despite her refusing tightness, you lose your thoughts. The will to take her roughly, just like she deserves, takes its place. It rules your head with an iron fist, just like how you rule Heejin’s impossibly tight pussy with iron-clad thrusts. 

“Oh, oh, oh fuck,” she gasps. She squeezes her eyes shut and grabs onto your shoulders. Her hold is tight. That’s one thing it has in common with her cunt. “Daddy, you’re so big. I can’t, p-properly ride it, you’re too big.”

Your cock is held hostage by Heejin’s stubborn cunt. She wants it to stuff her fully, but never could let it inside her. She’s too tight. Your hands on her waist, you push her down as gently as you could. She lets out deep groans and sighs. 

“That feels so good, daddy,” she tells you. After that, you achieve a dream you never thought would come true, as light as it is compared to fucking her: a kiss. It’s not as passionate as her bouncing on your crotch, but it’s good enough to have you blushing. “Yes, you like it when your little bunny girl kisses you? You like how tight she is?”

You nod. That’s all you can do when you’re speechless. What else can you say to her? You can’t tell her that it isn’t true when every iota of her words are true. 

“You can do better than that, daddy,” Heejin gasps, head tossed back. A storm of black hair hangs over your bed clothes. “I know you can. Yes, just like that. Do it. Fffuck me harder, I want it, fuck—”

Clearly, slow, precious pumps into her tiny hole aren’t going to work. So it isn’t exactly all your doing when you lift Heejin and suddenly have her pinned to the bed. The balance of power is reversed—you’re now pounding her to your mattress, spreading her legs and propelling your thrusts into the perfect target: her small, damp hole. You take advantage of how wet she is by thrusting bluntly and exclude the rest of your length for a chance to breathe. With Heejin, though, there’s no such thing as breathing. She’s left you gasping for air since your reunion.

“Hnnn, lookie here, daddy.” She lifts her shirt, revealing a surprising set of subtle yet hard abs, where your bulge appears and disappears. “You’re so big that you’re, fu— fucking reaching my tummy. That’s why you have to go deeper. Can’t waste such a big cock, right?”

She grabs your waist to aid your pumps. She must have done some serious lifting in the gym; those harsh tugs and pulls have got to be from somewhere. You’re thrown into a looped route of jamming your tip against her G-spot and cervix hard. Heejin’s grippy pussy refuses to let you go through the night without going down on her. Not that you’d have it any other way. Silly how just moments ago you were telling her not to continue her advances, yet now you’ve advanced past flirty banter with her.

Make it a point, no, a goal to thrust upward rather than only forward. She spreads her legs more, and you reach under her loose shirt to squeeze her breasts. Her nipples are perky and deserve each of your tweaks. Heejin whimpers, as if she were an actual bunny caught into a trap. What a terrible hunter you are, but it’s simply revenge. The disguised predator, Heejin, was actually prey—she’s caught into the ropes she went to with confident hops.

The hunter becomes the hunted.

“Fuck, you’re going to put a baby in me,” whines Heejin. “C-can’t do that, just—no, just cum on my stomach, please. My mouth, my legs, anywhere.”

When she puts it that way, it makes you spite the fact that it’s forbidden. You want to release in Heejin and make her feel your warm cum. Let it infiltrate her womb and give her a baby. You can’t have that happen, yet you want it to happen. It shouldn’t be like this.

“Please,” you say. You’re getting incredibly close that it rides on your tongue like the aftertaste of a dessertful. You can’t believe you’re actually begging to cum inside her, but any man would if put in your place. Anyone who thinks it’s pathetic clearly hasn’t met Heejin face to face.

“Daddy,” she says, “you can’t…”

Saddening news, and she isn’t too happy about it either. The tremble of her lower lip is one you capture with a firm kiss. Your breaths get caught in her mouth as you near climax. And the orgasmic Heejin’s wrapping her legs around you tight, as if daring you to breed her even if she’s clearly told you not to. It’s like her legs, sealed around your hips, bear the weight of the advantages and disadvantages and spread them out for you, yet the thing in between them makes you forget all about the cons. 

It’s scary how you almost give in.

Just in time, however, you pull away and bust a load on her tummy. It’s the product of all the jabs your rod did at it. It’s only fair it gets to show the plentiful result laid all over the muscled skin. 

Heejin looks down at the pool of cum while gasping for air. She swallows, then smiles. “Not bad for a guy who’s gonna be my big brother.”

-

You can already tell having sex with her is going to become a usual affair. The look she flashed you before leaving for school is telling enough. When she woke you up with a sloppy blowjob, saying in between soft suckles that “I have at least one hole you could fill,” you went insane. You’ve made your bed. Now you have to lie in it.

To be fair, you’d lie in Heejin forever if you could. But as a son, you have duties to fulfill. Although Chan told you that you’re free to do whatever you wish, you still have the sense to help around the house. You don’t want to be seen as a burden. You’d want to be anything but the new son who doesn’t know how to do things, especially for your new sisters.

Your new relationship with Heejin, though, exceeds familial bond. Will you hide it from Chan or put a stop to what she’s doing before it transforms completely? Down the road feelings from both ends might get involved and increase the overall taboo of the situation. Chan would probably get suspicious. 

You don’t know what to do.

Take your mind off things. Make an extravagant meal, or at least a style-over-substance one. Follow the instructions of a recipe for mashed potatoes at the back of the gravy powder packet. Hell, you could do this: set cut and peeled potatoes in a pot of briskly boiling water, mash them after smearing them with butter, shake pepper onto those motherfuckers… done! 

Put your masterpiece into a bowl and set it on the table. It actually looks pretty good. Maybe being a chef is your calling. You can already imagine the scenarios you’d go through as one. Chef Jay doesn’t sound too bad, right?

Chan is at work while Heejin’s at college. You’re glad you won’t be seeing Heejin for the remainder of the day; as much as you’d hate to see her go, meeting her would make you feral. She left a to-do list on a post-it sticky note on the fridge door, which looks like it’s been there for a while if you take into consideration the boxes all being checked. 

A more recent one, however, is Chan’s own reminders written on a piece of ruled college notebook paper, apparently addressed to you and Nana: 

Good morning! Have an awesome day ;)

Please treat yourself to the Mcdonalds in the fridge, just reheat it pls

Take care of yourselves, love you!

Ah, you wouldn’t have made mashed potatoes if you knew Chan had left some McDonald’s. You hope that he still remembers your favorite from years ago: a classic Big Mac with medium fries to go.

Open the fridge eagerly and—

There’s nothing?

You know who it is. That voice is decidedly more youthful than Heejin’s, but not anymore that high. It’s Nayeon. Nana, to be exact. Everyone you know calls her Nana in order to avoid confusing her with Im Nayeon who’s somewhere in the line of the kids of your parents’ friends.

Nana’s younger by only a year, hence being the perfect playmate for you back then. The two of you would run around and yell at each other gleefully, basking in the joys of childhood you didn’t know would last that short. 

So, when you step closer to her, you don’t really believe it’s her. If there’s anything in common between the bright Nana and the laid-back Heejin, it’s that they’ve both grown up beautifully. 

“Nana?” you ask. 

Her hair was a silky black then, often wrangled in between with sand and dirt, but now, it’s a mass of coffee brown. It looks like she’s gotten glasses, too, aside from a light fringe that settles prettily on her forehead. 

But then there’s Nana’s body, which you used to pick up as a child to mimic flying heroes with, which has grown… voluptuous. In the volleyball shorts and casual statement tee, it flatters her medium-sized bust and meaty thighs just right.

(It probably even coaxes you into thinking she’s the perfect… girlfriend?)

Her face still is adorable as ever. If someone were to put the cutest face in the world with the perfect body, the outcome would be Nana. She’s more than that, actually; she just so happens to be exactly your type.

Oh no, here you go again. Your feelings for her from your youthful days resurge, and you realize you’ll probably add another fuck-up to the list before this day ends. Meeting Heejin was one thing, but Nana, your first grade playmate slash friend slash childhood crush? Slash new sister? You’re as good as dead to Chan if he finds out what you want to do to her.

“Jay oppa!” says Nana. Her smile has grown more beautiful, just like the rest of her. It’s still cheeky, but wider. “You remember me, right?”

How could you not? “Y-yeah.”

“Aww, sweet!” Nana pokes you on the shoulder. “Anyway, I ate your Big Mac, sorry. I got hungry.”

Oh, so Chan did remember your favorites. 

“One meal wasn’t enough for you?” ask her, grinning. You still got that playfulness in you with her. Hopefully she reciprocates.

She gives you the finger. 

Scoff and turn away with raised hands. “If it makes you feel better, I made potatoes for you,” you announce, “but I guess I’ll have them since you ate my Big Mac.”

“Meanie.”

“Overgrown baby.”

“Jaybird.”

It’s just like the old times, except for today, nobody gets hurt. The two of you know the truth: you’ve missed each other so much. Not a day goes by when you don’t think of each other. You’re embedded into the depths of everyday thoughts, the times when she’d say oh no, I wasn’t thinking of you but only because she doesn’t realize it because you’re layers upon layers upon layers of idle thought. 

It would take an expeditioner to navigate through the history you and Nana have.

You’re childish. What makes up for it is what you say next, because it’s kind of true and isn’t merely something to say just for the hell of it, as you step forward and lower your gaze to her with a sobering glare: “Brat.”

Nana approaches you with her hands folded behind her back. She tilts with each step, as if contemplating on whether she is one or not. “Am I?” 

She’s so much smaller than you, yet your hands fill up when you place them on her hips. Her waist is tiny compared to the slopes of her hips and thighs. Her cheeks (on both parts, to be clear, because you know what you’re thinking) are sizable, too, and you can’t choose between the two pairs on which to squeeze.

“Yeah.”

“Can you handle it?”

You see where this is going. You’re still a mirror of each other, and the glass still reflects lust. “Nana.”

“Fine,” she says indifferently. She hops on the kitchen island and crosses her arms. That should be a sign that she’s going to be anything but. “Be like that. Pretend you don’t know what I wanna do. Even better, pretend you don’t like me.”

She’s got it all wrong. Draw in some air and let it out immediately. “I do like you, Nana,” you clarify. “But—”

“But?” 

How do you tell her what the matter is without revealing that you just had sex with Heejin the night before? You’ve no idea how to go through this. Your feelings for her collide with your attraction to her sister, as well as what you did with her.

No outcome of this is morally right, but who cares for morality? You do, although you’re the last person who should be talking about that. You’re trying to salvage what’s left of your ethics and piece it together to make yourself believe that you’re a good person. Newsflash: you’re not. No good person would fuck his new sister and want to fuck the other, too.

Whir the script you used for Heejin for her younger sister. “We’re family now,” you say weakly. 

Nana rolls her eyes. “Get off your high horse.”

“It’s not a high horse. It’s… it’s decency.”

“Hm. Okay.”

It’s surprising how quick Nana concedes. Her simple answer should have led to a simple result: the two of you never talking about this again and respecting the boundaries of the other. But no, she’s walking towards you, setting her hands on your shoulders. Her mouth is nearing yours, somewhere you’ve dreamed of it residing despite it being so wrong.

“Then stop me,” she dares you. It’s a tougher dare than the ones she made you do on the playground. “If you’re so righteous and don’t want to kiss me, stop me.”

You shouldn’t kiss her. You want to, but it’s something that should never happen. Your feelings for her since your childhood days can’t come out to play when she’s your new sister. No unspoken law of morality says that it’s fine for you to sweep her up in your arms, kiss her, and take her to bed. If you do, you’re committing multiple crimes. 

Nana is the braver felon. She presses her lips on your mouth, and you have to admit, in spite of the wrongness, that it’s everything you’ve dreamed of. Her chapsticked mouth is soft and sweet. You really should have held back. Nevertheless, her tongue is in your mouth, and soon you’re holding her head in your hands so you could kiss her properly. 

She’s turned you into a felon, too. So rob her of her breath. Hold her body hostage on the island. Kill your hesitation. You’re one of the same, yet only one of you has shown any hesitation in doing this. In fairness, there’s still a voice in the back of your head that commands you to stop. 

You don’t listen to it.

“Did your dad put any CCTVs in the house?” you ask breathily. If you’re going to do something wrong, you should at least try to hide it.

“He’s old as shit. Of course he didn’t,” says Nana, giggling. “If you eat my pussy right now he won’t know. Unless, of course, you want to get caught.”

“So you’re scared of climbing trees but not getting caught having sex?”

“Hey, I’m not scared of climbing trees anymore! Now shut up and eat me. Consider this… your lunch, since I had your McDonald’s.”

“By all means, Nayeon,” you say, pulling down the shorts that live up to their name and the flimsy set of pink panties.

“It’s Nana—ohhhh…”

Her correction gets lost and translated into moans. You’re sending quick, dainty licks on her clit. Enjoy the shivers Nana does. You know well to prey on that area after that, besides your experience with an old high school fling and sex ed. You also know to caress her thighs to send chills up her body, somehow even bringing heat to her core.

She’s too light to cause injury, but she almost, almost does when she squirms her hips harshly into your face. “Oppa!” she squeals. Her fingers are wrapped at the edge of the island as she lifts her lower body up for you to devour. “Th-that feels so good—fuck—”

“Thought you didn’t like to curse,” you say. Break the contact with her clit and let your finger take its place. 

“And I thought you were a virgin.”

You don’t realize that your finger rubbing on her sensitive little nub takes the offense out on it. “The fuck?”

“Y-yeah, I know.” Nana hisses. She rolls her hips up and down. “I thought you’d be too scared to have sex with me. You know, besides the obvious reasons.”

“So you’re saying I should be the guy you thought I would be? And stop?”

“Don’t you fucking dare—”

Laugh. “Relax,” you tell her. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll eat this delicious pussy of yours till you’re screaming, I promise.”

Nana laughs as well. She rests her calves on both of your shoulders and smiles. “Spoken like a true non-virgin.”

It helps that she’s so fucking delicious. You’d start having her as a rewarding meal after tough days rather than McDonald’s. She’s the perfect balance of sweetness and tanginess, filling your mouth like a rain of sugar. Wrapping your lips around her nub just brings out more wetness and moans that are just as sweet. Her sounds of pleasure are exactly what you’ve fantasized about them being: soft yet high, clinging to pitched tones and increasing in volume when you slurp on her nub. 

Her sounds are so much different from her sister’s. Heejin’s moans are deep and unearth even deeper feelings of lust for her. Nana’s drive you crazy in a different way. They urge you to keep eating her, to keep suckling harshly on her little clitoris so you’d have her stiff nipples poke the front of the cloth of her shirt, to keep doing away with her tiny hole so that she’s begging in that cute little voice of hers. 

She’s more passive than Heejin, too. It took rough patches for you to finally be able to fuck her sister into temporary submission. For Nana, it only takes a few licks here and there, and she’s already shaking. Still, you can’t choose between them. 

Why choose anyway when you can have them both?

Nana, of course, is good enough for now. Though she’s got you in a padlock between her thighs and forcing you to keep eating her, you give in happily. Your hands are curled around her thick soft thighs to maintain her sprawled position on the island. And dear god, are you taking advantage of it. The suction of your lips is almost cruel, and the poor girl has to alternate between loving it and being overwhelmed.

Run your hands along her delicious backside then squeeze the two round globes. She moans appreciatively, and she’s faced with another two decisions to choose from: to reverse herself into your hands so you could play with her ass more or to go forward to have your mouth absolutely devouring her. Both options are sure to provide her pleasure, but she can’t choose just one. So she moves her hips forward and backward, grinding on the tip of your tongue and your rough palms. It feels so much better this way for her. She’s finally found a good routine.

“Oppa, oppa, Jay oppa,” groans Nana. “Please, p-please.”

She doesn’t specify what she’s begging for. She doesn’t need to anyway when you know the answer. That’s why you run your tongue along her soaked labia, then let it peek into the hole they welcome you in. Delve your tongue inside her deeply. Her ass lifts off the surface and you have to pull her down to earth though she’s close to meeting heaven because of you. No, she’s staying here, under your control and touch. She isn’t going anywhere.

Not that Nana would rather be anywhere else. She’s content with having you orally please her. She likes the feeling of being sprawled out before and under you and letting you have your way with her. She was wrong to think you were a virgin; the wildest laps of an inexperienced mouth definitely won’t feel this good.

She should eat your lunch more times if this is how it would end.

“Your tongue, fuck,” she says, voice shattered, “ it feels so good—don’t stop, please, I can’t—”

You don’t plan on it. Nana’s too delicious, too sweet to stop eating of. She’s definitely miles better than what you were supposed to have for lunch. Although your head still swirls at the idea that you’re actually having sex with your crush, hesitation is a faint dream. Her moans, sweet and whiny, prod you on and tell you a story of a climax approaching.

Draw out the plotline by tracing a line from her slit to her pearl, repeat then, shove a plot twist in there by suddenly curling your tongue inside her. She provides the dialogue and ending line:

“Jay oppa, I’m cumming!”

Nana’s screams switch to squeals when you spank her bubble butt while continuing to eat her out. She reaches for your head and pulls it deeper between her thighs, while her other hand rests on her left nipple. The combined pleasure unexpectedly makes her leak of squirted girl cum. Of course, you waste no time in licking that up.

“T-too much, fuck, oh yes,” she gasps. Her breaths are burdened with each word. “Spank me, oppa, just like that!”

Everything you do drives her crazy. From your spanking and sucking, her hips never fail to lose control. They knock, sway, and dance while her pussy drips with more accumulated wetness and cum. Despite her satisfaction, it’s clear that you won’t be able to drink all of her juices when the mere act of doing it forms more.

“Oppa, oppa, stop.”

Pause and look up at her with a mouth smeared with juices. “What’s the problem?” you ask. You’d hate to have done something wrong to her.

“I think daddy and Heejin unnie are at the driveway.”

Shit. You immediately pull away from Nana’s cunt. She barely gets her shorts on right when Chan and Heejin come in. Pray that the kitchen smells of what it’s supposed to instead of sex. You can still catch the slight scent of gratification in the air. 

“We’re home!” says Chan. He comes bearing gifts: supermall department store paper bags strung in a single wrist. You’re strangely more drawn to Heejin rather than the clothes that might be brought home; she counts as a gift, right?

She’s barely wrapped, though. A tube top designed as a blue handkerchief dangles around her bust. The shawl doesn’t exactly play the probable role of a ribbon when it’s thinner than one. 

Oh well, easier to unwrap and break into pieces.

“Hi, Jay oppa,” says Heejin. Her smile is wide; she knows you’re flustered by her choice of fashion today. She looks at Nana with a comparably colder gaze. “Nana.”

Sibling rivalry, you assume? The tension is incapable of going unnoticed. You wonder what it’s for. There must have been history between them. You wouldn’t know, however; you’re an only child. Were. 

“How was the…” you say, trying to break the thickness in the air but find that you don’t have the words to do it. Why do you even bother? Oh, right, they’re your sisters now—as a big brother, you have to try and help them make ends meet. 

“Oh, the mall?” Chan says. He’s unknowingly rescued you from awkwardness. He throws you the bag. “Pretty good! I got you a shirt. Heekki bought some stuff, too.”

“You didn’t get me anything, daddy?” asks Nana disappointedly. The redness in her face is lucky to be passed off as the heat’s doing.

“Maybe if you didn’t spill that water on the floor I’d give you your present early.”

The youngest sister tilts her head, but when she turns around, she realizes what her father means. Just when you thought you’d left the coast clear, there’s one piece of evidence you failed to hide: Nana’s slick and cum. It drools from the edge of the island and on the ground. Even worse, your shirt is stained, too. 

“I—uh, daddy—”

“What? Gonna cry, Nayeon?” Heejin asks. She flashes her sister a taunting grin.

What is going on between these two? Why is Heejin bullying her? Why is Nana looking angrier than she’s ever looked in her life? You truly don’t understand. 

“It’s Nana,” the younger girl replies. Her shoulders are visibly tense.

Chan gives them a stern look. You know what that means: cut it out, or I’ll make you. You’ve learned to translate those looks from parents of unruly children at public places. “Girls,” he pacifies them. “Don’t want to start a fight in front of your new brother, do you?”

“She started it!” Nana says protestingly.

“And I’ll end it. Cut it out and clean your mess up.”

Heejin smiles sweetly yet artificially as her sister obeys what she’s told to do. Then, she drags you to the bedroom out of sight.

Cut to black.

-

“You’re a bad person, Jay oppa.”

Those are the first words Heejin told you after she pulled you into her room. Her kisses aren’t as passionate anymore when they’re more angry than lustful. Her lips mash on your neck, mouth, and chest, all while she unbuttons your shirt with quickness you’ve never seen in her.

Your shirt’s torn off you before it could even live on to be a hand-me-down. An angry Heejin, you find out, can do things like that. She isn’t all seductive and sweet when she’s furious. And right now, she’s burning on every end with wrath.

“I think that’s why you agreed to have sex with me,” she says. Pulls off your bottoms so she can sit her bottom on you. “Because you wanted some kind of fucked up stress relief. And then you see me, and you go ‘hey, I could fuck this girl and since she’s such a slut she wouldn’t mind.’ That’s what you thought, right? That I’m just another dumb slut bunny?”

None of that crossed in your mind. All you knew when you were reunited with Heejin was that you were very attracted to her. “Heejin, it isn’t like that. And you’re not a slut.”

“For you,” Heejin throws her shawl to the corner of the room, “I am.”

She said it, not you. Still won’t agree to it. But when Heejin’s riding you at this pace that you can’t keep up with, you might change your mind. 

Her thighs ripple photogenically when they slap onto yours. Your face can’t say the same. From the moment the door was closed, she pounced on you. She takes the role of a hunter again. She has her hand on your chest and her ass perched on your crotch. It all starts and ends there.

“Oh, and you looove lording it over me, huh?” she asks. She’s yelling at you, angry at you about something you don’t even know yet, which is supposed to make you feel scared. You should be cowering and promise yourself to never ever underestimate her again. Instead, you feel…

Aroused? 

Your cock is hard enough to push past her slick walls and bask in their embrace. You hear your own breaths partner up with Heejin’s.

“You know I like you and your dick so much,” she continues. Her bounces are strong. Days and nights spent at the gym keep her stamina strong. Is she a singer, too? Her voice hasn’t cracked once. Or maybe she’s just that angry. “That’s why you like making me jealous. You know I can’t control myself around you.”

“Heejin, it’s n-not like that.” Surprised that you manage to get those words out of your mouth. All that’s coming from it are moans.

“So what is it?” 

“Wait, is this about Nana?”

She growls. Her pace quickens, and you’re off the edge again, your hands planted on the white mattress shaking and failing to keep you up. Her voice is like a trigger word that shuts all your systems down. 

“See,” she says. She shuts her eyes and bites her lip. “You even, hahm, call her Nana, too.”

Give up on trying to remain stable. Place your hand instead on Heejin’s ass to help her meaningful grinding. “Everyone calls her that.”

“But you don’t even call me Heekki or anything. It’s not fair, you know. You and your fucking crush on that bitch.”

Well, she’s right. You do have a crush on Nana. She doesn’t have that wrong. The thing is—

“I’m sorry, Heekki.” 

You’d tell her that as many times as she wants if that’s what makes her feel better. You still want more sessions like these with her, maybe less violent, in the future, even if your feelings for her sister are beyond mere lust.

Right, Nayeon. Nana. What do you do about your attraction to her? Could you like Heejin and her at the same time? It isn’t fair to both parties, including you. You can’t just lead them on. You’re not supposed to, to be more precise; they’re your sisters. But of course, you break that taboo and are fucking the eldest sister to her guts in her bed after having just eaten her sibling’s pussy. You wouldn’t choose one over the other.

“Hnnn, yes.” Heejin minces her words in heavy, dark tones that sound a lot more desperate than the real her. It really is your fault. You’re making her this way. “Call me that again, Jay oppa. Please? I’m, I’m your Heekki, right? Your only bunny girl?”

Little white lies, little white lies. “Yes, Heekki,” you reply. “Now hop on daddy’s cock like a good little bunny.”

“Yes, of course I will, daddy!” She’s nearly sobbing when she resumes her riding. The flexes of her thighs help her lifting and resting on your crotch. She gasps because of your hands sneaking under her handkerchief top and squeezing her ample breasts. “D-daddy, please, Heekki loves your cock, please fuck me harder!”

Jerk upwards. Heejin’s perfect pussy is a real-life fleshlight. She could be your toy anytime, one you’d bring and fuck anywhere. She’s too fitting for all the secret desires embedded in your heart. Who wouldn’t want a slutty little bunny girl toy like Heejin, with an unexpectedly sexy deep voice and a fit body?

You’re all too focused on her tiny cunt. Her hole is just made to be bred. You have to remind yourself you can’t do it. It’s hard to resist when her cunt is virginally tight and the flesh of her ass is enticing to play with. Even her groans tempt you, all those little whines and pleas shoot right at your heart (and dick.) You want to fuck her like nothing’s wrong, like she isn’t your sister and you’re not supposed to be doing this.

“Daddy, daddy, oh, daddy—” Heejin gasps.

Swipe at her clit and she screams. Shut her up with the finger you used to rub her nub, sliding it into her unprepared yet otherwise welcoming mouth. “Shut up, slut. That’s what you are, right, Heejin? Daddy’s slutty bunny girl?”

Self-contradicting or something. Oh, you don’t know. 

Still with your fingers forcing her mouth open, she nods. “Mmm. Mhmm, daddy, your slut bunny, yes—”

Heejin isn’t angry anymore. Your cock turns out to be the solution to her problems, even jealousy. You’d hate to tell her that her envy is rational. 

How would you tell her?

She sucks on your fingers, eyes glowing with tears of need. “Cumming’n you, now, daddy,” she breathes. “I want to be daddy’s only bunny girl, t-the one who gets to cum around his big cock everyday, please. I’m not mad, Heekki’s not mad anymore, I promise.”

Kiss her, and for a moment you forget about your own trials, too. The world gives its toughest times (resisting the urge to fuck your new sisters dumb) to its strongest soldiers (you).

-

You have more secrets about yourself and what you’ve done than you can count on ten fingers. Not even a sworn oath could drag them from your lips. Torture like waterboarding or a knife to your throat would be useless. Your lips are sealed at all times. No exceptions.

That’s why you’re able to fuck both Nana and Heejin without them knowing about it.  It’s been months and it’s still going on. You can’t believe it reached this point. 

You enjoy the differences between the two girls whenever you fuck them. They don’t think that you’re fucking the other either. The angry sex you had with Heejin *reduced her worries about your possible (and very real) attraction to Nana by a lot.

*(Citation, if required:

The girl was on your thigh, a night when Nana and Chan were out. You and Heejin made up an excuse: we’re too tired. It’s a school night. Some shit. The point is that the two of you threaded the circumstances and made it line up to you being alone. No distractions.

Heejin still calls you daddy, and that time was no exception. She was naked from the waist down. Her upper body being clothed in a tight baby tee didn’t make it less sexy. Seeing how the piece of clothing wrapped around her lithe form turned you on already. To add to that, she was riding your thigh, hand on your length. You made the small living room your heaven.

“Fuck,” Heejin whimpered. She chewed on her bottom lips as she rode your thigh, making use of your bounces and your hands on her hips. “Daddy, how’s it that you’re so good even when your dick isn’t inside me?”

You were flattered. Therefore, (and it was the only right thing to do in response to that), you bounced her harder. Let her grind down on your knee and stimulate her clit on the curved edge. She’s a good girl. No past tense for that one. Heejin is always your good girl, and you’re her daddy who spoils her too much. No past tense for that one either. You truly do spoil her too much—you let her drag you in the bathroom when you’re shopping just so she could drop to her knees to suck you off. You buy her expensive brands though you’re sure she makes more money than you. You do too much for her.

Her payment is better than anything you give her. She’s a good little girl who bounces on daddy’s lap and has his cum as milk before bed. Remembering that, you lifted the baby tee up to kiss her nipples. You let a slight chew ride the edges of the brown little area, then sucked hard. It gave you the reaction you wanted, the reaction you craved: Heejin cumming on your thighs. 

Her grip on your cock was too tight and she never stopped jerking you off. You came on each other, bathing skin with love and lust. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.)

Nana’s the more oblivious one. She knows she has you wrapped around her finger, too much in fact that she doesn’t entertain the idea of you liking Heejin, too. *She was eager but scared at first. Now, she fucks you without doubt, without regret.

*(Another citation:

It was after a meaningful talk that she suddenly brought up that “you haven’t fucked me yet, Jay oppa,” she said. Her natural pout made it easier for you to dive into the subject.

“Sure I have,” you replied. “What are you talking about?”

You thought back to the times you fingered her to squirt and put your mouth on her. Nana was always weak for that, and you assumed that was the only way she liked it. That was why you didn’t bother extending it past that.

“Yeah,” said Nana, looking at the night sky from the terrace, “but you haven’t, like, actually put your cock in me. I want to see it! I want it inside me!”

“Alright.” You sat up. “Sure.”

“Huh?” Her cheeks reddened. She didn’t expect that at all.

“What? Let’s do it.”

“I thought you’d be all hesitant or something,” Nana explained shyly. She looked everywhere except your piercing gaze. “I think that’s why I asked. Um… what am I even saying? I want your cock, Jay oppa.”

“Come get it then.” 

You loved seeing Nana so shy and bashful. It was so different from the playful arrogance she sets when she’s around you. She could be so cute sometimes. 

All the time. You still haven’t gotten over what you felt for her. It’s been long since you were adopted by Chan, yet your crush on Nana’s been longer. You think that maybe she does have the same feelings. After all, why would she let you fuck her? But you keep telling yourself you’re making it more complicated than it should be. To keep on Nana’s good side, and out of your own fear, too, you need to fuck her. No sappy feelings mentioned, just the good ol’ rawdogging.

You’re happy about getting to fuck Nana. Still, it isn’t the same as getting to be her boyfriend.

You went on, nonetheless. The first time she sank down on your length, she let out the cutest sound you’d ever heard. Nana was adorable in every way. Her hands scrunched up to her face like a bunny’s would as she shyly let her pussy take in your size. 

“You’re so big,” she said.

“Heard that a couple of times. What’s new?” 

“Asshole.” Nana slapped your shoulder. “You sure I could do it?”

“More than. You’re almost there.”

You tried to act like you were no stranger to this and therefore didn’t care. It was difficult when Nana’s pussy was so closed around your girth that you had to guide her downwards. Her thighs twitched and her moans were higher than they usually were. When you went down on her with your tongue, she always screamed, or when you fingered her under the blanket while watching a movie. This sound from her, a whiny gasp tangled in between a shout and a cry, was new. 

You wanted to become more acquainted with it, for which you started to thrust.

“Fffuck,” she whispered with a wince. Why was the pain good? It wasn’t supposed to work like that. “Jay oppa, that feels really good.”

“Doesn’t hurt anymore?”

“Just a little. Just keep, fffucking. Me. And I’ll be okay.”

You couldn’t help it. You dove in for a kiss. You held her face in your hands as you pumped away inside her. This time, you made sure to be careful. It was the first time you had ever penetrated her. 

It was the one of many times, though, that you made her cum.)

“Jay.”

Deja vu hits you. Or maybe you’ve been substituting grief with it. It’s been almost a year and everything still reminds you of your parents. Jay isn’t exempted from that. You zoned out on him, just like you did to your mother and father. 

It’s your duty to look at him and pay attention. He’s done so much for you already. It’s the least you could do. It’s what you would have done if you’d known that fateful day that your parents would die. “Yeah?”

Chan smiles. “Are you alright?” he asks you. He pushes the tinfoiled chocolates towards you. Dessert is an everyday thing in his house. “We lost you there a little.”

Unwrap one and pop in your mouth. “I’m fine, thanks. What were we talking about?”

“I was saying I got a promotion.”

You smile. Good things happen to good people. “Congrats, hyung!”

“Thanks, Jay! But…” Hesitantly, he continues, “because of that, I’m going on a business trip. I’ll be gone for two days.”

Heejin’s eyes widen theatrically. “Oh no,” she says in faux disappointment, “oh no, daddy.” 

It sounds like she’s addressing you rather than her own real father. More context clues: she’s inched closer to you and has a hand on your thigh. She gives it a nice squeeze, causing you to straighten suddenly. This is the riskiest Heejin has gotten.

Steal a glance at Nana, who sits at the opposite side of the dinner table. She’s staring at the two of you with fire in her eyes. While she’s too cute to be menacing, she still sends a clear message: get Heejin off you now. She can’t bear with her sister being all touchy-feely with you, or having you alone with her. If she didn’t want to save face, she’d have pounced on the table to tear Heejin’s hair out.

And she’s got such a pretty, pretty face to save, doesn’t she?

“D’you think you kids could behave while I’m gone?” Chan asks. He scratches the back of his neck. “I mean, you’re all of age, and it’s technically legal, but if you want me to stay—”

“Oh, daddy, it’s fine!” says Heejin. She looks at you sweetly and raises your joined hands. “Jay oppa and I are good friends! We’ll keep the house clean!”

“What about you, Nana? What do you think?”

Nana’s glowering stare at you and her older sister is prolonged and envious. She truly can’t look intimidating with such an adorable face, but you feel her anger. It’s telepathic how she could sit there in silence and still tell you wordlessly that she’s angry. Furious is probably a better term; you can see flames rise from her eyes.

She swallows and composes herself the best she could. “I’ll be fine,” she says quietly.

Chan asks his daughter if she’s sure, and asks the older girl the same as well. He doesn’t leave you out either. He wants to balance a family and work life properly. Both should hold the same weight on the two pedestals. 

That’s how you end up with him gone for two days, and during the first few minutes of his departure, you and Heejin are kissing each other. Nothing more than that is what you promise. Chastity isn’t the best virtue to go by in terms of happiness, but you attempt with what you could to keep it pure. 

This is where you understand the self-contradiction, for Heejin’s stark naked from the waist and up. You can feel every bit of unclothed flesh beneath your palms. You can be the expeditioner, Heejin could be the map. You’d spread her, map out each bit of pale milky skin in the connection of your two bodies’ threshold. You’d tear her and use her to the point of impurity. 

But as you said: chastity.

It’s not like Heejin’s a saint herself. The skimpy booty shorts grind down on your lap as you kiss in her bedroom. Play with her nipples you will, then also take the time to appreciate her soft thighs. 

“These thighs are fucking amazing, Heekki,” you say. The nickname’s a familiar aftertaste in your mouth now. A delicious one. 

“You want to fuck them, oppa… daddy? What should I call you?”

A hand on the nape of her neck, you lay Heejin down on her bed. “I don’t care. Whichever, just make sure you let me fuck these legs.”

“Oppa it is.” Heejin grins cheekily. She spreads her arms just as much as she tightens her legs together, letting you appreciate the smoothness of her pits and her slim, beautiful arms. Not to disregard the muscles denting the skin, though. “Isn’t it so sexy? I’m fucking my big brother, and my little sister can barge in anytime. It’s so risky, right, Jay oppa?”

Slip your cock between her pressed flesh, and you easily discover that her thighs are as good as they look. Slide in, slide out, and repeat the cycle like a habit of vice. You’d never want to recover. Something could speak to you in the back of your head, urging you to let go of what’s wrong, and you wouldn’t listen. Even if that something was, let’s say, Nana?

Speaking of…

“What’s wrong, Jay oppa?” said girl’s older sister asks, curious about your sudden alarmed look.

You’d say a lot of things to her, now that you have the chance to. Only one comes to mind: “I, I think there’s someone at the—”

“I fucking knew it.”

That’s how it all starts. It begins with the scene that goes like this: Nana stands at the doorway with shock veining red in her eyes. Her hand is firm on the door knob; looks like someone forgot to lock before they fuck. That someone may be you or Heejin. You never know. It’s too late, anyway. Nana already knows.

You’d adlib a lot of things in this situation, too. However, none of them sound plausible. You can’t speak when you feel this odd sense of guilt brimming in the core of your heart. Seeing Nana’s horrified expression, you realize that it’s rooted from you thinking you’ve betrayed her. There’s her, obviously being your childhood crush and the girl you’ve fucked weeks on end, and then there’s you, fucking her sister in the bedroom where she’s supposed to flee for sisterly advice and familial gossip. It’s so incredibly wrong, all of it: your girth being locked between Heejin’s thighs, her obviously enjoying the way the underside of your cock rubs her preyed pussy, and Nana, the other girl you’ve been fucking. The other sister you’re fucking.

“You lying bitch,” spits Nana, glaring at Heejin. Such a word should never escape her mouth when she looks that pure and sweet, but she isn’t what she looks like, sexually speaking. Emotionally speaking. “I’m gonna tell dad, and you’re so fucking screwed.”

“Then I’ll tell him you fucked me, too,” you fire back. Venom laces your words. 

Heejin looks at you in horror. “What?”

Oh no. 

Oh god. 

You definitely should have thought before you spoke. Now, the cat’s out of the bag. The taboo secret you’ve tried to hide for so long from both siblings is out in the open. You can’t lie or fuck your way out of this anymore. It’s not going to work.

Nana catches on a loose thread in her sister. She tugs it to sew back her own pride. “Yeah, that’s right,” she says haughtily, “he fucked me, too. What, you thought you were special or something?”

“Hey.” She’s really going in for the kill. You have to put a stop to it before it escalates: “Let’s all just calm down—”

Heejin turns to you and laughs after a short, bitter little scoff. “No fucking way, Jay.” She drops her legs and kicks you away. Tumble into the bedroom cabinet. “You tricked us.”

She’s right. You’ll admit that because you can’t even deny it yourself. It’s true through and through; you hid two secrets from three people: your sisters and new father. But secrets always come to light, and today just so happens to be the day for your dirty little secrets.

“Yeah,” pipes up Nana. “You wanted to use two girls as your personal cumdumps you could just throw away. You don’t—”

She stops. The older girl is awfully silent and suspicious, though you are for other reasons as well.

“Oh.” She stares at Heejin for a moment, then laughs. The palm she’s placed on her mouth is only there for dramatic effect; she doesn’t bother stifling her smug laughs. “Oh. I see it now.”

“What the hell do you mean?”

Nana walks over with surprising confidence in her steps and wraps her hand around your cock. That’s the last thing you expected her to do. Your moans are a little rougher this time because of that. Nana doesn’t bother stopping to reconsider what she’s doing: jerking off her new brother in front of her sister who shares her own blood and flesh. 

She pouts so pitiably that it could be a genuine emotion if she pleases. “You don’t let him cum inside you, do you, my sweet unnie?” she asks. “That’s right. I know you don’t.”

Heejin’s eyes go all bunny wide. The irony of it all could be entertaining enough for your average telenovela enjoyer. It helps that she plays her role of the shocked and offended domineering sister so well.

But this isn’t a telenovela; this is real life. You’re actually going through this. You can’t turn it off in spite of your desire to. When there’s the yearning inside you to see what more there is to unfold, though, you give in. You don’t say a word to stop the sisterly quarrel. You simply stand there prone to Nana, who jerks you off with an unrestrained anger.

Heejin, who’s used to playing the cruel girl to her sister, finds herself in a position she’s never had to experience: getting the short end of the stick. Getting pierced by the end of the stick. Was her sister’s all-too-true accusation the forbidden apple to the shame she feels out of nowhere for her naked body?

She stutters. You’ve only heard her stutter when you’re fucking her. It’s so strange to hear how she clumsily stumbles over her words in real life where she’s got no escape. “Okay,” she says, giving up, “so I don’t let him cum inside me. So what? It’s not my fault I’m not a slut like you.”

“Oh please,” scoffs Nana. Waving off her sister’s insult is also a first for her. “Tell me something I haven’t heard before. At least I get to feel his warm, thick cum inside me. You’re too scared to even let him fuck you in a position that isn’t missionary.”

“Girls,” you say, in one last futile attempt to calm them down. Do you even want to calm them down? You’re not sure.

Nana pulls you away from her sibling and smiles with such untainted sweetness that it makes you forget she was mad in the first place. Well, she’s still a little mad for what she says next: 

“Come on, oppa. 

“Let me do something for you that she can’t.”

Her shirt becomes a figment of your imagination. You swear it was on a few seconds ago. But now, you see how it is: no bra. Not even a white camisole. Her perky breasts are there for you to toy with. You have multiple choices, actually: her soft tummy and wide hips are there, craving for your attention. Of course you give it to them, in the form of lingering hungry touches. 

Your lips are on hers all of a sudden. It doesn't even take minutes for you to have your mouths and tongues all over each other, licking where you can and kissing till the lust ferments. (Hint: it would never.) There’s an imaginary time limit going on for you and Nana, and so you’re tearing clothes off each other and stealing kisses as fast and as needily as you can. 

It doesn’t take the whole time limit for Heejin to get jealous. “Get off him,” she growls. She kisses your back, the touch sending shivers on your skin. Her nipples push on you. “You like me better, don’t you, daddy? I’m your Heekki, right?”

You don’t know. As of now, you like the other bunny girl better. “We’ll see.”

“‘Daddy’?” Nana giggles. “That all you got, Heejin?”

“Where’s the ‘unnie’?”

“You’re not the unnie unless you prove yourself to be one,” the youngest of the three of you answers in a sickeningly flattering tone. She brushes Heejin’s cheek. “So what’s it gonna be?”

Heejin stammers again. The smarmy and arrogant her is lost in the jealousy she gathers because of Nana pushing you down the bed. When she sees how you react to it with your needy face and hands on her waist, the anger burns inside her harder. 

Still, it surely can’t be the flame of fury that’s making her this hot and bothered, can it?

Nana backs off to present her ass to you. She circles her hips in the air, giving you a show, then places a hand on both of her cheeks. The denim shorts barely cover up the swells of her ass. “Take this off me, please, oppa?” she asks. And it’s so polite that it isn’t really your fault that you give in and tug the messily cut thing she calls shorts down.

“Daddy!” Heejin says in protest. She’s naked as well, but she’s still left out.

“I think I should be the one calling him daddy here,” gloats Nana. She rubs her ass on your cock. It perfectly pleasures the underside of your length. “After all, he’s the one who’s going to put a baby in me. But I’m sure you won’t mind.”

Her panties slide down her legs. And now, she descends.

Down she goes, but she’s only going higher. Your cock splits her pussy open, and it’s just as good as the first time. Nana still brings the same thrill you get when you fuck her hot body. Her bounces are more precise, and she learns to give you more than just the benefit of getting to screw her—she gifts you a show of her bountiful backside unintentionally clapping with the other cheek.

Spank her for that, though you should really reward rather than punish her when she’s only making you feel good. Doesn’t matter; she loves it. She looks back at you and bites her lip sultrily. 

“Fuck,” you groan, “such a good girl, Nana.”

Her moans are perfected with pitch and pleas. Nana’s expressions are timed well with your thrusts and guiding hands on her hips.

“I’m a good girl, too, daddy,” Heejin says softly. She kisses your mouth. “I’ll show you, okay?”

Chan’s eldest daughter climbs on top of your face. You pull off her shorts as well—you welcome all kinds of pleasure here. Nana slams herself down harder, and right on the second you groan due to it, Heejin’s already planted her pussy on your face.

See, these are the thighs you’ve dreamed of. These are the kind that would actually crush your head. Her muscular skin ensures that your head is subjected not only to thick softness. And yes, you’ve eaten Heejin out before, in times when you’d keep her prone on the edge of her bed while you pull orgasm after orgasm out of her with just your tongue, but this time you do it with increased gusto. The sisters’ blended moans sound better than any choir of your choosing. Name a band as well, while you’re at it, and Heejin and Nana’s voices would still outdo their songs.

“Yesss, thank you, daddy!” gasps Heejin. “Oh, mmm, I’m your good little girl. And because you’re my daddy, you should always eat your good girl out.”

“You talk like an attached trophy wife,” Nana remarks with a snortle. That’s not fair on her part; you know how desperate she can get when you’re fucking her, but you can’t really oppose it when Hejein’s muffling your mouth.

The other girl can’t retort either. Your tongue’s too good to her. “Shut up. He likes my pussy more. And he treats it sooo well, don’t you, my daddy? Better than you do Nana?”

Let’s see: well, you don’t know. Both sisters have amazing bodies you’d do any time of the day. You haven’t really given the intensity you submit to them much thought. It’s hard to think now when Heejin’s urgently riding your tongue while Nana rides your cock.

“No answer,” Nana says triumphantly. “I guess he’s biased there.”

“Hmph.”

“The better girl for oppa is the one who doesn’t immediately cum just because he’s touching them. Bet?”

“It’s a bet,” replies Heejin. She really shouldn’t be giving in to a deal she’s sure to lose; you know what the quintessential quiver of her hips mean. Then again, she’s not one to back down from a competition.

It’s kind of entertaining to see the differences between the two girls. It counts back then as well. It’s like they switched personalities with how the other fits the former just as well. Nana’s not afraid to use you. She rides you at a lightning-impulsed pace, rocking your cock with a tightness you’ll never forget. Her cries are wrapped with weak gasps. On the other hand, there’s Heejin, who’s still used to being the submissive little girl to you when it’s nothing close to her real cocky attitude out of the bedroom, who’s still afraid to use you. Oh, don’t forget her moans—their depth and groany tinge make your cock throb. Too bad it’s inside Nana.

(It’s actually not that bad at all; the pulsing and twitching cause Nana to shake deliciously. Her slow, meaningful grinds bring you to life.)

Hence, you’re fucking Heejin with your tongue faster, with no care for the juices that slide down your chin and the sides of your mouth. Her clit bumps your nose. It’s an advantage you take—you push and pull her back and forth to get her shivering whenever her precious pearl hits the tip of your nose.

Nana isn’t left out of the equation either. Push your lower body upwards so that your tip meets the end of her pussy. Shimmy them so that it rubs her walls. She gasps girlishly and soon finds out that she isn’t made for the fight she started with her sister. She’s chosen to fight the wrong battle.

“I’m close,” she whimpers. Her eyes are sealed shut. “You’re too good, oppa.”

“M-me too!” Heejin says. Her voice is on the brink of a yell. Sloppily suck her clit and she’s past that. “Daddy, daddy, daddy, keep licking me like that, oh!”

“Shit… Jay oppa!”

You’re soaked on both ends. Try to clean up Heejin’s stream of cum the best you could and pump Nana’s slick out of her. In the midst of everything, you don’t stop. You want to keep hearing the girls’ beautiful cries of pleasure. 

“God, enough, daddy,” begs the shaking Heejin. She’s slapping her own breasts, lip bloodied under her teeth. “I want to cum on your cock, too.”

A better premise. “Sure.”

“Wait.” Nana stops the two of you. “Who came first?”

Heejin turns away with pink cheeks. 

Nana’s known her all her life, so she reads that look better than anyone else could. “Of course you did.” She rolls her eyes. “You don’t deserve to sit on his cock.”

“I do…” Her eyes are glossy. Her desperation really doesn’t go away with shame. If she were to be honest, it’s the shaming that deepens it. “But please, daddy, please—”

“Fine. Let’s ask oppa what he wants us to do. We’ll see who’s the better girl for him”

You can’t recognize Nana anymore. You know how big of a sub she can get, yet you didn’t realize how rough she can be as a dominant party in the bedroom. With how she orders around her sister and you, you’d think it’s a usual thing for her. Maybe it is. 

“Nana-ya,” Heejin says, trying to bring the tone she lorded over her little sister with back. It ends up weak—it’s to no avail.

“Do it,” Nana tells her with a pitch of finality. “Ask him.”

“Fuck,” the other bunny girl says nervously. She swallows, then turns to you. You’re just as on the edge as she is. “Daddy, what do you want us to do?”

You have plenty of situations you could make them turn into reality. Some even cross the line. There are already plenty of boundaries you’ve soared past. You just have to choose one out of the many fantasies you have because now that you’re looking back at the chaos of it all, you wanted this to happen. You wanted them to find out. There’s a fucked up voice inside you that insists on becoming riskier, becoming more careless. It’s supposed to be blocked out.

Still and all, there’s Heejin and Nana beside you on the bed, with their shared pouty lips and eyes glistening with want. Said distinct, glossy features give you an idea.

“Suck my cock,” you say finally. In other settings that would have been a grave insult to the average middle school outcast. For Heejin and Nana, it’s the word of a deity himself.

Both girls don’t waste precious time on questioning if two sisters sucking their new adopted brother’s cock is morally right or not. What matters above all is that their lips decorate your length. It’s like they’re determined to give it a bath. It’s the only way you know how to explain it when Heejin’s round, doll-like eyes stare in awe at her sister running her lips up and down the sideless shape of your cock and your sensitive slit. Shiver on the occasion she licks there. Nana knows how to take cock as much as she’s learned into the art of fucking your face. It goes both ways here, you see. You wouldn’t have thought she was the one who was just recently a virgin.

Heejin leaves the tougher things to the expert. While she’s the one who first sucked your cock between the two of them, it’s clear that Nana’s better at this. She can hear your ragged moans. She remains determined to please you. She kisses your heavy balls, sucking on the prickled skin on each and licking at them lovingly.

“Fuck… Heekki…”

That’s a sign for Nana to up her game. She glares at you, and it’s everything but subtle. She throws out all the anger she’s held in her heart after the PDA you put on with Heejin recently onto sucking your cock. Her throat is tight and her mouth is warm as your cock enters and exits, stabbing through the breaths for air that never quite make it to her lungs. She doesn’t mind losing air. She does, actually, but she’s quite more focused on getting your attention back on her.

Heejin doesn’t let up on the competition. Like you said, she isn’t the type of girl to back down from a challenge. Whatever she competes at she’ll give it her all. She might have lost and came earlier than expected just a few minutes ago, sure, but she’s a competitive girl. She always wants to be on top. Or if not, underneath you. 

That’s why her lips alternate between your testicles. Bite your lip to suppress yourself from tugging her hair. It doesn’t work; your hand ends up sifted in her hair and tugging so that her nose pressed on your pubic patch. From there she has to take in your musky scent and have the precum from your tip drip down the side of her face.

“We’re being good girls, Heejin,” Nana says after pulling away from your cock. 

“You’re not too bad yourself,” the older one of them admits. She licks the underside of your base teasingly, sending a gasp and a sudden shot of cum out of you. “What d’you think, daddy?”

They seem to not have noticed that you orgasmed a bit. They keep lapping and kissing your cock like nothing could compare to it. No piece of arcade candy or slice of cake could match the taste of your cock. They feast on it, the little devils they are—Heejin decides to take a turn at swallowing your cock whole and succeeds while Nana kisses your thighs. You’re sensitive all over, and they have no signs of stopping. They’ll keep suckling and licking all day if you don’t conquer control again.

Therefore: get up like your latest orgasm didn’t occur. 

“On your stomach. On the bed. Now.”

Soon they’re scrambling to follow your orders. Aren’t they always? Their butts are in front of you side by side. They say sisters have a lot in common—for this situation, it’s the wetness rolling droplets down their luscious thighs and the two replicas of the same, passive look as they turn their heads to you. They’re waiting for your next command.

You don’t give any. It’s all on you now.

Push yourself inside Heejin’s slick pussy. Perhaps she deserves to be fucked, like she says. So don’t bother to extract lengthy inches and just fire short, driven thrusts. Spank Nana to keep her occupied. Her moans are as sweet as her sister’s, much more when you finger her.

Tandem and might. They’re foreign concepts to you since you weren’t a sporty kind of kid. You still find yourself taking all those out on the two girls. You position yourself so that you’re able to pump fast into Heejin while keeping the deep thrusts going while curling your fingers into Nana’s weak spots. 

“That’s not fair, Jay oppa,” she tells you, face buried into the sheets. It’s lucky that you even get to make out a fraction of her words. “I was the one being good.”

“Maybe he just likes me more,” quips Heejin wittily. It’s a lost sound when you punish her with a pronounced pump. Little do you know that she’d find it hot. “Fuck yes, you’re amazing, daddy.”

She gives up on trying to keep her head raised. She drops it and groans with the bed muffling the way of her voice. Who could have ever found out that the tuck of her bottom lip under her teeth, an action so simple, could fruit such lust inside you?

“Of course you’re being good, Nana. Only good girls get bred.”

They don’t get what you mean until you pull out of Heejin and slip into the sister you mentioned. Nana’s back curves beautifully and she sighs as she’s filled to the point of overflow with your hot and sticky cum. You slap her ass hard, leaving a red trace of your hand on her cheek. She grinds seductively into your cock burying itself to the depths of her pussy.

“Noooo,” sobs Heejin, green with envy. “Please, gah, just let me have your cum. I promise I’ll let you cum inside me all the time. Can do it even with my dad watching, or Nana, just please—”

“Desperate little slut. Will you let my naughty big sister have what she wants, oppa?”

In one way or another, Heejin always gets what she wants. She could be the one underneath you, sure, and she’d remain the benefactor.

Such is the beauty of having her cum beautifully and instantly on your fingers after you finger out some cum from Nana’s pussy into hers.

-

Chan never does find out what the white on Heejin’s bed is from. Is it from a girl’s problem that isn’t too known? He doesn’t know. It might be glue. Whatever. He’s not that well-versed into feminine problems, so he simply assumes those are the source of them. 

He also doesn’t know why the sisters suddenly don’t fight anymore. It’s a well-kept secret that you’ve made a pact with them, told them that you could be theirs as long as they kiss you and don’t tell. It works well to keep the sisters in line, and it’s beneficial for Chan, too. He doesn’t have to pacify repeated arguments anymore.

So far the peace in your new home is maintained. The bedroom is exempted.

Obviously. 

[sc0tters]

Needy | Luke Hughes

summary: you and Luke have been at the lake house for a few days now and what happens when Luke realises that he can’t last as long as he thought he could with the sight of you in a bikini?

request: yes/no

warnings: sexual themes, oral (m receiving), swearing.

word count: 1.35k

authors note: is it wrong of me to say that I totally forgot about this request..? no but seriously I had no clue how to write this prompt for anyone, especially Luke so I’ve just made him a horny teen lmao. hope you enjoy it!

Luke couldn’t take his eyes off of you.

It had been the longest week of his life at the lake house. Your outfits only seemed to comprise of your swimsuits and his shirts. He swore that he had been so well behaved keeping his hands off of you.

But there was something about the sight of you in some random unbuttoned baseball jersey -that you had of course stolen from Luke- as you ate some watermelon that you just helped Ellen cut up Luke felt himself break.

His swim trunks began to tighten as he watched the watermelon juice drip down your chin “you want some?” You asked as you pointed the piece of fruit in his direction.

Luke’s cheeks turned flushed as he thought you had caught on to what he was thinking “huh?” He coughed ignoring how you raised your eyebrows at him.

You smiled as the boy ran his fingers along your leg “asked if you wanted some of this,” you explained as you brought your lips back to the piece of fruit so that you could take a bite from it before you pointed it back at your boyfriend.

The hockey player had to pull you on to his lap before he even thought about eating that watermelon. With his brothers and their friends walking around the porch Luke couldn’t have any of them seeing the boner that he was currently sporting “Luke!” You squealed as you let out a laugh.

He brushed the hair out of your face as he let his fingers trail down to your chin “should I take that as a no?” A giggle fell from your lips as you took another bite of the fruity.

Luke couldn’t help it with he let out a groan “I want to eat something much more tasty,” he explained as he brought your lips to his own.

The kiss was needy as his tongue dragged over your lower lip causing you to groan “can I maybe not have to watch this?” Jack complained as he walked out to see that you had dropped what was left of your watermelon on the porch.

You pulled away from Luke as your cheeks turned warm “sorry,” you were quick to apologise as your hands wrapped around your boyfriend’s neck.

The middle Hughes brother gagged when his brother move his lips to your neck “could you not do this out here?” The forward whined causing Luke to smirk “wanna go for a ride?” The younger boy asked as you as he cocked his head.

You had finally caught on to what he was implying as your mouth formed an o shape “Luke!” You gasped as you slapped your hand over your mouth.

Thankfully for him Jack had walked away fearing that he would hear anything more “I’m not letting you fuck me on the boat.” You shook your head letting your thighs clench around your boyfriends lap.

It made him smile “my room then? He proposed letting his fingers drag along your thigh.

Luke let out a laugh “you’re so naughty,” you whined when he placed a chaste kiss on your cheek “only for you.” The boy murmured as he moved his lips to your ear “I want you right here.” He left a kiss on the shell of your ear “right now.” That was when you knew he had won.

The mental coin toss was one that you had given up on minutes ago “let’s go upstairs then.” You mumbled as you grabbed his hand trying to pull him up.

It stroked Luke’s ego like there was no tomorrow “now you’re the one who’s eager.” He teased you as the two of you made your way into the house.

The boys watched in amusement as Luke wrapped his arm around your shoulders “maybe we should go for a ride?” Cole proposed as he could tell where this was clearly going to go.

It caused you to flip him off “go get some pookie!” Trevor cheered before all of the boys followed the oldest Hughes boy out of the house.

You two barely made it into his room before he pushed you onto the bed “we should probably play something.” You gasped as your boyfriends lips went to your neck, you grabbed your phone as you tried to find a playlist that could be loud enough. Whilst everyone was out of the house you still didn’t want to be caught.

The boy nodded as he fiddled with the ends of the jersey. He loved seeing you in his clothes but he loved seeing you in even less “want you to be my good little girl.” Luke cooed when he pulled at the string of your bottoms.

You groaned as you tried to get up “got something else in mind first,” you smiled as you looked up at him due to the sheer difference in height.

It was now the hockey players turn to be confused “yeah?” He mumbled as he waited for you to continue your line of speech.

Letting your fingers run over the waist band of his swim trunks you smiled as you kissed him “seems like you’ve been thinking about this for a while,” you pointed out as you motioned down to the boner that he was currently dealing with.

All that Luke could do was nod as you pulled his shorts down “want to make you feel good,” you murmured as you dropped to your knees.

As unintentional as it might have been you truly didn’t remember the last time you gave him a blow job as you two were far more fond of actual sex rather than the foreplay, it’s what happened when you were impatient college kids.

You let your tongue provide these little kitten licks that drew a loud groan from his lips “don’t tease me please,” Luke begged as his hands wrapped around your hair bringing it into a makeshift pony tail.

He loved the way your mouth took him so well, letting your tongue swirl around his cock as you took him as far as you could.

Now of course being with Luke for two years you had learnt how to really get to him and that was what made the hockey player turn into putty in your hands.

You let your nails softly run up his legs as he gasped “you’re so perfect.” He repeated that string as he increased the speed of his thrusts.

Whilst the two of you knew that the boys were outside you really didn’t think that you were going to have long.

Part of you wanted to feel bad for him because you could see know long he had been waiting to have some kind of intimacy with you and once you swore off of doing it when Jim and Ellen were in the house Luke was glad to know that the rule did not apply when the couple went grocery shopping.

Luke knew from the moment he got upstairs that he wasn’t going to last long with whatever you two ended up doing, and the gargling noise that you were making whenever thrusted deep enough was certainly not going to help his cause “fuck baby.” He mumbled as his body began to shake.

Your favourite part about getting Luke off? That moment when you get off of your knees and show him that you’ve swallowed.

It always caused him to go weak in the knees, time and time again “c’mere.” Luke smiled as he wrapped his arms around your waist before he pulled you into a kiss.

Luke after coming was always really soft, it was one of the things you loved most about him.

But the moment between you was short lived as you heard your phone go off.

quinn: is it safe for us to come back yet?

quinn: Trevor is trying to water ski without any skis.

You let out a laugh as you showed your boyfriend the messages from his older brother.

For now it seemed like Luke was going to have to wait a little bit longer for round two.

[azzifudd]

we just sort of get each other

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

summary: insp by an article an anon sent me that said paige was with azzi the whole day before her senior prom

rated: teen

1.3k words

disclaimer: many made up events obviously

Paige sits on the couch, leg propped up on a pillow, hands fidgeting with her phone. She opens Tiktok for a moment, but closes it after a few quick swipes, jiggling her healthy leg as she waits for Azzi to emerge from her bedroom.

She had been in there about an hour earlier, watching as the makeup artist worked on Azzi’s face. In her opinion, Azzi didn’t even need all that, but she had been clearly enjoying the full day of pampering. 

But when the makeup artist had complained for the third time that Azzi would not stop laughing at Paige’s antics, Katie had sent Paige out and shut the door behind her. 

Jose and Jon are playing Mario Kart, pushing at each other as their characters race around the track. 

“You wanna play, Paige?” Jose holds out one of the spare controllers to her.

“Nah, man, I’m good.” She stands up, grabbing her crutches and limping into the kitchen to grab a drink. She’s walking back into the living room when Azzi’s door finally opens. 

Paige turns eagerly at the sound of heels on the wooden floor and drops her bottle of Gatorade at the sight that greets her. 

The bottle thunks heavily against the floor. 

Azzi smiles shyly at her, one dimple peeking out. 

“How do I look?” 

Azzi looks…

Paige has no words. Paige has a million words. She can’t seem to pick her jaw up from where it has hit the floor. 

Paige is nearly breathless as she runs her eyes up and down Azzi’s body. 

She’s wearing a floor length dress, a silver shimmery thing with pink and blue tones throughout it that bares the skin of her chest and arms. A slit runs up one leg, exposing what appears to be miles of tan skin and toned muscle. 

Paige clears her throat, hoping she isn’t blushing as hard as it seems as her cheeks heat up. 

“You look..” She hesitates, unsure if anything she says can even measure up to the emotions that swell in her chest as she looks at Azzi. 

She’s saved from speaking as Azzi’s parents round the corner. Tim has his phone in outstretched hand as he approaches.

“Baby, you look amazing!” He snaps a few photos as Azzi poses. 

Paige stands back and watches as Azzi’s parents direct her in an impromptu photoshoot. Soon her little brothers are roped in to take photos with her, and before she knows it, Tim is gesturing for Paige to stand beside Azzi. 

“Aw, no I don’t want my crummy outfit to make her look bad.” She’s in a wrinkled AZ35 t-shirt and a pair of Nike pants, boot heavy around her ankle. At least she brushed her hair earlier instead of just throwing it into a messy ponytail. 

“Paige, please?” Azzi holds out a hand. 

Paige is at her left side before she even realizes it, hand wrapping around her waist as Azzi leans into her. 

Soon, Azzi has to leave to go take photos with her date James at the National Mall. The family all load into the car, but Paige stays behind because it’s a little too much walking for her ankle. 

But before Azzi can head out, Paige grabs her hand, holding her back until they’re alone in the house. Paige leans her crutches against the wall, and grasps Azzi by the hips, pulling her until their foreheads touch. 

“I wish I was the one taking you.” Paige says, her voice a whisper against Azzi’s lips. For a moment, Paige wishes things were different, that she was just a normal girl who got to take the girl she liked to prom. 

But if she was just a normal girl, she never would have met Azzi, and that’s not a world that Paige can bear to imagine.

“You look beautiful.” 

Azzi’s responding kiss feels like a ‘thank you’ and an ‘I’m sorry' all at once. They are interrupted by a loud honk from outside and Jon’s voice yelling for Azzi to hurry up. Paige’s lips are sticky with gloss. 

“Have the best night,” Paige says, and then Azzi’s out the door. 

***

Azzi has a good night. She does. She spends the night dancing and talking with friends and just having a normal high school experience, something that has become more and more rare as her high school career has developed. The pandemic had ruined so much of what she had hoped would be a perfect senior year, so she is grateful that prom at least has gone off without a hitch.

But as the night wears on, she can’t help but think of what was missing. James is handsome and charming; a dream prom date for so many girls. But he isn’t who Azzi wants. She wants the annoying, sweet, beautiful girl who is waiting for her at home. 

Surprisingly, none of her friends question her when she tells them she will be heading straight home after the dance, rather than hitting up the after party that nearly everyone else is going to. 

When she gets home, she finds her family finishing up a movie in the living room. Strangely, Paige is nowhere to be found. 

“Did you have a good night, honey?” 

“Yeah, it was a lot of fun.” She doesn’t elaborate. “Where’s Paige? Did she go back to her dad’s?” 

Her mom looks unsurprised at her question, smiling as she tilts her head toward their basement door. “She’s downstairs, waiting for you. Don’t change out of your dress yet.”

Azzi is a bit confused, but she heads downstairs anyway. She takes her time going down the stairs in her heels, watching her feet, and as she hits the last step, she realizes there is soft music playing. She looks up and finds the room lit only by what seems like dozens of candles interspersed throughout the room.

All the furniture has been pushed to the edges of the room, and standing at the center of the room is Paige. She is wearing a button up that looks just a bit too tight around her shoulders and a pair of black pants. A baby blue tie is loose around her neck, and Azzi knows when she gets close enough that she’ll be able to see how it brings out the color in Paige’s eyes. 

“I know it’s not the same as if we’d gotten to go together, but I got us these. 

When she gets within arms reach, Azzi notices that Paige is holding a plastic box. She pops it open to reveal a beautiful corsage, pink and vibrant with a matching boutonniere. 

Azzi can’t stop herself from reaching out to hold Paige’s face in her hands and kissing her. Paige smiles against her lips.

“You like it?” She asks, laughing when Azzi nods and kisses her again.

With gentle hands, Paige slides the flower onto Azzi’s wrist and she stands still as Azzi returns the favor, pinning hers to her chest with shaky fingers. 

“Can I have this dance?” Paige loops her arms around Azzi’s waist, pulling her even closer.

“Will your ankle be okay?” Azzi asks, bringing her arms up around Paige’s shoulders. 

“Yeah,” Paige shrugs. “I asked during PT this morning, and they said swaying was okay.” 

“Then let’s sway.” Azzi giggles, pressing their foreheads together as they move gently to the music. 

“Did you have fun tonight?” 

“Mmhm.” Azzi nods. “I missed you though. I always miss you.” 

“Just a few more months and we’ll be together all the time.” 

“You won’t get tired of me?” Azzi scratches at the back of Paige’s neck, smiling as Paige’s eyes flutter and she leans into the touch. 

“Never.” Paige makes sure to look Azzi right in the eyes, her own piercing and honest. 

Azzi twists a hand into Paige’s tie, pulls her in, and kisses her and kisses her. 

[thetravelingmaster]

Short Story: Choosing Enthralment

Male's point of view - Hypnosis - Brainwashing - Conditioning

“That’s it… Just sink deeper and deeper into trance… Deeper and deeper into blissful surrender … Deeper and deeper into thoughtless obedience…”

I’m not completely convinced, even though I explained it to her multiple times, that she fully understood what she was agreeing to when we negotiated the terms and limits of her hypnotic submission to me. There was no intent to trick her on my part because I was very clear about what I wished to achieve with her if she wished to dive into my control.

“Deeper and deeper… Reaching a place with no will of your own… No thoughts of your own… Sinking into blissful nothingness… Open and obedient… Letting go of everything inside your mind except the will of your Master.”

Saying she understood everything we talked about, she agreed to let me use hypnosis to conquer her mind and bend her to my will. She agreed that I could use any means available to make me her Master in her eyes. She was so eager… Excited and aroused by the idea of being brainwashed like one of those cartoon characters that ignited her kink when she saw them helplessly mind controlled as a teen.

“Feel my words reach into your mind… Expertly soothing you as they take hold of the mental collar that completely controls you… Completely commands you… That makes your mind… And your body… My property…”

Did she think hypnosis would be 100% effective with such an eager mind as hers? Did she believe that deep down, she wouldn’t truly be claimed and would simply play along to experience her kink? She was adamant that she knew it was real and that if I was good enough, she would truly be brainwashed.

I guess I still can’t quite believe that a young perky girl like her would so eagerly give up her freedom to become brainwashed and enslaved.

“Sinking deeper still… Sinking into the depths of your true self… Sinking to a place where my words can reshape your mind… Your thoughts… Your beliefs… You understand and embrace that deep down… At the core of your being… You are no longer a real person… You are the organic object I own and completely control… You exist to serve and obey…”

I took things slow of course…

Allowing her many opportunities to speak up and change her mind… Test her limits….

But with every session, she grew more and more excited by the results and the pleasure it gave her to let go and surrender to my will. So with every session, I accepted her submission by sinking my control ever deeper within her mind until one day, she realized that she no longer saw herself as an independent person, but as my helpless thrall.

It was so fascinating to watch her get so intensely aroused by the notion that when it came to my dominance and use of her, she no longer felt like she had a choice.

And by then, with the exception of her safe word, she really didn’t have a choice…

“Everything you are is mine to command and enjoy… Your mind is utterly open to my will… Easily changed and programmed for your Masters’s pleasure… Your body is a helpless tool that exists entirely to serve and please your Master…”

Up until a few weeks ago, she had been my thrall only when we met up or did online calls, but then she surprised me by asking, out of the blue, if I would consider letting her move in with me so she could be mine full time. I initially refused and told her to take the time to truly understand what she was asking. Which she supposedly did…

Her request didn’t waver one bit so I agreed to let her live with me for one week so she could really experience what it would mean to live with me. To be sure she understood, I was a lot harsher than usual with her and constantly tranced her or ordered her to do the most menial things that were clearly not erotic. I truly treated her like an object and to my surprise, the more I did the hornier she got.

“You are my hypnotic thrall… My obedient slave… You have no choice but to obey your Master… You cannot resist the words of your Owner… You are an object of pleasure… A warm enthralled sleeve for your Master’s cock… You exist to serve his pleasure whenever and however he wishes…”

I’d be lying if I said that our whole situation didn’t make me as excited and eager as her. Especially after that ‘trial week’ where I got to enjoy my very own live-in hypno-thrall and sex slave. It was clear we both wanted this so I felt bad for sticking to the high road by constantly telling her that she needed to take it slow and think about it.

As much as I insisted though, she insisted even more that she was eager to fully give herself to me and decided to prove it to me by offering me a special week living with her. Like the week before, she would live with me but unlike the previous week, I couldn’t hypnotize her or use any triggers on her. She wanted to prove to me that she was just as willing to serve me even if there was no hypnotic compulsion to force her to do so.

I obviously agreed and was just as commanding and harsh with her as I was the week before. I treated her like the slave she wanted to be and enjoyed her as much as I could without once feeling her resist or hearing her complain.

After such a wonderful show of devotion, I couldn’t keep denying her so I finally agreed to let her move in with me full time.

“Good… Very good… Now my dear… When I say the words ‘Awaken to your purpose’… Your mind will shift from deep trance to a state of waking trance… Your awareness will awaken, but you will not have the ability to think… You will stay perfectly mindless… Perfectly docile and kneel before me… You will have no other thought except your desire to serve my pleasure…”

Admittedly, her hypnotic subjugation reached new heights after that and if it wasn’t for the safe word I buried deep in her psyche, I’m pretty sure there’s no longer any tangible way for her to escape my control. I’ve given her exactly what she wished for and now, she truly believes, with all her aroused little heart, that she is nothing more than my property.

She’s allowed me to own every single inch of her and in so doing, gave me free rein on how I use her for my pleasure and service. Thanks to her daily files, she’s constantly compelled to perform her daily chores, keeping herself healthy and alluring. She has edged herself until her body could keep itself constantly aroused so that I may enjoy her pussy at a moment’s notice. She’s trained her mouth and throat every day so that she can properly suck my cock and fully deep-throat my modest girth.

Her whole life has become a carefully constructed series of trances and compelled tasks that effectively prevents her mind from thinking about anything except the moment she is in. No confusing or worrisome memories of the past to cause her stress… No anxious thoughts about what the future may or may not hold…

And since every moment of her life is filled with constant arousal and pleasure, her mind has zero desire to do anything except dive deeper into her present life of mind controlled service.

I still make a point to check in with her after she’s spent a few days free of trances or compulsion, but by now her new life has been so thoroughly conditioned into her mind by now that even awake and free from suggestions, she doesn’t want to be anything else. She’s as happy as a girl like her could possibly be and no one is able to convince otherwise.

I’m still convinced she didn’t quite understand what she was asking me to do to her, but since I gave her every opportunity and warning so she could keep her freedom, I’ve decided that I’m going to keep enjoying her until the day her safe word triggers. I’ll trust in her deep self to know when she’s had her fill of mindless servitude even though part of me thinks she never will and I’ll be able to keep this wonderful girl in a constant state of enthrallment and sexual servitude.

Or is that my own selfish hope?

[vbecker10]

Hey, I was wondering if you could write a Loki one-shot where the Avengers are invited to a very fancy party, even bigger and fancier than Tony’s parties, it’s in a huge restaurant and all and the female reader is very popular singer, like VERY, who has her own huge concerts and all and she agrees to sing on the event. Loki and Peter are both Avengers.

Now, I’m not saying anything romantic about Peter, because he’s literally a teen boy, I just love when Pete is a cute little shit, so maybe he is huge fan of the reader.

And Loki also takes liking into her and after some time Loki and reader will meet again and blah blah, you decide from then. Just don’t make it smut please. My pure ass heart can’t take it. Just fluff.

I know that you have written something similar to this, about that hex girls or something, but I want the reader to be a solo singer and worldwide popular and not just to sing at Tony’s party, but at something as huge and fancy as this event.

If you don’t like the idea or just don’t want to write it, it’s okay! I love your writing so much btw♡

—xoxo

Melody of Mischief

Pairing: Loki x female reader (Y/N)

Summary: The Avengers are invited to the Battle of New York Charity Gala and it is the event everyone who is anyone in Manhattan wants to attend, except for Loki. Peter is uncontrollably excited as he tries to explain to the God of Mischief that the singer performing at the gala is his absolute favorite artist, Y/N. Loki remains unconvinced he will enjoy even a moment of the evening until he has a chance encounter with the rising star and realizes you are even more amazing than Peter had said you would be.

A/N: OMG I love this request! I absolutely love Loki and Peter together but I've only gotten to write them interacting once or twice so I am super excited about this. I'm sorry if it seems front loaded with the two of them but there is plenty of Y/N and fluff, I promise. Lol thanks for specifically requesting a one-shot cause I have a tendency to make things way too long... this is still really long though lol. Thank you so much for this request! I hope you like it! 💚

Thank you @siconetribal for help with the title! 💚 if it were up to me, my stuff would never have one haha

Loki sighs in annoyance as he closes his book. Placing it on the coffee table, he gets up to answer the frantic knocking at his door.

"What do you-" he begins to ask as he opens the door. Before he can finish his question, Peter has walked right past him and into his apartment.

"Hey Loki," he says cheerfully as he pulls off his jacket and throws it haphazardly over the back of the armchair. Loki watches the teen drop his backpack on the ground near the couch and begin pacing quickly around the living room.

"Hello Peter," Loki greets him, trying to push aside his irritation. Had it been his brother or another member of the team, he would have swiftly removed them from his apartment but the young Avenger had begun to grow on the God of Mischief in recent months.

"Did you hear the news?" Peter asks with a wide grin.

"I assure you, I have heard nothing today that would make me anywhere near as excitable as you currently appear to be," Loki responds as he uses his seidr to pick up Peter's discarded bag and jacket, placing them on the hooks by the door.

"Sorry about those," Peter apologizes, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I don't dislike when you visit but I will insist my space remains orderly," he reminds the teenager and Peter nods. "Now, what is this news?" he asks as he takes a seat on the couch, picking up his tea while Peter wanders into the kitchen.

Loki sighs hearing the fridge open. "They are on the bottom shelf," he calls to the hungry teen. "And the cabinet to the left of the stove," he adds knowing exactly what Peter is in search of.

"Thanks," he calls back then returns moments later with a small bottle of orange juice, a bag of pretzels and two pieces of string cheese.

"I still refuse to believe that is or ever was cheese," Loki says as Peter opens the plastic wrapper.

"These are fantastic," he insists with a smile, pulling apart the cheese. "Why do you keep buying them if you don't eat it?"

Loki takes a sip of his tea, refusing to voice the obvious answer that he buys them specially for Peter's visits. He teen laughs but knows not to push his luck and instead focuses on Loki's question.

"They finally announced who's going to be playing at the big gala tomorrow night!" he says, plopping himself on the couch next to Loki who holds his mug tightly to keep from spilling any of the hot liquid. Peter pauses a moment for dramatic effect but the God shows no signs of curiosity. "Oh come on, don't you want to know who it is?" he asks in disbelief but Loki only shrugs in response.

Peter gets up, unable to contain his own excitement. "How could you not care? It's going to be epic! The best party on the year, maybe the decade," he says.

"I am a thousand years old, I have been to a great many parties, Peter," Loki reminds him then takes a sip of his tea. "And besides, I am not sure I would like to attend a charity event that is being held to raise money for victims of my attack on the city."

"Right..." Peter says slowly, lowering his eyes to the ground but then he looks back at Loki. "Actually," he starts again and Loki can practically see the wheels turning in his mind. "If you don't go... it might be seen as disrespectful, you know? You attacked the city when you were under the Mind Stone's power, everyone knows that but if you don't show up at the fundraiser they might not think you are... what's the right word?" he pauses, trying to pull in the God of Mischief.

"Remorseful?" Loki guesses, knowing what the teen is trying to do.

"That's it," he says, thinking he has the prince where he wants him.

"You make an interesting point," Loki acts as if he is truly considering it then adds, "But I am still not going."

"Ugh!" he groans at Loki's lack of enthusiasm. "Come on! The artist they picked is amazing! She's my favorite. I can't even believe she would agree to do this. She usually plays only massive, sold out concerts. I didn't think I'd ever get a chance to see her, especially not at something like this," he says as he jumps onto the wall then the ceiling. Loki can't help but cringe at the scuff marks the teen leaves behind as he moves above him.

"You still don't know who I'm talking about? It's Y/N," he says as he jumps back to the ground.

"I have no idea who that is," Loki replies as Peter sits next to him.

"What!? How could you not know who she is," Peter asks in shock. "I play her music every time we're in the lab together. You were humming one of her songs yesterday."

"It must have wedged itself into my mind after you set it on repeat," Loki says, unwilling to admit it was a very catchy tune with surprisingly deep lyrics. "It doesn't matter who is playing, I will not be attending and that is final," Loki states, setting his mug down on the coffee table.

With a mouth full of pretzels Peter asks, "Seriously?" He swallows quickly and continues, "I told you, it's going to be the biggest party ever. How could you not go? I would give anything to go but I can't." He sulks on the couch, arms crossed.

"Why would you not attend?" Loki asks as he gets up, walking into the kitchen to put his empty mug in the sink.

"I didn't get invited," he shrugs, "I'm only an intern for Stark Industries, remember? Spiderman got invited but I can't wear the suit and mask the whole night. I won't be able to eat or drink plus people always try to get me to take it off and it just gets really annoying."

Loki sighs, looking at the upset teenager on his couch. "Do not make me regret this, Peter," he says and the boy looks up, his eyes full of hope. Loki shakes his head as if he can't believe what he is about to say. "Fine, I will go... and I will bring you as my plus one."

Peter sits up straight, the excitement returning but it quickly fades and he says, "It's too late for me to get a nice suit to wear."

Loki says, "I can help with that as well." He snaps his fingers and a black suit appears in a garment bag on the hook next to Peter's belongings.

Peter gets up and before Loki can react, he pulls the God into a tight hug. Loki doesn't hug him back, his arms trapped under Peter's and after a second he says, "That is quite enough of that, please let go."

"Oh yea, sorry," Peter says taking a step back. Loki smooths out his dress shirt but Peter can see the hint of a smile on his face when he looks back at him.

Loki steps onto the red carpet wearing a perfectly tailored black suit with matching black dress shirt and tie. Peter is close on his heels in the suit Loki conjured for him. "This is the coolest thing ever," the teen says loudly over the shouting of onlookers, reporters and photographers.

"You were correct, this seems to be quite the event," Loki agrees through gritted teeth as he tries to ignore the questions the reporters throw at him as he passes.

"Loki, did the Avengers force you to come tonight?" "Loki, is coming to the charity gala part of your probation or was it your idea to come?" "Loki, do you have anything to say to the victims and their families?" "Loki, did you donate any money to the foundation?"

Peter looks around in stunned silence when he and Loki finally pass through the tall double doors. The large hall is bursting with people and activity. Across the two side walls are long bars staffed with dozens of bartenders making complex drink orders for the rich and powerful of New York. Fabric drapes the walls in different colors and shades, creating an ombre effect around the room. At least fifty round and rectangular tables fill the middle of the space, crisp white table cloths cover each one. Place settings have been carefully set at each seat with a small name card indicating who each one is reserved for. At the very back of the hall, is a stage with a cleared space in front of it and Peter knows exactly who that is for.

The teen takes out his phone and begins snapping pictures of the room, no longer able to contain his excitement. Loki looks around the crowded space and is quickly filled with regret for having agreed to come. He can't push down the feeling that every person in the room is either looking at him or talking about him. He shouldn't have come, he thinks as he looks towards the doors.

Peter grins from ear to ear, unaware of Loki's internal struggle. The teenager stands directly in front of Loki and holds up his phone, "Smile."

Loki looks down at him and before he can say anything he is struck by a bright flash of light. "Did you just take a picture of us?" he blinks quickly.

"Yea, a selfie," Peter nods with a laugh.

"Delete that," Loki orders as his phone vibrates. He removes it from his pocket to check the message. "How could you have sent this to the entire team already?" Loki groans as he begins to receive responses from his brother and the other Avengers.

Peter shrugs then see Steve and Bucky through the crowd. They wave for him to join them closer to their assigned table and he gives them a thumbs up in return. He looks happily up at Loki who puts his hands in his suit pockets and says, "I will join you all shortly. I wish to wander for a bit first."

Peter says, "Okay, see you in a bit."

Loki walks past one of the bars but he is not looking for a drink, he is looking for a place to alone before he is stuck at a table with the team for the remainder of the evening. He moves to a far off corner where the fabric that is draped from the walls is darkest. He sighs contently, thinking he has found a secluded place to breathe.

"This hiding spot is taken," you tell the tall, well dressed man as he approaches you, crossing your arms against your chest. The last thing you want before your performance is to deal with anymore boring socialites.

"Oh, my apologies," he says as he notices you and you see the disappointment on the prince's face. "This is quite a large venue, I have no doubt I can find my own hiding spot before we are called to our tables," he smiles politely and turns to leave.

You realize he hadn't been looking for you, he had truly been searching for a place to avoid the crowd of people chattering away. He begins to walk away and without thinking you call after him, "Wait." He turns back towards you. "It's a pretty big hiding spot," you laugh awkwardly, "I think we can share it unless you wanted to be by yourself?"

"I would never turn down the company of a beautiful woman," he smirks.

"I heard you were a charmer, Prince Loki," you can't help but giggle as he stands close to you. "Or do you prefer 'your highness'?"

"Loki is fine, please," he insists with a laugh. "I do feel as if I am at a disadvantage though," he says and you look up at him. "You know my name, but I do not know yours."

You stand silently, stunned by his words. Does he really not know who you are? You have tried not to develop an overly inflated ego but it has been years since you've met someone who hasn't recognized you immediately. When your first single hit the number one spot three years ago, your career took off and you have been in the spot light ever since. You've spent the last year touring dozens of major cities in the United States, Canada and Europe. You are on magazine covers, you have done countless interviews on talk shows, you are even booked to perform in Times Square for New Years Eve in a few months and the God in front of you has no idea who you are.

Loki chuckles at your silence and says, "If you will not tell me your name, I will be forced to continue calling you 'beautiful'."

You blush as you are pulled from thoughts, "That works."

"So what are you hiding from this evening?" he asks as he leans on the fabric draped wall behind him.

You shrug, not wanting to give away who you are just yet. "My boss," you tell him a slight fib, hoping the God of Lies won't notice. You were hiding from your manager and his new assistant. Mark was a good manager, but he insisted you met as many guests tonight as possible before your performance. Their fake smiles and rehearsed complements were tiresome, you slipped away the first chance you could. You wanted to meet real fans, people who actually enjoyed your music, not these stuffy rich people.

Loki nods at your short answer and you ask, "Why are you hiding? I assumed a prince like you must love big parties like this."

He smiles but looks down as he smooths out his suit jacket and you can't help but notice how perfectly it fits him. "I used to enjoy the balls quite a bit on Asgard," he agrees, "But I admit I am having a difficult time with the idea that this event is for the victims of the attack I led last year."

You cover your mouth with your hand. "Oh my god," you say slowly then lower your hand. "I'm so sorry, I didn't... I should have realized that."

He shrugs but remains silent.

"I guess it's kinda weird that they invited you in the first place right? Like why would you want to go to a fundraiser for a disaster you caused?" you ask and he nods, putting his hands in his pockets nervously. "I'm sorry," you say again as you realize how uncomfortable you've made him.

"It is alright," he says. "You are not the first person to wonder why I am here tonight and I am sure you will not be the last."

"That's not what I meant," you tell him but you can see his eyes searching for a new place to hide. "How about we talk about something else?" you suggest, not wanting him to leave just yet.

He looks back at you after a moment, seeming a bit more relaxed, "What would you suggest we talk about, beautiful?"

You giggle at the pet name he has decided on, "Umm..." You look around and see the stage. "What do you think about who's going to be performing?"

He looks at the stage as well than back at you and you can see there is still no connection between you and the singer in his mind. "I have heard a great deal of wonderful things about her," he says. "Peter, my..." he pauses as if he is unsure of the next word, "I suppose we are friends but do not tell him I said so."

You laugh but he seems serious, "I promise I won't."

"Peter is a tremendous fan. He listens to her music a great deal," Loki says then he looks down and chuckles. "He is the only reason I am here to be honest. I knew how much he wanted to see Y/N perform so I brought him with me."

"Aww, that's really sweet of you," you smile and he shakes his head but you can see he seems happy with his decision. "Do you like her music too?" you ask, trying to remember the last time you had been able to get a truly honest opinion from someone.

He nods and your heart beats with excitement. "She is quite talented," Loki says. "I seem to have Black Bird stuck in my head quite a bit lately, but that may be because it is Peter's favorite. He plays it on repeat when he is thinking."

"That's a pretty good one," you agree. It was one of your most popular songs and you were set to play it tonight, as you do at every concert. "Do you have a favorite?" you can't help but ask.

"Hmm," he thinks for a moment then he smiles when he decides. "Crystal's Edge," he says.

"That's my favorite too," you reply enthusiastically. It has never been as popular as some of your other songs but it has a deep, personal meaning to you.

"You have good taste," Loki says and you laugh at the irony of his complement.

Your smile fades when you see Mark watching the two of you. "I'm sorry, that's my boss," you point towards him and he folds his arms against his chest as he frowns at you. "I have to go, but I really liked talking to you."

"I enjoyed speaking with you as well," Loki says. He takes your hand and gently places a kiss to the back of it causing you to giggle. "I hope you are able to enjoy the rest of your evening, beautiful, but if not I am more than willing to hide with you again."

Loki pulls out the chair next to Peter and the teen asks, "Where did you go?"

"I was talking to-" Loki begins to explain but before he can continue, the stage lights come on and the overhead lights dim slightly.

"Y/N is starting!" Peter says excitedly and Loki leans back in his chair to watch the performance before the food is served.

You walk out on stage and the guests cheer and applaud, their energy thrills you. TV cameras move into place and you wave to the audience and the cameras with a smile. You take the microphone off the stand and thank everyone for coming to support such a worthy cause. While reciting the speech Mark's assistant prepared for you, your eyes scan the guests until you spot the younger prince of Asgard.

Loki's eyes are fixed on you in shock and when your gaze meets he leans towards the teenager next to him.

"Norns," Loki whispers to himself then he leans towards Peter. "That's her! The woman I was speaking with."

"What?" he looks at Loki then the stage, still clapping as you finish your speech. "You met Y/N!?"

You smile, trying to keep from laughing at the boy's quick double take between Loki and yourself. Looking towards the band hired to play with you got the next few concerts, you nod to signal that you are ready for the first song to start. Moving with the rhythm of the intro, you sing the opening lyrics of one of the first songs you ever wrote. Your heart races as you dance across the stage, singing proudly with your backup singer next to you.

The second song is a crowd favorite and as the music begins you find Loki in the audience again. He smiles, tapping his fingers on the table to the beat and you get an idea. "I would like to dedicate my next song, Black Bird, to a very big fan of mine," you say into the mic and you watch the teen bounce in his seat. "Peter, this one is for you."

Peter laughs excitedly, barely able to contain himself as he signs along with Y/N loudly and out of tune. Loki smiles to himself as he nods his head along with the rhythm of the song.

You perform your next three songs, feeding off the energy of the guests as they sing along with you from their seats. A few move off to the side of the space or between tables to dance in pairs or small groups. You move back to the center of the stage and prepare yourself for your last song of the evening.

You look out into the crowded room and easily find Loki who hasn't taken his eyes off of you for a moment. You turn quickly, walking to the drummer who signals for the other musicians to join you. They nod at your request and you ignore the questioning look your manager gives you as you return to the center of the stage.

"Sorry for that," you apologize to the crowd. "I originally planned on closing my performance this evening with Glass Roses but I've decided to play my personal favorite instead." The intro for Crystal's Edge begins and Loki smiles as he leans forward in his seat. "This song has always held a special place in my heart and tonight I would like to dedicate it to someone I hope to meet again soon."

You slip away from your manager much easier than before and head to your previous hiding spot, hopeful Loki will be waiting for you. You can't help but smile when you see him leaning against the wall, watching you approach him.

"Hello again, beautiful," he says with a smirk.

"Hi Loki," you blush, thankful to hear the pet name again. "Did you like the show?" you ask, feeling nervousness spread through your body.

"Very much," he assures you and you relax instantly. "And I must say, Peter greatly appreciated your song dedication. I'm not sure I've ever seen the boy so happy."

"I'm glad he liked it," you tell him happily. "I was hoping I was right in assuming he was the person you were sitting next to." He nods and you take a step closer to him, out of the view of the guests. He puts his arm around your waist to pull you closer, your body just inches from his.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you who I was," you say as your smile fades slightly and you look down.

"Don't be," he replies, touching your cheek to bring your gaze back to his. "I can imagine you rarely meet someone who is as unaware of your fame as I was. I admit, I feel a bit foolish for not having known who you are."

You shake your head, "I actually really liked that you had no idea who I was, it's been so long since I've met anyone who didn't recognize me. It was fun to talk about my music with someone honest about their opinions."

"I understand," Loki says. "I can see how it would be nice to speak with someone who did not have any preconceived opinions about you."

"Exactly..." you agree then pause. "Oh, I guess you have the same problem... seeing as how I knew who you were."

"At least you are known for being tremendously talented," Loki complements you again and you feel a blush creep up your neck and cheeks. It has been so long since you felt as if someone was giving you genuine compliments and Loki seems to have a never ending supply. His smile falters for a moment and he adds, "I am known for... being the reason we are all here tonight I suppose."

"Loki," you say quietly and touch his cheek but he looks at the ground between you, "You are known for more than that." He shrugs and you can feel him pulling away emotionally even though his arm is still around your waist. "Loki," you say again and he looks at you but you can tell his smile is forced, you have done that yourself many times.

"I apologize," he says and clears his throat. "I think they are enough people here talking about me and the damage I have caused to this city. I would rather learn more about you."

"We can talk about me in a minute," you tell him with an anxious smile. You see a flicker of nervousness cross his face but he hides it quickly. "I'm sorry if I said anything before that upset you," you say and he shakes his head, "I didn't mean anything bad when I said I was surprised you came tonight. I just..."

"We don't need to discuss it," he says and he removes his hand from your waist.

"Please," you put your hand on his arm and move closer to him. "I'm sure there are people here who don't think you should have come... but I'm really glad you did," you say and he smiles slowly. "I can't imagine how hard tonight must be for you but the reason I didn't immediately think of that the first time we talked is because I don't think you are to blame for what happened. Everyone knows about the Mind Stone, although I doubt we know everything, and anyone can see how hard you've been working with the Avengers. When I said I knew who you were, it was because of all the news stories of you saving people over the last year. You're a hero, you know that right?"

He smiles genuinely as his arm wraps around your waist again. "Thank you, beautiful," he says. "You don't know how much it means to hear that."

"You're welcome," you smile then reach up and kiss his cheek to the surprise of both of you. "I- I hope that was okay?"

He smirks and nods, "It was more than okay, although I had thought I would ask to take you on a date before I kissed you."

"You want to ask me out?" you ask, sounding more shocked than you meant to.

"Unless," Loki pauses, concerned by your shock, "I've misjudged something?"

"No, no," you say, shaking your head and you can tell that is not helping his confusion. You laugh, "I'm sorry, I just... it's been a really long time since someone asked me on a date."

Loki looks at you, his eyes searching your expression for an answer to the question he is now unsure to ask again. "I would love to go on a date with you, Loki," you tell him with a smile and he pulls you flush to his chest. He leans down and kisses your lips softly.

He strokes your cheek gently with his thumb and you look up at him, you can't remember the last time you felt this comfortable with someone. You suddenly realize there is something you should warn him about. "Umm..." you mumble and he tilts his head questioningly. "I just want to prepare you for something."

"What's that, beautiful?" he asks, his hand on your lower back begins to move slowly up and down.

"I know your pretty famous," you say and he nods reluctantly, "But... and I'm not saying this to sound full of myself or anything... but when I go out anywhere, I tend to get followed by paparazzi. I'm thinking if we go out together, they'll swarm us."

"Oh..." Loki says as his hand pauses on your back.

"I still want to go out with you," you promise quickly, hoping he doesn't think you are changing your mind. "I just wanted you to know it won't be just us. I don't know if... are you okay with that?"

He smiles, "I would be fine with that so long as I was with you but I think I have a solution to that issue."

It's now your turn to be confused.

He chuckles, "There is a reason there are so few sightings of me outside of missions. I am a trickster god, remember?"

You blink in shock, "I didn't... I guess I didn't really think about it. So do you just make yourself invisible or something?"

He laughs again but shakes his head, "I could but no. I have learned humans become nervous when books and other objects move around them but they cannot see what is causing it."

You giggle, "Okay, it's not weird to be freaked out by that. So how do you go out without people noticing you?"

Loki smiles as his seidr surrounds him briefly with a faint green glow. His long, black curls become lighter and shorter, thin black framed glasses appear on his face and his suit changes from black to blue. He still looks like Loki but if you passed him on the street, you would most likely not have looked twice.

"I can create an illusion for you as well," he offers.

"That's... amazing," you laugh. "You look like a hot college professor."

"Thank you," he chuckles, looking down at his suit as he straightens his blue stripped tie. "I only showed you most of the illusion. To others, my face will also appear different but I was concerned that would be a bit... much?"

You nod, "I'm glad you still look like you, I like your face."

"That is the sweetest thing you have said tonight," he jokes.

You kiss his cheek again and ask, "So I guess I can't call you Loki when you look like this right? It's kind of a unique name."

"Generally, I go by Tom when I wear this illusion," he informs you.

"Tom?" you repeat.

"Too dull?" he asks, sounding unsure of his choice.

"I like it, you look like a Tom," you giggle. "Its nice to meet you Tom, I'm Y/N."

He kisses the top of your head, "I believe I will continue to call you beautiful."

You smile up at him and he slides his hand to the back of your neck, pulling your lips gently to his. You grip the fabric on the back of his suit jacket and kiss him deeply. When you finally break the kiss, something catches your eye.

"Shit," you say when you see Mark approaching you and Loki.

He looks towards your manager, then looks down at you and says, "I know the event is not over for a few hours, but how would you feel about our date beginning now?"

"Really?" you ask.

He smirks, "If you would like, I will take you anywhere you want to go."

You reach up and kiss him again then say, "All I want to do is sit in a cafe and get to know you better."

"Done," the God of Mischief smiles as his hand begins to glow, changing your appearance to everyone but other than himself. He keeps his arm around your waist and together you walk right past your very confused manager and out of the party.

I hope you liked this!! Please like, share and comment if you did 💚💚 Please let me know if you want to be added to my taglist!

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[thewintersoldierdisaster]

a/n: i am so proud of the boys and what they accomplished after everyone counted them out 💙🧡 can’t wait for next year when they’ve had a full training camp with patrick and they come back better than ever 🤍

tw: child goes “missing” for a brief moment, mild innuendo

word count: 2.9k

summary: the msg broadcast gets double the barzal men for a little bit

Offering to take the girls to the arena for a game seems like it’s a great idea until you’ve got Talia, both Martin girls, and Tulsa Horvat begging for pretzels mid-way through the second. Normally you’d have at least one of Syd or Holly with you, but since the outing is for Talia’s birthday, you’d thought it would be fine to just take the girls yourself. That you’d be a good friend, letting Syd and Holly have their Thursday night free, since all of your husbands are retired now and they don’t have to come to the arena if they don’t want to.

But Max is getting antsy and Talia is yapping your ear off - much like her father - begging for snacks.

“Mom, please, I’m starving,” she pokes her lip out at you in a pout and widens her hazel eyes. She looks unfairly like Mat when she makes that expression even though her general looks had shifted to favor yours as she got older. You’ve never really been able to say no to either kid anyway.

“Can you at least watch your brother while I go get snacks?” You ask, lifting your eyebrow and twisting your hair back into a slightly sloppy ponytail. Max swings his legs in his seat next to you, grinning at his big sister. His hat dips over his eyes and you make a mental note to adjust the strap.

Talia looks at you as if you just asked her to swallow a cup of live spiders. “Mom, please no! I don’t even know why we brought him, today was supposed to be for my birthday,” she whines a little, those pre-teen hormones working overtime. Two weeks from turning eleven, and you find yourself missing your baby girl more and more each day. She’s usually a pretty polite and delightful kid, but something about that upcoming eleventh birthday is creating that familiar teenage whine you’d been so good at back in the day. You should really call and apologize to your mother.

Max pipes up without taking his eyes off the action on the ice, “your birthday’s not even today!”

“Thank you, Max,” you hold a hand out in front of his face, covering his mouth, as Talia shoots him a glare. Max wiggles away from your hand, his head bobbing in every direction as he tries to see the players. “I should’ve known this would happen.” You pinch the bridge of your nose with your free hand.

The only reason Talia had picked this game for her birthday is because of Jack Cizikas’s last minute call up from the AHL. Her puppy crush on him is something you and Kristy like to joke about, but right now you’re not laughing. Casey, Kristy, Reese, and Cole are up in a suite with the grandparents for the moment and you should’ve just sent Max up there to join them, but your five-year-old is still a little clingy. He loves the Cizikas family, hero-worships ten-year-old Cole, but when you’d suggested it, his face had crumpled and he’d said, “I wanna stay with you, Mama!”

Who were you to argue with that?

“Okay, I’ll take Max with me, but Win,” you raise your voice and look down a few seats at Winnie Martin, the oldest of your babysitting charges at fifteen, “do not leave these seats until I get back, okay?”

Winnie grins at you, Matt’s smile copy and pasted onto her face. She gives you a little salute and nods, “you got it.”

Talia turns back to the girls, completely ignoring you, and you roll your eyes a little before holding out your hand to Max. “Come on, buddy. Let’s go get some snacks,” you say, savoring the feeling of his little hand in yours. You never know when he’ll start thinking he’s too cool for his mom, so you’ll enjoy it while it lasts.

“Can I get ice cream?” He asks, skipping along next to you. He gives Sparky a high five when you pass the mascot at the top of the stairs.

You laugh a little and point Sparky and his handler in the direction of the girls. “I’m sure Winnie will love to see you,” you say, nostalgia washing over you as you think about the early years of your relationship with Mat and Winnie’s love for the dragon. Sparky nods and gives you an enthusiastic thumbs up, before bounding down the stairs. It’s a different person in the costume now, obviously, but you all had made sure to keep Winnie humbled by making sure each iteration of the Sparky knew to stop and see her at a game. The teen plays along gamely, her mother’s daughter.

Max tugs on your hand, drawing your attention. “Mama! Can I get ice cream?” He repeats his request and you shake your head.

“Nope, sorry, kid. It’s past your sugar cutoff,” you shake his arm when he pouts and kicks his Nike against the floor, nearly tripping himself as he tries to keep walking. “I’ll split a pretzel with you though.”

“I don’t wanna pretzel,” he whines, dragging his feet as he traipses behind you. You dodge a few people, tugging Max along. He keeps whining a little, complaining under his breath, and you pinch at the bridge of your nose before squatting down so you’re at his eye level.

Max goes quiet, but his whole face scrunches up in annoyance and you smile softly. “If you have ice cream now, you’re not going to be able to sleep. And remember that Daddy’s coming on your field trip tomorrow so don’t you want to be well rested for that?” You raise an eyebrow at him while Max considers your explanation.

The line shifts forward while Max is considering and you smile awkwardly up at the family in line behind you, silently apologizing for not moving. The mother waves you off with a polite smile too. Solidarity.

“Can I have ice cream tomorrow then?” Max finally asks and negotiating with the tiny terrorist wasn’t on your to do list today, but you nod anyway, knowing it’ll bite you in the ass tomorrow.

“Yes, after your field trip you can have a little ice cream,” you stand up, knees creaking a bit, and move forward on the line. Matter settled, you hook your fingers in the back collar of Max’s Horvat jersey, worn because ‘Uncle Bo is the coolest!’ much to Mat’s annoyance and your amusement. At the self-serve counter, you grab five pretzels - even if Max doesn’t want to share, you still want a snack - and a Diet Coke, hoping for a quick burst of energy. You let go of Max’s jersey to fish your phone out of your back pocket and tap it against the reader.

“Okay, Max, back to -“ you cut yourself off, looking down at your side and not seeing Max. “Max? Oh, fuck. Where did he go?”

Your heart hammers in your chest, slight panic rising when you scan the concourse and don’t spot your kindergartener. “Fuck,” you mutter under your breath, the only thing keeping your panic at a reasonable level is the fact that Max was quite literally almost born in the arena and knows it better than anyone. Of course that also means he could be hiding literally anywhere and never be found.

“I…okay, think like Max,” you step off to the side, against the wall, so you can figure out what to do. “Where the hell is he going to go?”

The muffled cheers of the crowd filter through the arena, signifying that the Islanders have added to their lead late in the second. You smile faintly and, like a lightning bolt to the head, realize where Max wandered off to. Or where you hope he wandered off to.

You book it towards the Lab and the MSG broadcast set up, trying to see around the crowds of people that are leaving their seats now that the second period is over. Obviously, you can’t see anything around all the people and the closer you get to the main stairs, the more panic you’re starting to feel, thinking about the girls back at the seats and what you’ll do if Max isn’t with Mat.

Once the cameras and desk come into view, your entire body unclenches, Max is happily perched on Mat’s hip, chattering away with Shannon while Mat and Thomas discuss the second period’s play. The cameras are on and your son is broadcasting live on MSG. You wiggle your way through the little crowd of people around the set and get to the front, by the retractable belt barriers, and try to catch Mat’s eye.

The second he spots you, his entire expression changes, a delighted smile stretching across his face and his eyes crinkling up at the corners. He looks like a twenty-something again, not the nearly forty-year-old he actually is.

“Max!” You hiss, trying not to be heard. “Send him over here!” You wave your free hand at the duo, Diet Coke wedged under your arm and pretzels getting squished in your hand.

Mat shakes his head at you and Thomas and Shannon look over too, all three of them laughing. Mat turns back to the camera, Max smiling like the cat that got the canary. “My wife’s trying to get our broadcast sidekick back,” he says, laughing. Mat bounces Max in his arms. “But I think we’ll keep him around for his color commentary.”

“No, oh my god,” you shake your head and gesture for Max to come back to you. “Mat, stop it.”

“Max,” Mat turns to look at your son, totally ignoring you, “what did you think of the game so far?”

Embracing the fact that Mat’s going to let Max join them for a while at least, you sigh and relax into the moment, watching Max perk up as he gets to discuss his favorite thing.

“I missed Matt’s goal,” he complains, Matt Maggio must’ve been the one to score when you noticed Max was missing. “But I like Jack the best ‘cause he’s funny and plays mini sticks. And also he gave me a piggy-back all day at Easter.”

Shannon laughs and chimes in, “we like Jack around here too. But hey, Max, I can show you Matt’s goal while your dad and Thomas discuss some of the finer points of the game.”

Max wiggles out of Mat’s arms and darts around Thomas’s back so he can stand with Shannon and watch the goal he missed. You snap a picture of Max’s head poking over the desk, heart melting at the sheer excitement on his face. You also notice the dozen texts littering your phone’s screen - a multitude of laughing emojis sent from the girls while they watch at home.

The fans around you are clearly eating up Max’s presence and you feel a little spike of anxiety thinking about how exposed he is to the public now, after keeping his and Talia’s faces mostly hidden on your social media pages. It’s always a little inevitable that the kids are seen with Mat out in public, but you almost wish you could snatch up all the phones recording video and taking pictures of Max as he points something out to Shannon on the iPad.

You take a nervous bite out of your pretzel and try to just enjoy the moment until they go to commercial when you can duck under the belt barrier. Mat grins boyishly at you, grabbing your waist to pull you in for a quick kiss. “Well, this is fun,” he says, pulling back from the kiss. “Family broadcast.”

“He is so stupid sneaky,” you shake your head, offering Mat the pretzel that you’d taken a bite out of. He accepts it and tears off a piece of his own. “And fast.”

Thomas laughs, leaning his forearms on the desk. “That’ll be helpful when he’s zipping around defensemen and scoring goals,” he teases before going to say hi to the fans and take selfies.

“Mom, look!” Max pops up at your side, holding a puck. Where did he get that?

“Pretty cool,” you smile down at him and let Mat lift him back up onto his hip. Max’s long legs kick at Mat’s thighs. “Where’d you get that, bud?”

“From Dad when I got here,” Max chirps. “Can I stay? Cause I don’t wanna be with the girls.”

He cuddles up against Mat’s shoulder, the father-son duo wearing matching hangdog, pleading expressions on their faces. The day Mat taught both kids the look was the worst day of your life, weakening your already minimal willpower. This time you have to say no, interrupting Mat while he’s working is only cute for so long.

“Sorry, Maxy,” you reply sympathetically. “We have to get back to the girls, but we’ll see Dad right after the game.”

Max whines loudly, reminding you that he’s still only five, and you chew on the inside of your lip. Mat pats Max on the back and whispers something in his ear, the extra lighting catching on the few greys that are starting to form in Mat’s dark hair. You wait while Mat talks quietly to your son, trying not to worry about coming back from commercial while you’re all standing in the middle of everything. Eventually, Max huffs an exasperated sigh and wiggles out of Mat’s grip again, slumping his way over to your side.

You smirk a little, “gee, don’t look so thrilled to come hang with your mom.”

Mat laughs and you roll your eyes at him.

“I wanted to stay with Dad,” Max pouts, little fingers gripping tightly onto the puck. “But he said that he’d take me to the locker room if I go with you.”

“Bribery,” Mat winks at you. “A dad’s best weapon.”

The ten second warning that the commercial is ending blinks and you grab Max’s hand, “okay, time to go back to the girls. We’ll see Dad later, okay?”

Max waves at Mat as you guide him away from the set. “Bye, Dad! Don’t forget I wanna see Jack and the locker room,” he shouts and you can hear Mat’s laughter boom over the noise of the crowd.

“I won’t forget Max, be good for Mom,” Mat calls out.

You hurry back to your seats, Max hopping along and waving to people as you go. He gives big, cheerful greetings to the ushers and security guards he recognizes, forcing you to stop when Sparky passes by so he can give the mascot a high-five and a hug around the legs.

“Max, baby, please. We can see Sparky later,” you sigh, a little worried about leaving the girls alone for so long. You know they’ll listen and not leave the seats, but you feel vaguely like a terribly mother/babysitter since they’ve been sitting by themselves for nearly twenty minutes.

Max pouts, but takes a hold of the hand you’re holding out for him and dutifully follows you back to the seats. He clambers over the couple at the end of the row and you apologize quickly for him, making another mental note to work on the kid’s manners.

“Where did you go?” Talia pops up in her seat like a meerkat, wrinkling her face at you in confusion. “We thought you, like, got kidnapped!”

“We didn’t get kidnapped,” you huff, passing around the pretzels. The girls thank you and turn back to the on-ice intermission action. Max reaches for your half eaten one too and you’re glad you at least got a bite in earlier. “Max ran off to see Dad.”

Max grins at his sister, mouth full of chewed pretzel. “Dad gave me a puck and I got to be on TV with him,” he manages to sound smug and excited all at the same time, waving the gifted puck in one hand.

Talia pouts a little, still childish despite how she tries to mimic the older girls.

“Eat your pretzel,” you twirl your finger to get her to look back at the ice. “There are a thousand pucks at home. Oh,” you add, “we’re going to head down to the locker room after the game. Dad promised Max.”

That gets the girls going, chattering about how they get to see Jack and the rest of the players, giggling like crazy while huddled together. You lean back in your seat, smiling softly at how cute they all are. Max is on his feet, dancing along to the arena music, waving both hands in the air - your little party animal. You send Mat a video of him dancing, teasing that father and son have the same moves.

He shoots back a gif of himself dancing at the Martins’ wedding more than fifteen years ago, making you laugh out loud, drawing the attention of all five kids. “Ignore me,” you laugh, waving a hand at them.

Another message from Mat vibrates your phone: leave the kids with marts and syd when you drop the girls off after the game, i wanna show you more of my moves 👀

Giggling like a high schooler with a crush, you take a minute to appreciate that Mat still makes you feel floaty and dizzy with love. Over ten years together and he still makes your heart skip a beat.

“Mom,” Talia’s voice slices through your thoughts, “what’s Dad saying? Because you look so weird.”

Schooling your features into a more neutral expression, you lean forward over the seat and ask, “how do you guys feel about a sleepover at Aunt Syd and Uncle Matt’s?”

[elfyelation]

𝐚 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐞 | oneshot

pairing—astarion x gn!reader summary—nightmares were nothing new to astarion, he’d been living one long before the tadpoles settled themselves inside your heads. now, however, it seemed there was something he feared even more than the possibility of returning to his former master… warnings—mentions of slavery, nightmares, indication of past abuse/trauma, mentions of astarion’s past, angst, some fluff word count—811 rating—teen

He tosses and turns in his sleep, another cruel nightmare tearing through his slumber.

You hear him mumble, hot sweat running across his creased brow, “No... M-master… please… No…”

His body is still trembling when his words trail off, the discomfort never leaving his face. His eyes squeeze themselves even tighter shut in a frail attempt to push the thoughts from his mind.

You were awake now, concern threading through your brow as you shushed him and ran a gentle hand over his cheek.

“Astarion? Astarion, wake up.” It is no use, your voice is but a distant echo — a whisper in the darkest depths of his mind. There is no way to free him, he is a prisoner of his own mind. All you can do is wait for him to open his eyes himself.

You sit up then, moving to pull his head into your lap. Quietly, you comb your fingers through his ice-white hair. His skin is hot to the touch as if he were stricken with a fever so foul it scorched from the depths of all hells.

Softly, you called out again, “Astarion.”

Still, he does nothing but stir, head rolling from side to side in agony.

Leaning down, you press a light kiss to his crumpled forehead and finally, his skin smooths out. It takes a moment but soon his eyes flicker open and look up at you with wide, startled eyes.

“It’s okay,” you remind him, continuing to run your fingers through his hair, “You’re with me, you’re safe.”

He smiles but it only lasts for a moment and his eyes close again as he readjusts to his surroundings. His hand reaches up to rub at the tense skin on his face and even he seems to be surprised by the heat he finds there. He was always cool to the touch, even on the warmest summer day. Another side effect of his foul affliction.

“It isn’t me I’m worried about,” he all but whispers, as if he is unsure whether he wants to show any more weakness in front of you.

Then he sits, lifting his head from its comfortable place in your lap, and turns to you. His eyes flicker over your body as if searching for wounds and he closes his eyes again as he takes in a deep breath. “You are safe, that is all that matters.”

When you involuntarily raise a brow in question, he sighs and returns to his charismatic persona. “I was dreaming of you, darling. Although that dream would not be my preferred scenario, I must admit.”

Still, you watched him, waiting until he was ready to tell you the full truth.

He knew what you were doing. He knew you too well. You did not need to say anything for him to know you were waiting for elaboration. He could confide in you, he knew that. It was just… difficult at times to speak it out loud.

He seemed to shrink as his eyes flitted away from you, glancing at the ground for a moment before he looked back up at you again.

“Cazador had captured you. Captured us both. Instead of hurting me, he was hurting you. He was hurting you to hurt me and I could do nothing but sit by helplessly as it happened.”

You reached out, placing a gentle hand on his cheek, and he leaned into your welcome touch.

“It was just a dream. I’m here and I’m safe. We’re safe. He can’t hurt you anymore. I won’t let him.”

Usually, he’d have laughed at your words and told you that you were a fool for thinking he was truly out of his former master’s reach. One day Cazador would find him for in his search he was relentless. He would not let even a single slave escape him, not while he still lived.

Someday Astarion would have to face the music but, until that day came he wanted to enjoy the time he had with you. And, after hearing you speak that way, sounding so sure of yourself, he found he wanted to believe it too. That you would be by his side when the day came and that the two of you would emerge victorious, standing over the vampire lord’s corpse.

Until then, he’d offer you an honest smile and wrap an arm around your waist, pulling you close to him as he pushed his lips to yours.

He wasn’t sure when he stopped being afraid for himself and rather became afraid of losing you but it was a small price to pay in comparison to the joy you brought him. You had given him a purpose in life. A purpose that was more than just survival. You had shown him what it was to truly love and for that, he would forever be in your greatest debt.

[causenessus]

try again

part 0.2. PLANTS.

“there’s a blue light, in my best friend’s room. there’s a blue light in his eyes.” “he sits in the waiting room. each chair has its own arms. they’re nimble and plastic, and the material of the cushions is a scratchy green. they’re the type you would find in a conference room, and he can’t decide if he likes them or not. he feels too big for the small room, but he likes the song he can hear playing from a small speaker. it took him a little bit to find it, and he constantly turned his head, trying to find where he could hear it the loudest. “there’s a ship that sails by my window.” there. he sees it on the little oak ladder shelf to his right. it’s a small white circle, and he wouldn’t have thought it to be a speaker if not for the grated cover on the front and the soft music it was playing: “i think it’s sailing. miles crashing me by. crashing me by.”

content warnings: mention of a scar (nothing about where it came from, i was thinking a bicycle accident before i decided to leave it up to interpretation), mention of "promising to stay alive", it's a therapy session so it's a free for all. lmk if i missed anything

he’s not sure he’s in the right place. maybe he missed a sign on his way in that'd tell him where to go or who he was seeing, but he'd wandered down a hall and ended up in a waiting room that had felt right initially. but now he’s wondering; he’s the only one in this tiny room, and he hasn’t seen anyone pass by. it’s silent, besides the small hum of music.

then he hears two muffled voices of laughter come from the wall behind him, and the shuffle of footsteps nearing the door to his left. he’ll find out where he is soon enough, he supposes.

the door knob clicks and creaks, automatically grabbing his attention as he looks toward the source of the noise. a girl who appears to be in her late teens or early adulthood walks out first, whom he’s never seen in his life, but he recognizes the second girl that walks out.

of course he does, how could he not?

he saw her nearly if not everyday of his life when they were kids, all the way up until their first year in high school, where gradually he started to see her less and less until he never saw her. she disappeared from the school halls and the streets they used to walk down together. he knew she was still there, somewhere, but he could never find her. they’re both frozen now, staring at each other. whoever walked out before her seems to get the message and bows slightly before taking her leave.

he’s not even sure what to say. the first words that come to mind are ‘i’m sorry.’

for what? leaving her? watching her leave and not stopping her? the next thing that comes to mind is ‘what even happened between us? i missed you.’ 

of course he fucking missed her, although it feels like he's just now fully realizing it. she had been nearly as important to him as volleyball, and it had been nice to have something in his life not connected to the sport. he loved the sport, he truly did, and it was his biggest priority when he was younger, but now he was starting to feel that passion wane, as much as he hated to admit it. if he hoped to get anything out of talking about this problem with someone, it was that he’d be able to enjoy the sport again. and maybe it’d be like old times. maybe she would be the center of gravity he revolved around again, being the anchor that keeps him upright even when times got rough. 

she felt sick, seeing him again. she had been wishing to see him again for so long, and yet apparently, in reality, she wasn’t ready to see him again. her thoughts immediately went to her appearance, and how she had looked and acted, seeing off her last client. and, most importantly, why was he here? why was she seeing him here of all places?

then it clicks. atsumu's "friend."

of course.

of course he would pull something like this.

her brain immediately goes on autopilot, because she can’t stand there all day gawking at the man who hasn’t ever left her mind. not since she first met him. not since they stopped talking to each other. not even nine years later, after the night she cried alone in her bed when she finally accepted the truth that he didn't care about her, and she’d never see him again. “om– sakusa. hi. good to see you. why don’t you come in?”

she retreats back into her office, quickly setting a pillow back up on the nearby couch in a futile attempt to tidy up the room before she retreats to her own seat.

he follow her in without a word, eyes taking in the interior of her room. he likes it more than the waiting room. there’s a wide window taking up most of the wall in front of him, displaying the sight of a more rural side of osaka. it took a train ride and a bit of a walk to get here, but seeing this view, he decides maybe it was worth it. maybe more walks in open spaces was actually all he needed to feel better.

or maybe all he needed was her presence.

she sits in a chair across from the one he’s in. there’s a small glass coffee table between them with a group of small succulents centered atop it and the decoration surprises him. for as long as he's known her, she always somehow managed to kill every bunch of flowers he gave her within a few days. his grandma would buy him a small bouquet after some of his volleyball games when he was younger and he never wanted them. he'd give them to her instead because she loved plants, despite never being able to keep them alive.

but it’s obvious from the number of pots lining her windowsill that she’s changed. he wants to bring it up, but he’s not sure what she would think. he doesn’t even know what she’s thinking about now.

it’s silent between them. the tension is suffocating. he’s not looking at her, but she can’t tear her eyes away from him. she’s never thought about how she’s grown, but looking at him now, it feels strange; like there’s a younger version of herself inside of her that can still see right through the man across from her, into the kid in him. but they’ve both matured, both locked that childish wonder behind many walls in their hearts now.

she hasn’t seen him since their first year in high school. of course, she's seen his face in print and on screens, but it was much different in person. compared to the image her eyes would always remember, of a boy with brighter eyes, filled with aspiration, always looking towards the future, the edges of his lips curved ever so slightly into a confident smile whenever he had his mask off–now he just looked tired. he had the same hooded eyes as always, yet they looked duller, and perhaps there were darker bags under them. his lips were permanently pressed into a thin line, with no traces of a smile anywhere. his frame was larger from years of hard work, yet he was downplaying it with his posture, shoulders curved and head held grim and low. his hands were long, but worn and calloused, and his legs were restless, nothing like the calm and still body that she used to stand side by side with.

“so,” she breaks the silence, knowing they’ll have to talk eventually. she’s playing with her own fingers nervously, feeling like the break of silence is a crime. she's not ready to talk to him, but maybe if she remains passive and neutral towards him, he’ll act the same way back, and they won’t have to think about how much they really know about each other–that she could still tell him exactly how many moles line his arms, and he could tell her about the scar on her upper thigh. “you made an appointment with me?”

“did you know it was me? you agreed to see me even though you knew it was me?” they’re the first words he’s said to her in years and they come out words brashfully, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth before he can even process what he’s just said.

her eyes are soft, while his are sharper and bolder. the way they droop gives her a safe, welcoming appearance as if promising that she can keep a secret, that she will listen without judging, and that he'll feel better after he talks to her. but her brows furrow in hurt, and he sees the glassy look in her eyes after his words. “i didn’t know it was you. i see atsumu all the time and he asked if i’d be willing to see one of his friends and i said of course. he said 'his friend' was on the fence about therapy so we just agreed that if he–you–wanted to see me more, we could figure that out later. i had no idea who you were–and even if i knew i did, is there something wrong with that? did i do something wrong?–” she clamps her lips shut, realizing she's said too much. she lets out a quiet sigh to restart before smoothing the fabric of her pants, “i’m sorry. that’s unprofessional of me. forget i said that last part. but i mean– did he not tell you who you were seeing? he just told you to show up here?”

he doesn’t like her being professional. he misses her smile. not the one she gave to the client she saw out before she told him to follow her in; the one that she would give him when they were together and he said something she found amusing. he doesn’t like what he said to her, and he digs his nails into his palms, regretting how this meeting has turned so sour, all because of him. “no. he didn’t,” he says, and he realizes his voice is still cold. he should add something else: “but there’s nothing wrong with that. it’s good to see you.”

he means what he says, but her frown remains, and she looks at him like she doesn’t believe him. she doesn't say anything in response, instead pulling her laptop from a nearby table onto her lap. “okay. well, you came here for a reason. what’s been going on? you can start from as far back as you want. this first meeting will serve as an introduction to both of us, so that you can get a feel for how i do things and so that i can understand what you’re going through, and how i can best help you.”

she’s cutting off any chance they have to look at each other as friends anymore, and he hates that, but there’s no way out of this spot she’s cornered him into, so he does what she asks. he tells her of the day he was benched, and how it's affected him ever since, leading to thought spirals and feelings that have been building up every day, which he's been choosing to shove down instead of getting out. 

“would you consider writing down your thoughts, then? either in a notes app or with actual pen and paper, either one works. but the action serves as a way to clear your mind. you can do it whenever you’d like, whether that be when you first wake up, at the end of the day, or even in the middle of the day. the point is to write down any thoughts you have that are stressing you out, like all the things you feel that you need to get done. you write them down so that you're able to take those thoughts out of your mind and put them somewhere instead of letting them stay stuck in there forever, bothering you and weighing you down even long after you’ve forgotten what it is you’re stressing about.”

she suggests things and reiterates some of the points he makes ever so often. the way she takes a backseat in the conversation, letting him do most of the thinking and talking, makes it easy for him to pretend he hasn’t known her for years, but he doesn’t want to think of her that way. he finds himself looking around her room as she talks, taking in all the small details. maybe on the train ride home, he'll take into consideration what she's just suggested and write down what he thinks of her office. 

her place is warm and inviting, and the more he looks at it, the more he thinks that it’s so her. from the mute, natural colors of the furniture that she’s meticulously picked out, the way she’s neatly organized a stack of papers on a desk nearby, along the same wall as the window to his side looking out to a verdant landscape– he even thinks about the books he saw on the shelf outside in her waiting room. he had recognized some of those books, and yet he hadn’t pieced together why he had such a nostalgic, longing, feeling in his chest. 

it was because it was her. 

perhaps the plants are what threw him off. the plants. again with the plants. he thinks about the daisies planted outside her house, that he passed every time he visited. he remembers seeing her mother out there, using a hose to water their flowers while she sat on the porch, waiting for him. she would complain to him about the fact that her mother wouldn’t let her help with the garden work, because of her “cursed black thumb” and the way her mother scolded her, hearing her daughter complain about her while she could still hear her.

she’s giving him the chance to pretend that they’re nothing more than a therapist and a client meeting for the first time, but he wants to decline the offer. he wants to ask her about what’s going on in her life, and he thinks maybe that would help with his own struggles, too; if he could hear about what she’s been doing with her life. he thinks it would help to go out for late dinners with her again, spend nights over at each other’s places again, and to just talk to her normally again. seeing her face once more after so long, he can’t look away. being in her presence now, sitting in a room filled with her heart, he feels a weight lift from the back of his head that he hasn’t been able to get rid of for so long. maybe she’s what he’s been missing this whole time.

his roommates know him well, atsumu knows him best, but none of them compare to her. nothing compares to the memories flowing through his head, of the late nights they spent out by the fire pit in her backyard, of nights spent in each other’s rooms, laughing and sharing stories, of the time her mother pulled out a foldable, stiff, scratchy bed stand for him to sleep on at their first sleepover when her mother wasn’t yet sure of him. he had tossed and turned around restlessly on that bedstand. when she asked him what was wrong, he told her he was homesick, and she let him sleep with her in her bed. nothing compared to the conversations they had late on his bedroom floor, where she slept beside him when it had become too weird for them to sleep in the same bed. nothing compared to the promises to stay together or to stay alive. and yet he’d broken that first promise.

he was telling her now about everything that was going on in his life, every thought he was having, but he wanted to just stop and say, “you already know this, don’t you?” because they were the same thoughts that had plagued him for years. the obsessions and compulsions that bothered him at all times, the strangling feeling in his chest–she’d heard all of this before.

but that silver laptop on her lap seems to be a wall between them, preventing them from being close like they were before. she keeps typing away, nodding, flicking her eyes up to meet his ever so often, but never too long for him to be able to read anything about them.

the time goes by faster than he thinks, and an hour has passed before he knows it. he wouldn’t have noticed if they had gone on for even longer than an hour, but she cuts them short when she puts that cursed computer to the side and straightens out her legs, “well, i would be open to meeting with you more, sakusa. everything you've told me today sounds like a lot, and i think it would be beneficial for you to have some extra support while balancing such a taxing career, but it’s your decision. the way i work, the first meeting is always free since it's just a warmup. if you want to see me again, your insurance should cover the majority of the cost. i’ll write down my email for you so that you contact me if you’d like to make another appointment and then i’ll walk you out.” she gets straight to the point, standing up and finding a stray sticky note to scribble something down on before walking towards the door like she’s eager to have him out of her space.

there’s so much he wants to say:

“call me omi, like you used to.”

“i still have your number saved, can i text you instead?”

“of course i want to see you again. and not just in this setting. but as friends.”

but he knows it’s too early to say any of that. he’s stuck in his head again, pulling at the fabric at his pants before he realizes she’s waiting on him. the door is open, and she wants him to leave. “okay,” he says quietly. “thank you for listening to me. i’ll think about it and email you if i decide i want to see you again.”

inside his head, something in him feels more triumphant, like he’s won control of the situation again. it’s his decision if he wants to see her again; he decides if she sees him again.

but in his chest, something twists. he wants her to say it back, that she wants to see him again. that it was good to see him again. but of course she won’t say that. he’s the client.

he wishes she would say something. anything. just one thing that’s not “professional,” or whatever she calls it.

“sounds good. if you send an email, just include what your availability is and i’ll tell you mine,” she says, holding out the note for him to grab as he passes by her. he feels lightheaded, and he has to force himself to keep walking, ignoring the way his body automatically pulls himself towards her.

“and sakusa,” she calls out, making him lose any sense of control he had left. he never could resist her, could he? whenever she asked him to sneak out of the house or buy her something to eat. 

he freezes in his steps and looks back at her. he’s not sure what his face looks like; if his eyes are wide, mouth slightly agape, and it’s obvious that he’s hoping she’ll say what he wants her to. or maybe his face is stern and apathetic, and he’ll shun her away like he did before.

“it sounds like you’ve made it really far. you’ve made a name for yourself, and you’re working towards your dreams. that’s good. you’re doing good,” she has a small smile on her face as she stands facing him, half hiding behind her wooden door. it’s nothing like the wide smiles she would give as his ears rang with her laughter, but maybe this one was even better. it’s a smile that says “maybe we can be more. maybe be can try again."

he’s at a loss for words, still looking at her. maybe it’s stupid and embarrassing, but he really hopes his face is expressive instead of something emotionless and unreadable. 

because he takes too long to respond, and suddenly the door is shut in his face, leaving him in her tiny square waiting room, painfully aware of how alone he is.

again.

.

.

.

" the mind forgets, but the heart always remembers. "

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extras <3

sorry for any repetition!! i tried to do it three times since that's a grammar thing i think <3

slightly more light hearted next chapter! thank u for reading <3

gonna put little notes at the end of the chapter from omi, just detailing his thoughts like y/n suggested him to do <3

taglist: @eggyrocks @wyrcan @guitarstringed-scars @strawberryuri @violetesensou @kakeru-eem @glmge @heytheredemonsss @mollyrolls @bemebiu @daszy @snail-squasher @0moonii @thiisisntlovely @todorokiskitten @rory-cakes @hyenagoated @iatethemochi @yuminako @savemebrazilhinata @kismyscars @bokutoko @nobodybutnnoorr @wolffmaiden @daisy-room @softpia @lees-chaotic-brain @v3nusplanetofluv @crispchocolates @phoenix-eclipses @hhoneyhan @encrypta @rockleeisbaeeee @cr4yolaas @zombriesworld @localgaytrainwreck @moucheslove @hibernatinghamster @notverymarley @certaindreampost @akaakeis @ciderscape @lucien-luna @strawbrinkofdeath @wave2mia @samuel1004 @01trickster10 @dazqa @cosmiicdust @chemiru

[nanaooyoo]

nct dream ot7 scenario

request for: anon. They asked for a scenario where the dreamies have a kid say “you’re not my real mom” to their step mom. I tried to write a bunch of different family dynamics where a new woman comes into their life, some are happy some are a bit angsty. Hope you like it! Anyways enjoy ✨

warnings/headsup: fem reader • gender neutral for all the kids • jeno, haechan, jaemin, and chenle have fluffy endings • mark, renjun, and jisung have angsty endings • aged up nct dream or not you decide • mentions of pregnancy • allusions to bad parenting • dream are all good dads • 4.6k words total • 660 word average • open endings • light proofread

blended families: members x reader pt.I/I

❥ Mark

Mark was shocked by what he had heard. In his mind, you and his stepchild got along well. Sure the relationship wasn’t perfect and there was definitely a long adjustment period, but that didn’t justify such harsh words over something so trivial. Ever since the divorce his oldest had become uncharacteristically snippy, moody, defiant even… He chocked it up to teenage hormones and the fact that his two youngest had spent much less time with their biological mother and were much more attached to you.

It was the weekend and he was double checking that all their bags were packed, furiously looking at his watch and his phone interchangeably, and anticipating his ex-wife’s arrival any minute. It was her designated time with them and his ex was probably already on her way to take them for the weekend, but you were struggling to get the two littlest ones dressed while also having a distracting back and forth with an already frustrated adolescent.

“I’m sorry but I just really don’t feel comfortable letting that happen” you said as they begged, pleaded, and attempted to negotiate throwing a party at Mark’s the following weekend while you two would be away. You weren’t one to raise your voice but you still had to be firm. Mark had already said no many times and all three kids knew that even if Mark could easily be swayed, when it came to things that could put someone in trouble; it was a no-go. You however, were always a little bit more understanding of the kids wanting to do fun things even if parents and step parents weren’t present. That still didn’t mean you would allow a teen to throw a party with a bunch of other high schoolers without any adult supervision. Mark climbed the stairs as he could hear the muffled grumbling of you two arguing while the other kids giggled and fidgeted and darted around the room.

“Seriously? You’re not even my real mom! Where do you get off telling me what I can and can’t do?” They yelled. You turned slowly to look at them a bit of hurt in your eyes, but mostly just shock. Even the hyperactive elementary schoolers stopped in their tracks. Instead of getting angry you just felt a bit sad, you just shook your head and went back to dressing the much calmer little ones. They looked as if they wanted to say something but didn’t have the vocabulary to.

Mark waltzed in at just the worst moment “___” Lee how could you say something like that? He asked in earnest.

They just mumbled some excuse about it being true, sinking into themselves seemingly surprised by their own words. Before their father could give them a stern talking to, the doorbell rang. You turned away a bit to wipe your slightly watery eyes without anyone noticing and stood up with a smile. “Alright everyone it’s time to go!” You said cheerily patting all three of their heads and ushering the kids down the stairs.

You and Mark exchanged a few pleasantries with Mark’s ex-wife and her boyfriend before loading all the belongings in the car and waving goodbye.

You rubbed Marks shoulder reassuringly. “It’s okay” you said “They regretted it once they said it… I could tell”. You really hoped that was true. Mark planted a quick kiss on your forehead before you reentered the house…

❥ Renjun

Renjun did everything he could to get his kid on board with him dating again. It had been years since their mother passed away and he wanted to remember her but still move on in his own way. For him that was finding someone new. So far though, there had been no luck. Any time he had a date, mentioned a date, even insinuated that he liked someone that wasn’t them or their mother it did not go well with his only child. Dating with kids was hard enough but not even being able to introduce your kid to anyone was a whole different beast. The one time Renjun did try and introduce someone to them the relationship ended that night. Needless to say, he was nervous when he met you. He felt himself falling for you immediately. You were charming and kind, and your background in child psychology made you all the more appealing. You were so patient and understanding every time he had to reschedule plans due to his chaotic life especially when it came to his kid. Renjun had only felt this way once before, but now that she was gone he really imagined what it would be like to start over with you.

Tonight was maybe your fifth or sixth date and Renjun had proposed the idea of slowly working up to courage to introduce you to his child. You agreed and reassured him that he could take his time and that you were in no rush.

What you didn’t tell him was that you wanted to wait as long as possible for the kid to adjust before you were inserted into their life. He had called one day while he was at home to check in on you while you were sick in bed, and you overheard some snide remark being made in the background. Renjun had brushed it off just really hoping you didn’t hear anything but unfortunately you did.

“She’s an adult why are you even worried?” You heard “Mom would’ve never taken this much of your time-” “I’ll never call her mom you know… you can’t just expect me to be okay with you replacing-“ At the sound of that Renjun cut the call short telling you to feel better before hanging up.

The next day he arrived at your apartment with some lovingly homemade soup and some flowers he knew wouldn’t upset your allergies. He tried his best to apologize for the words that were said but you told him you didn’t hold it against him or them.

It took months of convincing before they finally agreed to meet you and a few years into your eventual marriage before they started to actually let their guard down around you a little bit. The first meeting went about as well as you’d expect there was some animosity, resistance and later on they denied that you had successfully made them laugh when Renjun brought it up. It was still taking some time and maybe they would never call you mom but you and Renjun didn’t want to force anything. It was an uphill battle you both were committed to take on together…

❥ Jeno

“She’s not my mom though… She’s a step mom” they said. Jeno’s eyes went wide!

“No! She’s your mom, I mean mommy is also your mom but she’s never really been like- she’s still technically your mother but, I mean it’s complicated… It’s like- It’s like, um”… Jeno rambled nervously before he trailed off trying to explain to his toddler that the woman they had spent pretty much their entire existence with was in fact more of a mother than their “real” mother was. You covered your mouth and sucked in your lips as Jeno scrambled and the kid just kept on playing with their toys. “I’m really sorry, I don’t know why they just said that!”

All he had said to them was that him and “mom” (meaning you) were planning on what to order for dinner.

Jeno looked at you with frantic worry in his eyes and scooted a little closer to where you sat on the ground beside him and your child. “Are you okay why aren’t you saying anything?” He asked resting his hand on yours gently.

He noticed how your eyes welled up but he wasn’t expecting that they were actually welling up from laughter. You croaked and snorted in amusement and surprise before you could even fully process what had just happened. You laughed at the child’s blunt delivery and just silently went over to play with them some more. Jeno always looked so cute when he was stressed that you didn’t even have time to feel any negativity. In your eyes no matter what, no matter how old, your kid was always going to be your kid, and you really did consider them yours. The way they shot you an unassuming smile and raved to you about the palm sized toy car you had bought them for just some pocket change the other day melted away any worries. You ruffled their hair a bit and cleared your throat. “Well step mom wants to know what you want for dinner.”

Jeno watched in awe as you two chatted back and forth laughing and talking about various food options as if nothing had happened. “They’re not wrong…” you whispered to your husband with a small chuckle reminding him that it wasn’t an emotionally charged statement it was just the sort of matter of fact tone that was all too common in children (especially yours). “They must have inherited the sarcasm from you”. You spoke with glee reminding Jeno of his similarly blunt tone when delivering news or making quippy remarks. Your sense of humor made it near impossible to push your buttons so occasional sass and dry humor were nothing new to you. It’s something you found cute. You liked that your child had picked up Jeno’s realistic worldview but your silly laugh.

You were finally able to divert the conversation from which miniature race cars would qualify for the Grand Prix and back onto dinner.

You understood inherently that this was a conversation that would probably have to be had many more times again in the future and with many more people. You knew that you would eventually have to start adjusting and evolving the way you explained your familial situation to your child and the not so pretty parts about their upbringing before you arrived, but there was one thing you knew for certain, and that was that they would always be aware that no matter what they had two parents who loved them. You and Jeno would always be there, for the good, the bad, the ugly, and the awkward…

❥ Haechan

Haechan always knew that combining two families would be difficult but he was determined to do it anyways. Two sets of parents, two sets of kids, and a whole lot of big personalities coming together was bound to create some drama, but Haechan was ready for it. Or so he thought!

“Are you sure a vacation is the best way to go about this right now Haechan?” You asked.

“It’s not a vacation! It’s a… it’s a well planned family trip!” Haechan replied, rifling through his closet for something to wear. “Besides, even if it was a vacation… which it’s not, it would still be a good bonding exercise.” We can just hang out at the beach and chill, the older ones can do their own thing and the little ones already have so much fun playing together. It’ll go great I promise. Haechan walked over to the edge of the bed where you were sitting and gave you a reassuring kiss on the forehead before going back to scanning all his clothes.

“I just don’t know about having them share a room, no matter how big it is, all three of them stuck together like that just feels like a disaster waiting to happen.” You sighed and laid back on the bed.

You and Haechan had been putting off planning a well deserved break for only god knows how long at this point! You had been dating for years and the idea of remarriage for both of you felt so far off in the moment. You had three kids in your previous marriage: two teenagers and one middle schooler. Haechan had two kids: one teenager and one in elementary school. For the most part, all of you got along well. You all got along well enough in fact that moving in under one roof didn’t seem so scary anymore. Still, you had searched high and low for your dream five bedroom home, saving up all you could working second jobs, and extra shifts like crazy. luckily Heachan was good with money and that dream finally became a reality. You were able to move into a space with a beautiful master bedroom for you and your partner, and four extra bedrooms for each kid. No one felt left out and everyone was happy!

Haechan thought you were crazy for insisting that the fact that the older kids had gotten along so well lately was because they had separate bedrooms. Each teenager had their own space and privacy and that to you made all the difference. Less grumpy attitudes at breakfast, less fights over what to watch on tv, no roasts thrown at each other that another couldn’t handle… it was great! They were even voluntarily hanging out with each other! You worried that if they were forced to spend time together that the magic might die a little and they would stop getting along. Haechan insisted that they were all mature enough to not start any petty drama on a family trip.

“Don’t worry sweetheart! It’ll all go fine!”

A couple weeks later you were all sidled up next to each other in the airport waiting for your boarding time. All three of your oldest were on their phones with their own headphones in, but every once in a while you could see them giggle at their screens and all lean over show each other things.

It gave you relief. Aside from the occasional “Y/N your kid keeps elbowing me”, and “Donghyuck your kid is kicking my feet”. It was alright.

Of course when you landed they all had the classic argument of “she’s not my mom she’s your mom, and he’s not my dad he’s your dad.” When it came to unpacking or doing chores but the spaciousness of the vacation house and the fact that the teens had their own bathroom felt amazing. The two youngest had been angels of course the whole way over, finally expending all their energy and climbing on Haechan like a jungle gym while he scoped out the fridge.

Sure it was annoying to deal with all the young people yelling, but so far it wasn’t so bad…

❥ Jaemin

There was almost nothing Jaemin wasn’t willing to do for his kids. He was occasionally stern with them, a disciplinarian, but he was also just about the most fun father anyone could ever ask for, and he was even more fun once his children had aged into young adults!

He was the kind of dad that called in sick for his kids when they had forgotten to study for a test that day. He was the kind of dad that let them have ice cream for dinner just because he wanted ice cream for dinner. He was the kind of dad that waited until his kids were in their mid twenties (and absolutely begging him to spend time with people his own age) to ask out his workplace crush.

Watching his two kids navigate their way through the beginnings of adulthood unencumbered by the same sort of baggage that weighed on him, back when he was their age filled Jaemin with a complicated mix of emotions.

On one hand he was happy! When he was barely out of high school he had to beg a store clerk to let him get his deposit back on a rented prom tux and a corsage so he could scrounge up enough cash to support his newly pregnant girlfriend. At that age he was thinking about whether or not his parents would ground him for making them grandparents before he graduated college. Back then he was wondering if baby formula and diapers were really as expensive as everyone made them out to be. Thank god the most pressing financial matter on his oldest one’s mind at the moment was how many paychecks would equal a new gaming setup.

On the other hand however, Jaemin was quite a bit jealous… Every time his kids brought home a new partner of theirs, blew their allowance on something stupid, or just generally goofed off, he was reminded of just how much he felt like he missed out on. Jaemin had only ever been in one relationship and all that left him with was two kids and a world’s worth of baggage. Of course he loved his children, but he couldn’t lie. Watching them date around so easily while he had to settle down with the first girl he ever “slipped up” with didn’t always feel good. He wondered how their mother managed to co-parent and still move on with her life so smoothly for all these years. She had little to no trouble finding anyone, so why did he?

Well maybe the problem wasn’t simply finding somebody, but what to do after he had found them.

Jaemin still remembered the first day he had met you like it was yesterday. It was physics class third year of university and the very first day of the semester. You sat towards the back of the lecture hall, just a few seats in front of him and his group of friends. He sure as hell didn’t remember a single thing on the board in front of him but he did remember you. He remembered the guilt he felt for falling for you so soon after the mother of his children had broken up with him. He remembered the way you would nervously twirl your pencil in your hand, and chew the eraser to bits every time there was a pop quiz. He remembered the sheepish yet polite way you would ask him for notes. He remembered the smile you had on your face and the adorable way your eyes twinkled and the corners creased as you pointed to the picture glued to his phone of the two infants who shared his same face. You had raved about how cute they were, and Jaemin could still remember how he was tempted to lie and say they were his nieces/nephews but told the truth instead. Most importantly, he remembered the way your lips curled up and the gentle and warm tone of your voice as the words “makes sense, you seem like a good dad” escaped your lips. Oh the way his heart melted that very instant at hearing you say those words. They were the exact kind of validation he needed at that time and coming from a pretty girl like you made it all the more validating.

Now here he was, years and years later, checking you out from his cubicle as you worked at your desk. You were much more organized now than you were in school. Now Jaemin was the one continuously asking you for help and advice. The day his boss had introduced you two made his heart skip a beat and he could tell that you had immediately recognized him too! You even asked about his kids… could you be any more perfect?

If it wasn’t for one of his kids catching him stalking your social media he probably would have just let his crush on you fester without ever making a move.

“She seems cool, you two would probably get along.” They said nudging their dad’s shoulder and pointing to your profile up on his phone.

Jaemin just scoffed and cleared his throat, attempting to hide his embarrassment. “The only woman I get along with is your mom” he said looking away; guilt still bubbling inside him for some reason “well her and your grandma” he said…

“I don’t need a new mom, I already have one, but that doesn’t mean that you don’t need anyone. Look dad I like hanging out with you but it can’t just be the four of us forever”. His child said solemnly but still giving Jaemin an empathetic smile…

❥ Chenle

Your whole body ached and you had never felt more tired, but you also felt a whole lot of relief. Chenle was perfectly on time, the delivery process had gone smoothly, and most importantly you had welcomed a beautiful baby into the world.

It was only Chenle’s child second but it was your very first, so you both had a lot to learn and many chances to grow with this new adorable addition to your family.

You could tell Chenle’s kid had mixed feelings about the pregnancy when you had told them. Of course you considered them your child too, but you both were still on a first name basis. Hearing a young person who lived in such close proximity to you call you “Y/N” was strange but you had… sort of, almost, kind of gotten used to it.

Chenle’s first kid had always wanted a sibling, but when it didn’t work out with his ex wife the idea seemed to become more of a thing of the distant past. That was the case, until he met you! Chenle almost instantly fell head over heels for you. It kind of scared you at first. You wondered why a guy like him, would be so into you but you gave him a chance and that might have become the best decision you ever made. He was kind, intelligent, full of energy and life, but laid back at the same time, and not to mention genuine. Almost to a fault Chenle was willing to tell you and anyone who would listen, how he was feeling and what he was thinking. What you had thought to be an act at first was really just the real him, unbothered by the little things in life and so happy to be surrounded by the people he cared about.

You always took the gentler approach when communicating with Chenle’s kid. Not only because it was just a part of your personality, but also because you purposefully walked on eggshells around them in certain situations to avoid imposing yourself. Chenle’s kid saw you more like a fun older friend who spent a lot of time with their dad than a mother, and eventually that stopped feeling so weird. Strangely enough, it made them more relaxed around you. Both you, and Chenle’s first were aware of the sometimes tepid nature of your relationship so it was important to keep things lighthearted when telling them about their brand new sibling. Their emotions were mixed but they still politely gave you a hug and they even warmed up to the idea a bit more (after you bribed them with some ice cream).

They were more than happy to help you pick swatches for the nursery and were over the moon when you convinced Chenle to let them have one of the bigger rooms in the house all to themself and move the baby into their old room. “A baby doesn’t need all this space anyway and ___ is getting older!” You said.

The day your water broke you practically thanked the heavens it happened so conveniently. It was the weekend and you were sitting at home freshly washed up and eating lunch at the kitchen island scrolling through your phone when it happened. You called Chenle who was already on his way home and his kid rushed down the stairs just in time to sit with you and make sure you were okay. You could see the excitement on their face as they tried to remain calm and not overwhelm you.

After being scooped up in the car, admitted to the maternity ward, and taking a few cute photos, you told Chenle to go invite his kid into the room. You felt so proud handing off the baby to them and even in your drowsy state you could tell they were emotional.

“I know it’s weird that I can’t bring myself to call you mom but I am definitely calling them my sibling” Chenle’s child said gently tickling the infants nose with the tip of their finger. It was awkward, but nothing you didn’t already know. Now you were aware for a fact that no matter what, this new baby had three people in their lives ready to love them unconditionally!

❥ Jisung

“First of all, she’s not my mom let’s get one thing straight—”

Jisung’s kid had a temper like no other! He had no idea where they had gotten it from. It obviously wasn’t from him, it definitely wasn’t from his baby mama, and it certainly wasn’t from you!

Most of the time Jisung’s calm and quiet approach to parenting was really effective but when his child got worked up he never knew what to do. You and Jisung were both particularly mild mannered so it wasn’t in your nature to raise voices, or engage in an immature back and forth, but to an angsty teenager that just meant a free pass to throw fits. Whenever they got in one of their moods it seemed like they couldn’t help but just hurl insults at people, especially those closest to them. And their favorite insult of all? At least when it came to you; calling you anything but their mother.

No matter how long you had been around, how much time you had spent together, how much of a family you all thought you were. When it came down to the wire they knew the thing to say that would upset you the most. You hated that it worked, you hated that it was somehow both true and untrue, and you hated how it made Jisung feel. Even if he wasn’t in the room it would be hard to hear, but watching him in real time as his face dropped, the exasperated sigh he let out, the way he just held your hand and led you out of the room without a word, it was all just miserable.

Your fiancée sat on the living room couch with his head in his hand, the other tentatively caressing your knuckle with his thumb. He rubbed his temples and huffed out not knowing what to say. You watched as Jisung looked to the various venue pamphlets and florist business card strewn across the coffee table and then to the ring in his finger. He let out a strenuous breath through his nose and blinked a few times as the watery-ness in his eyes started to dissipate.

You spoke carefully squeezing Jisung’s hand and giving him a compassionate look. “Maybe we should just push the wedding ba—“

“No!” He responded before you could even finish your thought.

“I just mean, if things are to stressful right now it might not be a good idea, especially since it feels like things could potentially get worse…” you tried to choose your words carefully “maybe now’s just not the time”.

“Y/N how could you say that?”

“I’m not trying to hurt you I’m just thinking about what’s best for us, what’s best for everyone!”

“You’re what’s best for me right now!” He said without skipping a beat “I really can’t do any of this without you and I don’t want to push this back any further” he said “I just love you too much…”

You knew that Jisung’s words were true, and that he really truly felt them. You knew he was being genuine when he said that he loved you and that all these years together had made you a family but you also knew that to his kid, to your kid, that was only true when they were happy, and getting married, having a wedding? That could only make things ten times worse.

You two just looked at each other a little bit forlorn, completely forgetting what had sent the adolescent on a tirade in the first place. Jisung’s tired, pained, but still enamored expression when looking at you helped in the moment. Even if it really just was for that moment, things could always get better. Right?

Your fiancée planted a gentle string of kisses along your cheek and neck eventually landing on the corner of your lips and whispering a feeble “it’s going to be okay” in your ear…

-🍌🍶

[escapingrealtiylovinginsanity]

Nick Amaro NSFW Alphabet  

Guys I finished rewatching season 14 and I forgot how much I hate the storyline they give Nick. I love him as a character, but I would love to completely reconstruct his backstory. He has to be one of the most personally screwed-over characters in SVU. Am I the only one who hates the hidden love child-which I’m completely disregarding? Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this!  

Warnings- Some Maria-hate (sorry not sorry).  

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex) 

Nick's aftercare is exceptional. He cleans you up, washing any mess he has made off you with a warm washcloth or a hot shower. Then it is cuddling and whatever you want in your post-glow bliss. Usually, it’s time for you to talk about whatever you want. Something you did, a movie you saw, an awful joke you heard that you laughed at but didn’t seem worth bothering him about. He wants to hear it all.

It’s a time that you have this full attention. Sometimes it leads to more vulnerable emotional conversations that he seems to have an easier time having when his walls are down after sex. Sometimes words are too much and the two of you just hold each other, caressing each other's bodies.  

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and their partner’s)  

Nick’s favorite body part of himself is his hands. They are rough, calloused, and strong from years of sports, hard work, and shooting a gun. They are dexterous and versatile enough to accomplish his endless paperwork, playing catch with Zara, fixing things around the house, and his favorite teasing you with them until you come apart so prettily with his name on your lips. 

Nick loves your entire body. He tells you all the time there is nothing he would ever change. He loves your curves and doesn’t discriminate between them. Why be a boobs or ass man, when he has two hands and a willing mouth that can have both and more?  

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)  

Nick is a jealous man, and he knows it. You are his and nobody else. After spending a significant amount of time watching any another man try to talk or flirt with you there is nothing more that he wants to do than take you to his bed and paint his cum all over your body. It gives him undeniable satisfaction seeing his seed on your skin claiming you in the most barbaric way. He should hate it because it may be considered demeaning, but he can’t. Even later when he is cleaning you up, he smiles knowing the evidence of his DNA still lingers on your skin, clinging to you.    

D = Dirty secret (self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)  

It’s not necessarily dirty but you made Nick come embarrassingly early by calling him Papi one day out of nowhere while you were riding him. He never liked the idea of being called daddy by his partners. It seemed weird to him but hearing the word Papi come from your lips as you took your pleasure from him did all the right things.

When you guys were basking in the afterglow, he casually asked you about the nickname. You had admitted that one of your friends had told you it was a common term of endearment for Cuban men but you seemed a bit embarrassed. Instead of just telling you he liked it he spent the next few months trying to casually reinforce the nickname whenever you used it by getting you off as many times as possible.     

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)  

Nick has experience. While he did go through a bit of a Casanova stage in his teens and early twenties, he has always been more of a long-term partner kind of guy. The different women did teach him about different ways to enjoy sex and a bit of experimentation. However, when he married Maria, it was narrowed down to what she liked. She liked sex that was very plain and vanilla, missionary mostly. She wasn't very interested in sex after she had Zara and what they did do was repetitive.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying) 

Nick’s favorite position is doggy. He likes the control of your body it gives. His hands are free to caress and massage you. He can take you with your back pressed tightly to his chest fistful of your hair to make you look at him and steal open mouth kisses as he thrust into you. Or he can push you down on your knees with your face in the mattress as he holds your wrist behind your back and pounds into you hard and fast. Moans and his name bouncing from the walls as he takes you deeper and deeper. He loves leaving Hickes and love bites on your neck and down the back of your shoulder.      

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)  

Nick is a very passionate man but that doesn’t always translate into seriousness. You guys have had sex that you have laughed halfway through. You have been mid sex and his beard rubbed just right to tickle you and send you squirming with laughter that was contagious.  

H = Hair (how well-groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.) 

Nick’s hair is dark and thick, and it curls when it gets too long. He keeps it trimmed up for hygiene's sake typically. He doesn’t think much about it when it gets overgrown when life is too busy, or he just can’t be bothered. When he is in a relationship, he keeps up on it more as a respectful consideration for you. 

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)  

Nick is the definition of a Latino lover. He will spend his time with foreplay and the sex making sure you know how important you and your pleasure are to him. He calls you sweet nicknames and tells you how much you mean to him and how he has missed you and your body. If he pins your hands, he intertwines your fingers.  

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon) 

 Nick doesn’t masturbate often. When he does it's usually not to pleasure himself so much as to get a release from some stress. It’s quick and efficient and then he washes up and continues with his day or gets ready for sleep. He will also get himself off if he is horny, but you are not available or in the mood.      

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks) 

Nick’s love language is words of affirmation, and he has a major praise kink that he likes to mix with his dirty talk. He is also a bit of an exhibitionist. He likes to push the line of where you can have sex without getting caught. Just be careful while he’s drinking because it heightens all these kinks and can lead to some pretty close calls.  

L = Location (favorite places to do the do) 

Nick’s favorite place to have sex is the bedroom because it has the most options and comfort. He has become a big fan of the laundry room. While the space is limited, Zara doesn’t feel the need to interrupt when you go in there because she doesn’t think there is anything of value and would rather watch TV while you guys do the ‘laundry’ unlike when you guys try to sneak away to the bedroom or bathroom. There is a door so there is no risk of her getting in there unexpectedly. Nick has also found many uses for the dryer while it’s on that aren’t clothes-related.     

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going) 

Nick is not hard to convince to have sex or turn on. But he is a very visual man, and if you want to make him go feral wearing lingerie or one of his shirts buttoned halfway up is a good way of giving him an instant boner.    

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)  

Nick grew up with an abusive dad and he watched him beat his mom. He will never hit, slap, or do anything that could hurt you. An open-palmed smack on the ass is about as far as he will take it and that’s only if you enjoy it. He will never degrade you because it is against his morals of respecting women.    

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)  

Nick likes to get as much as he likes to receive. He wants you to sit on his face, sit not hover. If you don’t know the difference, he will pull you down on top of him and lick and devour your cunt until your legs are shaking to the point where sitting is the only option. He will work you up so well you will be riding his face. He loves 69ing too. Your moan vibrating around his dick from the pleasure of him eating out your pretty pussy? The answer is always yes.  

Nick loves a good blowjob. You found that it can fix his bad attitude. He came home in a bad mood and was trying to start a fight about something petty and irrelevant. He was in the kitchen slamming stuff around as he was making his coffee, bitching about how messy it was. You knew it had nothing to do with you, and everything to do with a disaster case, and marched over to him and grabbed his belt. He froze at first not sure what was going on, but it wasn't complaints falling from his lips when you dropped to your knees and gave him a quick messy blowjob. When you were done and got back to your feet, you pecked his lips and told him you were late for work leaving him stunned. When you returned home the kitchen was clean, he had cooked homemade traditional Cuban food, and he apologized to you all night long with a lot more than just his mouth.        

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.) 

Nick likes to make the foreplay slow and passionate, to make sure you are satisfied and ready to take him. When it comes to sex his preferred pace is fast and on the rougher side. Your body in his hands as he pounds into you your breast bouncing, head thrown back as you take him.  

He does have a gentler side that comes out quite often. One that takes you slow and steady. He will kiss every inch of your body whispering Spanish words of endearment and praise against your skin. These are the times he wants to look you in the eyes and make sure you know his love for you in this physical act. That you can hear it, feel it, taste it, and see it in his eyes.      

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)  

Nick loves a good quicky. Life is busy, especially with a job like his and kids. Sometimes you just have to take those fifteen minutes and make them worth every second. It doesn’t always need to be long to be good and satisfying. Besides Nick enjoys seeing you after a quick tousle out with your friends or random people knowing exactly what causes that flush in your cheeks. Knowing that his cum is still leaking out of you and into your wet panties unless of course he still has them in his pocket for safekeeping.  

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.) 

Nick is willing to experiment with his limits. He is willing to try any position you want at least once. He likes to push the limits where you two can get away with having sex. He likes the bathrooms at bars, the laundry room when Zara is preoccupied, and getting head when he is driving in low to no-traffic areas. He likes the adrenaline of the possibility, but he doesn’t actually want to get caught. 

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)  

Nick has stamina for days. He can drag out foreplay and sex for hours if you will let him. If you're planning on a sleepless night and are okay walking a little funny the next day you only have to give him about a half hour to recuperate and he will be ready to go again if you are.    

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)  

No, Nick’s not a toy guy. He is kind of old-fashioned and I think he might take it as a hit to his masculinity if you wanted to use them when you were in bed together.  

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)  

Nick is an ungodly tease. His sweet and dirty talk is second to none. He can get you wet just by telling you about what he is going to do to you. The innocent but consistent touches drive you crazy. Then when he finally has you in the bedroom you can almost taste the pleasure, he is going to give you. He teases you more and tisks about how impatient you are. “All good things come to those who wait, Corazón.”

If you want his teasing to stop, you will have to beg him or start teasing him back. He can give way better than he can take. You will have him changing his pace quick.    

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)  

Nick isn’t loud but he is by no means silent. He likes to dirty talk, and praise you in bed with a mix of English and Spanish words. He grunts and moans but keeps the noise to a minimum when Zara is in the house. If he knows that there isn’t a risk of being interrupted or overheard that is when Nick gets louder and likes to fuck you to upbeat Cuban music.   

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)  

Nick doesn’t know how to ask for attention or affection. He grew up with a controlling abusive father and a traumatized turned aloof mother. Then he married Maria, a strong-willed but distant and emotionally unavailable soldier. He never got consistent affection and doesn't understand his own need for it. He doesn’t consciously know he does it, but when he needs that affection, he will initiate sex even if he is not in the mood to have it. He will make it so good for you like he has to earn it. You will moan and call his name as he wrecks you with his fingers and mouth.  

Then he will usually wave you off when you go to reciprocate even if he is hard. He knows that what he really wants is already within reach because when you are pleasure drunk and boneless it always means that you are willing and wanting to cuddle. Your fingers will stroke and play with his hair, your other hand wandering his back teasing tense muscles until they relax. It takes you a long time to figure out what he is doing and when you do it breaks your heart.   

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes) 

Nick has a lean body with muscular arms and thighs. His chest is toned with a visible six-pack. He has a sparse dusting of hair on his lower stomach, a happy trail leading down to his goods. Nick is a big boy, above average in size. His cock is thick and long with a slight upwards curve.   

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)  

Nick has a pretty high sex drive but good control over it. While he would prefer to have sex four or five times a week, he doesn’t expect that. He has times when he becomes a sex hound, and you swear it always seems to match up to when you're ovulating. His sex drive can also completely diminish during bad sex crime cases.    

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards) 

Nick is one of those rare men that sex boosts his energy, at least for a little while. The flood of endorphins gives him a giddy relaxed high. If it is a quickie or during the middle of the day, he will have the sudden urge to accomplish something, or if you're really lucky cook traditional Cuban food. If it’s time for bed you will almost always fall asleep before him, but he is content to lay in bed with you either just cuddled up or playing games on his phone until the high fades.  

I forgot how long this prompt takes but hey there’s Nick’s! I have quite a few Nick miniseries that I’m going to be working on. One is the relationship building between the reader and Zara while still featuring Nick of course.  

I have another series that will be more angsty and will probably take longer because it’s going to be a split vibe of what could have happened in a situation with Nick and the reader's relationship when tragedy hits. I’m excited to challenge my writing in that way. 

Let me know if either of these piques your interest! I hope you enjoyed xoxo  

[chloe-skywalker]

Not My Decision - Stiles Stilinski

Stiles x reader sister

Derek x reader-ish

Warnings: none

Word count: 1,085

Requested: TW imagine the reader is Stiles sister and u get into an accident and Derek turns u into a wolf and Stiles goes against ur wishes and u get pissed at him for doing so and Peter actually takes care of u - @cokecola4211

Authors Note: I enjoyed the concept behind this request, it was ajoy to write. Maybe a Part 2?

Masterlist

Teen Wolf Masterlist

******************************************************************

“Help!” Stiles yelled out carrying Y/n into the hospital. She was covered in blood and therefore so was Stiles.

“Stiles what happened?” Melissa asked as she called a team over with a gurney.

“Just please help her.” Stiles pleaded as he placed her on the rolling hospital bed. He had to watch as they rushed into emergency surgery. Scott had come running in after he had parked the Jeep for his friend. They Both sat down in the waiting room. It didn’t take long for the others to hear about what happened and soon pretty much the entire pack were in the waiting room.

Melissa came out a few hours later with a sad expression. “She’s stable for now.”

“For now?” Stiles asked with extremely worried eyes.

“I don’t know how long she’ll stay stable for.” She hated having to tell Stiles that his sister was basically dieing. Two kids she’s known their whole lives and practically considered her own at times.

“Mom?” Scott stood up with eyes that begged his mom to not say what he thought she was going to say.

“Its not looking good, hunny. I’m sorry. We should probably call your dad, Stiles.” Melissa bit her lip in solace that they’d probably all have to say goodbye.

“What if I could help? The bite.” Derek spoke up, he was very close to the female Stilinski. They were really good friends and if he was being honest he had a bit of a crush on her. Maybe he could save her.

“No. That could still kill her.” Scottt shook his head protesting, not liking the idea at all.

Derek shrugged his shoulders, trying not to show how much the possibility of Y/n dying affected him. “I’m just suggesting. It would be better to try then do nothing and lose her anyway.”

“That’s not what she would want.” Scott argued back. Truthfully he didn’t know if Y/n would want it or not but she would make comments about how it'd be hard being one would make life. Wasn’t that enough? “Stiles, you know that.”

“Do it.” Stiles didn’t care at the moment what anyone thought. He just couldn’t lose his sister.

“Stiles-”

“No Scott.” Stiles turned his head to look at his best friend. Stiles glanced down for a second before he continued. “I know it’s not what she’d want but I don’t have a choice. We don’t have a choice. Plus she trust’s Derek…”

Stiles knew Y/n probably wouldn’t want the bite, not without real thought put into it. But there was more of a chance for her to live. If they don’t do it, she dies. If Derek at least tries she might live.

“We have to try. I can’t lose my sister, Scott.” Stiles pleaded with his eyes.

“If the bite doesn’t take, then we still lose Y/n, Stiles.” Scott tried one last time, but truth be told Scott did think it was worth a shot. Y/n was like a little sister to him, he didn’t want to see her die either.

“At least we tried, because Scott we’re gonna lose her anyway if we don’t.” Stiles stated before turning his attention back to Derek. With a nod he stated. “Do it.”

“Follow me.” Melissa nodded at Derek and he followed her.

It was around 45 minutes before they came back out of the room. This time their faces looked more relieved.

“She's stable and improving.” Melissa smiled, happy to be sharing good news.

“The bite worked?” Lydia questioned the older wolf. Hoping she didn’t have to bury another friend.

Derek nodded with relieved eyes. “It worked. I can sense it. Feel it.”

After all, she was his beta now.

“Good. Good.” Stiles nodded, running his hands through his hair.

“You know she might be pissed.” Lydia looked to Stiles with a knowing look.

“Oh she’s going to be pissed.” Peter stated tauntingly, although he too was glad the girl was going to live. She didn’t treat him like the others.

“Then at least I made the decision that saved her life.” Stiles knew he made the right decision. But he really just hoped she would eventually forgive him.

Eventually everyone went home to get some sleep. Derek stayed and eventually Mr.Stilinski showed up. He showed up just in time when Y/n woke up. He was in there for a while before he asked Derek to come into the room. Which really made Stiles nervous.

Derek left the room not long before their dad did. The two shook hands and Derek left the hospital. Stiles was finally told by his dad that he could go see his sister. For a while the two siblings just sat in silence. Till Y/n spoke up.

“I’m different now. You made that choice for me.” Y/n stated looking down at her hands placed on her lap.

“I didn’t have any other choice.” Stiles stated back. Y/n nodded in understanding and Stiles was grateful that she did. But he still had a bad feeling.

“I need a break Stiles.” Y/n said looking at him with eyes Stiles couldn’t dechirer.

“What do you mean?” Stiles asked, confused, now sitting up in his uncomfortable hospital chair.

“I’m going to stay with Peter and Derek for a while. I already talked to dad about it.” Y/n explained biting her lip. It wasn’t an easy decision for her to have made but she needed space right now, and she needed Derek to help her learn to control her new abilities. Peter too, oddly.

“Y/n-” Stiles tried to interject but Y/n shook her head.

“I need time to adjust Stiles. To get used to my new life, the changes to my body and mind.” Y/n told him hoping he’d get why she was doing this. Why she had to do this. Y/n loved her brother but this? She needed time. “I also need time to understand your choice for my future. To calm down and be able to control myself. I don’t want to get angry at you and hurt you. You're my brother, we’re closer than close Stiles. We alway have been. But right now, I’m afraid I’m gonna hurt you.”

“Ok” Stiles couldn’t say anything else. She was angry at him and was afraid she’d hurt him because of her anger. Anger at him for the choice he made for her. Even though she was pissed, she was still protecting him.

Taglist: @padawancat97

[starbylers]

Okay I’ve seen snippets from Noah’s meet & greet at the con floating around, so here’s all the relevant info & why there’s no cause for concern:

He was asked what he hopes for for Will, and he said a happy ending but didn’t elaborate

There was a question about Will dealing with different struggles including unrequited love & separation from his friends (early s4), and the questioner asked how Will handled & evolved from these things, and if it was hard to portray. Noah said that it’s difficult to answer because he does know how Will deals with everything so it’s spoilers but that it was a personal challenge he enjoyed from an acting perspective

While asking a question about Will & El’s relationship, someone stated that Will had let go of his feelings for Mike and Noah didn’t address that. I saw someone misattribute this quote and claim Noah was the one who said it, but this isn’t true

He was also asked what’s his fav theory about Byler & I think he was confused what they meant so they explained flickergate to him as an example? 😭 I’m not gonna comment on that but apparently he said he sometimes watches fan theory YouTube videos and always admires the creativity but that the theories are quote “Wrong. So so wrong”.

He said if he was writing Will’s coming out he’d have him dramatically die after (obviously a joke)

So yeah…? Idk what we can take from that other than:

If someone directly questions him about Mike not requiting Will’s feelings he’s obviously going to have to go along with it but we knew we’d have to deal with that so 🤷‍♀️ (and also Will as a character does think his feelings are unrequited presumably at least for a while into if not through out most of s5, so it’s not even really a lie because Noah will have to portray that)

Many if not all theories regarding how s5 Byler is going to go down are probably so far from reality but again we’ve known this the whole time

The individual who shared this information is a very dedicated MiIeven. I’m not saying they’re lying necessarily but sometimes people take what they want to take from things. For instance, they made a point of mentioning that him & his mother nodded along after a questioner mentioned unrequited love being a typical teen experience, which could just be simple agreement with the concept but this person obviously interprets it as some kind of confirmation lol. So yeah just take things with a grain of salt. If there was a vid we could get a sense of his attitude, facial expressions, hesitations etc. throughout all this but all we have are words which could be somewhat paraphrased based on this person’s opinion

Anyway that’s all :) just a reminder to brace yourself for the next year or so because at the end of the day an actor’s ultimate job when fielding questions is to not spoil. I really wish people would quit asking him about Byler tbh because he literally can’t say anything

[cherryg]

The internet censorship is coming..(again)

There are two well known censorship bill known as KOSA and the EarnIt act.

These bills both promised that they will protect children but unfortunately these are misguided bills that says they’ll do something but then they will do the opposite or make things worse.

Both of these bills are serious threat to the LGBT community and will censor a lot of content especially there

the EarnItact will also get rid of NSFW content and deem it as illegal, and will also get rid of section 230

The KOSA act will let attorneys from Florida and Texas take control and decide what people could and could not watch and sue websites and anything they don’t like and will not protect children but mostly put many vulnerable teens and children at risk while going as far as to even censor important information like sex education, health issues, suicide prevention hotlines and many more

We have stopped these bills from passing before but the cofounder Richard Bluemenhal is clearly not giving up and trying hard and hard again to push these bills back on congress

Last year more than 90/100 human rights groups urged lawmakers and congress to not pass KOSA in the omnibus bill and it got shelved and the same then happened to Earn it last year on February/March

But now he is trying a third time,using and manipulating grieving parents and young people into supporting and lobbying his bills, whiles even accepting anti trans and LGBT groups into supporting his legislations. He’s trying to find any type of scandal a platform is currently facing and turn and twist it on behalf of his agendas.

He says he supports abortions and the LGBT community but his bills will censor those things he claims to support. He can’t have it both ways.

But he was stubborn enough to ignore every criticism and scrutiny he gets about the legislations, being childish and all.

Not to mention that they are also both privacy nightmares to everyone and globally too

That’s why it’s important that you call and email your representatives and lawmakers and urge them to drop Kosa and the earn it act

Let any human rights group you trust knows and tell anyone you trust about it weather it be a friend or family member.

For more information, click these links below ⬇️

You can also help us by joining our discord server on how to stop internet censorship

There also a petition made from Fightforfuture recently about the KOSA act

(Update # 2)

Hey guys I’m back to warn everyone about yet again another bad internet bill it’s called the safe tech act

This act is supported by 7 democratic senators including bluemenhal which is never a good sign with him when it comes to internet bills.

This is a misguided 230 reform and when reading it, all it shows is that these people have no understanding of 230 whatsoever.

It’s just another dangerous censorship bill that threatens everyone’s free speech. The creators claim that it’s won’t hurt free speech but it actually does and they do not understand how important 230 is in its current form right now!

Here is a good article explaining the safe tech act really well and why it’s dangerous :

Also talk to your representatives about this and why it’s bad and if you can, try to explain to them about why section 230 is important. Support digital advocacy, human rights and any other groups that supports free internet and expression and let them know about these legislators and their bad ideas!

Update 3

The EarnIt act is sadly coming back after failing two times, now they are trying a 3rd time.

This legislation is dangerous for privacy and free expression and speech. It will bring lots of surveillance and is just as bad as the restrict act.

https://act.eff.org/action/the-earn-it-act-is-back-seeking-to-scan-us-all

Now it’s being reintroduced by two senators and two representatives if you don’t know what this bill actually does there is more information about it here from these links : https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2023/04/earn-it-bill-back-again-seeking-scan-our-messages-and-photos

The second one is called KOSA (KidsOnlineSafteyAct),

now this bill has failed to pass last year because a lot of opposition from 90/100 human rights.

It claims it’s would protect kids but it’s actually has a lot of censorship and is very dangerous to lgbt/trans kids and many other kids that are in abusive households. It will actually hurt them instead of protecting them.

If that’s not bad enough it’s tragically gaining momentum and attraction by these child advocacy groups and being sponsored by Dove and Lizzo. And there has been petitions in supporting this unconstitutional bill, One of them having somewhere around 30k signs…

I really wish I could say I’m joking but this is sadly true.

If you want more info on KOSA here they are:

https://www.fightforthefuture.org/actions/censorship-wont-make-kids-safe/

Please everyone call your senators and representatives and tell them to oppose these bills. We really need help into fighting off these bill so we could keep a free opened internet!