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caplanbuckybarnes · 18 hours ago

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Ink & Oath (tattoo artist!Mafiaso!Dean W.)

Summary: Reader comes to a quaint tattoo shop to get some much needed work done to her back piece... little does she know that her entire life will change in just a few short moments.

WC: 13.5K

Warnings: mafia au,tattoo artist dean nongraphic smut, angst with a happy ending, pregnancy

Read on ao3!

A/N: i wasn't going to put this piece on tumblr, because of it being so long. Plus i'm honestly so tired of the blank blogs giving empty notes and not really giving much else. So i'm *probably* not going to keep this posted if it receives nothing but likes w/ little to no reblogs. I worked extremely hard on this piece a few days ago and it's honestly so discouraging to not get /something/ in return. Anyway, whatever.

You’re standing at the counter of Winchester Ink, half-annoyed and half-desperate. The sleek, industrial-style tattoo parlor is packed, and the receptionist informs you that due to their packed schedule, only 40 minutes of work can be squeezed in today. You’d planned to finally finish the intricate back piece you’d started with another artist—one who bailed on you last minute.

Agreeing to the partial session, you put down the deposit and prepare for a follow-up. The artist does incredible work, but it’s not enough to bring your tattoo to completion. When you return for your second appointment, you’re shocked to find the shop’s owner himself—Dean Winchester—waiting for you. His broad shoulders and sharp green eyes hold a glare that’s almost as intimidating as his reputation.

He explains that your rushed appointment cost him money and time—and now you owe him. But when he notices your determination and sees your unfinished ink, a mischievous smirk creeps across his face.

“Alright, sweetheart,” Dean says, leaning on his desk, “I’ve got an offer. You want your back piece done? You’re gonna work it off. Be my shop assistant for a few weeks, cover some shifts. And maybe… I’ll finish the job myself.”

The lines between professionalism and something much darker start to blur as Dean’s attention becomes far more personal than just your tattoo.

You blink at him, trying to gauge if he’s serious or just messing with you. The way his smirk deepens when you hesitate tells you he’s enjoying this way too much.

“Are you even allowed to do that?” you ask, crossing your arms.

Dean shrugs, completely unbothered. “My shop, my rules.”

You glance around the parlor, the buzzing of tattoo machines filling the space, the scent of antiseptic and ink in the air. The place is busy, artists hunched over their clients, lost in concentration. Winchester Ink has a reputation for being one of the best, and Dean Winchester himself is practically a legend. It’s an opportunity, but it also feels like a trap.

Still, you want this tattoo finished. It’s been sitting on your back like an incomplete story, haunting you every time you catch your reflection. You can’t let it stay unfinished.

With a deep breath, you square your shoulders. “Fine. I’ll do it.”

Dean grins like you just handed him the keys to your soul. “Atta girl.”

The next day, you show up, not sure what to expect. Turns out, working at a tattoo shop is nothing like you’d imagined. It’s long hours of cleaning stations, refilling ink wells, running the front desk, and dealing with clients who can’t decide on a design to save their lives.

Dean watches you like a hawk, making sure you don’t slack off, but there’s something else in his gaze too—something that makes your stomach flip. And when he finally gets you in his chair, stretching your skin taut beneath his gloved hands, the air between you shifts. His touch is precise, his focus unwavering, but every now and then, his fingers linger just a second too long.

“You sure you can handle working here, sweetheart?” he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin as he leans in, the tattoo machine whirring softly.

You lift your chin, refusing to let him see how much he affects you. “I can handle a lot more than you think, Winchester.”

His smirk returns, this time laced with something darker, something that makes your pulse stutter.

“Good,” he says, dragging the needle across your skin in a slow, deliberate stroke. “Let’s see just how much."

The next morning, you step into Winchester Ink, now seeing it from the other side of the counter. The usual buzz of tattoo guns fills the air, along with the scent of antiseptic and ink. Dean, already working on a client, jerks his head toward the reception desk.

“You’re on desk duty today,” he calls over his shoulder. “Phones, appointments, clean-up. Try not to scare off the customers.”

You roll your eyes but take your place, answering the phone as a biker-looking guy strolls in, flipping through the portfolio. It’s an adjustment, sure, but you settle in fast. You’re almost enjoying it—until Dean appears behind you, close enough that his breath warms your skin.

“Not bad,” he murmurs, his voice rough, teasing. “But don’t think I won’t put you to work scrubbing floors if you slack off.”

You turn to retort, only to find yourself inches from his sharp green gaze. The tension crackles between you like a live wire, and from the slow smirk spreading across his lips, he knows it too.

Maybe this deal isn’t as simple as it seemed.

The shop closes late, and you’re still sweeping up stray paper towels and discarded ink caps when Dean finally locks the front door. Most of the other artists have already left, leaving just the two of you in the dimly lit space. The buzzing neon "Winchester Ink" sign outside casts a soft blue glow through the glass, flickering faintly like it’s seen too many late nights.

“You survived day one,” Dean says, leaning against the front desk with an amused smirk. “I was half-expecting you to run out crying after dealing with that Karen who wanted a ‘spiritual wolf’ tattoo on her lower back.”

You snort. “Please, I’ve dealt with worse.”

“Yeah?” He watches you for a beat, arms crossed over his chest, his black t-shirt stretching just enough to be distracting. “Guess we’ll see if you can handle tomorrow.”

Something about the way he says it—low, laced with something unreadable—sends a slow shiver down your spine.

“You really that desperate for free labor?” you tease, tilting your head.

Dean’s smirk deepens. He steps closer, just enough that you catch the faint scent of leather and aftershave beneath the lingering ink and antiseptic.

“Nah,” he says, voice dropping a little. “I just like watching you squirm.”

Your pulse kicks up, and you hate that he can probably tell. But before you can come up with a sharp response, Dean straightens, stretching his arms behind his head like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

“Go home, sweetheart. Get some rest.” He nods toward the back. “Your tattoo’s not getting finished if you pass out on me halfway through.”

You don’t move right away. The reminder of why you’re here—why you agreed to this in the first place—grounds you, just enough to shake off the heat in your chest.

“Goodnight, boss,” you say, deliberately casual as you set the broom aside and grab your bag.

Dean just chuckles, low and knowing.

“Night, sweetheart.”

And damn him, you swear you can still feel his gaze on your back long after you’ve stepped outside.

Working at Winchester Ink is no joke. The shop is always packed, and between scheduling appointments, sterilizing equipment, and dealing with customers who either can’t commit or want the worst design ideas imaginable, you barely have time to breathe.

Dean? He’s a menace.

He pushes you, makes you run errands, hands you the mop at the end of every shift like it’s some kind of personal game. But the worst part? The way he watches you.

It’s not outright—nothing you could call him out on—but it’s there. A glance that lingers too long. A smirk when he brushes past you, his hand skimming your lower back like it’s an accident. And the way he says things.

"You look good behind my desk, sweetheart."

"Bet you’d look even better covered in more ink."

"Careful, sweetheart. Keep biting that lip, and I might start thinking you’re doing it for me."

It’s infuriating. Mostly because part of you likes it.

By the time your shift ends, your feet ache, and you’re pretty sure you have ink on your cheek. Everyone else has already left, and it’s just you and Dean—again.

“C’mere,” he says from his station. His voice is softer than usual, but there’s still that teasing edge to it.

You hesitate. “Why?”

He taps the leather tattoo chair. “You wanna get that back piece finished or what?”

Your stomach flips. “I thought we were waiting—”

Dean raises a brow. “You put in the work, didn’t you? I think you’ve earned a little progress.”

You swallow hard. This was the deal. Your tattoo. That’s why you’re here. That’s all this is.

Right?

You climb into the chair, heart hammering as Dean snaps on a fresh pair of gloves. His fingers ghost over your skin as he carefully peels back your shirt, exposing your unfinished tattoo. The cool air sends a shiver down your spine, but it’s nothing compared to the way Dean’s touch lingers, his fingertips dragging just a second longer than necessary.

“Relax,” he murmurs, voice close to your ear. “I’ll take good care of you.”

The tattoo gun hums to life, but the only thing you can focus on is him—his breath against your neck, the steady grip of his hand on your waist.

And when he starts tattooing?

You swear it has nothing to do with the ink and everything to do with the way his touch sinks under your skin.

The sharp sting of the needle drags across your skin, but it’s not the pain that makes your breath hitch—it’s him. Dean’s touch is firm, his other hand resting against your waist, grounding you. His breath ghosts over your exposed skin as he leans in closer, the scent of leather, whiskey, and something unmistakably him flooding your senses.

“You’re tense,” he murmurs, voice rough and low. “Gotta loosen up for me, sweetheart.”

The words send a jolt of heat through you, pooling low in your stomach. You grip the edges of the chair, trying to focus on the rhythmic buzz of the tattoo gun, but it’s impossible when Dean is right there, his presence overwhelming.

He works slow, deliberate, the pressure of his hand steadying you with every pass of the needle. His fingers, clad in latex, slide against your skin, adjusting your position with a touch that’s almost too gentle. And maybe you’re imagining it, maybe it’s the adrenaline, but there’s something in the way his thumb sweeps over your side—something that feels less like a professional touch and more like a test.

A challenge.

“You okay?” he asks, but there’s something smug in his tone, like he already knows the answer.

“I’m fine,” you manage, though your voice is breathier than you’d like.

Dean chuckles, and you feel it vibrate through you. “Yeah? You sure?” His voice dips lower, teasing, and then—fuck. His hand moves, sliding just a fraction higher, his thumb tracing the dip of your spine in a way that has nothing to do with the tattoo.

Your pulse hammers. You should say something, should shift away, should stop this before it goes somewhere dangerous.

But you don’t.

Instead, you let out a slow exhale, pressing just slightly into his touch. It’s barely anything, just a shift of your body, but Dean notices.

Of course, he does.

His grip tightens—not rough, but possessive. The needle lifts from your skin, and suddenly, he’s not working anymore.

You hear the quiet click of the tattoo gun shutting off, the eerie silence of the shop settling between you. Your heart pounds as Dean pulls his gloves off with a slow, deliberate snap.

Then, he leans in, lips just brushing the shell of your ear.

“I think we both know this ain’t just about the tattoo anymore.”

You swallow hard, your breath uneven. “Dean—”

“Tell me to stop,” he says, his voice nothing but a growl now. “Tell me to back off, and I will.”

But you don’t say it.

You can’t.

Instead, you turn your head just enough that your lips are a whisper away from his. The air between you crackles, electric, and then—

He kisses you.

It’s not slow. It’s not tentative. It’s everything—all that tension, all those unspoken words, poured into one desperate, claiming kiss. His hand fists in your hair, tilting your head back, his other arm sliding around your waist and pulling you against him, hard.

You gasp against his mouth, and he takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours, demanding and sinful. His teeth graze your bottom lip before he sucks it between his own, and you swear you feel the heat of it all the way down to your core.

“Fuck,” you whisper when he finally pulls back, your lips swollen, breath ragged.

Dean’s eyes are dark—dangerous.

“Sweetheart,” he drawls, his fingers tracing the curve of your waist, his voice pure sin. “We’re just getting started.”

The air in the shop is thick with heat, the scent of ink and sweat lingering between you. Your back is still tingling—not just from the fresh tattoo, but from the way Dean had held you, touched you, ruined you right there in his chair.

You’re still catching your breath, your body limp against the leather, when you feel him shift behind you. His fingers trace over your spine, a ghost of a touch that sends another shiver down your already overstimulated body.

“Y’alright, sweetheart?” His voice is hoarse, rough with something smug and satisfied.

You manage a breathy laugh. “You really have to ask?”

Dean chuckles, and you feel the warmth of it against your bare shoulder before he presses a slow, lingering kiss there. “Just making sure you didn’t pass out on me.”

You roll your eyes, but you’re too spent to come up with a sharp retort. Instead, you sigh, shifting slightly as you feel the ache settling into your muscles.

Dean moves away, and you hear the rustle of fabric as he tugs his jeans back on. You should probably do the same, but right now, your body feels like it’s made of liquid, melted into the chair that still smells like him.

A moment later, something soft lands on your back—a towel, warm and slightly damp.

“Clean yourself up,” he murmurs, his voice softer now, rough around the edges in a way that sends another ripple of warmth through you. “I’ll grab you some water.”

You prop yourself up on one elbow, watching as he moves across the shop. His shoulders are broad, his movements lazy, like he’s entirely at ease, but there’s something else there too—something in the way he glances at you over his shoulder like he’s still thinking about what just happened.

Like maybe he’s not done with you yet.

By the time he returns, you’ve pulled your clothes back on, though your skin still hums from his touch. He hands you a bottle of water, watching as you take a few slow sips.

“So,” you say finally, breaking the silence. “This part of the standard Winchester Ink experience?”

Dean smirks, leaning against the counter, his green eyes flicking over you like he’s already plotting his next move. “Nah,” he says, voice low. “Just the VIP package.”

You snort, shaking your head. “Right.”

For a moment, neither of you speak. The weight of what just happened still lingers between you, heavy and unspoken. And maybe this should be awkward—maybe you should be freaking out, wondering what the hell this means for the deal you made, for the tattoo, for anything.

But you’re not.

Instead, you watch Dean, the way his jaw shifts slightly, the way he looks at you like he’s still hungry, and you realize something.

This isn’t over.

Not even close.

And judging by the way Dean grins at you, slow and wicked, he knows it too.

You knew something was off about Dean Winchester. No man carries himself with that much confidence—that much authority—without having something to back it up.

But nothing could have prepared you for the truth.

You’re sitting in his apartment, a loft-style space above Winchester Ink, still tangled in his sheets, wearing nothing but one of his flannel shirts. The tattoo on your back is finally finished, but that’s the least of your thoughts right now. Because Dean just told you something that should have made you run.

He’s not just a tattoo artist.

Dean Winchester owns this city. Or at least, the parts that matter.

He’s the leader of something much bigger, much darker. The kind of operation that people whisper about in hushed tones, the kind that law enforcement pretends doesn’t exist because even they’re too scared to take him on.

And yet… you’re still here.

“You’re not saying anything,” Dean murmurs, watching you from across the room. His back is to the window, the neon glow of the city framing him in pale blues and reds. His green eyes are unreadable, but there’s tension in the way he holds himself—like he’s waiting for you to get up and walk away.

You take a deep breath, considering your words. “You just told me you run a criminal empire, Dean.”

He huffs a dry, humourless laugh. “Yeah. Guess I did.”

You tilt your head. “What do you want me to say?”

Dean studies you for a moment, then looks away, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “I don’t know. Figured you’d freak out. Maybe tell me I’m a monster.” His voice is low and rough, like he’s bracing himself for something inevitable. “Most people would.”

You take a moment, looking at him. Really looking.

And what you see isn’t just power, or danger, or the weight of everything he’s done. You see a man who has lost too much, who carries the weight of his past like a chain around his throat.

“You’re not a monster,” you say softly.

Dean’s eyes snap to yours like he wasn’t expecting that answer. “You don’t know the shit I’ve done.”

You exhale, pulling your knees to your chest. “Then tell me.”

He hesitates, his fingers twitching at his side. When he finally speaks, his voice is quieter than you’ve ever heard.

“My dad built this empire,” he says, staring out at the city. “He wasn’t a good man. He did a lot of bad things hurt a lot of people. But he kept us safe—me and my little brother, Sam. When he died, I took over. Thought I could do better, clean things up.”

You already know this story doesn’t have a happy ending.

Dean swallows, his jaw tightening. “I tried. But this life? It doesn’t let go. Sam didn’t want any part of it. Got himself a real job, a real life.” He lets out a bitter chuckle. “Thought I could keep him safe if he stayed away. But they still found him.”

Your stomach twists. “Dean…”

He exhales sharply, shaking his head. “I buried him six years ago.”

The words hang heavy in the air, and for the first time, you see it—the real Dean Winchester. The man who lost everything, who built his own empire on the bones of his past.

And yet, he told you.

He let you in.

You slide out of bed, crossing the room before he can stop you. When you reach him, you press your palm against his chest, feeling the steady, strong beat of his heart beneath your fingers.

“I’m still here,” you say softly.

Dean’s breath catches. His hands, rough and calloused, come up to cradle your face like he’s afraid you’ll disappear. His thumbs brush along your cheekbones, and when he speaks, his voice is almost pleading.

“You should be scared of me.”

You smile, just a little. “Maybe.” You lean up, brushing your lips against his. “But I’m not.”

Dean groans softly, his grip tightening, and when he kisses you, it’s different this time. Not just hunger, not just claiming.

It’s desperation.

Like he’s been drowning for years, and you’re the first breath of air he’s had in a long, long time.

Dean kisses you like he’s unravelling—like everything he’s kept buried for years is clawing its way to the surface. His fingers grip your waist, pulling you flush against him, like if he holds you tight enough, he can stop the ghosts from creeping back in.

You let him.

You let him take what he needs, because you’re still here. You don’t flinch when his hands slide lower, gripping you with a kind of desperation that has nothing to do with lust and everything to do with the fact that he’s terrified. Terrified that now that you know the truth, you’ll vanish like everyone else he’s ever cared about.

But you don’t.

Instead, you press closer, wrapping your arms around his neck, tilting your head so he can deepen the kiss. His tongue slides against yours, slow and deliberate, like he’s savoring you, like he’s memorising the way you feel against him.

His hands roam, calloused palms skating over your skin, slipping beneath the flannel you’re still wearing. When his fingers find bare skin, he exhales against your lips, his breath uneven.

“Sweetheart,” he murmurs, almost like a warning.

You pull back just enough to meet his gaze. “I’m still here, Dean.”

Something in his expression cracks, just for a second, before he fists the back of your shirt and tugs you toward him. His lips brush against your temple, your cheek, and your jaw. His breath is warm and ragged.

“You don’t know what you’re signing up for,” he mutters against your skin, his mouth ghosting along your collarbone.

“I don’t care.”

Dean stills. His grip on you tightens for half a second before he pulls back just enough to look at you, searching your face like he’s waiting for you to change your mind.

“You should care,” he says, voice rough. “People in my world don’t get happy endings.”

You reach up, fingers tracing along his jaw, feeling the tension there, the way his muscles tighten beneath your touch. “I don’t need a happy ending.” You tilt your head, letting your thumb brush the corner of his mouth. “I just need you.”

A low sound rumbles in his chest, something between a groan and a curse, before his mouth crashes back onto yours.

This time, there’s no hesitation. No restraint.

Dean takes—his lips moving against yours with purpose, his hands gripping your hips, lifting you with ease as he carries you back to the bed. The mattress dips beneath you as he lowers you onto it, his weight pressing you into the sheets, the warmth of his body chasing away the chill of the night.

“You sure about this?” he mutters against your lips, his forehead resting against yours.

You thread your fingers through his hair, tugging just enough to make him growl. “Shut up and kiss me, Winchester.”

Dean grins against your mouth before he does exactly that.

And when he claims you this time, it’s not just need—it’s something deeper, something neither of you are ready to name yet.

But it’s there.

And neither of you is letting go.

Dean doesn’t just kiss you—he devours you like he’s been starving for something real and only just realised you’re the thing he’s been craving. His hands are everywhere, sliding under the flannel you stole, gripping your thighs, tracing over the fresh ink on your back like he’s memorising the way his work looks on your skin.

The sheets are tangled around you both, the air thick with heat and the scent of him—leather, whiskey, something dark and utterly intoxicating. His mouth drags from your lips to your jaw, then down, pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses along your throat.

“I should ruin you,” he mutters, voice dark and full of something dangerous. “Make sure no one else even thinks about touching you.”

Your stomach tightens, heat pooling low in your belly. “You already have.”

Dean groans against your skin, his teeth grazing your collarbone before he sucks a bruise there—one that’ll be impossible to hide. “Damn right, I have.”

His hands are rough, calloused from years of working with them, but the way he touches you? Reverent. Like you’re something precious, something breakable—but only if you want to be.

“Tell me what you want, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his lips trailing lower, his breath hot against your skin.

You grip his hair, tugging just enough to make him look up at you, those sharp green eyes blown wide with hunger. “I want you.”

Dean doesn’t hesitate.

And when he finally gives you what you want, it’s not just sex.

It’s a claim. A promise that he is yours and yours alone.

The city hums beyond the window, but inside Dean’s apartment, everything is quiet except for the sound of your slowed breathing and the faint rustle of sheets as he pulls you against his chest.

You’re spent, muscles aching in the best way, his warmth sinking into your skin. His arm is draped over your waist, fingers tracing lazy patterns against your stomach like he’s not ready to let you go.

“Still not scared of me?” he asks, voice rough with exhaustion.

You smile against his shoulder. “No.”

Dean huffs a laugh, but when you glance up, his expression is unreadable—something guarded, something uncertain.

“I meant what I said,” he says after a moment. “This life isn’t clean. It’s not safe. Being with me? It means something. You don’t just walk away from it.”

You tilt your head, searching his face. “Are you asking me to?”

Dean’s fingers tighten against your waist. “No.” He exhales, something shifting in his gaze—something like vulnerability. “I’m asking if you can handle it.”

You reach up, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to the scar on his shoulder, one of many marks that tell a story you’re only just starting to understand.

“I think,” you murmur against his skin, “I can handle you just fine.”

Dean makes a sound—something between a groan and a chuckle—before flipping you onto your back, caging you beneath him once more.

“Sweetheart,” he drawls, his smirk slow and wicked, “you have no idea what you’ve just signed up for.”

But the way he kisses you after?

It’s a promise.

And you’re not going anywhere.

The familiar buzz of the tattoo gun fills the air, but this time, the sound isn’t the only thing making your pulse race.

You’re back at Winchester Ink, straddling the tattoo chair, your shirt discarded, leaving only your black lace bra as Dean hovers behind you. His fingers graze your skin—not with the same desperate need as last night, but with something just as intense.

Possession.

“You sure about this, sweetheart?” His voice is low, teasing, but you can feel the weight behind it. This isn’t just any tattoo—this is his mark, something new, something permanent.

You glance over your shoulder, meeting his eyes—dark, intense, hungry—and smirk. “You gonna keep asking me that, or are you actually gonna put your money where your mouth is?”

Dean chuckles, shaking his head, but there’s something sharper behind his amusement. He leans in, his breath ghosting over the back of your neck. “Careful, sweetheart. You’re playing with fire.”

Your stomach tightens, heat curling low in your belly, but you don’t break eye contact. “Maybe I like the burn.”

Dean mutters a curse under his breath before snapping on his gloves. The scent of antiseptic and ink fills your lungs as he dips the needle, and then—

The first sting.

Your body tenses for half a second, but Dean’s free hand finds your waist, grounding you. “Breathe, baby,” he murmurs, his tone softer now, intimate. “You know the drill.”

You exhale slowly, sinking into the sensation. The pain is sharp, but it fades into something almost hypnotic, especially with the way Dean’s fingers press into your hip, steadying you.

The shop is closed—Dean made sure of that—but the thought of anyone walking in, seeing you half-dressed, stretched out beneath his hands, sends a thrill through you.

“What’s it gonna be?” you ask after a while, voice laced with curiosity. You hadn’t asked for a design, just told Dean you wanted something from him.

Dean hums, his tone smug. “Something to remind everyone who you belong to.”

Your breath catches, but you don’t argue.

You wouldn’t want it any other way.

Minutes pass, the pain blending into pleasure, and when Dean finally leans back, wiping the fresh ink clean, you swear you feel his lips brush your shoulder.

“Done,” he murmurs.

You twist to look at his work, and your stomach flips when you see it.

A small, intricate sigil—subtle, but unmistakably his. Right along your ribs, where only he would ever truly see it.

You glance up at him, your heart pounding. “That what you wanted?”

Dean peels off his gloves, tossing them aside before gripping your jaw, tilting your face up to his. His thumb brushes over your lips, his gaze dark.

“Oh, sweetheart.” His smirk is slow, dangerous. “We both know this is just the beginning.”

The tattoo still burns, a dull ache that lingers under your skin—but it’s nothing compared to the way Dean is looking at you right now.

You’re still straddling the chair, breath unsteady, your skin warm under the shop’s low lighting. The ink along your ribs feels like a brand, like a claim, and Dean? He’s drinking you in like he’s memorizing every single second of this moment.

His fingers brush over the fresh ink—featherlight, barely a touch—but it still makes you shiver.

“You like it?” His voice is rough, low, laced with something possessive.

You meet his gaze, and for a moment, there’s nothing between you but the hum of the tattoo gun, the scent of ink and antiseptic, the tension coiled thick in the air.

“I love it,” you admit, and it’s not just about the tattoo.

Dean's smirk flickers, something darker lurking beneath it. He leans in, his breath warm against your ear. “Good,” he murmurs. “Because it means you’re mine now.”

A shiver runs through you, but it’s not fear. It’s need.

You don’t pull away. Instead, you tilt your head, baring your throat just slightly—an unspoken challenge. “Oh yeah?” you tease, your voice softer now, breathless. “That what this means?”

Dean huffs a laugh, but there’s no humor in it. His fingers trail lower, over the ink, then down to your waist, pulling you forward until your chest brushes against his.

“Sweetheart,” he murmurs, eyes locked on yours, “you’ve been mine since the second you walked into this shop.”

You should push him away. Tell him he’s being ridiculous, that a tattoo doesn’t mean ownership. That he doesn’t own you.

But the truth?

You don’t want to belong to anyone else.

So instead, you smirk, dragging your nails down his chest, feeling the way his muscles tense beneath your touch. “Then maybe,” you murmur, “you should remind me.”

Dean’s grin turns wicked, his hands gripping your hips, his mouth already crashing onto yours.

And as he presses you back into the chair, the unfinished tattoos and the world outside forgotten, you realize something:

You don’t need a reminder.

You were his from the start.

The night is quiet—too quiet.

Winchester Ink should’ve been locked up an hour ago, but Dean insisted on keeping the doors closed while he finished some business in the back. You were wiping down the front desk, waiting for him, when the first gunshot shattered the silence.

Pop-pop-pop!

The windows explode inward, glass raining down as you instinctively duck behind the counter. Your heart slams against your ribs as tires screech outside, bullets peppering the front of the shop like a damn war zone.

Then—heavy footsteps. A voice shouting your name.

“Sweetheart!”

Dean.

He bursts in from the back, gun already drawn, his sharp green eyes scanning the chaos before landing on you. In a second, he’s in front of you, crouching low, shielding your body with his own. His breath is rough, his muscles tense, but his voice? Steady as hell.

“You okay?” he demands, his fingers curling around your wrist, checking for injuries.

“I’m fine,” you manage, swallowing back the adrenaline climbing up your throat. “Dean, what the hell—”

Another round of gunfire cuts you off.

Dean’s jaw clenches. He peeks over the counter, eyes narrowing as he counts heads outside. You follow his gaze—black SUVs, men with weapons, their faces hidden under masks.

“They’re here for you,” you whisper.

“Yeah,” he mutters darkly. “They are.”

He turns back to you, and for the first time, you see something raw in his expression—not just anger, not just control, but fear. Not for himself. For you.

“We gotta move, sweetheart,” he says, shifting so his body shields you completely. “Stay behind me. No arguments.”

You nod, your fingers curling around his jacket as he pulls you toward the back exit. His gun stays up, movements sharp, calculated. The Dean Winchester you know—the inked-up, cocky-as-hell tattoo artist—is gone. This Dean? This is the real one.

The leader. The fighter. The man who kills for the people he loves.

A shadow moves near the doorway, and Dean reacts instantly. Bang! One shot—dead center. The masked man drops without a sound.

Your breath catches. You’ve never seen him like this. Never seen death come so easily to him.

Dean turns back, his hand finding yours. “You still with me?”

You meet his eyes. Despite the gunfire, the danger, the fact that he just killed someone—you're not scared. Not of him.

“I’m with you.”

Something flickers across his face—relief, maybe—but there’s no time to dwell on it.

More men are coming.

Dean tightens his grip, pulling you close, his lips brushing your forehead before he exhales sharply. “Then let’s get the hell out of here.”

And as the two of you disappear into the night, chased by bullets and fire, you realize something.

Dean Winchester isn’t just dangerous.

He’s deadly.

And you just walked willingly into his world.

The shop smells like antiseptic and fresh ink, but beneath it lingers something metallic. Gunpowder. Blood.

Dean’s grip on your wrist is tight, dragging you through the back hallway of Winchester Ink, his jaw clenched so hard you’re surprised his teeth haven’t cracked. The shootout from earlier still echoes in your ears, your pulse hammering in your throat.

You should be scared.

But you’re not.

You should be questioning everything—how many people Dean just killed, how easily he moved, how ruthlessly he handled the ambush.

But all you can think about is the way he shielded you, how his first instinct was to grab you, tuck you against his chest, his own body between yours and the bullets.

Now, inside the safe room of the shop, he’s pacing like a caged animal, gun still clutched in his fist, blood splattered across his knuckles.

“Dean.” Your voice is steadier than you expect.

He stops, his sharp green eyes snapping to yours, wild and dark.

“I told you this would happen,” he growls, voice low, ragged. “Told you my life isn’t safe.”

You take a step toward him. “And I told you I could handle it.”

Dean exhales sharply, shaking his head, his fingers flexing like he’s trying to keep himself from reaching for you. “You don’t get it, sweetheart.” His voice is quieter now, rougher. “I kill people. Not just assholes who deserve it—anyone who’s a threat. Anyone who crosses me.”

“I know.”

His brow furrows. “Do you?”

You take another step, close enough now that you can feel the heat radiating from his body, smell the blood drying on his skin. He’s still Dean—the man who tattooed you with steady hands, the man who kisses like he’s trying to brand you, the man who just tore through enemies to keep you alive.

Your fingers graze his wrist, just above the gun. “You could’ve let me go,” you whisper. “Could’ve left me behind.”

Dean lets out a breath, harsh and uneven. “Not an option.”

You press your palm against his chest, right over his heart. “Then stop trying to scare me away.”

His control snaps.

One second, he’s standing there, tense, on edge—then his hands are on you, everywhere. Gripping your hips, dragging you flush against him, his mouth crushing against yours.

It’s not gentle. It’s desperate.

Like he needs to feel you alive, solid, beneath his hands.

“Mine,” he mutters against your lips, his voice raw. “You’re mine.”

You nod, gasping against his mouth. “Yours.”

Dean pulls back just enough to rest his forehead against yours, his breath ragged. “Then from now on, sweetheart? You stay glued to my side.”

Your lips curl into a smirk. “You just want an excuse to keep your hands on me.”

Dean huffs a laugh, his grip tightening. “Damn right I do.”

And just like that, Winchester Ink isn’t just a tattoo shop anymore.

It’s a battleground.

And you?

You’re standing right next to the king.

The aftermath of the shootout settles into a strange, electric silence. The back room of Winchester Ink feels too small, too charged. Outside, Dean’s men are cleaning up the mess—disposing of bodies, wiping down shell casings—but inside, it’s just you and him.

Your pulse hasn’t slowed since the moment the bullets started flying. You should be shaken, but instead, you’re standing in front of Dean, watching the way his chest still rises and falls too fast, his gun hanging loosely in his grip.

His knuckles are raw. Blood smears across his inked skin, a dark contrast against the swirling black designs crawling up his forearm.

He looks dangerous.

He is dangerous.

But the only thing you feel when you step closer is heat.

Dean watches you with an intensity that makes your skin prickle. His fingers twitch, like he’s deciding between pulling you closer or pushing you away.

“You’re not scared,” he finally mutters, almost accusingly.

You raise a brow. “No.”

Dean lets out a sharp breath, shaking his head. “You should be.”

You shrug. “You keep saying that.”

His jaw clenches. “Because I keep waiting for you to wake up and realize I’m not a good man, sweetheart. I’m the kind of guy people run from.”

You tilt your head, letting your gaze drag over him—the blood, the bruises forming along his jaw, the way he’s still standing between you and the door, as if another threat could come at any moment.

“You think I don’t see who you are?” you ask softly. “You think I don’t get it?”

Dean says nothing, his silence heavy.

“I know what you do. I know what this shop really is,” you continue, stepping closer until your fingers ghost over his forearm, tracing the ink there. “And I know you didn’t hesitate to put yourself between me and those bullets.”

Dean swallows hard. “That’s the problem.”

You shake your head. “No, Dean. That’s the part that tells me everything I need to know.”

His eyes search yours, something flickering behind them—uncertainty. Vulnerability. Maybe even something darker, something deeper.

“You’re not afraid of me,” he finally says, quieter now.

“No.”

He exhales slowly, shaking his head like he doesn’t quite believe you. Then, before you can say anything else, his hands are on you again—tugging, gripping, claiming. His lips crash against yours in a kiss that’s all teeth and desperation, like he’s trying to consume you.

You don’t resist.

You meet him with the same fire, your fingers threading into his hair, pulling him closer. You can taste blood on his lips, feel the way his breath stutters when you press your body against his.

Dean breaks away just enough to rest his forehead against yours, his hands flexing against your waist.

“I kill for you,” he murmurs, voice raw. “I’ll burn the whole fucking city down if it means keeping you safe.”

You don’t doubt him.

And that’s the most dangerous part of all.

It’s been months since that night—since the shootout, since Dean pulled you close, breath ragged and raw, demanding you stay with him. Since you allowed yourself to slip deeper into his world, where danger was an ever-present shadow and the line between love and possession was blurred beyond recognition.

Now, you're sitting in the back of Winchester Ink, the familiar scent of fresh ink and leather comforting in a way you didn’t expect. Your shirt is tight, stretched over the curve of your stomach. Your fingers rest lightly on it, tracing the tiny life growing inside of you.

Dean’s son.

The weight of that realization still sometimes hits you like a freight train—his blood runs through you, through the baby you’re carrying.

You’re not just his lover anymore. You’re the mother of his son.

And, God, does he make sure everyone knows it.

Everywhere you go now, there’s the unmistakable, possessive edge in the way Dean looks at you. His hands never leave you, whether he’s holding your waist or brushing his thumb over your wrist. The people in the shop, his men, they all treat you with reverence—like you’re untouchable.

Because you are. To him, anyway.

You shift on the couch, trying to get comfortable, but the weight of your growing belly makes everything feel… off. You smile softly, your hand resting again on your stomach.

“Is it kicking again?” Dean’s voice breaks through your thoughts, soft but commanding, as always.

You glance up to see him standing in the doorway, his dark eyes already on you, softened by something that could almost be called gentleness—a rare sight from the mafia king. His hands are in his pockets, but he’s still intimidating as hell, the muscles of his arms straining under the black shirt he’s wearing.

“Yeah,” you admit, a small smile tugging at your lips as you rub your stomach. “It’s starting to feel real now, you know?”

Dean crosses the room in a few long strides, his gaze never leaving you. He kneels beside you, hands instantly reaching for your stomach like they always do when he’s near. His fingers are warm, rough against your skin.

“Damn right it’s real,” he mutters, a soft grin curling his lips. “You’re carrying my heir.”

His words, so heavy with ownership, almost make you laugh, but then you feel a flutter under your palm. The baby kicks again, strong enough to make you gasp.

Dean’s face softens, his hand pressing gently against your stomach, as if he’s trying to connect with the tiny life growing inside of you.

“You feel that?” His voice is low, almost reverent.

“I do.” You smile up at him.

He’s quiet for a moment, his thumb tracing slow circles against your skin. His gaze flickers up to meet yours, and for a brief second, you see something in him that no one else gets to see: vulnerability.

“You’re not just mine now, you know.” His voice is barely above a whisper.

You raise an eyebrow, confused.

He meets your eyes, his expression fierce and possessive. “You’re carrying my son. That’s not something I take lightly.”

You know he means it. You know Dean doesn’t do lightly. He owns everything he touches, and now, he’s made you his queen.

You reach out, cupping his jaw with your hand, pulling him closer. “I know, Dean. I’m not going anywhere.”

He lets out a breath of relief, but there’s something darker, something more primal in the way he kisses you—his lips urgent against yours, demanding.

His hand moves lower, caressing the side of your belly, the other pressing against the back of your neck to pull you even closer. You melt into him, feeling his warmth, his power, and the weight of his love—of his claim—surrounding you.

You are his, and you always will be.

Dean pulls back just enough to look you in the eye, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. “I’ll protect you. And the baby. No one will ever hurt either of you.”

You nod, smiling softly at him. “I know.”

His hand slides up to your neck, cupping your jaw, his gaze darkening. “Good.” Then, with a soft but insistent pull, he presses his lips to yours again. His kiss is rougher this time, more demanding, as though trying to make you feel the depth of his promise.

As you melt into him, you know one thing for sure:

You are his. Completely.

And no one, not even the world outside these walls, can take that from you.

The sterile scent of the hospital is sharp in the air, mingling with the soft beeps of machines around you. You’re propped up in a bed, your body sore from the grueling hours of labor. Your arms are still aching from where the IVs had been placed, but there’s a weight on your chest now—the kind of weight that makes everything worth it.

The small bundle in your arms—your baby, Dean’s baby—softly coos, the tiny body swaddled in a pale blue blanket. You stare down at the little face, marveling at the miracle you just created, your heart swelling with something fierce and protective.

Dean’s sitting beside you, his rough fingers lightly brushing the side of your hand, his gaze never leaving you or the baby. He hasn’t moved since the moment the baby was placed in your arms, his body radiating tension as if the world outside could suddenly break in and take everything from him. From you.

His eyes are dark, intense—like a man who’s seen too much blood to believe in peace. But the way he looks at the baby in your arms? There’s something almost gentle there, something protective and soft, like this tiny being is the only thing that could make him show any weakness at all.

It’s a weakness you know he’ll do anything to protect.

But you’re not prepared for what comes next.

The door bursts open.

Your heart skips, your hand instinctively tightening around the baby. Dean is on his feet in a second, moving so fast you barely register the movement. His body is between you and the door before the intruder has even fully entered the room.

A man—dark hair, tense shoulders—stands in the doorway, his eyes flickering quickly over Dean, then to you. He’s got a gun tucked into the waistband of his jeans, the cold metallic glint catching your eye.

Dean’s expression is pure stone, his hands already reaching for the gun hidden beneath his jacket.

“I told you,” the man says, his voice low but sharp, “the baby's the next target.”

Dean’s jaw clenches, his teeth grinding together. “Get out.” His voice is thick with menace, each word weighted with the danger of a man who has nothing left to lose.

“I don’t think you understand,” the man says, taking one step forward, the gun clearly visible now. His hand rests on it, like he's daring Dean to move. “We’ve got orders. The baby’s a liability.”

You flinch at the words, the weight of the situation settling in. You’re not just the mother of Dean’s offspring anymore. You’re a target.

Dean’s movements are so fast, you don’t even have time to react. He pulls the gun from his waistband, smooth as a snake, and in one fluid motion, he’s pointing it at the intruder’s head.

“Leave. Now.” His voice is ice-cold, every syllable laced with authority and the threat of violence. The room feels smaller, suffocating. The air is thick with the promise of danger.

The man’s hand hovers over his gun, but Dean’s eyes never waver, never falter.

“You don’t want to do this,” the man warns, a tremor of hesitation creeping into his voice.

“Last warning,” Dean growls, his finger pressing lightly on the trigger. “Get. Out.”

The man stares at Dean for a moment longer, before his gaze flickers to you—the mother of his enemy’s spawn—and then he seems to make a decision. Slowly, he backs out of the room, never breaking eye contact with Dean.

When the door clicks shut, the tension in the room snaps. Dean holsters his gun, but his body remains rigid, every muscle in his frame still coiled tight, as if he’s waiting for the next attack.

You can’t breathe.

It’s almost too much—the rush of emotions, the exhaustion from labor, the fear that still clings to you. You want to scream, but you only manage to whisper. “What was that, Dean? What the hell was that?”

Dean turns toward you, his eyes filled with something primal, his hand going straight to your side, pulling you against him. His arms envelop you like a fortress, protective and warm.

“They’ll never stop coming,” he murmurs into your hair, his voice thick with the weight of the life he’s pulled you into. “But I’ll never let them touch you. Never let them take what’s mine.”

You pull back just enough to look at him, your hand resting on his chest. “Dean…”

“Don’t say anything, sweetheart. Not right now.” His hands cradle your face, his thumb gently brushing across your cheek. “You’re not just carrying our baby anymore. You’re my queen. And anyone who thinks they can take either of you, they’ll be facing a war they don’t want.”

A chill runs through you, but it’s not just from fear. There’s something else in his voice—something deep, something dangerous.

And it’s terrifying.

But it’s also comforting.

Because you know one thing, without a doubt:

Dean Winchester doesn’t lose. Not anymore.

And neither do you.

The room falls into silence again, save for the soft breathing of the baby in your arms, a new life and a new threat, forever intertwined with Dean’s world of shadows and blood.

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

The buzz of the tattoo machines fills the air in Winchester Ink, the low hum a familiar soundtrack to your day. Your hands are busy, one on the counter, the other moving skillfully to help a new client pick out their design. The shop is quieter than usual, but it’s still early, the door just having closed behind the last customer who left for the day. The steady rhythm of your work is a welcome distraction—until you hear the soft sound of footsteps approaching.

You glance over your shoulder, only to stop dead in your tracks.

There, standing in the middle of the shop, is Dean. But he’s not alone.

In his arms, swaddled snugly in a soft gray blanket, is your baby. The little one is asleep, content and peaceful—completely unaware of the chaos that swirled around its birth. Dean’s eyes meet yours, the same possessive look in them, but now, there’s something softer, something tender beneath the hard edge.

He takes a few steps toward the wall, his gaze never leaving you.

“I’m teaching them the family business,” Dean says, a smirk playing on his lips.

You blink, processing the words. “What?”

Dean doesn’t answer directly. Instead, he pulls a small padded wall-mounted bassinet from beside one of the stations, carefully setting it down against the tattoo wall. He adjusts a few straps, making sure the baby is securely tucked inside.

You watch, your heart skipping a beat. There’s something about the way Dean handles the baby—so careful, so deliberate—that takes you by surprise. He’s never showed much patience with anything in his life… except for this.

“Dean…” You take a step forward, a small frown creasing your brow. “What are you doing?”

He shoots you that smug grin of his, the one that drives you crazy in all the best ways. “I’m teaching them how to survive in this world. It’s not enough you’re carrying our blood. I need them to know how to handle this.”

You blink again, unsure if you’re about to laugh or scold him. "You’re setting the baby down against the tattoo wall?"

Dean’s jaw tightens slightly, his gaze flickering to the little bundle. “It’s not just any wall. It's our wall.” His voice drops lower, his eyes flashing with that dangerous glint you know too well. “You’re not the only one around here that needs to be toughened up, sweetheart.”

Before you can reply, a soft cry rings through the air, and you turn to see the baby stirring, fingers curled, lips pursed as it starts to wake.

You rush over without thinking, your heart pounding, instinct driving you as you scoop the baby into your arms.

Dean watches you for a moment, his posture still tall, like he owns the room. When your eyes meet his, there’s something in the way he looks at you—a hint of pride, mixed with something dark, something almost possessive.

The baby settles into your arms, its tiny face scrunched in that adorable way babies do when they’re just waking up. You smile softly, the weight of your love for this little one threatening to break you. But Dean’s presence beside you is like a shield, strong and unwavering, giving you strength you didn’t know you had.

“There you go,” Dean mutters, his voice softer now, his arms crossing over his chest. “Just need to toughen up a bit more, kid.”

You chuckle, shaking your head as you gently rock the baby. “You’re crazy, you know that?”

“Maybe. But in this world, we need to be.”

You raise an eyebrow, but before you can respond, a customer enters the shop—an old friend of Dean’s, someone who’s clearly seen their fair share of tattoos, judging by the sleeve of ink already visible on their arms. They’re a regular, and you’re used to handling them on your own, but today, Dean stands beside you, just a step behind, his protective aura nearly suffocating.

The client sits down in one of the chairs, and you turn your attention back to them, pulling out a design sketch from the folder. “So, you wanted something custom, right?”

Dean moves to stand just behind you, his gaze flickering from you to the client, eyes hard. His presence is imposing, like a lion lurking nearby. His fingers brush against the top of your shoulder, a subtle reminder that he’s still there.

“You’re getting the best I’ve got,” Dean mutters, his voice low enough only the client can hear. “Don’t waste my time.”

The client hesitates, looking up at him and then at you. There’s a moment of tension in the air, as if Dean’s mere presence commands their respect. They nod quickly, understanding that there’s more than just ink on the line here.

You work on the design, laying out the details, explaining the placement as you always do. The buzz of the tattoo gun fills the air, but your mind can’t help but wander back to Dean—watching, waiting, always so protective.

And when your eyes flick to the bassinet against the wall, you see Dean’s gaze fixed on the baby, the softness in his eyes evident, even if he’s trying to hide it.

The family business, he’d called it.

And as you glance at the client, then back at Dean, you realize the full extent of what that means.

You and your son are the center of Dean’s world. His empire. His everything.

And no one, not even in this room, would dare to touch you or the life you’ve built.

Dean would see to that.

---

The sun is warm on your skin, a soft breeze rustling the trees around you. For the first time in what feels like forever, you’re not in Winchester Ink, you’re not in the chaos of Dean’s world. You’re outside, in the real world, with your baby tucked safely in your arms. It’s a rare moment of peace, and you’re soaking it in.

Dean walks beside you, his presence still larger than life, but today, it feels different. The weight of his usual dominance is softer, almost protective in a way that makes you feel safe—not just from the world outside, but from him.

You glance over at him. His shirt sleeves are rolled up, showing the tattoos that run the length of his arms, his posture still straight, but his eyes are warm as he watches the baby in your arms. Every step he takes, every glance he throws your way, speaks volumes. He’s here—truly here. No business meetings, no threats, no blood spilled. Just him—Dean, your partner, and the father of your child.

"How do you feel?" he asks quietly, his voice always so gruff but softened by the moment.

You look down at your baby, whose tiny hand has wrapped around your finger, a soft coo escaping from them. You smile, looking back at Dean. "Like everything’s perfect."

Dean’s lips curl into a rare smile, one that’s softer than you’ve seen in a long time. It’s a smile that feels more genuine than any of the cold, calculated grins he gives in the tattoo shop or when he’s dealing with business.

You walk through the park, the sound of children laughing and playing around you, birds chirping overhead. It’s almost too perfect—like you’ve stepped into a moment that isn’t meant for people like Dean. People like you.

But here you are.

Dean takes a step closer, his body brushing against yours, his hand brushing against your waist protectively. His gaze flicks over your shoulder to the baby in your arms, and you feel a shiver of warmth run through you.

"I can’t believe how small they are," Dean murmurs, his voice low, almost like he’s in awe.

You smile down at the little one. "They’re only going to get bigger, you know."

Dean’s eyes meet yours, a flash of something fierce flickering in his gaze. "I’ll protect them, sweetheart. No one’s taking what’s mine. Not now. Not ever."

You chuckle softly, but there’s an edge to your voice when you reply, "I think we’re safe here. We’re just… family today."

Dean’s smile deepens, but there’s still that ever-present glint in his eyes—the reminder that no matter where you are, he’s still the king of his world. And that’s a world that’s made of blood, ink, and power.

"Family," he echoes, the word heavy on his tongue. He looks down at the baby again, his expression softening. "Yeah. This is all I care about now."

You lean into him slightly, your hand resting on his chest, feeling the strong beat of his heart beneath your palm. "You’re good at this, you know. Being a dad."

Dean’s eyebrow raises, a small, teasing smirk forming on his lips. "I wasn’t sure I’d be any good at it, but I guess I’m figuring it out." His gaze softens as he looks at the baby. "I’d kill anyone who thought otherwise."

You roll your eyes, but you can’t suppress the smile that tugs at your lips. "You really do make everything sound like a threat."

Dean chuckles, the sound rich and deep, and for a moment, you allow yourself to imagine a life like this—simple, quiet, full of moments that are just about you and him and your baby. A family.

But even as that thought swirls in your mind, you know that this peace, this quiet moment, is fleeting. Dean’s world doesn’t just let you walk away from it. It pulls you back in, no matter how hard you try to resist. And you’ve come to accept that. Because as dangerous as that world is, it’s the one where your heart beats the strongest.

And as long as Dean’s by your side, you’re ready to face it. Together.

Dean’s hand slips into yours as you both stop at a bench, the baby still in your arms, nestled comfortably against your chest. He sits down first, and you follow, sitting next to him. He wraps his arm around you, pulling you closer, his hand resting on your leg, grounding you in this rare moment of normalcy.

The world around you continues—kids laughing, families strolling by—but for you, in this moment, time stands still.

This is your family. And Dean’s right. This is all that matters.

"You’re my everything, sweetheart," Dean says softly, his lips brushing your temple. "You and the baby. I’ll never let anyone come between us."

You nod against him, breathing in the scent of him—leather, ink, and something uniquely Dean. "I know."

And for once, you allow yourself to believe it completely.

The sun is low in the sky now, casting a warm, golden glow over the park. You and Dean are sitting on the same bench, your toddler nestled comfortably on your lap, their small hands wrapped around a stuffed toy. The baby—who’s growing bigger by the day—rests in the stroller beside you, peacefully asleep.

It’s a rare moment of tranquility, and for once, you feel the weight of the world ease off your shoulders. The tension from the past months, from the dangers that come with being with Dean and the world he inhabits, seems to dissipate when you’re here, in this bubble of calm.

Dean’s hand rests on your thigh, his thumb absentmindedly stroking over your skin. His eyes are on you, but it’s not the usual hard stare. There’s something softer there—a vulnerability that you don’t see often. He’s been different ever since the baby arrived, a side of him you’ve been learning to understand.

You glance at him, raising an eyebrow. “What are you thinking about?”

Dean’s lips curl into a smirk, but there’s something nervous about it. “Just… you, sweetheart. You and the kids. And what I want to do next.”

Before you can ask what he means, you feel a small hand tug at your sleeve. Your toddler, wide-eyed and eager, pulls on your arm to get your attention.

“Mommy!” they say, their voice high-pitched with excitement. “Look!”

You look down, your heart melting at the sight of your toddler, holding out a small box, the velvet lining peeking through.

“Mommy,” they repeat, clearly serious. “This is for you.”

Your breath catches in your throat. You glance up at Dean, whose gaze has softened into something that makes your heart race. He’s watching you with that same intensity, but now it’s mixed with something else—something raw and honest.

You take the box from your kid, your fingers trembling slightly as you open it. Inside, nestled carefully, is a simple yet stunning ring. A diamond, elegant but not flashy, set in white gold with delicate engraving along the band. The ring that could change everything.

“Dean…” you breathe, unable to tear your eyes away from the glint of the ring. You glance back at him, your heart pounding. “What is this?”

Dean stands up, slowly, carefully, his hand reaching out for yours. He drops to one knee in front of you, his movements deliberate, measured.

“Sweetheart,” he says, his voice surprisingly gentle, “I’ve never been good with words. Never been good at this… stuff.” His gaze flicks to the toddler, who’s watching intently, their small face beaming with pride. “But I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

You feel your heart skip a beat, your hand instinctively going to your chest. You know exactly where this is going.

“I don’t need the world, not anymore.” Dean’s voice drops even lower, his eyes never leaving yours. “All I need is you. And I want to make sure you and the kids are mine. For good. So, what do you say?”

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you look at him—really look at him. The man who’s seen things that would make most men break. The man who’s shown you what it means to truly care. The man who’s protected you, fought for you, and built a family with you.

“I—” You swallow, emotion thick in your throat. “Yes. Yes, Dean, I’ll marry you.”

Dean smiles—a rare, genuine smile—and slides the ring onto your finger. The weight of it, the finality, makes your heart swell. You’ve never been more sure of anything yourself. This moment, this family, this life—it’s all yours. Together.

He stands up, pulling you into his arms, the ring sparkling between you. Your toddler jumps into your arms, eager to be a part of the hug, and Dean chuckles, holding you both close.

“We’re a family,” Dean murmurs against your hair. “And we’re never going anywhere.”

You close your eyes, the world around you disappearing for a moment as you let the warmth of the moment settle in. The past, the dangers, the blood—it doesn’t matter anymore.

This is your family. And Dean’s made it clear that he will fight for it. Fight for you.

And you’d fight for him, too.

Forever.

It’s been years since that day in the park. Since the proposal, the wedding, the birth of your son. Time has passed, and with it, your family has only grown stronger. Your little one, once a tiny bundle, is now a teenager—tall and lean, with that same fire in their eyes that Dean has. They’ve spent their years in the tattoo shop, learning the business, the art of ink, and more importantly, the way of the Winchester world.

The shop is bustling as usual, a steady stream of clients coming in and out, getting their tattoos, chatting, and sharing their stories. But today, something feels different. You can feel the shift, the weight of the next generation taking shape. Your child—your teenager—stands at the counter, just like you once did. Their gaze flicks to Dean, who’s overseeing everything as usual, arms crossed, his intense green eyes never missing a beat.

Dean’s been watching them grow, guiding them, teaching them. Not just the art of tattoos, but the code that runs deeper than ink—that’s part of the Winchester legacy.

You’re sitting at the back, flipping through some paperwork, but your eyes can’t help but watch the scene unfold in front of you. Your son is sitting with one of the artists, learning the flow of a new design, a quiet determination in their posture. They’re like a mirror of Dean in so many ways—calm, collected, and with a sharpness that hints at something darker, something deeper.

Dean’s voice breaks through the hum of the shop, a low rumble that commands attention. “Kid,” he calls, his gaze sharp but approving. “You’re not just here to learn how to make art. You’re here to learn how to run this place. And when the time comes, it’ll be your job to make sure it stays running.”

Your son looks up at him, nodding with that same serious expression that’s so much like Dean’s. “I know, Dad.” They’re not scared. They’re not hesitant. It’s like they were born for this.

Dean nods approvingly and walks over to where your son is working. He places a hand on their shoulder—a gesture of both authority and affection. The weight of that touch is something you know all too well. It’s the same touch he’s given you, the same reassurance that says you’re mine, and I’ll make sure you know it.

You stand up from the back and move toward them, quietly observing. Your heart swells with pride, mixed with the heavy weight of the life they’re stepping into.

“Everything okay?” you ask, your voice soft but steady.

Dean glances up at you, a smile tugging at his lips. “They’re learning. Got a good head on their shoulders.”

You look at your teenager, who’s now carefully sketching out a new design, their movements swift and precise. Their concentration is unnerving, even more so than Dean’s at their age.

“You’re teaching them the ropes?” you ask, your gaze flicking to Dean.

“I’m teaching them everything,” Dean replies, his voice low and controlled. “Business, loyalty, the family code.” His eyes flicker back to your son, watching them work. “They’ve got the skill. But they need to understand what it takes to lead.”

You swallow, your heart tight in your chest. It’s not just tattoos Dean is passing on—it’s everything that comes with being in this world, with him. The mafia lifestyle, the control, the power that pulses through his veins.

You’ve seen the darkness that follows Dean everywhere, the long hours, the moments when his past comes rushing back. You’ve seen the way his eyes harden, the way he can turn from loving to lethal in an instant. And now your son is learning that same side of him—the side that can protect and destroy with equal intensity.

“Do they know what this life means?” you ask, your voice suddenly quiet, worried.

Dean’s gaze softens just for a moment. “They will. They’re not a kid anymore. They understand what we do.” His eyes shift to the teenager again. “And they’ve got what it takes to keep this legacy going. I see it in them. They’re not afraid.”

The words hit you harder than you expect, and for a brief moment, you feel a flash of the weight of it all. This life is dangerous, it’s unpredictable, and the world you’ve built together—your family, your empire—is always under threat.

But then your son looks up, meets your eyes, and gives you that small, knowing smile. It’s as if they’ve already made peace with this life, just like you and Dean have. They are part of this, and there’s no turning back.

“We’ve got your back, Mom,” they say, their voice steady. “Always.”

The words are simple, but they carry more weight than you could ever imagine. You feel a lump form in your throat, but you swallow it down.

“Just don’t forget that you’ve got to stay smart. There’s always a price,” you reply, trying to keep your voice level. “The tattoos, the ink—it’s not just art. It’s a symbol of what we stand for. You remember that, okay?”

Your son nods, their eyes filled with the same quiet confidence you’ve seen in Dean for years. “I will.”

Dean steps forward then, his arm wrapping around you, pulling you close to him. You lean into his warmth, your hand resting on his chest.

“This is their world now, too,” he murmurs against your ear. “We’ll make sure they’re ready for it.”

The weight of it presses down on you, but you know Dean’s right. This world is theirs now. The legacy is theirs to carry, to shape, and to protect.

And as you look at your son, standing so tall and unflinching in the face of everything this life demands, you know that Dean’s right about one thing: they’ve got what it takes.

The Winchester name will live on.

The night had started like any other, calm and quiet. The tattoo shop had closed for the evening, and the low hum of the neon lights outside cast a soft glow on the shop floor as you and Dean sat in the back, the baby long since tucked into bed and your teenager nowhere to be seen. The air smelled like ink and leather, a familiar comfort in the chaos of your life.

But that peace shattered in an instant.

Dean’s phone buzzed once. Then twice. Then a third time. He didn’t pick up, not yet. The silence lingered for a moment too long before you saw his posture shift—his muscles tensing, his eyes narrowing. You could feel it in the air; something was wrong.

"Dean?" you asked, but it was too late. He was already moving, pulling his phone from his pocket with a cold, calculated expression.

He answered the call.

“Where the hell are they?” Dean’s voice, usually low and measured, was tight with barely contained fury. “What do you want?”

You felt it then—the gut-wrenching, icy realization.

Your heart skipped. You were already on your feet, rushing towards him.

“Dean, what’s going on?” you asked, your voice shaky.

Dean didn’t answer you right away. His eyes were locked on the phone, his lips tight, his jaw clenched. He took a slow breath before his words hit you like a freight train.

“They’ve got our kid.”

A rush of cold terror slammed into you. Your breath hitched. “What? Who? What the hell do you mean?”

“Somebody took them. For ransom,” Dean growled, his hand tightening around the phone. "They want money, but it’s not about money. It’s never just about money."

You could see it now—the flicker of rage in Dean’s eyes. A darkness, deep and unsettling. His body was wound so tight you could practically feel the tension radiating off him. He hung up abruptly, his face pale but his eyes burning with something darker.

You took a step back, your heart pounding in your chest, your mind racing. “What do we do? Dean?”

Dean’s eyes flashed with a storm of emotions, none of them good. “We get them back. Now.”

He turned on his heel and strode toward the back of the shop, where the emergency stash of weapons was kept. You followed, heart in your throat. You knew Dean better than anyone. He was a force—calculating, ruthless, deadly—but seeing him like this, seeing that raw desperation and fury... it made your blood run cold.

“Dean, wait, let’s just—”

“No,” he interrupted sharply, the venom in his voice making you flinch. “No more talking. This isn’t some negotiation. This is personal. Whoever thought they could touch my kid is about to learn what happens when you mess with the Winchesters.”

You were barely able to keep up with him as he grabbed his gun, the sound of it clicking into place ringing in the otherwise silent room. He was already sliding on his jacket, the hard edge of his jawline like stone.

“You’re not going alone,” you said, your voice firm, no longer the shaky one you had been a moment ago.

Dean stopped, the briefest hesitation crossing his face. His eyes flicked to you, narrowing, but you saw that brief flicker of worry. It didn’t last. He took a deep breath and turned to face you.

“You’re staying here with the baby,” he ordered, his voice low and controlled. But the undercurrent of his tone betrayed him. He was barely holding it together. “You’re safer here.”

“Don’t tell me what’s safer, Dean,” you snapped, taking a step forward. “They’re our kid. I’m going with you.”

He gave you one long, unreadable look before his lips twisted into something that wasn’t quite a smile, but more of a grimace.

“You don’t get it, do you?” he muttered under his breath. “They’ve crossed a line. And I’m about to show them just how bad an idea that was.”

Before you could argue, Dean was out the door, moving fast. You had no choice but to follow.

The city streets blurred around you as you and Dean sped through the darkened roads. Dean’s knuckles were white on the wheel, his jaw clenching so tightly you thought it might break. His gaze was laser-focused on the road, but his mind was already somewhere else—somewhere far darker.

The message had been clear. The voice on the other end had been muffled, but the demand had been simple. Money, or we end them. But the truth was far more terrifying than that. Dean knew this wasn’t just a random kidnapping. This was a message.

And Dean never let messages slide.

You didn’t dare ask questions as the car whipped through the streets. Every second felt like an eternity, but Dean’s pace never faltered. You could feel the anger rolling off of him, thick and palpable. He was slipping back into that dangerous, unpredictable rhythm you knew too well.

“I’m gonna tear their fucking world apart,” Dean muttered, his voice tight with venom. “You don’t touch what’s mine and expect to walk away. No one does.”

He slammed the car to a stop in front of an old, rundown building—no lights, no signs, just a hollow shell of a place. His eyes flicked to you, once again soft for a fraction of a second. “Stay close, sweetheart. Don’t let them get to you.”

Before you could respond, Dean was out of the car, moving like a shadow—fast, calculated, lethal. You grabbed your own weapon and followed close behind. You knew, even without him saying a word, this wasn’t just about money. This was about respect. About vengeance. About showing whoever had taken your child just how badly they’d fucked up.

Inside the building, it was eerily quiet—until the sound of a door creaking open echoed through the dark. Your heart stuttered, but Dean was already at the door, his presence commanding. You could hear voices inside. One was familiar—your child’s, a little shaky but still strong.

The seconds felt like hours.

Dean motioned for you to stay low. You crouched behind him, your heart thudding in your chest as you followed his lead.

Then Dean burst through the door. The sound of gunfire rang out, deafening and sharp. It was chaos—screams, shots, but Dean was a whirlwind. He moved faster than anyone could react, gunfire flashing, bodies hitting the floor.

And then you saw them. Your child, bound to a chair in the corner of the room, looking at Dean with a mix of fear and relief.

“Dean!” you shouted, rushing to their side.

Dean had already disarmed the remaining goons, his eyes cold and dead set on the leader of the operation—a man who had made the mistake of thinking he could get away with this.

Dean was on him in an instant, grabbing the man by the collar and lifting him off his feet. “You think you can fuck with my family?” His voice was a deadly growl. The man’s eyes widened in terror.

The next few moments were a blur. The others were dealt with swiftly—brutally. Dean didn’t speak again, not until the building was clear and your child was free.

Dean walked toward you and your som, his demeanor still cold, but his hands trembling just slightly as he reached out to untie them.

“You good?” he asked, his voice gruff, but you saw the tightness in his jaw, the undercurrent of worry he was trying to hide.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Your son’s voice was steady, but you could see the relief in their eyes.

Dean looked at them, then back to you, his voice softer this time. “No one ever takes what’s ours again. Not while I’m breathing.”

And for a moment, you believed him.

It had been weeks since the nightmare ended. Since Dean stormed through that warehouse like the wrath of God himself and took back what was his. Since he’d carried your son out of that hellhole and brought them home, holding them so tightly you thought he’d never let go.

Things had settled, in the way only the Winchesters knew how—cautiously, quietly, always keeping one eye open. But the weight had lifted. Your family was whole. And today, for the first time in a long time, life felt normal.

The shop was closed for the day. No buzzing tattoo machines, no clients, no business meetings in the back with men who spoke in hushed voices. Just you, Dean, and your now fully-recovered teenager spending the day somewhere safe—somewhere untouched by the chaos of the world outside.

The park was bright and warm, sunlight filtering through the trees, kids laughing in the distance. You sat on a picnic blanket, watching as your son—your fighter—taught their younger sibling how to climb onto the jungle gym. Dean stood off to the side, arms crossed, that usual scowl on his face, but you knew him well enough to see through it. The tightness in his jaw wasn’t anger—it was pride.

“You gonna hover all day, Winchester?” you teased, nudging his arm.

Dean huffed, shaking his head. “Not hovering,” he muttered. “Just… watching.”

You raised an eyebrow, amused. “Watching for what? Squirrels?”

Dean shot you a look, but there was no real heat behind it. “You know what I mean,” he said, his voice quieter now. “After everything…” His gaze flicked back to your teenager, who was laughing as their little sibling clung onto their back, begging for a piggyback ride. “I just need to know they’re okay.”

You softened, reaching for his hand, threading your fingers through his. “They are okay, Dean. Because of you. Because of us.”

Dean let out a slow breath, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “Yeah,” he murmured, almost like he was trying to convince himself.

You squeezed his hand. “Hey. Look at them.” You tilted your head toward your kids. “They’re happy. They’re safe. They’ve got us. And nothing’s ever gonna change that.”

Dean didn’t answer right away. He just looked at you for a long moment, like he was memorizing the way you looked in the sun, how your eyes held no fear, no worry—only love.

Then, finally, the scowl eased off his face, replaced by something much softer.

“Damn right,” he said, pulling you into his side, his lips brushing against your temple. “No one’s ever taking what’s mine again.”

The wind rustled through the trees, the laughter of your children filling the air, and for the first time in what felt like forever, everything felt right. Whole.

No threats. No gunfire. No fear.

Just family. Just home. Just forever.

//this is your kind reminder to REBLOG!!//

#supernatural #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester x sister!reader #dean winchester x ofc #dean winchester smut #dean winchetser angst #spn #spn fanart #spnedit #spnfandom #spn rp #dean winchester #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester fanart #angst with a happy ending

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maudie-duan · 11 hours ago

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Series Summary: Harry has been fighting to keep his relationship with Olivia afloat for nearly two years. At what point do you choose to either endure or let the strain of the world defeat his ambitious hopes of a lasting relationship? Or will a single night and a fleeting encounter be enough to change the projection of Harry’s path? Maybe our ‘Mystery Girl,’ Shiloh, will just happen to be in the right place at the right time.

All Chapters Here <-

A/N: Shiloh and Harry are a little messy, but I think most of us are here for their bullshit, lol. Anywho...enjoy catching up with Shiloh.

Tag List: @howling-wolf97 @sassamanda77 @babegoalsreads @palmettogal508 @indierockgirrl

@lizsogolden @sexymfharriet @pologoonies

Word Count: 3.6K

Warning: Strong Language, Major Angst, Eventual Smut, Emotional.

I took your advice and became obsessed with my therapist. Maybe by the time you read this, enough time will have passed between us, and you’ll be able to forgive my previous idiocy.

Ps. I thought of you in the sun when I made this collection. I hope it brings you joy during your warm holidays.

All the love—H

I slid his note inside my phone case before leaving for New York. Now, he’ll be a secret I carry for miles, a tiny piece of him with me everywhere I go.

I guess I should clarify a few things. I, in fact, did kind of get back together with my Ex for the briefest of moments. In all honesty, it was just sex. The media chalked it up to way more than it needed to be, of course, and I got a few laughs along the way. It’s funny, even though it hadn’t been that long since we dated, a lot more of the press forgot about our past. The whole thing really put my life into perspective—it was a shit I’ve come a long way moment, and damn, life can humble you real quick.

I’ll openly admit that I did creep my Ex on Instagramz I needed to figure out where he was, and then I sent him a text pretending like I had no clue he was in South Africa, finishing up part three of a movie series I had never even watched. The question was simple:

Hey, are you still in California?

And boom, as soon as he messaged back, the door was open. He told me he was wrapping up a movie and was moving back to LA to start a series for HBO and that he would love to catch up. I just wanted to catch up with his dick because after Italy, I needed something easy, and we were still friendly, and I didn’t want to have to go through all the work of getting to know someone new, and yes, I know I don’t have to explain the details, but a lot has happened in the past six months.

It was strange hooking up with him again; a lot had changed between us, both in life and physically. I had forgotten how hot he was, tall and muscular; he couldn’t be further from Harry, but still, I was comparing the two, maybe looking back on it now, trying to fill a “Harry” void that no one else could fill.

For starters, my Ex is five inches taller. I found myself climbing his body in a manner I was too shy to act on in the past, constantly trying to push away the memory of how Harry and I fit, our bodies perfectly aligned, it would have been the perfect give and take, and there I was—laying there with my Ex, his dick buried deep inside me, yet I only thought of Harry, his face floating across my vision every time, seriously every time, it was pathetic.

It all started with my Ex wanting to see my new place and where I was planting roots. He said he had been keeping up with me, finding it effortless since I was becoming more “famous” than him, which was a joke; I thought we were at least reaching the same playing field.

The second he walked through the door, his stare was palpable, as if he knew exactly why he was there. When he bent at the waist to hug me, he wrapped me in strong arms, his big hands gripping me tight. He drew in a long breath, nestling his face into the crook of my neck, dragging a breath through his nose like he was pulling me in.

I thought of Harry the moment we locked lips, the photoshoot, that weighted breath that gave him away, a chased burst of desire that sent a tingle down my spine—and here was my ex, so familiar, and I knew it would be good. I wouldn’t have to guess at cues because he was already sending them, and when I said, “I’ll show you my room first,” and turned away, he circled his arms around my body and pressed his lips to my neck—Okay, so, it was mutual, and we would spend the next two months fucking like we were making up for old times.

It was all fast, we were both just horny. When he eventually told me he wasn’t looking for anything serious and needed to focus on work, his Aussie accent fell heavy, laced with nerves, a mournful look filling his brown eyes. I was more than happy to let him go; of course, I would miss the easy dick, but I guess I could try and put myself out there—I thought…

And then the photoshoot dropped, and what I thought would be a slow burn flipped my life upside down. I knew Harry’s fandom was loyal; I had my best friend, Annelise, to prove that.

The thing about it was that when they revealed a sneak peek, you couldn’t even see my face. They only saw my tattoos, my brown skin, and curly hair. I could have been anybody, but the one thing that sent them pecking away at their keyboards was a close-up of Harry’s hand on my hip, his fingers spread, gripping my flesh with a pang of obvious hunger, and there peeking through was the tattoo of the word ‘Honey’ inked into my skin—They loved that one the most—It only took them a couple of days to figure it out—Now, cue the flood of new followers.

But what got fans the most was that Harry recorded a new song specifically for that campaign. It give the world a sample of his upcoming album, and with this, he could have played it off as, you know, just fun, just fucking around in the studio, and that’s where the magic began, but then, he had to go and slip up.

An interviewer asked him about the photoshoot shortly after the buzz started swirling, then he had to go and blab his mouth—and this part truly threw me for a loop because I’ve watched many of the interviews he’s done in the past, and he’s usually good at skirting around questions, always inconspicuous—a poster board for Aquarius’s everywhere, always aloof in the many plans and projects he has in the works, and I applaud that…I do.

So when said interviewer asked, “So where did you draw inspiration for this new song?” He literally said:

“Hmmm…don’t know, really. My last trip to Italy was really memorable, and I remember doing that photoshoot and feeling really inspired afterward…” a corky, lopsided smile playing at his lips the entire time, an unmistakable shift in his mood. It was like he was recalling a pleasant memory of the past.

And let me tell you. I’ve watched this interview every night before bed for the last four months straight, no lie—Then someone clears their throat in the background of the video. Harry’s face drops ever so slightly like they’re bringing him back to the present, keeping him in line, and the way his eyes shift to the person off the screen, with that, Oh shit, kind of look on his face is so apparent it aches, then he attempts to play it off with one of those charming smiles, and he changes the subject in seconds, barely covering his ass, except he didn’t.

Because fuck, everyone was on my ass after that, shipping us even before he and Olivia had even officially split. It made me want to stay as far away from him as possible and be even more vigilant with what I said or how I reacted in front of the camera. It made me hate him and want him at the same time, and yes, I do want him. I always have, but look at where we are, and after that stupid drunk dial. I wanted him even more, to be able to pick up my phone and hear that fucking voice like velvet, the way it crept up my spine and wrapped itself around my insides like a warm hug.

The thing is…I’ve had full access to Harry this whole time. I could have picked up the phone and called him whenever I wanted, but I wanted to rid him from my system. Yet, it was nearly impossible. I thought maybe if I put myself out there, all of the “Harry noise” would die down, but it seemed to only make the fan more stir-crazy.

I guess I’m not free of blame if we’re being honest. After I shot that live with Timothee, I followed ‘Pleasing’ on Instagram, which I thought I could preface with me just being supportive; they did send me merch after all but on the other hand. I know Harry had to have sent them dilerabately, to get my attention, the handwritten note, not only did he create a new launch with me in mind. There was also a song floating around, one that was really good actually, and as I’m shoving my headphones into my ears right before the plane takes off, it’s the first song I play, and now ‘Daydreaming’ has become my theme song, and somehow I can’t even be mad about it.

New York would be fun. I was only there for a few days, and everything was already lined up. There would be more free time than business, and I wanted to fit in as much as possible because I had only been to New York once. This time, I could actually be part of the hustle and bustle of everything, or at least feel that way, having a purpose to be there. I also got to spend more time with Timothee.

The first day was the only business I had on my schedule. I had a guest appearance on The Howard Stern Show, which I was looking forward to. It wasn’t as painful as I thought, and although he did ask a shit ton of questions about Harry—I think I managed to sideline them easily—The only thing that tripped me up were his random questions about Timothee, and how Howard seemed to be unusually intrigued by him, becoming more interested by Timothee than me toward the end of the interview and I was his guest.

That night, I had dinner with Timothee and his family, and somehow, we managed not to be photographed, not a single picture floating around. I did get pictured with his sister the next day when she took me around the city, showing me all her favorite vintage/thrift shops scattered about, hooping on the subway, and filling our stomachs with junk food. Even though she grew up here, Pauline took on the role of a tourist, which was greatly appreciated.

That night, we hung out with T at his place, ordering takeout and binge-watching Sons of Anarchy, starting from season two because Timothee insisted it was the best season. He ended up explaining more of the show than necessary, which resulted in me missing more essential parts, so we turned the show off to turn on a movie.

When Pauline left part way through the movie, I took to the internet. I was trying to be polite and stay off my phone, but all night, I could feel my finger twitching to be on my screen. The cast of ‘Don’t Worry Darling’ was spotted landing in NYC yesterday, and I wanted to see if there were any new pictures of Harry out on the town.

This was the first time we had been in the same country, in the same town, since London, and the feeling of seeing his feet hit the pavement on a street I might have walked on only hours before had my heart racing every time I pick up my phone and typed in ‘Harry Styles’ on every platform that made my life easier to track him.

Yes, I think I’m obsessed, but I have a feeling it might be mutual.

“What is that look on your face?” T asks, smiling over at me. I’m sprawled across his sofa, Timothee on the floor with his back resting against the couch, and every time I shift my knee, it nudges the hollow space in the middle of his back.

“Nothing, I’m just—” I trail off because that clip of Harry acting dodgy toward Olivia at their Venice premiere is all over my feed, and the site of the two of them makes me fucking cringe.

The whole situation is odd. I’ve been keeping up with all the gossip, taking it with a grain of salt, but shit, a lot of it seems creditable, and it’s not a good look for either one of them, not that I’m judging by any means, but hell, I would not want to be either one of them right now or be stuck hanging around the other. Harry almost came off as childish, which kind of turned me off, and I wish I could call him up and be like, bro, what was your deal? But something tells me that would be embarrassing for both of us.

Timothee’s head falls back on my leg, and I shift my eyes from my phone to catch a yawn forming at his mouth. Then I yawn, reaching forward to tassel his curls, eliciting a soft smile as his eyes drift shut, and I fight the urge to caress his cheek.

As I pull away, he opens his eyes, and we both smile. “Did Flo text you?” he asks, slicing through the silence. Then, he stands to gather the dishes. “She said they’re having an afterparty tomorrow, and we should come.”

I force myself to lock my screen and focus on the conversation, “She called me, but I didn’t answer…”

“Oh, I bet that’s why she was calling—” he shouts from the kitchen.

I ponder this for a few seconds, thinking of all the possible outcomes of me showing up at their cast afterparty: First off, Harry will be there unless he doesn’t show, but wouldn’t that be highly unlikely?

I would be showing up with Timothee, and that might look weird. Harry and I are both single, and while he might be in close proximity to his Ex right now, they don’t seem to be interacting very much, but I can only see what everyone else sees. I’m sure I could ask Florance, but she’s not really a fan of either one of them right now. It seems like they were even lucky to get her there in the first place—The whole thing is one big shit show.

Plus, if I go, I want to be there to support Flo, not be another girl getting googly-eyed over Harry right now. He has had enough of that already. I mean, they must have known that was going to happen when they hired him. It was smart on their end, but damn, I really want to go, just to be in the same room as him, and I would be on my best behavior, not even giving him a single glance unless he was in my line of sight and by that, I wouldn’t be able to avoid him, and I could just think the heavens later.

I, for one, don’t want any chance of us being photographed together; I have no intention of stirring the pot unless my pot is getting stirred…

“We should go…” I smile, and then T matches my smile, and I feel like I know what he’s about to say.

“You just want to see Harry…” He laughs, lifting my legs to plop down onto the couch, and I scoot myself up, drawing my knees to my chest.

“I mean…I would be there to support my friend. I can’t help that he’ll just happen to be there…” And I know my smile is giving me away, but I’m just so excited to see him, just a glimpse, just to know that, yes, he was real, and that maybe I’ll see that look in his eye—the want, the need—even if it’s fleeting, it would be enough.

I need to know if this is real or if I’m so caught up in the rumor mill that maybe I’m starting to believe the chatter.

“Have you talked to him since that photoshoot?” he asks, and my heart drops, the memory causing a dull ache in the pit of my stomach. I haven’t told anyone about the drunk dial, not even my best friend. I didn’t want to tarnish Harry’s name for her.

I exhale, my lungs heavy with gloom, “Honestly…umm…he kind of drunk dialed me one night, like after the shoot…” And it’s spilling out of my mouth, and the thing about Timothee is that I trust him. He’s already trusted me with so much of his private life, so it feels safe and freeing at the same time.

“Okay…so you saw that note the other day, right?” I pick up my phone and pop the case off, the note falling in my lap. “That day when you read this…that was the first time I had heard from him since that night.”

“He called me after the photoshoot, I think…maybe the next day or the day after…I don’t know, I’ve been trying to forget about it, but he kind of confessed his feelings for me…”

Timothee sits up then, “Wait, what? I thought you didn’t know him?”

“I don’t—I guess…ummm…I mean it’s kind of hard to explain, I guess it’s like a feeling or something. I saw Harry at the Gucci Show, then the next day, we did that photoshoot, randomly, and there was just this crazy connection…”

He laughs, “No shit, dude, look at you both…” And I shake my head, smiling down at the note.

“It’s not like that…I mean, I’m sure it could be like that…but I think it’s more than that…?” I shrug my shoulders, shaking the thought from my head.

“It’s honestly so confusing, and that fucking photoshoot blow everything up…”

T shakes his head and laughs nervously, “Dude, it really did…”

“I think I get it, though… “ he says after a beat of silence. “It makes sense…your avoidance.”

My head falls back against the arm of the couch with a thud, and I force out a deep breath, “Is it that obvious?”

“No—definitely not, but I’ve been around you, and also, I could tell by the way you navigated that live the other day…you’re pretty good at that. It’s really shocking that you haven’t had media training.”

I laugh, “Yeah…it just seems like common sense…”

“But a lot of people don’t have that. I’ve had a lot of training. I feel like I was a lot more open in the past, but I feel like I’m getting better at leaving some stuff for me.” He explains.

“I’ve always liked your interviews…as long as you’re you at your core, then you’re golden. Those fans are always going to swoon over you.”

Timothee swallows, his adamapple bobbing, “Yeah…but sometimes you just want the right person to swoon over you…” Them his eyes flick to me, making my heart pick up, the comment hanging in air between us. What does that even mean?

He smiles, looking down at his hands, suddenly shy. “So..what do you want to do?” he asks, and when he looks back at me, there’s something contemplative about his gaze, like maybe he wants to say more, so I wait for him to continue, and when he swallows, his green eyes trained on me, for the first time I’m starting to second guess what this friendship might be because his face is so serious and when I say:

“I want to go…” I watch his chest deflate, a low exhale as he scoots forward on the couch cushion, and when he clasps his hands together and lets his head drop, I’m holding my breath, the sudden shift in his mood making me wonder if that was some sort of test.

Then he says, “I think you guys will be good together…” Oddly enough, it even sounds genuine and thoughtful. A smile spreads on his face, but it doesn’t seem to reach his eyes. When he looks away, pulling out his phone to end the conversation, the air is thick with questions, making me reconsider everything, like maybe Harry was just the push I needed to get myself back out there.

A/N: Hmmm...is Shiloh actually going to consider Timothee?

All Chapters Here <-

My Tiny Masterlist Here<-

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ghostcat404 · 2 days ago

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I’m also glad we share the same joy and that we’re not so different in this moment!! :3

I’m so glad u find me fascinating as well!! :D

and noted on the fact that it’s taken a lot to build up your ability to be able to write as you do, after all an art master hasn’t earned their skills overnight, but takes years to hone their craft

I all I wish to say is that i immensely enjoy this line and cannot really name why

After all, all ‘facts’ are just patterns of belief that time has proven to be accurate.

Perhaps it’s the simple truth of it? perhaps also the sounds of the words in one’s mind… I’m not sure, but I quite like it

But know you must always change, you can’t stay stagnant especially not when you know there’s something wrong in the way you’re acting or thinking or feeling. Do things until they feel right, even if you don’t yet know why. May movies, songs, stories, art, writing, people, sights, and thoughts all bring you a step closer into figuring out the secrets of the universe and all its pleasures it upholds..

Indeed! Not even the body knows being stagnant, isn’t it every 7 years when all cells in the body have been replaced by new ones with no trace of old ones? I pray that’s an established fact and not misinformation

and yes, truly everything everywhere is but a piece of the puzzle of one’s self! And that, that is beautiful…

I understand understanding certain things but not the basic things… Well, perhaps in a way? Indeed! Sherlock collecting knowledge specific to his passions, as well as the cases he undertakes…. I don’t know where I was heading with that point but perhaps it’s relatability lol

there is so much beauty around!! It’s wonderful….

i am quite glad I can see, see all threads connecting everyone, and indeed the parallels! The universe loves to use parallels in its narrative of time and existence

you’re welcome!! I’ve quite enjoyed reading your words! Seeing a new perspective is always lovely and I’ve learned more as a result!

ah, yes, contradictions! I find myself being a contridiction sometimes, at least I think so? Yes, for I’ve described my mind as a contradiction before… but yes! Truly after all contradiction is beautiful too….. for what would we be without it? After all, as you’d said, there are multiple answers to everything

afternoon tea

….i need to just schedule these in advance…

Uh, how are y’all?

free spot for question (ramble about whatever/nf)

no pressure taglist: @neowanderseternally @numisanubis @berrybird054 @saireye @lifenconcepts

(Again, if u wish to be added or removed dm me and explicitly say so and I’ll respect your wish)

#I wrote one banger paragraph* and then brain was like “that’s enough brain power for you” but that’s okay because as you said it takes-#—practice and time #* in a previous reblog I mean

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ultimate-blorbo-bracket · 2 years ago

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honestly kinda surprised how quickly the Sho vs Rose match up has taken off

like all the other match ups so far are having chill starts but those two are already full-on fist fighting each other I love it

#I’ve been really enjoying reading the notes #i think sho vs rose are now up there with will graham vs jigglpuff as the funniest fights to witness so far snsnsksns #stuff wk says

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lightningflvsh · 3 months ago

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hello followers on my semi-inactive blog. can someone talk me out of doing hours of research in order to build my own timeline/canon rewrite of the dc comics universe because i’ve been filled with an Urge to do just that and i don’t know if my motivation issues can take it

#.txt #okay in all fairness here #1. i don’t really plan to do anything with it and i find planning aus more fun than writing them #so the end result would likely be some sort of chart or. idk i’ve been learning html recently i could make a website #or a carrd if i get lazy #2. i do actually enjoy doing research to some degree and it’d basically be watching videos and taking notes #and delving into reading lists for specific characters #3. could just be a neat thing to have if i DO write fics in the future #just link right to my own ‘canon’ and be like ‘hey if you’re wondering what version of things this is set in . here <3’#i’m thinking of starting with the batfam just because i have the strongest knowledge base there starting out #then the lanterns and go from there #god why do i always give myself Projects #don’t expect anything to come of this. that’s why i’m asking to be talked out of it

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dnbrainrot · 7 months ago

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God I wish it was more normal for ao3 authors to have like other social medias of theirs on their profiles or something

Please,,,, who are you,,,,,,

#this is going on here because this is about a death note fanfic I’m reading #the way it’s written is extremely fascinating and makes me desperately want to find the person that wrote it #by that I mean it’s deeply analytical #At times kinda feeling like I’m reading a analysis essay rather than the plot of a fanfic #and also you need to know about some stuff personally in order to write about them and this person seems to have a deep understanding of #psychology in relationships and people in general #and what I really mean is. I feel like I’m reading my own thoughts and that’s fucking fascinating me because this is exactly how I think #I’m normal about this. clearly.#the fanfic is Back Again by Brenna1918 if anyone wants to know #and it was actually written pretty recently #Brenna1918 if you’re reading. hello this you fascinate me HDKHSKDJS #also I do really enjoy the fanfic it’s 1 am and I’ve been reading it for the past like 2? 3 hours? idk #and speaking of that. I need to go to bed now

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catwingsthespatula · 2 years ago

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My sister puts glasses away upside down.

Because our mother does,

Because her mother did,

Because her mother lived through the Dust Bowl.

One day my father sat me down and told me about epigenetics.

How the trauma he went through

As a child in an abusive home

Wrote itself into his DNA

And, in turn, into mine.

How he and his brothers,

In various ways,

Are all sick from it.

How I might be too, someday,

And I’m not sure I’m not.

I hear people say,

When will we get back to normal?

And I think of a woman born in the twenty-first century

Who puts her glasses away differently

Because of what her great-grandmother endured

Ninety years before.

#id in alt text #all in all i’ve enjoyed the experience of having a post experience tumblr popularity #many of the tags and comments have been so nice #and it’s been incredible to see all the different ways people connected to it #and. i don’t know how to tell you this. there is no one correct way to put away drinking glasses.#there are arguments for right side up #there are arguments for upside down #there are arguments for alternating #and i think i’ve seen most of them by now #some from people vehemently insisting that no one with any sense would do it differently #it’s a matter of personal preference and habit #and the ways habits can be passed down through generations #until we forget the reason they arose in the first place #was the point #i am also not claiming that trauma is the only reason these habits arise #or that anyone who puts glasses away upside down must have experienced the dust bowl or something similar #read the notes if you want #they’re a wild ride #and mostly pretty great!#but man. the Drinking Glass Storage Discourse.#is that really the hill you want to die on???#i take no responsibility for this #the eyeglasses/drinking glasses confusion though?#yeah. that was 100% on me. should’ve been clearer. my bad. sorry for the confusion.#catwings chatter #vent post #kinda #self reblog #anyway. catwingsathena out. thank you and good night.

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seventh-district · 1 year ago

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still riding the high of finally getting a comment on AEIWNF yesterday

#Seven.txt #writing stuff #fanfiction #fanfic #ao3 #i’d had a rough evening but getting surprised by a comment on that fic really made my night so much better #i’ve been resisting the urge to beg for comments but just know that when i write my little end notes-#-i am sitting at my desk silently screaming ‘’PLEASE PLEASE IF YOU HAD ANY SINGLE THOUGHT OR FEELING AT ALL WHILE READING THIS-#-I AM BEGGING YOU TO TELL ME PLEASE I LIVE ON FEEDBACK AND I AM STARVING RN PLEASE TELL ME WHAT YOU THIIIIIIINK ABOUT WHAT I WROOOOOOOTE-#-PLEASE I’LL OWE YOU MY LIIIIIIIFE!!!’ but i don’t say that. instead i’m like ‘hope u enjoyed! see you again soon w/ the next chapter! :)#but just know i’m begging. i’m always begging for feedback lmao #but i can’t and don’t hold it against anyone for not commenting bc i am the Worst when it comes to not commenting #even on fics that i’m head over heels in love with it takes an act of god to get me to put that love into a comment #sometimes i’ll try to make up for it by leaving a less formal lil comment in the bookmarks #bc as an author i also love seeing the little things ppl occasionally write in their bookmarks of my fics #but anyways. one of these days i’ll get over the imaginary hurdle that prevents me from commenting on stuff #it makes me treasure the comments i do get even more tho cause i’m like #you took the time out of your day to write that?? for me?? even if it’s super short it’s just so nice to hear anything at all #anyways. we are in an age of fast and interaction-less consumption of creative works #and i think if just ‘liking and scrolling on’ keeps on like it has then online creativity as a whole will suffer #i mean it already has and is suffering for it #as much as we shouldn’t make things primarily for the feedback we wanna receive. it’s undeniably demotivating to put something out-#-and hear nothing but crickets. like. i cherish every single person whos broken the silence & commented on anything of mine in any capacity #and people that come back and leave more comments on multi-chapter works??? i owe you my fucking lifeee thank you so much #we need to bring back reblogging and commenting and i n t e r a c t i n g with what we enjoy beyond just clicking a heart button #and i need to do my part just as much as anyone else. this is me calling myself out in equal measure #but i’m not saying anything else that hasn’t been said many times already i just #i think about it a lot when i start starving for feedback on my own stuff #anyways whew this turned into a ramble. guess i’ve got a lot of feelings abt it

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reyalvr · 8 months ago

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SHE’S MINE | 00

CATCH ME, I’VE FALLEN IN LOVE FOR THE FIRST TIME.

synopsis ┊ thrust into the spotlight, ken sato had easily become the next big thing tokyo had seen in decades. alongside his fame came the inevitable string of rumors, of which sprung forth scandals and discrediting information against his image. of course the obvious and most rational solution would be to address them like every other celebrity, but this was ken sato; nothing would ever be rational with him, which is how you wound up with a ring on your finger and the sato name in your papers.

genre ┊ fake dating, fake marriage, idiots-to-lovers, friends-to-lovers, mild angst, chaotic fluff, smut

pairing ┊ ken sato x fem-PA!reader, ken sato x fake-wife!reader

warnings ┊ mild cursing, eventual smut, mentions of alcohol, all events in ultraman: rising take place a year after kenji moves back to japan, RUMORS isn’t related to anything that happens in this series

word count ┊ 798

author’s note ┊ YAY i finally wrote it! i really love the fake dating/marriage convenience trope and i’ve been itching to write it with kenji. this is highly inspired by one my favorite books of all time, terms & conditions by lauren asher! if you enjoy fake dating i highly recommend reading it. as mentioned at the top, this is only the prologue! i'll be putting out part one and the series masterlist asap hehe... as always, happy reading!

prev. | next

SOMETIMES YOU WONDERED IF ANYTHING YOU SAID EVER STUCK WITH KEN. For the past year and a half, you had the supposed “dream life” that every assistant yearned for. It confused you, really, as you tried to ponder on what part of your job was envious. Were the late nights drafting NDA breaches so desirable? What about the press statements after altercations, were those résumé worthy? You let out a deep sigh as you watched Ken from the TV in his dressing room, crossing your arms as you sunk deeper into the couch.

He was on a press tour for his latest collaboration, his overconfident persona charming everyone left and right. You had to physically stop yourself from rolling your eyes when he used his signature flair to charm the show’s host. At least he was sticking to the script… for the most part. He wore the product, threw in a few adlibs, and of course, flirted. Be it a talk show host or a random photographer on the street, Ken always found a way to leave people smitten with him- save except you.

It’s not like you were actively trying to hate him, he just made it so easy. At first you thought it was just some awkward phase, like he was just trying to adjust to working with a new team. But then he just kept doing the same things over and over again. A brawl with an opposing team member? Just another Sunday night. A rumor about having a fling with yet another supermodel? Sounds just about right.

“I mean of course I have to thank my team,” Ken’s voice cut through your train of thought. “It was a dream of mine to play for the Giants as a kid, now I actually get to do it.”

Tone it down, asshole. You thought to yourself, noting the sarcasm laced in his words. Of course the general public wouldn’t have caught on, but you had no doubt his coach and the other players would. Then again, he’d been relatively untouchable because of his rank in the sports world. You poked your tongue into your cheek, shaking your head as you sat through the rest of his interview. The clock on the wall counted down the remaining time, the bright red numbers casting a reflection on the screen. Two minutes left, and all he had to do was to keep the act up…

…Until he didn’t. Nothing could’ve prepared you for what was about to happen next.

“Now I don’t want to hold here any longer, but you know I have to ask it,” The host teased, almost like an overexcited child ready to tattle. “Any special someone back home?”

Ken chuckled, just like he usually did when asked the question. “Cheeky question,” He paused and grinned, his eyebrow raised slightly as he shrugged his shoulders. “What if there was?”

“Well, is there?” The host pushed, his tone eager to have the Ken Sato answer such a juicy question. He gestured toward the crowd before he continued. “I mean there are a lot of fans here today who would love to know more…”

“Yeah? And if I said yes, then what?” He replied, his smile growing brighter and his eyes shining.

The crowd cheered even harder, itching to find out the truth. You shared the same sentiments, trying to figure out what the hell Ken was up to now. Did he have a girlfriend? If he did, why didn’t anyone know about it? You stood up straight now, your right hand deathly gripping the remote. What the hell do you have up your sleeve, Kenji Sato? Your inner voice seemed to yell as you waited for him to speak up.

“I mean only time will tell, yeah?” The host replied, leaning back in his seat. “C’mon Ken, it’s not nice to keep secrets.”

Ken mimicked the host’s moves, leaning back into his sofa chair as well. He shrugged his shoulders, licking his lips as he fiddled with his fingers. He bit the inside of his cheek, and though it was brief you caught it. You knew that look; his look of contemplation. Your grip on the remote was still taut as your breathing seemed to quicken the longer he waited. Granted it was only a few seconds, but those seconds felt like hours.

He tilted his head slightly then, his eyes staring directly at the camera. It slowly zoomed closer to focus entirely on him, and he let out a small laugh before he finally replied. His gaze was strong, and it almost felt like he was actually looking at you.

“Yeah, yeah I do.” He finally said, throwing in a lovesick smile for good measure. “And she’s the best damn thing in my life right now.”

#✎ maxi’s works #ultraman #ultraman: rising #ken sato #kenji sato #ken sato x you #kenji sato x you #ultraman x reader #ken sato x reader #kenji sato x reader #ken sato fluff #kenji sato smut #kenji sato fluff #ken sato smut #fake dating #fake marriage #fluff #smut

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rmview · 1 month ago

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accidentally sending a nude, SKZ.

featuring — stray kids members x gn!reader ( masterlist )

summary — what happens when the stray kids boys accidentally send you an inappropriate picture!

contents — crack, flirting, suggestive.

bang ⁺ chan

bang chan was known for being responsible and composed, but even the most reliable people had their moments. he had been working late, distractedly multitasking between responding to texts from the members, fans, and — most nerve-wracking of all — you.

you two had been flirting back and forth for weeks, and tonight was no different. your witty banter put him in a good mood, and before he knew it, he was sending a selfie from the gym, shirt drenched in sweat.

but in his rush, he didn’t notice that the picture he sent wasn’t the one he intended. instead of the gym selfie, it was an older picture—one of him just out of the shower, shirtless, with a towel slung dangerously low on his hips.

seconds later, he realized his mistake.

his heart stopped.

“oh my god,” he muttered, staring at his phone in horror as the “read” indicator popped up. his mind raced. should he delete the message? send a follow-up explanation? throw his phone into the nearest body of water?

before he could do anything, your reply came through.

...well, that’s not what i expected, but i’m not complaining.

his face turned a deep shade of red as he ran a hand through his hair, groaning in embarrassment.

“i am so sorry,” he quickly typed, his thumbs trembling as he sent the message. “that was not meant for you. i was trying to send a gym selfie. please ignore that. oh my god, i’m mortified.”

you replied almost immediately.

relax, chan. it’s not like i haven’t imagined you looking like that anyway. 😉

his jaw dropped. was this flirting? were you actually flirting back after he’d just humiliated himself?

“wait… really?” he replied, cautious yet intrigued.

really. but next time, make sure you send the right picture.

chan exhaled a laugh, shaking his head as he smiled at the screen. “noted,” he typed back, still mortified but secretly thrilled. maybe his mistake wasn’t such a disaster after all.

felix ⁺

felix was a bit of a perfectionist, especially when it came to interactions with you. he’d spent weeks carefully navigating the line between friendly and flirty, hoping to gauge your interest without coming on too strong.

so when he accidentally sent that picture, he nearly dropped his phone in panic.

he’d just finished a workout and taken a picture to check his progress — a mirror selfie of him shirtless, muscles taut, and a playful smirk on his face. he’d meant to send it to chan, but somehow, it ended up in your chat.

“no, no, no, no!” felix exclaimed, his freckles standing out against the sudden flush of his cheeks.

he stared at the screen in horror, the little “delivered” icon taunting him.

your reply came faster than he expected.

wow… nice progress, felix. 👀

he froze. were you teasing him? he wasn’t sure if he should laugh, apologize, or crawl under a rock. finally, he decided to address it head-on.

“i am so sorry!” he typed furiously. “that was not meant for you. please ignore it. i’m mortified.”

you replied with a laughing emoji.

it’s fine. honestly, i didn’t know you were this fit. guess i’ve been missing out.

felix’s heart skipped a beat. was that… interest?

“well… thanks, i guess?” he replied, still unsure how to handle the situation. “but seriously, i didn’t mean to send that. i’m usually more careful.”

well, i’m glad you weren’t this time.

felix smiled at your cheeky response despite himself. maybe his mistake wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

lee ⁺ know

lee know had always been careful about boundaries. he enjoyed teasing you and keeping things light, but he never pushed too far. that’s why, when he realized he’d sent the wrong picture, he felt a wave of panic unlike anything he’d experienced before.

the picture wasn’t obscene, but it was suggestive — a shirtless shot of him lounging in bed, his sweatpants hanging low, with a hint of his toned stomach on full display. he’d taken it to mess around with hyunjin but somehow sent it to you instead.

his phone buzzed immediately.

...well, this is a surprise.

lee know stared at your message, his ears turning red as he groaned, tossing his phone onto the couch. “i’m such an idiot,” he muttered, burying his face in his hands.

after a minute of debating whether to respond, he finally picked up his phone.

“that was not for you,” he typed, his usual confidence nowhere to be found. “sorry about that. just… forget you saw it.”

your reply came swiftly.

forget it? why would i? you look good, minho. 😏

his heart skipped a beat. “are you teasing me right now?” he replied, his confidence creeping back in.

maybe... or maybe i’m just being honest.

lee know smirked at the screen, his embarrassment fading. “well, if honesty is what we’re doing, then maybe i should admit that i don’t mind you seeing it.”

“good,” you replied. “because i didn’t mind seeing it either.”

for the first time that evening, lee know relaxed, realizing that his mistake might just have opened a door he hadn’t been brave enough to walk through himself.

hyun ⁺ jin

hyunjin had always been the type to wear his heart on his sleeve, and his interactions with you reflected that. he adored teasing you with his flirtatious comments and playful winks, but he never imagined crossing a line — until tonight.

he was sitting in his art room, surrounded by scattered sketches, when he decided to take a break. swept up in a moment of self-appreciation, he snapped a quick mirror selfie to show off his post-dance practice glow — shirtless, slightly tousled hair, and his sweatpants riding dangerously low. he sent it off to his group chat with the caption, “behold: the main character.”

or so he thought.

when he saw your name at the top of the chat instead, his heart plummeted.

“no, no, no…” he whispered, fumbling with his phone. his fingers hovered over the “unsend” button, but it was too late — your message popped up almost instantly.

well, that’s something i wasn’t expecting tonight. 👀

hyunjin’s face turned crimson, and he buried his head in his hands. his mind raced with what to say, every option feeling inadequate. finally, he mustered a response.

“its not what it looks like,” he typed, his embarrassment palpable even through the screen. “i meant to send it to the group chat. i’m so sorry, seriously.”

your reply came faster than he anticipated.

aw, don’t be embarrassed, hyunjin. you look… good. really good.

he froze, rereading your message. was this real? were you flirting back?

“wait… are you being serious right now?” he asked hesitantly.

completely serious. but if you’re this shy over a picture, i can’t imagine how you’d react if i saw you in person like this.

hyunjin let out a breathy laugh, his embarrassment melting into nervous excitement. “you’re not making this easier, you know,” he replied.

who said i’m trying to make it easier?

he leaned back, a smirk tugging at his lips at your teasing response. “you’re trouble, you know that?”

don’t pretend you don’t love it.

hyunjin shook his head, his heart pounding. what started as a mortifying mistake was quickly turning into the most exhilarating conversation he’d ever had with you.

i.n ⁺

jeongin prided himself on being composed despite his age, but tonight, all that confidence vanished in an instant. he’d been lounging on his bed after practice, casually snapping a picture to capture the golden glow of the setting sun through his window.

the photo was innocent enough, or so he thought — a relaxed pose, shirtless, with the blanket barely covering his hips. it was meant for seungmin, who’d jokingly challenged him to “prove” he was resting properly.

but in his sleepy haze, jeongin accidentally sent it to you instead.

he realized his mistake almost immediately when your name popped up with a notification. his stomach dropped, and panic set in.

your message arrived seconds later:

uh… is this the kind of ‘resting’ you meant to show me? 😳

jeongin groaned, burying his face in his pillow. “oh my god, i’m an idiot,” he muttered. he typed back as quickly as his trembling hands allowed.

“i am so sorry. that was not meant for you. please, just delete it and pretend this never happened.”

you replied almost immediately, and his heart raced as he opened your message.

delete it? why would i do that when it’s such a nice view?

his mouth fell open, a mixture of embarrassment and disbelief coursing through him. he wasn’t sure whether to laugh or crawl under his blanket and never come out.

“are you seriously teasing me right now?” he finally typed, his cheeks burning.

maybe... but can you blame me? you’re not exactly making it easy to ignore.

jeongin let out a nervous chuckle, shaking his head. “you’re impossible.”

i know.

jeongin sighed, a reluctant smile spreading across his face. while the initial shock of his mistake lingered, he couldn’t deny that your reaction made it worth the embarrassment.

han ⁺

han had always been impulsive, and that trait extended to his texting habits. he’d just finished a late-night studio session and decided to take a mirror selfie to show off his new haircut. the picture wasn’t inappropriate, but it was suggestive — he was shirtless, his hair slightly damp from a shower, with a cheeky grin on his face.

he meant to send it to chan, but in his half-asleep state, he sent it to you instead.

it wasn’t until your message came through that he realized his mistake.

right in front of my salad? 🤨

han’s eyes widened, and he sat up so fast he nearly knocked over his coffee mug. “oh no,” he muttered, his hands shaking as he typed back.

“omg, i’m so sorry! that was not meant for you! i was trying to send it to chan. please just forget you saw it.”

your reply came a moment later:

why? it was a nice picture. you should send me more.

han’s jaw dropped, his mind racing. was this really happening? were you actually flirting with him?

“wait, are you serious right now?” he replied cautiously.

very serious. you look good, han. don’t be so shy about it.

his face turned red, but a smile crept onto his lips. “i’m not shy!” he typed back defensively.

sure, you’re not...

han let out a laugh, shaking his head. “you’re dangerous, you know that?”

says the guy with his tiddies out for the world to see. wait, i wonder how much i can sell this for on ebay...

he flushed and sighed, leaning back in his chair. what started as a mortifying mistake was quickly becoming the most crack-filled interaction he’d ever had with you. maybe his impulsiveness wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

seung ⁺ min

seungmin was always known for his sharp wit and calm demeanor, rarely letting things rattle him. but tonight, that composure was nowhere to be found.

after a long day, he decided to respond to a group chat message with a selfie he’d taken earlier — a casual, post-workout shot that showed him in a tank top, his hair slightly messy, and his usual confident smirk. the picture wasn’t provocative, but it was undeniably attractive.

except he didn’t send it to the group chat. he sent it to you.

seungmin froze as he realized what he had done. his usual sharp mind went blank, replaced by a surge of panic. before he could even think of a way to delete it, your reply came through.

well, i wasn’t expecting this, but i’m not complaining. 😏

he stared at your message, his ears turning red as he tried to come up with a response. this wasn’t like him at all — how could he make such a mistake?

“uh, that wasn’t meant for you,” he finally typed, his thumbs trembling slightly. “i was trying to send it to the group chat. my bad.”

your reply came almost instantly.

no need to apologize, bbg. honestly, it’s nice to see this side of you. you look good, seungmin.

his jaw clenched as he reread your words. you were complimenting him?

“i didn’t mean for you to see it,” he replied quickly. “but… thanks, i guess?”

why so shy all of a sudden? i didn’t think you’d get flustered this easily.

“i’m not flustered,” he replied, though your teasing and his red face told a different story.

sure you’re not. but for what it’s worth, you’ve definitely made my night.

seungmin let out a small, awkward laugh, his confidence slowly returning. “well, i’m glad my mistake could entertain you,” he replied.

it’s more… eye-opening, than entertaining. although my rose toy would disagree.

seungmin choked, rereading your words. maybe this wasn’t the disaster he thought it was.

chang ⁺ bin

changbin was naturally confident, his playful energy making him the life of any room. but even he wasn’t immune to moments of pure, unfiltered embarrassment — like the one he was having now.

it started innocently enough: he’d taken a mirror selfie at the gym to show off his progress, flexing his biceps with a grin that screamed, “look at me, i’m unstoppable.” it was meant for chan, who’d been teasing him about skipping arm day.

but in his haste, changbin accidentally sent the picture to you.

the moment he realized his mistake, his stomach dropped. “oh no,” he muttered, staring at the screen in horror.

your reply came faster than he could process.

wow, changbin… showing off for me now? 👀

he groaned, his confidence taking a nosedive. he quickly typed back, “that was not meant for you. i was trying to send it to chan. please ignore it!”

you didn’t ignore it. instead, you replied,

why would you send it to him? and why should i ignore it? you look amazing honestly, you’ve got nothing to be embarrassed about.

changbin blinked, your words catching him off guard. were you… complimenting him?

“wait… are you kidding me?” he replied cautiously.

of course not, i mean, if you’re gonna send me pictures like this, don’t blame me for appreciating them.

changbin let out a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “well, i wasn’t exactly trying to impress you, but… thanks, i guess?”

who said you didn’t impress me?

his heart skipped a beat at your tease, a grin slowly spreading across his face. “i guess if you’re not mad, i shouldn’t be so worried,” he typed, his confidence returning.

not mad at all. in fact, feel free to send more anytime.

changbin laughed out loud, shaking his head. “you’re trouble, you know that?”

and you love it.

“maybe i do,” he replied, surprising even himself with his boldness.

what started as an embarrassing mistake had suddenly become one of the most fun conversations he’d ever had with you.

notes: hoez in the house ( my smut fic is taking forever to finish :( )

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mattybsgroupie · 22 days ago

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— milk ★ matt sturniolo

— CONTENTS: established relationship; nipple play/boob sucking; mommy kink; BREASTFEEDING kink; pregnant!reader; sub!matt

— NOTES: this was highly requested and im ngl, it’s definitely one of my favorite kinks! however, i know it’s still a taboo so please if you don’t like it, DON’T READ IT. i might get criticized a lot for writing this, but remember this is fanfiction. it’s a fetish, a fantasy. none of this is real. it’s just a story — and i hope you enjoy it as much as i did! ♡ but if i get cancelled im gonna deactivate and you’ll never see me again! mwah!

“you are so pretty” matt said as he plopped down next to you, snuggling closer. “you’re glowing, seriously. you look amazing” he complimented you as he caressed your face with his thumb, the coarse skin of his fingertips rubbing against your soft cheeks.

matt always dreamed of being a father. when he first heard the news, he fell down to his knees. he immediately wrapped his arms around your hips, nuzzling his face on your tummy before kissing it over and over again, whispering a bunch of thank yous. although matt was filled with joy, he couldn’t help himself. he had his hands all over you — he would even lift your belly so your back would stop hurting. matt was simply mesmerized by the sight of you carrying his babies.

his hands travelled down your body, stopping by your round, prominent tummy. matt was gentler now that the girls had started kicking, as if they could actually feel his touch. the only thing he wouldn’t go easy on were your tits — he never did. right now, matt found himself squeezed between your spreaded legs, trying hard to hold his weight up so he wouldn’t hurt you, both knees against the soft cushioned sofa. his left palm had quickly moved to your chest while he kissed your neck, nibbling your sensitive skin between his teeth.

“matt… don’t squeeze them too hard” you sighed when matt increased the pressure of the massage. he hesitated for a second, removing his hand and pulling away from your skin. matt’s baby blue orbs flickered between your lips and your breasts, “did it work?!”

you chuckled at his eagerness, adjusting your back on the couch and allowing him to lay by your side. “better than i had expected” you said, taking the strap of your nightgown in between your fingers, teasing him. “turns out i don’t really have to pump that much because it started flowing pretty easily, so i guess it’s gonna come out with some suction”

matt’s usually determined, dominant gaze altered to a soft, mesmerized one. he couldn’t really find the words, choosing instead to smash his lips against yours in a deep, wet kiss. a moan escaped from the back of your throat as you felt matt’s boner poking against your thigh, him biting your lower lip before opening a satisfied grin. “i really fucked a baby inside you didn’t i?” he spoke, more to himself than to you. he was so proud of his own accomplishment, and he needed to hear it from you. “i love you so much, my beautiful, beautiful wife”

“all yours” you whispered, sealing your lips together on a quick pack. matt’s touches were soft again, his index motioning in circles against your hardened nipple through the fabric of your dress. “turned you into a real mama hm?” he said, trying to keep a tough-guy persona, but you knew this wouldn’t last long.

matt continued speaking to himself, admiring your figure. “making milk and everything” he mumbled under his breath, fully squeezing your tit.

“my mama” there it was. you smiled at him, ruffling his hair. “yeah? my good boy made me a true mama?” you continued to feel his hard-on pressing against you, his hips slightly moving.

“i need it” matt’s parted lips begged as he felt his cock twitching inside his pants, puppy, pleading eyes making it harder for you to say no. “please, i need it so bad. please i’ve been a good boy” he continued. “i wanna taste you so bad, mama”

you unconsciously bit the flesh of your cheeks, trying to look unbothered. deep down, you wanted this just as much “go slow, prince”. as soon as you gave matt permission, he pulled your dress down, revealing your full, swollen breasts. they hurt often, even before you were pregnant, and matt always helped you to get rid of the soreness. he dragged his tongue on your boob, circling your nub with the wet muscle before latching his lips around your nipple.

matt closed his eyes, taking a deep breath before sucking — just like he always did. after a few seconds, small droplets of milk landed against his tongue, the surprisingly mild taste taking over his mouth, brain and body. matt pulled away for a second, letting your tit hang loose “you…” he babbled, swallowing the liquid. once again, matt wasn’t able to form a proper sentence, getting distracted by the tiny strand of milk dripping from your nipples.

“fuck you’re leaking so much” matt mumbled, quickly latching on your chest. he wans’t gonna waste a drop. “nhng— ‘m gon’ have to take care of this while” matt spoke as he tried to swallow the sudden spurts of milk coming. “while our babies don’t come huh?”

“gonna have to keep your mouth in my boobs all day aren’t you?” you cooed, causing matt to nod desperately. his grip and suction got faster, followed by the sudden rutting of his crotch against your bare thigh. matt was far gone now, mindlessly humping, trying to reach his high. you could be mean and make him stop — but the poor boy was enjoying it so much. it really felt like his first time all over again, the desperation, the neediness, the loud, wet noises filling the room.

“seems like you’re the one behaving like a baby now” you said, gently pulling his hair so he’d look at you. “having my milkies and cumming inside your pants? little virgin boys do that” matt groaned at the humiliation, the sweet, warm tone of your voice making it even harder for him to hold back. “mama— please” he managed to speak. “not… not a baby!”

“oh? aren’t you?” you continued the teasing, “then i guess you don’t need this am i right?” you grabbed your own tit, pulling it away from matt.

“no! i do! i need it so bad mama, please let me cum… wan’ be your good boy” matt pouted, begging to keep sucking. “that’s what i thought” you said, letting go of his hair. “be a good boy and cum in your pants for me”.

matt suckled harder than he ever did, trying to get out everything he could. actually, he was probably trying to milk you dry, just so that your tits would need his mouth again. his body tensed before he bucked his hips forward, a sudden warm taking over his boxer as the thick, sticky spurt came out of his slit, filling his underwear with cum.

matt stopped and sighed deeply, letting his body fall flat next to you. “you ruined my dress” you teased, looking at the milk stains on the fabric. “i’ll do the laundry anyways” he chuckled, still coming back from his high. “buy more. i’m gonna ruin all of them”.

matt masterlist | complete masterlist

#matthew sturniolo #matthew sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo x reader #matt x reader #matt x y/n #sub!matt #maria writes matt #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo smut #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #nick sturniolo

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rafelandia · 3 months ago

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Two Babies (dad!Rafe Cameron x fem!reader)

Word Count: 5.4k

Warnings: angst, mentions of smut, pregnancy

Summary: Y/N is pregnant again before she’s ready.

Author's Note: Hello! Please enjoy my first Rafe one shot. I would love to expand on this couple so if you have any requests or any blurbs you'd like me to explore, please send me a message! As always, likes and reblogs are much appreciated - it helps more than you know. Happy reading :)

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t my favorite tiny human,” the pediatrician chimed as she kicked the door to the small examination room shut with her sneaker.

“You must say that to all of the parents that you see,” Y/N blushed, unable to hide the smile that tugged on the corners of her lips.

“I do, but this is one of the rare times when I actually mean it. Those blonde curls! Are you freakin' kidding me?”

She padded over to the miniature exam table to get a better look at the infant that was lying contently on her back and chewing on her pudgy albeit still tiny fingers.

“Let’s take a look at how you’re doing, sweet pea.”

The doctor, Melanie, lifted the stethoscope that was looped around her neck and placed it into her ears. Listening to the baby’s heartbeat to check for any abnormalities, she couldn’t help but give a sympathetic frown when the tiny girl under her tensed up from the cool touch of the metal.

“Nurse’s notes say she’s put on quite a bit. She’s finally caught up to her age group in weight. I’m assuming breastfeeding is going better for you both now?”

Melanie lovingly squeezed the extra chub around the baby girl's thighs.

“Yeah. We don’t really use bottles anymore. Finally got her to latch on and now it seems like all she wants to do it eat,” Y/N chuckled.

“Good! That’s good. There’s nothing wrong with formula like we talked about, so don't overexert yourself if becomes too demanding. Breastfeeding is cheaper though," Melanie chucked, though in her head she was kicking herself. As if this family is in any need to save money. "Is she hitting the milestones? Rolling over? Propping her head up? Babbling a bit?” she continued.

“Babbling, definitely. She keeps us up sometimes because we can hear her talking to herself through the monitor at night,” Y/N poked her tongue out at her daughter in an attempt to get her to smile.

“Having a bit of trouble propping herself up though. She can only do it for a little bit and then she’ll give up. She’s got Rafe's big head, so I’m sure it’s a bit of a struggle.”

Melanie laughed loudly at the mention of her patient’s father, admiring Y/N's wittiness even in the absence of her husband. Given the reputation of the Cameron family, others might think the couple were all work and no play, but Melanie had the privilege of getting to know them behind closed doors. While they took doctor's visits seriously, always paying close attention to what the doctors and nurses had to say regarding the health of their firstborn, her experience with the Cameron's changed her outlook completely. Y/N and Rafe were warm, welcoming, and quite funny sometimes - always making jests at each other or sharing little tid-bits of what their life is like at home. She wished everyone could see them this way. Melanie really wasn't lying when she doted on the little girl, they were the best.

“She’ll get to it eventually. All babies are different. She seems to be coming along quite nicely, though. Nothing abnormal or anything to fuss about. A perfectly healthy six-month-old in my book.”

Y/N sighed in relief, though she knew there was nothing to worry over to begin with.

“How’s mum doing? You taking care of yourself, too? You’re just as important as baby.”

“When I can. Rafe's really good with her. He’ll take over when he sees me struggling, but it seems like she only wants me these days. Think I might be coming down with something, though. I’ve been feeling awful for a few weeks. Like I got hit by a train. I keep reminding myself to go get checked out, but I always get distracted taking care of her,” Y/N gestured to her daughter that was now drooling onto the parchment liner and staring up at the ceiling as if there was something ornately interesting about the popcorn texture that had been stippled onto it.

“When you say, ‘hit by a train,’ what do you mean? I can examine you here if you’d like. As long as it’s nothing serious, I can send you something off to the pharmacy.”

Melanie re-fastened the snaps on the infant’s onesie, making sure not to pinch her chunky legs and placed her back into her mother’s lap.

“Ummm,” Y/N began, “Just extra drained, I guess? Kinda nauseous. I’ve been getting migraines a lot and even when I do get a good night’s rest, I still feel like I could go back to bed for the rest of the day. Maybe I’m just exhausted, I don’t really know. But it just feels a bit different than being worn out like I have been before.”

She could see the wheels in Melanie's head turning, noting each of her symptoms and trying to align them in a path that would lead her to the root of the problem.

“Can I ask you something that might be a bit personal?”

Y/N nodded, rubbing her fingers absentmindedly along the bridge of her daughter’s socked foot.

“Have you and Rafe been intimate since she was born?”

She was taken aback by the question, not understanding where Melanie was going with this or why it was relevant.

“Umm,” Y/N stuttered, feeling a static-y surge of embarrassment travel up her neck and onto the sides of her face, “Yeah. We have.”

A whole fucking lot ever since I’ve been cleared for it, Y/N thought, but kept to herself.

“And can you tell me when your last menstrual cycle ended?”

Then it clicked. She genuinely couldn’t recall her most recent period and even the thought of what Melanie was alluding to made her stomach twist into thousands of tiny knots.

“I- I don’t know. I’ve been so busy with her I don’t even really think about what’s going on with me half of the time.”

Y/N tried to make excuses, anything to avoid the obvious, but judging from the quizzical look on her daughter’s pediatrician’s face, she knew exactly where this was going.

“There’s no way,” she whispered, “I can’t be.”

Melanie's face dropped, now tender and apologetic when she realized that this was news Y/N was not ecstatic to hear.

“I know I’m a pediatrician, so that’s obviously the first thing my mind goes to, but can we at least get you to take a blood test? That way we’ll know for sure?”

Rafe came home to a quiet house. It wasn’t unusual, but seeing as it was well after six o’clock in the evening and his wife wasn’t in the kitchen making the pasta dish she'd been dying for all week was. Their grocery store had been out of her favorite canned tomatoes for over a week and she’d nearly tackled Rafe to the ground out of excitement when he’d come home from the grocery store with them the night before. Had he not seen her car in the driveway, he probably wouldn’t have even suspected her to be home.

He checked the living room first, and it was desolate apart from the baby pink, quilted playmat on the floor that was littered with a few of his daughter’s favorite rattles and teethers. Y/N's coat and purse were abandoned haphazardly on the couch, almost as if she tossed it aside in a hurry to get somewhere.

“Baby?” Rafe called out.

Nothing.

His head peaked into the nursery, stealthily and quietly in preparation to walk in on his daughter taking her scheduled nap before her actual bedtime. He’d gotten good at hushing his footfalls to almost complete silence as to not wake her, having made that mistake more than a handful of times.

And he was right. There she was, sprawled out in her crib with her arms outstretched over her head like a tiny starfish. Her chubby cheeks were smushed against her bicep, drawing her lips open the tiniest bit so that Rafe could see the tops of her fleshy, pink gums and the barely-there nub of her first tooth peeking through. More than anything, he wanted to wake her up - lift her from the plush mattress and cuddle her close, shower her with kisses and tickle her with his scruff to hear those baby squeals he adored so much, but he needed to find Y/N first.

She had to be in their bedroom, he thought to himself. Maybe she was taking advantage of their baby girl napping to also get some rest. She had been rather exhausted lately. Maybe she’d had a rough day and was relaxing in the clawfoot, porcelain bathtub that had been the selling point of the home they now lived in. The houses on Figure Eight were lavish, but not all of the bathtubs were - at least that's what Y/N told Rafe. Who was he to question his bride?

Turns out he was right again. Like he had done with the nursery, he held the metal doorknob tightly in his grip to keep the hinges from creeking and pressed it open gently. The room was completely dark, but he could make out the lump underneath the duvet on their king-sized bed as his wife.

Good. She was sleeping.

He padded across the hardwood floor, still being as quiet as he could until he crossed the threshold of the bathroom. There, he rid himself of the uncomfortable clothes he’d been wearing all day. Curse these professional business meetings that forced him to dress nicely.

All throughout the meetings, he wanted nothing more than to be home with his wife and baby, cuddling the afternoon away and watching shitty reality television while his daughter cooed and grunted and gurgled in her baby voice that he loved so much and could listen to all day. He wasn't always this way - he used to love this shit, but something inside him changed indefinitely when his daughter was born. Rafe was a softy now and he wasn't afraid to admit it. Maybe it was the fact that he’d been having to partake in these boring work meetings a lot more lately, which caused him to miss even the smallest aspects of his everyday life like changing diapers or checking the baby monitor eight hundred times throughout the day to make sure his daughter was still breathing. Perhaps he’d just been getting sentimental because she was growing so much these days, but it was an unpleasant feeling nonetheless.

His thoughts were interrupted when he deposited his heavy watch into the dish he kept on the counter and he heard a quiet yet still prominent sniffle among the clattering of metal against the glass dish.

“Baby? You awake?” Rafe peaked his head out from beyond the bathroom door.

He saw her body shift under the covers, but she gave no response. So he called out again.

“You sick or something? Can hear you sniffling."

Nothing.

Pivoting back around to the inside of the bathroom, he quickly shut off the light and carried himself over to her side of the bed where he could see her properly. Her face was tucked into her chin and all that was visible to him was the top of her head.

“Hey,” Rafe cooed, petting what he could reach of her hair and speaking even gentler than he had been, “What’s wrong?”

And that’s when he heard it - an almost inaudible choking sound of Y/N trying to catch her breath that immediately let him know she wasn’t sick. She had been crying.

“Whoa, baby,” he was already pulling the covers back with force, honestly not caring whether or not she minded the intrusion.

“Tell me what’s going on.”

She was emotionless when he saw what little he could her face, her puffy, bloodshot eyes and swollen lips illuminated by the hallway light being the only indicator that she was upset. She didn’t even react to Rafe tugging her head out from where it had been buried in the covers, simply rolling onto her back to stare idly at the ceiling.

“Y/N,” he called for his wife again, this time much more stern, “You’ve got to talk to me.”

She took several deep breaths through her nose, allowing her lungs to fill to their maximum capacity before exhaling with a sigh. Rafe could have sworn she was sucking all of the oxygen out of the room along with his patience each time she did so.

After what felt like ages, she parted her lips to speak.

“I went to the doctor today.”

“Yeah? For the six-month check up, right?” Rafe asked, not seeing why that was important but his mind quickly went to the worst scenario possible despite having just seen his daughter sleeping peacefully in her crib. He cut his eyes towards the hallway in the direction of her nursery before looking back to Y/N.

“Is she alright?” his voice now demanding urgency in the delivery of her response.

“She’s fine,” she quickly dismissed him, internally kicking herself for making Rafe worry.

“I was telling Melanie about how sick I’ve been lately and she -,” Y/N gulped and rubbed her knuckles against her tired eyes, bracing herself for whatever events unfolded after she said what she was about to say.

“She, umm. She made me take a pregnancy test.”

Now it was Rafe turn to be speechless. He stared at her with furrowed brows and his mouth slightly agape. His palms suddenly felt clammy against the white sheets that they rested on and his stomach felt like it had turned in on itself from how badly it was churning. Of all of the things he had expected to be wrong with her, this was certainly the last on the list.

“And?” he asked after what felt like an eternity of staring at her and saying absolutely nothing, though he already knew the answer.

“Ten weeks.”

Silent tears now spilled over her eyes and down past her temples. She couldn’t even be bothered to wipe them, instead letting them dampen a small patch of hair on either side of her head. Pregnancies weren’t supposed to be sad, but somehow, she had barely been able to stop crying since she left the pediatrician’s office.

“How,” Rafe whispered, moreso to himself than to her.

“I think you know how babies are made, Rafe” Y/N quipped.

“That's not what I meant,” Rafe fired back just as quickly, “It’s just...She’s still so little.”

He thought of his daughter asleep in the next room. She was the most perfect thing he’s ever seen and on the day that she was born, he knew he wanted nothing more than to fill his and Y/N’s house with as many blonde, chubby babies as he could fit beds in each room. He just hadn’t expected that his only child’s first birthday present would be the gift of being a big sister.

It was all too sudden.

“I just don’t know how I didn’t see it sooner. I mean,” Y/N raised her arms above her head before huffing and letting them fall to her sides, “I guess I was just so caught up with the baby that I hadn’t even had a second to think about what’s going on with me. It’s like I don’t even matter anymore and I-”

“Hey, hey now. Don't do that,” Rafe shushed her and curled up next to her frame as she began to sob.

He tucked her head into his neck, hugging her chest tightly as if he was trying to hold the pieces of her together before she shattered. His mind was running a mile per minute. It killed him to see her like this, killed him to be in this situation. The last time they had found out this news, there were happy tears - tears of shock and excitement about taking the next step in building a family. Never had he imagined that the next time they were presented with the very same news, that there would be tears of sadness.

Her voice was muffled against his now wrinkled button-down, but he could still make out what she was saying beneath her blubbers.

“I can’t do this.”

“What do you mean, honey? Of course you can. I can take more time off work like last time and let the boys handle everything for a bit. I know it's not ideal, but we’ll be alright,” he ran his hand up and down her arm in an attempt to soothe her.

“That’s the problem, Rafe.”

He lifted his chin from here it was resting on the top of her head to look down at her.

“What?”

“It's not ideal. You've only just now gotten back to work full time. You said everything almost fell apart while you were gone. It would fuck everything up. Plus, she's only six months old, Rafe. I can't go through that again so soon."

Rafe paused to break away from her and sit up straight against the headboard, “Are you serious? Of course I can take more time off work. You are more important than anything that could possibly be going on at the office.” He was a bit stunned by her words. She almost sounded annoyed, which didn't sit quite right with Rafe.

“But do you see what’s happening? Everything is fucked.”

His voice wasn’t so calm anymore.

“No, Y/N. I honestly don’t. I mean I know this is all happening much earlier than we expected, but what else is there to do? Will you please tell me what you're getting at, because I’m starting to get upset.”

Rafe's lips were pressed in a thin, straight line and his nostrils flared with every breath. Why was she being like this?

“I don’t know what I’m fucking getting at. I’m just overwhelmed."

“And you think I’m not? I'm trying my best to keep it together for your sake if you haven’t noticed,” it almost condescending the way the words rolled off his tongue.

“Oh, excuse me,” Y/N laughed sarcastically.

“Didn’t realize you were the one that's pregnant. Didn’t realize you’re the one that has to grow all big and gross and swollen and be in pain every fucking day to the point where walking to the bathroom feels like a fucking marathon. Didn’t realize you’re the one that has to feel like you're burning alive from the inside out for hours and then just have to lay there while a doctor you’ve never seen before stitches you up because it literally tore your insides apart. Didn’t realize you-”

“For fuck’s sake, I get it!” Rafe was yelling now. They hadn't argued like this since they were much younger, and he absolutely hated it.

“It’s not the same and I’m sorry for suggesting that it was. I'm not sure what you want me to say though. I’m sorry? Is that it? Sorry for getting you pregnant? Sorry for having a job that helps us get anything we want for ourselves and our family? Sorry that I do everything I possibly can to keep you and the baby and everyone else on the fucking planet happy?”

“You’re being an asshole, Rafe,” she was just as angry as he was, scowl evident on her face even in their dimly lit bedroom.

“And you’re not making any fucking sense! Are you telling me you don’t want to keep it? Because I never fucking said that you have to.”

The thought had crossed her mind on the drive home from the doctor’s office, but the feeling left as quickly as it approached. She’d taken one look at her daughter in her car seat through the rear view mirror happily sucking on her teether and knew without a doubt that she couldn’t.

She felt a tidal wave of fresh, salty tears peaking and about to crash over her.

“I don’t want - fuck,” she put her head in her hands.

“I just-,” and then she broke.

Sobs wracked her body, making her shoulders shake up and down. She wasn’t even sure how she had any more left to get out, but it just kept coming. Over and over and over again until it felt like she was being suffocated and that no one was going to save her. She felt Rafe's hands move to rest on her shoulder blades and heard gentle, cooing-like sounds coming out of his mouth, but she couldn’t make out what he had said over the sounds of her own wailing.

“Baby, it’s okay. Just breathe. It’s alri-”

His attempt at subduing her was cut short by shrill cries coming from the digital monitor that sat on their nightstand. Rafe peeked over his shoulder at the screen, seeing that their daughter had woken from her nap and was now demanding the attention of her parents. He couldn’t help but wince as he watched her socked feet flail around in the crib; it was without a doubt that the screaming match they’d just had that stirred her from her sleep, and that hurt him just as much as it did to see his wife crying right in front of him.

Y/N heard it too, somehow. Perhaps it was because she’d been trained to react to every minute sound that she made and could recognize her cries from a mile away in the paralyzing fear that something was wrong with her or maybe it was because she looking for any and every excuse to get Rafe's hands off of her so she could get away from him and escape the argument they’d just had without making the situation any worse than it already was. Regardless, she turned her own neck to peer at the monitor and sighed heavily.

“I’ll go, Y/N. Just stay here.”

“No. I got it. It’s after seven. She’s probably hungry.”

She shrugged Rafe's hands away from her shoulders like his touch physically pained her and climbed over his body and off the bed without another word, not even giving Rafe the chance to take her hand and help her over the edge of the mattress. He knew she wasn’t going anywhere but down the hall and into the nursery, but he couldn’t help but feel like she was walking away from everything.

Y/N stared her daughter while she nursed. She started from the top of her head that was riddled with sandy blonde curls and worked her way down to the tips of her toes that would occasionally flex themselves out of habit. Her hair? Undoubtedly Rafe's. Her eyes? A perfect, entrancing shade of blue akin to Rafe's. Her lips? The same almost inhuman shade of fleshy pink, just like Rafe's. Surprisingly, the only physical trait she’d inherited from her mother was her nose, which was funny considering that Y/N had always hated hers.

She was content, suckling away at Y/N’s breast - her cries of hunger long forgotten. The infant hadn’t even flinched when a few more of Y/N’s silent, cold tears spilled over and left small wet spots where her onesie rested over her belly. She had no idea that her parents were upset with each other and she had no idea that in a little more than six months time, she’d be a big sister and there would be two babies fighting for their attention. Y/N was also clueless, but only as to how she was going to take care of a newborn and a one-year-old simultaneously. She’d always thought she’d have more time than this - more time to spend with just her daughter and Rafe before they decided to have another, but just like her eyes, things always had a funny way of never working out in her favor.

Three soft knocks on the wall withdrew her from her thoughts and she was greeted by her husband idling in the doorway like he needed permission before entering a room in his own house. It was off seeing Rafe Cameron this way - being the one with his tail tucked beneath his legs. It was usually the opposite. He had changed out of his work clothes and was now clad in his favorite pair of sweats that were permanently stained with spit-up. Y/N had tried everything under the sun to get the spots out, but he’d been persistent on not throwing them out.

“Can I come in?”

His voice was barely above a whisper and much calmer than when he’d been yelling at her about twenty minutes ago. He still hesitated crossing the threshold even after Y/N had given him a skeptical nod, but allowed his bare feet to pad over the plush carpet as he joined her on the loveseat in the far corner of the nursery.

He watched their daughter just as Y/N had, taking in her tranquil state as her fingers brushed reflexively against the underside of Y/N’s breast. He’d never been able to pry his eyes away every time he watched her nurse. There were no ulterior motives behind it whatsoever. It amazed him each and every time, how Y/N was able to provide their child with everything that they needed to grow with only her body. At first, Y/N hated that Rafe loved sitting in on her feedings, feeling exposed and unattractive despite Rafe's continuous affirmations that it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever had the privilege of witnessing, but over time she’d grown fond of it.

“I'm sorry for yelling at you,” Rafe started.

“It was uncalled for,” she quipped.

Y/N sniffled, rubbing her swollen eyes with the back of her free hand that wasn’t supporting her daughter’s back as she held her.

“It’s okay. It was a lot to take in. I’m sorry for yelling at you too.”

She couldn’t quite look him in the eye just yet, but she was slowy but surely getting there.

“It's not okay, actually. You’re right. I’m not the one having the baby. It’s you that’s got to do all the hard stuff and I know how scary it was last time. I should've been more considerate before jumping the gun.”

He shifted towards her on the cushions, afraid to touch her just yet but still yearning to be closer to her.

The best Y/N could muster was a quiet, “Thank you,” before she busied herself by attempting to run her fingers through her baby’s hair and untangle the mess she’d created while she was sleeping.

“Can I hold you? Please?” his voice was quiet and pleading.

Now was when she turned to face him and she was met with eyes that were just as red-rimmed as hers. She had heard the bathroom sink running for an abnormally long amount of time and a hard, frustrated pounding against the wall shortly after she’d gone off in the nursery to feed the baby, which meant he must have been trying to muffle the sounds of his own crying when she left their bedroom.

Y/N didn’t say anything, only shifting her weight onto one side so Rafe could easily lift her onto his lap in one swift movement without disturbing their daughter. He tucked her shoulder into his neck and softly kissed her skin and his hands moved to mimic hers so they were both holding the baby that was nodding off again in their arms. She found herself relaxing into his loose grip, her head tilting to the side to rest against his.

“I love you so much. You know that? I’d drop everything for you if I had to. I don't care about any of it anymore.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” she refuted, but there was no malice in her tone.

“I wouldn’t let you. You try to play it cool and I know that things are different now, but I also know that deep down you really like what you do.” The corner of Rafe's lips turned upwards, suppressing a chuckle at the fact that she really does know him that well.

“Well, just know that I would if you wanted me to. I’ve thought about it a thousand times. I want to be here for you. For her. Don’t want to miss anything. I finally got my shot at being normal when I met you and I hate myself sometimes when I think about all of the bullshit I've put you through.”

“Don’t,” Y/N paused to press a chaste kiss to Rafe's cheek.

“You’re a good person, Rafe's. A good dad. A good husband. Please don’t ever think that you’re not.”

She felt moisture pool in the dips of her collarbones where Rafe's chin lied, but she didn’t acknowledge it.

“I’ll be okay. Sorry if I freaked you out earlier. Think I just need some time to get used to it all. Just wasn’t expecting Melanie to drop the ball that I was pregnant when all I was expecting was for her to tell me that our kid is in the 99th percentile for weight and then send me on my way.”

This got a chuckle out of him, almost causing him to choke on his tears. He quickly rubbed the sleeves of his sweatshirt against his eyes to dry up any remaining wet spots on his face.

“She is pretty chunky, isn’t she?” Rafe jested while thumbing over his daughter’s rounded tummy.

After a moment of admiring their little chunk of a baby, with her milk-drunk eyes and puckered lips, Rafe spoke again.

“Two babies,” he huffed.

“Two babies,” she repeated.

His hands moved to caress Y/N’s stomach. She wasn’t showing yet considering that neither of them had even known Y/N was pregnant until today, but he still held her like her belly was the size of a watermelon and he was waiting anxiously to feel a hand or a foot press up against his palm.

“Might be kinda nice. They can share everything and we’ll only have to have one birthday party because they’ll be born around the same time. They’ll go to the same school and probably have the same friends. Kinda like twins.”

“Are you hearing yourself? Rafe Cameron? The party connoisseur? Suggesting his two precious babies share a birthday party?”

Rafe pursed his lips and blushed, recalling the fact that he'd already planned his daughter's first birthday in his head. Down to the tablecloth colors and dinnerware.

“Got me there,” Rafe chuckled.

Their banter was interrupted by a grueling rumbling sound coming from Y/N’s stomach that Rafe could feel throughout his entire body.

“Jesus, Y/N. You hungry too? When’s the last time you ate?”

“Uhh...this morning I think?” Y/N sighed.

“Couldn’t stomach anything when I got home.”

Rafe's heart dropped when he thought of how distraught she’d been all day while he was gone and with everything in him, he’d wished he would have postponed his meetings to go to check up with her and they could have found out together.

“Found those tomatoes at the store the other day, remember? Want me to make that pasta for you?”

“Ohh, yes please,” she immediately perked up at the thought.

“Starting to wonder if that was a craving now that I think about it. Didn’t we have it, what? Three nights in a row a while back?” she proposed.

Rafe giggled as he reluctantly removed Y/N from his lap and stood up from the sofa.

“Thought it was a bit weird that you wanted it so badly, but I know better than to question you.”

“She’s going back down. If you give me a minute, I’ll come downstairs and help you,” Y/N said, pulling up the straps of her tank top after realizing her daughter had long since forgotten about her breast and was conked out in her arms.

“I've got it, mama” Rafe quickly refuted. “Take a bath or something and I’ll bring it up when it’s done.”

“Okay.”

Y/N couldn’t fight the grin growing on her face at the nickname Rafe used that she still hadn’t gotten used to.

When she placed their daughter soundly in her crib, Y/N’s fingers stayed put from where they sat on the railing as she caught herself staring at the sleeping infant once more. Though she’d felt like her world was caving in on her just a handful of hours ago, the pieces were all coming back together now.

Of course, she wanted more children with Rafe. And now she was getting what she wanted. Just like he’d told her back in the bedroom, it wasn’t ideal, but they’d make it work. They always did.

With two babies.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #dad!rafe #dad!rafe x reader #dad rafe #dad!rafe x pregnant!reader #dad!rafe x fem!reader #rafe x pregnant!reader #dad!rafe cameron #mine #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron one shot #drew starkey x reader

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zarameraki · 3 months ago

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🖊️💌 𝘀𝘂𝗸𝘂𝗻𝗮'𝘀 𝗳𝗮𝘃𝗼𝘂𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗲 𝗽𝗿𝗶𝘀𝗼𝗻 𝗽𝗲𝗻-𝗽𝗮𝗹 🖊️💌

: ̗̀➛ tropes: fem! reader 𖥔 minors do not interact 𖥔 prisoner sukuna x his penpal 𖥔 just plot with porn 𖥔 mentions of abuse 𖥔 mentions of sexual assault 𖥔 pussayy eating rawr but also u suck his dick so 𖥔 uraume and toji found family 𖥔 he would kill for you 𖥔 alternate universe 𖥔 nsfw

: ̗̀➛ words: 10k?? idfk it's long

: ̗̀➛ notes: happy halloween, mamas! 🎃 i know ive been MIA for a while but thats because i wasnt feeling creative. but now ive dumped a 10k sukuna fic on you for you to read at 3 in the morning. this one's got a kick to it yall. its long but give the bitch a chance, shes good. if you have any requests, don’t hesitate to send them. pls follow, reblog, like, comment—whatever you want! okay love you and enjoy.

So, this was where you’d ended up—on a site for writing to prisoners. A pen-pal with an inmate.

How lonely did you have to be to fill out your info, pay a yearly fee, and do this? The answer: really, really lonely. Orphaned, friendless, and scarred from a relationship that had left you with broken ribs and a blind eye. And as if to top it all off, you wanted to reach out to a criminal. I guess you deserved at least that small bit of connection.

You scrolled through inmate profiles, noting their crimes—arson, theft, cybercrime, drug trafficking, money embezzlement, and so on. None of them were charged with homicides or serious offences.

One profile did catch your eye. The smirk in his mugshot suggested he’d probably killed someone and managed to evade the cops before they could pin anything on him.

“Sukuna Ryomen,” you whispered, clicking on his profile and staring at a laundry list of crimes. “Aggravated assault, drug manufacturing and distribution, kidnapping—Jesus—extortion, cybercrime, Satanism . . . what the hell?” You chuckled as you scrolled further. “Bank burglary, vandalism of religious properties—so that’s the Satanism part—illegal possession of firearms, stalking?”

Why was this man even on this website, given his long list of crimes?

You zoomed in on his mugshot. Was it wrong to find him attractive despite his record? He truly embodied the term “bad boy,” though he didn’t look like a boy at all. He was ruggedly handsome with hollowed eyes. His light-mink hair was swept back, with a few strands falling over his forehead, and he wore a single hoop earring in his left ear. Black tattoos marked his nose bridge, jaw, and the centre of his forehead, while narrow-eyed designs were inked on his cheekbones.

You wondered if he’d get any letters, given his long rap sheet. Maybe delusional women like you, who’s pussies sang for high-profile criminals, sure.

Licking your lower lip, you picked up a piece of paper and a pen, tapping the end against the sheet as you continued to study his face.

Then you started writing.

Hello, Sukuna Ryomen,

My name is Y/N.

You thought it over. For now, you'd keep it light before diving into your deeper issues. It felt easier to share your thoughts with someone you’d never meet face-to-face than with a stranger in a bar whose only interest was getting into your pants.

You kept writing.

Dear Sukuna Ryomen,

I’m currently living in an apartment complex that’s in desperate need of renovation. I’m harvesting cockroaches—no, I’m not eating them; the fuckers just won’t stop nesting in my kitchen cabinets, and I’m tired of spending money on pest sprays. On top of that, I’m pretty broke, barely managing to keep a roof over my head. I’ve even considered trying to seduce the landlord into reducing my rent, though I doubt any man would find a woman with one working eye appealing. I noticed you have an extra beneath your real eyes. Care to share?

Anyway, this is my first time writing to someone like you, so apologies if it’s a bit awkward. I wish I could send a nude, but I’m pretty sure you’d wish you were blind after that. I feel like I’m rambling like this is my diary, so I should probably wrap it up. If you want to write back, feel free. I don’t mean to sound privileged, but I’m lonely as fuck.

Thank you (?),

Y/N

P.S. About the Satanism—care to explain?

You didn’t bother proof-reading and folded the letter into an envelope, sealing it with a lick. From your drawer, you pulled out a pack of old stickers—remnants of your childhood—and placed one where the envelope met. You wrote the prison address provided on the website and added the stamps you’d bought during your walk, which was your final push into becoming a prison pen-pal. After selecting Sukuna Ryomen on the site and uploading your ID and other required documents, you waited for your profile to be approved.

After three days of waiting, you sent out the letter first thing in the morning and anxiously awaited a response.

Sukuna’s fists collided with the inmate’s face, each strike more brutal than the last. Blood splattered across his knuckles as the crowd of orange-clad convicts roared with twisted delight, their voices a chorus of vile encouragement. “Finish him!” they taunted, while others jeered at the barely conscious man, urging him to get up and fight back, to aim a desperate kick at Sukuna’s balls.

“Sukuna!” A guard’s voice cut through the chaos, and soon the officers were pushing through the throng, shutting the prisoners who dared resist their authority. “Get up, now!”

“Fuck off!” Sukuna snarled, his lips curling into a sneer as he shoved the guard aside. He watched with cold satisfaction as the man lay still, blood pooling beneath him. All this because the idiot had the nerve to laugh when Sukuna missed a three-pointer. Now, the bald bastard had paid the price for his arrogance, and Sukuna breathed in the aftermath—his own dark victory painted in blood and broken bones.

Officer Gojo Satoru strode into the circle, handcuffs gleaming in his hand.

Sukuna's eyes narrowed at the sight of the blue-eyed bastard, a wave of hatred surging through him so fierce he could almost feel his fingers tightening around Satoru's throat. The very thought of choking the life out of him fueled his dark desires.

Satoru’s father—the man responsible for dragging Sukuna down, catching him red-handed with crates of cocaine at the border, and sealing his fate with a fifty-year sentence. If Sukuna had known the old man’s spawn would end up as a deputy officer here, watching his every move with those piercing eyes, he would have never shown up to that cursed delivery. But no—he had wanted to play the good boss, personally seeing his precious cargo off. Now, every day behind bars was a constant reminder of that one fatal mistake, and Sukuna’s rage festered as he thought of the traitor, Yuji. The little fuck who sold him out would pay dearly, and Sukuna was already plotting the perfect revenge.

His own fucking nephew sold him off. Motherfucker wanted the throne for himself—an empire Sukuna built with his bare hands.

“Throw him in the ice box,” Satoru commanded, his voice dripping with that infuriating smugness. The officer roughly cuffed Sukuna’s wrists, shoving him forward. “Cool down, Big Guy. You’re not going any—”

Before he could finish, Sukuna rammed his forehead into Gojo’s nose, relishing the satisfying crunch as the lanky bastard staggered back. The inmates roared with approval from where they were restrained by the other officers.

Gojo chuckled, dabbing at his bleeding nose with a pristine handkerchief, the kind only a spoiled little bitch like him would carry. “You think that’s funny?” he asked, his tone laced with condescension.

“Hilarious,” Sukuna whispered, a dark grin curling at his lips.

“Okay,” Gojo replied with a casual shrug. Without warning, his fist slammed into Sukuna’s jaw.

Once.

Twice.

Three fucking times.

The officers stood by, indifferent, as their captain unleashed his fury. For them, it was just another case of self-defence.

Sukuna finally collapsed to the ground, his vision swimming. Gojo leaned over him, his voice a venomous hiss. “Who’s laughing now?” A final, vicious kick to Sukuna’s chest left him gasping for breath. “Keep him in that freezer until he’s begging to be let out. No meals for a week.”

Sukuna’s vision blurred as he glared at Satoru’s retreating figure, the ringing in his ears barely drowning out the disappointed murmurs of his fellow inmates. His body, battered and beaten, finally surrendered to the encroaching darkness.

When he came to, he found himself in the prison’s infirmary, cocooned in three heated blankets. Yet the warmth did little to pierce the deep, bone-chilling cold that gripped him. The need to piss gnawed at him, but even that seemed distant compared to the icy numbness that had taken hold.

“Welcome back to hell.”

Sukuna raised his head from the pillows to find Uraume, the prison’s doctor. They were also the only person he tolerated, and somewhat close to since he ended up in the infirmary more than once. He hoped they considered him a ‘something’ after he killed a two-hundred pound guy for groping their ass in the cafeteria. How did he do it? He knew Uraume kept a pocket knife in their doctor’s coat and quickly swept it out and stuck it in the dick’s jugular.

“How long have I been out for?” he asked, squirming his arm out of the blanket to rub his eyes.

“A day.”

“What?” Sukuna pulled himself out of the blanket by wiggling around like the fucking worms his cell mate Toji liked to collect every time they went in the courtyard to play. They’re better company than your grouchy ass, he said once. “How long was I in the ice box?”

“Barely an hour.” Well, that’s just pussy behaviour from him. “They pulled you out before hypothermia killed you. What a way to die, am I right?” They chuckled, preparing some pills in a small disposable cup. “Here, take these. They’re nutrients.”

“I could use actual food.” Sukuna downed them like a shot. God, he missed alcohol. “That blue-eyed bitch restricted my meals for a week.”

“Fuck him.” Uraume took out a sandwich from their bag and threw it in Sukuna’s direction. “Just fake illness when you’re hungry. I’m always here to feed my favourite dog.”

Sukuna snorted. “Go to hell.”

“Already here.” Uraume clipped back their white hair with the back dyed red. Like someone smashed their head into the wall and the colour just bled to the sides. “Oh, this came for you.”

Sukuna shoved the sandwich in his mouth and stretched his muscles before walking over, snatching the letter. It was already opened, a flimsy teddy-bear sticker hanging from the paper. “What the fuck is this?”

“A letter.”

“A letter? For me?”

Uraume broke their attention from the computer to look at him. “Remember when you had me register you on that prison pen-pal bullshit after Toji received a pile of fan letters?”

Sukuna blinked.

He definitely remembered being jealous when Toji got a letter from an artist who drew herself naked on paper for him, and a shit ton more asking for his dick size or when he’ll be out. Of course, Sukuna was envious of the attention. Plus, no one in prison made good company. He just wanted the taste of the outside world again after being locked in for five years now. Even if it was through ink on paper.

But then Sukuna looked down at his first ever letter torn open. “Why is this open? Who read it?” If it was Satoru, he was going to rip his eyeballs from his sockets and feed it to Toji’s pet worm.

“Relax. They’ve got to identify if there’s any substances attached to the paper, or any other shady shit. Whoever wrote to you is just a harmless nobody.”

Sukuna frowned, bringing the letter up to his nose. It smelled like a plain envelope. No drugs, nothing.

He found purchase on the bed again, pulling out the folded paper and ironing the creases out on his leg. Here we go.

He began reading each word carefully.

A week went by since you’d mailed your letter to Sukuna Ryomen. A week of pure torture to hear something back from the criminal. You’d relaxed on Sunday because the post offices are closed, but on Monday, you were at your mailbox, watching the mailman sort out letters and slip them through the boxes.

Once he left, you dashed to your box and flipped through the coupons, flyers, newsletters—

Your breath hitched.

Everything dropped from your hand except the cream envelope with an address from the prison. You didn’t care about reading it upstairs and quickly, yet carefully, tore it open from the side, reading the writing.

Trying to read it.

Sukuna had terrible handwriting. It made you giggle.

You leaned against the mailboxes and murmured the words written under your breath.

Hey, Y/N

I don’t know how to start a letter since I’ve never written one so don’t mind if I hurt your little feelings. Don’t know if you’re aiming to entertain me or bore me to death with this “dear diary” bullshit. I thought I’d get a nude, at the very least. Hell, Toji over here—yeah, the bastard who was on the news last year with a thing for setting houses on fire—gets way better fan mail every week. Pictures, drawings, mostly nudes. And I get your whining about rent and cockroaches?

Look, I may be locked up, but I’m giving you some advice here. Don’t fuck your landlord. You’ve got one eye? Good—use it. Hell, that’s already intimidating enough. Threaten the prick to call pest control, or better yet, trap those damn cockroaches and give him a taste. Stuff a few down his throat if he still doesn’t take you seriously. People respect action, not whining.

Speaking of. One eye? Really? Now, how’d it happen? Was it torn out? Still got some sight in it, or is it just gone? That’s gangster. Hot, even. I’d fuck a one-eyed chick. Maybe when I’m out we can cross that off my bucket list. Nah, I’m just playing with you.

Or maybe I’m not.

Think on it.

Hate (in a friendly way),

Sukuna.

P.S. Yeah, I took out some satanist scum who tried kidnapping one of my people’s kids. But don’t go thinking I’m in with those freaks. I’m just the Devil they wish they could be.

“Woah,” you breathed out, hugging the letter to your chest. This was it. This was what you were waiting for. A pull towards something real, something thrilling. It’s all you’ve been craving for eons now.

“Whatcha got there, sweetie?” The voice snapped you back, harsh as nails against glass. Your landlord had wandered out of his door on the first floor, wrapped in a faded bathrobe and gripping his mug like some king holding court. “Made a mess on my floor with your papers.”

“Sorry,” you muttered, quickly tucking Sukuna’s letter back into its envelope and reaching down to gather the stray papers scattered on the floor. When you straightened, he was already in your space, close enough that the coffee on his breath made you flinch.

“Excuse me—”

“You’re excused.” His smirk widened as he leaned in, his nose grazing your neck. The greasy warmth of his breath made bile rise to the back of your throat. “Just wanna take a little bite out of you.”

Sukuna’s advice echoed in your mind. You’d never—never—think of following through with his revolting insinuation. But letting this sleaze get away with treating you like this? No. Not anymore.

“Step away,” you commanded. “Now.”

He blinked, then chuckled, dismissive. “Feisty today, huh? Got a letter from your boyfriend in prison, sweetie?” How did he know that? Fuck. Did he go through your mail before it was deposited? “Let me guess—you think he’s got your back now?” He leaned even closer, the stench of his laugh wafting in the air. “Come on, where's that one eye of yours aiming, sweetheart?”

“Next person who mentions my eye eats the dirt,” you snapped, every ounce of your resolve boiling up. “And as for what I’ve got—it’s something way out of your league, old geezer. So get the hell back to your apartment, and call pest control now.”

For a second, he was stunned, face going pale as your words sank in. But you could feel Sukuna’s thrill, his twisted approval in the back of your mind. You’d tapped into something that wouldn’t settle. But then, “Well, I’ll be damned. Someone put on their big girl panties.”

Your jaw tightened as you held your ground, taking small breaths. You’d rehearsed this moment in your head, picturing a confrontation that ended with him backing down. But things never went as planned with him.

“I’m not here to beg,” you said evenly. “But I’m not gonna let you walk all over me, either. I pay rent. It’s your responsibility to keep this place livable.”

He snorted, raising his coffee mug and giving you a once-over that made your skin crawl.

“Not for free, sweetheart. You’ve gotta give me something worth my time.” His eyes travelled down your body.

Your pulse throbbed in your ears, but you squared your shoulders. “I’m already paying rent. It’s your right to ensure your tenant's safety.”

His face darkened, lips curling into a bitter smile. “Not when that tenant’s acting like a spoiled little bitch.” And then, with a flick of his wrist, he launched the mug’s contents right at you.

You dodged, but a few hot droplets scorched your arm, leaving a raw sting that only fueled your anger. He laughed, shaking his head with a mocking scowl. “Get the fuck out of my sight before I kick you out on the streets.”

You didn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry. You turned on your heel, heading back upstairs with quick steps, forcing the tears back until you could lock the door behind you. Once inside, you slumped to the floor, breathing hard. The letter from Sukuna crackled beneath your hands, and you clutched it close to your chest, feeling the heat of humiliation turn into something fiercer, darker.

“Damn it,” you whispered to yourself, pushing back to your feet with renewed energy. You marched to your desk, grabbed your notebook and pen, and let the words pour out, hurried and jagged. If anyone would understand this kind of anger, it was him—the one man whose entire life was carved from rage.

And this time, you wouldn’t hold anything back.

“Letter for you, Ryomen.”

Sukuna dropped down from his top bunk, snatching the letter right out of the guard’s hand.

“From your girl?” Toji asked from across the table, flipping a card, halfway to beating Sukuna in Blackjack.

“Not my girl,” Sukuna grunted, tearing into the envelope. But still, he smirked as he unfolded your letter.

Hey, Sukuna.

Fuck my landlord to hell and back. I need you to know I’d kill him if I could get away with it. I’m trying to keep this “ethical” so they don’t cut off my letters, but let’s just, I hate the elderly. They should be rotting in retirement houses instead of owning properties and doing a shit job running them. That senile asshole threw hot coffee at me this morning. Burning. I nearly shattered the damn mug over his skull.

Sukuna’s eyes narrowed, his fingers squeezing the letter hard enough to crumple the edges.

And now he’s saying he’ll kick me out, as if I have anything to pay him with. This place is a dump, anyway. I might hit up one of those shelters for women, maybe hop from couch to couch for a bit. My job at corner store’s giving me scraps; it’s not nearly enough to get by. So yeah, you could say I’m screwed.

And to answer your question about my eye—yeah, I’m blind in it. Got it from a real piece of work I used to call a boyfriend. He decided my face was fair game, and thought I could just live with it. But he's dead now. Overdosed last I heard from his brother. Good riddance, am I right?

Oh, and for that kink of yours you mentioned—sending my picture along with a little extra treat.

Hate (because I’m about to go crazy here), Y/N

P.S. For all the things you’ve done, I can’t lie—the world you talk about sounds safer than this one. Well, except for you committing the most heinous crimes.

Toji clicked his tongue. “Look at that dumbass grin on your face.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Sukuna muttered, flipping the letter over—and there it was: a stick drawing of a woman lying on a bed, two messy circles for her chest, legs spread wide, and what looked like . . . well, he didn’t need to guess. Sukuna went from grinning to outright laughing. “She’s hilarious.”

“Not just that. She’s sexy as fuck,” Toji said, holding up a photo, ripped clean in half.

Sukuna’s eyes flashed. He swiped the photo and pieced it back together, cursing himself for tearing through the envelope like a brute. But as the two halves reconnected, he felt his pulse kick up, hard.

“Well, shit.” You were more than just beautiful. The way your hair fell, the curves of your body wrapped in that short black dress, standing under a streetlamp with the city lights glinting around you . . . But it was the smile—the easy, teasing grin—that really did it for him. “I’m definitely jerking off tonight.” Respectfully, of course.

“Can we get back to the game now, or—”

“Fuck the game. I’ve got a letter to write.” And a plan brewing to get you out of that dump and right where he wanted you.

Your landlord was pronounced dead.

An ambulance had arrived early in the morning, around nine, waking up every tenant. You were one of them, groggy from your sleep, and all the crying you’d done from realising how high rent was these days.

Apparently, he had a heart-attack, said one of the residents.

He was eighty, said another.

You stuck to the back of the crowd as his body was wheeled out on the stretcher. How could he have died just five days after you sent your last letter to Sukuna? It couldn’t have been him, could it? Maybe one of his associates? Given the man’s extensive criminal history, you suspected he had some serious connections.

As the crowd began to disperse a few minutes later, you joined them but didn’t head upstairs. Instead, you made your way to the mailroom.

And luckily, Sukuna’s letter was present.

All he wrote was:

You’re welcome.

Neutral,

Sukuna.

You broke out laughing, or crying. Whatever it was, it felt good. So good.

Hey, Sukuna!

These days, I’m feeling calm. Really calm. I’m sleeping well, eating better, even starting to enjoy work. Sometimes, I’m scared it’ll all get snatched away. By who? I don’t know. Life’s been that way, though. I’ve lost so much—my parents, my friends, even my left eyesight. At one point, I lost my will to keep going. But I guess some part of me held on, believing a better day would come.

Turns out, those days are here. Who would’ve thought a felon could make me feel less alone? I know it sounds crazy, but my life’s been full of surprises lately.

If you think you can’t bring happiness to someone, I’m here to tell you you’re wrong. I’m genuinely happy, and it’s thanks to you. I already think of you as a friend—and I hope you think of me the same way. You don’t get a choice in that, by the way.

Love (genuinely), Y/N

P.S. I’d like to come visit you sometime soon.

Sukuna lowered the letter, his eyes settling on the wall where he’d pinned up your picture. “Toji?” he called out, still staring at the photo.

Toji paused mid-pushup, raising an eyebrow. “What, bitch?”

Sukuna let out a low laugh, barely shaking his head as he spoke. “I think I’m in love.”

Hello, Y/N.

When I’m out in fifty years, I’ll give you a real surprise. And don’t write me any more of that sentimental crap, alright? Save it for when you visit. I’d rather hear it in person.

Hate (but maybe not so much), Sukuna

P.S. You’re beautiful.

You pressed the letter to your chest, biting your lip as warmth spread across your cheeks, your face aching from how much you were smiling. It was official—you were falling for Sukuna Ryomen. You’d have to look your absolute best for your visit. Just the thought of seeing him, hearing his voice, maybe even feeling his hand brush yours, made your heart race. You’d kiss him if they’d let you. And if they didn’t? What could the guards do? Throw you in jail? Now that would be ironic.

But fifty years . . . Would you really wait fifty years for Sukuna to be released? How high was his bail, anyway, that even his hidden cash stash wasn’t enough to cover it? He had to have some kind of pull with the right people, didn’t he?

With a sigh, you grabbed a piece of paper and began to write your reply.

Sukuna,

Fifty years is a lifetime, don’t you think?

Love, Y/N

Sukuna read the short note you’d sent, surprised by how much you’d poured into just a few lines. He noticed small, faded dots on the paper—tears, unmistakably yours. You’d been crying, and it didn’t sit right with him. His stomach tightened, but thankfully, he’d already secured your visit through Uraume, who handled it while Gojo was away.

Now, all that was left was seeing you.

He wondered how he’d keep his hands to himself after all the nights he’d spent memorising your picture, losing himself in thoughts of you. Every night before sleep, every morning when he woke, every time Toji was out cold and couldn’t hear Sukuna’s barely-stifled groans as he imagined you were there. God, he wanted to steal you away.

The day of your visit finally came. Sukuna was led to the visitor room, wrists cuffed, flanked by two guards. He hadn’t set foot in this room since a couple of his associates had visited months back with updates on the family business and Yuji’s latest fiascos. They’d kept everything running despite his brother’s mess-ups, and Sukuna owed them.

He glanced down at his hands. Fifty years. He’d been scheming for a way out since he first set foot in here, but now, with you in the picture, the urge to escape was relentless. Bail was twenty million. Even if he could scrounge it up, he doubted he could get it done without tipping off the wrong people. No, his only real option was breaking out.

“Sukuna.”

A soft voice pulled his head up slowly. He couldn’t remember the last time his name was spoken with such warmth.

“Y/N.”

He shot up from his seat, his eyes flicking to the guards stationed in the corner before letting himself drink you in. You looked stunning—a soft sundress, hair delicately curled, makeup enhancing every curve and angle of your face. His gaze lingered on your eyes, marvelling at the contrast: one foggy, hazy, while the other was bright and striking. A smirk pulled at his mouth, but he softened it for you.

“Hey,” he whispered, the one word holding more emotion than he’d ever admit, especially with witnesses around.

“Hi,” you whispered back, eyes lowering down his muscled body, the pattern tattoos like rings around his wrist and with the first three buttons of his jumpsuit unbuttoned, you found the top of the rings on his pecs as well. His light-pink hair was brushed down, the tendrils poking his reddish-brown eyes. A peculiar colour. “Hi.”

He smiled. “You already said that, baby.”

Baby. Gosh, you were even more nervous now.

“They said I can’t shake your hand.” You looked at the cuffs on his wrists and tossed a glare at the guards. “Or hands.”

“Fuck them.” Sukuna sat down and you followed. “You’re stunning.”

You blushed. “Thank you.”

“Not gonna compliment me back?” His deep voice was cocky, smug. You loved it.

“You’re handsome and you know it.”

“I sure do.”

You chuckled and Sukuna watched you with a soft expression. “Thanks for . . . you know.”

He understood the words you mouthed and smiled. “A little Ricin never hurt anyone.”

“How did you pull it off?”

His eyebrow arched in surprise. “Just because I’m stuck in this hellhole doesn’t mean I’ve lost everyone’s respect out there. Blood is thicker than water in my clan—except when it comes to my nephew. I just want to drain it out of him.”

Your own smile faltered. “Well . . . I’d like to have coffee with you. But fifty years, Sukuna, is too long.”

He sighed. “I know.”

“Isn’t there any way to get you out?”

Sukuna saw the longing on your face and wanted nothing more than to hold it in his hands and stare at you for hours. He just couldn’t believe you were real. He would’ve killed you if you were cat-fishing him. “I really want to touch you,” he whispered instead. He did. He really fucking did.

You pinched your lips in a smile. “Me, too.”

Sukuna placed his hands on the table and grabbed both of yours. They were so soft and small. He wanted to kiss each finger. Knuckle. Vein.

“Hands off, Ryomen,” the guard warned. He didn’t relent, and simply winked at you. “I said hands off.”

“Fuck you,” Sukuna spat back.

“Visit’s over.” The pair of guards pried Sukuna away, making you reach out for him with a protest.

“I’ll see you this weekend.” Sukuna winked and let the guards drag him away.

You sat stunned before the officers escorted you out of the visiting room and apologised on his behalf.

When the weekend finally rolled around, you found yourself standing at the prison gates once more, entering alongside a pair of guards.

Waiting by the visitor room was a towering figure with straight silver hair and striking blue-eyes. You got a closer look at the badge—Satoru Gojo. You’ve read the name in one of Sukuna’s letters complaining about him.

“Y/N. What a pleasant surprise,” he greeted, waving away the guards and pressing a hand on your back, leading you down the opposite direction.

“We can chat another time, officer. I’ve got to meet Suku—”

“He can wait. Prison teaches a man patience. He’s got fifty more years left. Plenty to visit then.” Gojo opened the door and guided you inside. The shutting made your shoulders flinch. The lock clicking had dread pooling in your stomach. “Sit. Would you like anything to drink?”

You eyed the dark setting bathed in a golden light from a corner lamp. There was a cart with a decanter set and a mini-fridge to the right. A bookshelf and a wardrobe on the left. “I’m fine, thank you.”

Gojo shrugged and poured himself whiskey before taking his seat behind his table. You sat opposite him. “So, what’s your relationship with my favourite prisoner?”

You blinked. “Uh, we’re just pen-pals.”

“Lying to a police officer is a serious offence.”

“I’m telling the truth,” you said. “We’re strictly pen-pals.”

“I’ve read your letters to know that isn’t true, Princess. So unless you want to sit there and lie to my fucking face, I suggest you start using that mouth for good and tell me the goddamn truth.” He slammed his glass down, but his face remained smiling with false politeness.

You felt suffocated in the office, eyes darting left and right for anything sharp in case he tried some other method to get you to talk.

“I’ve been in this field for a decade now to know when someone is hiding something from me,” Gojo continued, taking a leisure sip from his drink. “I have a file on you, Y/N. You’re an only child, with no proper education or a stable job. You’re one bad decision away from being trafficked. You’re submissive, a follower, who if went missing, no one would look for.” Tears welled your eyes at his words. “And I know that bastard’s the reason you’re still living in that dump you call home.”

That was the last nail in the coffin.

“I’ve been following you since your first letter,” he said quietly. “You think I don’t know what you’re up to? Oh, Princess, you couldn’t be any more wrong.” He stood up and rounded his way to you.

You quickly scrambled out of your seat. “Please. I don’t know anything. I—I don’t—Sukuna’s a friend, yes, but I’m not involved in any of his criminal activities.”

“Friend?” Gojo spat out. “That man is the last person you’d ever want as your friend.” He stalked forward and you retracted. “He’s committed more crimes in his lifetime than any other man. He’s killed half the people in this country, extorted money from politicians, burned down houses for fun, and killed my father!” He grabbed the collars of your dress and slammed you back into his wardrobe door. A cry ripped from your throat. “And you, a nobody, has the audacity to call that fucker a friend? Sweetheart, you’re just a ploy, a pawn, a time-pass for him. A hole to warm his cock in.” A sardonic chuckle. “That’ll never happen since he isn’t getting out anytime soon. But, hey, maybe I can prepare you for him.”

Your breath quickened, a whimper slipping past your lips. “How does that make you any better than him?”

Gojo smiled and brushed his lips over your ears. “Because I have the power to get away with it.”

Your eyes, frightened and flickering, dragged up to his blue-ones.

In the blink of an eye, you slapped him across the face, taking him by complete surprise and broke free from his hands. He leaped towards you as you unlocked the door and ran out and down the hall, shouting for help.

A pair of officers turned the corner.

“Help, please!” You fell into the arms of one of them. “Please, he’s going to hurt me!”

“Who?” one asked with concern.

“Satoru Gojo!”

They exchanged a look and briskly turned away, leaving you standing. Their spines straightened as Gojo walked down the hallway, flattening a hand down his chest. The duo saluted him and walked away with their heads down.

Your heart sank.

You had no power here.

“I told you, Princess,” Gojo purred, prowling towards you, “this is my domain.”

You cried out and ran towards the visitor’s room. The door knob was locked and could only be opened with a keycard. “Help!” You slammed your palms on the surface. “Please, someone! Help—ah!”

Gojo gripped the back of your hair and pulled you from the door. “Perfect timing, actually. I’d like to see the look on Ryomen’s face before I split his woman on my cock.” He swiped the card and opened the door, pushing you inside but controlling you with the grip he had on your head.

Sukuna was already standing and enraged, held back by two guards who struggled. He must’ve heard your helpless cries. You wish he didn’t have to. “Let her go, Gojo!”

“Oh, I will,” said Gojo, “as soon as I’m done with her.”

Sukuna growled, thrashing against his restraints. “You fucking prick, I’m gonna tear you in half if you touch her!”

“Like this?” Gojo squeezed your left breast and laughed.

Sukuna elbowed one of the guards in his nose, momentarily seeking freedom to hit the other. Hope blossomed in your chest as he fought them off and made his way towards you.

Gojo chuckled and pulled out his gun, shooting Sukuna in the leg. You jumped with a scream as he fell to the floor, clutching his thigh. “All this chaos for a common whore,” he muttered. “Come on, Princess. Let’s put you to good use.”

“No, please!” You shouted as he dragged you away. “Sukuna, no! Sukuna!”

“Y/N.” Sukuna reached his arm out, his hand curling into a fist and falling defeatedly onto the floor. “Don’t hurt her, please.” His face was squeezed in pain, as the guards kept him pinned to the floor. “Please! Don’t fucking hurt her—”

The door closed shut, and the last sight before your eyes was Sukuna crying.

Sukuna hadn’t heard from you in over a month.

He’d also spend the month in the infirmary after Uraume did an extensive surgery on his leg. It hadn’t hit a vital artery. He believed Satoru’s aim was calculated to keep him alive. To continue letting him suffer.

Sukuna also went quiet. He hadn’t spoken a single word to anyone except murmuring to himself. He read back on your letters, slept with the papers under his pillow, if he slept at all.

Every morning, afternoon, night, in and out of his dry sleep, he was plotting a way to get out of this hell and find you. Would you even want to see him? Would you even care? Were you even alive? He’d dragged you into his mess, put you in danger, and fell into Satoru’s disgusting trap.

“You need to eat something, Sukuna,” Uraume advised as they have been since his injury. They placed the tray in front of him. “At least eat the yogurt.”

Were you eating? Were you still living in his house? Were you alive? That question rang in his head again.

“For fucks sake.” Uraume brought forth a stool and sat next to his bed, staring at the side of his face. “What the hell do you want to do?”

He wanted to kill Satoru first. Then escape with Toji since he was the only bastard he trusted in this place. Then find you and run away from the law as far as possible. It was a simple plan that required efficiency.

“Are you gonna talk—”

Sukuna shoved the tray aside, the food falling onto the floor. He was irritated by the questions outside and inside of his head. “I need to find her,” he mumbled to himself. “I need to know if she’s alive.” Please, baby, please be alive.

“Everything all right in here, doc?” One of the guards stationed outside the door asked with his head peering through the door.

Sukuna stared at him, then went back to Uraume. They met his eyes with their blank stare. They scanned down his body, to his injured leg, then back to his head.

A sigh left them. “No,” they replied. “Do you mind helping me clean up the mess?”

Sukuna gritted his jaw as the guard walked in, closing the door and crouching down, grumbling curses at Sukuna. Uraume stood from their stool and made their way to the cabinet, pulling out a syringe and a small vial.

Sukuna's eyes lightened, spine straightening. A smile curved at his lip as they flicked the droplets from the tip of the injection and walked over, making small-talk about the weather.

Suddenly, Uraume jabbed the needle into the officer’s neck and pushed down the plunger. He fell to his side, clutching his neck and staring up at them as they shrugged. Sukuna watched with pure delight as his body began to convulse, foam gathering at this mouth and dripping from the side.

Then he stopped.

“He’s dead,” Uraume said before Sukuna could ask. “Works the night shift so you won’t have a problem running into anyone else. Change into his clothes. I’ll drive.” They walked away to grab a face mask.

“Why?” asked Sukuna.

Uraume sighed, head dropping. “Because I fucking hate it here.”

Sukuna was definitely going to hire them once he killed his Gojo, and his nephew.

He quickly changed into the officer’s clothes, giving him a hard kick in the stomach that had Uraume rolling their eyes.

Sukuna followed behind as they led the way. “Let’s take Toji.”

“Why?” they asked. “That’s a hassle.”

“Just feel bad.”

“And when did you start feeling guilt?” Uraume easily slipped past the security gate, waving to the officer who was busy on his phone.

“I don’t know,” he said, smiling because he knew. Sure, you’d only touched him once, but your letters were what truly began to change him. Just the other day, he’d lost a round of blackjack, stacking his debt to Toji by a million, and instead of knocking the guy out cold, Sukuna shook hands and called it a ‘good game.’ “On second thought, let’s leave him here for the time being.” Until he got his money in check.

Once they settled into Uraume’s car, Sukuna quickly discarded the officer's cap, tie, and badges. Uraume entered your address from the letters, and they drove in silence for the next thirty minutes.

When they arrived, the building matched your description: shitty.

Uraume stopped Sukuna before he could leap out of the car. They scanned the street for any signs of police presence. “Go. I’ll wait here.”

Sukuna nodded and dashed out of the car, walking inside the apartment. There was no buzzer system, which meant anyone could stroll in, armed and dangerous. This was a problem. He needed to get you out of here and into one of his safe houses—a hidden place even his bastard nephew didn’t know about.

He hurried up the emergency stairwell to the tenth floor, slightly winded by the time he reached door 1090.

This was it.

With his hands gripping the edges of the door, he hunched forward, heart racing. Please, be alive.

Finally, he knocked.

He chewed the shit out of his bottom lip, hissing impatiently through his teeth. “Come on, Y/N.” He knocked again, his impatience boiling over. “It’s me, Sukuna! Please, open the door.” He pounded harder, fear creeping in with each passing second. The Sukuna Ryomen was . . . scared. “Goddammit!”

“Sukuna . . .?”

He halted mid-breakdown and turned slowly, his heart dropping at the sight of you standing there with two bags of groceries. You looked so fragile, your complexion pale, and the radiance he remembered from your visit had completely vanished.

The grocery bags slipped from your hands and fell to the ground.

In an instant, you both rushed toward each other, and he lifted you off the ground effortlessly. You wrapped your arms around him, sobbing uncontrollably as he buried his hand in the back of your hair, inhaling the comforting scent of your body wash.

“It’s okay, baby,” he whispered. “It’s okay, I’m here.” His eyes were directed straight ahead, and he was shaking. Terribly. “I’m here, sweetheart.”

You pulled back, cradling his face in your small hands. Gently, you brushed aside his dark, mink-like hair, tracing the tattoos on his skin with your fingertips. “You’re alive,” you whispered, overwhelmed by relief. You couldn’t help but touch him, and he simply smiled, allowing you the closeness. “God, you’re alive. Sukuna—you’re really alive. How?”

“Of course, I am. I just needed to know you were alive,” he replied, his hands enveloping your cheeks. “Where did you go? Why did you stop writing to me?”

Your face went blank. “What do you mean?”

“Your letters. You stopped writing to me.”

“They . . .” Your voice cracked. “They told me you were sentenced to death.”

He was taken back. “What the fuck?”

Realisation dawned upon you. The second time you visited Sukuna, Satoru had literally dragged you out of the station, kicking you out the doors. He’d threatened to take you to his office next time, but since he had a meeting with officials that day, he’d reluctantly let you go. That didn’t stop you from sending countless letters, pouring your heart out until, two weeks later, you finally received a notification from the police station. Sukuna had been sentenced to death by lethal injection and was no longer alive. You’d cried for days on end. You imagined he had been cremated and reduced to ashes, stored away somewhere. The thought shattered you. For an entire month, you couldn’t bring yourself to leave your house.

Until tonight.

And he was here. Sukuna was here. He was alive.

“Y/N,” he murmured, his thumb gently brushing the area below your sightless eye. “Let’s head inside, alright?”

You nodded, pressing a soft kiss to the underside of his wrist. He held your hand tightly while using his other arm to carry your grocery bags. Once you reached your apartment, you opened the door and locked it securely. The deadbolt you had installed was a precaution against Satoru, just in case he showed up.

“I’m so happy you’re al—”

Sukuna kissed you before the words could leave your mouth. You wrapped your arms around his neck, moaning from the taste of his lips, the taste you’d been craving for months now. He didn’t allow you to breathe, didn’t pull away. You both stood there in the alcove, kissing for minutes, clinging to each other. He cupped the back of your head and drew apart from your lips, peppering kisses over your face, especially your foggy eye.

“I don’t want to fuck you, baby,” he whispered in your ear. “I want to make love to you. For hours.” Your grip tightened in his shirt. “Then I need you to pack everything in a bag and run away with me.”

“Run away?” You searched his dark-reddish eyes. “Run away where?”

His knuckles grazed your wet cheek. “Somewhere not even God can find us.”

You swallowed hard. “They’ll send out a manhunt, Sukuna. What if we get caught? What if they take you—”

He cut you off with a kiss. “No one is going to take me away from you. Do you get that?” His strong fingers moved through your hair. “I’d turn this world to dust before that happens.”

Your insides melted from the threat. “Take me,” you murmured over his lips. He kissed you. “Take me everywhere, anywhere, wherever, as long as it’s with you.”

Sukuna lifted you effortlessly, carrying you like a bride as he kicked open your bedroom door. He set you down on the bed, then began stripping off his clothes, revealing the geometric tattoos that marked his thighs and torso. You were caught off guard by how quickly he moved, fumbling to take off your sweater and jeans. By the time you looked back at him, he was already naked, and your gaze dropped to what you could only describe as a gloriously, long erection.

“Woah,” you whispered, feeling your mouth go dry. “You’re abnormally big.”

“You can take it.” He leaned over you, tearing your panties without a second thought. Before you could protest about them being your favorite pair, he spread your legs and went down on you. “Oh, my god—Sukuna—wait—”

“Waited too long,” he growled, his mouth finding your clit as he buried his nose between your wet folds. He nipped, licked, and bit, his tongue plunging deep into you, creating messy sounds that filled the air. You couldn't form words or catch your breath, gripping the roots of his hair tightly.

When you came like a flood, Sukuna lifted your hips, making sure not a single drop of you was lost to the sheets. He let out loud, deep moans as he sloppily lapped at your sensitive cunt.

He wiped his glistening mouth with his fingers and then pressed them against your lips. You eagerly sucked on his warm, thick digits, noting the lustrous glint in his eyes. He pulled his fingers out abruptly. “Suck my cock.”

Suck his what?

You looked down and saw him leaking at the tip. You clenched your legs, unsure. He wanted you to take that into your mouth?

You licked your lips, managing to kneel while he stood before you. He took hold of himself, rubbing the tip against your lips. You instinctively flicked your tongue out to taste him, causing him to flinch. “Sorry—”

“Don’t apologize.” He seemed to enjoy it. “Just take it in your mouth.”

You nodded, wrapping your fingers around his hot, veiny length. You opened your jaw as wide as you could and slowly took him in. His head fell back, and he engulfed your face with his palms. Your performance was mediocre, and yet he was entertained.

His tip pressed against the back of your throat, making you pull back to cough. He laughed softly, brushing your cheek with his hand.

“Come on, baby. You need to get used to it.”

“I’ve never done this before,” you replied, your voice shaky as you reached for him again.

“Stick your tongue out.”

You took a deep breath and extended your tongue. He rested the head of his cock on it and started to move his hips slowly.

Slowly, you took him in, feeling his satisfaction as he gently rocked his hips back and forth. He tasted warm and a little salty, and you found your hand wandering between your legs, seeking some relief.

“I’m going to pick up the pace, alright, baby?”

You nodded in response.

“Don’t be embarrassed if you choke,” he said, hooking a stray lock behind your ear. “It’ll just make me come faster.”

With that, he thrust deeper, and you gripped his hips tightly, struggling to catch your breath. He noticed and pulled back slightly to give you a moment, but it was brief before he pushed back in again. “You’re taking me so well, baby. Fuck.” His movements became more feverish, and you felt the pressure building as you choked and gagged, saliva escaping at the corners of your mouth. “Fuck, I’m gonna come. I’m gonna come down your throat.”

You tapped his leg, shaking your head.

“No?” He smirked. “You don’t want me to come down your throat?”

You shook your head again and pointed between your legs.

In an instant, Sukuna pulled out. He flipped you onto your chest, lifting your ass up in the air. Without a second thought, he thrust himself deep inside you, and you cried out his name into the pillow.

He felt so full, so thick, pushing into you with a force that made your breath hitch. It was everything you needed—so good, so fucking good. “Fuck, you’re tight,” he groaned. He filled you completely, driving into you with a fast rhythm that left you moaning, completely lost in the pleasure.

Your nails clawed at the sheets as his thick tip pressed against your womb, punctuated by the stinging slaps of his hands against your ass. He showered you with a blend of sweet and dirty words—“good fucking girl,” “cock slut,” “so perfect and tight,” “little whore”—and you pushed back, needing him deeper and deeper.

Sukuna released a torrent of warm cum inside you, still driving his hips against you, holding you securely by the waist. The sensation sent waves of pleasure through you, and he pulled out, flipping you onto your back. He bent your knees, driving himself back inside without hesitation. How was he still so hard?

Your hands cupped his flushed, beautiful face, a lazy smile stretching across both your lips. Sukuna leaned in, kissing you deeply before trailing his lips down to your neck while his hand found its way to your breast. “I’m not on birth control anymore, you know?”

“Good.” He pulled back to meet your gaze. “And don’t even think about getting back on it.”

“But we can’t afford the risk, Suku—”

“I love you,” he said, his grip firm on your jaw. Everything inside you exploded. “I love you, baby. I love you so fucking much that I’ll take every fucking risk.”

You moaned softly as he came again, your trembling fingers brushing against his lips. “I love you, too.” He kissed your fingertips, a promise in every touch. “I’ll take every risk with you.”

“Fuck yeah you will.” He didn’t pull out, his eyes locked on yours. “Starting with putting a baby in you.”

You happily accepted your fate.

Sukuna pulled the trigger, shooting another police officer in the back of his head. The sound of the gunfire mixed with the blaring sirens, echoing through the flickering lights of the corridors—a devious melody composed just for him. He chuckled low, the corners of his mouth pulling up in a grin as another officer lunged out, attempting to stop him—pathetic. A single shot rang out, and the man crumpled like paper.

The path to Satoru’s office was a long one, and the bodies he left sprawled out in his wake were only a brief distraction from the task at hand. He had things to do today, after all.

Another officer stumbled into view, eyes wide, panic evident. He didn’t stand a chance. Sukuna barely glanced at him as he fired, stepping over the man as he slumped against the wall. Blood splattered his shoes, but it was hardly the worst stain on his day.

You were going to be pissed. He could practically hear the biting tone, the disappointed scowl that’d meet him the moment he finally made it to Mai’s first birthday party. Sukuna scoffed as he shot a bullet straight through a door that dared open near him, knocking down yet another obstacle.

But this was necessary. He needed to do this.

Free Toji. Kill Gojo. And then, eventually, deal with his meddling nephew. Everything would finally align, and maybe—just maybe—he could stop all this. For you. For your daughter.

Satoru’s office was close now. He could smell the antiseptic scent of the door, the false air of authority that seemed to reek from it. He cocked his gun, steeling himself. Because when he was done here—when he’d finally finished what he’d started—he’d make it up to you.

Or so he told himself, as another officer charged and met the floor with a hole in his skull.

Sukuna didn’t bother with the doorknob. He slammed his boot into the door, sending it splintering inward with a loud crack. The office was stripped bare; Satoru’s usual pile of clutter, the irritating stench of his cologne—gone. Only the dust of where things once sat remained on the shelves and desk.

The bastard had fled.

Sukuna’s jaw clenched as he surveyed the room. Gojo knew he was coming and had bolted like a coward hours ago. He pulled his lighter from his pocket, flipping it open with a flick of his thumb, the small flame dancing aglow. Without a second thought, he stepped to the heavy, pretentious curtains Gojo insisted on, pressing the flame to the thick fabric. It caught quickly, embers licking up and curling black around the edges as the fire took hold, consuming Satoru’s last pathetic hold on this place.

He turned and walked out, ignoring the smoke that was already billowing into the hall. The prison alarm was still blaring, red lights flashing down the cold corridors as he made his way to the cells. Every so often, he’d pause, assessing the prisoner cowering behind bars. Rapists, pedophiles, molesters, abusers, killers of innocent lives—he moved on from them. But when he found those who didn’t quite repulse him, he took a single shot at their lock, releasing them in a stream of confused, wary freedom.

As he approached the far end of the corridor, a familiar sight greeted him—his old cell. And standing behind those hard, metal bars, arms crossed, a faint smirk tugging at his lips, was Toji.

“Didn’t think you’d come back to this hellhole,” Toji remarked.

“Not for long,” Sukuna replied, levelling his gun at the lock. He fired once, the lock shattering as the cell door swung open.

Toji stepped out of his cell, took one look around, then paused. “Hold up.”

Sukuna raised an eyebrow, watching as the man crouched beside a loose brick in the wall. With a wry smile, he pulled out an old, scratched-up plastic bottle with a wriggling, sickly-looking worm inside. He tapped the side of the bottle, making the creature twist and writhe. “Almost forgot my little friend here.”

Sukuna barked a short laugh. “You’re out of your damn mind.”

Alarms blared louder as they navigated the winding corridors and ran past prisoners surging toward freedom. Some guards tried to block the path, but they were quickly swept aside by Sukuna’s bullets and Toji’s fists. By the time they hit the outer gates, the entire prison was pandemonium, prisoners scattering into the open like ants from a burning nest.

Outside, a sleek, black car idled just past the gate. Uraume sat coolly behind the wheel, watching the stampede of convicts with bored detachment. As they approached, Uraume rolled down the window, glancing at them with their nose slightly crinkled.

“I could smell you two from a mile away,” they said dryly, eyes flicking to the stains of blood on their clothes. “Maybe next time, schedule a prison massacre that doesn’t fall on your daughter’s birthday?”

“Just drive,” Sukuna replied, sliding into the backseat with Toji following. Toji glanced at Uraume with a quick nod, still keeping a light hold on his bottle, the worm twisting inside.

“Welcome back to the real world, Fushiguro,” they said, starting the car as they drove off into the night.

The road stretched long and dark, winding into the depths of a thick forest. The further they drove, the thicker the trees became, their branches curving overhead to cast everything in shadows. The road narrowed into a rugged trail, overgrown and wild. Uraume navigated it deftly, until at last, the forest opened up, and they could see the soft glimmer of moonlight on the water beyond.

Perched on the edge of a cliff overlooking the ocean stood their safe house—a dark brick estate against the endless stretch of water. Waves crashed against the rocks far below, the scent of salt and sea heavy in the air.

Sukuna looked at the house, then at Toji’s surprised face.

“This is where you’ve been hiding for the two years?” he asked as soon as they were out of the car.

“Not for long if I fuck this up.” Sukuna slipped in through the garage, keeping his steps light. He had just one goal at this moment: reach the shower before you spotted the blood streaked on his clothes and the smell of gunpowder clinging to him.

But as he shut the door, there you were, arms crossed, eyes sharp as they landed on him.

“Sukuna,” you started, an edge in your tone that he recognized all too well. “Do you have any idea what day it is? Look at you; you're a mess!” You gestured at the dark stains on his shirt and his unmistakable smirk.

Instead of trying to dodge the lecture, he listened, that faint smile tugging at his lips as he watched you, soaking in each scolding word. You were the one person who never held back with him, and it made something dangerous in him soften, something in him settle. “I know, baby,” he replied, pecking your cheek. “But I’m here now, aren’t I?”

“Barely,” you replied, sighing, though you couldn’t quite hide the relief in your voice. You glanced over his shoulder. “Toji, Uraume—it’s good to see you both.”

Uraume gave a slight bow, a wry smile still tugging at their lips, while Toji just gave you a quick nod.

You waved a hand, turning back to the kitchen. “Both of you boys—shower, now. I won’t have the two of you smelling like a prison while I’m trying to decorate my daughter’s cake. Go on!”

Toji gave Sukuna a knowing look and shrugged, as if to say, She’s right. Sukuna shot him a warning look, then followed up the stairs, chuckling under his breath as he imagined how you’d cornered him like this.

Fifteen minutes later, he stepped out of the shower, cleaned up, feeling far lighter as he tugged on a fresh shirt and came downstairs, catching the scent of the dinner you’d prepared.

He walked over to you, wrapping his arms around you and pressing a kiss to your temple. You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide the small smile that melted your anger as he pulled you close.

“Gojo got away,” he murmured. “He knew I was coming, and he ran like the coward he is. But I’ll find him. And I’ll make him pay for what he did to you. I swear it.”

You paused, looking up into his eyes, your hand settling on his cheek. “I know you will, Sukuna. But don’t miss the important things here. We’re what’s important now, not just revenge.”

The words took root in him, grounding him, but that flicker of rage still danced in his eyes. He pulled you close, pressing his forehead to yours. “I’ll never let him touch us again. I promise you that.”

Just as you leaned in for another kiss, Sukuna heard the faint sound of your daughter stirring awake from her nap on the living room floor. Mai’s soft little whimpers broke the room’s quiet. Instinctively, he abandoned your kiss, his attention snapping to her as he practically floated over to where she was squirming in her pink dress, rubbing her tiny fists over her eyes.

“There’s my girl,” he murmured, scooping her up with all the gentleness he could muster. Her sleepy eyes blinked open, and he was rewarded with that toothy little grin she’d recently mastered, one that brought an uncharacteristic softness to his entire face. He pressed a cascade of kisses on her cheeks, nose, forehead—anywhere he could reach. “Look at you, sweetheart. All dressed up for your birthday, huh? The prettiest girl in the world.”

You laughed softly from the kitchen, watching as Sukuna held her close, stepping into an impromptu waltz around the living room, his steps surprisingly skilled. She squealed in delight, her small hands reaching up to his face as he spun her around. Even Toji, who had just come down from the shower, stopped in his tracks at the sight, a rare, amused smile tugging at his mouth.

Sukuna glanced up, catching Toji’s presence, and with a proud smirk said, “Toji, meet my daughter, Mai. She’s already got more spirit than most of the people you and I have met.”

Toji stepped forward, studying your daughter. He reached out a hand, and she looked at him with wide eyes, inspecting him with her natural, innocent curiosity. “She looks like trouble. Must take after her old man.”

“Her mother, mostly,” Sukuna said in your direction, bouncing her lightly. “She’s going to have a whole world to handle, with us around.”

In the background, Uraume was setting the table, their usual precision in each movement. They threw Sukuna a blank look, brushing off their hands. “Now that the table’s set, if you’d all just take your seats, maybe we can have a peaceful birthday dinner without the talk of blood and violence for once.”

Sukuna chuckled, shooting them a dry look before turning back to his daughter. Holding Mai close, he took a seat at the head of the table with you beside him. He looked around, taking in the sight—the cake you’d just set down, the quiet chatter as Uraume and Toji exchanged comments, and his daughter babbling in his lap, still pawing at his face with sticky fingers.

For the first time in as long as he could remember, he felt peace.

The “Happy Birthday” song had been sung, candles blown out, cake shared, and Toji had crashed in the guest room, completely knocked out. Uraume, too, was resting in another room, finally allowing herself a few hours of sleep.

In your bed, the soft rise and fall of your daughter’s tiny breaths filled the space between you and Sukuna. She slept peacefully between you both, tiny fingers curled into fists as she dreamed. But you and Sukuna were both wide awake, eyes locked on each other in the moonlight. His hand drifted up, fingertips brushing your cheek.

“Do you remember my first letter?” you asked.

A smirk began at his lips. “You mean the diary entry about the cockroaches in your kitchen and how you thought seducing your landlord was a better solution than paying rent?”

You laughed, covering your mouth to keep quiet, not wanting to wake your baby. He loved that laugh—the way it sounded like music only he got to hear.

“Or how no one with one functioning eye could ever be taken seriously romantically,” he added. “Debunked, by the way.”

Your laugh softened, and you looked at him with a smile that held a thousand memories. “Do you remember the last thing I wrote?”

“The part about Satanism?”

You laughed again, the sound bubbling up and melting into the dark. And as he listened, he couldn’t help but chuckle alongside, his thumb tracing along your cheek, taking in the moment like he was trying to memorise it.

You took a breath, glancing down before meeting his eyes again. “I said I was lonely as hell, remember?” Sadness wove into your words. “And . . . I was. Back then, I thought no one could ever really understand me. Until you did.”

Sukuna shook his head. “You were never meant to be alone, baby,” he murmured. “Not then, not ever. Not while I’m here.”

You swallowed, heart catching as you looked at the life you’d built, the fragile happiness that now lay nestled between you both. “I’m just . . . scared sometimes,” you admitted. “I’m scared of losing this. Of losing you. I don’t know if I could protect what we have.”

“We’ll protect it together,” Sukuna affirmed. “Nothing will take this from us. Not while I’m still breathing.” He leaned forward, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that was deep, reassuring, exactly like the one he’d give you when you’d sealed your vows. When he pulled back, you met his eyes, a soft smile tugging at your mouth.

“I love you, Sukuna,” you whispered, fingers brushing his sharp jaw. “Genuinely, your wife.”

He took them and gave a kiss to the tips. “And I love you most, baby. Genuinely, your husband.”

Moments later, your eyes drifted shut, your breathing evening out as you finally slipped into sleep. But Sukuna stayed awake, his gaze never leaving you, or your daughter.

This was the family he’d fought and bled for, the life he’d killed to create. And yet, an unsettling undercurrent of unfinished business tugged at his nerves. But tonight, he forced it away, just for a while.

For now, there was no room for anything but the second chance he’d been given.

Genuinely, by you.

1K notes · View notes

lis-likes-fics · 5 months ago

Text

Casual

Pairing: bff!Eddie Munson x Reader Word Count: 12.3k words Warnings: NSFW, smut, protected sex (birth control), virginity loss, friends with benefits, Eddie talks you through it, constant consent, humor during sex, Eddie calls you "mama" but no mommy kink, fondling, slight hair pulling, oral (f!receiving), fingering, multiple orgasms, a million different positions, slight edging?, L-bombs but not romantically, swearing... A/N: So I wrote this as a best friends with benefits thing and not a best friends to lovers, but the line gets blurry sometimes with besties. I really fucking loved this one because they're like...they literally never stop being besties, they're so fucking dumb, I love them. So yeah, this is platonic in the least platonic way possible, and I love that for them. Thank you so much and enjoy! A/N #2: While I was writing the first author's note, my typing kept popping my ears. *cries in adhd like a little bitch*

Eddie finds you in his bedroom doorway moments after hearing the front door close. He half expected Wayne to be coming back home early from work, but that didn’t make sense because he only left an hour ago and he probably would have called ahead.

But, no. You stand there with damp hair from a fresh shower and dressed down in some shirt you stole from his drawer and pajama pants. He raises a brow. He hadn’t been expecting you, but he isn’t surprised in the slightest. He doesn’t even bother to move from his spot, leaning back on his bed with an arm behind his head and a book in his hand.

“Hey, there,” he mumbles.

You stare at him for a while, saying absolutely nothing. You don’t seem particularly pleased. He stares back. Neither of you move.

“I’m upset,” you finally say, still staring, still standing.

If Eddie’s remembering correctly, you’re supposed to be out on a date. So hearing that you’re upset isn’t necessarily pleasing to him. Judging by the time, you should have had a very entertaining night. But apparently not.

He’s the first to move as he lets his book fall down to his lap. “Why?”

You think for a moment and then drop your stuff at his door, walking inside as you use your foot to close the door. There’s a long pause between speaking, as you use it to walk around his room and look at all of his stuff. “It’s sort of embarrassing.” You pick up a random pepper shaker on his desk, swirling it around and then turning on your heel to look at him.

He’s got his head tilted to his shoulder with a look on his face that reads “seriously?”. He sits up, lifting a brow. “I’ve seen and learned a lot about you since we became friends, so I doubt there’s anything you could do or say to embarrass yourself in front of me.”

You roll your eyes, licking your lips as you set the pepper shaker down again. “Okay, well…” you trail out, trying to decide how you want to tell him. “You know how I had that date?”

He puts his book away, crossing his legs and leaning back on his elbows. “The drive in?”

“The drive in.”

“What about it?”

“Well…” you sigh. “Okay, so…” You lick your bottom lip, trying to form the words. You’re never shy in front of him, so there must be something wrong. You chew on your lip, thinking to yourself with a heavy sigh. You plop down onto the bed next to him. “God, so, we got there and the movie was fine and whatever–” you roll your eyes, “–and we watched most of it but at some point, we started, like, kissing, and whatever, right?”

Eddie shrugs, laying back to stare at the ceiling as you continue to recount your night. “Yeah.”

“And it got a little…”

He raises a hand to prompt you, “Hot and heavy?”

“Yeah.” You look down at your lap where you fiddle with your fingers. “So we drove away somewhere more…more private?”

He looks at you, sitting back up enough to fully see your face as he smirks lightly. He gives you this devilish look that makes you want to hit him. “Did you...?”

You nod a little. “Yeah.”

Swallowing thickly, you watch his face shift as he takes in your demeanor. His head slumps to one side, his smirk falling off his face. “Oh…” he mumbles. “How do you feel?”

You stare at him. He can see you mulling over your response as you struggle to find the right words. Despite yourself, you feel a knot tying itself in your throat. You force it down and away, pretending it’s not there and hoping it’ll help. And it does…for now, at least.

“I’m upset.”

He cringes a little, lifting an arm to give you a place to lean into him. “That bad?”

You bury your face in his shoulder and pout. “Yeah.” You pull away suddenly. “I mean, I know everyone’s first time sucks ass and whatever, but, like…” You drop your head in your hands, wiping at your face as you find yourself glad for washing your makeup off earlier. “Eddie, I didn’t even…”

He almost seems offended. He doesn’t care about announcing it because you’re alone and also it’s outrageous. “You didn’t cum?”

“No!” you exclaim. “I…faked it.” You’re almost disgusted with yourself for it. It sort of just happened in the moment. He was clumsy in trying to get you there, but it wasn’t working. You just wanted to end it off and move on, so you just…made the sounds and the faces. He seemed pleased enough. “I feel kinda bad. I mean, he was sweet and all, and he, like… He tried, but…”

His question is crude with as little hesitation as humanly possible. Again, he doesn’t care about being awkward or guarded because you’re his best friend, and you’ve talked about worse, and there’s no filter with you. “How big was he?”

“Eddie, what?” Usually you wouldn’t mind his brashness, but you’re still trying to get over the events of a couple hours ago.

“Honest question,” he shrugs. “I just wanna know. Was he like…” he lifts his hand, squinting his eyes and hunching over and pinching his fingers together, “little?”

You shrug. His bluntness is rubbing off on you. You feel a little less awkward and you hunch a little less. “He was fine…just a little too…short? To reach?”

He makes a face, like he’s shocked and disgusted. He looks you up and down almost like it’s your dick. “That’s rough,” he says. “How many times did he cum?”

“Why do you assume he came?” you raise a brow.

He rolls his eyes with a scoff. “Please, guys always cum.”

You roll your own eyes and push yourself off the bed. You’re roaming his room again as you mess with all of his stuff. You open his drawer and ruffle through his unfolded clothes, you pick up empty beer cans and turn up your nose at the smell, you strum the strings of his acoustic. You do all of this instead of looking at him when you answer. “Twice.”

“Oh.” You fake disgust when he looks at you, smirking and bobbing his brows at you. “You must’ve been really fuckin’ nice.” He makes this weird growling sound, and the “ew” that comes out of you is guttural. He snorts happily, and then his humor is gone as he deadpans, “Or he’s a lightweight. Did he cum inside?”

You’re sick of him.

You shake your head. “I made him wrap it.”

“Aren’t you on the pill?”

“Yeah.” He hums.

He watches you lean back against his desk, looking at this weird mask he had just sitting among the chaos. You move it around in your hands and force down the heat in your throat at the recounting going on in your head. Swallowing it down is a hard task that ultimately fails as he watches you begin to choke on the unshed tears.

He sighs, his chest warm with a bitter emotion as he watches your waterline threaten to spill over. “Oh, c’mere.” He stands from the bed, opening his arms wide to pull you into a bone crushing hug. It’s warm and it hurts and it feels so nice. He smells like he always does, green apple shampoo stolen from your house and cheap cologne and cigarettes. It’s a nice smell.

“I guess I like…I don’t know, I expected a little more. It was…really disappointing.” A couple of tears manage to get past you, and it pisses you off but you’re already over it. “I wanted…to get rid of it, and now it’s gone but it doesn’t feel like anything’s changed, but it also feels like everything’s changed, but not in a good way.”

He rubs your back, listening to you as you need him to listen. “I’m sorry,” he mutters when you stop. He sets his chin atop your head after a kiss to your forehead. Part of him wants to square up with the dude you went out with, but he sets that urge to the side in order to comfort you. “That fuckin’ sucks, and you deserve so much more.”

After a moment, you pull away from him, wiping at your face with a huff. “It’s stupid.”

“S’not stupid.”

You don’t argue, you just throw yourself onto his bed, laying flat on your back with your arms and legs spread so wide that you take up nearly all the space left. Eddie watches you lay there with your eyes closed and your breath slowed. He thinks you’re really pretty, especially right now with you wearing his shirt. He almost hates himself for thinking to ask–

“Look, it might be…creepy and weird to ask and—Jesus, if I’m being creepy, I want you to fuckin’ punch me s hard as you can—but, shit, maybe I should shut up.”

His rambling is cut off by you, still lounging on his bed. You haven’t moved, your eyes are still closed. You don’t seem fazed at all by his awkwardness. “What are you about to ask me, Ed?”

He sighs, sitting next to you with his foot shoved underneath him. He sets his hand on your thigh. You still don’t move, used to his touchy-communication. “What happened tonight fuckin’ sucks–”

“You say ‘sucks’ a lot.”

“It’s a nice word.”

You peek at him through one opened eyes. “You’re weird.”

“Nevertheless–” You laugh. He watches your belly tense as you do it, rolling over to sit up and witness his fumbling with opened eyes. “As I was saying, before I was so rudely interrupted…”

You laugh again, and he’s happy he could do that for you, especially after your rough night. You’re happy you could ease his worries, because he was being awkward, and Eddie isn’t usually awkward with you, and you know he likes your stupid jokes.

He takes a breath and starts again. “What happened sucks, and—only if you want to—I would be willing—if you’re comfortable—to…fix it for you.”

You raise a confused brow, less confused and more vaguely unbelieving. “Fix it…for me?” you echo.

He shrugs. “I don’t like when you cry, and I want to make you feel better. I’m not a total expert on sex, but I think I know my way around it pretty well.” He puts his hands together like he’s going to pray and points them toward you. “If you want…I can help.”

You raise a brow and stifle the smirk threatening to grace your lips, ready to tease him in order to push down the flush of heat rushing through you. “You wanna fuck me.”

He raises his hands. “I want to fuck you if you want me to fuck you. To help. But I’d love to fuck you… if you want…me to fuck you.” There’s a pause. “Maybe.”

You look away, scratching your head in thought. “Since when have you wanted to fuck me?”

He smacks a hand down onto your thigh just to do it. “Babe, it’s always been on the table. All you had to do was ask.” Whore.

You roll your eyes for the millionth time. “You’re such a guy.”

He shrugs like he doesn’t care at all. “Like I said, guys always cum.”

You raise a brow at him, shoving his hand off your knee to stand again. You jab an accusatory finger into his chest. “Is that to insinuate that you’ve cum thinking about me?”

“I– Okay, I did not– Listen here, you little shit.”

You laugh out loud, still pointing at him to make fun. “I’m kidding!” He fake laughs, and you return the favor by tilting your head and questioning him further. “But have you?”

To avoid it being awkward, he just shrugs nonchalantly and answers the question. “A couple times.” It works, even though you flush at the answer.

“What? That is so weird!”

“That is not weird.” He hopes you ignore the way his cheeks turn pink, powering through it with more brashness and more jokes. “It is completely normal to think of your best friend when you’re cranking one out.”

You shake your head definitely. “No, it’s not.”

He challenges you. “Have you ever cum thinking about me?”

Without turning your head, you glance away from him. “I don’t think that makes it normal.”

“So you have, is what I’m hearing.” You turn to him quickly, raising a finger as you try to speak over his ad libbing. He thinks he’s really funny, and it’s gonna make you scream.

“Listen–”

“Listening.”

You huff, glancing away and then looking back at him. Well, not really him, but the ends of his hair over his shoulders. “Maybe once or twice…” you shrug, “Maybe even thrice, but that’s not–”

“You little freak!” He points his finger at you, his whole face wide with amusement.

“Hey– Be nice to me. Or I’ll cry. You don’t like it when I cry.” You pout to give him a preview. You’re sure you could summon more tears if you really need to…

“You’re evil,” he shakes his head, looking up at you with a huge grin.

You bob your brows. “Yes, I am.”

He surprises you. In the next moment, his arms are wrapped around your midsection, and your feet lift off the ground. He takes you in his hold and turns you until you’re being slammed into the bed. You laugh as you bounce, squirming around to push him off of you as he pins you under his weight. Both of you are giddy with the amusement, laughing at each other and playing along with the other’s fun.

When you open your eyes and the laughter dies down, you realize that he’s actually pinning you to the bed. It sobers you up almost immediately, and you realize that he’s really close. He could kiss you right now if he really wanted to. You notice the exact moment he realizes it, too.

You gulp and take a breath for courage. Your voice is small—awkward—but it’s okay because he’s your best friend. “You can…” you mumble. “You can help, if you want to help.”

His eyes glance at your lips, and then he raises both his brows as he looks back at you. “You want me to?”

You nod, trying not to hold your breath to avoid dulling the charged air between you. “Yes, I want you to.”

He tilts his head and the tips of his hair tickles your cheek. “Is it because I have you pinned?”

“It helps.”

Eddie backs off of you, sitting back on his bed to allow you to sit back up. You do, crossing your legs underneath you. He thinks for a moment, watching you as he does. There’s a long pause where the both of you contemplate something, unsure if the other has the same thing in mind.

“Before we do anything,” he breaks the silence carefully and articulately, and you can see the moment that all his seriosity has set in, “I need explicit permission. And you gotta let me know how you’re feeling. I don’t wanna do anything to make you uncomfortable.”

You listen intently, nodding along as he lays down the rules. “Okay,” you say.

He tilts his head toward you, looking up at you through his bangs. His brown eyes are so pretty. You’ve always thought so. They’re so warm and loving, just like him. It’s the reason you became his friend in the first place: because he’s warm and loving. “S0?” he prompts, snapping you out of your thoughts.

You take in a deep breath and smile, lifting a hand and slowly setting it on his own. “I want you to have sex with me, Eddie.”

He visibly shudders, and you think he’s a sucker. Technically, he is, but whatever. “Jesus,” he mutters, running his free hand through his hair. Then he smacks yours away, and your chuckle turns into a snort. He always knows how to make you comfortable. “Okay.”

You turn your body to face him, clearing your throat. “So… How do we…?”

“Okay, so…” He makes a “shoo” motion with his hands, so you get confused and raise a brow. You slowly and hesitantly lean back onto your elbows, staring at him with all the silent questions you can muster. He rolls his eyes. “No, get up. Sit over there, whore.”

You roll your eyes at him in return, moving to sit at the head of his bed with your legs crossed in front of you. Playfully, he rolls his eyes yet again and shakes his head at you like he’s disappointed. Eddie turns to lounge across the foot of the bed, propping himself up on his elbow. “First, I want you to walk me through everything he did.”

“Okay,” you mumble, thinking back to what happened in that car. “Well, he kissed me. We made out for a bit, and then he pulled me into his lap.” You only glance at him as you speak, but he’s so nice about it that you don’t feel so weird talking to him about being poorly fucked. “And he took off my shirt. He was, like, moving my hips and stuff.”

“Okay.” He listens so closely. His full attention is on you and only you, and it feels nice.

“Then he, uh, he played with my nipples. You motion vaguely to your chest.

“Did he use his mouth?” he questions gently.

“Mhm.”

He shakes his head then. He’s still gentle but his tone leaves no room for argument. “You gotta say yes or no, sweetheart, or I’m not touchin’ you.”

That’s fair enough. “Yes.”

“And it felt good?”

“Yes.” It almost sounds like a question, but he understands what you mean.

“Okay,” he gestures toward you. “What else did he do?”

You think for a moment. It’s already becoming a little fuzzy as your mind becomes distracted by the thought of Eddie, your sweet, idiot Eddie, doing these things to you and making it feel good.

This is the same boy you’ve seen fall out of his van because he tripped on the step and totally ate shit hitting the ground. This is the same boy you’ve seen stuffing his face with marshmallows because he was dared to by Mike and Dustin, and he was trying to prove that he could do more than they originally dared for him.

This is also the same boy you’ve seen absolutely shred his guitar with some fingering skills you’ve been envious of. And the same boy who’s seen you cry a million times and wiped away all the tears with plenty of jokes and compliments and threats of violence as were humanly possible. If there’s anyone who can make you feel good, it’s him.

You shake the thoughts away in order to get them straight. “He laid me down on the seat,” you remember, “and took off his pants and stuff.” You don’t really need the “and stuff” but it does make it a little easier…for some reason.

He furrows his brow in question, tilting his head like he’s grossed out all of a sudden. “Okay?”

“And then he…” you stare at his Dio poster across the room, “put it inside.”

He lifts his lip in disgust. He’s done that a lot tonight in response to this guy. “That’s it?” he asks with more distaste than you thought possible.

“What do you mean?” you furrow your own brow this time.

“Baby,” he says effortlessly, like he’s said it a million times before (because he has), “there wasn’t even foreplay.” He sits up, “No wonder you didn’t get off, girls need foreplay. Guys don’t need shit. We just think about tits, and we’re hard.” He shrugs, “I’m thinking about tits right now. Hard as a rock.”

The face you make transcends the rolling of the eyes or the upturn of a lip as you scoff. “Eddie–”

“You gotta be built up,” he continues, brushing past his comment like he never said it to begin with. You consider his words, taking them as the truth because he knows way more about sex than you would. He’s no prodigy, maybe, but you’re barely out of your virginity, so he’s got more advantage than you. “Did you blow him?”

You glance up, a bitter tone in your words as you mutter the first part, “Between positions… yeah.”

You don’t think “disgust” fits anymore. He’s just annoyed and entirely displeased. “You blew him, and he didn’t blow you?”

“I thought the term was ‘eat me out’.”

He shrugs a shoulder absently. “Symmetry.”

You airquote your response. “Okay, ‘symmetry’.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Yes,” you reply finally, still tasting traces of your toothpaste in your mouth. “I blew him, but he didn’t blow me.”

Eddie makes a guttural sound to try to properly express the amount of offense he takes to this. “You know what, fuck this guy.” He leans forward, placing both his hands on your knees and holding them there as he stares at you with those big, brown eyes of his. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I got you now.”

It’s easy to take humor from that to avoid dealing with the arousal it sends through you. “You’re real confident.”

He’s not pulling back on anything, he has no reason to. He somehow becomes more intense as he effortlessly response, “Because I’m gonna fuckin’ eat you out like my life depends on it.”

“I–” There’s no way you can respond to that. “Oh. Uhm.” Your mind is immediately a jumbled mess of fantasies and incoherent words and more fantasies. There’s a heat between your thighs and an anticipation in your belly that makes it difficult to think.

“Relax,” he catches your sudden daze. He pats your thigh like it’s just something that he does and not a preface to him pulling them apart and having a feast. “You’ll be fine.”

“Okay.”

He gets up, stretching his arms high over his head to pop his back. You can’t help the way your eyes fall to the slip of his belly, spying a tattoo hidden away there underneath his shirt. “I’m gonna go take a shower.” He eyes you. “You don’t need any infections.”

You turn your lip up because you think he’s disgusting. “That’s gross, Eddie.”

He points at you. “But considerate.”

You get up specifically to push him away from you. “Go shower, you dirty whore.”

He winks at you. “Yes, mama.” You don’t know how to respond to that. “Get comfy, I’ll be out in a bit.”

You swallow thickly, trying not to dissolve into some pathetic puddle because he called you “Mama”. You’ve never been into that before, and all of a sudden, you can’t get the sound of it out of your head. He’s already long gone, leaving you alone in his room as you sit on his bed to wait for him.

You’re a total goner, you’re sure.

You’re going through more of his stuff by the time he comes out of the shower. You glance over your shoulder at him after the door closes, and you’re almost surprised by what you find.

It’s not like you haven’t seen Eddie shirtless before. The sight isn’t unusual to you, but given the context and the way his sweatpants hang low on his waist, giving the perfect view of his gentle V-line, his soft tummy. It’s a mouthwatering sight, and it’s taking everything to look away.

His hair is still dripping. The dampness is giving his curls a gentle shine in the lamp light in the room. He rubs his towel haphazardly through his hair as he speaks. “I know I’m gonna take them off anyway, but–”

He stops short when he finally looks up to see you. You’re rummaging through his drawers like the little thief that you are, your hand stopped somewhere in the second drawer in favor of watching him. But that’s not what makes him pause. It’s the fact that you’re in one of his shirts, one that goes down past the curve of your ass and stops short before even reaching your mid-thigh. Your legs are bare—you’ve discarded all your other clothes somewhere in the room and left yourself in some underwear and his shirt.

He always knew you were sexy. As your closest friend, it’s his duty to know how sexy you are, but this is another level and he doesn’t understand why.

Instead of pointing out the fact that his sweatpants are growing a sudden bulge, he gestures to the shirt. “Are you gonna steal that?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” He scratches the back of his neck, tossing his towel onto a chair stuffed in the corner of his room. It’s stacked high with clean laundry that he never got around to. He pays no mind to it when the towel and a couple of clothes fall to the floor immediately after.

Eddie takes a breath before he looks back at you. “C’mere,” he mumbles, raising a finger to make a come hither motion. You listen to him, walking over to stand in his space. Your hands rest at his sides because you always rest your hands at his sides, and, naturally, he holds you back.

“Remember,” he begins in a quiet voice (or as quiet as Eddie can be), “you gotta use your words. I gotta know if I’m hurting you, or I’m doing too much or too little.” His thumbs stroke your elbows. “You know your body better than anyone, but I’m gonna do my best to know it even more than that.”

You chuckle playfully. “Okay.”

“And you definitely, definitely have to let me know when I’m doing something right.”

“So you’ll keep doing it?” you guess.

He shakes his head and says in a flat voice, “No, to stroke my ego.”

You roll your eyes, and your humor is interrupted by his hand lifting to touch your cheek. You lean into it because his hands are warm. “You still wanna do this?” He’s completely serious, and a little nervous now as he looks at you.

You nod, raising one hand to wrap around the back of his neck. “I trust you, Eddie.”

He nods, mostly to himself. “Good. That’s good.” His tongue darts out to lick his lips. “That’s great,” he raises his brows. Then he sighs, glancing away from your intense gaze. “Let’s hope I don’t fall in love with you or something, or you’ll be getting your back blown out every night and twice on Sundays. Jesus H. Christ.”

You roll your eyes and shake your head at his ridiculousness, almost forgetting that he’s probably completely serious and you are about to fuck as you play into your banter. “You’re so–”

You don’t get to finish your sentence. You’re cut off by Eddie’s lips engulfing your own, warm and soft and really nice against your own. You let out a long breath, pulling him closer by the back of his neck as he takes a step forward into your space.

To be completely honest, you’ve kissed Eddie before. You’ve kissed him on a dare, you kissed him to trick people into thinking you’re dating. Hell—he was your first kiss because you and some friends were screwing around and then you happened to be picked to be locked in a closet for seven minutes because you were at a stupid party playing stupid games.

So the sensation isn’t completely new, but the making out part is. Eddie is a really good kisser.

When he pulls away, you aren’t really expecting it. He seems pleased by your daze as he bobs his brows. “So what?”

Instead of answering him, as you’ve forgotten what you were going to say, you kissed him again. It’s really nice, kissing someone. It’s nice to be this close, to breathe each other’s air, to taste each other’s lips. His tongue grazes your top lip, and you lean into it, because you trust him and it’s nice.

Eddie keeps you pulled close against his body as he starts stepping forward, keeping you from tripping as he does. The back of your knees hits the bed, and you hold on too tightly as you feel yourself falling backwards. You laugh when you fall back onto the bed with his weight on top of you. He laughs with you, “You’re okay, mama.”

He silences you with his mouth again, enjoying the feeling of your lips on his. He likes it just as much as you. Between that and his little pet name, your mind is swimming and your heart is racing. When he pulls away, it’s only to press his lips to the skin of your neck, suckling and nipping gently at the flesh as he does. You close your eyes, your fingers happily tangled in his hair as you keep him close.

“Mama,” you mutter under your breath, seeing just how much you like it as he nips at your neck. “I like that.”

You can feel him smiling against your skin. “Yeah? Want me to keep using it?”

You nod, “Yeah.” A hum echoes in your chest as he wraps his hands around your sides, lifting you a bit just to put you farther up the bed. He crawls on top of you, one of his knees settled between your legs as his hand caresses your side.

Your breath becomes thin when his hand smooths underneath his shirt, feeling the softness of your skin with a quiet breath. His palm stops at your belly as he slips the very tips of his fingers to rest underneath your breasts, feeling just how warm you are.

“Good?” he mutters, taking your earlobe so gently between his teeth and letting it go.

You nod, your eyes heavy like they’re glued down with sap. “Mhmm,” you breathe.

“Yes or no, mama?” he reminds you, gently kissing your lips.

“Yes.”

He smiles, rewarding you with another kiss as he whispers against your lips. “Good girl.”

You don’t have time to think about that right now. It’s too nice, too fuzzy. It sends a warm flush straight to the pit of your stomach and makes your breath hitch. Eddie knows and adds it to the list of things you like for tonight.

The slightest whimper slips from your lips when you feel his warm fingers reach up to brush your breast, gently groping you as he plays with your peaking nipples. He hikes your shirt all the way up until your bare chest is revealed to him, and he takes them in with an appreciative breath before leaning down to take one between his lips.

It’s much different than the guy before him. Eddie’s deliberate, licking and sucking and so, so gently nipping the bud. It sends a strange sensation through you, lighting every nerve ending and making it impossible to think straight as you keep your fingers tangled in his hair. You keep him close. It feels too good to do anything else.

You speak between breaths, your heavy eyelids and sticky lips working against your attempts to speak. “You’ve seriously cum to the thought of me?” you wonder, whimpering when his other hand comes up to pinch your other nipple between the pads of his fingers.

“Yeah,” he mutters, sucking harshly and making you gasp.

“Why?” you ask, making an attempt at playfulness between the haze of his ministrations. “Am I that irresistible?”

With only seriousness, Eddie looks up at you, letting his fingers take over in teasing you. “Yeah.”

Your grin falters, almost not expecting his answer—or at least the amount of honesty in it. “Wait, really? You’re not just buttering me up?”

He makes a face, a confused one that flatters you more than anything else. “No? You’re fucking sexy as shit.” He tilts his head, “You think I’m lying when I tell you that?” Eddie’s hand smooths down your side, gripping your hip as he goes.

You shake your head, bringing your knee up and sighing gently when his hand slides over the round of your ass. “You don’t have any weird feelings for me, do you?”

He pinches you, and you squirm away from him giddily. “Mama, I’m in love with you, but not like that.” He gently makes your side. “Now stop talking to me. It’s hard to kiss you if I’m talking.”

You chuckle. “Yes, si-”

Your words are interrupted by a tiny moan when his fingers graze the mound of your pussy through the thin fabric of your panties. Your back arches just slightly, the ticklish feeling making quick work of scouring your body.

“Does that feel good?” he wonders quietly.

You nod and bite down hard on your lip. The anticipation of it is eating you up. “Yes.”

“Good,” he lilts, continuing to brush his middle finger up and down the length of your panties until he’s pulling them to the side just enough to see you. Eddie licks his lips, leaning in to kiss your belly. You’re weak against him, trying not to cant your hips up into him and deter his work.

His finger caresses your folds through the bit of slick that had begun to gather there. “You feel the difference?” he asks between kisses.

“Yes.” Your voice is a squeak, and he seems quite proud of himself for making it that way.

“I’m gonna take these off, okay?” he says. “Then I’m going to put my mouth on you. You’ll let me know if I’m doing too much, right?”

You nod. “Yes, Eddie.”

He smiles, “Thanks, mama.” He feels the way you react to that, the slightest flutter of your folds. He sits up just to allow him the access to slip your underwear down your legs. The little, flimsy material comes right off. He drops it to the ground and comes to kneel in front of the bed. You hold your breath when his hands close around your waist, pulling you down to the edge to bring you that much closer to his face.

Instinctively, you close your thighs. It’s hard to will them to open and stay that way with the way his warm breath fans over your skin, his hands touch your body, his eyes stay glued to your own, constantly asking for consent.

You think he’s going to say something smart, smirk at you and chuckle at your shyness. But he does. Instead, he just gives you a calming look and asks, “You still okay, mama? You wanna stop?”

You let out a gentle breath, shaking your head. “No, I’m okay.” You chew on your bottom lip. “Just not used to this.”

“That’s okay,” he reassures. His kindness is honestly making your arousal worse. You feel like you’re going to start shaking if he pulls away from you. “Can I open your legs?”

You nod. “Please.”

He nods back, kissing your knee and smoothing his hands down your thighs, one on each side. The hand on the inside of your thigh dips so slowly between yours, seating deep between them until he’s slowly pulling them apart. The sound your thighs make when he opens them is lewd, it’s the quiet schlick sound that comes from the arousal that seeped out of you. You start to feel embarrassed, but then he sighs like he’s so relieved to see it.

“Tell me why you’re so fucking pretty,” he shakes his head. Your thighs are itching to close as you watch him lean in, pressing his lips to the inside of your thigh, just to kiss you. You bite your lip, nervous and so ready.

But then he stands. “Give me a second,” he says, walking away from you as his hands slide off your thighs. You sit up higher on your elbows, watching in confusion and slight annoyance as he leaves you on the bed.

“Eddie,” you call while he walks to his dresser.

“Hang on,” he smiles. “Jesus.” He does that thing where his tongue sticks out over his bottom lip as he sorts through the junk on his desk. “Not leavin’. Just lookin’ for something,” he mutters.

You fall back on the bed, willing your heart to calm. He makes a sound of success, turning back on his heel to get back to you. You look at him and watch as he cards his fingers through his hair. He pulls it back into a ponytail, wrapping a hair tie around it to make a messy bun.

You flush at the sight because not even a moment later, he’s on his knees again right between yours. “You can’t be serious,” you say.

“Oh, I’m dead serious,” he replies, looking at you excitedly. His hands land on your thighs again, keeping them spread apart as he pulls you again to the very edge of the bed. “I’d say hold on tight, but there’s nothing to hold onto so… Enjoy!”

He dives between your thighs, and the heat of his mouth latches onto your pussy. Your mouth slips open and a deep moan rumbles out of you. Your thighs close around his head as you feel his tongue licking at you, lapping at your folds as he delves between them.

“Eddie,” you call, one of your hands reaching down to touch the top of his head, trying to find some purchase at his hair. His tongue swirls around your clit, and you’re a total goner when his lips close around it and suck. You mewl at the unfamiliar feeling, enjoying every bit of it with an immense amount of pleasure.

You’d expected him to go slow, hesitant little licks against your folds as he worries about overwhelming you. But this is not that. It’s hot and heavy with deep strokes of his tongue and the tiniest nips of his teeth. There’s no way to keep yourself calm. Your hips are tilting up into his mouth, meaning he has to hold you down with his arms wrapped around your thighs.

Eddie seems to be thoroughly enjoying himself. He moans into you, heavy breaths fanning over your skin as he eats you out “like his life depends on it”. Your open-mouthed moans encourage him, especially when you say his name in this high-pitched gasp and slam your eyes shut. Your ankles hook behind him, pulling him in closer.

Eddie’s making the most obscene sounds—sounds worse than what you’re making. He slurps and laps at you like a dog drinking water. You’d call him a whore again if you could think of humor at the moment, but the only thing you want to tell him is to keep going and never stop.

When he pulls his mouth off of you, you whine. He smiles, knowing he’s doing a good job as he shushes you gently. “It’s okay, I’m not stopping,” he says. In the next moment, you feel his hand cup your pussy. “I’m gonna put my fingers inside of you. Is that okay?”

You nod. “Please, Eddie.”

His fingers tease your entrance, though you don’t think he means to. He looks at you as he prods a finger at the seam of your cunt, slowly pushing it in until they part around him. A short “ah” sound is what he hears as he presses his finger inside of you, moving slowly until he’s got it all the way in. “Good?” he checks, the slightest thrusts moving in and out of you as he does.

Your nods are becoming insistent. “Yes, Eddie.”

“You want more, mama?”

“Yes, please.” He loves how polite you are. You’re usually so mean—though, he loves that about you, too. It just means you love him.

He sets a steady rhythm, one that’s still slow as he focuses in on your face, the way it shifts and squints at every little push of his thick finger. It feels really nice, the way he takes his time with you, making sure you feel everything he gives you.

“M’gonna add another. You ready?”

“Yeah.” He rewards you with a second finger, pushing it inside along the first and stretching you out for him some more. He thrusts them in and out, a slow and steady motion slowly building as he massages those inner parts of you. He curls them, and they press against a spongy point inside of you that has you rolling your eyes. “That feels good, Eddie. Don’t stop.”

He smiles at your initiative, giving you what you want with as much enthusiasm as you give in wanting it. He leans in, his tongue darting out to lick at your pussy. You’re wetting his fingers so nicely, making it so easy to slip them in and out of you.

His lips wrap around your clit, and he sucks on it while you whine, while his fingers curl inside of you with every intent of coaxing an orgasm out of you. Little ramblings fall from your tongue as you grind against his. He's greedy in the way he licks around his fingers, over your clit, tasting your arousal as it seeps out of you.

A knot is tightening in your belly. Your hips reach for him with each little nuance of his skilled fingers as you seek out the release he's promising you.

His name comes out as a moan on your tongue. If either of you hadn't been so preoccupied, he would have made fun of you for it. Instead, you're spread out on his bed with his fingers inside of you, a moment away from cumming on his mouth.

Your hips try to lift up into him as you get closer and closer. He holds you down with one arm, his lips and tongue and prodding fingers working in tandem to taste you.

Your ankles hook behind his head as your back arches off the bed. “Eddie,” you whisper. He feels the way your pussy clenches around his fingers, his tongue becoming more insistent in the way it flicks and laps at your clit.

He makes these sounds of encouragement, humming and mhm-ing into you as he goes. Your release is like a burst in your belly, it starts there and swarms into your legs, your chest, the base of your being. Eddie’s tongue keeps licking and lapping at you as your back arches off the bed and your legs tighten around his head. You moan his name as white noise erupts in your ears, the distant murmuring of his words muffled as you try to cope with the pleasure that has begun to set every nerve ending on a wild fritz.

Eddie seems more enthused than anything else by your orgasm. Both his arms wrap around your thighs and hold you down. He actually stands, bending at the way to get closer as he longs to taste all the slick and arousal that leaks out of you. As he sucks on your clit and hums at the way that you taste, you grip his hair and pull him in closer.

But there’s a point where you think you might die if he touches you any more. There’s a gasp in your chest that rips its way out as you push him away from your fluttering pussy as kindly as possible. He leans in again, just for a moment, before he registers your body pulling away from him, notices the way your thighs unclench and your fingers loosen from his hair and your moans and gasps of his name turn into weak whimpers and grunts.

“Fuck,” you huff as you lay back on his bed. You turn onto your belly, crawling up his bed and collapsing into his pillows that spell like him. He watches, licking his lips and wiping his face with a smile.

“I was right,” you mumble, feeling your body coming down like you're floating back to the ground.

“About what?” You feel the bed dip next to you where Eddie sits down. Then you feel him lay back, his head laid out on your thighs.

“You're a whore.”

He rolls his eyes, smacking your leg with the back of his hand. “You liked it.”

“Doesn't mean you're not a whore,” you say. “Just means you're a good one.”

He sits up, moving over you so he's caging you in. His hair has come mostly undone by now, and it's more of a mess due to your insistence on how wonderful he is. His guitar pick hangs down in your face. Your eyes cross and uncross trying to watch it dangle.

“Well, if I'm a whore,” he bends down, his soft lips pressing into your neck as your lashes flutter, “then I'm gonna charge you. It's three dollars a minute.”

You chuckle. “Well, guess what?” He hums. “I'm poor, so no.”

He breathes in through his teeth, shaking his head. “Then I guess you'll have to work it off.”

You try not to be too timid as you press your fingertips to his chest, guiding him back so he's sitting up. You move onto your knees, pulling your arms around his shoulders and relishing his hands on your waist.

“That shouldn't be too hard,” you mutter. You are timid when you lean into him, testing the air between you to make sure it's okay that you kiss him.

When you still haven't made any contact, he nudges your nose with his. “C’mon,” he goads, his lips sticky when he speaks with all the familiar affection between you.

Your lip quirks a bit at his humor. You kiss him, biting his top lip just to confuse him. He laughs and you consider your goal achieved. You run a hand down the center of his bare chest, pausing at the base of his belly to tease the light happy trail disappearing into his sweatpants.

You slip your hand just underneath the waistband of his pants, tickling his skin as your fingers brush the base of his length hiding poorly behind the fabric. He flinches slightly from your touch, chuckling lightly as his hand comes to cup your elbow.

“Did I hurt you?” you ask suddenly, slightly startled by his reaction.

He shakes his head. “No, mama. You just surprised me.”

“Okay,” you murmur, your timid fingers slowly attempting to try again. But he just shakes his head.

“This isn’t for me. This is for you,” he says, pulling back enough to see you.

“Yeah, but,” you lick your bottom lip, “I wanna make sure you’re enjoying yourself, too.”

He licks his own lips as if to remind you that they were just wrapped around your sensitive cunt. “Trust me, I am thoroughly enjoying myself, mama.”

Your finger hooks around the waistband of his sweatpants, a slight pout arising from your face. “Can you take ‘em off, at least?”

His hands are already pulling them down his legs as he teases you. “So needy.”

You roll your eyes. “Shut the fuck up.” Your response falls short. As soon as the last word leaves your mouth, his cock springs from its loose confines and reveals itself.

You flush at the sight of him. You’re not a cock-hungry whore or anything—but if you were one, you think his dick would be a perfect subject for it. It’s not like he has this perfect cock that was hand-crafted by the gods or anything. But you think it’s safe to say that calling Eddie a freak is a valid name.

He’s long, freakishly so. He’s got a nice girth to him, you think, but you don’t know if he’s going all the way in—but, of course, you could be exaggerating. You’ve seen two cocks in your entire life, and Eddie’s is one of them and, admittedly, the better of the two. He will definitely reach.

“What the fuck, Eddie?” you look up at him.

“What?” His face falls slightly, his eyes widening just a bit as he wonders if your comment was good or bad. “What’s wrong?”

“How the hell do you fit that thing in your pants?” You shake your head. “Like, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

He just shrugs, but he’s a little relieved that you’re just being his asshole and not just some asshole. “I think you’re being a little dramatic.”

“How is it supposed to fit inside of me? What is that, like a foot long?”

He rolls his eyes. “I’m flattered—really, I am—but it, most definitely, is not a foot.” He looks down at the erection between his legs. The tip is flushed, and it kind of looks like it hurts. “Seven and a half.”

“What the fuck?” you whisper under your breath. You reach down, brushing your fingers over the tip. He gasps through his teeth, and you watch the way it kicks up in response. “Sorry,” you tell him, ignoring the amusement in your chest. It reminds you of a spring, the comedic kind that goes “boing!”.

“S’okay,” he murmurs. He lifts a hand to your cheek, brushing his thumb over the rise of it as he asks gently and genuinely, “You still wanna go?”

You nod, “Yeah. That monster isn’t gonna scare me away.”

He rolls his eyes. “It’s not that big.”

You shrug. “You know, I heard Harrington’s like that big, nine inches.” You make a circle with your hand, moving it up and down like you’re jerking it off. “You think it’s true?” You bob your brows up and down.

He shakes his head, running a hand down his face as he snickers at you. “I doubt it. He could be one or the other, but both seem a little excessive. Have you seen how tight his pants are?”

“Yeah… you might be right.”

“We gonna talk about dicks, or are we gonna fuck?”

You sigh, shrugging like it’s nothing as you look back at him. “I guess, we’ll fuck.”

He smiles, pulling you closer to him. “Well, then, c’mon, mama.”

You actually giggle, surprising him as you bring a leg to wrap around his waist, pulling the other up to follow suit. He kisses you, his hands supporting your thighs as his dick nuzzles between the both of you, kept warm and wet by the way your folds sit against him as it pushes into his lower belly.

Eddie reaches between your bodies, taking his weeping cock in his hand and stroking himself a couple times with little wavers of breath. You watch some precum spill from his tip, sliding down the bottom.

“You want me to use a condom?” he asks.

You swallow thickly, thinking quickly before shaking your head. “Pill.”

He shrugs. “Doesn’t mean I shouldn’t.”

You’re touched by his consideration but you don’t really want to put into words how much you actually want to feel him inside of you. You shake your head again, kissing him quickly to soften the slight awkwardness in your chest. “I don’t want you to use a condom, Eddie.” You almost whisper it, but he understands.

“Okay, mama,” he whispers back. He kisses you, lifting you up from his lap just enough to tuck the head of his cock at your soaked folds. “You ready?” You nod. “Don’t hold your breath. Breathing makes it feel better.” You nod again.

“Ready.”

You try not to hold his breath as he slowly lowers you down onto his lap, splitting you on his cock as you take him inch by inch. At one point, you’re sure he can’t go any further as you feel him seated somewhere deep inside you. And he’s right, it feels really nice.

Your breath is so light and airy when you sigh against his lips, holding him tight as you bury your face in his shoulder. “Fuck,” you huff, hearing his own breaths pass heavily in your ear.

“Fuck,” he echoes. “Jesus, you’re squeezin’ me, mama.”

You don’t know how you feel about the way this makes you feel, the way it makes you act. Your voice gets sort of whiny, breathy, this little thing in his ear that makes his cock twitch slightly inside of you. “Can’t help it,” you sigh. “So fuckin’ deep.”

He nods, his hands steady and firm at your backside and your arms tight around his neck. “I won’t move until you tell me to.”

You just nod, knowing he’s not going to move until you give him an explicit “yes”. It’s a lot to adjust to. He sits really deep inside of you, and he’s pressing against a spot that makes you delirious with just the pressure the head of his cock puts on it. But when you can’t take the suspense anymore and you’re too excited to see how it would feel, you nod again.

“I’m ready.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay,” he says. “I’ll go slow.”

You nod.

Holding your waist, Eddie begins to thrust his hips up into you. He does as he says and moves slowly, guiding your body in his lap so you grind down on him. A whine falls from your lips at the feeling, and you almost immediately seek out that pleasure with the eager roll of your hips into him.

“Not too fast, not too fast,” he hisses, lightly patting your hip.

You nod into his shoulder, feeling his hands roaming. His arm wraps around your waist, his other arm comes up to hook over your shoulder. He keeps thrusting, moving so slowly and filling you so deep. Following his commands, you roll your hips slowly into him, meeting each of his own movements in a building rhythm.

There's an ebb and flow in the way that you move together. Tiny whimpers fall from your lips, and his heavy breaths join them.

Somewhere along the way, it's not enough. Your insistent hips grind into him in search of more. He feels it in the way you breathe, the way you move, the way you hold him just a little tighter.

“Eddie,” you huff. “C’mon, I need more. Please.”

The way you say it is a little more whiny, a little needier than you intended. It feeds his ego, and he can't help but to lose some of his reassuring kindness. He starts making fun of you because he likes making fun of you, and he thinks that you'll probably eat that shit up.

“More?” His grip on you tightens just a bit. His thrusts become a little jerky, searching the same intensity you are. “You need more, mama?”

“Eddie,” you groan.

He pulls your face from his shoulder in order to look at you better. “You sound so whiny, baby. Like a little bitch.”

You roll your eyes because he's Eddie, and he calls you a little bitch anyway. Grinding in his lap, you tangle your fingers in his hair and tug. A strangled grunt comes out, and you smirk devilishly. “So do you.”

“Har, har,” he says.

“If this is all you can do, just tell me. It's okay if you're a one-pump-chump.”

You like vexing him. He likes when you vex him. But he also likes proving you wrong because he may be doing you a favor, but he can't let you go about thinking he can't fuck.

“Fuck you,” he scoffs. Then he's pushing you onto your back and wrapping your legs back around his waist, slipping out in the process. He towers over you like some wolf, bushy hair accommodating as his necklace swoops down to brush your skin.

“If you want me to stop, tell me to stop,” he says. “Yes?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

He guides himself back into you, embedding himself within you until you're full. One of his hands grips your hip while the other takes a hold of the headboard. It's this metal thing that squeaks whenever you move. So when he's thrusting into you with a vigor that has grown in the past couple of moments, it's accompanied by the constant whine of the metal. It's sort of funny.

His hips roll into you, waves of pleasure coming with each one. His hand cradles your neck, and you lean into him as he latches onto the sensitive skin of your throat, teeth scraping and tongue licking up the taste of your skin.

One of your legs comes up to wrap around his waist, and you moan as you pull him in deeper. His pace builds into this steady, needy kind of rhythm. The harder he thrusts, the more you clench, and the harder it is for him to stifle his grunts.

But you like the sounds he makes. Sometimes they're these deep groans that rumble in his chest like thunder. Sometimes they're these weak moans that you're pretty sure is him trying not to whimper. And you like the moans so much that you card your fingers through his hair and tug on a chunk of it as his head pulls back. His muscles flex, and his lips part. You watch his eyes flutter, this shocked whimper comes out of him.

“You did that on purpose,” his word and your moan mix together with the thrust of his hips.

“Ah…haha,” you gasp, nodding a little. “Yes, I—Oh, yes, I did.”

“What, are you a top or something?” he wonders, raising a brow.

You shrug, your mind a little blurry with the feeling of his cock shoved inside of you. “Dunno.”

He's interested enough to find out.

Once again, you're being moved around. You whimper when he pulls out of you just to sit you up again. Eddie moves to the head of the bed and pulls you back into his lap. “Let's find out.”

You take him in your hand, lining him up with your waiting lips. As you slowly sink back down onto him, your eyes flutter shut as you feel the way he fills you. And it only gets better from there as you slowly take him farther inside until he’s buried so deep that you can feel him pressing somewhere inside of you that you can’t quite pinpoint.

You’re fully seated on him now, eyes squeezed shut as you adjust to the feeling. Your hands come to rest on his chest, the fingers of your right hand brushing over the demon head on his pec. When you roll your hips and feel the way it presses inside of you, you’re immediately done for.

Your rhythm isn’t steady for a while. You move purely out of an urge to quell this need in the pit of your stomach. As you fuck yourself on his cock, Eddie’s hands hold your waist tightly just to have something to hold onto. You move quickly and without remorse, your head thrown back in pleasure as your hips lift up just to smack down on his lap once again.

For a while, you just grind on him, focusing on that deep spot that shoots electricity through your thighs. This pitiful sound flutters out of you, like a shudder running down your spine as your hands move to cup the back of his neck in your palms. His name falls from your lips with a plea, it’s a weak sound that would bring him to his knees if he wasn’t already on his back.

“Fuck, mama,” he huffs. “Keep going, just like that.”

His hands caress your skin, roaming your body underneath his shirt still draped over you. He hikes it up farther and farther until he feels your warm breasts. “Can I take this off?” he asks. You just nod, muttering an “mhm” as you keep bouncing with closed eyes. He pulls the shirt over your head, revealing your bouncing breasts to him as he takes a hold of them with greedy hands. He palms them, kneading them like he would dough. You just keep moaning as he builds you up.

You don’t mean to, but in an attempt to respond, the only thing that comes out of your mouth is a repetitive “yes, yes, yes” that echoes in the room alongside his own loud, open-mouthed breaths. “Shit, baby. Doin’ so good f’me.”

That makes you whimper, moving almost ruthlessly just to satisfy the rising need in your belly. “Fuck, I need cum, baby,” you whisper, repeating that again and again with each little roll. Eddie wastes no time in bringing his large hand to rest at the juncture of your thigh and your hip, his thumb swirling insistent circles into your clit. You gasp at the feeling, which is way more electric than you thought it’d be.

It becomes a little difficult to think. Visions of Eddie and his hands and your bodies, and the sounds of your slick and skin, and the smell of sex and body wash and cigarettes cloud your mind. You’re on the verge of tipping over the edge, you can feel your fingertips tingling with the wild sensations of your pleasure, so, so close to you now–

Eddie pulls you up from his lap, unsheathing your cunt from him. Your moans and your breaths are interrupted, and this weak cry tumbles from your tongue. He grunts, laying his head back and making this “hmph” sound.

You blindly reach for his cock, trying to guide him back inside of you before he’s lightly smacking your hand away. “Wait, mama, wait.”

“Eddie,” you whine, thoroughly unhappy with the way the growing waves in your belly had begun to retreat. “Please.” You could honestly cry. It had felt so good—you had felt so good, and he’d taken it all away in a matter of a second.

“What the fuck, dumbass?” you huff, looking at him with eyes unfocused with frustration and face flushed with lust.

“You’re so mean,” he says, almost as put off by the failed release as you.

“I was so close.”

“I know.” He sits up a little more, moving you off his lap. Your arousal is coating both of you, your thighs are sticky with it, his lap and his cock is glistening in the dim golden light. “That’s called edging.”

“I know what the fuck edging is. Why are we doing it?”

He laughs at your frustration, and you want to hit him. “Relax, we’re not done yet.”

“Well, hurry up,” you whine, already trying to throw your leg back over his legs. He just swats you away again.

“Turn around.” You would argue, but you’re too horny. So, instead, you turn around so your back is facing him. His hand spreads out along your back, and you nearly squeal when he pushes you down so your face is pushing into his covers. He pulls you up so your ass is in the air, grabbing one of your cheeks and squeezing.

“You still good?” He’s checking up, trying to be nice even though he was just the cruelest he could’ve been.

“Yes, please.” He likes you like this, honestly. It’s fun to see you so needy. It’s just something he can hold over your head.

He lightly smacks your ass, not enough to hurt but enough for your hips to jerk at the unexpected sensation. Immediately, he smoothes the skin with the palm of his hand and hums. He nudges your legs apart, spreading you open for him just enough as he pumps his cock in his hand.

“Just testing out some positions,” he says simply before he’s guiding himself back inside of you. It’s a welcome feeling, one you’re beginning to become accustomed to. Once he’s fully inside, he bottoms out with a heavy sigh. “It’s good to see which ones you like.”

“I like when I’m being fu–”

You’re cut off when his hips thrust into you, an almost cruel snap that makes this filthy smacking sound. You moan, literally feeling yourself melting into the bed as one of his hands comes to fist the sheets by your head. The other holds your waist tight, keeping you steady as he begins to fuck into you.

You really like this position. Being on top of him was so, so nice, but being underneath him is a feeling that makes your brain numb. You wrap your hand around his wrist as your other curls in the bedsheets, mewling feebly with every snap of his hips.

It’s dizzying, having him take you like this. There’s a light sheen of sweat coating your skin, encouraged by the warm air straying in through the slightly opened window. His breath is heavy, and you can hear him grunting every time his hips meet your ass. “Do you like this one?” he huffs, moving his hand to wrap lightly around your neck. He pulls you up from the covers so you can speak, your bodies bumping back and forth in the dance you’ve created.

You’re being kept steady only by your hand on the bed, gripping the sheets tightly. “Yes, Eddie,” you moan. You like saying his name, especially when you feel so good. It’s like a wave through your skin. It falls off your tongue with ease. “That feels good.”

He’s happy you’re happy. He keeps it up, losing his breath the longer he goes as your loud ones mix together in the heavy air of his bedroom.

You’re so glad Wayne isn’t home because there’s no way you would’ve been able to keep quiet. You respect that man too much to put him through this. The loud squealing of the bed certainly doesn’t help.

You turn your head to his arm, pressing your nose to his wrist to smell him. He smells like he always does, cigarettes and cheap cologne, like leather and maybe a bit of metal. But under that, you can still smell it. Green apple.

You kiss his wrist, and something snaps in him. For the hundredth time, Eddie pulls out of you and moves you back onto your back. Once again, you’re looking up at him as he locks you in. There’s a wild look in his eyes that makes you breathless, and when he’s pushing into you again, you moan.

“Right there,” you mutter incoherently when he fucks into you. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him in closer as you keep your legs spread wide. “Yes, fuck, right there.”

Eddie focuses on that spot, punching the head of his cock into it over and over again and watching the way your eyes roll, your head falling back into the sheets and your hands tightening around his arms. He loves the way your lips part, your soft lips split open by the feeling of him. He bends down and kisses the exposed expanse of your throat, sucking on the skin and nibbling hickeys into your skin.

When he pulls away from your neck with a light smack, you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down so your bodies are pressed flat together, skin to skin. He ruts into you, pressing his forehead against yours as you both breathe the other’s air. It’s all heat and lust and something else, something hot and heavy.

“I needa cum, Eddie,” you mumble, “For real this time.” You manage to get it out with a minimal amount of stuttering. You’re surprised you were even able to put the sass in it that you managed. He’s made such a mess of you.

His thumb finds your clit once more, and he’s circling the bud with a fervent kind of eagerness. “Keep breathing for me, mama. Breathe in deep.” You do as he says, so much so that you get a little dizzy as the air comes and goes. You buck your hips up into his thumb, your whimper getting higher and higher with each swirl.

You feel a knot curling in your belly, followed by a startling heat. “Eddie,” it comes out almost as a question. You’re addicted to the way his name feels in your mouth. You repeat it over and over, squirming and breathing and tightening your hold on him. He keeps fucking into you, focusing on that spot that makes you see stars as he just thrusts faster until his hips are moving in short, hard spurts.

When the dam breaks, it's with a slack-jawed gasp and a tight embrace. Your whole body tenses, like a coil tightening. It gets hot and hotter and hottest until a band snaps and you're trembling. You moan his name like a cry for help, holding his face between your hands and marveling at the softness of his skin. A brilliant shudder makes its way through your body, the quivering of your limbs making it impossible not to whimper and whine at each little shake.

Eddie helps you through all of it, keeping his in and out pace until it becomes unsteady with the fluttering of your pussy around his cock. Your mouth latch onto one another, more heat and lust and longing to fill the space between you as you recover with a dizzying head and buzzing veins. Loud and sloppy smacks accompany the ones coming from your hips, still meeting with the last sparks of your orgasm and the drive for his own.

His steady thrusts are unsteady now, just tiny little pumps of his cock inside of you as his breaths build into gasps just as small. You’re already coming down from your high, and your whines are sounding a little different now as you tilt your head to the side and hold onto his arm, the punch of his cock bordering on an overstimulated feeling after trying to recover from the large crash of your orgasm.

“Eddie,” you whimper, one hand still splayed across his cheek.

He pulls out of you suddenly, peeling his hand off of you to grab his cock. He tugs harshly at it, bucking his hips into his hand until he’s spilling out over your belly in warm spurts, these shuddered moans coming with it. “Oh, fuck, mama,” he whimpers in that sticky tone, burying his face in the crook of your neck as the last ropes of cum coat your skin.

There are a few moments where there’s complete silence—save for the sound of a car here and there, or a dog barking in the distance, or some people laughing even farther away, or your heavy breaths huffing between you two. Your fingertips caress the skin of his cheeks, drawing patterns into his face as he simply enjoys it with closed eyes and settling breaths.

When Eddie sits up, he takes your hand to pull you up with him. You both sit on his bed, looking down at your bodies now sticky with his cum, though his isn’t the only fluid sticking to your skin. Your thighs make a wet sound whenever you move.

You run a hand down your face, sighing heavily. “Jesus Christ,” you mutter, popping your toes. Eddie watches you stretch your arms over your head, enjoying the way your tits look when you do.

“So I did good?”

You look back at him to see the way he watches you, his brows bouncing with a sly grin on his face. You roll your eyes, not looking at him as you chuckle. “Yes, Eddie, you did good.”

He smiles wide.

Eddie stands from the bed, and you watch the way he sort of limps from his room. You can’t help your grin at the sight. At least that means you did good, too.

Eddie returns with a wet cloth in his hands, which he uses to clean you up first, wiping away all of your slick and his cum and even some of the saliva from your neck left behind by his sloppy kisses. He takes care in the way he does it, paying such close attention to you to ensure you’re just as clean and comfortable as he wants you to be.

When he’s done with you, he wraps his hand gently around your throat and pulls you in for another kiss. You lean into it. His kiss is like air in your lungs, and you sigh gently. Then he disappears again and comes back clean (and still deliciously naked—you enjoy the sight of his chain link tattoo curling around his upper thigh). He rustles through his drawers, pulling out another shirt, this one clean and not somewhere on the floor.

“You’re staying over, right?” he asks, as casual as ever as if he hadn’t just cum all over your stomach.

And, just as casually, you nod and turn onto your stomach to stretch again. “Mhm.” He tosses the shirt at you. It lands on your head, and you don’t move to put it on just yet. He picks up his sweatpants from the floor and puts them back on.

Eddie nudges you to the side so he can pull the covers back, and that’s when you sit up to put on his shirt. You stand, padding across his tiny room to turn off the lamp on his dresser, shrouding the room in relative darkness. When you climb back into the bed, you latch yourself onto his back and hold him to your chest. He’s really warm, and it feels nice to be this close.

Sometimes you wonder if you and Eddie are supposed to date. There’s nothing casual about your friendship, and there never really has been (especially not now). But you think that having Eddie as your best friend, perhaps just under unconventional circumstances, is the best thing there is. If you ever decide to get together, that’ll be a moment for a time in the (relative) distance.

For now, you just rest your ear against his back and listen to his heartbeat. “Eddie,” you mumble, bringing your leg up to rest over his body like he isn’t bigger than you.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

There’s a huff that you think is him chuckling. He pulls a hand up and pats yours a couple light times. “Anytime, mama.” There’s some silence. “I love you.”

You smile. You love your best friend Eddie.

“I love you, too. G’night.” He hums back at you.

Stranger Things taglist: @activebliss @queermaxwooo @life-on-needs @killerqueen-ofwillowgreen @emmalee-01 @sw34ter-w34ther @gublur @allofmaris @redwineandnicotine @the-cryptid @katsukis1wife @chaoticcancer @papichulo120627 @emistrash @jjmaybankswifes-blog @thegr8estpuff @lover-of-books-and-tea @xxhanililoxx @quickslvxrr Eddie the Banished taglist: @eddiiiieeee @hb8301 @queermaxwooo @lovemegood @munsaniac @digital-charlie @eiriancrow @littleblondesoprano @alexxavicry @samz31 @sparkletash @fandomgirl17 @marjoriea13 @akiratoro420 @mewchiili @mischieftom Tag yourself here...

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #reader insert #female reader

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salaciousdoll · 4 months ago

Text

· · · ℜ · · · Hot Chubby Virgin takes 4 Big C0cks · · · ℜ · · ·

Click the Video

.·:*¨¨*:·. starring Yuushi Totsumoto, Toji fushiguro, Shouta Aizawa, Benimaru Shinmon x Fluffer!reader

Gist: You went from a fluffer to p0rn ★ in just a small amount of time, funny how life changes.

ᰔᩚ ━━ Warnings: Smut, This is a crossover so almost everyone from these anime including aot are mentioned here, Levi is 6’0 here (even though it has nothing to do with the plot), pwp( half of it is plot), reader is chubby/plus size here, body worship, reader is a virgin, blood is mentioned because Aizawa is taking your virginity, mating press, cervix kissing( please know it doesn’t feel good in real life so I heard but this is fictional so who cares), consensual, gang bang, anal play( butt plug, anal, and anal licking), bodily fluids( spitting, squirting, creaming), impact play( slapping, sucking, biting, etc.), degradation kink, random oc’s because of this industry, Toji and benimaru are some little meanies, Yuushi is the only one with a porn ★ name and it’s Yoshi, Praise kink, Oral( receiving and giving), wlw scenes( you are involved as a fluffer), gagging, creampies, breeding kink activated, the men are head over heels for you, Meryl is the news reporter from mha( for those who don’t know her), porn talks, you go from a fluffer to a porn ★, touya is needy for you( Eren and Mr.compress too), age gap, dark content themes, virginity lost, anal virginity lost, rough fucking, daddy kink but I think only mentioned one time, and finally after care.

ᰔᩚ ━━ Word Count: 19.8k

ᰔᩚ ━━ Dolly Note from Salaciousdoll: Hi, my strawberry moon-pies🍓, I’ve been missing out on making fanfics for you guys so this is me officially trying to make my way back into the writing field. So I really hope y’all enjoy this one. I felt like the smut was meh but that’s okay. Also I don’t really know how this works so if it’s inaccurate please tell me!

Working as a fluffer is a dream to some if they have a porn addiction. You, on the other hand, disliked it because you had to sit and watch as the porn actors fake moan and groan.

This was not the plan to spend your first year of college. In fact, this wasn’t your plan at all considering you have a career plan set in motion for when you got out of school. A career you study and read up on all the time. A career of your choice, which is obviously not this. In fact, very far from it but the way college books and tuition is costing, you had no choice but to call this job’s phone number when you saw it on the website pop-up ad.

Fluffers needed

Age: 21+

50/hr

Flexible schedule

Experience in using your hands

call 800-321- 7773

Such a dumb Ad, yet you still took a chance and called. Luckily, it wasn’t a scam and you met all the requirements except the hands part. You didn’t really know what a Fluffer was when you called on impulse. You just saw the rate per hour and had to get it in. As soon as the director heard how pretty your voice is, no matter if it’s deep or soft or medium tone, you were called into an interview. Weird but you still went and glad you did: money wise.

Going into that blind could be traumatizing to some, but not to you. Growing up, you were around hyper sexual people all the time so this lane wasn’t new to you, however massaging or jerking off people to get them hard and wet was new to you. You could be considered apart of the sex work industry yourself to many since you had to get women nipples to stay hard and had to oil them down as well, which includes every crevice and corner of their body.

Sex work has its high and lows and man you did not want to enjoy the lows considering the fact that it out weighs the highs. Men don’t really experience the lows like women do. For example, Midnight and Petra always face harassment online and in real life, can’t forget the biggest of the women– Princess Habana. She was a touchy one with you, but you didn’t mind especially when she asked permission first. Plus, She’s fine as hell to you. All the women in this industry were.

You always looked forward to Hange switch scenes and Mirko scenes. The women and men they pleased always come to you with their heads in the clouds. Habana “victims” always come with sweat all over them, red faced, or out of breath– hinting that they didn’t take too many cuts. Probably why she was the top pornstar here. Real and uncut is her profession. Petra was a sweetheart and that’s why she gets views, the innocence in her non-virgin eyes were a turn on for lots of perverts. The new girl was training under her by the name of Historia. You could tell she’s just like Petra in a way, perfect for this disgusting industry.

Midnight was a panty dropper and heart stopper in this industry, she sometimes helped with fluffering when you’re busy licking and playing with someone else ie. Kayoko tits. Kayoko was an older lady you admired from a distance so when she came to you after having her a personal fluffer for years, it shocked you. You weren’t the only one who was shocked, Obi, her highly requested partner for her scenes, was too.

Going back to Midnight, You thought about her protege, Mount Lady. Mount lady was someone she trained and sometimes did scenes with. You always had to sit through their bickering as you oiled them down when they had pool scenes together with or without a male co-star. They’re too much alike for them to stand being with each other without a camera in their face. Honestly, you couldn’t do it so props to them for stepping into their professional shoes when the cameras roll.

Now if you want to talk about all the big stars in this company, it’ll have to be Hibana, Kayoko, Obi, Charon, joker, Leonard burns( one of the Directors and CEO), Takehisa, Benimaru, Konro, and Vulcan. Midnight, Mt lady, Mirko, Shouta, Hizashi, Toshinori, Enji, Touya, Tomura, and Keigo. Petra, Hange, Mikasa, Eren, Jean, Erwin( Director), Levi, Nile, and Miche. Shoko, Utahime, Toji, Gojo, Geto, Choso, Naoya- though a lot of controversy cpming from his videos-, Higuruma, Shiu, and Nanami.

Those names hold weight in this industry, each having different categories they engage in.

For reference, Levi engages with gaping, flogging, and more. It was interesting figuring these out as you watched the scenes. You had to give Hizashi credit for informing you in one ear and Gojo credit for talking in your other ear as you sat in the background in your own designed chair with your name on it. You were in the middle of them as they kept speaking on and on while trying to throw in a few jokes here and there, had to do it in whispers otherwise Levi is going to call cut and everybody knows what comes next.

You watched as Erwin stared intensely at the scene with his steel blue eyes. Honestly, the man scared you the first time you saw him. Luckily his soothing, deep voice scratched the fear out of your mind. Bringing yourself back to reality, you saw the Lovey, the woman he was fucking mouth opened in a real O which means he was actually making her feel good. Anal looked painful but as long as it showed him gaping her hole she didn't care. I mean, she’s been wanting this since shaking hands with Levi. You could see it in her green eyes. A ginger with a big ass and pretty green eyes, what a star in the making.

Eyes like diamonds as they looked into the camera pointed in front of them. Levi groans and gruff moans were heard as he fucked her open some more as she was on all fours with her chest to the floor and her ass up, giving the viewers and directors exactly what they want. The 6’ feet man didn’t care about anything at the moment and you could tell. Reading body language was fun because you could see he was really enjoying her pretty, freckled ass— the ass grabs let you know too. The carpet was turning her knees red and she didn’t even care.

“ Fuck, Levi! Aahnnn~”, Lovey moans as mascara begins pouring down her face and lips bruised from her sucking his cock earlier.

“ Shit, m’gonna. Holy fuck!”, Levi moans before he cums deep inside of her ass with two deep thrust.

“ Cut! Lovey, Levi, are you two alright to do another shoot on the bed?”, Erwin asked with his deep baritone voice.

Levi huffed out and pulled out his now deflated cock, “ whatever you say Erwin. Just bring me {reader}. Good job, new girl. Just be more loud with the moans in order to sell it even more.” He helped her shaking body up to the bed and caught the towel Obi threw as he walked past to go do his scene with his favorite, Valentine. A red haired woman with pink highlights in her hair hence the name. She was a beauty, brown skin, nice smile, tits, and legs. All around perfect to a lot of men and women. She was a sweetheart to you and you could tell she loved it when she did scenes with him or Takehisa or Nanami. Girl got a specific type, you could almost put your finger on it.

“ {reader’s last name}! You’re up! Levi needs you, he’s in his room.”, Leonardo says as he takes the position Erwin was just in. Erwin must have had to eat his lunch or something. That’s the only time this happens.

You hurried up and got up, sitting your clipboard in your chair and heading to the room with his last name on it: L. Ackerman ✩

You walked in to see him talking on the phone with someone, probably his wife. You didn’t know. You just knew you had to do what they hired you to do.

You grabbed his soft cock in your hand and started stroking him up and down in slow circles just like he liked it.

Levi groaned as his head flew back in pure satisfaction , “ A-alright, I’ll see you tonight. I should be done after two more scenes and then I’m all yours.”

You knew how skilled your hand has gotten overtime while working here, so this was nothing to you and him. He was used to you and didnt want any other Fluffer helping him.

You were so much into your head that you didn’t even notice that he hung up the phone and threw it down on the bed before lifting up to look down at you in between his legs stroking him up and down. Levi wanted to smile at you but his face wouldn’t let him. He wanted you in these scenes, fuck it, he wanted you in every last one of his scenes yet they wouldn’t let him pick you no matter how much he vouched for you since they didn’t have a lot of women in the industry like that. Rare that this company doesn't but that’s not important right now. What’s important is that you’re in between his legs right now.

Levi placed a hand on your chubby cheek, “ And you wonder why I request you out of all fluffers to help me, it’s because you’re so goddamn good at this. So, thank you, {reader’s name}. You’re good to go now. I think it's hard enough to get back on the scene.”

You smiled at him and nodded your head, getting up to open the door before hearing him call your last name, “ They are going to have plans for you. Sooner than later.

You looked back at him, “ Sounds like the infamous Levi Ackerman is worried about me. I’m flattered. I think I’ll be fine and plus it’s not in my contract to have scenes so I’m sure whatever they have planned is probably something to do with Fluffering.” With that being said, you left his room and walked to the bathroom to wash your hands.

Leaving back out the bathroom, you bumped into a figure. Luckily, you didn’t fall like cliche movies instead you were pulled in when the figure saw you stumble. Pulled in by the waist by strong arms, 17 year old you was screaming right now.

“ Sorry, didn’t pay attention to where I was walking. My apologies, baby doll.”, A deep but melodic voice says while you open your eyes again to meet silver-green eyes.

His creamy, buff arms felt so good around your voluptuous body. He confidently held his arms around you while looking for your eyes to meet his eyes again after hurriedly wandering them around in what seems to be a small panic to him.

His chuckles were vibrating his chest— shaking under the touch of your finger tips. You hurried to take your hands from his chest and backed up rapidly so you wouldn’t offend him.

“ No need to do that, doll. Can I ask you a question?”, Toji asked with a small smirk on his face.

You gulped and looked at him, “ um, I really have to g—”

“ So we’re not gonna talk about what happened two weeks ago? You’ve been timid with me ever since. I’m a grown man, {reader}. Just let me know how you feel, nothing will go wrong, I promise.”, Toji said as he took a step forward. You surprised him by not backing up to let him cage you in just like he did last time which caused him to get a kiss on the lips from you.

Lips as soft as chewy butterscotch candy. He wanted more of you. He had to get more of you, eventually. Sadly, he knew he wasn’t the only man who had their eyes on you. He knew Yuushi and Shouta did too.

Those two were annoying to him. He felt like you didn’t even like speaking with them or even helping them, so why do they keep eyeing you whenever you walk past. Toji heard that someone else accidentally moaned your name as he fucked a girl similar to you. Apparently, the guy was on par with him. The guy was stacked it seems. Benimaru was the only one he can think of that’s on par with him.

Popularity was going through the roof with a lot of employees here but there seems to be two main people in the categories of threesomes, orgies, Gang bangs, and etc. Which is himself and Yuushi.

The guy was a loner for the most part and stays in his own room unless they come and tell him he has a scene. He never cared about being in the spotlight, he just wanted to pleasure women. Pleasuring women has been his thing ever since his ex-girlfriend. The woman who introduced him to this industry, just to die and leave him all alone.

Now Benimaru was another but similar story. The guy was a loner off set but when he’s in front of the camera, he turns into a completely different person. Almost like he has a second persona when that’s not even the case. He just knows how and what to do without listening to people. You admired the way he did stuff at his own pace and that’s what Toji didn’t know. He didn’t know that you watched him and Yuushi, often comparing them to Shouta and Benimaru. They all had something similar that attracts you. You couldn’t put a finger on it.

“ Toji, it was one kiss. I’m sure you kissed a lot of other women in this industry. Now excuse me I have to go on the other side of this big ass studio for Touya ass. See ya later and don’t purposely cum inside of whoever you fucking just to see me again. It’s annoying catering to you five times a damn day.”, you said as you walked around him. You were on your way down to Touya when you heard your name being called by Shouta.

You walked to him as he sat on the couch chair holding a bottle of oil. “ You know what to do, { reader’s last name}.” You rolled your eyes and let out a small smile across your lips, “ I keep telling you, Shouta. You don’t have to call me by my last name anymore. I’ve been at this company for almost a year now.”

Shouta looked into your eyes with his black tired eyes, “ I respect you, {reader’s last name}. I don’t want to find myself crossing the line of unprofessionalism.”

Your lip stretched and your teeth showed as you felt your head tilt back following a loud laugh afterwards. You pulled it together after a few seconds, “ Please unprofessionalism my ass, you have a lot of nerve Mr. Aizawa.”

“ Thought you said we weren’t supposed to bring that up, look who’s bringing it up now.”, Shouta says in a low voice making the deep tone drop lower causing your vagina to tingle.

“ You know what, let’s just get this over with shall we?”, You asked as you opened the bottle to put the oil on your hand. “ You’re not going to stand for me so I could put this o-”

“ No, I want to rest my feet plus I’m sure whoever you were heading to is going to wait for you regardless. After all, you’re the famous Fluffer around here.”, Shouta says as he leaned back in the recliner couch chair.

You huffed and got closer to him to place your hands on his chest, trailing your hands further down his torso, you felt all his abs and was in love with this job all over again. Only this part you were in love with. His robe was blocking your way of seeing all of him, but you had a feeling he did that on purpose, especially with the way he was watching you.

Aizawa bit his lip at the feeling of your cold hands laced in baby oil gliding down his torso ultimately massaging him on the way down. He didn’t really need your help with this considering he’s a vet in this industry so he would know how to oil himself down, but he wanted to feel your chubby fingers massaging him instead.

Aizawa eyed your boobs protruding out of the strapless pink corset-shirt you wore, he then trailed his eyes to your belly which turned him on even more. He liked that you were careless of everyone’s opinions on bigger people wearing clothes like you wore. He could always hear some newbies talking about you and what you wear. He loved and hated how jealous and hateful they sound because he knew it never gets to you. You oozed confidence and that’s what made him completely turn his attention to you and only you.

He then eyed the light jeans you wore and wanted to rip them off. He thought about things he wanted to do to you until he felt your hands on his thighs causing him to let out a short moan. Your hands were so close to his erection and you were so damn professional about it. Now who’s actually crossing that line.

Keeping a straight face was a part of your job and Shouta was making it hard for you. You so badly wanted to laugh at his erection poking your hand as you oiled him up around that area. Laugh in response of being turned on or embarrassment, you weren’t sure.

Soon you made it to his legs and feet, stopping to put more oil on your hands before rubbing more oil on his body. After a minute, you were done and he stood up causing you to be at eye level of his erection, luckily his robe was in the way or else your eye could’ve been poked.

You looked up at him with your pretty eyes. He loved to see every day he came into this forbidden place. He wanted to see you on your knees like this for him everyday. He was about to lean his head back once he felt your breath blowing on his cock causing it to move up and down in excitement.

“ Fuck, {reader’s first name}.”, Aizawa moaned as his damp hair covered his eyes. His hand came up to his mouth in disbelief of what you were about to do until he felt you get snatched away.

“ Hey dickface, she isn’t on your time now. She’s on mine cause I asked for her. And you, when I ask for you I expect you to be there, not on your way to becoming a pornstar for this old dirtbag. Real low, even for you.”, Touya says as his tattooed arm was placed around your neck dragging you with him.

Aizawa let out a huff and groaned into his hand, “ she almo—”

“ Got you too. Surprised at you, Aizawa. Didn’t think you’d fall for it.”, Toji says as he leaned against the wall.

“ How long have you been there, you do realize creeping on people is illegal.”, Aizawa said.

Toji chuckled and turned to walk out but stopping again to speak, “ We’re in a business like this. Please save the holy and thou talk for someone who cares. Now, You do know she looks at both of us right?”

“ What the hell is that supposed to mean? We’re the top pornstars in this business. Of course, she’ll look at us. We’re not speci—”, Aizawa says, rubbing more oil on his arms, finally getting rid of that robe.

“ Speak for yourself, Aizawa. Maybe a man of a few words, but I could still observe and see that she’s eyeing us longer than the rest.”, Yuushi said as he walked up.

They all were so used to seeing each other naked that Aizawa being naked or Yuushi being half naked wasn’t a thing to shy away from in disgust. “ So she stares at us longer, now what?”

Aizawa was tired of them already and they just showed up. These two were just as much as Gojo and Yamada. In fact, everyone was annoying except you in his books.

“ Now we wait and see if the opportunity will come to us. I’m sure it will, considering the actor we were all supposed to do scenes with might not make it because of a plane delay , but again, we will see.”, Benimaru says as he walks past the door the two buff men were standing at.

He stopped to look at all three of them, “ Look, she’s the star Fluffer around here and we all have some sort of relationship with her but let me be clear right here and now. I don’t want to do this scene with either of you. I would rather work alone but since a huge amount of money is involved, I have no choice. As for the pretty one, she’ll be with me in no time, on and off set, doesn’t really matter..” With that he walked off leaving the other three to dwindle on his words.

“ I can't stand that guy.”, Yuushi said as he walked away.

“ That’s all? He’s a funny one. Well, I’ll see you later Aizawa.”, Toji said as he hit his door threshold as he left. Aizawa kept replaying the scene of you on your knees blowing on his dick over and over again. He needed you quickly.

Meanwhile, you were now swirling your hips on Touya’s cock causing him to whimper and moan out your name, “ mmm shit, just like that.” You chuckled prior to swirling your tongue on his nipples and playing with the other one with your index finger.

You unlatched your mouth from his nipple— the saliva creating a skinny, long string, “ That’s enough, pretty boy. Can’t have you cumming before the scene.” Touya groaned and rolled over on his side once you got up off of him, “ Really. You’re such a tease, see why my brother spoke about you.”

“ Natsuo talks about me? I thought that he didn’t like anything I did because he’ll say he got it from here.”, Your imitation of his voice caused Touya to chuckle. Touya came up to you with his hard on cock in his hand, “ Oh that just means his ass didn’t want to be embarrassed in front of little ol’ {reader}. Meaning you did great, doll.”

Touya kissed you on the cheek and walked out the door to finish his scenes for the day. You huffed and fixed yourself. Honestly, you needed a break and that’s exactly what you are going to take. A lunch break.

Your heels clicked against the tiled floor as you walked past the loud moans and groans of women and men in different rooms. Door open or closed. You heard one girl moaning Mirko’s and Hange’s name. Oh how you wanted to be her in there. You were about to make your way out the door when Erwin called your name making you stop where you were. “ Are you on your way out for lunch, {reader’s name}? If so, take my card, it’s the least I could do for causing you to stay longer than expected last Thursday.”

You were about to decline when he gave you the look you hated from him. His blue eyes were drilled on you and you hated it. So, you walked to him to see him standing a few feet behind Leonardo as they both watched the scene of Aizawa and Shoko both fucking Emi. Aizawa was fucking her mouth while Shoko was slapping her tits and digging inside of her pussy with her strap-on. Her gags were so pretty and sensual. No wonder she’s been getting requested more, that’s what you heard from the grapevines: Suguru Geto.

You eyed the way Aizawa was fucking Emii’s mouth so rough and sexy. The spit dripping down her mouth was everything you wanted. You needed him and soon his eyes met yours for a split second which turned into a minute.

“ Alright cut!, Aizawa what’s the deal? Why are you not focused?”, Leonardo said in a gruff voice. You didn’t stay for his response since he only took his eyes off you when Leonardo finished asking the question. It was like you were stuck under his gaze and you didn’t like it -you loved it-.

You walked out the door to get lunch with Erwin’s black card. You were about to walk to your car when your phone rang. You hurried to dig into your bag to pull it out and put it on speaker, “ what your bitch ass want?”

Your brother's chuckles were dancing to your ears, “ Shut up bitch, mom wants you at dinner tomorrow, she is still trying to set you up with that man. We both know he wants my ass. I don't know why she ignores the obvious signs.”

You got into your car and your phone automatically connected with the Bluetooth hooked to your radio, “ I don’t know either. He stares at you most of the time and I know your thirsty ass got his number.”

“ Ah ah, your ass gave me his number so don’t play. Anyways, she just wants her grandbabies since I can’t give it to her since I’m Pansexual, which in her damn eyes it’s the end of her trying to push grandbabies agenda on me, and sis can’t give it to her since she’s, ya know.. So, like always, you're her last hope.”, Your brother says with a yawn following.

You were about to pull off until a knock was heard on the passenger side of your window causing you to jump. The person let out a deep chuckle, “ Mind if we catch a ride with you, starving over here.”

“ Jin! Reiner! Of course. Hop in. Due note I’m going to frijoles but I think there’s more food spots in that little mall.”, You say as you unlock the doors to your car letting them get in. “ Hey bro, I’m gonna call you later, see you at dinner tomorrow.”

“ Make sure you ask one of them t-” click, you hurried to end the call on him because he was about to say something outrageous. Both blondes had their eyebrows lifted up and you nervously laughed it off.

“ brothers am I right? Haha.”, you said as you pulled off to your destination.

“ What exactly was he about to say? He must be a little shit.”, Jin says to which you nod in agreement.

“ Hey but only I get to call him that.”, You joked while pushing his shoulder. Jin laughed and held up his hands, “ My bad, sweetness. By the way, Atushiro has been annoying dabi and shigaraki ever since he found out they hog you. They say he’s getting more annoying than the Eren guy.”

“ Eren’s been annoying them of all people, why? Why won’t Atsuhiro come find me himself?”, You asked as you turned a corner.

Reiner sighed, “ Because he feels the same way that Sako feels, it’s weird. What hold do you have over these people? Rhetorical by the way.”

You shrugged anyway, “ those two really don’t hog me the way you all think they do.” Both Jin and Reiner looked at you with the same face making you laugh, “ Okay maybe they do.”

You continued driving and laughing, “ Besides, don’t act like you two don’t be needy as well.”

Reiner sat up between you two, “ Don’t hold that against us, {reader}. You’ve gotten way too good with only a year in this company, why wouldn’t we be needy.” You coughed and looked away from his gold eyes and turned to face the now green light.

“ Let’s just get this food and go back because I think I wasted 10 minutes already.”, You say, getting flustered. Reiner smirked a bit and leaned back with his legs cocked wide open. Jin laughed and poked fun at you on your way to Frijoles.

Once you got there, you ordered what you wanted and once you all ordered, you all stood on the side and waited until you got your food.

“ Oh my God, Jin and Reinerrr! My favorites.”, A woman with a group of girls says, coming up to them with a huge smile on their face. You stepped out of the way and let them sign her tits. She must watch a lot of their porn to want their names on her toys in permanent marker.

You laughed at Jin's face. He looked like he was shy and it was funny watching the sweat roll down his face. You were about to say something smart until they called your name letting you know your food is ready. Reiner and Jim both grabbed your hand, not before bidding the women farewells. You let them hold your hand as you three made your way to pick up the food, Reiner offered to pay so this was a freebie for you. Jin grabbed the bag and you three went to the car to go back to work.

“ That was something. This is why you have to wear glasses in public. I thought y’all knew that.”, You say, having a point.

Jin huffed, “ Don’t be a smart ass, we forgot. Well, I did. Can’t speak for himbo boy here.” He was drinking his soda he got from the machine after asking for a cup for water. Just lying and thieving.

“ Himbo?! Yeah no. I didn’t forget just didn’t know people would recognize me in Frijoles of all places. Most people don’t approach male pornstars like this so it was surprising.”, Reiner said, eating his chips.

“ Logical but still not good enough since you’re a part of the biggest company with multiple pornstars in the top 20. You’re number 15 Reiner, be serious here.”, You said while Jin laughed at Reiner’s face.

The ride back to your job was smooth and funny. Reiner was talking about how beautiful one of the women that stopped him and Jin was and how he should’ve gotten her number. Jin was calling him a pussy and making fun of him for being a “ pussy”.

You three walked into the building and they both kissed your cheek before walking off. You suddenly got pulled by your arm and dragged over to Utahime by MeiMei.

“ Get her off with your touchy magic. I’m staying and watching.”, Mei Mei said to which you shook your head.

“ Uhnt uh. You’re not watching, you perv and I’m on my lunch break so give me ten minutes Utahime and I’ll be right with you. How long before you do the scene with this freak behind me?”, You ask as you smack Mei Mei hand, that stretches out to touch your waist, away from you.

You heard her laugh like it was funny and then smiled at Utahime. She looked up at you since she was sitting on the bed with her arms behind her, “ That’s totally fine, no rush, pretty. Just need you to have something in your stomach before you assist me. Do not want you to starve when you’re helping me.”

You smiled and nodded your head before turning to walk out the door at the same time Mt lady was coming inside the room. You two almost bumped into each other, luckily you didn’t. You smiled at her and waited for her to pass you. As you were finally walking out the door, Mt lady grabbed your hand and smiled at you, “ You coming back? I really hope so, I need you to prep me for my scene.” You nodded your head and walked out to find a quiet place where you could eat your food in peace and you knew the perfect place.

Your storage room. You called it yours because you have yet to find someone else occupying it when you go in there. Hopefully, it’ll continue like that. You opened the door and cursed yourself for speaking too soon, you saw a man’s silhouette and was about to turn around until the lights turned on revealing Benimaru, the vet in this business, started when he was freshly 20 and now he’s 32 years old. That’s what you read up online after curiously searching for him since you were beginning to be infatuated with him.

He was sitting there eating his food, now staring at you as he chewed his food. The not blinking should’ve been concerning to you, but that just made the room more hotter or was it him. You had a great feeling it was his gaze. Red heterochromia eyes, one red and the other one red with streaks of white. You wondered if he got his eyes from his mom or dad.

“ You’re gonna sit down or not?”, Benimaru said as he pointed at the seat beside him. You sighed and just when you were about to sit down, he slid the chair next to him. Closer. You were surprised and he could see it in your face, you were surprised and he was pleased by your small reaction on your face.

You two ate in silence, chewing were the only sounds you two could hear. You cleared your throat and opened your mouth to speak when he suddenly interrupted you, “ How do you like this job so far? Never got to ask you earlier than now.”

He chomps on the rice ball he got from the market as you put your palm on your face, “ It’s…” Benimaru stared at you as he stopped eating as if that helps with hearing you better. “ It’s… okay. Pay is good, it’s still a new transition for me since I never thought to be in this field of work. It’s still different but interesting.” You looked at Benimaru and instantly locked eyes with him, you started to play with your bangles and bracelets on your wrist to distract yourself from emitting heat from your cheek.

“ What about you? Do you like your line of work? You seem to become another person when the director yells action.”, You said while putting rice in your mouth.

Benimaru stared at you for a second, admiring the way your cheeks grew bigger as you ate your food. He couldn’t wait to bite them as he split you open. He cleared his throat and sat up, “ I used to love this job up until my third year doing this. I actually wanted to quit, believe it or not. Don’t really care… It was Konro who managed to convince me to stay in this field. Only a year ago, I started to love this complicated job.”

“ Why a year ag—”, you asked before he interrupted you.

“ You really wanna know? Don’t see why you would want to know, but I’ll tell you anyway. It’s because I met someone who piqued my interest in this forbidden career.”, Beni says as he bites into his food again.

You raised an eyebrow and opened your mouth to say something when someone opened the door, another worker with his loud walkie talkie, “ You’re on Benimaru in 45 minutes, make sure your muscles are massaged properly for this scene. Oh hey, {reader}!”

You waved as Benimaru got up with a sigh. He looked down at the one rice ball he had left and placed it on the side of your Frijole bowl, “ Here, take it and try it.” You were surprised because he never shared his food with you like that. You stared up at him from where you were sitting and smiled at him whispering a thank you. He nodded at you and walked away from you. You didn’t see the softness in his eyes when he looked back at you on his way out the door because you were looking at your phone— still eating from that bowl.

“ It was nice.”, Benimaru whispered as he made his way to his scene. He thought it was nice to speak to you. He wanted to hear your voice more but duty calls first, at least for right now. He also would've gotten a massage from you, but he knew you were on break so he whistled at another Fluffer and they followed behind him.

You, on the other hand, was now chewing the rice ball and almost moaned at how good and different it was to you. You suddenly got a text from Yuushi asking for you. You smiled at his pleas and eagerness for you to be his Fluffer instead of Arima, who was the best Fluffer before you got there. You never understood why they want to keep you on your toes but whatever. You’re just glad that you actually managed to finish your food today without being dragged by Eren, Jean, Tenko, Or Vulcan. Very refreshing.

You got up to throw your food away and went to the nearest bathroom to wash your hands. When you were done, you grabbed a paper towel and dried them off prior to throwing it in the garbage and leaving the bathroom. You made your way to Mt. Lady and Utahime first before you got to Yuushi— passing by multiple open scenes with pornstars fucking other pornstars. Beds banging against the wall, tables scratching across the floor, and most of all, the moans and groans complementing those movements. This was your life. The life you chose to live.

You had to get yourself off in the bathroom plenty of times, like the time Miche and Higuruma was fucking Ms.Midnight. Both pounding into her holes like they were on a mission to see who’s better and faster. You remember crossing your legs as you stood in the back watching the scene. Her moans were only adding on to your horniness. The most seductive and pretty moans you ever heard and they seemed so real. Their gruff moans and groans were loud as well. What you didn’t notice is Toji smirking at you during that time since he was on his break and decided to stop by here to see what’s all the commotion here. He knew you were horny, your thighs were the dead giveaway.

So now going into the room where only Utahime and Mt Lady were at, you witnessed them two making out and you so badly wanted to join especially the way Mt.Lady was fondling Utahime’s breast with one hand and the other hand was making their way up to her onyx hair—yanking her head back to trail her lips over her throat. This was very intimate for the scene to not start yet. You cleared your throat loudly and they broke away from each other but not before Mt. Lady sucked on Utahime’s neck one last time.

You laughed at Utahime’s ditzy expression, “ Damn, you two have some good ass chemistry. So sorry for interrupting, but I have to help you two fast because Yuushi requested for me and you know how much of an nonchalant ass he could be to other people when he doesn’t get his way with me.” They both nodded, both being on the other end receiving his nonchalant asshole ways because you didn’t turn up for work that one time.

“ Well we already prepped each other here so you can make sure we’re wet enough , here.”, Mt lady says as she lifts up her skirt showing her tanned pretty pussy. You smirked at her knowing she doesn't really need help to figure out if she’s wet enough or not. She just wants your lips on her. “ You sure you want me to because I just got done eating and— fuck it. Lay down.”

She gladly laid down for you and spread her long legs for you, you got between her as Utahime watched closely while having her legs cocked open as her Dainty fingers played with her pussy. She always wanted you like Mt Lady had you right now. On your knees with your eyes on her while you eat her out and she would gladly do the same thing to you with no problem. In fact, she would gladly die in between your thighs if she could.

You blew on her pussy as your eyes locked with hers. You smirked before licking a stripe of her pussy making her breath hitch. You’ve become a master of licking pussy due to licking theirs in order to get them wet enough for their scenes. Your mouth closed around her clit, sucking it into your mouth softly making her legs shake a little. She let out a throaty whimper, lifting her hips up and down to get you to lick her the way she wanted and needed.

You kissed her clit after popping it out your mouth, hearing Utahime’s moans as you heard the squelches of her wet pussy being fingered fucked by her own fingers. Mt Lady’s head flew back when you flicked your tongue rapidly over her clit while pushing one finger into her pussy— feeling her juices drip on your finger. You knew she was wet enough, both of them really, but you still wanted to tease them, so you trailed your tongue down her pussy and into her hole, replacing the finger you once had in her, swirling your tongue around making her clench your hairstyle in her hands as she said your name through the pants she released from her pink lips.

“ Mmmahh! Your mouth.. your tongue is so mmmgh!”, Mt lady moaned as you flicked your tongue up and down inside of her. She tasted so good even after you ate, but unfortunately, you had to stop this before she cums before her scene and you never supposed to let them do that. That was a clear rule in the contract.

You dragged your tongue out of her and over her pussy one last time prior to getting up off your knees and leaning down to kiss Utahime so she could lick and suck Mt.Lady juices off your lips. And that she did. She tongue kissed you so passionately while whimpering, “ I need you, stay a little bit more.”

You so badly wanted to stay, but you couldn’t. Duty calls. Utahime licked around your lips before planting another kiss on your lips, “ Gosh, you're so damn perfect. Too perfect for these damn men.”

You laughed as the door opened and an annoying but attractive voice spoke, “ Awwn, what about me, {reader}.” MeiMei, you forgot about her but you assumed she got help elsewhere and you were right.

You scoffed as you stared at her before turning your attention to Mt lady and Utahime, “ That was nice for a moment girls. Make sure you two let her know if she takes it overboard. Mostly talking to you, Utahime… I will see you guys around.”

You were about to walk out the door until MeiMei's voice spoke out, “ Ignoring me is only gonna turn me on even more, princess.” You rolled your eyes and continued walking out the door. Once the door closed you fixed yourself up before walking on the other side of the building for Yuushi.

Once you got there, you heard four other voices and recognized them. You wanted to turn around and act like you were helping someone like Keigo or something. The four voices you never wanted to be in the room at the same time with. You breathed in and out your hands on the door, twisting it and was about to open when you heard Aizawa’s voice, “ What do you mean she couldn’t make it? where’s she?”

“ Calm down, her plane is delayed until tomorrow. So we may have to reschedule this scene to tom-”, the director of their scene, Gido, says before he’s interrupted by Toji.

“ That can’t work, I have a big scene to do. Maybe we could find a replacement.”, Toji suggested.

“ No, that would mean we would have to take pictures and go over the scene, which ultimately means working overtime. I’m sure you guy-”, the director says, getting interrupted again.

“ Do not speak for me. I don’t care if we go overtime. I have the perfect candidate in my mind. She’ll be perfect since she already knows how everything works here.”, Benimaru says as the other hummed in agreement.

You forgot you were holding onto the door when suddenly it flew open, revealing Yuushi staring at you with Benimaru, Toji, Aizawa, and the stage crew in the back.

The director was walking over to you, “ Hey we don’t ne-”

“ Yes, we do. She’s the perfect candidate he was speaking about, Gido.”, Yuushi says while holding eye contact with you. Your hands were beginning to get clammy as you processed his words inside of your mind. Once it clicked, you hurriedly shook your head, “ No, No. I am a Fluffer, that's all.”

Toji walked past Yuushi and placed his large arm around your shoulders, bringing you closer to him, “ Oh come on, {reader}. I think you have exactly what we all need. You didn’t even give it a chance.”

“ I’m not cut out for doing things in front of a camera, Toji. It’s nerve wrecking and besides I’m not rea—”, you say, your words lingering until Aizawa got what you were saying.

“ You’re a virgin. That’s why you’re not ready.”, Aizawa says as he watches you look down at the ground in sheer embarrassment. Honestly, he expected you to not be considering the skill you possess and how you flirt and dress.

Toji lifted your head up to face him, “ Can I kiss you?”

The director lit up as he processed Aizawa’s words. “ Actually, you guys are right. She’s perfect for this role. The entire scene is based on the Daughter’s bestfriend fucking the step-father and his friends. What’s better is she’s an actual virgin. This is perfect! Come on, let's get you prepped.”

He dragged you over to the bathroom and you were expressing how this is very new and different and how you didn’t even make a decision. Benimaru heard you and yelled for the director to stop for a second. He walked up to you placing two hands on your face, “ You have the option to decide if you want to do this or not. No one and I mean no one is going to force you to do anything you don’t want to do. That’s not how we work over here.”

You looked into his eyes, almost hypnotizing yourself. You slowly nodded your head, “ Yes. I wanna do it.” You just wanted them four, you didn’t even think about you being on camera anymore because all you thought about was them.

Benimaru hummed and smirked at you, “ Atta girl. Go get measured and prepped for photos and whatever else you need for this scene. We will gladly guide you on what to do, just listen to us.” You nodded your head and got dragged away not even a second later. The director dragged you past the bathroom area and in front of a lady ready to take your measurements.

You felt like a doll as they measured you before your shower– they dressed you up after the shower. You requested a shower because you didn’t want to be sweaty down there while possibly getting the best dick of your life. As soon as you got out of the shower, Gido’s assistant was waiting with her eyes shut and a big bath-robe held open for you to glue your body to. Stepping into the towel, You opened the door to get a pajama set shoved in your arms and some refreshments for moisturizing your body the perfect way for your first scene.

Walking into another area, you still haven’t seen the guys yet. You didn’t have time to worry about them because now the Assistant and another fluffer/ Pornstar named Meryl, who was your co- partner for this storyline. She was supposed to be your best friend in this story line. One thing you’ve learned about this industry is that people can have more than one role in this business. She had two roles now. Meanwhile, The assistant’s hands were magical. They felt so good and you could tell this used to be a fluffer from how skilled she was.Her rubbing circles on your nipples was enough to get them steel and hard.

You honestly liked getting so dolled up and pretty; this may be your favorite part out of all of this. It will vary as time passes. A makeup artist was doing your makeup as well. Feeling the makeup brushes and blenders patting at your face so gently was the best, it felt like you were getting ready for a big movie that could’ve broken the box office with insane numbers. You snapped out of your little fantasy when you heard Meryl’s sweet sultry voice, “ Okay, so you only got five lines throughout this entire opening act. After that, You’ll be talking with Yuushi, who's acting as my step-father. Remember to make this sound as natural as you can. After all, this is your debut video for this company. No more hiding behind the scenes, pretty girl.”

You laughed at her teasing you until Tina, one of the makeup artists, scolded her for making you laugh. You were about to respond when you heard his assistant speak, “ Don’t scare her too much, Meryl. I could tell she’s going to be a natural at this.”

“ They’re right, you know. But I need you ladies to do less chit chatting for now. Need those two to go over their lines with each other.”, the director said as he handed you two the script.

You took the paper from the director’s hand. You look over the paper and look through it nodding at some of the lines you have. It's not much like Meryl said— good.

“Okay, are you ready? It’s only me and you right now, forget everyone in this room right now. Focus on my eyes if that’s not enough. I want you to do so well because I want scenes with you too, babydoll.”, Meryl says as she winked at you.

You smiled and looked into her eyes with a nod letting her know you’re ready. She smiled at you and looked down at the paper before looking at you, “ Hey, wanna spend the night, my step dad isn’t home so it’ll just be us here.”

You looked down at the paper before looking up into her eyes, “ sure, I could use a foot break, l-l, oh shit!” You lifted the paper up to your face to hide your obvious embarrassment.

She hurried to console you by grabbing your wrist, “ No No that was good, you just need to work on remembering your lines. Right Mr. Gido?”

“ Yes, Normally people would’ve had to look at the paper five more times before they uttered that sentence on their first try. Proud of you for that bit so now I need you to take it home for me. You can do that for me, {reader’s name}?”, Gido says as he holds a clipboard to his eyes. You nodded as if he could see you from behind the clipboard and looked down at your lines again, memorizing them and locking them into your mind for the next ten minutes. That's how much time they gave you since Meryl had to get her makeup retouched. You turned the page to see your next lines, which was when you were gonna be talking to Yuushi and his buddies during their card game late at night. It looks like it’s supposedly at 3 am. You blushed at some of the lines on the outside, luckily the makeup artist could only feel your skin getting warmer with excitement and not everyone else. But on the inside, You were screaming like you were a little girl getting your first doll of your kind. So excited for this scene that you almost forgot that you had to get there first.

Soon the makeup artist was done and when they turned you around, You were astonished at how natural and warm it looked. You smiled at yourself in the mirror and watched as another woman fixed your hair. You were so glad Gido had women as makeup artists and hairstylists. You didn’t want to look too light for your own complexion or hair looking not so great because some people don’t know how to do your hair type or hairstyle right when it comes to this industry or any industry for that matter.

You watched as the woman fixed your hair or type of hairstyle into whatever style you wanted. It was beautiful and made your face shine brighter because it enhanced the shape of your face entirely. You smiled at yourself and your glowing face. God, you looked like a pretty bratz doll and everyone heard you whisper that to yourself which earned laughs and hums of agreements.

They got you out of the chair and pulled you into Meryl’s dressing room, getting you dressed for the photoshoot which is going to go straight into the shoot of the video. Once you were informed of that, You knew doll time was over, now it’s time to take this seriously. Your mind was running wild with thoughts of doubt and worry. You were even scared that you would mess up a lot and cause the men's boners to go away because of how many stopping points you were worried to make. Meryl was in there getting dressed when you heard the door shut indicating that you were alone with one of the biggest pornstars in the industry.

You stared at yourself in the mirror thinking ‘are you really about to do this right now’. You were brought out of that thought by a mocha hand just below your boobs, “ Relax, { reader}. I'm with you and at any time, you could stop and we’ll just have to wait on Yuki, long wait, but I would want you to be comfortable then to complain about waiting until tomorrow to do these scenes.” Meryl skin felt so good on your own skin. The warmth she and you have together was enough for you so as she traced her hands up and down your arms to soothe your mind, you leaned your head back against her shoulder. Careful to not lean too far back because she's shorter and weighs less than you. You two were on a chair bench in her dressing room.

“ If you’re too nervous, I could always tell them to wait for Yuki to arrive tomorrow. All you have to do is say it, sweet heart.”, Meryl said as she stared at your neck in the mirror. She followed her first mind and kissed your neck, “ or maybe a little warm up could help you while you put on your clothes. Your choice.” You let her keep kissing your neck with small pecks. You finally whimpered out a small “ yes… please”

Meryl’s blonde hair draped down your shoulders as she planted one last kiss before she tapped you to lift up for a minute to let her get up to lay you down on the long couch. She placed your clothes on the side prior to unwrapping the damp bath robe from your body revealing your full-figure in her pretty blue eyes. Her eyes narrowed and smile brightened. “ Your body is so damn cute, gorgeous. I mean, we all knew that from the pretty, skimpy outfits you prance around here with. You're tempting women like me and Men like them all the time. I may do scenes with the majority of men but I'm willing to change some things around for you if you actually do consider officially doing porn. Do you have any idea how much you’ll pull in with this body especially in the, I hate to say it, BBW category?” You giggled at the attention she’s giving your body as she boldly gushed over it. She made you feel like she was analyzing an art piece submitted to an art gallery. On one hand it was glorious and on the other, it was a little weird because you never had someone so in tune in describing you while tracing her hands over every part of your body. It’s almost like she was worshiping your body.

Meryl kissed down your body with wet kisses, you covered your face in embarrassment and she shook her head and brought your hands from your face, “ no, na uh. You have to be confident in this, pretty. You can’t cover up your face when Aizawa eats your pussy. He’s the best pussy eater next to Kukasabe. And trust me, He’s gonna make you look at him as he does it. It’s his specialty.” she shrugged her shoulders before stopping to breathe in the smell of your natural smelling pussy and almost moaned.

She had to snap out of it because she could feel she was getting obsessed with you, so she just took one lick at your pussy with her tongue making your tense up and shake. “ Don’t worry I'm not going to be the one eating you today, so relax. I don’t wanna repeat myself anymore.” Your body relaxed like she said and you were a little weirded out because you never reacted that way when someone demands something of you.

Meryl grabbed your clothes, placed your shorts by your feet for you to step in and you did. As she pulled them up, she eyed your pussy one last time and licked her lips before pulling them up, just a little over your fupa, showing a little of your little rolls on your stomach. She watched you lift up so you could put the pajama shirt on. It was the cutest pajama set: black tank-top shirt with the bubble-gum pink words “ Scrumptious Doll” on it and black with white polka-dot mini shorts with bubble-gum pink on the outline hugging your thighs and ass just right. It dont even matter if your ass is big or little, it’s gonna show regardless.

As you looked in the mirror, Your tits looked yummy in the natural push up bra this tank top had. The lower outline part of the tank top had pink lace making it appear so much cuter. You fixed your tank top to show more of your boobs and fixed the bottom. Meryl bent down in her own light blue pajama shorts she had on and helped you put your pretty manicured feet in the house shoes they brought you too. It was uncanny how they found this in less than 30 minutes but you’ll digress.

Meryl grabbed your hand as you both walked out the door ultimately about to change your life for better or worse. This was a gamble on your part and you knew it. Gambling was never the thing for you, but you are about to make it yours now. You two walked on the set where the bed you were about to be split open in sat. It was a cute little get up for a set.

The set room had pink Victoria secret stripe walls and the bed was a queen size bed that had black and pink bed set on it. The headboard had a perfect size mirror attached to it and so did the ceiling one. This was very detailed, almost like it was requested instead of just given to them like the usual. The pretty carpet in front of the bed was fluffy and a gorgeous white.

Meryl grabbed your hand and guided you to the bed, “ Okay let’s get the camera’s working, people. I’m gonna guide her through taking photos so no need to yell and spook her off with that yelling you love to do, Gido.”

You smiled at her pointing at the director without a care in the world. You also watched his reaction and laughed at the eye roll and shrug. She turned to you and smiled at you, “ I want you to tell me if anything is too uncomfortable for you during this section. Now I want you to lay back for me.”

Just like that, you snapped into work mode again and instantly laid down for her to get on top of you looking into your pretty eyes as she did— like a certified seductress. You felt yourself getting wet as she licked her lips at your cute serious face, “ Now open your legs for me.” She was straddling your now open legs showing off her ass as she looked back at the camera. A click was heard and you knew there was no turning back from this, so you had to suck all of the nervousness out of your mind during this entire fiasco. In response to your thoughts, you placed your hands on Meryl’s ass, squeezing it and she let out the most beautiful whimper meaning she was sensitive.

“ Perfect, now just take a bit further for me!”, Gido yelled from where he was with a smile on his face. He was loving the shot of your fat pussy tracing through the tight shorts they gave you. He was loving the way you grabbed Meryl’s ass with your pretty manicured hands as well. The color of your nails looked so pretty against Meryl’s skin complexion. Yours as well.

Meryl kissed you and you both whimpered at the contact causing Aizawa eyes to widen as he walked in to see what the director is so giddy about. He was supposed to wait since they made a pact to only see you during the scene just five minutes ago ,but he couldn’t wait.

He watched as you two continued to liplock with each other, obviously losing each other in that sensual kiss you two shared. He could tell Meryl wanted you for herself and she was gonna make sure to get a scene with you just not now. Aizawa was brought out of his trance when midnight walked next to him whistling at the scene.

“ She’s going to enjoy herself and I’m not apart of it! I always wanted to be her first scene when she finally stopped being such a scaredy cat. Shame it’s going to be you four. May the girl survive enough to do a scene with Meryl and I. And maybe Yuki when she gets here. She seems like her type.”, Midnight says as Aizawa intensely watches as you now look at the camera with no sense of anxiety inside of you. The way your thick thighs and legs looked as they were cocked open. Your shorts pooled at your feet whilst Meryl stuck her tongue out to place on the opening of your pussy through your pretty pink underwear.

“ You act as if you three aren’t worse than us. You won’t even let the girl get a break unless she uses the safe word you create for her.”, Aizawa says as he eyed your facial expression noting that you’re gonna be an excellent actor.

Meryl took your hand and guided you to the edge of the bed and pushed you down to which you arched knowing that’s what they wanted. A year of watching other pro stars having to do this comes in handy. The director set up as you arched perfectly. He was beginning to grow hard at the thought of you bending over for him. He didn’t give a damn about the cameras right now and that’s a first. Gosh, he wanted to see you fucked, so he’ll have to speed this up. Whispering to himself was his thing, this time it was about you, “ Such a perfect fucking arch for a virgin. She’s perfect.”

Meryl took in your form with a smile and placed her hands on your wide hips seeing herself fucking you straight with her choice of a strap. She shook her head of the potential moans and names that spew from your lips and finally hooked her finger inside of your pantries pulling them to the side to reveal your pretty pussy to them. Trimmed just right to see that it’s naturally fat and pretty. The slick of your pussy stuck to Meryl’s hand and your panties a little bit. You were wet and Meryl’s mouth was getting watery—- she wasn’t the only one.

The room was silent and you could hear a pin drop. You started to get nervous from the silence until you heard the camera clicking away and sighs were let out, well what you thought was sighs. They gasped and breathed out a long breath filled with shock and excitement. Your pussy was slightly darker than you and was the prettiest pink once Meryl opened you up for the camera, camera men, directors, and Co-stars to see. Your hole was small meaning you were definitely a virgin and was gonna be heard to get inside. Luckily, Aizawa is going first. He knew he was going to have to go slow inside you and that’s more than enough to make him hard again. He couldn’t wait to open you up for the guys to fuck you as well.

Your hole was practically winking at the camera as it showed your pussy clenching and unclenching onto the cold air. The air felt so good on your warm, wet pussy and you were so into your thoughts that you didn’t realize that your hips were wiggling causing your ass to jiggle as well. Anytime you moved, your ass jiggled and they all loved it.

Soon the director got three more shots of you in different positions, one was you and Meryl watching tv with your stomachs on the bed and legs kicked up behind you, before they called the co-stars in the film over. You sat up when they all walked in the room. Toji was the first to walk to you and kissed you with no hesitation. The director's eyes widened at the straight forward call Toji made. The others sighed in annoyance at Toji doing what he wanted.

Your lips locked with Toji in a slow passionate kiss, a kiss the camera man was glad he got. Thing is, Toji wasn’t supposed to actually kiss you. He was supposed to hover his lips over your two-toned pink lip gloss ones. He broke the kiss with another peck lingering as he finally pulled away from you. Your foreheads pressing together as his green eyes looking into {your color} eyes,” So fucking pretty for me right now, couldn’t wait to see you.”

“ Yeah yeah you aren’t the only one in this scene so move over.”, Benimaru says as he stroked his cock through his pants. You looked over at him with puffy lips and pretty eyes. He was actually happy that they chose you for this scene, you’re the only one that could keep his dick hard especially with the look you’re giving him.

Aizawa came up behind Toji and sat on the bed next to you to place subtle kisses on your neck and ear, “ He’s right, {reader}. You look stunning can’t wait to see your facial expressions as I fuck you.” You gasped and that earned you to get Yuushi’s cock in your face creating the perfect shot like you were surprised by his size and indeed you were. He was long and girthy with two veins running across his dick. The pink mushroom tip looked so suckable especially with the pre-cum dripping down his tip and onto the top of your tits in the tank top you were now being fondled in by Benimaru’s hand.

You brought your lips to Yuushi’s cock and looked up through your pretty eyelashes causing him to run a hand down his face whispering, “ Fucking Hell.” You looked so fucking pretty with his tip in your hot mouth. He snapped his fingers and curled two fingers in a gimme motion and the cameraman instantly brought the camera to him. Yuushi grunted when you swirl your tongue on his tip, still holding eye contact with him and now the camera pointed to your face. He snapped two photos before giving it back to the camera man, “ Sorry, I just had to get the most bed shot.”

Toji brought one of your tits out of the tank top and flicked a tongue over it making sure the camera captured it. You were about to bring your hand to your mouth to stop your moan when Aizawa grabbed it and continued to suck and lick on your neck. Benimaru dropped down in between the opening of your legs since Toji and Aizawa were on both sides of you.

Another cameraman focused on getting Benimaru pulled your panties to the side, inhaling your scent and almost growling like an animal. He never thought to make that sound before but he couldn’t resist. He wanted and needed you now, so he brought his lips to your pussy and used two fingers to open you up to him revealing your pink clitoris. He placed his pink muscle on your clit causing you to jump and moan around Yuushi’s cock again. He got on top of the bed and placed his cock back into your mouth throwing his head back like he did a fresh line of coke. He needs you badly. He wanted to stuff his cock down your throat and tell you to take it like a good girl.

The director wasn’t even calling the shots anymore, instead he was watching the chemistry you brew between all these men and he loved it. It was great for the scene you all were engaging in. It’ll look a little real. The director told the cameramen to get four more pictures prior to having the men separate from you and Meryl to get back on set. She looked so red and sweaty which meant she was either getting her pussy eaten by Nemuri or fingering herself to the scene. She got you dressed again and fixed you up to make you more presentable. The men only had you lingering in their thoughts as two of them paced back and forth in the other room in this big ass apartment type room.

Shouta and Benimaru were sitting down at the card table while Yuushi and Toji vented to them about how much they needed and wanted you.

“ Did you see the way she looked at me, she doesn't know what she’s doing.”, Yuushi says to himself, the tent in his pants visible to all of them— not that they minded.

“ Fuck that, did you see them juicy ass tits. Can’t wait to fuck them. Can’t wait to fuck her. How long is this scene again?”, Toji asks, stopping at the foot of the table.

Benimaru sighed and shook his head at the thought of you, “ It’s supposed to be an hour long, why? Got somewhere to be Toji.” Toji used to always roll his eyes at Benimaru calling him Toji instead of Fushiguro since he’s older than Ben but he learned to accept his rebellious ways.

“ No, I’m just planning on taking her after the scene.”, Toji says and the others look at him with glares. All speaking at the same time.

“ Nope.”

“ Na uh.”

“ Not gonna happen.”

Toji smirked at them, “ Who’s gonna stop me? She’s the only one that can, the rest of you don't matter.”

Meanwhile, back to where you’re at, they handed you the script to go over it again. You didn’t need a fluffer so they just told you to go over the script with Meryl again and you did, for about an hour. You knew it was probably 5 pm right now since it was 2:55 when you first got here.

You memorize your lines inside of your head like you had photographic memory— you didn’t. So far you were glad you only had a couple of lines to say before you got to the scene.

“ Are you ready, pretty girl? No need to be camera shy or nervous. In fact, I don’t think you should even be camera shy considering earlier, darling. Maybe we could do some scenes together in the future.”. Midnight said coming up to you and Meryl.

You blushed and you could feel the heat on your ears and cheeks, “ Oh please. That was light work, this is the real deal now. If I like the scenery then yes we can have scenes in the future. Just know so far I’m loving it.”

Midnight smiled at you before placing a kiss on your cheek, making sure to wipe the lipstick off afterwards.” such a newbie response, well welcome to the team, honey.”

She walked away from you and Meryl but not before kissing Meryl on the lips. Meryl blushed a deep red and you couldn’t help but to giggle at her. You could tell she fancies Nemuri.

Nemuri walked past all the directors and such taking their places and finally walked past the men on her way out, “ Such a gorgeous girl, treat her right because I want a scene with her next.” With that she left and left them in confusion and curiosity.

You on the other hand were getting ready to shoot the scene and you’ll go on in 1 minute.

“ Okay so go over it one more time. Okay, hey wanna spend the night over my house, my step dad isn’t gonna be home so it’ll be just the two of us.”, Meryl says with more expression and tone in her voice.

You nodded your head, “ Yeah sure my feet are killing me and I do not want to walk back home. First though, are we watching scary movies?”

“ Hell yeah, I have all the scream movies, Micheal Myers, and even got..’ then we get interrupted by Yuushi cutting in and you lock eyes with him and that’s how the chemistry moves throughout the film. Seeeee it’s easy you have nothing to worry about.”, Meryl says as she smiles at you.

You smiled back at her and got into position just a little bit behind the threshold of the door . You weren’t inside of the set up room any more although you missed it, you’ll see it again in no time. Your back was to it for now.

“And action!”, Gido yelled.

You both smiled at one another as you “walked out” the room. Meryl turned to you, locking eyes with you. Her eyes were filled with reassurance letting you know to not be nervous. “ Hey, wanna spend the night. My step dad isn’t gonna be home tonight so it’ll just be me and you tonight. You can’t say no because you’re wearing the right kinda clothes too.”

You smiled and nodded your head, “ Yeah sure, I would love to ask a question, are we watching scary movies tonight?”

The director smiled once you got the lines right and the tone right. You were definitely gonna be his favorite to work with if you actually want to pursue this career.

“ Hell yeah we are. In fact, I have scream 1, scream 2. Scream 3, is there a scream 4?” to which you shrugged at as expected, “ Ah just know I have a collection of scream movies and Micheal myers. Hell, I even got—”

“ got what?”, Yuushi asks as you two walk in the dining room area.

You eyed him like they told you to do and he eyed you back. The director pointed to you to zoom in on your eyes and how they seductively pulled the audience and Yuushi in. Gido whispered to himself, “ A fucking star.”

“ What are you doing here? You said you weren’t going to be here tonight.” Meryl walked over to Yuushi, standing before him.

“ I don’t get a hey, hello, how was your day dad, etc.”, Yuushi says to Meryl before looking at you still standing far from him to eye him. Yuushi smirked at you and said a line that wasn’t in the script, “ You’re so gorgeous.”

“ Cut!”, the director says, bouncing up out of the chair, “ You know damn well that wasn’t the line Yuushi. Do we need a five minute break or something?”

Yuushi chuckled and scratched the back of his head, “ You can’t expect me not to say out of pocket shit when you have someone like {reader} in front of me. So no, we don’t need five minutes just cut that out of the video and voilà, you got a deal. Come on, Gido. I wanna get to the fun part.”

The director pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, “ Run it again. Action!”

Yuushi got right back into that smug expression on his face and nodded his head to you, “ Who’s this? I didn’t know you had friends coming over.”

Meryl waved you over to them and you walked over to them, greatly showcasing an anxious emotion on your face and the director and the four cameramen were living for it. You truly had the pornstar look and acting packed down so far. But for you, it wasn’t an act, you truly felt anxious as you stepped closer and closer to them.

Meryl grabbed your hand as she eagerly sucked in her lollipop before handing you one from the bowl on the table they were sitting at. You didn’t know if you should eat it or not but you took a gamble and popped it into your mouth, slow and smoothly. Still holding eye contact with Yuushi as you did it. The camera captured all of it especially when you heard the whisper yells of the director, “ Get in on her. That shot is amazing up close.” “ Yeah, just right. Just perfect.”

“ Remember the friend I told you about, well this is her….”, Meryl says, debating if she wanted to use your real name or not. That’s what you forgot, a pornstar name. She used her ownl name but what would you do? Did you want a new name or stay using your government name?

“ Ah fuck! Cut!!”, the director got out of his chair again. “ I know you’re stuck because of the name so quickly find a pornstar name you think fits best for yourself and I want you two to come up with a name that fits her as well. Tacky and late but we could make it work. Work with me, people!”

How about {reader first name} Valentine! It sounds great and moanable.”, the makeup artist shouted out. You stood there in disbelief of how fast she came up with that. The director snapped his fingers at her and turned to you, "you make the call because it’s gonna be your name you’d have to stick with if you’re gonna actually pursue this career, darling.”

You thought about it and nodded your head because it did sound good and your name was already moanable, you knew because it’s been moaned so many times by people in this industry when you catered to their needs before the shoot. Yuushi smiled because he was glad you kept your first name. He wanted the world to know he’s moaning his dream girl name.

“ Alright! That settles it. Meryl take it away!”, Gido yelled as he sat back down in his chair now eating a cake they handed him.

Meryl snapped back into action, “ Remember the friend I told you about, this is her. { reader} Valentine.” She smiled at you before looking excitedly at her “ Step dad”.

“ Yoshi. It’s nice to meet my daughter's friends.” Yuushi, who goes by Yoshi Mack on the scenes, stuck out his hand for you to shake. You followed his action and held and sucked on the lollipop with the other hand. The more you stared at him, the more his dick was getting hard. Your eyes were perfect and beautiful for the scene. Yuushi turned to Meryl, “ I’m surprised you’re not at the dorm this weekend.”

Meryl rolled her eyes, “ Yeah. No. Not this weekend plus I miss my bed. The dorms are small and dumb. Anyways, don’t bother us while you’re here. Kay? K.” Meryl took your hand and dragged you away, the camera capturing the way your ass jiggled and another one captured Yuushi’s reaction.

“ And scene! Great job everyone! Especially you, my beautiful new star.”, Gido says as he comes up to you to hold your face like a delicate vase in his hands. He was a good looking guy up close. Long black hair, Dark gray eyes, and a toned but slender body.

You were supposed by the sudden gesture and felt a hand on your lower back, “ Let the girl go, Gido. You’re making her uncomfortable by squishing her cheeks like that.” It was Benimaru's voice and you wondered how long he was watching you act. You turned to him in surprise before smiling at him. He nodded his head and looked away from you in fear of showing his cheeks getting pink.

Gido dropped his hands and snarled at Benimaru before speaking, “ Just do your scenes. You, my darling, could prepare to interrupt their scene and get ready to lose the most valuable thing you should hold close to you. If at any point you want to tap out of this. We will. Granted it’s gonna be a hassle taking pictures and doing scenes again but, we could make it work with the next star.”

“ I will definitely let you know, Mr.Gido. Now excuse me while I prepare for this scene.”, You said as you smiled at him before walking off. Beni watched as his eyes followed your ass as you walked away and he purposely knocked his shoulder into his as he walked to the table to sit down. He didn’t want anyone looking at his girl, even if you aren’t his official girl.

You, on the other hand, were pacing back and forth memorizing your lines as you read them over. You didn’t want to mess up not once just like you did in the first scene. You were kinda glad, Yuushi was the only one that changed his name because remembering four new names was gonna be a hassle. You also had to think and couldn’t believe your first scene was gonna be your first gang bang scene and on top of that, you’re a goddamn virgin. Three freshly new things you were gonna be stripped of. The nervousness that comes with this is kicking in and you’re not feeling it. Meryl could see you slowly beginning to panic and immediately ran over to you to take you into her little dress up room.

“ Okay okay, I need you to breathe for me, don’t want you to go into a full panic attack right now.”, Meryl says as she grabs a paper to fan you with rather rapidly too. You nodded and started doing your counting as you breathed in and out. Slowly your heart was getting back to normal and your head was released from the tension it was starting to get. Tightness slowly going away from your muscles as well.

Once Meryl saw that you calmed down a little, she hugged you from behind. Trying to fully wrap her small arms around your body to engulf you into a warm hug. She kissed your head and whispered that it’s gonna be okay and she’ll be right there. All you needed to hear. Out of everyone here, she was your comfort. Weirdly enough since you never really spoke to her until today.

After ten minutes of silence and calm breathing, you were ready to get this over with. You wanted to go home to think about your decisions and etc. a peace of quiet time for you is always at night. You thanked Meryl as she walked you back to the bedroom where you two are gonna pretend to be asleep since it’s technically in the middle of the night in this scene.

You two laid in the surprisingly comfortable bed facing each other. She looked into your eyes and you giggled at the closeness between the two of you. “ This is so awkward.” She laughed and nodded her head, “ Good thing, we just gotta close our eyes while those buffoons are as loud as they usually are.”

You smiled at her joke and she realized you relaxed and closed your eyes for the scene. Your breathing was calm and slow as if you were really sleeping. She made a note to compliment you on that later because she was impressed. She studied your movements and did the same. The director yelled action and everyone started their roles. The room was dark, you could tell from your eyes being closed.

You heard Toji’s voice yelling, “ I won! It’s over! It’s over!” You heard the card being placed on the table roughly and moved to make it seem like you were waking up. The director pointed at you telling the cameraman to capture you waking up very closely.

“ Oh screw you, you fucking cheated, dick face.”, Benimaru says improvising that last word making Toji chuckle knowing that he meant to say that.

Aizawa grunted as the chair scraped across the floor making more noise, “ I’m gonna go get another beer, don’t have time for this.” You noted that he was just his regular self here, surprisingly that was helpful to know.

Yuushi grunted and took out a cigarette, lighting it up and inhaling and exhaling the smoke prior to speaking, “ Oh please, he didn’t win shit. He cheated.”

You groaned and rubbed your eyes as you got up from your “sleep”, putting your cute fuzzy house shoes on and making your way out the room and down the hall and stairs— going into the living room.

Toji was the first to notice your presence and smirked, “ And who is this? Never knew you were into younger girls, Yoshi.”

You stared at him as Yoshi spoke, “ No she’s my daughter's best friend. So keep your dirty paws and eyes off her.”

“ No, let her speak. What is your name, rudeness?”, Benimaru asks as he eyed you up and down.

“ It’s {reader} Valentine. Who’s asking?”, You ask with an attitude they told you to have after being woken up from your sleep. You nailed that perfectly because the camera and the director could see Benimaru was beginning to become irritated.

Benimaru scoffed, “ You’ll know my name soon enough. I ask the questions here, not you.”

“ Well I would like to know who’s asking the questions, where's the harm in that?”, You asked with a hand on your wide hip.

“ She’s a bratty one. Tell me, sweetheart. Were we too loud for you? Told Toji to stop being loud anyways.”, Aizawa says, coming back into the room with a beer in his hand. His long hair was tied back into a man bun and his joggers were black and baggy. The shirt that clung to his sleeper build was everything you needed to see to get a surge of confidence.

“ Yesh you were, so could you please keep it down. I’m trying to sleep sir.”, You said as you rubbed your eyes and yawned. It was a real one too, most could see it was and the director was stunned because how can someone yawn on accident right on cue too. He was amazed at you so far.

“ Make us be quiet.”, Yuushu said as he stood up. Walking slowly to you like a predator stalking its prey.

“ What?”, You asked as you stopped rubbing your eyes.

“ You heard me. Make us shut up cause otherwise I’m happy to make you stop complaining.”, Yuushi says as he stood before you looking into your eyes.

His smirk was getting to you and the way his voice was going lower and lower as he spoke making his voice deeper as well. You squeezed your thighs and shook your head before turning around only to get stopped by Yoshi’s hand on your wrist, he brought your back to his chest and walked you to the table presenting you in front of the men.

“ Come on pretty girl, make us shut up for the rest of the night.”, Yuushi whispers in your ear as he pressed your thighs to the table, making you place your hand on the table. Your body leaned causing your tits to jiggle in front of Aizawa low and dark eyes staring intensely at you.

“ What about Mer-”, You asked before Yoshi cut you off with his big veiny hand gripping your neck. Your head tilted back in response and he took the initiative and decided to kiss you on the lips causing your fingers to grip the table. The camera captured every single detail in this scene. The crew members were so silent that it seemed like you five were the only ones in this room and somehow you liked it.

Yuushi wrapped his bulky arms around you as he bit your lip causing you to gasp in which he stuck his warm, thick tongue in your mouth— swirling it around yours. He loved the taste of the flavor sucker you ate earlier, surprised it was still lingering on your tongue as well.

“ Fuck, her fucking tits are so damn pretty. Want to see them free.”, Toji said as he ripped the tank top you had on releasing your nipples into the cold air causing them to become hard. Aizawa’s dick needed to be free from his joggers before he burst inside of them. He didn’t know how you did it, but you always managed to make his cock hard without doing much.

Benimaru stood up to move the table out of his way of getting to you. Walking up to you, he gripped your boobs as you continued kissing Yuushi, moaning and whimpering into the kiss. The camera was catching all of this and everyone was too stunned to speak because everything looked real and passionate.

Benimaru swirled his tongue over your nipples while Toji bent down to slide your shorts off your hips and down your legs revealing your pretty ass pantries with a huge wet spot on them. He chuckled because he knew this was a raw reaction, you were soaking for them. The camera got up and close to reveal the wet spot to the audience as toji spread your legs apart.

Yuushi lets you breathe by breaking from the kiss but not before placing a sloppy peck on your juicy, wet lips. Yuushi smirked at your eyes getting watery and low, he never thought you would be a crier. Oh he and Aizawa are gonna love you. He whispered in your ear, “ Are you okay?” It was so low that the camera couldn’t even catch it. You nodded your head and he smirked, “ She’s sleeping so it’s just you and us here and now. Say the word. She won’t ever have to know, sweetheart.”

You whimpered and nodded your head to which earned a small smack from Aizawa standing on the side of you and Yuushi. “ Need your words. Need to hear you say them like the little slut I know you are.”

You loved the small, rough slap on your cheek and his eyes widened, in fact, all of their eyes widened. You were a little masochist, an undercover one at that. “ I want you. I want your cocks, pleaseeee.” All four of them smirked before Yuushi picked you up bridal style to take you into his set up bedroom, the camera crew was already set up at. The director followed after the First camera crew capturing them all walking up the stairs with you— built suspense. The director knew it was out of his hands for now because of how real and passionate everyone was, which makes him think you all secretly wanted this to happen at some point. He just sat down and drank his coffee as he watched the scene now show you being thrown on the blue covered bed as you giggled. You all went off script a long time ago so he just let this happen.

The second camera crew got the reaction of biting your lip at the men taking their clothes off price by piece— leaving their draws on. You frowned and pouted as you were deprived from seeing their dicks. “ I want all of you. Every single inch of you guys.” You pointed at their draws and the camera crew followed your movements, “ this isn’t giving me what I wantttt.”

“ You’re a whiny little thing aren’t cha?”, Toji Said as he rubbed a finger over your nipple. He reached up to your chest to play with your nipple.

”We don’t care what you want now, lay back and shut up. You wanted us to shut up and you can’t even do that. Disgraceful.”, Benimaru says as he climbs on top of you. You looked at him with your eyes and he almost came right then and there. You opened your mouth and he hurried and took his hard thick cock out of his underwear and shoved it to the back of your throat causing your eyes to water and your gags to be heard violently. You loved the way you were gagging around his cock. Shit everyone loves the way you sound.

“ Yeah that’s it, pretty girl. You’re doing so good for us.”, Benimaru says as he takes his cock out of your mouth. The spit disconnected as he took his dick out your mouth to let you breathe. “ Have you learned your lesson yet?”

You shook your head and gladly opened your mouth to take him inside of your mouth again and he gladly stuck his dick in your mouth again. You felt your panties being slipped off and as they slipped them off, your pussy was drenched in your wetness. You felt on top of the world as you experienced pleasure from all directions. The juiciness of it all was everything Aizawa needed. The camera as well.

Aizawa stuck his tongue out to lick a stripe of your pussy and groaned at the taste of your pussy on his tongue. He placed French kisses on your pussy before opening up your folds with two fingers and diving into eating and slurping on your pussy. The sexual sounds he brought out of you was everything Benimaru needed. Every moan vibrated on his dick and he loved it. You had a crazy lock jaw on his cock as well. The hollow of your cheeks was being gathered on camera and the viewers were gonna love that.

Aizawa moaned as he tongue fucked your pussy with rapid speed. The circling of his tongue was deep inside of your pussy and he knew you loved it when your dick sucking and moaning sound grew louder— that’s how he knew you were close too. Aizawa didn’t really know what to expect when he made you cum. Was you a squirter or creamer, either way he’s gonna drink and suck it up. He didn’t care, he wanted your taste to last and linger in his tongue.

Aizawa placed a finger on your pussy hole as he sucked and swirled his tongue over your clit. His finger was so thick and long that it started to hurt you as he moved it on the inside. You placed your hands on Benimaru’s thighs to let him know that you needed to breathe and he smacked them away to which your eyes rolled to the back of your head. You were living the way he treated you but down below, you were slowly opening up your hole for Aizawa to finger you. Granted it still hurts just a little bit but somehow it felt good as well.

“ shit! She’s hugged around my finger like a damn coat. So damn beautiful.”, Aizawa says before pulling back to spit on your pussy and your hole while Yuushi and Toji held your legs open as they stroked their cocks to the sounds your mouth and pussy makes.

“ Holy fuck, Aizawa. Hurry up, I want to taste her too.”, Toji says in desperation. Aizawa moved over and made room for Toji in between your legs. Toji gladly accepted it and now both of their tongues and aizawa’s finger was fucking your pussy so good.

Your tits jiggled as you tried to move your hips up and down. Benimaru hair was sticking to his face as he fucked in and out of your mouth creating little spit bubbles as he did it. The faster he fucked your mouth, the wetter your mouth got. The bubbles were proof of that. Snot was even making its way down your nose, luckily Yuushi wiped it in time for it to get Benimaru's dick in your mouth, not that he cared. He loved when bitches got messy for him.

Your tears only added to his euphoria as he pisoled into your mouth. His dick created a throat bulge as he moved in and out, “ Oh shit! Fuck! Such a disgusting bitch taking my dick like this. Uhhhn.”

You needed to wrap your hands around something as you got your pussy devoured by two men who were locking tongues as they licked and slurped up your juices. The camera captured every last one of yall from how spacious this room is as well. It was Yuushi’s designed room.

You wrapped your hand around Yuushi’s cock dragging it up and down just like you always do when you were a fluffer. His eyes rolled to the back of his head as you did the twist he always loved. “ Shit, that’s it, baby girl.”

You continued to stroke him as both Toji and Aizawa sucked on your clit who tried to both do it at the same time and somehow it felt so damn good, good enough to scream on Benimaru’s cock inside of your mouth. Your spit was layering his cock just right, some of your spit dripped down your mouth and onto his balls and your chest. You were sloppy and he loved it. Loved it enough to cum with two more strokes. You on the other hand squirted on toji and aizawa’s lower half of their face. Aizawa gladly opened his mouth to catch some of it, while Toji was sucking it into his mouth.

“ Ahhh. Fuck, { reader}. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Hughhh.”, Benimaru fucked your mouth one more time as his cum flowed down your throat. It was warm and a little gooey. Other than that it tasted healthy.

Benimaru stayed there staring at your mascara rubbing down your face with your tears and knew you were perfect for this role. He even managed to stay semi hard in this role. Usually when he came that was it. You were someone special.

Benimaru got off of your as he stroked his cock to make himself fully hard and it worked because he was staring at your tits thinking about fucking them while you get pounded by the rest. Yuushi stopped your hand before he could cum. While, Toji and Aizawa kissed your pussy one last time as you panted and whimpered from the contact.

“ So fucking good.”, Toji grunted out as he slipped his undergarment down, revealing his heavy and long cock. Aizawa did the same, revealing his long and semi-thick cock. Fuck they were all huge and too much for you.

“ Wait.. I’m a virgin.”, You say which was your line as well.

“ Don’t worry, we’ll take care of your tight virgin pussy.”, Yuushi says as he gives you a peck on the lips.

Aizawa dragged you down to his legs. He stood over your body, watching your chest rise up and down in anticipation of what’s happening next. He looked at Yuushi, “ You’re okay if I go first, Yoshi.” He nodded and waved his hand, “ Don’t care I just wanna break this brat down.”

Aizawa placed his cock on your pussy and the lone camera man who took photos captured that moment perfectly while on the sidelines. Aizawa breathed in and out as he slowly moved his cock up and down your pussy giving you a pussy job. You moaned as your back arched off the bed. Toji knew you needed a distraction from how bad it’s going to hurt so he kissed you and Benimaru and Yuushi followed the lead. Aizawa nodded at them, basically thanking them for easing your mind. He didn’t want to hurt you or see you hurt. Neither did they.

Aizawa held your lower stomach with one hand as he guided his bulbous tip into the opening of your pussy. He slowly pushed in and your eyes snapped open and began to water. It hurts so much. Aizawa knew your hymen wasn’t broken yet so he was gonna have to ease more of him into you. And he did. Pushing into you felt so good and tight, he almost couldn’t move from how tight your pussy is. “ Fuck, hold on for me, sweetheart.”

Toji swirled his tongue inside of your mouth as he kissed you, he rubbed your neck with his hand as he did. He wanted you to know that you’re okay right here with them. You’re safe as well and you got the hint only when Yuushi whispered, “ ease up for him brat, you’re safe so don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

Aizawa leaned down to kiss the upper part of your stomach to let you know he cares for you. Aizawa felt more liquid dripping down his cock and stood up again to look down and see the blood meaning your hymen was officially broken.

He slowly moved inside of you until he was hurried to the hilt, “ Fuck, this pussy is so tight and warm. I could stay in this forever.”

Toji kissed and licked your tears away from your face as Aizawa started to fuck you slow and passionately. He swatted your hand from pushing him away and started to move A little faster inside of you when you opened up to him. The director sat up and pointed to your hole being fucked open by Aizawa’s big dick. You were moaning so loud in Toji’s mouth. The blood was slowly disappearing and changing to your normal juices, which means he could go faster now.

Aizawa’s hands gripped your thighs, finger nails digging into your thick flesh as he fucked into you faster. His dick was just one cm away from your cervix and he took that as an opportunity to go even faster.

Your pussy was clutching around his dick making everyone’s eyes widen as he pulled back to let everyone see how much you gripped on to him. Fuck, everyone was in love with the way your pussy looked on and off camera. It’s like you were made for taking cocks like theirs.

“ Daddy, oh my goddduhhhn, it feels so good.”, You moaned out once Toji let you breathe. Aizawa paused and sharpened his eyes, “ Daddy huh, what happened to sir or was that all an act. Such a naughty girl.”

Your tits were moving up and down so prettily and your stomach was moving as well. You were so damn pretty to all of them.

“ I’m sorry, please fuck me sir, daddy, I don’t care just fuck me!”, You moaned out as you stared down at where you two were connected. He was living in and out so beautifully. You sat up on your elbows and he took that as an opportunity to spread your legs further and yank your hair into his hands, getting a good grip to fuck you as he held onto your hair so tightly that it added to your pleasure, weirdly enough.

The way you bit your lip to hold back a moan told everyone else that you enjoyed the way he was fucking you. Your eyes were rolled to the back of your head and you almost looked possessed as you babbled incoherent sentences and pleas.

Yuushi grabbed the lube out of the dresser and put some on the anal toy before bending down to place it inside of your hole, opening you up slowly. You screamed at the feeling of your second hole being opened up, “ It hurts. It hurts.”

Aizawa bent down to kiss you as he fucked into you. In between the kisses were whispers of reassurances, “ I know baby” “ Open up for Yoshi slowly for me.” “ Breathe”

Aizawa lifted his sweaty upper body off yours and had his hand still gripped into your hair giving you two more strokes until he let go of your hair causing you to fall on the bed and arch your back.

The sting was a little bit still there but it felt good when Aizawa swirled his hips making his cock swirl in circles inside of you. “ hnghhh fuck, I want more. Wan’ cocks. Need your cocks” they have officially broken their pure and innocent { reader} and they loved it. You were now a babbling slut who’s about to sleep all of their cocks inside of your hole.

Aizawa pulled out a bit so the camera could see how fluttering your hole is and the shape it was forming now. The butt plug looked so damn good on camera too. Aizawa tapped your pussy with his cock one time and pushed inside of you, now climbing on top of the bed. His hands gripped your legs and held them up so he could press you into a mating press. Yuushi pulled the butt plus out slowly and you moaned inside screaming meaning your hole was semi prepared to take his cock.

Yuushi bent down to spit on your ass hole prior to sticking his tongue out to lick around the ring. You shuddered and tried to move up and down since Aizawa stopped a bit to let Yuushi inside of you behind him.

Yuushi then shoved his tongue inside, savoring your taste and loving it. You never got your pussy and ass eaten until today. They were so damn freaky and nasty. You liked it.

Yuushi stood up and placed the tip of his cock on your hole prior to putting a little lube on his cock. He pushed in slowly and your scream got captured on Toji’s cock in your mouth as he stood on the side. His cock was shoved down your throat and your moans were muffled, “ Oh yeah, this mouth so fucking good, suck me just like that whore.”

Your tongue swiped back and forth under his dick and over his vein makjj in my him stagger just a bit, “ A vixen. A fucking vixen with a mouth like a vice.”

“ Pussy too.”, Aizawa says as he went back to fucking your pussy. White and pink juices from the blood and cream were beginning to form around his cock and he loved it.

“ Ass too. The Tightess pussy and ass we haven’t fucked in years. Shit!”, Yuushi says as he fucked into your ass more faster now. You were in love with how Aizawa was holding your legs down while his balls bounced against your ass. You were sure that his balls were touching Yuushi’s cock fucking your ass open and yet neither of them cared. You liked that as well. You were in love with how Toji’s dick was moving in and out of your mouth, when he went out of your mouth he circled his hips before snapping into your mouth creating lewd noises you knew was gonna make so much noise when this video dropped.

Benimaru was getting a hand job from you and that was almost enough. He knew Aizawa was on the verge of cumming and he was gonna slide right into you when he pulled out. “ She looks so slutty, you make me wanna fuck you all day and night.”

“ No fucking breaks.”, Toji grunted out as he looked down to see your fucked out face taking their cocks.

“ Unless you yell the safe word, strawberry. Wanna fuck you until you can’t walk no more.”, Aizawa says as he fucked you three more times, “ Oh fuck, that’s a good girl for making me cum. Shit!”

You moaned when you felt him empty himself inside of your fluttering hole. Aizawa laid on you for 6 swings before slowly pulling out. Your legs were shaking and Toji slapped it making you cry out. In response he chuckled, “ We ain’t done.”

Just when you thought to relax your legs, Benimaru climbed up on the bed and position his dick over your hole and pushed in, loving the way your mouth detached from Toji’s cock or scream out, “ Aughhhnn keep fucking me, Mr. Yoshi and sir.”

The director was astonished that you acted like you didn’t know Benimaru name as you got fucked by him. You were still trying to follow the script and he admired that. Oh, how you are gonna be fun to work with.

Benimaru slapped your tits as he slammed his dick up and down into your pussy, “ It’s Benimaru to you. Fuckkk-ahhh, you’ve been holding this pussy back from me and I don’t like it.” You whimpered because you were so turned on and still you needed more cocks. You brain was even turning to mush as Yuushi and Benimaru kept fucking into you. Both moving at a fast pace.

“ I- I haven’t pleaseuhhhh. Keep fucking like that, get me pregnant. Hahhh breed me.”, You were moaning those words like you meant it and you didn’t but they thought you did so they went even harder.

Nothing but groans, moans, and skin slapping sounds were echoing around the room. This felt so surreal to everyone watching and involved. You were so busy getting fucked out that you couldn’t see, the crowd of people watching you take all of their cocks now since Toji had his thighs on each side of your head, drilling into your mouth and Aizawa had your hands playing with his wet and cream filled cock.

The crowd consisted of the directors, crew members, and other co-stars like Touya, Eren, Levi, Obi, Konro who was smiling, Mirko, Midnight, Gojo, Mic, Miche, Shoko, Etc. they were enticed by how pretty you sounded and how real it sounds.

They all loved the way your body responded to these four. Benimaru gripped your boobs as he fucked your pussy, kissing the cervix so painful but good. You felt like an onahole and you never thought you would’ve liked that feeling.

“ Fuck I think I’m gonna cum. She’s such a fucking good girl. Shit, I’m cumming baby.”, Yuushi groaned as he fucked and came into your now gaping hole. Granted it was small but it was still gaping.

Benimaru nails were digging into your boobs making your groan in ecstasy, his body was so sweaty and red and he knew your legs were hurting and shaking but that only added to his pleasure of knowing he’s making you this way, he showed off when he swirled his hips and bounced one more time before cumming inside of your pussy, “ That’s it, lemme breed this pretty pussy, isn’t that what you wanted.” He smirked when you nodded your head as you came in his dick from his pounding and Yuushi’s pounding. You came at the same time Toji came.

“ Fuck this fucking mouth, ha hughhhnnn. Fuck!”, He yelled as he slammed his dick in your mouth, staying there for a minute. It looked like you were suffocating for a bit before he slid his soft cock out of your mouth letting you breathe.

Benimaru slid his cock out of your pussy letting the camera catch his, Aizawa’s, and your white fluids leak out of your abused pussy.

Yuushi did the same, not prior to slapping your ass making your whimper at the contact. Your ass felt sore and your pussy and legs did as well.

Aizawa came on your face almost catching your eyes, “ Fuck, came two times today. Fuck!”

You panted as the camera leaned over your head to get a shot of your fucked out face and body before the camera man threw his thumb up letting everyone know it’s a wrap.

Everyone smiled and congratulated you on shooting your first ever porno as Toji was willing you down. You whispered tiredly, thank you for making Toji smile. Toji then picked you up and the rest of the men followed him out the room and down the stairs to the other main door and out the scene room completely.

“ where are we going?”, You tiredly asked as you felt your body going up and down as he walked to the bathroom. The bathroom with the bath and shower thankfully.

“ We gotta get you a clean and comfortable doll, can’t have you passing out because of the lack of proper aftercare. So just lay back and relax.”, Tojii said as he handed you to Yuushi. You didn’t know how much these men lifted, but you knew it had to be a lot to carelessly carry you around.

You closed your eyes as you felt a kiss on your forehead and then another one on your cheek.

“ You did so well, sweet heart.”, Aizawa whispers.

“ nah I would say she did amazing for her first time with everything. Thank you for letting us be your first.”, Benimaru said and Aizawa nodded his head.

You smiled with your eyes closed, “ I made the right choice.”

They knew you were on your way to slumber but they smiled at what you said until they heard your phone buzz in your pocket. Toji, who had your clothes, took your phone out and read the text message.

“ Well well well, guess we’re all going to a dinner tomorrow boys.”, Toji says as he showed them the text your mother sent you as a reminder for attending her dinner so she could set you up with what should be your brother fling.

All of the men smirked, some let out a small one. Cough cough Aizawa. They were glad that finally got you and they weren’t planning on letting you go.

𓊆ྀི❤︎𓊇ྀི Bonus

“ Come on pretty girl, give me one more.”, Toji whispered in your ear as you sat on the bathroom sink in your parents house trying to cover your mouth. You didn’t want your parents to know how disrespectful you were being right now.

Your moans were muffled as he kept your legs spreaded for his entire body to fit inside of them. His dick felt so good with you wrapped around him. He almost wanted to pound you for hours using this same position, filling you up nonstop.

“ Fuuuchhhhmmm!”, your moans were gibberish and muffled to the point you thought you were learning a new language. Toji heard the squelching sounds your pussy made and grunted in satisfaction knowing he had their girl all to himself right now.

“ Give me what I want baby, let go for me and let me cum in that pussy of yours.”, he grabbed your neck with one hand and your hair with the other. Yanking your head back, he nipped at your neck desperately letting out his grunts and moans you were getting him to release from his throat.

“ I can’t. Ohhmmmm I can’t, I can’t.”, You maimed as your eyes began to water from how much the pleasure was taking a toll on your mind. His dick felt like it was punching inside of you with how loud the slapping of skin on skin was becoming much louder. His thrusts were building up in power and your pussy was getting more wetter.

Once he let go of your hair, still panting and moshing your name in your neck, he reached down to your fat pussy— rubbing your pussy in calm circular motions. You screamed into your hand once the water came spraying out your pussy whilst your body was shaking violently.

You could feel Toji smiling against your skin as his teeth grazed your skin. He knew he could make you do more and that’s what he was about to do as he pumped his dick inside you. When he pulled out, he’d drag his dick out slowly before pushing back inside of you while his hips moved in a circular motion. He’s too damn good and you knew you were about to cum.

“ i thought you said one more timeeeeahhhuhh.”, You maimed out as he continued to fuck and tease your soaking pussy.

Toji laughed in your neck before bringing his eyes to meet yours, “ my fault princess, I forgot. This pussy of yours is soul taking, can’t help it.” He stopped rubbing your clit and brought his hands to your ass, and grabbed it with both hands. Squeezing your ass in his large hands that had two cold silver rings on them, you were in heaven. Toji pushed all of his cock inside of your hole making your cream push out on his dick.

“ Fuck I’m gonna flood this pussy with my cum baby. Need to cum’ wanna cum. Fuahhhckkk.”, He moaned in your ear one last time before he came inside of your pussy shoving all of his thick ass size into your hole. He gripped your ass cheeks like he never wanted to let go, his eyelashes fluttered as he closed his eyes when he came inside of you. You felt his finger nails going into your ass and moaned at the impact and the feeling of him filling you to the brim. Both of you guys were panting and breathing loudly as the silence engulfed the bathroom.

Toji looked back down at you because he had his head tilted back a little. He admired your beauty for five seconds prior to kissing you. As you two swiped your tongues over each other, a loud bang was heard and Yuushi’s voice followed, “ Next time you two run off, make sure it’s not obvious. Now wrap it up because I have to pee and her father is wondering where she’s at. I think her mom knows what’s going on because she keeps directing the conversation whenever he asks and she also keeps smirking at all of us, it’s getting weird.”

You laughed against Toji's lips knowing very well why your mother was looking at them. She wanted to pick out the father of an unborn child she wants you to have. You couldn’t even think about inviting them because your brother insisted you did when you told him about losing your virginity to them. Toji chuckled and kissed your lips one last time, “ Thank you, princess.”

ᰔᩚ ━ Tagging: @dejtheauthor @simpingfor-wakasa @happygoluckyalexis @mastermindenoshimaalicia and plenty more

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