#he came out looking more pouty than i intended

[buckyalpine]

you know what I live for? Misunderstandings. Angst. Fluff.

You bit your lip hearing Bucky's conversation with his two closest friends, the three men sitting together in the living room. It clearly wasn't a conversation for anyone else's ears but you couldn't move from the spot you were glued to.

“I-I think I should tell y/n” Bucky sighed, pacing up and down the living room while Sam and Steve were silently judging the super soldier.

"Seriously? This little affair still going on?" Sam shook his head while Bucky gave him a small nod.

“I really like her” He whispered, fiddling with his fingers.

“Well you got tell her, no point keeping it to yourself at this point, she deserves to know. It's been going on for long enough Buck” Steve gave Bucky a pointed look.

“She makes me feel safe. It’s different. I love y/n, but-" Bucky flopped onto the couch, staring up a the ridiculously high ceiling.

“But?”

“This-this is different. I-I think I love her-”

“Do you hear yourself right now” Sam said incredulously, not feeling an ounce of sympathy for him, "You brought this on yourself so deal with it"

“I know” Bucky sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It's just-you should see the way she looks at me, her eyes, I didn't mean for it to get this far-

"Save it. Tell y/n" Steve stated, not willing for any of this to go on any longer. This wasn't the first time his bestfriend brought up this topic and he was certain it wouldn't be the last unless Bucky came clean.

You hadn't even realized you'd started crying until you struggled to choke back a sob, slapping your hand over your mouth and running off to your room instead. Bucky frowned at the soft sniffle he thought he heard, craning his neck to see an empty hallway.

"Did you hear that?" He turned to Steve who shared the same look of concern. "Fuck, do you think that was y/n?" His heart raced further, desperately wanting to run over to you, looking at the clock and realizing it was also time for him to see her. As much as he loved you, he had to go to her first.

He didn't have a choice.

-

A soft knock at the door pulled you from your misery, your boyfriends pleading voice muffled on the other side.

"Baby?" Bucky knocked again, desperately hoping you'd let him in and give him a chance to explain himself. He never intended for any of this to happen. He finally decided to let himself in, opening the door, his heart dropping seeing your sad, pouty face, wrapped in a cocoon of blankets. He knew you'd overheard him so there was no point in hiding anything anymore.

"This isn't how I wanted you to find out" Bucky spoke softly, shuffling at the door, guilt plastered all over his face. He closed the door behind him before walking over to the bed and sitting beside you. Before you could say anything, he shifted closer to you, nervously biting his lip.

"Her name is Alpine" Tucked into the crook of his arm was a tiny white kitten no more than a few weeks old, happily cuddled into the warmth of his chest. She looked up at him with bright blue eyes, blinking slowly while he cooed, seeing she was up from her nap.

"This is who you were talking to Sam and Steve about?" You asked nervously while Bucky sheepishly nodded, giving you an apologetic smile for his dramatics.

"I've been taking care of her. I know we're not allowed to have pets but I couldn't just leave her there in the cold" Bucky whispered, petting her small head with his finger while she batted at his tags. You giggled at how soft your boyfriend was for the tiny kitten, the furbaby having him wrapped around her little paws.

"I found her while I was out on a run, she was by one of the bushes. I don't think her mom came back for her, she was alone. She was so tiny, she would've died" Bucky felt his throat tighten, remembering the day he'd heard her cries from the garden, her tiny form fitting into the palm of his hand. She'd been days old, waiting for someone to find her.

"I've been feeding her every couple hours, got a box set up by the bush with some blankets but she can't stay there forever. Steve caught me checking on her a few days ago" Bucky looked at you with puppy eyes, hoping you'd understand what he was asking.

"Is this where you've been running off to?" You shook your head while he smiled down at the kitten, proud of how much she'd grown.

"Can we keep her? I don't to put her in a shelter, she'll be scared and she just got comfortable letting me hold her, I don't want her to feel abandoned-"

"We'll keep her. Let's talk to Tony tomorrow" You hushed your boyfriends nervous rambling with a soft kiss to his sweet lips, rubbing your thumb along his jaw.

"Really?" His eyes lit up, bright and blue, matching the baby that stole his heart.

"Really, you big softie" You teased, loving your teddybear of a boyfriend.

"I'm sorry I worried you" Bucky whispered, pulling you to sit in his lap, his two favorite girls cuddling into him.

-

"He finally came clean" Sam snorted, seeing you and Bucky sprawled on the floor, surrounded by a bunch of cat toys, with a blur of white fur jumping between the two of you. "How'd you convince Stark"

"Didn't take much to be honest" you giggled; Tony tried to put up a stoic front, melted instantly as soon as Alpine crawled up his leg, purring into the crook of his neck. "He bought her a heated cat bed and automatic food dispenser"

Alpine stretched across the warm giant couch, curling up under a patch of sun while Bucky looked at her with hearteyes.

"I have competition with a cat" You playfully frowned while Bucky shook his head, scooping you into his arms immediately.

"Never babydoll, you're my everything"

I thought I overheard you saying she's different" You nudged him while he tried to defend himself again, only to fail miserably.

"He's lying y/n, he talked about her eyes and the way she looks at him" Sam chimed in, while Bucky hid himself into the crook of your neck. "And how he thinks he loves her"

"Shut up Sam"

"Such a softie"

[mellowsadistic]

Birthday Party - Part 1

Sarah attends her little cousin’s birthday party, but after she makes the girl cry, the hypnotist hired for the event decides she needs a little attitude adjustment. Sarah missed the hypnotist’s performance earlier, but that’s okay, because he’s happy to give her a one-on-one session to help her enjoy herself just as much as the birthday girl.

***

Sarah parked her car in her Auntie’s driveway and rolled her eyes at the sight of the decorations adorning the front of the house. Multicoloured streamers were draped over the hedges, and a large pink banner hung over the doorway – the words Happy Birthday Penny, written in sparkly silver letters, were flanked by a pair of cartoon unicorns. It was so embarrassingly girly that Sarah couldn’t help but cringe. She wasn’t a tomboy exactly, but she’d long since abandoned anything quite so pink and cutesy.

She got out of the car and huffed. She was twenty-one years old for God’s sake! She had better things to do than spend a whole afternoon at some stupid baby’s birthday party, but her mother had been insistent. Sure, Penny was her cousin, but Sarah hardly even knew her. She’d been away at university when Penny had been born, and Sarah had only seen her a handful of times. She didn’t like babies. Most of her friends thought they were adorable, but Sarah couldn’t get the thought of dirty diapers out of her head. Babies were so disgusting!

Sarah opened the front door and heard the loud laughter and shrieking of a little girl’s birthday party happening inside. How old was Penny anyway? Sarah looked up and noticed several pink balloons bobbing about on the hallway ceiling, emblazoned with the large number “3”. Surely she’d be out of nappies by now at least. If Sarah was asked to go anywhere near a used diaper, she was going to storm out straight away.

She walked down the hall, following the noise, and entered a spacious kitchen that was adjoined to the living room. The place was covered in streamers and balloons and confetti, and there was an enormous chocolate cake sitting in the middle of the table. Her little cousin was wearing a bright pink dress and a plastic tiara, running around the living room playing a game of musical chairs with her friends.

“There you are, Sarah!” came a voice, and Sarah looked around to see her Auntie marching towards her, smiling. “I was worried you weren’t coming!”

“Oh, yeah…” Sarah said vaguely. “There was a lot of traffic.”

Her Auntie’s smile became rather fixed, but she didn’t contest the lie. “Why don’t you have some cake?” she asked sweetly.

“No thanks,” Sarah said, glancing at the chocolate cake with distaste. Just imagine how many calories were in that! Her Auntie wasn’t exactly fat, but she was a lot plumper than Sarah’s own model-thin physique. She might be happy to risk her figure, but Sarah certainly wasn’t.

At that moment, the game of musical chairs ended, and Penny was left jumping up and down, squealing excitedly at her victory. Her mother went over to congratulate her, leaving Sarah to help herself to a drink.

She looked around hopefully for a sign of something alcoholic, but there was nothing. Already wishing she’d made up some excuse not to come, never mind how furious her mother and Auntie might have been with her, she poured herself a plastic cup of lemonade and lounged against the kitchen counter, examining the other guests. There was no-one else even close to her age. Everyone was either a brat or a parent.

Then a man strolled over and leant against the counter next to her. He was dressed very peculiarly in a tailed coat and bowtie, like a stage magician.

“Hello,” said Sarah, uncertainly.

“Nice to meet you, sweetie!” the man said cheerfully. “Are you enjoying the party?”

Sarah was about to lie and say that she was, but there was something about his overly bright tone that annoyed her. “No,” she said bluntly, sounding much more like a pouty child than she’d intended. She felt her face going red.

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” the man said kindly. “It’s a shame you weren’t here earlier. I’m a hypnotist, you see. I’m very good with suggestions. I go around deciding what all the boys and girls should become, then I tell them how to act accordingly. There’s always at least one person who’s not enjoying themselves, but after a session with me, they’ll be running around and giggling as happily as anyone else.”

He smiled at her, and Sarah felt a chill run down her spine. The man was quite handsome, even if he was almost twice her age, but there was something a little unsettling about his expression. He was probably hoping to get into her pants, Sarah thought. But no… that wasn’t it. His expression wasn’t predatory. Not exactly. It was more amused, or condescending. He was looking at her in the same way all the parents were looking at their shrieking three-year-olds, and Sarah didn’t like it at all.

“Well anyway,” she said, thinking hard for an excuse to get away, but at that moment her Auntie reappeared, holding Penny’s hand. The girl was fidgeting with the hem of her pink dress and staring shyly at her shoes.

“Sarah,” said her Auntie in a whisper, “could I have your help? I’m afraid Penny’s had a little accident, and I could do with someone to help me clean her up.”

“She had a…” Sarah began, looking down at Penny’s waist. No pee-stained socks. No puddle on the floor. “An accident?” she asked. Surely this couldn’t be happening. Surely she wasn’t really being asked to do this.

“In her pull-ups,” her Auntie clarified.

Sarah looked at her in disgust. “She’s pissed herself and you want me to help change her fucking nappy?” she demanded, disbelieving.

“Sarah!” her Auntie exclaimed in a shocked voice.

“No way,” Sarah said firmly, “I’m not doing that.”

Penny started to cry.

“Now look what you’ve done!” her Auntie snapped. She turned to her daughter. “It’s okay, sweetheart. It’s okay. It’s not your fault.”

“Oh come on,” Sarah sneered. “Can she really not use a toilet at three years old?” She felt a little guilty about making her cousin cry, but she was too angry to care. Her Auntie was acting like she was the one who’d done something wrong! Just because she didn’t want to change a disgusting, pissy diaper! “Maybe I should have brought some nappies for her as a birthday present.”

Her Auntie glared at her furiously. She’d just opened her mouth to say something when the hypnotist cut in. “I’ll take care of Sarah,” he said mildly. He exchanged a meaningful look with her Auntie, and Sarah was shocked to see a smile flash across the woman’s face. She nodded and led her crying daughter away by the hand, throwing Sarah one last furious look over her shoulder.

Sarah rounded on the ridiculous man. “What do you mean you’ll take care of me?” she demanded, raising her eyebrow in a superior way. “I’m not a… not a… What are you… doing…?”

Her voice faltered. The hypnotist had taken out a shining silver pocket watch, and was swinging it in front of her face. Sarah wanted to laugh, but something stopped her. Her thoughts felt slow and sluggish. The hypnotist was saying something, but she wasn’t sure what. The watch was glittering brightly. So, so brightly…

The hypnotist took her by the hand and started leading her further into the house. She tried to stop, but it was as if her body was out of her control. Her feet wouldn’t obey her! She felt a knot of anxiety tighten in her stomach. What was going on?!

The man smiled at her over his shoulder. “Like I told you before, I’m very good with suggestions. I always have been! I know you’re scared, Sarah, but there’s nothing to be frightened about. I’m just going to help you have a lovely time at Penny’s party, and after that…” He paused, smirking. “Well, after that I suppose it will be up to your Auntie.”

Sarah tried to say something, anything, but no words would come out. Before she knew it, she was sitting in a comfy chair in the spare bedroom, the noise of the party echoing distantly. The hypnotist was sat directly across from her, his shiny silver pocket watch back in his hand.

He swung it gently before her eyes, and Sarah couldn’t tear her eyes away. So shiny, she thought. So pretty. Pretty pocket watch…

“That’s it, Sarah,” the hypnotist cooed. “That’s a good girl. Now, we’re going to have a little talk, that’s all, and see if we can make your behaviour match your attitude.”

[highvern]

Teach Me VI

Final

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Pairing: Lee Dokyeom (Seokmin) x fem!reader

Genre: smut, humor, college au

Warnings: angst, pining, crying, alcohol consumption, jealous pouty DK, meddling Seungkwan and Hoshi, eventual smut, dry humping, making out, face fucking, munch DK as always, unprotected sex, cream pie, they're simps for each and its disgusting!, DK wearing a chain that dangles in readers face bc im sick and twisted, kinda choking but not really?

Length: ~7.4k

Note: SURPRISE!! ITS HERE!!!! this series started in OCTOBER which is wild to think about. two months of these two plaguing my day to day and so many amazing readers interacting with the story honestly makes a little emotional for it to end. this is the first series i've ever done and now it's over so soon but there are bigger and better things on the horizon! (goes and cries in the corner) If you notice any errors or typos pls ignore.

This blog is intended for 18+ only! MDNI or you'll be blocked!

read more here

[MONDAY 11:23 AM]

YOU: Home

Mr. Boo: Thank you! Love you!

Mr. Boo: We can have a bff night when I get back

[MONDAY 4:48 PM] 

DOKYEOM: Hope you got home safe

DOKYEOM: I’m sorry, I shouldn't have spoken to you like that.

DOKYEOM: Can we talk this week?

Dokyeom doesn’t leave his room the rest of the weekend. A combination of fear of Seungkwan beating the crap out of him and absolute heartbreak keep him wrapped in the covers. Not even Soonyoung can elicit more than a half-hearted grunt when checking if his roommate is still alive.

The drive back to campus is no different. Staring longingly out the window, Dokyeom stares at his unanswered messages. When he goes to your Instagram he finds your account missing with the sinking realization you blocked him.

Seventy two of the best and subsequent worse hours of his life crumbled your fragile relationship. He thought you returned his feelings. 

After Soonyoung blabled a drunken confession on Dokyeom’s behalf, he worried you’d drive off in the night; swiftly rejecting him. But you wrapped your arms around him and held him as you slept. Kissed him awake in the early morning sun, nothing but a soft smile and presses of lips across his face. It was better than anything Dokyeom hoped for. He thought it meant you liked him back even if you didn’t say it yet.

But then you interrogated him and the hot tub and it all came crashing down. You were trying to let him down easy, buttering him up before giving him a reality check. It’d hurt of course. The tsunami of shame at thinking he had a chance and then adding insult to injury when you called him childish. 

Dokyeom knows he was wrong for his reaction but embarrassment sent him spiraling and he needed to get as far away from you as possible. 

And now that he’d succeed, he doesn't think he can find a way back.

—

Monday and Tuesday are spent suffocating under a mound of blankets, munching on a carton of ice cream, and crying till your head hurts and your throat is sore. The string of texts from Dokyeom remains thoroughly ignored; but each buzz of your phone raises your heart rate to unhealthy levels until you read the notification from some store offering a discount. 

You ignore the string of messages from Dokyeom, tempted more and more to block him as they come through; but you can’t bring yourself to do it. Just like you can’t bring yourself to delete the pictures of you two together peppered throughout your camera roll, or the most recent video that does nothing but make you sick to your stomach.

Tuesday night your roommate returns to campus, cheery and well rested from a weekend with her boyfriend back home. You hide from her friendly questions about your weekend in the bathroom, shrouded in steam and bubbles.

Looking at yourself in the mirror after you're sufficiently pruned and chilled from freeze drops, you notice the traces of Dokyeom still on your skin. 

A tiny maroon bruise is fading to a sick green right under your collar bone. Prodding it with the tip of your finger, you wince at the tenderness of the flesh. 

You hate it. 

Hate how somehow your eyes are thick with a gloss of tears at the sight of a hickey, they way you can’t catch your breath when you realize the shirt you brought in with you is another one of his you lifted over the months.

Dokyeom hadn’t been your boyfriend. You two hadn’t even been casually dating. Over and over again you remind yourself you were just friends who had sex, and you shouldn’t be this torn up over a guy. Dokyeom didn’t like you and that wasn’t something to hold against him. 

But the facts do nothing to stop the knot permanently lodged in your throat.

—

The first time you see Dokyeom post-not-breakup, he’s sitting in one of the rolling chairs at the mahogany table you two claimed for your usual study sessions. 

Blood frozen, heart clenching unbearably, you turn and walk right back out the revolving glass doors, hoping he didn’t see you.

But the echo of quick footsteps behind you say otherwise.

“Hey! Y/N!”

Faltering for a moment, you keep walking as if you hadn’t heard anything. And because the universe has a sick sense of humor, the crossing light turns red just as you approach, leaving you stranded with the one person you didn’t want to see.

You whip around at tap against your arm with such ferocity you nearly stumble.

Dokyeom has the gall to smile at you sheepishly before opening his mouth, “Hey.”

“Hi.” 

“You weren’t in lab yesterday.”

“Nope.” You respond monotonously, glancing behind you at the still red crossing light.

“Did you need notes or—”

“No, I got them already.”

“Oh, well—”

The light turns green, allowing you to race across the road before Dokyeom can finish his thought. The heat of his gaze doesn't leave your back until you turn down the next road leading you home.

—

Your second interaction with Dokyeom is in the same sterile lab your friendship started. You slip inside just before class starts, narrowly avoiding getting locked out by your grumpy instructor. 

Sliding into an open seat near the door, you stare straight ahead as he delves into the topic for this afternoon, pointedly ignoring the pair of eyes watching you from the familiar station at the back of the room.

“Finals are almost upon us people so I would like to take this opportunity to remind you that the lab is not open after hours. Meaning, you should prioritize your time in this room. Now let’s get started.”

The guy you’ve been partnered with is nice enough, willing to follow your lead as you read off the necessary equipment. He even manages to crack a few jokes, though not funny you’re thankful for the distraction.

You learn his name is San, he’s an underclassman and he doesn’t understand anything about the class despite attending every lecture and office hour available. 

When he leans over to copy the results you’ve scratched into your notebook, you hear a crack and shatter behind you. A dozen heads twist towards the source of commotion, finding a red faced Dokyeom staring at you.

“Mr. Lee! May I remind you our lab equipment isn’t cheap!”

“Sorry,” he mutters, shuffling towards the broom hanging on the wall.

You focus on ignoring him the rest of class, which is surprisingly easy with your new partner pestering you with inane questions. 

A lull hits, waiting for the digital scale to spit out a final reading. You managed to pull well ahead of schedule, calling over your instructor to verify your results before collecting your things. 

“So,” San starts, stuffing his own notebook in his bag. “Would you be down to tutor me sometime?”

“Oh, I uh—”

“No pressure! I just saw some of the old quizzes in your folder and thought maybe you could help me out.”

“Sure,” you smile, taking his phone to enter his number. 

Voices from the different stations echo off the blank walls, drowning your conversation out.

“Awesome! My boyfriend took this class last year but did about as well as I’m doing.”

Returning his phone back, you start walking to the door. “Oh, really?” 

“Yeah, he told me to take geology instead but I didn’t listen.” He laughs, stepping forward to hold the heavy wooden door open for you to pass.

You miss the sound of a second beaker breaking as you walk down the hall with your new friend.

—

“Dude, you have got to calm down.” Soonyoung pleads, head hanging off the couch as his legs extend into the air. He swears the increased blood flow makes him smarter.

Dokyeom nearly wears a rut into the carpet from his pacing across the length of their tiny living room. He’s been in a mood since that afternoon, watching his not-girlfriend-possibly-no-longer-friend giggle with some dude that wasn’t him. And then give her number to said dude. In front of him. All while she completely ignored his existence.

“He probably just asked her to study together.”

Jealousy isn’t Dokyeom’s thing. Sure he may whine and pout if he isn’t getting enough attention, but he’s never got the blood boil urge scream like he has right now. And about a girl that won’t even look at him.

Tangling both fists in his hair, Dokyeom tries to calm down. Soonyoung was probably right. You’re a genius at chemistry, you’re slated to officially tutor through the library next semester pending final grades, and the guy Dokyeom swears he’s never seen in class most likely asked you for help. It’s not his place to be jealous.

“Hate to be that guy but you need to get a grip”

It's easier said than done. There's four more weeks of class plus a four hour final and your Seungkwan’s friend. You’re not going to disappear after the semester ends and Dokyeom’s feelings surely aren’t going anywhere given he’s got a constant reminder that you’re the woman he lost his virginity to. 

If he knew inviting you to that party at the beginning of the semester would end up like this, he'd have sat somewhere else the first day of lab.

Soonyoung chokes on his own saliva when Dokyeom collapses on the floor with a reluctant, “You’re right.”

“I am?” Eyes bugging so hard they nearly pop from his head.

“I just have to move on.”

They both silently agree to pretend Dokyeom is capable of that.

—

San and his boyfriend, Jay, turn out to be horrible study partners. You are hardly able to focus from the way your abs hurt from laughter; Jay has a talent for self-deprecating humor.

“You didn’t!” You gasp, ignoring the daggers being glared into you back by other library goers. 

Typically you’d respect the needs of others, but they chose to sit on the first floor; if they needed real quiet they should have sat upstairs where it’s enforced by a graduate librarian with nothing better to do.

Jay nods solemnly, “I threw up on him during our first date. But he,” flinging an accusatory finger at his boyfriend, “insisted we go to some weird food truck so it’s his own fault.”

“You said you liked to try new things!” San defends.

“Not food poisoning!”

Descending into giggles, you feel sorry Seungkwan is missing out on two people he’d get along with. But he canceled at the last minute, leaving you at the large oak table all by your lonesome until you’d run into your classmate, looking for a seat.

From the corner of your eye, you see a familiar someone approaching. White blonde hair and trademark grin, Soonyoung stops at the edge of the table.

“Hey, Y/N” he grins.

Sending him a tightlipped smile you return the greeting.

Soonyoung introduces himself to your tablemates, both just as friendly as he. Thick palpable tension descends into the warm atmosphere and you’re about to rise and get another coffee just to escape it when Soonyoung turns back to you.

“Could I take a look at your results from the last lab? We didn’t get to finish in time.”

The unspoken half of ‘we’ is Dokyeom. 

You hate the flare of curiosity flashing in your head. When you partnered with Dokyeom you always finished on time if not early, even with his joking.

“Ugh, sure.” You agree, digging into your bag for your notebook.

Not waiting for an invitation, Soonyoung slides into the chair next to you, pulling out his own notebook to copy down your answers quickly. But even after collecting the necessary info, he lingers.

“So you’re in lab with us too, right?” He asks San.

“Yeah, but I’m probably taking it again next year even with Y/N’s help.” San smiles.

“And you?” Soonyoung asks Jay.

“No, I took it last year.”

“Glad to see someone can make it out alive! Do you guys mind if I hang out until my friend arrives?”

The friend is definitely Dokyeom but you don’t want to look like a bitch in front of your new acquaintances nor have to explain the mess of your love life to either of them. 

Soonyoung’s self satisfied grin when you flash a tight lipped smile and nod nearly tempts you into strangling him. Why is he choosing to torture you? It’s Dokyeom’s fault no matter how you look at the situation. He tricked you; had you falling for the saccharine persona and ambiguous confessions. Dokyeom rejected you at the cabin for everyone to see, humiliated you, and then had the nerve to act upset when you wouldn’t speak to him.

You try to focus on the worksheet in front of you, a proactive effort to prepare for the final exam still far away. Drowning in extra credit had been an exhaustive effort to get your mind off of your issues but Soonyoung had to ruin it. And now he’s laughing with San and Jay like best friends and it’s all too much. 

Shooting up from your seat, they all stop to stare as shaky hands pack up your materials. “Sorry, I forgot I had a thing. Somewhere else. Bye!” 

Halfway to the door before anyone thinks to question your eagerness to leave, you walk right into another person.

“Shit sorry!” The faceless stranger exclaims as your books and papers go flying.

“No, I should have been watching wher–”

And when you look up, Dokyeom is staring back. 

“Sorry, let me help you.” 

“It's fine!” You snap, scrambling to shove everything into your bag.

You will not cry in the library: not over Dokyeom, not in front of Dokyeom. But once the concrete steps out front greet you the first tear falls and they don’t stop until you fall asleep curled up in your bed.

—

Later that week, in the sanctuary of your dorm, you indulge in contraband alcohol and the hype of your best friend.

“You need to just rip the bandaid off.” Seungkwan announces, arms thrown wide to punctuate his point.

“And how do I do that? I still have class with him!”

“Okay but how much of his stuff is still here?”

“Only like a few things.” you shrug, glancing around the room.

“Oh, really?” Seungkwan asks, throwing himself from his perch on your bed, crossing to the basket full of laundry in front of your closet.  “Because this is a hoodie from his high school, this is the shirt I got him for his birthday a few years ago,” he shuffles around the collection of socks and pants to pull more of Dokyeom’s belongings out. “And I’m pretty sure you don’t wear boxers.”

Seungkwan launched the wad of clothing your way, disappearing into the bathroom in search of more evidence of your ex-friend with benefits.

“You let him keep a toothbrush here?” Seungkwan yells, head popping out with the neon green piece of plastic dangling between his fingers.

It's tossed into the growing pile at the foot of your bed, your rage-fueled focus on the smattering of objects on your desk. 

More cheap wine and outrageous laughter has Seungkwan encouraging you to race across campus and return everything as soon as possible.

Red faced, he steadies you by your arms, “Listen, the sooner you get rid of this stuff the better. You’re like subconsciously holding on to him or whatever.”

Mooney eyed, you nod at your friend’s wisdom, scrambling for a bag.

The tote of Dokyeom’s belongings you’ve accumulated over the months sits heavy on your shoulders; bulging with the assortment of clothes, a spare phone charger, and a book that was severely overdue at the library you’d found under your bed.

Each click of your shoe against the tile floor echoes in the eerie silence as you walk down the hall towards the door of his apartment. The sterile lighting and gray walls are familiar yet alien under the new circumstances you're visiting. 

You won’t be greeted with the smile you’ve grown to miss or the puppy-like excitement that once made you feel special. Both things of the past you hope to forget. No one had your heart fluttering or twisting in knots the way Dokyeom had. But those happy memories are just memories. And the sooner you cut him out, the sooner you can forget them.

Your fiery determination to get over him ignited in the walls of your bedroom had begun to smolder as the chilly wind and movement sobered you up. 

A large part of you hopes it’ll be Soonyoung answering the door, Dokyeom absent for whatever convenient reason as you dumped his belongings and walked away for the last time. Worse case scenario, neither are home and you're left feeling like an idiot, lugging the ridiculously heavy bag back across campus in the freezing wind and rain. 

Worse-er case scenario, Dokyeom is home.

The door to the boys’ apartment is like all the others, but the hot pink “please don’t do coke in our bathroom” doormat stands out. A gift from Jeonghan, if you remember correctly.

A quick rap of knocks announces your presence before you can lose your nerve, stepping back as you wait for it to crack open.

As luck would have it, Dokyeom answers the door.

“Um–” he starts, clearly confused by what he’s seeing.

Shoulders square, back pin straight, you thrust the bag at him. “Here’s your stuff.”

“Oh.” Dokyeom exclaims, still confused, but cradling the tote into his stomach.

“Well, bye.” You turn to leave but stop when he calls you back.

“I can grab your stuff real quick. Since you’re already here.”

It is a horrible idea. Alone with Dokyeom, in his apartment, where the only person to hold you accountable is yourself. But you can be done with this entire mess once you have the hodge podge of items you’ve no doubt accumulated here.

Nodding once, you follow as Dokyeom turns to head towards his bedroom.

Suffocating tension, thick as tar, fills the air. Dokyeom doesn't attempt to replace it with ill timed jokes as he digs in the black dresser in the corner of his room. The bottom left drawer had been long cleaned out of his own clothes, making room for the odds and ends left behind following your rendezvous. 

A sizable pile of clothes lands on his unmade bed, followed by some toiletries you forgot at the cabin in your haste to flee.

Your ears are ringing from the quiet at this point, unable to look at Dokyeom swapping his belongings from the canvas tote with your own. Focusing on your phone, you scroll mindlessly, as Dokyeom works slowly to prolong the torture. He unfolds and refolds all the shirts, lost pairs of pants and shorts, before cramming them into the bag. If you took a second to look at him, you’d see longing glances in your direction with each item he packs away. But you don’t chance it until he approaches you when he’s finished.

“Here,” he says, eyes downcast as he hands you back the full bag.

Lifting it from his hands, you move back to the living room, bee lining for the front door and the sobering cold air outside.

“Wait.”

The smooth metal doorknob is cold against the wrinkles of your palm. All you need to do is twist and it's over. Unlatch the lock, step outside and your relationship with Dokyeom, whatever it may have been, is done. No more crying, no more wondering. Only four more classes and you can leave the mess of the past semester behind you forever.

But you can’t do it. The smallest part of your heart, buried under the weight of anger and sadness, pleads for you to stay. To give Dokyeom one last chance.

You wait for him to say something else, not moving a muscle as you take shallow breaths. Body tense in preparation, you’re afraid you might shake out of your skin. Being alone with Dokyeom was a stupid idea. 

Realizing you're not going to leave, you hear him shuffle closer.

You jump when he speaks again, voice right over your shoulder. “Can we please talk?” 

“What’s there to talk about?” You frown. 

At his responding silence, you chance a glance over your shoulder, met with sad brown eyes. 

“I just—,” he shakes his head, chin tipping towards the floor to examine his socks.

Prompting him again, “What do you want, Dokyeom?”

“You asked me if I liked you… and I do.”

You squash the seed of hope rooting in your chest, afraid that if he tramples it again you’ll never recover. Turning to face him, you cross your arms pensively. His confession should send your heart racing and your cheeks flushing. But why does he sound so sad about it?

Dokyeom scrubs a hand down his face in frustration. “I should have told you sooner but I— I kept waiting for the right time and then that night happened and I thought I messed everything up. But then we started fooling around so I thought ‘there’s no way she likes me.’ You know? 

From where you’re standing, Dokyeom is exactly the kind of guy anyone would go for. Warm as a ray of sunshine, contagious laughter, thoughtful. Excited by life, and brimming with affection for anyone lucky enough to be considered his friend. 

It’s a shame he can’t see himself the way you see him.

“I know all you wanted was to hook up and I was fine with that until you came to the cabin. Soonyoung had to run his mouth, and I thought you were trying to let me down easy in the hot tub so I got embarrassed.”

Biting your lip to stop the rebuttal simmering on the tip of your tongue, you feel the scowl melt off your face, morphing into a questioning gaze.

“You’re like, the coolest person I know. You’re funny and you’re smart and pretty, god you’re so pretty.” he breaths, finally looking at you. “And I feel like every time I get to see you I can’t breathe. And us hooking up made it worse because I’ve liked you since the first day of class when you sat down next to me and smiled at me. I thought I was gonna throw up.” Dokyeom raises his hands in defense as you scoff, quickly clarifying, “In a good way! You just— you make me nervous and stupid and now you hate me.”

He finishes the last part in a whisper, face vulnerable, looking at you helplessly.

“I don’t hate you.” You warble, launching yourself into his arms, tangling your limbs around him to squeeze as close as possible. It’s ungraceful, your head knocking into his chin, his feet scrambling to balance the unexpected shift of weight. But Dokyeom barely hesitates before pulling you into his chest, face buried in your neck while trying to force you into his skin by his arms around your waist.

Two puzzle pieces, carved to fit perfectly together. 

“You don’t?”

Squeezing him tighter, you calm in the thud of his heart and the pine scent of his cologne. You both simply bask in the presence of one another. At a week and a half, this is the longest you’ve gone without the other since you started your arrangement.

Dokyeom presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, sweet as sugar. His lips ghost against your hairline as he starts to speak again. “I’m sorry for the way I acted. I shouldn’t have freaked out on you.”

“I shouldn’t have called you childish.” You apologize, tipping your head back to meet his gaze.

“I mean you were right. I was being a dick.”

“But I wasn’t in any shape to call you out when I was doing the same thing.”

“The same…” Dokyeom echoes, confused.

“If we weren’t so dumb we could have been dating for weeks by now.”

“Oh.”

“Oh?” You smile.

“We really are dumb.”

Pure unadulterated joy takes flight on his face. Dokyeom cups your face in his hands, forehead meeting your own as you smile at him, his own dazzling in return.

“Yeah, but at least we have each other.”

The bark of awkward laughter and shaky words are unstoppable as you cower in his arms. 

“So you’re okay with me calling you my girlfriend?”

“You can call me whatever you want.” You sigh, biting your lip at the idea.

“Even my shmoopie poopie?”

Nose scrunching as you laugh at his ridiculousness, you shake your head vigorously in objection. “You can call me whatever you want besides that.”

“Baby cakes?” He asks, peppering a kiss on your cheek.

“No!”

“Honeybuns?” 

Another kiss on the tip of your nose.

“No.”

“What about–”

A firm press to his mouth silences Dokyeom as you hum.

— 

Soonyoung returns to his apartment after another failed date, eager to shoot the shit with his roommate over a few beers and some video games. But when he opens the door to his home, he finds a trail of clothes flung haphazardly across the furniture, leading straight to said roommate's room. 

No fucking way. Soonyoung thinks. 

Then he hears a thud from behind the door, followed by a familiar laugh he hasn’t heard in the apartment in well over two weeks.

No FUCKING way! He huffs, reaching for his phone.

—

Down the street, Seungkwan smirks as the expected ding of a new Venmo notification shrills through the silence of your dorm:

“Kwon Soonyoung paid you $50.00. – HOW DID YOU KNOW? – Your Venmo balance is now $135.00.”

Epilogue:

Finals season rushes forward rapidly. Two days before you’re set to fly back home for winter break, Chem grades are released.

Another pair of matching As to be celebrated in typical fashion but this time you’re Dokyeom’s girlfriend and he’s sweating like it’s his first time all over again. The night you both confessed had been you last night together. Dokyeom insisted you take things slow, his fear of messing up again forcing him to take caution. 

It's sweet. How he wants to take you out, wine and dine you as if a certain video didn’t still exist on both your phones. And you’d enjoyed the full experience too; walks around campus with interlaced fingers, shy glances in class, and girlish giggles as he offered his jacket on a cold night. The innocent good night kisses dropped on your lips in front of your door that have Dokyeom insisting “just one more” for an hour before he finally lets you slip inside your room.

It’d been everything you dreamed of and more.

But you're both tired of make outs that lead nowhere. Of sitting in Dokyeom’s lap at parties and not letting your hands wonder like you’re both dying too. Waking up in his bed and pretending you don’t feel him nudging the curve of your ass as before he hides in the bathroom to take care of his boner; leaving you to stare at the ceiling, fighting the urge to follow him into the shower and lend a helping hand.

Tonight, you’ve reached the boiling point and it’s spilling over.

“‘s okay?” He asks into the curve of your neck, palms gliding up your stomach underneath the soft cream sweater you’d worn to dinner.

Humming as your head lulls against the interior of his front door, the warmth of his mouth and hands making your brain fuzzy. Tonight, everything feels like more. Your nipples peak at the smallest brush of his tongue, back bowing under the swipes of his thumb against your ribs; even when he pressed a chaste kiss to the back of your intertwined fingers on the walk to his apartment ripped the air from your lungs.

Dokyeom feels the nerves of that first night, but you’re acting like the desperate virgin he’d been. Drooling to touch and be touched. For your boyfriend to string you out one last time before you both return home for a few weeks of winter break only to pick right back up in the new year.

Snaking a hand down his front, you palm the half hard length with a firm pressure that pulls his hips forward like a magnet. A strained grunts sings in your ear as Dokyeom rocks firmly in your grip, pressing you into the wall under his torturous grind.

Turning to nudge your nose into his cheek softly, hot kisses dropping across his jaw as you bid him to take off his pants; pushing them down clumsily. You don’t bother with the brass button or rough zipper, blinded by desperation and simply clawing the stiff material downwards in an effort to get beneath.

You manage to trickle to your knees, slipping through Dokyeom’s hold like water. The hard floor biting into your skin as you kneel before him to mouth at the thin fabric of his boxer. Dokyeom’s elbows land against the wall, caging you in as he watches from above; entranced by the shallow dip of your lips over the covered head of his cock and the lash of your tongue where you taste him through the fabric.

Tonight isn’t the night for teasing, so you have his boxers landing atop his jeans around his ankles in a blink. Tongue following the vein bulging on the underside of his cock as your hand returns to allow your thumb to dig into his slit.

Dokyeom whimpers a pathetic “fuck,” as you play with him, eagerly lapping up his shaft before sucking him into your mouth; hand dropping to cup his balls, the other rest on his stomach to hold his own shirt out of the way.

You missed how responsive he is to your touch, melting in the palm of your hand as he chases the warmth of your mouth with his hips. Anyone who walks by the door would undoubtedly hear what’s happening on the other side, the choked whimpers from you and guttural moans from Dokyeom combining into a lewd symphony.

Head hitting the wall behind you with a dull thud, you let Dokyeom take over; humming as each press forward leaves the taste of his cock on your tongue. There’s something degrading in letting him fuck your mouth like this, sandwiched between his hips and the wall as he uses you to get off.

You gasp for breath when he pulls away, tongue sticking out to bid him back but his slender fingers cupping your chin distract you straight into his lips.

Pulling you to your feet, Dokyeom dips his tongue between your lips as he leads you blindly to the couch. His mouth is nothing but taking; stealing your breath away, your sanity. Things you’d happily let him have if it meant he wouldn’t stop. But Dokyeom was a giver too. A slide of his tongue lit a fire under your skin, fanning the desperation bordering on depravity. 

“Fuck me,” you plead, grinding your aching cunt against his thigh. 

Dokyeom responds by pressing into you harder, teeth tearing into your bottom lip as his cock drools against your thigh, staining your jeans.

You're so turned on it hurts, pussy painfully empty and panties drenched from heavy petting. If Dokyeom doesn’t do something soon, you have half a mind to get yourself off without him.

Dokyeom is trying, fighting to not to blow his load on your leg as you whine and arch beneath him. For him. But when you manage to close your fist around his length, giving a firm tug with the twist around the head you know he goes crazy for, it’s all over. Dokyeom’s core tightens as he spills on your sweater, streaks of his cum ruining the fabric as he pants into your mouth. Your tight grip doesn’t falter as you work him through it, teeth bruising his jaw as he paints you with his seed.

When Dokyeom gains sentience again, he winces in shame.

“Shit, sorry. I didn’t— I wouldn’t,” he tries to apologize, but stops when you part your lips to lap at your stained fingers; eyes trained on the pink of your tongue dipping out to swipe against the tips for taste.

Mouth wide as he stares, Dokyeom thinks he might come again without any help as you suck your fingers. His own dip into the pool of cum dimpling across your stomach, lifting to your mouth to replace yours. Dokyeom groans as your eyes never leave his, heated and heavy lidded as lick them clean and swallow his cum.

Dropping his hand to the back of your neck, he angles your head so his tongue can delve into your mouth. It’s messy and disgusting but you like it and that’s all Dokyeom cares about as he works to free you both of your clothes. He’s stark naked easily, shirt gone over the back of the couch in no time. But your clothes require more focus than either of you are capable of when Dokyeom is on top of you.

His feet hit the ground before he rises to stand, dragging you up to roughly undress you. You don’t seem to mind if the way you fist your jeans down is an inclination. Outer layers gone, Dokyeom finally gets a peek at the early Christmas present you’d been hoping to surprise him with.

Lacy maroon panties and a match bra hug your figure, accentuating your shape in the most mouthwater ways. Eyebrows raised to his hairline, Dokyeom heaves at the masterpiece you present him with.

Drops of your flesh peek through the holes in the lace, teasing him with what’s underneath. The high cut sides of your thong dig into your hips, making your legs look impossibly long and highlighting the sway of your thighs. Straining to pull his eyes up further, Dokyeom finds the bottom hem of your bra. Tongue rolling out of his mouth as the cups push your breasts up and together, teasing Dokyeom with ideas of fucking his cock between them as you lick at the tip.

You look like a goddess and Dokyeom is happy to get on his knees to worship every inch.

Dokyeom catches you smirking at his obvious reaction when he finally looks at your face. Stepping into his space, your fingers find purchase in the short hairs at the base of his head. A cold sweat breaks on his brow as you smile like the cat who got the canary.

“Do you like my outfit, Kyeomie?” You ask, tone deceptively sweet.

If he was capable of any thought beyond cataloging the swaths of naked skin and curves, maybe he’d answer more eloquently than grunting like a caveman.

“I picked it for you.”

Dokyeom lets his hands find your hips, squeezing the plush flesh in his palms as you continue to toy with him. His fingers pluck the thin elastic while his mind wanders down the extensive list of things he’s dying to do to you.

“Do you wanna see the whole thing?”

“There’s more?”

Falling to the floor, you dig into the pocket of your jeans for whatever the last piece of your outfit, if you could call it that. Rising again you present him with a thin piece of ribbon and a silver chain, both causing Dokyeom’s face to twist in confusion.

You prompt him to take the scarlet ribbon, a perfect match to the set you’ve donned, allowing Dokyeom to spot the clasp at the ends and the small silver charm dangling in the middle.

A sun is embossed on the front of the circular piece of silver. And engraved on the back is his name.

Having his name around your throat while he fucked you isn’t a kink he knew existed. But now Dokyeom is pretty sure he’ll be haunted by the idea for the rest of his life. The silver chain still in your hands has a similar charm but with a moon. Dokyeom’s vision goes fuzzy and his brain clouds at the assumption your name is on the back to match.

“Will you help me put it on?” You ask innocently, turn around so Dokyeom can slip what he can only describe as a mock collar around your neck.

Dokyeom latches the clasp with shaky hands, the strip of silk pulled taunt around your neck with each breath. When you face him once again, the charm sits in the hollow of your throat, silver winking at him seductively. 

The icy metal of the chain bites into his skin erotically as you raise to clasp it around his neck. Your nose nudges against his jaw, a ghosting open mouth kiss landing on his jugular as the charm teases the muscles of his chest where it dangles.

You land on the couch with a squeak, taken aback by Dokyeom shredding the delicate fabric of your panties with clumsy hands as he struggles to get them off you. Bullying his way between your legs, he apologizes with a heavenly strip of his tongue through your slit.

He eats you like a man starved, nails leaving crescents in the tops of your thighs as he spreads you so wide the muscles in your hips scream in objection. Dokyeom’s tongue dips into your hole, collecting your essence on his tongue before spitting it back on your clit and digging in. The swollen nub slips against the flat of his wet muscle, and when his lips gently close around it he sucks just the way you taught him to you he’s rewarded with a wanton sob.

Whines fly from between your lips at the torturous pleasure, thrashing as Dokyeom uses all his strength to pin you and place. Spots dance along your vision, expanding as two fingers push past your folds to stretch you out. Dokyeom knows your pussy like the back of his hand and he stuffs you just right with his fingers.

All you can do is squeeze your eyes shut and hold on tightly as you fly over the edge. Racing forward under the heat of Dokyeom’s mouth and harsh thrusts of his fingers till you weep pitifully. You’re floating through space under his attention; mouth open over silent begs not to stop, eyes clenched shut. Every beat of your frantic heart carries satisfaction through tense muscles till you are pliant and boneless.

“Too much,” you whimper, thighs forcing close around his head.

Dokyeom takes it in stride. The combination of your essence and his saliva soaking chin, leaving a damp trail across your body as he kisses his way to your mouth.

His thumb finds the ribbon taunt around your throat, focusing on the piece of metal resting against your skin as you taste yourself on his tongue.

Panting into his mouth, you mewl something vaguely sounding like “want you.”

Luckily, Dokyeom is more than happy to give you whatever you want.

Nodding like a bobble head, he pulls you down into his lap as he kneels on the floor. The head of his cock proddes against your entrance, slipping in just enough for you to take the rest with ease.

The stretch is nothing short of bliss; so deep you can taste him in the back of your throat. Dokyeom fills you perfectly, the small nip of pain from not taking him in the past month only multiplying the satisfaction you feel at finally having him inside you again.

With herculean effort, you rise to allow only a few inches to exit before dropping back down. Hands searching for leverage, you balance on the cushions behind you as you grind into his lap.

Dokyeom doesn’t know where to look, overwhelmed by his options; your face twisted around gasping breaths; or your chest, still clad in your bra, tits bouncing with each movement; or where his cock disappears inside you. 

But the silver heart around your throat seems to snag his focus easily.

Dokyeom isn’t possessive but the way it not so subtly declares you as his makes his cock throb. He’s the only one that gets to have you like this, and you him. The twin pendants remind him you’re his girlfriend and everything beyond slips away as he watches it jerk around with every movement.

Before long, your legs burn from effort, ruining your already unstable motions into nothing more than stuttered ruts. Dokyeom’s hands palming your ass assist in lifting you to the couch, limbs awkwardly sprawled off the edges but he doesn’t slow while your nails scratch deep lines into his shoulders.

“Oh, don’t stop! Fuck, please don’t stop.” You beg, head thrown back into the cushions.

Stopping sounds like the worst idea he’s ever heard. Dokyeom needs this. Gloved snuggly in your heat after so long is the only cure for the constant plague of memories of pestering him day and night. He knows they won’t go away but at least he won’t feel like ripping his skin off every time you're within a fifteen foot radius.

The wet clap of your bodies grows to a crescendo, your orgasm on the horizon and tightening your muscles into a deathgrip on his length. Spots float in Dokyeom’s vision at the squeeze and he drops his mouth to yours to lap up all your high pitched whines.

When he rises again to gasp against his own pleasure, the chain you gifted him dangles right above your lips and a nuclear bomb detonates.

You cum again with Dokyeom’s thumb under the ribbon encircling your neck, a tease of choked breath as he rubs the charm like a lifeline. Voice cracking, earth shatter, mind numb pleasure from the tip of your nose to your pinky toe. 

Dokyeom is babbling over you. Rhythm abandoned as he subjected to the tight squeeze of your worn cunt until that punch to his gut hits. Each rope of cum makes his cock throb as he plows you with a deep thrust, stilling to empty himself inside you.

You're fully crushed into the itchy upholstery as his arms buckle.

“Wow,” you gasp, catching your breath.

What else can you say? A month of no touching culminating into the best sex of your life with your devastating boyfriend while he wears a chain with your name on it.

Dokyeom cackles into your collarbone, chest tickling against yours until he leans back to look at you. 

His hair resembles an electrocuted poodle, his lips are red and swollen, and sweat glosses his skin in the low light. But Dokyeom is glowing with life and happiness and all the things that make the world good.

“I love you.”

Dokyeom responds with a girlish shriek at your impromptu confession. 

“Damn, okay.” You laugh, staring at his bare ass as he runs a lap around the living room stark naked.

“You can’t just— I wanted to say it first!” He pouts before flopping down on top of you.

“Are you serious?” Breathless from his weight, you fail to push him off you as he flails like a fish. “Is that what you’re focusing on?” 

“Yes,” Dokyeom grouches into your cheek. “You’re the first girl I’ve felt this way about and I wanted to…”

He trails off, suddenly embarrassed. Your entire relationship was many of Dokyeom’s firsts. The first person he had sex with, first college girlfriend he told his mom and sister about, and now the first girl to make him truly understand loving another person. It wasn’t something you held over his head, and some of it he didn’t even tell you about but it all tallies up in his mind how unprepared he is for it all. 

“Minnie, look at me.”

You don’t speak again until he finally meets your gaze. 

“I don’t even remember what we were talking about.” You sigh.

Dokyeom doesn’t catch hint, “We were talking about–”

“Nope, can’t seem to recall.” 

Finally, he catches the playful pout and the way your eyes cut back his as you look around the room feigning ignorance. And because he’s Dokyeom and you’re a sucker for anything he does, you can’t stop the smile mirroring his own when softly traces the apple of your cheek with his thumb.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

---

© highvern. copying/reuploading/translating my work anywhere is strictly prohibited.

[roosterforme]

The Younger Kind Part 15 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You start to regret showing up for Noah's birthday party once you feel exactly how awkward things are between you and Bradley. But when you witness his jealousy and learn that his hurtful words were more lies than truth, you agree to at least hear him out.

Warnings: Angst, swearing, and age gap (18+)

Length: 5000 words

Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader

Check out my masterlist for more!

When Bradley managed to pull his head out of his ass long enough to invite you to Noah's birthday party, he hadn't anticipated what it would be like if you actually came. You texted him back on Friday, letting him know you would try to stop by. But now that he and Nat were setting everything up, Bradley was feeling anxious. 

Every time a guest arrived, he poked his head outside to see if your car was there, only to be disappointed. He wanted to see you. That much was plainly evident now. But he wanted to do way more than that. He missed you so much. 

"She'll be here," Nat told him as she held Noah. "There's no way she's going to be able to live with herself if she disappoints this little guy. Isn't that right, Noah? Now pout at your dad."

Bradley laughed as Noah and Nat both made sad, pouty faces at him. "You're right. Nobody could say no to that," Bradley said, blowing a raspberry on his son's neck until they were both laughing. 

Jake strolled in with two six packs of beer and looked around. "Happy birthday, Noah. Where's your babysitter, little dude?"

Bradley rolled his eyes in response, and just as he was about to say he wasn't sure if you were even coming, you opened the front door and met Bradley's eyes right away.

"Hi," you said softly, your arms filled with gift bags and treats as you shifted everything around nervously. 

"Princess," Bradley said before he could catch himself. His heart was pounding as you bit your glossy lip anxiously and turned your attention to Noah. 

"Happy birthday!" As soon as you said those two words, you had Noah's full attention, and he squirmed to get out of Nat's arms and run to you. Bradley watched you kneel and set everything on the floor so Noah could hug you. 

"See? He needs her here. And I don't think he's the only one," Nat whispered as she shoved Bradley toward you. But Jake was right there as well, and Bradley knew for a fact that Hangman was interested in you. He'd been not so subtly asking about you since he saw the photo of you on Bradley's phone at the Hard Deck. The photo of you wearing your purple crown. 

"You must be the babysitter," Jake drawled with a grin as he approached you on the floor with Noah. He was looking down the front of your little dress, Bradley just knew it. And when you looked up at him with innocent eyes, nodding and introducing yourself, Bradley was on the verge of kicking Jake out of his house. Because it looked indecent, the way you were positioned and the way Jake was easing himself a little closer still. 

Bradley cleared his throat loudly. "I'll just take these into the kitchen," he said, scooping up the gifts. And that's when he noticed you'd made a whole container of ants on logs wearing party hats made out of lettuce. Bradley wanted to throw you over his shoulder and take you to his room, make love to you, and never hurt you again. He met your eyes, kneeling just a foot away from you while Noah pawed at you. 

"Okay," you whispered. You looked far less pleased when you were looking at Bradley than you did when you were looking at Noah or Jake. He deserved that. He knew he did. He was lucky you even decided to come today to make Noah happy. 

Oh god, Bradley wanted to take back every horrible word he said to you, but he couldn't. The damage was done now, just as he had originally intended. And he had to watch as Jake helped you stand and run his fingers up your uninjured arm. 

"Hi!" called two of the moms of Noah's daycare friends as they walked in with their own kids, taking Bradley's attention away from you. He greeted them and their children, and ended up adding even more gift bags to his arms. 

Then Mav and Penny arrived. Bradley let Penny take his face in her hands and pat his cheeks, something he probably wouldn't let anyone else do to him. And then she kissed him and asked, "How's the dating thing working out for you?"

Bradley laughed sardonically. "I've pushed that to the back burner, Pen."

"Yeah. Mav told me that Meredith is giving you a hard time. If there's anything we can do...?"

"I appreciate it. I'll let you know."

When Bradley finally went into the kitchen to put Noah's snacks in the refrigerator and set down the gifts, he froze. You had already made your way in here. Your back was to him, and you were talking to Jake. Bradley could hear your laughter in response to something Jake said, and he had never been so jealous before. He was so used to coaxing that gorgeous sound from your lips himself. Those glossy lips that Jake was eyeing up, no doubt thinking about doing something dirty to them. 

Bradley's breath caught in his throat as you turned to glance at him over your shoulder with a bland look. He was so used to your flirtatious smile and bright, wide eyes being focused on him. God, he had taken it all for granted, and now you couldn't stand him. 

And if Bradley thought he had been jealous a moment ago when Jake made you laugh, it was nothing compared to the outrage he felt as he watched Jake touch your waist. He squeezed you gently, letting his fingers dig into the fabric of your floral dress. All of the gifts tumbled out of Bradley's hands and onto the table, and you sidestepped Jake's grubby little hand to turn and look at him. 

"One of my gifts is fragile," you said with annoyance, rooting through the pile to make sure it was okay. But Bradley was looking at Jake, and Jake was looking right back at him before his eyes dipped down to your ass. 

"Seresin. Let's go outside. Now," Bradley growled, pointing at the sliding glass door off the kitchen. 

Jake's little smirk grew as he said, "Sure thing, Bradshaw," and headed out. 

Bradley slid the door closed with a thud and rounded on Jake. "Don't touch her."

Jake laughed heartily. "You fucking her, Rooster? Damn, you must be. Or you were." He paused, and Bradley could feel his cheeks heating up. "Maybe it wasn't any good for her? Because right now, she's not looking at you at all, man."

Bradley ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek and clenched his fists. "Don't touch her, and don't talk about her. Don't even fucking look at her."

But Jake just cocked his head. "Hey, that's some great advice. And here's some for you. If you have access to a hot little piece of ass like that, you don't keep her tucked away in your house. You show that off. Let everyone know about it. That's what I'd do."

"Jake. Just stop." Bradley was fuming now, and also annoyed that he was letting Hangman get under his skin. But Jake was right; Bradley should have been showing you off when he had the chance instead of going on dates with the women from the app. Maybe then you and he would be in a place where he could be bold enough to ask you to stay with him in spite of Meredith.

"Why should I? Are you dating her?"

Bradley closed his eyes for a beat and let out a puff of air. "No."

"If you don't want her, why can't I have her?"

Bradley shook his head. "I never said that." 

You opened the sliding glass door and poked your head outside, and both men stood at attention for you. "The pizzas are here," you told Bradley. "Want me to pay the guy with the money behind the TV?"

Bradley cleared his throat and glared at Jake for a second. "I'll take care of it, Princess," he said, pausing in the doorway with you. He had missed being this close to you, close enough to smell wildflowers. Your expression was softer now, almost that of an injured animal. He wanted to apologize for hurting you, but he settled for letting his fingers trace your knuckles before he pulled out his wallet for the pizzas.

You didn't flinch. You didn't back away. But that look in your eye grew a little sadder, and Bradley knew he had put it there. "Princess," he whispered, softer this time, and your lips parted before you turned and walked away from him and outside to Jake.

-----------------------------

You were a mess. You shouldn't have come to the birthday party. All you wanted was to see Noah and bring him some treats, but it was killing you to be around Bradley, pretending like you weren't crushed. 

And the second you had let your guard down, Jake started flirting with you. Which was fine. It didn't really matter. He seemed sweet enough even though he kept cornering you in conversation every time you tried to talk to Penny. You did manage to sneak away as Nat waved you over. But you could tell by the sympathetic look in her eyes that she knew Bradley had basically dumped you. 

"Hey, Natasha. It's nice to see you," you managed with a small smile. 

"I'm really happy you came," she replied as Noah ran up to hug your leg before returning to his friends. He had been hanging out with you more than anyone else, really. "And clearly so is the birthday boy."

"Yeah, well... I'm kind of attached to him, sadly," you said with a forced laugh. Then you asked the question that had been on your mind since you arrived. The one you were afraid to hear the answer to. "Hey, is Meredith coming?"

Nat's eyes went wide and she almost dropped her slice of pizza. "Hell no. Why would Meredith be here? In fact, I would go so far as to say that if she decides to show up, I will drag her outside myself and make her leave."

You were gaping at her. "She and Bradley aren't... talking? About getting back together? For Noah?"

Now she really did drop her pizza right onto the hardwood floor. "Who told you that?!"

"Nobody."

Bradley had lied to you about Meredith. But why? What would be the point in that? And if he wanted to hurt you, then why did he invite you here today? Why was he looking at you like he missed you and calling you Princess instead of ignoring you? 

You bent and used your napkin to wipe up the cheese and sauce, and when you stood, Nat looked like she was about to rage. Without another word, she took off in Bradley's direction leaving you with so many questions swirling around in your mind. 

When you made your way back into the kitchen to throw the napkin away, you decided it would be a good idea for you to just sneak out the back door and head home. You once again felt drained and undesirable and disrespected. It didn't really matter how badly you wanted to be here for Noah if Bradley wasn't going to be honest with you about what was going on. You reached for the container of snacks for Noah and set it in the refrigerator, and then you turned to find Jake right behind you.

"Oh!" you gasped, jumping awkwardly. "I didn't know you were in here."

His smile was so charming, you could do nothing but smile back as he said, "Just came in for more pizza, but found something so much nicer instead." He touched your arm again, and you rolled your eyes.

"You're a shameless flirt," you informed him, as if he didn't know that already. 

"What? You don't like that?" he asked, taking a step closer.

You matched his smirk with your own. "Maybe I like a guy who can be subtle sometimes."

"Hey, that sounds like my good friend Bradshaw," he said, running his thumb slowly up to your shoulder. "But maybe he's a little too subtle? A little too reserved? You deserve to be set right on a pedestal. All out in the open."

You laughed. You couldn't help it. This was absolutely ridiculous. "No, I think I would prefer a throne. Like a Princess. In a castle," you told him, thinking about all the castles you and Noah had built out of blocks while wearing your paper crowns. Thinking about the times you and Bradley had been so comfortable together, talking on his couch.

"Okay," Jake drawled. "I like where this is headed. And if Bradshaw doesn't want you, I definitely do, Princess."

You opened your mouth to tell him not to call you that, but he was already leaning in and kissing you.

----------------------------

Bradley saw red. He never really understood that expression before. It never made sense. Until right now. It felt and looked like all of the blood in his body was obscuring his vision. And all he wanted to do was make Jake Seresin hurt.

Jake's hands were on your face and neck, and his lips were pressed to yours. Right in the middle of Bradley's kitchen.

Bradley just got finished being reamed out by Nat for being the world's biggest dickhead, so he was already on edge. Already looking to apologize to you and hoping you'd listen to him. But the sight of Jake kissing you was just one step too far, and he wasn't going to let this fly. 

With three swift steps, Bradley was right there, grabbing Jake by the shoulder and pulling him away from you. The startled look in your eyes, and the way you were still holding your arms tight to your sides had Bradley shoving Jake against the refrigerator. 

"I warned you, Hangman," he growled, but Jake just smirked and licked his lips like he was savoring the way you tasted. The fact that he now also knew how nice your lipgloss was had Bradley seeing double. 

"Bradley, it's okay. Stop." Your voice was soft, and then he could feel your hand on his back through his shirt. He turned away from Jake and focused his attention on you instead, unclenching his fists.

"Come with me, Princess." His voice was deep and raspy, and when he wrapped his arm around your waist, you spun away from him. 

"Bradley!" you demanded, a little louder this time. 

"Please?" he asked, and when he leaned down and kissed your forehead in front of anyone who might be looking, you let him take your hand and lead you into the bathroom. When he closed the door, you leaned back against it and bit your lip in silence.

"What the fuck are you doing to me, Princess?" Bradley asked, his tone pleading. "I can't even look at you, baby. I can't even smell you without hating myself even more."

"Good," you whispered as your gaze settled on his lips. "Where's Meredith?" you asked maliciously. "I haven't seen her all day."

He knew now that you and Nat had spoken. You knew he lied to you last weekend. "She's not coming, and you know it."

"Why did you lie to me about her?"

He swallowed hard. "Princess, I'm so sorry, I-"

"Why? I don't understand! And why do you suddenly care about me today? You told me I'm not right for you. You told me you needed someone better. You said you didn't want this." You gestured to yourself and looked away from him like you were ashamed.

Bradley gently guided your chin with his fingers until you were looking at him again. "I fucking lied about that, too. You're the only thing I want." He eased himself closer to you, desperate to feel your body against his.

You narrowed your eyes at him and pushed on his chest. "You can't keep doing this to me. Leave me alone, Bradley. I don't have time to mess around with you. I know how much you hated doing that with me."

"We weren't just messing around, Princess," he said softly as he backed away from you. He was silently begging you not to open the door and leave him as he swallowed hard. "It meant something to me."

Your eyes fluttered closed as you tilted your head back against the door. He watched your fingers grab at the hem of your dress as you looked at him reluctantly. "Bradley," you whispered. "It meant something to me, too." The anger was gone from your eyes now as you asked him, "Why did you try to hurt me like that on purpose? If you want me, why would you do that?"

"I'm just trying to protect you." He knew he was pleading, and he knew you deserved to hear everything. You also deserved a hell of a lot more than he could give you, and he didn't want to have an hour-long conversation with you in his bathroom during Noah's birthday party. 

"Protect me?" you asked softly.

"Yeah. I just want to protect you," he whispered, running his fingers along your bandaged arm. "Will you let me touch you, Princess?"

You reached for his hand, and Bradley let you take the lead. When you linked your fingers through his and gave a little tug, he went willingly. You pulled him close until you and he were breathing the same air, and he could feel your body heat.

"Protect me from what?" you asked softly, and Bradley had to brace his other hand on the door next to your head as you kissed the edge of his lips softly. "I don't need you to protect me. I need you to appreciate me. Show me some respect. I'm not stupid."

His heart was pounding at the feel of your lips on his skin. "I know you're not stupid, baby. I'm the one who can't get his shit straight. Not you. I'll tell you everything," he promised, panting slightly. "I swear. Just stay. After everyone else leaves, please stay. Let me explain? Let me be good to you?"

Your eyes were alert, examining his face, trying to make sense of everything. When your tongue darted out to wet your lips, you said, "Okay. I'll stay. But you only get one chance, Bradley." 

"I won't fuck it up. I promise. I've missed you so much."

This time you kissed him square on the lips, pulling him closer still by your linked fingers. The soft fabric of your dress was rubbing along his hand, and he knew he would give you anything you wanted. But he had to know, so he released your lips.

"Baby, what the hell were you doing with Jake?"

You paused before saying, "Just talking." 

Bradley shook his head at you. "No. Your lips don't need to be touching his if you're just talking." 

You sucked in a breath as he brought your hand up to his lips and pressed a kiss to each finger. "He kissed me," you whispered. "He called me Princess."

"No," Bradley grunted. "I call you Princess. And he doesn't get to kiss you. Especially not in my house. Tell me I'm better."

Your eyes flashed with sudden need. "You're jealous."

He nodded and kissed your pinky. "You're goddamn right I'm fucking jealous." The softest smirk touched your lips before Bradley leaned in and kissed you. "Am I better than Jake?"

You were smiling now, your eyes wide. "I can't believe you're jealous over me."

Bradley growled. "Am I better?"

"You're better, Bradley."

He covered your lips with his while you rubbed your hand gently along his abs.

"You're such a good girl. Too good for Jake."

"Bradley!" you moaned as he kissed you again. He couldn't keep his lips off you now. This was all he wanted to do. Just kiss you. But he needed to get out of the bathroom before he did something stupid again.

"I know, baby," he whispered against your cheek. "We're gonna talk later. Let's go back out there. And you can tell Jake that you're not interested in him."

You laughed softly. "You want me to go tell him that I'm not interested in him? Because you're jealous?"

Bradley just nodded again. "You go tell him, Princess. Now. And then later on we can talk more."

"Okay, fine," you whispered smugly, and Bradley opened the bathroom door. He watched you walk on slightly unsteady legs as you made your way toward Jake in the living room. Every couple seconds, you smirked back over your shoulder, and Bradley silently urged you on. 

Jake eyed you up and down and then met Bradley's eyes as you spoke to him. He looked annoyed now. Bradley felt elated. 

-----------------------

Bradley was jealous! He had lied to you about everything, and now he was jealous that you were giving Jake attention. This day was turning out so much better than you thought it was going to.

You took a deep breath, looked at Jake and said, "I'm sorry if I gave you the wrong impression earlier, but I'm not interested in you. Not like that."

"Huh," Jake grunted. "Well, I can't say I'm not disappointed, Princess."

It sounded so wrong, hearing that nickname from anyone other than Bradley and Noah. "Please, don't call me that."

Jake's smirk, which was kind of cute an hour ago, was grating on your nerves now. You wanted Bradley to haul you back to the bathroom again, or better yet, his bed. His handsome face was all you could think about as you caught sight of him out of the corner of your eye. 

"You know, Bradshaw's alright," Jake drawled, and you turned back to him. "Just the slowest one to make his move on a girl. Don't wait around on him if you want more. He has more baggage weighing him down than anyone I've ever-"

You immediately cut him off. "Don't talk about Noah like that."

"Whoa," he said, chuckling and holding his hands up in surrender. "That's not what I meant. I mean the emotional kind. He's been through a lot. It slows him down, makes him hesitate. That's all I'm saying."

"Well thank you for your concern," you replied sarcastically. "But I think they are both worth the wait." You turned toward Bradley where he was talking to one of the daycare moms, and when you walked past him, you let your fingers trail along his lower back. He turned, and the look he gave you almost made your steps falter as you made your way into the kitchen.

If Bradley and Meredith weren't trying to work things out, if there was another reason why he tried to break things off with you, then you'd figure things out with him. And you wouldn't rush him. Because he couldn't stay away from you, and you couldn't stay away from him either. And you didn't want to have to try to fight it.

"Help me get the cake ready?" Nat asked when she saw you. 

"Sure," you replied, opening up disposable plates and getting four candles ready for Noah. You had to keep biting your lip at the memory of kissing Bradley in the bathroom. You were distracted, and Nat must have asked you something. 

"I'm sorry, what?"

She just shook her head. "I know Bradley is an idiot, but please, give him another chance. And you should stay away from Jake."

Had everyone seen him kiss you before? "I wasn't trying to-"

"When Bradley settles down, it will be for life. Meredith definitely stunted his ability to commit, but that fact still remains. Jake's got a different method, if you know what I'm saying. Not one to commit to a hairstyle, let alone a woman. So don't listen to him. Now, can you carry the birthday cake out to the living room?"

You just nodded slowly at her words and took the cake to Noah while Nat lit the candles. The room was full of people, and there were so many voices singing to Noah while Bradley stood next to you with his son in his arms. But it felt like just the three of you. Just like all the other times in Bradley's living room and kitchen. His deep voice warmed you everywhere as his fingers stroked up your spine when Noah blew out the candles. 

"Did you make a wish?" you asked, and Noah's exaggerated nodding made you laugh. "I'm sure it will come true."

-------------------------

Bradley kept glancing your way as you and Noah opened up one of his new toys to play with on the living room couch. You liked his eyes on you. You liked his attention. You liked knowing he was jealous earlier. 

"You want me to make you some coffee, Princess?" he asked, popping back into the living room as you and Noah raced cars across the floor. 

"No, we're busy," you told him with a smirk, looking up at him. "Aren't you supposed to be cleaning up with Nat and Penny?"

He took a step closer and said, "I just want to make sure you're not leaving yet?"

You shook your head. "You asked me to stay. I told you I'll stay."

Bradley grunted and went back into the kitchen, and a few minutes later, Penny and Pete came out. "You ready to go, kiddo?" Penny asked Noah. "You're coming with us for a sleepover." Noah looked up at her from his spot on your lap before he turned around to wrap his arms around your neck. 

"That sounds like fun, Noah!" you told him, giving him a squeeze back. You were going to miss him so much. You'd already been missing him like crazy after just a week without him. Hopefully Bradley would help you make sense of things, because you didn't want to have to keep missing him or his son. 

Noah gave you a kiss, and then Bradley handed Penny an overnight bag and scooped Noah up in a hug. "I love you. Be good for Penny and Mav." And then they were gone, and Bradley was looking at you on the floor in front of him.

Nat poked her head out of the kitchen as Bradley reached down to help you up with hopeful eyes. "How do you want me to wrap up the rest of this cake?" she asked, holding up a roll of aluminum foil. Then she looked between the two of you, and you stepped away from Bradley as she asked, "Wait, it's just the three of us left? Wrap up the cake yourself," she said, tossing the roll to Bradley and grabbing her bag. "Bye."

You watched Nat breeze out the front door without a backward glance. "What was that all about?" you asked, suddenly very aware that you were now alone with him.

He laughed softly. "She wants me to finish talking to you. Now, apparently."

"Well then, talk," you said, taking another step away from him toward the kitchen. "And don't make me cry again. If you do, I'm leaving."

He looked a little panicked, which made you feel like you were completely in control of things for once. He followed you cautiously as you went to investigate how much of the cake was left. Just when you turned toward him to reach for the roll of foil, Bradley set it on the counter and shook his head. 

"I can take care of that later, Princess," he mumbled, caging you in against the counter and kissing you softly. 

You moaned and reached for him immediately, kissing him back, he was still so sweet, and even less demanding than he had been in the bathroom. But then you jerked back, bracing your hands on his forearms. 

"What's going on, Bradley? You're still all over the place. Tell me everything," you demanded, your volume rising with each sentence as he looked abashed. "Nat spilled the beans about Meredith. Then you told me you lied to me. You got jealous about Jake. But you sent me away in tears a week ago. Just...what the fuck?"

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I should have never said those things to you last weekend. I didn't mean a single word of it. I was just trying to protect you."

"You keep saying that!" you complained, pushing on his forearms until he let you move away from him. "But you're not saying anything at all." You ran your fingers along your bandaged arm. "And I already got hurt."

"Princess." Bradley followed you across the kitchen to the table, but you pushed on his chest and shook your head. 

"Do not make me regret staying here right now," you whispered, and he took a deep breath. "Don't make me regret kissing you in the bathroom."

He stood up straight and ran his hands through his hair. His lips looked pouty and kissable. His cheeks were flushed like they had been earlier. But you were going to stand your ground with him.

When he didn't say anything, you pressed harder. "Talk to me." You watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed and looked at you intently, but he still said nothing. "I'm leaving."

"No!" gasped, reaching for you again, pulling you closer. You were going to protest again, but then he whispered, "I need you."

"For what, Bradley?"

His voice sounded soft, almost defeated as he told you, "Meredith wants custody of Noah."

------------------------

Come on, jealous Daddy! Tell Princess everything! Hope you enjoy your fic, @beyondthesefourwalls And thank you @mak-32 !

PART 16

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

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[jesswritesthat]

Suna Rintarō: Bets

Fandom: Haikyuu!! — [ Masterlist ]

Summary: ~1.2k, fluff

• Challenging Atsumu is always fun and games, but how long can you keep playing when it involves Suna?

Warnings: None

>>>>——————————>

Atsumu let off yet another chastise of offence toward his teammate who took it in stride, they knew he was a perfectionist when it came to his sets - they were tailored specifically so when someone missed he took it personally. However, Sunas taunting on the matter had agitated him today which lead you to your pouty blonde friend on his chosen bench, a dangerous skip in your step as you settled next to him.

"If he's that annoying, I could take him out for ya." You playfully suggested, smirk looming as you spun your pencil between your fingers. "Y'know, if you want?"

Atsumu flicked his suspicious gaze to you after hearing your alluring offer, eyeing you with more conviction than usual.

"With a gun or on a date?"

A conniving grin and a casual shrug that told him you weren't bothered by either.

"Depends how much he annoys me."

"Hah I dare ya, 'cuz I'd like to see ya try either." Atsumu at least seemed more upbeat, pushing your shoulder bemused.

"What do I get out of it?"

"Huh?"

"If you're issuing me a challenge that I complete, I deserve a reward." You chimed, a lace of certainty that told him you were serious.

"Yer get the date don't ya."

"Or a dead body."

A moment was taken to appreciate you quick wit, then another for a stare off, and finally Atsumu broke with a long defeated sigh.

"Jeez alright alright, I'll do anything ya want."

"Anything?"

"Within reason obviously, but Suna ain't gonna be won over. 'Samu says he already has the hots for someone." Part of you suspected Atsumu had played you, but wasn't smart enough to install a wager if you lost the bet so probably not, which gave you false enthusiasm.

"That's because he hasn't met me yet~"

"He has. Many times, yer friends for cryin' out—"

"I know! I was trying to be confident since you just ruined my chances at this! Is murder the only option or do you know who it is?" Immediately your suave facade dissipated with Atsumus deadpan statement and you were hunched over with a massive weight crushing your heart and hopes of success.

"Nah, stupid brother wouldn't tell me. Said I couldn't lie for shit."

You remained in thought making a noise of agreement which Atsumu took offence to but still, it was gut-wrenching information as you thought Rintarō would've told you too, since you're ‘supposed’ to be close friends.

Even so, during the following break in practice you were determined to utilise the 5 minutes for their entire worth. You slid into the spot beside Suna far smoother than originally intended which definitely boosted your charisma.

"Hey Rintarō, you come here often?"

"No, I'm a chronic skiver. Literally never seen you before in my life."

"Perfect, they say oversharing with strangers is a great way to get things off your chest." A solid if not obvious opening, one Rin had apparently became acutely aware of as he tuned into the conversation properly and ceased drinking his water.

"Yeah? What would you suggest?"

"Rumours, strategies, crushes, trauma? Take your pick."

"So there's this person in our class. Thinks they're real slick, and smart, they are kinda funny too considering they think I'll fall for their antics." He cockily paused, and indictaive stare looking you up and down knowingly but amused. "Honestly they're lucky they're hot else I wouldn't send them vines."

"..."

"You suck." A playful death glare met his pleased one alongside your own deadpan voice to which he served you his point.

"And you (Y/n), can ask me anything without the fluff."

"Yeah yeah, let me take you out as an apology. I'll treat you to ramen, this Friday?"

"You buying?" Suna tilted his head curiously, expression remaining unreadable.

"Mm-hm~"

It wasn't uncommon, the two of you would venture out either together or with fellow Inarizaki classmates and end up walking back together. As such you'd often take turns in paying for various purchases.

"Hm, I don't know..."

Either he knew you better than you thought, or something else was going on in that cunning mind of his.

"Rintarō, would you accept if I told you we could get anything we wanted out of Atsumu?"

"Ah that's why you're acting weird."

"Partly, anyway we agreed if I take you out he'll do anything, and I think it'll be fun to share said prize since you helped me earn it."

"Alright. Surprised he went along with it since we go out together all the time, he's not that stupid right?"

"...Well." The lack of conviction was humorous, however even Suna knew Atsumu better than his 'blonde moments' would allow.

"(Y/n)."

"Ughhhhh okay! Atsumu heard you liked someone, so knew you wouldn't accept my offer."

"You don't know who it is." It wasn’t a question, it was a statement. He realised you wouldn't be sitting here if you knew.

"No, and as much as I'd like to know, you don't have to tell me Sunarin."

It was silent for a moment, the brunette in thought before the interruption snapped the two of you from your quiet contemplation.

"Suna c'mon! Breaks over!"

You remained seated as he stood, not sparing a glance until he reaching the court alongside his teammates wearing a clever smirk.

"Ramen on Friday, after school!"

You watched Atsumu falter his serve, snapping a look of shock in your direction of which the only response was a mocking smile.

———

It was as casual as ever when you visited the local you’d sat in together many times before, sharing memes next to each other at the counter and commenting on one of the Miya blackmail recordings Suna had procured that week.

It wasn’t until midway through your food did the blocker turn to pause, looking to you who gratefully enjoyed your food. He was deciding, mind working a mile a second on the correct path here alongside remarks he couldn’t make. Instead he settled on honesty, much like you had done in the gymnasium except it took far less for you to get anything out of him.

"Osamu gave me a wager too, same reward as his brother." The offhanded casualness of his tone made it seem nonchalant, but you couldn’t help the arsing scepticism.

"That's suspicious, are they planning something?"

"I guess so." Suna shrugged half-heartedly, you could feel him analysing your response rather carefully by his narrowed side eye.

You stopped eating as this was worth pondering, the only reason these two bets could link together would be if the identity of Sunas' romantic interest was a certain individual. There's' no way, it’s got to be a different scheme.

"That'd only make sense if the person you liked was—"

Sunas’ warm palm covered your mouth, silencing your potential (but already known) revelation.

"You." A sorrowful smile. "Yeah I know."

A hum of acceptance emitted from behind his palm which softened his usual emotionless gaze, he’d gifted you the information to work it out and predicted you would rather quickly. It was easier than finding the words, there’s too many in both his head and heart for you.

"Sorry, I had to tell you myself else I'd lose the bet. I’d say that counts."

It wasn’t blunt or straightforward which you’d expect from Suna in this situation, in fact if you really dissected it, you couldn’t claim he’d officially confessed to you at all. But that was Suna Rintarō for you, leaving things ambiguous to figure out yourself and by then he’d have a gauge on your reciprocation, he was strategic in more than just Volleyball. But in you, he had worthy opponent, and you weren’t one to play into his hands.

After another moment, he removed his hand leaving a second to return his gaze, and another to breathe a sigh of understanding.

“So, where do we go from here Rin?”

“Wherever you want, (Y/n).”

“I think dealing with the Miya Twins is a great place to start.”

<——————————<<<<

[ Masterlist ]

[theragethatisdesire]

cabin in the woods - eren x reader x jean - 18+!!!

part three of our polyverse woo! i wanted to write something intense for spooky season, but not like, a slasher fic, and you know eren would have the biggest primal play kink ever so here we are. the besties have been in their little poly relationship for a year and this is their anniversary trip <3 (and they're just so cute i need to put them in my pocket). enjoy what @fictional-d-supremacy and i came up with and....i don't even know what else to say. i love this one, prob in my top 3 of all time, i just love poly!erejean <3

pairing: eren jaeger x reader x jean kirschstein

wc: 9.5k (good lord)

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

*deep breath* CWs: primal play (for some people, it may read as dubcon, so please familiarize yourself with what this means, you are responsible for your triggers!), consensual sex, established relationship, use of names (pet, baby, angel, princess, slut, bitch), breeding kink, biting, fingering, oral sex (fem and male receiving), anal play, anal sex, double penetration, mlm (eren and jean are in an established relationship and kiss at one point), degradation, objectification, multiple orgasm, threesome, bi!eren, bi!jean, dirty talk, creampie, polyamory

OKAY now that that's out of the way.....have fun babies!

-

There’s something about the crisp autumn breeze drifting in through the open windows, twisting through Jean’s Jeep with the same rhythm as the car itself winding up the side of the mountain, that sends a vicious shudder down your spine. You try to roll your window up to fight the chill, but Eren whines from behind you and thuds a heavy boot against your seat in protest.

“You said if I let you have shotgun, we could keep the windows down the whole time.”

“It’s freezing!”

“But I get carsick,” Eren grumbles, glaring at you in the rearview mirror. Jean sighs in a tone that sounds a lot like exasperation, reaching over to turn your heated seat on.

“Better?”

“A little,” you smile softly at him, laying your palm over the warm hand he rests on your knee, “are we almost there?”

“It’s just around this corner,” Jean assures you, hazel eyes flitting back over to the gravelly, curving road. You take a moment to admire him: strong brow, regal, elegant nose, pouty lips that you know to be soft from experience. The simple knowledge that Jean is yours, yours to kiss and touch whenever you want, is enough to send a thrill through you. Your moment of adoration is cut short by Eren throwing his arms over the seat, digging his hands into your shoulders in a rough massage.

“You’re going to love this place, babe,” Eren says behind your ear. The buzzy excitement thrumming through his voice makes a small grin tug at the corner of your mouth; Eren’s moods are contagious more often than not, and he’s been miraculously cheerful all day. “Mama Kirschstein’s got the hook-up.”

“You’re still calling her that?” Jean rolls his eyes, “she’s been telling you to call her Jane for the last eight years.”

“Are you sure she doesn’t mind us coming up?” You eye Jean nervously, reaching up to squeeze one of Eren’s larger hands for reassurance. “I know she had a bit of trouble, y’know…”

“When I told her it was our anniversary, she offered us the house for the weekend. I didn’t even ask,” Jean veers left onto a narrow dirt path, “I know it took her a minute to come around, but she adores you now. I promise.”

“She’s always adored me,” Eren adds unhelpfully, ruffling your beanie and consequently wrecking your hair, “but I guess she was able to find room in her heart for the both of us.”

“Eren, stop it– ugh, thank you. What has got you in such a good mood?” You turn over your shoulder to look at him, practically brimming with energy. Eren’s always despised road trips, yet he’s been the picture of eagerness all day.

“Just excited to spend some time alone in the woods with my two favorite people, what’s so wrong with that?” Eren grins widely at you, sharp canines glinting in the early afternoon light. Something about his smile seems…not insincere, more like overly sincere. It’s not at all out of the realm of possibility for Eren to have some grandiose, ridiculous surprise waiting for you in his suitcase, or for him to simply be bouncing out of his seat in anticipation of all the weekend away, anniversary sex you’re about to have. You chalk it up to one or the other, ignoring the strangely stern look Jean shoots him.

“Oh my god!” You cover your mouth to muffle the excited squeal that comes creeping up your throat upon sight of the cabin. The “cabin” turns out to be an isolated, sprawling home with several wings, beautiful beyond your wildest dreams. Massive slabs of stone make up the columns supporting an overhang that covers a ten-foot-tall door, the garden beds on either side of the walkway have been manicured to perfection, and there’s a winding stone path that leads to the back of the house through a covered walkway that connects the main house to the garage. It’s practically been ripped out of Architectural Digest. “It’s like it’s not even real.”

“Kirschstein money always gets the panties dropping,” Eren scoffs, practically kicking his door open the moment the car rolls to a stop, “I forgot how nice this place was.”

“Shut up,” Jean grumbles, rolling his eyes at Eren before setting his adoring gaze on you, “you like it, princess?”

“I love it,” you gush, jumping out of the car to get a better look, bag forgotten in the trunk. You can hear the boys bickering about luggage somewhere behind you, but all you can focus on is the vast nothingness around you, the sleepy chirping of cicadas in the trees, and the warmly lit home that belongs to you and your two gorgeous boyfriends for the weekend. Who says no one ever had it all?

“Are you excited?” Eren comes charging up behind you, arms encircling your waist and lips pecking every square inch of your neck he can reach.

“I’m so excited,” you giggle, shoving him off so that you can run to Jean and throw your arms around his shoulders, “thank you both so much—oh, we have to call your mom and thank her! Can we? Please?”

“In a bit,” Jean chuckles, scooping you up into his arms so you can wrap your legs around his waist, “don’t you want to see the inside first?”

“Yes–”

“I don’t know, Jean,” Eren saunters over, something mischievous flitting over his face that, if you were any less drunk on raw excitement, you would know immediately not to trust, “she may want to get a look at the woods before the sun goes down. What do you say, baby? Wanna go for a hike?”

“Eren,” Jean says, a very thin note of hesitation in his tone that you, in your giddiness, stampede right over.

“Just a quick one, Jean? Is that alright?”

“However long you want, angel,” Eren answers for Jean and smiles at you charmingly, entirely ignoring Jean’s widened eyes.

“Let’s do that,” you whip your wide, happy eyes back to Jean, a pleading grin on your face, “and then you can give me a tour of the inside. I just want to get a few Instagram pictures before we end up not putting clothes on again for the entire weekend.”

Jean smiles at you, some odd combination of endearment and something darker that you can’t quite make out—pity?—crossing his face. “Anything you want. Drop the bags on the porch, Eren? I’ll take her out back.”

Eren’s grin grows impossibly wider, a little glint in his eye. “Be right there.”

After your awkward, giggle-filled struggle to monkey-climb from Jean’s front onto his back without dropping to the ground, Jean, arms hooked firmly under your legs, walks you around the house, identifying little points of interest as he goes. He points out his childhood rope swing, tattered and still dangling from one of the massive oaks in the front yard, a few flower bushes that he remembers helping his mom plant. You can feel the swell of your heart in your chest as Jean walks you through his memories, snorting to himself when he recounts the tale of Eren nearly choking to death trying to hold his breath in the hot tub and growing misty-eyed when he points out his grandparents’ initials carved into a wooden bench in the garden.

You reach a point of the property where the meticulously groomed grass gives way to fallen leaves and patches of barren earth, a visible line between civilization and nature. A small wriggle from you lets Jean know you’re ready to hop down, and he bends at the knee slightly so you can slide off of his back.

“It really is a beautiful property,” you tell him earnestly, “I can’t thank you enough for bringing us here.”

“What’s mine is yours,” Jean, in that heartbreaking way of his, looks down at you like you’re the only thing he could ever want for, “you know that.”

“Still. Thank you.” You have to consciously focus on your breathing; you wonder if Jean knows he has this effect on people, if he knows that the way raw love lays itself bare in his eyes chokes whoever’s in his line of sight.

“It’s as much a gift for me as it is for you,” Jean leans down to nip at your ear, two large hands finding their way around your waist, “I’ve got you both away from work, out in the middle of nowhere, all to myself…”

“Jean!” It comes out as a clunky, airy giggle, half of the letters still jumbled in your throat where the breath is caught. He smirks against your neck, sinking his teeth in here, licking over a sore patch of skin there. The mountain breeze follows in his wake, kissing over the wet spots he leaves behind and raising goosebumps on the back of your neck.

“Getting started without me?” Eren’s voice startles you, makes you jump in Jean’s grip. Jean responds to your flightiness by spinning you on your heels and pressing your back to his chest, arms locked firmly under your breasts and head tucked onto your shoulder.

“We were waiting for you,” you answer, letting your eyes graze over Eren appreciatively as he approaches. As long as you’ve known him, autumn has always looked good on Eren. Something about the decaying colors around him makes his eyes that much more vibrant, the glow of them in the late afternoon sun almost reminding you of a predator at night, tucked behind bushes. Big cozy flannels only make his frame look broader, and the curl of his grown-out bangs around his pink ears makes you want to pinch his cheeks.

“Didn’t look like you were waiting,” Eren eyes Jean in annoyance, but the curl of his lip gives him away.

“She’s still here, isn’t she?” Jean counters, planting a sloppy kiss on your cheek.

“Where else would I be?” You laugh, shoving him back from you. Eren and Jean’s eyes meet, some dangerous, tangible glimmer passing between them. “What?”

“Nothing, angel,” Eren whistles, spinning you around yet again and locking your shoulders underneath his arm, beginning to walk you into the woods, “don’t you worry your pretty little head.”

“I’m not worried,” you roll your eyes, letting him drag you further into the forest, “you guys are just being weird.”

“Are we?” Jean’s arm comes sneaking around your waist, “I don’t think we are. Do you, Eren?”

“Not at all,” Eren shrugs, pulling out his phone, “looks like we still have two hours til sunset. That seems like enough time for a hike, don’t you think, Jean?”

“Oh, that’s definitely enough time.”

You tilt your head up, a slight scowl indenting your forehead, flitting your eyes between the two of them. They’re hardly paying attention to you, staring at each other in a way that you’re not unfamiliar with. That explains the oddities of their behavior today; typical boys, just excited to jump into bed later. You barely contain another eye roll, instead opting to let them have their teasing fun and focus on the grandiosity of the forest around you.

The canopy is tall, taller than you would have expected; it feels like the dwindling population of leaves above your head is in a different world than the crunch of their fallen comrades under your feet. That pesky breeze is still there, keeping your nerve endings jumpy with the ever-present chill, but the warmth of the colors around you almost makes up for it. Everywhere you look seems to be on fire, yellows and oranges and reds blending the landscape together into a closer approximation to an abstract painting than a scene out of nature.

Easily half an hour ticks by as you stroll, all three of you having fallen into a comfortable, contemplative silence. You don’t miss the way Eren’s hand will occasionally drift from your shoulder to the back of your neck, ghosting over the skin and running through the baby hairs there, making you shiver. Jean follows suit, his arm around your waist slipping a bit low once in a while, palm cupping your ass and squeezing appreciatively. You ignore them both in favor of taking advantage of the beautiful scenery, but you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t affecting you. That familiar warmth curls in your stomach, molten and hungry, and the tips of your fingers twitch in your pockets, aching to replace the fabric that surrounds them with skin.

Eventually, you all reach a picturesque clearing with a gorgeous overhang, and you see your opportunity.

“Wait, stop right here,” you finally break the silence, squirming in the boys’ arms to snag your phone out of your back pocket, “this is perfect.”

“Instagram time?” Jean tries and fails to keep the bored tone out of his voice.

“We only have, like, five pictures together, and we’ve been together for over a year.”

“That’s not true,” Eren protests, “I have an album full–”

“How many of those pictures are share-able?” You cock a knowing eyebrow at him.

“Um, probably like…two.”

“My point exactly.”

Through a bit of manhandling and arguing over who should hold the phone, you make out with at least three usable selfies (the boys refused to entertain your self-timer idea), which far exceeds the amount of photos you expected to leave this trip with.

“Why don’t you let us take a few of just you?” Jean suggests, reaching for your phone with an honest smile and giving Eren a subtle nudge.

“Really?”

“Sure,” Eren jumps in, nodding and smiling along, “a few pictures of our pretty girl out in the woods on our special trip.”

“And it would be cute for your Instagram, right?” Jean adds, patting you lightly on the bottom.

“Okay,” you agree, too thrilled at their sudden interest in your quest for a nice Instagram post to think too much into the way Eren’s tongue swipes along his bottom lip, the way Jean’s holding your phone so tightly his knuckles are turning white.

“Just walk out that way, there you go.” You can hear Jean’s voice, with a strange little tremor to it, growing quieter behind you when Eren ushers you off in the opposite direction. You leave your phone with Jean, alternating between a little jog and a walk away from them, moving further into the clearing and keeping your back to the boys.

“Was that cute, or stupid?”

Your nervous giggle echoes in the clearing, the rustling of leaves the only answer you receive. You make a few different poses, feeling a little silly but willing to endure it in the interest of getting a couple of nice photos. You notice the distinct lack of sound around you, how for just a moment, it feels like the universe consists of just you, Eren, and Jean, alone in these woods and miles from any other human. It hits you that that’s not entirely untrue; the last house you’d seen had to have been fifteen minutes before you’d gotten to Jean’s driveway.

You call back to them, wanting at least a little feedback and, honestly, beginning to feel a bit creeped out by the uncharacteristic silence ringing in your ears. “Are they turning out good?”

Nothing.

“What the hell?” you finally whip back around to face them, stomping your foot petulantly, “are you two like, messing with me?”

When you turn to meet them, however, all the fire in your throat dies out as quickly as if a bucket of ice water had been tossed on it.

Jean and Eren are smiling at you, which wouldn’t be too odd of a sight, if it weren’t for the threatening glitter in their eyes, the way Eren’s tilting his head ever so slightly to the right. You’ve never seen an expression like this on either one of them, never seen something so…dangerous cross their faces.

“Run.”

“I’m sorry?” You scrunch your nose at Eren, confused. His smile only grows wider.

“Run.”

“Run?”

“Don’t tell me you forgot,” Jean shakes his head disapprovingly, eyeing you down through the streaks of sunlight bleeding into the clearing.

“Forgot what?” Your words tremble as they make their way out into the still air. They’re your boyfriends, the men that wake you up with feather-light kisses and hoist you onto their shoulders at concerts, so why are your fingers beginning to shake?

“About that little book of yours we found,” Jean answers, cocking his head. “Surely you didn’t think we’d forget, did you?”

“No, I know she remembers,” Eren grits out through a clenched jaw, bristling under the soothing palm Jean runs over the back of his neck.

The memory hits you like a train. Coming home to find Jean and Eren hunched over a smutty novel of yours, blushing furiously and frowning in concentration. Confronting them only to find out they’d stumbled across the primal play chapter, that they’d noticed that these pages in particular looked a little well-worn. Jean had asked you if you would ever try it, Eren had raised his eyebrows when you admitted that yes, you would absolutely live that fantasy out if given the chance. Your face had burned as you nervously giggled, brushing the idea off in the sense that it was unrealistic to act out such a scenario in the middle of the city.

But you’re not in the city now. You’re in the forest, alone with your two boyfriends who are looking at you like they might rip you to shreds.

“No,” you murmur, so quietly that if the woods weren’t so still and silent, it wouldn’t have reached their ears, “I–I didn’t…I remember.”

“There it is,” Eren says, eyes glinting at you and arousal practically dripping off of his words as they make their way to your ears, “knew you did.”

“Weren’t lying, right? You wouldn’t lie to us, would you, pet?” Jean’s voice is steely and sharp with the implication that you had better not lie to him.

Words are lost on you amidst the thundering of your pulse in your ears, and you simply shake your head back and forth slowly. Some survival instinct from deep in the recesses of your brain tells you not to take your eyes off of them for a second, has every muscle in your body twitching. Despite the uneasy adrenaline coursing through your veins, a firm knot of arousal has taken hold in your lower stomach, simmering and spitting in excitement from the hungry looks on Eren and Jean’s faces.

“We’ll give you a ten second head start,” Eren says, dragging his eyes over your frame and licking at his bottom lip, “just to give you a fighting chance.”

“Sound good?” Jean tilts his head, raising an eyebrow at you. You know this is your moment to laugh this whole thing off, to return to the cozy interior of the cabin and put your feet up, have some hot chocolate, be kissed softly and held gently between their two strong bodies. This is Jean giving you an out, if you want it.

“Okay,” you agree, fingers fluttering nervously by your side.

“Good girl,” Jean nods approvingly, clenching and unclenching his fist, “ready?”

You nod back to him, knees shaking under your frame and a cold sweat breaking out over the back of your neck.

“Then fucking run,” Eren growls, grinning feral and wicked in the afternoon sun.

To your own surprise, you turn on your heel almost instantaneously, tearing off into the woods as fast as you can. The boots you’ve decided to wear are certainly not built for speed, but the thick soles are perfect for carrying you over the rough terrain, supporting your ankles and keeping them from twisting as you sprint through the woods.

You veer left, suddenly realizing that everything around you looks…the same. There’s no identifying markers, no path back to the cabin, no way to tell one tree full of decaying leaves from another. It brings you pause, your feet coming to a halt. It strikes you that you hadn’t been paying very close attention during your initial hike through the woods, and that even if you tried, you aren’t sure what direction will lead you back to the cabin. Eren and Jean have actually trapped you out here.

The crushing realization nearly makes your heart stop. You’re unable to suspend your disbelief enough to remember that these are your boyfriends chasing you; the only thought your brain can hold onto is that you’re being chased, and that you need to run.

The thudding of footsteps approaching shakes you out of your realization, has your feet moving at lightning speed the second you hear it. You don’t slow to look over your shoulder to see which one of them it is, just let your feet carry you far away as fast as you can manage. It dawns on you that the feeling coursing through you, bringing warmth to your face, is some unbelievable mixture of fear and arousal.

You can’t tell the color of either feeling apart, can’t tell where one ends and the other begins. Maybe they’re bleeding into each other, a symphony of passions ripping their way through every cord of muscle in your body, through every electrified nerve ending as you run away from what you want more than anything in this moment.

The footsteps behind you begin to fade, and as your breathing gets heavier and harsher, you realize you won’t be able to keep this pace; your best shot is running hard in short bursts and stopping to rest in between. You reach another clearing, much smaller than the one you had started out in, and lined with an assortment of bushes and a fallen tree. Just as you hunch over to catch your breath, you hear the return of those stomping footsteps, far behind you, but there all the same. The sharp pain ricocheting through your chest is warning enough to stop you from running again, and your eyes dart around in a panic, finally honing in on an area of the brush that looks thick enough to conceal you in your dark clothing, if you strip out of your light purple flannel.

As the footsteps draw closer, you hurriedly dive into the tangle of leaves and branches of the brush, ripping your flannel off of your arms as you go. You wince at the scrape of thorns and sticks on the soft, bare skin of your arms, but claw your way deeper, crouching down to conceal your body and twirling on your tippy-toes to peer through the leaves into the clearing.

It’s Jean, tall and imposing as he marches into the clearing. His chest is heaving under his shirt, hair mussed from running through the autumn wind. You marvel at him, so large and threatening, eyes blown wide and flicking from one area to another suspiciously, looking. Looking for you.

“Pet?” Jean whirls around, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “Are you hiding from me?”

You don’t dare make a sound, positive that your heart is pounding so hard that if someone looked at your neck, they’d be able to see the frantic push and pull of your pulse through the skin. Jean surveys the area, narrowing his eyes at the brush where you’re hiding, but miraculously, turning his head the other way. You need to keep moving, especially considering that you’re so close to Jean, but with the increasingly small distance between you, there’s no way that you’ll be able to quietly sneak out of the brush. Just as you’re formulating a plan to wait and see which way he runs next, so you can run in the opposite direction, Jean’s eyes catch on something that makes your breath hitch.

“Uh-oh,” Jean exhales, stepping closer to you and crouching, his grin growing darker. When his hand comes back into your line of sight, you nearly gasp, one hand flying to the naked top of your head. He’s holding your beanie, grinning down at it. Hardly another moment passes before Jean’s eyes flicker to you, darkening as soon as you make eye contact through the leaves.

“Shit,” you breathe, scrambling back onto your hands and crawling desperately through the branches and leaves behind you, grimacing as a particularly sharp thorn scratches deep into your cheek.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Jean laughs cruelly, jumping over the fallen tree trunk and towering over you as soon as you’ve escaped the brush. You stumble to your feet, but Jean’s quick, snagging you by the elbow before you can run off.

“Jean, please,” you gasp, looking up at him with wide, panicked eyes. It occurs to you that now that you’ve been caught, you’re not begging to be let go of– you’re begging to be held. Now that you’re so close to him, face to face with the shine of sweat on his collarbones, the rise and fall of his broad chest, your arousal is tangible, pumping through your veins thick like honey. You wet your lips, feeling the source of your panting move from your lungs to your core.

“Oh,” Jean’s bottom lip pushes out, “what’s the matter? Want to be my little princess again, is that it?”

“Uh-huh,” you nod frantically, looking over your shoulder and then Jean’s to see if Eren’s approaching to spoil your plan, “please Jean. Want to be your princess.”

“Aw,” Jean hums thoughtfully, cocking his head and looking down on you with pitying eyes for just long enough that you smile softly in relief, feel a rush of anticipation shoot through you. Unconsciously, you tilt your chin up, expectant and ready for him to catch you in a kiss. In the next instant, he’s gripping your arm even harder, with a jerk that makes your eyes water. “Too bad. You’re not my little princess out here.”

Your heart drops to your stomach, a clammy sweat breaking over your skin. Just as you’re about to plead one last time, Jean gives you a cruel smile.

“Eren! I’ve got her!” Jean shouts into the woods, turning his head over his shoulder to help the sound carry.

“Jean!” Your betrayal and frustration make your voice hoarse. Jean leans in to you, grinning wickedly.

“If I were you, I’d run. He’s not going to be nearly as nice as me.”

You wrench your arm out of his grasp, turning on your heel and darting further into the woods, grimacing at the feel of your wetness soaking through your panties. Jean’s footsteps are quick to catch up with you; or, at least, you think they’re Jean’s. You’re not going to break your stride to chance a look. You can’t outpace him, but you’re small and nimble enough that you think you may be able to outmaneuver him. You zigzag wildly through the trees, and it seems to be working, as Jean’s footsteps grow softer and softer behind you. Your lungs burn and your eyes water viciously, but you don’t dare relinquish the small distance you’ve managed to put between yourself and Jean, forcing your aching muscles to push harder and harder.

Suddenly, you spot it: a treehouse, with a little wooden ladder dangling from the bottom. It sounds like Jean’s footsteps are far enough behind you to afford you plenty of time to scramble up the ladder, at the very least to plan your next move. It wouldn’t be so bad if he saw you, either; the treehouse, as derelict as it may look, affords a nice sheltered spot for Jean to corner you in…

Your feet make the decision before your mind has the chance to catch up, and you’re beelining towards the treehouse, approaching it quickly. When you step on the first rung of the ladder, you feel the porous, rotten wood give a little underneath your weight, but the pounding of footsteps approaching urges you on. You make it two more steps up when one of the treacherous wooden rungs snaps under the pressure.

“Shit!” You squeal, clutching the ladder harder in an attempt not to tumble to the forest floor. You persevere, looking forward to whatever could await you if the boys were to follow you up to the treehouse. Two more steps up and you’re halfway there, but a pair of strong arms lock around your waist and pull you towards the ground with a harsh yank, ripping a yelp from your throat.

“Not a bad try,” you instantly recognize Eren’s voice, but what you don’t recognize is the rasp to it, the gravelly, dark tone, “but you didn’t really think you could run from me, did you?”

You thrash so violently that you think you must have hit him, because he drops you suddenly with a hiss. As soon as your feet hit the ground you take a few blind, wobbly steps in the opposite direction, only to run smack into Jean’s chest. You look up, wide, watery eyes blinking at Jean as your dizzied brain tries to grasp onto what’s at hand. You’re caught. They caught you.

“Going somewhere?” Jean sneers, grabbing you by your wrists and whipping you around to face Eren. The sight you’re greeted with has you squeezing your thighs together, a thick swallow sliding down your throat.

Eren’s eyes are blown wide, the bottomless black of his pupils nearly eclipsing the beautiful green you’re used to admiring. There’s a little sheen of sweat covering him, making him almost glow in the late afternoon light, and the veins in his neck are prominent with his heavy breathing. He runs his tongue over the now-split portion of his lip, courtesy of you, smearing a bit of blood over his mouth, and drags his eyes along every inch of you like he isn’t quite sure where he wants to start.

“I thought I told you to run,” Jean says, hot and taunting against the shell of your ear, “but it didn’t look like you tried very hard. Almost makes me think you wanted to be caught.”

“Of course she did,” Eren answers for you, stepping forward to run a thoughtful thumb across your cheek, making you flinch when he brushes over a cut on your face, “you want to get fucked, don’t you?”

You’re not sure what to do, whether you should nod your head enthusiastically or choke out a stuttered word of confirmation or maybe bite back; you feel frozen, overwhelmed by their looming figures and the fiery hot adrenaline still pumping through your veins. Eren decides for you, rubbing his thumb over your lips, and shoving it into your mouth. A coppery taste washes over your tongue, and you realize it’s your blood, fresh from the cut on your face. You suck his thumb in obediently, let him fishhook his thumb in your cheek, tugging your mouth this way and the other. Eren spits right in your mouth, nearly missing and splattering it all over your chin and cheeks.

“Nasty little bitch,” Eren snarls, shoving his mouth to yours.

What he does to you can barely be described as a kiss; it’s more like Eren devouring you. Teeth clack together, his tongue shoves into your mouth so violently you nearly bite down in your surprise. Eren sucks your tongue into his mouth, groaning low and hungry when you whimper.

“You taste good,” Eren murmurs hurriedly into your mouth, biting harshly on your lip and grinning against you when it makes you whine, “can taste the blood from that cut on your cheek.”

Jean stutters out a groan from behind you, his restraining grip on your wrists tightening. You feel his mouth begin to venture down your neck much like it had before, but his teeth are more demanding as they sink into your soft skin this time, more intent on taking, on marking you. One of Eren’s hands finds its way to your chest, grabbing harshly at your breast through your shirt. The ache of his strong fingers makes your back arch towards him, a breathless gasp leaving your lips.

“Show me,” Eren pants, finally backing away from you and ripping at your tank top, yanking it towards your head. There’s a shiny mixture of saliva and your blood staining his chin pink; shamefully, it makes a fresh rush of heat fly through your body, makes the wetness collecting between your thighs that much more prominent.

“We’re outside–” you try to protest, but a corrective slap to your ass from Jean shuts you up.

“No one’s around,” Jean says, mouth back on your shoulder as soon as Eren’s removed the offending garment from you, “it’s just us.”

“No one’s going to hear you scream,” Eren voices what you’re thinking with a nasty grin, bringing a hand to each of the cups of your bra and gripping the plush fabric hard enough to turn his knuckles white, tearing the connective fabric with a loud rip. 

“Eren!” You squeal in surprise, practically jumping in Jean’s arms.

“That’s it,” Eren groans, leaning down and lathing his tongue across a deep cut above your right breast, something you hadn’t noticed in your fearful escape from the bush earlier, “let me fucking hear you.”

Jean’s got your wrists contained in one of his large hands, not minding the swing of your ruined bra around each of your arms, reaching his other hand around your waist to fiddle desperately with the clasp of your jeans.

“Eren,” he says sharply, drawing Eren’s attention to the fact that your pants are still on. Eren smirks.

“Pick her up,” he answers, voice gravelly. Jean lifts you off the ground, your back pressed to his chest, feet dangling in the air. Eren rips both of your boots off, tossing them to the forest floor. Still pissed about your bra, truthfully, you jerk a foot out harsh enough to hurt him if it should make contact, trying to keep your movement spastic enough to make it look like an accident. Eren dodges and looks at you murderously, returning to his full height to grab your chin harshly.

“Did you just try to fucking kick me?” His forehead is pressed nearly to yours, voice low. Busted.

“You tore my bra.” Your voice has none of the conviction you were trying to find in the depths of your chest, coming out breathy and weak. A sound that can only be described as a snarl rips from Eren’s chest.

“Yeah, I fucking did,” Eren smacks your cheek just hard enough to stun you, make sure you’re really listening to him, “we caught you. Understand that? We’re going to do what we want with you because you’re ours. Keep smarting off, and I’ll rip your panties off next and shove ‘em in that bratty mouth of yours. Got it?”

Speechless, you nod desperately, squirming as the heat between your legs begins to grow unbearable, that tacky, sticky arousal surely beginning to leak down your thighs at this point. Eren makes quick work of your jeans and your underwear, hissing appreciatively as your panties stick to the wetness between your thighs.

“You’re so wet, pet,” Jean reaches around to swipe his hand through your folds. That alone is enough to make your knees buckle, make a wanton moan slip out from your lips.

“I–I want– oh.” You try and fail to articulate a sentence, cut off entirely by a loud groan when Eren’s teeth sink into the supple skin of your breast. Eren grins around the mouthful of flesh he holds between his teeth, raising his eyebrows at how riled up you already are.

“Pitiful little thing,” Jean chuckles, voice husky, “look how bad she wants it.”

Jean reaches down and shoves two fingers straight into your slick cunt, ripping a strangled moan out of your throat. Your hips buck into his hand of their own accord, desperate, tinny whines and whimpers leaving your mouth in quick succession. The stretch of Jean’s fingers is so welcome after all the build-up, that you don’t think you could put it into words if you tried. On behalf of your useless mouth, your body makes a great show of trying to show them just how good their attention feels, rolling and rocking into their touch, no matter how harsh.

Eren digs his fingers into the fat of your hips, your thighs, your ass, gripping you close to him and biting into whatever flesh of your upper body that he can reach as hard as he can, surely coming close to drawing blood. They aren’t the type of bites that require suction and the lathing of a tongue to soothe and leave hickeys; no, these are the type of bites that bruise on impact, little purple half-moons of teeth marks decorating your arms, shoulders, and breasts.

Jean coos in your ear approvingly each time your hips cant towards his hand, seeking more and more friction as the knot in your stomach tightens with each curl of his fingers. You can feel him pressing into your lower back, hard and promising, and your pussy flutters around his fingers at the thought of being split open by him, by Eren, by anything more that they’re willing to give you.

“Want to fuck her,” Eren huffs, “she close?”

“She’ll cum soon,” Jean affirms, licking through the shell of your ear delicately. You revel in the way they talk about you as if you’re not here, as if you possess no consciousness worthy of interacting with. You feel stripped of your higher thought processes, reduced into some pathetic, pliant creature only in search of pleasure– and you love it.

“Please,” you attempt to beg, only to be silenced by Eren’s long fingers wrenching their way down your throat.

“Stop talking,” Eren grumbles around a mouthful of your flesh, “pets don’t talk, do they?”

That draws a heady whine from you, your hips twitching forwards into Jean’s hand eagerly, a blatant attempt to pull forth the orgasm that’s been brewing between your hip bones for the last five minutes. Jean chuckles at your struggles, works his fingers just a bit faster.

“Go on,” Jean whispers, “it’s just us out here. Be as loud as you want, pet. We’re going to need you good and wet, so go ahead, cum hard for us.”

“C’mon, what are you waiting for? Fucking cum already.” Eren echoes Jean’s sentiment from your breasts, licking at another smear of blood just under your nipple.

Your body thrashes in their grip, begging for and yet resistant to the overwhelming waves of pleasure wracking through it. Loud squeals escape from your full mouth, even from where Eren’s got your lips stretched wide around three of his bulky fingers.

“Let us see what you can do, pet,” Jean murmurs, thick and warm against your ear, “just for us, come on.”

With one more vicious curl of Jean’s fingers, your back is arching violently, a muffled scream echoing into the canopy of trees around you as your release hits you hard. You can feel the wetness smearing between your thighs, feel the effort Jean’s exerting into keeping you still and in one place as you buck against him. Eren growls in approval and sinks to his knees, biting harshly into your thigh before sucking your clit into his mouth. That only serves to make you fight harder, the overstimulation getting the better of you.

Eren’s only able to lap at the sensitive folds between your legs for a moment before your twitching thighs threaten to knock him in the head, jerking closed of their own accord. Eren chuckles and smacks the inside of your leg a few times, rising to his feet and smirking at you.

“You squirming? Too much?” Eren sneers, gripping your jaw in his hand and forcing you to keep your half-lidded eyes on him. You push against his grip as hard as you can to shake your head no, earning yourself a pleased glimmer amongst the darkened green of his eyes. “More? You want more?”

When you nod frantically, Eren grins so wide his canines wink at you in the setting sun, flits his gaze over your shoulder to meet Jean’s eye.

“Get her on the ground.”

Jean complies, forcing you to your hands and knees in the dirt. Something about being so exposed, bare and open for them in the ground like this, has your blood running hot in an entirely new way. Neither of them have taken so much as their outer layer off, pinning you between them like…like their little pet. You can feel yourself grow even wetter; it may as well be dripping down your thighs at this point. You hear one of them kneeling behind you, can feel the head of a cock swiping through the mess between your legs.

“So fucking wet,” Eren hisses from over your shoulder, grabbing at your hips and kneading the skin. A hand comes to your chin, tilts your head up.

“Open up, pet,” Jean says, biting into his bottom lip. Obediently, you drop your jaw, tongue out, and blink up at him invitingly, more than eager for the weight of him in your mouth. Jean groans at the sight, slipping the tip of his drooling cock onto your tongue. You swipe your tongue over the tip, eyes rolling back at the taste of salt and sweat and Jean. Jean wastes no time in pushing to the back of your throat, tapping your gag reflex.

Any hope you had of suppressing the cough that threatens you when Jean pushes into your throat is ripped away by Eren shoving himself into you from behind, pushing you an inch too far down Jean’s cock and making you retch.

“All stuffed full of cock, aren’t you?” Eren grunts, driving into you and setting a brutal pace off the bat. You’re powerless to do much else besides squeal and whine around Jean’s cock, punctuating your muffled moans with the occasional gag when Jean taps the back of your throat.

Jean spits several times into the palm of his hand, never losing his pace thrusting into your mouth. If you had any more presence of mind, you’d frown up at him questioningly, but any doubts about his intentions are resolved when he leans over you, spreading his spit over your asshole.

“I want to take her too,” Jean says to Eren, who leans down to spit directly on your only unoccupied hole, lubing you up, “get her ready.”

Eren only offers an affirmative grunt, circling your hole a few times before pushing his thumb in up to the hilt; you’d taken them both only last night, so you don’t require all that much prep, but Eren’s thick fingers are a shock all the same. You squeal around Jean, who shushes you and runs his fingers soothingly along the crown of your head. You lean into his gentle touch, only for him to tighten his grip around the tangled wreck of your hair and shove you down onto his cock harder.

“Told you you’re not my princess anymore,” Jean chuckles darkly above you, driving his hips forward to the same rhythm Eren pounds into you from behind, “not out here.”

Eren’s been busying himself preparing your asshole, up to what feels like three fingers, but with the girth of Eren’s hands, you can never be sure. To have every bit of you full and used is an out of body experience; it’s not something you don’t experience regularly with the both of them, but to be taken so brutally out in the open, to be fucked in such an animalistic way, nearly shuts your brain off.

Eren gives you a few final thrusts before pulling himself entirely from you, causing Jean to follow suit and leaving you empty and whining. You’re tugged to your feet before you can even begin to form a sentence to beg for them back, stumbling in the crunchy leaves under your feet. Eren scoops you into his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist to keep you firmly pressed to him.

His cock drags along the folds between your legs, and he presses his forehead to yours, short, heavy breaths leaving him in huffs.

“Ready, pet?” Eren mutters into your open, waiting mouth, “ready to take what you were made for?”

Before you can offer anything more than a half-hearted plea, Jean is pressing into you, the all-consuming stretch of him rendering you mute. Eren never stops boring his gaze into yours, something sparking and spitting and wanting in his eyes, demanding more from you. He drinks down your squeal of surprise, spreads your ass cheeks open so Jean can get at you deeper, digging into depths you rarely find yourself aware of.

“She’s still so tight,” Jean growls, sinking his teeth into your neck, smiling around the mouthful when you moan wantonly.

“Give him some more, hm?” Eren, forehead still tacky and stuck to yours, grabs for Jean’s hand, angling it under your mouth. Through your desperate little hiccups of pleasure, you understand; you spit into Jean’s hand, opening your mouth so that a thick line of drool can slick his fingers up further. Eren grins, evil and satisfied. “Good job, pet.”

Jean uses the saliva you’ve given him to wet the last few inches of himself, pushing in to the base with a loud groan. You can almost feel the tangible eye contact they exchange; they love to look at each other unraveling when they’re inside you. “Your turn.”

Eren—no, Jean?—digs his fingers into your hips, making you whimper at the thought of the bruises sure to follow his grip, slides his cock into you slowly and forcefully, like he’s proving a point. The stretch of him– no, of both of them inside you, isn’t anything new, but in this setting, after all the build-up? You’re wailing, openly, your cries echoing off the trees as you thrash in their firm hold, overstimulated and overwhelmed and overpleasured all at once.

“Sh, sh,” Jean shushes you sternly, pinning your head back against his shoulder with a firm fist to the nape of your neck, “take it, don’t fight it.”

“Feel so fucking good, pet,” Eren says gruffly, giving a tentative half-thrust and making all of you moan, “like you’re fucking made for taking cock.”

“She is,” Jean coos, beginning to rock into you in the same easy rhythm as Eren, “just look at her. Not one thought behind those pretty eyes.”

He’s right; your eyes have glazed over entirely, mouth hanging ajar as they take and take and take from you. You can feel an orgasm quickly taking shape in the pit of your stomach, wrapping around itself and squeezing, threatening to pull you under. You’re so blissed out you can’t even be sure of what you’re feeling. Full, exposed, primal, half-conscious; all of those words surely would make the list if you could pull any of them to the front of your mind at the moment.

Your thighs are quivering around Eren’s waist, tightening viciously around his hips as they drive into you, suspending you between two walls of hard muscle. You know your cunt follows suit when Eren groans loudly, jaw dropping slightly.

“Feels good, doesn’t it? Slutty little thing,” Eren grunts against you, eyes flicking back and forth between you and Jean, “begging to get your cunt filled like a bitch in heat.”

“That is what you want, isn’t it?” Jean practically whispers into your ear, words wrapping around the knot in your stomach and holding it together, “want to get bred, don’t you, pet?”

Eren’s eyes go wide for just a moment, his gaze fixated on Jean. You can feel him pause briefly, twitch inside of you, and then before even a full second has passed, Eren’s determined scowl has twisted his face again, and he’s hammering into you like his life depends on it.

“Is that what you want?” Eren demands of you, eyeing you.

“Tell him,” Jean says to you, like the devil on your shoulder, “tell him how badly you want it. Go on.”

“I–I–” The tears running down your face collect in your mouth, making you hiccup and spit and choke on your words. Eren grabs your face fiercely, forcing you to look at him.

“Say it,” Eren snarls, “tell me you want this slutty pussy stuffed full of cum, our cum.”

“I want your cum,” you whimper pathetically, words stuttering and tripping as they spill from your swollen lips, “want to be full of it, want to get bred.”

“Fuck,” Eren nearly throws his head back, somehow moving his hips faster. Your legs dangle uselessly beside him; every muscle in your body contracts and relaxes wildly as your orgasm sinks its claws into you, threatens to pull you under. The only things tethering you to your body at this point are Eren’s eyes on you, bright and feral, and Jean’s hands around your hips, keeping you in place for them to pound into. You can feel the tidal wave coming up in your throat, your moans and whines growing more and more frantic, your head feeling lighter with each passing moment.

“Such a good girl– good little pet for us,” Jean slurs, hips beginning to falter in their rhythm, “show us how bad you want our cum, let us feel you–fuck–”

“So fucking good,” Eren laughs almost hysterically as you finally snap and cum around them, slapping your face lightly and egging you on, “there she goes.”

Every nerve ending in your body feels like it’s on fire, little shocks of electricity flying down your limbs and making you jerk and flail and contract. You can feel your fingers digging into the skin of Eren’s biceps until they meet something wet and warm, and you know you’ve drawn blood, but you’re spiraling through rapturous pleasure so intensely that you couldn’t release your grip if you tried.

The way you tighten viciously around them has Jean falling over the edge right after you, his hips stuttering and coming to a still pressed against you. He tugs your face to the side, pulling you in for a sloppy, honestly disgusting, kiss, panting heavily into your mouth and mouthing around praises that he’s too spent to fully pronounce. You can feel Eren’s eyes on you both, feel the way his thrusts are starting to grow more frantic. Jean turns your face to meet Eren’s gaze, resting his head on your shoulder.

“Look at her, Eren,” Jean shakes your face a little for emphasis, “needs cum in both her holes, not just one.”

As if to emphasize his statement, Jean pulls out of you, a gush of his cum joining the mess between your legs. Eren throws his head back and groans, nods urgently.

“Said we’d stuff her full, right? Breed her? That’s what she wants, isn’t it, pet?” Jean sneers, landing a smack to your cheek.

“Uh-huh,” you babble mindlessly, body trembling with the force of the aftershocks of your orgasm, “p-please Eren, breed me, I need it–”

“Gonna cum in you,” Eren pants, grabbing your hair so hard you wince, “can you take it? Take all of it ‘til you’re bred and full of me?”

“Yes,” you whimper, nodding against him, “yes, please, I–”

“Give it to her,” Jean’s fisted his hand at the nape of Eren’s neck now, pulling all of you so close that you’re drinking down each other’s breaths, “she’s worked so hard for it, give her what she needs.”

That’s all it takes; Jean’s encouragement has Eren spilling inside you with a lengthy, choked groan. With what little energy you have left, you pepper soft kisses along his neck, knowing how his muscles must be burning with how they’re twitching under his skin. Eren’s fingers are digging into you so hard it hurts, already aching, but you let him cling to you, ride out his orgasm as Jean threads his fingers through the hairs at the base of Eren’s neck soothingly.

You all stay this way for a moment, Jean supporting the majority of your body weight as Eren begins to sag into you, arms wrapped tightly around your waist. The breeze swirls by, leaving cold kisses on every inch of your bare skin, reminding you that you’re out in the open, making you miss your sweater.

“Guys?” You speak feebly into the crisp air, blinking sleepily.

“Holy shit,” Eren laughs breathlessly into the crook of your shoulder, pulling you close to him in a sticky hug, “that was–”

“Crazy,” Jean agrees with a disbelieving chuckle, helping you down onto your shaky legs.

“I am…very naked.” You point out weakly, swaying on your sore thighs. Jean’s quick to slide an arm around your shoulders and tug you to him, while Eren wrangles his hoodie over his head to offer you.

“There’s not another house for five miles in either direction,” Jean assures you, lifting your arms so that Eren can pull his hoodie over you, “wouldn’t ever let anybody see you like this, you know that.”

“Better?” Eren, still a little winded, tugs the hoodie down around your thighs, looking you over. He swipes a thumb across the cut on your cheek, an impish smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “We really roughed you up, didn’t we? I’m sorry, angel.”

“I liked it.” Your eyes are already falling shut; you barely have the energy for a sleepy smile when Eren presses his lips to your hairline. Jean scoops you up into his arms; all the cardio that he does at the gym is making itself known.

“Was it good, princess? Have fun?” Jean murmurs against your forehead.

“So much fun.” You open one eye to see Jean and Eren glance at each other, see the spark of love between them. It comforts you; even amongst the near-constant shivers wracking through your body, the warmth of their presence and the steady rocking of Jean’s steps lull your eyes shut.

“Thank god she ended up running just about to the backyard,” Eren huffs from somewhere to your right, still sounding very much like he hasn’t caught his breath, “I’m fuckin’ beat.”

“It’s because you don’t do enough cardio, bro.” You can hear Jean’s insistent eyebrow raise and visualize Eren’s answering eye roll, chuckling to yourself in Jean’s arms.

“Cardio’s for bitches, I’m bulking right now–”

“Did you listen to anything the team trainer said in college? Honestly–”

“That was three years ago–”

Somewhere amongst their arguing you doze off, letting yourself go limp in Jean’s arms. When you wake again, Jean’s walking you up a flight of stairs, angling you this way and the other to avoid hitting your head on the railing. Jean flits his eyes down towards you and acknowledges your consciousness with a soft smile, carrying you into a bedroom and sitting you on the bed. Wordlessly, Jean and Eren go about their usual routine of cleaning up after a particularly rough session: Jean runs a bath while Eren fetches some antiseptic for the scratches on your face and arms, Eren nearly gets distracted when you start running your fingernails through his hair but Jean gets you both back on track, somehow fitting all three of you in the largest bathtub you’ve ever seen.

Before you know it, you’ve been scrubbed clean, all the grime gone from your skin and the twigs pulled from your hair, and sandwiched between Eren and Jean under a heavy duvet.

“All better, right?” Eren murmurs against your forehead, pressing a kiss to it.

“All better,” you hum, nuzzling into his chest, “but I don’t want to waste the weekend. We’re only here until Sunday– do we really need to nap?”

“I threw dinner into the smoker while Eren was drying you off,” Jean says, words floating over your shoulder from where he’s curled up behind you, “we have at least two hours ‘til it’s cooked through properly.”

“And you need a nap,” Eren grins mischievously, “you had a big afternoon.”

“I’m not the only one,” you giggle up at him, “I heard you wheezing on the walk back.”

Eren scowls, only to have the furrow in his brow smoothed over by Jean’s thumb. You watch in awe as he instantly melts into Jean’s palm, such a volatile man so easily soothed by a gentle touch. As Eren’s mood begins to settle, you feel the atmosphere in the room change; the blankets feel just a bit heavier, the rise and fall of Jean’s chest against your back quells your breathing into the same rhythm, and the circles Eren’s thumb is rubbing into your hip have your eyes beginning to flutter.

“Naps for all three of us,” Jean says, leaving no room for argument, "I set an alarm. I won’t let you sleep through the weekend, I promise."

Something about the warmth and familiarity tucked under the covers with the three of you has your mind ambling on towards sleep, even after your weak attempts to protest. As you drift off, you can hear the quiet, wet noises of Jean and Eren exchanging a goodnight kiss above your head, feel the reassuring squeeze of their arms around your waist, the brush of lips against the nape of your neck, the tip of your nose. There’s a little murmured “I love you” from each of them, and though your mouth wants to form the words to respond, all you’re able to manage is a soft, contented smile as you drift off.

[eyesxxyou]

Confessions Pt.i

♡ hobie brown x religious!reader

rating. m

word count. 4.4k

synopsis. after years of being missing, Hobie finally returns back to his hometown where his childhood crush still waits for him. but you're more dedicated to God than ever and he couldn't care less. he wants you and he intends show you all that you're missing out on

♡ °｡ ⋆⸜ warning: religious themes, criticism of Christianity, corruption kink, defiling kink, making out, suggestive language, mentions of death

Part. ii

You've always been the model child, the child who attended mass when others wanted nothing more to do with the church, who clutched their rosary at night in fervent prayer and often slept with it under their pillow. You were used to pinched cheeks and smiles at your seniors, twisting your purity ring around your finger when you're nervous.

You had never known sin in your life. The idea of premarital sex revolted you. You prayed for forgiveness whenever you thought someone was even remotely cute.

That all changed when Hobie came back into your life. He had changed a lot since you last saw him when he was just an altar boy. He had left the church for years, his mother still attending and always asking for the father to pray for her son to return to God. He was now wild, feral even, decked out in spikes, something of a permanent scowl on his dark, beautiful lips. His hair demanded attention in the a way that distracted from God. Everything about him seemed to be for the flesh, not for the Lord.

There was a time where the two of you were friends. Your mothers were friends so it only made sense that you would be too. He has always been outgoing, loud, yet kind and pure at heart, holy even. He used to walk with humility and humbleness. It was like he was entirely different person who had walked into mass with his hands in his pockets and a confident saunter in his steps. He demanded attention and jangle if his chains echoed off the walls of your small church. You were always taught to remain quiet and keep your head low.

You quickly turned your gaze when his found yours among the many. Did he even recognize you? It's been so many years. You hardly even recognized him if not for some telltale signs. His height, the slender beauty of his face, a freckle. You clutched your rosary tighter, in your hands– it's milk white pearls wrapped around your hand, the detailed cross with Ch*st hanging pressing into your skin.

You don't look at him as he and his mother sat next to you and yours. He sidled up next to you, an arm tossed along the pew behind your back. He smelt of things you did not know, like sin, like temptation, like Hobie.

"How've ya been, luv?" He spoke after listening to mass and deciding it was too boring for him. It seemed he did remember you, in all your meek shyness.

"I've been fine. I'm surprised you remember me." You whispered, trying not to interrupt, not to get too wrapped up in conversation during church when you should be focusing on God's good grace. 

"F'course, I remember ya, dove. Still the prettiest girl in here."

Your cheeks burned softly with the compliment and for it, you you clutched the cross in your hand until the edges of it dug into your skin as punishment. "We shouldn't be talking during the congregation." You crossed your ankles, your mary janes knocking against each other as you prayed a silent prayer of forgiveness. You would not be tempted.

If it helped, Hobie thought you changed a lot as well. When did you get breasts that so obviously showed through your clothing? When did you get so pretty? When had you grown into a woman?

You allowed yourself light makeup, mascara, lip oils that made your lips all glossy and pouty. Your braided hair way pinned back out of your pretty face, caramel and black in color, tied back with a pink bow. You wore a white off the shoulder top and a pink skirt with lace trim at the bottom. White, see-through stockings clung to those chaste legs of yours and your feet were adorned with mary janes, decorated in more pink bows.

He had originally only come to mass to please his mother this one time but if you looked this pretty now, it might not hurt to come again.

After, your mothers were chatting with each other, his mother pinching your rosette cheeks as she always did, talking about how much of a good girl you were, how Hobie was already talking about when the next congregation would be all because of you. "You're leading him back to God, my love."

"Where is he? He never even said goodbye." Your mother looked around for him but he was gone, dipped the moment church was over. He'd be back, he said but you doubted it. His mother waved it off. "You know how the young ones are these days, they don't care much for mannerisms." She looked back to you, shyly standing behind your mother without much else to do besides go home. You were still young, only bordering on 20 and you still lived at home. You couldn't bear to leave your old, peeling, floral wallpaper and your collection of stuffies. Plus, working for a Chr*stian nonprofit didn't always pay the bills.

You wouldn't see Hobie again for another 4 of your congregations before he decided to show back up. He had scandalized the church by wearing a crop top, was the talk of the town when he slid into the pew next to you and tossed his arm behind you once again like you two were close. His body was pressed against yours, his warm skin against your shoulders neck, the smell of musky cologne, the deviating gorgeousness of his face. His finger curled around one of your neat box braids, curled and uncurled, curled and uncurled.

You were wearing a pink camisole shirt with more lace at the top and bottom, and a white maxi skirt with little roses dotting the fabric. You wished you had worn something that revealed less of your skin because you should feel his skin on yours and it made you feel hotter than the sun and more of a sinner than the devil himself because his skin felt so nice and soft against yours and you wanted him to stay right there he was, with his knee touching yours and his fingers playing with your hair. How scant a knee touch could be.

"Who's it goin' t'day, doll?" Hobie leaned over and whispered in your ear. You leaned away from him, muttering silent prayers asking for strength in such rough times. "I'm okay, Hobie… How are you today?" You managed to get out.

"'m quiet chipper actually, my mum jus' asked ya mum if we could hang out again, thinks ya good f'me. Will make me 'believe in God again', 'n allat."

How great, how perfect. Now you'd constantly be in his presence. You'd be happy to spend time with Hobie but this Hobie was not the Hobie you knew. He was a stranger to you. It’s been so many years since he simply ran from home and only recently has he decided to come back into his family’s lives for unknown reasons. You were nervous around new people and in all ways that mattered, Hobie was a new person.

“Well, do you want to believe in God?”

“No’ particularly, no. But I promised mum since I ran away.” He was only 16 when he left, now he’s back at 21 and his mother almost smacked him straight across the face when he showed back up on her door. All these years, everyone in the community operated under the assumption that he had died.

Before the parish began his sermon in which he’d get progressively sweatier and out of breath across the 2 hours which Hobie always used to snicker at, he spoke. “I’d like to welcome back Hobart. After being gone for 5 years, he’s finally returned back home.” Everyone clapped for him, including you, but he just let his hand drop and began drawing circles on your exposed shoulder.

He kept like this through the entire sermon, touching you in some way, shape, or form. He chuckled softly at some of the things the parish said and whispered to you about things completely unrelated. “Le’s go back to our usual spot, doll. You remember?” His warm breath fanned your ear with the promise of something wrong if you go with him. You turned to look at him and found his face far closer than you thought it was, a smirk playing on his pierced lips.

“Would you genuinely listen to what I have to say.”

“I’ll listen to whateva comes from those pretty lips of yas, dove. Every single word.” He was so much more flirtatious now. He had you clutching your rosary every time he was around you, an action that did not go unnoticed. He placed his freehand on top of the ball of yours and your hands fell open beneath his warm palm. You already had scars littering  your palms from all your years of grabbing the cross too tight for protection.

“Stop doin’ tha’, you gonna hurt yaself.”

That was the last thing he said to you all sermon.

He stuck around after church this time, his mother with a firm grasp on his wrist to ensure he didn’t go off and disappear again. You hung around your parents, your eyes always wandering about to find Hobie. It was hard not to find him. His height and his hair made it impossible to miss him. 

“Mama, Hobie and I are gonna go somewhere quieter. I’ll be back home in time for dinner.” You kissed her cheek and tapped your father’s hand to get his attention before motioning that you were going to go. He was in the middle of deep conversion with the parish. He nodded dismissively and with that, you made your way to Hobie.

“Ms. Brown. Is it okay if I take Hobie with me?” Her grip on her son’s wrist was deadly, out of fear that he may run away from her again. She wouldn’t be letting him go unless she was sure he was in good hands, and in her eyes, yours were holy. “Of course.” She smiled upon you with fondness, her accent of her homeland thick in her voice. “Hobie, be good.”

Hobie shrugged out of her hold. “Yeah, I hear ya.” He tossed an arm around you and dragged you off towards the spot where the two of you would always hang out as children, an old playset that was rusting over by now and couldn’t possibly be safe enough for children to play on. It was a little down the way from the church just in front of a stretch of woods that separated the playground from the creek.

You went to cautiously sit on one of the rusty swings while Hobie dropped himself down without a care. He looked at you, your moisturized skin glistening in gold under the sun. You tossed your hair over your shoulder to better feel the sun on your shoulders while it lasted. The winters in your hometown were brutal at times so any heat was much welcomed on your end.

“Go ‘head then, gimme all the reasons why I should want salvation.” He’s heard it all. Especially from his mother. He had come back an entirely different person and point blank told her that he didn’t believe in a higher power and wouldn’t be attending church while he was visiting. His poor, Jamaican mother, a devout Catholic, acted as if he had just struck her across the face. She cried, she prayed as she does every night to this very day, and she rebuked the devil "who had taken her son" from him.

She had managed to manipulate him into coming to church at least once. And then he saw you. His old best friend, his longest standing crush, and decided that he’d stick around a little longer.

You fiddled with your rosary. "Well, there's nothing I can say to change your mind if you already aren't open to the idea. I'm not here to convince you of anything. But Hobie– why did you leave? We were all worried sick over you, praying that you were safe. After the first year, we thought you…" 

“Died? No, I toughed it ou’. “N I didn’t exactly go anywhere. I’d been to so many places that I couldn’t name jus’ one. I jus’ knew I didn’ wanna be here.” He shrugged and drug his boot in the gravel, the rusty sound of the swingset let out a creak every time he swung. “‘M tired talkin’ ‘bout me. How’ve you been, luv?” His voice grew tender when talking to you, his eyes were a touch softer as well, almost flirtatiously so.

Nervously, you spoke of all the things that have happened since he left. “Father has blessed me with a good life. I’ve been studying His word more and I feel closer than ever to Him–”

Hobie pretended to yawn before snickering to himself. “I don’ wanna hear about allat. I wanna hear ‘bout you, not tha’ bloke.” You gasped at his choice of words, the casual blasphemy from his lips, and held your rosary to your chest. “Hobie!” you scolded him and he raised his hands in surrender. “My fault, luv. I forgot you were still brainwashed.” He murmured the last part under his breath. “Tell me ‘bout you. Tha’s all I wanna know ‘bout.”

You didn’t know what to say. Usually talk about how good God is suffices for people. No one ever really wanted to hear about you, they usually wanted you meek and quiet, submissive and innocent in your ways.

“I attended a purity ball soon after you left.” You raised your hand to show off the ring that adorned your finger as a symbol of your purity. “I thought it was the right thing to do. Everyone thought that we would get married when we got older so when you disappeared, I needed to wait for the right man to come along.” You didn’t sound as excited as everyone else around you was. Your mother was happy to dress you up in a white dress and your father was even happier to take your hand and claim you as his until a Godly man came around to take your hand in marriage. But it all just felt weird to you.

“I always though’ those things were fucked.” Hobie admitted. “Gettin’ married to ya dad so he owns you until another man comes around to take ya leash.”

“It’s not like that.”

“How’s it like then?” Hobie raised a pierced brow at you, waiting for a witty response only for you to fall flat. You shift your gaze from his. “It was my choice. I was distraught that you were gone, Hobie.” You twisted your ring around finger anxiously. “My whole life everyone told me that we were going to get married and suddenly you up and left and my life was spiralling.” You babbled, tears swelling in your eyes, overwhelmed by it all, overwhelmed by him so suddenly showing back up in your life with all these questions and opinions. 

“You don’ think ya gonna marry me anymore?” Hobie reached out and traced a finger down the scant of your arm. You whipped away from him and wiped the tears before they could fall, looking back to him with hardness in that soft gaze of yours. It was hard to take you seriously with eyes like those and the pout in your lips. “That’s not something to joke about.” You ripped yourself away from him because if you didn’t, you would have shivered under his touch.

“Who said I was jokin’? Remember when would kiss back here after church. You were a little rebel back then.” He pointed to the treeline where the two of you would sit in the grass and innocently peck each other's lips, justifying it by saything the two of you would eventually get married anyway. It was innocent at the time but your face lit up, your cheeks burning with humiliation at the memory. You placed your hands over your face and shook your head. “We were children at the time. We didn’t know any better.”

“Why don’t we do that now?

“Hobie!” You reached over and slapped his arm. A smile stretched across his lips, a smile you always admired. It sparkled with a touch of mischievousness. “What is wrong with you!”

He got up off the swing. “The bible doesn’ say nothin’ ‘bout kissin’. Plus, we’re married anyway, by law of children’s imagination. Tha’s gotta count f’somethin’.” He began walking through the gravel and onto the grass towards the spot where the two of you would sit and kiss. He looked back at you, his expression asking if you would come with him.

You looked uneasily down at your hands with your rosary and your purity ring. He was right. The bible didn’t say anything against kissing before marriage and you’d be a liar if you said you weren’t attracted to Hobie, with his sly smirks and teasing remarks. You stood slowly and made your way over to where Hobie sat, teasing you with an alluring smile and a hooded gaze.

You sat beside him, a great distance away with your rosary and your bible you brought along. You were so nervous you were shaking and Hobie was not blind. “I’m not tryna pressure you into nothin’, dove. It was all jus’ fun ‘n games.” 

"I just wanna stay pure, Hobie. I wanna be untouched for my husband. I wanna be a good wife." You couldn't bear the idea of being tainted, of being impure. You shook with the fear of it, tossed and turned in the dead of night worrying over it, twisting and turning your ring around your finger.

You fell back in the grass, Hobie's figure leaning over you as you look at the sunlight streaming through the leaves of the trees looking overhead. You sighed with anxiety, grabbing fistfuls of grass in your hands.

Hobie scoffed at the notion. "You think being a good wife means you have to be a virgin?" You looked at him as if it were obvious. "Of course. I'm supposed to be pure and submissive for my husband. That's how I make it into Heaven."

There was something unreadable on on Hobie's face, an expression that bordered on anger and treaded on distaste. "Luv, you have no idea how…" he trailed off. Brainwashed you are. But he didn't finish. You were right. If someone wasn't open to the idea, they'd never hear you. He had to get the idea across to you in a way you'd understand.

"There are ways to find Heaven on Earth." He told you, laying down in the grass beside you. He lied on his side to face you, a warm hand tracing the round of your jaw with his fingertips to make you look at him. "I'll show you if you let me." His lips hovered over yours and for the first tips you did not retreat from him. Your mind screamed passage after passage at you but your body melted into his warmth and you relented when he pressed his lips to yours.

You were just so innocent. It would be so easy to show you a world of pleasure you never knew existed. You didn't even know how to kiss. You let him take the lead, let him press his tongue to the seam of your lips and nervously parted them to let him intrude upon your sacred body. This was sacrilege, the way his tongue found yours, something far beyond an innocent kiss. His tongue coaxed yours to move like his, gently and with fervor. His tongue piercing pressed against the chaste muscle of your tongue, untouched before in a way like this.

It was messy and uncoordinated, lips, teeth, and tongue all touched and caressed each other, teeth biting lips, tongues soothing the aftermath. Hobie chuckled into your mouth suddenly turning from timid to desperately seeking him out and suckling on his lip piercing, then his tongue, wanting him so desperately.

You moaned softly, a hot feeling growing between your legs that scared you. Did he know, could he feel it, the way you rubbed your thighs together? Was this sin? This feeling of warm wetness growing so steadily between your thighs?

Hobie brought his hand beneath your maxi skirt, his warm against your bare, unsullied thigh. He kept it there, his fingers gripping your flesh, thumb rubbing circles against your pink panties. He must be able to feel it, this feeling you had no name for but felt so good each time you pressed your thighs together.

This had to be wrong, a pleasure of the body, something Earthy, something that would plant you right in Hell. But if it felt this good…

Hobie was the one who first broke from the kiss, leaving you whimpering wantonly, your lips seeking out his until you realized just what you were doing. He was laughing at you and suddenly you felt exposed and embarrassed, biting your kiss-swollen lips. "'M sorry, dove. I ain' mean t' laugh. I just ain' expect you to get so into it." He reached up and pushed your braids out of your face and tucked them behind your ear.

You couldn't bear to look him in the eyes. "I just…I've never felt that way before." It was almost embarrassing to admit.

Hobie frowned a bit. "No' even when you touch yaself?" He's always been a bit forward with his questions but this one has to take the cake. You rolled away from him, so humiliated by his questions that you physically couldn't touch him with such an idea in your head.

"You've neva touched yaself?"

You shook your head. You never knew you could for one, your parents never allowed you to take health class in highschool, the idea of you touching yourself in recent years only made you resent yourself for conceiving such an idea and you had immediately went to the father about it to confess your sins.

Hobie was silent for a moment, thinking about something, you had no idea what, not until he spoke again. "You should come back to my place at the end of the week."

"I can't possibly. I mean– it's not right for two people at our age to be alone in one's house. It's a breeding ground for sin." You sat up with grass in your hair, tugging down your skirt that Hobie had lifted. "We can't, Hobie. It would be ungodly." As if what happened here wasn't just the same. The imprint of your bodies were still imprinted in the grass, pressed against each other, intimate in a way neither of you should have been.

Hobie got up after you and grabbed your wrist. You shuddered at his touch, the hot ache between your thighs making your legs feel weak or maybe it was just him. His lips were less swollen than yours but your gloss was smudged all across them, making you realize that if you went out as you were, you'd look like nothing more than a harlot. You'd have to take time to fix your makeup which was already light to begin with. Too much makeup would make you out to be a common whore too.

"Just think 'bout it, will ya? Jus' f'me, doll." He was so good at persuasion, those eyes of his could turn from predatory to soft and pleading so fast. You wonder how many people he's used it on, from his parents to innocent girls just like you he meant to completely tear apart and defile.

You've always been weak to him, even just a little. You recognized your Hobie in there, despite the clothes and the hair and the confidence. It's not that he's changed, just that he's found himself out there in the world wherever he's been.

"Fine… I'll think about it. But that's no guarantee that I'll go." Your voice wavered in confidence as he approached and took your chin between his finger and thumb and tilted your head upward. He looked between your eyes then down at your lips before bending down to kiss you once more.

You didn't resist him, not one bit. His tongue teased entrance to your mouth but never fully went there. His lips melded against yours, smooth as butter, so lightly you almost thought he wasn't there. His large hands found purchase on your waist, pulling you in close. You were still so awkward about it, you didn't know if you should do more. Kissing like this felt like sex, like sin, like something  you shouldn't be doing. But he made it feel so good, made your guilt melt away against his lips.

You told yourself that there was no scripture that frowned upon kissing, that you weren't doing anything wrong. You had nothing to be ashamed of yet but you felt that Hobie had ways to make you do something wrong and make you not even realize it before it was already done.

"Y/n? Y/n, where are you?" You could hear your father calling you and immediately you placed your hands against Hobie in a panic and shoved him away from you, backing away yourself to put as much distance between the two of you as possible.

Hobie smiled at you and used his thumb to clean up your smeared lipgloss. "Jus' think 'bout it, luv. If you come, I'll show ya what real Heaven feels like." You pulled away from him, from his tender touch against your face, holding your rosary-wrapped Bible to your chest. You felt if you didn't, he'd be able to see right through you, see the way your heart raced and leaped. Maybe he’d see how weak you were for him, how you were always willing to go along with his antics as children and now that you finally had him back, you’d do almost anything he asked of you.

“You should really stop saying things like that.” You murmured, marching past him to return to your parents before they find the two of you in another compromising position. Hobie watched your retreating figure, your hips unintentionally swaying with each step.

Fuck all these people brainwashing you, telling you these stories to scare you into compliance, denying you your own pleasure. The only reason he came back to this damned place was for you. He couldn’t care less about anyone else here. He’d take you, defile you, show you the pleasures of the flesh, show you the gates of Heaven right here on Earth in his bed.

His sweet, innocent, little thing. He’d have to show you all you were missing out on.

[sleepyangelkami]

RESTLESS NIGHTS d.dixon

 ☆ WORD COUNT - 2.2K

DARYL DIXON X FEM!READER

 ☆ SUMMARY - for as long as you can remember, you've always suffered with insomnia. sometimes it was manageable, sometimes it wasn't. the only difference was then you didn't have daryl dixon to help you, now you did.

 ☆ WARNINGS - sleep deprivation, insomnia, mention of sleeping (lack of), crying, reference to bad childhood, mentions of eating/food, having no appetite, petnames, intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread 🩷

sleep never came easy to you.

you remembered being young, standing outside your mothers bedroom door and crying. fat tears would roll down your cheeks as you explained how your eyes simply couldn't will themselves closed anymore and that it was damn near impossible for you to sleep.

she'd always shone you back right to that little bedroom of yours. the walls would enclose on you and yet your eyes would shut, tiredness seeping over you.

yet sleep would never come.

a lot of time has passed since you were a child crying at your mothers door, begging for some kind of an out to this awful insomnia.

before the fall hit, you were a polite young lady that wore summer dresses and skirts all year 'round. you'd walk in through the white door, bell ringing as you entered your doctor's. he'd give you the capsuled tablets that helped you sleep. now, you couldn't even remember what they'd been called.

after the fall, you'd been stocked up, a reasonable amount. though not after long, the name had scratched off, sticker almost gone from the bottle completely. along the way, you met your group, your people, your family. they were more your family than your mother ever had been.

when you and your group found the prison, you deemed that you liked it there.

it had walls, safety, food, anything you ever could have asked for. but soon enough, your medication ran out and the sleepless nights haunted you again.

like today.

carol had made this sort of soup for lunch. you were sat at one of the tables, a spoon in your hand as you stirred it inside the bowl, zoning out. you wondered if it had gone cold by how long you'd been stirring it for. all you knew was that you were too tired to so much as move your arm.

unbeknownst to you, you'd been being watched. daryl dixon had taken a liking to you the moment he'd laid eyes on you. you pranced around with big smiles and happy rosey cheeks with your little dresses and skirts. you were so bubbly and happy, even when the entire world ended. most would think that a person like daryl would find it annoying, rather irritating. but in fact, he was attracted to it the moment he'd seen it. you were like a ray of sunshine, a beaming rainbow. whenever he was around you, he was smiling or laughing. rick almost fell off his horse when he heard daryl laugh for the first time, it was next to you, of course.

but lately, things hadn't been right.

he'd noticed the very first day you woke up with messier than usual hair, a hand running through it with an almost permanent pout etched to your lips, under eyes looking a little dark.

you'd only gotten worse since then.

the sound of a bowl hitting against the table brought you back to life. your doe eyes widened a little as you sat up a little straighter, big eyes gleaming at the man who took a seat at the table you were sitting at, right across from you. "hi, daryl." almost swooning at the mere sight of him.

"hey, pretty girl." yeah, definitely swooning. "wh's up with you? you've been stirrin' the damn soup cold."

you glanced down to your bowl of soup that you'd barely touched. "not hungry." you stated, pushing the bowl out in front of you. you sighed with pouty lips as you laid your chin on your hand.

lack of sleep tended to do that to you. one of two things would happen. one, you'd be craving something like crazy, whatever food it would be from cheese to fruit. or two, the lesser kind one, you'd lose your appetite almost completely. now was the lesser kind one. this one tended to happen when you didn't sleep for longer periods of time.

daryl's eyes were so full of concern and worry. "somethin' wrong?" not waiting to begin having his own soup, carol made a mean soup.

"nope." popping the 'p' sound because really, there wasn't anything wrong, at least nothing serious enough to tell anyone else, you thought. "just tired." tired was an understatement, your whole body was exhausted.

"yeah, i get that." nodding along and pursing his lips. though this behaviour had been going on quite a while. he never wanted to push you, but there were times where he felt like he had to do something. "you'd tell me if there was something wrong though, right?"

you hummed, eyes tracing his own. you were awfully tired and with electric blue eyes like his own, it was sort of hard not to get caught staring into them, whether you were tired or not. "'m just tired." you assured.

though the man didn't look as though he believed you. his eyes traced your own, as though they were trying to figure out what else was wrong.

finally, he sighed, knowing that you weren't going to tell him anything, not now. "alright, sweet girl." watching your cheeks go flush. "you know where to find me if you need me."

you nodded your head, rosy cheeks and pink lips in a smile. "thanks, daryl."

days passed awful slow when you were tired.

thankfully, you'd taken no naps throughout the day so you assumed that by the time night fell, you'd be tired enough to sleep your soul away.

but when the dark sky loomed over the prison, you ready in your cell for sleep to envelope you... you were met with sheer nothingness.

you huffed, closing your eyes and twisting your body.

you thought that if you kept trying, sleep would eventually come to you. you'd tried all the home remedies you could, you tried medication, though that was no longer an option. now, you had hardly any options. the only one that you could think of was shutting your eyes and praying for sleep.

but you knew a long time ago that there was no god in a world like your own.

you turned around for what felt like the hundredth time. even with your eyes strewn closed, a pout still rested on your lips and your brows were knit together closely.

you wondered if anyone else in the prison was awake.

then your mind travelled back to daryl dixon. he looked at you so full of concern and when he'd offered help, he meant it. you knew daryl the best out of anyone and you knew that daryl doesn't say things he doesn't mean. he was the type of man to stay quiet and if he did speak, it was only truth. that was what many people admired about him.

you hardly registered your sock covered feet on the cold concrete ground of the prison. sleepiness was holding so close to you that you hardly registered anything. you didn’t remember your feet guiding your body, turning the corner to reveal the next hallway. and you definitely didn’t recall stepping into daryl dixon’s cell, eyes slightly widening in the dark as you peered around, looking for him.

alas, his cell was empty.

you almost cursed yourself, thinking it was beyond stupid for you to come here in the first place. perhaps you should have just stayed in your cell and waited the night out. you could do one more night without sleep, right? 

but before you could turn around, you heard the creak of the cell door. you whipped around to see daryl standing there, looking dishevelled as ever. “what’re you doin’ here, angel?” when you didn’t respond, he found his body moving closer to yours. “shouldn’t you be sleepin’?” 

and maybe that was what set you off.

“i can’t.” but you didn’t speak the words with your usual joyish speech, where every word was elongated and practically cheered from your mouth. your voice was all croaky as it broke, like a child, waiting for your mother to open her bedroom door and let you in.

“hey, hey.” his hands were already stretching out, finding your face in the darkness. his fingers brushed against your cheeks, softening the reddened skin. “‘s okay, what’re you cryin’ for?” though his voice was filled with nothing but comfort, the way it softened to fit your own. 

daryl dixon truly was one in a million.

you shrugged your shoulders, feeling the tears welling up in your eyes, breaking the dam and sliding down your cheeks embarrassingly so. “i can’t sleep.” voice cracking again, but you didn’t stop there. “i’ve tried everything ‘n i can’t do it.” your head shaking, nose becoming red.

daryl wasn’t exactly new to insomnia. he’d felt it times on his own, usually after something drastic had happened or if something was yet to happen. like when carol’s daughter, sophia had been missing. he remembered not being able to sleep for weeks on end. he remembered glancing into the mirror, his eyes sunken and under eyes practically purple. come to think of it, that was exactly how you’d looked earlier.

he cursed himself for not realising sooner. 

“‘s okay, baby, everything’s okay.” he heard your pathetic little sobs, practically whimpering as he took you into his arms. his large hand found the back of your head, steadying it by his chest as you cried, tears running down your cheeks as your own chest practically heaved. 

you’d been so desperate for sleep that you hadn’t realised you’d been on the brink of tears. now that you were sobbing into the man’s chest, you found it in yourself to be a little embarrassed. but daryl wasn’t the type of person to let you feel that embarrassment. he merely cooed and shushed you, hand gently massaging the crown of your head. 

“‘m sorry.” voice like fragile glass as you pulled away from him. “‘n now ‘m keeping you awake ‘n i―”

“hey,” catching your attention. even in the dead of night, with darkness consuming the room whole, you were still able to make out his rough features, and he could still trace your delicate ones. “you ain’ ever gotta say sorry to me, alright?” you nodded your head, eyes still full of watery liquid and lips puffy and red. “now c’mon, we’re gonna figure this out together.” 

you could vaguely make out his hand on the small of your back, leading you towards his bed that was draped in many more blankets than your own. 

you’d never realised just how comfortable daryl’s bed was, even through the many times you’d practically hopped into his cell, jumping on the bed excitedly to tell him some form of news that you’d heard, whether it was a piece of gossip from carol or something serious from rick, daryl had always been all ears.

it was very different to the state you were in now.

you still found yourself sniffling as daryl tucked the sheets over your body. the sheets were different than yours. usually, you hated feeling too many sheets on you, finding yourself feeling awfully trapped but when he was tucking you in so delicately, you couldn’t find it in yourself to mind.

then you felt his arm gently plop over your middle, holding your back against his front.

gently, your two hands pushed themselves forward, grasping his much larger one. you fumbled with his fingers, pulling one in, sticking one out. even in the dark when you couldn’t so much as make out the shapes, you still found it sort of lulling.

the feeling of his breath hitting the back of your neck, the warmth of his body flowing into your own. you found your eyes gently shutting.

you wondered had it been this easy all along. If all you’d ever needed as just someone else. you didn’t know but deep down you knew. perhaps that was why you’d waited at your mothers door as a child, crying and begging for her to just open it and let you in while she’d shone you away, annoyed with your antics, wondering why she couldn’t get a normal child. and maybe that was why your feet unconsciously began walking towards daryl’s cell, because even your body knew that all you needed as someone to help you, someone to guide the way.

and daryl was more than happy to give you that.

for the first time in a long time, you found yourself almost succumbing to sleep. 

it was almost scary. you wondered if your eyes would force themselves open or your mind would force yourself awake. your entire body feared that you’d blink and wake up in your own cell, had this all just been in your imagination due to your lack of sleep.

the mere thought made a shaky breath fall from your pretty lips.

and daryl was more than prepared to pull you closer towards him, his face practically in your hair. his lips pressed a chaste kiss to your shoulder blade, hand finding your fingers and interlocking them before his arm stretched out around your body, pulling you as close as humanly possible. “not goin’ anywhere.” he mumbled, as though he were able to read your mind.

he spoke again but the words faded out as your tired mind finally put itself to rest.

perhaps you didn’t just need someone else. perhaps you just needed him.

main masterlist/daryl's masterlist

[miss-oranje-disco-dancer]

not old enough (not old enough ch.1)

pairing: leon kennedy/reader

cw: smut, age gap (reader is 18), vendetta!leon?, alcohol, semi-public sex, possibly dubcon bc both leon and reader are intoxicated

summary: you and leon meet at an unnamed bar, but you're too young to be there (because this is the US in my limited imagination). 18 may be too young for you to legally drink, but you can legally hookup with dilfs. 

word count: 2k

ao3 link

You were sitting on a barstool, drinking a whiskey sour, and making conversation with a man in his mid-30s, you’d guess, who was relatively attractive minus the slur of his words and dark circles around his eyes. He looked like more of a mess than you would by the end of the night. You went out that night with a few friends, wearing minimal clothing, hoping to attract the attention of men. One friend was getting over a breakup and the other was past due on this month's rent, so none of you were opposed to older men. Forgetting younger boys and getting cash weren’t your motives that night, though, you were just being supportive, so when your friends ditched you to leave with a man you thought was too sleazy to go home with, you were stuck at the counter of the bar with a slightly-less sleazy looking man, who said his name was Leon. 

You couldn’t remember how the conversation came to this, but you showed him your ID. Maybe he wanted to verify your name or see the stupid picture they took of you at the DMV, but you’d had quite a lot of alcohol in you at that point, and if you had to retell the story, this was where it all began. 

You hoped he wouldn’t notice the birthdate on it, which made you a little too young to be where you were. He’s wasted, you thought, he’ll never know. But, maybe it was his former-cop instincts, which you knew nothing about yet, that led him to notice the one critical detail on your license, the one that could get you in big trouble - your birth year, which would only make you 18, not 21. 

He was about to announce it, when you dragged him away from the bar. “Don’t say anything,” you tried to sound tough, as if he couldn’t kill you in one punch. 

He laughed at your feeble attempts to intimidate him, and said, “I’m not just gonna let you sit here and continue to get drunk. It’s dangerous for a young woman like yourself.”

It came out more flirtatious than he’d expected or intended, but you fired back with, “Please, I don’t wanna get in trouble. What can I do to get you not to tell, Mr…” You realized you didn’t know his last name.

“Kennedy. Leon Kennedy.”

“Please, Mr. Kennedy.”

“No, I don’t want you drinking anymore.”

“I won’t, I promise.”

“I don’t trust you.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re a liar.” Leon waved the ID he was still holding, up in the air, too high for you to get it back. You jumped up, helplessly, looking like an idiot. 

“I can’t get arrested, please. I’ll lose my scholarship and I won’t have money to go to school anymore.” You started spewing off any sob story you could think of in an effort to convince him. 

“Fine, but I’m calling you a cab and you’re done for the night.” Leon tossed you back your ID.

“Can I just finish this one?” You gave him your cutest pouty face. 

He groaned in exasperation. “Fine. Come sit down, then. Don’t want you falling over in those heels.”

You were a bit unbalanced, but it wasn’t the drunkenness, it was the heels. At least, you hoped it was.

Upon realizing there was only one barstool left unclaimed, Leon sat you down on his lap. You turned your head and smiled at him. The face of a winner. He knew he was playing right into your hand, but you were so precious. The combination between his genuine instinct to protect you from some of the men at this bar who could hurt you and the fact that his dick was starting to get hard everytime you shifted in his lap made him decide to stay with you, despite his better judgment. 

You could adjust your sitting position in such a way that your skirt would ride up, giving Leon more than a glimpse of your lace panties. It looked innocuous to the patrons around you, too. It was a sight made only for him. 

Leon tried to subtly pull your skirt back into place, without staring, and inform you about the wardrobe malfunction, but you just held your hands over his, one on each hip, making it even easier for you to grind your ass into him. At this point, Leon knew you were doing this on purpose, but he couldn’t help his natural reaction of physical arousal, which you’d noticed. 

“Do you wanna take this somewhere more private?” You whispered to him.

He wanted to decline, but he also felt uncomfortable being surrounded by all these drunk men at the bar while he was red in the face and rock-hard due to some teenage girl on his lap, so he said, “Okay. Where?”

You led the way to the restrooms in the back of the bar. 

You were 18 years old, and here you were, in the men’s bathroom of a dive bar pressed up against the stall door, hoping the clamor around you would hide the sounds you were making. Leon knew this was wrong. 

You’re way too young for him and doing it in a bar bathroom would normally be below him. He would be disgusted by the whole thing if he’d stopped drinking a few glasses ago and if your skirt wasn’t short enough for him to catch a glimpse of your pink lace thong. He was proud his dick still worked at his age and level of inebriation. The women’s room might’ve been cleaner but you weren’t going to wait in line, not because you cared about the embarrassment of walking in with a man but because you needed him immediately . 

His lips crashed into yours the moment he’d locked the stall door. You had one leg up around his hip, the other high heel on the tile. You held onto him while he kissed you feverishly to keep from swaying and to stop your knees from buckling at the feeling of his lips on your neck. He was sucking on your skin, carelessly, leaving marks while a thumb, wet with saliva pushed your panties to the side to play with your clit. Older men did it better; he could find the most sensitive parts of you without assistance.  

Leon’s breath was hot against your ear whispering “ shut the fuck up ” when you whimpered, feeling his fingers prod at your entrance. Your hands made their way down his body in search of his already throbbing cock. You popped the button on his jeans, yanked his zipper down and he did the rest. He wanted it fast, didn’t want you fumbling around trying to get his dick out. He found his wallet in his back pocket and pulled out a condom, ripping the wrapper with his teeth before sliding it on. Leon wasn’t trying to get anyone pregnant, let alone an 18 year old girl. 

At that point, his fingers were slick with your arousal, so despite his size, he could slip into you without any pain on your end. You still felt the stretch, but it felt good to be filled. 

“You’re so fucking tight,” he hissed through gritted teeth, “Wouldn’t be able to get my cock into you if you weren’t soaking wet for me”.

His crude words made you moan, cute little cries, which he covered up with his mouth pressed firmly against yours as he pounded into you. With forceful thrusts, he set an unforgiving pace, rattling the door hinges. Anyone who walked in would know exactly what was going on between the two of you. 

And they did. 

Whistles and cheers came from drunken men in the restroom. No one was perverted enough to try to peek through the slats or over the door to watch, but the humiliation was still there. Clearly, you were getting off on it. Leon could feel your pussy clench around him. He couldn’t care less about what other gross men in this bar thought of him, but any disrespect towards you pissed him off. When the word “whore” came out of some asshole’s mouth, Leon took one of his hands from your hip and held it up, sticking his middle finger over the stall.

He knew they were just jealous that he was getting lucky and they weren’t, but you were young and he didn’t want you to feel insecure about the whole thing. A part of him knew you’d probably regret it in the morning, and he was sure he would too, but he figured he shouldn’t add to the degradation

“Don’t listen to them,” he mumbled into your ear, “You’re a good girl.”

You blushed; the praise only made you more aroused. Leon took notice. 

“You’re doin’ so good for me, yeah? Takin’ me so well.”

Your top - if you could even call it that - was still on. Leon decided it shouldn’t be, so he slid the straps down your arms, and as suspected, revealed your bare chest. Just as he thought, you couldn’t fit a bra under that tiny piece of fabric. Leon cupped your breasts, squeezing lightly, then ran his thumbs across each nipple, making you gasp. You began to buck your hips up, trying to get more than he was giving you. He was holding back for your sake. He didn’t want to ruin you more than he already had.

But even with your thighs trembling, you were begging for him “harder” , “deeper”, “faster” , and he’d give you whatever you wanted because he needed to make you come. 

Each deliberate thrust hitting a particularly sensitive spot inside you was working in tandem with the hand he’d moved down to play with your clit, getting you closer and closer to your orgasm. 

The rhythm of Leon’s hips became more erratic, he was teetering on the edge and running on sheer desperation. If he knew one thing it was self-control, and you had to come first, he was going to make you. Looking at your head lolling with nothing behind your eyes as he fucked you dumb was making this the most difficult mission in his life. 

He didn’t have to hold back much longer, though, because with a pornographic moan, which was the only thing covering up the lewd sounds of slapping skin, you came hard. You clung to the fabric of his t-shirt while your inner walls spasmed uncontrollably. 

The sight was enough to make Leon come, working through his orgasm with slow rolls of his hips, his forehead pressed up against the metal door, so you could hear a groan escape his lips followed by heavy breathing. You were practically sobbing, mascara and tears painting your face. 

When Leon looked at you, taken by post-orgasm clarity, he cupped your cheeks and kissed your teary skin - something he wouldn’t normally think of doing in this situation, but you were so precious. He wished there was more he could give you. 

Once you’d assured him you were okay and that the tears were from overstimulation not pain, he insisted on calling you a cab to take you home. He’d remembered that his initial intention that night was to ensure that you didn’t do anything stupid while drunk. He’d already failed that mission, but he made sure you didn’t drink and drive. He called himself a cab as well because at his age, sex made him more tired than it used to. To his surprise, standing outside the bar in the cool spring air, you hugged him goodbye. He tried his hardest to reciprocate the tenderness you were giving him. 

“Goodbye, Mr. Kennedy,” you whispered before getting into the cab.

He smiled and gave you a nod, gazing at your post-sex, glowing face. One he wouldn’t get the chance to wake up next to. Taking you home would’ve been worse though, and he knew that.

The next morning, the hangover hit him with a headache and a fuckton of guilt. There wasn’t a way he could apologize to you, but he sure as hell wanted to. While brushing his teeth, spitting out the aftertaste of last night, he noticed ink on his skin, a number written in permanent marker on his forearm. He didn’t remember you doing this, but your first initial was marked next to the number to confirm his suspicions. It was you.

[paddockbunny]

Don’t Blame Me - Part 2

Summary : You had it bad. You had it so damn bad for a man that was not your boyfriend. And when you arrive in Brazil and find out all the drivers were staying in the same hotel…what happens when it’s suddenly all out there to you, on a plate? Rating : 18+ Pairing : Daniel Ricciardo x Reader ft Max Verstappen Word Count : Multi-part imagine - I have zero idea how long this will be but this part is just shy of 3,000 words Trigger Warnings : 18+, NSFW, adult language, fantasising having sex with someone who isn’t your boyfriend, slight cheating but not really, no strong warnings but it’s not intended for minors. And I know Max isn’t everyone’s thing so Max Verstappen warning too Images : curated from Pintrest Authors Note : there are flashbacks included in the following parts so will be denoted by *** then the time frame the next bit has taken place in x

As you exited the car you smoothed out your skirt and pulled your pass from your bag. You hadn’t planned on attending practice today but when Max shot you some puppy dog eyes you caved. The plan - which you had made in your head - was to get out some of the sexual frustration you were feeling because of Daniel (just from the sheer fact he existed) in the gym and then go to the spa and have someone work out all the knots and kinks in your muscles. But Max pouted and he knew he could win you over with his cute little pouty face. You cancelled your plans for him. You could have been more annoyed by it if he didn’t look so damn good today. And this was the worst part about this weird Daniel fantasy situation. You still very much fancied your boyfriend and you were very much in love with him. You just wished you could know what Daniel felt like and how it would feel to be fucked by him.

Max waited at his side of the car for you with his hand out for you to take. He knew you got nervous around crowds and fans here tended to get a little over zealous. There was nothing that Max wanted you to know more than the fact he was protective of you and wanted to feel safe with him. As you walked hand in hand through the security gates and into the paddock you were chased almost immediately by some fans and camera men. Max held on to you tightly. Not once letting go of your hand. He took some photos with fans from the side but kept up a quick steady pace so neither of you would get swamped.

The Red Bull garage was already a buzz with loud booming music by the time you arrived. In fact, everywhere was awash with excitement and anticipation. The weekend was set to be a thrilling one and as you both walked into RB hospitality you were suddenly very thankful that you had tagged along after all.

After a casual little sit down with Christian and Helmut (which you offered to leave for but they both motioned for you to stay) Max left to go get into his fireproofs and race suit while you remained at hospitality. You were fetching a coffee before heading over to wish him luck in FP1 like you always did when two of the PR girls saddles up beside you. The first race you ever came to Max had asked them to look after you and make sure nothing happened to you. Initially you didn’t want to be a fuss and pull them away from their duties but you actually got along really well and became fast friends. The memory of what you felt the week of your first race flooded back to you. The feeling of sheer panic that you would stick out like a sore thumb for not having a single clue to anyone was or what exactly happened during a race weekend. You tried to watch a few videos on YouTube to work out the basics but you couldn’t follow the rules, what tactics were, overcuts and undercuts and all the sheer amount of people each team needed. You want to bombard Max with questions about his job because you were worried he would get frustrated when he tried to explain it so you asked the girls that worked with the team. The fact they took you “under their wing” sort of say, meant the world to you. It was nice you had made friendships for yourself within the team, something which was so important to Max. Then naturally as you showed up more and more you began to get to know some of the other drivers girlfriends and (even though your shyness kept you reserved) you would chat to them too. You didn’t have anxiety over attending a GP anymore in that sense but because you knew it was inevitable you would see Daniel you were constantly on edge and full of jitters. No more so that right in that particular moment because as if on cue (and the Gods wanted to play a cruel trick on you) he came sauntering past. His race suit pulled down around his waist. Giving you the moment to enjoy taking in his impressive physic. His body was different to Max’s. Leaner. Less broad but none the less attractive. The white fireproofs did little to hide his well formed taunt ab’s underneath. Your mouth watered a little.

Then he went and did it. Wether he sensed you were staring at him or he actually knew you were you couldn’t be sure but he turned his head to look at you. His eyes locked with yours. Those two deep dark pools of coffee coloured orbs were staring right at you. For a brief moment a tiny smile danced upon your lips as you wondered if he liked being stared at or if he liked YOU staring at him. His head tilted slightly backward in a “hey” motion and you knew there was no way you weren’t blushing. Swallowing you felt how quick your heart was going in your chest as you tried to calm your racing mind. This was all his fault - your obsession with him. He started it all. He ignited the flame.

****

April ‘23

Azerbaijan

Fish out of water. That’s exactly what you were. Completely out of your element. It was your first time at a Grand Prix let alone in right there amongst all the action. You didn’t know anyone apart from Max and he was ridiculously busy and the videos you had watched online didn’t tell you what to do when you had VIP credentials dangling from your neck. It was funny to even look down at them in the first place. VIP at a Formula One race. Who would have thought? Certainly not you seeing as you had absolutely zero idea about any of it before you met Max. You giggled to yourself as you remembered the night you first met and asked him what he did for a job. Initially he looked stumped before he smugly replied with “I’m a driver” and, almost pulling the rug from under him you floored him as you quickly responded with; “like an Uber driver?” He recalled that it was the best response he could ever thought of and stated that was the moment he knew he was in trouble, he had fallen for you the very first night you met.

The thought of him swirled around as you decided to venture across the way and get yourself a coffee from hospitality. You walked into brilliant beautiful sunshine and utter chaos. There were people everywhere. Team members in different coloured outfits. Paddock (as you found out it was called) guests. Photographers. TV cameras and their crews everywhere. It was mental. You weren’t expecting this at all. You never realised it was such a big deal. You began to walk over toward the suite Max told you that you could help yourself to whatever you wanted in while he was gone. Attempting to dodge people as they seemed to walk en mass from left to right and right to left. All muddling in together. You were almost there. You had almost made it when BAM! Your side hit something rock hard. Whipping your head round you came face to face with a man wearing a similar outfit to Max’s.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry.” It must be someone important and you were freaking out. But as much as you were stressing you couldn’t tear your eyes away from his. It was like he was hypnotising you. They were so round, full of life and seemed to bore right down deep into your soul. “No problem,” he spoke with an accent “are you lost? Where are you trying to go?” Australian. Distinctly Australian. You watched as his lips parted and he smiled broadly at you. Each one of his dazzling white pearly teeth on full display in the largest smile you had ever seen. “Uh, just here actually, just grabbing a coffee.” Then it dawned on you that he must have been a bit of a big deal because there were a whole bunch of people beginning to crowd around you with caps and shirts with pens ready to thrust in front of him, just like Max had. He must have been a driver too. You glanced away but you saw him take you in. His eyes flickering down across your body - and your VIP lanyard. God, he was hot. Sure you had a boyfriend, a new relationship, but you could still admire a guy couldn’t you? Max wouldn’t care if you thought one of his fellow drivers was absolutely drop dead gorgeous. “Enjoy the rest of your day.” He said with a wink and as stupid and idiotic as it sounded, your heart skipped a literal beat. Fuck. He winked at you! He checked you out! If you were single you would have been done for.

You hadn’t quite expected to have enjoyed yourself so much during qualifying. Watching the timings and willing your man on was such a thrill. You were still learning about what the technical side of things were but you knew that Max being P2 out of 20 drivers was excellent. When he eventually came back to the garage you were still buzzing with excitement. If this was what it was like watching a race you were going to be buzzing. Max sought you out as soon as he finished talking to Helmut. His smile was broad and he kissed you before saying anything.

“That was amazing.” You couldn’t hold in your excitement any longer “It was ok, hopefully make it up tomorrow.” “Max,” you sighed, astonished “P2 is good. It great, phenomenal even.” He read how happy you were for him and how he had still done something amazing “I know my opinion counts for nothing because I don’t know what’s going on but…” he shook his head and stopped you immediately “You’re opinion mean everything to me.” If you could have swooned and melted into a puddle you would have. No guy had ever treated you like this before. As if you mattered so much to them. It was new to you that you didn’t feel disposable. Max’s words practically knocked the air right out of you because it was something you had always wanted to hear and an emotion you had always wanted to feel. “What happens now?” You ask as you gently caress his cheek. Max explained the next part of the day involved a few more press things and then he was free to leave. He offered for someone to take you back to the hotel so you didn’t have to wait on him but you swiftly refused. You didn’t mind waiting on him, in fact you wanted too.

It took a little over an hour til Max returned and was able to leave for the evening. You had been sitting in his drivers room, chilling, flicking through your phone when he arrived to collect you. As soon as he appeared you felt another rush of pride, amazement, love for him. While he collected his things you arose from the sofa and gently stepped in front of him, arms going around his neck.

“I didn’t really understand what you did, all of this.” Your hands motioned toward the room but you meant the whole racing thing. Max’s eyes were staring right at you as he continued smiling. You loved his icy teal blue eyes and the way they watched you so intently when you were talking to him. He always gave you his full attention. “But I do now and well, I’m a big fan.” You smiled broadly. “Well I better get you some of my merch to wear then.” He burst out laughing and you did too but then he kissed you and the moment went from being sweet to passionate. If someone hadn’t come along and knocked on the door to tell him the car was waiting you were sure you would have been bent over the massage table as he showed you what your words meant to him. But they did and you both gathered your things to go.

The pair of you were exiting the paddock the same way as you had entered this morning. Hand in hand. It had been a phenomenal day and you were thoroughly excited for the actual race and to cheer on your man. You almost came right out with it and tell him how you were ready to scream for him tomorrow but Max beat you to it by implying the little moment in his drivers room wasn’t enough and he couldn’t wait to get you back to the hotel. It made your stomach flip that you finally had a boyfriend that seemed as obsessed with you as you were with them. And the sex with Max was good. Great even. And what’s more it was frequent. It was all the time and it made you feel like the most desirable woman alive. As the thought of your boyfriend tearing off your clothes with burning hunger entered your head you heard Max’s name being called. You figured it must have been a fan wanting a picture or an autograph but when you turned your head the man saddled up on your left side. It was the same guy you had bumped into earlier before qualifying. His deep intense eyes once again linked on to yours making you feel like the air was being sucked out of your lungs.

“Did you hear that the two Haas’ have been disqualified for tomorrow? It’s just come in just now.” The man was speaking to Max but still looking at you. You could feel his eyes taking you in again. Max replied something about the floor under the car and something else about it being obvious. You wondered what he meant and made a mental note to ask him later. Then you accidentally squeezed his hand a little. You hadn’t intended too and did it completely without realising to which Max seemed to pick up on and take as a hint. “Sorry,” Max started as he slowed walking. He made introductions. Daniel. The hot Australian man you had met earlier and who had now flanked your side was called Daniel. That was all you heard. You zoned out before you could hear Max introduce you as his girlfriend or Daniel as his former team mate and friend. “We met earlier…” Daniel recalled as his hand stretched out toward you “You were getting coffee.” You thought it was amazing that he could recall you when there were so many people earlier in the paddock. He must have been introduced and paraded in front of a lot of people just like Max had been. You probably insulted him by banging into him. By not watching where you were walking. “Oh yeah,” you tried to play it cool but you were sure your hand felt like it was burning as it slid into his “I’m so sorry about not watching where I was going.” You apologised again because you didn't want him to think you were rude. With his hand still gripping yours you glanced at Max and informed him that you accidentally walked into him, Daniel, when you were trying to make it through the hectic, crowded paddock to get to hospitality for a coffee. “I didn’t realise you were,” He seemed to pause “Max’s girlfriend.” His hand left yours in that moment and you thought you saw a small whisper of a frown appear on his otherwise smooth forehead. The words seemed more staccato as they left his lips - his full, pouty, kissable lips. And there was no reason to feel deflated but right then you did. It was weird. “Lucky me, right?” Max’s loud laugh interrupted the bizarre staring contest you had been locked in with this fellow racing driver. A shiver almost cast down upon your body as you looked at him. You couldn’t even describe what it was you were feeling but you were feeling something.

“Yeah.” You heard the murmured word leave Daniel’s mouth under his breath but his eyes dropped (finally) from yours and he looked around him “Listen mate, I’ve got to go…” It sounded like an excuse. He looked like he was heading in the same direction as the pair of you were. Max reached past you and gave Daniel’s knuckles a grazing tap as he said he would see him tomorrow, race day. “It was nice meeting you.” You piped up because you weren’t sure he would acknowledge you again. Guys did that, they didn’t always pay attention to the girlfriends. But you didn’t want to seem rude - you had already been when you banged into him earlier. “Nice to meet you too.” Daniel replied with nothing but a fleeting glance. It irked you because up until the moment that Max had explained who you were he had been staring at you so intently you felt like his next meal. He then seemed to hurry away in a different direction as you and Max approached the security gate before the cars. For a first introduction it you couldn’t be confident it had gone well and for some strange reason you felt deflated. You wanted Max’s friends and colleagues to like you, it was important to you that they did. It was important to you that Daniel liked you.

****

“God he’s so hot.” Chrissy, one of your befriended PR girls said from beside you. You knew she was referring to Daniel because you had just been thinking the same thing. “If he ends up coming back to Red Bull, then Christ, it’s going to be a tough job for whoever has to look after him.” Daisy agreed from the other side of you. It was actually nice that you weren’t alone in your thoughts about him but you felt a little annoyed with how they were talking about him. You weren’t stupid. You knew it was because you were jealous. Jealous they had more of a chance with him than you did. “Ready? You’ll want to see Max, wish him luck.” Chrissy snapped you out of your daze.

“Max. Right.” The man you loved - but also the man that stood in the way from acting upon your lust for the man that set your mind ablaze with sexual fantasies.

Part 3 Here

[myseungsunglove]

Love without words | Ksm

Pairing: Seungmin x Reader

Warnings: angst, smut, fluff (specific warnings under the cut)

Word Count: 2.6k

𖠫Summary: There is nothing quite like a night with Seungmin to erase all need for words between you.

✎A/N✎: I hadn’t really intended to pair this concept with Seungmin’s accident, but it seemed a good entry into a more intimate moment. There isn’t really any talk or speculation about the accident itself, just the minor aftermath of emotions that lead to the reader comforting Seungmin on his birthday. Just a soft series of moments that lead to a healing experience for both of them. Please understand this in no way reflects any actual events, obviously. Just felt like I needed to mention that in case anyone gets any ideas.

This is probably one of my favorite pieces I have ever written. So I really hope you guys enjoy it.

◠ ◡ ◠᭚ιαᵕ̈

「© October 13, 2023 by mysweethannie」

✘MDNI✘

smut warnings: unprotected sex, soft & intimate

Generally speaking, you aren’t a particularly loud person. So it came as no surprise to Seungmin that when you reach high levels of pleasure with him, all words escape you. You aren’t really one to scream out in ecstasy either. Instead, it’s like someone has stolen away your ability to utter a sound. You are reduced to breathy sighs and airy whispers that vaguely sound like Seungmin’s name. Not to say that Seungmin can’t make you vocal, but during the more intimate moments and less dominating encounters, quiet passion is your default. Your mind, body, and soul seem to melt into Seungmin. You feel as though you quite literally become one. Every touch and movement of your bodies, no matter how big or small, are all you need to express your deepest feelings for each other.

Seungmin is much like you in that regard. He isn’t all that vocal during your most intimate moments either. The two of you are so much alike in some ways it seems unreal at times. In matters of the bedroom, the two of you are generally much more quiet than a “normal” couple which makes for some really intense moments shared between you.

Tonight is going to be one of those nights.

It is Seungmin’s birthday. He was recently in a minor accident that left him with muscle soreness and a few scrapes and bruises, but no major injuries. Even without major injuries, doctors insisted that he cancel his schedule for the upcoming week and rest to practice the utmost precaution. This means no New York and no birthday celebration with STAYs. You had planned an elaborate evening in New York to celebrate his birthday outside of his schedule for the festival. To say that he was disappointed to be sidelined for his birthday weekend would be a major understatement.

“You could have gone with them,” he laments, his voice low and pouty as he stares out the window. It is a gloomy, rainy day which fits the somber mood. Seungmin is tucked into himself on the couch, his knees up close to his chest, a soft wool blanket draped over his legs, bundled up in an oversized navy blue hoodie and clasping a cup of tea with both hands.

“Seung,” you sigh from your place in the kitchen, as you clean up the birthday breakfast you surprised him with. “I wouldn’t have left you on your birthday, no matter how much you insist that you’re okay,” you say, wiping your hands with a dish towel and folding it back properly to lay it over the handle of the oven door. You turn and face him to see he is still looking out the window.

“You may be physically okay,” you hedge, your face revealing you aren’t entirely sure of that statement. He had slept nearly 15 hours the night after the accident and that was after he had slept most of the day that followed the accident as well. So despite his insistence that he was fine, his body seemed to have a different opinion than his brain.

You reach out and grab his chin, slowly turning his gaze up to you.

“But I know you are devastated that you aren’t in New York,” you tell him, your words soft and your eyes caring as you meet his gaze.

“Please don’t pity me, jagia,” he grumbles, trying to pull away from you, his jaw set in frustration, his eyes determined.

You step onto the couch then, your legs crossing in front of you as you sit down in front of Seungmin, one of his legs moving to dangle off the edge of the couch. This leaves room for you to lean into his space and grab both sides of his face with your small, delicate hands and slowly pull his lips to yours.

He groans softly against your mouth. It’s only when he grunts briefly, the sound a little different than usual, that you realize you have partially sat on his leg, which he had felt the most soreness in since the accident.

“Oh my god,” you gasp, pulling away from the kiss. “I’m so sorry, babe,” you say in panic as you move to scramble off of his leg. At some point, Seungmin had set down his tea and his hands were gripping your waist. He held you in place, not allowing you to get away from him. When you look at his face, his eyes are closed and he is gently shaking his head.

“Stay,” he breathes, and if you hadn’t seen his lips move, you may not have heard the next word. “Please.”

“Seungmin,” you whisper, your hands finding purchase in his black hair, your fingers dancing along the nape of his neck as your lips crash together once more. This kiss is more desperate and full of longing as he moves to hover over you, breaking the kiss momentarily as you fall onto the couch, your back resting against the soft cushions, Seungmin’s large hands still firmly planted on your hips, but slowly moving up your torso as he kisses you.

Once settled, he pulls away and looks into your eyes, his walnut colored boba eyes round and dark with desire.

“Happy Birthday, Seungie,” you smile up at him, grasping the bottom of your shirt and pulling it over your head, to reveal your bare chest to him. Without a word, he scrambles off the couch, grabbing your hand and pulling you to a standing position. You don’t have to ask where you are going as he drags you out of the living room.

He leads you down the hallway and into your shared bedroom. Once you cross the threshold of the room, he pulls you ahead of him and guides you to the foot of the bed. The back of your knees hit the mattress at the same moment Seungmin’s lips find yours again, his tongue tangling with yours, eliciting a soft sigh that is expressed more through the rise and fall of your chest than an audible sound.

You grapple with the hem of his hoodie, pulling it and the t-shirt beneath it over his head as he lifts his arms with a small groan, your lips forced to part from his momentarily.

You kiss him quickly and then bend over to rid yourself of your shorts. As you stand, your eyes meet his and he blinks slowly, his eyes roving your body like it is the first time he has ever seen you naked. His pale, broad chest rises slightly with a sigh, his tongue darting out between his lips as he drinks you in.

You move then, crawling onto the bed and coming to rest on the mountain of pillows piled against the headboard, resting on your elbows as you watch him. Seungmin sheds his sweatpants and crawls onto the bed to join you, his body coming to rest on top of yours. He fits perfectly between your legs.

You cradle his face again, looking into his eyes. He holds your gaze long enough for you to know that no words are needed. He needs comfort and right now you need him. You will give him anything in the world to take away the sadness in his eyes. He bends down to kiss you slowly, your chests pressed together and he can’t help but cant his hips against yours as your tongue slips into his mouth, tasting every corner it touches.

Your hands wrap around to the back of his head, your fingers dancing along the now longer strands of hair that are there. His lips leave yours and start a trail along your jaw and down your neck as his now fully hard cock slides through your wet folds. Your hips buck up to meet his movements, your mouth hanging open as you breathe heavily, a reaction to the movement of his lips and hips.

Just when you think you can’t take his teasing anymore, Seungmin retreats from his attention to your neck and grabs his dick in hand, lining it up with your entrance. His eyes watch intently as the thick head of his cock breeches you, your body arching in response, a desperate attempt to draw him deeper into you.

He leans into you, getting the hint that comes without words that you need him. His lips meet yours as he pushes all the way into you, the sweet stretch of his long, hard member pulling a quiet, desperate sigh from your lungs, the smallest hint of a moan present but barely perceptible as his hips finally meet your pelvis. He doesn’t move for what feels like minutes as he kisses you, long and hard, his tongue exploring every inch of your mouth.

It’s not until you bite his bottom lip at the same moment that your hips buck into his, that he realizes he hasn’t moved. He slowly pulls out of you and slides back in with ease, your body following the rhythm he sets. You move slowly like that for a time, the tip of his cock reaching that spongey pleasure spot inside of you as you wrap your legs around his waist to pull him impossibly closer to you.

His hands drift up from your waist and fully encompass your breast as he leans back and pulls his hips away from yours and quickly snaps them back. You can feel his heavy balls slapping against your ass as his movements quicken.

Wanting to take care of Seungmin, you press your hands against his chest that is now glistening with sweat, and push him back so that your positions are switched. He slips out of you, but you are quick to scramble back on top of him, grabbing his cock and lining it back up with you and sliding down onto it, until he is fully inside you once more. Your hands rest on his chest as you take a deep breath. Seungmin’s long fingers are digging into your thighs, his eyes shut tight, his lips closed tightly as he forces himself to breathe through his nose.

You move then, your hips rocking against his, your clit rubbing against his pelvis as his cock moves against your walls. His hands dance up your sides, sending shivers down your spine and causing goosebumps to break out across your skin. You’re hot and cold all at the same time. Both of his large hands grasp your breasts and you lay your small hands on top of his, encouraging his movements as your fingers interlace with his, kneading your soft, ample breasts together.

“Y/n,” Seungmin whispers.

The sensation of his hands on your body and the whisper of your name on his lips causes you to be filled with need. You begin bouncing on his cock, the smack of skin the only sound to be heard in the otherwise quiet room. If you listen closely, you can hear the rain pelting against the window outside.

You feel that familiar coil start to tighten in your gut, your movements becoming more desperate and you clench hard around Seungmin’s cock as you chase your high. No words are necessary for him to understand that you are close so he sits up, his arms sliding around your waist and up your back, pressing your chests firmly together as you ride him fast and hard.

He kisses you fiercely and lifts you at the same moment, your back once again on the bed as he moves relentlessly inside you. Suddenly you aren’t the only one chasing that sweet release.

His hips meet yours with punctuated precision, the need to feel even closer to you growing by the second.

“Seungmin,” you whisper, the quiet signal that you’re close to letting go.

His eyes meet yours and his hips slow, languid and purposeful as he dips down to connect his lips to yours. His tongue slides against yours and that is all it takes for you to explode around him, your walls fluttering frantically and your legs spasming uncontrollably. A small gasp escapes you, your head falling against the pillow, your mouth hung open in a silent cry of pleasure. Seungmin works you through your release, watching you intently as you gasp for air. As your walls’ euphoric contractions dissipate, Seungmin finds his release, burying his face in the dip of your neck, his teeth nipping lightly as he spills into you.

This action prolongs your dissipating orgasim, your hands finding purchase in Seungmin’s soft locks as your bodies quake together.

Seungmin slumps against you, spent. The energy of your releases now gone, your chests both heave against each other, your heavy breathing the only sound to be heard for several long minutes.

As your heart rates slow, Seungmin’s lip travel along the column of your neck and up along your chin. You moan weakly at his feather light kisses before his lips find their home against yours. You smile against his mouth as you hold his face to yours.

“I love you so damn much,” he mumbles against your lips. He slips out of you slowly, earning a whine from you at both the loss of contact and the loss of him. You reach out to him with grabby hands, beckoning him to return to you.

He smiles at you fondly, chuckling quietly. He reaches out and grabs one of your hands, pulling you up and to the edge of the bed.

“Shower first, then cuddle.”

You spring into action and move together to the bathroom to clean up. You're hot and sticky with sweat, so a shower is a pretty wise decision.

With the goal of cuddling in mind, it doesn’t take long to clean up, eager to climb back in bed with Seungmin.

After you dry off, you drop the soft towel and lift the comforter crawling underneath its warmth, closing it quickly and snuggling in. Seungmin takes your towels into the bathroom to hang, and returns naked, a soft sigh leaving your body at the magnificent sight of him. He too lifts the comforter, climbing in after you, his arms wrapping around your waist and pulling your back in close against his body.

“I love you, you know,” you say, turning your face so that you can see his eyes.

“I know,” he says with a slow blink and a small smile.

You turn in his arms and kiss him slowly.

“Happy Birthday, Seungie,” you whisper against his lips. “There is nowhere I’d rather be than here with you.”

He hugs you tighter and kisses your temple softly.

“Me too, love.”

He snuggles into you and you both fall asleep this way, thoughts of the accident and the New York trip the farthest things from your love drunk minds.

It doesn’t matter where you are with Kim Seungmin, as long as you are together, all you’ll ever need is him.

[bones4thecats]

The Gamma-Brothers Sharing Their S/O

Characters: Gamma 1 and Gamma 2 (POLY) Inspired By: My love for these two dumbos A/N: This turned out a lot angstier than intended in the middle, but it does end softly so be happy for that. Anyways, sorry this took longer to come out, been working on a lot of new projects irl. Now, enjoy this beautiful thing with my android besties <3 ⚠️ Spoilers/Trigger Warnings for: Mentions of bombings, death, and being in a traumatic event involving a tall building ⚠️

Disclaimer: This is what I used as the Reader's cape and outfit

╔══════════════════════════════════════════╗

╚═════ Gamma 1 and Gamma 2 ════════════════════╝

🦈🐳 The Yin to the Yang of siblings. You are no doubt the line that separated the two from becoming the same, appreciating their differences despite the disdain of it from not just Commander Magenta and his right-hand, Carmine

🦈🐳 You, as a Bio-Android created by Dr. Hedo, were made to save everyone and defeat all those that opposed justice. Though, you were more lower when it came to strength than the Gammas, but that didn't mean you were weak

🦈🐳 Gamma 1 and 2 did a lot to keep you up to date with their fighting styles and moved. Constantly asking to spar or to make sure your frame was easy to move so you wouldn't glitch in the middle of a fight

🦈 Gamma 1 adores to sit somewhere quiet and just be beside you. He prefers the more one-on-one time with you, believing memories were far more important than any kind of 'in-the-moment entertainment'

🐳 Gamma 2 on the other hand... enjoys pretty much everything the opposite of his brother. He loves to grab your hand, fly with you around the city and mess around until getting called in for a mission that involved danger for the civilians

🦈🐳 It was during one of those calmer moments with the duo that you three were beeped by Dr. Hedo for an accident happening just a few streets away. You stood, your cape draping behind you as you stood up and got ready to fly off

🦈 Gamma 1 looked at you and nodded, pushing himself off the ground with his brother and you following suite. He was slightly annoyed that an accident happened during your time relaxing, but... who is he to dismiss such an important thing?

🐳 His brother was a different story once again. Gamma 2 had a slightly pouty expression on his face as you flew. You just sighed and landed on the ground with the boys, readying yourself for anything that you faced

🦈🐳 A woman ran outside of a building, charging at you three with a panicked expression. You caught her just before she fell and you asked what was going on inside of the building standing tall

"Something happened in the medical lab! There was a- uh- box! It blew up or something! You have to get up there and save the others, please! My son's up there!"

"What floor did the main explosion come from, ma'am?" Gamma 1 asked.

"Floor 19! Please! Help him!"

🦈🐳 You handed the woman to the nearest medics before getting a plan with the Gammas and flying inside of the building to search for any survivors from the wreckage

🦈🐳 Gamma 2 took the highest floors, those being 23 to 35, Gamma 1 took the lowest, 17 to the first, and you took the middle of 18 till you reached 22

🦈🐳 The smoke was massive, and the amount of damage caused from the apparent explosion was surprising. Well, as surprising as it could be for you

🦈🐳 Grabbing the nearest structure as you walked through everything, you heard a group of people screaming from around the corner. You sprinted as fast as you could go without causing anymore damage accidentally before coming to a closed-off door

🦈🐳 Picking up piece by piece of the surrounding debris, you eventually reached the door. Opening it, you saw four people bending themselves to fit inside of the office filled with more damage than the other rooms you had come across

🦈🐳 Comming the Gammas, you noticed a young girl gripping for dear life onto her mother's blouse. You slightly twitched, having a small flashback to everything before now... when you actually had some kind of innocence, and you snapped

"You two better hurry up! We've got four civilians, including one young girl, approximately 7 years old. We're on floor 22 right now."

🦈🐳 Kneeling down as you heard the surroundings crack under pressure, you looked into the little girl's eyes, making her sniff and hug her mother tighter

"Don't worry, sweetheart. I'm a good guy, here to help you all out of here as fast and carefully as possible." You said, holding you hand out for her to touch gently.

"L-like a superhero?" She asked.

"Just like it."

🦈🐳 The girl gave a small smile before gasping at the sight of a pillar falling down in your direction. In a fit of anger, you bunched your hand up in a fist, you looked back and smashed it, successfully keeping the more damaging pieces away from the civilians behind you

"Y/N! You in there?" You heard Gamma 2 scream.

"Yeah! Come on! I don't think this building's gonna last that much longer!"

🦈🐳 The two other Androids came in your view, picking up two civilians each. You grabbed the young girl, shielding her with your arm as you burst out from the floor and down to the ground, handing off the girl to another medic before hearing the woman from earlier screaming for her son

🦈🐳 Sighing, you looked at the Gammas, and they looked at one another sadly. They must've found the boy deceased... how unfortunate for the woman...

"Ma'am, may I speak with you?" You asked as the woman looked at you with hope.

🦈🐳 That night, you held your boyfriends close to you. They listened as you sobbed for hours on end. The explosion had cost the city thousands of dollars of damages, but more importantly, they lost over 50 lives, including the son of that woman you met at the scene

🦈 Gamma 1 laid with his back against the head of the bed, your face buried into his chest as you cried, yelling about how you could've done something, that if you had only gotten there faster... He just sighed sadly and pet your head, trying to keep you from breaking down even farther. He may be made of metal, but you were his soft spot

🐳 Gamma 2 had his face on your chest, hushing you as he kept you covered and cuddled to the best of his abilities. He took his cape off and laid it on your like a blanket in an attempt to keep you calm like his brother. You eventually calmed down with him telling you a story from his early years and him learning about the human body's weak spots

🦈🐳 The brothers smiled as you rested, powering down to recharge. Gamma 1 looked at Gamma 2, raising his finger to his mouth to shush him. Gamma 2 just nodded and cuddled into you, powering down himself, following a couple minutes later by the oldest of you three

🦈🐳 You three may be heroes, but you had your own weaknesses like any other being. Gamma 1 and 2 just so happened to be able to keep you safe so those weaknesses couldn't harm you all that much

[breezybangtanbebe]

Heaven: Changkyun❤️‍🔥

Tags: Monsta X's IM x Reader, long-distance relationship, lazy morning sex, kinda fluffy then kinda nasty, pussy eating..something short and sweet. :)

2.7k words

24 hours.

That was all the time you had with him and he had already wasted a third of it in bed.

The Miami humidity was less offensive from inside the luxury suite. Oceanview balconies welcomed in the breeze that morning as you lay tangled in sheets as white as the sands with your long-distance lover.

Changkyun was..busy, to say the least.

Promotions. Rehearsals. Fittings. Video shoots. Interviews. Fan meets. Group studio sessions. Solo studio sessions. Performances.

With all he and his group members had scheduled, it was out of sheer luck his managers granted the guys one full day of rest before they got to work on promoting their two new albums internationally.

Though being back in the states after such a long time seemed like a vacation, the young rapper had his fill of obligations and you couldn't bring yourself to be upset with him for choosing the first several hours of his rest day with you to be spent sleeping.

Ok, maybe you were a little mad.

Slightly pouty at best. But not at him, only at time and the lack thereof.

He deserved the rest after all.

It was barely noon and the room service you'd ordered for breakfast was surely cold when your boyfriend opened his eyes. You're seated upright in the large bed with the TV remote in hand, channel surfing in silence.

You were freshly showered, smelling like warm sugar and decadently scented body butter, shaved and exfoliated, and primed for a day of making up for the lost time. Considering how tired Changkyun was last night when he and his group members touched down in Florida, you didn't expect him to be actively intimate with you when you went to bed.

When you awoke that next morning, inhaling his warm masculine scent with your face nuzzled in his neck, you didn't mind the stillness or silence. After being separated for so long, it felt like heaven to finally be in his arms.

You were happy to be pressed against him with his leg slotted between yours, causing a teasing friction every time one of you stirred.

He felt so good. His skin was smooth and soft, contrasting his muscles that were firm and toned beneath it.

"G'mornin" Changkyun croaks from beside you, not even lifting his head as he pulled himself from his slumber.

You glance over to find him still smushed against the fluffed pillow with his jet black hair fanning over half of his face. All you can see are his dark pink sleep swollen lips as they moved.

"I smell peaches..." were his next words and you chuckle breathily as you shook your head.

"Good morning." You smirk, resuming your attention to the television only to turn it off. You weren't watching it anyway and you preferred to take advantage of the opportunity to talk. Changkyun groans tiredly as he rolls over on his back, running the palms of his large hands over his face.

"Fuck......how long have I been out?" he grimaced tiredly, leaving only one eye open to adjust to the daylight. You looked over at him fondly for a beat before responding.

"A while." is all you say, sounding much more resentful than you intended. Changkyun tenses at your tone and turns his head towards you with a lazy frown.

"Uh oh...You're mad," he states and you mirror his frown, shaking your head adamantly.

You watched Changkyun rise up from the pillows, shaking his bed head out until his long mane of black silk was falling over his perfect head in the sexiest way. His spine was curved as he sat up, making the lumps of his abs and chest protrude attractively.

Damn...

"No. Why would I be mad?" you respond distractedly.

"Because.......I fell asleep." Changkyun pauses to stretch his arms over his head midsentence.

"You came here straight from the airport babe...after an 18-hour flight." you point out, now leaning against the headboard and shamelessly admiring his body as he woke himself up fully.

After rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck, Changkyun lets out a strained sigh before plopping back against his pillow again. You smirk at how he did all of that for nothing.

"And you're obviously still tired so..." you trail off, not even wanting to finish your sentence since it would add insult to injury.

"Nope! I'm up...I'm up... Tired or not, we only have half a day left together.." Changkyun groans tiredly, his words muffled slightly as he rubbed his hands over his face again in an attempt to wipe the sleepiness away. 

"Not really. I mean I'll be here for as long as you all are in Miami." you shrug and Changkyun wrinkles his nose in disagreement.

"Yeah but then I'll be too busy or too tired to spend time with you. It'll be more nights like last night. Coming in late and going to bed soon after." he almost whines. The guilt and regret in his tone are enough to make you feel like a turd for showing any signs of disappointment.

He really was working hard and the distance wasn't just hard on you. He missed you too and when this opportunity for you to be together came about, he was more excited than you to board that flight.

"Hey.....I knew what I signed up for. I'll be here for as long as you are. If that means the bulk of our alone time is to be spent in bed, laying together, I'm ok with that." you shrug, actually believing what you were saying for once.

Changkyun squints at you incredulously.

"You sure?"

You nod at him with a soft smirk.

"It can deal with it. One of the few of cons being with you."

At that, Changkyun's eyes widen in offense and amusement.

"Cons??? ....with an 's'? As in plural? More than one?" he asks, his tone climbing with each question. You laughed at his expression and roll your eyes as you moved to get up from the bed.

"Oooh, yea. You think being IM's secret lil girlfriend is a walk in the park?" you toss over your shoulder on your way across the suite. Changkyun sits up just enough to watch your thickly toned legs move as you walked, keying in on the way the shirt you wore barely concealed your ass cheeks beneath it.

"I mean. Not really but..." he murmurs, trailing off and tilting his head to get a different view of your curvaceous body.  From up close and under the covers, Changkyun hadn't realized you were basically naked underneath that loosely fit shirt. Well, his loosely fit shirt. One of the many you'd sifted through from his luggage. It was always comforting to have his scent on your skin, even when he was laying next to you.

Knowing now that you were naked made any trace of jet lag or fatigue fade, waking up other parts of him as he watched you venture across the room in the direction of the outlet where your phone was charging.

Your nudity is further confirmed when you bend over thoughtlessly to pick it up, exposing your naked ass and the slit of your lips to him for only a second. As you stand and turn to the side, the shape of your full breasts and nipples poke through the thin fabric, and Changkyun stares shamelessly as you checked for any missed notifications.

God, he loved your body.

Dreamt of it almost every moment he wasn't with you in Korea.

Spent countless nights envisioning it as he stroked himself repeatedly, calling your name as he came in his hand, and doing his best to ignore the heartache he felt once the haze faded.

But now, you weren't just a beautiful part of his imagination.

You were here.

A few seconds pass and you were making your way back to join Changkyun in bed, mindlessly texting away in response to your friends that had been checking in with you since landing in Miami. As you resumed your spot beside him, Changkyun watched you settle back against the pillows with your phone still in hand. He drags his bottom lip between his teeth while you sent your final text, setting the phone aside on the nearby dresser.

You felt his eyes on you immediately and glance over with a smirk.

"What?" you perk your brow. For a moment Changkyun doesn't respond, only dragging his heated gaze over your body appreciatively. His mouth shrugs innocently before laying his head back down against his pillow.

"Oh, nothing...Hey, why is it that every time you move...I suddenly have the strongest craving for peaches....." he asks randomly.  You grunt softly in amusement at his question and shake your head.

"You probably just smell me. I took a long shower before you woke up..." you shrug nonchalantly, not expecting Changkyun's interest to be peaked by the small fact.

"Foreal?..come here?"

Without warning, Changkyun reaches out to pull you towards him by the neck. He nuzzles you playfully while inhaling the sweet scent of your clean skin, making you giggle and push back against him.

"Now you know I'm ticklish..." you complain lightly while trying to escape his hold, only encouraging Changkyun to pull you into him tighter and chuckle mischievously against your skin.

His lips were pillow soft on your neck, the tip of his nose brushing just beneath your jawline as he inhaled the soft peaches and cream scent. His new favorite smell on you next to his. His hands held the fabric of his shirt firmly, trapping you against his body as he kissed up and over your jaw until his lips were on yours.

He tasted surprisingly fresh despite having woken up a few minutes ago and you allowed yourself to melt into him with every luscious peck. He sucks at your bottom lip before taking it between his teeth, making you moan at the sting.

He releases it to resume the languid dance between your tongues, sighing in contentment as his hands snuck beneath the shirt covering your body. The moment he touches your bare skin, you flinch in reaction to the chills they inspired as if electricity flowed through his fingers.

He squeezes your hip and allows his grip to travel lower to cup your ass cheek, pushing the shirt higher from your body.

"Take it off.." he whispers against your lips and you immediately comply, pulling away so that you could pull the loose shirt over your head. The moment it's gone, Changkyun's mouth is on you again. Starting at your lips, he pecks them softly before returning to your neck. His hands glided up your waist as he moved to guide you back against the mattress.

You allow him to dominate you gently, sinking into the pillows and opening your legs as he settled between them. The weight of his body is comforting and your hands stroke the skin of his back as his lips traveled downward.

The middle of your throat.

The center of your chest.

Over your left nipple briefly. Then to the right.

As he sucked the pebbled flesh into his mouth, you grind your body against that stiffness in his underwear. He was hard and thicker than you remembered if that were even possible.

You angled your hips in a way that makes the fabric between your bodies seem thinner than air and Changkyun groans with your nipple still caught between his lips. He pulls away to flick his tongue over it a few more times before abandoning it to attend to the annoying shred of clothing blocking him.

He settles between your legs and takes a moment to admire you beneath him. You blush under his gaze, feeling it hover over the swelling pink flesh between your legs.

He wastes no time in scooting down to push them back and smother the heat thar gathered with his mouth and tongue. You gasp on contact, eyes already rolling back at the feeling of Changkyun's tongue sliding sinuous flat licks over your folds.

The warmth of his opened mouth kisses on your clit has you moaning softly to the ceiling and Changkyun digs his fingers into the meat of your thighs as he ate.

His deft tongue plunges inside of you while his thumb rubs rhythmically over your clit, just the way he remembered you loved it. His eyes are on you, watching you bite your lip and screw your eyes shut with the struggle of holding on.

Suddenly, your fuse is blown and in an explosion of colorful language, you came all over Changkyun's waiting tongue. He presses his thumb against the hood of your clit while your walls twitched and pulsed around him, savoring the taste of your climax with a satisfied groan.

You were still panting when he pulled his mouth away from your pussy and the mattress bounces slightly as he sat up on his knees.

The print beneath his shorts was prominent as fuck and Changkyun hurriedly frees himself from its captivity. Your eyes immediately fall on his dick as he pushed his black Balenciaga boxer briefs down his toned thighs.

He's already got you wet and wanting him, legs still spread wide to accommodate his body.

There's an unspoken plea between the two of you and Changkyun responds to it by grasping your thighs and pulling you towards him over the sheets. In the same movement, the tip of his dick slides past your entrance and stretches you well until you're pressed firmly against his pelvis.

From here, he goes in. Mindlessly fucking you like there's no tomorrow. As if all of his frustrations from being away from you, having to love you from a distance, wishing he could be inside of you every night, were all being channeled through him.

Boosting his stamina.

Feeding his need to make you call his name.

Which you did. Over and over as he drove your body back up to the head of the bed.

You felt so good. Warm and wet. Tight and welcoming. It was like you were made for him and the distance hadn't affected a thing. Muscle memory molded you around his thick shaft and you took every inch of him like you were designed to do. His forehead was pressed against yours, noses touching and mouths agape as his rhythm hastened. Your walls were clenching at his pressure hungrily and your voice was reduced to barely audible yelps.

Your body trembled endlessly as you reached your climax and Changkyun smiled wolfishly against your parted lips.

"Yep, that's it. Gimme that shit, baby. Let it go.." he coaxed and praised you through the mind-numbing orgasm he rewarded you with. He continues pounding into you until tears pooled from your eyes and you weren't sure if you'd cum again from the sheer overstimulation.

All you knew was that everything he did, every move and rasped word he spoke, he was pushing you higher than you ever thought you could go.

Holding you close, Changkyun rolled his hips into you feverishly until he was stalling out. An unbearably sexy groan escapes his lips when he came deep inside of you and you took every drop of him with pleasure, squeezing him as he stroked you to his completion.

"Fuuuuck, I missed you...I missed you so much.." his husky deep voice whispers lovingly in your ear and you moan softly in response as he pressed himself deep inside of you for emphasis.

"I love you...fuck, I love you..." he continued, his voice almost breaking with the known profession. As he comes down with his face buried in your neck, Changkyun plants a series of lazy wet kisses over your sweat-coated skin.

When his teeth graze that same ticklish spot, you giggle and shy away from him. He grumbles in protest but promptly ceases his tease to rest his head on the pillow you shared.

He remains inside of you, his body weight nearly smothering you. But you didn't care.

Because being with him in any way felt like heaven.

And you were happy to die...

*sigh* hes so FFFFFFFFFOYNE

[rainbowmoonstonestories]

He watched you from afar as you moved about the kitchen, gathering the mugs and dishes together from the table. Your voice echoed in the room, distant but clear, and your melodic laugh brought a tiny smile to his pouty expression. The nebula followed your movements, highlighting your contours whenever you stopped and occasionally turning towards him - Matthew - to let him catch a glimpse of the mundane yet stunning display.

Morpheus couldn't help but feel a sense of longing as he watched you, and for a moment, he forgot about the responsibilities that came with his position. He wanted nothing more than to be by your side, to see your smile up close and to hear your laughter fill the air.

"My Lord," Lucienne called for Morpheus' attention as she entered the room.

"What is it, Lucienne?" He asked, turning to the librarian.

"It is about the woman, sir. The human you are watching."

"What about her?"

He could spot the hesitation in her eyes. "There is something you should know. Something I haven't told you before."

Morpheus felt the uneasiness forming in his stomach. "Go on,” he urged her.

Lucienne raised her hands and gestured as she spoke. "She was here. I found her in this room not long ago, when you were still imprisoned."

"What?" Morpheus exclaimed in shock. "How is that possible?”

"I do not know, my Lord," Lucienne replied, looking troubled. "But I saw her with my own eyes. She was standing right where you are now.”

Morpheus felt a chill run down his spine. He already knew that you had established a sudden connection with his realm as you struggled to remember the things you had witnessed in your newly discovered dreams. But how could you even reach his castle uninvited, with the Dreaming completely torn apart without his lead?

"I must warn you. There is something about her that seems... different.”

"Different?" Morpheus repeated, his curiosity piqued. "How?"

"I am not sure, sir," Lucienne admitted. "But her presence here felt almost otherworldly. Not dangerously so, just unlike any other human I have ever seen in this realm."

Morpheus fell silent, lost in thought. He shifted his gaze back to your image in the galaxy and couldn't shake the feeling that there was indeed more to you than met the eye.

It seemed like he had found something out of the ordinary indeed, and that something was you; an intricate mystery that he intended to resolve.

______________________________________________________________

Snippet from Chapter 7 :>

[fanartandfanfiction]

@callmehopeless posted a prompt

about the hogwarts legacy boys getting down and dirty outside. I chose the Garreth prompt because I loooove him. I've been in a Garreth mood lately. Anyway, here's what I came up with.

18+ CONTENT WARNING, SEXUAL CONTENT

Garreth was nearly done with his potion when he heard a knock on his door. He looked up as Leander and Harper came in. 

“Garreth. I thought we discussed brewing potions in our dorm room.” Leander said with a sigh. 

“Where else am I supposed to experiment? Sharp said I’m not allowed to use his classroom after hours anymore after last time.”

“Can you blame him? You shot fire out of your mouth like a dragon and caught his jacket on fire.” Harper said as she sat on his bed. 

“What are you guys doing here?” Garreth asked as he prepared his last ingredients.”

“Numb nuts here forgot his textbook. I came to see what you were doing.”

“Can you go one single minute without insulting me?” Leander huffed.

“No. It’s my birthright, I earned it.”

“It is not! You’re two minutes older than me!”

“Guys, can you take your bickering elsewhere? I need to focus.” Garreth said. The Prewett twins frequently argued, and normally he enjoyed it (free entertainment!) but not now.

“I’m leaving.” Leander grabbed his book and left with a slam of the door, annoyed by his sister.

“So watcha making?” Harper said from his bed. Truthfully he liked seeing her there. He’d been friends with the Prewett twins for a long time, but he longed for something more with Harper. And seeing her now, on her stomach with her legs in the air, skirt hitched slightly up was doing things to him he didn’t need to focus on right now.

“With this potion, I hope to make the drinker physically stronger.” He said as he sprinkled pearl dust on the top.

“Why are you adding pearl dust?” 

“I think it’ll balance out the potion, it’s a bit intense.”

“Wanna go for a walk? It’s really nice outside.”

“Sure.” Garreth smiled and slid his potion in his pocket. Maybe he could try it outside in case he started breathing fire again.

They walked away from Hogwarts and to a field where they’d picnicked with their friends on occasion. It had a large oak tree that provided comfortable shade, even on the hottest days. 

“I’m going to try it out here. Maybe I can rip this tree right out of the ground!”

“Find another tree, I like this one. Garreth, you have got to step testing your potions on yourself!”

“Are you volunteering?” Garreth grinned.

“Absolutely not. Go ahead.”

Garreth tipped the potion up to his lips and downed it. He instantly felt a change, but he didn’t think it was strength.

“Well?” Harper asked from under the tree. He looked over and she was suddenly the sexiest thing he’d ever seen. Her legs were long and tan, her lips were pouty and naturally tinted red, her red hair fell in waves down her shoulders, and her piercing green eyes were boring into his.

“Um. It’s not quite working the way I intended.” He said while gritting his teeth. All he could think about was how badly he wanted to rip that skirt off of her and just-

“Garreth? Are you alright?”

“I…think it’s best if you leave.” He was trying not to look at her, but suddenly she was standing beside him. 

“Do you need to go to the hospital wing?” Harper asked, eyes full of concern.

“God, Harper, you’re KILLING ME.” He groaned and tried to think about anything else.

“Me? What did I do?”

“Alright, there’s no polite way to say this but the potion has done something to my sex drive that’s shifted it into high gear and I can’t think of anything else but fucking you right now, so you should probably go.” He put his head in his hands and groaned. He felt a hand on his shoulder and that sent a shiver through his body. 

“Maybe I could help you release that tension.” Harper said in his ear. Garreth was clenching his fists so hard that  his knuckles were turning white.

“Harper, don’t say things like that.”

“But I mean it. Come on Gare, we’ve both known there’s something here. And right now all I can think about is what I want you to do to me.”

Garreth literally groaned. “Are you sure? This will change things. I don’t want you to regret it.”

“Fuck me, Garreth.” She said in a hot breathy voice in his ear. In a second he’d pinned her against the treel and was kissing her like it was his last day on Earth. He began trying to unbutton her shirt and she started working on his pants. He lost his patience with the buttons and just ripped her shirt wide open.

She gasped as the cold air hit her exposed chest, but he silenced her with a kiss. He couldn’t wait much longer.

“Harper, are you a virgin?” He asked, though truthfully he wasn’t sure if he could be gentle.

“No.” She said with a grin.

“Thank god.” He quickly pulled down his pants and boxers and flipped her around. “Grab onto something.” He groaned as he positioned himself. She grabbed the tree and bent over. Needing no further prompting, he quickly pushed himself all the way inside of her in one thrust. She cried out and he was worried he’d hurt her until she whispered for him to keep going. 

He felt like an animal. Nothing would put out the fire inside him until he’d fucked Harper until neither one of them could walk. He began quickly pounding into her, gripping her hips and slamming her against him as he thrusted. She began moaning and it spurred him on. He wrapped her hair around his hand and tugged at it, making her cry out again. Anyone could stumble across them but he didn’t care.

“Garreth!” She moaned his name as he railed her, though nothing seemed to be enough. He needed more. 

“On the ground, on your back.” He growled in a throaty voice. She did as she was told and he grabbed her ankles, positioning her so he could go as deep as possible. He slammed into her again and she cried out. This was better. 

“FUCK Garreth! Right there!” She was breathing heavily and he obliged, thrusting hard and fast. He could feel that she was close, she was clenching her walls around him and gasping. She came hard, screaming his name and wailing. 

“Not done yet.” He whispered, flipping her over. “On your knees.” She got up on her knees and bent over, and he quickly reentered her. The only sounds in the quiet meadow were the slapping of flesh, his grunts, and her moans. He was gripping her hips so hard he was probably leaving bruises. 

“Holy shit, Garreth! I’m gonna-” Her second orgasm took both of them by surprise. 

“I need to be closer.” He hissed.

“I don’t think you can get any closer.” She let out a giggle as he flipped her over on her back and climbed on top of her. He supported his weight with his elbows and pushed into her again. She cried out and wrapped her legs around him. 

“Yes, THIS!” Garreth grinned and pounded harder than he had been. They were down in the grass and dirt, getting absolutely filthy, but neither one of them cared. Suddenly, rain began to fall around them. The tree provided some shelter, but not completely. Harper laughed and Garreth was too focused on fucking her brains out. He kissed her neck as he continued pounding away at her. “Harper…I’m about to come!”

‘

“Me too!” Her nails dug into his back as they both reached their peaks. Garreth let out a primal scream as he thrusted and spilled himself inside of her. She was screaming his name and he felt like he was nearly going to black out. He finally collapsed, the potion’s effects had been relieved. 

Harper was breathing heavily underneath him. “I hope you wrote down whatever was in that potion.”

“It wasn’t too rough?” Now that he’d come back to his senses, he was worried he’d hurt her.

“Garreth, you made me come three times. No, it wasn’t too rough.” She kissed him gently and he reciprocated. 

“I think it’s safe to say our friendship is ruined. How about you become my girlfriend instead?”

“Works for me.”

“What about your brother?”

“Are you wanting to date him too?” She asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No, I meant he’s going to be pissed when he finds out. What are we going to do?”

“We’ll deal with that later.”

“Should we head back? We’re absolutely soaked.” Garreth said, feeling guilty for the state they were in.

“Not yet. I want to enjoy my time with you out here. Just the two of us.” He kissed her as the rain came down on both of them. 

Leander looked up at the sound of the common room door opening and his jaw dropped. “What the hell happened to you guys?!”

“We fell.”

“Poachers.” They answered at the same time. Harper cleared her throat. “We ran into some poachers. It began to rain and we fell.”

“Well you’re both absolutely filthy. You probably tracked mud all the way here. Go clean yourselves up.” Leander snorted and went upstairs.

“Do you think he meant clean up together, or…?” Harper slapped his arm and they headed towards the bathrooms.

[wolveragrace]

Pouty baby doesn't like to study. Ficlet under the cut.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Vera’s eyes scanned the walls as she absently fiddled with the pages of her book. Reading over the page a fifth time was unlikely to make her retain the words if she hadn’t managed to by now. Unfortunately for her, the Stillglade Fane was intended for meditation and focus. As much as she has been allowed to put her own touches on this particular study, there was little to look at except more books, and she was not in the mood.

“I get the impression you aren’t enjoying your gift.”

She glanced behind her at the welcome distraction, surprised that she had not heard him open the door.

“I appreciate the gesture, brother, I really do. It’s just so… dry.”

“I would have thought you’d find the subject of your own heritage fascinating,” he questioned as he came to stand over her desk. “You never tire of asking the newcome adventurers about theirs.”

“A firsthand account of far-off places is a tad more intriguing than a book that manages to make nomadism and horse marriage of all things sound about as interesting as stale toast.”

He ignored the face she was making, leaning over to turn the book to a new page himself.

“That is in reference to a Xaela tribe, I believe. Have you learned naught of the Raen?”

“Besides those that have mysteriously vanished? Most Raen, the group of which I am allegedly a part—” 

He began to cut her off as soon as the word ‘allegedly’ left her mouth. Endearing as her stubbornness could sometimes be, he was trying to encourage her to grow out of it.

“We’ve been over this, Vera. You are not Padjali.”

A pout flashed across her face before she straightened up, mimicking her father's stoic nature. 

“You’re just jealous that I have more horns than you, E-Sumi. Now don’t interrupt. The Raen have fully assimilated into Doma’s culture, placing great importance on hierarchy and the master-servant relationship. Despite their low numbers, they are known to be loyal and trustworthy.” Vera flipped the book closed, relaxing and signaling the end of her miniature lecture. E-Sumi-Yan watched her expectantly, dutifully refraining from interrupting despite the extended pause. She sighed, dropping her eyes to her lap. “The book paints each culture with a single brush. There may be a few interesting details in there, but it’s impersonal. I could memorize it front to back and be no closer to the Au Ra than I am now.”

“You’re disappointed in the book because it’s a book, instead of a person. My purpose in procuring it for you was never to sate your curiosity, but to pique it. You seem so interested in learning about every culture but your own.”

“But it’s not my culture! I’m Gridanian! My home is here, my family—” She cut off her outburst abruptly, but he understood her all the same. My family is here. You’re my family. Not whoever left me or lost me. They’re not here. “Look, I want to see the world, I do. Every last ilm of it. But to go looking specifically for… whoever,” her eyes met his again, wide and pleading. “what if I don’t like what I find?”

“Then you’ll come home.”