#i consistently forget he’s an old man

[matrivers]

have i ever mentioned that one time someone mentioned to me that they thought ford pines was attractive and i was like “haha, you have a crush on an old man from a kids cartoon” and then i rewatched gravity falls and had an italicized “oh” moment?

[whumpster-fire]

Broke: Chilchuck Tims is child coded.

Woke: Chilchuck Tims isn't child coded, he's a middle-aged, divorced man with grown up children.

Bespoke: Chilchuck Tims cannot be accurately described as either "child coded" or "not child coded" because he is a deliberate commentary on the idea of "child coding" itself.

Chilchuck, and half-foots in Dungeon Meshi in general, are given significantly more neotenous proportions and appearances (e.g. larger heads and eyes, rounder faces) than the other races. This is not universal for depictions of hobbits / halflings in Tolkien / D&D inspired fantasy fiction. Compare Chilchuck relative to the "tallmen" (humans) in Dunmeshi to how small races are drawn in something like Legend of Vox Machina (many of those characters are gnomes but whatever) or in basically any official D&D art. It was an intentional artistic decision to make him look like that. This is reinforced when he's temporarily transformed into a tallman (human) and in addition to becoming much taller he gains features that make him look more visibly middle-aged (stubble, eye bags / wrinkles, a more oval face) that he doesn't have as a half-foot. See also Marcille's transformed form and supplemental drawings of what all of the main party would look like as other races. However they do NOT look indistinguishable from actual children as portrayed by Dunmeshi's artstyle and have distinguishing features e.g. larger ears.

Chilchuck is frequently mistaken for a child in-universe, or treated / perceived as one even by members of other races who know he's a half-foot, and he hates this. His infantilization and that of half-foots in general isn't just a running gag, it's a significant plot point and source of discrimination. Like when the party gets impersonated by shapeshifters copying everyone based on the others' memories of them, and most of the Chilchuck clones look and behave more childish than the real one, and they almost get away with it, even though his party should know better than to think of him as a kid.

The narrative consistently takes the position that the people infantilizing Chilchuck are wrong, and are being ignorant/racist.

Conclusion: Chilchuck is definitely not "child-coded" in the way that a 700 year old shapeshifter that looks and behaves indistinguishably from a little kid for contrived reasons. However, he is intentionally designed to make it seem plausible for people who know he's an adult to still not fully believe it and this can make the viewers fall for it too. Which I guess is "child-coding" in a sense. But the message the work is trying to send is very clearly "Don't decide that grown-ass adults are equivalent to children and treat them like children because they have physical characteristics that remind you of a child you dipshit."

While hobbits aren't real and Chilchuck's traits that get him mistaken for a child are exaggerated compared to the vast, vast majority of real people, infantilization of grown-ass adults due to ableism, racism, or just people being dumbasses who forget short people exist is a real issue, and if you start shit with people for shipping Divorced Dad Chilchuck Tims with other characters or whatever you are displaying the exact attitude that's being criticized.

[gucciforasushirestaurant]

Like You Mean It | H.S

summary: you're tired of only ever meeting trash men, but your best friend and roommate harry shows you that there are still good guys out there, and what it really means to be a giver.

word count: 5.3k

reading time: 22 min

content warning ⚠️: housemate/bff!harry au, nonfamous!harry, friends to lovers, shitty men (not harry), smut, fluff, fingering, penetration (p in v), very light D/s dynamics (if you squint), softdom!harry, dirty talk, nicknames (baby, babe), very light degradation/humiliation kink (if you squint)

a/n:  i saw a text post that said “girl don’t text that man. make yourself cum and forget about him.”(solid advice lol)  and then this happened. also not to be an astrology girlie but he’s an aquarius with libra placements….this man is the perfect fwb.

“Harry, can I get a man's perspective on something?” you ask, turning to Harry next to you on the couch. You had begged Harry out of his room for a movie night as a ruse, but your nose had been buried deep in your phone the whole night. Re-reading and overanalyzing old text messages between you and the object of your anxiety.

You don’t often go to Harry for help with men, but his advice on other areas of your life is always sound, and you respect his opinion.

“If you’re asking me for help, he’s not worth your time.” He sighs, not looking away from the movie, hugging a pillow to his chest. 

“I’m serious, I need your help.” you whine, tugging on his sleeve. He turns and looks at your dramatic pout, “Please.” 

“Alright, I’ll bite.” He huffs. “What is it?” 

“As a man, do you prefer texting or like a call? Or maybe FaceTime?”  

Harry barks out a laugh at the ridiculous question, before looking over at you, and realizing your dead serious. He chews on his bottom lip for a moment, tossing his head back against the couch. “I mean I’m more of a talker, and I like seeing who I’m talking to, so I prefer FaceTime. But I guess it depends on the girl and how long I’ve been talking to them. What our situation is, and stuff.  Which one of your boy toys are we talking about?” he asks. 

“Cameron.” you grimace.

Cameron is admittedly your least favorite of the boys on your roster, but your most tenured member. And the one Harry hates most. In the beginning you thought it could be something real. He was sweet and did a decent job at wooing you. That is until - in Harry’s eyes - he coerced you into a friends with benefits arrangement. Harry could tell that you liked him, and to see him treat you as terribly as he did, got Harry’s blood boiling. You deserved better, that much you both could understand. What Harry couldn't understand however was why you would even consider speaking to him again after the last time you were in contact.  

Instead of saying what he truly thought, or giving you a hard time, he just pinched the space between his brow with an exasperated sigh. 

“I know, I know,” you grumble.

“How long has it been since you’ve heard from him?” 

“A while. But he reached out recently and - ” 

“I thought you were done with him.” he deadpans, eyes glued to yours. 

“I was, but we got coffee last week and he apologized.” 

“Coffee?” Harry groans in disgust at the low effort. He pauses the movie, and turns to you, “Don’t text him. Don’t call him. Go back in there,” he says pointing down the hallway towards your room. “Make yourself come, and forget about him. For your sake and mine.” 

“Harry!” you laugh, hitting him with a throw pillow.  

“You think I’m joking, but I’m serious.” he concedes with a chuckle, “You don’t even like him.” 

“I like him enough.” 

“He’s a terrible fuck.” 

“He…gets the job done.” you defend voice cracking. 

“Everytime he leaves, there's suddenly a consistent buzz coming from your bedroom.” He scoffs. You go to defend yourself with heat rising to your face. You stammer a bit but not quite getting words out before he continues, “I’m a grown man, I know what a vibrator sounds like.” He smirks, and you giggle covering your face. 

“Jesus.” you laugh, “Look, I’ve tried your way already…and it’s not doing the trick.” you pout, “So tell me, how pathetic would I be  if I were to reach out to him.”

“I don’t think you’d be pathetic, love.” he soothes 

“Then why are you so against me texting him?”  

Because you deserve better! Why can’t you see that? He thinks, These guys don’t deserve you. If I were them I’d - 

“Harry?” you ask, snapping him out of his thoughts. It’s in the glow of the television, and the small light on the side table that Harry is able to admire your adorable pout and curious eyes. He’s always had a little crush on you throughout the entirety of your friendship. One he knew you could feel and was reciprocated. There were a few drunken confessions of your attraction for one another that were joked about the following morning. Then there was the holiday kiss . One New Year for ‘good luck’. But there was also a promise. A pinky promise, to never risk the friendship you had. To keep things platonic.  It was a promise that was becoming more and more difficult for both of you to keep. 

When you two agreed to move in under the same roof for economic reasons, you knew it would be an adjustment, with both of you having been living on your own for years. But you were excited. Living alone could get lonely and overwhelming. So having your best friend of years, under the same roof and splitting responsibilities felt like a huge weight lifted off of your shoulders. 

But being in such close proximity meant that it was becoming harder to keep your promise. Especially when things just felt so domestic with the two of you. Cooking dinner together, movie nights, cuddling together on the couch. It was hard for both of you not to let your minds wander to a reality where you were more than just friends. 

But you were friends, and as long as that boundary was there, there was nothing stopping either of you from being young, wild and free. So there were parties, and one night stands, and situationships. All in an attempt to distract you both from the truth. Because no matter how pretty the girls were that Harry brought home, no matter how sweet and kind they were. The only face he saw when they were splayed out in his bed…was your. 

And after a very awkward Sunday morning breakfast with one of your one night stands meeting Harry, you stopped bringing guys home all together. Opting for spending weekends away. A change Harry didn’t like, and lectured you over. “It’s not safe. You don’t know these guys. At least if you bring them here, I’m here if you need me.” he’d argued. All that did was keep you from seeing anyone for a while.  Which is how you ended up even considering talking to Camreon again. 

“Look” Harry finally says, turning his body towards you, “if you’re that sexually frustrated I’ll… help you out.” 

You tilt your head, letting out a nervous giggle, waiting for his real response. But it never comes, he just…smirks at you. 

“Oh,” you whisper, heart beating against your ribs. “You’re serious.” Harry nods, biting his lip. The offer was…promising, and the way Harry looked at you was intriguing. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t give you butterflies.  That the last month or so things haven’t  felt different between you two, something less than romantic, but certainly more than platonic. It was messing with your head for sure. But you were friends. Regardless of how fit you thought he was, you didn’t have the right to blow up your over decade long friendship just because you were horny. You clear your throat blinking up at him, shaking your head,“Thanks for the offer, Har but -” 

“Yeah no…you’re right. It’s - dumb idea.” He stammers, “I do think you just need to let off some steam, and then you’ll forget about him.” 

“Yeah. I guess.” 

He sees you deflate a bit at his words, and he realizes you didn’t expect  him to give up so easily. So he tries again a little more directly “And not to be that guy but I’ve been told I’m pretty talented, and if making you come keeps you from making a repeated mistake then I’ll take one for the team.” 

“Gee, thanks.” you scoff. 

“I just mean. You’re my friend, and I’m trying to be a helping hand.” he says sweetly before the smirk returns, “And tongue.” He laughs, and you roll your eyes. “And on a serious note, you’re too special of a woman to have to deal with mediocre sex from a guy that clearly - and I’m sorry to say - couldn’t give two shits about your Love. If you need to…get your rocks off, why not with someone you trust? With someone that actually cares about you?” Harry says sweetly. 

“Really?” you ask, and he nods, “And if we cross this line, it won't ruin our friendship.” 

“Cross my heart.” He says drawing an ‘x’ over his chest. 

“What about Taylor?” you ask, thinking of the pretty blonde that you’ve caught making breakfast in your kitchen a few times. You're trying to give him an out. But he doesn’t take it. 

“Out of the picture.” he smiles, “Has been for a while.” He admits, and before you get a chance to offer your condolences, he asks “So what do you say?”  

“Okay.” 

“Alright.” he smirks, “Come here.” He says softly, reaching for your hand, lacing his fingers with yours. You scoot closer to him on the couch, your knees touching his thigh.  Your breath hitches in your throat as his other hand rests on your cheek, stroking the soft skin with his thumb.

He leans in slowly, his breath fanning across your face, his lips inches away from yours. His emerald eyes dart from yours down to your lips, back to your eyes. 

“You’re sure?” he asks. You nod your head slowly, eyes glued to his lips as he speaks. You watch as they curve up into a seductive smirk, “Words, baby. Want to hear you say it.” He coaches. 

He wants to hear you say it because the truth is, he can’t believe this is finally happening. He gets why you both agreed to not cross this boundary for so long. For the sake of your amazing friendship. But being this close to you now, seeing the look in your eye, the want and anticipation. Feeling the way he lit up touching you. It all seemed so silly. Why deny yourselves the pleasure of giving in to such chemistry, when life was so short? 

“I’m sure.” you whisper, “Are you?” 

“Oh, I’m positive.” he purrs, before leaning forward finally bringing his lips to yours. You sigh into the kiss, enjoying the feeling of his soft lips on yours. Immediately, the kiss feels different than anything you’ve shared in the past. What starts off as a soft sweet pecks, familiarizes yourselves with one another, quickly evolves into a hurried frenzy. Tongues swirling, teeth clicking, and with Harry’s hand having come down to rest on your neck, thumb caressing your jugular possessively your head was spinning. You gasp  into the kiss, trying to catch your breath but all you could do was breathe in more of Harry. It’s when he nipped at your bottom lip licking at the skin after, that you have a moment of clarity. Pulling away slowly you, run your hand through the hairs at the nape of his neck making him look up at you. 

“You okay?” he asks, worry etched into his features. 

“If we’re going to do this,” you begin, “ I have one condition.” 

“Okay.” he prompts 

“Want you to fuck me like you mean it.” you whisper, voice shakily. 

“Planned on it, Love.” He smiles, bringing you back into the kiss, lifting you up onto his lap to straddle him. You drape your arms around his shoulders and lean forward bringing your lips back down to his. Any nerves you’d had earlier slip away with each swipe of his tongue into your mouth, and grind off your hips down onto his hardening cock. He moans into your mouth as you grind your hips into his, and you couldn’t help but smirk into the kiss. 

He sounds so pretty, you thought. 

He lets out another groan, as his hands roam up your thighs to your hips, gripping them firmly and pulling you as close to him as he could. He pulls his lips away from yours in favor of kissing down your neck. His lips roam up and down trying to find your favorite spot, and when he does, you let out a lewd moan, pulling at his hair. He groans into your neck and continues sucking and nibbling. He licks a stirp up your neck, dragging your earlobe into his ear sucking at it. Before he pulls away looking at you with a proud grin on his face, watching you. 

“Why’d you stop?” you pout, leaning your forehead against his. 

“I’m not fucking you on the couch.” He chuckles and you giggle. “Your bedroom or mine?” he asks as he untucks your lip from your teeth with his thumb. “Wherever you’d feel most comfortable.” 

You didn’t have to think for more than a moment before answering. “Is it okay if we go to yours?” you ask nervously. If you were going to get the Harry Styles special, you wanted the whole experience. 

“Of course.” he smiles, giving you a quick peck, “Hold onto me.” he instructs and you hook your arms and legs around him as he stands up and makes his way down the short hallway to his bedroom. He leans in and kisses your cheek 

It is a little strange, how natural it all feels. How your lips seemed to slot perfectly with his, how he grabs your ass so dominantly in his hands, how you instinctually nuzzle into his neck, sucking just below his ear like he did for you. It’s as if  this whole thing, your dynamic, was sitting there all along, just waiting to come to the surface. 

He kicks his bedroom door open, kicking it back closed once inside. Breathy swears falling from his lips as you suck on a spot just below his ear. He sets you down on your feet as you pull away from his neck, bringing your lips back to his. Your hands move from around his shoulders to the elastic of his sweats. You pull at the strings keeping the material around his hips. But Harry stops you, pulling away from the kiss, holding your wrists in his hands.

“Hey, hey.” he coos, tilting your head up to look at him. “This is about you. Remember?” 

“Right.” you sigh, “Sorry.” It was a force of habit. Focusing on pleasing your partner, without much thought of your own pleasure. 

“It’s okay.” he smiles softly, “Don’t worry about me. Just let me take care of you.” He lifts your hands to his lips kissing each of the back of your hands,  “Okay?” you nod and he places a quick peck to your lips,  “Get up on the bed, for me.” There was something in his voice, a tone you’ve never heard before nor could you pin down, but it already had your stomach doing somersaults. 

You crawl your way up the bed, laying down amongst the mountain of pillows and it suddenly hits you what you’ve agreed to. Did you have some nerves about the possibility of ruining your longtime friendship? Of course. But the primary feeling was anticipation. You’ve heard Harry take many women to heaven in this very room, in this very bed through the thin walls of your apartment, dozens of times.  And now as you lay in his sheets… It's your turn.

He watches from the foot of the bed as you settle into his bed, admiring the sight of you there. You're quick to remove your shirt, but you keep your bottoms and bra on. You watch as he strips himself of his band t-shirt, and sweats admiring his tattooed littered chest and arms. Your eyes follow the trail of hair from his navel to the growing tent in his boxer briefs. He notices you admiring, watching as his muscles contract as he moves up the bed to you, a smirk plastered to his lip. 

“Eyes up here.” he jokes, and you snort out a chuckle, as he hovers above you with elbows on either side of your head. You bring your arms, sound his shoulders, pulling him down on you, enjoying the weight of him on top of you. 

“Shut up.” you smile, kissing him. You try to lead the kiss, but eventually give in to Harry, allowing him to choose the pace, too distracted and consumed by the feelings of his hands roaming your body. As he teases your mouth open with his tongue, you nibble at his bottom lip wrapping your legs around his waist, pulling him in closer to you. You both moan as the tip of his clothed cock catches onto your clothed pussy. Your pussy throbs at the sensation and you roll your hips up into his, begging for some friction. But Harry holds your hip in the softness of his mattress.  He pulls away, caressing your cheek, running a thumb along your kiss bitten lips. 

“Let me take my time. Want you to enjoy this. I’m going to give you what you need. I promise.” 

You nod, looking up at him through your lashes, “Okay.” you sigh

“Just relax.” he leans down, kissing your lips, “Do you trust me?” 

“Yeah - of course.” 

“Good.” Harry smiles, his dimpled smile, before continuing your kiss, hungrily kissing your lips, down to your neck. Kissing and sucking trying to find your most sensitive spot. When he does,  he nibbles and sucks, groaning into you as he feels you relax in his arms, with each swipe of his tongue on your neck. His hand reaches behind you, fiddling with the hooks of your bra. “Can I take this off?” he rasps. 

“Mhmm, yeah.” you rush out, helping him shimmy your arms out of the annoying barrier.  Before you get the chance to pull him back down to you chest to chest, Harry pauses, looking from your chest to your eyes.

“Fuckin’ gorgeous” he whispers, a hand cupping one of your breasts, pinching the pebbled skin of your nipple. He dips his head down, drawing the other nipple into his mouth sucking on the nub, before releasing it with a pop. You couldn’t help the lewd moan that escaped your lips. It’s needy and breathy and if it were anyone else above you,  you’d maybe be embarrassed with just how desperate you sound. But the way Harry is worshiping you, and moaning into your chest, you knew he was enjoying this just as much.

He works his way up from your breasts back to your neck, sucking and kissing anywhere his lips could reach. You wrap your hands around his shoulders pulling him in, for a deep kiss, until you feel his fingers tangle into the loose strings of your flimsy lounge shorts. 

“What about these?” he asks against your lips. “Can I take ‘em off?” 

“Please.” you gasp into his mouth. Without breaking the kiss the best you could, you lift your hips, as you help him get the shorts down your legs. 

With nothing but the thin material of your underwear between you.  You could really get a feel of Harry now as he grinded his hips into yours. He was thick, and just as hard as you were wet. After a few nudges of his cock against your pussy, Harry snakes a hand between the two of you, rubbing you through the thin cotton of your panties in small circles. 

“Mmhm.” you moan, rolling your hips into his hand. 

“This okay?” he huffs, leaning his forehead on yours. 

“Yeah,” you sigh, pulling him back down to your face for a kiss. “More.” 

Harry smirked at you teasingly, but obliged. Sliding your panties to the side, his thick warm fingers making contact with your clit. 

“Oh, fuck.” you huff. 

Harry usually likes to tease. He tells the girls in his bed to be patient, to be good girls and wait for the inevitable earth shattering pleasure he’s sure to spring on them. But you're not just some girl in his bed. You’re…you. And he’s never not given you whatever it is you wanted. Because as far as Harry is concerned, you deserve the world. And the truth is, even if you didn’t realize it, you have him wrapped around your perfectly manicured finger. 

“That feel okay?” Harry asks, rubbing you in tight circles. He dips his fingers further down your folds, collecting  the wetness at your entrance to wet your clit. He rubs at your pussy,  up and down, until you start bucking against his hand. 

“Mmhm” you nod, “so good.” you whimper. 

It’s beginning to become harder to focus. All you feel is Harry. His fingers, between your legs. His tongue massages yours. His breath fanning across your face, when he rests his forehead on yours. His hardening cock pressing into your thigh.  His weight on top of you. He was completely consuming your senses. 

His fingers dip down, teasing at your entrance drawing out a deep groan from you as your grip on his shoulders tighten. 

“What’s got you so wet? Huh?” he smirks into the kiss, as he teases your entrance. Your cheeks warm to his teasing tone.

“You.” you whine, “Feels so good, Harry.” 

“Yeah?” he smirks, “And this?” He coos, as he slowly, finally, slides a long finger inside. “This feel good, too?” 

“Oh, god.” you whimper, arching your back into the mattress, gripping at his shoulders.

Harry kisses your check, pulling back admiring how sweet you looked as his finger worked you open, pumping in and out of you. 

“Look at me.” he coos, curling his finger inside to that spongy spot inside of you. “Let me see you baby. Look at me.” He repeats, sweetly kissing your cheek. Slowly, and with all the focus you can muster, you peel your eyes open to look at Harry. “Good girl,” Harry praises, “you’re doing so good, Love.” Your breath hitches at his words as you feel your pussy tighten around his fingers.  “You gonna come on my hand? Already?” He smirks. 

His light teasing, mixed with the pet names, only has you barling closer to the edge. You're so, very close and the way you're looking up at Harry all blissed out has him ready to bust in his boxers. 

“Har-” 

He can sense the frustration. See how close you were, but not quite. He needed to see you come for him. 

“What is it baby?” he coos, kissing your cheek. 

“More. Harry,” you whine, “Please, please plea-” you whine, through a pout.

“Shhh….Okay. You can have,” Harry slowly inserts a second finger, while his thumb circled your clit, “anything you want.” 

“Fuc-” Your moan gets cut off with a kiss, as Harry continues to work his fingers in and out of you.

“There you go. Better?” 

“Ye- yes. Oh my god.” you whine. 

Harry continues working his fingers in and out of you, thumb rubbing your clit as you could feel your orgasm barrelling closer. 

“Come on,” Harry encourages, “come on my hand. Come for me.” he pants, through a kiss, fingers curling, maintaining their pace inside of you. 

“Shit!” you moan out, coming apart on his hand. 

“There you go. Good girl.” he praises, kissing you anywhere his lips can reach. You whimper, a shiver shooting through your body as your orgasm shook through you.  “Shhh, I got you. I got you.” he coos, slowing his fingers to a stop.   He withdraws his fingers from your center, eyes remaining on yours as he sucked his fingers clean, moaning around the digits. 

“You taste good.” he smirks, before leaning down, burying himself in your neck, sucking on the spot just below your ear. He pulls away, looking you in the eye admiring your fucked out state. He plants a kiss on each of your cheeks, and then kisses you deeply nipping at your lip. 

“You did so good.” Harry huffs into your mouth. You rake your fingers through his hair, still reeling from your orgasm, trying to use Harry to bring yourself back down to earth. “You’re pretty when you come.” he smiles down at you, kissing your lips, “Do you need a minute?” 

“No.” you mumble kissing his lips, “Just fuck me please.” Harry nods into the kiss, reaching into his nightstand for a condom. He’s quick to get rid of his bottoms and slip on the condom. 

“Harry.” you plead, rolling your hips up into his, as he slid his cock up and down your slit. He taps the head of his cock on your clit twice.

“Shhh, relax. I got you.” He coos stroking your cheek with one hand as he runs his cock more deliberately up and down your slit with the other. Harry kisses the corners of your mouth, and then places a kiss to your lips. He looks at you, eyes aflame with lust. He leans his forehead against yours, his breath fanning across your face, as he slowly pushes inside. You gasp, grab his shoulders, dig your nails into his skin. Harry hisses, tucking his face into your neck as he slowly worked you open with his cock, little by little thrusting in and out until he was fully settled inside. 

“Fuck, babe.” he sighs. He stays still for a moment, deep inside of you relishing in the feeling of your tight  walls wrapped around him. 

“Oh my god.” you gasp as swears fall from Harry’s lips above you. You thread your fingers into his hair, pulling lightly at his curls, drawing out more groans from him. “Move.” you whine, rutting your hips up into his. “Please, Harry.” 

He slowly begins to grind his hips down into yours, pulling back only slightly before driving back in, allowing you to feel every inch of him. “Fuck, you feel so good baby.” He praises. He’s quick to find a decent pace, his arms bracketing your head, forehead leaned against yours as he pounded into you with deep strokes. 

“Har- oh my god.” you moan, your pants of pleasure, fanning across Harry’s face, eyes screwed shut. 

“Look at me.” he rasps, kissing the corner of your mouth, “Please. Need to see you.” He moans. And he does. He needs it. You can hear it in his voice, and feel it in the way he caresses your hip. He must be closer to you. He needed to see you, all of you. 

So you grant his wish, peeling your eyes open and looking at him. And your pussy clenches at the sight of him. You don’t remember why you’d close your eyes in the first place. He was beautiful, like this. All kiss bitten lips, and flushed cheeks, curls glued to his brow and lust filled eyes. You threaded your fingers in his curls, brushing his curls away from his eyes. 

“You feel so good.” you gasp. 

Harry smirks, twirling his hips, “So do you.” You pull at his curls, a loud moan rips from your throat,  as a particularly hard thrusts hits your g-spot. Harry’s eyes flash with a new kind of focus, and lust as he hits it again. 

“‘S that it? ‘S that your spot, babe?” he huffs. You nod frantically, eyes glued to his lust filled ones as he continued pumping into you. “I want you to come for me again. I want to feel you. Please,” he pleads, “Need it.”  

“Oh god!” you cry out. The more he talked the closer you could feel yourself approaching your peak. “Harry -” you 

“Breathe through it, Love.” He instructs, keeping his rhythmic pace. As he grinds his hips down into yours, he demonstrates a breath, taking a deep breath in and out. You follow suit, feeling the heat pool in the bit of your stomach warm, as your orgasm grows closer and closer. 

“Harry - oh my god.” “I know, I know.” He gasps, “Let go, Baby.” And you do. Just like that, you coming around Harry’s cock, tightening around him as he continued to fuck you through your orgasm. “There you go,” he coos, dropping a kiss to your forehead, before tucking himself back into the juncture of your neck and shoulder, “Good girl. Fuck baby.” 

Harry’s thrusts become sloppy as he struggles to hold himself up above you, feeling his own climax quickly approaching. “I’m gonna come baby.” Harry pants. 

“Please.” you whimper, holding his face in his hands. You bring your lips up to his, moaning into the kiss, “I want you to.” 

“Fuck.” He huffs, and with a few more deep strokes, Harry comes apart above you. 

He grinds his hips to a stop, burying himself into your neck, kissing your shoulder, as you run your nails up and down his back, trying to catch your breath. 

You stayed like that for a while, enjoying the weight of him on top of you, and Harry enjoying your hand in his hair. Once he heard your breath slow, he slowly pulled out of you, kissing your forehead, and rolling off of you.

“I’ll be right back.” he smiles.

“Okay.” you whisper with a sweet smile.   

Harry drags his boxer briefs up his legs, looking back at you with a smile before he’s out the door. 

“Shit.” you giggle, looking up at the ceiling. You look over at the clock on his nightstand, and smirk.  Nearly an hour and a half  has passed. I really got the Harry Experience ™ you muse, to yourself. 

Sitting up in bed, you scan the messy bedroom floor to find your clothes. Before you get a chase to put your bra back on, Harry is back with bottles of water, some snacks and a towel. 

“What are you doing?” Harry asks,  He sets down the two bottles of water, snacks on his nightstand.

“Getting dressed.” 

“What for?” he pouts, crawling into his bed, lifting his sheets for you to follow,  “Come back here.” you allow him to pull you back into his side, resting your head on his chest.  

“I don’t want to overextend my stay.” you whisper 

“You’re not.  Let me hold you for a bit. Not done taking care of you.”  

He kisses the crown of your head, and it feels almost too intimate, but still you relax in his arms, letting out a deep breath, allowing the gentle motion of his hand stroking your back to calm you. 

“Can you do me a favor?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Promise me that we’ll still be friends.” 

Harry doesn’t say anything for a moment. A little too long for your liking before he finally speaks. 

“I don’t think I can do that.” Harry says, and there's a slight panic at his words until you look up at him and see he’s smirking down at you. 

“I got you pussy whipped that quick, Styles?” you joke, poking at his side, and he laughs. 

“Maybe.” he smirks, before looking at you earnestly, “Or maybe hearing you moan my name made me realize it’s something I've wanted for a long time.” 

“Oh.” you sigh. 

“Or maybe I’m just selfish, and I don’t like the idea of anyone else seeing you that way. Especially if they aren’t going to treat you right.” 

“And you want to treat me right?” you smile

“I do.” He says firmly, “Give me a chance. Just one date. A real one. Ideally one where we stay clothed, and vertical.” he smirks.  “And if you don’t want to pursue anything, then…I’m happy to stay friends. But I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if I didn’t try.” 

You look at him, trying to find a hint of dishonesty, but you couldn’t find it. 

“Okay, Styles. One date.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” you smile, snuggling back into his chest. 

Everything between you two has changed. That’s for sure. But maybe it’s for the better.  And maybe this is just the beginning. 

a/n: imagine harry as your fwb *deep sigh*

✨masterlist✨| ✨yap & request box✨

[solardrop]

silver.

aaron hotchner x reader.

summary: hotch really doesn't think getting old is sexy. tags: fluff. a suggestive line here or there but nothing crazy. age gap (reader in their 30s, hotch is 57). jack mentioned. i think this could be read as gn!reader but i could be wrong. just short and cute. word count: 1.0k a/n: last fics rules still apply. be nice to me! when i look up photos of hair dying on pinterest i get rainbow haired e-boys so accept this haircut photo <3 divider creds to @/cafekitsune

Your name echoes across the house when Aaron yells for you from the bathroom. Once you enter the space you're greeted by his hair spiked in every which way, covered in a brownish-black goop. His thick hands are gloved and hold a small black toothbrush-like applicator.

"Sweetheart, can you check if I missed a spot?" Aaron hands you the brush and tray of inky black dye. You make a show of rolling your eyes and pouting back at him in the mirror and you take the items from him.

"I forgot it was that time of month that you decided to cover up all your sexy.." you sigh.

"Really," he scoffs, a teasing smile creeping on his lips, "I thought all the sexy was gone when I shaved.'

You almost teared up remembering the loss of his beard. A case off the grid forced him to grow one out for a few weeks. You understandably jumped his bones upon seeing the new look when he returned. The extra hair provided some out-of-this-world sensations for your softest parts that you would never forget. Only for the wicked man to shave all of it after two days, citing the "professional dress code" of the FBI as the culprit.

You snap a latex glove onto your hand, "Shush and bend over, big guy."

He smiles and kneels to face you, his rough hands gripping the fat of your thighs. You slowly worked around his head, dabbing bits of dye in bare spots. Your fingers rake through the inky black mass on his head, gently massaging his scalp. Aaron hums and thanks you under his breath.

"Do you know why I started dying my hair so consistently?"

"To torture me?"

"No," he huffs," when Jack was about... eight? I had taken him on this trip with a couple of his friends and their fathers, it was fun, but at the end of the whole thing Jack pointed at the grays starting to grow out on my hairline and turned to his friends and said-"

"Baby no...."

"'Guys look! My daddy is sooo old!'"

You clamp your lips shut to hold in your laughter. You didn't want to embarrass him further, especially with the deep red flush rising up the nape of his neck.

"Oh honey Jack was still a baby then... kids are insane you know that"

" I do, and I know. I laughed it off. I know he didn't really mean anything by it, but I didn't know if he felt like the odd one out for having an old dad.." Aaron runs his hands up and down your legs mindlessly. "And now I don't want you to feel out of place either."

You pause at that. In the few years you and Hotch have been together, never has he shown any insecurity about the difference in age between you. And he sure as hell wasn't about to start now if you had anything to do with it. You slicked his hair back with your hands and placed the clear complimentary shower cap in the box on his head, snickering at how silly he looked. Once you slide the slimy gloves off you set the timer on your phone and grasp the face of the man you loved so dearly, forcing him to rest his chin on your stomach and look into your eyes.

"You have less than thirty minutes to explain to me why you think I'd care about you looking old"

"you're young-"

"I'm in my thirties-"

"you're younger," he corrects "than me by quite a bit. All your friends have other young people to share their life and first experiences with. Meanwhile, you're stuck with a sixty-year-old-"

"You're fifty-seven-" Your eyes roll.

"a fifty-seven-year-old with a sassy kid turned angsty teenager for a child." he sighs, "Sweetheart I just don't want you to ever look at me and feel a loss."

You take a moment to scan his face. Despite the stupid shower cap mushrooming around his head, his face showed no amusement when he spoke. The sweet, shy smile he always sported around you was gone, replaced with a grimace and furrowed brow.

"Aaron I have never felt more loved, accepted, and safe than I have with you. I know you know that," you say.

He nods, pressing a quick peck to your belly button before looking at you. His eyes search yours for a moment of hesitation or change in resolve. but you stand your ground.

"The only thing I worry about with you on my arm is fighting off all the homewreckers."

He wheezes a laugh at this. Eventually having to stand up before he smears the dark dye all over you. He always does this. Laughs and acts like he wouldn't have crowds of people stop to fawn over his beauty if he let them.

"Remember that neighbor at the old apartment who would only stop by with cookies when she knew you were home?"

"Or the time Jack's classmate profiled their teacher's crush on you?"

"Don't even get me started on that detective JJ keeps telling me about from years ago in New Mexico. The male detective."

He smiles at you sheepishly, "You've made your point."

"If you want to dye your hair or shave to make yourself happy I think you should," you whisper, "but Aar I love every version of you possible"

You press your lips to his cheek before you continue, "You are the most beautiful, devastatingly sexy old man out. And I will still throw myself at you in public if you decide to finally ditch the box dye."

He smiles at you fully now, eyes shining as he looks down at you. He slides his lips against yours, grinning into the kiss before he pulls away to thank you.

"Maybe after this starts to grow out I'll see how I feel about the silver again." He looks back at his reflection in the mirror. He turns his head every which way to peek at the processing strands under the shower cap.

"Think about the beard too damn it.." you mumble. You begin to wander out of the bathroom when he yells for you again.

"Oh and sweetheart one more thing," you turn to look at him, confused when he stifles a laugh, "will you still think I'm sexy if I start balding like my father?"

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

[12:41 pm]

(cw: f!reader, a child, pregnancy complications, "Mommy" and "daddy")

"Mommy is tired?" dad!Jaehyun heard his little girl ask.

"A little bit, princess. The baby is getting bigger so Mommy just needs to lay down more, but she's not sleeping," Jaehyun explains in a sweet voice, pushing her unruly hair away from her face.

This was tough to explain to a 4 year old. Your first pregnancy had been a breeze compared to this one. Your first pregnancy almost five years ago came with some nausea that plagued you for the first few months, labor was long and arduous, but there was nothing that really hindered you from going about life as normal as possible. This pregnancy wasn't the same.

This time around you came down with gestational high blood pressure, which at your last appointment didn't look to be getting much better, so your doctor had put you on bed rest. You were doing your part by taking your medication daily and staying off your feet, but man was this a pain. You hated laying around and doing nothing, especially when your need to nest was nagging at you. You hated it, but you also knew that you wanted to avoid the induction being too early.

Jaehyun grabbed some food from the fridge and played it for you, lunch time. A healthy meal that he himself knew didn't sound super delicious, but he was being just as cautious as you were, if not more. "Let's take Mommy her lunch, princess," Jaehyun told his daughter.

She squealed excitedly, running to the bedroom with her Belle costume swishing around her legs. She pushed the door open and ran to the bed, climbing up onto the foot of the bed before settling beside you. Jaehyun smiled at the sight of his two girls. You were sat up against the headboard, folding laundry- which you had insisted on doing, Jaehyun didn't want you lifting a single finger, but you were stubborn.

"Lunch time, my love," Jaehyun smiled, walking over to you and handing you the plate. He tried not to laugh as your face scrunched up into a look of disappointment and smidge of disgust.

You stabbed the fork into the food and sighed before bringing the food to your mouth. If the bed rest worked, you'd be back on your feet in a week. Your doctor wanted to see if the bed rest would prove useful paired with the medication she'd put you on. You couldn't speak without the medical knowledge she'd possessed, but your blood pressure was going down and staying consistent. Your legs weren't as swollen and when Jaehyun took your blood pressure each morning it wasn't as high and remained consistent.

"I gave you your medication this morning right?" Jaehyun asked while holding up the pill bottle.

You hummed in agreement, swallowing your food, "as if you'd let me forget. I took it with a whole glass of water and ate it with my avocado toast. Hey, have you not been doing her hair? She looks like the brush hasn't touched her hair since I brushed it after her bath last night."

Jaehyun looked away, avoiding your gaze. Doing his daughter's hair wasn't a skill he had perfected yet. So yes, you were right, a brush hadn't touched her hair since last night. On the other hand, everything else had been taken care of. Your daughter didn't spend the whole day in her pajamas, she was dressed in real clothes, even if her Belle costume covered it up, she had brushed her teeth this morning, already eaten two meals today, and Jaehyun had her practice writing her name. On all levels, besides hair, he was killing it.

"Bring me the brush and some rubber bands please," you asked him sweetly, using your hand to tame the hair on the little girl's head.

He raised a brow, "finish your lunch and then I'll get you what you asked for."

You rolled your eyes, stabbing the fork into the food more harshly with a look that asked 'happy?' Your daughter turned her eyes away from the show on the TV and rubbed your belly, placing a small kiss on the apex. "Sister is making you tired, Mommy?" she asked, laying her head on your stomach.

You sighed tiredly, "yeah, princess. We don't want sister to get here too early so the doctor says I have to rest."

"But I want sister here already," she tells you with a pout.

Jaehyun takes the now empty plate from you while you brush your fingers gently brush through some of the tangles in her hair. "If the baby comes early, she won't be healthy, princess. We want her to be healthy right?"

"Yes," she sighs out, "Mommy, can you do my hair? Daddy doesn't know how."

Jaehyun rolls his eyes as he hands you the things you asked for, watches as his daughter willingly lets you comb the tangles from her hair gently, and watches as your fingers work deftly to braid it away from her face. He loves it.

He presses a kiss to your stomach, not trying very hard to keep the words that slip from his lips low and quiet, "if you want to give us a surprise and come out as a boy, that's fine. I'll still love you. Save me."

When two similar slaps to his arm come at the same time he can't help but laugh, if he's surrounded by girls that act like you and are the perfect mix of your genetics, he'd die a happy man.

[prael]

Delicacy

ILLIT Moka x male reader smut

Happy (kinda late) Moka Day!

Masterlist word count: 5,401 Kofi(donations/commissions)

"Ladies and-a gen-entleman! Step right up! Ge-get yourself a-a mystical item today!" The old Murgo's voice is loud, his tone is jovial. His accent is hard to understand and his stuttering speech patterns would indicate a man who is not well-educated, though you've always expected he puts it all on for show.

His skin is scruffy, full of moles and unkempt facial hair that creeps down to his thin neck. The elderly man's uniform consists of a long, purple-sleeved coat—sleeves that fall every time he waves an arm at the next item he tries to flog.

"Y-you sir! Consider this, this is truly a-a magical mirror, for as long as you lo-look into it, it will make you b-beautiful." He smiles at the group before him, pearly white teeth contrasting with his murky skin colour. They are the only noteworthy things about him, other than his height, a whole foot smaller than the usual man.

The rough-looking labourer by your side mumbles, "What a crock of shit!"

While the bald man at the front calls "I'll take it!"

Murgo, as Murgo so often does, announces the catch, "Very wise pu-purchase. Now, just remember, the m-magic only works if you look a-at in complete darkness."

Murgo collects his due payment and the man at your side shakes his head as he turns away. "Idiots," he grumbles before he walks away.

"You there!" Murgo singles you out. "Do you fancy trying a-anything?" He asks you with a smile.

Murgo's entire stall is packed full of oddities, and none of them are ever what they seem. You may not believe in Murgo's little items, but it's always interesting to come and see what he has to sell today. It's nice to consider his fantastical excuses and embellishments.

"M-may I interest you in a fan-antasy?" He sing-songs. "You must ha-have a wish to make come true? Consider this ma-magical music box! One wish! M-Make it come true!" He boasts about another silly item, something that always leaves you rolling your eyes. Wishes cannot be bought.

"Tha-that's a look of uncertainty. Well, how about this." Murgo holds out a hand containing a single chocolate. A perfect, colourful item shaped like a square. "Gen-entleman, please m-may I present, a most magical item to y-your attention! A chocolate! Bu-but not any chocolate! They say this one tastes of m-mocha, and its ingestion a-allows you to live a fantasy."

You scrunch your brow.

"Ingested fantasies might seem an im-impossibility, but I have p-proven through a rigorous scientific process..."

You know he's lying, as always, but you're not about to interrupt though. You doubt the old man actually has much training in anything even related to science, and everything about him can only lead you to believe that he doesn't own many resources to test things on anyway.

"...so, sir, I urge you!" Murgo finishes his meaningless rambling by saying, "Try and taste your fondest dream. Try the ma-magical wonder and live a dream so real, so plausible that y-you'll forget who you are!"

Live a dream so real... He's definitely lying, but you are curious as to the taste of his chocolate.

Your eyes switch from Murgo's insistent, excited stare to his chocolate, and back to Murgo's knowing smile. "Just this once," you tell him.

-

You sit at your kitchen table, staring at the little rectangular block that rests on the wood.

"A fantasy, huh?" you contemplate. You lean in close and give it a sniff; it certainly smells like chocolate, with a hint of mocha.

Shrugging, you hold up the chocolate and drop it into your mouth. Immediately, it melts away and you're overpowered by the delicious flavour. It's milk chocolate, but you find hints of cocoa and coffee mixed between your lips.

You chew a few times and then swallow. At that moment, Murgo's words ring around your mind. 'Live a dream so real,' they repeat.

You sit and you wait. Staring expectantly at the table, you blink blankly at the slab where the chocolate once rested. You tap your fingers. You scratch the back of your neck. And still, nothing.

"Wow." You shake your head, chastising yourself for thinking so optimistically, and push out the chair.

As you stand, your head spins. The world about you warps into another form, a dark space resembling nothing you have ever seen.

The ground crunches beneath your feet. Gravel, perhaps? Black grazes at the surface, but you can't quite make out any details. As if a curtain has fallen to obscure your vision.

You spin around and wave your hands to find a purchase with something.

And then you feel it. Feel... her?

Small, smooth hands in your own. They let go before too long, and then those hands brush up your forearms.

A shadowed girl—clearly a girl by her soft curves—gently touches your cheek, and you grab her hand again. A soft gasp escapes her, and then she giggles. "Do you know how hard it's been, to be stuck inside a piece of chocolate? Of course, you don't. Why would you?"

This... isn't real. Could you be dreaming? Could you be high, or drunk, or passed out? Perhaps poisoned? You bring your fingers to your face to ensure you're not gushing blood or anything odd. Nope, normal. Completely and utterly normal, so... what the hell?

She whispers as her fingers move along the waistband of your pants, "Did you like the taste of the chocolate? Of... Moka?" She laughs. "My name is Moka, do you understand? Mocha and Moka!"

She has the cutest laugh. Soft, genuine, and one that leaves you smiling. Smiling? You ask yourself what you're doing and how you possibly ended up with some mysterious woman pawing your crotch. Regardless, you answer.

"Yeah," you say, her laugh encouraging you to express honesty. "Definitely not a bad product at all."

"Of course not!" Moka cheers. You catch a glimpse of a smile in the shadows that surround her. "After all, I was made with all the finest ingredients to give a taste that absolutely anyone can enjoy! And you're no exception, are you?" Moka's weight presses against you, and she leans close to your ear to murmur, "This little bump in your pants proves that."

You let out a sharp breath, but no denial. Moka may be shrouded in darkness, but you don't have trouble appreciating her presence. You can feel the warmth from her body, her rounded breasts that are all too tempting to touch.

"I'm so confused..." you whisper.

"Good." With the utterance of one word, you see the brightness of a smile. How wonderful and expressive her face is. The darkness clears and the mystery goes with it. The girl in front of you can only be described as utterly breathtaking. She's wearing this smile that turns up a little more on one side of her mouth than the other, and you're absolutely enchanted by its beauty. There's this beauty mark on her nose, such a cute mole. And then her eyes... you could very happily lose yourself within them.

"So incredibly confused," you repeat, and watch with fascination as a lock of her dark hair slips past a black strip and over her flushed cheek.

Moka kisses you. A gentle, testing peck, but there's no time for timid, because she pounces, and suddenly you're drowning under her affection. Kissing her like this is all you can think about, and the way she tangles her small tongue around your own is wildly erotic, both innocent and sinful at the same time.

You are too complacent, but then Moka brings her body flush against yours. You don't know where she came from, you have no idea why she's here and what's going on, but your body is certainly not questioning that right now. Her lithe form under your touch is as smooth as the chocolate she came from.

"Take me," she all but purrs, "It's what I'm here for."

"But you're..."

"Not real? A fantasy? Exactly. That's all the reason you need to let go," she whispers and there is a clarity that brings her words like truth.

Real or not, you can't deny it. You want her, this exotic enigma. You tug her close, fingers tracing a curve, your lips following a line. Her body, her skin, you adore her. Every facet, every inch, you crave her. You take hold of Moka and lift her, she lets out the gentlest of squeaks but instantly wraps her legs around you, and just the sound and feeling of her draws a shudder out of you.

"I spent months in Murgo's storage, just waiting for someone like you. Every single day growing more and more frustrated as I waited. You can't imagine being that pent up, can you?"

She's taking off your shirt. Impatiently running her hands down your torso, like she can't get enough. You stumble until you plant her against the wall, holding her firm and kissing her with all the frustration she feels, biting and sucking and leaving her breathless.

Moka wraps her arms around your neck, curling her heels, pulling you close.

"I can't imagine it, but you don't have to wait for another second though." You squeeze at her taut thighs, making her whimper with delight.

"Taste me," she whispers and you take your lips to her neck. It's not exactly what she has in mind, but she knows it's inevitable. All roads lead between her thighs.

So you fall to your knees before her. Hands up her thighs, driving up the frills of her skirt. She's a delicacy, soft and pink, beautiful, just waiting to be savoured. And the moment your lips touch the inside of her thigh, she gasps, one palm smacking the wall behind her. The tension, the excitement, the breathless little whimpers that escape her, every little thing, has you completely engrossed.

The whole time you press a barrage of kisses against her thighs, moving closer to her core with each passing second, but the light, teasing kisses draw a litany of frustration out of her.

"P-please..." Moka whimpers.

The breath from her plea leaves her in a shudder. She huffs, already trembling. You test how wet she is with your fingers, feeling her damp warmth, her sticky arousal coating your digits. You're unable to resist running your fingertips up the folds of her pussy, using the natural slickness to help move, dancing around her clit and drawing cries from the breathless girl. Her pleasure is plain to see, the rising blush reaching her chest and the deep breaths escaping her.

You slide a single finger inside her, then quickly two, slowly finger fucking her pretty pink, twisting around and feeling her wrap around you.

"You like it?" you murmur and it's not like you could call anything happening now an act of romance, but you turn your head and kiss her thigh. Such a tender moment is shared despite the sordid acts.

Moka huffs, her fingers clinging to your shoulder. "I need it." She sputters, moaning and thrusting down to meet your slow motions. "Oh... It's so good..."

"It's about to get even better," you say.

You lap your tongue along the seeping moisture of her beautiful cunt, and you lick over her slick folds and lap up everything she has to offer. With deep, intense licks, you give her pussy the attention she's been begging for.

"Ahh! Oh, yes!" she shrieks, falling back against the wall and panting with pleasure.

The sweetness of her nectar assaults you, and your tongue finds the little spot that has her moaning each time you lick near it. Faster and faster you circle her clit, watching as her knees quiver and twitch. Closer and closer, your tongue working her into a frenzy.

"More... I-I... yes, don't stop!" she cries, pulling your face against her. She wants more, she won't wait, and she twists and tangles her fingers into your hair, pushing and grinding her dripping sex against you. "Can you imagine it? I was made for pleasure. To give and receive, only to be forced to hide away, all alone? To suffer every day, tortured by my need?"

Moka whimpers and struggles to keep her breath even. You must want to do something about that, don't you?

You grab her thighs, lifting her off the ground and shifting your hands under her, grabbing her soft, plump ass cheeks. She cries at the movement, but then her legs are wrapped around your shoulders, clutching you to her desperately. You eat her little pussy out furiously, ravaging her drenched folds as she cries out, screams filling the room as you pick up the pace. Your tongue dances around her clit, your fingers sinking deeply into the soft flesh of her cute little ass.

"Oh god... I can't stop myself," her desperate cries fill the room.

You cannot deny this girl, even if you wanted to, so you devour her sweet cunt, and watch as her eyes close, the pleasure becoming too much as her body explodes with euphoric release. She screams, desperately riding your face, her entire body quivering and twitching as she cums. The juices drip down your chin as she rides the wave of intense bliss, rolling her hips, indulging in it, prolonging it for as long as she can.

Finally, the surge of her overwhelming orgasm ends, but she slumps, nearly lifeless in your grasp. You struggle to keep her up, and she keeps trying to grind her sensitive folds against you, but her exhaustion finally hits her. So you take her, back in your arms, and toward your kitchen table.

There she lays, shaking and sweating, struggling to catch her breath, and you want nothing more than to pry her delicate figure from that dress. You strip her, your mouth kissing every newly exposed surface of her perfect body.

"This is how things should have been, how life should have been," Moka mumbles, her dark hair swirling beneath her as she lays across your table. Her sweet skin comes into sight and you can't help running your hands along the feminine curve of her stomach. Her perfect breasts fit in the palms of your hands and you trace circles around her taut nipples as she sighs happily.

You undress, and she watches, pulling her lower lip between her teeth. Her expression is suddenly guilty, as though admiring a man naked isn't something a girl should do. But you caress her face, she's your beautiful enchantress, and that moment of hesitation seems to pass as she leans into the palm of your hand. Her eyes shimmer with acceptance, and she's accepting of all the dirty things she's thinking, all the things she's about to say. "I...I want you inside me," she whispers.

Your cock is erect and eager, so hard, aching, throbbing with the desire to know her warmth, and you line yourself with the wetness between her legs.

Gently, you lean forward, pressing the tip against her tightness. "Are you ready?"

"For however long I've waited," she breathes.

She's quivering under you, full of tension, gripping the edge of the table tightly. The expression on her face is so vulnerable, open and raw, so beautiful. Her chest rises and falls with her need, and there's a hunger burning in her, a fire begging to be ignited.

"Please," Moka begs.

"Gentle..." you tell her, though who it's meant for, you're not entirely sure. But you take a deep breath and ease into her slickness.

She gasps, her grip around the side of the table tightening. It takes a moment, but she grows accustomed, her tension dissipates and her trembling is overcome. She laughs, and the sound is nothing short of stunning. Chime-like, the light, airy melody fills the room as she touches herself. Cupping her supple breasts, and tugging her pink nipples, she indulges in her lust and rocks gently against your hard shaft.

"Fuck away my lusts. Fill the void, be the man I've needed so badly," her sweet voice begins to sing with pleasure, her pitch rising.

Her cunt is so warm and inviting, so wet, stretching tightly around you as you pump back and forth. Wet noises sound with every pass. Moka's eyes glaze over and her legs wrap around your waist, pulling you even deeper.

Your thrusting finds a comfortable, easy rhythm, and soon your hips are slapping eagerly against her every time you push in. Wet noises fill the air each time you drive into her deepest parts.

"God, yes..." her desperation only heightens, "Use me, please. Don't stop, fuck me."

"How could I ever?" you pant, both leaning in, sucking the taste of her chocolate mouth, twirling her tongue, drinking her intoxicating exhales.

She's a dream, this girl is made for indulgence. Her arms hook under yours, hands grasping your shoulders, digging into your back, desperate for some way to anchor herself. You want to touch every part of her, soak up her delicious little whimpers and commit them to memory. As your breath runs ragged and your heart pounds in your chest, nothing other than her is present in your mind. Nothing else matters. She is the pure embodiment of desire.

As the feverish motion speeds up, her soft breasts bounce and her entire body shimmers. Sweat glistens along her slender form and you push her to limits she's never known. Her cries run longer and louder until she's screaming, moaning your name, muttering incoherent praise.

"Moka..." you whisper her name, lacing her with what little you can say with a mind lost in the overwhelming bliss of her body.

It isn't long before your rhythm begins to break down. A rising and falling beat, speeding and slowing, stuttering with your every breath. She's drowning with you, and yet floating all at once. Latching onto you, refusing to let go. Desperate, clamping tightly onto you as you enter her deeper with each sharp thrust.

Panting, drenched, bodies so close. Your hard, feverish heat, her spiking lust, colliding with explosive fervour as you surge forward, burying yourself inside her and grunting as you shudder.

Unbridled and relentless, the swelling heat pulses through you and down your length. Rippling through her, filling her cunt, pouring into her. Her cries peak alongside yours. She shudders and shakes as your pulsing cock pumps a shockwave of ecstasy through her.

Delirious laughter escapes her when her rolling euphoria subsides, and her satisfied smile when she strokes her hand down your hot chest... everything about her... the delight of satisfaction washes through her.

Just what was that? That woman made you feel desires you could never imagine possible. Never could you have imagined something would make you feel as if you were flying.

Never could you imagine her.

And yet here she is.

"Can we..." she seems uncertain now, nervous, unsure.

You take her hands and kiss them. A delicate display of adoration that causes her nervous smile to transform into something happier, more certain. "What is it, Moka?"

She presses her finger to her lower lip, searching for the right words. "We can do this again, can't we?"

You can't resist chuckling at the blush that reaches her chest and the shy way she turns her head.

"Of course," you say.

-

Now you understand, even if vaguely, what happened and how things came to be; your actions and hers.

But, as always, the question remains... can a fantasy ever stay?

Moka is sitting outside on the small porch of your humble home. Fond memories occupy your thoughts; nights filled with bliss; mornings spent listening to her joyous voice.

"Are you having doubts?" she asks, unable to meet your gaze.

You sigh and rest against the rail. Her feelings are difficult to understand sometimes, but you have this odd connection, as if an invisible bridge exists between you, allowing you to feel her as she can you. She wants your happiness, you know that, she craves it, and yet...

"Will you stay?" you ask her quietly, a little afraid of the answer.

The setting sun casts pink across the sky. From the lush valley, there's a stream that cuts across the landscape, shaded by the greenery, broken only by the towering tree that stands tall in the distance. Its wide leaves filter the sunlight, casting gentle patterns in the trickling water. It really is such a peaceful place to live.

You stand and enjoy the moment. Fresh air, the calming simplicity of nature.

"I'm sorry," Moka's voice is only a whisper, "I don't know the limits of the magic that brought me here. If I stay, would I be stuck as a human? If I leave your side, would I ever be able to return? It's as much of a mystery to me as it is to you."

"Should I ask Murgo?"

"That fool? He didn't even know the chocolate was really magic. No," her voice grows firmer, "Don't trust the words of that merchant." Her hands clutch tightly at her knees, "I do have this feeling. I can't quite explain it, but, I've been feeling it since you first tasted me."

"Feeling?"

"A pulling—a tug—toward you, away from you too," she says. "Magic, desires, loneliness... maybe they've been woven together. I can't be sure."

"Not sure I understand."

"I feel it now. There's this need to be satisfied. And when I'm not, it feels like the magic will just tear me away."

You push away from the railing and step towards her. She's sitting, knees pulled against her chest, wearing nothing more than a white linen gown. Seeing her so small...

"So, if I just satisfy you..." You reach out and gently brush your knuckles along her soft cheek. Moka leans into your touch, her deep brown eyes gazing up. Your fingertips push through her silky dark hair and cup her delicate chin. As she stares at you, you can feel the deep, yearning emotion within her. "Then you will stay with me."

"I think—"

You interrupt her with a kiss. Softly locking your lips, bringing her comfort. Just a moment, simple tenderness. Then passion, as you open your mouth and taste the pure sugar of her tongue. Slipping around yours, her hot exhale, her warmth, both erotic and meaningful.

You can only pull away by taking her with you, pulling her up from the chair. Eagerly, Moka smiles and steps into your arms. Squeezing her tight, holding her around the waist, breathing her scent, feeling the tension inside yourself. She kisses you back with the same intensity, lips tight on yours, warm and dripping as they open, teasing you with her sweet taste.

You stumble back towards the railing, bodies entwined. Tilting your head, her chocolate flavour can make anyone addicted. Kissing her, nipping, sucking, biting her lip. Sinking into her warmth, her body. Lifting the hem of her short gown, running your fingers along the silky skin of her thighs. She arches back into the wooden railing, and you break apart the kiss as she sinks into the support behind her.

You take hold of her shoulders and turn her. She braces against the railing and leans forward, showing off that inviting, delicate shape. Between the arch of her back and the curve of her cute ass, she begs to be taken. And that thin linen may as well not even be there; it's so taut, so transparent.

You move behind her. In the fading light of the evening, the shadows reveal more than they hide. Lifting the cloth and leaving her bare. Running your hands down the lines of her hips and sides, your fingers lightly trace back up her ribs and finally, you cup one of her light breasts. Her nipple presses into the palm of your hand, and she's so sensitive, arching at even the slightest touch.

She looks back at you, her eyes longing, knowing what comes next. Spreading your fingers down between her legs, you run them along the slick, wet flesh waiting for you. She's already ready, dripping, and your fingertips only tease her. Bending, lining up your rigid cock against her wetness. You place your other hand on her hip and ready yourself, preparing to push forward.

"I'll never grow tired of this," you say.

Moka looks back at you, blushing, hair over her face as she tries to look through the veil. Before she can respond, you push, and she lets out a sharp cry at being filled. With her firmly held, you slide in and out of her dripping cunt. It's not a frantic, hurried pace, but deep, intense thrusts that give Moka what she needs—give her relief.

"Ah! That's so deep... so deep."

Her moans spill out without restraint. Such a vibrant voice, full of the lusts she's harbouring. Holding her firmly, plunging deeper and faster, her tiny pussy wrapping tightly around you. Wet, slippery squishing echoes through the empty air. Slaps sounding with every time your crotch strikes hers. It's all so lewd and brings you ever closer, keeps driving you.

The deeper her chest falls, the more she arches, and a deep moan escapes as her body shakes. Her orgasm comes strong, fast, and powerful, making her legs quake and her voice stutter. But you hold her and keep fucking. Slipping against her back, clinging to her waist, burying your face in her hair. Her trembling sex tenses and flexes and still she moans, incoherently telling you just how good it feels.

You've lost track of the number of times you've filled her tight cunt in the past few days, so this is just another one of many. She loves it, though; loves feeling you pour so deeply inside her. She'll do anything to feel it. So you fill her. Firm thrusts as you pump her full of your cum, right there on the porch.

-

During the moments she spends staring out the window, you run your hand down Moka's back. She hums a little sound, appreciating the act, and snuggles into the blanket further.

"Cold? I could go get the fire going again if you like."

Moka stares blankly, fixated on a flower just outside the window. She blinks and laughs suddenly.

"Hm? Sorry, what did you say?"

You repeat what you said and she quickly responds.

"It's alright, but there's something I need you to do."

"What is it?"

"Lie on the bed, let me ride you. I want to feel you fill me. I need it." She reaches a hand up and cradles her own breast, grasping at it and squeezing the supple mound.

It's getting worse—her constant need. Like an itch, she says. Something has to constantly be done to keep it from being painful. It's barely been two hours since you were last inside her, and it seems to be the only thing she can think about.

"Please. I just need a little more..."

You can't bring yourself to deny her. Not when she looks at you like that. So you stumble backwards, pulling her naked form along with you, and ungracefully land on your back. Already you're growing hard, just from looking up at her dainty body and recalling all the wonderful acts you have performed and thinking of what is yet to come.

Moka runs her hand through her hair and gazes downward, a serene look washing over her delicate features.

"Smiling suits you," you tell her.

Again, you watch her eyes light up at that little kind of praise. "Thank you," she says, blushing as she clambers across the bed to kneel above you. She fixes her knees on either side of your hips and runs her palms over your chest, teasing your body as her breasts sway before you.

"Oh..." she purrs as she rocks back and forth, rubbing her bare sex up and down your length. "Oh, yes..."

You hum with delight, but remain still for a moment, listening to the happy sounds she's making, letting her indulge in the simple foreplay.

Eventually, she can take it no longer. "Here..." She lifts herself with her thighs and wraps a single hand around your hardened cock, steadying it and gripping tight. With a single gasp, she guides you inside her. Her moisture envelops you and she's so tight, the way her pussy seems to suck you in all the way to the base. But once you reach that far point, you both let out a loud moan of satisfaction. She's got all of you, every last inch of your shaft has found its home inside her.

Moka rests there for a moment, staring down with these innocent, almost vulnerable brown eyes. From the soft feeling of her velvety interior and the cute, lewd look of her blissful face, you can't help yourself, and buck up into her, plunging even further in. She lets out a gasp and stumbles forward, catching herself on your chest.

"I'm sorry! Are you alright?" you ask.

The dark-haired girl giggles—something that pleases you more than you can describe—and returns to that dainty smile. She pulls her hips and then drives them against you, before groaning, "More than alright."

Moka finds her rhythm. Rolling and grinding her hips, each motion punctuated by her spiking arousal. Her small cunt welcomes the friction, drips with desire. You grip her waist, helping her balance as she bounces in your lap, pushing herself harder and faster each time. She pushes harder, taking more of you, and soon she's crying out your name, begging you to fill her with everything you have.

Her gorgeous form rocks above you. Thrusting vigorously, her little breasts barely bouncing in a way that you can't take your eyes away from. Moka digs her nails into your chest. Her moans and cries grow increasingly desperate.

"You're amazing," Moka moans through her pleasure, voice quivering and trembling with it.

You can feel her clenching tighter and tighter, her insides quaking as she begs, and pleads for release. It brings your climax close, and despite the urgency of her pleasure, she maintains a controlled rhythm. Not so fast as to short-circuit things, keeping you on the very edge of euphoria.

"God, I love the way you..." she exclaims as a bright flush blossoms across her face. She sinks her teeth into her lower lip, muting her sound.

"What?" you struggle to speak as her slick folds wrap so tightly around you.

You don't know what it is, but something catches her attention. Her movements slow and she's searching, somehow peering through the dark outside. The noise has stopped too, usually at night there's a cacophony of singing insects and rustling, fluttering wings, but now nothing. No wind or creak or creasing leaf. Quiet. Dead quiet.

Moka slips off of your cock and crawls backwards to the end of the bed.

"What is it?" you ask.

Moka's lips twitch. Anxiety sets in over her features and she steps away from the bed, toward the window. Moonlight kisses her skin, the pale rays dancing on her shadowy form. Your heart falters and you realise... you really do want her here. Like this. Always.

"Moka?"

A strong gust blows and the window swings open. Her silky hair whips against her face, catching on her lips. She raises her hand, fingers hovering lightly in the moonlight. You remain motionless in fear of breaking whatever is occurring. Nothing feels right, not a single thing. As if the fabric of reality has been slashed in two.

The wind howls. The lights flicker and the fireplace across the room somehow brings itself to light. She turns to face it and the flames illuminate Moka's eyes. They glow a pale violet, the hue all wrong, ghostly. A tremble comes over her, and she says just five words. The last five words you'll ever hear from her.

"I'm sorry. I'll miss you."

Her hand turns to dust. The grains reflect the moon as they blow out of the window. You watch as the rest of her body follows, leaving only the imprint of where she once stood.

Time moves slowly—too slowly—like your heart, which can't beat. Something has broken, something in you, though not a sound passes through your lips. Tears stream from your eyes. The pain, the sorrow, the emptiness—it all feels irreparable. You can't bear it, and without a single word, without a single sound, the world goes black.

[cy-cyborg]

Forgetting your character is disabled isn't a "good representation" flex: Writing Disability Quick Tips

[ID: An image with “Writing Disability quick tips: Forgetting your character is disabled isn't a good representation flex” written in chalk the colour of the disability pride flag, from left to right, red, yellow, white, blue and green. Beside the text is a poorly drawn man in red chalk looking down confused at his leg, one is drawn normally, the other is drawn to resemble a basic prosthetic. He has question marks above his head. /End ID]

For a while, I was involved in the booktok and Tik Tok writing communities, specifically parts of the community focused on more diverse books and authors. During this time, I noticed a reoccurring pattern when people were highlighting stories featuring disabled characters, or even promoting their own books, and that was how often people would say "I kind of forget they have [insert disability here] because they're such a badass."

The intention behind this statement is (usually) good, with people trying to show that their disabled characters are self-sufficient and don't fall into the tired old sad/helpless disabled person trope, however, you can - and very much should - do that without erasing your character's disability. If you find yourself forgetting your character is disabled, or your beta and pre-release readers are commenting about forgetting it, then there's a good chance that's exactly what you've done - and as a disabled person myself, if I see that statement being used in your marketing in particular, it's a giant red flag and a sure fire way to make sure I give the book in question a skip.

Remember, disabilities (especially major ones) are a part of your character's identity, and they're important regardless of the character's personal relationship with it. Even if your character doesn't specifically identify with the label of disabled or doesn't really care that much, it's should still be impacting their daily life, even in small ways. If you're finding yourself forgetting about a major part of your character's identity, it might be a good idea to check and make sure their disability is having an impact on the character.

I see this comment most often with amputee characters, and to me, it's a pretty consistently good indication that the author has treated their character's prosthetic as a cure rather than the mobility aid it is. It's far from unique to amputees, mind you (I talked about this a lot when I was discussing the character of Toph from Avatar), but it's when I tend to see it the most. Remember that mobility aids and other forms of assistive technology and assistive magic (if it's a fantasy story) are just that: they're aids, they assist, they shouldn't be cures.

Of course, this wasn't unique to Booktok, I've seen it on nearly every other social media site with a writing and book-focused community at some point, but Tik Tok was just where I spent the most time and it seems to be where I see the most people specifically gloating about it.

[spidernuggets]

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Late Jason birthday fic!!!!

MDNI

warnings: jason devouring reader's poosay

You and Jason have been dating just under a year. And today was the first time celebrating with him the day he dreaded the most. His birthday.

If he HAD to celebrate it with his family, he'd want a small get-together, sharing his special day with Alfred.

NOT this damn gala that Bruce organised, seemingly just to spite him. Bruce excused that it was mainly for Alfred, but since they shared the special day, Jason had to be there, too. Now Jason feared the most; being surrounded by rich assholes, half-heartedly wishing him a happy birthday.

But you seemed excited to finally celebrate his birthday with him, and seeing you so eager made Jason's heart swell. He's just gonna have to suck it up and put on his big boy pants and go.

"You ready, baby?" Jason asked, coming into your room. The second he sees you in that damn black dress, complimented with red, he thinks he's lost it. He couldn't even take his eyes off the long slit of the dress that revealed a glimpse of your thigh. If you didn't answer him, he'd think he'd forget how to breathe because, oh, how you were breathtaking.

"Mhm, let me just put my shoes on." You say, taking his arm and leading him to the front door where your black heels with red outsoles laid.

"Is you being all dolled up my birthday present, sweetness?" Jason asked, a sly smirk on his face as he holds onto your waist, helping you balance as you put your heels on.

You chuckled. "It can be if you want it to be. But my actual present for you will be given later." You said, kissing his cheek. "C'mon, let's go."

Jason leads you to his car, and on the drive to the manor, it takes all his willpower not to let his hand that laid on your thigh sneak under the slit and inch up higher.

You held onto Jason arm as he led you into the manor. You expected big, but god, everything and everyone looked so extravagant.

You caught a glimpse of Alfred standing near Bruce and your eyes light up.

"C'mon, Jay!" You said excitedly, tugging him towards where the two men were standing. Jason groans, knowing he'd have to talk to Bruce, but on the other hand, he does want to wish his grandfather a hapoy birthday.

"Happy birthday, Alfie!" You exclaimed, giving the old man a hug before giving him a little bag that contained your gift for him.

He thanks you, telling you that you didn't have ti, but highly appreciates the sentiment. Jason offers a small smile and a quiet, happy birthday before giving him a hug.

"Glad you can come, Jason." Bruce said with a satisfied smile.

"I didn't come here because you told me to or because I felt like it." Jason huffs, looking away.

"Many people have been expecting you." Alfred said.

"And they have gifts." Bruce added. "I expect you to behave. But I don't doubt that she will keep you in check." He said, nodding towards you. You snickered in response while Jason just rolled his eyes, taking your hand, pulling you away from them.

You stayed beside Jason, watching as he uncomfortably mingled with the party guests, giving him his birthday presents.

It started fine. Totally fine. It was nice seeing Jason receiving such nice gifts.

But the more you witnessed him opening the presents, the more self-conscious you got about the gift you have yet to give him.

His given presents consisted of gold cufflinks, finest champagne, designer clothing, luxury cologne, fancy watches, and so much more. You couldn't even think about how much these things could've cost.

"You okay, sweetheart?" Jason murmurs, whispering in your ear as he tilts your chin up to look at him. You were so lost in thought, you didn't even realise Jason was complaining to you how much he wanted to go home.

You nodded with a small smile. "Mhm. Little overwhelmed, I guess." You said, clinging onto his arm.

"Maybe another hour, ma. Then we can go home." He assured you, kissing your forhead.

And it does assure you. He loves you. And he'd love the gift you have in store for him. But still. You're unable to scratch the utch in your head from all the expensive gifts he's receiving.

You sighed, kicking your shoes off, flopping back onto the bed once the two of you returned home. Following Jason around and watching him open gifts can be exhausting.

Jason shrugs his jacket off, throwing it somewhere on the floor, lying beside you. "So. You gonna give me a gift now or continue to keep me on my toes?" He asked with a grin.

You fidget with your hands, picking at your cuticles. "Mm.. can you wait til tomorrow?" You said sheepishly. Maybe you can wake up before him and rush out to the nearest jewellers and get him a nice watch or something.

His brows pinch together with concern, watching the dejected look on your face. He props himself up on one of his elbows, his fave looming over yours.

"What's with the sour look, sour puss?" He teases, poking your nose. "What's wrong?"

You sighed, looking at him. "Nothing. Just tired." You muttered.

"Bullshit.." He murmured, lowering himself down to nuzzle his nose against your jaw, his lips just barely grazing your skin.

You lightly groan. "You got really nice gifts." You said with embarrassment.

He pulls away, his face scrunched up in confusion. "Wanna elaborate, sweet thing?"

You whined with frustration, rubbing your hands over your face. "All your gifts were just so... lavish. Just wait til tomorrow, I can get a better gift."

"Baby." Jason said firmly. "Let me see your gift."

You frowned, knowing he'd pry and pry until he saw your gift. You grumbled, getting uo to reach underneath your bed, pulling out a small decorative paper bag, handing it to him.

Jason carefully took it, like he was scared that his big, rough hands would break the delicate material. He opened the bag, digging through the red shredded tissue paper.

His eyes slightly widened as he pulled out a bookmark. It had a thin gold frame, the bookmark itself having a coloured silhouette of what looked like you and Jason, and in intricate writing, the quote "you must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you," written above the silhouettes.

"Holy shit..." Jason whispered as his fingers traced the fragile details of the gold frame.

You grumbled, not even wanting to think what he thought of it. "Jay, I promise I'll get you a better gif—"

"No!" He suddenly said, bringing the bookmark close to his chest. "I love this..." He whispered, staring at you with a wide grin.

"What? Really? It was only like 30 bucks.." You muttered, looking down at your lap.

He scoffed. "So? Who cares?"

"What!? But.. all your other presents—"

"Were shallow and thoughtless and were from snobby assholes who don't even know my name." He interrupted, carefully placing his bookmark on the nightstand before gently cupping your cheek. "But this gift, the one you're so worked up about..." He carefully pulls you on his lap. "Is the best I've received tonight." He kissed your forhead. "My favourite gift." He kissed your nose. "From my favourite girl." He kissed your lips.

You frowned. "But still!" You whined. But he shuts you up with another kiss.

"Not still.." He muttered against your lips. You hated the effect he had on you. You couldn't even argue as you melted against him, your hands lacing together behind his neck.

One of his hands gripped your hip as the other slid up your thigh, through the slit of your dress, just like he wanted to do all night.

Before going further, he laid you on the bed, his hands at either side of your face as he hovered over you.

He leaned down, lips attached to yours once more. This time, it was more sloppy and desperate, your hands pawing at his chest, fiddling with his buttons.

He helped you take his shirt off, throwing it over where his jacket laid as he travelled from your lips down to your jaw, immediately sucking on your sweet spot. You reach up to his hair, tugging it slightly as he groaned, his hips rolling down against yours.

"Fuck.." He muttered, his hands scrunching up the fabric of your dress in his fists. Being the feral man he is, he ripped your dress, the cool breeze nippng your skin making you gasp.

"Jay!" You squealed.

"Shh, I'll buy you another one.." He discarded the ripped dress with the other clothing on the floor.

"Up." He said, hands slithering under your back. You leaned up, letting him unclasp your bra. He cursed, his lips already around your nipple as you moaned, feeling his tongue swirl around it as his other hand was busy massaging your other breast.

"Fuck, sweetheart.." He groaned, his hands continuing to squeeze your chest as he trailed furthed down your body.

He stopped at your clothed core, your panties already soaked. He stretched the lace, letting go, making the elastic snap against your skin. You flinched at the feeling, your face heating up.

Jason gave the damp spot a soft kiss before ripping your underwear off, throwing it behind him. "I like this birthday present too..." He muttered, kissing your inner thigh.

"Jay, please.." You whimpered, bucking your hips up.

"Shh.. patience. Let me enjoy my birthday meal, hm?" He said, lips inching closer to your aching cunt.

"Jay.. Jay, I— Ah!" With no warning, his mouth dived inti your pussy, licking up the dripping precum like a man starved.

"Fuck, ma.." He grunted. You whimpered, your legs shaking, feeling his tongue lap over your folds and his stubble scratching your skin. "Tastes so good..."

You pull his hair, mixed sounds of your whines and squeals together with his tongue buried in your wet cunt filling the room.

You felt your core burning up, and your stomach twisting in knots while your legs shook. You chanted his name like a mantra, your head thrown back into they pillow, back arched, and your hips lifted uo further in his face as you came. Your eyes were shut tight, and you swore you saw stars.

You panted as Jason licked you clean, and when your eyes opened, there were black dots everywhere. Even looking down, seeing Jason's face stuffed between your legs made you feel like cumming again.

Jason hummed, crawling back up, kissing your lips as you tasted yourself.

"Now.." He flipped you two over, so you were straddling his lap. "I know you have another gift for me.." He said as whined, feeling his hard buldge beneath his pants.

okay. lowkey not satisfied with the way i write this but ermmmm... hope yous like it!!!

[gayofthefae]

You know how I know Mike is queer?

These are the same person. Mike is an inherently caring, loving, and protective person. It's what Will called out in 4x08 and reminded us of with Mike's desire and practice in attempt to be a "hero" and be able to help the ones he loves.

But when El tells him she feels unloved by him, he doesn't comfort her. At all. He defends himself. He doesn't even say "yes I do". He says "I say it". Even when he's arguing that he loves her, he is defending himself, not comforting her. If he was comforting her he would have reacted to her crying at all. He doesn't. He just becomes increasingly desperate and escalates the tactics that are making her cry more.

Because the accusation is that important to him. Not many things could be so important to him that he would deprioritize her or taking care and protecting and comforting those he loves. He even does quite well at it at the start of the scene. We have PROOF that he is pretty stable these days with any sort of accusation or invalidation with how well he takes "you don't understand" and simply asks questions without any sort of offense. So he CAN take it. He takes it IN THIS CONVERSATION.

But when she says he doesn't love him, he stops the "they just don't know you". He stops the "don't say that about yourself, you're lovable," which is what this is really about for her. If he had said that even if he couldn't say it himself, it might have still helped a little bit: frame it as his own fault if he can't. But he couldn't do that. Instead, he went with how it reflected on HIM that he couldn't say it and defended himself AGAINST her. FOUGHT her on it.

There are few things that can make him fight a person. And they've all actually been pretty similar. They're all El:

"You're prioritizing El over Will"

"There is something off about your relationship with El"

"You're prioritizing El over [Will]"

"He's right that your and [El's] relationship wasn't a good one"

"Your and El's relationship wasn't a good one"

"You're prioritizing El over [Will]"

"You don't love [El]"

He is comforting. He is kind. He prioritizes others' comfort and safety consistently. He takes other accusations fairly lightly and focuses back onto the person making them and their emotions. And yet, what does he say in those instances and only those instances?

"SHUT. UP."

"You lying piece of shit. You're crazy!"

"It's not my fault you don't like girls!"

"He's just some crazy old man"

"You're conspiring against me!"

"We're friends! We're friends!"

"You're being ridiculous. What is this?"

People who say his character has gotten worse are stating it under the idea that he is always like this. The entire discovery so many people, including myself, had that he's queer was because we noticed that his outbursts were consistent. People think he's random and angry because they think the situations are random: Lucas, Hopper, Will, Max, El. But they're forgetting to note what each of those people questioned about him right before.

The biggest proof is that he doesn't ever talk like this outside of these situations. It's lighthearted debates and empathetic conversations.

Mike Wheeler is a kind person. If he said "You're being ridiculous. What is this?" it is not just because he's scared of vulnerability or commitment.

[btsgotjams27]

perfect palette | jjk

vegas isn’t your first choice, but you love your best friend and are willing to do anything for her, including planning her bachelorette party. everything is all set, ready to go for the last day, until you receive a text from the model you’ve hired. he’s out sick but have no fear, he’s sent the next best thing to replace him for the night.

✨ title: perfect palette

✨ pairing: jungkook x f!reader (nicknamed Ro)

✨ genre/au: slice of life, light angst | model!jk, las vegas!au

✨ rating: m/18+ | ✨ word count: 7.5k

✨ warnings: language, drinking, mild nudity, jungkook + reader are tipsy, kissing, reader is nicknamed Ro but is only called by her name a handful of times.

✨ a/n: hi again! so this idea came to me when i was in vegas lmao, and the painting idea is from 'this is us' (the show). i just thought it was a fun premise. i hope you enjoy it.

What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.

Your head is pounding, and your stomach is growling. As you pop your head up, you notice the hotel room is a complete mess: furniture has been knocked over, empty tequila and champagne bottles litter the room, and clothes and money are scattered across the floor.

A low, muffled groan startles you, making you cover up with the duvet. You definitely don’t remember sleeping with someone. Your mind races, attempting to recall last night’s shenanigans.

Whoever is next to you mumbles under their breath and turns over on their stomach. The silver chain that’s adorning their neck glimmers from the sunlight peeking through the blinds. You can’t help but notice their broad chiseled back and the markings on it. No, they’re not scratches from nails—they’re purple lines, going from one beauty mark to the next, and each mark is surrounded by a pair of red lips. Turning your hand over, you see it’s stained with purple, matching the color on their back.

What the fuck happened last night, you think.

You lean over, peering at the mysterious person. A scalloped tattoo delicately covers their shoulder and the rest of their arm is covered in ink. You giggle when you discover the tattoos are colored an array of hues—blue, red, green, and orange. It looks almost like a child was told to have fun and went wild with coloring.

The person groans again, switching to lay on their back side. You pull back, holding the duvet up to your chin. A small gasp comes out when you recognize the mystery person—it’s Jeon Jungkook, your old college buddy. Five years have passed since you last saw him at graduation. Last you heard, he was in Los Angeles, taking a jab at modeling and acting. Well, with his perfect face and body (your eyes quickly scanned over him), who would say no to him?

The real question now was, how did he end up in Vegas, and specifically in your hotel room?

—

The day before.

“Ro, cheer up please. We’re in Vegas, not a funeral,” Lottie says, swiping on a pink lip stain. “You’re only gonna feel like shit if you keep scrolling through those photos.”

Lottie’s right because looking through your ex-college sweetheart’s wedding photos is not doing anything for you. Four years of committing to a man who said he never wanted to get married, but there he was with a ring on his finger.

Your phone is swiped from your hand. “Hey!” you protest, standing to snatch it back. “Give it to me!”

“No! I will not let my maid-of-honor mope around like a sad puppy. Forget Jimin! He’s a married man now and a Libra—an October Libra too, I might add. That should’ve been a red flag right off the bat!”

She’s been your work wife for the past three years, and the two of you bonded over talking shit about your boss and colleagues. The only anecdotes she knew of Jimin were the ones you spilled on drunken nights.

“Lottie, give me my phone. I have to make sure everything is ready for tonight. It has to be perfect,” you explain, holding out your hand, insisting she gives it to you. But it was an excuse to keep lurking.

The itinerary for today consisted of: brunch, pool and cocktails, dinner at Hell’s Kitchen, then a night of painting–naked painting you should add. As if the Magic Mike show wasn't enough skin for Lottie and the rest of the crew. You somehow stumbled upon a small business, ‘Perfect Palette’ combining models and painting into one. This would be the next closest thing to being with a fully naked man. It's been a hot minute since you've seen one.

The bride-to-be reluctantly hands over the phone and you're scrolling through emails, switching apps to confirm everything.

“Take a chill pill, babe. Everything doesn't have to be perfect, but I am excited about painting tonight!” Lottie smiles and claps, then leans over to give you a hug. “Okay! Time to get ready for brunch.” She runs off to the restroom. “And no more pining over Jimin, please!” She yells back.

It's hard not to look through the photos of your ex-boyfriend because it was supposed to be you, not the woman he's kissing and holding. If only you could go back to graduation and fix things between you and Jimin…maybe life would've turned out differently for you.

As you open up Instagram (your burner account, obviously), you see a new post of him and his wife on a plane with the caption, “Can't wait to honeymoon in Bali.”

Bali was your dream honeymoon location.

With a heavy sigh, flinging yourself onto the bed, you turn off your phone. Lottie’s always right—this is depressing.

A ding goes off and you're hoping it's just one of the girls confirming the schedule for today. Grabbing your phone, you hold it above you, the screen illuminating your face.

The notification reads:

Namjoon 8:30 AM

Hey. I came down with the stomach bug so I can't make it tonight, but don't worry, I'm sending the next best thing to replace me. I promise the bride and your girls will love him. He's a newbie but he's just as beefy if not more than me. Have fun tonight.

You turn the phone over and rub your hand over your face. Great, just my luck, you think.

Well, whoever this person is, you hope he’s worth what you’re paying for.

–

The Primrose restaurant is the perfect spot to finish off a weekend in Vegas. It’s bustling with groups similar to yours—probably other brides and bridesmaids celebrating a last hoorah before committing yourself to one person for the rest of your life. At this point it seems silly, doesn’t it? Being with someone, choosing them on a daily basis, loving them for all their faults, but who are you kidding? You’re a hopeless romantic now waiting for your charming prince.

Gwen and Ivy sit across from you and Lottie, whispering and pointing to their phone like two high school girls. You don’t doubt they’re plotting something. You just hope it doesn’t involve more naked men, minus the one you’ll see tonight. There are only so many ripped abs you can take.

“What are you two whispering about?” Lottie asks while narrowing her eyes. She holds her glass of mango mimosa, taking a sip.

“Nothing!” They both speak in tandem and Lottie makes a face at the two.

“No surprises,” you plead with your friends. “The rest of the day is already planned.”

“Don’t worry, babe! We’re not planning anything else,” Gwen reassures.

“It’s just that—” Ivy is cut off when Gwen jabs her in the ribs. “Ow!”

Gwen puts her phone down, hiding it under her thigh. “It’s nothing that concerns you.”

“But it does—kind of—” Ivy interjects. “Jimin and his wife—they’re pregnant.” She grabs Gwen’s phone, showing a photo of Jimin kissing his wife’s belly.

“Oh,” you say softly. “That’s great. I’m really happy for him.”

You hate to admit it, but it stings. He’s living the life you dreamed of with him. The big house, big cars, but someone else got the big ring. And now they’re starting a family? Everyone seems to be moving forward, but it feels like you’re at standstill. It’d be amazing to have a man plop in your lap, but life just doesn’t seem to be going your way.

Clearing your throat, “Should we get ready for the pool?”

—

It doesn’t matter how many times you tug down your swimsuit, it keeps riding up in all the wrong places. The white linen shorts and tie top aren’t doing you any favors either by being paper thin.

The pool is bustling with hoards of party-goers. They’re laughing, drinking, and having the time of their life. An ex-boyfriend’s current life shouldn’t be affecting yours—but it is. You wish you could let go, let loose, forget everything related to Park Jimin. You’d rather be consumed by anything, anyone other than him.

Lottie’s at the bar, ordering a round of drinks. Gwen and Ivy are grabbing the attention of four guys. And it’s the last night before returning to reality, so you should be having fun, flirting, and making a fool of yourself to someone whom you’ll never see again. That’s what Vegas is for, right?

As a maid of honor, you’re definitely not living up to the hype and you know Lottie’s disappointed expression like the back of your hand, and yet you can’t unbunch your panties that are in a twist. The effects of the morning mimosas have worn off, and maybe you need something stronger. Hell—even a gummy sounds tempting at this point. Anything to forget how miserable your love life is.

“You’re still thinking about him, aren’t you?” Lottie asks. You shake your head no, but she knows you. She sits down, taking your hands. “Look, I’m sorry about Jimin. It sucks that he got married even though he said he never wanted to—” You’re ready to interrupt but she stops you, placing her index finger on your lips.

“Bup-bup-bup. I know what you’re going to say, but don’t,” Lottie implores, pleading with her eyes. She knows how much you torment yourself with lowly thoughts.

You want to say that there’s definitely something wrong with you. Why else would Jimin say one thing to you about marriage and then do the complete opposite?

“You’re more than enough, so please don’t think otherwise. Don’t let this one guy determine the course of your future relationships. He’s not worth your time and energy.”

Tears began to well behind your eyes as she continued, “You deserve to have some fun. So please, can we enjoy this last night together before we have to go back to our real lives?” Lottie pouts along with puppy eyes.

Lottie’s always right and that’s what you love about her. You hate that you’ve been a poor sport this weekend when you’re supposed to be celebrating your friend and having fun. You’ve been busy moping over a man who is now married with a child on the way. It’s a pathetic way to spend your last night in Vegas.

You let out a deep breath, expelling all the bad energy you’ve harnessed. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’ve been the worst maid of honor, but have no fear!” A server brings over the drinks that Lottie ordered, you pick up your Paloma cocktail and an oversized margarita, handing it to the bride-to-be. “Let’s have the best night. Cheers!” you say, clinking your glass against hers.

—

Tequila is one of your worst enemies, but also the best way for you to loosen up your limbs and lips.

By the time the four of you arrive at the hotel room, you’re unsure if you can even pick up a paintbrush, let alone even get paint on a canvas.

“Oh, I’m sorry, sorry that you love me! Change my mind up like it’s origami!”

The trio of you, Ivy, and Gwen are linked arm in arm trying to fit through the door while singing at the top of your lungs.

“Ugh—I swear Tate McRae is my spirit animal,” you say, turning to Gwen. “You know, she just gets it. Always gets me in my sad girl hours and then has me dancing the next.”

“I’m a-I’m a-I’m a wild ride that never stops!” Ivy continues singing, letting go of the two of you while Lottie trails behind. Someone has to be the semi-sober one.

“Hey Ro—they’re bringing everything right?” Lottie asks you.

“Yeah, the guy will bring the supplies. There’s an area cleared out for him. I’m gonna freshen up then I’ll be out.”

“I’m ready for a man to bare it all and ask nothing of me in return,” Gwen comments, taking a seat on the couch.

You chuckle, shaking your head at your friend. Hopefully, it’ll be the last naked man you’ll see this weekend. But either way, you’re sure you’ll enjoy this last activity.

The powder puff pats against your skin, making dust fly everywhere. Taking a step back, you give yourself the once-over in the mirror, but not before swiping a red stain on your lips. You don’t want to look disheveled for this naked guest. Apparently, he’s the ‘next best thing’ next to Namjoon, and you saw Namjoon’s photo on the website. You’re curious to see this mystery man and how this evening will end up.

As the door is ajar, you can hear the girls talking amongst themselves along with giggles. Whoever this guy is, he must be living up to their standards.

You’re unsure what to expect, how everything will turn out. Is this model fully naked? Are they covered? Do you keep your art piece? How are you supposed to bring a canvas of a naked man on a plane without receiving a few stares? You definitely didn’t think this part through.

“Ro! Get your butt out here. We’re gonna start painting soon!” Gwen yells, making you sprint out the door and into a curious situation.

Four canvases on easels and paint palettes on stools surround the model. His back is turned to you and he’s already half-naked with only a towel wrapped around his waist. One arm is completely inked from the top of his shoulder to his wrist. When he turns around and your jaw drops, not because he’s built like a Greek god (well, yeah he is), but because you recognize the half-naked man.

“Jeon Jungkook?” 

“Ro?” His eyes light up and he secures his towel, tucking it in his waist. “What are you doing here?”

You step toward him and the girls. “What am I doing here? What are you doing here?”

Jungkook rubs the back of his neck. “Err—”

Lottie clears her throat, blinking at you and then Jungkook. “Um, excuse me. How do you two know each other?”

The pair of you give each other a look and chuckle before you answer. “Oh, we went to college together.”

“Just went to college together? Nothing more?” Ivy narrows her eyes at you, trying to figure out if you’re lying.

“What? No! We’re just friends. I was with Jimin, remember?” A pathetic reminder of your past relationship and now non-existent one.

“Uh huh,” Lottie remarks, taking a stride to you, pulling you in. “I wanna hear all the details about that one later.”

“There’s nothing to tell,” you whisper. “We’re friends—nothing more.” Catching Jungkook’s gaze, you smile softly before taking your seat on the stool.

“Are you ladies ready?” Jungkook asks, ripping off his towel, only to reveal another small hand towel covering his crotch.

The girls are yelping and hollering. You can’t help but cover your eyes, giggling at the fact that you’ll be painting one of your friends—naked.

—

Jungkook’s surrounded by the four of you. His pose is simple, straight forward. Literally straight forward because he’s facing you, knees slightly bent as he’s sitting on the stool. Your eyes have caught his every now and again, but he's focused on something past you.

Every inch of him is chiseled like a statue right out of Ancient Greece. From his jawline, to his collarbone, to his sculpted chest and not one, two, three, four, but eight pack abs. How is it that some people are just born to look like a Greek god? You didn’t think God had favorites, but Jeon Jungkook definitely proves you wrong.

Studying Jungkook’s physique for the past hour has made you realize how intimate this feels. Although the pair of you were friends in school, this is the most time you’ve spent with him outside of it, and the most time you’ve spent just looking at him. He is definitely a pretty boy with a soft, sweet energy.

Your brows are knitted, biting your bottom lip, trying to figure out how to paint his inked arm. It’s looking more and more like a glob than anything distinguishable. It’s when your eyes catch his and he’s doing that smile, the one where one side curves up, and it makes your heart skip a beat.

Jungkook’s eyes flick to the large clock in the living area. “Okay, ladies. It looks like time is up. How did everyone’s painting turn out?” There are groans and grumbles coming from the four of you. Jungkook chuckles, “Aw, come on. It can’t be that bad.”

He turns, fetching a robe behind him, slipping it on to cover himself. Jungkook takes it upon himself to check out everyone’s canvases, and you’re dreading the moment when he approaches yours.

You clutch it, holding it close to your body, and you have no intention of Jungkook ever seeing it.

He tilts his head, giving you a look. “Ro—it can’t be that bad.”

“Trust me, it is!” You turn, hoping to somehow destroy it before leaving tomorrow morning. It’s not that Jungkook looks horrible—it’s that you’re a horrible painter. But your death grip isn’t as strong as he is. With a sigh, you hand it over to him.

Jungkook nods with a pout on his lips. “It’s…”

“Horrible—I know.”

“No, no. I’d say it has an abstract feeling to it. I like it.” He gives a bright smile, returning the canvas to you.

You give him a thin smile, knowing that he’s just saying it because it’s his job. “By the way, you’re really good at this gig, but are you still pursuing the whole modeling thing?”

“I’m still doing that. I just do this gig for fun on the weekends. I mean, I get to meet cool, and sometimes crazy people and the money isn’t bad either.”

“Alright, ladies and gentleman. Tequila, anyone?” Gwen suggests as she wiggles her eyebrows, holding up the bottle. No one answers which makes her frown. “Aw, come on!”

“I’m game. What about you Ro?” Jungkook’s eyebrows are raised, eyes practically pleading for you to say yes. “One for me?”

You know it’s never ‘just one’ with Jungkook. You’ve seen first hand what that one line does to people, but you take the risk. “Okay, Jeon—just one.”

Everyone else gives in, raising and clinking their glasses to toast the bachelorette. Expelled breaths come from everyone after knocking back the clear liquor.

“Round two?” Jungkook asks, extending his glass toward Gwen in which she happily obliges.

You smirk, shaking your head as you catch Jungkook’s gaze.

—

It didn’t take long until you were feeling euphoric from the alcohol coursing through your veins. You’re always on cloud nine when you drink Tequila.

Lottie called it quits after her fifth shot. Gwen and Ivy are also well on their way to sleeping like babies. But you and Jungkook? You both have caught a second wind of energy.

“Ugh, I’m so hungry!” you exclaim, rubbing your belly as it growls. Jungkook’s trying to hold in a laugh. With a gasp, you turn to him, slapping his back, which is firm to the touch. “Shut up! Drinking makes me hungry.”

“Okay then, let’s get some room service. What are you craving?” 

You tap your cheek with your index finger, combing through the many options. “Pizza. No—wait, chicken wings.” Jungkook closes his eyes and hums. “No, nope! I want a juicy, juicy hamburger…with…with…” Your brain is obviously short-circuiting.

“Fries?” Jungkook answers.

“Yes! Fries! And a milkshake!”

“We can do that. I’ll call it in.”

An hour has passed and you and Jungkook are sprawled out on the bed, bellies full and minds are swirling.

“Oh man, I haven’t done anything like this in such a long time,” you admit, turning over onto your belly. You lay your head in the crook of your arm, facing Jungkook.

“What? Eating?” he teases.

You giggle. “No—getting tipsy and I don’t know, just being free.”

“This is you being free?” Jungkook raises a brow. “I gotta get some more tequila in you then.” He proceeds to get up, but you pull him back.

“No, no, no. Trust me, this is good. I don’t wanna black-out.”

“Okay, how about some champagne then? Just to celebrate your last night here,” Jungkook suggests.

You know you’ll regret it, but you agree. “Just one bottle.” Besides you already paid for it, you wouldn’t want it to go to waste.

He sprints out of the bedroom to the bar area to grab a bottle and two glasses. You can’t help but notice how his biceps flex as he pours the two of you a glass.

“To—”

“Lottie,” you finish his sentence.

“To Lottie.” He clinks his glass with yours before chugging down his bubbly.

You stare blankly at the Greek god himself. “You’re trying to get me drunk, aren’t you?”

His lips thin into a smile. “I’m not doing anything…”

“Mmhm.” You take a gulp of your glass. You’re sure that if Jungkook were to ask you to do something, you’d say yes in a heartbeat. He made being around him comfortable and you always felt at ease.

“So, what should we do now?”

Your lips turn into a pout, peering around the room before a lightbulb goes off. “Ah! I have just the thing.” You rush over to your luggage, rummaging through it. Turning around, you wave a box of double tipped markers.

Jungkook knits his brows together. “And what do you think you’re going to do with those?”

You giggle. “You’ll see!”

—

Your tongue is out, concentrating on the purple line connecting from one beauty mark to the next. You’ve forced Jungkook to lie on his belly as you’re hunched over, straddling his legs.

“Don’t move!”

He relaxes, letting you continue on. Capping the purple marker, you set it aside. You’re giggling, tracing the line across his back and you can feel him squirm under your touch.

“You finished or what?” He peers over his shoulder but you turn him away.

"Just need to add the finishing touches." Leaning forward, you press your lips to the first beauty mark on his mid back, leaving a lipstick stain. Then you move to the next one beneath his shoulder blade, and continue on. His skin is smooth and warm under your lips, and though it's faint, you think you hear a low groan from him.

You sit up, adjusting your position, staring at the artwork you’ve created on Jungkook’s back. “Done—with your back at least. Now onto your arms.”

—

Jungkook turns his head to see what you’re coloring, flexing his bicep, making you color outside the lines.

“Oh my god! You made me mess up!” You try wiping the color, but it doesn’t budge. “You did it on purpose.”

“I did not! Why do you need to color inside the lines anyway?” he asks before returning to his previous position, resting his head on his arm.

“Because…that’s the way you’re supposed to color.” Taking an orange marker, you continue shading in his cloud tattoo.

“You don’t always have to follow the rules,” he breathed, gazing up at you.

“I know…” you mumble. Your eyes flick to his then back to the tattoo. You hate when things are not in your control. There were a handful of moments in your life when shit hit the fan and chaos ensued—Jimin being one of them.

You clear your throat, grabbing a yellow marker to color in a gradient effect. “And are you the type to not follow the rules?”

Jungkook chuckles, “I guess we don’t know each other well huh?”

“Well, I was practically glued to Jimin when we were in school.”

“What happened with you guys anyway? I thought you guys were like soulmates or something.”

“We just wanted different things,” you mumble, not wanting to elaborate. “What about you, hmm? Being a model in LA and Vegas? I’m sure you have women wanting to crawl into bed all the time.”

His gaze catches yours. “Exhibit A.”

You scoff. “Hey! We’re friends—that’s the only reason why you’re in my bed.”

“Uh huh. I saw the way you were eyeing me during the painting session. Don’t tell me you weren’t thinking about it,” Jungkook teases, making you stop coloring, and pinch his underarm. “Ow, ow, ow! Okay, just kidding!” He moves away, but you pull him back.

“Hey! I’m almost done coloring,” you say, gripping tighter onto his arm.

“That’s not fair. Only you get to color me?”

You sigh, tilting your head. “I’ll let you draw one thing on me.”

“Can I pick the location of where to draw it?”

“As long as it’s not my tits or ass.”

Jungkook lets out a hearty laugh. “Alright, how about your—”

Your hand flies to cover his mouth, knowing exactly what he’s going to say. “Jeon Jungkook! That’s a hard no!”

“You practically saw my junk and I can’t see yours?”

“Well, I paid for it.”

“I can pay you too.”

You gasp. “You can’t just buy me.”

“Fine. Give me a few options and I’ll choose the placement.”

It would be easy to choose a place more visible, but you’re feeling frisky. “My hip or my back.”

Jungkook lips his licks, eyes flicking to your hips then back up at you. “And I can draw anything I want?”

You hum with a nervous tremble. You’re sure he wouldn’t draw anything ridiculous. “I trust you.”

“‘Kay then, turn over on your belly. Top off.”

Sitting up, facing Jungkook, your hands fall to the first button on your linen vest. Your eyes never leave his as you continue to unfasten the rest, then you toss it aside, revealing a blush pink see-through bra with floral detailing. Jungkook is trying his best to not let his eyes wander lower and you’re trying to do the same. Yes, you’ve stared at his half-naked body for an hour tonight, but you didn’t have the chance to explore it up close.

“Is this okay?” You know it is, but you’d like confirmation.

“Mmm.” He gestures for you to lie down, and you do as he asks.

Jungkook reaches for a black marker, the tip is thinner than the others. He shifts his position a few times before lying comfortably next to you. The warmth from his body radiates, heating up against your skin. You lie on top of your crossed arms, facing him, wondering what he’s planning to draw. Maybe some flowers or stars.

His brows are knitted as he’s concentrated on where to begin. He starts on the middle of your back, drawing circular shapes from what you can tell. The tip of the marker grazes back and forth, and his hand and fingers emanate a gentle touch upon your skin.

He’s quite handsome, you think. Even the scar etched on his cheek has a certain beauty, and his nose must be a butterflies favorite place to land on.

“Is it okay if I unhook this?”

“Hmm?”

“Your um,” he clears his throat. “Your bra.”

You’ve been too focused on Jungkook’s face, you hadn’t realized he was halfway down your back. “Yeah, um, go for it.”

He unhooks your bra in one fell swoop and the sides of your bra fall to the side. Continuing with his design, he concentrates on the smallest details going down your spine. Your eyes flutter shut as his warm breath softly fans the wet ink on your skin.

“Are you seeing anyone?” Jungkook asks, trying to make conversation, realizing he doesn’t know you well, besides when you were with Jimin.

“Single as can be. What about you? A girlfriend? Friends with benefits? Situationship?”

Jungkook laughs. “What kind of life do you think I lead here, hm? That’s a lot of assumptions about me.”

“I don’t know. I just assume that someone that looks like you would have someone is all.”

“Well, I’m also single, and I’m a more monogamous kinda guy.”

“You are?” you question with a dramatic gasp. “That comes as a nice surprise. Maybe we should go get married tonight in a chapel,” you joke.

“With a few more drinks in me, I’m sure I’d say yes to anything.”

“Stop—don’t tempt me.”

“I’m serious. I’m ready to meet someone and do the whole boyfriend-girlfriend thing, but a lot of the people I meet just want sex.”

“I’m sorry, did I just meet a guy who doesn’t want sex?”

Jungkook deadpans. “I didn’t say I don’t want sex. I do—I just wanna be a romantic and spoil someone.”

“Oh, well, you can always wine and dine me. I won’t object,” you tease.

As Jungkook continues drawing, the pads of his fingers create a light buzz of electricity, from one end to the other. Your eyes flutter shut, relishing from his soft touch. You almost let out a low moan but catch yourself when he gets to a ticklish spot near your ribs.

“Jungkook?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you think the right person will come along for you?”

A beat passes before he answers. “Yeah, I think so. Whoever they are, I just know that I'm probably not ready to meet them yet, but the right time will come.”

“But what if the right person came at the wrong time?”

“Or…you were the right person in the wrong place,” he suggests. “Are you talking about Jimin?”

“Yeah, I've been trying to avoid talking about him. He recently got married and his wife is pregnant too.”

“Ah, don't tell me you're feeling shitty? ‘Cause you shouldn't.”

A sad chuckle leaves your lips. “I'm pretty sure I fumbled it.”

Jungkook stops drawing on your back, softly calling your name, in which you hesitate to look at him for fear of bursting into tears.

“Hey…you didn't fumble anything. Pretty sure it's Jimin’s loss.”

“You're sweet, Kook. Thanks.”

Jungkook continues on his quest to finish his drawing.

“Is it almost finished?” you ask, clearing your throat. The tequila and champagne are starting to wear off and tomorrow’s reality is beginning to settle in. Tonight feels like a dream and you don’t want to wake up.

He hums. “Almost. Just a few more details then we’ll be good to go.” Short strokes lightly mark across your back and he doesn’t break his concentration. He continues for a few minutes before closing the cap. “Done. Wanna see?”

“I’m not gonna lie. I’m low-key scared to see what it is.”

Jungkook straightens his posture then reaches for his phone. “You have nothing to be scared of. It’s pretty. I promise.” He takes a photo, showing it to you.

Though the drawing session didn’t feel long, you could see the intricate detailing he went into drawing the moon phases down your back.

Sitting up then turning away from Jungkook, you use your arm to cover your breasts and secure your bra. “Are you always good at everything?” you ask, standing and walking over to the dresser, you pull out an oversized shirt, slipping it on, then you grab the tequila bottle and two shot glasses. There’s just enough to end the night.

Jungkook shifts to the edge of the bed, legs spread, and you slot yourself right in between. “Nah, I’m not good at everything.”

“Oh yeah? What are you not good at?” you ask, making him hold a glass while you pour his then yours.

He chuckles, looking away, then back up at you. “For starters, I’m not good at flirting.”

“You’re lying.” Your eyes lock in on his as you set the empty bottle down on the floor.

“I’m not.”

“Okay, practice on me then,” you say, trying to persuade him.

“A bit of liquid courage might help.”

You raise your glass and clink it against his. “Bottoms up.” The both of you wince as you knock them back, tossing the glasses on the carpeted flooring.

“Better?” you inquire, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders, playing with the hair along the nape of his neck. Jungkook’s fingers delicately trace up and down your thighs, sending tingles across every inch of skin. His eyes are so starry, you’ll gladly get lost in them.

“You’re pretty.”

“Could say the same about you,” you giggle, twirling his hair in your fingers. “You’re right.”

Jungkook closes his eyes, reveling at your touch against his skin. “Mm, about what?”

“That you’re bad at flirting.” Your eyes linger on his lips, wondering what they taste like and how much you’d like to kiss the chocolate chip mole right underneath his bottom lip.

He lets out a soft chuckle, looking down at his feet then back at you. “Told you,” he says as he pulls away, propping himself up on the bed. He scans you from head to toe, loving the fact that you’re in between his legs. Hasn't seen you in years, but he’s intrigued.

Letting out a yawn, you cover your mouth then apologize.

“Damn, didn’t think my non-flirting would put you to sleep.”

You laugh. “It’s been a long day and it’ll be an even longer one tomorrow.”

“Right, I should head out too.” Jungkook shifts, scooting to the edge of the bed but you don’t budge.

“Do you wanna stay? Since it’s pretty late already.” Nearly 3 AM and you know you’ll regret this but right now, you’ll indulge in whatever’s left of this trip.

Jungkook’s silent for a moment before answering, “Sure. I’ll stay.”

You crawl over him, slipping under the covers that have been calling your name for the past few hours. The plush, fluffy pillows are like a cloud as you lay your head down. Jungkook follows your lead, doing the same, facing you. His fringe gently falls, covering his eyes, and you find yourself moving them out of his face.

“You’re cute,” you whisper, letting your finger trace his cheeks to his jawline.

“I don’t really like being cute,” he hums.

“Well, that’s just too damn bad, isn’t it?” You inch closer to him, and can feel the warmth radiating off his body. It feels nice to be in close proximity to another human being again. And you like that there are no expectations. You can just be with Jungkook. The two of you run in the same circle of friends, and he makes you feel safe—like if anything were to happen to you tonight, he’d take care of you.

Your eyes flick to his lips, lingering longer than expected, and your cheeks are warming up, ridding the last bit of alcohol coursing through your veins.

Jungkook moves in, closing the distance. The tip of his nose brushes against yours, lips ghosting each other in a delicate dance before finally meeting in a tender kiss. Time seems to stand still as you melt into each other. Hearts beating in perfect harmony, lost in the sweetness of the moment.

With your breaths mingled, it creates a cocoon of intimacy as you savor the softness of each other's lips. Your fingers entwined in his hair, drawing him closer, bodies pressed together in a silent declaration of desire.

The last leg of this trip was fate trying to make you forget about your worries, and Jungkook was the perfect color to paint over your monochrome palette. 

There’s a longing deep inside you wanting to escape, and as much as you want to release it, you’d rather have him when you’re sober and in the right mindframe.

“Ro…” Jungkook moans as he pulls away, your hands splayed on his taut chest, forehead resting against his.

“Yeah?” you reply, leaning in for another kiss.

“I don’t want you like this,” he says, taking you by surprise, almost like he could read your mind.

Letting out a chuckle, you answer, “No—yeah, makes sense.”

“It’s not that ‘I don’t want you’, I do! I just—don’t want this to turn out like other flings I’ve had in the past because I don’t consider you ‘a fling’ or someone to just toss the next day because we’re friends and I would never do that to—“

You interrupt him with a peck on his lips. “Jungkook. I understand. I feel the same way.”

“You do?”

“Yeah, I had a lot of fun tonight and that’s all thanks to you.”

“I didn’t do much.”

“No, you did! You helped me loosen up.”

“I’m sure it was just the champagne and tequila doing all the work.”

“They helped, but it was mostly you.” You smile, letting a beat pass before speaking again. “Should we try to get some sleep?”

He hums, leaning in for a kiss, in which you willingly give. You tug on his silver chain, asking for a few more kisses before letting him go.

Not even three minutes in and Jungkook is already snoring. His chest rising and falling, rumbling like a mountain. It’s cute, you think. Could get used to listening to this, almost like white noise.

You admire how Jungkook lives his life without worries, letting the wind guide him. It might not happen right away, but maybe when you return to reality, you should consider not always staying within the lines. That it’s okay to go out of bounds and live a little. Life shouldn’t be so serious all the time.

—

There’s a light sound of pitter patter sweeping across the floor with shushed ‘Ows’ and ‘shut up’. You weakly open your eyes to see what the commotion is. Your body wants to get up, but the pounding migraine is saying otherwise.

A loud thump makes you blink your eyes open and pop your head up. There’s furniture knocked over, tequila and champagne bottles are scattered everywhere, along with clothes and money.

The low, muffled groan startles you, making you cover yourself with the duvet. They’re facing away and you can’t make out who this mystery person is. You peer over to find a man covered in tattoos, and it looks like a child tried to color inside the tattoo lines but failed miserably.

He mumbles gibberish under his breath and turns over onto his stomach. Great, now you can’t even get a good look at him, you think.

His silver necklace glimmers from the sun peeking through the blinds. And holy shit—his shoulders?

Broad.

Chiseled.

For all you know, he could be some kind of athlete. Then you notice the purple lines on his back, and no—they aren’t scratches from nails, the lines connect from one beauty mark to the next across his back. It’s like one of those connect the dot pictures, except the finished drawing wasn’t anything recognizable. But surrounding each beauty mark is a pair of red lips, and as you look down at your hands, you find that you’re the culprit who must’ve drawn on this man.

What the fuck happened last night, you think.

Another groan escapes the man’s lips and he turns over again. You pull up your side of the duvet, further covering yourself, and the smallest gasp comes out. It’s none other than Jeon Jungkook, an old college buddy.

The duvet is pulled down, covering his bottom half, revealing his taut chest and not one, two, three, four—but an eight pack set of abs. Is it humanly possible to even have more than six?

How did he end up in Vegas? And specifically in your room?

“Jungkook?” you whisper. “Are you awake?”

“Mmm…”

You move closer, feeling the warmth from his body. “Jungkook, it’s time to get up.”

Still half asleep, he wraps his arm around your waist, bringing you flush against him. “Just five more minutes, Ro,” he says, nuzzling into you.

“Jeon Jungkook! What are you doing?”

He chuckles, smiling, finally peeking his eyes open. “You don’t remember anything from last night, do you?”

“I…remember things…” you say, lying through your teeth.

“Oh yeah?” Jungkook moves into a sitting position, turning to you. “So you know we got married, right?”

Your jaw drops and eyes widen. “Oh my god, please tell me you’re lying.”

“You’re the one who suggested it!”

How could you let yourself get married in Las Vegas? And at your best friend’s bachelorette party? It’s not like you’re trying to steal her thunder, quite the opposite, really. This was supposed to be about her, not you. Fuck—Lottie’s going to hate you, isn’t she?

Jungkook quietly watches you freak out. Wonders how long he can let this continue before telling the truth. He thinks you’re cute when you’re all flustered.

“No, we can't be married! I don't even know you and how would this even work? We live like 3000 miles away from each other? And would you move to New York? Or would I move to LA? What if your family doesn't like me? Your friends even? Wait–do you even like me? Oh–Jungkook, how did we let this happen?” you ask, burying your hands in your face.

Question after question runs through your mind and Jungkook is sitting there with a smirk on his face.

“Why aren't you freaking out?” you question, raising an eyebrow.

Jungkook chuckles, leaning over toward you. “You're really cute, you know that?” he says.

Your eyes follow his finger as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. Clearing your throat, it's time to get down to the important things. “Kook–please! This isn't the time to tell me I'm cute. We have bigger things to worry about. We're married!”

He sucks in his lips, trying to hold in a laugh.

You knit your brows and narrow your eyes. “Unless…we’re not married…”

Jungkook lets out a soft laugh, his finger gently caresses your cheek. “Maybe one day, pretty girl. If we ever get to that stage of course.”

A smack against his arm reverberates throughout the room. “Aye! I'm gonna kill you. You really had me worried.”

He rubs the ruby red spot that's imprinted on his arm. “Why? Because marrying me would've been horrible?”

No, you think, quite the opposite.

“Of course not. It's just, we don't know each other and I wouldn't want you to feel trapped in a marriage,” you explain.

You'd at least wanna go on a real date and get to know him before strapping him down forever.

He nods in agreement. “Well, I had fun last night. Hence all the things I let you do to me.” Jungkook points out the badly colored arm and connect-the-dots on his back.

“Oh, I'm so sorry about that.”

“I'm not. I'm glad you had fun even though you don't remember it.”

“Please tell me I didn't act like an idiot.”

Jungkook laughs, shaking his head. “Nah, you're fine, but uh, I should get going since you have a flight to catch.”

“Oh, shit. My flight.” You reach over to find your phone. It's already 9 AM, and thankfully the airport isn't far away and TSA Pre-check has been a lifesaver.

With another glance, you see your clothes and Jungkook's scattered on the ground. He reaches to grab his shirt and sweats.

“I, um, I was pretty bold last night. Wasn't I?” you were referring to the pair of lips covering his back.

Jungkook snickers. “Yeah, just a bit, but I didn't mind it at all,” he says, slipping his shirt on. He stands, putting his sweats on and you can't help but stare at his peachy ass in his black Calvin Klein–the tight kind. “Do you remember anything else from last night?”

Your mind thinks back to the whirlwind of last night. There was definitely alcohol involved because you only act with confidence under the influence of Tequila.

But a recollection of soft lips and entangled hair between your fingers flutter back into the present just for a fleeting moment.

You shake your head, wanting to keep this memory to yourself.

Jungkook's lips thin into a smile as he ruffles his bed head hair. “Call me next time you're in town?”

You stand to meet him. “Or you can call me when you're in the Big Apple,” you reply, handing him your phone.

He dials your number, so you can have his. “Mm, looks like that confidence hasn't left yet.”

“Mm, I have a smidge of it left.”

“Yeah?” He draws closer, and you nod in agreement.

“Yeah,” you whisper, taking in his warmth and scent.

Last night was hazy but bits and pieces are coming back. You're not sure if a lot of these moments with Jungkook are real or just a dream. You'd like to hope he enjoyed spending time with you as much as you did with him.

“It was really good to see you, Kook.”

“Good to see you too, Ro. Don't be a stranger, okay?” He turns on his heel to open the bedroom door, but turns around to say one last thing. “Oh, and don't worry too much about the right person. Who knows, maybe you’ve met them already.”

You wonder if he's referring to himself. You have to admit, he's been making you smile and laugh more than usual, even making you blush.

“Mm, I'll keep that in mind.”

He flashes a smile, opening the door.

“Jungkook?”

He hums, turning to you again.

You reach up to kiss him on the cheek. “What happened in Vegas, can it not stay in Vegas?”

[dennisboobs]

i went from trying to archive old promos to watching every single glenn interview on youtube like a normal person

glenn liking straight-man charlie and consistently saying hits the road is his favourite episode keeps me going tbh like me fucking too. write more like it.

[heliads]

Hi!! So excited your requests are open! I was wondering if you write for young!charles xavier? Where him and fem!reader (who has similar telepathic powers as him, and often communicates with him this way, e.g. through some small quips that causes him to accidentally laugh out loud) have just returned from a really tiring mission back to the school, dealt with some of the kids, and just take some time to relax and just be with each other?

Thank you very much and have a lovely day!

'like me' - charles xavier

masterlist

Charles Xavier is stressed again.

You can feel it on your skin like rushing water, pouring around your brain until all you can think about is him, him– the way it always has been, the way it always will be. The divide between you and Charles has rapidly worn away until it is practically nothing at all. It’s you and him, him and you. Almost one person. Certainly one mind.

All your life, you’ve struggled with who you want to be. Discovering your mutation at the young age of ten years old only catapulted you into a life of confusion. At first, your telepathy was nothing more than a burden. The sound of everyone’s thoughts in your head was a crashing din of noise and exhaustion. You dragged yourself through every day, bothered to overstimulation by the never ending tumult of voices in your mind, but you could never sleep enough at night, kept awake by the dreams of those around you.

Only with time were you able to calm your mind down, to set up walls between yourself and others until you could finally experience some peace within the confines of your own head. On days when you’re sick or tired, the whispers find a way to sneak in through the cracks in your mental barriers, but for the most part, you’re okay. You block out the world, and even if it makes you lonelier, and even if shutting off your mutation makes you feel like you’ve cut off a limb, you’re less distracted. It was better.

So you told yourself, at least. You had assumed that shoving everything to the very periphery of your existence was the only way to live. It wasn’t as if there were any other mutants around to tell you otherwise, after all. Then, all of a sudden, there was. Appearing out of the blue, a stranger, dressed well, with a comforting air to him. A quiet smile directed towards you, a cup of tea cooling in his hands. Charles Xavier found you and told you were going to be alright. And you believed him. And he was telling the truth.

He often does. Charles is the rare sort of person that lives life as if it isn’t just a game. He abides by the rules, and whether he wins or loses, he doesn’t cheat. Not often, and never unless it’s absolutely necessary. Charles consistently looks for the good in people, and, amazingly enough, he has a knack for finding it. The idea of a mutant school was unfathomable– too risky, too many dangerous people in one place– but of course if one person could make it happen, it would be Charles. Charles was everything to you. Is everything to you. And always will be.

You were one of the first mutants Charles found. All of the others in the first round, he met with Erik, but Charles met you by himself. He said he wanted it to be personal. Really, Charles wanted to have this moment with you to himself. Apparently, he’d been able to sense that your mutation was just like his, and he was delighted by it, a child again. You could see it in the cherubic grin on his face, the bright spark in those shining blue eyes. After all this time alone, the two of you had finally found each other.

You can still remember every detail of that first meeting even all these years later. It was impossible to forget a single thing about Charles. You were practically starstruck to be in his presence. Here was this man who knew everything about the torment in your mind, who had found a way to live without suppressing himself. His control was incredible. He led the life you wanted for yourself, and best of all, he was willing to teach it to you.

Of course you would have gone with him to this idea of a school. You would have followed him anywhere if it meant being able to embrace your gift, and later, although you didn’t know it or perhaps weren’t willing to acknowledge it, being able to embrace him. When the two of you came back to the school, Erik initially didn’t believe that the two of you had just met. It was impossible, he said. The two of you spoke to each other like you’d known each other your entire lives, not just for the span of a few hours.

And maybe you had known him forever. It certainly felt that way. Charles understood you like no one else. The two of you developed a way of speaking that drove everyone else mad, half in your heads and half aloud. You’d go five minutes just staring intently at each other, then laugh and say a word here and there that revealed absolutely nothing about the conversation taking place. As your control over your mutation grew, your talks with Charles grew more and more nonverbal until they happened entirely in your heads save for odd exclamations here and there.

It tends to interfere with his teaching. Charles will be in the middle of a lesson when you’ll pop into his mind to report on a mission or tell him a funny joke. The students have come to brush it off when Professor Xavier starts laughing in the middle of an otherwise serious debate on ethics, or a long derivation of some physics formula. It’s you, again. Always is.

Charles pretends it drives him mental, but you both know otherwise. You can feel his delight in being able to speak to you in your mind, after all. It resonates through your head just as it does in his, warming your cheeks with his own rosy blush of affection. When the two of you fell in love, you could sense it instantly. His emotions were yours. Your love was his. All of the pieces of the two of you overlapped until there was no separation between yourselves, just one great person, one Charles-and-Y/N, Y/N-and-Charles, together until the end. You adore it.

And so it has been since the very start. The two of you as one, watching over the students as they enter your school. You teach them all you can, and say fond goodbyes as some pupils leave, ready to face the outside world, this time armed with the knowledge that they can take care of themselves and their mutations. Others stay for years, perhaps indefinitely, and you treasure them for as long as you can. Everyone leaves eventually. Everyone but you and Charles.

The school is not merely a school, of course. Your primary objective will always be to care for the young mutants of the world, but there is another facet to it, and that would happen to be your extracurricular activity of saving the planet. You’re a central part of the X-Men, and often find yourself shipping out on missions across the world with the others when you’re needed.

You’ve been on a particularly nasty mission for a few weeks now, but at long last, you’re on a plane headed home. You always miss Charles whenever you’re away; feeling his connection to you grow shakier the farther you’re apart before dropping away entirely once you’re out of range is nothing short of heartbreaking. Whenever you’re unable to communicate directly through your minds, you feel like a child again, utterly alone and with no idea that she could ever find someone to love and understand her the way Charles does.

You come back, though. You always come back. This time, it was a little less certain that you would, but after several harrowing weeks, you’re finally landing at the mansion, and you know everything is going to be okay again. You have a few minor injuries that need clearing in the medical wing, and there are reports that need to be written, but it is over, the fear is over.

Still, there is one person in the mansion who will not stop being afraid until you find him. You saw Charles briefly when you arrived, and eagerly fell into his embrace upon disembarking, but you were split up by the necessity of medical attention and wrapping up some lingering loose ends. Once the end of the day is upon you, though, and your bandages have been wrapped and wounds treated, you want nothing more than to find Charles again.

You can feel his stress pressing in on you from all sides. He gets like this a lot when missions are running, Jean has told you that, but this time it’s worse than usual. You were only able to send him quick, intermittent messages through the radio, and all delivered bad news. The odds that you would come back severely injured were high, and even if you managed to beat them, the possibility was still there.

You make your way out of the medical wing, walking through the halls of the mansion towards the living quarters. On the way, you’re stopped by several children who’ve waited up to see you, and after assuring them that you’re alright and will be back to training with them soon, you’re free to bid them goodnight and head upstairs.

Charles is waiting for you in your shared room. He’s been whispering to you all evening, making sure you’re okay and that you’re coming to find him soon, but once you open the door and come face to face with him once more, the whispers suddenly stop. All is quiet.

“I missed you,” he says aloud.

You smile. “I know. I missed you too.”

Charles’ face, a portrait of anxiety, cracks with relief at last and he holds out his arms to you. You release yourself towards him and let him embrace you. Charles’ breath is warm on your face, and his hand rubs calming circles on the small of your back. The comfort of finally being back with him is indescribable, closest to finally taking a breath after suffocating. The last few weeks have been tumultuous and torturous, but at long last, you know you’re going to be okay again. You’re with Charles. What could ever harm you?

requested by @fly-you-dam-fools, i hope you enjoy!

xmen tag list: @blondsauduun, @callsign-scully, @gods-fools-heroes, @deafsuperhero, @faerieroyal

all tags list: @wordsarelife

[eupheme]

— clean slate [into the fire, part v]

part i | part ii | part iii | part iv | masterlist

cooper howard / the ghoul x f!reader

rated e - 4k

tags: dubcon, power dynamics, vault dweller!reader, bounty hunting, sex for favors, sub/dom elements, canon-typical descriptive violence and death, references to blood/gore, anti-ghoul sentiments, physical violence against reader, hurt/comfort, kissing

a/n: please mind the tags! this chapter got twice as long as the others (maybe I didn't want it to end, haha!) and there was a good break, so to keep things consistent, I am splitting it in half! both are being posted today though, so you don't have to wait 💖

Always said he did this shit for the love of the game. But this time - he thinks - it might just be personal.

(or - they took something from the Ghoul, and he’s here to collect)

The afternoon edges into night, and he tells himself each hour is the last one he'll think about you.

The Ghoul had waited for you to look back. Stock-still in the swirling dust that bit at his skin. A white-knuckled grip around the thick coil of rope. 

You hadn’t. 

His hand still reaches to scrubs at his neck, his jaw. To wipe you away or rub you in, he’s not sure. 

It doesn't fucking matter. 

He's stuck around a long time. Enough to see generations of families grow old and then die. The last few weeks are no more than a blip, in his far too-long life.

Hell - he's spent more time underground, than with you. 

But something prickles at him. Lingering like a bad trip, leaving his teeth clenching and jaw aching as he finishes out the bounty.

It's messy. 

It shouldn't have been. Should have been easy - but he's aching for a fight, something to take his mind off things. He's antagonistic. 

Could've finished everything up from afar, but he ends up in close range. Another scar marring his chest, new splatters streaked across his dark coat. 

It aches, a deep bruise as it heals. 

Still only slightly dulling the itch of irritation.

I haven't lied about anything.  

Didn’t last night mean anything to you?

It's sometime the next morning, after a night of a starless sky closing in around him, that he gives in. 

Heading the way you went without thought, and when he does notice, he tells himself it's only because he needs more chems. That it’d be a shame to lose a supplier as good as you. 

That it's easier, for both of you to stick together. 

Maybe that's why he was careless. Knowing deep down, it would be easier to find a corpse later than to haul around a bounty, kicking and screaming.

The small sliver left of another man, from  another life, knows he was cruel. That anger had turned him into a viper. Had always been good at striking first. Self-preservation beaten into him after two-hundred years - an old, festering wound. 

He doesn’t know how to apologize anymore, but he can already think of a few ways to distract you. 

Maybe you’ll forget completely, if he's thorough. 

The Ghoul is faster than you are. Needs less rest, less food. Has already plotted just how far you can get in a day. Your footprints faded as packed earth leads to woods, but you’re not the type to wander, and there's only a few settlements in the miles ahead. 

Halfway to his destination, when his eyes snag on a patch of rocks. A broken bits of branches on the trees just before it. There's something smeared across the stone - tasting like iron, when the tip of a finger brings it to his tongue.

Something ancient twists in his stomach, awakening from a slumber. 

Backing up, he's able to piece together the struggle. Seeing the flattened grass, the heavy boot prints, melding with the smaller ones. 

Finding a body, fallen off to the side - angling off the rock with the stain. Something familiar about the look of him.

A boot sinks into their side, rolling them over. A curl of a lip - he recognizes them. One of the two bounty hunters they’d fun into. 

He had hated their eyes on you when they blew through that town.

Something had prickled at him then, but he had ignored it. A grit of his jaw - should’ve dealt with both of them. 

There’s a hole in their head - red spilling down their neck, still tacky to the touch. A clean, close shot. His finger sinks in the wound, the same size as your 10mm. 

"Good girl." The Ghoul murmurs. 

The slightest ease of the knot in his chest.

A crunch of glass beneath his feet, the glint of the sun catching the needle. Another shape he knows well - a syringe. Probably a tranquilizer.

Three meeting one, with three leaving. The dead weight of you weighing down their steps, the footprints pressing heavily into the earth.

Easy enough for him to follow, as he slings his gun free. 

Always said he did this shit for the love of the game.

But this time - he thinks - it might just be personal.

Despite being back among faces you knew, fear had been your only companion since the meeting in the forest. 

Hazy memories flicker through your mind. Being dragged, snippets of light and the heat of a fire. The bright sear of dawn, and the dry embrace of the desert again. 

Waking to the feeling of your arms being wrenched above your head. Coming to, hissing and spitting. Nails catching the face of one of them - Baine, you think - his fist cracking down hard against your cheek in retaliation.

Leaving you dazed, as your wrists were caught again - bound in place. A cruel curl of a lip, as they examined you like a brahmin.

“You look like a Wastelander”. It’s spit out, a wet mark against the floor, “We’ll get you back where you belong soon enough.”

You’re not sure how much time has passed. A day, maybe. Hunger gnaws at you - only a small sliver of comfort in the dried meat and fruit tossed your way. 

Axton, the head of the Reclaimers - those who were tasked with bringing people back - had grown up with you. At one time, was perhaps even more than that. A distant relation of the current Overseers, his blood too thinned out to be of use - but even he won’t look you in the eye. 

You both know how this will go, when you get back home. 

Hope drains from you, with each hour. Eating away at the little flicker of hope in your chest, wrapped tightly around your heart. 

Maybe he’d show. 

But despair clouded your thoughts, soon after. 

“You get hurt doing some stupid shit, and I’m leavin’ you behind.”

“You're a goddamn fool if you think I hadn’t been planning on turnin' you in the first chance I get."

Maybe he’d been truthful all along, and you hadn’t listened. Read into all those small moments, weaving them together until they had made something tangible.

The looks, stolen breaths and almost-careful touches. All fleeting, but you had caught them. Holding them close to your heart. 

But life isn’t like the holotapes you grew up, back when everything felt safe.

There aren’t cowboys anymore. No heroes on horses - with their silver spurs and a shining, golden badge. 

No one was coming for you. 

The footprints die out, as the bleached trees grow thin. 

Tall grass to packed dirt, dried by the sun. Rolling hills and then mountains, scraping against the horizon. The dipping sun casts him in a red light that bleeds to black at his ankles, his shadow stretching back long and lean behind him.

But these roads aren't wholly unknown to him. 

Spent time blowing through Junktown and The Hub, a couple dozen miles away. The memory hazy, but there weren't too many places folk could stay, once the sun went down and everything wild and unruly came crawling out.

A feeling in his gut has him stopping two miles down the road. A half-dug quarry, long abandoned even before the world went to hell. Threadbare railings and platforms held together with spit and a prayer, framing the rusted building that cuts into the stone walls. 

The tip of his boot taps a loose rock, sending it off the edge. Head cocked as he thinks, until he hears the faintest clatter a hundred feet below. 

Two-hundred years ago, he had stood on a ledge much like this. Valley of the Gun. The final shootout had his guns lost in the dust. Fist-fighting with the leader of the gang, until they both near tumbled off the edge together.

Honorable, in the way he had caught the man's hand. Tried to haul him up, but had to let go when a knife was pulled - keeping him the hero. A satisfying death that wasn't his fault, a way to keep his conscience. 

All movie tricks. Angles and the implication of falling, as the camera focused on his face that swam with regret. 

Comin' after a girl then, too. 

Thinks that's why the old memory has loosened in his mind. 

Funny how things can change, but the bones remain. How he's still drawn back to life he's left far behind. Even if his conscience was buried, a long time ago. 

Some things linger. He could go down. Take one of those ladders, work his way through the tunnels that are sure to wind through the limestone, and up through the back. 

But he's never much liked being underground. 

Another second of considering, before he's heading for the front door.

He used to like a script, but that was back in the day when the worst thing that could happen was a box-office bomb, not the hell he's been dragged through. 

A half-cocked plan already forming. Twisting that connection between them, his own abandoned contract. Get him through the front door and to the man in charge at least, and that might be all he needs. Let years of instinct take over, after that. 

Had already gotten a good look at a couple of them, when he first picked up the bounty. It had made him curious - why there was so much fuss, over so small a thing. Easy caps, he decided, when he had gotten a look at you. 

Picking up that their brutality had been learned from sharpening their teeth against a silver spoon. Hardy - compared to some Wastelanders - with their filling meals and their pristine weapons. 

But they sure as hell don't have the same grit as one.

Not much of anything, really, when compared to him.

The door opens with the push of his shoulder. Hand beneath the swirl of his coat, finger already fixed on the trigger. Not far in until he’s running into one of them - another Vaultie.

The man startles, wide-eyed when he sees him. Green, in his shades of blue and yellow. 

“Here ‘bout a job.” The Ghoul keeps his voice light, in spite of everything.

Knows they’re keeping you alive for someone else, as much as that makes his jaw clench. No need to go rushing in just yet. 

A flicker of recognition, as the man frowns, “How’d you find us?”

His head tilts, that smooth drawl slipping in, “Wouldn’t be much of a Bounty Hunter if I couldn’t, now, would I?”

The Vault Dweller’s eyes are fixed on his face, that familiar look of fear and disgust - dipping down to the pocket of his nose, the curling smile of yellowed teeth. 

It’s strange how foreign it feels, after the hours spent with you looking at him so differently. 

Maybe he’d been a fool, after all. 

Maybe it’s more than your tight cunt that he wants to bury himself in, to claim. Something soft, bitten back behind his teeth. Something he doesn’t even know if he has a name for, anymore.

Something he didn’t know he needed , until he had chased both it and you away. 

“We’ve already got her.” The man manages, after thinking it over, “Don’t think we need your services anymore.”

There’s another flash of teeth at the confirmation. 

“Agreement was to find her. And who do you think rustled her up?” His brow lifts, “Would’ve been half-way to New Reno by now, if I hadn’t herded her your way.”

That sharp edge creeping in, “Think my time’s worth a little somethin ’. Don’t you?”

It’s easy for the guard to leave that decision to someone else. Standing aside, to let him pass.

“Thank you kindly.” The Ghoul tips his hat, a swirl of his coat as he passes. 

Taking just enough steps past them, waiting until the man’s back turns. Spinning on his heel, after. 

The knife glints between his fingers as he twirls it. A hand pressing over the Vault Dweller’s mouth, before the blade sinks into their neck. 

Muffling the dying gurgle. A grunt as the Ghoul yanks the blade free - leaving the body crumpled in the shadows, as he winds deeper.

One down. 

Hold on, he thinks.

I’m coming.  

His whistle echoes in the chamber. 

Half old-world - a long-forgotten leitmotif that fuses with new notes of his own. A part to play until he doesn't, letting the Ghoul guide him. 

Down the half-lit hallway, the lights flickering overhead from the ancient generator. Everything picked clean like he figured it would be - every last piece of scrap ferreted away, leaving only dusty crates behind.

Still playing the part, as the low murmur of voices grows louder. Ears pricking up, listening for hers. Picking out at least three or four others from the layered hum.

A sneer, at the number. He’s faced worse odds. It’s in his favor really - take out as many fuckers as he can. Send bits and pieces of them back.

His intentions masked, an old habit, by the time he enters the warehouse. A wide steel grate floor, opening up to a second level below, scattered with old machinery. 

There’s a table. Cards littering the top - a luxury brought from the Vault, as they bet using caps. Couple Vault Dwellers and that Wasteland son of a bitch from the town. Four total, one lounging on a sleeping pack as if it’s just another night, and they weren’t bringing you to your death. 

It rankles him, teeth set on edge. 

A scrape of chair legs on the floor, at the drawling condescension of his voice. 

“Ain’t y’all a little old for a sleepover?”

Hands rest on holsters, but they don’t draw. The Ghoul focuses on one - a face he recognizes, the one who had sought him out.

The man’s legs spread, as if he’s got something worthwhile between them. The leader of this whole operation. Axton , or some shit like that - it hadn’t been worth his time to remember. 

“Believe you fellas got somethin’ of mine.” The Ghoul drawls, “I’m here to collect.”

There’s a pause at that. 

One of them, a right-hand man by the look of their padded leather armor - not a scratch on it - scowls. A face that tells another story. Pink marks start at their cheek, jagged lines that end at a thick neck. 

His eyes narrow at that, lip curling. A flicker of unease in his belly - fingers clenching where they rest against his hips, close enough to draw.

“You’re too late for payment, ghoul. Heard you were dragging your feet.” His head tilts, towards the Wastelander who had gone still, “We went and got her ourselves.”

The Ghoul grins - a fierce thing, with a flash of teeth. A lilt, in his voice. 

“Now, what makes you think I’m here for caps?”

It gives them pause. His question - the prospect of a ghoul showing up, unannounced.

“What else you here for?” Another grunts - eyes already back on his cards, a comfort in their numbers. 

“Think you know.”

“The girl?” Atmos laughs, and the sound is cruel, “Heard she split from you. Caught her after.”

A tilt of his head towards the armored man and the Wastelander. Taunting then, “Must not be that good, if you let her slip away. What, she get tired of looking at your ugly mug?”

If they only knew the kind of things he’d done to you. What you had done to him, right back. 

The Ghoul is only half-paying attention. Sticks and stones, all their insults falling on deaf ears. Too busy with eyes that flick over the top floor. Then down to the ground below.

Something flipping inside his guts, when he sees it. Cast in shadow near the base of the stairs, but his eyesight is keener than it’s ever been. 

Arms bound, the knot looped around the hook of an overturned crane. A raw, split mark - swollen and bruised flesh - on the curve of a smooth cheek. Just above where your teeth cut into a piece of cloth, tied tightly around to gag you. 

A tilt of your head, and then your eyes are meeting his. Round and blank with fear. Widening, when you see him. 

His girl.

Muscles string tight, eyes narrowed as his teeth clench. You’d paid for what you did, and he’d be there to return the favor. 

His gaze snaps back, and focuses. Whatever plan he had been working up burns, turning to ash. 

“Always heard that beauty was in the eye of the beholder.” The Ghoul’s tone is conversational - although his blood boils, scalding hot, “But if you wanna see an ugly fucker , well… you best look right there.”

There’s a nod of his head, towards the man in charge. As if on cue, their heads twist to look - just as he draws, and then fires. 

The Vault Dweller’s head caves in. Gore splattering against the blue of his suit. Barely a breath before his finger is tugging again, a bullet going through the chest of a second. 

Always too goddamn slow.  

Hesitant to take a life, even with their bravado. 

Something that molted from his skin with the rest of him, over a century ago. He’s already reaching for the gun holstered at his shoulder before return shots are fired. 

He can feel the flicker of something miss him, before he’s charging. Ducking under the swing of a knife, the muzzle pressed against ribs.

A hoarse shout that is drawn out by the ringing blast. The knife caught and sent spinning into the back of the Wastelander, heading towards the door. 

Flinching, as something slams into his shoulder, just shy of his collarbone, and out the other side. The turn of a head - an eye fixed on the last man standing.

Padded armor won’t do much to stop him. 

“That your handiwork?” The Ghoul growls, as his head tips towards you.

The man's finger twitches but he’s faster - a shot going into the meat of their thigh. Downing them as they scream, as the Ghoul saunters over to tug the hilt from where he’s buried it in the Wastlander’s back. 

It glints a gleaming red in the light, as he adjusts his grip. Eyeing the scripted tattoos that cross over the man’s knuckles - as they grip at their thigh, near-tenderized from the blast. 

Ones that had struck you. Could send them back, spelling out something obscene. A rough laugh at the thought. 

He’s got someone waiting for him. But, he knows from experience…

That this won’t take too long. 

In the hours since you parted, it’s only now that you can breathe.

For a long moment, you hadn’t dared believe. Eyes drawn to the noise above - the loud pitch of voices. 

One of them - rough and low - draws your attention. Everything dark from your angle, an ache as you had tried to see.

Knowing that shadow. The brim of his hat. 

The burn of his eyes, when they fixed on you. You could feel the fury in them, even from here. A muted sound of desperation from behind your gag, as you watched. 

The Ghoul shoots first - the second his eyes pull away, and it’s all over in a matter of moments. 

Your eyes closing at the sound of gunfire, of screaming - until it finally cuts short. Leaving the warehouse eerily silent, except for the clicking of spurs against metal. 

He crouches in front of you, now - and you can’t help the whine. So much trapped behind the thick binding of cloth. All you could do is tug at your bound wrists - neck craning as you tried to watch from below.

A force of nature. Bared teeth a quick draw. Again you’re forced to admit to yourself how lucky you were to still be standing, after your first meeting. 

He had blown through them like it was nothing. 

“Hold on a minute, honey.” That low tone is familiar, calming you as his fingers hook around the cloth. Leaving a smear of red against your jaw as he tugs the gag free - shucking his gloves after.

“Are you hurt?” It comes out ragged. Tongue heavy in your mouth, throat dry. Eyes scanning the dark leather of his coat - all that red , smeared across it, “Thought you got hit.”

He barks out a laugh, your chin trapped between thumb and forefinger, “That’s what you’re worried about?”

Something dark swirling across his features, as he tilts your head towards the light. His thumb pressing at the edge of your bruise, denting skin.

“They got you good, didn’t they?” He murmurs, and you smile through a wince, at the dull ache of pain.

“You got them.”

“Sure did,” It’s distracted, as he cuts at the binds, next. The rope fraying and then splitting, an ache in your shoulders when your arms finally lower. 

“Fuckin’ amateurs.” He mutters again, watching as you wince at the rubbed-raw skin at your wrists. The corners of his lips tipped down, lost in thought.

“Thought you would’ve liked seeing me all tied up.” It’s a weak thing. An attempt at humor, the ache in your heart at seeing him cut by the acidity of your last meeting.

He blinks. Comes back to himself, a hoarse hum of amusement. 

“Only when I’m doing it, sweetheart.” The Ghoul’s eyes meet yours then, a hint of a smirk with the tilt of his head. 

“Can think of a much better way of gagging you, too.”

There’s almost a softness to his tone. Just barely there, tinting the rough edges. Something like hope flutters - delicate, behind your ribs. 

“You… you came, for me.” You need the clarification. To hear him say it. That this isn’t some ruse, a way to take you directly to the source, “You’re not-”

There’s a sigh, as he fixes you with a long look. His head tipping towards the platform above, a lazy flick of his finger towards an arm that dangles from the ledge.

“Well that there man’s the one I got your contract from,” The Ghoul drawls, “Said I was to return what belonged to somebody else.”

Those eyes fixing on you again, “Seein’ as you’re not , and seein’ as that man is now indisposed…”

His words trail off - and you can’t help the small smile, as he finishes.

“I’m thinkin we’re square.”

The look you give him is soft. Admiring. You don’t know how he tracked you down, but he did. 

“You saved me.” It’s hushed, and at your tone his eyes pull from you. 

Fixing somewhere low, off to the side, as he crouches. Uncomfortable with the way you look at him. How you see him. Not used to it, not after so many years. 

You’re not able to resist. 

Muscles stringing stiff when you lean forward. Lips pressed against the leather of his cheek, fingers ghosting against his jaw. 

A huff then, teeth biting into his tongue with the shake of a head. His eyes dark, as you pull back, hovering. 

“Darlin’ if you’re going to be stealin’ a kiss, you best be doin’ it properly.” The Ghoul rasps, eyes flicking down to your mouth.

His head tips towards yours, but it’s your that meets his first. A little sound in your throat as your lips slot against his. Warm and insistent as his knees drop to press into the cement floor.

Tugging at you, as your fingers grasp at his collar. A hungry lick of his tongue against the seam of your lips as you whine, crushing your chest to his.

His fingers at your neck, your jaw. Angling your head, a rough groan as you part for him. Turning ravenous - wandering hands as your tongue slips against his. Panting breaths and a grinding of hips when he yanks you closer. 

“How many were there?” He hums, as you try to sneak a ragged breath.

The curve of a smile when you try to ignore him, a click of his tongue.

“I dunno,” Your mind is too foggy. Too focused on the hands that trace against your waist, “Four? No… maybe five?”

“You don’t seem too sure, sweetheart.” He does smile then, at the little mark between your eyebrows. Untangling himself - a hand reaching down to adjust himself, as he stands. 

“As much as I’d like to take you right here,” He husks, eyes dragging over you, “The last thing I need is a bullet in the ass.”

A tilt of his head, towards the open floor.

“Come on, cowpoke. Let’s do a sweep.”

the last (final, for real this time) part will be up in just a little bit! 💖 thank you so much for reading - this series has become so much to me, and every ask or comment or tag or reblog has absolutely meant the world 💕

[mntozakii]

sugar — lee haechan

pairing: haechan x female reader

tags: stepcest, age gap (6 years), unprotected sex, haechan is a little bit insane but it's fine ☹️

note: been having haechan brainrot so plz enjoy this

minors do not interact and all characters are in legal age

[unedited]

before your first encounter with the boy, his father has warned you that his son can be very mischievous. it turned out to be wrong because the haechan that you met was silent, you didn't have to know that he was actually angry. he believed that a pretty girl like you shouldn't be around men like his father, he knew that his workaholics father will neglect you in the future.

much to your delight, haechan warmed up and became closer to you since his father is always on a business trip. haechan just absolutely adore the way his father's young trophy wife showed up to his soccer games, coding competition, and took care of him like a good mommy. in return, he gave you a lot of affection and love. your sweet boy haechan who never disrespect you, listened to you more than his father, and indulged into your silly little hobbies. he didn't mind to follow around the store like a kicked puppy as you spend his father's black card.

haechan who can't be mean with you. at first, he wanted to make your life miserable but you were so kind and lovely to him. you think of him so fondly that it never crossed on your mind that he's taking advantage of you.

haechan who whines about his sore back so you will massage him and he finds it amusing that you laugh whenever he moans, if only you knew that haechan creamed his pants.

haechan who loves to share his food and feels his pupils dilate whenever your mouth opens nicely as he feeds you.

haechan who offers to do the laundry so he can steal your panties, he secretly touches himself with the flimsy silk.

to be honest, you weren't bothered with haechan's behaviour since you've seen how the boy acted around his relatives and friends. you assumed that it was only natural for him to be so attached with you, after all you're his new mother.

haechan has to thank his parents for making baby as his nickname because now he gets to hear you call him baby everyday.

"baby, don't forget to eat your breakfast"

"haechan baby, can you help me with the grocery?"

"good job baby, you're so smart"

four years went by and your sweet sunshine is no longer a pretty boy, he stood taller than you and looked intimidating than ever. however, he was still the same cheeky boy you've know. haechan attended law school, following his father's path. to be frank, it wasn't his first option but you had beg so prettily for him to listen to his father.

even though haechan was hundred miles away from you, he will still occasionally visit you. besides, he texted you everyday and updated you with everything. you knew the names of the professors that he hated, his pretentious classmates, and his roomate jeno.

"i want to see your face" haechan sent a selfie of him on bed with his messy brown hair.

"i'm on a date" you sent a selfie with his father which he replied with an eye roll emoji. you probably laugh at his choice of emoji but he genuinely felt pissed off. all he wanted was to see your face and he got a picture of the old man kissing your cheek.

"i miss having meals with you" haechan sent a picture of his pathetic dinner that consisted of ramen, few packs of sandwiches, and milk.

"my baby, please eat a proper meal" you sighed as you looked at his simple dinner, you'll remind your husband to pay extra attention to his allowance.

when haechan had few days off from school, he decided to suprise you by taking a flight home. upon his arrival, he was flustered to hear choked cries coming from your room. he knows that his father was home so he opted to peek from behind the door, his face turned into a soft frown when he saw your naked body on his father's lap.

"honey, please, i want to have a child with you" his heart burned with jealousy watching you hold his father's face as you cried, he never get to see your vulnerability before.

"i feel alone, the house seems so empty without haechan. it is a perfect timing for us to raise a child together, right?" his heart broke seeing your attempt to convince his father, haechan felt your frustration by the strong grip on the older man's shirt. he never know that you felt alone while he was away, he felt even worse when the accompany that you now wanted was in a form of a child.

"my sweetheart, i understand how you feel but can you wait for a few more months? once everything is settled at the firm, we will talk about this again" haechan had to physically control himself from letting a scoff, he knew that his father's promise meant nothing. the younger man headed to his room while he waited for his father to return to his office.

as soon as he heard the car left, he went outside to find you. his lips turned into a smirk when he saw you eating a pint of ice-cream, he was quick to attack you with a tight hug. you let out a shriek before hitting his chest when you realised it was haechan.

"haechan, you didn't tell me that you were coming home!" you reciprocated his hug and chuckled when the brunet pecked you on the cheek.

"i wanted to surprise you" he mumbled as he wiped the cream at the corner of your lips, he pulled you to the couch and kept you close to him. he wrapped his hand around your shoulder as he listened to you while the movie play mindlessly in the background.

"baby, have some" haechan smiled when you fed him the ice-cream. he found it very cute when you call him baby because he liked to take advantage of it, it almost felt like you will always forgive him for his mistakes.

haechan loved whenever you wear polo shirt especially if it was paired with a mini skirt. today, you were wearing his favourite white shirt paired with a midi skirt. you looked so beautiful, he can't help but to stare at your thighs through the slit of the skirt.

"why are you so pretty today? i want to play with you" his hand slid inside the skirt before he softly rubbed your inner thigh while maintaining eye contact with you. it wasn't unusual for haechan to be clingy but he should never touch you in that way.

"haechan, what are you doing?" your heart pounded heavily when his hand dangerously headed north.

"baby, your hand—" you tried to push it away but it was no use, his grip only tighten on your body. haechan leaned closer to leave wet kisses on your neck, he missed you so much.

"no— haechan, we cannot do this" your second attempt to shove him away failed since he was so much stronger than you, he didn't even budge at all.

"hmm, why can't we do this?" his mellifluous voice whined before he pulled you to his lap, his hands rested on your side as he eyefucked you.

"my father doesn't want to put a baby into you and i want to do the opposite of that, isn't that good?" his voice made the question sounded so innocent meanwhile in reality, he was talking about making you pregnant with his child. he must've overheard your talk with your husband, you wanted to believe that haechan was just confused with his feelings towards you.

"haechan, your father will get very mad at you" you mumbled as you reached for his hands, holding them tightly so he won't touch you again. haechan admired your effort to put him in his place, it was an adorable attempt. he easily pulled his hands away from you before carrying you to his room, he made sure to lock the door before cornering you to his bed.

"baby, baby, baby" he mocked the way your small voice always call for his name, he took off his shirt and sat on the bed. you can't help but to notice how different he looked now, his body was becoming lean and his features has developed into a handsome man. haechan held your hand as you stood still with guilt written all over your face.

was it your fault for spoiling haechan rotten until he thinks that he can get whatever he wants?

was it your fault for not creating a clear boundaries with your step son?

was it your fault for getting a little aroused with his little antics today?

"mommy, give me a chance to please you" haechan begged with the prettiest doe eyes ever, you are aware that you can say no, leave his room, and pretend that nothing happened but something inside you was thrilled to see more of him.

haechan grew impatient waiting for your reply, he decided to have you on his lap again before a brilliant idea popped out.

"you can tell me to stop and i will" haechan promised before he unbuttoned your shirt, he tried to read your expression but failed to do so. haechan chuckled seeing purple bruises all over your chest, you must had a steamy night yesterday.

"my father is a greedy bastard, isn't he?" he muttered before doing the exact thing that his father did to you last night, except haechan was aiming for your neck.

"baby, not on the neck, he will notice it" you pulled on his hair to take a look at his face, he seemed to be disappointed when he failed to mark you.

his hands gently groped on your tits and nipples, he alternated in between sucking, biting, and pulling on your hard buds. haechan felt his ego skyrocketed when you started to whimper and begged for more.

haechan positioned you to lay down comfortably on his bed before he took off your panties, he kept the skirt on because it looked lovely on you. haechan couldn't believe that he was finally staring at your naked body, he had been fantasizing this for years.

"such a pretty pussy" haechan praised you and chuckled when he noticed your hole clenched at nothing, he didn't know that you were already leaking wet.

"hmm, it's so tight, does he not fuck you at all?" haechan queried as he stuffed your hole with his middle finger, he moaned seeing you tighten around his digit. since he was eager to satisfy you, he added another finger and played with your clit using his other hand.

instead of making you reach your high, haechan kept on edging until you became so frustrated. he will rub your clit in the most delicious circles and stopped whenever you're almost close. the moment when he noticed your legs started to twitch, he will take his hand off your pussy and let you cry for more.

"haechan, don't be mean to me" you had to hold back a sob because you've been denied for so many times and it felt so painful. you tried to touch yourself but he gently smacked your clit as a warning, he wanted to see you come on his cock instead of his fingers. he got on top of you and let your legs rest on his shoulders, he gave a few kisses on your calf before pulling out his dick.

"i prepped you so well, you should be able to take it like a good girl, right?" he rubbed the tip on your entrance and slightly pushed the tip to elicit another moan from you.

one thing that haechan had always dreamt off was kissing you, he had various imagination to kept him on edge whenever he jerked off. he used to imagine fucking you on the mattress that you share with his father, he also fantasized about fucking you in the kitchen too. today, he will do everything that he wanted for so many years.

haechan bit his lip as he slowly pushed himself inside your warm cunt, it felt so fucking good that he wanted to cry. haechan leaned closer to kiss your lips and giggled when he tasted the lip gloss, you had put it on him for fun before but it tasted so much sweeter on your lips.

"baby, what's so funny?" you asked then laughed when he shrugged it off and hid his face on your chest as his hips kept on thrusting into your poor hole.

"this is better than everything i used to dream off" haechan admitted before pulling you into another kiss, you realised that the brown haired boy liked to be messy when kissing. he was so desperate and wanted to swallow you whole if he could, he slowly trailed down to your neck and started to suck and bite on it.

"baby, be gentle with it" you reminded him as you caressed his hair, you admitted that he was doing so well and it scared you. the younger boy decorated your neck with fresh red marks before he intertwined your hands together.

"i'm going to fill you up with my seed, get you pregnant with my child, that'll make you a real mommy" haechan whispered before he continued to fuck you real hard, every each of his thrust hits your cervix and drove you to madness.

"baby, no— haechan, you have to pull out" your hands weakly push him away but it only fueled him to pound your hole mercilessly, he knew that you were close and he wanted to come together. a few more penetration and haechan felt your walls contracted tightly around his veiny cock, he shot ropes of warm semen inside your pussy.

you can't help but to whine at the warm feelings inside you, haechan panted softly as pulled you into a tight hug. he caressed your messy hair and adored the marks he left on your body.

"did i do a good job, mommy?"

[tayraedoll]

Old Men Know All the Tricks

Hello! Here is part two of Old Man and this is a spicy tamale. MDNI.

Part 1 Part 3

Word count: 3,192

TW: P in V intercourse, swearing, biting, blood, mating cycles, pet names, cunnilingus, scent kink, cream pie, unprotected sex, breeding kink, heat and rut, chasing kink, scent marking.

He was trying to kill you, you were sure of it.

You have been at this for hours, it should be impossible for any being to have this kind of stamina. Sweat ran down your back, face red with exertion. Your legs shook, knees ready to buckle at any given moment.

"You are doing so well.", he says to you. "Just a little longer."

You really wish you could snap a witty retort back at him; but your ability to speak left you long ago. All you could do was keep gasping for air. Even if you could physically speak, your brain was so muddled you wouldn't be able to form the words to begin with. You could not keep this up much longer, you need a break- even just a brief reprieve just to catch your breath. You felt like you were about to faint.

"Aaaand time!", Angel shouts and you collapse onto the grass on your back heaving for air. "Nothin' betta than a 10-mile run eh toots?"

All you could do was raise a hand to flip him off, earning a chuckle from the spider. You had been doing research since you and Alastor started dating- turns out he was not kidding about the mating season or the 72-hour sex marathon. So you took his advice and started going on runs and doing yoga with Angel Dust three times a week. He did this to keep in shape for his job, this workout routine made his job a lot easier when Val would be a dick (pun intended) and force him to work a double shift. You asked to join him under the guise of wanting to increase your stamina for Alastor's lunatic dancing; no way were you going to talk to Angel Dust about cervid mating habits.

Dating Alastor was quite amazing, the man never did anything half-assed. You got flowers at least once per week, candlelit dinners in his bayou, gifts like the ruby you currently had on your middle finger, and the status that just naturally came with being associated with The Radio Demon. But the best part was his words of affirmation, he would speak pure poetry into your ear in peaceful moments alone. You had not gotten to the "I love you's" yet but he conveyed the depth of his feelings with just his honey-sweet words. His charisma alone left you breathless.

The only dark cloud in your dreamland romance was physical affection. Alastor still was not a fan of being touched, even by you, though he tolerated your touch much better than others. The extent of your physical relationship consisted of him holding your hand or resting his hand on your knee when in private, a swift peck on the cheek or lips, or an arm around your waist. You didn't necessarily mind, you were more than happy to move at his pace, but it did make you wonder what would happen come mating season.

That thought leads you back to the present. Mating season will begin any time now. It was fall, the days were shorter and the nights were colder even in Hell. Which is why you subjected yourself to the torture you just endured with Angel.

"I still can't believe yer doin' all dis just to dance with Smiles."

"You've seen the man dance, he's a hazard on the dance floor if you can't keep up.", you reply as you sit up, heart rate finally returning to normal.

"Yea, I remember the day after yer first date wit 'im. If I didn't know any betta I woulda thought you was fuckin' all night wit' the way you was walking sideways.", he wiggled his brows suggestively.

You coughed to hide the blush blossoming across your cheeks. The day after Alastor first took you dancing was a nightmare you wished you could forget; between Angel's sexual innuendos, Charlie's overbearing concern, and Alastor's cocky smirks and false atonement for making you over-exert yourself you reached the end of your patience.

"Any ground made with Husk?", you ask to change the subject. Bringing up the resident feline was a sure-fire way to distract Angel from whatever you did not want to talk about. The poor guy was down bad, but so was Husk- the tomcat just did not realize it yet.

You spent several extra minutes in the shower that night, letting the hot water relax your sore muscles. Alastor had some Overlord business to attend to so you would not be joining him in his room tonight. You tried not to think about what that means, if Alastor wasn't with you then he was with someone else and that someone else most certainly was not finding the deer demon's company as pleasing as you did.

As you prepared for bed you noticed that your chest was a bit flushed and you were feeling a little feverish. You swallowed a couple of ibuprofen- better to just nip that in the bud if you could help it. Probably got sick on that stupid run with Angel earlier, hopefully you would wake up right as rain.

Unfortunately, you did not wake up right as rain. In fact, you were worse; the fever spiked and you were sweating profusely. A fog clouded your mind making it difficult to think straight. But you felt energized, absolutely wired actually. Your senses were working in overdrive picking up every smell and sound and you could practically taste the air around you. You stumbled over to the door of your bedroom, you'd have to let Charlie know you weren't feeling well so she could excuse you from her redemption exercises.

You made it only halfway down the hall when a sharp chill ran up your spine. Before you could turn around you found yourself in a swamp. No- you found yourself in Alastor's bayou to be exact. There was a slight breeze and the stars twinkled overhead, you always found it strange that Alastor kept the bayou under the veil of night, never letting it see the sun. Your sensitive ears picked up the crickets and frogs singing all around. You weren't exactly sure where you were, you could not see the the actual room dimension; it was like you just appeared in the middle of the bayou. So you began to walk, hoping you would find the resident of the room eventually.

You only got a few minutes into your walk when suddenly everything went still. The crickets and frogs stopped mid-song, even the breeze seemed to hold its breath. You froze alongside everything, senses straining to pick up any indication as to what caused the sudden change in atmosphere. Alarm bells went off and your tail instinctively started to lift in a warning display. Your breathing came in shallow little pants as your eyes darted all around you.

Then, a voice- a voice that filled you with equal parts warm comfort and icy dread at the moment.

"Well, well, what do we have here hmm? And where do you think you were off to my dear? Don't you know it's dangerous to be alone in the woods? Especially for little does like you."

"Alastor-", you spin to face him and stop dead in your tracks. His antlers hung over his head like a grand chandelier, his pupils blown wide, and his ever-present smile looked absolutely sinister. "I-I am not feeling well. I am not sure what is wrong."

He stalked towards you slowly, like a wolf cornering a lamb. "Oh you poor, naive, little fawn. You haven't figured it out yet have you? You're in heat my dear, the mating season has begun." His voiced dropped to a sinister growl at the last sentence. Your eyes widened as you began to back away from his advance, a reaction he took much satisfaction in based on the sadistic chuckle he responded with. Your back hit a tree, there was no where else to go and he quickly closed the distance between you two. As he loomed over you he took a deep breath and his whole body shuddered violently. He closed his eyes and growled menacingly.

"W-what do I do?", you asked, this was not going how you imagined it- no candles, no soft sheets, no sweet declaration of love. You were utterly lost and completely at his mercy.

He hummed, then slowly opened his eyes and bent down so you were at eye level. "Run.", his voice was a baritone whisper.

Like a bat out of-- well- here-- you took off. You didn't know or care what direction you were going in, you just needed to get the fuck away. Maniacal laughter which was more like screeching static sounded behind you but you didn't dare look back. You ran as fast as your legs would carry you, thank Satan for those dreadful runs Angel made you do. When you could no longer hear the laughter behind you, you chanced a look back. Nothing- just the bayou surrounded you. You were just about to breath a sigh of relief when suddenly strong arms wrapped around you from the front and you barreled into a sturdy body, letting out a terrified shriek.

"Considerable effort Darling but I think we should preserve your strength for the main event don't you agree? I just couldn't let you get too far ahead...especially when you smell so delectable.", he growled out as he buried his nose in your hair, his muscles pulsing with the effort not to immediately jump on you. He grabbed your jaw in one hand, keeping your body tightly bound with the other, and lifted your face to meet his. He looked hungry-no, he looked absolutely famished. Like a man who hasn’t eaten for days who happened upon a cornucopia of his favorite dishes. You closed your eyes tightly, prepared to be eaten alive.

Instead of his razor-edged teeth digging into you as you expected, he began to gently rub his face against you. From your chest to your ears he spread his scent all over your skin, paying careful attention to your throat and cheeks. When you caught his scent all the adrenaline instantly drained from your body. He smelled of the bayou soil, bourbon, and woodsmoke but it was more than just the physical notes of his scent, you had a powerful psychological reaction to it as well. It was as if he was speaking right to your mind using his smell, and he was saying ‘trust me, your safe, I’m going to take care of you’. The fog returned to your mind worse than before, you were now consumed wholly by thoughts of the buck that held you. Your entire body went slack, a rag doll in his arms to submit to his whims.

Satisfied with your entranced state he shadowed you away, placing you gently on his bed on your back. Your head lazily lolled to the side, barely registering the food and water on a table nearby. The demon quickly regained your attention when he started kissing you softly. You melted into the sheets, eagerly taking all the affection the buck would bestow upon you.

Ever so gently, like he was afraid of breaking you out of your trance, he undressed you. Once he had you completely bare before him he took a moment to admire his gorgeous, little doe. “Si beau, ma biche.” He ran his hands up your body, starting at your hips and stopping to cup your breasts. His touch was icy fire, so warm on your skin but leaving goosebumps in its wake. Your arched your back, pushing your breasts into his hands, whimpering softly when his thumbs tweaked your nipples. His hands ran south, tantalizingly dragging his claws along your skin on the way down.

The moment his fingers touched your clit it was like lightning struck you, a wanton moan ripping out your throat. He leaned up to your head once more, his thumb applying pressure on your bundle of nerves. “Be mine. I want you mind, body, and soul. I need you to remain by my side for eternity Darling. I understand that this may be an outdated request, but wherever I go, I need you to follow. In return for your devotion, I promise to protect and love you with everything I am. Every part of me will belong to you, as you belong to me. Please Darling, say we have a deal.”

For a moment, just a split second, alarm bells warned you of making a soul deal but they were quickly overshadowed by the fog whispering ‘trust me’. You felt too good, too euphoric, and you desperately needed him. “It’s a deal Alastor, I’ll be yours.”

“Delightful!”, he plunged one long digit into you causing you to gasp out. You were so wet already that he added a second finger almost immediately, his thumb circling your clit in roughly. Green light flashed and you felt your soul tether to him, like an invisible string tied around your heart and attached it to his. You came despicably fast, if the fog in your mind wasn’t so thick you’d have been embarrassed. Your body convulsed in on itself with the force of your abdominal muscles locking, a breathless whine leaving your lips.

Before you could recover you found yourself flipped onto your belly, Alastor nibbling on an ear as he raked his claws down your back. You felt the warmth of bare skin on your shoulders and realized he rid himself of his own clothing. “You taste positively sinful My Doe. Mind if I make have a better taste?”. Without further warning he flattened his tongue to the base of your tail and licked up the entire length of your spine eliciting a whole-body shudder from you, the action nearly made you cum again. He then went back down to your lower back, where he started peppering kisses on each of your spots while dragging his tongue between them. His game of connect-the-dots had you squirming underneath him, rubbing your thighs together as slick pooled at your entrance.

When the buck made it back up to your shoulders he paused, “Forgive me, My Dear”, and sank his teeth into your shoulder making you cry out, his palms holding you down by the shoulder blades. He lapped up the blood, soothing the pain. “Now everyone will know you’re mine.”

His proximity washed a new wave of his scent over you, relaxing you back into your trance as he lined himself up and sank into you. One hand fisted into your hair as the other held his weight above your shoulder. Al started with long, slow thrusts, making sure you felt every inch of his cock as it dragged through your walls. He slowly gained speed, leaving you a blubbering mess beneath him. His hand in your hair kept you pinned to the mattress, completely immobilized as his cock bullied your cervix, the coil in your stomach pulling tight. He ducked down suddenly and licked another stripe up your spine, ending at the bite on your shoulder which sent you over the edge. Your core squeezing him like a vice brought him over the edge with you and he delivered his first load of seed.

As soon as Alastor pulls out you roll onto your side, letting out a contented sigh. Your head was still foggy, but you felt sated for now. You get your first glimpse of your mate in all his naked glory; his taupe-colored body was covered in lean muscle, the black on his arms ended at his elbows and they were covered in scars. You felt the urge to return the game of connect-the-dots, but could not get your body to move presently. Your eyes trail lower and fixate on his glorious cock, girthy with a thick vein running up the underside and it was STILL.ROCK.HARD. The sight of him makes your mouth water, you let out a needy, pathetic whimper.

Alastor is on top of you again in a flash, his hips wedging against yours while his legs spread yours wide to give him access. He tenderly cradles your head in his hands as he kisses up your throat and lightly kisses the spots on your cheeks. "Don't worry Darling...we are only just getting started." And he plunges back inside you.

Hour 6- Sweat covers every inch of your body, you've lost count of how many times you've cum. Your hands fist in Alastor's hair as he sucks on your clit, his nails digging into your thighs leaving rivulets of blood on your skin. All you can do is lay there and take what he gives you, your thoughts completely incoherent and cock-drunk.

Hour 18- You finally get a brief break. Al hand feeds you fruits, nuts, and jerky of his own making. You do not have the energy to question what kind of meat the jerky is made from, at this moment you really could not care less. "You need to keep your strength up Sha, we are not nearly finished yet.", he coos at you as he held a bottle of water to your lips encouraging you to re-hydrate.

Hour 36- Your hands are holding onto the headboard like a lifeline, your knuckles turning white and arms trembling with the effort to keep upright as you get railed from behind. Alastor sucks on your neck and whispers "You are doing so well. We are almost there, just a bit longer Little Doe." You get a vague memory, a little Deja-Vu moment of why that should be comical to you, but your next orgasm thoroughly wipes the thought from your mind.

Hour 72- You are sure you are on the doorstep of your double-death. Every limb and joint aches, your cunt is feeling raw, your voice long gone from your cries of pleasure. You have no energy left, quite frankly you have no idea how the demon buck you are sitting on has the energy to bounce you up and down his shaft. The bed around you is covered in blood and the combined releases of Alastor and yourself, you do not know if you should be embarrassed or impressed. The man underneath you hisses as his cock twitches inside you, letting him know he is close. His thumb picks up its pace on your abused clit, with a strangled sob you come for what feels like the hundredth time since you started, tears flowing endlessly down your face. Using the last of his energy Alastor lift his hips up, using gravity to impale you as far down his shaft as he can get you before spending himself one final time inside you. You both collapse to the side, the only sounds filling the room being your erratic breaths struggling to return to normal. You feel his arms wrap around you as he pulls you into his chest. For once, he does not speak, there is no reason to. All the two of you need is the closeness and comfort of each other's embrace. You snuggle into his chest, letting the sound of his heartbeat lull you to sleep as you finally get to rest.

Thanks for reading! Planning on doing a part 3 that is all about the aftercare. Please let me know what you think!

@stattikdemon

@vxllys

@shealizxx

[missmimii]

𖤐 𝐇𝐀𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 - 𝐌 ~ 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐎

୨ৎ － 𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 - In which Matt convinces his girlfriend to film a video in a haunted house, the fearful events taking a turn for the better once he gives her the perfect distraction to keep her fright at bay.

✰-

୨ৎ — 𝐂𝐖. 18+, dom!matt, fem!reader, smut, f!oral receiving (Matt the munch forever), language, public(kinda?) dirty talk, light, light degradation, pet names, teasing, light fluff

𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈!

♡︎－ 𝒩ℴ𝓉ℯ * This is probably the first time I’ve written detailed smut, so let me know how I did/how I can improve! Ily guys so much, and I appreciate the recent support. It’s surreal ❤︎︎

୨ৎ － 𝐰𝐜 - 𝟕.𝟒𝐤

Starting on the current day going forward, Y/n made a promise to herself to never agree to be in a video with Matt ever again. Granted- she should’ve known he was up to no good when he offered his affection as a payment, but it was Matt.

The same Matt whose bribe seemed oddly similar to the many occasions he’d want to cling onto the girls side, press his face in the crook of her neck as he whispered all of the sinful things he thought of the beautiful girl. So when he said he’d fuck her till she saw stars, purely just for her appearance in a video, she thought nothing of it.

Because he loved his girlfriend.

Y/n was used to being in the triplets content regularly, which was given, seeing as she was the triplet’s girlfriend. Other than the odd occasions where she’d take a beat to focus on her own life as well as her personal career.

Said videos usually consisted of the four doing small activities that they knew the girl enjoyed. Q&A’s, because as much as she denied the accusations (she was fond of saying silly little facts about herself). Or something as simple as vlogging themselves shopping at thrift stores, a side hobby of the girls, that may have been a slight problem.

Just something to show off his gratitude and love for his girlfriend, showed the people watching that the angel was in fact, a very important piece in the scrambled puzzle of his life.

And though he loved his brothers, he couldn’t deny that one of the main reasons her got up every day, and stayed consistent with filming content, was because of the girl. He wanted to make her proud of his work, his job being the third on his lists of his best accomplishments.

𝟏－Nick & Chris

𝟐－Y/n (and how he managed to bag such a perfect, beautiful girl)

𝟑－His career

But because their content was usual tame and collected, random vlogs, that always consisted of activities that never were considered strange, Y/n immediately agreed to make an appearance in there latest video. Matt, on the other hand, inwardly cringed to himself at her lack of hesitation.

Was he lying to her? Not exactly. But was he avoiding telling her the full truth? Abso-fucking-lutely.

Small tea lights surrounded the group, as well as the blue rope that was laid out on the unstable floorboards beneath. Y/n felt her heart skip a beat whenever she heard a creak, forgetting that it was the century old flooring.

I can’t believe he talked me into this.

Because the girl was away for work for days on end, weeks- even, she didn’t hear everything about what happened back in LA in her absence. Of course they’d FaceTime as much as possible, but he as always to damn distracted, watching her.

Matt would watch her plump lips speak at a perfect pace through the camera, biting on the edge of his thumb as he wondered how amazing they’d feel against his own lips. She’s so fucking beautiful. Miss’ her so much. I wonder how it’d feel to be inside her right in this very moment.

And in result of his overwhelming thoughts of her, the reoccurring subject during these late night calls would also be her. Matt always missed her. Missed her touch, her voice, her perfect nails that would lightly scratch against his back as she lulled him to sleep at night, his head gently placed between her plush breasts.

Apparently (according to the man himself) Matt found himself missing the girl so much, that as he babbled on and on about how much he needed her, wanted her, and could practically feeling his cock being squeezed by the walls of her pussy, he might’ve forgot to mention that Nick had set up a collab with the two ghost hunters.

Y/n stared down at the illuminated rope that was weaved around the large group, flashes of blue and red intermittently sparking along the rope. An EMF cord. She was quite literally, being surrounded by hundreds of entities.

Lord please help me.

The girl flinched a bit as she felt a hand being pressed on the small of her back, immediately thinking ghost. “Woah.” Matt chuckled, looking down at the distressed girl as she blew out a soft gasp. “You alright?” The triplet tilted his head, running his hand comfortingly down her back.

Y/n’s shoulders fell with relief, silently shaking her head while simultaneously reaching out for his hand. Matt’s eyebrows drew together with worry, but didn’t hesitate before taking in her smaller, trembling one into his large hand. “Say the word and the video is scrapped.” She immediately shook her head.

“No- you’ve been looking forward for this for a while now.” Matt felt his stomach swoop with guilt, watching his beautiful girl run a distressed hand through the tendrils of her hair. “And Nick.” He rose a brow at the mention of triplet. “He hasn’t shut up about the stupid- ETES test, for weeks.” She stressed out.

Matt softly chuckled, sliding the hand that rest on her back to gently grip her waist. “I don’t care what Nick wants. The kids spoiled.” Y/n rolled her eyes at the childish remark, but felt her lips tip upward at the corners. “I care that you’re okay, baby.” His other hand cupped her cheek, soothingly running the pad of his thumb over the scar nearing the corner of her eye.

Matt watched in adoration as the girls eyelashes fluttered against her pink cheeks, batting them unintentionally as she peered up at him with that expression he could never get enough of. “I’ll be okay. I’m just being a big baby.” Y/n grumbled the last part in a soft voice, not even wanting the words to leave her mouth.

His lips fell into a smirk as he hummed, the thumb that rest against her cheek sliding down the dewy skin of her jaw and seductively smoothing over the plumpness of her bottom lip. “That’s because you are one.” Y/n’s frown deepened, as well as a redness illuminating against her cheeks.

Matt grunted at the sight, watching a stain of pink smudge against his thumb while it slid from her lips. “Cut it out.” He murmured, running his tongue along his bottom lip as he leered down at the girl with a dark expression. Y/n lifted an eyebrow, maybe with a slight attitude. “The pout.” Matt added.

Oh. The girl couldn’t help herself, a grin beaming across her pink lips as she cocked her head up at him. “And why’s that?” Y/n inquired, the false innocence apparent to the triplet, being fully aware of her games.

Matt felt his tongue twinge the inside of his cheek as he looked down at the nymph, feeling himself aching below through carpenter jeans he wore regularly. “Why?” He repeated, giving the girl a final chance to correct whatever little attitude she was about to cop.

Y/n hummed, zero hesitation as she placed a hand on his chest and drug the sharp ends of her nails along the thin fabric of his graphic tee. “Mhm..” His breath got caught in his throat as she pulled her bottom lip into her mouth, before forcing them into a small pout. “Is it because you don’t like to see me sad?” Fuck it.

The girl immediately yelped as she was being tugged forward, the hand of his that once rested gently against her waist, now used as leverage to bring her closer. “Sad, huh?” Chills went up at her arms, Matt’s breath feathering against the shell of her ear as he brought her into the warmth of his body. “If you keep up that little look, you’ll see just how fuckin’ hard you being ‘sad’ gets me.” He gritted against her ear.

All the girl could do was stand there, mouth gaping as she took in his words. Swallowing the lump she felt in her throat, she flicked her gaze away. “Looking forward to it.” She mumbled, rolling her eyes.

The remark wasn’t intended for his ears, fully. A sick part in the girl wanted him to hear the snarky tone, but the other, sane half, knew it was possibly the worst time to rile the man up. And if there was one thing that Y/n knew for sure, it was that Matt wouldn’t respond positively.

And he didn’t.

She got exactly one step away from him before she felt a hand gripping her wrist, chills going up her arms at the contact. “Repeat that.” Y/n felt the racing of the triplets heart as he tugged her closer, the girls back brushing against his chest.

The girl opened and closed her mouth, scrambling for a reply, or rather a lie. “I-” She practically whined as he hummed against her neck, knowing that it was a warning. “You didn’t let me finish my sentence!” The girl rushed out, spinning around to face the boy.

He lifted a brow, urging her to continue as she fiddled with the hem of his T-shirt. “I said.. looking’ forward to doing the ETES test.” She rushed out, sending him a sheepish smile.

Matt looked at her for a solid seven seconds, before his lips broke out into a smile. He just couldn’t help it. She looked as angelic as always, the flyaway hairs framing her adorable expressionisms perfectly. Matt found himself amused by her bratty approach, and though his hand did itch to slap that beautiful ass of hers, he knew to tread lightly when she was sensitive in situations like now.

“Mhm.” He shook his head a bit, rolling his eyes as he forced the smile from his lips. “Careful, kid.” Y/n, being unable to help herself, reached up and pinched his one cheek with a soft giggle. “Saw that. You aren’t slick, buddy.” The girl teased on, still giggling at his past reaction to her brattiness.

Men were too easy.

“Stop flirting with each other and get the fuck over here, you two!”

Y/n’s shoulders dropped, the momentary distraction Matt had offered her now long vanished at the sound of the youngest triplets shout. A searing light blared into the couples eye as they turned back to the group. “Jesus, Chris.” Matt hissed, using his one hand to cover his own eyes, the reaching out to guard the girls. “Put the fucking flashlight down, dummy.”

Chris being Chris, pointed at his brother and laughed, simultaneously waving the light in front of his face. “Chris,” Another voice chimed in, the black light being snatched from his hand. Nick glared as he stood aside the younger triplet, using the handle end of the flashlight to poke his side. “Stop be a fucking child.” He hissed.

Chris yelped, jumping away from the contact. “Ouchh.” All three of them, Y/n Matt and Nick, watched as the childish male hunched over while holding his side. “I’m actually burning all of your shit, Nick.” He continued to overexaggerate his pain, before abruptly reaching out to slap the eldest twin.

Matt rolled his eyes, already seeing the fight that was to break out before it even began. Wrapping two arms around her from behind, he tugged Y/n back into his chest while taking a step back from the two. Y/n stumbled backward, lips parting as she fell into the warmth of his chest with a small umph.

Her arms were comfortingly trapped beneath the boy’s tattooed ones as he leaned his head down to her ear. “You staying’ at my house tonight?” He mumbled against her jaw, the bridge of his nose brushing along her cheek as he placed a soft peck just below her ear.

She giggled at the contact, shifting a bit in his hold. “I don’t think I could even fathom sleeping alone after this.” He hummed, placing another light kiss on the area.

“After what? This, or the ghosts?” Chills went up her arms as he whispered the words against her face, the warmth of his breath grazing the curve of her jaw sensually. “Would you be shifting in bed, chills like this,” He ran his thumb along her arm, making a whimper emit from her lips. “-all up every inch of your body, because of how much you needed me? Or will it be the nightmares?” He murmured.

Y/n was basically panting as he finally ended his sentence, a bead of sweat slowly sliding down the span of her back, just between her trapezius. “… maybe a little bit of both.” She whispered softly, the words hitting Matthew’s ears like a velvety melody.

As if there were a record player in the man’s head, the vinyl that was Y/n’s voice played on repeat in his mind, resulting in the desperate aching sensation he felt growing in his jeans. “Fuck.” Matt cursed himself, momentarily looking heavenward.

“Who’s ready for the test?”

All heads turn at the sound of a voice that may have been a touch too enthusiastic for the current events. The two friends, Sam and Colby standing side by side, both grinning ear to ear. Y/n shook her head incredulously. Who was I to judge their weird little hobbies.

Nicks hand flew up, making the girl giggle softly. “I’m so fucking ready.” Chris nodded in agreement, both boys having already decided they’d go first for the test. Matt was hesitant at the beginning, not because he was scared, but because he didn’t want to say anything that may have freaked the girl out.

His upmost priority was keeping her calm, and so far his attempts hadn’t failed. “What about you two?” Colby pointed his index fringe in between the couple, lifting a brow. Matt slowly looked down, seeing the girls face absolutely terrified.

She was quite literally froze with fear, gaping at the dark haired male with wide eyes. “Like-now?” Y/n stumbled with her words, hands wringing together anxiously.

Colby nodded nonchalantly. “After these two, yeah.” He mumbled, fumbling with the camera before flicking his gaze back to the girl. “Only if you feel comfortable with it.” The male added quickly, noticing the slight warning look Matt was throwing his way.

The girl averted her gaze downward, her breathing having picked up rapidly in pace. She couldn’t- she wouldn’t. Matt suddenly adjusted the gentle hold he had on her, nudging around so she faced him. “Hey,” She shook her head. “Look at me.” Matt reached out, tipping her chin upward.

Y/n blinked up at the blue eyed boy, fighting back the tears of frustration as she gazed up at him. “I really don’t want to.” He immediately nodded, using his thumb to effortlessly brush away the one lone tear that had fallen. “And you don’t have to, yeah?” She sniffed a bit, shutting her eyes for a brief pause.

She was that friend.

She felt like one of those kids who dipped their feet in the pool instead of swimming because they couldn’t. “… I’ll do it if you do it with me.” She blurted out, her hands balling into fists.

Matt’s eyes widened at his girlfriend’s sudden change in attitude. “You want to do it?” She nodded, making the triplets face churn with even more confusion. “You- you want to do the ETES test? Talk to ghosts-” The more he went on, the more frightened she became, but he couldn’t help it.

What the fuck had gotten into his girlfriend?

Y/n groaned and softly shoved his chest. “Stop talking about it!” She whispered hissed, making him immediately halt his ranting. Matt blew out a breath, scratching the back of his head as he looked down at the girl. “Okay.” He nodded.

Her eyebrows flew up. “Just ‘okay’? Not, ‘okay I’ll do it with you’ or oka-” She was cut off from her rambling as set of lips were placed against hers, immediately resulting in her emitting a soft. She felt her entire body drop as the weight fell from her shoulders, Matt’s perfectly soft lips moulding against hers passionately.

The triplet let his eyes lull shut as he pressed himself closer into the girls body, both hands cupping her flushed cheeks as he smiled into the kiss. “Yes,” The boy muttered into between kisses. “I’ll do it with you, baby.” He chuckled, placing soft pecks around her mouth and jaw.

The girls nose scrunched at the ticklish sensation, giggling as she pushed her hands against the triplet’s chests. “Matt!” She exclaimed in an undertone, still laughing as she attempted to shove him away. “Cut it out.” The male shook his head, lightly nipping at her cheek.

“Can’t help it.” His speech came out slurred with his lips pressed against the soft skin of her cheek. “You look so fucking good with in this jacket- and that fuckin’ top.” Matt practically whined against her jaw, thumbing over the opening of her cropped shirt.

Maybe ghosts weren’t too scary …

✰-

“Holy fuck, man.”

Chris practically trampled through the closest door, slamming the door on Nicks face as he tore the merlot fabric from his eyes. “Those ghosts almost talk more than Nick.” He snickered, wincing as Nick pinched his side. “Kidding.” He grumbled.

Y/n watched as the door creaked open, the dusty sofa sitting inside awaiting the couple. I can’t believe I was doing this. Matt held both pieces of red fabric, feeling himself even slightly uneasy as he looked in the meekly lit room.

Dread. The girl was dreading the second her bottom landed on the leather sofa, and she was just about prepared to do anything to prolong it. Y/n felt her palms dampen with sweat, her hand twitching at the urge to reach out and grip Matt’s sleeve.

He’s right beside me- I’ll be fine.

The triplet beat her to it though, seeing her overwhelmed state as she shrunk into her own body, prompting him to reach out and grab her trembling hand. Her head snapped in his direction, finding the males eyes already on hers. “Good?” He asked, raising a brow.

Butterflies pressed against her stomach as her dilated pupils gazed into his blue eyes, feeling the world around her spin at the look that illuminated from his eyes. How could one look hold so much … love?

She blinked twice, shaking herself from whatever trance she was in. “Yes- yeah.” The girl uttered, looking down at their intertwined hands as she fiddled with the ring woven around his index finger. “Are you?” She murmured.

The corners of Matt’s mouth turned up at the inquiry. “Yeah.. m’fine doll.” Seeing her meek nod, he softly chuckled. “Are you sure?”

Y/n nipped at her bottom lip, flicking her eyes back up to the triplet’s. “Mhm.” At her nod, Matt offered one of his own.

It was on the tip of her tongue, she just had to say the word and he’d happily lift the girl into his arms, and walk out of the dump of house. The content mine as well have been nothing to him if his girl wasn’t okay the entire time.

“Here,” The male mumbled, the girl freezing with confusion. “Turn around for me sweetheart.” Her lips formed an ‘O’, and she turned her back to him. Matt carefully brushed away the few strands of hair that framed her face, making sure that none of them got caught as he gently tied the red fabric over her eyes.

Y/n sucked in a breath, her vision going black as she dug her nails into the flesh of her palms. “Atta’ girl.” She heard him murmur by her ear, before her nose crinkled as he pressed a harsh kiss on the side of her head.

“Matt.” She hushed, chuckling as she dodged his wandering touch. The tips of his fingers thumbed against the fabric, double checking that she in fact, could not see.

Something sinister ignited in the triplet as soon as her ability of seeing was enabled, a smirk cursing his lips. Touch would be so … sensational. She’d never know where his hand would glide off to next. Feeling her breath get caught in her throat, Y/n froze as she felt Matt brush his hand against bare skin of her abdomen. “Matt?” She whispered softly.

…

The girl was met with silence, resulting in a wave of confusion rolling over her body. Along with a spark set off in her core as she felt that same hand began to toy with the button of her jean shorts. A breath was sucked in as headphones were placed atop her head, the muffled sound of her own heart becoming the only thing she could hear.

Boom boom boom

The muffled sound of people talking was drowned out as the girls heart beat through her ears, Matthew’s feathering touch grazing her lower stomach. The boy bit down on his bottom lip as he watched his own fingers just barley pop the button her shorts open, the heat igniting within his body killing him.

God I need her.

Anger consumed his mood as he managed to pry his touch from the girls soft skin, knowing that the group was waiting for him to get on with the damn test. Jaw clenching as he snuggly knotted the fabric over his eyes, now unable to see the unworldly woman right in front of him.

“You guys all set?” Sam exclaimed, his voice coming off far too enthusiastic. Matt nodded stiffly, as did the girl.

Matt guided his hand lower, gently wrapping his larger one around the girls. “Feel for the door, hm?” He breathed against her ear, keeping his body close to hers as they walk forward. Y/n sucked in a breath, feeling the obvious hardness that pressed into her backside. “Kay’.” She murmured.

The triplet felt his lips tip up, rubbing the pad of this thumb against her wrist as they continued to move close to the door. Both of their steps came to a halt as Y/n’s hand brushed the corner of the door, using her hand to shove it open so they could enter. “Good luck you two!” Colby yelled, chuckling as he said something to the camera afterwards.

Good luck indeed.

A cold chill ran up the girls back, blowing out a breath as kept the urge to wrap her arms around herself. “It’s so cold.” She mumbled, her own voice muffled to the triplets ears. The room was pitch black other than the few tea candles, not that either parties would know due to the bonding around their eyes.

Unexpectedly, the feeling of dread that she assumed would stem from hearing ghosts, wasn’t what had her shaking. It was the overwhelming presence of her boyfriend, she could practically feel him breathing down her neck from several steps away.

But how could he help it? Matt leaned back against the wall, heart pattering painfully as he reached down to palm the raging erection that was now prominent through his pants. Fuck- how was I supposed to focus on ghosts when I was this fucked up? His head tipped against the hard brick wall, tucking his bottom lip between his teeth as he resisted the urge to fist his cock.

The room was freezing, sending the hairs on his arms straight up as he fought his inner turmoil. Fuck it. Within seconds he was ripping the headset from his head, the thin fabric covering his eyes flowing to the floor immediately after.

Y/n stood in the same place as before, nipping at the skin around her thumb as she awaited .. anything. A whisper, a random breeze, words, anything that indicated something paranormal. Minutes after minutes went by, before she sucked in an abrupt breath.

The hairs on the back of her neck stood up as she felt a gust of air graze from behind her, before vanishing within mere seconds. It was as if a spider had crawled past her, the fight or flight instincts fully in activation. That was before a low voice was spoken through the speaker of the headphones, making her flinch.

Behind you.

Y/n froze in fear, shaking violently as she fought back tears. “Matt?” Her voice came out wobbly, cracking nearing the end of her sentence. Even if he had replied, she wouldn’t have been able to hear due to the headphones.

Matt watched as the girl froze, lips curving into a smirk as he stalked forward. His poor baby, he cooed to himself, finally using his one hand to girl the side of her waist from behind. “Shh..” He quieted the timid girl as she lurched forward, obviously not expecting the touch.

Y/n felt her shoulders tense, her blood running cold as a hand squeezed her waist. It was Matt- it had to be. The sane part of her knew it was him, but the other told her it was an entity. This fear only multiplied by ten as another hand reached out from behind her, slim fingers dragging across her trachea.

Matt bit down on his lip as he felt the girls body shake against his, his fingers fiddling with the locket around her neck. He couldn’t help but reminisce the memories of the night he’d gifted to her, the events feeling oddly recent. It was their two year anniversary, and also the week before her birthday.

He wanted the girl to feel special, for her to know that she was everything he could ever dream for. It was a small butterfly locket that embroidered her birthstone right in the middle, the jewel glimmering against her untainted skin during any given moment of the day.

He quickly came to realize his love the necklace that same night. As the girl straddled his lap in the seat of his car, the small charm dangling down against his neck as she tightened herself around his cock, riding him like her life depended on it.

She practically went limp in his lap, her chest falling against his as she breathlessly moaned next to his ear. He locked away the lewd sounds in the back of his brain, seeing as it was odd that she was overly expressive in bed. He always knew she felt good as her hands gripped the sheets, or went he felt his dick being practically suffocated by the walls of her pussy as she clamped around him.

Matt let the thoughts cloud his mind, the desperation of needing her becoming overwhelming. “Fuck.” He whispered to himself, the hand that brushed against her neck flattening against the surface, entrapping the sides of her neck in his strong hand.

Almost immediately after, a whimper came from the girls lips. “Matt?” Yes. He wanted to say it so fucking bad. Hold the girl to his chest as he assured her it was him who had gotten ahold of her. But something.. portentous came over him.

The triplet felt the girls pulse thrum in his hold, a sadistic feeling setting in his heart. Something told him to slam her against the side of the wall, to fill her up so good with his cock, proving that he was the only person capable of making her feel so good, her eyes rolling back into her skull as she realized it was him.

He blew out a breath, shakily removing the headphones from atop her head, tossing them off to the couch. “Baby..” Y/n’s shoulders fell with relief, breathing out a deep sigh as she recognized the voice to be her boyfriends. Though, at the exact moment of relief, her stomach tightened at the tone of voice she knew all too well.

The same husky octave his voice dropped to whenever he got himself worked up, slowly drifting off into a whiny one as he begged to be inside her. “Stop fucking with me, Matt.” The girl finally managed to hiss out, shifting in his hold.

He groaned as her ass dug into the tent in his jeans, still fighting against his hold. “Cut it out.” He snapped, squeezing the outside of her neck lightly, the gesture a clear warning. Y/n rolled her eyes, anger consuming her.

“You scared the hell out of me.” Matt chuckled a bit, hearing the whine in her voice as she spoke. “You know I’m not good with all of this, be gentle.” She murmured.

His heart swooped a bit as he hummed, placing a peck on the back of her head. “Gentle, hm?” The girl bobbed her head, still experiencing the aftershocks of the momentary fear she’d experienced. “I’ll be so fuckin’ gentle with you, doll.” He whispered against the shell of her ears, making her shiver.

Her hand instinctively reached around to unbind the tie around her eyes, the motion being halted as a larger one caught her hand. “Leave it.” Matt muttered, the girl slowly lowering her hand to her side as she hearted the warning in his tone.

What the fuck had gotten into him?

The hand that was on her waist slowly trailed down her side, sensually grazing her hip dip before his fingers began to toy with her shorts button. “These are adorable, baby.” Matt murmured as he looked down at his own movements, feeling lost in his own thoughts.

He’d been thinking it all night. The girl looked too fuckable. Even if it wasn’t purposeful, her every move had the triplet leaning on a wall as he begged his body to not react the ways it begged for. Sam had even stopped him at one point during the night, placing a hand in his shoulders as he gave his friend a look of concern.

“You alright man?” He’d inquiry.

Matt could only offer a dry nod as he leaned off of the wall, the muscles in his jaw clenching as he did his best to adjust his raging hard on without the rest of the group noticing.

Y/n’s breath hitched as the ends of two of the males fingers slowly dipped down the hem of her shorts, the material scraping against her thighs that were painfully clamped together, her body now reaching to much more sensitively with his touch. “Matt,” The girl whispered. “Your brothers are literally right outside.” She hissed.

He hummed, chuckling as he heard the girl whimper when she felt his fingers scrape along the lace of her undergarment. “Guess you’ll have to be quiet then, huh?” Much to her dismay, Matt’s hand withdrew itself from her small shorts.

A sense of relief filled her simultaneously, knowing that she wouldn’t have to force herself to stay silent if he really had decided to go further, but with that came the frustration end. Matt had been fucking with her all night, nothing short of grabbing her ass whenever she bent over to arranged the EMF cord, or whispering sinful things into her ear.

Shocked, a yelp escaped her mouth as she was suddenly being lifted from her feet, two hands snuggly wrapped around her lower waist from behind. “What-” She cut herself off, jaw going ajar as Matt spun her around, the two hands slipping down and cupping the undersides of her thighs. “What’re doing?!” She whispered.

The look of absolute horror on her face made Matt’s eyes twinkle with love, being completely immersed in her every expression. “Giving the ghosts a show.” He whispered, a smile creeping on his lips as he watched her pupils dilate.

She felt her back press against the cold stone wall, her oversized leather jacket scraping against the rock as he adjusted her body against the surface. The girls legs instinctively wrapped themselves around the males sides, her bottom landing on his thigh as he pressed knee against the wall as a makeshift seat.

“Like’ my pretty little trophy.” She felt the blindfold feather down from her eyes, gazing down at him with a heavy stare as he inhaled deeply, chest heaving. Both of his hands rested on her hips, molding around the area as he guided her lower half closer.

Y/n’s breath caught in her throat, fighting back the moan that threatened to bubble up as her core ignited with a burst of arousal, the hardness of his thigh pressing into her heat. “Fuck- Matt.” She gasped out, sending him a glare.

His blue eyes flicked up to hers, a smirk crossing his plump, a small pop sound registering in the girls ear as she looked down. Matt effortlessly undid the button of her shorts, following the action with tugging the denim down her smooth thighs. “Say the word.” Matt’s tongue twinge the inside of his cheek as he pulled the shorts down her thighs, stopping mid way to look up into her eyes.

He waited, and waited, just for her to tell him to stop. But he was met with silence. That was until two hands were gripping the neckline of the triplets shirt, pulling him closer into the warmth of her body. “Just- do something.” She finally managed out, a whine drawing out at the end of her plea.

Matthew immediately began to slip her bottoms off, chuckling huskily as he shook his head. “Such a little brat.” She leaned her weight on the surface of his muscular thigh, lifting her hips for easier access as Matt tugged the denim the rest of the way down, the shorts slipping down and hooking around her one ankle.

The male didn’t move with haste, taking his sweet time to lower himself to his knees, carefully lifting and placing the girls legs around his broad shoulders. Matt’s hands softly pry her thighs apart, littering small pecks to the inside of the dewy skin as he made his way through her two plush thighs.

One touch, one little graze of his lips against the lace of her faded pink underwear was all it took for her thighs to clamp around his head. With hooded eyes, he flicked his gaze up to the unknowing girl. “Baby,” Her head snapped down as she heard him tut, catching the look of his face. “Open your damn legs.” He muttered, hardening his gaze.

He didn’t have ask twice. “Atta’ girl.” He praised as her thighs parted, leaving the perfect amount of space for his head to slip between. Y/n assumed that the demand was finally going to result in her being touched. But much to her dismay, he continued to taunt her.

Whimpering as he nipped at her thigh, right next to where she needed him, she reached down and threaded a hand through his tousled hair. “Don’t give me that half assed shit.’ She whined, gritting her teeth a bit as the sexual frustration grew.

“Yes ma’am.” He joked, his fingertips teasing the hem lace of her underwear.

He leisurely slid the itchy material down her thighs, biting down on his bottom lip as he caught sight of her glistening core. “All for me. huh, baby?” Y/n nodded with a small hum, chest heaving as she peered down at him, Matt’s perfect lips pursing as he blew a cold stream of air onto the sensitive skin of her pussy.

“Matt.” His one hand that gripped the underside of her thigh lightly squeezed the area. “I know baby, I know.” He murmured. Within seconds the frustration she felt had passed, as Matt’s lips began moving against her lower ones. “Fuck.” She moaned breathily, her head falling back against the wall.

His tongue slipped between her slick folds, harshly lapping at her core as if he was savouring every inch of her. “So fuckin’ good.” He moaned softly against her.

Her eyes that had lulled shut with pleasure, slowly pulled open at the sound of Matt’s small whisper. “Huh?” She reached her hand down, running her fingers through his brunette hair before gently tugging his head up.

“What’d you say?” Y/n patted his cheek lightly, trying to snap him out of whatever hazy high he’d put himself in. As more wetness trickled down the insides of her thighs, Matt’s eyes had visibly blurred over, pupils dilated as he looked up at his girlfriend with need. “S’just so good.” The boy panted out.

Eyebrows knitting together, and lips parting as she went to reply. “Jesus!” It was replaced with a choked moan, her head thrown back in pleasure while Matt’s tongue reconnected with her heat, dragging a long stripe up her core. He felt her pulse against his tastebuds, locking the sounds she made every time he’d nudge her clit.

The triplet’s mind was utterly corrupted by the girl. Y/n this, Y/n that, god Y/n tasted so good, I wonder what Y/n would feel like- his thought process was entirely fucked. Leading to the current, the tip of his nose grazing her clit as he buried his face into her throbbing pussy. “Fuck.” He moaned with a slight slur, both hands down gripping each sides of her thighs.

Y/n’s eyes were squeezed shut, mouth ajar as she wondered what had gotten into her once tame and collected boyfriend. “Matt,” She’d whimper out every few seconds, the light melodic rhythm of her voice going completely deaf to the man’s ears, as he desperately lapped at her sopping heat.

It was only until he felt the girls thighs begin to clamp around his head that he was brought from his foggy mindset, hooded eyes dragging up to the breathless girl while removing his mouth from her pulsing core. “sweetheart,” he panted, running his ring clad hand down his jaw. “Don’t get me wrong, I fuckin’ love it,” He chuckled, making her roll her eyes with a small whimper.

“But I can’t really fuck you with my tongue, if you’re doing that.” She blew out a small sound of confusion, before spotting the pink area or skin behind his both ears, his diamond studs having pressed down against the skin whenever she’d clamp her thighs around his ears. “Can I?” He mumbled, lifting a brow.

She nodded pitifully, gripping his hair in her small hand ushering his face back to her drenched core. “Mhm.” Matt huffed out a sound of amusement, but like the gentleman he was, continued to guide the girl to her release. “Yess.” The hand in his hair gripped the tendrils harshly, pulling him closer into her as he swirled his tongue around the bundle of need.

He couldn’t help but glide his own hand downward, lightly palming over the obvious tent in his jeans. Matt neglected his aching cock for the extended period of time, ever since he saw her in that sexy little get up. Or when she’d accidentally brush her ass against his dick when she flailed backward into his body when frightened.

It wasn’t because he hadn’t felt the need to though. Not at all. In fact, he’d fought and resisted the temptation of slipping his hand into his jeans, fisting the aching hard on he sported just by the mere sight of Y/n. Or to grab the girl, nudge her into a random haunted room, and to slam his cock into her the second he tugged the denim shorts down her thighs.

Then there was her.

Matt was simply content with mind-fucking the girl, taunting and teasing her throughout the sinister night. Her every tantalizing move alluring him further, making his eyes gleam with a darkness that begged to be released with a quick fuck.

And because it was an escape, a distraction, she didn’t mind. “Gonna’ cum.” Y/n gasped out, feeling his lips pepper wet pecks all around her beating heat, groaning as he placed a final one directly over her dripping core.

The girls hips moved against his working lips as she felt the ball in her abdomen begin to unravel, eyes fluttering shut as her mouth opened in a silent moan. Matt’s eyes slid up to her as she came, lips quirking up as he watched her shatter in his hands.

Back arching as she pushed her dripping pussy closer to his lips as he lapped up her release, the familiar taste touching his tongue with an addictive undertone. He couldn’t get enough, fighting the urge of his eyes rolling back as his hands roamed every inch of her soft skin.

Y/n whimpered softly, watching the magnifying boy place two last kisses on the inside of either thigh’s. “sorry.” She whispered, making Matt’s eyebrows raise with surprise. “Sorry? Sorry for what, baby?” He laughed a bit, running the back of his hand across his damp lips.

Her cheeks burned with embarrassment, turning her head away. “I don’t even know- it’s just embarrassing.” Matt scoffed, dragging her underwear and shorts up her thighs while raising from his haunches.

“Nothing you could ever say or do, would be ‘embarrassing’.” He said firmly, pulling her shorts over her supple ass. “always’ my perfect girl.” He murmured, pressing his index and middle finger into her cheek, tilting her hed his way again.

The girl blushed, nipping at her bottom lip as she shifted foot to foot. “Do you want me to..” she trailed off, nodding toward the tent in his pants. Matt rolled his eyes, running the hand down her hair as he pulled her closer. “So bad it fuckin’ aches for you.” He grunted.

She immediately reached down to tug at the button, her hand being caught by a larger one. “hey,” Matt chuckled, making her flick her gaze up to his. “I thought-” She squealed, taken aback as his lips pressed onto hers.

The hand atop her soft hair drifted down to cup the side of her neck, Matthew’s thumb rubbing back and forth across her steadily beating pulse. “but,” He whispered. “I would much rather have this little mouth,” He muttered in between kisses. “on my cock after I’ve gotten you all warm. Bathed, fed, and in some comfortable clothes.” he chuckled, his other thumb running along the underside of her bottom lip.

There noses brushed each others even after they pulled away, Matt looking to be pondering as he looked off. “Hm..” She rose a brow, a grin spreading cross her raw lips. “Preferably something of mine.” He said, flicking his gaze back to hers.

Y/n’s eyebrows rose, tilting her head aside as he smiled up at her boyfriend. “Yours, huh?” She mused, her grin growing at his firm nod. “What about that white fresh love-” She yelped as a hand collided with the skin of her thigh, winching as he rubbed over the now pink skin.

“Always a brat.” He murmured, a smirk growing on his lips as he watched her thighs squeeze together at the action. Little masochist. “Maybe the bath and change of clothes can wait..” Her eyes lit up, opening her mouth to retort brattily.

Bang!

“Holy fuck!” Y/n cried, gripping onto her boyfriend’s arm as a ringing noise echoed through the void room. Matt went still, but managed to breathily laugh while patting the girls head. “Kid- you’re fine-” He attempted to assure, but flinched and cursed himself when he heard glass shatter. “Jesus.” He muttered, eyes wide as he snapped his head behind him.

The door flew open, the silhouette of four men standing in the door way. “I’m dead- I’m dying tonight-” she rambled, shaking her head rapidly as she gripped onto Matt’s muscular forearm. Matt laughed through the fright, faltering from his stance above her. “No you’re not, doll.” He chuckled.

“Ouch!”

Matt winced, pulling his forearm away from the girl. “You pinched me.” He sounded betrayed, cradling his tattooed arm to his chest as he looked down at his fearful girlfriend.

“It’s because I love you.” She whined, a small cry at the end of her sentence as she heard a door creak. “And I’m sorry I never got to go down-”

“Boo!”

The couple screamed, Y/n throwing herself into Matt’s arms. Sam and Colby stood side by side, the blonde grinning ear to ear as he held up the medium sized camera. He looked enthralled, whereas the two looked petrified. “How’d it go?!” Nick, who stood not behind joyed.

Y/n’s shoulders fell seeing the friend she knew and trusted, but ran a hand down her face as it fell back on the wall. “Oh my god.” Matt threw his brothers a glare, hands trembling ever so slightly. “You scared the shit out of me, guys.” Y/n laughed.

Sam and Colby brought the camera a little closer, the couple squinting from the light. “How was it? Hear anything ghostly.” Colby mused, laughing a bit.

Matt and Y/n looked at each other, eyes wide. “Uh..” The girl snapped her head in the direction of the friends, rushing to find some kind of excuse- or lie. “Glass!” She exclaimed, making the group of four all look toward each other in confusion.

Matt felt himself confused as well. “Ow!” Y/n sent him a warning glance, slapping his shoulder. “Oh fuck- yeah, that.” Matt looked back at Colby. “Glass.. broke?” He said, looking back at his girlfriend for reassurance. She nodded in alliance. “Yep. Loud.” Matt nodded along.

Suddenly the couples current position registered to each other, as well as their friends. “So..” Y/n mumbled, lips drawing into a line as she slid down the wall and out from her boyfriend’s body. “Yep, it was very spooky.” Patting his chest once, Matt looked down at his girlfriend with a toothy smile.

God she was cute.

Nick made an expression of realization, face scrunching up as he faux gagged. “Geez, guys.” He groaned, rolling his eyes as he saw the discarded headsets and blindfolds. “That was me.” Matt and Y/n looked at each other, before looking back at the eldest triplet.

“.. I tripped over a lantern, okay?!” He confessed, a blush spreading across his cheeks from both embarrassed and having been exposed to whatever rendezvous his brother and girlfriend were having. “And I heard screaming, that definitely wasn’t out of fear- longgg before I did that-” He attempted to deflect.

Chris immediately cut him off. “Nick-nick. Shut the fuck up.” He hissed, nudging his side.

“Okay!” Sam interrupted, cheeks slightly red as he looked around at the group. “We’ve been filming for over two hours, which is more than enough. Anyone wanna’ catch dinner?” He put his hands together, grinning sheepishly.

Me and Matt stayed silent, Chris’s and Nick’s hands flying up simultaneously. “Me.” They both say, voice overlapping each others.

“Great!” Sam exclaimed, sending a quick smile our way.

As the group dispersed the room, Matt slowly let his head fall against Y/n’s chest, letting out a small whine. “Holy shit.” His voice came out muffled, lips mushed against her goosebump-ridden chest.

She patted his head a few times. “I know. I know.” Oh god, did she know.

୨ৎ 𝒯𝒶𝑔𝓈 －

@tvdelrey @luverboychris