#i love her outfit i need a top like that | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

fushitoru · 3 months ago

Text

rainy days and brownies

pairing ⸺ college/modern!au: bf!gojo x reader

summary ⸺ you wake up for some soft moments with your boyfriend that involves brownies (turned freaky)

warnings ⸺ smut, tooth rotting fluff, some mild angst?, gojo unfortunately mentions skibidi toilet, I think I made gojo gen z here, boob worship, brownies and baking, established relationship, oral (f!receiving), gojo eats pussy like a champ, NOT EDITED, might be incoherent to everyone except me, product of a forceful effort to escape writer’s block, rainy mornings <3, lots of intimacy, art by 3-aem, probably in the same universe as this

general masterlist

Rainy mornings with Satoru means baking.

It’s a ritual the both of you have fallen into. On a day like this, where the air smells like rain, you blearily wake up from your nap to smell the warm distinct aroma of overly sweet brownies.

The slutty brownies were Satoru’s masterpiece. Even if he did overdo the sugar, you can’t admit that your stomach was growling as you rubbed your bleary eyes and frowned while raking a hand through your head. This bed head was going to be a bitch to untangle with the hairbrush.

“AND IIIIIIIIIIIII, WILL ALWAYS LOVE YOUUU—“

You jumped, caught off guard by Satoru randomly deciding to pay homage to Whitney Houston. Standing up, you headed towards the living room of you and Satoru’s apartment—-not before you adjusted your tank top so your tits weren’t out and the boy shorts you chose to sleep in properly covered your ass.

“WILL ALWAYS LOVE YOUUUUU—-“ You cringed at Satoru’s attempt of a high note, grumpily looking at him use his chocolate covered spatula as a makeshift mic. He was in the kitchen—-shirtless, of course—-now bending over to peek at the state of his brownies in the oven. Deciding the brownies weren’t done yet, he closed the oven door and stood up once more, reaching for his phone to undoubtedly scroll through TikTok. Continuing to hum different variations of the chorus, he swiped at his phone, ignorant to your presence behind him.

You think he’s kind of sweet like this. If it weren’t for him, the both of you would never be in this position. You would always be the cold frigid bitch he saw in freshman orientation and occasionally at parties across campus, and he would be the sweet, friendly guy that all the girls would continue to fall head over heels for.

To be honest, you don’t really see what he sees in you. You’re like a Disney villain, the witch that entraps him in her webs of insecurity and jealousy, but he remains the valiant prince, fighting to get to you. When he finally has you in his arms, he kisses you into believing that you are his princess instead.

It’s obvious in the way he fought for you—memorizing your schedule, rushing across campus just to walk you to class, pleading with you to grab dinner. And each time, you’d brush him off with sharp rejections, finding excuses to keep him at arm’s length.

But when he finally had you, finally cracked all your defenses—he was never going to let you go. You could see as much; the way he proudly walked on campus with you at his side, across the main quad so he could boast that he got you. You were his, and he was fully, undoubtedly yours. At parties, his eyes would always be on you, raking his eyes up and down your figure in your nurse outfit, conjuring up the hundred and thirty four positions he would fuck you so good in, even if there were prettier girls clinging onto his arms asking for a morsel of his attention. Pettily enough, you would just need to sigh and mumble “This party isn’t fun,” to have Satoru whipped, ushering you out of the frat house while those girls glared at the back of your Halloween costume, angry beyond measure that a nobody like you has the campus sweetheart wrapped around your finger.

Loud booms of the Vine gunshot sound effect snaps you back into the present, where Satoru is snickering at some god awful brain rot. You choose to approach him, wrapping your arms around his waist and smothering your face into his muscular back.

“Hi baby,” you mumble.

“Guess which sleepyhead is awake!” He announces to the world and turns around, and your traitorous heart jumps in its chest while looking into his eyes. It’s stupid. You’re both in your PJs on a morning where the rain thuds against the window pane, blurring both the window and all outside life, suspending you both in this moment. His eyes look affectionately down to you, and he plants a wet kiss on your forehead. “How was your nap, baby?”

“It was good.” You watch him turn around again to peek at the oven, and he hums, upper arm flexing as he grabs the heavy bag of flour, dragging it closer to him. “When’d you get up?”

“Around 7.”

You shoot him a bewildered look as you hop onto the counter, a better space to observe your boyfriend. When he realized that you had woken up, he had left his phone open to give you a kiss, reel playing noises. You peek over and almost snort at what is playing.

“Satoru, why are you watching alligators get chased away by a shovel?”

He looks up from the bowl of brownie batter he was now cleaning—-with his tongue, mind you—-and grins boyishly. “Isn't it crazy how hundreds of years of evolution get destroyed by a shovel?”

”Your feed is not normal,” you shake your head, keeping a stony face as you continue to scroll through his TikTok. In fact, it’s hilarious—-the things he got were weirder than one could dream, with toilets producing heads of men taking over whole cities. You’re not sure what that means about your boyfriend, but you accept it as you watch the nonsensical video.

“Wait,” he makes his way over to you, standing in between your legs. “Is that skibidi toilet?”

“What the hell is that.”

“Baby,” he whines. “You don’t know the lore? I don’t know if I can be with you for any longer.”

Your bite back a grin. “And subjecting me to hours of FNAF backstory wasn’t testament to how much I love you?”

Before he could whine back, you noticed he had some leftover chocolate on the side of his mouth and leaned over to lick it. Humming at the taste, you grabbed his hands and took in his brownie coated index and middle finger into your mouth.

He frowns. “Are you trying to seduce me into forgiving you and giving you more brownies?”

You laugh softly and give him a soft smooch on his shoulder. “No, silly. If I ate any more than half, I would have diabetes.”

He grabs the back of your hips and pulls you closer into him, nuzzling his nose against yours. The physical contact rubs at your nerves the right way, firing off that emotional part of you that makes you think loving him is so easy. How lucky you are that he’s chosen to give you his love.

His god-awful alarm blares—same annoying sound he keeps hitting snooze on for his 7ams—and the moment breaks as he reaches for the oven mitts to pull out the brownies. The aroma hits you instantly, making your mouth water. Satoru blows dramatically on the brownies, pouting and mock-yelling, “Hurry up and cool down! My girlfriend wants to eat you.” You can’t help but giggle. Once Satoru finally decides they’re cool enough, he grabs one and offers it to you. “Make way for the choo-choo train!” he snickers, guiding the brownie through imaginary tracks, a shit-eating grin on his face, before plopping it into your mouth.

You can’t help but let out a soft sigh as the brownie melts on your tongue, its warmth enveloping your senses. Rich, velvety tones of chocolate overwhelm your mouth, with each bite releasing a symphony of deep, indulgent flavors that linger long after the brownie is fully swallowed. “Wow, this is actually good.”

He pauses, brownie and hand held in mid air. “Why do you sound surprised?”

“I don’t know.” You shrug innocently but stick your tongue out to him regardless.

Popping the brownie in his mouth--but not before sending you a pout---he brushes his hands together to remove the brownie crumbs as he makes his way back in between your legs. The way he settles between them makes you all too aware of the heat of his groin encompassing you. He lazily drags his eyes up your figure, but not before settling on your outfit. His eyes then flick down to watch his hands trace the hem of your tank top, and your eyes follow his hands, a little dizzy by the action.

You’re always a bit sensitive in the mornings, and before this day, you and Satoru’s interactions have been limited to a kiss before he runs for his 7am and then doing college work until 3am, where you’re both too tired for anything particularly frisky. So, yea, you are kind of pent up---and judging by the bulge that’s starting to form in Satoru’s sweats, you assume he is too.

You put your elbows on his shoulder blades to give him head scratches from behind and lean towards his jawlines giving small kisses. You can feel him close his eyes, purring silently like a cat, and underneath your hands, his back and shoulder blades tense and relax as you rake your hands over his scalp.

“This new?” He uses his index finger to snap the strap of your tank top against your shoulder, using his mouth to given open mouthed kisses to your collarbone.

“Mhm,” you hum, a little deliriously at that---he’s begun to trail down, mouth working at the swell of your breasts.

He slowly pulls the collar of your tank down, down down down until your breast pops out. His eyes trace the swing urgently and groans. “I missed these, sweet girl.”

You gasp sharply when he puts it in his mouth, tongue swirling around the nipple. Satoru’s always been a boob guy, joking about his hands being your bra to support “those mommy milkers.” Right now, he’s doing just that; groping the hell out of them and giving them kisses, as if they were God’s greatest creation.

As much as you were enjoying your boyfriend’s boob worshipping, you need more. You were throbbing in want of contact on your pussy, and you made sure to relay just that. “Toru, I need more,” you whined.

“God forbid a man appreciate nice boobs.” He rolls his like the sassy man he is and parts with your nipple like lips after a messy and wet make out session. Your breasts are gleaming with his spit, a string connecting your nipple to his lips. He trails his face down your torso, making his way down to his knees until he was facing your crotch.

You whine and clench your thighs together to draw his face closer to the space between your thighs. He looks up at you and coos, giving your inner thigh a kiss. “I can smell you from here, cutie.”

His statement reminds you that you’re not too wet in the mornings. As soon as you wake up, some of your morning sessions with Satoru require the aid of lube to ensure no pain. Irritation flares at you at the thought that you might need to leave your position to grab some l—-

Oh.

“What the hell. I thought you wet your pants,” Satoru giggles. The finger running through your folds glides messily, as you both marvel to how wet you are. You’re also on another plane; you haven’t felt his touch for weeks, and the feeling overwhelms you as the squelches your pussy makes echo throughout the kitchen.

Satoru gives you a kiss on your neck. “Baby, can I?” You deliriously remember that he’s lightly circling his finger around your entrance and when you finally give him the okay, he pushes in.

Both of you groan at how tight you are. “Satoru,” you moan and proceed to bring him in for a kiss as he pistons in and out of your pussy, curling them just the way you like and making you see colors.

“Pretty, pretty girl,” he groans. “Left my baby so pent up.”

At that, all you can do is nod and whimper in agreement. All that leaves your mouth are gasps of his names and oh my god’s because he’s making you feel so good.

And then, you almost scream as you feel him blowing hot air onto your folds, leaning down to give teasing kitten licks around your clit, but not directly on it. His tongue drags up and down until he finally stops it right next to your clit as if feeling the sensation of your pussy throbbing, echoing your fastened heartbeat skin-to-skin while drooling.

Frustrated, you try to move your hips, but Satoru grabs them to stay in place. He’s so close to the place you want him, but he’s stationed in one place, spit flowing down as his tongue is still and his dark eyes are staring at you as if enraptured by your struggling.

“Satoru, please lick my clit,” you moan wantonly, begging for him to change his position.

But Satoru Gojo wouldn’t be Satoru Gojo without some teasing. “What was that, baby? Avoid your clit? You got it.”

“No,” you sobbed, grabbing onto his hair and directing his tongue to your clit. This time, he relents, sucking the bud into his mouth and hollowing his cheeks, making you see stars.

But soon, his quick and fast lapping turn into lazy licks, and you get frustrated, grinding against air and pussy oozing out wetness as Satoru keeps his tongue outstretched in front of you but not close enough to make contact with your skin, teasing. You hate the feeling of your pussy throbbing and the inner thighs and pussy wet with your slick, lacking the sensation you needed to finally climax. “Oh my god, Satoru, please make me cum.”

“I don’t know baby, you sound pretty commanding to me.” The motherfucker shrugs as if he has nothing to do with your dilemma and starts trailing kisses up your inner thigh. His touches were close to where you needed him most, making you ache for the sensation of his wet laps against you.

“Please, baby,” you beg. “You feel so good, you’re making me feel soo good. I love you so much. Please let me cum.” You’re full on sobbing, hips writhing to get any sensation in.

Satoru, at your display, seems to give in, because he’s coming in once more, giving you a sweet little kiss on your clit. You nearly ascend.

He’s diving in, making a rhythm of dipping his tongue into your entrance and coming back to give sloppily wet laps on your clit. It’s when he groans while his tongue is inside, hot air and vibrations needily simulating your clit, that you come up with a gasp. You roll your hips, Satoru giving you little licks to help you ride out your orgasm.

For how hard you came, you’re bucking your hips frantically, body on a mind of its own as you almost fall off the counter. Satoru has to grip your thighs to prevent that potential injury and rubs soothing circles on the outside of your thigh as you pant, wetness and sweat likely painting the counter beneath you. It’s not until your breath returns back to it’s normal pace that you notice Satoru’s head against your thighs, looking up at you with lovesick eyes.

You’re probably giving him the same look back, you realize, given he made you ascend to heaven and back. He gives an affectionate kiss to your mound, moaning corny shit like “Your pussy tastes sweeter than the brownie.”

And then he stands up, knees popping on the way back up, and despite your fucked out state, you can’t help but giggle. “You old man with the popping knee caps.”

He glares at you playfully, but you know his expression too well to know there’s no real offense in it. “Hey. Rude to say that after I just made you cum your brains out.”

”And you’re about to get the same thing,” you purr, putting a hand on his hard-on. He hisses but looks at you with lust blown eyes as he grabs the back of your thighs to carry you to your shared bedroom.

Yes, rainy days do mean baking with Satoru, but not without intimacy with your even sweeter boyfriend in bed.

general masterlist

comment or reblog to let me know your thoughts! I appreciate all of them <3

a/n lol this was a bitch to write. this might be a word soup or salad or whatever for all readers and that’s ok! I’ve written this primarily at 1am so…

eugh ok im going back to writing ch5 of bridgerton!gojo and fixing the em dashes in this post when i wake up LOL

4K notes · View notes

demaparbat-hp · 2 months ago

Note

Hiya!! 👋🏼😄 How's it going? Your fashion taste for Zuko in a Modern AU seems to be artsy, or maybe "formal" is the word. That shirt he wore when he gave Sokka romantic song advice looked Versace🧐. Anyway, I was wondering how you came up with it, he always struck me more as the type that didn´t care much about fashion, so I'm curious about other´s opinions and heacanons about it. And do you have any other fashion headcanons for the rest of the GAang? Also, their music tastes. How did you come up with them? Especially Katara's! 😍

Hello! As it happens, I have a lot of Thoughts and Feelings™ about this, so I'm leaving these over here, and the rest of my ramblings down below the cut!

Let us begin with the Gaang, shall we?

SUKI always struck me as that Pretty Girl from the Gym. She is so incredibly fit it isn't even funny. She could kick anyone's ass, and we'd all thank her. She has this casual gym style that somehow always looks glorious on her, as it should! Comfy yet fashionable clothes for a nice workout or a day in town.

Her music tastes are basically any and all power songs from the eighties and nineties. (Eye of the Tiger, anyone?) She also enjoys metal via Toph, and bands like BSB, NSYNC, or Boyz II Men with Katara. My girl has a very eclectic Playlist and we all love her for it.

SOKKA is That Guy™. Loose T-shirts and shorts everywhere he goes, no matter the weather. He's stupidly into fashion but it doesn't show! At all! And everyone teases him about it. His closet is about 90% Cactus Juice merchandise, hence the "it's the quenchiest!" shirt.

His fashion and music tastes are pretty much the same. He loves poetry but isn't really into lyrics. He'll misinterpret just about anything you place in front of him. His Playlist is mostly vibes and tiktok songs he kind of enjoys. He isn't really into music...at least not as much as his sister.

AANG owns exactly one hoodie, one pair of shorts, and one beanie (THE beanie). Oh, and the crocs—don't forget the crocs. Somehow, he's always wearing the exact same outfit. Every. Single. Day. Ancient Gaang lore suggests that the day Aang goes out without his beanie, it's the end of the world.

His Playlist is the poppiest, most bizarre thing ever. Every single song is Happy by Pharrell Williams levels of happy. Yet sometimes, among the bouncy dance-to songs, you'll find the strangest of things... (He does know what Good Day by Twenty One Pilots is about. That's the reason he likes it so much, actually. And it's so weird.)

KATARA is all about sundresses and loose pants. The epitome of comfortable loveliness. Light fabrics in blue shades, careful embroidery, delicate shoes, and little to no accessories—hers is a simple, yet quite adorable, style. She just needs to add more colors to her usual palette...

She is, first and foremost, a Florence + The Machine girl. It's the Dark Goddess of the Sea vibes, to be honest. Florence Welch is her idol and yes, she will fight you about lyrics interpretation, and win. It may not seem like it, but her music tastes are also very varied.

She draws a little from each member of the Gaang, so you'll hear her humming along to Gorillaz (where did you even find out about them, Aang?), The Weeknd (I...don't think this song means what you think it means, Sokka...), and Hozier (Zuko why did you dedicate Talk to me, Zuko WHAT DID YOU MEAN BY THAT).

TOPH...ah, lovely girl. I'll summarise everything about Toph’s fashion sense in two words: comfort and rebellion. Stuffy dresses forced on her by billionaire parents? No thank you! Give her tank tops with loose shirts and short pants. Bandaids shared with Aang, bracelets from Katara, and even piercings she got in tandem with Sokka. Shoes? What even is that?

Something I love about this fandom is our collective agreement that Toph is into the dirtiest, heaviest, most ear-splitting and soul-crushing death metal of all times. Her Playlist is full of the most obscure names to ever exist, and she can and will blast through your walls with the sheer volume of her speaker.

Zuko. ZUKO.

Even in a modern AU my boy must suffer. That being said, I envision Tales from the Couch as—well, exactly what it is: an ATLA modern AU. While there is not a war to fight, and a lot of plot lines are discarded or expanded upon, much about the core story remains the same.

This is my way of saying that Zuko still goes trough his redemption arc, and it reflects on his fashion choices.

The way you described it works perfectly because of one single reason: in this AU, Zuko is an artist. He had to suppress his love for writing and drawing because of his background and the expectations Ozai had for him (taking over the family company), and a very large part of his redemption arc directly affects his relationship with art.

In the Couch equivalent of S1, Zuko has fallen out of Ozai's graces, and is desperate to protect his place in the company and the Kasai household. He's pretending to be someone he isn't and trying to live up to his Father's image of a perfect heir while still being somewhat cut-off financially, and it shows.

He's all about imposing long coats and a semi-formal style, imitating what he knows Azula and Father would respect. He's striking and sharp and dark. But no matter how he dresses or carries himself (that air of cold superiority and arrogance)—it won't help him when he needs it the most.

In S2, Zuko has hit his lowest point. He's officially disinherited and tossed away by his father, and would be out in the streets if it wasn't for Uncle Iroh. He goes from sharp, high-tailored outfits to old second-hand clothes that hang loosely on his frame. He starts smoking and cuts his hair off, forgoing the undercut for the first time in years.

But then...Father accepts him back. When Zuko returns home, it's with respect to his name and a very high position in his father's company. He's finally the perfect Kasai heir, dressed in overly expensive suits and finery, even at home... But Father forbids him from wearing Lu Ten's earring, and Zuko can no longer recognize himself without the familiar glint of gold dancing on his peripheral vision.

When Zuko leaves the Kasai name behind him and goes back to living with Uncle Iroh...he's finally at peace with who he is, and what he wants in this life. The sharp edges aren't gone (they'll always be a part of him, after all), but now they're dulled by looser clothes and softer hairstyles.

He's an artist, and for once in his life, he is determined to pursue his own ambitions. Zuko's outfits may not be designer-made anymore, but he takes what he has and makes himself look like he wants to look, like the person he wants to be.

He doesn't read fashion magazines or keeps up to the latest trends like Azula does. He's just...Zuko. And his newfound confidence makes everything he wears look like it belongs on him.

As for music...well, Ursa raised a literature boy.

He loves lyric-heavy music and natural voices, be they soothing or powerful. Dissecting song meanings and possible interpretations with Katara is one of his favorite parts of the day. They're both very passionate and strong-minded individuals, so it stands to reason that their debates can get quite...heated.

Zuko's Playlist is both incredibly eclectic and somehow very...him. There's a common thread that binds together every song and artist he likes, and he's hilariously unaware of this. To take a look into his Playlist is a higher honor reserved only for those closest to him.

In the wide spectrum of things, it is no wonder that Zuko is, first and foremost, a Hozier man. But though Andrew is his God in all aspects of this life, there's someone else that has had a huge impact on him...

Two someones, actually.

Zuko refuses to tell anyone how he got into Twenty One Pilots, but it's kind of a moot point when the beginning of his obsession is nothing compared to everything that came after. They have just about the right amount of everything that makes Zuko...well, Zuko. The poetic lyrics, the soothing or raging music, the heavy, intensely resonant themes...

Up there, in the second artwork, I placed an album cover behind each period of Zuko's life. The election of these records is intentional, as I feel like their general themes work incredibly well with Zuko's arc and growth.

Blurryface in S1. For the demons within us. For giving a name to our fears and shame.

Trench in S2. For escaping the confined walls of a depression city, and fighting to understand the depths of the map of your mind.

Scaled and Icy in the first half of S3. For returning to places you had left behind. For convincing yourself and everyone around you that you're fine, that you're perfect, even though everything is crumbling inside...

Clancy in S3. For recognizing that you can backslide, that you can have fears and shame and pain—but you're shaping yourself with each step you take. For knowing that seeking help from others is okay. Nobody learns to walk on their own.

(And, in the end, you'll always be better than the person you were yesterday. If only because you're still here. You're still alive. You're still yourself.)

Overall, I rambled a bit too much, don't you think?

If you made it all the way down here—thank you so much for reaching out and being interested in this crazy AU! I hope you enjoy these ideas and tell me some of your own ❤️

3K notes · View notes

a-b-riddle · 8 months ago

Text

Part 7

Can't stop thinking about how the 141 met reader

(she's a long one. not entirely happy with it either so may edit later)

No harm done yet.

You never saw Simon actually hurt anyone. Johnny and Kyle would share stories about poor recruits who fucked around and eventually found out that Simon had no issue beating them within an inch of their life.

You knew he had a reputation and, like the rest of them, had blood on his hands. But it never bothered you. Didn't make you think twice about loving him or seeing him as the protector he had always been to you. To be frank, you could never actually picture any of them being violent.

But his voice... Fuck. His voice. It fucking rattled you. You actually feared for those fucking idiots now. Sure, they deserved to have their asses kicked, but an ass-kicking was probably going to be a welcomed after thought to whatever Simon would do.

You rinsed off, not bothering to wash your hair, but needing to wash up before getting in the bed. Hoping the scalding hot water washed away the uneasiness on your skin that had began to settle into your bones.

Even feeling fresh and laying in clean sheets, you still found yourself tossing and turning wondering exactly what did Simon do?

Did he walk away? Realizing you weren't worth the trouble, did he just tell them to knock it off?

You had stupidly expected Simon to check in. To check if you made it home alright or at least to let you know he was okay. So you waited... And you waited. You had half a mind to call him yourself before remembering it wasn't your place anymore to care. You had cared enough for the five of you.

It was well past two in the morning before you finally called it a night.

The next morning, still nothing from Mr. Riley. Not a 'did you home alright?' or 'are you okay?' text. Nada. Zilch.

Whatever.

Fuck him.

You had to open up shop, but luckily your Saturday mornings were much more relaxed. The shop wouldn't be open until 10, so you had the time to sleep in and enjoy the morning.

By noon, Mere had sent you several texts reminding you that you had promised to go out. You had tried to dissuade her. The encounter with those men last night had brought back sour memories. One involving handsome men coming to your rescue when it was most certainly needed.

You had tried to bail. Giving her any excuse you could: Last night put you on edge. You no longer wanted to go out. After last weekend, you just needed some down time.

Eventually you had realized she was not taking no for an answer after she had shown up to your apartment, already ready for a night out.

"You're not wearing that, are you?" Mere asked. Mere was in her usual Saturday femme-fatal attire. The black leather pants that accentuated her curves and red corset paired well with her freshly box dyed color black hair.

She looked more like a dominatrix than someone who worked at an attorney's office. Even if both professions included bending someone over and fucking them for all their worth. You wondered who would charge more by the hour....

You had pulled out a off white lace square neck top and a pair of high waisted medium washed baggy jeans. A perfectly cute outfit for a night out. Which was your defense when she had suggested you needed to change.

Tab had arrived later than expected (something about a system being down at work), but made up for it by bringing a pre-game snack. Yes, you had officially reached the age where you no longer starved yourself hours before going out to get more drunk quicker and cheaper. No you had to eat carbs or else you wouldn't be able to leave your room the next day as you pathetically nurse a hangover.

Tab wore a denim skirt. If you could even call it that. It paired well with the white tank top that you could make out the shape of her nipple piercing.

But they looked hot. Really hot.

"This is a perfectly acceptable outfit."

"For a day at market, not for trying to get laid."

"I don't want to get laid." You said, rummaging through your closet, yet again. "Getting laid is what got me in this mess in the first place."

A little over two years ago

"Fuck him." Tabitha wrapped her arms around your shaking body as you continued to sob. "He was a prick who didn't fucking deserve you."

"He couldn't even get you to cum." Mere felt the need to remind you as if that would somehow lessen the blow of your heartbreaking into a million shards. The shrapnel feeling like it would kill you.

"I loved him," your voice is small. "I fucking loved him." You had been dating for almost three years. You had his grandmother's ring on your fucking hand for God's sake. "I'm so stupid."

"You are not stupid." Tabitha gave you a squeeze. "He was a liar and a fucking coward." Meredith rubbed her thumb on you bare leg, offering physical reassure. Letting you know even if she wasn't the hugger Tabs was, she was still here.

"You can't keep locked up in this apartment." She was unfortunately right. You had not only barricaded yourself in your apartment for two weeks, but you hadn't returned to your bedroom. The scene of the crime. "You need to get out."

"Yeah," Tabitha rubbed your arm as if trying to coax you out your metaphorical shell. "Get some fresh air. We can go grab a treat. Maybe go out for some coffee." It didn't surprise you that Tabitha was offering a treat to entice you to leaving your sanctuary.

"I was thinking going to a bar." It also didn't surprise you that Mere offered her way of coping. Getting so drunk that you forgot what you even sad about. Or going out and finding someone to fuck the sadness out of her.

"Because getting alcohol in her system in this state is just what she needs." Tabitha was the mom of the group whereas Mere was the fun drunk aunt. They balanced one another out.

"Actually," you said, giving a pathetic sniffle. "Going out would be nice." Getting away from the apartment is what you need. And going out would be the excuse you would need to get yourself all dolled up.

What you hadn't planned for was getting so pissed that you had manage to breakaway from your friends. Searching for them in teh crowd of people. Failing and when you pulled out your phone were met with a completely black screen.

Dead. Perfect.

The same moment you swore the night couldn't get any worse, it did.

He looked the same. Same as he been four months ago when he asked you to become his wife. Same as he had been two weeks ago when you had caught him fucking another girl. The girl he told you not to worry about. The girl he insisted was just one of the guys. A girl you had told him time and time again would fuck him the moment she had the chance.

It wasn't always great to be right.

When your eyes connected, your body had went into immediate flight mode. Every neuron in your body was shooting out signals of RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN. So that's exactly what you did.

You fucking bolted.

Or felt like you bolted. But you could only scurry so fast in chunky heels while simultaneously pulling down your skirt that had decided to ride up. Aching to show your ass for all of London to see.

You had made it a quarter of the way back to your apartment. Your feet aching. Toes pinched together from the strap digging into them.

"Baby, please!" You heard him before you felt his arm clamp down on your shoulder. Hard. When did his touch become something heavy? Something that practically burned you.

You turned. Eyes brimming with unshed tears as you hissed at him to leave you the fuck alone. The begging came, but you turned around. Determined to go home. He didn't deserve the chance to explain himself and he could most certainly shove his apology up his ass.

He wouldn't shut up. Insisting it was a mistake. A one time thing her fault. How she seduced him. As if he were the victim in all of this. You weren't buying it. Not for one moment. One doesn't accidentally invite some slut over and fall balls deep into her while they are in the same bed he shares with his fiancée.

It wasn't until you were in a more dimly lit area that he had gotten the nerve to grab you. His grip was firm on your arms as he held you in place. "Listen to me!" His voice was panicked.

The feeling of anger slowly began to dim as something else began to rise.

Fear.

You were afraid.

You were in a part of town not many people were out and about in at this time of night. No bystanders to really take note of the scene, or at least not any caring enough to stand by and watch; even for entertainment.

Your friends didn't know where you were at and you were tipsy. And alone.

"Cardan," you swallowed, trying to steady your voice. "Please let me go."

"Not until you talk to me," his fingers dug into you. "We can work this out, okay? It was one mistake." He tried to argue, his voice rising, soaked in desperation. "What's one mistake compared to three years?"

"Cardan," you tried to pull away, his grip only tightening. "You're hurting me." It came out as a pathetic whimper. You were so close to crying, too afraid to scream.

"Hey!" A voice barked from behind you. It caused your whole body to stiffen."Get your fucking hands off her. Someone noticed. Someone was here. Someone was here. Someone was here.

"We are having a conversation." Cardan's eyes left you, looking at whoever stood behind you.

"The lass said to leave her be." Another voice. Someone else. Two (three if you counted yourself, but in that moment you couldn't) people against one. There was no a possibility of you getting the fuck out of this situation.

Cardan stood firm. His eyes looking past you. A silent refusal to back down.

"Either you let her go," another voice. Another accent different that the first two. "Or we fucking make you."

"One against four. Odds aren't in your favor, mate." Four. Four men stood behind you. Faceless strangers there to help you.

"This doesn't concern you." Cardan bit out.

"Aye," Scottish. The second guy was definitely Scottish. "I think it does if she's tellin' ye' to piss off and yer bein' a bawbag about it."

"So what'll it be?" The third voice, deep and threatening, yet still so... calming. As if the vibrations from his deep, rich pitch washed over you.

Cardan looked back at you, his eyes not as manic. He realized he didn't have a chance. This was a fight he had to walk away from or else he wouldn't be walking away from it at all. "I'll swing by tomorrow, okay?" He asked.

You couldn't do anything, but nod. Agree that you could talk tomorrow in the safety of the sunlight. Eventually he walked across the street before fading out into the night. Blending in with the shadows.

You turned around to meet your would-be saviors.

Four men. All slightly older than you and so handsome you felt foolish for gawking at them as if this were your first time seeing a man. Hell, maybe it was. At least specimens like this. All of them tall and broad. Towering over you.

No wonder Cardan got the fuck out of there. Tabs was right. He was a coward.

"You alright?" The one who first spoke up asked. You could place his voice. Now just needed to place the other three. He had a hearty mustache and mutton chops. A look on any one else would make you immediately get the ick. But for a moment you wondered if that mustache would tickle... "Do you need us to call anyone?"

You felt your cheeks flush with heat.

"I just want to go home." You said. "Thank you for stepping in. I don't know what would have-" You stopped. Too afraid to think about the possibilities. There was a time you would never believe that Cardan had the ability to hurt you.

There was also a time you believed he would never cheat. You weren't really sure what to believe anymore. "Anyway," you continued. "Thank you again." You turned on your heel before continuing your stride.

You had only made it several feet before you were stopped again. "Which way? One of us can walk you home." You weren't entirely sure. But with a dead cellphone and a unhinged ex probably lurking in the shadows, there was little time to weigh the pros and cons before giving them a general direction of where you lived.

Which just so happened to be the direction in which two of the four lived. The Scot and one of the two who had yet to speak. The first one, who had still yet to introduce himself instructed the two of them to drop you off and let him know you had made it home alright.

You had hoped that the rest of your night would be met with silence, but the Scot couldn't seem to help himself. "I'm Johnny." He introduced. "And the spooky, silent type is Simon." He gave a playful wink. You gave him your name, not wanting to be rude.

"Not my place to ask," he began. "But what was the deal with that fucker? Ex-boyfriend?"

"Johnny." Simon's tone held warning. You appreciated the defense, but frankly didn't care. These were strangers. Who cared what they thought.

"Ex-fiancée," you clarified. "One who decided to fuck another girl in my bed. Not even our bed. My bed."

"Jesus fucking Christ," the Scot swore. "I was right. He was a fucking bawbag." For whatever reason, that made you laugh. For the first time in two weeks you fucking laughed. And it felt like you were breathing again.

Simon was quiet, not contributing to the conversation and just letting Johnny babble. Talking your ear off in a short trek as if it were an olympic sport.

You were so distracted with his voice you hadn't realized how far you had made it until the sound of your keys clattering onto your kitchen counter brought you back.

Back to a situation you didn't know how the fuck you landed in.

Two men (who you don't know) are in your apartment. Your friends don't know where you are. You are a little bit too inebriated to plan and exit strategy. Doesn't exactly help your confidence in fighting them off since they are built like fucking brick houses.

"He won't come sniffin' around here botherin' ya, will he?" Simon asks, speaking for only the second time since he had threatened Cardan. You shake your head.

"No," you said. "I have him blocked on everything. So I think when he saw me tonight it was just kind of an opportunity, I suppose?" You offer. Cardan had showed up to your place one time with a random assortment of flowers and a useless apology you had to hear through the door as you covered your mouth. Concealing your cries. Too afraid to let him know you were there.

Too afraid that some part of you would be weak enough to take him back.

"We'll leave ye' be." Johnny said, nodding his head toward the door. "But if he comes bein' a shite to ye again, you can give us a call."

"Phones dead." You explain, holding up your phone as if you needed to prove yourself. Johnny offered the brilliant, yet simple solution of giving him your number. He sent off a text, knowing it would be there when you turned back on and promising to check in later.

They both gave subtle nods of goodbye before turning away.

And just like that, they left. The door clicking softly shut behind them. You stood, frozen for several beats before walking over and locking the door.

You plugged your phone into the charging cable, waiting until it lit back to life before shooting off a text in your group chat with Tab and Mere.

Sorry I took off. Ran into Cardan and fucking made a dash for it. Sorry if I worried you. I'm at home. I'm okay. Grab lunch tomorrow and we can talk about it? My treat?

You signed off the text with a heart emoji and turned your phone on do not disturb. Too afraid of your friends going all Mama Bear on you for running away while drunk. Even if your reasons were valid.

You had texted Johnny again. Not because Cardan dared to bother you again, but to thank him. Acknowledging that not many men would have done for you what he and his friend did. Johnny assured you it wasn't anything.

Before you knew it, the two of you were hanging out with Simon always tagging along. It took you a while to realize he did actually like you, but his stoic nature was just who he was. You had met Kyle and John, both as charming and respectful as Johnny and Simon.

John had been the first two mention wanting to take you on a date. It didn't go well with the other three. They all had the same intention and a rock, paper, scissors tournament seemed to juvenile to figure out who got the privilege in courting you. Eventually, they had decided to ask you.

Putting you on the spot to answer the question that had begun to tear them apart: which one of them will it be?

Johnny made you laugh. He was the first person you thought about calling when your day was a bit grey. He saw the positive in everything and was the one who made you feel like even the bad days weren't so terrible.

Then there was Simon. The one who you felt like was your safe place in body and mind. You would babble all day talking to him, thankful when he would let you rant. Your mind was able to go on auto-pilot in terms of safety because you knew Simon would handle it. He also gave the best hugs.

John was the one who instilled the confidence in you that you needed. Your bookstore, your writing, whatever aspirations you had, no matter how wild, John would support it. Nothing was too big. After you all started dating, he was the first person you ever let read your book. He gave you praise as well as critique, pointing out multiple plot holes and helping you craft it better. And never once taking credit for it, even when it was due.

Kyle was the most thoughtful one. He was the one who knew you liked trying knew things so he made an effort to always make date nights interesting. A new restaurant, a new activity or experience. He was the biggest giver of the group.

So when they did ask you, you answered honestly.

"I can't choose." They insisted that you didn't need to spare their feelings, but you stood firm in your decision. "No. I can't choose. I'm interested in all of you." When they pressed on why the fuck you didn't say anything earlier, you told them to avoid this kind of situation. Where you had to choose. You were fine continuing on as just friends if that meant you got to keep all of them.

Mere and Tabs were great friends, but they are the ones who helped pull you out of the slump. The ones who made you feel lovable. The ones who made you feel like a woman again.

"Helloooooo." Mere's hand waved in your face while another held something she had found in your closet. "So are you going to change or not?" Your eyes darted to the skimpy glittery black dress. The same one for your first date with them. Your stomach twisted as you took the sparkly dark fabric in your hand.

You nodded as if trying to shake the memory out of your mind. "I'll change and we can go." Better just to get it over with.

The place that Mere had dragged you to was a club that played music that you would only listen to while encapsulated in the aroma of cheap liquor and sweat. Your outfit form-fitting. The material too stiff to be comfortable, but it was cute. The hem of your dress coming to rest just below your ass cheeks. Hugging your body in a way that made you feel self conscious the moment you stepped out of your building.

Mere had run into some work colleagues. Names you couldn't and wouldn't remember. There had been a high profile divorce going on. Very messy. She had been so encapsulated by the gossip that she hadn't notice you and Tabitha had slipped off toward the bar.

Tabitha insisted on shots and you needed something to get your mind off the less than exciting night. Your expectations weren't high, but fuck. You would have been much more comfortable wearing the jeans. You felt like a piece of fucking meat. It would have been so bad if someone were gonna buy you a dr-

"This seat taken?" It was a cliche introduction attached to a slightly better than average face. Decent enough where it didn't hurt to look at him, but not attractive enough to be a seat.

"By all means," you said turning back to Tabitha who looked at the guy now sitting to your left and raising her eyebrows. Fucking hell. Not her too.

"It's pretty packed tonight." He commented, attempted to make small talk. You hated small talk. At least unless it came to Johnny who would get into discussion on politics, religion and why on the side was the best way to fuck because it gave him 'a perfect view of the front and back of ye.'

"You come here often?" You asked, not wanting to be a total bitch, but having absolutely zero desire to be entertaining him.

"When I can." He said. "I prefer the Artifact a couple of blocks down. Not many people heard of it. A bit of a hole-in-the-wall place." Oh cool. A fucking hipster who liked to act superior at knowing a place that is underground. You could feel any possibility of getting your pussy wet, dry at the thought of this man actually wanting to come onto you.

Jesus, when did you become so harsh.

I blame Simon.

"Oh," you say, no longer interested in entertaining the conversation. "Sounds lovely. My friend and I just came out for a bit of girl-" you turn to look at Tabitha who had somehow miraculously disappeared in the 45 fucking seconds that your back was turned....

Little bitch.

"Bathroom, I suppose." He laughed. It was the sincerity in his voice that irked you. God, why was he pissing you off just trying to start a conversation?

"I suppose." You gave a soft smile back, turning once the bartender had come over to grab your order. Which the stranger next to you had insisted buying. Nothing quite as arousing as obligated conversation.

"There's no need for that-"

"Percival." He introduced. "But my friends call me Percy." Your immediate thought was who the fuck names there kid Percival. The second was to offer him a fake name. Real enough to be believable, but fake enough where if he tried to search you up on any social media, you could just deny having any.

"I hate to be brash," he started. Then don't. "But I can't imagine a girl like you being single."

"Not really looking for anything romantic at the moment." You say, the first time you've been truthful this entire conversation. Percival leaned in closer, before asking in a low voice that he was doubt trying to convey as sexy, "Are you sure?"

And there it was. The final ick that nailed the coffin shut.

You offered in a soft smile before swallowing hard. "Percival,"

"My friends call me-"

"I'm going to be frank." Your voice is soft, as if explaining to a small child why we don't always get the things we want. "I just got of a very long and deep and meaningful relationship and the idea of being near another man in any intimate or emotional capacity wants me to cause very serious bodily harm to said man."

His expression fell.

"I appreciate your confidence in coming over here and making small talk, but if you're wanting to fuck me or even attempt to be friends, I must inform you that is no only not in the cards, but not in your best interest." You turned, downing the rest of your cocktail.

"Time for a trip to the bathroom myself, I suppose." You stood from your seat, having to readjust your dress.. "Have a good night."

You were washing your hands when a red-faced Mere walked into the bathroom. Tabitha on her heels with a concerned expression.

"What did you do?" Mere asked.

"What are you talking about?" You asked. You had half a mind to ask them why the fuck they pulled a disappearing act after insisting you go out.

"You told Percy you would castrate him?" You looked as if you had been slapped. The pieces falling into place to reveal a totally fucked up puzzle.

"You fucking tried to set me up." You seethed, a finger pointing accusingly.

"Well, fuck, what did you expect me to do?" She asked. "You were sulking."

"Listen to me!" You cried. "I want you to listen to me. I was with them for two years. It hasn't even been two weeks and you're going behind my fucking back and trying to set me up with fucking Percival? How the fuck do you even know him? Do you even know him?" She ignored your last question. How convenient.

"I thought it would be good to get it out of your system." She tried to defend, her pissyness now matching yours. "You always do this. I was just trying to help."

"What do you mean 'I always do this'?" Your eyes turned into slits.

"Why don't we just calm down and-" Tabitha tried to stop the escalation. Mere, very obviously, ignored that cue.

"You get so hung up on a guy, or in this case guys, it takes you fucking weeks to recover." You stare at her. Unsure if she was really comprehending the bullshit that had come out of her mouth.

"I'm certain you aren't trying to make me feel bad for grieving a relationship that I was in for over three years to a man I was engaged to. To find him fucking in my apartment, in my bed the same week I was going to get my wedding dress."

"It's not just Cardan," she went on. "Issac in our second year of school?" You gave a humorless chuckle.

"Oh yes," you said condescendingly, "the boy I had dated from 14-years old- until I was 19. The boy I gave my virginity two months before he told me he was not only not interested in me, but women in general." As if that somehow lessened the blow. "Absolutely shouldn't have bothered me a bit."

"You only went out for classes and food for two months!" She said as if you had hit a pedestrian with your car. As if you were a fool for being so distracted by a breakup you couldn't be bothered to carry on with life as normal.

"I'm sorry that I actually take the time to grieve my relationships." You said. "I forgot that it may be hard for either of you to comprehend what a relationship is like considering the only relationship either of you have is with your work or with each of us."

"Hey!" Tabitha said. "I understand your pissed, but there isn't need to attack us like this."

"Attack you?" You asked. "Attack you? This isn't me attacking you. This is me responding to an uncomfortable situation that you put me in. I told you I didn't want to even think about me. I didn't want to fuck someone else and you go and do this?"

"He seems like a decent guy." You roll your eyes.

"Probably why he's not your type, right?" Mere crossed her arms over chest. Eyebrow arched as if she were hoping the words enticed you to realize that you had a history of going after the wrong guys.

Unfortunately, it did not.

You sucked on your teeth, carefully choosing your words before World War III broke out in a nearly vacant bathroom in South London. You took a deep breath. Calming yourself as best as you could.

Before saying fuck it and letting it loose.

"Just because your idea of coping is getting drunk and fucking someone you plan on never speaking to again, quite literally discarding them like trash, doesn't mean the rest of us cope the same way." You hoped it hurt. You hope it stung the same way she had tried to sting you.

You had hoped that your word would be the final blow before both sides called a treaty.

"You mean like they did you?"

And just like that, you heart stuttered. A rapid dum dum dum in your chest as it had been tripped up by her words. The truth in them heavy. The shift in the air was almost immediate;.

"Sweetheart-" Tabitha had tried to reach out before you jerked away.

"Enjoy your night." You said, grabbing your purse where you had left it by the sink. "I'm going to go home and wallow in my self pity." You exited the bathroom, hearing your named called again before shifting it into gear and getting the fuck out of there.

Weaving through the sea of bodies like water flowing around rocks.

Who the fuck cares if you want to cry? To grieve? To be angry? To get closure? To move on? Who cares if you don't want to be the girl who gets her heart shattered and not fuck somone else? Who wants to feel the comfort of a familiar body, a touch that feels safe one last time before you go back into a world where you will only be touched by a stranger?

It didn't matter that you were the one to breakup with them, even if the relationship was broken. It's foundation cracked.

What did matter is that the people who should have supported you and in the way you were dealing with your loss in your own way, didn't. And that's the part that they seem to forget. It is a loss. It's mourning someone who hasn't died. Someone who is still living, yet still no longer there.

"Off already?" Percy cut in the way, blocking your escape. You weren't in the mood.

"Listen-" you started before he cut you off.

"Not anything romantic, I know," he raised his hands as if in defense, "but maybe like another drink or a dance?"

You closed your eyes, wanting to hold off starting a scene and tearing him a new asshole. "Like I said, not. interested." How much clearer could you spell it out?

"Come on." He said, his hand coming to rest on your hip. The grip on it weak. You were by no means the type of woman that could take on a man like the ones you still held in a chamber of your heart. But you could most certainly handle your own against Percival. "I'm asking for a dance. After what Meredith told me, I figured you'd be down for at a little more than that."

"I don't follow." Your blood ran cold. Your heart praying that any assumptions that were running through your mind were wrong, they were wrong.

"She mentioned you having a group of like guys you fucked, but stopped fucking." He shrugged, offering a coy smile that you ached to wipe off with the back of your hand. "I don't judge. It's kind of hot honest. Did they run train or-" You felt it then. His hand had traveled from your hip to the curve of your ass.

And you froze. You froze like a coward. Too afraid to speak or scream. Too ashamed to push him away, cause a scene.

But you didn't need to do any of that.

In an instant, Percy's hand was off of you. It took you a moment to realize that a figure dressed in black stood beside you. Your own personal grim reaper.

"Put him go!" You pleaded, breaking out of your trance. You took hold of his arm putting all of your body weight on his arm, trying to break his hold. He didn't falter.

You could handle you own against Percy.

But Simon could fucking kill him without breaking a sweat.

You looked at Simon's face. His eyes were darkened. The soft brown you had once loved staring into were now almost black. You could even make out the dark circles, even in the unsettling flickering of strobe lights in the club.

"You touch her again and I'll slit your fucking throat. Understood?" Pure venom fell from Simon's lips, but you knew he wasn't lying. Simon was the type of man who didn't say something he didn't mean.

You knew that all too well.

Percy choked out an ineligible, gurgled response as Simon's hand held firm on his throat. "He understands, goddammit, no let him down!" You ordered hitting at him as if it would stop him. "Simon, please!"

It was only when you said his name, did Simon loosen his grip. Letting Percy drop to a heap on the floor before he started a having a coughing fit, trying to suck in as much air as he could.

Simon looked down at you and the exit before scooping you up and hauling you over his shoulder like a sack of flower.

You wanted to die. You wanted to crawl in a hole and die and never show your face again.

"Get in the car." He at least had the decency to open the door for you. Simon wasn't a flashy man, by any means, but he was still a man. A men did love their cars.

He stood, waiting for you but you didn't move. You glared up at him. He had carried you out of there in the most humiliating way possible. You had to fight against the hemline of your dress or else everyone would have gotten an eyeful.

Hand still on the door, he leaned down, getting closer and closer to your height. "You get your ass in this car right now," his breath warm against your ear. "Or I'll have you over my fuckin' knee." His tone was sharp. It wasn't seduction in form of a threat. It wasn't even a threat.

It was a promise.

"We're over." You reminded.

"Do you think that'll fuckin' stop me from spankin' some sense into your bratty ass?"

"It doesn't give you the right to fucking do that to people, Simon!" You huffed. "You could have killed in."

"Could have," he agreed. "But didn't. You're welcome." he nodded toward the car. "Now, in you go or I'll do it here. You already know I don't mind an audience."

The heated seats were a bit to warm for your liking against your bare ass. The tension in the air was uncomfortable. Your hands ached to touch the radio. Anything to stop the silence between the two of you.

"I got home fine the other night by the way." You said, looking out the window, hoping to make him feel like shit for not checking in like he should have.

"I know you did."

"What do you mean you know I did?" You asked, turning to look at him. He shrugged as if it wasn't anything out of the ordinary, not stopping.

"Just did." Was his only answer.

"Are you fucking stalking me, Riley?" That made him laugh. You would have felt better if there was at least a sense of humor in it, but, instead, only disbelief.

"Oh, Riley now, is it?" He asked.

"You're not my body guard, Simon." You snapped.

"Not trying to be," he said. "I was never trying to be." You caught it. A very small slip, but it was something... something you couldn't place.

"Then why?" You ask, your tone softening. "For someone who makes it very apparent to be done with me, you sure do show up at convenient times. Hard not to think your keeping tabs on me."

He didn't say anything. No explanation or excuse. Not evena smart ass comeback or remark.

His hands reached forward and turned on the radio, turning the volume just loud enough that if you were to try and continue the conversation, your words would be drowned out.

He pulled up in front of your building, yet you made no move to get out. You turned off the radio, soaking in the silence once more. You wanted to know why? Why was he appearing out of nowhere like a fucking ghost? Why was he helping you?

He sighed before putting the car in park and stepping out. Coming around to your side he opened the door. "Get inside. Go to bed." There he was again. Fucking bossing you around as if he still had a say.

You wanted to cuss him out. To spew hateful words just as he did you.

But you didn't.

You were tired.

So fucking tired. And the idea of going to bed did sound pretty good in that moment. You made it to the door of your building before he spoke again. "And if you need to out at this time at night call a goddamn cab."

"Why?" You asked, turning around. "Getting tired of having to follow me around on foot, Si?"

There was a pregnant pause. Neither of you speaking. His body shifted forward, as if contemplating getting closer to you. As if the pull you once had was still there.

With his eyes trained on you, you felt a chill run down your spine. Twice you had seen that look on Simon's face before. The look that he had given the figures concealed in the shadows last night. The same look he had given Percy.

Only this time, it was directed at you.

One that personified the saying, 'if looks could kill.'

"Because," he growled out, "the next time I find someone else touching you that way, I'll fucking kill them."

3K notes · View notes

ham1lton · 15 days ago

Text

NOT A CHILL GIRL.

pairings: lewis hamilton x chronically online fiancée!yn

faceclaim: jordana brewster

summary: chronically online, funniest on the grid, and the proud owner of a face card that never declines—at least, according to yourself. your fiancé might raise an eyebrow at the first claim, the world might debate the second, but no one’s arguing with the third.

warnings: just jokes. don’t take any of this seriously.

author’s note: hope u enjoy bunny anon! :D

────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

liked by lewishamilton, yourinstagram and 187,938 others.

ham1ltonshaderoom: celebrity stylist, and fiancée of f1 legend lewis hamilton, yn yln took to instagram stories to share some concerning posts. what do we think about these captions, ham1ltons?

view all 23,837 comments

yourinstagram MAMA I MADE IT

— user1 yn you have dressed some of the top celebrities and this is what you’re excited over??

— user2 forget that. she’s fucking LEWIS HAMILTON!!! and this is what she’s excited over???

user3 this is a v tame post for yn LMFAO

— user4 like she’s posted worse 😭

user5 she’s so unserious i’m obsessed

— user6 my fav wag

user7 i love the fact she’s dressing zendaya, showing up to her hot fiancé’s races and still finds time to shitpost

— user8 she’s so me

user9 she should be embarrassed. she’s grown

— user10 she will never see this btw

user11 i need to know lewis’ thoughts on these posts

user12 she’s the moment. i want to be her so bad.

— user13 successful in her own right AND secured the bag. #needtoBEthat

────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

INSTAGRAM LIVE

yn i’m using lewis’ ninja creami to make slushies and sydney isn’t picking up her phone because she’s on set. so entertain me, my little gladiators.

user1 what flavour slushie are you making and why is it pure tequila

yn no. it’s a margarita mix. mostly anyways. all about balance babes.

user2 worst red carpet outfit request you’ve ever gotten?

yn girl some actor asked me to dress him up in head to toe camo… i wanted to be sick.

user3 yn, when’s the wedding? lewis is literally ready to propose again.

yn not until jungkook confirms he’s off the market. i need to know i’m not leaving options on the table.

user4 did you see lando’s post underneath your birthday post to lewis.

yn i did and i’m angry. how dare he be funnier than me on my own shitpost.

user5 who’s better at gift-giving, you or lewis?

yn me. obviously. lewis once got me a pen because “it looked sleek.” it was a nice pen, but still a pen.

user6 yn, if you could style anyone in history, who would it be?

yn harry styles but in 2012. imagine the chaos if he let me near those blazers.

user7 how did you guys meet?

yn via a mutual friend at a party. i thought his choice of shoes was disastrous and he thought i was funny. so obviously i went home with him that night. then i fell in love or whatever.

user8 you are literally the blueprint for chaotic but lovable. never change.

yn never will, little gladiator. never will.

────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

liked by yourinstagram, thirstystan1 and 1,098,125 others.

lewishamilton: sunday best, thank you theststyle

view all 19,827 comments

yourinstagram why won’t this damn app swipe RIGHT?!?!?

— lewishamilton wrong app sweetheart

— yourinstagram oh shit 😓 can you show me how to download the right one? ever since ashley madison shut down and farmersonly.com banned me for “unsolicited flirting,” it’s been tough out here.

— lewishamilton maybe try clownsonly.com—heard they’re taking new members.

— yourinstagram wow. this from the guy who once googled “how to impress a bad bitch” and got caught.

— lewishamilton a bad bitch was impressed, wasn’t she? checkmate.

— yourinstagram yeah, well, don’t get used to it. also, happy valentine’s, loser. 💖

— lewishamilton happy valentine’s, clown. ❤️

— user1 y’all are some weirdos 😭🩷

user2 YN GIVE HIM TO MEEEEEE

user3 #NEEDTHAT

— yourinstagram #TOOBAD

— user3 YN PLEASE 😭😭😭😭😭😭

user4 need this relationship NOW

────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

— all works taglist: @luvsforme @yelenasloverrrrr @donttouchthegnote @chelle1306 @bloodyymaryy @km-23mr @stinkyjax @f1kenzzz @ctrlyomomma @aliciaablueprint @theblueblub @namgification @tallrock35 @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @ariellovelynn @shhhchriss @lifeless-firefly @xylinasdiary @evie-119 @itseightbeats @landososcar @velentine @m1892 @blushmimi @evans-dejong @nixisracing @lethalvenus @sainzluvrr @santanasaintmendes @idontknowlmaoo @sainzluvrr @tetetoni @ssprayberrythings @heavy-vettel @tashisgf @daniskywalkersolo @c-losur3 @lestappenslover @linoscrly (see yourself tagged when you don’t wanna be? or you want to be and don’t see yourself? send me an ask!)

────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

#jayde’s works ☆#formula one x reader #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 texts #f1 fanfic #formula one x female reader #lewis hamilton social media au #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton smau #lh44 smau #lh44 x reader #lh44 imagine #lewis hamilton fanfic #f1 x you #f1 fic #f1 smau

2K notes · View notes

theragethatisdesire · 1 year ago

Text

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

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

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

pairing: eren jaeger x afab reader

wc: 9.1k

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

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

have fun ;)

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

“Come on, Eren. It’s just one night!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fine!”

“Fine?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

If Eren can be dramatic, so can you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sasha–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Eren, I don’t know if you should-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He spits directly in Eren’s face.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No,” you snap, “I’m going home.”

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

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

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

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

“What the hell was that, Eren?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Excuse me?”

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

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

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

“You’re my–”

“The other thing.”

“I needed you.”

“Again.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you still?”

“Still?”

“Need me.”

You blink, eyes still watery. “How?”

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

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

“I still need you. Now.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Eren chuckles. “You need something?”

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

“You want me to stop fucking with you?”

“Please, Eren, I need you–”

“That’s all you had to say.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I need– fuck– I need more.”

“Magic word?”

“Please, Eren, fuck!”

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

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

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

“Close?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He’s not my-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Maybe he wants to apologize.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I just–”

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

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

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

Your chest aches. “I know, but Eren–”

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

“You might have me there.”

“Better than horseface?”

“Watch it.”

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

“Mamma Mia,” you blurt, hopeful.

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

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

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

#aot x reader #eren x reader #eren jaeger x reader #eren yeager x reader #eren jaeger smut #eren x you #eren yaeger x you #eren yeager smut #aot fanfiction #eren jaeger fic #eren jaeger fanfiction

18K notes · View notes

amastarxoxo · 1 month ago

Text

ㅤ ㅤ ⠀ꕀ⠀𝆹⠀⠀ׄ⠀⠀ִ⠀ worthless talking ⠀ּ ּ ✧

Arguments with various characters

S1! jinx , S2! vi , S2! caitlyn , and ekko x fem! reader

arguing , mention of having a crush ( vi ) , hurt/no comfort , cursing , mentions of marriage ( caitlyn ) , drinking ( vi ) , mention of reader working in the brothel ( not prostitute ( vi ) ) , suspected cheating ( caitlyn ) , injured reader ( ekko )

not proofread or requested

masterlist ૮ ྀི ◞ ◟ ა navigation

love is my curse ( part 2 )

JINX

arguments with her are usually light and can easily be dismissed or solved quickly but this is very different. silco has been pressuring her as of late about her weapon for the hex gemstone; which has been stressing her out and getting more irritated by everything little thing. “jinx baby?” you spoke softly, trying to not make her anymore irritated. “yes toots?” she frantically looking back and forth at her parts and blueprints for her fishbones, “are you doing okay? do you eat?”

she shrugged her shoulders, continuing to screw the screws in. you silently gulped and walked closer to her. “listen baby…can you take a break or something? i don’t remember the last time you slept or even eat and—” “shut up.” you immediately looked her way like you misheard her. “i-im sorry what..?” she kissed her teeth, “ i said shut up! all you ever do is nag and nag around me! do ever shut up? i’m trying to work so i can hurry up and finish this project, but no you just can’t seem to leave me alone while you’re—” she stops mid sentence, looking to see where you were last standing, “y/n?” she asked to absolutely nothing. she rolled her eyes, not bothering to think about you anymore, too focused on the hexgem project.

walking through the streets of Zaun, tears blurring your vision as you do your best to wipe them away but if anything you made your mind clear as day in Piltover; she doesn’t need you there anymore. continuing to walk through the lanes until you reached your home.

pitfights. you hate no—loath them. so imagine your reaction to hearing that your crush becamea pitfighter after that massive fall out with the stupid top side girl. you watched as a friend of hers drag her up the stairs then she starts pushing him off and telling him to fuck off. you watch as the friend just walked away; already tired of her bullshit.

you breathe, mentally preparing yourself and your lecture of what you want to say as you head up the stairs slowly until you reached the door. out of curiosity, you reached for the doorknob, and its unlocked. ‘of course this idiot wouldn’t lock the door.’ you thought, twisting it and slowly pushing the door, seeing vi collapsed on the bed but still awake. you clear your throat loudly, catching her attention as you stand close to the now closed door. “vi.” your voice cautious but fed up. watching her destroy herself over a top side is so pathetic, even jinx powder would laugh in her face. vi groaned tiredly, “can’t seem to catch a fucking break anymore.”

“fuck a break! what do you think you’re doing?!” you wave your hand around, as you often talk with your hands. “what the hell are you talking about…!?” vi retorted back. “look around you vi, and your hair! your outfit! you’re a damn pitfighter.” you pointed at everything you mentioned, “why?! is it because of that fall out you had with that stupid top side girl..?!” vi abruptly gets up and stands in front of you. the smell of strong beer and whiskey clog your nose, in her breath, her clothes, everywhere, “don’t you dare bring her up.” you scoffed, “why not? she treats you like shit but now you’re a floor licking puppy for her..?” you stare at her, raised eyebrow, “at least she was better than you in many ways than one.” “excuse me?” “get the fuck out y/n. go back to being a fucking prostitute or something.” “i’m not a prosti—” she punched the wall next to your head, you flinch, hard. “out.” her voice threatening. your hands and feet quickly move as you open the door and fumble out of the apartment was vi was was.

CAITLYN

a lot has happened in a short amount of time, well, caitlyn proposed to you, then jinx blew up the council and killed her mother, then your fiancée became a damn Dictator and has been worked and training nonstop with Ambessa, and you’re starting to worry. she has been looking burned out a lot more and tired to even notice you sitting next to her on her desk as she stresses over paperwork.

“dear?” you twirled your finger around her loose hair. she jumps a bit, snapping out her thoughts and looking up to see her fiancée, you, “sorry darling, do you need something?” she fidgets with her pen and fingers, you smile at her weakly, “your dinner is cold.” you point to the cold dinner plate, nothing eaten on the side table next to her. caitlyn sighs heavily. “right, i apologize my dear, ill…make sure to eat.” “this is the fourth time dear. you can’t be a commander with zero energy.” you cross your arms over your chest, “i know know i’m just” “i’m starting to think ambessa was a bad idea again. i worried about all this pressure and process. like especially after your mother died, this isn’t good..” caitlyn’s fist banged against the desk, stopping you mid sentence.

“i don’t need your pity or concerns right now.” you stare at her, confused. “what are you talking about right now dear?” “i’m saying you talk too damn much.” she stood up, the chair scratches against the floor and walks away from the desk, “where are you going?” you asked while sliding off the desk, “out. i need some fresh air.” you tilt your head to the side and keep your arms crossed, “fresh air? or maddie?” the blued hair commander stopped dead in her tracks, “what…what did you just say?” you scoffed, as you walked past her, bumping her shoulder. you open the door, revealing maddie with paper works in her hands, “i’ll take my leave.”

EKKO

patrolling the area around the safe area, but your mind consumed with the thoughts of your boyfriend, he’s starting to overworking again. and that’s pissing you off. months of you guys dating and he still doesn’t get the memo. you sat on top of the tunnel entrance towards the hideout. staring up at the stars, wishing ekko was here with you.

suddenly, you feel a long cold metal jabbed into your side. you immediately clutch it to stop it from entering further until the culprit kicked you in the back, causing you to roll off the top and your body thudding against the cold concrete then you saw black. you wake up, the knife removed and you’re wrapped in bandages around your stomach and your arm is in a cast. your eyes adjust to the light shining down upon you, you wince as a headache rises and you hear muffled sounds of someone screaming your name. once your mind finally adjusts to everything, you hear ekko,

“hey hey hey! firebug! what happened?” his hands placing everywhere patting you down. you wince again, “ekko…that hurts..” you fully open your eyes. “what happened? why did someone find you outside of the base, bleeding out?” he raised his voice, not scary but scared. “i…i was patrolling around the entrance and—” “patrolling? didn’t i say you’re not allowed to patrol unless i’m there?” his voice switch to low. “i can take care of myself ekko.” he gritted his teeth, “well clearly you can not! look at you now! you don’t ever listen huh?” he started pacing back and forth, “it’s like you’re deaf or something, i said no! and you do the entire fucking opposite!” he grabs his mask and hoverboard, stops to say something but rejected that idea and just left.

ekko was so hard to do ngl cause what has he done for to cause an argument🧍‍♀️and you notice how short-ish jinx is? yea cause i can never actually be mad at jinx.

2K notes · View notes

scorpiosbite · 1 month ago

Text

when actress!reader and drew met for the first time

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 ────୨ৎ──── it's your first time in LA, so when your new friend madelyn cline invites you to a club in downtown LA with the rest of her obx castmates, who are you to decline.

𝜗𝜚 pairing: actress!reader x drew starkey

author’s note: this takes place in mid-2024 after the filming of obx 4 wrapped.

you stared at your reflection in the luxurious bathroom mirror, your makeup was light and your hair was straightened and open. yet you felt a bit like that saying 'a pig in makeup.' dressed in a sheer, white, long-sleeve top, a black lace bra underneath, clearly showing through, and black shorts paired with itno biker boots. your fingers, filled with chrome heart rings, sliver earrings of various jewellery brands covering your ears, yet your neck is still bare.

you sigh heavily, being racked with anxiety like this before going out was common for you. there was a reason you barely left your london home except for work. and now, here in LA for the first time and without mimi, your best friend who is the polar opposite of you and the only person who is capable of making you feel calm in these situations, you feel as though you are going to make a fool out of yourself. it's not like you don't want to meet madelyn and the rest of the obx cast, you really do, and you want to make a good impression which is why your anxiety feels worse than normal. the world sees you as this confident enigma, but only you experience this feeling of dread weighing down on your chest that tells you that you aren’t capable of more difficult roles, that you don’t deserve the fame and love given to you, that you aren’t hardworking or beautiful enough, that if people saw the real you, they would hate what they see. this feeling, this voice, is the reason you’re so recluse.

but before you can spiral any further your phone rings. madelyn's name lights up the screen. you pick up, clearing your throat, trying to settle the shake in your voice to hide your nervousness. "hi, maddie" you can hear the smile on her face through her response. "hi, y/n!! are you ready? i'm on the way to your hotel, i'll be there in like 10 minutes." the excitement in her voice eases your anxiety. maddie had dmed you on instagram a few months ago after seeing an interview of yours where you named outer banks as the show you watch during your free time while filming and since that moment the two of you became fast friends. so when you told her you were going to be in LA for the first time for work, she enthusiastically invited you to come hang out with her and her castmates. "yea, i'm ready, i'll come down to the lobby." you end the call and then rush around the room grabbing your bag and filling it with everything you may need, before giving your face and outfit a final check in the mirror before making your way to the lobby.

madelyn texted you that her car was parked outside the entrance when you reached the lobby and the hotel staff let you know that there was no paparazzi outside so you walked outside where madelyn’s driver had the backseat door open for you, you thanked him and hopped into the car and he walked back to the drivers seat and and started driving. madelyn’s smiling face greeted you. “hi, wow you look fucking stunning. it’s so good to finally meet you!” you gave her a bright smile in return. “thank you, you look unreal, and yes it’s so good to finally meet you too!” you gave her a tight hug. “fuck, y/n what perfume do you use, you smell amazing.” “aw, thank you! it’s the kayali vanilla one, babes.” madelyn laughed “what?” you gave her a confused laugh “ the ‘babes’ you’re so british!” you laughed and nodded “i forget that there’s terms we use that aren’t common here.”

madelyn pulled out her phone and started checking something, so you took the time to look out the window and take in LA during the night. “ok so chase is there, so is laci, madison, jd, austin and drew.” you felt your breath hitch at the mention of his name. “drew’s there?” madelyn gave you a knowing smirk. “yea, he’s coming.” you raised a brow. “what was that smirk for?” she shrugged and gave you a downward smile “you’ll see.” before you could question her further, the car came to a stop in front of the club. “we’re here, miss cline.” madelyn’s driver spoke up from his seat and then stepped out of the car coming around and opening the door for the both of you, you hopped out first and thanked him and waited while madelyn got out. she thanked him and then he drove off.

madelyn interlocked your hands together “excited?” you laughed at her excitement. “yea, let’s get a shot in me.” the atmosphere of the club was electric, the people around you were dancing and having the time of their lives. seeing everyone around you, you felt the anxiousness start to melt from your body. madelyn was looking around, trying to find her friends her hand still holding yours. “oh! i see them! let’s go!” she dragged you behind her, coming to a stop at the end of the table. everyone greeted you with bright smiles “guys! this is y/n. but you all already know that” she said in a singsong voice. “we’re all big fans of you.” she added as she turned to you. you smiled shyly with everyone’s attention on you. “hi.” you gave a little wave. your eyes immediately locked with drew’s, even sitting down he towered over everyone. you felt your breathe hitch and your limbs numb. you were suddenly pulled into hugs one by one by everyone else, you muttered greetings but it felt like an out of body experience as your eyes refused to stray from drew’s.

drew felt like he couldn’t breathe, he had spent so many months dreaming of this moment when he would finally see you in person. and all he could think was that the screen could never do justice to you. your energy, your beauty in real life was unmeasurable. “hi, i’m drew.” you smiled at him, a saccharine smile that made his heart stutter. “i know.” you took a seat next to him at the table while austin and jd went to get shots for the table “so y/n, what do you think of LA?” madison asked “it’s quite different to london.” you laughed. you were having trouble focusing as drew’s thigh kept bumping into yours. you thought about how badly you wanted him to use his size and strength against you. if he would throw you and bend you to his will, you clenched your thighs together at the thought.

jd and austin returned with the shots and everyone’s energy immediately skyrocketed. you all grabbed a shot. “let’s have a good fucking night! whoo!!” chase yelled and you all clinked your glasses and downed your drinks. everyone winced but you weren’t phased “what!! how did you not feel that!” austin yelled over the music that had somehow gotten louder. “that was straight tequila!” you shrugged with a smug smile on your face “i’m british, darling, you americans can’t keep up!” you laughed. drew beside you, had a look on his face that was somehow both impressed and turned on. “oh my god! i fucking love this song.” you exclaimed beginning to feel the alcohol travel through your system, taking with it the inhibitions that often consumed you. “dance with me?” madelyn asked and you nodded your head. she grabbed your hand but before she could drag you behind her you turned your head and mouthed to drew “watch me.”

drew’s throat felt constricted, his pants were becoming impossibly tight. you were grinding on madelyn and he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. you’re mesmerising and he had to have you. it felt as though time had slowed down and the two of you were the only people in the crowded club. “come on man, let’s go dance.” jd clapped drew on the shoulder. he got up and began making his way to the centre of the dance floor, his eyes still locked on you.

your eyes were closed and you were completely lost in the music when you felt madelyn whisper in your ear from behind. “drew’s walking over, don’t tell him i told you this, but he’s into you.” your eyes snapped open but before you could question her, drew was standing in front of you, towering over everyone in the club. everyone else present faded away as you took in his presence. he leaned down to whisper in your ear. “wanna dance on me like that?” you smirked, tilting your head up, slightly. “you wish.” he smirked down at you. the alcohol you had consumed throughout the night made you bold and carefree and you used it’s effects on you to the fullest. you wrapped your arms around his neck and he brought his hands to your waist, covering the small of your back.

drew’s head felt dizzy, you smelt so good he wanted to drag his tongue across every inch of the surface of your body. he leaned down to your neck inhaling the scent of your perfume and pheromones. “fuck, you smell amazing.” you smirked “yeah? want a taste?” drew threw his head back his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. “fuck, y/n, don’t say shit like that.” you leaned up on your tippy toes so that you could whisper in his ear. “why not?” you came back down so that you could gaze back up at him, your eyes big and wide, innocent, like you weren’t thinking all the disgusting things you wanted him to do to you. “you don’t wanna fuck me, drew?”

you giggled as you unlocked the door to your hotel room, drew, hot on your heels. as soon as the door was open drew picked you up and you giggled drunkenly, wrapping your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck. drew’s hands came to grip on your thighs squeezing at the flesh as he devoured your lips with his, teeth and tongue clashing. you moaned into the kiss, your hands scratching at his buzzed head. drew reached out behind you and pushed the door shut. the sound of it echoing through the room but the both of you couldn’t care less. your lace panties were soaked all the way through and you could feel his cock straining through his pants, drew broke the kiss. “you feel what you do to me, baby?” you hummed in agreement already feeling fucked out even though he hadn’t even properly touched you yet “been hard from the moment i saw you walk through the door.”

“need you so bad, drew” you whined, not even caring if you sounded desperate, he was more desperate than you anyway. “yeah? need me that bad, baby? need me in that pretty little pussy?” you nodded, biting your lip “wanna be full of you.” drew groaned “fuck, you trying make cum in my pants y/n?” you giggled. drew began to make his way to the bed, with you still in his arms. he dropped you onto the plush bed and you bounced on the mattress. “are you sober enough to do this? cause i don’t want you to regret this in the morning.” you shook you head frantically. “no, i want you, i’m just tipsy, i told you i have a high tolerance.” he laughed, a low rumble that caused your core to flutter. “that you did, baby.” you spread your legs open to make room for him and he began to unzip your boots and pull off your socks before kicking off his own shoes.

drew kneeled on the edge of the bed, leaning down to attach himself to your neck, biting, licking, and sucking at the skin. your moans were breathy, almost sigh like at the feeling of his lips. his hands brushed at your waist, tugging at the hem of your sheer top. “let me see you.” he pulled it off, messing up your hair as it went over your head. he then moved to your shorts tugging them down your legs, leaving you in your matching black, lace bra and black, lace thong. “fuck, you’re unreal, i can’t believe you’re here right now.” you giggled at his words. “you’re sweet.” he chuckled and he leaned back down to kiss you. “yeah? i’m sweet, baby?” “mhmm.” you nodded as he connected your lips together again. you kissed him back with ferocity. tugging his bottom lip with your teeth, your hands stroked his covered chest, and you broke the kiss, your lips still so close that you could feel his breath on your face. “take off your clothes.”

drew groaned and his face dropped into your neck, before he stood up off the bed and pulled his shirt over his head, moving to his pants unbuttoning them and then pushing them down his legs, leaving him in just his boxers. your mouth hung open when you saw the size of his bulge through his boxers and the wet patch forming on the material. you sat up on the bed and tugged him closer to you by the waistband of his boxers, licking his clothed bulge. “poor baby, so hard, do you need me to help you?” drew whimpered, nodding his head. “need you so bad, pretty girl.” you chuckled, “want me so bad don’t you, drew?” drew’s hips bucked in response a look of pure desperation on his pretty face, oh, you were gonna ruin him. leave him a mess so that the only person he would ever want was you.

you pushed down his boxers freeing his length. his massive cock snapped up, slapping his stomach, the red tip leaking pre cum. your mouth watered at the sight of him, he’s gorgeous. “you’re so pretty and big, drew.” drew whimpered “fuck, you gonna suck me off, gorgeous?” you hummed, your hand coming up to the base of his cock, stroking languidly. “you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” drew groaned, his hand curling into a fist by his side, like he was trying desperately not to force your mouth onto him. he opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say anything, you parted your lips and began leaving open mouth kisses on his tip. alternating between sucking and kissing, drew groaned from above you, his hand finally coming up to tangle in your hair, never pushing or pulling just resting. such a gentleman you thought, but you wanted him to snap, to use you.

you breathed through your nose and then took his entire length into your mouth, your nose pushing into the trimmed patch of hair at the base of his cock. drew let out a loud groan that reverberated through the room. “fuck! y/n!” you hummed and then swallowed around his length, your tongue still rubbing the underside of his cock, before you pulled off of him to catch your breath. but before you could resume your ministrations, drew placed a hand under your chin, tilting your head up. you looked up at him with a fucked out expression and he look even more fucked out than you. “i’m gonna need to prep you, so get on your back for me, baby.” you giggled excitedly, drew reached behind you and unclipped your bra with ease and practised skill before you laid down onto the soft mattress.

your hair splayed around you like a halo, your cheeks flushed with a daze in your eyes as you gazed up at drew. he leaned over you on the bed, one hand placed by your head and the other stroking your thigh. “i’m gonna take you out after this.” you raised a brow, “oh yeah? what makes you think i’m gonna say yes?” drew smirked at you, he did love a challenge. “alright, if i make you cum three times, you have to go out with me. deal?” you hummed, mulling over the proposition. “you’re on, starkey.” drew leaned down and began kissing and biting your neck, then your shoulders then finally your tits, sucking at your nipple and squeezing the other one with his large palm. “been thinking about feeling these since the moment i saw them on my tv.” he mumbled against the flesh. you could only respond in moans. “fuck, drew!”

drew continued his way down till he was face to face with your lace covered soaked core, he nuzzled his face into your clothed pussy, inhaling deeply. “fuck, you smell amazing.” you whined impatiently, bucking your hips. drew chuckled and hooked his fingers into the band of your thong, dragging it down slowly, the material clung to your centre a sticky film connecting your cunt and the fabric as he pulled it down and off your legs, dropping the fabric onto his pile of clothes on the floor. “god, you’re so wet, baby.” drew said breathlessly. “who’s got you so wet, huh? tell me.” your cheeks flushed in embarrassment “you, drew, i’m so wet, just for you.” drew hummed appreciatively “such a pretty pussy, I knew your cunt would be gorgeous, just like the rest of you.”

before you could say anything in response, drew dove into your cunt, eating you like a man starved. his tongue flicked at your clit, as he spread your lips open with his fingers baring you for him to consume. you gasped and whined, your moans coming out broken. then he sucked your clit into his mouth and his long finger prodded at your entrance. your hips bucked and your thighs squeezed at his head. but drew just held your legs open with one hand as he doubled down on his efforts, he slipped in another finger, thrusting with fervour and you thought you were seeing stars, you had never had a man eat you out like this before. it was like drew was born to live between your legs, like he was made just for you. as he sped up his movements you felt the tightening band in your stomach about to snap. “fuck! drew! shit! i’m gonna cum!” your orgasm tore through you with a rage, as you came with a shout of his name. your back arched off the bed and your legs shook around drew’s head, thighs squeezing him. your puffy clit throbbed and your slick walls pulsating around his fingers.

drew detached himself from your abused cunt, slotting himself between your spread legs, your body was still trembling. “that’s one, baby” you could only muster a whine in response as drew grabbed the base of his cock stroking a few quick times, before slapping the head of his cock against your swollen cunt. “fuck, wait, i don’t have a condom.” you shook your head. “don’t care ‘m on birth control, wanna feel you, drew.” you said, your voice full of your need for him. drew groaned his head bowing forward, as if his was in prayer. his voice conveying his all consuming desire for you. “you’re gonna be the death of me.”

drew smeared his pre cum all over your cunt, like he was trying to mark you as his. then he pushed the tip in, your mouth hung open as a gasp escaped your plush, swollen lips. it felt as though he was spitting you open. drew stopped as your brows furrowed and your perfect face scrunched up, mouth still open. he was right, you look exactly as how you did in your sex scene. but seeing you now, in real life, in front of him, as the cause of your pleasure, the feeling was indescribable. he knew in that moment that he lived for you. to be the source of all your joy. you shook your head “no, don’t stop, i want it to hurt, i want to be able to feel you tomorrow.” he couldn’t speak, drew swore that no woman could every make him feel like you did. he pushed all the way in bottoming out, he didn’t give you any time to adjust to his size, pounding into your tight cunt with ardour. your moans and whines came out strangled, your face flushing.

drew’s hand trailed your thigh, grabbing the plump flesh, so tight that you knew that he would leave hand prints, his cock slammed into your walls and he looks so pretty above you, bottom lip bit under his pearly teeth, in effort to keep his groans at bay. sweat gathering at his forehead, that you wanted to lick off, pretty brows furrowed together. you were gripping him like a vice and he knew that he wasn’t going to last long. he brought his thumb to your throbbing clit. rubbing quick circles on the bundle of nerves, you threw you head back exposing your neck as you felt your second orgasm of the night creep onto you. “shit, baby, prettiest girl in the world, fucked out on my cock. you don’t know how long i’ve been dreaming of this.” your tits bounced with each slap of his hips against yours, his heavy balls banging against your ass, the sting adding to your pleasure.

“holy fuck, drew!” your body convulses from your second climax, tight walls clenching hard around drew’s thick cock, he pulled out quickly, flipping you onto your knees as your face buried into the mattress. you panted heavily as he pushed back into you from behind. large palms gripping onto your hips. he picked up his pace right where he left it giving you no time to gather yourself. strong hips pounding against your perfect ass, one hand left your hips that he trailed down your back to your head gripping your hair, turning your head to the side so you could watch him over your shoulder. but you struggled to keep your eyes open.

drew was struggling not to cum, he was nothing if not a man of his word, so no matter how hard your velvet walls clenched around him, no matter how perfect the sight before him was, he had to see you again. so he wasn’t going to lose his chance by fucking cumming too quickly like a teenage boy. “best fucking pussy i’ve ever had.” he praised and you squealed in response, you couldn’t form coherent thoughts anymore, let alone words. the only thing you could think of was drew, and how he was splitting you apart on his big cock. the angle of his thrusts hitting that sweet spot inside of you. “fuck! ‘m gonna cum, baby!” you cried out and drew whimpered in relief, he was teetering on the edge and the thought of having to hold on for any longer made him feel like he was going to collapse. “yeah? gonna give me number three, baby?” you pushed your ass back into him matching his thrusts as you whined loudly. drew was hypnotised as your red cheeks bounced on his pelvis, his hand leaving its place on your hip to smack down on the plump flesh, once, twice, then three times, watching it jiggle. “fuck, please rub my clit!” drew obeyed immediately bending at hip and reaching around you so that his long fingers could rub at your pulsing clit with vehemence.

“i’m cumming!” your body shook and your eyes squeezed shut as tears rolled down your eyes, you felt this wetness exploding out of you but you couldn’t focus on it, drew groaned from behind you his hips stuttering as he came with a loud moan of your name his cum pushing into your cervix. he pulled out of you and you felt the mixture of your fluids seeping out of your pussy. drew took two of his fingers and gathered the mixture and pushed it back into your sensitive cunt, you whined in response, collapsing onto your back it’s only then did you see the mess you had caused on the expensive sheets of the hotel bed. “you squirted. that’s so fucking hot.” you felt boneless, completely spent. “ever done that before?” you shook your head no “mm mm.” drew’s face was completely fucked out and you were sure you didn’t look much different. “hold on, baby, i’m gonna clean you up, ok?” you simply nodded, too tired to speak. drew walked to the bathroom and came back with a wet towel, which he used to wipe between your legs and over your sensitive cunt, before chucking the cloth somewhere on the floor, then collapsing next to you on the bed.

drew gathered you into his arms tugging you close to him, his arm under your head and the other around your waist and you snuggled your face into the crevice of his neck and shoulder. your hand coming up to rest on his chest and your legs tangling with his. you have never felt so content in your life. drew spoke in a hushed tone. “so, that was three, can i take you out now?” you giggled in response “yeah, can i tell you a secret?” drew was tracing patterns on your back. “what’s that, baby?” you smiled against his skin “i was gonna say yes anyway, but i wanted to make you work for it.” drew chuckled. “you cheeky minx.” “can i tell you a secret?” you nodded “i would’ve done anything you told me to.”

TAGLIST: @sunnybunnyy2 @percysley @wearemadeofstardust0 @idgasb @pinkpantheris @emmaaas-posts @grace-sully @chloeisbunny

god that took me so fucking long to write but i hope it’s not disappointing. thank you for all the love on the previous parts my lovelies!!

1K notes · View notes

buck-star · 9 months ago

Text

His innocent girl | Ari Levinson

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 -> DBF!Ari Levinson x Innocent!Virgin!Female!Reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 -> He can’t stand the desire you’re causing with your little outfits and the innocence you show him. Ari needs you — he needs to ruin you for every other man.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 -> 5.349 (a lot smut, almost only smut)

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 -> 18+, Minors DNI, smut, age gap (Reader in her early 20’s, Ari in his early 40’s), innocent!Reader, dub-con, oral (fem!receiving), fingering, loosing of virginity, unprotected p in v, daddy kink, crying during sex, pussy slapping, belly bulge, squirting, creampie, multiple orgasm, degradation, praises, bit of dirty talk

𝐀/𝐍 -> The idea for the Oneshot is filled with @amathslutsguidetofandom and my dirty thoughts about Ari. So thank you so much. I also wanna thank my best friend @imtryingbuck for proofreading. I love you so much, thank youuuuu.❤️❤️

Masterlist | Ari Levinson Masterlist

The pink, fluffy bunny ears fit perfectly on top of your head, making your outfit look perfect. You're standing in front of the mirror with a pink little skirt, overknees, and a short pink top covering most of your body. You turn to the left, then to the right, letting the skirt slowly fly higher and revealing the sweet, white cotton panties you're wearing underneath. You're smirking at yourself and sliding your hand over your skirt before you turn around and open the door of your room.

When you do so, you hear the voices of your parents and another familiar voice. Deep but soft, and you already know who is sitting downstairs in the kitchen with a coffee in front of him and a big grin on his lips. Ari Levinson - your dad's best friend.

With a grin on your lips, you walk downstairs, slightly jumping up and down, when you enter the kitchen, where Steve — your dad — and Ari are sitting. Your father turns his head toward you, smiling when you walk closer and kissing his cheek softly.

"Good morning, daddy," you say in your sweetest voice.

"Morning, sweetheart."

Then you turn around to face Ari, and he smiles nicely at you. His blue eyes are glistening, and he licks his lips with his tongue. His hand is gripping the cup of coffee in front of him, and his knuckles are turning white. The little skirt that covers just a bit more than half your ass and the tight top, the pink you're always wearing — Ari can't stop his fantasies even though your outfit doesn't give much to his imagination. And the sweet, fluffy bunny ears you're wearing make him go crazy.

"Hello, Mr. Levinson," you say, smiling before you turn around to make yourself breakfast.

Ari needs to hide the groan that is creeping up his throat. You can't just look innocent and talk to him while you call him by his last name. He feels his pants tightening, his dick is pressing uncomfortable against the fabric, to the point he needs to lean back in the chair. It gets even worse when you bend down to reach for the cereals on the counter. Your skirt is sliding up and revealing your panties, Ari's eyes are focused on your ass and on your cunt, and he can't bring himself to look somewhere else. Luckily, Steve is sitting in front of him, so it looks like Ari is looking at him.

You're taking the cereal and the milk, and with a bowl your dad gave you already and make your way to sit next to Ari, putting everything into the bowl while you sing quietly. Steve tells Ari something about the barbecue later, but Ari's eyes are focused on you. He looks at you while you eat your cereal and sing quietly.

"I need to go shopping for that. Do you wanna come with me, sweetheart?" Your dad asks, but you shake your head.

"I have to do a speech for uni," you say with a nice smile.

Ari licks his lips once again. He told your dad to prepare everything while he goes shopping and to know you're there with him. He feels his dick twitch in his pants; he wants to bend you over the table right now, ruining your innocence. He wants to hear those sweet moans leaving your lips when he slides his dick in and out of you.

When your dad goes shopping, you're alone with Ari. He smirks at you, running his fingers through his long-brown hair and looking at the counter for everything you need for the barbecue. You're looking at Ari, your arms resting on the table while you have your hands under your chin. Your legs are swining forward and backward.

"Do you want to help me, babygirl?" Ari asks.

"Yes, Mr. Levinson."

Ari feels his dick hardening once again while you're walking around the kitchen island. Ari is tall; he has high-defined muscles, and you need to look up to look into his face. He smirks when he points to the bowls he needs from another counter. You nod and give them to him, then you turn around once again and bend over to look for some sweets you want to offer him. Your dad loves them; you love them, so maybe Ari loves them as well?

When you bend over, Ari's eyes are immediately focused on your ass once again. He groans softly, and when you grab the sweets and turn back, you see the way his ocean-blue eyes darken. You're not sure why he groaned, but Ari just bits his lips and looks your body up and down, then back into your eyes. His hand reaches out for you, grasping your waist and pulling you close against him.

"A sweet little pink diamont plug would fit perfectly into your pretty little ass."

"A- A pl- What?" You ask, and you narrow your eybrows.

Ari closes his eyes, swallowing the low groan. How can someone so sweet be so innocent at the same time? His grip tightens, and he slides his other hand along your side until his hand is placed on your ass.

“A plug, baby. Making you feel good here,” he says, slapping softly with his palm on your ass.

You gasp, looking up at him with a confused expression. Ari slips his hand underneath your skirt, caressing the soft skin of your ass. You whimper. Ari leans closer, kissing your nose and your forehead softly, while he slides his other hand to your ass cheeks as well. He then grabs them, pulling them apart and groaning when you press yourself more against him.

“Mr. L— Levinson, what are you doing?” You ask.

Your eyes are widening, and Ari can’t stop himself from groaning once again. His dick is leaking and pressing against his pants. You’re feeling something against your lower stomach; it’s big, and you wonder if he has his keys in his pants.

“Do— Do you have your keys in your pocket?”

“No,” Ari says, chuckling about your innocence. “That’s my dick. Feeling how hard it is just for you?”

You shake your head. Why should his cock grow because of you? You didn’t do anything, so why should there be something he is getting hard from? He leans down closer to your lips, and you can feel his hot breath on your lips. You close your eyes instinctively, and Ari chuckles. You whimper when he doesn’t break the distance between your lips. When you close your eyes to look into his steel blue ones, he just grins at you.

“Please, Mr. Levi—“

“Call me daddy, can you do this?”

You nod, confused about why he wants you to call him like you call your daddy but you don’t mind. You just want him to kiss you like you have always seen it in those romantic movies.

“And what do you want, babygirl?”

“C— Can you kiss me?”

He smirks, leaning in and capturing your lips with his. It’s a short but sweet kiss, and your knees are suddenly weak, and you feel a tingling feeling in your stomach. One that slides down between your legs and causes you to press your thighs together.

“You’re oke, baby?”

“It’s tingling,” you mumble, blushing.

“What’s tingling. Tell Daddy, where is it tingling?”

Ari knows what you mean, but he wants to hear it from you. He wants to hear that innocent, sweet girl say that she is dripping her panties because of the big, broad men in front of him.

“Down there,” you say quietly, and turn your head away.

He lets go of your ass with one of his hands and grips your chin, making you look up at him again. His blue eyes piercing in yours, he smirks, while his thumb slides over your bottom lip, pressing into your mouth. You take it and twirl your tongue around his thumb, causing more tingles in your stomach. Ari removes his thumb with a plop and licks his lips.

“Do you need help with that tingling feeling in your belly?”

You nod, your eyes pleading. Ari grabs you by your waist and lifts you up, placing you on the surface of the counter. His hands slide up and down your thighs, closer to your pussy and he pushes your skirt up, revealing your wet panties. Ari groans, getting on his knees and pushing his head between your legs. He inhales deeply when his nose touches your covered pussy. You shiver slightly, moaning about the sudden feeling of him between your legs. Ari brings his hand to shove your pants away, and a low chuckle leaves his lips when he sees your dripping cunt.

“You’re so wet for me,” he says, kissing your pussy.

You moan softly. His tongue glides through your folds, and you can’t help but grip his long hair, tugging at it. You’re not sure if you want him to continue or stop; it’s a new sensation and feels good and weird at the same time.

“D— Daddy, what are you doing?”

Ari lets go of your pussy for a moment; this innocence of yours makes him so fucking desperate that he just wants to bend you over the counter and fuck you. He knows he would ruin you for everyone else.

“I have a taste of your pretty little cunt, babygirl.”

He lowers his head between your legs once again, lapping at your pussy, making you moan and arch your back in pleasure. Ari’s beard is scratching your thighs and clit slightly, masking the feeling even more intensely. A feeling you never had before grows in your stomach, and you worry for a moment since it feels like you really need to pee. But Ari’s grip on your thighs is so strong that you can’t move away to get down the counter and go to pee.

“Daddy—“ you moan, your eyes watering.

“What’s wrong, babygirl?”

“I— I need to pee.”

Ari looks confused for a moment, removing his tongue from in between your folds. Instead, he shoves his chunky fingers along your folds, circling your entrance before he pushes a finger into your tight entrance.

“Don’t worry, baby. You don’t need to pee; let go for me. Can you do it?”

You nod, and Ari pumps his finger inside of you. He hits your sweet spot, still tasting you on his tongue and lips. Your moan shamelessly, his finger moving slowly inside of your tight pussy, and he can’t help but imagine his cock in your pussy.

“Have you ever touched yourself?”

“Nu—uh.”

Ari almost comes in his pants when you tell him that you never touched yourself. You’re so fucking tight that he just wants to burry his huge dick into you, splitting you open. He pushes his finger deeper into you, hitting your sweet spot and making you almost scream. Ari smirked, feeling you clench around him. He speeds up slightly, pushing another of his thick fingers into your pussy.

“Daddy, feeling that tingle so much.”

“Let go; come for Daddy.”

And you do. You arch your back and come all over his fingers, creaming them in your slick while he fucks you with his fingers through your high. Your pussy is squeezing him violently, sucking him deeper into you.

“Good girl, such a good girl,” he praises.

He slowly pulls his fingers out of your cunt, making you whimper about the sudden emptiness. Your legs are shaking, and your breath is heavy while you look at Ari. He brings his fingers to his lips and takes them into his mouth, sucking them clean while he groans about your sweet taste. You look at him, whimpering softly about the feeling growing between your legs. Something like desire, where you need Ari to take care of your cunt.

“Daddy, that tingling—“

“Shhh— Daddy’s gonna take care of his pussy.”

You nod, pouting slightly, and Ari chuckles. He gets off the floor and leans closer, capturing your cheeks with his big hands and pressing his lips softly on yours. His tongue glides over your lips; you part them slightly, and Ari pushes his tongue into your mouth. His hands slide along your body, removing your panties. Then he unbuckles his belt and opens his pants before he slides them down, revealing his boxers with the outline of his fat, hard cock and a little spot where his tip is pressed against the fabric already wet from his pre-cum.

“Wanna see daddy’s fat cock, little girl?”

“I—“

Ari doesn’t give you much time to answer; he hooks his fingers into the waistband of his boxers and shoves them down his thick thighs. He would love to take off all your clothes, would worship every bit of your body, and kiss every inch of your skin, but he is so desperate to feel you. And the outfit turns him on beyond belief. You look at his weeping cock, which just springs free; the tip is red, and you see the veins running along it. He sees the struggle in your eyes. What should you do know? Touch it, or let himself touch it?

“You can touch it; just be careful,” he says, holding out his hand to place yours into his.

When your small hand is placed in his big one, he walks a step closer, letting his fingers slide over the soft skin of his cock. You follow every movement of your fingers with your eyes, furrowing softly while you’re concentrated on the way his tip feels. When you swipe your thumb over the slit, Ari pushes his hips forward and groans.

“Do— Does it feel good?” You ask innocently and look into his eyes.

He nods, smirking when your smile grows. You wrap your fingers around his huge length, pumping his cock slowly into your hand. Ari throws his head back, thrusting it into your hand. When you see the way he reacts to your touches, you use your other hand and take his balls into it, grinning when he groans and hums in response.

When Ari feels the pleasure in his belly growing, he takes a step back and pushes you by your shoulders down. You whimper, and when his cock taps your pussy, he is smearing his pre-cum all over your pussy. You’re wiggling your ass, earning a slap on your thigh. Tears build up in the corner of your eyes, and Ari captures your cheeks with his hands, kissing you softly.

He then takes his cock into his hand, giving himself a few strokes and slapping the tip against your pussy. You moan softly, and he does it again. Then he pushes his dick between your folds, still not entering you. With his thumb, he holds his dick in between your wet folds while he thrusts slowly forward. Your eyes are almost closed when his cock always hits your clit whenever he pushes forward. Your lips are slightly parted, and you whimper, gripping the surface of the counter to steady yourself. Ari grinds against you over and over again until you’re a moaning mess underneath him. Sweat is covering your forehead, and your hair is messy, but for Ari, you’re beautiful as always. You mumble his name and ‘daddy’ over and over again.

So cock drunk, and he hasn’t even pushed in yet. Ari loves the way you’re whimpering for more, pushing yourself against him even though you’re such an innocent little girl. Not really knowing what you're asking him for — for a fat cock that will ruin her tiny pussy for everyone else — just the thought makes Ari come almost immediately.

“Do you want Daddy to make you feel good? Are you daddy’s little slut?” He asks, and you nod, slightly confused about him making you feel good and calling you a slut.

You don’t even know what the word means, but when he uses it, it’s probably nothing bad, right? So you just nod, and Ari smirks, still thrusting his dick through your folds and hitting your clit. Your moans grow louder, your back arches, and your legs are shaking when the feeling in your pussy appears once again.

“D—Daddy, so tingling down there.”

“‘S oke, come for me; make a mess,” he says, smirking when you throw your head back.

Your walls are clenching, and your whines are needier when you come a second time. Ari still moves his dick in between your folds, pressing his tip against your clit, causing you to inhale deeply and push your hips up to get more of his cock.

“Such a slut, trying to get my cock, huh?”

Your legs are shaking, and your chest raises and falls while you slowly clam down from your orgasm. Ari didn’t come yet, and you wonder why he didn’t; maybe he doesn’t feel as tingly as you do?

“Daddy?”

“Mhm?”

“Don’t you feel tingly?” You ask, pouting slightly.

“I do. But my cock needs to be warm and wet, babygirl,” he explains with a grin.

Ari’s hand is still holding his cock in between your folds, slapping it a few times on your pussy before he moves himself further down to your tight entrance. Even when it’s an odd feeling, it gives you at the same time pleasure when his dick touches your entrance. Ari tries to push the tip of his cock into your pussy, but it doesn’t really work, and he immediately slips out of there.

“Aww, babygirl. Don’t you wanna have Daddy inside of you?” He asks, amused.

“I want, Daddy,” you whimper, feeling the tears falling down your cheeks.

“Shh— it’s fine. I will make it fit, baby,” he coos, caressing your cheek.

Ari tries again, pushing his cock slowly into your tight entrance. You grip his muscular arms, digging your nails into his skin while he stretches your entrance with his dick. You squirm, trying to escape the slight pain he causes in your pussy. Ari’s just pushing a tiny bit into you before he pauses, your walls already clenching around him, squeezing his cock.

“Do you know that you make me go crazy with that little outfit? Or with all your outfits, showing almost your ass,” Ari says and smirks when you blush about his comments.

“I— It’s so big, Daddy,” you mumble, digging your fingers even more into his arm.

Ari smirks, leaning closer to capture your lips with his, soft and warm. When he leans closer, his dick slides deeper into your tight hole. You bite into his lip, causing him to chuckle. When he leans back, your eyes are almost closed. You moan, arching your back, and he pushes his tip completely into you. Ari groans about the sudden tightness around his cock; you’re squeezing him, and Ari just wants to push deeper into you, getting more of your warm, tight pussy.

“Breathe deeply, oke?”

You do, inhaling deeply, but it gets interrupted when you suddenly scream in pain. Tears are building in the corner of your eyes, and they roll down your cheeks. Your eyes are red, watering even more when Ari doesn’t stop from pushing inside of you.

“Pl— Please, stop. M—My belly,” you whine, trying to get away from him while you’re still holding his arms.

“Sh— It’s oke, it feels better when I’m inside of you,” Ari mumbles, smirking when you nod.

He didn’t know that your tears would make his cock twitch, but they do. You’re pretty when you cry because of his cock. When it’s because of him splitting you in half with his fat dick, turning you into his own little sex toy. He knows he shouldn’t ruin you for another man, but he just can’t hold back when you’re underneath him with that cute outfit, the bunny eyes on your head, and the tears all over your cheeks while you take his cock like a good girl. And when he is the only one who fucks you, when he is the one who loves you, then he doesn’t ruin you for others because you’re his — and only his.

Ari is just a bit deeper inside of you than he was before, with most of his cock still outside of your cunt. He wipes the tears on your cheeks away, kissing the tip of your nose, and continues to push into you. He is stretching you open in a way you never thought it could be possible to stretch something. Ari is huge; you feel the vein of his cock inside of you, and even though it burns, it kinda feels great.

“Doing so well for Daddy. Daddy’s good girl, aren’t you?”

You nod; the pain gets worse once he pushes himself faster into you. He just can’t and doesn’t want to wait to be completely in the warm wetness of your pussy. Ari needs you to be inside your pussy, to clench around his cock, and to see more of those pretty tears of yours while he fucks you senseless. He wants to hear you screaming when you come all over his dick, making a mess and squeezing him even tighter.

“D—daddy,” you squeal when he grips your waist harshly to guide his dick better into you.

Ari laughs, pulling you closer against him and shoving his cock deeper. Tears fall down your cheeks, and you squeeze your eyes shut while he rams his dick in your pussy. He is rough this time, not giving you time to adjust to his length. Ari needs all of his control to not come immediately; you fit so perfectly around him, sucking him in, and the warmth that surrounds his cock makes him go crazy. He digs his fingers into your soft skin, bringing his cock completely into your tight hole. You squirm, clenching hard around him, while he splits you open. You pussy burns, and you feel like your tight cunt just can’t get used to his fat cock.

“I’m sorry, babygirl. I just couldn’t hold back any longer. Shhhh— breathe; you’re doing so well. Taking Daddy’s cock like a good girl. You’re so pretty when you cry on my cock; you’re so pretty, baby,” he coos, leaning closer to kiss the tears away.

Even when you’re still crying, he kisses them away, making sure you’re feeling better with his dick inside of you. He knows he should pull out, give you time to adjust slowly, and work you open with his fingers, but he was holding back for so long, and he just wants to feel the warmth around his cock. The clenching feeling of you and the tears that cover your cheeks because he is just too fat for your baby cunt to take him.

“Daddy, I— I can feel you so deep in my belly,” you whimper.

“Yes. See that?” Ari asks, pulling your shirt up and revealing your soft belly with the bugle of his dick. “That’s my cock.”

You whimper, sliding your head down to where his cock is visible. You slide your fingers over it and make him smile even wider. He adores the way you’re looking so innocent and now with his cock inside of you, seeing him poking in your belly and touching the bulge he is causing with his cock. Ari slowly pulls out of you, making you hiss about the sudden feeling. You whimper when you feel every inch of his cock moving inside of you.

“Nuuu—Daddy, please stay there.”

"Aww, do you need my cock inside of you? Pretty little slut for me,” he says, smirking when you nod eagerly.

He pushes back inside of you, and you immediately sigh in relief. His dick stretches you painfully, but when he pulls out, you feel so empty, and when he just stays like that, the pain slowly fades away. Ari just pushes slightly forward and backward, making you furrow your eyebrows.

“Don’t! Daddy!”

“Oh— baby, not like that; be nice,” he says, bringing his hand to your pussy and slapping softly on it.

You gasp, your eyes watering, and Ari does it again, causing more tears in your eyes. He then presses his thumb against your clit, circling it softly. You wiggle underneath him, and his dick slides deeper into you until he is balls deep inside your pussy. You squeeze him even more, and when he rubs circles on your clit, the feeling you had earlier appears once again in your stomach.

“Daddy— tingling.”

“It’s oke, come for daddy; come all around his fat cock, little slut.”

And you do, your walls clenching violently around his dick. You’re moaning loudly, throwing your head back and pushing your hips more against him, and his fingers continue to circle your clit. Ari starts thrusting into you slowly and only a bit, but you feel every tiny movement of his cock and every vein along his shaft. His eyes are piercing in yours while he fucks you through your high.

“You’re squeezing me so fucking good, pretty girl.”

Ari throws his head back when you look through your lashes at him. Your eyes are still filled with tears, but the desire in his eyes makes him thrust into you. You’re sucking him in every time he pulls out of you. When another sharp pain suddenly appears in your skin, you look at the place where the two of you are connected. He slaps your pussy slightly, but enough to cause a sharp pain in your overstimulated pussy. Ari moves his hips at a steady but faster pace against yours. His balls are slapping against your ass whenever he thrusts forward. Your arousal is covering his dick; the sound when he pushes back into you makes him feral, and his thrusts are harder. The juice that is dripping out of you lands in his balls. They are heavy, and it gets even worse when he thinks about the way he is pushing his seeds into you.

“Feels so good—“

“Yeah? Are you daddy’s little slut?”

You nod, pushing yourself against him when he tries to pull out of you. Ari chuckles, slapping on your pussy once again, causing you to squeal and look at him with widening eyes.

“D— Faster, please.”

Ari groans, but obeys. He is thrusting his dick faster into your tight cunt, making you cry on his cock even more. Your pussy slightly hurts, but the feeling of his cock inside of you feels just too good.

“You’re such a little desperate slut, so cock drunk, aren’t you, baby? Asking your dad’s best friend to fuck you like a little fuck toy.”

You whimper, and Ari smirks, fucking harder into you, getting more of those sweet moans from you. Ari feels his dick twitch, your walls clenching and making it almost impossible for him to move inside of you. He circles your clit with his thumb once again, making your eyes shut up, and you throw your head back in pleasure.

“D— Please, I need to come,” you shout, your hands gripping his arm.

Your nails dig into his skin, and you’re feeling his grip on your waist tighten while he fucks you closer to your orgasm. Ari isn’t far behind you; you feel just so perfect around his dick.

“It’s so sensitive, daddy,” you whimper.

He grins, pushing his thumb further down on your clit. Making you gasp and making eye contact with him.

“My pretty little slut. See, I’ve ruined you for every other man. You’re mine, aren’t you? Tell me you’re mine, and you can come.”

“I’m yours. I’m yours, Daddy.”

He speeds his thrusts up, pushing harder into you. Ari loves to hear the soft whimpers and moans slipping over your lips while he fucks you like his little slut — the little slut you are for him. His dick is pulsing, and he is moaning low when you clench more than before. Your legs are shaking, your bodies are covered in sweat, and his breath is just as heavy as yours. You’re just about to come, and Ari knows. He rubs his fingers over your clit, your eyes widen, and you come. Squirting all over his dick and making a mess. Ari laughs, looking at your juices all over his dick and lower belly. He just comes a moment after you, pushing his cum deep into your tight hole and painting your walls with it.

“So— so sensitive, Daddy,” you mumble, letting your head fall down on the surface of the kitchen counter.

Ari pushes his dick slower into you, riding both of your orgasms out while you try to catch your breath. His hand slides from your clit to your sides, caressing your soft skin while his dick softens inside of you.

“You’re doing so well. Squirting all over me. You’re all mine,” he says, leaning closer to kiss your lips. “But that’s our little secret, baby. I love you, my pretty girl.”

“I— I love you too, daddy.”

Ari smiles; he helps you sit up and slips his cock out of you. You whimper about the emptiness inside your pussy. He then looks at your pulsing pussy, admiring the way your cum is dripping out of your cunt. He pulls you closer and grasps your tights to pick you up. He carries you upstairs to the bathroom, placing you on the toilet.

“You need to pee,” he says, turning around and walking out of the room.

He closes the door behind him and lets you pee. After you finish, you open the door quietly and look at the broad man who is standing with some new clothes for you in front of the door.

“Take a seat, and I will clean you, oke?”

You nod, sitting on the edge of the bathtub, and look at Ari, who gets on his knees in front of you. He has a wet washcloth in his hand and spreads your legs, cleaning your thighs. Ari moves his hand higher to your pussy, cleaning your folds and wiping your mixed juices from your pussy. You whimper, your cunt still sensitive from his dick inside of you.

“Daddy’s so empty down there.”

“It’s oke. Let’s just dress you, and then Daddy needs to clean himself. But I will put my dick into your baby cunt next time your daddy isn’t home,” he says, kissing the pout away from your lips.

After cleaning the two of you, you changed your outfit, still wearing similar clothes and the cute bunny ears on top of your head. Ari was grabbing your ass when you walked past him out of the bathroom, smirking when you squirmed in surprise.

Now you’re sitting on the kitchen counter while Ari stands between your legs, kissing your lips softly. His hands are on your waist, and his finger is digging into your soft skin.

“All mine, my little girl, my pretty girl,” he says, smirking when you blush softly. “Now let’s get the barbecue ready; otherwise, Steve is going to ask what we did the whole time.”

You giggle, grasping his shirt to pull him closer and kiss him again. Ari chuckles, then he pulls away and gets the barbecue ready.

“You’re so beautiful, my pretty girl,” Ari tells you.

When he walks through the kitchen and reaches you, he kisses you softly while his hand trails along your thigh.

“I’m home!” Steve shouts and walks toward the two of you.

You smile at him, your cheeks red, and Ari smirks widely, but Steve doesn’t say anything. It’s pretty warm in there, so he doesn’t even recognize what’s happened between you and Ari. You had sex together, and he took your virginity and claimed you and your pussy as his. And even better, Ari loves you; he really fell for you.

“I love you,” he mumbles into your ear while he walks outside with your dad.

“I love you too, Ari,” you say, jumping off the counter.

Ari’s grin gets wider when his name slips past your lips. He is a lucky man to have such a pretty girl like you by his side.

Taglist: @kandis-mom @sergeantbarnessdoll @identity2212 @km-ffluv @lunaalovesyouu @blackhawkfanatic @armystay89 @suz7days @bookishtheaterlover7 @rogersbarber @sebastianstanisahotmf @cevansbaby-dove @patzammit @bigtreefest @hawkeyes-queen

3K notes · View notes