#i mentioned it before i think but i consider her a little different so i havent gotten to her yet
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hollowed-theory-hall · 22 hours ago
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hi! i hope you're well! i saw a post recently about how much dumber the trio is compared to the marauders and they cited the marauders being able to be animagi, regulus finding out about the horcrux before everyone, snape correcting the textbook and making spells, etc, compared to the trio (especially harry) and how harry had to begin DA by teaching expelliarmus, how harry isn't very powerful etc which is blatant mischaracterisation (sorry if im ranting a little, im a little hurt for my boy loll).
anyway, they were saying how this is because of the hogwarts education system and it declined under dumbledore who was more interested in politics than running a school, which i found interesting. i do see where they were coming from, especially with so many subjects closing down over the years, with now only 12 owl subjects. i wonder if it's some sort of repression.
i was curious to see if you thought the education system at hogwarts has declined over the years dumbledore has been headmaster and if you think the marauders generation was smarter than the golden trio's generation.
Hi!
So, I'm not going to rant about Harry being super magically powerful here, since I already made this rant multiple times, so I'm going to focus on Hogwarts education.
The first claim I want to dispel is that the education at Hogwarts declined drastically under Dumbledore between the two generations. The main reason this point doesn't make sense is that Dumbledore became headmaster in the mid-60s (before Voldemort came to his interview in 1967), enough time before the Mauradres started school at 1971 that most major changes from changing the headmaster would've already happened. (That being said, 12 subjects was the standard also when Tom Riddle was at school, the subjects at Hogwarts haven't changed for a good century at least and have nothing to do with Dumbledore).
If we take a look at the faculty of Hogwarts, we actually see Dumbledore employed many of the same professors in the Mauraders generation and the Golden Trio's generation (At least for most core subjects):
Minerva McGonagall taught the Mauraders. Any transfiguration (becoming animagi) they learned beyond the classes she taught the Golden Trio were done via self-study on the Mauraders' part:
“Precisely,” said Professor McGonagall. “Black and Potter. Ringleaders of their little gang. Both very bright, of course — exceptionally bright, in fact — but I don’t think we’ve ever had such a pair of troublemakers —”
(PoA, Ch10)
Her curriculum likely hadn't changed in these years. It's just, like the Golden Trio, the Mauraders did a lot of self-studying beyond the curriculum.
Filius Flitwick in that same conversation in PoA mentions teaching the Mauraders as well:
“You’d have thought Black and Potter were brothers!” chimed in Professor Flitwick. “Inseparable!”
(PoA, Ch10)
Reberus Hagrid was already working at Hogwarts as the Groundskeeper and knew the Mauraders when they were students:
“I dunno,” chuckled Hagrid. “Fred and George Weasley could give ’em a run fer their money.”
(PoA, Ch10)
Cuthbert Binns had been teaching History of Magic way before Dumbledore started as a student at Hogwarts. That subject was always shit and it's nothing new.
As you can see, many of the core faculty are the same. There were some different professors though.
It's likely Professor Grubby-Plank was the one who thought the Mauradres Care of Magical Creatures, if they took the subject, and she's clearly an accomplished teacher. But Dumbledore brings her on to teach the trio when Hagrid can't, it's not exactly that his standards of education changed, it's just that he has different priorities (which I will get to).
(Edit: @roserainier pointed out Silvanus Kettleborn was the Care of Magical teacher since headmaster Dippett and until 1993. In Tales of Beedle the Bard, it's mentioned that Dippett considered Kettleborn incredibly reckless, which he was considering he enlarged Ashwinders and let them loose to explode around students and went on prohibition 62 times. So, really, Hagrid is pretty much the standard Care teacher Hogwarts employees it seems and Dumbledore isn't endangering the students of that class more than Dippett did).
Slughorn was replaced by Snape. While Snape is an asshole, he is a very accomplished potioneer, who, as you said, corrected the textbook Slughorn still uses (meaning Dumbledore hired a better potioneer to teach the subject in Harry's time). And Snape has many faults, but he is fair in his grading for most students (Hermione gets mostly 'O's in Potions).
Trawlany is a professor Dumbledore is keeping around for her safety and skills in divination, not for her teaching ability. So, she's a bit of an exception. That being said, Dumbledore wanted to cancel the subject entirely before she convinced him Divination is real, so, I kinda get it. I mean, he knows she is a real seer.
While we don't know much about the rest of the faculty, it appears nothing dramatic is happening in Arithmancy or Study of Ancient Runes since Hermione is quite happy with the standard there.
Muggle Studies is implied to be kinda shit, but it's likely it was that way in the Mauraders' time too. It's mostly a lack of muggleborns who want to teach the subject and pure-bloods (half-bloods raised in the wizarding world) have no idea what they are talking about. I mean, Arthur Weasley 100% took the subject when he was in school (under Headmaster Dippett) and yet he doesn't really understand muggle inventions or money. The fact Hermione doesn't complain that Muggle Studies is a sham like Divination implies Burbage probably knows more about muggles than whoever taught the subject to Arthur.
Dumbledore didn't change the standard of education or school policies between the Mauraders' generation and the Golden Trio's. at least not by much. Hogwarts was always kinda crap as a school and if I was a witch in the UK, I'd probably homeschool my children regardless of the headmaster.
I will say Dumbledore did do some changes compared to the time Arthur and Molly went to school though, as they started Hogwarts when Dippett was still the headmaster. But these changes didn't seem to change the subjects Hogwarts offers, or the standard of education there. Among them was one major improvement to Hogwarts compared to Dippett:
Dumbledore outlawed corporal punishment against students.
As we know when Arthur and Molly were in school, corporal punishment was still a thing:
Mrs. Weasley grinned, her eyes twinkling. “Your father and I had been for a nighttime stroll,” she said. “He got caught by Apollyon Pringle — he was the caretaker in those days — your father’s still got the marks.”
(GoF, Ch31)
So the caretaker before Filch did get to whip/cane students (unclear exactly what he did) like Filch wishes he could.
Now, I mentioned I'd come back to the DADA situation and Dumbledore's different priorities. We'll start with DADA since that's easier to explain:
In 1967, following his interview, Voldemort cursed the DADA position so no teacher could keep it for more than a year. So, when the Mauraders go to school, it was still the early years of the curse, meaning Dumbledore had an easier time finding qualified Defence professors. By the time Harry starts school in 1991, Dumbledore had to go through about 24 Defence professors (likely a bit more), so he's scraping the bottom of the barrel when it comes to Defence professors due to circumstances.
Additionally, since the rumor of the curse has spread, many possible DADA professor candidates might be apprehensive about taking the job. Again, this limits Dumbledore's pool of possible teachers.
Now, even if he was limited, he had options that would've been better than Lockhart and Umbridge (basically anyone would be better. The ghoul in the Weasley's attic would've been better). And these two choices have to do with Dumbledore's priorities, as you mentioned.
While Harry's in school, Dumbledore's first priority isn't student safety or education — it's to prepare Harry to face Voldemort. His employment choices (Hagrid, Lockhart, Umbridge (choosing not to find a professor though the real Moody was right there!)) were all meant to teach Harry something valuable. They were for Harry's sake, not anyone else's. Dumbledore actively made subpar hiring choices knowing he was sacrificing students' safety and education. His first priority is Voldemort's return and to prepare Harry for it.
He is, after all, the same guy who let Draco run around harming, and almost killing multiple students in HBP because it served his plan for Voldemort. This man is a general first and an educator second, and any declines in the education at Hogwarts are due to that. But I wouldn't call it political, per se, it's more about Harry and Voldemort specifically. He's not actively making education worse because of malicious political intent, but he sees it as his duty to make sure Harry would face Voldemort. It's much more targeted, I think.
I will also note, that the effects of these priorities are mostly contained to the DADA position, most other core subjects (Charms, Transfiguration, History, Herbology, and Astronomy) are basically the same. Care and Divination do suffer a decline too due to the staff (that were chosen not for politics, but to protect and keep the teachers close at hand), but Potions was improved, education standard-wise at least.
McGonagall and Flitwick make another point regarding the decline that comes from Harry being at school:
“I should think not,” said Professor McGonagall sharply. “How are we supposed to teach with those horrors floating around?” “Hear, hear!” squeaked tiny Professor Flitwick, whose feet were dangling a foot from the ground.
(PoA, Ch10)
When Harry's at school, things are way more hectic and tense than they are in the Maruarders' times (in part because Harry's there). This affects the teachers' ability to teach and students' ability to learn.
Ron, Hermione, and Harry (especially the latter two) are actually quite advanced compared to their year because of all the extra studying they put in for the various mysteries they've got going on. Patronus, protego, protean, etc. are all charms the trio practices way before they are taught by the Hogwarts curriculum. The Mauraders are similar. Becoming animagi is not part of the Hogwarts curriculum. Making the map is not part of the curriculum. Both groups are brilliant, but they focus on very different things due to their drastically different situations.
The Mauraders become animagi to help Remus. They made the map to play pranks and have fun.
The trio, learned most of the spells they knew beyond the curriculum to protect themselves. Hermione learned the Protean Charm to make the D.A. coins and Harry learned Patronus and Protego to defend himself and others. The trio started fighting a war way younger than the Mauraders, so the extracurricular stuff they study is more oriented towards what they need, rather than to have fun.
I will note in general, that I don't think there's that big of a difference between the generations for most subjects (which are the same 12 subjects). I'd say the average student in Harry's time isn't worse in any subject (apart from DADA, perhaps) than the average student in the Mauraders' times. It's just that many of the main characters we hear about (such as Harry, Hermione, Lily, Severus, James, and Sirius) are not the average student. They are way above the average and considered exceptional by their various teachers. While characters like Ron, Remus, and Regulus are closer to the average, they are still above/the higher end of the average. So none of them is exactly an example of the standard.
I mean, think how many main characters we had at the Slug Club due to their skills, it just goes to show how exceptional they are. The average student can't exactly be measured according to the outliers.
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adult-kinda · 2 days ago
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My Baby Alone
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Warnings: mentions of death, hospitalization, comas, and disordered eating, chat this one’s angsty with a happy ending
In which Sunoo can’t leave yet…
300 days. For the past 300 days you had been visiting him. Every single day you made time to set aside your anxiety, enter that sterile building, and sit with him. You knew he wouldn’t respond. Everything in you said to let him go. The guys told you there was no hope and disbandment was in the works.
But you couldn’t. You weren’t going to give up so easily. Even if it was the tiniest voice in your soul begging you to stay.
“You would have loved to see the fans get well soon trucks today! They used your Not For Sale photos this time.” You said with a smile.
You knew he would be disappointed in you. You had lost a lot of weight and the sparkle in your eyes was gone. He would never have allowed this.
“Oh! And your photo cards are reselling for big prices too! Like thousands of dollars. The other members would be jealous.” You explained.
Once again nothing. Just the quiet beep from machinery.
“I’ve been putting in more hours. The company put out a statement announcing our relationship. I knew it’s what you would’ve wanted by now. So far not as much hate, but I try to distract myself. I’m working overtime most evenings.” You say referring to your job at the animal shelter.
The nurse stepped in the room and sighed.
“Y/N, darling, should we consider-“Don’t! Don’t even think about it.” You interrupted.
The nurse nodded and glanced at the body in the bed. Typically she wouldn’t push but it was nearing a year now. It was time.
“I know you don’t want to think about this, but it’s time. He’s not progressing.” She said.
You refused to answer her and waited for her to leave. Once she was finally gone and the door was shut you broke down. You had done so well with not crying while you were here but the possibility of losing him, it was too much.
“Why! Why would you leave me? You can’t do that!” You shouted.
Your pleas fell into the abyss of the fluorescent lights. But they weren’t unheard.
Sunoo heard you. He desperately wanted to get to you, to respond. But he was locked in and could not make his way out. He was banging on doors through an endless hallway praying someone would open.
“I thought you loved me!” You cried.
I do, princess! I do!
“Why do you insist on leaving?”
I’m trying to come back! I’m gonna find you!
“I love you so much!”
I love you too! Hold on just a little more!
When he was met with silence he assumed you’d left. But then you entered one more time. This time two other voices were with you as well as more on a mobile device.
“It’s time to let him go.” You said sorrowfully.
No! No! No!
“Are you sure? We can give you more time to say goodbye.” A male voice said.
“It’s alright, father. I think this is what he would have wanted.” A digital voice confirmed.
No! No this is not at all what I want!
Finally. After all these days of running and searching a door opened. Sunoo was running through that door and toward an image. An image of you holding his hand.
“I love you so much.”
I love you too! I’m almost there!
Pressure. Before the doctor could proceed with anything you felt pressure.
“Stop!” You shouted.
Everyone paused. You had felt phantom touches before but this, this was certainly different.
“Miss Y/N-“No! He’s here! He squeezed my hand!”
The doctor sighed. “Y/N we’ve been over this. It could be in your he-“No! Look! Grab his other hand.”
The doctor humored you and grabbed his other hand.
“Sunoo! If you can hear me squeeze your left hand!”
To the doctor’s surprise he squeezed. Hard. That was unmistakable.
“Oh my word.” He muttered.
You smiled with tears of joy streaming down.
“We’ll be there in the next hour.” Jungwon said over the phone before cutting the line.
I’m almost there, baby!
Just as Sunoo was going to step into the image he felt a tug on his arm. It was an… angel? It was so human but had wings… it was him. Sunoo was faced with a reflection of himself in the purest of whites with majestic wings.
“Come with me, it’s time. You have so many people waiting to meet you up here! And there’s kpop idols too that you would get along with.” The reflection said.
Sunoo looked at him intrigued, but you were down there.
“Come, Sunoo. You have family on the other side. Moonbin is on the other side. Jonghyun is on the other side. Your pets are on the other side. Heaven is waiting on the other side.” He said trying his hardest to convince him.
Sunoo missed these things. He had always wished he could go back and experience these people, these memories one last time.
But you were not on the other side.
“No. I’m not leaving my baby.” He said before stepping into the image.
“Doc we have signs of brain activity!” The nurse exclaimed.
Everything went so fast. Nurses were working to make sure everything was prepped. The doctor halted all end of life protocols. The priest stood outside to pray over the room. You… well you sat patiently waiting for your boy to come back to you.
Apparently you were very patient because you remained there the entire night. The rest of the Enhypen members waited outside in the waiting area, not wanting to get their hopes up.
“Good morning, Sunoo.” You greeted groggily.
You smiled when you felt a squeeze in your hand.
“I probably look a mess right now. I’m glad that you’re coming back. I’ve been missing you like crazy.”
Another three squeezes.
“Have you been missing me? I think about you seven days a week. I’ve never given up on you.”
You nodded in response to his pressure again.
“I’m excited to take care of you! You’ll stay in my apartment while you finish healing. I’ll make you all your favorite soups, hell I’ll even stock up on mint chocolate chip ice cream! I’ve been eating it since you’ve been gone, it reminds me of you.” You said with a giggle.
“I’ll be diligent. I’ll make sure you take all your medications and eat all your meals. I’ll do it all because I love you, Sunoo. I just need you to wake up for me.”
You ended your plea with a kiss on his lips. But this one was different. This time you could feel him kissing… back? There was no way! You pulled away in shock.
“My love.” Sunoo mumbled as his eyes slowly opened.
You gasped as you watched him come back to you. His eyes were opened, his voice was hoarse after not using it for so long. But none of that mattered to you. All that mattered was that he was alive.
“Sunoo!” You cried.
Sunoo saw you and gave his signature smile (albeit a little tired). “Hello my love.”
Your embrace was warm. Sunoo could get used to this again. You were so warm and loving, he knew he couldn’t afford for anyone else to hold you.
“You’re alive! You’re here and… oh Sunoo!” You sobbed into his chest.
Sunoo smiled and held you just as tightly. He had found you and was not going to let go.
He’d take your embrace over the wandering, the running through the hallway. And in the same breath he would do it all again if it meant he could spend lifetimes with you.
Heaven can wait.
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nyupuun · 6 months ago
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"continuation" of this post
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@xolboragainandagain
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#NOOOOOOOOO#Oh god oh fuck oh#That is. Actually one of those weird fears I've had before#If I become Chrysalis with her backstory I'm already fucked#IF I BECOME NEMO THOUGH?#XOLANIE????#LAMBE????? I DON'T WANNA BECOME OJ I HAVE HAD ENOUGH CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT ALREADY PLEASE#If I become Mister Lavender it's basically the same as normal except I live inside my own story while writing it#And everyone around me is just a character I'm writing who if they know about me hates me either out of resentment or jealousy or both#Gideon. I will have to live with the knowledge.#Gideon is probably the safest at least until the end since everyone dies in different meta ways ofc#Being Nemo. I would not cope.#I'm already overstimulated enough but the whole point of Nemo is that they hear and see everything in the World#to the point of being so overstimulated they just completely disassociate from reality#The disassociation is so bad they consider it 'dying' and being 'reborn' whenever they snap out of it#Because it's so different and hellish than normal and the only brief time they're aware is that one time when they were five#and that little while when they were eleven#AND IF I'M XOLANIE. I HAVE TO FEEL THE PAIN OF EVERY SINGLE HUMAN BEING IN THE WORLD????#Also it'll definitely fuck me up more with my numb emotions if I'm forced to feel the Love of the World like Nemo or the Hate like Xolanie#Chrysalis. Would I be able to leave the story like Chrysalis did?#She was so so brave for leaving but I have no idea if she's dead or alive because she left the story#I'm screwed no matter who I am.#And that is not even mentioning all the Lamp characters who are constantly rewritten in EVERY MOMENT THEY'RE IN THE STORY#tinhj#tagging my other blog so I can find and think about this later
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astronomalyy · 4 months ago
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Thinking about the lifespans of Dungeon Meshi elves... The fact that they're completely unnatural alters my brain chemistry, because you can tell just how haphazardly the demon implemented their wish. They live five times the length of tall-men, so they age at a fifth of their rate. It's simple maths and the implications are terrifying. No wonder their birth rate and population are declining - their early development is so slow that at the age of two, they're still unable to stand.
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They don't reach adulthood until their eighties. What does the infant mortality look like? How many elves succumb to illness or injury before they're fully mature? It only takes one accident to lose the child you've been raising for decades - and could you bring yourself to care for another? Add to that the implication elf culture has no idea how to process grief... just look at the way the Canaries treat Rin after the death of her parents. They're callous and insensitive and detached - part of that's racism, but there's also an element of pure cold ignorance. They don't even recognise the emotion on her face.
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And that's just scratching the surface... does elven memory accommodate their extended lifespan? Once you reach two hundred or so, do the years start blurring together? Kabru mentions that their temporal awareness is remarkably poor.
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Two years feel like a few months. Their lives are longer but not fuller. They're older but not wiser than the short-lived races, and most refuse to understand this. Those that do grasp it are interesting - namely Otta, who's ostracised for pursuing half-foot women.
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A 30-year old elf is a young child; a 30-year old half-foot has entered middle age. Otta is in the equivalent of her late twenties. She knows that her elven lifespan makes her no more mature than a half-foot - but she also acknowledges that it creates a rift between herself and her partners, and not just in the eyes of society. 'She dumps them as soon as they pass 30', but probably not for the reasons Lycion assumes. For this to be a pattern, decades must have passed - it's possible Otta doesn't want to watch them die as she herself barely ages. No doubt some of her previous lovers have already passed away. In the end, all living 400 years accomplishes is leaving them out of sync with the rest of humanity.
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Marcille's perhaps the best example. As a half-elf, she's got 95% of her life ahead and the thought terrifies her. She's going to lose everyone she loves, over and over and over again, and this cycle has barely even started. She runs at a different pace. This context adds so much to her dynamic with Falin in earlier chapters.
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Marcille loves her! She's scared for her! Maybe even of her! She's grown attached to a short-lived girl who she met as a kid when Marcille was a teaching assistant! Biologically and developmentally, they're the same age, but chronologically she's twice as old as Falin! Considering what happened to her mother, is history repeating itself? Her feelings towards Falin are tangled and messy and fascinating. They're also more than a little homoerotic, which makes Marcille's infantilization of her friend all the more interesting. It feels like her way of resolving their power imbalance, of remaining a responsible (former!) authority figure... but it's also a coping mechanism. She's frightened by the ways Falin is maturing and changing - aging - and keeping her mental image of her friend as young as possible is her way of denying the march of time that's destined to sever their bond.
Marcille's dream of lifespan extension would remove the need for this obfuscation, render them equal... only, they already are! This desire is imposed onto Falin, but it's primarily for Marcille's benefit. Watching her fight for a world nobody wants, for reasons both selfish and altruistic... it's as tragic as it is understandable. I love this manga.
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sugarverse · 1 month ago
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Hiii! I was wondering if I could request either long or short fic about Tenya Iida. Likes it can be set in a modern setting where's he's a senior college student who's majoring in business and he has to take one more class to get his degree. It just so happened that the class is in the art building, and it is figure drawing (aka nude drawing) . Since he's just now hearing of the extra class he has to take, he's suddenly shocked when the model is an old friend of his from back home, whom he had a childhood crush on. Not only does his feelings for her come back, but he also has to have 1 on 1 section with the model for educational purposes. I kinda want it to be smut and fluff or however you see it fit. Anyway, I hope it's enough+
hi babe! omg I love this idea I kinda went a lil crazy and made it way too long. I hope u enjoy :)!!
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𝘿𝙧𝙖𝙬𝙣 𝙏𝙤𝙜𝙚𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧
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word count: 3.5k
mentions of: This is really just the fluff portion of it, kinda suggestive bc he pops a boner and leads to sex in part two. I think I’m going to make a third part simply so the two of you can go on a genuine date andsotheresmoreiidaxblackreaderouthere.
a/n: hells yeah that’s enough, hopefully I did what ya asked and so sorry I went overboard I have serious problems. here’s the smut part bc a 6.7k fic is doing too damn much but i can’t stfu my fault gang
moodboard here!
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Tenya Iida.
4th year, Senior in college majoring in International Business and minoring in Spanish at Angelwood College of Arts and Sciences.
The visual arts building had only been a few minutes away from the business side of campus, which he gladly enjoyed the walk. This spring all he needed to finish was two gen ed classes, the rest revolved around his major and minor. His counselor helped set up his ‘missing’ classes before winter break considering he had to fly back to Japan to see his family for the holidays. He was ecstatic to learn all he needed was an art class with lab and a communications class. 
When he asked what the class entailed, all he was met with was “beginner artists learning anatomy.” It didn’t sound difficult, just draw what you see. It would be nice to try something new anyway. He was not much of an artist but like all things Tenya does, he planned to give this class his all. The first week had been pretty easy, learning how to draw what you see with the use of models, shapes, and lines. Nothing too hard to follow. He would practice drawing his friends on the sketchpad he bought specifically for the class as a form of studying in the free time he had.
He neverminded it for the most part, excelling his knowledge in different countries in his free time to get better at his major. Sure they could teach you the technical way to do things, but in the end, everyone is still human. It would be inconsiderate to do business with a country and know little to nothing about their culture! It took almost two weeks for him to finally be able to even start the art project anyway.
As time went on and the January snow grew less and less, it was time to start their first real project of the semester. One on One figure drawing. The class needed to fill out a form explaining their free hours due to the limited art space and everyone's different schedules. Tenya happily filled it out when it was posted, continuing to work on class work from the library so that the lecture room could also be used for said project.
Their professor had explained that in-person class would remain on Mondays and Thursdays. It just worked out better for the models and students to have so much space.
He made the small walk over to the arts building for his last class of the day, a small shine in his glasses as he entered the white light of the room. The walls were anything but bare, artwork and unfinished projects sat in every corner of the room. Paint racks, canvases big and small, even stacks of unused clay. There was a stool sitting on a small platform in the middle of the room, assuming where the model will sit. 
He stood next to the stool for a moment, looking up at the grey February sky through the skylight. The natural lighting was great, almost like a spotlight. He adjusted the lights in the room a moment, dimming them slightly so the white light hadn’t been so harsh on his eyes. He headed over to a more organized table, setting out the art supplies how he liked. He knew he was early, but he wanted to make a good first impression. What’s better than being on time?
He pulled out his laptop, checking that the few assignments for today were done and submitted. A small frown tugged at his lips as he realized he hadn’t finished something completely, typing in the last few answers. He always double checked, technology was reliable.. When it wanted to be. He couldn’t hear the shuffle of slippers against the floor over his typing and frankly, loud thinking. 
He could see someone walk past in a teal robe representing the university's colors. Glancing up from the computer to give the model a proper hello, Tenya opens his mouth to speak but pauses. 
“Y/n?” He asked, almost in a whisper in case he was wrong. A small look of confusion caused him to tilt his head to the side slightly. He hadn’t been able to see you for awhile with such busy schedules, but he knew your silhouette by heart. 
You turn at the sound of your name, mid sliding off the slippers and fumbling with the gold silk of the belt. “Tenya?” You smile, asking as you turn to slide your shoes back on and quickly shuffle your way over to him. He felt his face burn red, frozen in place for a moment with his jaw slack. He stood as if needing to detach from the seat, smiling at your happy demeanor and your quickness to wrap your arms around him. 
“It is you! I know those shoulders from anywhere!” You beamed, feeling his hovering hands slowly place themselves on your back to return the hug. He was very hesitant, simply because you were only in a robe. You pull away, hands resting on your hips and giving him a big smile. “Now what are you doin’ taking a figure drawing class, Mister businessman?”
He let out a sheepish chuckle, “I needed an art credit, W-What are u doing here?” He never had any classes with you at Angelwood, A few honors classes and gym in highschool but other than that, nada. Throughout the course of growing up, your interests drove you to different classes. 
However, classes don't matter when your families are as close as yours and the Iida family. Shared Holidays, playdates, game nights.. It wasn’t like you were some stranger. You both always made time to hang out a few times during the year to catch up without the family just to give a real check on each other. It was his favorite, almost like a mini holiday to talk to you.
He loved spending time with you. You were smart, articulated and incredibly creative. You never took slack from anyone.. Even in middle school he can remember you being the one to stand up and say something when things weren’t right. You were headstrong and determined in anything that you did.. Art majors always get a lot of grief but you never let that deter you. And that was admirable in itself! ..And he had always thought you were so pretty. 
He felt like a kid again, heart feeling as if it’d beat out of his chest at the mere sight of you. It had been around Halloween the last time he saw you, and here it was. Almost Valentine's day.. Still as pretty and bright as he remembered. Your next hangout wasn't for another month or so, so it was nice to see you sooner than that.
“I'm your model, silly!” You head over to the stool, continuing to speak. “The art department asked if I’d help in modeling and I said yes! People were too scared to sign up for the most part. I’m surprised this is the class you picked. Did you want to learn how to draw people?” You slide your slippers off once more, untying the cute bow on your hip that held your robe shut. 
Suddenly the room was very hot and he couldn't breathe. Now his heart really WAS beating out of his chest. He quickly did a 180, shielding his eyes and removing his glasses for extra measure. “WHY– do yoU have.. nothing on underrrrneath?” He croaked, voice cracking as his tone raised slightly.
You tilt your head at such a question, the gears clicking a little later than they should have. “Figure drawing is um.. Nude drawing, Tenya. You didn't know that?” You slide the robe back on, giggling at the flustered man across from you. You could see his shoulders tense, shaking his head slowly.
Now how the fuck could he have missed that.
“I um.. No, I didn't. I thought that it was.. I don't know what I thought. My counselor picked it for me and I.. Most models we've used so far have.. had skin colored undergarments… On.” He let out a nervous laugh, keeping his glasses off. He turns around, cleaning them with the end of his shirt but refusing to look up at you. He needed to mentally prepare his brain to be professional in a situation like this. Not that he minded the glance, he just never thought this would be how..
You prop your feet onto the edge of the stool, interrupting his thought. You held your knees up to your chest so he couldn’t see anything but your bare legs. “Oh Ten, I’m sorry! I can ask someone else to-”
“No! I am perfectly.. capable. It's professional and I can be.. professional..” He put his glasses back on, hand refusing to be steady as he did so. He let out a shaky sigh, smiling at you and finally looking at you once more.
You let out a small laugh at the blush on his cheeks. He was so handsome, but to see him so flustered over little ol’ you? It made your week. “We can start slow, that might help.” you slide the robe down your shoulders, slowly putting your legs back down so he could see your robed torso once more. You stopped at the top of your breasts, letting your collarbone show. “Do you have any specific poses..?” You ask quietly, trying to hold back your amusement.
He sits down, red faced and completely flushed. A nude model.. jeez. From sleepovers to recess, studying together to graduating, and now almost graduating for the final time together. That's something you don’t get to have in every lifetime. But why do these thoughts keep coming back to him now? 
There was no way he could still have romantic feelings for you. He’d never put your friendship at risk like that!
..right?
“I um.. yeah, small.” He cleared his throat, “Could you um.. Could you stand slightly off of the um.. Almost like getting up?” He fumbled over his words, staring at the empty paper as if he could burn the quick image in his brain onto the page to get the embarrassment over with. He sighed once more, trying to focus as he began sketching circles and lines as a starter sketch of the pose he wanted.
“When you need to draw a certain part I'll move it, Sound fair?” You ask, resting one foot onto the stool and one onto the ground. Your hand gripped the seat as your butt sat on the edge, similar to when people do that supposedly hot thing where they throw their head back and pull some weird rope to have water get poured on them. 
It was second nature at this point for people to see you. Of course some of them were flustered and it was pretty awkward at first, but normally not to the point of stuttering and stammering. It wasn’t often that you saw Tenya fall apart, but this was way different. Especially considering you flashed him without warning. He was one of the most endearing people you had ever met, there was no way you would have done that without proper context.
He could only nod in response, not wanting to further make a fool of himself. Lightly tapping the pencil against the table, He looks up at you. “You can um.. re.. remove the top part, y/n..” It was hard to simply draw your arms and collarbone without including the robe, so you might as well rip the band-aid off and start with the top. 
You nod, dropping it happily and letting the robe pull around your hips and between your legs. You close your eyes, facing up toward the skylight in an attempt to make him less nervous. “Sorry for flashing you at first, I would have explained but I assumed you had already known..?” You laugh quietly to yourself at your own mistake. Why would someone like him even take this class if he knew what it actually entailed?
And God, did he feel like a pervert staring at your chest like this. The boner poking his thigh almost immediately didn't help, making it even harder to concentrate. Way to keep composure. He pressed his lips together for a moment before speaking. “I had no idea, I’m sorry for my r..reaction.” He answered, stopping the pencil tapping to actually begin sketching more than just circles and lines. He hadn’t meant to yell, but he felt like he was close to passing out. 
“I think it was a pretty valid one.” You send a reassuring smile his way, seeing him send you one right back. Trying to ease the mood, you look back up at the ceiling and close your eyes to avoid staring at the ugly overcast sky above you. “How was winter break? You get to go home and see your family? How are they?” 
His smile grew wider at your question, scooting under the desk a bit more so that you hopefully wouldn’t notice his body reacting. “They’re great, Tensei is getting married soon,” He sounded excited at the thought alone, incredibly proud of his brother. 
“And my mother has started a hobby making soap, if you can believe it. She sent me some to bring back one that smells like lavender and another that smells like oranges mixed with I believe she said papaya.? She made a coconut smelling one for you– I was going to give it to you the next time we saw each other,” 
The sound of his sketching stopped and started as he spoke, giving your body small glances as he tried to study each part of your upper torso. The way your stomach creased, The way your shoulder was slightly lifted causing your collarbone to be more prominent, the curve of your breasts.. “How was your Holiday, y/n?”
“No way, Tensei is getting married?!” You accidentally stop posing, fully facing him in genuine shock. The robe was still covering your lower half, you had tied the belt to avoid accidentally flashing him again but here we are. You watch his face become even more red, eyes very obviously not meeting yours but still like a deer in headlights. 
You quickly get back to posing how you were, “Sorry Ten, That's amazing!! I hope everything goes smoothly for him and his soon to be wife.. And tell your mommy I said thank you for thinking of me. I can't wait to try it!”
A smile stayed on your lips as you thought about the times you’ve spent in the Iida household. His mother always had the best candles and incense burning, you were positive the soap would be the same. “My family is up to the same old shit, you know them..” You let out a small groan, the holidays weren’t an absolute disaster, but after not being home so long makes you remember why you aren’t going to school anywhere near home. 
“I did get some cool stuff for Christmas though! I got some new clothes and they got me a few art kits. You know, where it teaches you how to crochet? I also have a new diamond painting kit, I haven't opened either yet because it's just been so busy.” You replied, tapping your fingers on the side of the stool where your hand sat. 
You look up once more, this time because the skylight was beginning to be covered in snow. You watched as it fell, thinking back to old times when you and Tenya would spend the last three major holidays with each other. You’d always make sure to trick or treat together, your families have been sharing Thanksgiving for as long as you can remember, and spending the night in your basement on Christmas eve to wait for Santa until you were both too old. Then instead of waiting for Santa, you’d all eat at least one meal together on Christmas day. Sometimes homemade breakfast, other times a small trip to IHOP or Waffle House.
“God damn it.. It’s snowing again..” You let out a small laugh, looking over at him over your shoulder, fingers still tapping away at the base of the stool. “Hey Ten, Do you remember when we used to have those big snowball fights? The one near Red Fern?” 
“Of course I do! You refused to wear any kind of gloves and my mother would make you at least put socks on your hands so you didn’t get frostbite!” The two of you shared a small laugh at the memories of being young and dumb.
“Gloves always made my hands too itchy! They still do– But I kicked your ass in snowball fights with gloves or not.” You retort, a smirk appearing on your face. “Ice queen y/n of everything.” You could remember the insane snowball fights the neighborhood kids would have every. time. It snowed. If there was enough to make a few snowballs, there was enough to start a war. Tenya was always on your team, but it never stopped you from throwing a few his way. The ‘winner’ was King or Queen of the hill and first to sled down, which often enough was you.
“Remember when you almost broke my glasses throwing one right at my face?” He snickered, watching your smirk turn into a small pouty frown. He knew you didn’t mean to, that same day you helped your mom make cookies for him and his family as an apology, even though he wasn’t upset to begin with. But you knew it could have broken his glasses and you would be devastated if you were the reason for it. You were a real sweetheart, even if you had a weird way of showing sometimes.
“Hey! You know that wasn’t on purpose, I felt really bad after! I even let you get me back!” Which was true, but he never aimed for your face. Always a spot on your fluffy coat, never your legs because you hated your pants being wet… and a face shot just felt wrong to him. 
“Yeah, Yeah. I remember that part too,” He smiled to himself. “Those were really good times.. I remember Tensei always bringing us hot chocolate and we’d sit on your porch and draw things in the snow..”
“Oh! And when we’d come back all wet and mom already had spare clothes in her hands because she didn’t want it on the carpet. We’d put on too big clothes just to sit and watch Christmas movies..” You missed those times. But they never really had to stop, you two could have a huge snowball fight after this if you wanted to and the snow stuck. Was he too grown for that? Would it even sound fun to him?
“Do you still watch A Year Without Santa Clause every year?” He asks, breaking your train of thought. You nodded quickly at his question, grinning like a maniac. “Of course I do! And I watch Charlie Brown’s Christmas, Rudolph The Rednosed Reindeer.. And sometimes Spongebob's Christmas Special. Do you still watch old Christmas cartoons?”
“Why wouldn’t I? Don’t wanna ruin tradition.” He answered, pressing his lips together slightly as he stared down at the paper. You can tell he freezes a bit, the sound of his scribbling coming to a stop. He set the pencil down, rubbing the sweat of his hands onto his thighs.
 “You can um.. remOove-..” He quickly cleared his throat, “The rest.” He let out a disappointed sigh at his inability to keep composure. This wouldn't be half the problem it was if it was someone else modeling. But this is you we're talking about. 
“You sure? If you need a minute we can take a break, honey.” You gave him a sympathetic look, still smiling but this time more.. warm. The kind of smile someone gives to another when they genuinely care for them. Or love them for that matter. He adored it, it was the same smile you'd give him when saying he needs to take a break, the same smile you give him when the two of you out to get coffee and catch up. The same smile he's fallen for many, many times. 
But to tell you the truth? It’s driving him crazy. All of this. Was driving him crazy. No matter how hard he tried to be professional, he could stop his wandering mind. You were a goddess. What else was there to do besides take a break and hopefully release some steam in the bathroom or something. Completely inappropriate, but the pain from being hard for so long was starting to cloud the best judgment. 
He looks down at the sketch so far, then back to you as he rubbed his hand upward against his face. It pushed his glasses up, causing them to be crooked when going back down. “I um.. I think I do.. need a minute.” His voice died out as he watched you slide the robe back on, words failing him because couldn’t think completely straight.
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© if you like what you see please reblog! It means a lot and helps me out. Want more? Heres my m.list! I write for x black reader so throw me some requests :P my other account are icons and x black reader moodboards if you’re interested!
thank you @thecutestgrotto for the banners and thank you @fizzintine for coloring the top pic!
have a good day/night/whatever!
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peachsayshi · 4 months ago
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// brutally soft // I.
baby daddy!sukuna x reader
tags: non curse au; fluff; tension; reader and sukuna are co-parents; girl dad sukuna; mentions troubled past with sukuna; alludes to significant size different | wc: 1,653 | read this for more context
note: I hope I got the honorifics right lol please correct me if I didn't
dni if your blog is blank / ageless / or are a minor
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You didn’t think it was possible for a five year old to render you speechless, nor did you think she was capable of making your former lover blush the deepest shade of tomato red. You part your lips in surprise, stunned as you look down at her innocent expression. She’s sitting on your living room floor, her face perched on her palms with her elbows resting against the coffee table. Her wide eyes drift between you and Sukuna sitting on the sofa, her bottom lip tucked between her teeth as she tilts her head slightly out of intrigue.
“Mama?” She presses, begging for an answer.
Your mouth moves but no words come out. You’re trying to formulate a proper response that’s palatable for her, one that will be enough to subdue any further questions.
Except you’re not quite sure how to answer: “why don’t you and daddy ever kiss?” without making her pry even more into your history with her father.
Sukuna runs his large palms back and forth nervously over his thigh, the muscles on his inked forearms tensing up.
“We kiss,” you fib, because what else are you supposed to say, “of course we do!”
Your daughter’s face falters, and she quirks her brow as sassily as her father when they both mirror the same expression to look at you.
You glance back at Sukuna, giving him an awkward smile because at least you said something all the while he just sat there. 
“No, you don’t…” your daughter insists.
“Yeah, yeah that’s right…we do…of course, we do…” Sukuna pipes in with a mumble, finally catching on to your attempts as he reverts his attention on to his precious girl.
“I’ve never seen it,” she points out with a pout, scolding her father playfully in return.
“That’s because we don’t do it in front of you,” Sukuna remarks. “Besides, who wants to see their parents kiss?”
His daughter rolls her eyes, “all other mommies and daddies do it, except you guys. It makes no sense…”
She’s got the tiniest voice and the softest lisp, but her attitude is entirely her father. She’s bold and blunt, never afraid to say exactly what she’s thinking or to point the obvious.
“Oji-san kisses oba-san in front of Shiro…” she mumbles, dropping both her hands onto the coffee table and crumpling the paper that she is using to draw her little family portrait.
At the mention of his younger brother Sukuna can’t help but grimace. Yuji was incredibly affectionate towards his wife, wearing his heart on his sleeve entirely which just makes Sukuna grumble with annoyance. He’s always been a little envious of his younger brother, who never had to face the world as harshly as Sukuna. With an eleven year gap between them, Sukuna witnessed his parents becoming actual parents. They were young when they had him, and therefore had no clue what it took to raise or take care of a child. Sukuna was caught in the middle of their relationship for most of his childhood, all the while Yuji got to see the peaceful harmony once they finally made up.
“I’m just saying…” your daughter adds on, “…it’s weird.”
You breathe out a sigh in defeat, knowing full well that she won’t let go of the subject until she gets some consolation.
So incredibly stubborn just like her dad.
Without considering the repercussions, you reach your hand out and clutch Sukuna’s chin delicately between your fingers. You tilt his head towards you, noticing the slow register of your touch wash over his face as you lean up to kiss his cheek.
However, you misjudged your aim, because Sukuna tilted his head down in return, and you wound up leaving a gentle kiss on the corner of his mouth instead.
Your lips lingered for only a few seconds, three to be exact, before you retracted and turned towards your daughter.
“See?” You insist, holding onto Sukuna’s chin like it’s evidence between your fingers. “We kiss!”
Your daughter’s mouth forms into a line, clearly unimpressed. The older she’s getting the more she’s picking up on the little things that you guys were hiding so well.
But it’s still way too complicated, and you and Sukuna haven't even discussed how to approach this yet.
“I guess,” she says with a shrug of her shoulders, before returning to her drawing.
You didn’t even know that Sukuna has his focus still locked onto your lips tuntil you turn to look back at him.His gaze is soft, the muscles of his handsome features melting between your touch. There’s a hint of sorrow that twinkles in his eyes, and when you tuck your bottom lip between your teeth apologetically, you notice that you left a lipstick stain in your wake.
“Sorry,” you mouth, and carefully use your thumb to swipe over the mark.
But your heart seizes quickly, your spine growing still when Sukuna mildly inches forward like he’s about to go in for another kiss.
You remember what it was like to kiss him. He was an exceptionally good kisser, even though he probably doesn’t know it himself. You’ve spent hours losing time locked against those lips, allowing his tongue to taste every last drop of you.
There’s a twitch in your chest, everything around you going quiet. Heat pricks the back of your neck when his lips draw just a breath away from yours, and you swear to yourself that he grazed over your mouth with a featherlight touch.
But Sukuna stops suddenly, catching himself.
“Be right back,” he whispers, his voice dipping so low you can’t help but clench your thighs together.
He shoots up from his seat, detangling quickly as he brushes you off, and leaving you to stare aimlessly at his broad back and overbearing muscles. Your sofa suddenly appears a lot larger with all that free space.
You press both hands to your cheeks, licking your lips as the apprehension runs through you as a cold chill. You can’t even remember when was the last time you kissed the father of your child, but you didn’t think that such a small act would have such a lingering effect.
You thought you were over this. Over him. That chapter was closed a long, long time ago.
You look up at the cause of this unexpected interaction, your daughter’s short attention span keeping her focused on her doodle while she hums to herself.
Sukuna returns with his head held high a few minutes after, and plops down on the sofa with his weight prompting you to bounce lightly in place.
That’s when you felt it, a hint of cold hitting your brow like a tiny droplet of rain.
Your furrow your brows then notice that your Sukuna’s hair is actually damp, with little tears trickling down the back of his neck.
The tips of his ears are still burning red.
You part your lips in awe.
Sukuna is a master at making you blush. At making any woman blush, frankly. But you don’t think you’ve ever actually seen that reaction on him.
It stuns you how much it suits him, and surprises you even more of just how cute he looks trying to hide it.
“Daddy, can you help me?” Your daughter asks, finally focusing back on the two of you while her finger draws out an outline of what appears to be two arms.
“Whatever you want, Princess…” Sukuna responds, and obediently gets up from his seat.
He perches himself on the floor, the size difference between him and your little girl doing nothing to help the sudden hammering in your chest.
He’s so, so gentle with her.
She crawls onto his lap, holding the sheet of paper in her hand, before setting herself back up while sitting on his thighs.She points to the drawing with her index finger, “I don’t know how to draw your tattoos…”
Sukuna chuckles, a glimpse of his smile making you to scratch the warmth off the back of your neck.
He picks up a black pencil, “you’re a better artist than me, kid,” he states honestly, “not quite sure what I can do to help…”
She wraps her arms around his neck, leaving her dad to carry on the effort.
“I’ll explain the shapes and you draw it!” She says with a kiss to his cheek.
It’ll never cease to amaze you how easily he bends to her will. Sukuna had no interest in any of this, and was obstinate in every sense of the word. Nothing could turn that man into a docile cat except when it comes to your little girl. He’s present with her, this part of him just so different, and even after five years it still feels a tad unfamiliar.
There’s a slight tightness in your throat because this is all you wanted when you were together. After the break up and surprise pregnancy, you didn’t realize how hard he took it when you told him that you have zero expectations of him being involved in your daughter’s life. You were just informing him out of moral obligation, but something switched on inside him after that.
It may not have been for you, but he made that change for her, and seeing them together now, you recognize just how much that man loves his little girl.
That fact alone makes you undeniably happy.
So happy you wish you could give him a real kiss for it.
Your daughter moves to pat his head in gesture of a good job as Sukuna follows her instructions to the T, but her faces scrunches with disgust when she threads her fingers between his locks.
“Daddy, why is your hair wet?”
Sukuna brings his free hand to massage the back of her scalp, “Pay attention to the drawing, missy…and stop asking so many damn, I mean uh-darn questions…” he responds, leaving a kiss on her brow and doing everything in his power to make sure that he avoids looking back at you.
tag: @selarina @yuujispinkhair @blush-bambi @tojislittleprincesss
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gojoest · 6 months ago
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BEDTIME STORY (about love) — gojo satoru
in which satoru tells his daughter the story of how you met. those of you who’ve read this already know, but your now 4-year-old daughter is yet to hear it
girl dad satoru, father-daughter time, she/her pronouns used for reader, wc: 1k, not proofread, just a silly little thing
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“papa”
“yes, my life?”
“how did you and mama meet?”
“oh my, i never told you the story?”
“no, papa. you didn’t”
“well—"
one thing gojo satoru never fails to do, no matter how busy his schedule, is reading bedtime stories to his 4-year-old daughter. even when he’s swamped with missions, he would make sure he is at home by the time his daughter had to sleep — after tucking her in, he would sit beside her with a book in hand and read her a story until she’s fast asleep.
but tonight, your daughter asked for a different kind of story — the origin of your love, how the two of you met — and truth be told, satoru was more than excited to talk about it (as he always is whenever the topic in question involved you).
his eyes glowing with the same old dreamy glint anytime your name was mentioned, he puts the book on the nightstand and makes himself comfortable next to his little one in bed. slightly scooching her over so he could sit with his back leaning against the headboard, he cradles her in his arms and takes a deep breath before starting.
“it all happened on my birthday, 7 years ago”
“december 7th!”, your daughter excitedly points out.
satoru chuckles, his chest swelling with joy that his little daughter remembers his birthday. “that’s right, my life. your mother came into my life like a birthday present”, his lips curl into a gentle smile as he reminisces about the night that changed his entire life.
“was mama invited to your birthday?”
“no, but we just happened to be in the same restaurant that night. while i was celebrating with friends, she was there, on another table, with her coworkers”
your daughter hums, “i see”
“she was so beautiful, i noticed her the moment she walked in. and i couldn’t take my eyes off her for the rest of the night. i knew i had to go and talk to her before she left. something in me knew she was the one, you know?”
your little one tilts her head up to look at satoru, eyes curiously blinking, “but how did you know, papa?”
“my heart whispered it to me, beating relentlessly the entire time. it was like this unknown force was pulling me towards your mom and the whole time i was trying to come up with a plan, an excuse even, to go talk to her without coming off as a weirdo”
“and did you succeed?”
“well, by the looks of it—”, he points at her and gently boops her nose, “i did”
she chuckles sweetly, “no, papa—i mean did you manage to not be a weirdo?”
“hmm, i’ll let you decide on that one. so pay attention, okay?”, to which she silently nods. his hand rubs the top of her head softly before continuing.
“you see, i couldn’t think of anything but nor could i wait any longer. i decided i’d just go and say hi. so i stood up and made my way towards her table. i had to know her as soon as possible, because every second of inaction felt like it was taking away from my future with her. any second was precious, you know? if i could be with her sooner, be it even a planck time earlier, i had to take it — as it would only add up to the time spent with her”
“what is planck time, papa?”, your daughter cuts him off.
“it’s theoretically considered to be the shortest measurable time”
“is it less than a second?”
“waaaaay less”
“woah, papa you were down bad for mama”, your daughter gasps in amusement.
an audible laugh breaks through satoru’s lips, “yea, i was. and i still am”
“and what happened when you went over?”
“i said hi but she wasn’t having it at all, didn’t even bat me an eye. tried to chase me off before i was able to introduce myself. but i was already determined to make her mine, i knew it deep down that she was my person. so i forced my way and introduced myself”
“papa you’re a stubborn one”
“yea, but your mother turned out to be even more stubborn. she dodged all my attempts at her. so, i had to make it very clear to her, let her know that the man standing before her was the one to be her boyfriend, then her husband, and then the father of her children — therefore, in order for all this to work, i asked for her number”
“you really said all that?” — satoru nods to her question affirmatively. “papa, that’s so bold of you, honestly”, another gasp leaves your 4-year-old’s mouth. “and then?”
“and then she got mad at me, thought i was playing around with her”, satoru chuckles, brushing a hand across his face at the memory, closing his eyes to replay that very scene in his mind. your reaction is still pretty vivid to him, how your eyes grew wide in disbelief after what he had just told you...
i am gojo satoru, also known as the man to be your boyfriend, then your husband, and then the father of your children — and you are to be my girlfriend, then my wife, and then the mother of my children…
…and then how you narrowed your eyes and gave him a good lecture.
is this your move? you pull this on everyone you find remotely attractive?
“to be honest, i was slightly panicking internally — this was my best move, you know? and it was failing. but luckily, your uncle suguru came to my aid. he convinced your mom to give me a chance before blatantly turning me down. and she did — i got her number by the end of the night”, a soft smile painted on his lips again. “look at us now — wasn’t i right about all that?”
“papa, you’re a hopeless romantic”
“you bet i am”, he smugly confirms.
“…and a bit of a weirdo”, she cackles quietly.
“oi”, satoru furrows his brows. his hand softly tickles the side of her, incurring a loud laugh on her end. “shhh, time to sleep now or else mama will scold me for keeping you up past your bedtime”
“but, papa — you did well, being a weirdo paid off”
“yea, it really did — it gave me a home and a family”, his eyes soften observing the treasure in his arms.
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undiscovered-horizon · 1 year ago
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[It’s considered good etiquette to ask a man about his wife’s wellbeing. Except if the man in question is Dracule Mihawk.]
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Garp hates having to call Mihawk, mainly because of the warlord's attitude. Used to the usual "yes, sir!" of the Marines, a man with his own will and agenda is not something he entirely knows how to navigate. Especially since both of them know that the World Government needs the warlords more than they need the bureaucracy. And that doesn't exactly help in exercising power.
His attempts at diplomacy have burst into flames each time and today isn't going to be much different:
"How’s the missus?" Garp asks in the nicest tone he can force although he's aware that Mihawk knows how much the vice admiral hates asking for Dracule's assistance.
Mihawk only scoffs. "Are you calling just to spoil my mood or is there another reason for your impertinence?"
"I was just trying to-"
"Don't," he cuts him off in a stern voice. "If you have business with me, speak fast. If you're interested in my wife, I know where you live, Garp. I'd suggest losing your unwelcome nosiness before you lose something else."
Little did Garp know at the time but his little question was possibly the worst strategy he could think of. Dracule Mihawk is not like most men and the mere mention of his wife by acquaintances only enrages him. Work and private life do not ever mix. And he'll be damned if someone tries to breach that, even in the form of a courtesy. Therefore, the rest of the call was filled with openly insulting answers that were bold even for Mihawk. A veiled threat or two also found their way into their rather tense conversation.
You know he's done with Garp when he lets out a frustrated grunt. Sometimes you wonder if this grumpy, forever dissatisfied version of him is the only side of Mihawk his acquaintances know. Maybe he really is two men in the form of one.
He's sitting at his desk, thinking about something and not bothering to get up for now. Considering the fact that his hat is lying on the table and not on his head, Mihawk is probably not planning on going out anytime soon. Then again, judging by his spoiled mood, his homestay is a blessing for the first poor sods that would cross his path.
In slow steps, you stroll to his side, letting your hand brush through his hair. He doesn't say anything, only leans his head further towards you. The thing about Mihawk is that he loved to reject and decline but he never does so to you. No, in your case it's the opposite - he revels in allowing you whatever you want.
So intimidating and combative, yet soft and looking for intimacy. Truly, two men with the face of one.
"My mother used to say that each grey hair is one thing we worry about," you say quietly. "At this rate, love, your whole head will be white by noon."
"Your mother also says that milk goes sour because gnomes piss in it," he retorts. Yes, your mother and her strange folk beliefs... She's probably the only person Mihawk can force himself to be nice to despite his dislike.
His response earns a hearty laugh from you. Clear as day, you can see his posture relax as he listens to the music of your happiness. If he even thinks about the possibility of Garp or any other of his acquaintances hearing it, he might just get furious again.
"Well, nobody's perfect," you say between chuckles.
Then, Mihawk gently grabs your hand and lowers it to his face. With softness and passion that hardly befits a man of his infamy, he kisses the inside of your hand. "You seem to be doing so effortlessly."
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coldfanbou · 3 months ago
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A Drunken Mistake
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Our little SYLM story continues, and we go a little wild after so many drinks. Oh well.
Length 2.7K
Chaeyoung X Mreader
Previous Part
Next Part
You arrive at the cafe Dahyun mentioned. As you step through the door, you see her sitting at the back of the cafe, waving you down with a smile on her face.  “You made it,” Dahyun said softly as you sat down. 
“Yep, what did you want to talk about Dahyun?”
Dahyun's words get caught in her throat, and she’s forced to take a deep breath. “I-it’s just something I’ve wanted to tell you.” Dahyun moves her hair behind her ear, her smile fading as she shifts in her seat. “There’s, um, no easy way for me to say this, but I want to…” Dahyun's voice lowers to a whisper, and her gaze moves down to the table.  She balls her fists under the table as she tries to push forward with her confession, “I want to be more,” she blurts out, her anxiety at an all-time high. A small silence followed before Dahyun began speaking again her pace speeding up as she spilled her guts to you. “I know you’ve been sleeping with the others, and I’m okay with that, but I want to be someone more for you. I feel safe with you, and you’re so kind, and this is the first time I’ve felt this way since before I had Eunsoo.” Dahyun feels tears beginning to well up in her eyes, but she shakes her head and wipes them away, her vulnerability palpable.
“Hey, Dahyun, there’s no need to cry,” you say softly, reaching over the table to put a hand on her shoulder. You consider your options as you calm Dahyun. You had to admit you were in an awkward position, caught between so many women and having feelings for a few of them. It was a lot to think about, especially when you considered Jeongyeon. You pause for a moment, trying to gather your thoughts. “Dahyun, I appreciate you feeling that way about me, but I’m not sure. I’m not sure about anything right now. Look, here is what’s going on in my mind. I’ve been in sexual relationships with your Jeongyeon and others. Things change if I get into a relationship, and it will be a big change.” You see the disappointment in Dahyun’s eyes, and you feel your heart drop. You sigh, “Dahyun, let’s start again. I’m not going to commit to any exclusive dating yet, but if you feel okay with it. Dahyun, you’re a wonderful woman, but I don’t know if we’re a good match yet. I know I’m asking for a lot, but I can’t commit to an exclusive relationship, so why don’t we just get to know each other better for now? If things go well, we can make the next step together.”
Dahyun nods her head slowly, “Okay, I can do that.” Dahyun was disappointed with the outcome of her confession, but she was also thankful she didn’t get locked out of your heart. She slowly loosens her fists and places her hands on the table. 
“Why don’t we go somewhere? We can take Eunsoo to an aquarium.” You tell Dahyun, trying to move on. Dahyun can’t help but crack a small smile, happy that you would consider her child. She nods, agreeing to go on the impromptu date. You and Dahyun head to the daycare where she had left Eunsoo, picking her up. After putting Eunsoo into her seat, you take off to the aquarium; the closer you get to it, the bigger Dahyun’s smile gets. She’s kicking her feet when you arrive, staring at the whale shark sculpture above the entrance. 
You find a parking spot and head to the entrance. Dahyun is carrying Eunsoo and pointing to the whale shark. “Look! It's a big fish, huh, Eunsoo?” The baby giggles and waves her arm at the sculpture, continuing to stare as you pass under it. 
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Walking through the aquarium, the three of you enjoy seeing the fish swim in their enclosure and watching the schools move together. Dahyun splits her attention between you and Eunsoo; you often catch her pointing at one fish or another and asking Eunsoo about it. Watching Dahyun be so focused on Eunsoo brings a smile to your face. You walk beside Dahyun, watching the different fish swim all around you. Noticing a group of clownfish, Dahyun points them out to Eunsoo, “Look at the little fish, Eunsoo. Aren’t they pretty?” She asks, bouncing Eunsoo on her hip. You look elsewhere, noticing a vendor. While Dahyun was focused on Eunsoo, you ended up buying some merchandise. You sneak up behind Dahyun and put a hat on her, a small shark that looked like it was biting her when she wore it. 
Dahyun saw her reflection in the glass and laughed, turning around to see the same hat on you. “You look ridiculous,” she says, smiling brightly.
“I could say the same for you, but it suits you. You look cute with it on.” Eunsoo reaches for the hat. “It looks like Eunsoo is jealous of you.” 
“Do you like mommy’s hat, Eunsoo?”  She babbles, still reaching for Dahyun’s hat. You continue around the aquarium with Dahyun, stopping at exhibits like the sea otters and stingrays. Before leaving, you stopped at the gift shop to get Eunsoo a small stuffed otter; she held it tightly in her fists, shaking it.” Dahyun laughed, watching Eunsoo play with her otter. 
The drive home was quiet, occasionally filled with Dahyun telling you how much she enjoyed spending time with you. You told her you enjoyed it too, noting how she was a good mother. The compliment made Dahyun blush, “You think so?” 
“Yeah, you made sure Eunsoo was doing well the entire time, making sure she was involved. I think you’re a great mom, Dahyun.”
“Thanks. I’m used to doing things like this with Eunsoo.”
“I can tell,” you reply, reaching her home a few minutes later. 
You walk Dahyun to her apartment; she heads inside, putting Eunsoo to bed before returning to the entrance. “Today was a lot of fun; thanks for taking us out. I know you’ll probably go out with the others too, but I look forward to going out again. Maybe we can do something a little naughty next time.” 
“Yeah, maybe.” you chuckle as you lean in and kiss Dahyun on her forehead. 
She stands on her tiptoes and points to her lips as you pull away, “Here too.” You both pause before breaking into a laugh. Wrapping your arms around Dahyun’s waist, you hold her tightly as you press your lips against hers. You break apart slowly and tell her goodbye before leaving. Dahyun stays in her doorway, watching you go, feeling satisfied with your little date.
Seeing as it was getting to be late at night, you decided to decompress after your date by taking a trip to the bar. While being around Dahyun and her daughter was fun, it was also tiring. You drove home and parked your car before walking down a few blocks to a bar you wanted to visit. Stepping inside, you find it cozy and comfortable, with soft music playing from overhead speakers as you go to the bar and order a drink. The barista smiled at you as she made your drink, “Long day?” She licked her lips, mixing the drink as her eyes wandered over you.
“You could say that,” you reply. “I’ve got a lot going on.”
“Don’t we all?” She says, chuckling at her comment. “Is this your first time here?”
“Yeah, it is.”
“Ooh, then I’ll make this first one on the house. My name is Chaeyoung; it’s nice to meet you.”
“It’s nice to meet you, too; thanks for the drink.” You chat with Chaeyoung, watching people come and go from the bar until it’s just you and her left inside. You drink everything Chaeyoung offers you.
After many drinks from Chaeyoung, you watched her move from behind the bar. She flipped the sign to close and locked the door before approaching and sitting beside you. “Say, you seem like someone who knows a thing or two,” Chaeyoung said, placing her hand on your thigh and dragging her fingers along it. “Listen, I’ve got a little bet going on with a couple of work friends. Would you mind helping me with it?”
“What’s the bet?” You ask, glancing her way.
Chaeyoung leans over, letting you take a gander at her small breasts. “I just need you to do something that’ll make us both feel good. My friend Mina got fucked a while ago and hasn’t shut up about how good this guy was. I said I could find someone just as good, but my friend Tzuyu thought I couldn’t.”
“Mina?”You repeat, your mind foggy from the drinks. You consider it might be the one you know before deciding it must be a coincidence. 
“This is where you come in. I get a good feeling from you, and I want to see if I’m right.” Chaeyoung takes your hand, bringing it to her lips. She takes in two of your fingers, letting her tongue swirl around them. “What do you say? What to have some fun with me?” Chaeyoung brings your hand to her chest and leans in, whispering, “You can be as rough as you like. I can take it all and then some. I’ll be your little toy tonight.” 
“Alright,” you agree in your drunken state.
A sultry smile on her lips, Chaeyoung moves her hand to your crotch, unzipping your pants and pulling your cock out. Her eyes widen as she looks at it, but she keeps her smile. “Oh, a big boy.” Chaeyoung climbs off her chair and pushes it back, bending over and dragging her tongue along your shaft. “This is going to be good.” Chaeyoung wraps her full lips around your shaft; her tongue drags along the underside of your length as she bobs her head slowly, moaning around it as she slides her fingers under her dress. You groan, reveling in the feeling of her warm mouth around your cock. Chaeyoung’s skilled tongue began moving around your shaft. You place your hand on her head and push her down, wanting more from the petite woman. 
“Fuck,” you groan as you feel her throat contract around your cock. You let Chaeyoung go and watch her pull back quickly, coughing twice before wiping her mouth.
She strokes your cock slowly, “That’s the spirit. Go ahead and use me.” Chaeyoung wraps her lips around your cock again and waits for you to make the first move. You move off your chair and stand before Chaeyoung taking hold of her hair, thrusting your cock down her throat. You listen to her struggle to take your cock, her eyes welling with tears as you drive your cock into the back of her throat. 
While you use her throat, Chaeyoung plays with herself, her body getting hot as you use her like a toy. Her fingers find a home inside her cunt as she pushes them deep inside herself. “You’re so good at this,” you grunt, pushing yourself to your climax. Chaeyoung feels your cock throb inside her throat. She moves her fingers faster, loving the idea of you cumming down her throat without giving her a warning. Chaeyoung pushes her tongue out of her mouth, trying to lap at your body as you continue your thrusts. You go and bury your cock inside Chaeyoung's mouth, cumming right after. Chaeyoung’s mouth becomes full of your cum before she eventually gives way, and it spills out of her mouth. You try to push deeper into her mouth as you cum before eventually pulling away. Cum drips onto the floor, and Chaeyoung leans against the counter, catching her breath. You look at her; Chaeyoung’s makeup is ruined. Her mascara is running down her cheeks, and saliva coats her chin.
You get hard as you look Chaeyoung over and push her against the counter, pulling down her panties and rubbing your cock against her cunt. “Fuck me up,” she whispers. You grin and slam yourself inside Chaeyoung; her slippery cunt lets you slide right in. “Oh fuck!” She yells as she feels you stretch and fill her. You waste little time and begin thrusting, slamming yourself deep inside Chaeyoung with every thrust. 
“God, you’re so tight.” You groan, turning her over and lifting the small woman. You bounce Chaeyoung on your cock, letting her weight drag her down onto your shaft. Each thrust goes deep into her, stretching her cunt out. Chaeyoung holds onto you, clinging to your body as you relentlessly drive your cock into her. You lay Chaeyoung against the counter and pull at her top, revealing her perky tits. You grab at them, roughly squeezing the small handful. 
Chaeyoung holds onto the counter, filling the bar with her moans as you use her like a toy. She lays her head on the counter, a weary smile on her face as she feels your cock knock against her womb. She felt the tension in her body build with every thrust; she was on the verge of cumming. 
You felt her walls clamping down on your cock and continued thrusting, your body demanding that you pump her full of your cum. You raise one of Chaeyoung’s legs onto your shoulder and bury yourself inside the petite woman, cumming inside her and triggering her climax. Her body tenses up, and Chaeyoung lets out a long moan as she feels your cum pour into her. 
You stay buried inside Chaeyoung, letting your body relax before beginning to thrust into her again. “H-hold up, I need a break,”
“You said you’re my toy for tonight,” you remind her as you lift her off the counter and thrust into her. Chaeyoung wraps her legs around you; she arches her back as you take her. As soon as she heard those words come from your mouth, she relinquished herself to you, letting you use her as you like. You spent the next few hours fucking Chaeyoung all over the bar. During the small breaks you gave her, she would be on her phone taking pictures of her deteriorating state as she got covered in more and more cum. Her black dress was white by the night's end, and no part of her body was left clean. 
The following morning, you found yourself in bed with Chaeyoung lying on your chest. Your head aches from last night’s drinks. The small woman drooled on you as she slept. You grab a phone and check the time; it’s early morning. As you open the phone, you find a chat and realize you grabbed Chaeyoung’s phone.  Looking closer, you see it was a chat with Mina and Tzuyu; Chaeyoung had sent them pictures of herself through the night. The last was a selfie she had taken of her body, showing how you had left her a mess. You put the phone down as Chaeyoung begins to stir.
“Good morning, master,” she greets you, kissing your chest. “Did you sleep well?” she asks, “Oh, looks like someone else is awake too.” She says before you can respond. Chaeyoung reaches down and grabs your cock, stroking you slowly. “I’ll get my breakfast, then I’ll make you yours,” Chaeyoung says as she moves down and tries to swallow your cock. 
You stop her before she can begin. “Hold on a second, what are you doing here?”
Chaeyoung blinks slowly, “You don’t remember last night? I don’t think I’ll be able to forget,” she giggles. “You used me like a toy all night, you made me your little cum dump. I’m getting wet just thinking about it. Some other stuff happened, but the most important part is that you're my master now. I put my number in your phone, so whenever you want some stress relief, just call me, and I’ll be ready to bounce on your cock.” You nod along.
“Tell me exactly what happened, and I’ll let you suck me off.” Chaeyoung jumps at the chance, detailing last night's events. You shake your head, reminded of why you don’t drink to excess. 
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hannieehaee · 9 months ago
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SERENDIPITY (teaser)
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18+ / mdi
summary: jungkook, god of love and son of venus is given the task by his mother herself to rid the world of you, known as psyche, as your beauty begins to rival her own. unfortunately for all parties involved, jungkook becomes enamored by you upon accidentally pinching himself with his own arrow.
content: cupid!jungkook, psyche!reader, an extremely simplified and smutty version of the og story, afab reader, side character deaths, mentions of attempted suicide, the dialogue is not super fitting of the times, angst(?), fluff, smut, they have sex where she doesnt know who he is multiple times but its consensual, penetrative sex, oral (f receiving), etc.
(^ no actual content warnings in the teaser)
wc: 841 (teaser); 8.6k (full fic)
release date: may 3rd
or you can check it out on my ko-fi or patreon today by subscribing to either one!
a/n: i decided to do my first jungkook full fic in celebration for hitting 4k followers!! i hope u guys enjoy<3
masterlist | kofi/patreon
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"Why did you call for me, again?"
"Jungkook, pay attention!", hissed his mother, holding her fingers to her temples in stress as one of her many servants walked in with the fruit she'd requested, "I need you to use your arrows on someone."
"What? Why? I thought you didn't like me meddling with people's love lives."
"This is different. This one needs a little help," Venus frowned in sheer annoyance, "She is known as Psyche by many, Y/N by her loved ones. She has become quite a figure among the Roman population. Some have begun to worship her beauty. They pray to her, they bring her offerings, they kiss at her feet, completely disregarding the true Goddess of Beauty."
"And where does this concern me?", Jungkook was beyond bored by his mother's ramblings. On a usual day, he would be out and entertaining himself with the many mortal maidens found around Rome, always guaranteeing himself a partner for the day.
Venus shot Cupid a look as her servants fed her by mouth, making him straighten his back and begin paying better attention. Even as the Goddess of Beauty, Venus was known as one of the most menacing Goddesses to exist, holding far too much power among all Gods and Goddesses. Jungkook couldn't help but feel intimidated by her, even as carefree as he was known to be.
"She has far too many admirers. Even Gods are beginning to show interest in her, yet she is lacking in suitors thus far. I need you to shoot your arrow and tie her off to the most hideous creature you can muster. She may seize from being a disturbance this way."
"Okay, so you want me to doom her to an eternity with a monster?", Jungkook tilted his head in curiosity.
Despite being considered the most beautiful entity, Jungkook knew Venus to be one of the least amicable creatures in all of the land. Mortals were blissfully unaware of her cruelty, thinking her to be the most perfect among all Goddesses. However, Cupid, as her son, knew of the misery that awaited anyone who crossed the Goddess of Beauty.
Venus halted her movements in frustration, scaring the servants nearby before turning to Jungkook in annoyance, "Cupid, my son, you will obey my order without question. I gave you those wings, I gave you that bow., and I gave you that arrow. I don't care how cruel you may think me to be, this is an order. You shall not utilize your powers for your own endeavors until you finish your task," she demanded, "Now, go rid me of that wench before I find someone else to do the job."
With a sigh, Jungkook nodded in defeat, fully aware of the type of punishments his mother could deliver should he disobey her orders. Walking over to the window through which he had originally entered, he pulled his bow and arrow from his back, beginning to fly off with his wings as he embarked on a journey to seek out the mighty Psyche that had his mother so worried.
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"Y/N, there's another letter from one of your admirers," announced Psyche's mother, placing the letter on the huge pile of gifts provided by the many civilians who came visit their castle with the hope of getting a glimpse of the beautiful girl.
"Mother, what shall I do with all these? There's so many letters yet not a single suitor," you sighed, frustrated at the lack of prospects you'd had so far, "My sisters have both married, yet I am left alone with no one to seek my heart."
"Child, you should be grateful," said your mother, "You are admired through all the land, vied for as if you were a true Goddess. Someone will come for you one day, rest assured," affirmed your mother, petting your hair as she landed a soft kiss on your forehead and took her leave once more.
It was easy for your parents to grow used to the love and admiration you received. Endless people would come and dedicate themselves to their servitude if it meant as much as receiving your blessing – which was absolutely worthless as a mere princess in a land filled with mystical deities.
Your elder sisters had both been married off months back, finding old yet respectable husbands to take them away and care for them as any and all husbands should. You, however, remained alone with your parents, always hoping that a man would be brave enough to court you.
It was unfortunate, really; the way in which your beauty prevented you from receiving any suitors. You had not chosen to be blessed by Venus herself, nor did you ever hope to become her contender in the title of the most beautiful entity in all of creation. Unlike you, she had found a God to sweep her off her feet, gifting her with the fruit of love himself – her son Cupid. Oh, how you wished he'd shoot his arrow and allow you some rest from this endless search for a husband.
...
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pearlessance · 5 months ago
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Three's A Crowd
Tommy Miller x f!reader x Joel Miller
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Summary: Tommy's new girlfriend is awfully sweet. When Joel finds out she's got a big appetite that only he can fill, he decides to satisfy the craving. Warnings: explicit sexual content MDNI, threesome, praise, seduction, age gap(20yrs), size difference, oral sex galore, unprotected sex, photos taken during intercourse, mention of sending nudes, throat bulge, usual smut antics NOTE: i'm not sure if this is actually any good considering it was writen in just a matter of days because i was inspired by the new promo, gabriel luna the man that you are 😵‍💫😵‍💫 !! MASTERLIST [crossposted to AO3]
 Joel Miller knows his brother like the back of his hand. 
Which is why it’s not surprising when Tommy lets him in on the details about his secret new girlfriend. Secret—because you’re the daughter of their most consistent client. 
At first, Joel tells him how stupid it is to risk the company like that. It’s irresponsible to put on the line their biggest cash cow just to fuck around with the only daughter of the man that funds Miller Contracting through the winter. And then there’s the fact that you don't exactly fit Tommy’s type.
A rich girl with an even richer daddy compared to all those wild girls from Tommy’s previous female fixations? It doesn’t line up. It makes no sense in Joel’s head. 
Even as his brother tries to explain, “I didn’t go after her. Not at first. She came onto me.”
Joel’s got one hand on the steering wheel and the other propped on the open window of his truck as they drive home from a particularly exhausting day. He furrows his brows and asks, “Don’t you think that’s a little suspicious? You sure she actually likes you and isn’t just tryin’ to get her daddy’s attention?”
Tommy snorts. “Even if she was, I wouldn't care. You ever met a girl that loves to suck cock before?”
“Jesus Christ—”
“An’ I mean love, Joel. Not like. Love.” There are stars in his eyes and he knows it’s a serious matter but Joel can’t help the laugh that escapes him.
He thinks it must be high praise coming from his brother who goes home with a different girl every other weekend. “That good, huh?”
“Better than good.” 
And he knows Tommy’s got a one-track mind, so there’s really no use fighting it. So he just says, “Be careful. Don’t go gettin’ caught 'cause the business will pay the price.”
Tommy agrees and Joel lets it go. Doesn’t think about it again, even when Tommy cancels their plans to go out that weekend in favor of your company.
Well, not until he’s standing in your kitchen going over blueprints with your father, that is. 
Joel tries not to glance out of the floor-length windows in the kitchen to the backyard. He tries not to look at the movement in the pool that repeatedly catches his eye. And he tries, really fucking hard, not to allow his attention to linger on the way that white bikini rests so snugly against your chest, or the way your wet hair cascades down your back and sticks to your smooth skin, or the way his cock twitches in his jeans when the impressive swell your ass shakes as you pull yourself up and out of the pool.
He understands his brother a little better when he sees you, Joel thinks. Understands why he’s willing to risk such a high-profit opportunity for the chance to see you underneath him. 
Your father leaves the kitchen to find an old set of blueprints to compare to the new ones, and Joel begins to panic as he realizes this is the moment you decide you’re done swimming. 
When you open the door to the kitchen the hinges creak. Joel takes note of it. 
Water drips onto the white tile floor, the same quick rhythm as the thumping of his heart against his sternum. You cross the kitchen and open the fridge door without even looking at him. 
But Joel certainly looks at you. Can’t help but to, really. You’re like some decadent display as you break the seal of an icy bottle of water and begin to take long, slow drinks from it. Your lips are plush and swollen and Tommy’s words reverberate in the back of Joel’s head. 
You ever met a girl that loves to suck cock before?
“Thirsty?”
He nearly chokes. Joel knows you’re likely just being hospitable. Kind, even. But he feels like he shouldn’t be speaking to you, not when you’re close to naked and dripping wet. And if not because of your father upstairs, then certainly because of his brother’s affinity for you. So, despite the way his tongue feels like sandpaper in his mouth, he says, “No, thanks.”
Joel turns his eyes back to his blueprints, folding the corner once, twice, trying to focus on anything but the weight of your stare.
If you notice his unease you ignore it as you slide up to the counter beside him and peer down at the layout of your father’s newest home renovation. You’re so close he can feel the heat of your skin, can smell the chlorine in your hair. “Hm,” you say. “This is for the guest room?”
“Bedroom D,” he corrects.
A small smile tugs at the corners of your lips. You turn away from the blueprints, spine resting against the marble countertop in favor of studying him instead. “You’re Joel, right? Tommy’s older brother?”
There’s no sense in lying, Joel thinks. Though he does consider it for a moment. “Uh…yeah,” he says. And then he clears his throat and nods, repeating a little more firmly, “Yeah.”
Your stare is so hot against his skin, eyes unabashedly roaming down the column of his neck. He shivers as your attention lingers on the small sliver of his chest that’s revealed thanks to his decision this morning to leave one of the buttons on his flannel unsecured. You’re standing so close to him now that a drop of chlorinated water falls from the ends of your hair and onto his arm.
Joel feels the cool liquid slide down his too warm-skin, melting as if it were ice, heating to the temperature of his blood that sings in his veins beneath your scrutinization.
He watches your tongue slide over your pretty bottom lip and his breath catches in his lungs. “Hm,” you say again, the sound a little fonder this time. “I see where he gets his good looks from.”
It’s been a long time since someone flirted with him so openly. Even longer since someone your age even took a second glance at him. And even though he knows, by the rule of his own morality, that you belong to his little brother…Joel can’t deny the giddy feeling it elicits in his chest. Can’t deny that he likes your attention, either.
“Found them,” your father suddenly says, bounding down the stairs with folded blueprints in his hand. 
Joel clears his throat and you take a small step away from him, but otherwise seem unphased by the intrusion. He tries to ignore the lingering buzzing beneath his skin, tries to shake off what remains of the electrified energy you’d created.
You greet your dad with a kiss on the cheek and tell him you’re going out tonight. Your father asks with who, and you glance past him, staring only at Joel as you say simply, “Just a friend.”
And he knows you’ll likely be at his little brother’s apartment within the hour. Thinks about preparing himself for yet another of Tommy’s cancellations of guy’s night but this time there’s no frustration on Joel’s part. 
Because he doesn’t blame his brother at all. If anything, he understands a little better now. Understands why getting drunk with Joel at a bar is a far less tempting activity than spreading those pretty thighs of yours. Understands why he’d rather stay home than go out, especially if you’re there in his bedroom on your knees for him. 
His assumption is confirmed later that night when he gets a text message.
Tommy: Have to cancel again. Sorry, something came up.
Joel knows exactly what ‘came up’ and decides to put on an old western movie to distract himself instead.
But when he lays in bed that night, the image of you in your bikini surfaces in his brain and makes a home there. He tries for an hour to get himself to relax enough to shut it out, to just go to sleep.
Eventually, though, he realizes there’s no fucking point in trying. And even though you’re in his brother’s bed and your father’s blueprints are sitting on the kitchen table downstairs, Joel Miller takes his cock in his hand and has the best orgasm of his life. He thinks about your smooth skin and supple curves, thinks about the way that single droplet of water felt against his skin, thinks about your pink tongue and the way you looked at him with such insatiable hunger.
It’s a secret Joel decides he’ll take to his grave.
He tries not to think of you after that. Tries to keep his distance from you, from your house in general. Joel’s not a man who enjoys technology but opts for emailing your father instead of meeting with him to avoid another post-pool incident.
Tommy finally makes it to guy’s night two weeks later but he’s glued to his fucking cell phone. Joel tries to make conversation, tells him about upcoming projects and opportunities for contracts, and mentions that this summer has been their most profitable yet. But Tommy only nods every so often. Giving Joel a stupid, uninterested, “Yeah, for sure,” or “That’s great, Joel,” or “I don’t know, maybe.”
There’s no salt to his words, no meaning other than oblivious agreement. And it starts to anger Joel because Tommy’s been distracted by girls before but never like this. Never so much so that he can’t sit and have half a conversation with his brother. Eventually, he lets out an annoyed sigh and says, “If you’ve got somewhere better to be you can just fuckin’ go, Tommy. Jesus Christ.”
The irritation seems to finally get his attention. Tommy locks his cell phone and says, “She’s sending me pictures, distractin’ me, I’m sorry,” but there’s a stupid ass grin on his face and Joel can feel the insincerity radiating off his brother.
Joel rolls his eyes and waves down the bartender for the check. 
“No, no, okay,” Tommy insists, setting his phone face down on the bar top. He shoos the bartender away and says, “Okay, seriously, you’re right. I’m sorry.” It’s a little more genuine this time, and so Joel decides to meet his brother halfway.
“You really like her? S’that what this is?”
That smile returns to Tommy’s face, eyes glossing over in a mystifying way. He must, because Joel’s never seen him like this before. “We’re not even together,” he says.
Joel’s brows furrow. “What are you talking about? You spend every weekend with her, you might as well be.”
“Believe me, Joel, I’ve tried, man. She’s…I don’t know how to explain it. She doesn’t want anything serious. Doesn’t wanna be exclusive or nothin’ but isn’t fuckin’ around with anyone but me. I just…” he shakes his head and his eyes widen and Joel can see the awe in them. 
“So she’s acting like you,” Joel supplies.
It makes Tommy laugh. But the more he explains, the more Joel starts to believe it. “She’s so sweet but that girl is insatiable. Just wants to fuck and have a good time and that’s it. Doesn’t care about much else.”
“I’m not sayin’ you shouldn’t have fun, Tommy, but don’t let her consume your whole life. Get some space every once in a while,” Joel says. But he understands the infatuation, understands exactly how enticing your company would be. 
He leans in close, one hand wrapped around his whiskey glass and the other tapping the back of his phone. “Those pictures…she’s taking pictures in the shower, Joel. For me. An’ you wanna know what she just told me the other day?”
Joel knows what’s coming next. Knows Tommy’s about to clue him in on something Joel has no business knowing, but he can’t fight off his curiosity. “What?”
“Said her biggest fantasy is a threesome with two guys. Told me, and I quote, that she wants to get fucked while she’s got my dick in her mouth.” He makes a sound of disbelief but there’s this grin on his face that lets Joel know Tommy’s biggest fantasy is to be with a filthy girl like you.
Joel just shakes his head.
But the image his brother paints lingers in his brain for days.
In fact, he’s still thinking about it during his next meeting with your father. Thinking about the fact that you’re up in your room, fantasizing about getting fucked by two guys at once when your dad suddenly says, “I’ll be out of town for a couple of weeks, I hope you don’t mind I gave my little girl your phone number. Just in case anything goes wrong. It won’t, but I hate being so far away while she’s here alone. I’m sure you understand, being a father and all.”
He doesn’t know what to say. Doesn’t know how to respond, unsure how to explain how terrible an idea that is, so he says nothing. Just nods stiffly and begins discussing the renovations for the ensuite of bedroom C. 
Less than a week later, Joel gets a phone call from an unknown number, and his gut sinks because he knows it’s you. He debates on ignoring the call but then begins to worry that something’s actually wrong and puts himself in your father’s position. Thinks he’d be furious, had it been Sarah, if she’d called someone for help and they’d ignored her. 
So, he presses his cell phone to his ear and says, “Hello?”
“Joel? Hi, sorry, I know it’s kinda late. Do you think you could come over really quick? I need your help.”
“Help? With what?” It doesn’t really matter, he thinks. Because he’s already lacing up his boots, phone held to his ear with his shoulder.
“I locked myself out,” you explain. “My dad’s out of town for work and I didn’t grab my key before he left. You have a spare, don’t you? For the renovations and stuff?”
Joel can’t help but wonder where you’ve been for the last few days. Someplace you wouldn’t have needed to come home, it seems. “Uh, yeah, I do,” he says. “I’ll be there in a minute. Hang tight.”
He finds you standing on your front porch with a backpack slung over your shoulder, your phone charger in your hand, and a look of relief on your face. “Thank you so much,” you immediately say. “I swear I never forget my key but I was distracted this time.”
Joel unlocks the front door for you and lets you inside. He lingers on the threshold, saying, “No, it’s fine. No worries at all.”
“Come inside,” you insist, and he can feel the bad decision from a fucking mile away.
“Really, it’s fine. I’ll just—”
“Please,” you interrupt. “Are you thirsty? Hungry? Let me make you something to eat before you go. It’s the least I could do.”
He shouldn’t. He shouldn’t. But he does.
Joel nods, unable to resist you and how pretty the word please sounds in your mouth. He follows you into the kitchen, lingering at the island counter as you drop your bag onto the floor next to the stairs and immediately plug your cell phone into the extra outlet he’d placed into the backsplash per your father’s request during last winter’s renovation. You look over your shoulder at him as you open the refrigerator and ask, “You like grilled cheese?”
“Uh, yeah. I do.” He sits in comfortable silence for a moment, watching the way you move as you prepare the bread and heat up a cast iron pan. Eventually, he finds the courage to ask, “You…uh…were you at Tommy’s?”
He watches as your cheeks redden the smallest bit. But there’s no shame in your voice as you answer simply, “Yes, I was.”
“Figured you’d tire each other out eventually,” he teases.
You laugh softly, and the buttered bread sizzles as you place it into the pan. As you lay the slices of cheese on top of it you explain, “Wasn’t like that. I’m home for the weekend so Tommy can talk to you, actually.”
It surprises him to hear it, in truth. “Me? What for?”
You flush an even deeper crimson. “Uhm…I think it’s better that you hear it from him,” you say.
Joel’s mind wanders to a million places as you dig out a spatula and flip the grilled cheese. But then a terrifying thought strikes him and Joel suddenly asks, “You’re not pregnant, are you?”
“Ew, no,” you say with a laugh. “Believe me, Joel, I like creampies just as much as the next girl but I’m not irresponsible about it.”
This time, it’s his face that warms. Joel swallows hard and sits on the barstool at the island, trying not to think about your inadvertent admission, trying not to imagine it, to imagine how fucking good it would feel to—
“Here,” you say, placing a glass plate in front of him with a perfectly crispy grilled cheese cut diagonally. He’s thankful for the distraction, thankful to convince himself the watering of his mouth is from the food in front of him and not the thought of how you would taste on his tongue.
“Thanks,” he says simply, trying to massage some of the tension from his shoulders. It had been a long day on the job site and he’ll admit to himself only that a grilled cheese and the sight of a pretty girl certainly feels like a treat.
You seem to notice his discomfort and ask, “You okay?”
He nods and takes a bite of his sandwich. It’s the most delicious thing he’s ever had and he tries to hold back his moan to no avail. When he looks over at you, you’re wearing a satisfied grin that only widens when he says around another mouthful, “This is incredible.”
As if it’s the most natural thing in the world, you step up behind him and place your hands on his shoulders. Joel opens his mouth to stop you, to tell you this is wrong, inappropriate—but then you kneed your fingers into the tender muscle, and his eyes flutter closed. 
All argument leaves him as quickly as it appeared, and all he can manage to say is, “Jesus Christ.”
Your quiet giggle is the cutest thing he’s ever heard. And Joel knows he should be thinking of his brother right now, knows he should be thinking of your father, thinking about the fact that you’re just a young woman, twenty years separating the two of you…but all he can focus on is the way your hands feel on him.
They’re warm and soft but clinical in their pursuit, thumbs pressing hard into the muscle that brackets his spine. Your delicate fingers feel like heaven, bringing relief he never realized just how badly he needed.
You slowly massage down his back, pushing against the knots, working them free. When you get to his lower back, he groans when you slip your hands beneath his navy t-shirt. You’re touching him with no barrier and it steals the breath from his lungs.
Never in his life has he wanted to be touched by someone so badly. Never in his life has he enjoyed the feel of another person’s skin against his so much. Your thumbs dig into the sore muscles, working the tension out.
You lean in so close that he can feel the heat of your breath against the shell of his ear as you say, “Will you take your shirt off?”
He’s thankful you’re standing behind him, however. Because it means you can’t see the way his cock stiffens in his jeans.
The words are tempting and seductive and wrong, he knows. He looks back at you and the heat in your eyes takes him off guard. The angle has his mouth so close to yours you’re sharing the same breath.
It’s then he knows just how badly you want him. As much as he wants you.
“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” you say. While you speak, your fingertips trace soft patterns into the skin of his lower back.
Joel knows it’s a bad idea, but he does it anyway.
You step away from him only long enough for Joel to grip his t-shirt at the back of his collar and pull it over his head, laying it on the marble countertop.
And then you go back to your ministrations as if nothing changed; massaging the tension from his muscles, starting low and working your way back up to his shoulders this time. But it is different, Joel knows. Because he can feel the heat of your skin against his and his heart rate picks up, a different kind of tension filling him instead.
But it feels so fucking good that he doesn’t ever want you to stop.
So, he eats what remains of his grilled cheese. Lets you work the tightness from his bones, trying not to hiss in pain when you touch a particularly tender spot in the center of his back. You lighten the pressure there and begin building back up to it slowly, bringing him to heights of euphoria he’d never known existed.
When he wipes the crumbs from his hands and pushes his now empty plate away, Joel knows he should stop you. But he doesn’t, because he can no longer find a reason good enough to say the words. He lets you dote on him in a way he doesn’t deserve and soaks it up while it lasts.
And when you press a sweet, chaste kiss to the top of his spine, Joel feels the energy shift but doesn’t say anything then, either.
Because he likes the way your lips feel against his skin. Even more so than your soft hands.
You do it again, a little higher this time. You kiss the back of his neck and he shivers. He realizes you can see the goosebumps that break out across his skin, because he can feel the smile on your lips as you press another wet, open-mouthed kiss to the junction of his shoulder.
Joel’s cock has never been this hard, he thinks. He’s never wanted someone so badly, has never been so incapable of making the right decision as he is at this very moment.
His breath comes fast and labored as you press yourself to him. You’re not wearing a bra beneath your oversized t-shirt, and he can feel your pebbled nipples against his back. Your hands move forward, circling his abdomen, sliding up and over his chest. He knows he should stop you now, knows this is the beginning of something he can never come back from.
But the two of you are all alone in this big empty house, and how can he deny you? He doesn’t have the strength. Not then you slide pretty, delicate fingers over his soft stomach, through the dark curls that disappear into his jeans.
Your hand is slow in its pursuit but still adamant as you palm the bulge in his jeans. Even through the thick denim, the feel of your hands on him makes him shake. He cock throbs with each gentle stroke, each small movement. “You can tell me to stop,” you tell him. “Is this okay?”
He can’t bring himself to say anything, but the moan that escapes him is answer enough. He places his hands on the edge of the counter and straightens his spine, getting a full view as you undo the button of his jeans and lower the metal zipper at an agonizingly slow pace.
And then you’re slipping a hand inside his jeans, below the elastic band of his boxers, and all thoughts eddy out of his head. He can think of nothing, nothing as you begin to stroke him. Your hands are small, barely fitting around his cock, but you make do with what you have and it’s more than enough.
You pull him out of his jeans completely, and it’s a sight to behold, seeing his cock in your pretty hands. He tries to catch his breath as you pull one of your hands away for a single moment. And when it returns, your fingers are sticky with webs of spit.
This time, when you wrap your hand around his cock, you’re able to stoke him a little easier, the added lubrication allowing for freer movement. You move slowly at first, hands grazing from base to tip.
He watches with reverence as you familiarize yourself with him. When a bead of precum forms at the tip of his cock, you use your thumb to add it to the sticky wetness already in your hands. Joel can feel the smile on your face as you continue to press desperate kisses to his spine, and he knows he won’t last long like this.
Watching you stroke him with both of your small hands, watching you take care of him like this…it’s too much. It’s too fucking much.
So he closes his eyes. Lets himself sink into the moment with you instead, listens to your pretty whimpers as you press your tits against him. He wants to reach around and slide his hand between your thighs but knows better, knows that this is already bad enough.
You tighten your hands around his cock, squeezing a little harder, and he feels his end begin to build at the base of his spine. “Fuck.”
“Does it feel good?”
He tries to breathe slowly, tries to draw it out. But you pick up your pace, stroking him a little faster, and Joel can’t stop the groan that escapes him.
“You make me so wet, Joel,” you whisper against his skin. “I think about you and touch myself sometimes, thinking about how fucking big you are, how good it would feel to have you touch me…how good you’d feel inside of me.”
Your filthy words bring him to the brink. Joel fights it, doesn’t want to finish so fast he embarrasses himself. He wants to see the look on your face, wants to fuck you right here on this kitchen counter that he built.
Joel clenches his fists instead. Stays stone still because he knows if he moves an inch he’ll be giving into these desires. Knows a single shift in position would have him pulling your shorts down your thighs and licking your pussy until he makes you cry out for God. 
But it’s not his place.
It’s not his fucking place, and you’re not his fucking girl.
So he doesn’t move.
You do, though.
Joel tries to catch his breath as you pull away from him, the absence of your touch leaving him cold and wanting. But then you’re nudging your way in front of him, in the small space between his knees and the island, and then you’re lowering yourself to the marble floor.
You ever met a girl that loves to suck cock before?
Slowly, you run your hands over his jean-clad thighs. You look up at him through your lashes and he feels a little like he’s being worshipped.
And when you lean forward, pretty, soft tongue licking the underside of his cock, Joel can’t keep his hands to himself. His resolve withers, and he threads his fingers through your hair but is careful not to rush you.
He lets you take your time, lets you swirl your tongue over the head, lets you taste every inch of him to your heart’s content. And when you finally take him into your mouth, cheeks hallowed out, creating a tight seal around him, Joel’s head falls back in bliss.
You savor it, relish in it, swallowing him down inch by inch. He hits the back of your throat and still you keep going, choking on him, nose pressed against the hair below his navel. With each pass, you begin to bob your head, tongue smoothing over the sensitive tip. You set an insatiable rhythm, drool sliding down your chin.
It doesn’t take him long. His hands tighten in the hair at the nape of your neck and he breaths out, “Fuck, fuck, sweetheart, I’m gonna-”
Your watery eyes meet his and the adoration in them sends him over the edge. Joel finishes at the back of your mouth, your fingernails digging into the meaty flesh of his thighs almost painfully, but you take everything he gives you and swallow it down.
It’s the sexiest thing he’s seen in all his life.
When he finishes, Joel strokes your hair affectionately and you smile up at him with his cock still in your mouth. It makes him laugh, and he realizes how soft and sweet this moment feels. How easy it is. How he never wants it to end.
Slowly, you sit back and begin to stand to your feet. Your lips are swollen and red and glossy, even when you wipe the spit off your chin with the back of your hand.
You cross the kitchen, grab your phone, and make your way to the staircase. “Thanks again, Joel. Can you lock up on your way out?”
He doesn’t understand how you can feel so casually about this. Doesn’t understand how you’re likely texting his brother as if Joel’s cock wasn’t just in your mouth, as if the taste of his release doesn’t linger on your tongue. 
The guilt doesn’t set in until he’s in bed that night. He can’t sleep, because he knows he has to say something to Tommy but knows, too, he’ll likely pay the price of a right hook in reparation. 
At three in the morning he sends a text to his brother; Come over in the morning. Need to talk. Important. 
Joel doesn’t sleep. He lays in bed and thinks of you, as he so often does these days. Thinks about how uncomfortable it’s going to be to tell his little brother that he indulged himself in the pretty little thing he’s been spending all of his time with. He decides he’s just going to say it outright, tell him the truth without beating around the bush, and immediately apologize for it afterward.
Because he is sorry, Joel thinks. Not sorry that he did it, but sorry that it’s hurt people in the process.
How can he come to regret the most gratifying sexual experience of his life? It’s a comfort, to hear some of Tommy’s words echo in his brain. 
We’re not even together.
She doesn’t want anything serious.
It’s like she just wants to fuck and have a good time and that’s it.
Joel hopes his brother feels a similar way. Tommy’s never once indicated he’s ever wanted to settle down with a woman, but…something sits in his gut and twists up his insides. Because as much as he wants to deny it, Joel knows this…knows you are different. What Tommy feels for you is different.
He’s drinking whiskey by ten in the morning for no reason other than to calm his nerves.
And Joel’s thankful for the liquid courage when Tommy finally pulls into the driveway at noon. He comes barrelling through Joel’s front door with a scowl on his face, and for a second Joel wonders if his brother already knows and is here thinking Joel had every intention of keeping this secret of yours.
But when he speaks, Tommy doesn’t seem angry. Just…concerned. “What’s up, man? Pretty ominous text to wake up to. Where’s Sarah? She alright?”
Joel shakes his head and raises a hand between them. “Sarah’s fine, she’s alright,” he says quickly. “Staying with a friend this weekend. Sorry, I guess I should have mentioned it wasn’t a life or death situation.” 
For Tommy, anyway.
With a slow nod, Tommy’s shoulders slump and he drops himself onto the couch. “Alright, then. That’s good. I was worried, came haulin’ ass over here.” It’s then he notices the tumbler in Joel’s hand, half filled with amber-colored liquid. “You good, Joel?”
He takes a seat next to his brother and tries to recite the speech in his head. But nothing comes out. Joel opens and closes his mouth once, twice, and then finishes off the whiskey in his glass.
Tommy’s patient, for what it’s worth. He lets Joel adjust in his seat three different times, saying nothing while he tries to find the courage he’s been building for the last twelve hours.
“I…I, uhm…I have to tell you something an’ I…” Joel shakes his head and squeezes his jaw. “Alright, look. I…did something.”
A quiet, curt sort of laugh leaves Tommy. “I know what happened last night, Joel. She already told me.”
It surprises him. Not that you told him, Joel can’t fault you for that considering he’s presently trying to do the same thing. What’s surprising is that Tommy seems relaxed about the whole situation. Relieved, even.
A million different questions surface on the tip of his tongue, but only one comes out. “What?”
“It’s alright, man,” Tommy says, laying a comforting hand on Joel’s shoulder.
“You’re not…mad? I don’t understand. I let her—”
Tommy’s mouth stretches into one of the widest smiles Joel’s ever seen on his brother’s face. “It was good, huh?”
Joel doesn’t know if saying yes is a good idea. Doesn’t know if a simple three-letter word is sufficient enough for the things you made him feel with that pretty, pink tongue of yours. 
But it seems his thoughts are written plainly on his face. “Fuck yeah, it was,” Tommy says with a laugh. “She called me right after you left her house last night. Told me everything. She makes a mean grilled cheese too, doesn’t she?”
Try as he might, Joel can’t seem to wrap his head around what’s happening. Can’t seem to process his brother’s ease, his indifference. He tries to put himself in Tommy’s place but knows that if it was his bed you slept in for the last week, Joel would be furious to learn you’d wound up on your knees for someone else.
But if that someone was Tommy? His own brother?
Maybe that’s why it’s different. Because Joel would never do something to hurt his brother intentionally. And he knows, too, that Tommy would never do it to him, either.
He trusts his brother with everything in him. There’s not another soul on the planet who knows him like Tommy does. So, surely, he knows that what you and Joel did wasn’t born of malicious intent, right?
“She’s a sweet little thing,” Tommy says quietly, as if they’re sharing a secret. “But that mouth on her is somethin’ else. She’s a talker, through and through.” There’s pride on his face as he speaks. “Said she felt real bad, runnin’ out on you like that, but she’d gotten so wet from just goin’ down on you that I could hear it through the fuckin’ phone, Joel.”
Though he tries not to, Joel begins to wonder what would have happened if you’d stayed, if you hadn’t disappeared so fast to take care of the ache that had settled between your thighs.
It would have been only fair, right? You helped him. He would have helped you.
“She wanted me to talk to you about something, anyway,” Tommy says.
He’d nearly forgotten that you’d mentioned the same thing last night in all the chaos. It piques his interest, because what on Earth could you need Tommy to ask him?
But his answer comes quickly when his brother says carefully, “You remember a couple of weeks ago when I told you what her biggest fantasy is?”
A threesome.
Joel’s standing from the couch and shaking his head before his brother gets another word out. “Have you lost your fuckin’ mind, Tommy?”
“Joel, just listen—”
“Listen to what, man? You got any idea what you’re askin’ me right now?”
There’s a smirk on his face as he stares at Joel from the couch, looking just as comfortable as if they were having a normal conversation about what they should eat for dinner. “I’m askin’ you to fuck my girlfriend,” he says.
Somehow, the word girlfriend surprises Joel more than the rest. It’s the very first time he’s ever called anyone his girlfriend. “I thought you weren’t together.”
Tommy shrugs. “Call it what you will. Does it really matter?”
“Yeah, Tommy, it does matter. Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t have feelings for this girl. Tell me this doesn’t mean anythin’ to you, that doing somethin’ like this wouldn’t fuck it all up in a minute.”
He shakes his head. “Can’t lie to you, brother. ‘Course she means somethin’ to me. That’s why I wanna give her everything she wants. And she wants you too, Joel. Is that so bad?”
Joel sighs heavily and runs a hand through his hair, pulling at the roots.
For a second, a single second, he considers it. Thinks about how any price is worth it for a single night with you, to hear the sound of your moans, to feel your warm breath against his neck again. He’d bet you sound real pretty, all filled up with him.
“Don’t trust anyone else to take care of her the way I do,” Tommy says. “No one but you.”
It’s too much. It’s way too much to ask of him.
“You’re insane, Tommy,” he says, grabbing his whiskey glass from the coffee table and escaping to the kitchen to refill it. He wishes he had something a little stronger.
He’s not surprised when his brother follows him to the kitchen. Tommy leans against the archway and says, “You can say no.”
“Good, 'cause I’m sayin’ no.”
Tommy laughs, but Joel thinks there’s no joke to be found. “Just wanted you to know the offer’s there and she’d jump at the opportunity. Y’know, if you change your mind, that is. Ask her about it, if you wanna.”
“I won’t.”
He raises his hands in surrender. “Alright, not tryin’ to push it or anything. You know how to get ahold of me.”
And then his brother retreats, leaving Joel with nothing but his whiskey and his thoughts.
Thoughts that run rampant in his brain. Filthy images of you beneath him, back arched in pleasure, pretty mouth hung open just wide enough for Tommy to slip inside.
How terrible would it be, really? Tommy might have impulsive tendencies, but he seems so sure of this. And if there’s not an ounce of jealousy in his brother, so much so that he offers you to Joel like some sort of prize…maybe there won’t be the repercussions Joel’s afraid of.
Maybe it’ll be as Tommy says. Maybe it would just be a good, safe way to give you what you want, to indulge your wildest desires. 
And it would certainly be an indulgence for him. Just feeling your hands on him had brought Joel bliss like he’d never known. He can’t imagine how much higher he’d feel if he could taste you, if he could finish deep inside of you and not at the back of your throat.
It takes twenty minutes of pacing in his kitchen and another ten of shaking the nerves from his hands before he picks up the phone and calls you.
“Hey, Joel. I was just thinking about you.”
“S’that right?”
“Mmhm. Did…did Tommy talk to you yet? He told me he was going to this morning.” 
“Yeah, sweetheart. He did.”
A strange sort of silence stretches on. He can hear your hesitance and realizes you’re just as nervous as he is. “And? What did you…what did you say?”
He doesn’t have the heart to tell you he declined the offer. Not when it was a no mostly out of fear and unease. “You wanna tell me how this is gonna work?”
You snort and he can almost see the playful smirk on your face. “I think you know how it works, Joel.”
“That’s not what I mean,” he says, but can’t fight off the smile that climbs onto his face and makes a home there. “Brat.”
“Hm, I think I prefer the term princess.”
Joel laughs but thinks the name is real fitting. He can see why Tommy likes you so much—can understand why he wants to give you everything it is that you desire. Everything about you is so playful and carefree and innocent. You’re just so sweet. A tooth-rotting confectionary. 
“I don’t know how it’ll work,” you finally say. “I’ve never done something like this before, but I know it’s what I want.”
Your conviction is reassuring. Both you and Tommy seem certain that this is the path you want to take, no unease to be found within either of you. But it’s not the physical that worries him. It’s…everything else. “An’ what happens if it becomes something more? Sex is just sex until it isn’t.”
He can hear the smile in your words as you ask, “You worried about catching feelings for me, Joel Miller?”
“I’m bein’ serious,” he insists. “Tommy feels somethin’ for you. I know it and I think you probably do, too. I don’t want to do this and ruin what the two of you have been workin’ on.”
“You won’t ruin anything,” you insist. “And if…if things do get…complicated, then we’ll just take it day by day. No use in worrying about something that might not happen, right?”
It’s such a naive way of thinking. Joel wishes he wouldn’t have said no so quickly. Wishes, too, that you were a little different. Maybe if you weren’t so sweet, so tempting, he wouldn’t be so worried about ‘catching feelings,’ as you’d put it.
Your voice is quieter as you say, “For what it’s worth, Joel…I like you, too.”
By the end of the phone call, you manage to convince him to consider it. To genuinely give the idea a shot, to weigh all the pros and cons. You promise not to be disappointed with either decision and though he knows the whole thing has been your idea, Joel believes you.
Several days later, Joel stops by with the intent to fix the creaky hinges on the door to the pool. But the moment he steps into the kitchen, Joel forgets all about the task at hand because he can hear your moans echoing through the house.
He follows them like a moth to a flame.
The door to your father’s bedroom is wide open. And in the center of the king-sized bed, covered with gray satin sheets, is you and Tommy.
Tommy’s turned away from the door, but you’re looking right at it. Looking right at Joel, as you bounce in his brother’s lap. When your eyes connect with him, your pace only picks up, your moans only grow louder.
Joel watches, frozen in time, as you chase your release. Tommy swirls his tongue around your pebbled nipple, leaving a trail of wetness in its wake. You thread your fingers through his hair and moan his name but you stare right at Joel.
He can’t breathe. Has suddenly forgotten the process of inhalation. He’s seen you in your bikini but never like this, never completely bare. You’re beautiful, Joel thinks. Beautiful in a godly way; a woman the poets write for, a woman the sculptors display in cathedrals.
You reach a hand between your bodies, circling your clit and arching your back.
The thought doesn’t even cross Joel’s mind that he should leave, that he should give the two of you some privacy. It feels right that he’s here. 
You grind yourself on Tommy’s cock and give Joel the sweetest, most innocent smile as you say, “It’s so big, you’re so deep. God, fuck, I’m gonna cum.”
Tommy grabs at the soft swell of your ass, lifting you just to slam you back down onto his lap. “Yeah? Gonna cum all over this dick, princess?”
I prefer the term princess.
No need to wonder why, Joel thinks.
“Mmhm, yes, yes, right there.”
“Can feel her gettin’ all messy,” Tommy says. “If I knew you’d get this wet ridin’ me in your daddy’s bed I would’ve said yes weeks ago, pretty girl.”
Joel knows the reason you’re all worked up has nothing to do with the location and everything to do with his eyes on you, but he stays silent. Stays still.
Even as he watches you fall apart on his brother's cock and soak the satin sheets beneath him. Even as Tommy does the thing that Joel’s been dreaming about every night for days, filling you up with his release. 
He doesn’t linger. He doesn’t fix the creaky hinges, either.
Joel barely makes it back to his truck before he’s reaching into his jeans to stroke his cock, right there in the driveway in broad fucking daylight.
It only takes a few quick tugs before he covers his hand in sticky ropes of cum. He tries to catch his breath, wiping the mess you’ve made of him onto his jeans and driving home ten over the limit. Before he makes it inside to shower and change, Joel sends a text message to both you and Tommy that reads; Okay. I’m in. My place. Friday night at ten.
He tries not to think about it too much. Tries to go on about his work week like normal, going through the motions of making dinner each night and taking Sarah to school every morning with Tommy in the passenger seat.
They don’t talk about it, though Joel can sometimes feel his brother staring at him a little too long as if there’s something he wants to say. But he doesn’t. They don’t bring it up until after Joel drops Sarah off at her friend’s house for another weekend-long slumber party. 
Tommy says, “I’m gonna take her out for dinner. Do you want to come with us? Could help break the ice a little. Loosen you up.”
He agrees, and instead of going home, they pick you up from your house. You’re wearing a pleated blue skirt that’s a little too short, but Joel thinks you look like something divine. Tommy helps you up into the truck, and everything starts to feel real the moment you’re sitting between them. Joel behind the wheel, Tommy on the passenger side.
You look so small in the center of the cab, surrounded by two brothers who possess nothing but longing for you. Like pretty prey caught in the clutches of two predators.
Joel has to readjust himself in his seat when you lean over and press a kiss to his cheek. Sweet. “Missed you,” you say. “You look good. You both do.”
He doesn’t comment on the fact that they’re both still in their work attire; dirty blue jeans, sun-faded t-shirts, and muddy boots. He’s surprised to hear your appreciation, considering how put together you always seem to be.
But maybe that’s the appeal for you. The blue-collar archetype. Your daddy probably expects you to marry the son of one of his friends, just another rich boy.
If he could see you now…
Tommy slides his hand to the inside of your thigh and squeezes. “You hungry, princess? Let’s get you somethin’ to eat.”
As much as he hates to admit when his brother’s right, dinner works wonders for Joel’s nerves. The three of you talk the entire time; you tell Joel about your friends and the subjects you’re studying in that fancy college you got into on a full ride. It’s not the one your father wanted you to attend, but it’s the one you wanted.
Even though he knows Tommy has heard it all before, he lets you and Joel have this moment. He sits beside you and smiles at you as you speak, eyes glued to the side of your face and full of adoration. Joel realizes then that he thinks his brother might be in love with you.
He gets it. Thinks it must have been a real easy fall.
Tommy slots himself in the conversation naturally. The two of you clue Joel in on some of your inside jokes and it doesn’t feel weird at all. He doesn’t feel left out like he’d worried he might be, and he doesn’t feel jealous when you steal bites from Tommy’s plate because you steal things from Joel’s, too.
It’s easy. Nothing feels forced, no conversation out of place.
Halfway through the meal, you switch sides of the booth and sit next to Joel instead. You lay your head on his shoulder and he holds your hand beneath the table and it feels right. Tommy smiles at the two of you and carries on with his story as if the dynamic you’ve created has existed for years and not just hours.
When it’s time to go home, Joel finds that his nerves have completely vanished.
Tommy offers to drive. And he’s thankful for it because it allows him to focus on just you.
You take Joel’s hand and lay it in your lap, palm open. He shivers as you trace the lines in his hand. You ask him, “How are you feeling?”
And the answer comes to him easily. “Good,” he says. “Better.”
“Told you,” Tommy says, one hand on the wheel and the other on your thigh. “She’s a real good girl, Joel. Always does as she’s told.”
Even though the sun is setting below the horizon, he can see the crimson that stains your cheeks and it brings a smile to his face. “S’that right?” He takes your chin gently in his hand and forces you to look up at him. “You a real good listener, sweetheart?”
“Yeah, she is,” Tommy answers wistfully. “Why don’t you g’’head and give Joel some sugar, princess.”
You lean into Joel’s side, pressing a kiss to his jaw. It feels good just being close to you, holding you in his hands, but when you touch him, it’s something else entirely. An uncontrollable desire, an unfamiliar sort of decadence.
Joel cradles your face in his big hand, thumb stroking your cheekbone, and gently presses his lips to yours. It’s soft at first, a tender curiosity. He kisses you again, a little more heated this time, and when he flicks his tongue across your bottom lip you grant him access as if it’s second nature. 
His tongue explores yours, tangling together, invading your sweet mouth. Joel thinks you taste a little like honey and a whole lot like fortuity. If you had asked him ten years ago if he’d ever imagined he’d be in this spot, tasting the inside of his brother’s girlfriend’s mouth, Joel would have said it was a delusional thought. 
Yet here he was, cock stiffening in his jeans from something as simple as a kiss. Like he’s some teenage boy, experiencing a woman for the first time.
But it is his first time experiencing you, and Joel knows that’s what makes all the difference. 
The kiss turns sloppy and desperate. And when your panting breaths turn to moans, Joel realizes Tommy’s hand on your thigh has disappeared beneath your skirt.
It surprises him, the magnitude of the moment. Joel would have thought he’d feel jealous somehow, envious that his brother’s touching you and he’s not. But there’s nothing but satisfaction to be found. Joel likes to see the dark look in your eye, likes to see your breath hitch in your throat.
He takes your legs and spreads them wide, draping your thigh over his, giving his brother more room to touch you.
“What do you think, brother? Think we should give her what she needs before we even get home?”
Your face is so close to his that your breath fans across his spit-covered lips as you say so beautifully, “Please, Joel.”
A smirk finds its way to his mouth. “You look so fuckin’ pretty when you beg, sweetheart,” he says. “S’that what you want? Hm?”
You nod frantically, eyes pleading.
“Hold your skirt up, baby,” Tommy instructs. And you do as he says without question, fabric bunching around your hips. 
Joel can’t deny the pleasure he finds in discovering you’re completely bare beneath. Even from his spot in the passenger seat, he can see how glossy your pussy is with arousal, desperate to be touched by both of them. “Oh…look at that, Tommy. She wants it bad, doesn’t she?”
“Always does, brother. Needy little thing. S’why she needs the two of us,” Tommy says. His fingers trail lazily over your slit, a teasing caress. He presses his index finger against your clit and makes a satisfied hum, a sound that comes from somewhere deep in his chest. “Can feel your heartbeat right here, princess. Tell Joel what you want.”
“I want him to touch me,” you say, a little bit breathless. “Want him to make me cum while you kiss me. You taste so good, Joel. You make me so wet.”
The words don’t sound filthy or obscene in your voice, despite how vulgar they are. Joel squeezes your jaw in his hand and delights in the way you grin when he says, “Eyes on me, sweetheart. Wanna see the look on your face when he fills you up with his fingers.”
You’re so pretty, Joel thinks. But it’s nothing compared to the way your pupils dilate as his brother stretches you open. Your lips part and Joel takes the opportunity to crush his mouth to yours, to taste the sweetness you possess. 
He drinks up your moans as Tommy sets a steady pace between your thighs. Joel grabs the back of your knee with a rough hand and spreads your legs further apart. He can hear how wet you are, can feel the goosebumps as they form down the column of your throat.
Joel pulls away from your spellbinding kiss only to catch his breath. “How’s it feel, baby? That feel good, hm? Tommy takin’ good care of you?”
“Yes, yes—mmm—fuck. His hands are so big, feel so fucking good,” you whimper. One hand is clutching Joel’s shirt, holding on for dear life, and you move the other to rest on his cock. You gently knead it over his jeans, and he wonders if you can feel just how hard he is for you.
It doesn’t take long until his brother has you trembling. Your thighs shake and a crease forms between your brows as you chase after the relief you seek.
He kisses you again, tongue brushing against yours, and when you breathe Joel’s name into his mouth he knows what you need before you even ask. 
Slowly, experimentally, Joel’s hand on your knee travels upwards. Over the soft skin of your thigh, taking it all in, savoring you—and then his fingers are circling your clit while Tommy’s are shoved deep inside of you, curved to hit the perfect spot, and you come undone within seconds. 
“Oh, God, Tommy, I—”
“I know, baby, it’s okay. Go ahead,” he says, giving you full permission. 
The words are the last thing you need to reach the full height of euphoria. You’re reduced to a trembling mess in his hands and Joel thinks this is so much better than his dreams. Better than standing in the doorway, watching you, wishing he could hold you.
“That’s it,” Joel praises. “There you go. Bein’ so good for us, sweetheart.” Wetness coats his fingers as he continues to circle your clit until your breath stutters in your chest. He kisses you hard as Tommy’s rhythm begins to slow, eventually stilling completely. 
You wince as they both pull their hands away from you at the same time, a synchronized movement. 
Tommy pulls the truck into Joel’s driveway and chuckles as he looks at you, skirt still hiked up around your hips, limbs boneless. He strokes the side of your face and kisses your hair. “You’re alright, princess. We’re just gettin’ started.”
Joel climbs out of the truck and adjusts your skirt, holding you with an arm around your waist to ensure your balance until both feet are on the ground. Tommy comes to your side and slides his hand into yours, handing Joel the keys.
While he works to unlock the front door, Joel can’t help but smile at the sound of your sweet giggles. He looks over his shoulder to see his brother kissing your neck and grabbing your ass, and the two of you look so infatuated with one another that it’s intoxicating. A magnetism he can’t help but be drawn to, a warmth he wants to embrace.
The minute you walk in the door you’ve got your hands on Joel again. You slip them beneath his t-shirt and he’s thrilled to give you what you want. He pulls it off over his head, discarding it on the back of the couch, and lets out a pleased sigh as you begin peppering wet kisses over his chest, down his sternum, fingers grabbing needily at his skin. 
Tommy stands behind you as you lower yourself to your knees between them. He runs his hands through your hair lovingly and says, “Show him what you do best, baby.”
You smile up at him and it takes Joel’s breath away. He’s never seen someone so pleased to please him, never felt this wanted in all his life. The metal of his belt buckle clinks against the button of his jeans as you undo them, pulling down his zipper in a way that’s familiar to you now.
When you pull his cock out, you wrap one hand around it and guide the tip to your mouth. He’s so hard already that he aches, but the feel of your soft tongue on him grants him ease. You lick every inch of him, an indulgent sort of torture. And then you’re swallowing him down, creating a tight seal with your plush lips.
Your mouth feels like heaven, Joel thinks.
“Look at the way she’s got her legs pressed together,” Tommy murmurs, thumb caressing your temple gently. “Gets so turned on with a dick in her mouth she just doesn’t know what to do with herself.”
“We’re gonna take care of that for you,” Joel says, cupping your jaw in his hand. He shifts it a little lower and can feel the outline of his cock through your throat as you swallow him down, gasping for air you never once ask for. “Gonna take care of everythin’ for you, sweetheart.”
Pleasure coils around his spine, a vise-like grip that threatens to end this night well before he’s ready for it.
Tommy grabs a handful of your hair and draws your head back. Strands of spit still connect you to him and drool runs down your chin. It’s the most pornographic thing he’s ever seen. Tommy laughs and says, “I know, brother. S’almost too good.”
Joel knows it should be a strange thing to hear, but it feels innate. He helps you back to your feet and pulls your shirt over your head while Tommy unzips the back of your skirt and slides it down your legs.
You turn and wrap your arms around Tommy’s neck and he lifts you up in his arms like it’s second nature. Joel supposes it is—the two of you have had a whole lot more practice together than he has. Tommy starts towards the stairs, heading towards Joel’s bedroom, but you let out a whine and reach out for him.
He can’t deny how warm it makes him feel, seeing you all wrapped up in his brother but still reaching for his hand. The smile you give him the moment he touches you makes his heart constrict in his chest. It’s such a soft, intimate moment, and Joel can think of nothing but your conversation on the phone last week.
You worried about catching feelings for me, Joel Miller?
He wasn’t a week ago. But now…? Now, he’s not so sure.
Tommy lays you down in the center of Joel’s bed and the sight of it pushes away his anxiety. You’re so beautiful with your hair splayed out behind you, an angelic sort of halo. The thought crosses his mind that you might have always been meant to exist in his bed.
It feels like second nature to crawl over you, to let his hands roam over your chest, your ribs, your hips. Joel follows each caress with a kiss, mouth following the echo of his hands. He sucks a bruise into your hip, ensuring this moment is real with physical, tangible evidence.
When he gets to the crease of your thigh, Joel sits up and spreads your legs wide. “Look at that,” he whispers. Tommy’s pulling off his worn t-shirt and working on his jeans but pauses long enough to appreciate the sight of your pussy, glossy with arousal and what remains of your first release. “She’s so fuckin’ pretty, ain’t she?”
“Yeah, she is,” Tommy agrees. “Taste’s real pretty, too.” He leans over and presses his mouth to yours, a messy, needy sort of kiss. You whimper as Tommy asks, “What d’you think, princess? Think Joel should get a taste? Hm?”
“Yes,” you say without hesitation. “I want it so bad, Tommy, please.”
“Want it, huh?” Joel slots himself between your thighs, his mouth an inch from where that ache resides. “Maybe we should make her wait a little longer, Tommy. Make her wait ‘til she needs it.”
“No, no, please,” you cry. You buck your hips, trying to find reprieve, but Joel’s hands on your waist hold firm. “I do, I do, I need it, Joel, please, please.”
He looks to his brother to make the decision. Tommy’s got a wicked grin on his face as he watches you writhe on Joel’s sheets. “Think you’ve been real good today. But don’t go forgettin’ your manners, princess. When Joel licks that pretty pussy of yours, you better say thank you.”
The moment he slides his tongue through your slit, your spine bends, arching off the mattress. Your shoulders slump and your breath comes fast. “Oh my god,” you moan. “Thank you, Joel, fuck.”
He tries to give you the same tentative treatment you’ve given him; tracing every inch of you with the flat of his tongue, memorizing the sweet taste, sucking your clit into his mouth. He can feel it pulse with need, and Joel understands the fever.
Your thighs clamp down around his head but Joel doesn’t mind. He just presses his mouth against you harder and flicks his tongue a little faster.
“Tommy,” you whimper. Joel looks up to see your chest heave with each shaking breath. You reach out for his brother with trembling fingers.
“I’m comin', baby,” Tommy says softly. “Don’t you worry.” The mattress dips beneath his weight as he kneels beside you. He cradles your head in his hand, supporting your neck while he eases his cock into your mouth. 
It’s the hottest thing Joel Miller has ever seen in his fucking life.
You grind yourself against his face and he supplies the friction you seek. Arousal coats his facial hair, enveloping his senses in nothing but you. Your moans, your taste, your scent—you, you you. He thinks he’ll never want it any other way but this.
Tommy guides your mouth with a hand wrapped in the tangled strands of your hair. He fucks your face and you whimper around his cock like there’s nothing else in the world that could ever compare. He smiles down at you and says, “You’re gonna make her cum, Joel. Can you feel it? Get’s real sloppy when she’s right there, right on the edge.”
Joel groans against you and focuses his mouth on your clit, giving him just enough room to slip a finger inside you to massage that sweet spot.
You stretch your arms above you and fist your hands in the sheets. When you reach the summit, Joel can feel it on his tongue, can feel your pussy tighten around his finger, can feel your thighs shake around his head.
Tommy pulls your head back, giving you a moment to breathe as another orgasm surges through you. Your moans echo in Joel’s room, the prettiest-sounding symphony he’s ever heard. “Good fuckin’ girl,” Tommy praises, just as breathless as you. “Bein’ such a good girl for us, baby.”
Joel doesn’t relent, doesn’t stop licking your clit until you’re giggling and twisting in his hands at the overstimulation. You sound so satisfied, so happy. It pleases him to see the elation on your face. When he finally pulls away, Joel snakes his arms beneath you and pulls you up to your knees. “So good,” Joel agrees. “But she’s gonna give us another one, aren’t you, sweetheart?”
All you can do is nod and it makes both brothers laugh.
“She’s usually got so much to say,” Tommy teases. “Think we’ve got her fucked dumb, brother.”
“That’s alright,” Joel whispers. “We’ll do all the thinkin’ for her, hm? Take such good care of this sweet little pussy. Turn around, baby. On your hands and knees.”
You do as he says blissfully, ass arched beautifully on display for him. Tommy maneuvers himself in front of you and you take him in your mouth on instinct. Second nature, habitual.
Joel positions himself behind you and slides the head of his cock through your slit. “This what you want, sweet girl? This what you dream of?”
Leaning back, you stroke Tommy with your hand and look up at him as you answer Joel’s question. “Yes,” you say. “I haven’t stopped thinking about it since I saw you. Knew I needed you, Joel. Knew I needed you both.”
“Three’s a crowd, princess,” Tommy says. “But I think I like this one.”
Joel’s inclined to agree. He pushes into you slowly, sighing in contentment at the gratifying tightness. You’re so wet, so warm. “Goddamn, baby,” he groans, gripping the supple flesh of your ass to keep himself tethered to earth, to keep himself grounded. 
Tommy holds your face in his hands, smoothing his cock over your lips. “Oh, she likes it, Joel,” he says. “Should see her face. Can I take a picture, baby? So Joel can see how happy you look with his dick all up in your guts? Hm?”
The words are crude but Joel can feel you tighten around him as Tommy speaks. “Mmhm,” is all you can say, sticking your tongue out to lick the underside of Tommy’s cock.
He reaches over to the nightstand where his cell phone sits. Tommy angles his phone just right, and the shutter echoes in the room as he takes his photos.
Joel pushes into you real slow. And when he’s buried to the hilt you let out a gasp and hold onto Tommy’s thigh for support, balance wavering. “It feels so fucking good,” you say.
Tommy takes a couple more photos, tries a couple of different angles. But Joel thinks no image will ever beat the one in front of him.
He watches your pussy stretch to make room for him, watches you soak his cock, desperate for it. Tilting his hips forward, Joel sets a steady pace, easily finding a rhythm that has you moaning out his name. 
Satisfied with his work, Tommy sets his phone back on the nightstand in favor of the filthy exhibit before him. He guides his cock back to your mouth, groaning at the feel of your tongue. 
Joel thrusts into you and feels that coil begin to form around the base of his spine again.
You’re moaning around Tommy’s cock and he’s smiling like there’s no place else he’d rather be. Joel understands that, too—because he thinks you’re the most perfect girl that could have ever stumbled into their lives. “S’this what you needed, princess? Needed us both, hm? Dirty little girl.”
“Our girl,” Joel muses, captivated by the way you squeeze him as he says it. He fits so perfectly inside you, like you were made for him, made for this. “Stretchin’ her out so easy, brother. Sweet little pussy’s just cryin’ for it.”
Tommy’s head falls back and his hips stutter. “Just like that, princess,” he praises gently. “Yeah, shit—gonna swallow it all like a good little girl, ain’t you?” 
You make a sound of approval at the back of your throat. Joel can see you look up at his brother, cock-drunk and starry-eyed, and he feels his chest pull tight with a strange sense of pride.
Joel slows his pace just a little, long enough for Tommy to take what he needs from you, for you to focus on just him. And then he’s breathing hard as he holds your head still, nose pressed against his navel. His shoulders draw tight and then gradually relax as he spills his release at the back of your throat. 
When Tommy pulls out of you, his cock is covered in spit and cum but you do as he says, dutifully swallowing it all up like the perfect girl you are. And you even clean any remaining mess with your tongue, licking it up with sweet reverence.
He’s close—so close it aches, but he wants you to give him another before this is other. Wants to make it worth your while, wants to know how it feels to make you cum while he’s buried deep inside you. 
You arch your back and press your cheek against the mattress, looking back at Joel from over your shoulder.
Tommy moves to your side, smoothing your hair out of your face with one hand, and then he slips the other beneath you and circles your clit with skilled, deft fingers.
The response is instantaneous. Joel can feel your pussy pulse around him, sees the strain on your face as you fight the pleasure. You say his brother's name like a prayer shrouded in ecstasy.
But Tommy just shakes his head. “Nah, princess. Ain’t up to me this time. You gotta ask Joel permission.”
He doesn’t understand at first, this almost silent communication between the two of you. But then you say, “Joel, please. Please please, I need to cum so bad, it feels too good.”
You sound so fucking pretty, begging for him like that. “Been so good…I think you’ve earned it,” he says gently. “Go ‘head, sweetheart.”
Tommy continues to circle your clit as you clench around Joel’s cock, uttering quiet praises in your ear. 
You tighten around him and Joel’s right there, right there—and then you say, “Cum with me, Joel, please. Cum with me, I wanna feel it.”
And it sends him over the edge. His name in your mouth, begging him to fill you up. He buries himself so deep inside you that there’s no telling where he ends and you begin, and it’s the best orgasm he’s ever had in his fucking life. 
You shudder beneath him and Joel leans forward, pressing his forehead to your spine. He thrusts into you until the last drop, giving you all of it, giving you everything he has to offer.
As you come down, Tommy pulls his hand from beneath you and combs his fingers through your hair. He’s got that stupid grin on his face, but Joel’s not sure he’s ever seen his brother this happy before. 
The three of you just lay there for a moment, saying nothing, unmoving, basking in the afterglow. Joel’s not quite sure how he’s meant to navigate this, not sure what he’s supposed to say or how he’s supposed to feel about the fact that the best sex he’s ever had was with his brother’s little girlfriend. 
But he does know how to take care of a woman. So, he does. Joel eases himself out of you and disappears for only long enough to find a washcloth, wet it with cool water from the bathroom sink, and grab an icy bottle of water from the fridge. 
When he returns to his bedroom, Tommy holds you in his arms while you speak to him in a hushed tone. It worries him a little, truthfully.
So when Joel sits on the side of his bed to clean the light sheen of sweat off your forehead and the mess between your legs, he asks, “Everythin’ okay?”
“Everything’s good. So, so good,” you answer easily, giving him one of those honeyed smiles.
Tommy takes the bottle of water from Joel’s hand and breaks the seal. “Drink,” he says, passing it to you. And you do, listening so obediently.
But the moment your hands are free again you say, “Joel? Can I ask you something?”
“Anything,” he says. And he means it. Whatever it is you need, whatever it is you want, Joel wants to give to you. He’s come to understand his brother in this, too.
“Do you think you’d want to…I don’t know. Maybe we could do it again?”
He laughs. Genuinely, truly laughs, because Tommy’s been right this whole time. You’re insatiable.
But you quickly amend your words. Saying, “I mean, not…not now. But maybe…maybe I could stay? For the weekend?”
Joel finds the thought of you leaving at the end of the night an unbearable one. And he knows he’ll likely feel the same once Sunday evening rolls around, and he’s not quite sure what that means for him or you or Tommy…but maybe it’s not something he has to worry about today. 
He kisses your forehead and says, “‘Course you can, sweetheart.”
And then you’re reaching for him again, urging him beneath the sheets. You lay your head on Joel’s chest and drape your leg over Tommy’s hip, and you look so at ease, so peaceful that his heart constricts at the sight. You’re so good, so sweet, and Joel thinks he’d do anything to keep you happy.
Later, as your soft snores and shallow breaths fill the silence, Tommy playfully kicks Joel in the shin and says, “Ain’t no use tryin’ to talk yourself off the ledge, brother. Easier to just enjoy the freefall. Take it day by day.”
Joel thinks his brother might be right. Thinks that this might get complicated and messy and dangerous…but for now, for today…he’ll savor the sugary sweetness while it lasts.
855 notes · View notes
mister-001 · 2 months ago
Text
POISON
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content: Yandere Platonic Batfamily x Neglected Reader
sinopse — you were neglected from a young age, you could no longer take all this neglect and the looks they gave you, as if you were an insect next to them, your option was to run away, and so you did, but on the way, you meet a certain clown, one who charts your path, you might think that's how it ends, but you're very wrong, you can't defy your family, and look who came to haunt you, I mean, look who came to take you home.
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Warning: mentions of violence, murder, mentions of torture, violence, mentions of drugs, Reader is a girl, manipulation, violence against minors, torture, Cigarette use, negligence, joker being the joker, Yandere behavior, defined gender, blood.
chapters: 02
A/N: Firstly, you can call me Shin or Lay, feel free, sorry for the defined gender, I feel more comfortable writing for the female gender, but don't worry, I will write for other genders too, I'm just trying to feel comfortable first, I ask you to be patient with me, I can't be very active, I have a life to prioritize, health first, English is not my first language, Portuguese is, I'm using the translator, so if there is an error you already know Who to blame, I'm writing because I like writing, so don't rush me, sorry if there are any grammar or spelling mistakes, drink water and take care of yourselves, Take care little lamb...
Enjoy it while you can...
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You can't run away forever little bird...
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eyes were glued to the tomb in front, the tombstone well cared for and clean, a sigh came out of the little girl's mouth, more tears filled her eyes, even though she had this stoic expression, it didn't stop her from crying, until the stronger ones cry...
A hand was placed on the little girl's shoulder and she looked at the person, the middle aged man looked at her with pity, she had lost her mother so early, poor girl, at such a young age, already lost someone, the man smiled softly and nodded towards the car
The girl always had the curiosity of meeting her father, of course, her mother always said that he was a rich playboy who wouldn't have time for her, but even so, as harsh as those words sounded, the little girl knew that this was a lesson, a fact, and it seems that her mother was right, as always...
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Bruce considers himself to be at least a somewhat decent person
I mean, he may not be what people call perfect, but he tries to be decent, behind that expression, there is someone who was much happier before...
Well, when a little girl arrived at Wayne Manor, he tried to do what he could to calm down first, yes, it's not the first time he's had a child, but this time is different, this little girl, is his, she contains the same blood, she is not adopted, she is really his daughter
He tried at first, but then why didn't he try later?
Because he let her slip out of his hands
He should have been there for her
He wanted to have been there for her, but the city needed him
But she also needs it, you know?...
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Once again being ignored in this mansion, the dark halls that haunt you, stopping when you saw your older brother, Dick, he looked at you and just walked past you as if you didn't exist, you felt another piece of your heart break, with a sigh you walked again
Once again heading to the dark halls of the mansion
You were playing with dolls in your room, and looked at the door when you heard footsteps, your brother, Jason, walked by irritably, once again, it was always like this
You just went back to playing alone, with yourself and your silence...
It's like they say, silence is a person's best friend...
Footsteps are heard as a little girl walks through the halls once again, heading to the kitchen while looking for Alfred, she clutched the Batman plush and stopped in a room, she was going to knock on the door, but someone had already opened the door.
The little girl looked at her brother, Tim, and tried to speak, but he simply closed the bedroom door, leaving her standing in front of the door while looking at the wooden door in front of her.
With a sigh she turned and went back to looking for Alfred.
The little girl was helping Alfred and lost the Batman plush, while looking, the girl saw two girls talking and laughing, they were her sisters, Barbara and Cassandra, she likes to call them Barb and Cass, but when she went to talk to them girls, they just walked past her, Cass was kind enough to pet her head, but still, they completely ignored her existence
Again...
You were next to Damien as you clung to his jacket in the morning, a boy decided that you were the best option to bully, but Damien didn't like it very much and now the boy was on the floor bleeding, his nose was definitely broken. , he was crying in pain while Damien was looking on with disgust and disdain
You..., well you were scared, you hate seeing people bleeding, it makes you sick, you just wanted your stuffed animal back...
Startled when Damien finally looked at you with that serious expression, you quickly released the sleeve of his jacket and looked into his eyes
_ "you are weak, you will never be a Wayne, that must be why your mother died, because you weren't strong enough to save her, you can't even protect yourself alone, who guarantees that you can protect someone, I'm the most new, and I still know more than you, for once, be useful and grow "
You froze, as if time was standing still, with your eyes wide in surprise, you looked at the ground and nodded slowly as you closed your eyes to keep the tears away, it hurt, it hurt a lot, it hurt more than the scars you have from that day, the day your mother died, the day you were sent to a dark place...
Damien just walked past you and stopped in the hallway, leaving you alone, with just your tears...
You were in your room crying, tears rolled down your cheeks, holding onto the only thing you had, your Batman plush, you wanted Batman to save you just like he saves Ghotam...
You were too distracted to notice that someone entered your room, footsteps came closer to you and you felt arms around you, with a start you looked at the person, only to see Alfred
Without saying anything you allowed yourself to cry more as you clung to him.
Alfred caressed your back gently as he sighed softly, he just wishes someone in this mansion could see how brilliant you are, how amazing you are, if only there was something he could do...
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LOOKING at the Tombstone, everything was silent, the silence was deafening
Yes, you ran away, and I'm not saying it in a metaphor, I'm saying you actually ran away from the mansion, well, I wouldn't consider running away, because I'm pretty sure walking out the front door and no one stops you isn't considered running away, but which is a consideration for those who have never had one...
Now here you were, in front of your late mother's tombstone, the only one who taught you and gave you affection when you needed her most, no one can replace your mother, no one at all, you would get blood on your own hands if necessary, for She, you destroy the world...
Walking through the dark streets of Gotham was you, as you held your Batman plush close, you couldn't stop feeling that feeling of someone following you, well you were right but the worst part is being right about wrong feelings...
That's why you looked back, and didn't see anyone, but when you looked ahead, your heart felt like it was going to leave you, trying to calm your breathing you dared to look at his face, the smile that doesn't fool anyone, the clothes, the hair...
You weren't mistaken
You wish you were mistaken
But this was really him...
With an amused smile in front of him was none other than someone with his own macabre thoughts...
_ "Well, well, if we don't have a little clown, alone... I don't need to introduce myself, you must know me, but I have education and I'm going to introduce myself anyway, I'm the... Joker...
Batman will like the little gift, well, if he can have his little friends, I can also have a little clown with me, don't you agree?, of course you agree, come on, little clown, let's introduce you to Gotham City..."
You looked at the man in front of you with fear, your brain was screaming at you to run, but your legs seemed glued to the ground, frozen, paralyzed...
panic settled in your body when you felt arms lifting you, you tried to fight, you tried to make him let go of you, but you shivered when you felt something come into contact with your skin, of course you knew how to put one and one together, you grew with your Mom, so you obviously know that he injected something into you, injected something into your neck...
You felt tired and stopped fighting, your eyelids slowly closed as you tried to keep them open, but it wasn't enough and you fell into a deep sleep, a dreamless sleep...
A broken heart will never be broken again if the pieces are already too small, but who said you can't step on the pieces...
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BRUCE felt something was wrong, a bad feeling, he double checked his kids and found every one of them, but the more he looked, the more he felt something was wrong, so he went to look at the cameras in the batcave, wrong move ...
Looking at the cameras, he finally figured out what was wrong, his daughter, his little daughter came out, she ran away, he felt panic rising inside him, and he heard a noise behind him, and when he looked he saw Jason looking at the recording of the video. security camera with a death glare, before Bruce nodded as Jason quickly turned and went to warn the others...
That's why now they were all in the Batcave, looking at the security cameras, Tim blamed himself for not being able to stop this, he made so many plans, because he can't make a plan in case this happened, now she was lost, in the darkness of Gotham City, a dark place...
But they will find you, no matter what it takes
They will burn down Gotham if necessary
It looks like it won't rain water from the sky, but rather blood...
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A/N: hello little lamb, I hope you liked it, it wasn't my idea, I was inspired by an account that had this great idea, sorry for any grammar or spelling errors, and sorry again for the defined gender, remember to take care of yourself, little one little lamb, bye bye, take care...
Signed: 𝙇𝙖𝙮...
Autor : @trashpanda0000 @dhanyasri @marsmabe @caged-birdies-blog @vanessa-boo
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starogeorgina · 2 months ago
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𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫
Paring: Aemond Targaryen x reader
Warnings: Corruption kink, loss of virginity, fingering, hand job, mention of blood.
Deep in thought you pace the floors of your bedchamber the cold floor below, pinching at the pads of your feet while you palm at your breasts. It was the hour of the eel, and the only light was from the candles and flickering flames of hearth.
“Byka mēre.” (Little one)
Startled, you use your hands to conceal your breasts. You look across the room and see a tall figure by the fireplace, “cousin.”
“Hmm,” he lets our disapproving tsk. “You should be asleep. Tomorrow will be a long day.”
He wasn’t wrong. Your father, Ser Gwayne, and yourself travelled to the red keep so he and Queen Alicent could find a suitable husband for you. It wasn’t uncommon for Aemond to visit you before settling for the night, but he usually didn’t come so late.
“Why aren’t you asleep?”
Aemond ignores the question and finally turns to face you, his expression hard to read. In a stern tone, he asks, “What are you doing?”
“Nothing.”
“Pirtirys.” (Liar.)
Frowning, you shake your head. You hated it when Aemond spoke in High Valyrian. He knew how badly you wanted to learn it since the histories of House Targaryen fascinated you, but as you grew up in OldTown and had Hightower blood, you never got the opportunity to learn about such things.
“Some may consider what you’re doing unbecoming of a young lady soon to be married.”
Feeling embarrassed, you look down at the ground. “I was told simulating your breasts makes them grow larger.”
“Oh,” he smiles at you mockingly. “And who told this?”
“A couple of my ladies... Why are you here so late?”
“Your breasts are in proportion to the rest of your body,” he says, ignoring your question. "Plus, I can tell when you are lying. So tell me, Why are you groping at yourself as if you’re putting on a show in a whorehouse?”
“I… I was told if a woman touches herself during sex it can bring her pleasure; I just wanted to see if it was true.”
“If you wish to know, you only needed to ask.”
Stepping forward Aemond lowers your hand and replaces it with his mouth. If anyone else had tried to touch you in such a way, you would have screamed, hit them, and ordered the knight standing guard outside your room to kill them.
But with Aemond, it was different.
The warmth from his tongue was a stark contrast to the feeling of your fingers. He takes one of your breasts into his mouth, teeth grazing soft flesh, sucking at your nipple. A small moan leaves your mouth, encouraging him to keep going.
A sudden knock at the door causes you to leap apart. Aemond leaves the room without saying anything, his head held high while you hurry to fix your nightgown for your handmaiden entering the room.
Aemond couldn’t get you out of his mind, his sweet younger cousin, his little one.
You were only a few years younger, but growing up, you were much smaller in height, which is why he gave you the nickname. All the teasing was in jest, of course; you were his favourite, and the prince could think of nothing worse than upsetting you. You had an innocence he had never seen in another person, even now that you had become a grown woman.
The more the Prince watches lords parade their sons, themselves or whoever the next male heir in their house was to his uncle Gwayne, he grew more and more irritated.
You were his beautiful, innocent girl; he wouldn’t allow for you to be ruined by some man unworthy of you.
He would be the one to marry you.
As far as the one-eyed prince was concerned, you were his to love and cherish, and he would be the one to take your maidenhood to seal the deal, making sure you were his forever. And in the back of his mind there may be a sick satisfaction knowing you would allow nobody else to touch you in the way he already has.
His sweet girl, all ready to be corrupted by him and only him.
The next few weeks were long and tiresome. Your father had paraded you around court while eagerly listening to every lord who came to him and said why they should be your husband. But none of them paid any mind to you, the bride.
However, Prince Ameond was a different matter. During the rare few hours you had, he would come and keep you company. He gifted you books of Targaryen history, a pearl necklace, and a silk dress that was similar in shade to his dragons scales. He even read poems to you.
And not once has he tried to touch you again. Perhaps almost being caught scared him, or he was no longer interested.
Aemond was reading while you practiced needlework in silence until a sudden thought crossed your mind. “Do you think of me as spoilt?”
“Jason Lannister is a cunt,” he says sharply. “He only referred to you as spoilt because your father refused his marriage proposal on the spot. Out of curiosity, what do you want in a husband?”
“I want a husband who pays attention to me like you do.”
He smirks, placing his book on the arm of the chair. Aemond waves for you to go over to him. “My lady, do you want a man like me, or do you want me?”
“I want you, my prince.”
When you stand in front of him, his hand immediately goes to your hip. “My uncle still has lots of lords to speak with, but I may know a way he would agree for us to be married immediately if that’s what you truly wanted.”
“What is it?”
“If you’re no longer a maiden, then Ser Gwayne would have no choice but to betroth us.”
“I would be dishonoured.”
“You would be married to a dragon.” His grip on your hips tightens. “I would be the only man ever filling your womb with their seed; no dishonour would be taking place.”
“Why do you want this?”
Aemond thinks hard before answering. The prince was completely obsessed with you, to the point it was borderline possessive. And from the moment you became of age to be married, he has been hounding his mother to arrange a marriage between the two of you, but as always, she put duty above all else and insisted on waiting to see who else asked for your hand, but Aemond couldn’t let that happen.
He’s silently for so long you start to grow nervous, “Aemond?”
“You are mine, little one, and always have been.”
Swallowing thickly, you step back out of his reach and remove the thin material covering your body, then move to straddle Aemond’s lap. “Then make me yours forever; claim me so no other man can have me.”
Aemond claims your lips with his own. With one leg on either side of his lap, Aemond lowers his hand underneath you with ease, using his finger to spread the small amount of wetness dripping from your folds to and drag it up to your clit. After a few moments, he urges you to move off him. Aemond lifts his hips and pulls his clothing down until his cock is free, then pulls you back onto his lap.
You look down at his penis, watching as precum forms a glistening tip on the head of his cock. Holding your gaze, Aemond guides your hand to slowly start stroking him.
“Is this okay?”
“Yes,” he confirms. “You are doing good; I’m going to prepare you now so that it doesn’t hurt so much.”
Your stomach clenches.
Aemond slides one long, slender finger inside you, then adds another. He pumps them back and forth while rubbing at your clit. You feel a weird sensation, like your core is starting to spasm. You still stroke at his cock, but your movements are now weaker than before.
“I feel weird,” you mumble.
“It’s okay, that’s good. Let the feeling take over.”
A few seconds later, you cum over his fingers, whimpering his name. “You’re doing so good,” Aemond withdraws his fingers from and lines his cock up. “I’ll try my best to take it slow.”
Placing one hand on your backside, Aemond holds you in place as he eases into you. Feeling the sting of his cock stretching you, you whine, “It’s too big!”
“Tis only the tip, little one. Rub your clit, it will only feel better.”
Doing as he says you start rubbing as Aemond pushes you down until his cock is completely inside you. It felt weird—a good weird. Aemond holds onto your hips again and starts to slowly move you up and down; you spread up the rubbing motions.
“I think I’m going to cum again.”
“Then cum for me,” he says before kissing you again.
You moan into his mouth when a similar feeling as before comes over you. Aemond’s thrusts become sloppy as he approaches his own peak, spilling his seed inside you.
After a few moments of kissing and Aemond stroking your back tenderly, you remove yourself from his lap. Glancing down between your legs, you notice blood-mixed arousal sliding down your thighs.
Aemond tilts your chin up gently, “tis normal for some women to bleed.”
“Oh.”
You step back and reach for your nightgown to redress, suddenly worried this might have been a mistake. Why if Aemond decided you weren’t good enough to be his wife?
“What happens now?” You ask shyly.
“I will have one of your ladies prepare a bath for you,” he leans down and presses a kiss to your cheek. “You need to do nothing else but rest, and while you do that, I will speak with my mother and inform her of what transpired. Then I suspect come morning she will be meeting with Ser Gwayne to discuss our betrothal.”
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bokunoheros · 2 months ago
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TAGS/WARNINGS: reader is gender neutral but afab (they do wear a dress and lingerie tho), reader and shouto are married, reader was in 1-A, pro hero shouto, everyone is 27+, alcohol consumption (shouto’s drunk), mentions of smoking a blunt (reader’s high), sex in a classroom, idfk GENRE: smut bruh SUMMARY: when you suggest doing it in public briefly and in passing to your husband, you were not expecting him to take you up on that offer at your fucking high school reunion!? WORD COUNT: 1.9K 🦊’s A/N: okay. so. this was originally supposed to be for iida, but since FORDULA couldn’t do day 18 like they were meant to… i wrote it for shouto instead bc im not writing for tenya sorry yall // also i wrote most of this the day before it was due after waking up at 5am so uhm 👍 god help me
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     the very last thing you were expecting from your husband would be the idea of him enjoying semi-public sex—it made sense how one would arrive to this conclusion, seeing as how he’s such a reserved person and all. you don’t even remember when it was that you brought it up—it must have just been a comment in passing; not that shouto missed it, of course. and then the suggestion got him thinking…. like seriously considering it. the more he thought about it, the more arousing it became to him, until it was a borderline fantasy: him fucking you somewhere you could easily be caught at with a large hand covering your mouth to make sure no one could overhear your desperate little noises. fuck.
     now he finds himself at his ten year high school reunion, all dressed up with a raging erection that he was trying to hide by sitting at one of the tables there, grateful for the fabric draped over them, as he drinks and drinks to calm his nerves. thank god you volunteered to drive back home tonight. you don’t know what possessed you, but you didn’t feel like getting slizzard tonight—a stark contrast to your husband, who was trying to drink his boner away. (without much luck, mind you.)
     when you come back over from the dancefloor to check in on your husband, however, he’s quick to excuse himself from the table he’d been seated at all night and drag you off to an empty classroom. 
     “shouto? ‘s something wrong?” you ask, looking up at him. 
     “no—i just—” how does he put this? “really wanna fuck you,” is what comes out of his drunken lips, his brain to mouth filter having shut off for the night. (was it really there to begin with though..?)
     “oh!” you squeak as your cheeks flush at his words and he backs you up against the door. “h–here?” you’re at a loss for words entirely while shouto places both large, calloused hands on your hips as he begins to press sloppy, drunken kisses along your neck. “sh–shouto!”
     “mmh?” he hums, not pausing in his actions—he doubles down, actually, by nipping at the tender flesh of your throat, the hands on your hips sliding down your thighs, down to the hem of the disgustingly skimpy dress you had decided to wear tonight—the reason for his raging erection all night—where they sneak up under it and back of to your hips so he could feel your bare flesh, quirk activating enough for you to feel an extreme difference in temperatures, but not ruin the fabric of your dress from the inside out.
     “we—we can’t do that here; someone’s gonna get suspicious if we’re gone too long!” you weakly protest, words holding no real weight. because if you were being one hundred percent honest, you wanted this just as much as he did, even without any alcohol in your system! (you had smoked a blunt and hotboxed the shit out of your car after arriving at the prestigious school, though, as you refused to be sober for an event such as this.)
     “oh yeah? like who?” he counters, beginning to suck at your neck, not lingering on any one spot.
     “a–ashido, probably! i— i just got done dancing with her—”
     “i know, ‘ve been watchin’ you all night,” he slurs. “so you’re just taking a break—maybe you went to the bathroom, that’s not her business.” his hips press into yours, and you whine at the feeling of his hardened cock pressing against your crotch. 
     “god—you’re so full of shit,” you tell him, burying one hand in his two toned hair while the other settles on a sturdy shoulder, and todoroki can’t help but smile at your words.
     “so?” you can feel him grinning against your neck, like a drunken fool in love (which is exactly what he was, by the way). 
     you’re out of comebacks and excuses as to why he shouldn’t fuck you right here, right now, so instead of trying to argue against hip, you tug at his hair so he’ll look at you before leaning in to press a kiss to his plump lips. 
     he tasted like the sake he’d been sipping on all night as he watched you with that intense gaze of his—something he inherited from his father, like it or not—and he hums in a pleased manner as he grips your hips tighter.
     “how much have you had to drink tonight, baby?” you ask once you reluctantly pull away from the kiss—a question shouto chooses to ignore.
     he’d had maybe three and a half red solo cups worth of sake in his system, which was enough for his inhibitions of being caught melt away. he almost hopes you two do get caught (by an old classmate at least) just so he can wordlessly flex that he was the one with the smoking hot spouse and not them. 
     so, with your minimal resistance and shouto’s horny persistence, it’s not long until he’s got his thumbs hooked in the waistband of your panties and is tugging them down your thighs, asking you to step out of them so can keep them in his pocket (for the rest of the reunion). 
     “hhnng—,” you whine as two of shouto’s icy fingers move to play with your clit, and a chill runs down your spine at the feeling. “sho—” you’re cut off by a kiss as your husband slots his lips over yours, teeth clacking slightly as he kisses you sloppily and hungrily. it wasn’t unusual for shouto’s to be a bit of a sloppy kisser (as it turns out, he’s a really big fan of swapping spit), but generally he was more put together than he was right now—it’s like he was trying to eat you whole as his tongue easily slid into your already open mouth.
     you, ever the tease, quickly get with the program and arch your back, pressing your chest against his, and start sucking on his almost burning tongue—something that catches him only slightly off guard. he’s fast with his response though, left hand moving to squeeze your ass, heating up enough to leave a faint burning handprint.
     “fuck!” you squeal at the searing touch and accidentally bite shouto’s tongue in the process.
     he pulls away with a hiss but no real disdain before the same hand that had left a print on your butt comes up to cover your mouth. sure, the music in the gym was awfully loud, but there could still be some other people in the hallway—maybe people who actually had to use the bathroom. it doesn’t matter. what matters is that shouto gets to fuck you, and—an idea comes to mind that only his drunk, secretly perverted brain could think of.
     “shhh,” he shushes you, pulling his hand away from your mouth in order to undo his belt buckle and unbutton his nice dress pants. 
     biting your lip, you nod as he tugs the slacks and his boxers down to about half way down his thick thighs, letting his painfully hard cock spring free and slap against his lower stomach. you can’t help but bite your bottom lip at the sight, and you go to sink to your knees to suck him off before he’s tugging you back up by the hair.
     “no,” he pants, taking his dick in one hand as he plants the other back on your hip. “need t’fuck you—please, angel, i— it hurts,” he whines, lining his throbbing length up with your already wet slit.
     “yeah? okay, fuck—go ahead, baby,” you give him permission to actually insert himself, and he groans loudly at the feeling of your tight heat finally engulfing him. jesus! he had waited all night for this, and it was so worth it.
      “hnngh—shit,” he whimpers, the hand that was previously holding his dick moving to play with your puffy clit as he pushes into you slowly at first before bottoming out all at once. fuck! 
     your breath hitches in your throat and you can’t help but moan shouto’s name while tugging at his hair as he kisses you sloppy style once more. 
     with how drunk and horny he was, it doesn’t take long for your husband to approach his climax, and with the way he was toying with your sensitive button, you’re quickly being worked up to one too, until—
     knockknockknock!
     “hello..? i thought i heard someone groan, are you okay in there?” the voice is familiar, but you can’t quite place your finger on who it was. (it was hagakure, by the way.)
     shouto freezes in all his actions and looks at you with half lidded eyes and a knowing smirk, cheeks flushed as he tries to quieten his breathing. your hips involuntarily roll down against the fingers still pressed against your clit, and you accidentally let out a quiet moan before covering your mouth with both hands, face burning with shame and arousal.
     “all fine in here, thanks,” shouto’s able to get out, though his voice is strained. “just— ….reminiscing!” he lies, as if he wasn’t balls deep in you right now.
     “ooh! fun! can i join?” the door handle jiggles, and shouto’s hand flys out to freeze the door shut. “—huh? hey, what’s with the door?”
     “it’s—uhm, it’s personal memories,” he follows up, dick twitching inside you. fuck, how was he meant to last like this?
     you almost giggle at his lame ass excuse and over the top reaction, until you remember that over the top reaction is the exact reason tooru hadn’t just seen you both in such a compromising position.
     “we’ll be—done soon!” you call out, and at the sound of your voice and insistence on her not coming in, the invisible woman gets the message before saying oh! okay! and finally walking off.
     “that was— that was close, wasn’t it?” shouto pants, starting to move his hips again as his fingers resume their circular motions against your clit. 
     “yeah, i could really feel how excited you were,” you chuckle, to which shouto huffs and picks up his pace. “nngh–!” you moan softly, as you both finally get a chance to cum.
     your husband's dick twitches sporadically deep inside you before hot, sticky cum spills out of it and into you as your pussy spasms and flutters around him, milking shouto for everything he was worth and then some. 
     slowly pulling out of you, he plants a kiss to your spit-soaked lips before pulling his pants back up and redoing his belt and melting away the ice he had created not too long ago as you tug the hem of your dress down, and—hey! that panty thief!
     “shouto…. aren’t you forgetting something?” you try to remind him, cringing at the feeling of his cum starting to leak out of your wet cunt and trickle down your thigh. 
     “mmh,” his brows scrunch in thought, as if he’s actually thinking. “no? i don’t think so?” he moves to grab the door handle, but you bat his hand away and tug at his wrist.
     “my…. my panties?” you say, trying to squeeze your thighs together to prevent any more cum from dripping out, but to no avail.
     “oh! right—” he goes to take them out of his pocket before he pauses and a smirk tugs at his pouty lips. “you can have them back when we get home,” he tells you, opening the door and starting to walk out. “now come on, the others are going to get suspicious if we’re gone too long.”
goddamn him!
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return to KINKTOBER | S. TODOROKI M.LIST
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clemswinecorner · 3 months ago
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Getting caught 4+1 - [Arthur Frederick (TV)]
Summary: Getting caught 4 + 1 (or, 4 times Arthur an Y/N almost accidentally revealed their relationship, and the one time they did)
Wordcount: 4.2k
Warnings: sexual innuendos and alcohol, other than that it's fine
Not based on but the first part was inspired by this arthur fic! As well as prompts from the amazing @creativepromptsforwritinghttps that I always love <33 It's a bit of a longer one so sit down and enjoy, I hope you guys like this!
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It was at their friends' house-warming, Chris’ initiative, when they had their first scare of getting caught.
Arthur and Y/N had been mingling around for a bit before making their relationship official a little over a month before, just days before Y/N left for a few weeks in Italy. Y/N was standing in front of their friends' house with a bottle of gin and a small plant as Chris opened the door with a smile. “Hey! How’s it going?” He asks as he hugs the twenty-four-year-old. “Good, good. Congrats on the new place, by the way, have you and the boys been settling in alright?” She asks as she makes her way inside. “Yeah, it’s different from before, but I’m getting used to it,” he admits as she hands him the gifts. “Oh, I got you some decoration, and something nice for tonight or whenever,” she explains, and he thankfully smiles. “Ah, thank you so much, that’s lovely! You can put your jacket in the closet right there.” He motions to a closet door as she takes off her jacket, which she hangs up. “I’m glad you could make it tonight, I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever! We need to plan a proper catch-up soon,” she chuckles as they make their way to the living room. “That’s what you get when you decide to be busy right when I come back from four weeks in Italy, mate. But yes, we need to arrange something. Oh, I love the posters, by the way!” 
Chris doesn’t realise why the jumper she’s wearing looks familiar until Arthur walks into the living room. “Wait, doesn’t Arthur have a hoodie just like this?” He asks, interrupting their chat about beers. Her eyes grow a little wide as she looks down at the hoodie she’s wearing, that is clearly Arthur’s. She was in a rush before leaving, as usual, and pulled on the first hoodie she saw, thinking she wouldn’t need it indoors anyway, not considering it wouldn’t be as crowded when she arrived. “Oh, really? I just got this the other day, I had no clue! That's so funny,” she says, half a beat too late, which was just long enough for Chris not to notice. “Yeah, I mean, I guess it makes sense for you to have the same style a bit since you’re a bit alike, although your clothing isn’t that similar,” she simply shrugs, as she glances at Arthur. He was wearing a Fellas hoodie — the one she desperately took off him less than 24 hours ago. He looks her way as he’s making his way around greeting people, arriving at the couch soon enough. Chris stands up and greets him as they have a quick conversation as she stands up and straightens her skirt. “Hi, nice to see you again. How was Italy?” He asks, and she giggles as they hug. “Like you don’t know,” she whispers, making him chuckle, before she answers. Chris softly touches her shoulder, “I’m gonna go and socialise a bit, we’ll plan something proper, yeah?” She nods, “Yeah, yeah, go ahead, they’re your guests!” She exclaims. “Don’t hide and play chess, have some fun, yeah?” He pats Arthur’s back with a chuckle before moving over, making his old friend roll his eyes before turning back to his girlfriend. “We almost got caught, he rec-,” the girl stops her sentence as she notices George Clarke making his way to the pair. “Yeah, I’ll send you the name for when you go to Rome,” she mentions, as George joins them. “Hello friends! Y/N, it’s been forever, how are you doing!” She smiles as she embraces her friend, “It has been! Good, good, good, lovely place you have! How’s everything going?”
As they make conversation and drink, Arthur and Y/N keep locking eyes. She smiles shyly when he nonchalantly bites his lips, and leans against the back couch. God, that’s fucking hot. George leaves to get more drinks, as they were all about half a drink away from being tipsy, and she immediately scoots closer to her boyfriend. “We almost got caught. Chris noticed the jumper,” she quietly says, as he puts his arm on the back of the couch besides her, looking at her intensely. “Hmm, did he,” he says absent-mindedly. She glances around and stands up, her hand softly grazing his leg. “If George asks, I’m going to the bathroom. You can find me on Chris’ balcony,” she says, low enough for no-one to hear. His eyes follow her as she walks away, and he takes the last sip of his drink as she makes her way around the corner to go up the stairs. “Where’d she go?” George asks, interrupting his, admittedly not very faithful, thoughts. He coughs, “Bathroom. Thanks,” He says, accepting the drink George made him. “Ah. They’re playing Beer Pong in the kitchen, d’you wanna join?” He asks, and Arthur shakes his head. “Not today, but you can go. I’ll let Y/N know when she gets back,” he simply says, and George nods. “Alright, alright,” he simply says before leaving the twenty-eight-year-old to sit by himself. 
“Well, hello,” She turns around at Arthur’s soft voice with a smile as he closes the door to the balcony. “Hey baby. How was the meeting?” She asks, and he shrugs. “It was alright. Would’ve rather stayed in bed with you this morning, though,” his comment makes her cheeks flush red. How this man still had her feeling like a girl with a school crush was incredible, but she loved it. “You have me now,” she says, Arthur putting one hand on her wrist, the other around her waist pulling her closer. “Wish I didn’t have to share you, though,” he says when their faces are mere inches apart, pressing his lips to hers. Despite having seen each other every day since, they craved each other as much as they did when he picked her up at the airport after four weeks of not seeing each other. “Do we go back inside before us being gone becomes suspicious, or…” Arthur shakes his head, “no, I’m keeping you to myself for a little longer.”
The second time they almost get caught they were in a similar setting, though this time the party was George’s. 
It was their six months anniversary, and although they didn’t necessarily want to celebrate every single anniversary, they did tend to spend every 10th of the month together. They’d much rather be cuddled up with some comfort food with a movie on the background, simply enjoying each other’s company and chats — instead, they found themselves chatting to friends as they’re waiting to go home tipsy. She’d asked before they left, getting ready at Arthur’s flat after ordering in. “Are you actively drinking tonight?” She turns away from the mirror doing her makeup for a second to look at Arthur rummaging through his closet. “I mean, I don’t think I want to get too drunk. Maybe if we don’t make it too late we can come back here, maybe have a drink by ourselves to celebrate half a year?” You nod, “Yeah, sounds perfect. Just a few drinks, I would like to get to enjoy you tonight,” she smirks, and he sends her a smile through the mirror. “Oh! Before you get dressed, I got you something,” he realises, quickly getting out of his room. He returns with a pink and white striped bag, “just something small,” he says, a bit flushed. She looks up at him before she takes out the wrapped present, and looks at him with a sly smile, “Ohhh this is exactly the right colour. Oh my god that’s so nice,” She smiles as she takes out the lingerie, and looks at him nervously smiling. “Is it good? I didn’t know if you’d like the model,” She nods, “yeah, yeah. It’s so beautiful,” she says, moving towards him. “Suits you,” he whispers as he grabs her hips. She chuckles, putting her arms around his shoulders. “Thank you,” she says, giving him a kiss. “I was going to take you out to dinner today, but you know… We’ll do that somewhere this week.” 
She's simply chatting with George, pulling down her shirt to show her tan they were talking about. “Wait, did you get that bra from Arthur?” He chuckles, and her eyes go wide. “What? Why’d you think that?” She asks confused. “I swear he bought something in the colour just like that, he said his sister needed it to be picked up in London so he picked it up for her,” She quickly shakes her head in denial. “No, I got this for Christmas last year. Don’t know why Arthur would give me it,” She explains, and he looks at over at him and back at her. “Hmm, I don’t know, either,” he says suspiciously, taking another sip of his drink before she swiftly changes the conversation topic. “Oh, I saw you did the Sidemen video we were talking about before I left, how was it?”
Y/N nudges Arthur as she sits down next to him on the couch, “Want to explain why George knew about the bra?” She asks. He looks up from his phone in surprise, “What?!” He asks, and she giggles. “He said, and I quote, ‘Did you get that bra from Arthur?’, because you bought it when he was there,” She explains, and he chuckles. “Yeah, I did buy it when he was there. Wait, no, actually, why did he even see it?!” He asks in surprise. “We were talking about tanning and I showed him my tan line, so he saw the bra strap,” Arthur nods suspiciously at the explanation. “Uh-huh. Well, I won’t buy it when George is there next time. And you shouldn’t show him your bra!” She jokingly rolls her eyes, “I wasn’t just showing my bra!” Arthur laughs at her reaction and looks back at her with a smile. “Hmm. Well, I do want to see it. Should we go?” She looks down at the time. They’d been here for about three and a half hours, and it seemed socially acceptable to leave. “Yeah. I’ll grab my bag, and we go say goodbye.”
The third time, was the closest it ever got, at the Sidemen anniversary party.
They were glad it wasn’t someone already suspecting something, because if it was the couple definitely would’ve been found out. It wasn’t even a special evening to them, they’d already spend the entire week together and wanted to treat it as a casual night out with friends. It was going to be a fun occasion to get drunk, but Arthur knew that idea was thrown out the window when he saw her in a casual-chic black dress that suited her way too perfectly. He was glad the other boys weren’t there yet when he arrived at her place, where the group had agreed to meet, because he was just too stunned to speak. He was wearing a matching black shirt, with some casual white pants underneath. God, he looked insanely hot in it, and Y/N couldn’t help but voice the thought the second he took off his jacket. The rolled up sleeves, the two top buttons open, the little bit of chest — this outfit was really doing it for her. The same could be said about Arthur, who couldn’t keep himself away from her, constantly whispering compliments, touching her dress or staring at her. It was a dangerous game they were playing that evening, and they knew it all too well.
The party was very much going when they both had to use the bathroom, and they walked through the crowd holding hands. The bathrooms were not in the view from the dance floor, in a seemingly deserted hallway. So when Y/N had come back from the bathroom to Arthur just standing there, on his phone, she couldn’t resist. He looks up at the sound of her walking over, “You look so god-damn handsome,” she expresses, fixing his collar. “You look just as beautiful,” he says, softly grabbing her waist. He shamelessly scans her body for the umpteenth time that evening, and she simply looks at him, grinning. She gets closer to his face, making him gulp. “We make a hot looking couple, don’t we?” She questions, and he nods in response. “We sure do,” he lowly whispers, feeling her breath. Unable to resist any longer, he pulls her closer, pressing his lips on hers. The entire evening full of tension waiting to be released was felt as they passionately kissed each other. All they want is to pull each other as close as physically possible, only pausing to take a quick breath. Arthur has just turned them around, pressing her against the wall as a form of support, when they hear a cough. “Oh, sorry guys, sorry, sorry!” She gasps as she hears Harry’s voice, moving away from Arthur the second she hears the door lock. “Oh my god,” she says, and she looks at Arthur, who seems a bit stunned. “I forgot this wasn’t just an abandoned hallway, oh my god. Should I go in to like, talk to him?” She bites her lip as she fixes her dress. “Hmm, don’t bring it up, and if he didn’t recognise you, you didn’t see a thing. If he did see you, act like I’m a random influencer. And in the worst case scenario that he saw me too… He’ll keep quiet. I hope.” Lucky for them, all Harry asked Arthur is if he also saw a couple making out in the hallway, to which he said no. 
The fourth time was perfectly avoidable, if they hadn't been in the same room.
Sharing a room during the friend group skiing trip was a bad idea. They knew that. But George and Chris were sharing a room, and Harry and Will were, it was a logical thing. It would be, at least, if Y/N hadn’t always been the one to get the room for one, being the only girl or non-girlfriend. But they’d been careful, and all the previous close calls were long enough ago that it wouldn’t look suspicious. Right?
Arthur and Y/N had gone back to the lodge directly after dinner, tired from the long day of snowboarding after a late night filled with drinking games. They took a nice long shower in their en-suite bathroom — realistically their only time together without the lingering thought of one of their friends being able to hear. Whilst the rest was still partying in one of the ski huts, they decided to crawl into bed, watching a movie. They figured their friends would be back late enough for them to have gone to bed, so it wasn’t a surprise that they were already asleep when their friends got back. They’d come back around 11PM, surprised to find the living room area abandoned. “Have they gone to bed already?” Will asks, and Harry simply shrugs. “Y/N especially was pretty tired, I wouldn’t be surprised,” George expresses, and the rest of the boys agree. “Yeah, but Arthur too?” Chris simply shrugs, too tired to care. “You can go check on them, if you’re worried, but they’ll probably just show up by the morning either way,” Harry says, sitting down on the couch. “Hmm. I’m going to change, I’ll just check and see if they’re not kidnapped, or doing something I don’t want to see,” he jokes, making the other boys chuckle. Since they’d confirmed the rooms together, there’d been an ongoing joke about how long it would take for them to get off together— oblivious to how long they’d been doing that already. “For your own wellbeing, knock,” Chris calls after him, as the northerner walks up the stairs. Walking past their room, he softly knocks, not hearing any response. He opens the door and looks into the room to see the pair cuddled up, Y/N’s against Arthur’s chest and their arms intertwined. He recognises Arthur’s laptop on what looks to be Y/N’s night stand, and chuckles. Will didn’t want to assume anything, of course, so he decided not to. He quietly closes the door before walking to his own room.  “They were sleeping already, both of them,” is all he tells the other boys. 
When they finally get found out, it still comes as a shock, despite the ongoing joke.
Although Will didn’t tell anyone how he’d caught them in bed together during the skiing trip, the joke kept going. It had become the name of a group chat, they were constantly gossiping and were just waiting for the pair, who realistically didn’t show any signs of dating each other, to announce their relationship. They were so invested, that when they finally discover they were, in fact, in a relationship, it was almost like the boys were the ones that got caught. 
It was about a month after the skiing trip, and they had all gathered in Chris, George and Arthur Hill’s shared flat before a night out. Arthur and Y/N were in Chris’ bedroom getting ready, whilst the others were in the living room having drinks. “Have you noticed they keep talking about us?” He asks her, and she laughs, “Oh my god yeah. Their group chat is named Arthur&Y/N fans,” she exclaims, putting on her necklace. “It’s so funny, they really think we don’t realise they keep gossiping about us whilst they actually have no clue what’s actually going on,” he chuckles, walking over to help her out. “I know. Should we just, like, act like we’ve told them? And then watch them be confused,” she says, as he clicks the necklace together. “Thank you,” she softly expresses, and his hands move down, head leaning on her shoulder. “Ahh, yeah, that’d be hilarious. Imagine their reaction when we say we’ve been together for a year now,” he says, kissing her cheek. She giggles, looking at them in the mirror they were standing in front of. “It’s been the best year. I love you,” She turns her head to give him a kiss. “And I love you,” he says, pulling back. “Okay, we should make our way out there, or they will actually think we fucked.”
They make their way back to the living room separately, her going to the bathroom first. When she’s come back, they’re all gathered on and around the couch, playing a game of never have I ever. “Never have I ever… Kissed someone in this room on the lips,” Will says, making the group laugh. George and Arthur Hill raise their glass to each other before both taking a sip, and Chris looks up thinking. “Surely we have at some point, like, Maddie’s party?” Arthur asks Chris, reminding him of their days in Jersey. “Oh yeah, for sure,” he says laughing at the memory, the both of them taking a sip. As they discuss whether Stephen and Will’s accidental touching of lips counts, Y/N giggles, taking a sip. Only Arthur sees it, having kept an eye on her, and smirks as Will and Stephen take a sip. “Okay, next one. Drink if you’ve been on a date in the past week,” George asks, and Chris groans. “You’re targeting me,” he says, taking another sip of his drink, making George laugh. Arthur also takes a sip, making the boys look at him. “And who have you been out on a date with, Mr. Television?” He shrugs. “I went to a museum with the girl I’ve been going out with,” he simply says, not elaborating any further, even as the rest are looking at him expectantly. They all share a confused look as Y/N mumbles to herself. “Oh, was it this week? I guess it counts huh,” she takes a sip, which only Arthur Hill, sitting next to her, notices. He nudges her, “You went on a date? With who?” She nods, “Hmm. With my boyfriend,”  she casually says, and he looks at her shocked. “Your what?! Am I the last one to find out about this?“ She shakes her head, “No, one of the first. D’you need another drink?” Arthur shakes his head in confusion as she stands up and walks to the kitchen. She looks over to see most of them still had a drink. “Harry, another one?” She asks, holding up a beer bottle. “Uh yes, please,” she grabs another one, already opening it for him. She grabs one of the vodka-sprites her boyfriend was drinking, and hands him the can before handing Harry his beer and sitting back down. “I reckon we do that card game from last week and then go? Get us a bit further but doesn’t take too long,” Chris suggests, and they all agree. “Oh, I have the cards in my room, sorry, I’ll get them.”
When they’re all getting ready to leave the house, they’re all a bit more tipsy, everyone moving around grabbing their stuff. “Do you still have my keys?” Y/N asks Arthur, who’s chatting with Harry. “Oh, yeah, sorry,” he says, grabbing them from his pocket. “No, it’s fine, just wanted to be sure I hadn’t lost them. Do I need to keep yours in my bag?” She asks, and he nods, “Yes, please.” She naturally grabs his keys from his jacket, taking the typical girlfriend role of keeping his stuff. “What if you guys lose each other, and you can’t give him his keys?” Harry wonders, and they look at each other with a giggle. “We’re going home together, so we won’t leave without each other either way,” she explains, and Harry nods in understanding, but then looks between them as the implications catch up with him. Before he can say anything, they’ve both walked off doing their own things. Y/N goes to the bathroom, walking back to Arthur when she's done. “Excited to go out?” She asks, as he hands her his jacket. “Yeah, I am, it’s been a while. It’s cold out, wear it. I know you didn't bring anything and I have my hoodie,” She takes it with a sigh, “Fine. Thank you,” she says, giving him a quick kiss on the lips. She grabs his hand, and they walk to the kitchen, where most of the guys are, grabbing a drink for on the go. “Where are we going, actually?” She asks the group as she opens her canned cocktail. “We’ll be walking to Cuckoo’s and see if any of the places there are anything exciting today,” Chris says, and she nods, “cool,” before turning to her boyfriend again. “Are we going to yours then? We could just walk instead of taking an Uber to mine,” she softly asks him. His hand his on her back as he looks down at her, “Yeah, that’s fine,” he says as she leans against him, looking at all their friends chatting. “Are we actually waiting for anyone?” She thinks out loud, looking around the group. “Just George and Harry going to the bathroom, I think,” she nods as she makes her way over to the door, sitting down to put on her sneakers. Arthur gives her a hand and she stands up, quickly thanking him with a kiss. George looks around the group of guys, all too stunned to speak. “I wasn’t the only one that saw that, right?” Will shakes his head. “No, what’s going on there, mate?” He asks, whilst Arthur Hill points at the couple. “So he IS the boyfriend!” He exclaims, making the pair blush lightly. “Right, okay, well. Did you guys just start dating, or?” Chris asks curiously, and Y/N rolls her eyes. “We know you’ve bet on it, and you’ve all lost, so I reckon we get the money. Unless anyone bet on before the skiing trip?” She asks, and they all shake their heads. All the guys have similar facial expressions, a combination of shock and getting caught. Will is the first to speak up, “so, how long have you been dating, then? Because I saw you all cuddly during the skiing trip, but I didn’t want to assume,” he admits, and Arthur looks at her with a sheepish grin. He puts his arm around her pulling her closer, “Well, we’ve been together for a year, next week,” he casually says, and chaos ensues. All sorts of surprised expressions come out, mixed with words of betrayal such as “how could you do this” and excitement. “A year ago, so that’s… Wait, you weren’t together before we lived here, were you?” Chris wonders. “Well… We got together just before I went away to Milan for a month, so you were about to move in,” Y/N explains, and he nods. “Fuck, that’s a while, oh my god,” Y/N and Arthur simply laugh at all their friends’ reactions. “Wait wait wait, at the Sidemen party, when I saw those people kissing, was that actually just you?” Harry asks, and Arthur scratches his head whilst Y/N looks down in embarrassment. “Yeah, we honestly thought you saw us,” Arthur admits, cheeks turned red as Harry laughs. “Okay, enough of us, let’s go,” Y/N says, opening the door. She grabs Arthur’s hand, pulling him with her, and the rest of the guys all follow them laughing. “Don’t think this is it, we need the details!!”
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