#i'm making this post because i was just in the car looking out the window | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

theragethatisdesire · 1 year

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

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

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

pairing: eren jaeger x afab reader

wc: 9.1k

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

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

have fun ;)

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

“Come on, Eren. It’s just one night!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fine!”

“Fine?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

If Eren can be dramatic, so can you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sasha–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Eren, I don’t know if you should-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He spits directly in Eren’s face.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No,” you snap, “I’m going home.”

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

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

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

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

“What the hell was that, Eren?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Excuse me?”

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

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

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

“You’re my–”

“The other thing.”

“I needed you.”

“Again.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you still?”

“Still?”

“Need me.”

You blink, eyes still watery. “How?”

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

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

“I still need you. Now.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Eren chuckles. “You need something?”

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

“You want me to stop fucking with you?”

“Please, Eren, I need you–”

“That’s all you had to say.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I need– fuck– I need more.”

“Magic word?”

“Please, Eren, fuck!”

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

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

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

“Close?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He’s not my-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Maybe he wants to apologize.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I just–”

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

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

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

Your chest aches. “I know, but Eren–”

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

“You might have me there.”

“Better than horseface?”

“Watch it.”

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

“Mamma Mia,” you blurt, hopeful.

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

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

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

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

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astonmartinii · 7 months

Text

passion for fashion | max verstappen social media au

pairing: max verstappen x fem it girl!reader

she's everything and he's just ken (in a red bull shirt)

MASTERLIST | TIPS | MY SMALL BUSINESS

vogue

liked by yourusername, maxverstappen1 and 490,233 others

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vogue: it's the start of the f1 season, you know what that means... y/n y/ln fashion season is in session

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user1: @yourusername make sure you're windows are bolted shut tongiht... you're on my rob list

user2: and mine PLEASE SPARE ME SOME OF YOUR CLOTHES

user3: her and lewis hamilton are the only real ones in that paddock

user4: the way they're still besties despite what went down in 2021 >>>

lewishamilton: me and y/n 🤝 making the paddock our runway

yourusername: someone has to make it interesting around here

lewishamilton: see @maxverstappen1 even y/n is bored of you winning everything...

maxverstappen1: womp womp

lewishamilton: womp womp ???? have some decorum

maxverstappen1: jokes on you i don't know what that means

user5: i wish i looked that good candidly

user6: at what point do we stage an intervention for max's wardrobe

user7: babe if the girlfriend effect still hasn't hit then it's terminal

user8: especially when your girlfriend is Y/N Y/LN

maxverstappen1: i'd do anything for her <3

yourusername: even wear something other than red bull merch?

maxverstappen1: let's not get too far ahead of ourselves

user9: i love them your honour

yourusername

liked by landonorris, maxverstappen1 and 1,209,445 others

tagged: maxverstappen1

yourusername: max verstappen wins, water is wet

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user11: water is wet and i will be drowning myself in it tonight

user12: me after hearing the dutch national anthem one too many times

landonorris: tell him he has too many already and he should let his best friend have a go

yourusername: he said that's not possible because i don't know how to drive an f1 car

landonorris: nuh uh you can't be his best friend and his girlfriend that's not fair

maxverstappen1: welp, idk what to tell you buddy

landonorris: i feel BETRAYED

yourusername: i'm sorry i'm just that loveable lando... i see how it is

landonorris: HOW HAVE I BECOME THE VILLAIN?

user13: max terrorises them on the grid and in the paddock they maximise their joint slay to terrorise everyone in a two mile radius

user14: they slay so much i can't even be angry at it

danielricciardo: so that's why i was kicked out of the elevator

yourusername: you weren't kicked out it was your floor?

danielricciardo: why did i not make the post? I THOUGHT I MEANT MORE TO YOU

maxverstappen1: just because we both had teenage crushes on you doesn't make you special. you'd have to fight seb and jenson for real special treatment

yourusername: throw fernando and kimi in there as well.

danielricciardo: i was confident in my fighting chances, but i'll leave nando and kimi to it

maxverstappen1: pussy

danielricciardo: EXCUSE ME

yourusername: idk how we got here but don't talk to my boyf that way daniel 😔

danielricciardo: i'm blocking both of you

user15: i am so baffled

user16: IT couple for real

maxverstappen1

liked by danielricciardo, yourusername and 1,034,448 others

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maxverstappen1: clocked in for my shift as the trophy husband to the prettiest girl in the world

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user17: max verstappen why is there a whisper meme in your photo dump

user18: his ass acting like he wasn't at one of the most prestigious galas in the world

charles_leclerc: YOU got an invite and that's the best you could do

maxverstappen1: you better take that back right now y/n dressed me tonight and i look SEXY and COOL

yourusername: charles :( he looks very handsome

charles_leclerc: my bad y/n i wasn't aware that was your pick

yourusername: SAY HE'S HANDSOME CHARLES

charles_leclerc: ??? no

yourusername: wow. you really aren't a girls girl charles. i am disappointed

maxverstappen1: does our history mean nothing charles? i have no issue recreating the inchident at the next race

charles_leclerc: FINE. you look very handsome max

yourusername: more passion please

charles_leclerc: you look very handsome max!

yourusername: more! give the lestappen girlies some crumbs to feed on

charles_leclerc: YOU LOOK VERY HANDSOME

maxverstappen1: thank you 😊

user19: ignoring what ever the fuck that was ... MAX IN A SUIT WHAT THE FUCK MAX IN A SUIT

user20: y/n y/ln the woman you are

user21: so how can we implement this willingness to wear a suit into his paddock fashion

lewishamilton: you might have to waterboard him

charles_leclerc: i volunteer as tribute !

yourusername: 🤨

maxverstappen1: 🤨

f1paddockfashion

liked by user24, user25 and 11,029 others

tagged: maxverstappen1 & yourusername

f1paddockfashion: max verstappen in non-red bull attire? MAX VERSTAPPEN IN NON-RED BULL ATTIRE? also y/n slaying as per.

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user24: this is - i don't know how to feel

user25: maybe the real max verstappen in non red-bull attire was the friends we made along the way

user26: i am CELEBRATING but ladies do remember it's still alpha tauri 😭😭😭

user27: please let us have this while we can

user28: it's not plastered with sponsors so we'll take it

user29: idk about you guys but i think this means y/n should be knighted for her services

user30: i actually think prying the red bull merch out of max's hands might be the hardest thing in the world

user31: call me crazy but those jeans look kinda baggy 😳

user32: omg they definitely are

user33: death to the skinny jeans? fuck it first child named after y/n

user34: can we maybe get y/n in charge of max's merch cause the shit he sells should be considered criminal

user35: for real we need babe in the board room asap

user36: fuck it get her in the red bull board room as well

user37: go all the way and get her with the f1 execs

yourusername

liked by landonorris, danielricciardo and 1,506,339 others

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yourusername: i love him even if all he wears is red bull

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user39: so ... who made the inchident shirt?

charles_leclerc: and how do i get one?

maxverstappen1: i got it made and considering you DON'T think i'm handsome you can go fuck yourself :)

charles_leclerc: GASP. that is my face you have to make me one

maxverstappen1: boooooo no i don't

charles_leclerc: can i copyright my face? i'm sending you a cease and desist

maxverstappen1: fine. but you will never look as hot as y/n in it

charles_leclerc: so you can call me ugly? @yourusername ???

yourusername: it was a compliment to me so soz

user40: the way she's fashion's IT girl and she still loves him even though his whole wardrobe should be burned

user41: real love

maxverstappen1: i love you. i wear my red bull merch to give you the runway

yourusername: sureeeee ... i love you too xx

maxverstappen1: let me live 😭😭😭

yourusername: the girls are dragging your name babe i need them to know HOW SEXY YOU ARE

maxverstappen1: i don't care how sexy they find me, as long as you love me that's all i need

yourusername: you're SO FUCKING CUTE I LOVE YOU

maxverstappen1: I LOVE YOU TOO

user42: can they chill? some people on here are lonely

maxverstappen1

liked by danielricciardo, yourusername and 1,033,461 others

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maxverstappen1: my closet looks like this, so her's can look like this :)

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user43: max verstappen i misunderstood you. i was unfamiliar with your game.

user44: he's the standard now i fear

user45: a man who wears the same three outfits so you can have the whole walk-in for your collection >>

yourusername: thank you babe. you are god's strongest soldier

maxverstappen1: i AM. that room is scary. there's too much that i don't understand. so many shoes, so many straps i can't navigate it

yourusername: that's okay baby. there's your red bull draw and that's all you need

maxverstappen1: no the people don't understand. i went in there once and i swear i ended up in narnia

yourusername: you passed out with the AC on the highest level and jimmy and sassy sat on you. you were not in narnia

maxverstappen1: oh. well...

user46: this is the closet y/n deserves the rest of that house is defo a mojo dojo casa house

user47: fighting all the trophies, helmets and framed race suits with her narnia closet

lilymunhe: may i request a trip to the narnia closet x

yourusername: omg yes! come over next time you and alex are in monaco - the boys can entertain themselves

alexalbon: what if i want a closet tour as well?

maxverstappen1: don't do it alex you'll never find your way back out

alexalbon: (i was going to strategically leave a pair of albon athletics shoes in there)

yourusername: alex i already own a pair i bought them release day!

alexalbon: OMG ... one instagram pic so my sales can go platinum?

maxverstappen1: don't try and pimp my gf out

alexalbon: ???

yourusername: max 😭 and sure alex!

fin.

note: thank you for reading soz for the long waits between posts a girl has been BUSY but i hope you've all enjoyed! happy galentines day or palentines day to all that celebrate and thanks for 4.7k!! xx

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 instagram au #f1 x you #f1 #f1 social media au #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen instagram au #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen #max verstappen social media au

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rin-may-1103 · 27 days

Text

Just a Bite (part two)

Previous | Master Post | Next

Danny slid into the taxi and closed the door, not even a second later did the man merge into traffic. Sneaking a glance at the driver, who somehow looked even worse than Danny did when he hadn't slept in four days, Danny slowly peeled off the sticky note from the seat.

glancing down, he found Clockwork's familiar handwriting. (which he would like to add, shouldn't be as familiar as it is, but then again, he shouldn't be having tea time with him either.)

Do what you think is right, only then does your future look bright.

well, alright then. does that mean Danny should jump out the moving car? because he didn't think walking into some poor rich dude's house and forcing his company on the family was the right thing to do. He thought it was the most convenient at the moment, sure, but not the right one.

flipping the note over, Danny found more writing;

Do not jump out of the car, you've already come this far. Patience will be a virtue. This is worth the persue. Do not worry, there is no hurry.

"what the hell, Clockwork?" Danny quietly hissed, glaring off to the side and out the window. "You become friends with Ghostwriter or something? and what do you mean don't worry? I'm literally running from the government. if nothing else, that's probably the one thing I need to worry about."

Another sticky note poped up, this time stuck to the back of the driver's seat. Glancing up, Danny waited a second for the driver to be distracted before reaching out and snatching the note.

the only thing on it was a very shitty smily face.

what the fuck.

"this isn't funny, clocky!" Danny hissed again, glancing up to make sure the driver hadn't heard him. "mom and dad literally have my ecto signature, they only need a single hint of which direction to go before it becomes all too easy to find me again."

closing his eyes, Danny took a deep breath.

holding it for a second, then exhaling. Alright. Fine, if Clockwork isn't worried or against this, then there's no reason not to do this. (well besides the obvious one; it's rude to walk into someone's house uninvited and whatnot.)

"fine, but I'm only staying long enough to snag some food and then I'm gone, got it?" Danny grumbled, glaring at his reflection in the window. he didn't receive another note, so he leaned back and watched as the city passed. Slowly buildings spread out, and green lawns turned into green fields.

staring down at the smiley face, Danny shook his head, carefully he pulled out his phone and removed the case. shoving the sticky note inside, Danny put the case back on and put his phone in his pocket. it was dead, so he couldn't do anything else with it so might as well make it useful. who knows when Danny might need that little bit of ectoplasm.

A few minutes later, the taxi slowed to a stop next to a black gate and rolled down the window. "taxi 'ere, Mr. Wayne already paid me."

"I see," a strongly British voice echoed from the box, "come in." The gate beeped a second later and swung open, allowing the taxi to drive through. Danny glanced around the front 'yard' as they approached the looming building. Nicely trimmed green grass fields as far as the eyes could see, trees lining where Danny had to assume were the property lines.

somehow it was completely different from Vlad's front yard, yet still, Danny could only describe them as the same. Green, full of flowers and sculpted bushes and outlandishly garish paveways for their rich front doors. If Danny squinted he could swear there were butterflies happily fluttering around the sides of the building.

and Danny uses the word building here because that was not a house.

No, no. That building wasn't even a mansion like Sam's house. nor was it a castle, like Vlad's. It was an old building of amalgamated eras and themes. Danny was so annoyed his phone was dead right now, Sam would have lost her mind if she could see what he was. Are those eighteenth-century dormers right next to a twentieth-century skylight???

you know what? Mr. Wayne deserves to have all of his food eaten right in front of him. Who in their right mind would allow their home to look like that? And in the twenty-first century no less!

The taxi pulled to a stop; and Danny, lost in his Sam-induced horror, automatically pushed the car door open, stumbled his way out, closed the door, and stopped at the bottom of the stairs to stare up at the roof.

Taxi man sniffed and then drove off, his jaw cracking yawn echoing in the back of Danny's mind.

"Master Tim?" the British voice from earlier echoed out from the now-opened door. Danny's gaze dropped from the roof and down to the older man now walking toward him. the man hadn't looked up from his newspaper, still reading a paragraph as he stopped in front of Danny.

blinking, Danny glanced down at the paper. he might as well see what had the man's attention so thoroughly. Another article about Damian Wayne and the schoolyard incident.

Danny snorted, he remembered reading about that one. Someone had thrown away their copy and Danny had been bored. let's just say Danny was thoroughly entertained. he even had thoughts about how the kid had managed to sneak in a small dagger with how tight the school's security claimed to be.

"it had to be his belt, I just know it," Danny whispered, leaning a little more to try and see what the new article revealed.

"yes, yes. young master Damian snuck his dagger to school, no need for you to tell me how for the seventh time. Now, then." the butler, folded the paper and put it in his back pocket, and then, again without looking, gently grabbed Danny's arm and guided him toward the door.

"master bruce has been worried about your lack of sleep, you will go to your room and take a nap or you will not be allowed to share in your siblings' desert at diner tonight." the British man sternly continued, closing the front door behind them.

Danny blinked at him, then at the large foyer in front of them. he was so glad Vlad hadn't splurged on aesthetics like this family obviously had. Was that a crystal chandelier?

The British man, Danny was going to call him Gramps now, guided Danny to the stairs and then promptly let him go so he could rush off to find the source of a loud crash, but not without telling Danny (master Tim) to get some rest.

Glancing up at the grand stairs (covered in an obscene amount of glitter) and finding a large golden framed painting of the ocean with a for sale sign next to it, Danny made up his mind.

Mr. Wayne was a multi-billionaire, who allowed his ancient family home to be butchered. If he wasn't going to respect his home when Danny didn't even have one anymore?

Then Danny was going to honor Sam; The person who had dragged him into this hellish life of interior and exterior design (as well as the half'a life coincidently). And how was he going to do this, you ask? well what else, then do the very thing she's dedicated her time to?

Eating the rich.

Or in this case; their food.

and well, what was a ghost supposed to do when welcomed into an ancient home with ungrateful residences? Not haunt them?

#danny phantom #danny fenton #sam manson #tucker foley #dc x dp #dpxdc #bruce wayne #jason #cass #damian #tim #just a bite Au #part two #misunderstandings #found family #angst #danny is a little shit

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svndaysaweek · 7 months

Text

You Don’t Even Know My Name, Do You? — {Feat. Minji}

3.1k words

A/N: Hi! It’s me, back in 6 months! I had the idea for this one since last summer, but never really made it a fic. But now I post it…! It’s a rushed fic, no editing, I’m sorry for any grammatical errors or typos. Thank you @praeluxius for help and advice in making the conversation better and more natural! Thanks for 1.6k followers and most importantly 1k notes for ‘Niche’!!! Enjoy reading this and luv you all…!

******

Subways late at night are dangerous, and you can’t deny it’s because of you. Drunken bodies swaying along the rail, left and right, back and forth, grasping up on their wasted balance not to embarrass themselves by falling on the floor. Less than an hour left from waving away the day, you can tell where others in the train came from—bars, karaokes, or anywhere with entertainment and alcohol. Returning home after having some fun to wrap up the day and live the following day. Victims of society, some say, but that’s what all people are. We work, get paid. Victims don’t get to enjoy themselves, do they? But to be honest, you’re not the one to care for them, the victims, when you’re one of the victimizers.

You’re standing next to the door, the best position to scan the people in and out, empirically certified by yourself. There are quite a few people in the car—only a few seats available and half of the people chose to spare the seats empty. You’re holding onto a steel bar and slightly leaning your weight on it, eyeing thoroughly for your prey. But there’s no one yet to suit your taste, no one looking good and wealthy.

The mechanical female voice informs the next stop and a few dozens of seconds later the train halts for another group of people to be added to your menu.

“Alright, alright! I’m not that stupid to let someone just, like, snatch my purse away, huh?”

You hear a girl talking to her phone, laughing like she just heard the dumbest advice ever. A crop top for her defined belly to be open, relatively baggy jeans hinting the sculpted curve of her hips and full-blown outlines of legs. Within a second that girl has made everyone in the car latch their eyes on her doing nothing.

“What the fuck? I didn’t drink that much tonight I swear, and fuck, even an alcoholic won’t forget his own name,”

The girl, however, certainly looks drunk, sounds drunk, and acts drunk. Her eyes barely stay open, her tongue hardly makes her words clear. You can even smell how much she poured down her throat. It’s becoming more and more fit for your ideal condition.

Her talk goes on for a few more minutes then she puts her phone in her handbag and looks into the dark, mirror-like window. Her blinks become lazier and slower by the second, alcohol weighing her eyelids, but she does her best to stay up. She looks around to shake off the fatigue and meets your eyes, which have been on her since the moment she walked in. Three seconds is enough to make her look away in shyness, but it isn’t enough for her to examine you as her eyes lock with yours again.

She lets her eyes travel down your body to your toes slowly through(in) the window, alcohol erasing the fact that the subway is public. You pretend to neglect as she keeps eyeing you, head to toe several times, and the next stop the stumbly girl is forced to stand next to you by the crowd gushing in. Unavoidable contacts add leads to your eyes awkwardly meeting, which draws out mirrored smiles from each.

“Sorr-oh!”

A slight rattle of the train almost tackles her down but your arms are there to hold her from meeting the floor.

"Careful, you almost hit your head, could have ended up like our friend over there." You nod and gesture at old man asleep at the other end of the carriage

"He looks peaceful though."

"You think you can stand up by yourself now?"

"Of Course! I'm not even that drunk."

"The last time my friend said that, he ended up face down in a bush." As soon as you’re done talking she stumbles again to her embarrassment. And of course you keep her standing.

"So you didn't catch him?"

"He's not as cute as you." She laughs and blushes, palm on her mouth and the tone a bit too high for a laughter in a subway.

“Where do you live?” Change of topic, and you’re surprised that it’s her asking you, not the other way around as it used to be.

“Two stops before the terminus.” She checks where the train currently is, and stares at the map for a few dozen seconds as if her brain is still soaked with drinks, before looking back at you and pointing to the map.

“I’m getting off two stops later,” She blushes again, this time there’s even an awkward smile on her face. As if trying to say something shameful.

“And…” Her fidgety fingers dig into the arm of your shirt and her eyes are fixed on your shoes to never climb up. “And?” You repeat her, grin on your face because of her being so bashful and how overt her real intention is.

“And my name’s Minji by the way. Kim Minji.” It's trickery. A decoy. You almost burst into laughter but keep it down to a debonair ‘mhmm’ instead, hoping to bail Minji out of her own struggle to let the real words out.

And her phone rings. “No, not yet. Only two stops left. No, I don’t sound slurry at all, thanks. Oh my god, Hanni. I said I’m not that drunk! Yeah, I met a guy and maybe he’s taking me to my place-oh my god.” A brief moment of soberness washes through her body but her face is even rosier than ever. Over her phone you hear a woman shouting ‘hey’s and her name, but soon Minji hangs up. The train halts, and she just rushes between the crowd to get off out of shame but you catch her arm.

“Hey, it’s the wrong station.” She can’t look at your smirking face even facing you, face still red and fumbles the hem of her top. “Sorry for that… That was a total mistake.”

“It’s okay,” Minji raises her head, looks at you. “You’re drunk like hell, and you were going to say that anyways.” She's left speechless for a moment, then she opens her mouth to say something but frowns ignorantly.

“Why are you laughing? I was so embarrassed!” She's overtly trying to act cute and it's so working on you. With drunken red cheeks, slurry, lethargic pronunciation and on top of everything, her mesmerizing face. Even your most prior purpose is being threatened to melt by her exhilarating cuteness.

“It’s nothing.” But your lips just can’t hide your smile, and there is more than one reason; Minji’s being so clingy, which is what usually happens when alcohol infiltrates people’s brains, and it is an aid for you as always. And when the announcement informs you of the next stop, her babyish grumbles are gone and shyness permeates again.

“So… Are you going to take me to my place…?” You hold out our arms and guide the groggy girl out of the train. “After you.” Minji can’t subdue the chuckles from the dizzy liquor, how sensible you are, at least in her opinion, and the fact that you two are going to stay the night together in her place.

On the other hand, for you the reasons are somewhat different; it’s because tonight you made it, will see some pennies in your pocket and will be able to keep your stomach filled for a few more days. And she’s completely blind for that, giggling so innocently like what she’d do with her lover.

It must be her first time flirting with a guy. She can’t just follow anybody she likes. It’s dangerous. She can’t just trust anybody because he’s amiable. There could be a vice in his mind, transgressions at the tips of his fingers. Somebody should warn her about this, you think. How paradoxical. Maybe you won’t be doing this for long. But that’s something to worry about later.

All these thoughts pass through your mind in less than a second, and when you look back at her you see the green, innocent girl fluttered with excitement. “Lead the way please.” And she does.

******

“This is my place, it might be a little bit messy but-“ Minji opens the door and you close. “It’s okay. No one cares.” She sounds like the soberness has returned, but when you catch her ridiculously stumbling changing her shoes into slippers, ask if she’s okay, and she answers back that she’s alright, you just find yourself tentative about what’s in your mind.

“Are we going to kiss?” You know it’s a tipsy whim. You know she might not know what she’s doing. But it’s her asking you, not the opposite, she has no one to blame but herself, and you also know that she won’t. So you give it a go.

Her lips feel soft. You kiss her lips in a gingerly manner, eyes closed to focus all your senses to your lips. It feels like forever, but it’s obviously provisional so you do your best to find the perfect angle of your head, the right position of your hands, and the exact moment for your tongue to engage. A brief detach and then smoothly latch onto again, and a several times more, and in no time you two are completely submerged in the sensation, in the atmosphere and the feeling.

You open her lips with your tongue, and the key works so well you don’t even have to put any more effort to meet hers; she’s been waiting for it. When you taste her mouth, the alcoholic air hits your gustation and the olfactory sense—Jesus, how many glasses did she empty?—and you swallow it down to your body. Her tongue jockeys in your mouth, on your palate, around your tongue, everywhere it can reach. She’s so needy that when you try to withdraw for some air her arms lock you up and pull you in for a longer liplock.

But that doesn’t last long, before Minji herself pulls back to breathe.

“Minji,” Gasping, you call her name. She doesn’t respond. She takes your hand and drags you to her bedroom. It’s tidied up well unlike what she warned you about, but you don’t have any time to be infatuated with how neat her bedroom is, when her hasty tongue knocks on your lips to open up.

She really can’t hold it back as she redoubles the whirl inside your mouth. At this point you’re a bit shocked at how aggressive she has become—or, she might’ve been like this from the very start—but god, what a joy to reciprocate. But this desire is not a genital one, rather more like a sheer indulgence of the feeling itself as if it’s her first time.

“Minji, no one’s chasing you. You don’t have to rush.” Hands on her shoulders you say, in an assuring tone, to the panting girl in front of you. Regardless she dives in yet again, this time her hands dragging her jeans down, totally ignoring what you said. She doesn’t feel sorry, but neither do you when you can in fact enjoy what’s going to unfold.

You find it kinda cute to see that talkative girl in the subway all silent and busy with her hands with heavy breaths. It’s as if you have unbound her from the straitjacket—or the alcohol did—and her actual self inside was in need of some rabid lovemaking. No denial that she’s getting what she wants.

It’s hammy but a pleasure to watch. Her hands move to your top and hastily take it off of you, a sigh when it blocks the kiss. You’re overwhelmed as you take your pants yourself but Minji pulls it down to your ankles. Stepping out of them you push her onto her bed and crawl up to be parallel with her, eyes to eyes. When your erect cock brushes on her tummy she squints her eyes with a flinch. Her nerves are so worked up, whether it be from the intoxication she’s been in for hours or the anticipation. Or both.

“Minji, are you alright?” Her face is so red, her breaths are shallow and her teeth keep on biting her own fist. She just nods, eyes still filled with unrest; in fact you can’t tell if it’s concern or anticipation, but either way it’s your job to relax her.

And putting her hand off of her mouth and replacing it with your lips is what you come up with as a solution. As if you want to absorb the turmoil out of her. When your tongues meet and intertwine her hands climb up to the back of your head and pull you deeper into the trance. Time passes like that. Minji’s so lost in the sensation, and when you lightly put your hand on her breasts she moans into your mouth. The size is just unblemished for you to leisurely fondle, so you keep doing that until she detaches from the kiss, asks you to take her top off with a coo.

“You look so beautiful. Just relax, Minji.” She bites on your under lip when your hand softly squeezes her breast and plays with her nipple. The pain is an approval you’d gratefully take.

You slide down to her neck, collarbone, chest, stomach and finally to her crotch, peppering everywhere on your way with pecks and licks and making it glisten. And oh, her pussy lips are already glistening—dripping, soaking wet—with her own water, nectar so dense with desire. You glimpse at her and she nods desperately, underside of her lips bitten hard, as if when you latch your tongue on her sex it’ll bleed.

And when you do she yelps, sharp yet gutty, with her back involuntarily arching upward. “Ah, please…!” Is what follows her scream when you flick your tongue on her sensitive nub. You cherish her response and repeat it, eyeing her facial expressions and enjoying every furrow of her brows, every grasp on your hair and every squish of her thighs on your ears. It doesn’t take a while to reach the point where she loses control of herself. Where she loses her mind and cums with a scream. Your skull gets crushed between Minji’s fleshy thighs and your tongue drowns in her juices gushing into your mouth. It’s too saccharine, too flashy, beyond what you expected from her.

“You’re so good at that… I’ve never squirted like that before.” Minji looks spent. Chest heaving up and down quickly, eyes almost teary and her tongue barely pronouncing correctly. You climb up again and lock lips with her, letting her taste her own liquid.

“Nngh…” You coat your cock with her prevailing girlcum, scrub it on her entrance a few times and slowly, slowly enter her first with only the head. That summons the clingy girl into her again as her arms lock around your neck and she screams into your shoulder. It’s enrapturing to feel the head of your cock slowly discover deeper parts of her, to hear her material moans permeating into your bones.

“God, you feel amazing!” Is what she says when you are halfway inside her. You withdraw a little bit, and put in even more, to make your entire cock disappear inside her. Her arms almost choke you when she hugs you tighter and shouts ‘yes’s and ‘oh my god’s right next to your ear.

“Minji, I’m going to move. I’m going to fuck you.” You groan. It’s finally the time to unleash everything in you, all too stacked up from the agonizing foreplays. “Yes, fuck me. Make me cum please-oh my god it feels so good!” You’re not going slow at all. The smacking sound is music to your ears, and her moans melt your brain. So you go brainless. Hitting the right spot and making her cry every time. It's soft no more, and Minji finds it crazy. Her arms can't settle down but intermittently darts about on the bed.

“Minji, fuck…” You doubt that she can hear you in the room full of her orgasmic yelps and moans. “Fuck, I love it! So deep inside me, don't stop…!” Her legs flutter, eyes roll back and fingers dig into your arms helplessly when she cums on your cock hard. “God, I can't… I can't-” The girl shyly asking for a kiss is now gone, beautifully degraded to a girl enjoying, loving and getting overtaken by the pleasure teeming into her.

Overstimulated, Minji wriggles as if the sensations are throttling her. A few minutes you were caring about her more than you, but now your priorities are reset; you’re reminded of your purpose here, it's not for her sake, it's for you. And regardless of her condition you just push in, harder and deeper than each thrust, to the finish line. Her torso is turned red and at some point she's looking into your eyes, those subtle muscles beckoning for you to go for it, to cum.

“Minji, I'm cumming…! Fuck!” You splatter your seed all over her tummy and tits. The icing on the cake, an eye candy you're never going to be tired looking at.

“It was… Incredible.” Minji has a satisfied smile on her face. “Good to know you enjoyed it.” You nestle on the bed next to her, rearranging the wet strands of her hair out of her face.

******

Minji is asleep. Like nothing happened a few minutes ago. Like you're not in the bed with her. That's not an unexpected thing for you. You dress up, wipe your cum off her body. She's so pretty when sleeping, you think to yourself.

But right after that you take her purse; there are a few bucks and a credit card. And in the dressing table you find some fancy jewelry boxes.

It's bad, immoral. It's what you do for a living. Can't say you feel proud but not much of a guilt in your mind either. Maybe a little though. But only for this time. You actually liked Minji. Not that much, but you felt something different. Maybe you two can run into each other someday. And maybe you're hoping that happens, even though you know it won't help you in any ways. You can't explain it but there's something in your mind about what happened tonight.

But you carry on, find a pen and a post-it, write something down and stick it on her empty purse on the nightstand.

‘You don't even know my name, do you?’

******

#kpop x male reader #kpop male reader #minji smut #newjeans smut

1K notes · View notes

minranghae · 14 days

Text

Taste | 18+

》 pairing: c.san x f!reader

》 genre: fluff, smut, angst if you squint really hard

》 warnings: friend’s brother!san, female reader, general silliness, stubborn reader, san loves to tease, hes a sweetie too ofc, smut, piv, oral (f. receiving), fingering, pet names (angel, baby, etc.), coworkers, san bites reader one (1) time, barely proofread, unprotected, lmk if i missed any

》 wc: 5.2k

》 hello! i am back from the dead with my second fic and second installment in the senses series. i do apologize that this took so long, but i do plan on releasing more stuff soon-ish. i'm working on a longer series, so who knows what'll hapen lol. also! i am cross posting on ao3 now. the user is femdoms, so check it out if you are interested. finally, i just want to say thank you for reading and i hope you enjoy this!

“God, I really can’t stand you, San! Stop following me, pervert!”

“Yeah, whatever, just get in so we can talk,” he yells to you with his arm hanging out the window of his car, an annoyed, yet amused smirk covering his face.

“No way!” You yell over your shoulder, too embarrassed to face him both physically and figuratively.

Really, how could you? Not after you found him with your diary in his hands, reading it like it was his favorite novel. At first, you tried to convince yourself that he didn’t see those pages, but the blush on his cheeks told you otherwise.

And that’s why you’re here: running away from San in the middle of the night.

“I’ll make you a milkshake,” San coos from the car, causing you to turn your head in interest, “You know you love ‘em,” he offers, as if you’re a dog and he’s holding a treat in front of your face.

And god damn it, it works.

“Fine, but I’m not talking to you until I get one,” you say, opening the car door and climbing in.

“You’re talking to me now,” he quips, earning a look from you that he thinks would’ve killed him if it had the ability.

“Alright, tough crowd,” he murmurs to himself with a dry laugh, hoping to earn a giggle- or at least a smile- from you, but to no avail.

The whole situation was so embarrassing. And degrading, and stupid, and embarrassing-

“Stop thinking so much,” he swats at your arm playfully, noticing the clear look of discomfort and sheer, unabashed embarrassment on your face, “you don’t even know what I have to say yet.”

You answer him with a small hum, deciding against giving him a verbal response, because no matter how much you’d like to curl up in a hole and die, you’re still as stubborn as the day San met you.

You officially met him the first day you worked at the diner. Your best friend’s family had owned it since the old owners left, leaving the significantly smaller family of four looking for new employees. College debt had already begun sneaking its way into the back of your mind, and Eunbi needed to work with someone other than her nagging parents or annoying older brother. It was the perfect opportunity for you.

“C’mon! Just try it!” The boy working with you begged.

“I already told you, I have trauma with milkshakes!”

San laughed to himself, trying to hide the amusement evident on his face.

“Look, I’m sorry you found a hair in your milkshake however long ago, but I can assure you that my milkshake is hairless,” he held his little finger up to you, “pinky promise.”

Rolling your eyes, you locked your pinky with his. Your hands lingered together for a moment too long, until San pulled his away to push the drink closer to you.

“San, you know, I’m not really a huge fan of chocolate-”

“Didn’t you and Eunbi make chocolate cupcakes for your birthday though?”

You freeze, cheeks heating up at his question, unsure if it was the fact that he’d caught you in a lie or that he knew and remembered what you and Eunbi had done for your birthday bringing the blush to your face. Attempting to hide your embarrassment, you shot him a small smirk, gently pursing your lips.

“‘Gotcha there, honey.”

Ever since that day, San always had a milkshake waiting for you at the end of each shift. And maybe it was that kindness that made you blush, or maybe it was the fact that his eyes smiled along with his lips every time he greeted you. It could’ve been the way he always knew how to make you giggle, but whatever it was, it was clear that you’d fallen for San.

Which is weird. Weird because he’s older than you, he’s your coworker, he’s out of your league, and worst of all: he’s Eunbi’s brother.

Really? How cliche is that? It’s not even like you could tell Eunbi about it. That would’ve made everything so much worse. It’s embarrassing enough to be so head over heels for a guy who just sees you as his little sister’s best friend, but to have people know about it too? There’d be no coming back from that.

And that’s exactly why you decided to start keeping a diary, or mindful journaling as you called it. That sounded better than keeping a diary.

You originally started it to confess some of your feelings about San. You wrote how embarrassed you were to have a crush on him. You wrote about the milkshakes he made you and the times he defended you against angry customers. You wrote about how stressed you felt about life in general. Your worries, your fears, the moments of your days that you wanted to forget, but your mind wouldn’t let you. You wrote about anything you couldn’t confess to another person.

On particularly late nights full of hopeless pining and horny desperation, you’d write about your fantasies, some involving random celebrities or TV characters, but most involving San.

It was nothing too in depth, it was more about how much you wanted just a taste of him. You knew you could never have him for good, but if you could just feel his strong arms around you or his lips on your skin just once, maybe that’d be good enough. Just a little taste. It felt dirty thinking about him in that sort of way, but who would see it anyways?

Little did you know, San himself would.

It had slipped out of your bag. And being the kind, and relatively organized coworker he is, San picked it up to put it back in your bag for you. The way it landed on the floor, though, left it open on its spine with its pages just begging to be read.

He wasn’t going to read it. That would be an invasion of privacy, and San wasn’t that kind of guy. He wouldn’t do that.

But when he picked it up, he couldn’t help but notice his name on the page. And unfortunately, as it does most of us, curiosity got the best of him.

San tried to stop himself, he really did. But, knowing just how eager you were for him put his head in a spin. He just couldn't help but picture you underneath him, with that adorable blush and shy smile that only appears when he starts teasing you. He wanted so badly to hear how you whimper, to feel how warm you are, to see how sweet you taste. He had a feeling you liked him, but he never would've guessed you reciprocated the feeling so strongly.

He saw this as more of an opportunity for you two. He wasn’t going to tell you what he’d seen; he’d just confess to you one night. And maybe it’d have to be secret for a bit, but eventually you could be his, and he wanted nothing more than that.

No big deal.

But, as soon as he heard a small gasp from the doorway and looked up to see your eyes welling with tears, he knew that plan was well fucked.

San always thought you were pretty. From the moment Eunbi first brought you over, he couldn’t help but notice your expressive eyes and beautiful hair. But what he liked most was that shining smile you had. And seeing that he’d wiped it from your face as soon as you walked in, he just had to chase you.

And so, as you sat across from him in a booth in the dimly lit diner, he studied your face: the embarrassed blush and sweaty gleam sheening your forehead, your pouty lips wrapped around the straw of a chocolate milkshake as your eyebrows furrowed.

Even your beauty was stubborn.

He began softly, so as not to scare you, his fingers drumming against the table in a gentle rhythm, “So… do you like the milkshake?”

You looked up at him, an eyebrow quirked, “Yeah, it’s good.”

San pushed out a sigh at your icy reply, settling back in his seat as he let his palm fall flat against the table. He knew what he wanted to say, he just couldn’t find the words. You broke the silence a moment later.

“Look, we can both pretend like you saw absolutely nothing at all and I’ll ask to work different times of the day so we won’t even have to see each other. I’m not weird, I promise, I just-”

“Shh,” he cooed, grabbing one of your hands, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into the back of it, “you didn’t even let me talk yet.”

San’s gaze scanned your pretty face for a moment, falling onto those eyes and lips he adored. His heart pounded against the back of his ribs, and yet, you seemed so nervous. Had he read it wrong?

“Did you mean it? What you wrote?” he asked, his voice holding a subtle tone of insecurity. His gaze fell to the table where your hands met, his grip tightening just slightly.

You looked up at him, your wide eyes sweeping over his strong face and your breath picking up. Of course you meant it, but did he want you to mean it?

“Why are you asking that?” you mumble, pulling your hand from his shyly. Your entire face was tinged pink from embarrassment and guilt, so anxious. San couldn’t stand it.

He made an effort to grab your hand again, his other hand lifting your chin gently so you’d look at him. He shook your head a little, trying to bring out a tiny smile again.

“You said you needed my face between your thighs…”

Your body went rigid. Out of all the entries, he just had to read that one? You remember writing it after watching him open something with his teeth one day, his jaw flexing as he used his teeth to rip open the plastic packet. Unfortunately, your mind was clouded by unsavory thoughts later that night, and so, into the journal those fantasies went.

“I’m just saying, I’ve needed a taste for a while now, too. Just give me a chance. Don’t run, please,” he pleaded softly, his grip tightening on your hand ever so slightly. He gave you that look, the one where his eyebrows would furrow so gently and his eyes gleamed softly, a desperation hidden in them. San wasn’t one to beg, but he couldn’t let you think he didn’t like you.

To his surprise, the confession didn’t make you smile. Instead, you felt your eyes well up with tears and a heavy weight lift off your shoulders. Slowly, you snaked around the table to San’s side of the booth, immediately wrapping your arms around one of his as you cried into his shoulder. He received you warmly, his free hand coming up to pat your head softly with sweet coos leaving his mouth, calming and affectionate.

“I thought you were gonna hate me forever, Sannie. I’m so sorry,” you sobbed, hiccuping softly, no even noticing your snot blotting San’s shirt. Such a mess.

San let out a breathy laugh, guiding your face up and off of his shoulder. He grabbed a napkin from the holder at the end of the table and wiped your nose with it gently, an affectionate air about him. He’d never seen you so emotional, and though his heart constricted seeing your tears, he was just happy to be the one taking care of you: his precious one. In a way, seeing you so worked up over something he saw as no big deal was endearing. Then again, almost everything about you was endearing to San.

He smiled down at you after wiping your nose, mumbling, “Pretty girl.” You could feel your cheeks go red instantly, feeling like it was your first time having a crush all over again.

He continued, his deep voice soft and sweet suddenly, “I could never hate you. Never, never,” he shook his head a bit, leaning in so that your foreheads were pressed together, “what I read only surprised me, but it would never make me hate you. So, don’t apologize for liking me. I like you, too.”

You swore your heart skipped a beat as he said that. In fact, it seemed like cardiac arrest would be the next step if he didn’t stop looking at you with those soft eyes.

“Never knew you had such a dirty mind,” he teased, rubbing your arm with his free hand gently.

And just like that, your eyebrows furrowed again and you hit his arm gently, too embarrassed to be sappy for long.

“Stop that! It’s not good to hold in all your thoughts, you know. You should write your feelings down,” you scolded, face bright red and lips pouting. San took the scolding at first, but it wasn’t much use. He was too focused on how cute your face looked all scrunched up.

And, he couldn’t deny it. Being scolded was pretty hot.

“There you go again,” San interrupted, sighing playfully. He couldn’t help but tease. You stopped mid-sentence, unsure of what you were even scolding him about now.

“Hm? What?” you asked softly, a little pout remaining on your lips.

San giggled a little, his eyes squeezing shut as he threw his head back. It was just too much fun for him. He leaned in closer to your face, close enough that your noses nearly met in the middle, whispering, “You’re too busy being angry to let me give you a taste of me.”

That cocky bastard. Cocky, and teasing, and sexy…

Your eyebrows quirked up and your cheeks burned even hotter as he leaned in closer, his mouth just next to your ear.

“That’s what you wanted, right? What you wrote in your diary… ahem, journal,” he whispered, need dripping from his words.

And yet, you were too embarrassed to speak. Or, maybe flustered was the right word. Either way, your brain didn’t quite work when San teased you normally, and especially not when his hands traveled to your waist, thumbs pressing into you gently.

“W-well, yes, but it was just a fantasy! I was just imagining! If you read more, you’d see I wrote about celebrities also…” you stammered, your hands searching for a place to rest along with your eyes.

“Oh, so you’re saying I’m not special?” San asked, biting his lip to hold back a cocky smile.

You gasped a little, hands instinctively finding San’s firm chest, “No, no! I just meant, just,” you panicked a bit, somehow losing your words yet again as San put his hands over yours.

“So, I am special? Am I special enough to have a taste of you?” San asked softly, still teasing, though there was an undercurrent of seriousness in his voice, something like an invitation.

“I don’t know if it’s a good idea, Sannie… What would Eunbi think?” You ask softly, eyes round and full of worry. Unintentionally, you leaned further into San’s chest, prompting him to pull you into a hug. He cradled the back of your head, petting your hair softly.

“She doesn’t have to know yet. And you can always say no, baby. I know I tease you a lot, but it’s just because you’re so cute when you’re worked up. We can take things slow if you want. It’s just that journal entry… it made me…” San trailed off towards the end, his own cheeks getting pink now.

Softly, you reached up and ran your fingers through San’s hair, finally offering him a big smile, “Look at you blushing now.”

San blew a bit of air out of his nose, suppressing a shy laugh. “How couldn’t I blush? The thought of you wanting me that way…” He trailed off again, voice high and squeaky now that he was being teased. He pulled you close and buried his face in your neck, letting his lips place a soft kiss before he continued.

“I want to hear you say it, angel. Tell me I’m special and it’s more than just a fantasy. Tell me how you want me,” he mumbled into your neck, using every ounce of self restraint to stop himself from kissing it again.

And, in that moment, months of yearning for, pining over, and wanting San in every way came back to you. Your heart ached a bit, and so did the space between your legs. Everything you had imagined and told yourself was just a dream was coming true. It was true that it would be difficult to hide this whole thing considering Eunbi could read you like a book, but you couldn’t let this opportunity go.

“God, San, I want you in every way possible,” you breathed out, tilting your head back to give him better access to your neck. As soon as you did, he latched on to it, sucking a small bruise into it. You trembled a little, involuntarily letting a tiny whimper cross your lips as you whispered, “But I really need you to fuck me right now.”

“That’s all I need to hear, baby. Here,” he murmured, detaching himself from you quickly. He swiftly switched spots with you, leaving the booth seat and pulling you to the edge of it. He kneeled in front of you, one hand on your thigh and the other gripping the table still. Pushing the table towards the other side of the booth, San ran his hands up and down your thighs, eyes pleading and lust filled. “It’s alright if I taste you?”

“Please, need it so bad, Sannie,” you pleaded as he slowly undid your jeans, pulling them off your legs along with your panties in one fatal swoop. You were already dripping onto the seat and he hadn’t even touched you yet.

San pressed gentle kisses up your bare thighs, using a thumb to rub gentle circles into your clit. You gripped the top of the seat, already feeling a pulsing need in your heat as San’s mouth inched closer to it. His breath tickled the area, making your squirm, but what was worse was the look in his eyes. He stopped just in front of your cunt and looked up at you with dark, lustful eyes. In that moment, you understood San wanted this just as much as you did.

It was true. San couldn’t even recount the amount of times he pumped his fist in bed or in the shower thinking about you and your sweet pussy. And as much as it made him blush just thinking about it, he wanted nothing more in life than to bury his face in between your thighs some days, making you squirm and hearing what noises he could pull out of you. He wanted to have you, to know you on a deeper level. And what was more intimate than knowing the way a person tastes?

“Pretty,” he murmured into his direct line to heaven, his nose nudging your clit

gently. A long, hot stripe was licked up your pussy, making you twitch expectantly. Instantly, your mind began to grow foggy and your hips bucked, San whispering, “It’s alright, just relax, baby.”

And so, you did. You let your torso fall all the way back against the booth seat and your fingers tangle in his hair, a soft grunt leaving him as he dove in deeper. His tongue swirled around your entrance, dipping inside every once in a while as a quiet hum vibrated against you. He kept up his agonizingly slow pace on your clit with his thumb, savoring that way you tasted on his tongue.

Soon, though, San needed more of you. He needed to see you squirm more, hear you moan just for him. He pulled you even closer to the edge of the booth, another grunt leaving him as he had to pull his face away for a moment. He hoisted your legs up onto his broad shoulders, instantly attaching his lips to your clit, kissing it softly before sucking it.

A thick finger found its way inside of you, knuckle deep and wriggling. You squirmed, unable to hold back your noises. Even with just one finger, he filled you up better than you’d ever been before. He added a second finger a moment later, getting familiar with your body inside and out. Scissoring his fingers, he stretched your pussy out, mumbling something about how perfect it was.

“Fuck, San, even your fingers are big,” you slurred, back arching up in the air. San answered with another hum against your pussy, one you could tell was a shy giggle. He curled his fingers, letting his lips pulse around your clit now that he could tell you would finish soon. He slowed his pace down for a second, lifting his head to look up at you.

“You wanna cum? Want Sannie to make you cum?” He asked with a condescending pout, mirroring the one on your own lips. You nodded fervently, but it wasn’t enough for San.

“Gotta hear you say it, angel,” He furthered, eyes darkening as he held back another sly smile. You whined, kicking your legs gently. San tutted, swatting your thigh gently, “Don’t be so stubborn. Just tell Sannie.”

“Please, San, make me cum. Wanna cum all over your tongue,” you relented, hips bucking back up towards San’s face, nudging his chin against your clit. San cooed gently before diving back in. Lapping at your hole, he circled your clit relentlessly with his thumb. He wasn’t going to let you cum anywhere but his tongue.

It didn’t take long for you to do just what you’d asked for. Suddenly, your entire body began to tingle, radiating from the place between your thighs. Your toes curled and your knees tried to squeeze together, locking San’s head in place so that he could lap up every last bit of your essence that was flowing out of you. He made sure he got every last bit, taking his time to lick and kiss every last part of your slick, throbbing cunt.

Eventually, he pried your legs open and helped you sit up, smiling hard at your flushed out face. He swiped his chin with his thumb, bringing it up to his lips before licking off that last bit of you. He sighed, “Could live in that little hole forever, baby.”

You blushed gently, turning away from him shyly, prompting him to sit next to you. He grabbed you by your waist, pulling you onto his lap so your back was flush against his chest. “Hey, you can’t get all shy on me now. Where’s the feisty girl I know, hm?”

“How could I be mean after you just did that to me,” you pouted, making San laugh.

“You’re always mean to me,” he told you dramatically, grabbing your chin and turning your face towards his. Carefully, he grinded his hips up so that you could feel how hard he was. And he was. Just the taste of you had San throbbing, and the only reason he let you cum so quickly was so that he didn’t cum in his own pants.

You gasped softly, feeling San’s cock pulsing against your ass, then again when his thick fingers began circling your clit again. He rested his chin on your shoulder, speaking so softly into your ear, “And what’s really mean is how you made me so hard, I almost came from how good you tasted. You wouldn’t leave me like this, right, baby?”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes and turning around in San’s lap. His hands went straight to your ass, cupping it and pulling you down to grind against the tent in his pants. Your eyebrows furrowed gently as your hips moved back and forth on him, concentrated huffs falling from your tongue.

“Greedy girl,” he teased, nudging your jaw with the side of his head gently, “you want my cock in you?”

You nodded, pouting at him, “Please, San. Need you in me bad.”

San just laughed, guiding your hands to unzip his pants. He lowered his voice, looking down at where your crotches met, “Alright, you can have it. But, you gotta do the work now. You really tired me out there before.”

You whined again, this time out of pure exhilaration. Wasting no time, you unzipped San’s fly, yanking down his pants and boxers as best as you could. His cock sprung out, hard and red, begging you to take it.

But first, you giggled mischievously as you gave it a few pumps, enjoying its weight in your hand. San groaned, throwing his head back and cursing under his breath. It didn’t take long for him to grow impatient. He grabbed your waist and guided you to sit up better, right above his manhood.

You moved your hips around just to antagonize San as he’d done to you so many times. He let out a frustrated groan, burying his face against your neck yet again, kissing it softly as he pleaded, “Cmon, baby, don’t make me crazy here.”

“Wanted this for so long, Sannie,” you breathed out as you finally sunk down on him, his hips thrusting up to meet yours. San chuckled, pushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“I know, baby, read all about it,” he smirked, that smug look on his face melting into a lovesick smile as you swatted at his chest. He couldn’t help but suck another bruise into the side of your neck before chiding, “Just teasing you, been thinkin’ about this for a while, too.”

He rutted up into you, hungry and needy, filling your slick heat completely. Your body twitched with each thrust, languid and deep, San’s silent confession. He was savoring his meal, taking it slowly and enjoying it wholly.

The only sound in the room was that of skin on skin, San’s hips snapping up into yours. He knew just the spot to hit inside of you. You cried out in pleasure, prompting San to speed up. The two of you, hungry and desperate to cum, moved together in a near perfect harmony.

“Fuck, this pussy was made for me,” San stuttered, trying to keep himself inside you, but it was hard with your bouncing and his thrusts, not to mention the wetness you spilled each time he left your body for a moment. San grunted in your ear, biting down on your shoulder a moment later. He was close. It didn’t help that everytime he thrusted up into you, you let out the sweetest sounds. San wanted to listen to them all the time, but even the thought of doing this again with you made him harder.

Honestly, his cock kept getting harder with each second it spent inside you. You were so warm, so tight. San was normally a patient man, but it was hard to take his time with you.

You couldn’t be helped either. As soon as he sunk his teeth into you, you came all over him. Wetness poured out of your cunt, coating San as you cried out his name. He followed suit soon afterwards, pulling out and cumming on your thigh. Quickly, San pulled you into a hug, still heaving as a big hand came up to cradle your head.

For a few minutes, the two of you sat together, your form still tucked into San’s warm embrace as he rocked you back and forth. You both tried to regain your breath, but every little touch made either one of you gasp softly before you turned your head the other way, embarrassingly lovesick.

San was warm, physically and figuratively. Sweat dripped off his forehead and fell onto yours, but you couldn’t care less if it meant being held by him. It was strong, secure, surreal… it was everything you had written about before. There were days when all you needed was a firm hug, to be held without the fear of falling, somewhere warm and safe. San was all of that, and you could feel it now. It wasn’t just something you wrote about anymore. It was real.

San noticed the face you made when you were thinking and his heart rate picked up. Was it not good? Did he disappoint you? He nudged your head with his shoulder, pouting, “What’s wrong? Was it not good?”

“What? No! It was amazing, I just… I like you a lot. And I like that I don’t have to imagine things anymore… Well, that is if you want to continue this,” you trailed off, blabbering embarrassedly. Maybe all he wanted was a hookup. Uneasiness settled into your features while amusement settled into San’s.

“Silly girl,” he scoffed, enamored by everything you were, “Do you want to be my girlfriend?”

Your eyebrows shot up and your heart fluttered. You were never one to get so worked up so easily, but San had a way of making it happen. You cleared your throat, trying to regain some composure.

“Do you want to be my boyfriend?” you mirrored, acting coy now. San cupped your face, dimples on full display as he smiled at you, meeting your gaze. He leaned in and gave you his first real kiss of the night. Your lips molded together perfectly, San’s tongue swiping across your lower lip occasionally. You felt his warm cheeks against yours, which made you giggle sweetly. San’s heart melted.

The boy pulled away a moment later, letting his forehead rest against yours, “Does that answer your question, baby?”

You snorted in response, shaking your head bashfully. You wanted to hear him say it. San rolled his eyes in response, his hands moving down your back to rest on either side of your ass. Still, he smiled and whispered, “Yes, I want to be your boyfriend.”

You sighed sweetly, unable to hold back the big smile on your face. San delivered a little spank to your ass, playful and teasing, “Happy now?”

You nodded, allowing a little squeal of excitement to leave you. “Very happy, Sannie. Very happy,” you whispered back, laying your head on his shoulder to look around the dark diner.

Just then, your eyes spotted a little red light up in the corner of the diner, seemingly connected to a security camera. You jumped, whisper yelling at San, “Fuck! Fuck, the cameras, San!”

San jumped as soon as you did, following your gaze up to the security camera. He mirrored your panic for just a moment before pulling you further into the booth, pulling his jacket off to cover up your still bare bottom half.

And just as you thought you were going to have a heart attack, San laughed, and somehow, the uneasiness melted away. He ruffled your hair playfully, moving you off his lap and onto the seat before zipping his pants back up. He stood up, leaning down to your level, “I'll go take care of it, honey. Just clean up and get dressed. And finish your shake,” he told you, motioning to the table where your half empty, half melted chocolate shake sat.

But as soon as he turned around, he turned back and pressed a chaste kiss to your lips before scurrying off to the office, ready to delete the footage. You couldn’t help but smile knowing San would take care of it. What a dream boy.

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez smut #ateez x reader #minranghae #san x reader #san smut #ateez imagines #ateez san #san ateez #kpop smut #ateez fluff #kpop fluff #fluff #smut #san #choi san #sensesseries

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void-wolfie · 22 days

Text

I Can't Live Without You

summary: you and Jenna get into a fight, you get into a car crash before you can make amends [request]

pairing: Jenna Ortega x fem!reader

tw: swearing, arguments, drinking, a car crash (i'm probably missing something so let me know if i need to add anything)

words: 2.33k

a/n: one of my longest posts yet, sorry it took me so long to get to this request and even longer to post it. anyway, enjoy the angst :)

You stood there, frozen in place, watching the pair through the windows of the coffee shop. As much as you wanted to, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from them.

His hand was up her thigh, shoulders brushing with every passing word, her smile brighter than all the stars in the midnight sky. But that’s not what held your attention. No. The thing that held your attention the most, was the kiss.

You had no right to be jealous, it’s not like you were dating her. But that didn’t make it hurt any less.

You liked Jenna, you really did… maybe even loved her… And you thought, or at least hoped, maybe she liked you back. But the scene in front of you told a very different story.

The couple sat towards the back of the café in a small corner booth, just against the windows. You probably wouldn’t have even noticed them if you weren’t about to head into the shop yourself. And yet, there they were. Hidden away like two lovers on a secret rendezvous.

You backed away, back in the direction you came from. You had plans for today, but those could wait. Right now, you needed to get away… anywhere far away from that.

Jenna saw you. She saw you turn and walk off in the other direction. There was something about the way you stormed off that caught her attention, it put a knot in her stomach.

Something was wrong, very wrong.

You wiped your eyes, hoping no one would notice if they saw you. You hated crying; it made you feel weak.

You patted down your pockets, looking for your car keys. Fortunately, it didn’t take long to find them, and it took even less to unlock the car door.

“What’s wrong?”

Of course… You closed your eyes, wanting nothing more than for the ground to swallow you whole right then and there.

You didn’t want to talk to her, not after what you just saw.

“Not now, Jenna. Please.”

You didn’t turn around, keeping yourself facing towards the car. You didn’t want to see her, and you sure as hell didn’t want her to see you like this.

Jenna was taken aback. You told her everything. When something was wrong, you’d always go to her first. And now you were pushing her away? She couldn’t understand it.

The sound of footsteps echoed in the empty parking lot. Gravel crunched under Jenna’s feet as she got closer. You didn’t move though, you refused to let her see you like this.

“Seriously, Jenna, I’m not in the mood.” You tried again to get her to go away. But her footsteps didn’t falter or change course… Nope, Jenna was going to give you a piece of her mind, whether you liked it or not.

You wiped your eyes again and took a deep breath, trying to pull yourself together. You didn’t want her to notice what a mess you were… Not like it would matter though, Jenna noticed everything.

Her footsteps stopped next to you. You could feel her eyes boring into you, her concern practically radiating off her. You didn’t budge though. You couldn’t. It almost seemed like the closer she got the faster your tears fell.

“Hey, talk to me. Whatever’s wrong, maybe I can help…”

Fuck… You hated the world. You hated yourself, you hated that boy, you hated everything. Everything but her… How do you even tell your best friend, the girl you’re in love with, that the reason your entire world is falling apart is because of her? She was your everything, and she destroyed you.

But worst of all, she didn’t even know it.

You still had your eyes closed, praying that by some miracle she would go away.

She reached out to hold your hand, anything to try and comfort you. But you pulled away.

Jenna tried to ignore the pain in her chest as you pulled away, the feeling of your fingertips slipping past hers was almost foreign. She knew you were hurting, but it didn’t make the ache in her own heart go away.

“Did I do something wrong?”

You wanted to laugh, you wanted to tell her it was all just a big misunderstanding, that you were fine. But you couldn’t. Instead, more tears fell.

Jenna would never be yours. Never anything more than a friend… The longer the two of you stood there the more the realization crushed you.

“No, Jenna. You didn’t do anything wrong.” The words came out soft, muffled by the air caught in your throat and the weight of the world slowly suffocating you.

“Then what’s wrong? Why won’t you talk to me?” She was getting frustrated now, evident by the tension in her voice and her rising volume.

“Because I can’t!” You snapped, “Because for fucking once, you’re the only person I can’t tell!”

“Why not?!”

“Because it’s not your fucking problem!”

The second the words left your mouth you wanted to take them back. You didn’t mean it.

You never thought you could see someone’s heart break. You always thought that was the stuff of movies and shows. And yet, that’s exactly what you saw looking at Jenna. You saw her heart shatter. You could see the tears welling in her eyes, her hands looked like they were shaking, and her face twisted in anger and hurt. She seemed…

broken.

“Sorry I even bothered then.”

You didn’t even have time to interject before she turned on her heel and stormed off. And even if you did, you weren’t sure you would’ve said anything anyway. What do you say to fix a broken heart? What do you say when your own heart is crumbling to pieces?

You finally got into your car, practically throwing yourself into the driver’s seat.

You took a second to breathe and digest whatever the hell just happened.

You ruined it. You just ruined the only relationship that ever mattered to you…

fuck.

You slammed your hand against the steering wheel. You did it again and again and again, beating the crap out of the poor thing. You kept going till your hand was purple and blue and all the anger had finally faded away. All that remained was your shattered soul and bruised hand.

You’d give anything to take back what just happened…

You stumbled out of the bar door, your eyes struggling to adjust to the pitch-black sky after sitting under the tavern lights for so long.

After your fight with Jenna you decided to turn to the best distraction you could think of; crawling into the bottom of a bottle. All things considered; you’ve been worse off. You weren’t seeing double yet and you hadn’t fallen on your face. Both of which were good things considering how much you had to drink.

You fumbled for your keys, dropping them as you pulled them from your pocket. You bent over to pick them up, your stomach churning as you did so. You heaved, silently begging your body not to barf. It churned again. You nearly lost it, but the feeling seemed to pass as quickly as it appeared.

You looked down at the keys in your hand, quickly shoving them back into your pocket. If the way you nearly puked two seconds ago told you anything it was that you were too drunk to drive home.

You pulled out your phone, trying to think of someone who’d be willing to drive you home this late at night. You clicked the first contact you could think of.

You listened to the dial tone. Once, twice, three rings. Then to voicemail. You didn’t bother leaving a message, instead hanging up. It was crazy to think she’d pick up anyway.

You clicked a different contact, your brother. Once again, it rang only to go to voicemail. You tried your sister, but once again, no answer.

You looked over at your car, contemplating just how drunk you were. Your house wasn't that far away, maybe you could drive?

No. It wasn't worth the risk. You only lived a few blocks away, you could walk. You weren’t gonna be one of those idiots on the news who got a hundred years in prison for killing someone because they drove home drunk.

You headed towards the street, making sure to keep on the sidewalk. You didn’t want to stumble into the road like some drunk idiot, even if there weren’t any cars around. You decided to put on some soft music while you walked, the quiet beginning to make you uncomfortable.

Somewhere behind you could hear the rumble of a car. It was getting close and fast… definitely too fast to be safe. You turned behind you to try and get a look at the car, only to be met with bright headlights right in your eyes. It almost seemed like they were swerving but it was too hard to tell.

“Hello?” Jenna answered the phone with a sigh.

She’d been halfway through pouring herself yet another glass of white wine when her phone started to ring. She was just going to ignore it, but it kept ringing. Eventually, she decided to pick it up and tell whoever it was to call back tomorrow.

She couldn’t stop thinking about the fight from earlier. In fact, it was all she could think about all day. And the more she thought about it the more her chest ached. And the more her chest ached, the more wine she found herself pouring.

“Jenna! Are you okay? Please tell me you’re okay?” It was her mom; she seemed worried, frantic even. She wasn’t sure why she was so worked up, but it couldn’t have been good.

“Yeah, mom, I’m fine. What’s wrong?”

There was a pause. A moment of silence. The tension that seeped into the air sent chills down Jenna’s spine.

“Mom?”

“You don’t know?”

“Know what?” Now she was even more confused. Did something happen? “You’re scaring me, Mom. What’s wrong?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, hun. I was worried, I thought you might’ve been with her when it happened and- ”

“With who? What happened?”

“Oh,” she could hear her mom’s voice cracking from the other side of the phone, it only made her more worried, “Sweetheart… There was an accident, a bad one.” Her mom didn’t need to say your name, Jenna already knew exactly who she was talking about.

Her mom kept rambling, but she was hardly listening. Jenna made out some words; drunk driver, life support, critical condition… but all she could think about was you.

“What hospital?” Jenna interrupted. She loved her mom, but the conversation at hand was far from her mind. She needed to see you, she needed to know you were going to be okay. You had to be okay… she wasn’t sure what she would even do if you weren’t.

“The hospital just off of thirteenth street-”

“What floor?”

“The ICU-”

“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.” She didn’t care how many stoplights she had to run or what laws she had to break. She’d be there in fifteen minutes, damn the consequences.

Before her mom could get another word in, Jenna hung up the phone.

True to her word it only took her fifteen minutes to get to the hospital, a feat which should’ve been nearly impossible given how far away she lived.

Jenna ran up to the nurse’s station, frantic and out of breath, “Where’s-”

Before she could finish her question alarms started blaring. Rapid beeping shot out from the computers, lights began flashing outside one of the rooms, everyone jumped out of their seats. All Jenna could comprehend from the chaos was ‘Code Blue’ and ‘Room 143’.

She watched the nurses rush down the hall towards the flashing lights, she noted doctors and other nurses rushing towards the same room as well. One of the nurses closed the blinds while another closed the door to keep the family from watching from the hall.

It took a few seconds before she realized she recognized the family. She noted your brother, looking pale and emotionless. Your mother, tears streaming down her eyes and holding onto your sister, who was crying herself, for dear life.

The alarms, your family, the term ‘Code Blue’… the realization of what was happening hit Jenna like a freight train.

“No…” Jenna didn’t want to believe it, she couldn’t. “No… No, no, no, no -”

Her legs were carrying her before she even realized what she was doing, her body acting off instinct.

She nearly tripped as a pair of arms latched onto her, holding her back from storming into the room. She tried pushing the arms off, her sights still set on the door in front of her, but it was pointless. Whoever had her wasn’t letting go.

Tears clouded her vision, but she could hear the doctors inside your room clearly; demanding voices talking about drugs and techniques, the sound of the defibrillator going, different nurses and doctors all talking over one another.

She needed you to be okay. You had to be okay.

Then, just as quickly as it all started, everything went quiet.

Jenna’s pleading had stopped, lost to her hoarse voice and sobbing cries. The doctors had all gone quiet, there was no more talk of treatments or drugs. The familiar tones of the defibrillator had stopped, no more sounds from charging or discharging. All that remained were the normal sounds of a busy hospital.

The loudest sound of all though, was the one sound that was missing. Your hospital monitor had gone silent, most likely turned off by one of the doctors or nurses. No alarms, no ticks or beeps, just cold steady silence.

“Time of death, twenty-three fifty-seven.”

Jenna heard one of the doctors say it, almost as clear as day. She never thought one little sentence could hurt her so bad, and yet, having her heart ripped from her chest would’ve been less painful.

You were gone.

Not just gone…

Dead.

#void-wolfie #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega imagine #jenna ortega

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itsmiyamore · 3 months

Text

— drunk (in the front of your car)

"With you I’m drunk in the back of the car" — Cruel Summer, Taylor Swift Part of the drunk (on you) miniseries

a/n: posting in celebration of The Dumpster Battle movie filling me up with life again and also my birthday coming up this week! Updated taglist form here <3

Sakusa Kiyoomi regrets every decision he's made that has led him up to this point.

He knew better than to get wasted at his team’s night out—he always was a lightweight; so how was he here now, trying to not put too much weight against you as you try to walk him to your car?

Maybe it's the alcohol hitting his system that's making him lightheaded, or maybe it's the scent of your shampoo. He gets the urge to bury his face in the crook of your neck and maybe stay there forever. Yeah, that would be nice, he thinks.

Then he gets the urge to throw up, and the next thing he feels is your warm hand rubbing his back as he pukes into a trash can. He hates the bitter taste it leaves in his mouth, scrunching up his face, momentarily forgetting the situation he’s in.

"Hey, Sakusa," you gently say, startling Sakusa back into his senses. His skin tingles where your hand still rests. "Sakusa?"

He looks up at you, and he's suddenly hyper-aware of how he probably looks like absolute dogshit right now. He doesn't really care though.

(He does.)

He must've murmured a response because you smile at him—god, you have absolutely no right to be doing this to him—and you say, "Are you feeling better?"

Keep talking, he wants to tell you. You're beautiful. I think I'm in love with you. But he just mutters, "Yeah I'm good."

He goes red when he stumbles a bit, the soft giggle that slips past your lips only deepening the shade. You help him into your car, then you lean over him and god, Sakusa thinks, he wants to kiss you so badly.

You're only buckling his seatbelt, but you’re too close and it’s too much, and then you're looking up at him and saying something, but he can't hear you over the thundering of his heart. He wonders if you can hear it; surely you can, because he's shaking as he looks into your concerned eyes. He glances down and sees your tongue quickly swipe over your bottom lip and that's it, he thinks.

You pull away before he can muster the courage to lean in.

His headache is back when the radio comes on full blast as you start the car, followed by your flustered apology. He tries not to stare out the window at the bright city lights, but it's hard when on his other side is the one person he can't handle being alone with.

Not sober, at least.

(Nor drunk.)

At the next red light, you turn, reaching for something in the back. You twist back to the front, handing Sakusa a water bottle. He glances at it skeptically and you grin.

"It’s unopened, I just bought the pack earlier today."

He nods, thanking you, and as the car starts moving, you glance at him again, still grinning as your eyes meet.

He almost chokes on his water.

He doesn't even notice when the rain starts. Absent-mindedly, he watches a drop of water trickle down the window, then another, and another. Before long, the rain makes a thick gray curtain over the city; a loud crack of thunder startles Sakusa out of his reverie.

That, and the soft string of curses that slip out of your mouth.

He watches you as you mutter to yourself, not registering the fact that the turns you're making aren't the way to his apartment. You park somewhere, and you smile sheepishly at him, saying, "Hey, since it's raining pretty heavily right now, I hope you don't mind, but I brought you to my place. It was a lot closer."

And maybe it's the thoughts from earlier still swimming in Sakusa's mind, or maybe it's the way he can't say no to you that he somehow manages to say, "I'll be okay for the night."

(No he won’t.)

758 notes · View notes

luvyeni · 2 months

Text

ROADTRIP ,, 한지성 이필릭스

pairing ‎⸝⸝⸝ lee felix x han jisung x fem!reader wc. 5k+

genre. smut, b2l, poly relationship

𓄷 iηcℓudᥱs ... threesomes, heavy mxm themes, dry humping, soooo much sexual tension, car sex?, voyeurism, unprotected sex, oral sex ( m. receiving ),

nia's notes. been a minute since i posted a long one and since its the theme is fitting.

ׁ ׅ ୨ ❪ masterlist! ❫ ୧ ⊹ ࣪

although you desperately needed this vacation; you hated packing for it.

“why do i need 3 different bikinis?” you threw the bottom's into your suitcase; felix on the other side of the phone. “because we'll be there for three days, dummy.” you scoffed. “yes three, but i won't be in a bikini the entire weekend; why not two?” you asked. “well one for the beach; two for the pool— wait, why do i need two for the pool?”

“yn i don't know; jisung was the one to say you needed five— no i don't care she is asking too many questions, if you're gonna be a pervert don't invite me in it, say you want her in a bikini all weekend and go.” you laughed at your two best friends. “yn he wants to see you in a bikini all weekend.”

“i-i never said- why do you both do this to me? the boy whined. “i just asked how many bikinis do girls normally bring on vacation? five was just a random number.” he tried to explain himself. “sungie no need to defend yourself so much if you don't mean it, you must really want to see me in a bikini.” you heard him sigh. “im gonna crash this car.”

the three of you met during your first years of university; all of you fresh out of highschool, unaware of what you wanted to do; taking comfort in each other's company, spending the next three years glued to each other, spending weekends and holidays together; studying together, sleeping over each other's apartment everything.

a month before; during the finals, it took a lot out of all of you, so you came up with the idea of going on a summer road trip, staying in an airbnb, and just having fun together.

“we're outside, hurry up , I want to make it to the airbnb as soon as possible, it's still early we can order dinner.” felix said. “okay I'm coming now, let me just grab my hair brush.” you said. “I'll be down there soon.” you hung up the phone.

jisung sat in the back seat, felix using the passenger seat for his snacks for the trip there, watching you exit the door of your building. “jisung watching her like that makes you seem like a creep.” jisung rolled his eyes. “don't act like you don't look at her the same way, don't act like you didn't come to her call at 4am when her air conditioning broke.” the boy responed. “sure did” the boy confessed proudly. “ you don't know how to fix an air conditioner felix.” felix turned back to the boy. “she didn't have a shirt on.” jisung said, you opened the door. “i didn't really care about the air conditioner.”

“what?” you stood there while felix got out to put your suitcase into the car. “who didn't have a shirt on?” you asked. “you.” felix got back into the car. “would you get in the car, letting all the cold air out.” felix said; you ran to the other side of the car, getting into the back next to jisung. “hi.” you smiled at the flustered boy. “h-hi.” he looked out the window to mask his red face. “now when didn't I have a shirt on?”

fellix pulled off; beginning your three day journey. “i’m so excited.” you squealed excitedly. “i needed this, school kicked my ass this semester.” felix nodded, the GPS giving him the directions. “i want to go lay on the beach all day, the whole weekend.” jisung groaned next to you. “that's a lot.” you rolled your eyes. “of course you think so sungie, you hate being outside, period.” you chuckled, tapping his face. “i’m surprised we were able to drag you out of the apartment for this.”

“and miss you in a bikini?” felix commented from the front. “not a chance, you know how much material that is for our sungie that is?” that comment would have offended you; creeped you out if it were any other guys, but you guys always talked to each other like this, flirty banter and touches; but it never escalated— well except that time you and felix drunkenly made out at a house party. “s-shut up.” the boy stuttered out. “don't worry, I didn't bring five , but i bought three i'm sure you'll love.”

the ride was calm after that, felix focusing on driving, occasionally cursing at the drivers; jisung to your right, his earphones in as he took in the scenery. you scrolled mindlessly on your phone, boredom taking over you, you began to fidget— jisung took notice of this. “are you okay?” jisung asked, taking his headphones off. “i'm fine.” you smiled. “are you comfortable?”

“my legs are a little cold.” he watched you rub your bare thighs to keep them warm, he always liked your thighs, the plushness, he would often daydream about how they would feel if he laid his head on them, or squeezed them in his hands— or how they would squeeze around his head while he ate you out. “i-i can tell lix to turn down the aircon,” he said, gulping; trying to free himself from those thoughts. “no it's fine, i have a blanket i can use in my bag, but it's in the back.” he quickly turned around, grabbing the bag. “this?” you nodded, he handed you the pink fluffy blanket. “thank you sungie.” you threw the blanket over your lap. “here.” you scooted over, covering his lap with the blanket. “now we're both warm.”

that was his problem, he was too warm, and being under this blanket did nothing to stop his mind from running wild; which made his body heat up more. now you weren't dumb, you could feel his presence on you, every time you moved your legs he would look at your thighs then you, before turning back out the window— you thought it was cute, he was cute.

he was back to looking out of the window, when he felt your head on his shoulders. “turn the radio up.” you told felix, he did, telling you not so much so he could hear. “thank you lixie.” he could feel the heat from your breath on his neck. “i love this song.” he froze, feeling your hand on his knee. “you like this song sungie?” he nodded, you could practically see the gears turning in his head. “i-its okay.”

he was fucked. he could feel his pants tightening around his lower region, rubbing his knee, all the way up to his lower thigh. “y-y/n.” he whispered, you squeezed his thigh, he grabbed your hand. “n-not here.” He said. “why not?” you whispered in his ear, not really helping his situation. “he's not watching one is watching.” you managed to get out of his hold— there wasn't much of a hold, he barely was putting in any effort to ‘restrain you.’ “he can't hear us.” he felt the wetness of your lips on his neck. “and you know want this.”

your hand finally reached where you wanted, he looked down at you, desperation all in his eyes. “you're so hard.” you gasped; “what did you think about all the bikinis you get to see me in?” you palmed him lightly. “i bought them just for you.” he bit his lip, trying not to moan. “or was it my thighs.” you teased. “you haven't kept your eyes off them since i got into the car.” he felt you unbutton his pants, your hands making its way into them, running your hands along his clothed cock. “you're so big.” you pulled his underwear down. “poor thing you're leaking.”

he turned his head as a way to conceal his moans; you took his heavy cock into your hand, slowly stroking it. “fu-fuck.” he hissed as you ran your fingers along his tip. “i wish i could see it.” you said. “i bet it's really pretty.” you squeezed him, stroking faster; he threw his head back, making you stop as felix turned back. “ji?” his head tilted to the side, looking into the rearview mirror. “you good?”

he could barely answer, your hand still on his cock. “ye-yeah.” he stuttered. “my legs are just a bit tired.” he e said, the blonde haired boy turned to you. “y/n?” You hummed. “i'm fine.” he nodded. “we should be there soon.” he turned back around, both of you letting out a sigh.

you turned your attention back to the boy. “you gotta be quiet.” you kissed his cheek, keeping up your movements. “don't want him to hear you cumming all over yourself right?” you said. “you're gonna cum aren't you?’” he nodded. “then cum for me.” you commanded , he lowered his head, letting out a sigh as he came all over your hands. “fuck.”

you pulled your hands out of his pants; his mess dripping from your hands, his mess getting on the blanket. “do you feel better?” he nodded, his cheeks flushed. “you look so cute when you're cumming.” you wiped your hand on the blanket. “so cute.”

just like that you were back to doing whatever you were doing, jisung tucked himself back into his pants , looking around making sure no one saw what you were doing; putting his headphones back on; staring out of the window, you rested your head on his shoulder, innocently this time, closing your eyes, drifting off to sleep; so unaware that felkx knew what you were doing under that blanket, the look in his friend face as you kissed him, stroking his cock, making hard as a rock.

“we're here.” felix pulled into the house driveway. felix got out of the driver's seat. “jisung wake her up.” he grabbed his extra snack before grabbing his bags. “wh-what?” the boy stuttered. “um, because she's laying on you.” he scoffed. “why else would i ask you?” was the last thing he said walking up the driveway, jisung swore he saw a smirk on the boy's face.

“y-y/n.” He tapped you. “yn we're here.” you moved around, eyes fluttering open. “we made it to the house.” you sat up, stretching. “finally.” you said tiredly. “i need to stretch my legs; and unpack before dinner” you said, “you might want to go now, before felix tries to get the better room.” you got out of the car, he got a good look at your ass as you walked up the driveway.

he quickly packed up everything, still holding on to the blanket; opening the door, walking up the driveway as well. “you here finally.” felix said with a smug smile. “you got a good look at her ass?” he folded his arms. “i wasn't looking at her ass.” jisung tried to defend himself. “who are you telling me or yourself?” he walked away from the boy. “close the door on your way in.”

jisung made his way into the house, taking his shoes off, felix standing at the kitchen island unloading the alcohol and snacks you'd need for the week. “this house is nice.” he said , noticing your absence. “what? looking for yn?” felix chuckled putting away the things. “i was just wonder- she's in the bathroom if you'd like to join her.” he turned towards the boy, looking around the room, noticing his menacing smirk. “is it finally clicking?” he said. “i thought it would at least be a day before it happened, but not in the back of the car with me in it.”

jisung wanted to crawl into a hole and die as they teased him. “did you really think i didn't hear you moaning?” felix stepped forward. “jisung i’ve heard you moaning countless of times.” he said, caging the boy against the counter. “i know what you look like when you're cumming, remember?” felixs eyes wandered to his lips, smirking; backing up letting the boy breathe. “don't worry, i won't tell her I know.” felix said, “or what we've done.” jisung nodded. “but if all bets are off like we promised,” he said. “best believe i'm getting something out this week.” he winked. “doesn't matter who either.” was the last thing he said before walking to his room.

after you all unpacked, you joined each other in the living room where felix had chinese food waiting for you both; you talked about what you were going to do; shopping and spending the day at the beach. “and there's a hot tub.” felix said. “really?” you asked. “lets get in.” you jumped up. “i’m gonna go change.” they watched you run up the steps. “you coming?” felix asked jisung, standing up. “to the hot tub?” the boy was stressed, of course he wanted to, but seeing you both in a bathing suit may send him into a coma. “duh; if you are, hurry up and get dressed.” the boy followed behind you.

you made your way back down the steps, outside to the back of the house where the hot tub and pool where felix was heating the water up. “is it ready?” he turned to you, his mouth dropped open, the dark blue bikini stuck to your body— well what little of the fabric there was did. “what if you just take it off, there's no point of it?” felix smirked. “might as well give our jisungie a full peek.”

“you love to blame him, but i think it's you.” you said smugly, walking past him, his eyes traveling down to your ass, getting into the warm water, sighing. “maybe it's you who wants a full peek.” you tilted your head to the side, he chuckled, climbing inside with you , the water coming up to his waist. “please.” he made his way next to you “if i wanted to, i would just.” he stood in front of you, his arm coming to your back, finding the string. “fe-felix.” he smirked. “take it off myself.”

you heard a cough, you both pulled away. “jisung, you made it.” you smiled. “y-yeah, i was having a hard time finding my shorts.” he said. “get in.” you invited , he slowly got into the pool, sitting on the other side , completely different from you and felix; you were practically sitting on the boy's lap. “why are you sitting so far ji?” you grabbed the glasses sitting on the edge, filling the two cups with the alcohol, handing one to felix. “i got you a beer sung , I know you don't like strong alcohol.”

“look at her so caring.” felix teased. “she can be caring when she wants to can't she ji?” felix asked. “always taking care of you right?” jisung looked past you right at him, where he was smirking. “i like taking care of him.” you said, he took a sip of his beer. “you like when i take care of you sung don't you?” he could feel himself getting hard. “ye-yeah.” he stuttered out. “oh like she did in the car?” jisungs eyes widened. “please if im gonna sit here and watch you eye fuck each other im gonna say something, and it's not like she didn't know i saw.”

“i did, i just didn't care.” you shrugged. “why are you jealous?” you now turned to felix. “wishing it was you i was touching?” you floated back over to the boy. “making you cum?” the air had definitely shifted between the three of you. “or are you jealous that i was the one to make sungie cum and not you?” you knew what those two had, it just wasn't your business. “i could make you both cum right now easily baby, i'm not jealous in anyway.”

jisung didn't say anything, just watching as you both got closer and closer to each other , until felix closed the gap; kissing you, his hands traveling down to your ass, squeezing it. jisung couldn't believe his eyes, watching you both make out in front of him, his cock could though, it twitched with excitement.

your hands tangled up in felix hair as he pressed you against the hot tub, tugging at it. “fuck.” he sighed, pulling away; pressing against your neck. “lix.” you moaned, both of your bodies, grinding against each other. “wh-what about sung.” you finally acknowledged the boy in front— felix smirked, pulling away, lips covered in your gloss. “he's free to join if he wants.” the boy turned back to you. “he better make up his mind now, before i take you right here in front of him.”

“um.” the older boy gulped, he so badly wanted to get in between you both, but he was scared. “not tonight.” he said. “im really tired.” he said. “the door is always open.” felix was quick to drag you out of the hot tub. “good night sung.” you smiled. “fuck come on, i’m fucking hard.”

“oh fuck!” jisung couldn't get rid of his hard on, especially when he could hear both of you moaning on the other side of the wall. “fuck deeper lix.” his hands traveled down to his pants, palming his erection. “fuck, you're so fucking tight.” he pulled his pants down , his cock springing , he hissed as the air conditioned room hit his leaking tip.

he wrapped his hands around his base , moving his hands up and down, listening to both of you going at it , it didn't matter who voice he heard , all he could do was imagine what you two looked like; how high pitched your voice got when you were close, how deep felixs got when you tightened around him, letting you know how he was gonna cum.

before he knew it, cum was spurting from his tip , cumming all over his chest and hands. “sh-shit.” he cursed as his hand got all dirty, but he kept going, stroking himself over and over until he could hear both of you cumming, he followed right behind you. “fu-fuck i can't.” he whined , pulling his hand away from his sore cock, he heavily breathed , soft cock sitting on his stomach, covered in his release.

he got out of bed , his post nut clarity hitting him as he cleaned himself up with a towel, climbing back to bed, the sound of you both still going at it as he drifted off to sleep.

he got up the next morning, the house was still quiet— getting up stretching; rubbing his eyes as he made his way to the bathroom. he did his business, brushing his teeth before making his way back to the bathroom, felix standing there made him jump. “i heard you, you know?” he asked.

“we both did.” jisung looked down at the ground. “if you felt uncomfortable you should've said— i wasn't uncomfortable.” he said. “i wanted to join.” he confessed. “so why didn't you?”

“i was scared,” he said. “of what, she literally jerked you off in front of me.” he said. “i-i know , but this is different.” he said. “i just don't know what to do with both of you.” he said. “you just need guidance.” he said , inching closer to the boy. “let us do that.” he took the boys hand. “i-is she good?” felix smirked. “so fucking good.” he bit his lip. “you’ll fucking cum as soon as you feel how tight she is.”

“is she the only one you're desperate to see naked?” the blonde haired boy pouted. “not me?” he now had the boy pressed against the wall. “you don't miss how i feel against you.” felix could feel the boy's cock hardening. “i guess you do.” jisungs hips moved involuntarily, felix cursed; ready to go again. “w-we can't do this out here.” jisung stuttered. “why not?” felix hummed , grabbing the boys waist to steady him as they rubbed against each other. “you're about to cum, i can feel your cock twitching.”

the boy was right, he did know his body like back of his hands. “fu-fuck lix.” he cursed. “I'm gonna cum.” he whined. “then cum for me, no one is stopping you.” felix grabbed the boys face, kissing him hold him up as they both came. “fu-fuck lix I can't.” the blonde stop, wiping the drool from the elders face. “still sore from last night?” he smirked. “fucked yourself to sleep.” jisung whined. “stop.” felix laughed. “let's get cleaned up before she wakes up, you know she likes coffee and breakfast before her day really starts.”

“let's go to the beach today.” you finally had woken up, coffee and breakfast waiting for you curiosity of felix. “i want to get out of the house.” you said, jisung could see all of the marks felix left on you, all the way down to your exposed chest. “sure we can, it's why we're here.” felix sat down next to you. “ji you coming?” he nodded, smiling. “yeah.” you clapped. “great, let's eat and get dressed so we can go.”

after breakfast you all went to your respective room, doing whatever; getting dressed when it was time , making your way to the car. “you gonna sit in the front with me, or you're sit in that back and make our sungie feel good again?” you rolled your eyes, turning to jisung. “i’ll leave him be for now.” you climbed into the front seat.

the drive down to the beach was nice; the air felt good, jisung and felix looking at you and how beautiful you were. felix knew, he knew his feelings the day he kissed you at that party; jisung on the other hand , his hit him like a brick, and he didn't know what to do.

“she really is something.” they both watched you tan from the water. “yeah she is.” felix said. “so we both have feelings for her.” jisung said. “and she clearly likes us both.” felix saw you sit up , looking at them smiling, waving them over. “and us?” the freckled boy asked. “do you like us?” he pointed in between them. “i-i do.” he said. “i really do, i like you both.” felix smiled, grabbed a hold of the boys hand. “well then it's settled.”

you saw them walking up to your towel; hand and hand as they sat down. “and what is this?” you said, smirking. “what was said when i wasn't ear shot?” you asked. “the same thing i told you last night.” felix smirked. “well you know after you regained conscience.”

truth is, after last night, felix did confess to you; and his feelings for jisung. it was like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders , hearing him say that; holding that in by yourself took a toll on you, constantly fighting with your feelings for both the boys. “and?” you looked at both of them. “fortunately for you, you’ll never have to use that useless ass vibrator you keep in your top drawer.”

hearing that he felt the same made your heart swell; never did you think you'd be here today. “let's go back to airbnb.”

the sat in the back with jisung on the way back; you held his hand, leaving little kisses on his fingers. “she can be pretty loving when she isn't horny.” felix said from the front. “well that doesn't mean im not horny, im just really happy.” you said, kissing his cheeks, watching them turn red. “really happy.”

the three of you made it to your airbnb, taking your shoes off outside. “i need a shower.” you said, feeling the sand everywhere already. “join me?” you held your hands out. “both of you.”

you thanked the gods, the people who owned the house had a walk in shower, big enough to fit all three of you. “i fucking hate sand.” you ran the water, getting rid of your clothing, the boys staring at you, making you stop. “are you both gonna just stand there or are you gonna stand there and be perverts?” you climbed into the shower, the boys undressing, getting into the water. “fuck that's hot!”

“you're gonna have to get used it if we're gonna be showering more frequently.” your purred, felix seeing the look in your eyes, forming a plan in his head. “baby why don't you give our sungie some love.” he ordered. “he's a bit nervous about this whole thing.” you pouted, turning to the boy. “don't be nervous.” you whispered in his ear. “we'll take good care of you.” your hands raked down his chest, he moaned as your manicured hand wrapped around the base of his cock. “i promise.”

your hand moved up and down, running your thumb along his tip. “fu-fuck please.” he whined, giving himself to you completely. “feels good baby?” you kissed his neck. “so-so good.” he threw his head back against the shower. “get on your knees.” felix said. “get him off like you did me yesterday.” felix cursed, stroking his cock slowly as he watched sink down to your knees , taking the older boy into your mouth. “oh my god.”

you bobbed your head up and down. “pretty you can do better, take him deeper.” your hands squeezed his thighs as you took him fully into your mouth. “oh fuck , im gonna cum if you keep doing that.” he groaned, you gagged around his length, making his legs shake. “fuck fuck fuck.” his hips tangled up in your hair , pushing you down on his cock, holding it until he came. “fuck im sorry.” he said as you pulled away. “i got carried away.”

“don't worry she likes it, look at her face.” felix got tired of watching, grabbing your hair much like jisung did. “told you, look at her drooling over my cock.” he tapped his tip on you lips. “open.” he commanded. “good girl.” he pushed your head down. “just like that.” he sighed. “love this mouth already.” he held it still as he abused your throat. “fuck.”

felix pulled jisung into a passionate kiss, his other hand grabbing a hold of the boys cock, which was even harder than before. “so fucking hard.” he groaned. “fuck does that feel good?” jisung nodded. “so-so good.” he whimpered. “i-im not -shit- I'm not gonna last.” he felt the sensation building in his stomach. “fuck me too, I'm gonna cum.” felix pulled out of your mouth, stroking himself and jisung. “open your mouth.” he let jisung go. “fuck I'm cumming.” felix groaned , cumming. “fuck!” he cursed , his release hitting your cheeks and lips.

“come on sung , cum for her look how bad she wants it.” the blonde hair boy encouraged the boy who stroked his cock, he looked down at you, your face covered in cum, lips swollen; the boy's cock twitched in his hand as he released himself all over your face.

giving up on the shower , the three of you stepped out ,hands all over each other's as you made a way to the bedroom, the bed getting wet from your bodies as you climbed on top of jisung. “you ready?” he nodded, you slowly sunk down on him. “fuck he's so big.” you moaned out, as you fully took him in. “don't move yet.” felix got behind you, holding your waist. “think you can take us both?”

you nodded, moving your ass against him; this made jisung moan. “easy.” felix said. “don't make him cum before i get inside you.” his hissed as he pressed the tip of his cock against your already filled cunt. “fuck, baby it's okay.” he slowly bullied his cock inside you. “goddamn.” he sighed , you we holding yourself up planting your hands right besides jisungs head, as felix filled your cunt, both the boys inside you now. “wa-wait fuck.” jisung whined.

he could feel it all, the tightening from your cunt, the twitching from felixs dick— it was all too much. “shit if you don't move, im gonna cum.” he said , sweat rolling down his forehead. “told you she was tight, you ready baby?” you nodded. “please move.” all three of you began to move, han bucking his hips up, as you moved your hips up and down, felix controlling how fast you went. “fuck let's speed this up.”

he gripped your waist as he began to fuck into much rougher, all three of you moaning out. “fuck i can feel both of you.” his voice was deep and dripping with lust. “fuck sung your cock keeps twitching -shit- you gonna cum?” the boy below, nodded. “fuck sungie.” you whined, “please cum inside me.”

that's all he needed before he was cumming; your legs shaking as you followed him , cumming; a white ring forming around their cocks. “sh-shit.” felix pulled out, stroking himself, his release sprouting from his cock, hitting your ass and jisungs thighs. “fuuuuck.” he finished himself.

the three of you laid down in felix; fully showered and dressed, your legs tangled up with each other. “so now what” jisung was the first one to speak. “do we just go home after this and never speak of it, or do we actually give this a try?” he asked. “how do we explain this to people?”

it was silent before you spoke up. “We don't explain it, it's none of their business.” you said. “i like you both, i want to be with you both.”

“yeah but people will talk.” felix scoffed. “let them talk , we all like each other and we aren't hurting everyone.”

hearing you both, jisung felt comfortable; knowing you both would protect him. “don't worry ji we both got you.” he smiled. “now what should we do tomorrow.” you asked. “i know what we should do.” felix smirked against your skin. “we aren't staying in the house the entire trip and having sex , I want to go shopping.”

jisung smiled listening to you both go back and forth. “we can easily do both.” he spoke up. “see now that he can have you whenever, he's gonna let his perv flag fly.” felix said , your head resting on his forearm as he ran his fingers through jisungs hair. “st-stop calling me a perv.” he said. “did you give her back the black panties you stole?" you shot up in shock.

“i thought i lost those, i swore i was going crazy !”

©️LUVYENI

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hughiecampbelle · 3 months

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The Boys Preference: Reacting To Your Tattoos

A/N: I have so many ideas for The Boys cast! Be sure to look out for more posts! I'm updating my request list to include them 😊 I'm sorry I've been a little MIA! I'll be getting back to requests asap! Hope you like it! Feedback is always appreciated 💜

Butcher loves them. This is not the moment to say something, to react, but he definitely takes notice. You got hurt, really hurt, and the only way to save you was for Annie cauterizing your wounds, buying you a little more time. Butcher didn't need to hold you down, you'd already gone limp, losing all color in your face. He begs you to wake up, to stay with them. There was so much blood. So much red. He was covered in it, seeping through his shirt. Your jacket was thrown off, the collar of your shirt torn, ripped, for easier access to your shoulder and they both discovered the tattoos. Your chest, your arm, neck, you were covered. He had a feeling there were far more, wondering why you never showed any of them. You were always so bundled up, he never even questioned it. He warned you this was going to hurt, though he wasn't even sure you could hear him. Still, as Annie's hands grew bright, he cringes, hoping you were too out of it to feel anything, hoping this would all seem like a far away dream. Hoping you won't mind the large scar that will warp your ink.

Hughie is pretty intimidated by them. The Boys are already a scary looking group, but meeting you, he thought you were going to bite off his head. Your body was pretty covered. After getting to know you, he realizes how wrong he was. You're snarky and stubborn, but you're also thoughtful and funny. If it were up to you, you'd never hurt a fly, just Vought. Still, every so often you'll do or say something that reminds him of that first impression, especially when you feel threatened or your friends are threatened. You'll show up with a few new ones, filling in the gaps. When it comes to open wounds you're ready to treat it with a strong drink and duct tape. When it comes to your tattoos, you're meticulous in your aftercare. He's never seen you so serene looking as when you're taking care of them, so gentle. Something about that makes him feel like he shouldn't be witnessing it, but he's grateful that he is. When they're in tricky spots, he's the first to offer to help. He works with nervous hands, afraid he'll do something to ruin it. You just laugh, walking him through it.

Annie knows all about your tattoos. They are, after all, linked to the V in your blood. You didn't start developing them until your late teens, your parents assuming the V they injected was a dud. Images started appearing and with them, your powers. By the time she met you, you were covered. You didn't like showing off to The Boys. You still had a long way to go to gaining their trust. Parading around the fact that you were a Supe wasn't going to help. Still, when it was just you and Annie you were less reluctant to show her. All kinds of images adorned your skin: weapons, insects, animals. You liked the weapons the best. The thing could project itself from your skin as if it were real. In seconds, you had a sword in each hand, as real and sharp as if you'd physically gotten one. The best part? Your skin was indestructible. Every few months, maybe years, a new tattoo would appear, giving you a leg up in the fight against Vought. She thinks you have by far the most interesting powers of any Supe she's met.

M.M. hates them. Because they're linked to the V you got as a baby, he sees them more of a warning than anything else, the way brightly colored animals are poisonous. He hadn't realized the first time you met, what they were from, and you were smart enough not to tell him. It was only when you were fighting for your life did you use your abilities: the circles on the back of your neck, layered, you let out a sonic scream that shattered windows, set off car alarms, and drew blood. The group that had attacked you were coughing it up, it was running down their necks from their ears. M.M. was far enough away not to be affected, but the way he tells it, he was *this* close to having his insides turned to goo. Some were safe enough to run away. The ones who were closer dropped dead with a wet squelch. He trusts you even less for not telling him. When he breaks the news to everyone else, he's shocked to find out that they either knew (like Annie) or they were unfazed, more impressed than anything else, like you'd become this great asset. You apologize profusely, but you know it'll be a long time before he can even look you in the eyes.

Frenchie thinks they're so cool. He went with you once and got one of his own: while you were getting a rather large piece finished, he wants to get a smiley face on his ass cheek. Despite the discomfort, Frenchie's all giggles. He's more than excited to show this off to everyone he decides to moon. You try to tell him how to take care of it, but he waves you off. He's eager to show The Boys. He's lucky it heals properly and by the end of the week, everyone he comes into contact with has seen it. Besides that, his favorite thing is to study the ones you have. They're intricate and beautiful and some of them are pretty silly. You never understood the sentiment that there had to be some grand kind of meaning behind them. If you like it, you get it tattooed. He asks questions about them, most done all over the world or, a couple, in prison. He thinks you look badass, especially when you shed the bulky layers and show off what they normally don't get to see. Your back piece is his favorite. When you're wearing something with a low back, or disregard a shirt completely, he can't help but watch you. You're careful, covering them with clothes or makeup so that whatever illegal thing you're doing can't be traced.

Kimiko asks a lot of questions. Did it hurt? Why that image? What does it mean? How long did it take? You never mind, in fact you like talking about them. You spent enough time getting stabbed, you wanted someone to ask. She especially loves the ones on your hands. They look beautiful as you sign back to her. Some are still a little raised despite how well you took care of them, those are her favorite. She touches them delicately, afraid it might hurt, but you assure her they're all healed. She watches when you're getting changed together, how they move with your skin and muscles. They make her smile knowing you feel so much more at home in your body because of them, something you admitted to her late one night after a few drinks. They help you like yourself, covering up insecurities, making you feel cuter/cooler than you would without them. She's always the first to notice when you get a new one, making a point regardless of the situation to tell you how nice it looks and that she likes it a lot.

Bonus! Homelander thinks they're horrendous. Disgusting. Just another way you've defiled your body. He can't stand to look at them and made sure you understand that. Around him, you keep them covered, either by clothing or makeup. You know better than to draw attention towards them. Regardless of how you acquired them (Compound V or just an aesthetic choice) you know not to bring them up or let anyone else bring them up. A-Train noticed the one of the back of your neck and that put Homelander over the edge. You were both thrown out of the room. You consider yourself more than lucky. He could have killed you, both of you, but he was feeling generous. He had bigger things on his mind. You knew working for Vought would lead to sacrifices, uncomfortable situations, but being interrogated by Homelander about your tattoos was never something you ever considered. He thinks about using his lasers every time he sees them poking out from your sleeve or pants. But he needs you. As long as he needs you, you're safe. The moment you stop being useful, he's going to cut off every individual image until there's nothing left. Until you look normal again.

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rcmclachlan · 1 month

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RC, PLEASE share more BuckTommy headcanons with us, everything you’ve said about them so far has been glorious.

Headcanon 1:

After Buck calls Tommy about touring Harbor and they agree on a date and time, he starts researching. Every free second he has between calls is spent watching videos that walk through what all the switches and gauges on a helicopter control panel do. On his days off, he reads pages and pages of posts on r/flying. There are no less than eight biographies about pilots on his kitchen counter dressed in the colorful fringe of all his page markers at any given moment. He devours Chickenhawk in one evening, then falls down a Wikipedia rabbit hole that starts with the article on the Bell UH-1 Iroquois and spits him out when he finishes reading about a municipality in Baku, Azerbaijan called Bibiheybət just as the sun starts peeking through the windows.

The night before he's supposed to meet Tommy, he takes a practice PPL exam for shits and giggles. He doesn't pass, of course, but he scores better than he expected to, and he can't wait to tell Tommy. He can't wait to wow him with everything he's learned.

Of course, it's all for nothing, because Eddie swoops in and steals Tommy right out from under him before Buck can even ask Tommy about his thoughts on the FAA Reauthorization Act of 2024.

Once they make their relationship official, Tommy does make good on his promise to take Buck up, and it's so fun to watch Tommy navigate the skies like the helicopter is an extension of his body, like he's barely wowed anymore by the fact he can fly, and he even lets Buck handle the cyclic for a couple of minutes.

They're hovering almost 6,000 feet above city limits, watching the sun set in a sweet comfortable silence, when Buck's almost had his fill of looking at the clean lines of Tommy's profile, he says, "Someday, when I get certified, I'm going to do a Screwdriver Down in a MD-500."

Once Tommy has wrestled the bird out of its sudden 400-foot free fall and back into an even hover, he grips the cyclic until his knuckles bleed white and says, teeth clenched, "Evan, unless you want tomorrow's top headline to be 'Two LAFD Firefighters Die In Massive West Hollywood Helicopter Crash,' I'm begging you to keep the dirty talk to yourself until we're back on the ground."

Headcanon 2:

Tommy has seen a UFO. He's actually seen, like, four. The third time, he'd been flying over the San Gabriel Mountains when something popped up on his radar out of literally nowhere and clipped his tail rotor, sending both him and the craft crashing into the woods.

He doesn't remember anything that happened after that. He woke up in a windowless hospital room where someone in full military dress blues shook his hand and congratulated him on becoming the first ambassador to outer space. Then he made Tommy sign approximately eight million SF-312s and consent to be called upon "if the time should ever come."

This is why he can't watch sci-fi movies with a straight face.

Headcanon 3:

Back in 1996, Tommy's buddies Jamal Kluger and Mitch Henney finally convinced him to go to one of the weekly school dances, mostly because Jamal was determined to slow dance with Amanda O'Shaughnessy and he needed moral support. Tommy didn't hate dances per se. Were there a hundred other things he'd rather be doing? Yes. He had a backlog of Car and Driver that really needed seeing to, but Jamal was practically his brother and Tommy would do a lot worse than dispassionately swaying with a few of his classmates to Mariah Carey in the name of best-friendship.

He'd been in the middle of trying to get Jamal's attention—not that he was ever going to notice, because he was finally dancing with Amanda and everyone else in the gym had probably ceased to exist—with his hands hovering a respectful quarter inch off Laura Lee Moore's hips, who said she'd specifically requested Dreaming of You, when the slow turning they'd been doing put him at the perfect vantage point to see Brett Bennett, pitcher for the East Woodbridge Falcons, dancing with Vanessa Wilson.

Brett was wearing a really nice button-up shirt and Tommy's gaze kept snagging on the way his arms filled out the sleeves, and he couldn't help but wonder if Vanessa could feel the calluses on Brett's hands through her miniskirt. They were probably rough and kept snagging the fabric. Vanessa could probably feel the pull of them, like velcro trying to pry apart. He watched Brett lean down to say something to her and couldn't help but think Brett wouldn't have to strain his neck so much to talk if he were dancing with Tommy. They were almost of a height; Tommy would barely have to tilt his head down. Selena crooned I just want to hold you close, but so far, all I have are dreams of you, and Tommy's heart pounded so loud he was almost certain Laura Lee could hear it over the music. When the song ended, he awkwardly backed away from her and thanked her for the dance, his gaze on Brett and Vanessa, who were still pressed close even though the Quad City DJs were enthusiastically telling people to ride a train. According to his cousin Denise, who was a grade below him and also in attendance that night, Laura Lee spent the rest of the night crying in the bathroom because Tommy couldn't take his eyes off Vanessa.

Almost thirty years later, he and Evan are hanging on the couch, half-watching an episode of Taskmaster and reminiscing about their first crushes—"Really, Evan, your teacher?"—and when Tommy tells him about wishing he'd danced to Dreaming of You with Brett Bennett, Buck presses a sweet kiss to Tommy's arm and says, "Stop making me want to time travel so I can fight an eleven-year old."

Tommy laughs and says, "It was more wanting to slow dance with a cute boy in front of everyone than Brett himself. You have nothing to be jealous about. When we were in the eighth grade, he crushed up a bunch of Altoids and snorted them through a hollowed-out pen during social studies. I've never heard anyone scream like that in my entire life. They had an ambulance come for him and he never came back to school after that."

"Sounds like a real winner," Evan teases, tongue between his teeth. "You really know how to pick 'em."

"Yeah, it's a gift," Tommy deadpans, and then wrestles Evan, who's cackling like a hyena, into the couch cushions.

Months later, Howie and Maddie throw a big party—which Howie's been calling Reception Redux in the OG 118 group chat—in Tommy's backyard, and he's in the middle of an unspoken chicken wing eating contest with Eddie—who's winning, and Tommy has no idea how he's putting them away so fast—when the music changes from some pop song he doesn't know to a familiar tinkle of piano chords. Howie strong-arms the mic away from the DJ and announces with a big grin that the song was requested by someone who wanted to "quote-unquote: dance with a cute boy in front of everyone."

Tommy almost chokes on the wing in his mouth, and he barely wipes the barbeque sauce off his fingers in time before Evan comes over, takes his hand, and pulls him onto the little dance floor they'd put down that morning in the flattest part of the yard.

His heart pounds as Evan drapes his arms over Tommy's shoulders like it's the easiest thing in the world, pressing close until it feels like their bodies are merging everywhere they touch, and then starts to sway. Tommy slowly lets his hands settle on Evan's hips, firm and sure. He doesn't even consider doing the hover thing.

As Selena sings about wishing on stars, Tommy closes his eyes and tucks his temple against Evan's, and for a moment they're in the East Westbridge Junior High School gym, which smells like sweat and cherry Lip Smackers and body odor, and across the room Jamal and Mitch both give him an enthusiastic thumbs up—and Mitch then does something obscene with his hands that has Jamal smacking him upside the head—because Tommy's dancing with the boy of his dreams in front of everyone while his stack of Car and Driver magazines sit unread and curling from the humidity.

"If Brett Whatshisname shows up, I won't be responsible for my actions," Evan says warmly, voice soft against the curve of his ear. "Literally. I already cleared it with Athena."

I'll be dreaming with you tonight endlessly, the song promises, and Tommy opens his eyes in the present. He takes a deep breath, borrows the energy of Selena's vow, and pulls back just far enough to whisper against the corner of Evan's mouth, "Marry me."

#bucktommy #bucktommy headcanons

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poisonlove · 6 months

Text

Stay with me | t.c

Pairing: Tara Carpenter X reader

Summary: Tara had a nightmare and the first person she thought of calling is y/n.

Words: 7.6 K

Warning: Post-traumatic trauma

"Tara! What the hell happened?" I tighten my grip on the phone, wondering why Tara was calling me at 4 in the morning. Sleep fades away as anxiety takes over.

I had met Tara Carpenter weeks ago almost by chance, arriving late to class. At that moment, I saw an empty seat next to a girl with brown hair and without a second thought, I headed in that direction

.Later on, we exchanged pleasantries, but over time those exchanges became more frequent, with added walks along the corridors and chats after school.

"Are you okay?" I ask quickly, feeling a deafening silence from the other end.

"Tara?" I inquire, feeling the worry growing inside me.

I was bitten by anxiety, my lower lip trapped between my teeth as a thousand thoughts, none of them encouraging, raced through my mind. Recently, Tara had told me about the horrible experience she had in Woodsboro with her friends and sister because of two psychopaths disguised as Ghostface. She literally went through hell... losing friends, suffering horrible injuries, and the growing anxiety of being pursued.At that moment,

I had hugged her to try to convey my support. Tara had buried her head in the crook of my neck, returning the gesture almost hesitantly. I knew she was scared, terrified of the idea of trusting someone again and reliving that horrible experience.

But despite everything, she trusted me.

"Y/n?" Tara's voice was broken, her nose sniffling as she sobbed. "Tara!" I say with my heart pounding, waiting for Carpenter's words.

"Can you come over?" Her voice becomes weak as she speaks, sobs threatening to escape any moment. "Are you hurt?" I ask, terrified, anxiety threatening to drive me insane.

Tara sniffs, the sound of her breath making me even more anxious. Should I run? Take the bus? Call an ambulance and rush to her apartment with a weapon? But would I be able to kill to defend her? A thousand questions assail me, and just the thought of having to kill sends shivers down my spine.

"No..." she says hoarsely, and a sense of relief washes over me.

"Has he... come back?" I timidly ask, biting my lower lip.

I didn't know what the term Ghostface would provoke in Tara, so I just asked if her fear had followed her to New York.

"No" Tara says timidly, her sobs threatening to escape from her lips.

I relax and look out the window, seeing the city shrouded in silence, the light from some lampposts illuminating bits of the street, and cars passing by occasionally.

"What's going on?" I ask calmly, knowing the brown-haired girl was safe."I need you..." she whispers weakly, her nose sniffling. "I had a horrible nightmare," she concludes with a faint voice, her voice still broken.

"Tara..." I respond gently, my heart squeezing at so much tenderness. "Is Sam not there?" I ask as I get out of bed, searching for my clothes.

"No... She'll be back from work at 7," she says timidly.

"Is it really that urgent?" I ask, biting my lower lip, sighing. "Yes..." Tara replies hoarsely, and I know the only way out of this situation is to go to the brown-haired girl's apartment.

"What did you dream about?" I ask timidly as I put on my pants, the phone between my ear and shoulder to keep it up. "I... I dreamt of him again... He was killing you in front of my eyes, laughing," she says with terror in her voice, sighing loudly. "I felt so powerless and scared," she sobs.

"I'm here," I say gently.

I put the phone on speaker as I put on the sweatshirt Tara had given me. "When I woke up, I was crying, and not seeing Sam panicked me," she confesses quickly, and I smile at her words.

I was glad she called me because she wanted my company.

"I'm coming, okay? Just give me 10 minutes," I say gently, wanting to reassure Tara, and the brown-haired girl mumbles in response. "10 minutes," she says timidly.

She had woken me up in the middle of the night, but when it came to Tara, I didn't mind.

(...)

"Hey! sorry for being late, I thought some chocolate might..." I start to apologize for being late, but Tara's arms around my neck freeze me in surprise.

A smile spreads across my face as I let myself be enveloped by her warm embrace, responding to her need for contact. Tara seemed to have developed a particular affection in the last few weeks, perhaps she was scared to be alone. It was entirely understandable considering what poor Carpenter had been through.

I sigh and leave a kiss on her forehead.

"You're here," Tara whispers against my neck, the sound of her voice muffled but full of meaning, and I can only smile in response.

Her arms tighten slightly around me

"always," I whisper timidly.

Tara pulls away from my neck but her arms remain around my waist. Her eyes look at me sweetly, chin up and a dazzling smile showing her dimples "you're my friend, that and more for you" I confess a bit bitterly for the word friend.

Why deny it? I liked Tara, a lot.

Tara continues to look at me without blinking, a shy smile on her lips. I could see the freckles dusted along her face. "So... Did you bring the chocolate?" Tara clears her throat, her eyes pointing to the chocolate in my hands.

"Oh yeah," I say and chuckle timidly, cheeks reddened with embarrassment."Thank you, you're adorable," Tara smiles widely and takes the chocolate.

The brunette puts the chocolate on the glass table.

Then her arms found purchase around my shoulders, her nose brushing against the weak point of my neck. "Why did you want me here?" I ask timidly, my voice just a whisper against Tara's ear.

Tara sighs loudly and presses her face more against my chest

"I feel safe with you" she murmurs weakly and my cheeks flush red.

Tara looks at me and her cheeks were flushed.

I raise an eyebrow seeing how Tara's eyes were slowly closing due to sleep. Tara mumbles and yawns."You're sleepy huh? I could keep you company on call until you fall asleep" I chuckle timidly and Tara yawns again.

"No," Tara whines with a cute pout, and I feel her body curl up even more against mine "I was really scared... I needed a hug."

I sigh deeply, feeling the weight of her vulnerability and without hesitation, I pull her into my arms, trying to convey all my support.

"I... felt like that night when I was attacked," Tara continues, shuddering against my body as her words pierce my heart. "Alone at home... vulnerable... but terrified because I knew there was someone who wanted to hurt me," she confesses, and my heart breaks for her.

"I'm here," I whisper gently, placing my lips on her forehead hoping that my gesture can somehow soothe her suffering.

Tara sighs against my chest.

"Come on... Let me take you to bed," I say timidly, my arms around her waist. "Sam is coming," I whisper, and Tara nods against my chest.

"Will you take me?" she asks weakly, yawning, and I smile when I notice her firm grip on my neck.

I bend down to gather her into my arms, and we head towards the bed where Tara emits a small sigh of satisfaction at the contact with the mattress.

"Goodnight," I say timidly, leaning down to give her a kiss on the cheek. "No... Stay with me," the brunette says determinedly, her hands clinging to my hoodie."But Sam..." I begin, trying to express my concerns about her sister's reaction, but Tara interrupts me with a pout.

"Sam won't say anything, stay with me please," Tara whispers sweetly, looking at me with eyes full of hope and vulnerability like a deer in need of comfort.

Faced with her tender request, I find myself unable to resist.

I sigh and settle down next to her, feeling the warmth of her body close to mine and a smile graces Tara's face. "When Sam arrives, I'll go home," I whisper gently, feeling her hands wrap around my arm as if I were a plush toy to cling to.

"Yeah..." Tara responds briefly, resting her head against my chest, and my heart skips a beat at her response.

I sigh with contentment, allowing myself to be completely enveloped by her embrace, smiling weakly as I reflect on the evening (or rather, morning) we've spent together.

In the end, Tara doesn't let me go, and I wouldn't want to be anywhere else.

#jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x fem!reader #scream movie #scream vi #scream #ghostface #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x y/n #tara carpenter x female reader #sam carpenter #post traumatic stress disorder

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yourelliewillms · 7 months

Note

i saw ur post and figured you received my request(my 2 brain cells worked hard on that)

if it was me then i was requesting for a clumsy and chaotic reader with a tired ellie/she is so done (i think that was it, my memory sucks btw😍)

ellie x chaotic!reader

headcanons

YES THAT WAS YOU THANK YOU FOR SENDING IT AGAIN. i hope you like it !! <3

cw: little nsfw mention at the end ?

☆ when you two are pillow fighting , you'd hit her a little too aggressively on her face and all she'd do is stare at you in silence while you hug her and kiss her face as an apology. "it's okay, babe. wanna cuddle instead?" and she'd sigh when you kiss her face pretending to be tired of it but it's actually making her cheeks all red.

☆ "how did you get that bruise?" she'd ask you while looking at your knee and gently caressing the purple injury in your skin with her thumb. "no idea" you'd shrug your shoulders and just ignore it but then she'd roll her eyes and run to get you a bag of ice to put on your knee so the purple mark would go away faster.

☆ everyday she comes back home from her job, you'd run to the door as soon as you hear her keys and then greet her as a puppy. you'd jump and kiss her all over her face while she just closes her eyes and smiles as she waits for you to calm down. then, she'd give you a little and gentle kiss on your lips.

☆ when you two were teenage lovers and you had an argument in which you clearly were the one that was wrong, ellie wouldn't talk to you for days until you formally apologize to her. that apology is you standing outside her house at 3 in the morning holding a big ass sign with an "i'm sorry elz" written on it and some cringe clingy song playing loudly on your car which is usually "wouldn't change a thing" from that "camp rock 2" movie.

and if she isn't responding, you'd send her dramatic texts.

you: we're venus and mars ...... 😭😭😭😭

ellie <3: i cant.

ellie <3: sleeping.

ellie <3: 😴 zzz

you: my heart literally hurts baby pls

you: YOU (me) WE'RE FACE TO FACE BUT WE DON'T SEE EYE TO EYEEEEEE

at some point, she'd open her window and look at you until you finish singing the song. then she'd open her door and you'd run to hug her.

☆ you'd take 0.5 forehead pictures of her ALL THE TIME, you literally have a folder of pictures like that and she'd be so pissed.

☆ sometimes when she's lying on your lap and you're with your phone, you'd accidentally drop it on her face and her nose would crunch and her eyes watery. you'd gasp and cover your mouth for a few seconds and then kiss her nose gently whispering 'sorries'.

☆ ellie loves playing sports but you don't, specially those that require a ball because everytime you play volleyball or football the ball hits your face. ellie'd feel guilty and she'd run at you concerned thinking it was her fault but it's actually you who's not good at sports.

☆ you'd send her those cat memes all the time.

you: hey bbg wanna hang out

you:

ellie <3: BBG????

☆ and during sex, countless times you've hit your heads or kicked/punched her during the most interesting moments and that would just turn ellie off immediately.

#ellie the last of us #ellie tlou #ellie x you #ellie williams #ellie x fem reader #the last of us #ellie x y/n #ellie x reader #ellie headcanons

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neouture · 1 year

Text

Senses

Pairing: Haechan x Reader

Words: 4,146

Genre: Smut (18+), angst if you squint

Includes: Fem!Reader, established relationship. Haechan is jealous and somewhat possesive bc of a silly little hug drunk Renjun gave you. Arguing, silent treatment, make up sex. Smut warnings under the cut !

Author's note: Possesive Haechan lives in my mind rent free. This story might not be for everyone because it includes very specific kinks that not everyone is into, but I had a lot of fun with this. If you like it, please leave a comment/ask. I also now have a ko-fi account, the link it's in my pinned post, in case anyone is interested in leaving a tip ! That's totally up to you tho, my stories are free for everyone. It's just another way to support (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶) I'm reposting this bc I posted it yesterday but it wasn't showing up in the tags so hopefully they work now!

Smut warnings: I feel like this is the time to reveal I have an impregnation kink so bear with it. Dirty talk, teasing, you're somewhat turned on by Haechan's possesiveness in all honesty. Oral sex (f. receiving), mentions and fantasies of impregnation, impregnation kink, unprotected sex (stay safe ! ), creampie.

If looks could kill, Renjun would've had a fatal ending.

Way more fatal than the fate you are transiting right now, sitting in the passenger seat while Haechan's gaze shoots darts into the road as if it’s a target, surrounded by an overwhelming silence that not even the street sounds and the city’s bustling can ease.

If looks could kill, Renjun would’ve collapsed next to you the second he decided to wrap one of his arms around you in a warm, brotherly hug. One that, seemingly so innocent, was misinterpreted by your boyfriend from afar.

“Haechan,” you sigh, but it’s useless yet again. No matter how many times you’ve said his name on the way back home, it seems as though you're speaking to a wall. A stubborn wall that doesn't listen, in which your words bounce back and are interiorized with shame and embarrassment when you realize that all you’re left with is the palpable tension inside his car.

You can see said tension in the prominent veins of his arms, his clenched jaw and the way he is just staring at the horizon, not daring to look at you. You can feel it every time you call out his name and his body stiffens a little. You can hear it in his heavy heartbeats and rapid breathing. You can smell it on your clothes, impregnated with alcohol and cigarette smoke.

But you can’t taste it. You can’t taste the tension when your mouth is dry, and your throat is aching with words gathered at the lump in your throat, threatening to spill out at any moment in an attempt to know what's going on in his mind.

“Look he didn’t mean it that way,” you murmur, trying to ignore the stinging tears pricking in the corners of your eyes. “He just- he just put his arm around me. It wasn’t- it didn’t mean anything”.

“Of course it didn’t,” it’s the only response you get, right when his car takes the street of the complex you two live in.

Whether it's because of the sound of his voice, or the fact that you're really close to knowing your true fate tonight, you feel somewhat relieved.

“He was tipsy,” you continue, resting your head against the cold, glass window.

“You weren’t,” Haechan cuts you short right when he enters the underground parking lot. The car becomes illuminated by a dim, warm light, just enough to catch a better glimpse of your boyfriend, but he still doesn’t look at you. “And you still let him put his hands on you”.

“Come on, Haechan!” you groan, frustrated.

His jealousy always gets the best out of you, but somehow it also manages for the worst of you to show through. It's a complicated situation you always find yourself in, when something like such happens. You don't really like that side of him, the jealous and possessive one, the one that feels entitled to you as a person. But at the same time, you really can't begin to hate it either.

It’s enticing.

“Get out,” he says while unbuckling his seat belt. He does so with a swift movement, only to turn around the car just to open the door for you.

He is upset, and pissed, and really angry, but he can’t get himself to stop being a gentleman to you. What happened tonight it's not your fault, anyways, but he secretly wishes you'd pushed Renjun away.

In a way, Haechan thinks it’s your fault. Even when it isn’t.

But you still follow his orders to a t, getting out of the vehicle while he holds the door for you, closing it right behind you with a loud sound that makes you feel startled for a bit.

You know Haechan would never hurt you, but this side of him it's such a scary contrast to his usual personality. It’s somewhat unsettling, to say the least, but it is never frightening.

“You’re going to give me the silent treatment?”

After a minute or two, the lack of response gives you a one. You follow him defeated through the elevator doors that take you to the lobby complex, and lose all hope in getting him to talk.

Plus, it’s getting late, and you’re tired, so if Haechan doesn’t want to talk now, you’re not going to push him further anymore —it’s probably best to deal with all this tomorrow morning, after a good night of sleep.

You stop trying to get his attention when the doors of the lobby's elevator close, and just opt to stand right beside him in silence —you've said so much already, from the minute he dragged you out of the bar you and your friends were attending to celebrate Jaemin's birthday, to the final moments in his car; if he didn’t say anything then, he is probably not going to say anything now.

So you accept the silent treatment, walking alongside with him to your apartment door. He pulls out his keys, opens it for you and gets inside without even sending a look your way. You close the door behind you and watch as he throws his jacket to the living room couch, standing awkwardly while he figures out exactly what to say.

“Why did you-”.

“I’m tired,” you cut him short, passing by him through the living room and into your bedroom. “I’m going to bed”.

Like him, you pass by without sparing him a glance. Without even acknowledging his presence there, like you’re just announcing another part of your routine to no one in particular.

“You’re not,” it’s when you feel his hand wrapping around your wrist, and stopping you from leaving the scene, that you turn around to face him —you can still see the tension, in his knitted eyebrows and that gaze of regret he holds. “Let’s talk”.

“I wanted to talk,” you murmur, getting yourself out of his grip. “I spent all the ride back home trying to talk, but you weren’t even looking at me”.

“I was just trying to find the right ti-”.

“What even is the right time?” there’s annoyance in your voice, and a part of you wishes your emotions hadn't escalated too quickly. But if there's one thing that pisses you off, is how things are always done the way he wants them, when he wants them. “When you feel like talking?”

“Listen to me-”.

“No, Haechan, you listen to me,” you sigh, leaving your purse on the couch, right next to his jacket. “Renjun just put his arm around me, he wasn’t- it wasn’t even an actual hug. And yeah- he was tipsy, but he just- he wasn’t hitting on me or anything, God!”

The more you speak, the more stressed you become. Now that the words are falling from your lips, and you’re revisiting the facts, you realize how unprovoked Haechan’s anger truly is.

“You say he's one of your best friends, but you can't even trust him,” your hands travel all the way to your hair, pushing it back and away from your face. The despair is making your body feel warm, and you can even feel a thin layer of sweat gathering on your forehead and nape. “You say you love me, but you can’t even trust me”.

“I trust him,” Haechan murmurs, “and I trust you”.

“Then what is your problem?”

“I am the fucking problem,” the black-haired groans, imitating your previous actions by pushing his hair away from his face. It’s not usual for him to raise his voice, let alone sound this frustrated —the unexpected loud tone makes you swallow thickly. “I know it’s not your fault but I can’t help it”.

“It is not my fault,” you repeat in a whisper, trying to give some echo to his own words. “If it’s not my fault, then why are you acting like it is?”

Haechan goes quiet. Not because he wants to give you the silent treatment again, but because he doesn't know what to say.

Is there anything to say, anyway? You're right, and he feels like an asshole.

“Because,” he begins, all worked up because he believes the answer is rather obvious. Isn’t it? He’s acting like this because you’re his. Because no other man has the right to touch you, or even look your way. You’re his, and he doesn’t like to share. “Because you’re only mine”.

The sudden response makes your heart skip a beat or two. Is it wrong to feel something just by seeing him this angry? Is it wrong to feel proud of hearing him say something so possessive like that?

You feel conflicted —you’re enjoying this when you’re not supposed to.

“Yours?” you ask, with an eyebrow slightly cocked.

“Yes, mine,” you're not quite sure when it happened, but your bodies are now facing each other. You can smell the tension in his cologne, along with the remains of cigarette smoke and the alcoholic beverage Renjun threw Haechan’s way at the club.

“You’re so entitled,” you let out a soft scoff, one that does nothing to ease Haechan's sharp gestures. “Yes, you’re my boyfriend, but that doesn’t mean I belong to you”.

It's, perhaps, the frustration talking. You know what he means, but it's your anger the one to make the first move.

However, you're not expecting him to laugh.

You expected him to counter attack, to get even angrier.

You expected him to raise his voice, or be silent at all.

But you weren't expecting to see the corners of his lips rising in a half smile, one as mischievous at the comment you just made.

“What?”

“Do I need to remind you how mouthy you get when I'm fucking you?”

You stare at him for what feels like ages, not daring to blink or break eye contact. He is also staring at you, but far from looking angry or frustrated, he looks amused. It's like the roles have been reversed, and it's you now who doesn't know what to say.

“What- does that have to do with this?”

“You say you don’t belong to me,” Haechan sighs, the tip of his tongue poking just slightly through his cheek. “But you never seemed reluctant about me owning you when we're in our bed”.

You can feel your cheeks getting warmer, and a weird tension in your lower abdomen you’ve grown to be familiar with over the past years. It’s probably not the greatest time to get aroused, but you can’t control yourself when it comes to him.

Just like he can’t control himself when it’s about you.

“That’s- it’s different,” you weakly attack.

“Is it?”

Haechan can tell you're getting nervous. By the way your shoulders are moving at a faster rate, and you seem to be struggling to look at him, he knows he has hit a nail. Perhaps this is a way to make a point —the one he has been wanting to make all night long.

“How so?”

The words get caught up in your throat again, and the fact that you don't have an actual response makes you feel uneasy.

“If it's any different, then that means you're a liar,” he says, guiding one of his hands to your chin whilst lifting it up. You can hear the tension in the nuances of his voice, those who seem mocking and provocative. Those looking to make you lose a game you didn't even know you were playing, “so when are you lying?”.

His hand strokes the sides of your face, and then places a strand of hair behind your ear. The touch is enough to make you gulp, but it’s a nice contrast to his harsh and filthy words.

“Are you lying to me when you say you belong to me, and that you’re mine?” Haechan asks, rubbing his thumb against your cheek. “Or are you lying to me right now, just to rile me up and get what you want?”.

That wasn't precisely a conscious plan, but now that he says so it seems that all your efforts to get him all worked up were to end up just like this.

“I just- Haechan”.

“What?” he asks you. The hand that was caressing your cheek is now placed at your waist, pulling him closer to his body.

You can feel the tension when his bulge brushes against your abdomen, hard and throbbing, pressing against you. It’s too tempting to stop, too inviting to know what he has to say without using no words.

So you allow him to touch you, to press his body against yours to make you feel how much he needs you. There is really no point in resisting, because you’ve wanted this all night long.

“Pervert,” you whisper, panting when you feel his rough grip on your ass. “I bet you were thinking about this on the way back home”.

“And you weren’t?” Haechan scoffs, quietly. “I could see your thighs squeezing together every time you looked at me”.

Embarrassingly enough, he is not that far from the truth.

“I can’t help it,” you wrap your arms around his neck in an attempt to be closer to him. “I’m sorry”.

“Save your apologies for later,” his lips are dangerously close to yours, and you squirm between his arms when you feel his breath caressing your chin and jaw. “You’re going to need them for being such a liar”.

And, finally, you can taste the tension —it tastes like alcohol, cherries, and rage. Like mint and something else.

“Fuck,” you whisper in between kisses when you feel his teeth sinking on your lower lip, “Haechan”.

It doesn’t take him long to guide you to the bedroom, managing to walk the small, dark hallway with his hands all over your body and his eyes closed.

“Haechan,” you voice once again when he lays you down in the mattress, his skillful hands looking for the hems of your jeans and underwear to pull them off in one go. Truth be told, you’ve never seen him this desperate; his lips are all over your thighs and legs, kissing them sloppy while he caresses the sides of them. He’s sucking and nibbling at the sensitive flesh, marking you every now and then in places he knows he’s the only one entitled to see.

Everything is happening too fast, but you don’t want him to slow down —you’re just as desperate as he is.

“You’re fucking dripping,” Haechan groans when he catches a glimpse of your sticky folds, all glistening with your arousal, “shit”.

He doesn’t hesitate before hooking both of his arms under and around your thighs, keeping you still in place while his lips approach your throbbing cunt.

“You think Renjun could get you this wet?” Haechan hums against your thigh, his intimidating gaze looking up at you while you struggle to support your upper body weight with your arms. For an unknown reason, you feel your body melting and going numb at such comments.

“N-no,” you shake your head.

“Do you think your body would react to him like it does with me?” The soft and teasing kisses are killing you; his lips are licking and sucking everywhere but where you want them.

“No, Haechan!” The cries in your voice makes him grind his hips against the mattress, hoping to get even the slightest friction.

He wishes he could keep on teasing you, drive you insane just like you did to him back there at the club. But, truth be told, he can't spend another minute without feeling you, in all the sense of the word.

“Apologize, then,” Haechan says, brushing the tip of his nose against your throbbing clit. That single touch is enough to earn a whimper from you, and it is also enough to make you lose all logic and rationality within you —not that you have any whenever you're underneath him in your bed to begin with.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, clenching around thin air every time the word falls from your lips. “Fuck, I’m sorry Haechan. I’m sorry”.

“Sorry for what?” the dark-haired asks again, acting oblivious to the situation. “What are you apologizing for?”

Whether it's mercy or pure neediness, his tongue unexpectedly laps at your wetness. He licks your slit and toys with your clit, just enough to provide you with some pleasure but without distracting you from your task.

“For- shit, for letting him touch me,” you sigh, kicking your head back. You’re not quite sure what exactly you’re sorry for, but you’re willing to say anything just to feel him. “For letting him- put his arm around me, fuck”.

Haechan smiles against your pussy. A genuine smile, one that can only indicate he’s feeling proud.

“See how easy it is?” he coos, continuing his ministrations on your clit, “you tell me what I want to hear, and I give you anything you want”.

Despite Haechan’s early accusations of you being a liar, you mean everything you say when you’re in bed. In fact, you're only brutally honest when he's deep inside you. When you've lost all your senses and sanity, and when all you are left with is pure bliss.

“I’m sorry,” you keep on chanting, latching your fingers against his dark locks in an attempt to bring him closer to you.

You know you're seconds away from coming, and he knows this too, so he allows you to manhandle him against you as much as you want. He hisses when you grip his hair particularly harsher, but he doesn’t stop; instead, he licks you ardently, looking forward to your orgasm.

“Show me how sorry you are, then,” he murmurs against you, his nose and chin shining with your own wetness. “Come”.

It’s the sight of him between your legs, along with his crude words and pretty eyes that pushes you to the edge. Your hands clasp the bed sheets beneath you, and your thighs threaten to close around him but he is quick to keep them apart with his hands.

“You’re getting shy now?” he teases you while you overcome your high, writhing underneath his hold. “Keep them open for me pretty, I want to lick you clean”.

Much against your body’s will, Haechan manages to keep you in place while he helps you through your orgasm, causing waves of overstimulation to wreak havoc inside you from your head to the tip of your toes.

“Haechan!,” you gasp when you feel him pulling away from your body, the sudden loss of contact making you feel somewhat relieved after the pinches of pain caused by the overstimulation.

His lips are bright peachy and swollen, all covered in your own orgasm.

“Too much?” Haechan asks, unbuckling his belt while getting rid of his clothes. You imitate him and do the same, discarding your blouse and bra somewhere along the room.

“No,” you shake your head, inviting him between your legs.

He positions himself in the middle, and the sight makes you clench around thin air yet again. His cock is hard and reddened, throbbing almost visibly in front of your eyes.

“You still think you can take me?” he asks yet again, trying to make sure you’re not sore from how aggressive his early ministrations were.

“I’ve been wanting you all night long, Haechan,” you murmur, wrapping your legs around his hips and your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you. “Don’t care about anything, I just want you to fuck me”.

He kisses your forehead, and then your chin. The tip of his cock is pressing against your clit and, at times, against your entrance, but he is still nowhere near being inside you.

“See,” Haechan whispers with his lips against your jaw. “I know you’ve apologized, but I still need to make sure everyone knows you’re mine”.

His words make you let out a quiet scoff.

“How come, exactly?”

“What if I came inside you?” Even the idea makes you gasp —half a gasp, that ends up sounding more like a moan, “hm?”

For this, he needs to feel you. So he loses no time pushing himself inside you until he bottoms out. You dig your fingernails into his biceps when you feel the tip of his cock brushing against a sensitive spot inside you, and it’s only then when he continues to tell you, perhaps, his filthiest fantasy.

“What if I got you pregnant?” It’s crazy, the rational part of you acknowledges. But the aroused one, the one that lacks logic, only gets even more turned on at his words. “That way, everyone will know what we do when we’re alone”.

“Shit,” you cry, clenching around his cock.

He smiles when he feels it.

“You’d like that, don’t you?” After a couple of slow, delicate thrusts, he begins to acquire a faster pace when you get used to having him inside you. “You're squeezing my cock so hard”.

“You want to- get me pregnant?”

Even the words falling from your lips make you clench around him yet again, and it takes him a lot of effort not to come just by those gestures alone.

“That way everyone would know you’re mine,” Haechan sighs, pistoning deeper inside you. “Everyone would know that I’m the one who fucks you good, the one you allow to come inside that pretty pussy of yours”.

You whimper at his words, nibbling on your lower lip while trying to contain every lewd sound that threatens to escape your lips.

“I bet you’d- look so pretty like that,” the more aroused he gets, the less he cares about what he says —it seems as though he’s not having any inhibitions, and you love it. “Fuck”.

It's a wild fantasy, but you two seem to share it. You’d be lying if you say that the mere thought of carrying his child is not appealing to you, because it is.

“Yeah?” you ask, feeling him losing all pace and rhythm of his hips. “Why don’t you get me pregnant, then?”

The dirty talk does wonders to him, because the minute you start voicing his thoughts it’s the minute his movements become sloppier, rushed, and faster. He wants to come, he desperately needs it.

But he wants you to come first.

“I will,” he groans through gritted teeth. “If that’s what you want, then I will”.

Your heart feels fuzzy, and the tension on your lower abdomen starts increasing with each thrust. It’s not going to be long before you come around him, for the second time in a row, and as much as you’d like to savor this moment, you’re too desperate to take your time.

“Fuck,” Haechan curses under his breath, feeling his arms going numb —the pleasure is too overwhelming for him to maintain a steady pace, but he makes an effort. “Make me come, baby. Squeeze my cock until I come inside you”.

The dirty talk, combined with his gaze and the future promise of offering you that something only he can give it to you, makes you reach your orgasm again.

“Coming,” you cry quietly, wrapping your legs even tighter around his hips. You arch your back against him, and he hugs you tightly in place while he continues fucking your pussy, just as much as your grip allows him too.

“That’s it,” he praises, leaving wet kisses on your forehead and cheeks while you overcome your high. “Are you going to let me come inside you tonight? Fill you up with my cum?”

“Yes!” it’s all you manage to say in the midst of such a devastating arousal. “Yes, yes, Haechan”.

He buries his face on the crook of your neck, and keeps on fucking your swollen pussy until he achieves his orgasm too.

A hot, sticky feeling is quick to flood your tummy, as well as your inner thighs. He continues fucking you slowly and gently, even after coming, to prevent his arousal to leak out of you.

“Shit,” you cry, wrapping your arms around his neck so that he plops down on top of your body, “I can feel you”.

He hugs you into his embrace, while still inside you, and attempts to stabilize himself before leaving the bed to provide you with some wet towels and water. Truth be told, he wishes to stay like this forever, with your naked body underneath him, and his leaking cock inside you.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, leaving a quick kiss on your lips. “I know it’s-”

“Hey,” you cut him short, cooing softly. “We can talk about it tomorrow morning”.

He gets the sense that you're comfortable right now, despite the early fight, so he follows your plea compliantly.

“I’m an asshole,” Haechan jokes.

“Sometimes,” you scoff softly, finding his hazy gaze in the midst of the dim lights. “I’m glad you can acknowledge it”.

“And I’m glad you still keep up with it”.

#nct dream smut #nct 127 smut #haechan smut #kpop smut #donghyuck smut #nct127 smut #nct smut

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