#my to-watch list is also a mile long
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lactoseintolerentswag · 6 months ago
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when they've got interpreting spiderman noir under a specific cultural lens at the function [picture of me going insane]
I cant help myself.. what can i say. And since you've mentioned some research going on behind the scenes.. do you have any fun interpretations? Or even anything fun about the 1800s!
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OH HI
Hm. I don't have anything as fun as historical dancing, but I suppose this does give me the excuse (thabk u) to blab about Noir's childishness.
(wow putting this under the cut bc it got longer than I thought it would LMAO)
I think what a lot of people (including Noir's contemporary writers and yes even the spiderverse interpretation) fall for when trying to read Noir's character is the imitation of his idea of what an adult is, that he hides behind. Like Noir's persona is incredibly exaggerated. He's playing pretend. Look here, he's practicing.
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A lot of his persona as Noir is imitation! Imitation of his uncle, of Urich, of the violence he's been exposed to. He's running around in his uncle's old uniform. Fundamentally misunderstanding WHY his uncle had been ashamed of it and his role in the war.
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And then he goes ahead and steals Urich's alias because it sounds Cool (which is such a teenage thing to do jesus christ).
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But like that imitation of The Adult isn't something that's limited to that exaggerated persona that Noir encapsulates. Peter himself is trying So Hard to be grown up and tough and responsible that it loops back around to him being a brat who would try the three guys in a trench coat trick. He even gets beat up for it when trying to defend his aunt. And I mean I've posted about him being a brat.
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About how he looks at Urich as a Prime Example of what a strong and knowledgeable adult is (which is part of why he reacts so volatile in response to Urich showing he's not exactly as morally righteous as himself, he's wounded and let down). Whiskey? Whiskey sounds like someone Mature and Cool would drink, I'll have it too. And then proceeds to throw his drink at Osborn and laugh about it. The illusion was broken for me then.
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But well it's not broken for everyone. I mean like obviously I poked at the contemporary writers, but I'm more talking about the other characters in the narrative. Mainly Urich and Felicia.
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Urich taking Peter under his wing isn't entirely under the motivation to nurture Peter. I think it Becomes that, but he's really envious of that kid. He wants to see him lose that hope that he once had (ruh roh the opposite thing happened, being around the kid made YOU more hopeful Ben. Guess you gotta be good. Hope you don't die now).
Urich really is exposing him to an extremely harsh reality, and taking him places where adults are typically only allowed. He's letting Peter get a glimpse into what it's like, which will eventually enable Noir's tool of violence. All these tests will accumulate into what Peter thinks someone powerful and strong can be and do.
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Then his problematic relationship with Felicia (writers I'm malleting you for this). He's clinging to her adulthood and the safety she represents, and he's young but she sees some adult strength in him. I mean she trusts him with the blackmail Urich gave her, which she really. Shouldn't, even if that's what Urich wanted.
Anyway, strength is something she's been consistently drawn to her in her partners. Strength to feel as her own. Even if it's to hers and others' detriment. There's also a part of Peter that's drawn to Felicia because Urich was. He's still honing in the good parts of Urich he wants to be.
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I think the one person in the narrative who doesn't fall for it? Is Aunt May. You could argue it's just her being naturally motherly, but for someone who was about to be eaten alive she's pretty frank with Noir. I think she can see that that violence and exaggerated grittiness comes from someone inexperienced and young. Even if she can't consciously recognize the similarities between Noir's persona and Peter's protectiveness of her. I don't think she wants to see that. I actually have a short comic script about that, but it probably will never see the light of day.
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Ugh he's like a cat puffing up to scare away a predator. It's fake!!!!! It's all fake!!!!!! He gets intimidated by JJ, he never ties his shoes, gets powers and then immediately guns to beat the shit out of Osborn, sings about the sandman when he's getting his face bashed in, crawls to Felicia all pathetic and sad, and he made a costume to run over roofs at night in.
And it's funny how he's forcing himself to grow up, but also really sad because all the things he's being exposed to is already forcing him to grow up. He's witnessing things no kid should ever see or experience.
Then there's the time period to consider. The aftermath of WWI, being in the midst of the Great Depression, and WWII just around the corner. He's faced incredible hardship and is going to continue to face so much hardship, and he's going to mature faster than he ever should have. It should have made him crash and burn Hard when he became an adult, and to me he still does because I'm ignoring everyone after ewaof LMAO.
As for my research on the 1800s NY that's for my own spider iteration run I'm working on, so not too related to Noir until I reach the 30's :3
Hope that was satisfying!!
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hero-is-back · 8 months ago
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:›
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skyllion-uwu · 1 year ago
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I wanna rewatch JJBA and/or Madoka Magica but also it's not the right time to watch it even if I NEED TO RIGHT NOW ARGH
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youvebeenlivingfictional · 7 months ago
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So in The Pro Art says something like “letting you go back to your husband every day isn’t going to be easy is it” - in your mind would he eventually try and convince the reader to leave her marriage for him or would he just kinda accept that she’s not his and keep it as a relationship of infidelity?
the pro
Notes: Got a long-winded answer for you, nonnie.
Warnings: Infidelity; married Reader; coach Art Donaldson
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"You could leave him, you know."
It's murmured against your hip. You don't look at him for a few moments; you don't move, and for a few beats, you don't even breathe. It's not the first time he's said it to you, but it catches you off-guard every time.
The first time, he said it right in front of your husband.
The fact that Art had become a near-permanent fixture on your husband's party lists was a blessing and a curse. It was always tantalizing to have him around, but it was also torture. You didn't allow yourself to be drawn away or followed as Art had that first night together. The two of you had agreed after the fact that it had been a reckless act, and that there was too high a risk of getting caught when the house was full of people.
It didn't stop you from fooling around at the house after lessons. It was still reckless, but you'd won the favor and trust of the house staff. They steered clear when Art came to see you, and turned a blind eye if they happened to see him going up or down the stairs.
You came to know every inch of Art's body as well as you knew your own—every scar, freckle, slope—all of it. You learned the taste of salt by lapping a bead of sweat off of the swell of his Adam's apple. You memorized the way a blush spread across his cheeks when you took his cock into your mouth, and the flutter of his lashes as he struggled to against his pleasure to watch—because he liked to watch. You held the memories of his touch, his kiss, his embrace when you went on business trips with your husband, and savored the scant phone calls that you managed to take and make with Art when you were away.
It was enough to get by, and enough to sate you through those parties when he was so painfully close—especially when you were subject to Art palling around with your husband. It was worse still when you'd become the butt of your husband's jokes, though these days, it was about how focused you were on your tennis.
You could see the tightness in Art's expression, the growing cracks in his patience as you forced a smile through tease after tease. But Art had widened his own smile and barbed his words:
"Careful. She could leave you any time she wanted."
You were stunned, and you knew that you weren't covering it well. But your husband hadn't taken it seriously in the slightest. His laughter had covered your shock as he clarified:
"For tennis?"
Art's eyes held your steadily as he lifted his glass to his lips.
"Sure," He agreed after a sip. "For tennis."
--
The next time Art mentioned it, you chalked it up to the heat of the moment.
Art wasn't always mouthy during sex, but sometimes, he seemed unable to stop himself. You had been away from one another for nearly three weeks—no practice or meetings, nothing but a handful of phone calls and a string of texts a mile long.
When you'd returned from your trip, you'd had to wait another week before you'd been able to sneak away and go to his place. You'd hardly been a step inside the door before he was on you. You didn't make it past the front hall before he'd had your tennis skirt shoved up, your panties pulled aside as he drove into you. His body was flush against yours, his hands grasping your hips in a way that you feared would bruise.
"Never letting you out of my sight again," He groaned, "I want you to leave him."
You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, holding on for dear life as one of his harder thrusts made the table beneath you rattle, sending a stack of mail sliding to the floor.
But that had been months ago, and he hadn't brought it up since.
As you finally draw in a deep breath now, you force yourself to focus on his ceiling, your fingers tenderly combing over his scalp. You feel him shift against you, his chin resting on your belly.
"...D'you hear me?" He finally presses, and you sigh, knowing that you can't hold off any longer.
"It's not that easy."
"Sure it is."
"No, it isn't."
"You're making it difficult."
"Art."
"You could pack up your shit and walk out tomorrow."
"In theory, sure."
"And in practice. What the hell's stopping you?" Art pushes himself to get a better look at you.
"Besides the fact that I'd be broke?"
"I'll take care of you."
"...You already took care of me," You tease, letting your eyes lower between his legs, a teasing smile on your lips. But when you meet Art's gaze again, your find his expression hardened with annoyance.
"I mean it."
You roll your eyes, swinging your legs over the side of the bed and pushing yourself up.
"I don't have time for this."
"For what? A question?"
"It's not a real question, Art. You're being facetious," You insist, snatching your bra and underwear from where they've been tossed.
"I've never been more serious in my life—Hey, hang on a second," He pleads, taking hold of your arm. You go still, fingers flexing in the fabric of your clothing. Why does he have to do this now? The two of you are meant to be cuddling in your afterglow, not bickering like this.
"I am tired of sneaking around," Art presses closer, the heat of his body beginning to break down the icy wall that you're desperately trying to build up around yourself. "I hate seeing you fake smiles at those stupid parties, and I am sick of not waking up with you."
You squeeze your eyes shut as you force your upset down.
"Art."
"I'm tired of pretending that I don't think about you all the time—"
"Art, don't—"
"And I am tired of pretending that I don't love you."
It takes all of your strength to stay standing. You just manage to shake him off, lowering yourself to sit on the edge of the bed again as you try to keep your cool.
"Why would you say something like that?" You breathe. You feel Art's hands smooth over your knees and thighs as he kneels in front of you.
"Because I can't lie to myself anymore," He murmurs. "And I don't want to lie to you about it, either."
"Sometimes a lie can be a good thing." You scrub your hand across your face, trying to settle yourself. When you lower it, you find Art looking crestfallen. You shake your head, cupping his cheeks.
"I don't mean that," You insist. "I'm sorry."
"Tell me you don't feel it, too."
Sometimes a lie can be a good thing. But you know that if you manage it, you'll break this beautiful boy.
"You know that I do."
You watch Art's shoulders relax before he surges up for a kiss. You whine softly as he eases you back onto the bed, rolling his hips. You shiver as you feel his cock twitching and hardening against your thigh.
"You'll leave him?" He mumbles against your lips.
"Yes."
"Soon?"
"Yes."
"Promise me."
"I swear, Art."
"I love you."
You tip your head back, cupping his face and sweeping your thumbs across the swell of his cheekbones.
"I love you, too."
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absurdthirst · 2 months ago
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Fucking Fungus {Joel Miller x F!Reader}
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 6k
Warnings: SEX POLLEN, dub con, post apocalyptic world, scavenging, guilt, shame, desire, Joel having a bad attitude, mentions of periods, rough sex, neediness, unprotected sex, cream pie
Comments: Coming across Wymore, NE, you hoped to find some much needed supplies for the coming winter but you find that the fungus has mutated in dangerous and frightening ways. Needing to insure that there are more hosts to infect in a very basic kind of way.
🎊🎉🎊🎉🎊🎉Happy Birthday @storiesofthefandomlovers!!!! I love you and hope you have the best damn day! In thotty tradition, here is a sex pollen to celebrate another year around the sun!🎊🎉🎊🎉🎊🎉
**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.
|| MasterList || Joel Miller MasterList ||
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Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.
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The world has changed in the past twenty years. None of it for the betterment of humanity. The crunch of the dried leaves grinds under your boots and your head rotates left and then right as you watch, listen. Waiting for any sign of life or more importantly, danger. The weight of your rifle is heavy in your hands, although you hold it down, unassuming but ready to be lifted at a second’s notice. 
“I don’t know why you don’t just hook it over your shoulder.” Ellie snorts, her backpack bouncing slightly on her back from the steps that seem so unencumbered by worry. Why should she worry when there are two fully armed adults on either side of her. Her own personal guard in a manner of speaking. “There hasn’t been anything out here for daaaaaays.” She drags the word out like it's the most horrible thing in the world that it’s been peaceful. 
Joel snorts, rolling his eyes as you glance over at him and then look back out at the surrounding terrain. “Yeah, that’s why we are on guard.” He grunts, even though his own rifle is on his shoulder. His hand gripped the shoulder sling loosely but he had only just put it up there half an hour ago after you had taken your turn relaxing as much as you can. “it’s too fucking quiet.” 
He’s right. After the disasters that had been Kansas City, you had tried to avoid major cities, but even in the small towns, you had come across plenty of cordyceps and clickers. You hate the clickers with a passion.
The isolation can account for a lot of the silence. Miles stretching between remnants of civilization. The crumbling buildings and overgrown roads give the entire midwest a sense of peace. It’s unnerving. 
Your grip adjusts, head rolling around your shoulders slightly to try to loosen the knot that builds up in your shoulders after so long. The weight of your pack isn’t as heavy as it should be, the rations not exactly filling since you had to escape that one clicker in Du Bois, Nebraska. Your pack had been ripped and most of the food you had been carrying was lost. 
You glance over at Joel, noticing the way his shoulders seem to hang, almost a reflection of the way you feel. “We need to risk a larger town.” You murmur quietly, knowing that his first instinct will be to argue with you. You stumble slightly over a rock and hiss when you feel the hole in the sole of your boots. 
“Too dangerous.” Joel snorts, shaking his head even as he watches you regain your footing. “I’ve got some duct tape in my bag.” He reminds you, knowing that you should probably reinforce that shoe before you lose the sole all together. 
“It’s not just shoes.” You protest, trying to ignore the way that Ellie groans obnoxiously loud and stomps her foot. 
“Come on, man!” She throws her own arguments into the ring. “I need tampons! We could find them if there was jack shit out here, but there’s not. Do you want me to attract wild animals?” She presses, glaring at Joel who looks equal parts horrified and unconvinced. She cracks an evil grin. “Circling us in the wild as I just leave behind a trail of blood? Aaaaand tears.” She adds, lifting her brows. “Periods are really emotional things.” 
Biting your lip to keep from snorting, you watch as Joel; normally stoic, no bullshit Joel, can’t seem to string together the words to respond. His eyes slide over to you, almost pleading with you to say something. 
Your brows lift in question and he twitches slightly, his dark eyes unhappy with you not immediately jumping in to save him. “We could use the food if we can find any.” You rationalize, smirking when his brows pinch together and he looks like he had just been betrayed. 
“Clean underwear!” Ellie adds. “Or….cleaner. And a heavier fucking coat.” She shivers slightly and you can see that is the moment when Joel caves. He acts like a prick most of the time, but he’s got a soft spot for the kid. He won’t admit, maybe not even to himself, but he looks over at the faded and nearly rusted out sign. 
You continue walking, not pressing any more and you can hear the grumbling thoughts that are rolling through Joel’s mind. The now half hearted protests about why this is such a bad idea but you wait for the sigh. 
Almost even with the sign is when it comes, heavy and it sounds almost pained. Like he is going against everything he believes in. “Stop.” He huffs, shuffling to pull his bag off his back and kneeling down with a groan and the small pops of fifty plus year old knees. Unzipping the pocket where he keeps the Atlas and flips the worn pages to Nebraska. Glancing back at the road behind you and then at the sign before looking at the map. Tracing the route that you had already traveled before looking ahead at the towns that were on highway 77. 
Ellie doesn’t say a word but she practically bounces on her toes as she waits for his decision. You know that he’s going to agree, it’s just a matter of which town he chooses. He knows the truth of the situation. Winter is going to come quicker than any of you want, your food supply is low, you could probably all use a new set of boots, and all of you would kill for a halfway decent musty mattress to sleep on. Four walls and a hopefully non-leaking roof over your heads would be the icing on the cake. 
“Wymore is coming up in fifty-eight miles.” He taps the map and looks up at you to see what you think. 
Ellie shuffles slightly and instead of grinning, you crane your neck to look at the map yourself. “It looks like it’s bigger than the last few towns, but at least it’s not like we are running into Lincoln.” You hum before you nod. “I say we try.”
“Yessssss!” The teenager pumps her fist in excitement and she grins when Joel rolls his eyes. You’ve noticed that like any normal teenager, her favorite activity is annoying any kind of parental unit and pushing boundaries. This applies to Joel whether or not he likes it. “I want to find another joke book too.” 
Joel groans but you just turn around, grinning yourself as Joel mumbles under his breath, stuffing the map back in his pack and zipping it up. Joel and Ellie are alike in a lot of ways, especially their penchant for mumbling. 
You resist the urge to offer him a hand up, knowing he will be even more pissy if you do. For someone who complains about being older, he gets downright grouchy when he’s reminded of that same fact. “Well then, the quicker we get there, the quicker we don’t have to hear ‘are we there yet?’.” You snort, making Ellie grin shamelessly as she shrugs, knowing she will do exactly that. 
“So let’s get going.” She doesn’t wait for anyone, just setting off down the road and leaving the two of you to catch up with her. 
****
It takes you nearly three days to get to Wymore. All of you are tired, but Joel is the one who barely sleeps, even when you force him to lay down. It’s as if he cannot stop trying to protect Ellie, and also you, long enough for him to rest. He gets upset when he has to sleep, staying up until he is nodding off. The coffee supply has been exhausted and it’s probably a good thing. He would drink it all day to the point where his hands would shake from too much caffeine. Still he just wouldn’t trust you to make sure that no one snuck up on you for a few hours until he was past the point of being useless. 
The first signs of the town are a welcomed relief but it’s also an added source of tension. Each mile that you had traveled had added to the fear that this might be the time that you fail. That something goes wrong and someone else dies. The road here has not been easy and the losses have weighed heavily on all of you. Joel still won’t even mention Tess and you hate it when you wake up in the early morning hours to find him staring down at the broken face of his watch with a look that breaks your heart. 
Every approach into a new area can mean danger, either from the clickers or from humans and honestly you don’t know which one you fear more. Your gun is back in your hand, the weight of it familiar and comforting as you pass the first gas station, the windows busted out and dried fungus clinging to the building. 
“Fuck.” You hiss, uneasy at the presence of the fungal vines, even if they look like they aren’t active.
“I wonder why it looks pink.” Ellie frowns as she squints at the building. “It’s usually an ugly brown color, right?” She looks towards Joel for confirmation, but he’s busy frowning at the building himself. 
“Maybe this isn’t a good idea.” If the cordyceps have spread this far out of town then there’s a possibility there are still active branches closer to the supplies that you are looking for. 
“Come on man.” Ellie groans, kicking a dirt clod. “There’s nothing for miles. It’s probably all dead.” 
You know that Ellie is probably right, but it’s a risk. You bite your lip, looking over at Joel. “Why don’t we sweep the town and we can see?” You ask, knowing that if everything is dead, you could desperately use the rest. Cordyceps rarely return en masse when the vines have withered and died. It could be a safe place to recharge and for Joel to sleep for more than ten minutes at a time. 
You’ve stopped walking as you talk, Joel looking around as he contemplates your alternatives. To be honest, there aren’t many and both of you know it. Not without a lot of backtracking which none of you want to do. 
Joel sighs and you know that he’s going to agree. He turns to Ellie. “Don’t fucking touch anything until we say it’s alright.” He points at her for good measure, as if his finger would impress the importance of his words. “Got it?” 
“Got it.” She huffs. “Jesus, you act like we haven’t done this before.” You roll your eyes and look away, knowing you shouldn’t encourage her right now. 
It takes hours to make your way into the center of town. Not because you are blocked by clickers or avoiding humans, it’s because you are stocking up. It’s like the fungus took over this town and just let it rot. Nothing inside the first few blocks of town is disturbed. No looting has been done here, plenty of supplies to be had. 
Both you and Joel have been cautious but slowly optimistic as you’ve found boots and heavy jackets, gloves and hats. A new pair of clothes have been rolled into everyone’s bags and you’ve even grabbed another pack to fill with the mylar sealed packs of camping food from the sporting goods store. It was a miracle that nothing had been ransacked, but it makes you wonder exactly what the fuck happened here. Did the army sweep through and round up all the residents right away? It would make sense, but then why were there dead spores of the fungus here? You haven’t seen one body so far and it makes you nervous. 
“This place is a fucking gold mine.” Ellie grins like a kid in a candy store, perhaps because you’ve actually found candy and she has been sucking on the jolly ranchers until the top of her mouth is raw. “Now we just need to find a place to sleep. I want my own room.” 
Glancing over at Joel, you expect him to immediately tell her no, but he doesn’t say a word. Continuing to look around like he is expecting a clicker to pop out from the doorway of the local McDonald’s, now completely covered in that strange pink fungus. It’s like he doesn’t even hear her as he frowns at the building. 
She takes that as approval and immediately starts talking about how she’s going to spread out. Making you snort when she talks about sitting in her underwear for an hour. There hasn’t been a lot of privacy out here on the road, so you can understand that desire. 
“Joel.” You murmur his name softly, knowing that the best thing you can do is to find the motel and get settled down for the night before the sun sets. Even if this town is as safe as it appears on the surface, you would rather not be fumbling around in the dark . He doesn’t look over at you, still staring at the overgrown building as if it’s holding the secret. Maybe it reminds him of the Boston Museum, ominously covered with the tentacles of the fungus and the horrors that you had found inside it. “Joel!”
“What?” His head whips around, body tense as he’s ripped out of his thoughts. Relaxing when he finds you and Ellie staring at him. “We need to find the motel.” You remind him, nodding towards the sun getting lower in the sky. “I think we could all use a good night’s sleep.” 
He stares at you for a moment, his eyes searing your face, looking for some hidden meaning beneath your words before he glances over at an eager Ellie. “Yeah, sure.” He agrees, adjusting his rifle to sling it onto his shoulder and adjusts his now much heavier pack on his back. “Probably on the other side of the main drag.” 
His new boots thump against the cracked pavement. The roads leading deeper into the town is the guide towards what will hopefully be a comfortable bed and at least eight hours of sleep. 
Your own new boots feel pretty good, but maybe a day or so here, going through supplies and really making sure that you can take on the coming winter would be a good thing. Allowing you to break in the shoes without blisters. You’ll have to talk about it with Joel after Ellie sequesters herself for the night. 
It’s about another fifteen minutes before you get to the small motel that looks like it will be a good place to spend the night. Half the building is covered in another large cluster of the fungus, the pink hue looking particularly bright in the fading sun. 
“We’ll get some keys.” It will be better than breaking down doors, especially since the motel wasn’t equipped with the keycards that the high end hotels had started switching to before society came crashing down. 
The bad news is that the motel doesn’t have any adjoining rooms, so Joel and Ellie get into a small spat about her having her own room, Ellie eventually winning after promising that she will block the door with a dresser and he’s allowed to sweep the room before she locks herself in. Half the building is so overtaken by the vivid pink fungus that you swear looks like a big splat of bubblegum thrown over the walls. 
She doesn’t even want to have dinner with you and Joel, making the man go through the room and then telling you both goodnight and shutting the door in your face. Making you laugh as Joel frowns at the door, rethinking this entire situation. 
“Well, you can have a room to yourself too.” You offer, smirking as he cuts his eyes towards you. You know that Joel would rather everyone sleep where he can keep his eyes on them, so you getting privacy is off the table. 
“Shut up.” Joel grunts, walking down towards the next room and kicking it open, watchful even though you’ve both already been in the room and deposited your bags. It’s a nice room, two double beds so each one of you can stretch out and relax. 
You laugh quietly and decide to walk down the railing towards the portion of the building that has been overtaken by the fungus. Your curiosity about this variant is finally getting the best of you and you want to get a better look at it. 
It’s thick. The tendril that is draped over the metal railing of the second floor, wrapping around it and up the support column. You bite your lip, tilting your head when you see the withered remnants of some kind of flower. What kind of fungus sprouts flowers?
You jump when something touches your back, whirling around to find Joel behind you, holding his hands up. He smirks at you, his eyes crinkling in amusement. “Fuck you.” You hiss, narrowing your eyes and he huffs. “What are you doing?” He asks. 
Turning back towards the fungus, you sigh. “This is different from any other kind I’ve ever seen.” You comment, stepping closer to it only to feel Joel reach for your arm to pull you back. “It’s dried out.” You remind him, jerking your head towards the husk of the cordyceps. “Have you ever seen anything like this?” You know that he spent a lot of time sneaking out of the Boston QZ, it’s possible he had seen it before. 
He grunts, relaxing his hold on you and he shuffles slightly closer, looking at the flower buds that extend from the tendrils. His own suspicions about anything fungus related is deep, but it’s dried. “I haven’t.” He admits after a moment, narrowing his eyes slightly and trying to think if there is any reason why this pink coloring has the hair on the back of his neck standing on end. 
“So it’s something new.” You bite your lip and lean in, feeling the disapproval radiate off of Joel in hot waves but you ignore him. Tilting your head and reaching out to touch one of the dried flowers. 
“Don’t-”
The second your finger touches the wilted bloom, it bursts open, spurting you and Joel behind you in a cloud of pink dust. You gasp, holding your breath but there’s no hope for not inhaling the pollen. 
“Fuck!” Joel coughs, shaking his head and backing up so quickly he hits the side of the building and reaches out to drag you away from the lingering cloud of dust and starts to practically beat it off the two of you. “We need- we need-” He leans over and starts coughing, obviously having inhaled just as much of it as you had. 
“We’re okay.” You gasp, shaking your head and brushing the dust off your clothes. “We- it’s dead. Right?” You hate that you are asking that, but you hadn’t expected that from a dried out fungus.
“It- we should clean up.” Joel blinks, the pollen making his eyes itch and that has to be the cause of the rush of heat that slides over him. It’s just adrenaline. Fear. Anything that would scare both of you would make the slight nip in the air disappear and make you feel like your skin is superheated.
The water is gravity fed. The large cisterns on the roof are still full and while it’s not warm, perhaps a cold shower might be better right now. Joel drags you both to the room and locks the door, although he doesn’t push a dresser in front of it in case Ellie needs you in the night. 
In the bathroom, you are shaking as you start to strip down, worrying about how stupid you just were and if you completely fucked yourself. The anxious fear covering the way your skin seems to burn and feel so sensitive to everything. Shuddering when your hand brushes over your thigh as you push your jeans down and kick them off before you pull your shirt over your head and remove your bra. 
Clean up. Get the pollen off your skin and cool down. Your body seems to be working on overdrive. Your nipple hard under the cold water and instead of gasping in shock, you moan softly. Enjoying the sensation and reaching for the bar of soap that is still wrapped in plastic. 
Hurry up, hurry up. Joel paces around the room, his hands curled into fists. Practically sweating even though the air is cool as the sun sets. His body feels like it’s on fire, like he is battling a sickness. 
Over and over again, he goes through the symptoms of the infection of the cordyceps, there’s no veining, he’s stopped and checked his eyes and reflection in the peeling mirror about twenty times in the five minutes you’ve been in the bathroom. And he doesn’t fucking think the fungus makes his cock harder than a fucking rock in his jeans. 
He’s not thought about sex in months. Nothing beyond fleeting moments of attraction to you that he swiftly buries under guilt and responsibility. Normally, it is when you’re bent over and your ass is presented to him in such a way that he thinks about sinking into you from behind, or when your shirt pulls tight over your breasts and he imagines cupping them in his hands as you sit on his cock. Immediately dismissed and ignored as he reminds himself of how he had failed Tess, he doesn’t deserve to find warmth and comfort in your arms. 
Now, it’s all he can think about. The urge to palm his cock makes his fingers twitch and he almost moves his hand over his crotch before he flinches back to reality and tries to examine his face in the mirror again, wondering if his eyes are bloodshot from lack of sleep or if he is infected. 
Scrubbing your body is nearly painful, wanting to stop and touch yourself, but you can’t. You need to get this done and get out so Joel can shower. Still, despite the cold water, you feel like you are on fire when you shut off the water and realize that you didn’t bring your bag into the bathroom. You will have to go out there in nothing because you can’t put those clothes back on. Not until they have been washed. 
Moderately dry, you hear Joel bang on the door. “Hurry up.” He growls, making you clench your thighs together at the raspy tone and hating how it spears through you. You know Joel isn’t interested in you, hasn’t ever looked at you like that and the crush that you had on the man had been buried deep. 
“I’m done.” You don’t have a chance to be embarrassed as you open the door and Joel practically shoves past you into the bathroom and slams it behind him. “Fuck.” Your annoyance cools the heat for a moment, but it’s only temporary. 
The water is icy, but still, Joel curls his hands into fists against the shower wall. He’s fucking hard. Harder than he had probably ever been in his entire life, even when he was a horny teenager and would have fucked anyone who let him between their thighs. He’s not felt like this ever. The need to touch himself builds to the point where his hips are rocking into thin air against the spray of the water. Want clawing up his throat and pooling in his stomach in a heavy knot. 
You don’t dress, you can’t. Crawling under the covers of one of the beds, you listen to Joel groan in the bathroom, it’s muted over the sound of the shower but it’s sexy. All of his sounds are sexy, from the low grunts he gives when he’s stiff and sore, to the huffs and groans of annoyance. It’s all sexy to you. The rasp of his voice when he’s not spoken for a few hours. 
Closing your eyes, it’s easy to give in, to let your hands drift over your skin. He’s not here, you can take care of this frantic need that is swirling inside you. You just need to slide your hand between your thighs and ease it. It wouldn’t take much more than a few swipes of your fingers against your pulsing and aching clit. 
Trying to fight it, you concentrate on your breathing, in and out. Inhaling slowly and holding it so you can exhale when the burn in your lungs tells you that you’ve reached your limit. It helps, but not much. Not when you’re imagining Joel in his shower. Touching him. Being free to touch him and having his hands on your body in return. 
Your hands slip over your breasts, squeezing them hard enough to moan softly and your legs shift to press together. Clenching around nothing and wishing that you were full while your hands start to move down over your stomach. 
The first touch is almost a relief, your entire core quivering as your fingers press against your clit. It’s overwhelming and not enough. You need more, fingertips pressing and rubbing around the puffed up bundle of nerves. You’re already soaked and can feel it dripping down your slit. 
Spurred on by that insatiable need, you slide your fingers around your entrance and start to press them inside. Biting your lip to keep yourself from moaning. Imagining that it’s more, that it’s a cock that is starting to break you open and fill that void that is aching. 
You are so caught up in the bliss of that first stretch of your fingers that you don’t hear the shower turn off. The quiet curses coming from the bathroom are muffled by the rush of blood in your ears, the feeling of relief coursing through your nerves and taking over. You don’t hear the click of the lock and the turn of the handle. The door opening doesn't even register as you plant your heels on the bed and push your hips up, needing to get your fingers deeper, not quite reaching the spot inside you that craves fullness. 
You don’t hear him until he chokes out a sound that is pained and low, like he’s injured. Your eyes pop open as you lurch up off the bed, your fingers ripping themselves out of your cunt hard enough to make you whimper. Fixed on Joel’s towel draped body, tented over his waist. 
“Joel, I-” “Fuuuuuck.” He growls, his eyes closing and his hands bunches into fists, one holding his towel and the other by his side. “I’ve tried to not think about you, about touching you.” His words are rasped out, strained against his vocal cords. “I’ve goddamn beat into my brain that you aren’t to be thought about this way and now, I can’t stop.” His stomach clenches and his body twitches as he struggles to keep still. 
Your chest heaves and you see his eyes drop down to your uncovered tits. His jaw clenching and his Adam’s Apple bobbing as he swallows. “I - I need to touch myself.” You admit breathlessly. “I - it hurts so bad and I need something inside me.” 
Joel groans again, shuddering so violently that you can see him shake from where you are. “I’ve jerked off in the shower twice and it's still hard.” He drops the towel, revealing his hard and leaking cock, making you whimper at the sight and clench around nothing. “I think that- that we- that the flower-” “I don’t care.” You moan, shaking your head and crawling to your knees and shuffling forward. Showing him all of you and so goddamn desperate to touch him that you think you are about to explode. “Touch me, Joel. Fuck, touch me, please.” You beg, your hands on your own body. “We-” He shakes his head and his face changes, morphs into pain.
“Fuck me.” You hiss, watching as his resolve breaks. His cock bounces as he lunges for you, hard and swift, driving you back to the bed with a bounce. Almost as if he is attacking you. 
He’s not gentle. His mouth finding yours in a harsh kiss, your permission unleashing the coils of restraint that he had tried to put on himself. His grip bruises as he hauls you up the bed and settles between your thighs. 
You’ve always attributed Joel with rough gentleness. The type of man who would make you ache and then hold you close. Groaning in pleasure when you find out that is exactly what Joel Miller is like. His hands spreading your thighs with a desperation that proves he is just as afflicted by this fungal pollen as you are. His cock hard and pressing against your folds as he rocks his hips forward to line up. Almost unable to find the hole with his eagerness to sink into you. 
“Joel, hurry.” Your hands shake, holding onto him and urging him closer to you, frantic with need now that you know that you are going to have him inside you. 
“Goddamn, I’m trying.” He hisses, hating to let you go so he can take his cock in hand. Rocking into his own grip as he shuttles his hips forward. “I’m fuckin’ trying, sweetheart.” 
You whimper when you finally feel him pressing against your entrance, choking out a sound of need that is animalistic. Only to cry out in bliss as he pushes inside you without another delay. 
He groans, eyes cinched shut as he slides inside you to the hilt, burying himself in your heat and feeling that coil in his stomach tighten even more now that your walls are around him. Immediately starting to move just as soon as he fills you, driving by that need and burning in his very veins. 
It’s exquisite, the pain and pleasure blending and fusing in your stomach, nerves alight and responding to every small movement. You can’t get enough of him, you need more. Wrapping  your legs around his hips, you rise to meet his harsh thrusts. Clenching down around him every time he hits that spot deep inside you that you couldn’t reach with your fingers. 
He shouldn’t be inside you, he shouldn’t be touching you, but now that he is, he can’t stop. Turning his head, he presses his lips to yours and slides his tongue into your mouth. Needing more. Kissing you like he had imagined a thousand times before. Giving into every urge he has had since the day he met you and repressed before right now. Snapping his hips forward sharply and pulling every groan out of your mouth to swallow down. 
Every thrust makes it better, eases that burning in your core, your cunt slick and squelching every time he drives into you. He absorbs every sound you make, almost greedy for them. His hips jarring as they slam into you. Rocking you both up the bed. 
“Oh god,” breaking away from the kiss, you moan into his ear. Closing your eyes as he pants and puffs while he fucks you. “So deep, so deep, Joel.” Your nails drag down his back, making him hiss in pleasure and pain. 
“Shit.” He groans your name, lost in the rhythm of his thrusts and the building pressure. “You needed this?” He growls, making you clench down around him hard and whimper his name. “Yessss.” You agree, nodding against the pillow. “Needed it so bad.” 
“Fuck, you’re so fucking tight.” He huffs, burying his face against your neck. Continuing to pound into you, and not letting up even though his back is screaming in pain. His body won’t let him do anything but rock his hips. Driven by a need that overrides everything else. 
His words make you burn, making you even more desperate for him. Your hips rock up and legs tightening around his waist even more. Loving how his cock stretches you out and scrubs against every nerve in your cunt. Lighting up your body until you are gasping on the edge of that much needed orgasm. 
Every plunge into your body brings him closer to cumming, desperate to feel that emptiness, that wrung out filling once he has filled you. He shouldn’t cum inside you, he knows that, but he’s not going to be able to stop himself. He can barely pull back enough to rock his hips back into you. 
His arms have banded around you, holding you into place as he fucks you. Deep and primal, as if he is trying to fuse the two of you into one. His cock punches into the depths of your body that you never imagined anyone reaching, but he touches it with ease. Your body pulsing with that need to come apart. 
“So close, I’m so close, baby.” You whine, body starting to tremble underneath him. “So close.” Your nails dig into his shoulder, grounding yourself to him in desperation. “Joel.” 
“I gotcha.” He groans, eyes closed and his breath fanning against your skin. “I’mma take good care of you, sweetheart.” He promises. “You’re gonna cum all over my cock, ain’t cha? Just like you wanted.” 
His words throw you over the edge, that need built up so tight inside you that it busts on the next thrust. Lights careen and collide behind your eyes, bright and beautiful as your whole body ignites into pleasure like you’ve never experienced before. Crying out loudly and soaking  him in a wave of your juices. Cumming harder than you ever have before. 
Joel growls your name, his hips stuttering as you come apart around you. Unable to hold back any longer. He buries himself deep into your hot passage and paints your walls with sticks ropes of his seed. Panting against your lips as he empties himself body and perhaps his very soul into you. 
Both of you pant, relieved and exhausted from the pure exertion of need as you had taken from each other. Joel presses into you, trying to catch his breath, but the fire is still burning low in his belly, his cock still not softening as it twitches inside you. 
“Oh fuck.” You feel that same desire still curling in your stomach, not satisfied by the intensity of the orgasm that you are still coming down from. “Joel-” 
He huffs and shakes his head. “Don’t-” he presses his lips to your again, body screaming as he starts to move again. “Shhhhhh.” 
The need still burns and both of you are still locked in its fiery grip, not yet free from the desire that washed over you from a burst of pollen. 
****
“What the fuck man, open the door!” The thudding on the door finally penetrates the bone deep sleep you had finally fallen into. You don’t know how many time Joel fucked you, or how many times he had spend himself inside you as you blearily open your eyes. 
Joel grunts, slowly opening his own eyes and unwinding himself from the tangled together position that you had passed out in. The knocking on the door keeps on. “Joel!” Your name is also shouted, Ellie starting to sound somewhat panicked when neither one of you is immediately opening the door. 
“Fuck! I’m coming.” He drags the top blanket off the bed and wraps it around his waist before flinging the door opened to blink into the harshness of the sun. “What?” He growls roughly, making Ellie’s eyes blow wide with shock.
“Holy shit, what happened to you?” She demands, pushing into the room and stopping short when she sees you sitting up in the only bed that has been disturbed, the sheet anchored beneath your armpits. “Oh shit, you fucked.” She gasps, turning and shooting Joel an impressed grin. “Way to go, old man, you made a move.” Her grin quickly turns into an expression of mild disgust when she realizes that she’s congratulating you two on having sex. “Uh, I’m gonna go now.” She huffs, wrinkling her nose and pinching it. “It smells in here.” Waving her hand in front of her face, she darts back out the door and Joel just stands there for a moment before he rolls his eyes and goes to shut the door before he thinks better of it. Sticking his head out of the room, he shouts after Ellie. “Stay away from the fucking fungus!” 
You snort, grinning to yourself as your body starts to ache. Fucking fungus indeed. 
652 notes · View notes
maeumi-jng · 10 months ago
Note
Can i request princess treatment from enhypen ❤️😭
princess charm school
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pairing: enhypen x gn!reader
synopsis: in which enhypen are enrolled and on the honour list at princess charm school.
warnings: established relationship, endearments, swearing, cringe cringe, fluff, but i'm so soft for all of them 😭, proofread-ish
library: enhypen bookshelf
author's note: i'm not sure when by the princess treatment kinda got mixed in with dating headcannons. but still! hope this was to your likingggg ♡︎ thank you so much for requesting!
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heeseung
there's two sides of princess treatment: the emotional part of it and the royalty part of it. heeseung takes great pleasure in putting extra effort in the latter. he's the extra mile type of guy when it comes to princess treatment.
he takes the royalty part so seriously. like that's his job. what else is supposed to do?
heeseung takes you out shopping, more than happy to sit down to watch you try on clothes. he really gets into it, choosing what clothes he thinks you'll look good in.
if he even catching an inkling that you're having somewhat of a bad day, best believe when you return home, a trail of fresh rose petals lie from your front door and lead you to the bathroom, where you find heeseung lighting some of your favourite candles.
you'd raise a brow, "hee, what's going the occasion? the petals, these candles... is that our record player... in the bathroom?"
heeseung would simply smile. "i thought you sounded sad over the phone so i ran you a bath," he said nonchalantly, shrugging as if this required no effort.
you'd also be leaving a dinner party of a close friend's. both of you and heeseung decided to call it a night but got mildly distracted when the thought of late night ice cream.
the closest ice cream store? a twenty minute walk away. an uber would've made it a mere seven minutes.
but you and heeseung were convinced it was more romantic to walk. so were you going to walk those twelve thousand seconds just to fulfil your craving? yes.
about ten minutes into your journey, you found your feet beginning to ache. you couldn't pinpoint the origin of the pain, possibly your new shoes that you haven't broken in yet or the fact you and heeseung danced for way too long.
heeseung, who was walking next to you, hand intertwined with yours, raised a brow when he felt your head slump on his shoulder. "what's wrong, baby?" he asked, mild concern spreading throughout his voice as you both came to a stop in the empty street.
"my feet hurt, hee. i think i'm getting a blister on the back of my ankle," you sighed, rotating your foot, wincing at the brush of your shoe against your pained skin.
heeseung pursed his lips, barely thinking for a second when he suddenly lifted you up.
a yelp left your lips. "heeseung! what are you doing?!" you shrieked, feet waddling in the air while his arms were tucked under your waist and knees.
"i'm carrying you to the ice cream store. can't have your feet hurting any more, can we?" he said with the most casual tone you had ever heard in your life.
"heeseung," you hissed out, cheeks burning in the dark. "let me down! this is so embarrassing!" you whispered, hitting his back lightly.
heeseung shook his head. "there's no one even here. now stop worrying and relax," he scolded you, laughing lightly at your reaction.
you quickly realised that any attempt of yours to get out of this was futile. sighing, you tried to calm your body despite your keen awareness of heeseung's warm arms holding you tightly to him.
you hung your hands around his neck, staring at his face quietly. heeseung turned slightly, taking a glance at you. "what's going on in that pretty head of yours?"
you smiled, shaking your head in dismissal. you leaned forward, pressing a long kiss to his cheek. "thank you," you said with every ounce of earnestly you had, "i love you, hee."
heeseung smiled in response, thankful that night was so dark, disguising his flustered cheeks. "i love you, sweetheart. more than you'll ever know."
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jongseong
the epitome of princess treatment. it's not just secondhand nature to jay. it's innate. genetic, if you will.
before you even began dating, jay was always giving you princess treatment. he's so attentive to everything you do.
before you realised he liked you, you were always catching jay's eyes as he gripped onto to every word that fell from those pretty lips of yours as if your word was his command (it most definitely is). whenever he was making a decision, jay would ask for your opinion, texting you with every passing second if he couldn't be in front of you.
princess treatment, when possible, should be healthy and balanced. but jay can't follow through. not when you're right in front of him.
there's a lot of talk about jay and his black card. not to make it a personality trait, for he is so much more, but when it comes to you, no expense is too big or too little. reminiscent of svt's woozi giving his black card for vernon to buy bubbles, jay would give be taking it out as if he was doing god's work by doing so.
oh you need your nails done? jay's got it.
hair appointment? done.
also, jay thinks 50/50 can go to hell. he is paying for the both of you and that's final. he won't even let you utter a syllable, telling the waiter in advance to take his card.
domestically, jay likes to spoil you by cooking for you, especially if you can't cook to save your life, doing the laundry, making you breakfast before you wake up, taking your chair out for you to sit even if it's just the two of you.
"jay... let me help you," you whined, sitting at the kitchen table and watching him prepare your picnic basket for your outing this morning.
jay hummed, finishing putting his freshly made fruit salad in a container. "you're already helping me, sweetheart. just looking at you makes me feel happy and at ease."
you slumped, pouting as you rested your cheeks on your arm. jay smiled in amusement, his heart doing small little flips. he leaned in across the table, placing a quick peck on your nose. "fine," he relented. "you can help me by taste testing the fruit salad."
you blinked blankly at him before breaking out into a small laugh. "i don't know, jay... that's a really difficult job you got there," you teased.
jay narrowed his eyes at your sarcasm. "keep it up and see how long you have this job for, babe."
you raised your hands in your defence. "whoa... take a chill pill, mister. you're in luck. i happen to be a certified taste tester."
"really?" jay humoured, hands resting on the table as he looked at you with raised brows. "certified by who?"
"the best, most handsome, sweetest, loveliest boyfriend ever?" you suggested, batting your eyelashes coyly.
jay couldn't even suppress the wide smile from breaking out. he nodded in amusement, reaching out to grab your hand. "okay, okay. come on, my certified lover. i do actually need you to taste it."
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jaeyun
everything this man does revolves around you.
it's a historical fact.
look it up.
jake is pretty sure he lives for you... that he breathes for you. entirely wrapped up in the belief that you were made for him and he was made for you. in short, a simpleton if you've ever seen one.
his favourite things consist of helping you put your shoes on, especially when you're getting ready for something formal, kissing you at any given time, and constantly holding your hand.
you'll be going to put your shoes on and jake will quickly shove your hands away. "no let me." and as he does them, he'll leave small kisses on your knees or the side of your leg, just as a reminder that he loves you... like a lot.
you could also be in middle of talking to him and jake will suddenly interrupt you by kissing you. when you look at him with furrowed brows and flustered cheeks, he goes: "just because."
you're trying to kill someone... just because?????
jake is also a flower man. it's flower galore up in here. there doesn't need to be an occasion. he just likes giving you flowers. another just because.
you just closed the door to your car and you turned to jake to ask a question, but instead you're greeted with a bouquet of colours. "jake, what the– when did you get those?"
"before we met today. do you like them, baby? they're honeysuckles!"
the eager boba eyes peering at you while he pushes the bouquet towards make you fold an instant. you give him a warm smile, taking them from his hands. "i love them, jake. thank you so much."
later that day you go home and read what honeysuckles symbolise: everlasting love, true happiness, and sweetness and affection.
you smiled so hard that night that your cheeks were hurting the next day.
jake is also very dramatic. if you didn't know before, you know now.
you were both out for a morning walk after being cooped up in the house due to the harsh rain. it was a lot sunnier and brighter this morning, even if the paths were still stained with the rain, it screamed for a walk.
you and jake were both chitchatting, admiring the nature as you walked, when suddenly he brought out his hand over your waist, stopping you. "WAIT!"
now you're standing here baffled, eyes wide with confusion and slight fear because why the fuck is this man screaming so early in the morning? "holy shit– what? what happened, jake?"
jake's brown eyes averted to the path and then you. "there's a puddle."
hold up.
what?
you blinked blankly at him. an awkward laugh slipped past your mouth. "i– okay? and?"
jake sucked in a sharp breath, retracting his hand from your waist and instead holding it out to you. "give me your hand."
you raised a brow, slowly giving him your hand without thinking too much. you watched as jake leaped over the puddle and waited for you to carefully walk over it with your hand in his.
you gave him an incredulous look which only made him give you an impatient one in return. sighing, you stretched out your leg, just avoiding the puddle as jake pulled you into him.
jake wrapped his arms around your waist. "see? you're all dry. isn't that better?" he whispered, briefly kissing your forehead.
you found it difficult to bite back the smile eating away at you. you shook your head, laughing quietly to yourself. "you're a cheeseball, jake. you know that?"
jake grinned at your words, hands tightening around you. "your cheeseball, you mean."
you blinked, peering at him through your lashes. "yes," you agreed. "my cheeseball."
am i... delusional? 🤭🤧 (don't answer that!)
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sunghoon
sunghoon's princess treatment is for you and only you. only you see it and only you get to experience it.
whenever, it's just the two of you, the side of sunghoon you see is almost unbelievable. alone in an elevator with all the space in the world, yet sunghoon can only cling to you, hand constantly around your waist. or when you're in the car, his hand rests on your leg because it's only secondhand nature.
sunghoon, however, does have his public moments. he always has an umbrella just in case and it's big enough for the both of you. but every time it suddenly starts to pour down and sunghoon opens the umbrella, he only puts it on you. he doesn't really care if he's soaked in rain one day and sick the next, as long as you're fine and dry, he's a happy guy.
to be honest, sunghoon isn't that talkative of a guy. but for you, if you can't say something or order something, he'll hundred percent do it for you. or if someone says something bad or upsetting, trust, sunghoon is going to be on their ass about it: ice cold glare and a whole lot of things to suddenly say.
sunghoon's favourite form of princess treatment, however, is helping you get ready in the morning. like honestly, you don't need it. you seem to have everything sorted. but sunghoon can't help it. the urge to help you is a need not a want.
you and sunghoon would both wake up, particularly unbothered by everything. after ten minutes of you staring at each other and smiling like idiots, you decide to get out and take a shower. by the time you finish, sunghoon is still lounging in bed, only coming out of the sheets when you were standing in front of your mirror in your selected clothes for the day.
as he does every morning, sunghoon would take off the towel wrapped around your head and put it aside. he'd comb your hair (under the insistence that it was better than brushing your hair), gently taking out any knots before helping you blow dry it.
amongst all of this, you're just smiling at sunghoon through the mirror. he doesn't really see you since he's so focused on helping you get ready.
to be honest, even though he has a younger sister, he didn't really learn anything from her when it came to hairstyles. but this cutie decided to spend his time trying out different hairstyles. he tried them on his sister and you, whenever he had the time. so every morning, sunghoon would ask you what you wanted and he'd be more than happy to serve.
if you thought it ended here... well, you're wrong.
makeup... whether you wanted to go all out or just put some lipbalm on, sunghoon would put himself in harms way just to do it. he loves everything about it. the intimacy, the proximity, your reaction, how pretty you look afterwards... everything.
needless to say, you love being sunghoon's princess.
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seonwoo
listen... everyone and their mother knows about seonwoo's princess aka you.
why?
his personal instagram account was practically a fanstagram of you. seonwoo spent a lot of time, posting about you, you and him, and then you again.
for most of your time together, you expect it to be documented in some shape or form. seonwoo liked to take mirror selfies with you or post pictures of you on your dates together. even if your face wasn't in it, he liked to post it.
seonwoo's favourite, however? candid photos.
he can't verbally express how much he loves them. so seonwoo just posts a bunch instead. he's just in awe. because how do you look so pretty all the time? why do you make him suffer in such a sweetly evil way?
seonwoo also throws all of his skepticism and doubt away when he's with you. he will do anything for you and try anything. he always always lets you pick what to watch. he doesn't care what it is as long as you're happy.
another flower guy. but instead, he'd rather border on getting yelled at by a stranger for picking flowers from their garden rather than just going to a florist. seonwoo, by that point, decided to just pick up gardening as a hobby. it's not the cleanest hobby in the world which freaks him out time to time but it's totally worth it in the end when he sees your smile.
seonwoo also never ever ever lets you carry your own bag. he'll carry your for you or he'll put your stuff in his own bag. he doesn't want you to strain yourself, yk? 🤗
another guy who's a tad bit dramatic. if seonwoo's giving you princess treatment, he is going to be so fucking adamant about it.
for example, you're in the car. you and seonwoo both decided you wanted to go grocery shopping because you're cupboards and fridge were looking a bit empty.
upon arriving to the supermarket, you unbuckle your seatbelt and turn to open the door but seonwoo literally slapped your hand away from the handle.
"what the heck, seonwoo?!" you turned to him with the most baffled expression because seonwoo isn't there anymore. instead, he's fucking running outside of the car to get to your side and open the door for you.
seonwoo would beam down at you as he opened the door, lowkey out of breath from sprinting from one side to another.
you blinked blankly, a small smile creeping onto your face. "you're so whipped," you teased, moving your legs to get out the car,
seonwoo rolled his eyes, grabbing your hand as you got out of the car. closing the car door, he moved his hand, intertwining your fingers together. "you're the one smiling like a kid who woke up on their birthday," he retorted, his own smile teetering on his face.
you pressed your lips together while seonwoo gave you a pointed look, knowing he had caught you. you sighed, resting your head on his shoulder as you walked into the store. "we aren't getting mint chocolate ice cream," you casually said.
seonwoo gaped at you, eyes wide. "okay, okay. i take it back. i'm sorry. you were right," he conceded, pressing a kiss to your cheek. he whispered, "i am so whipped."
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jungwon
another epitome of princess treatment guy.
he just likes you so much... how can he not treat you so well?
if jungwon catches you staring at something you like for a while when you both shop together, he'll probably buy it for you when he uses going to the bathroom as an excuse to do so. he enjoys your reaction when you come home from the trip and finish washing up to find the item resting on your bed or dresser.
"what the? wonnie," you gasped, turning your head to the culprit. "how did you know?" you jutted your lip, eyes turning soft at the grinning boy.
jungwon walked towards you, pressing a kiss on your shoulder while his hands naturally found their place around your waist. his chin nestled into your collarbone while he spoke. "you looked like you wanted it, that all."
you were practically speechless. "b-but, that didn't you mean you had to buy it," you said, in complete awe of the kindness of jungwon's heart. you sighed, turning your head to bring him into a long kiss.
unknown fact but acts of service should be jungwon's middle name. if you had any trouble at all with anything, he'd do it for you. freshly done nails and dishes? he had them. the lid on your jam jar sealed a bit too tight?
got a sweet tooth at ten in the evening? jungwon would either take you out or do what he thinks is the best idea: bake you a fresh batch of whatever you wanted. you were the only reason he stocked up on so many ingredients. from brownies and cupcakes to ugly looking macaroons and meringues... anything for you.
another thing jungwon often did was the whole shoe thing. but with a slight change and an addition to go along with it.
you had both just attended a family wedding. you were all having a great time, dancing, chatting, taking pictures, devouring the wedding menu... but all this socialisation took energy and you're social battery was on the brink of dying out.
you were seated at your allocated table when jungwon brought you a glass of water and sat next to you. you gave him a small smile, taking a big gulp of the water.
jungwon raised a brow after eyeing your shoes next to your chair. "sucky shoes?" he guessed.
you sighed, resting your chin in your hand. "sucky shoes," you confirmed by repeating his words. "they're a pain my ass," you mumbled.
jungwon frowned at your misery, soon grabbing your feet to rest them on his lap, capturing your attention. "jungwon, what are you doing?"
"just relax," jungwon whispered softly, bringing his fingers to slowly rub soothing circles into your ankles and feet. you couldn't believe it. he was massaging your feet for you.
you pouted, eyes soft once again. "wonnie," you murmured, unable to follow up with anymore words.
he only smiled gently, continuing. "does that feel better?" jungwon queried after a couple of minutes. you wordlessly nodded, sporting the most thankful expression you could muster for your voice had failed you.
you mended your brows together when you watched jungwon take off his shoes and begin to put them onto your feet. "jungwon-ah, yah, what are you doing? we have to go back out soon." you asked, feeling panicked all of a sudden.
"it's okay," jungwon reassured, "you need shoes that don't suck. besides, i still have socks," he said, wiggling his foot.
your mouth fell open. how on earth did you get so lucky? "jungwon," you called out, making him hum in response as he just finished doing the last shoes. "marry me?" you asked softly.
jungwon blinked, a wide smile sprawling on to his face, dimples popping right out at you. "of course," he responded, "but give me some time and i'll ask you instead, hmm?"
you grinned at his words, nodding. for the rest of the evening, jungwon stood next to you, in his socks, more than happy. as the event came to a close and everyone began to leave, you'd walk out, still in his shoes, as jungwon tangled his fingers with yours, carrying your shoes in the other hand.
👑 -> jungwon 🤧
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riki
riki is the definition of princess treatment in combination with young love. you don't know it because he's kind of embarrassed to tell you, but he's always keeping an eye out for you.
riki's already got the basic things covered: opening the door for you at all times, listening to your words with the greatest attention known to mankind, more than willing to hold all the clothes you gathered in the store, covering all the edges of objects so you didn't hurt yourself.
but then there were the moments that made your heart flutter to the point where the both of you had to consider whether you were malfunctioning or not.
you were both walking around town when he'd suddenly stop you. "what's wrong?" you asked.
but riki said nothing. instead he just bent down to the floor after moving in front of you and began tying your shoelaces.
"riki-ah," you chuckled, "you could've told me."
riki shrugged, tying a tight knot. "you should make tight knots," he told you.
"otherwise i'll trip, i know," you teased.
riki shook his head, standing back up, making you furrow your brows. "i can't have you falling for anyone else."
it was so stupid how riki could say the most heart-stopping things so casually. it was infuriating yet it made you flush with embarrassment instead.
but that moment had set in stone that riki always did your laces up when they came undone. something about making sure you were only falling for him.
another day, you were both eating at a cafe. you had ordered some new things to try and you were quite excited, stuffing your face with food. you were about to get riki to try yours when you spotted the frown on his face.
you swallowed your bite, turning your head to him. "riki? what happened? do you not like your food?"
riki remained quite, hand stretching out to pull your chair closer to him. your eyes widened at the sudden proximity. a smile settled down on his face. "that's better."
no because what the fuck? how on earth were you supposed survive this?
and then there was the time it was raining. like pure good rain. not a shower or some light little pelts. rain.
riki isn't as prepared as the others. an umbrella? newsflash! no one is carrying an umbrella all the time. but what riki did have was his cherished leather jacket.
so as the rain pelted down, drenching the both of you and the smell of the earthy hugged you dearly, riki took off of his jacket, raising his arms to cover your head as you both ran together, trying to reach some shade.
"riki!" you squealed, feeling the cold rain stick to your skin. "put it on yourself! you're going to get sick," you scolded.
riki laughed softly, running a hand through his wet hair. he peered down at you, holding the most gentle look in his brown eyes. "it's okay. i just don't want you to get sick."
you both slowed down your run to find any inch of shade. you stared at him while he continued to hold his jacket over your head.
"what?" riki queried, chest rising up and down as the rain continued to trickle down his body.
you stretched out your hands, hanging them around his neck as you pulled him closer to you. you reached up on the tips of your toe and pressed a kiss to his cheek, feeling the coldness of your skin melt against his warmth.
you pulled away while riki looked at you with an unreadable expression. you laughed gently. "nothing," you shrugged, hand reaching out to grab his hand. "now come on! we need to get out of the rain!"
riki blinked blankly, watching you take him with you. he thought his heart stopped.
riki thinks knows that he's entirely in love with you.
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© maeumi-jng | do not copy, post (repost is fine!) or translate anywhere else! thank you ♡︎ requests here!
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puckinghischier · 6 months ago
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Tentastrophe
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Nico Hischier x Fem!reader
summary: reader and nico are in a secret relationship while on a camping trip together
notes: hi lovies! i got this request from my dear 🏔️ anon so i had to get right on it!! this was so fun to write and even more fun to play out in my head while i was writing it 🤭. also i had no clue what to name it so i quite literally just made up a word 🫣. i hope you enjoy!! happy reading! 🫶🏼
request: We’re camping and my tent ripped, can I please share yours?
[5.1k]
You hated the outdoors. Truly, you despised being outside.
You hated bugs, you were scared of wild animals, you hated the heat, you hated dirt, grass made you itchy, and you really hate the lack of indoor plumbing.
Literally, how do people enjoy spending a week out in the middle of nowhere, no signal for miles, no air conditioning, and eating the same four types of canned food? Not to mention your dislike of sleeping bags.
Who wants to sleep on a flimsy piece of material on the hard ground for days at a time? It’s just simply not appealing.
You continue to list off the things in your head you hate about camping and the outdoors in general while watching yourself be driven farther and farther away from the city through the windshield of Jack’s SUV.
“Oh c’mon, Y/N, don’t look like someone just kicked a puppy in front of you,” you hear from the front seat, Jack looking at you through his rear-view mirror.
You roll your eyes at him.
“Jack, I’m being taken to a remote location against my will with no access to a bathroom or civilization for seven whole days. At least if someone kicked a puppy in front of me, it’d be over sooner.”
“Woah, so you’re advocating for puppy kickers now, are you?” A new voice rings out, this one belonging to Dawson, who occupies the seat against the window beside of you.
“She’s not advocating for it, Dawson, she’s just saying she’d prefer it to being stuck in the woods with you for a week straight,” Holtzy responds from your other side, having been sandwiched between the two in the backseat of Jack’s car for the hour and a half ride to your unfortunate destination.
Dawson reaches behind your head to smack Alex’s. Alex tries to retaliate, and suddenly you have two hockey players trying to fight each other on either side of your body.
“Hey! Cut it out before you hurt Y/N! Coach needs her to get good footage this weekend,” Luke yells at the two forwards.
“Wow, thanks for showing me where my worth lies, Luke,” you deadpan.
Luke flashes you a grin before turning back around in his seat. “You’re welcome.”
You stick your tongue out at him, knowing he’s just teasing you.
When you applied for a marketing internship at the Prudential Center a year ago, you had no idea that you would become so invested in this world. After the initial six month period of your internship was over, you were making plans to find work elsewhere when you were approached by the team’s GM and asked if you were interested in staying on full time as the new social media manager.
You immediately agreed, knowing you had found your passion with working in sports and wanted to stick with it for as long as you could. It didn’t hurt that you had become such good friends with a handful of the players close to your age, four of which were in the same car as you right now.
You and Jack were the closest, though. The two of you bonded over your shared love of country music, a rare find outside of your southern hometown. You had found other interests in common, too, but becoming each other’s country music concert buddy is to credit for much of your friendship.
You grew close to Luke simply because of your proximity to Jack, but found that he’s become a little brother to you. People always assumed there was more than friendship going on between you and Jack, but both of the Hughes boys had become the brothers you never had, no feelings beyond that ever surfacing.
As your job continued to cause you to spend time with the team, you found yourself growing closer to other players as well.
Nico was another player you found yourself talking to long after your work duties were done for the day. Whether it was chatting before practice, pulling him a little too frequently to do interviews or make videos, or grabbing a bite to eat after practice and games because neither one of you wanted to end your conversations, you found the Swiss captain occupying a large chunk of your time both at work and outside of work.
Which doesn’t make it all that surprising that he asked you to be his girlfriend three months ago.
After a huge win over the Islanders at home, the entire team had decided to go out to celebrate. You had caught a ride with Jack that morning, but when you were searching for him so you could leave, he was nowhere to be found, already gone to whatever bar everyone had agreed on.
Nico had stayed behind to do a few extra post-game interviews, so when you bumped into him outside of the locker rooms on your search for Jack, he offered you a ride. You had mentioned how hungry you were, telling him you should probably go home and grab something to eat and change before getting an uber to the bar, but Nico had pulled into the first late-night diner he saw after you mentioned your lack of eating dinner.
The two of you sat in the 50’s themed diner for hours, ignoring all the calls and texts asking where you were and why you didn’t come out to celebrate. You didn’t even realize how late it was until you received a text from Jack, asking that you call him when you got up so he knew you made it home safe, apologizing for forgetting you at the arena.
Nico walked you up to your apartment after driving you home that night, despite the fact it was after three in the morning and they had a mid-day practice the next day. You still don’t know if it was the high of winning or the late hour, but he decided to kiss you at your doorstep that night. Three days later, he asked you to be his girlfriend because he told you he couldn’t stand not being exclusive with you for a second longer.
No one knew, though. You kept on acting as if nothing had changed at work, and no one caught on otherwise. You decided it was fun to keep it to yourselves, enjoying being each other’s secret. You didn’t know the policy on dating your coworkers, either, so you didn’t want to risk anything by outing the relationship this early.
You felt bad lying and sneaking around Jack and Luke, especially, but you’ll tell them eventually. You enjoyed having no eyes on you, your relationship being simply between you and Nico right now. When you tell your friends and the rest of the team, it’ll be out there for good. Fans will find out, your boss will find out, and then your small bubble of Nico will burst.
That’s another reason you dread this weekend. Not only do you just hate camping and being outside for long periods of time, you’re going to be stuck being around Nico for a week straight with no chance to be his girlfriend instead of his coworker.
The trip is the team’s pre-season bonding activity, so you’re tagging along to capture material for future videos and pictures for the various social media pages and website. You had tried to send one of the other members of your media team, not thrilled at the idea of a camping retreat, but the head coach had requested you, specifically, because of your ability to convince the players to participate in various trends and videos.
You owe some of that to Nico, of course. After the two of you formed a friendship, he started telling his teammates they had to participate in whatever silly tasks you asked of them or he’d start reporting them to coach for making your job harder. Since his forceful request, you rarely had to fight to get any of the players to do the latest trending dance, or answer silly questions as they get on the ice before practice.
Unfortunately for you, this means the higher ups see your success and suddenly you’re volunteered to do things like this. And really, what kind of social media content can you create when you won’t even have cell service?
Tuning back into your surroundings, you notice you’re almost to the campground you’ll call home this week. You were so lost in your own head that you barely even noticed the four (grown) men in this car with you singing loudly to the F.U.N. song from none other than Spongebob Squarepants.
Jack and Luke were duetting the song, Jack taking the sponge’s part and Luke singing Plankton’s lines. Dawson and Alex were simply adding harmonies.
You were in for a long week.
———————————————————————————
“Who in their right mind would put a twenty-four year old teenage girl in charge of putting together her own tent?” you whine out as Curtis walks over to see you trying to read the directions for putting together the tent laid out in front of you.
“Honey, I think you’re a little too old to be calling yourself a teenage girl,” he chuckles as he kneels beside you, taking the instructions out of your hands.
“I’m just a girl, Lazar. I will always be a teenage girl at my core, no matter what age I am. Therefore, I’m a twenty-four year old teenage girl. And I’m extremely incapable of building a fucking tent,” you cry out, crossing your arms and huffing.
Curtis just shakes his head and laughs, grabbing the rods that go inside of the tent to give it structure, putting it together for you.
You sit back and watch, trying to help where you can, but ultimately being reverted back to the role of ‘holding the flashlight for dad’, but instead you’re ‘holding the mallet for Curtis’.
Halfway through putting your tent up, you see Nico start walking in your direction. You admire your boyfriend, his tan skin showing due to his green t-shirt being stuck in the pocket of his athletic shorts instead of on his torso. His black hat sits backwards on his head, hiding what you’re sure is sweaty hair. His favorite pair of sunglasses rest on his nose.
“Already making the guys do your dirty work, how dare you, Y/N,” Nico teases as he stops to stand in front of where you’re sitting on the ground.
“Listen, one perk of being a woman in sports is the fact that I’m always surrounded by men just waiting to save the damsel in distress,” you put your hand across your forehead to hide the sun from your eyes, squinting your eyes as you look up at him.
He rolls his eyes at you, flashing you a smile.
“Need any help, Curtis?” Nico calls out, but keeps his eyes on you.
“I think I’m nearly done, but if you want to start hammering the stakes in the ground that’d be great,” Curtis replies, not even looking up from the tent that had now taken shape.
“Sure thing. The mallet, please,” he reaches his hand out to you.
You hand Nico the mallet, looking up at him with an amused grin. “Get to it, time to do manly stuff and go pound on something .”
You start to stand and Nico shoots his other hand out for you to grab onto, helping you heave yourself off the ground.
Once you’re stood in front of Nico, he pulls your hand toward him so you’re standing dangerously close to him, your chests nearly touching. You look around, making sure no one sees the position the two of you are in right now.
Nico leans down, lips grazing your ear as he whispers “Unless you want me to drag you behind a tree and do extremely un-coworker type things to you with the entire team right here, I suggest you don’t talk about pounding anymore this weekend.”
A shiver makes it way down your spine as Nico steps back, walking over to where Curtis is now standing, turning to face the two of you.
You hope he assumes the redness on your face is because of the warm sun, and not because his captain just threatened to do R rated things to you behind a tree.
Ten minutes later, your tent is fully assembled and you’re blowing up your air mattress with a battery powered pump that’s seen better days.
Jack had laughed at your for bringing an air mattress, claiming it’s not really camping if you don’t sleep in a sleeping bag. You told him you refused to sleep on the ground with just a thin bag underneath you for the whole week. If you had to be here, you were going to make yourself as comfortable as you could.
You even brought a battery powered fan to sit in front of your bed incase you got hot at night, but you learned very quickly that even though it’s hot and humid during the day, the night is chilly and dark.
After everyone had settled in and the sun had set, Timo had managed to start a fire, placing hot dogs on a small grate he placed next to the fire while Jesper worked on opening cans of various types of vegetables to heat along side the sausages.
You laughed to yourself, knowing the team nutritionist would develop an eye twitch seeing what foods will be consumed by the players this week. The amount of sodium and carbs in the containers of food for the week were definitely not in line with the meal plan.
Finding a spot next to Jack, you go sit on one of the various logs around the fire, needing the heat to warm your chilled skin. Music played out of a speaker sitting on the picnic table behind the logs, one of your favorite country songs filling the space.
“Nice choice, it’s one of my favorites,” you nudge Jack’s shoulder as you sat down, assuming he had control of the music.
“Yeah it’s a good one, but don’t look at me. Cap’s the one with the aux right now,” he says, pointing to where Nico is standing by a tree, red solo cup in his hand.
You turn your head and make eye contact with him, his eyes having already found you. The raise of his cup and tilt of his head telling you he played this song specifically for you. Your face heats and you smile at the ground, trying to keep the grin from stretching too wide, not wanting to raise suspicion from the brunette to your right.
“Y’know, I wonder why Cap has any country music in his playlist at all, because last I checked, his phone was full of rap and Swiss music and he told me country was his least favorite genre,” Jack starts, leaning closer so you can hear him over the music and chatter. “But then I remembered, I see you and him talking an awful lot after practice, before practice, and everywhere in-between.” You feel like someone has dumped a bucket of ice water on your head, worried Jack’s figured the two of you out. “You’re not cheating on your music buddy, are you?” he asks, looking at you suspiciously.
Relief washes over you. He just thinks you’re sharing music with Nico. Not that you’re seeing Nico behind everyone’s back.
“I might have mentioned a few good artists to him. But don’t worry, concerts are still reserved for you,” you bump his shoulder again.
“Mhmmm. Must have taken a lot of convincing to make a rap loving Swiss man convert to Zach Bryan,” Jack hums, still looking at you suspiciously.
“Just a few links sent is all,” you tell him, noticing he’s just staring at you. “What?” you ask, leaning back a bit.
“Nothing,” Jack shakes his head, his eyes gleaming with an idea. “Just thinking…have you ever thought about going out with Cap?”
You choke on air. You try to recover with a cough, claiming you swallowed the wrong way. “What, what do you mean?”
“You know, like you and Cap. Going on a date. Dating. I think you two would be good together. You guys already seem friendly enough, and he’s a great guy. Plus, I can see the way you look at him, Y/N. You definitely have a crush on the guy,” Jack teases.
You start laughing. Jack is confused by your reaction, not thinking his suggestion was funny at all, but you can’t stop the laughs from escaping.
“Oh, Jack. You’re funny,” you tell him once you calm yourself down. “That’s nice, but nah. I don’t think Nico and I should go there. Too many things could go wrong, y’know? Plus, who even knows if I’m allowed to date any of you guys. Workplace romances are frowned upon in most jobs, you know.”
“Okay, it wasn’t that comical of a suggestion. I was being serious, I think you guys would be great together. To hell with the rules. I can tell when two people are into each other,” Jack says with a hint of annoyance, not appreciating your little laughing outburst.
A look of surprise makes its way onto your face at his comment that he thinks Nico is into you, too. Maybe the two of you weren’t doing such a good job at acting normal around the team. You succeed at suppressing the laughter this time, figuring a second outburst would really make Jack upset. “Oh, you think he’s into me, do you?”
Jack looks at you like you just asked him if the sky was blue.
“Are you kidding me? Y/N, he literally jumps at the chance to be in any of your tik tok videos and he threatened the whole team so they would quit, and I quote, ‘making your job harder and just fucking do what you ask’ or he’d report us to coach.”
You can’t help but giggle this time, of course knowing all of this, Nico having told you himself after he did it, but you can’t let Jack know that.
“I don’t know, Jack, that doesn’t exactly sound like something he’d do. What does he get out of it? More interruptions during practice? More attention on social media? Doesn’t sound like Nico if you ask me,” you tell him, trying to play dumb.
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe he gets to spend more time with you. He gets on your good side, helps make your job easier while making ours harder. Earns brownie points to butter you up so you say yes to a date one of these days,” Jack leans his head towards yours, looking up at you like he’s just proven his point.
You steal a glance over at Nico, his head cocked, silently asking what you and Jack are talking about. You shake your head with a smile, telling him its unimportant with the roll of your eyes.
“I don’t know, Jack. We’ll see, I guess,” you sing song, earning a sigh from the boy to your right.
“You’re hopeless, both of you. I need another beer,” he gets up, leaving you on the bench by yourself, chuckling at just how right your best friend is.
After all of the burnt hot dogs and lukewarm veggies were eaten, it was time to for everyone to retire to their tents.
All of the players had to double up on tents, you and the coach being the only two people with their own. The players that were sharing tents on this trip would be sharing hotel rooms all season, so the bonding began with them being able to exist in the same space for an extended period of time.
Your tent sat about 50 feet from Jack and Luke’s. Nico’s tent was in the row of tents in front of yours, three tents separating the two of you.
You quickly made your way to your own tent and started getting ready for bed. Not being able to wash your face or do you proper skincare routine, you settled for brushing your teeth with a warm bottle of water and applying lotion to your face before crawling into your make-shift bed for the week. You hadn’t packed nearly enough blankets, seeing as you assumed it would be warm inside your tent, but you were chilled to the bone. You kept your sweatshirt on, opting for a pair of sweatpants instead of the skimpy sleeping shorts you brought.
You settled into your bed, switching off the small lantern you had been provided.
You laid there for what felt like ages trying to fall asleep. Every little snap of a twig or rustle of leaves made you scared a bear was about to claw its way through your tent.
You thought you had imagined it at first, assuming the wind was blowing and causing your tent to slightly ruffle in the wind. But when it happened a second time, this time the sound of something fiddling with the zipper of your tent following the ruffling, you were starting to panic.
You sat up, pulling the blanket to your chin as you saw a hand push on the door of your tent, a quiet yelp making its way out of you.
“Shhh, it’s just me, let me in,” you hear the familiar, accented voice of your boyfriend ring out, huffing while walking over and unzipping your tent just enough for him to slip through.
You walk back over to your air mattress, turning on the small lantern, looking at Nico standing in the middle of your tent. He was wearing a tan sherpa fleece with plaid pajama bottoms. He had to hunch over slightly, his height being too tall for your small tent.
“What the hell are you doing in here? You scared the hell out of me, you know that?” you whisper yelled at him, careful to not raise your voice too high as to not wake any of his teammates.
“My tent ripped, can I please share yours?” Nico asks with a smirk on his face.
“Oh, yeah? If your tent ripped then where’s Jesper sleeping, huh?” you raise your eyebrow and cross your arms.
“I just left him to fend for himself. Didn’t exactly want to invite him to sleep in here with us. Never know what he might see,” he walks towards you, placing his arms around your waist and pulling you close to him.
He looks down at you, your position mirroring earlier when this exact tent was being assembled, but you had no fear of anyone seeing you now.
“Hi, Schatz.”
You giggle up at him, unraveling your arms and placing them on his shoulders. “Hi Neeks.”
“I’ve been waiting all day to do this,” he mumbles before bringing his face down to yours.
You lean up on your tip toes to meet his lips, sighing contently into the kiss.
Nico pulls you closer, no space left between your bodies as his sucks your bottom lip into his mouth. You tangle your fingers in his hair, pushing against him into the kiss.
His tongue swipes across your lips, asking for entrance, and who are you to deny his wish? His tongue slips into your mouth, effectively deepening the kiss.
Nico walks you backwards until you plop down onto your air mattress, bringing his knee to rest in-between your legs, his forearms on either side of your head to support his weight.
You tug on his hair slightly, earning a groan in response. He starts grinding his pelvis against your thigh, which was your sign to stop this before it got too out of hand.
You pull back, pushing him up off of you slightly. He looks down at you with blown pupils and swollen lips. “Alright, tiger, slow down. We’re not having sex with several tents full of your entire team a few feet away.”
Nico deflates and brings his forehead to rest against your shoulder. “You couldn’t have told me that before I got a stiffie?”
“Sorry, shouldn’t have let yourself get so worked up. Should’ve known I wasn’t going to go there with this many people around,” you laugh at his whiney tone.
He rolls off of you onto his back, slinging his arm over his eyes.
“What are you doing? Quit being so dramatic,” you roll your eyes, trying to grab his arm and remove it from his face.
“Stop, trying to think of sad puppies to make my boner go away,” he swats your hand off of his arm.
You bust out laughing for the second time tonight, but this time you throw a hand over your mouth to stop the noise. The conversation about puppies in the car on the way here earlier making its way to your mind, making you laugh even harder.
“Okay, I think I’m good now,” Nico finally says, sitting up.
“Good. Don’t even think about getting handsy, either. This,” you gesture between you and Nico, “is not happening tonight. Or any night this week, for that matter.”
“Got it. You don’t want any of my teammates to hear you scream my name while my tongue is ins-“ you slap a hand over Nico’s mouth, not letting him finish that sentence.
His eyes shine with amusement at you, seeing your own wide in surprise. “Can I trust you to take my hand off of your mouth?” you ask him.
Nico shakes his head, but not before he darts his tongue out and licks a stripe up the palm of your hand, causing it to fly off of his mouth.
“Okay, you’re disgusting,” you scold him, wiping you hand on the blanket you’re both sitting on top of.
Nico just laughs at you in response, finding your annoyed expression amusing.
“C’mon, let’s go to bed. I’m already sick of you and the week hasn’t even started yet,” you tell him, pulling the blanket back so you can settle under it.
Nico follows your lead and places himself under the blanket at well, pulling your body close to his.
You lay your head on one end of your pillow while Nico places his on the other end, not having brought his own from his tent. The two of you just lay there facing each other for awhile before you remember to reach over and turn off the lantern once again.
You’re appreciative of the new warmth Nico brings to your bed, finally feeling yourself get sleepy.
“Wait, how are you going to know when to wake up before everyone else and go back to your tent?” you ask him, knowing his phone was in his vehicle, none of the players allowed their devices with them. You and coach were the only ones with phone privileges this week, even though they didn’t even work out here.
“Don’t worry, I will. First time I wake up I’ll sneak out, don’t worry,” he assures you, kissing you on the forehead before pulling your body flush to his, resting his chin on the top of your head.
Neither one of you must have woken up at all during the night, though, because when you wake up the next morning to the screams of “I knew it! I knew they were into each other! I told you so!” from your best friend as he stood inside your tent at the end of your bed with not only Luke, but with half of the team standing outside the wide open door of your tent, you were confused until you felt the weight of a body against yours. You open your eyes to see Nico’s scrunched face, the noise waking him up as well.
You both roll over and open your eyes, noticing your audience.
“I called it! I knew there was something going on here! How long have you two been together?” Jack bombards the two of you with questions despite you having literally just woke up.
“Get the hell out of this tent before I get coach to make everyone run three miles today,” Nico grumbles, his voice gravely from the early hour.
“No way, we need an explanation,” Dawson speaks this time, his expression matching Jack’s pleased one.
“You’ll get your explanation, but for right now, get out. Let us actually wake up without fifty people in our fucking tent. Now go, get out,” Nico pulls you closer to him, hiding your face in his chest and slinging a leg over your own.
“But-“ Jack starts again, but Nico removes an arm from around you and points at the door, “OUT!” he says sternly, his captain voice making an appearance.
The group of men start grumbling, but ultimately leaving your tent, zipping your door back up so you and Nico could have a bit of privacy again.
“Nico, you didn’t wake up,” you say, your voice muffled because of how close he’s holding you to his body.
“Sorry, Schatz. Was sleeping too good, I guess. Always happens when I’m sleeping with you. You’re like my own personal melatonin.”
You chuckle at him, not really mad that everyone found out, just wishing they hadn’t found you asleep together on a tiny air mattress.
“At least the boys know now. Now I don’t have to keep sneaking around at practice. I can stare at your ass loud and proud now,” Nico says, detaching himself from you and rolling over onto his back, rubbing his eyes.
You reach over and hit him in the chest. “This doesn’t give you permission to say innapropriate things to me while we’re at work.”
He rolls his head to look over at you, “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he smiles innocently, causing your to roll your own eyes and sigh at him.
“Hey! You guys better not be having sex in there! I’m implementing a no bone zone when I’m within a hundred feet of you two! Get your asses out here and get to explaining!” you heard Jack shout once again, beating his fist on the side of the tent.
You bring your hands up to cover your face, embarrassment flooding your veins.
“Jack! Suit up, you’re coming with me on a little run,” you hear coach shout, earning a “Shit, Nico this is your fault!” from Jack.
You burst into a fit of giggles.
You can’t help but feel like a weight has been lifted off of your chest, not having to lie to some of your closest friends anymore. You also foresee your week of no time with Nico changing slightly, figuring Jesper will be down a roommate for the remainder of the week.
Nothing, though, not even sharing a tent with Nico, or sneaking off to find open areas to gaze at the stars at night, could make you like camping.
You almost change your mind the night Nico takes you to a clearing, laying a blanket on the soft grass to stare up at the sky before he gifts you a necklace with his initial on it, the engraving on the back echoing the small “I love you” he whispers in your ear as he clasps the jewelry onto your neck.
You almost thought you liked camping then, until you walked back to you tent to find Nico had left it unzipped and a possum had made a home in the corner, hissing at him as you screamed loud enough to wake the whole team.
Yeah, you hate camping.
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takami-takami · 3 months ago
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The Uncommitted Movement and Uncommitted Delegates have been petitioning to have just one Palestinian-American speak at the DNC for months; among a sea of speakers, including a random border patrol agent, Trump voters, and the CEO of Uber.
They were told three words and no other explanation: "It's a no."
The delegates and Palestine protesters have been working tirelessly to get the DNC to rescind this decision on the last day of the convention and apply pressure. There is only one ethnic background that is not allowed to speak at the DNC, and that is Palestinians.
Georgia State Representative Ruwa Romman is at the top of the list of Palestinian democrats that were offered— of which the Uncommitted Movement and delegates generously offered the DNC to take their pick.
In case they don't let her speak, this is her speech.
"My name is Ruwa Romman, and I’m honored to be the first Palestinian elected to public office in the great state of Georgia and the first Palestinian to ever speak at the Democratic National Convention. My story begins in a small village near Jerusalem, called Suba, where my dad’s family is from. My mom’s roots trace back to Al Khalil, or Hebron. My parents, born in Jordan, brought us to Georgia when I was eight, where I now live with my wonderful husband and our sweet pets.
Growing up, my grandfather and I shared a special bond. He was my partner in mischief—whether it was sneaking me sweets from the bodega or slipping a $20 into my pocket with that familiar wink and smile. He was my rock, but he passed away a few years ago, never seeing Suba or any part of Palestine again. Not a day goes by that I don’t miss him.
This past year has been especially hard. As we’ve been moral witnesses to the massacres in Gaza, I’ve thought of him, wondering if this was the pain he knew too well. When we watched Palestinians displaced from one end of the Gaza Strip to the other I wanted to ask him how he found the strength to walk all those miles decades ago and leave everything behind. 
But in this pain, I’ve also witnessed something profound—a beautiful, multifaith, multiracial, and multigenerational coalition rising from despair within our Democratic Party. For 320 days, we’ve stood together, demanding to enforce our laws on friend and foe alike to reach a ceasefire, end the killing of Palestinians, free all the Israeli and Palestinian hostages, and to begin the difficult work of building a path to collective peace and safety. That’s why we are here—members of this Democratic Party committed to equal rights and dignity for all. What we do here echoes around the world.
They’ll say this is how it’s always been, that nothing can change. But remember Fannie Lou Hamer—shunned for her courage, yet she paved the way for an integrated Democratic Party. Her legacy lives on, and it’s her example we follow.
But we can’t do it alone. This historic moment is full of promise, but only if we stand together. Our party’s greatest strength has always been our ability to unite. Some see that as a weakness, but it’s time we flex that strength. 
Let’s commit to each other, to electing Vice President Harris and defeating Donald Trump who uses my identity as a Palestinian as a slur. Let’s fight for the policies long overdue—from restoring access to abortions to ensuring a living wage, to demanding an end to reckless war and a ceasefire in Gaza. To those who doubt us, to the cynics and the naysayers, I say, yes we can—yes we can be a Democratic Party that prioritizes funding our schools and hospitals, not for endless wars. That fights for an America that belongs to all of us—Black, brown, and white, Jews and Palestinians, all of us, like my grandfather taught me, together."
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sweetimpurity · 3 months ago
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Beach day fluff! Had to get this out of my drafts! Too bad summer is ending ;(
I love imagining Miguel coming out of the water glistening and perfect, drinking beer in the pool and playing with Gabi in the water at the beach. But after thinking about it, I think that Miguel would actually be a huge ‘poolside princess’
It would apply to both being at the pool with him and going to the beach. Even if you’re going with Gabi and the group, Peter and Mj with their kids and Jess with her family too. Maybe even Gwen and Miles join as well, the whole gang could be there. And he’s watching them all splash and play in the water and in the sand, all from the comfort of under the umbrella.
It took you literal days to convince him to come to the beach with everyone. It was a planned day and originally you were just going to take Gabriella and meet up with everybody else.
He gave you a list of reasons why he didn’t want to go but you asked him again and again and it finally came out. He didn’t want to feel left out.
“So come with us, we want you to come” You insist. An easy answer to the problem. “No, it’s better for me to just stay here. I’m a buzzkill at the beach, believe me.” He insists. You don’t believe him. And you keep trying to accommodate him and make him feel comfortable. He’s your husband, of course you want him to be included and feel comfortable at the same time.
It’s the heat. Miguel gets so hot and then he gets irritable and angry and frustrated. So he’s given up on trying to have fun at the beach. You’re determined to change that. You bought a new umbrella and new beach chairs this year. You brought cold water and cut up fruit in the cooler.
Gabriella couldn’t be more excited that her father is joining everyone. She bounds with excitement as you’re all getting ready. You’re helping her into her lilac bathing suit and trying to put some sunscreen on her little face to protect her baby skin. Miguel helps you pack everything into the car and grab Gabi’s swimming stuff from the garage.
And when you make it there, meeting Peter B and Mj, Jess and her husband and all the little ones running around, you set up shop and open the umbrella, insisting to your slightly grumpy hubby that everything will be fine and he’ll be comfortable. He keeps his darkest sunglasses on because thats the other thing. The sun is so harsh on his eyes. That’s why he keeps the lights mostly off in his office. His eyes are so sensitive to light and the sun reflecting off the water is like knives to his corneas.
And it’s also been so long since he’s been to the beach that he hasn’t really gone swimming in a while. Probably convinced himself that the water will be too cold and overstimulate him too.
“There’s a breeze, baby…” You smile, trying to make it seem fun and like he won’t have a horrible time. It’s not that he wants to be a grump, it’s just that he knows he’s not fun at the beach and he doesn’t want to ruin the day for everyone else. “You just sit and relax, okay? If you’re hot let me know…” you hold his face, pecking his smiling lips before turning to meet Gabi by the water and he gently slaps your bum on the way over. He couldn’t resist. You’re wearing that bathing suit he really loves.
Giggling and glancing back at him as you’re walking away and catching that smile on his face. Oh yeah. You’re determined to make him have fun today.
You, Peter B, Gabi and Mayday all make a huge sandcastle with a moat and are decorating the walls with seashells that the kids found. Miguel watches, smiling and feeling the slight breeze on his skin from the safety of the shade. It’s still hot but he’s not burning up and your kindness and care makes him feel a million times better anyway. He's really grateful for your patience.
“Papa! Come in the water please please porfi!” Gabi squeals, running over to him with her floaties on her arms, grabbing his large hand and trying to pull him up. He coos to her in soft spoken Spanish and you shake your head grinning, walking up to the both of them under the umbrella. “Gabi girl… let Papa stay cool okay?” You try to urge your daughter, but seeing Miguel get up surprises you.
“Yeah, I’ll come in.” He says it like it’s nothing. “You will??!” You and Gabi both squeal in unison. It’s like a miracle, neither of you can believe. “Come on come on!” Gabi practically screams, pulling his hand and he emerges from under the shade and into the sun. You smile watching the sun wash over his back. His skin glowing and broad muscular back on full display. That’s the other thing you’ve been missing out on. How dare he deprive you of his perfection?
You run up beside them, grabbing your husband’s other hand, the three of you walking to the water and Gabi runs in first. She’s already been a little fish all day so the water feels warm to her. “Come on babe…” You encourage and he winces slightly at the freezing water lapping over his legs. His senses going off like alarms. His sensitivity to temperature and changes in the environment are just so strong and unpredictable. It amazes you that such a big indestructible man can be so sensitive but that's what you love about him. “Just give me a minute…” He nods, still holding your hand and standing knee deep, adjusting and watching Gabi frolic around in the shallows. You wait with him patiently, giving him all the time in the world to be comfortable. Leaning into him and wrapping your arm around his waist, your hand on the hot skin of his back, head on his shoulder. He rests his head on yours, both watching your daughter having the time of her life. His big hand running up your side and to the back of your neck, just glad that he's here and included in today's fun.
"Okay I'm ready." He suddenly says, stepping forward and marching past Gabriella who's trying to grab onto his legs, giggling all the way. "You can take it slow!" You call to him. Is he crazy? He's just gonna go in just like that?
"Daddy I'm swimming too!" Little Gabi tries to follow him as the water gets deeper and then in the blink of an eye, Miguel's completely submerged with a big splash. You eyes widen with a gasp and Gabi squeals with excitement. Peter B and Jess hollering from the beach, watching the scene unfolding.
You don't see him, not under the crashing waves and the splash that erupted when he crashed into the water, not until Gabi's squealing and her father lifts her up from under the water, her little arms wrapping around him as he emerges from the blue glistening ripples. "I got you!" He growls and she giggles and squeals, her little voice spouting a million words at once, she's just so excited.
"My god..." You sigh, smiling and shaking your head. How did you get so lucky? You walk deeper into the water, kneeling down in the shallows where Gabi stands on Miguel's lap. Splashing each other gently in the water and having fun. "Ma!" Gabi whines, reaching out to you and trying to wrap her arms around the both of you at once. The freezing water from her skin making your back break out in goosebumps.
"Gabi! May found hermit crabs!" Peter calls from the shore. A group of them crowded around Mayday chattering excitedly about her finds. "Oooh!" Gabriella squeals, running off and out of the water to see.
"Whiplash..." Miguel sighs, shaking his head and smiling at Gabi's excitement and moving closer to you in the water. Sitting on the sand as the water laps around your waist and arms, the waves crashing on you two. "Yeah, right?" You laugh softly, watching Gabi run off to the rest of the group on the beach and making sure she's safely on the sand.
"You're right, this was fun. You having fun?" He asks, lifting a hand to your shoulder, the freezing cold water giving you shivers at it meets your hot sun kissed skin. "I'm having a lot of fun..." You smile, looking in his eyes. "More fun now that you're having fun too"
He smiles warmly, rubbing your back gently with his hand. The water lapping around you both in the shallows. Gabi is still on the beach with everyone, squealing and giggling about hermit crabs in May's blue bucket. Her little voice seems to carry across the whole beach.
You lean on Miguel, your head on his chest, your backs to the horizon and watching your little girl bounding across the sand.
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seungfl0wer · 2 months ago
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*𝑺𝒏𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝑹𝒖𝒏*
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Pairing: Jeongin x Reader (Fem)
Genre: Fluff
Warnings: None, however this is a bit short. Sorry for any mistakes.
These were Requested from my prompt list 11: “How’d you know?” And 54: “wait- you said yes?”
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-🖤
It was pretty late but here you were sitting by the river with some snacks with your bestie. He had texted you earlier asking if you wanted to go for a late food run with him. You guys went to your go to spot by the river. It was always so peaceful at this time too, only really hearing the sounds of the water. You sat beside him on the ground as you both munched on some snacks watching the people pass by. Talking about anything and everything as always.
“Do you think we could swim across the river?” He asked making you laugh. “Probably why don’t you try it” you teased nudging his arm. He rolled his eyes at you as he shoved a piece of sandwich in his mouth. As it was getting later it started to get a bit colder out making you shiver. “I should have brought my jacket” you say moving closer to jeongin. He turned his head a bit trying not to show that he was blushing. “Want mine?” He asked already taking it off. He was always so kind, a gentleman if you will.
“Aren’t you gonna be cold though?” You asked tilting your head a bit. He shook his head handing it to you. You gladly took it putting it on and sighing happily feeling the warmth. “Ooh it smells like your cologne.” you said smiling.
He coughs clearing his throat trying to bring his mind back. His heart fluttered looking at you wearing his hoodie. The way your eyes shinned with the moonlight and that smile of yours that just lit everything up. You really just made his mind a puddle.
“Ew look at those people” he said pointing at a couple sucking face on the bridge. He chuckled awkwardly. You laughed back “that could be us” you said smirking not making eye contact with him. His heart thudded, hearing it thump in his ears. If his face wasn’t already a bit red from blushing earlier it’s definitely red now. He turned to you with wide eyes. “W-what did you say?” He asked his voice a bit shaky.
“I said. That could be us. But you won’t ask me out” you shrugged a bit. His mind was going a mile a minute “what.. what do you mean” he stuttered out. You rolled your eyes “what do you mean what do I mean, you’ve liked me for how long now right?” You said turning your head. A couple months ago, while talking to his mom she told you about how he liked you. ‘I wish he’d get the courage to date you already, he’s been saying he’s gonna ask you out for like a year or so now’ she admitted.
It made your heart melt knowing he felt the same way towards you. You’ve been crushing on him ever since you met him. I mean how couldn’t you? He was so kind, funny and was always there for you when you needed him. “How’d you find out..” he said softly looking at you but as you met his gaze he almost franticly looked away.
“Your mom told me, but I kinda had a feeling” you said with a smile. He felt almost an out of body experience. His mind racing but also almost blank he wanted to say so much but also couldn’t say anything. “I- and what if I’d ask you out then?” He said his words fumbling as they left his lips.
“I’d say yes dummy” you said with a hum. His eyes were widened as he looked at you now “wait- you’d say yes??” He said back almost not being able to believe what you just said. “God you’re unbelievable sometimes” you chuckled “of course I’d say yes, I’ve liked you for a while too” you admitted.
As if those words pulled him in his brain felt like it finally short circuited. His body moved without thinking and he kissed you. You both felt surprise from the action non the less though kissing back. When he pulled away you both just stared at each other for a moment. Before he broke the silence “Will you go out with me? Be my girlfriend?” He said finally. “I- I’ve liked you for awhile but I’ve been to scared to say anything” he admitted “but god do I wanna be your boyfriend, to be able to kiss you like that all the time and see you all cute in my clothes” his mouth was now going non stop.
Rambling everything out as he talked. You couldn’t help but smile leaning back into kiss him. You both melted into each other’s touch blush across your face. “That was a nice way of getting me to shut up” he chuckled. “I’d love to be your girlfriend innie” you said eyes locked with his. They sparkled so bright like they were the stars in the sky above.
“Really!” He said it coming out so fast. “Yes dummy really” you said rolling your eyes. As you both sat there you laid your head on his shoulder as he slowly reached for your hand. “Y/n I’m happy to finally have you as mine” he said softly. “I’m happy to finally be yours innie” you said in almost a whisper.
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
💙 If you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open or you just wanna talk feel free to send me something🩵
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Taglist: @satosugu4l @do-you-remember-summer-127 @xines16 @minh0scat @troublemaker02 @tr-mha-fan @lunearta @velvetmoonlght @minghaosimp
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theragethatisdesire · 1 year ago
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three's a... - jean kirschstein x afab!reader x eren jaeger - 18+!!!
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i feel like i have mentioned the possibility of giving y'all an erejean threesome way too many times to keep holding out on you, so now that i've finally nitpicked this fic to death, here we are!! literally living my dreams vicariously through this fic. i'm still not 100% happy with it, but eren and jean are sexy here and are doing half of the work of making this worth the read for me lolol. it's also written mostly through jean's pov which was interesting to play with.
pairing: eren jaeger x reader x jean kirschstein
wc: 6.5k
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, threesome, established relationship (eren's ur perfect bf and u guys can't stop having sex with jean lol), unprotected sex, oral sex (male receiving), face fucking, rough sex, vaginal fingering, degradation, biting, dirty talk, penetrative vaginal sex, anal (fingering and fucking), swearing, use of names (slut, brat, pretty girl, good girl, angel), mean dom eren vs soft dom jean, multiple orgasm, dacryphilia/crying, creampie, double penetration, bicurious jean and bicurious eren (tasty, they definitely don't keep their hands to themselves), polyamory implied
buckle up, this was a blast to write and i hope it's equally as fun to read. enjoy <33
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Jean should definitely not be here.
He should absolutely not be on his living room couch with Eren Jaeger’s girlfriend’s head in his lap, playing idly with her hair. By all traditional conventions and rules of exclusive relationships, Jean’s fairly sure that letting your girlfriend rest her head on the crotch of your roommate while he strokes her hair is on the no-no list. Not for Eren, apparently, who has your feet in his lap on the other end of the couch, playing with your toes absentmindedly and making you giggle and kick him in protest. Jean should not be here, but you and Eren have made a habit of roping him into circumstances that he would never admit to, not even at gunpoint.
If Jean is brutally, painfully honest with himself, he knows he had gotten himself into this. You were just so cute, wisping around their apartment in a big tshirt and tiny shorts in the mornings, always making sure to save him a cup of coffee. Maybe he had let his lingering glances linger just a little too long, smirked over his coffee mug at you one too many times, come up behind you to help you reach something on the top shelf and leaned a little too close, Jean couldn’t pinpoint exactly what caused Eren to notice his clear attraction towards you, but he did. Instead of getting his ass kicked like he had expected when you and Eren sat down to confront him, Jean had learned something.
Eren Jaeger has a greedy, spoiled brat of a girlfriend.
That had been the first time Jean came in you, fucking into your throat while Eren watched from across the room, palming over the bulge in his jeans. The second time, the two of you had invited Jean out for a drink, which, in hindsight, he should have seen the ulterior motive from a mile away. He had ended up cumming in your pussy, bending you over in the bar bathroom with Eren’s cock in your mouth. The third time had been in Eren’s bedroom as you rode him, Eren sitting behind you and working your hips over Jean’s cock as you wailed.
Jean had stopped his ministrations in your hair as he was reflecting on how exactly he got into this situation, trying very hard not to think too far into the filthy details to prevent propping your head up with an erection. You make a little noise of discontent, grabbing at his hands and urging them back to your hair.
“Jean, don’t stop. Feels good.”
Jean’s mouth tightens into a thin line at your choice of words, words he’s heard from you before under very different circumstances, but he obliges. So much for self control. Eren raises a smug eyebrow at him from across the couch.
“You’re giving her what she wants, right, Kirschtein?”
Jesus, you two are insatiable, still managing to grate on Jean’s razor-thin willpower with all of your clothes on. Jean wonders briefly what the appeal is for Eren, if he gets off on watching you take another man’s cock, bring another man near to tears with your warm, silken cunt. Does Eren enjoy dangling you in front of Jean until he’s forced to give in? Eren’s gaze lingers on Jean’s hands, threading through your hair, awaiting an answer.
“Yeah,” Jean says, not trusting any more words to his loose lips. They’ve already betrayed him three times now, saying yes when they should have been saying no.
“Good,” Eren responds simply, offering a small smile that, to anyone else, looks innocent. Jean knows Eren better than that. He watches as Eren’s hand travels up your bare leg, coming to rest on your upper thigh. You’re affected by it, such a simple touch, such a sensitive little body; he can feel you tense over his thighs.
Jean steels his jaw and forces his eyes back over to the movie. He’s got to stop playing these fucked up games of yours, it’s bad for him and he knows it. He hasn’t dated in months, not since you’d first pulled him into your little world, can’t bring himself to look at anyone else, can’t stand the thought of feeling anyone else’s skin under his fingers. His little crush has bloomed into full-blown lovesickness, and it would be best for him if he just stopped.
All of that ironclad willpower melts away in an instant when you let out a little moan.
Eren’s hand has snuck its way up to your shorts, nudging at the apex of your thighs. His focus is still trained on whatever reality show you’ve put on, completely ignoring the way you sigh under his touch. Jean’s cock twitches in his pants; this is his opportunity to hesitate, to say no, but he stays silent, only watching as you squirm in his lap.
“Eren,” your chastisement comes out as a breath. One of your hands comes to meet Eren’s, trying to push him away, but he simply swats your hand, shooting you a stern look.
“Behave,” Eren warns, eyes dark and dangerous. Jean’s learned that Eren’s mean to you, snappy when you put on your little attitude and fight back, but Jean doesn’t have the willpower. He holds you gently while he fucks into you hard, gives you anything you ask for.
You bite your lip and turn your head back to the TV, one hand coming up to pull Jean’s away from your head, wrapping your fingers around his. Jean’s breath hitches in his throat when you squeeze tight, back arching like you’re holding back a moan; Eren’s worked his way into your panties now, rubbing little circles over your clit.
“Look, Jaeger,” Jean makes a half-hearted attempt to remove himself, pulling his hand from yours and making all the movements to suggest he’s going to stand up, “I should–”
“What?” Eren cocks his head, as casual as if they’re discussing the weather. “Look at her, you really gonna just leave her there like that while I’m teasing her?”
Against his better judgment, Jean flicks his eyes down towards you. It’s a pitiful sight, your eyes already glossed over and staring up at him, wide and pleading, your bottom lip tucked in tight between your teeth.
“Jean,” his name comes out of your mouth, broken and already heady with arousal. That’s what snaps his resolve clean in two. You need him.
“What is it?” Jean hates the fondness in his voice, so glaringly obvious in front of your fucking boyfriend. Eren doesn’t seem to mind, though; he picks up speed, making you wriggle impatiently.
“Wanna kiss,” you whimper, reaching up towards his face.
“Don’t,” Eren stops Jean from leaning down, “she’s been bad today.”
“Is that so?” Jean rubs a thumb over your lips, frowning down at you. He can see the guilt in the way your brows knit together; oh, you have been bad, and you know it.
“Wouldn’t stop begging me for you, wanted to snuggle with Jeanie,” Eren raises his voice to mock you, slapping a hand against your clit and making you jump.
Jean’s face burns; is this it? Is this finally Eren telling him that you’re off-limits, finally deciding that Jean’s had his fill? And he’s going to rub it in his face by torturing you on Jean’s lap?
“Tell him,” Eren demands, another sharp smack landing on your cunt.
“Didn’t want to wait t-til you got home,” your face is already blotchy, eyes clouded with shame, “wanted Eren to text you and make you leave work.”
“And what did I say?”
“Be patient,” your voice wavers, Jean’s heart pounds in his ears, “and Jean would come take care of me.”
“So needy,” Eren tuts down at you, cruelly shoving a finger into your wet heat and instantly removing it, drawing a breathy whine from you, “see?”
Eren’s offering his finger to Jean, shining with slick, eyebrows lifted insistently. Jean narrows his eyes, cocks his head. What game is he playing at?
“What, don’t want a taste?” Eren’s eyes glint in the low light, taunting him. Jean leans forward hesitantly, lets the other man slide a thick finger between his lips. You always taste so good, salty and tangy; Jean feels a groan rumble deep in his chest. The corner of Eren’s mouth curls ever so slightly. Whatever game he’s playing, Jean’s losing. “Touch her, but no kisses. She has to behave if she wants that.”
You pout, bottom lip still wobbling where you’ve pushed it out, but you arch your back a little, straining your tits against your tank top. Jean knows you well enough by now, knows you chose that thin little top and didn’t wear a bra just for him, just to tempt him. You have been bad, but Jean doesn’t care, could never care when you’re looking up at him all sweet and needy. But he knows better than to disobey Eren’s rules, for your sake. Eren will edge you for the rest of the night, make himself cum, and leave you out to dry.
“Jean, please–”
“Sh,” Jean shushes you, sits you up just a little so he can pull your tank top over your head, “I’ve gotcha. Just be good for us, alright?”
You nod and smile drunkenly as he cups your breasts, kneading your nipples between his fingers. They’re one of his favorite things about you; he can’t resist leaning down to place sloppy, open-mouthed kisses along your hot skin, lick around your nipples just light enough to tease. Maybe Jean can be a little mean too.
“More,” you gasp, fingers coming to clutch at his head, “more, I– oh!”
Jean’s eyes flit down your body to see Eren’s now got two long fingers shoved knuckle-deep in you, curling them fast enough to make you cry out, roll your hips up towards him. If he looks closely, he can see a wet patch forming on the crotch of your shorts; it makes his cock throb. He’s never met a woman that gets as wet as you, filthy at the slightest touch.
“You’re so messy,” Jean voices his mind without exactly meaning to, pulling himself from you so he can prop you up against his chest and let you look at the mess you’ve made. You give him a little whine of protest, tilting your chin up towards him, searching for his mouth.
“Please, I want–”
“I know what you want,” Jean thumbs at your lip, “he’s mean, isn’t he? Making you behave yourself when all you want is a little love, isn’t that right?”
“Mhm,” you manage to shoot a scathing glare at Eren that makes Jean chuckle, makes Eren smack your thigh hard enough to echo throughout the room.
“Stupid little slut,” Eren growls, moving his fingers faster, “you’re just all about Jean because he spoils you, aren't you? Someone has to make sure you behave yourself.”
Jean’s eyes widen; Eren’s clearly in a mood today, and Jean hopes it doesn’t have anything to do with his presence. Eren’s a mixed bag most times. Jean’s overheard him making soft, quiet love to you, little praises slipping out from the crack in his bedroom door, but Jean’s also watched Eren edge you to the point of tears, spit on your cunt, spank you until you bruise. Maybe Eren’s jealousy finally is getting the better of him, Jean thinks, maybe he just can’t say no to your insatiable appetite, and he is actually pissed that you had begged him for Jean.
“Jean,” you’re clutching at his shirt, moaning pathetically as Eren sucks harsh bites into your thighs.
“Did it to yourself,” Jean shakes his head at you sadly, “you know better than to make him mad.”
“Shut her up,” Eren nods his head at your mouth meaningfully, “I’ve heard enough out of her for today.”
It takes some awkward repositioning, but Jean’s able to pull his cock out, tap it against your tongue where you’ve already got your mouth hanging open, drool pooling on his lap under your cheek.You shove yourself up with some effort, and take Jean almost to the hilt on your first go, slurping lewdly around him. Jean nearly chokes.
“Oh, you are needy today,” he hisses, threading his fingers through your hair, making sure his view remains unobstructed. “That what you wanted? My cock in your throat?”
You manage a stiff nod around him in between the muffled moans you’re letting out around his cock; Eren’s added his thumb to the mix now, pulling your panties to the side so he can swipe at your clit.
“She was fuckin’ drooling for it earlier,” Eren says, meeting Jean’s eyes with a smirk, “should have seen her, all pouty and sad because her Jeanie wasn’t here. Pathetic.”
In the small part of Jean’s brain that’s still able to think rationally with his cock nudging at your gag reflex, he’s frowning in confusion. Eren is pissed at you because you were begging for Jean, and here he is spurring Jean on in fucking into your throat. It makes no fucking sense, really, but Jean’s getting his dick sucked, and not for the first time, by the woman he’s been pining after for months, so who is he to question it?
“Mmph!” You squeal, mouth too full to form a real sound, hips canting up violently towards Eren. Eren laughs, low and cruel.
“Aw, I think she’s gonna cum soon,” Eren pulls his fingers from you, a tear slips down your cheek. “Pity.”
Your cry of protest is whimpered by Jean standing up slightly, angling his hips to plunge as deep as he can. He’s only had his cock in your mouth a few times, but Jean’s intuitive. He knows how much you can take, knows exactly how far to push you before it’s too much.
“Don’t whine, baby,” Jean huffs, “just gonna make him more mad. He won’t let me help you if you don’t behave.”
“Look at you,” Eren runs his hands along your thighs, leans down to press a chaste kiss over where you’ve ruined your shorts, “being a good girl for us. S’that what it takes for you to behave? Need both of us?”
If Jean’s not mistaken, the garbled sound you make around him is one of agreement. The thought goes straight between his legs, brings him far closer to the edge than he’d like to be at this point. He pulls your mouth off of him, making you pout.
“But–”
“I know, I know, you want it,” Jean rubs an affectionate thumb over your cheek, “but you want me to fuck you, too, right?”
“Please,” you breathe, reaching down to wiggle your shorts off. Eren’s face lights up.
“Wanna show him your little surprise, baby?” Eren’s tugging at your shorts now, ripping them off and tossing them to the sides. He puts his hands under your arms, yanking you out of Jean’s lap and throwing your chest over his shoulders. When Eren’s hands come to your cheeks, spreading them so Jean can see, Jean’s heart nearly stops. There’s a little pink rhinestone glittering where your asshole should be– a plug, keeping you open and ready. Eren meets Jean’s eyes, daring. “She picked it out just for us. Want us both, don’t you? Nasty little thing.”
Eren punctuates his statement with a grin and a sharp slap to your ass that makes you jump, nod desperately from behind him. Jean reaches a cautious hand over, puts two fingers around the toy and pulls lightly, just enough to watch it move in you. You whine; he can see your empty cunt flutter.
“Can she take it? Both of us?”
“Oh yeah,” Eren brushes off Jean’s concern, “been using all her little toys for weeks, making me practice with her. She can take it.”
With that, Jean’s standing, padding into his room and knowing Eren’s following with you still tossed over his shoulder. His head spins; you, his precious little toy, have been stretching yourself out, getting yourself ready to have two cocks in you? The thought nearly makes Jean moan to himself, imagining how tight you’ll be all stuffed full.
Eren’s thrown you on the bed none too gently, stripping as you look up at him, hearts in your eyes. He stops midway through pulling his clothes off to grab your chin, offer your pleading gaze to Jean.
“Why don’t you ask him, hm?” Eren coos, looking between you and Jean with a filthy grin on his face. “Ask him again, see if you’ve been good.”
“Will you kiss me, Jean? Please?” Your voice has that thin, fucked out tone to it that drives Jean crazy, makes him want to make you cry.
“Yeah princess, I’ll kiss you.” He leans down, takes your soft mouth in his, Eren never releasing his hold on your chin. Jean can taste himself on your tongue, smiling appreciatively at the salty tang. Eren rips you away far too soon, pressing his mouth down on you far rougher than Jean had. They balance each other well, Jean thinks, the gentle caresses and the sharp slaps that make you come undone under them in a way neither of them can manage alone.
“On your knees, brat,” Eren sneers, the shred of tenderness that he’d grabbed your face with long-gone, “convince us to fuck you stupid.”
You nod obediently, sliding off the bed and onto your knees, reaching for Jean. He steps forward, letting you hold his cock in your little hand, rub up and down while you take Eren in your mouth. Even your hands are enough to drive him crazy, so soft and supple around him; Jean’s head falls back.
“Fuck,” Eren sucks a sharp breath in between his teeth, “that’s it, baby, take it.”
Something possesses Jean, what it is he can’t be sure, but he reaches a hand down to the back of your head, pushing you further down Eren’s length. He half-expects Eren to chastise him for it, but Eren groans, long and loud, a sound that simmers in Jean’s stomach.
Jean watches the contractions of Eren’s abs, trails his eyes up to where the other man’s strong chest is heaving, a strange, hot sensation trickling through his center. It’s too late to look away once he realizes he’s been caught, but instead of finding amusement when he meets Eren’s eyes, Jean finds something else entirely.
Eren’s looking at Jean the way he looks at you, all lusty and uninhibited. Jean nearly scowls at him, everything he’s internalized over the years rearing its head in his chest, but Eren stops him with a hand wrapped around the back of Jean’s neck. In the blink of an eye, there’s a set of lips on his, a sharp tongue licking into his mouth.
Jean lets out a wanton, strung out moan that Eren swallows, echoes with one of his own. Jean notices that your head has stilled under his hand, and he shoves you back onto Eren’s cock mindlessly, relishing in the way Eren’s mouth stutters against his own when you retch around him. He trails his hand, tentative and exploratory, up to Eren’s hair, grabs the bun at the back of his head and pulls. Jean’s surprised at the heat beneath his palm; he’s always known Eren runs hot, especially after the last few times he’s fucked you. It’s only natural to brush arms, brush legs during the act, but Eren’s skin is scalding, damp with sweat under his touch.
It’s not Jean’s first kiss with a man, not by any means, but he’d never guessed that Eren, headstrong, manly, unreadable Eren, had this in him. Had it been hiding there for all of these years? Was it a spur of the moment thing, that Eren would look back on and cringe at later?
Doubt getting the better of him, Jean breaks first, pulls away with a quiet smacking sound. Eren’s eyes are just as wide as his feel, searching Jean’s face for any sign of regret, of satisfaction, of something. A loud whine from below distracts them both, and whatever odd moment was forming is broken as they look down at you.
Your chin is covered in drool from where you’ve been choking on Eren, gagging around him, and your eyes are glossy and needy. Jean’s cock gets impossibly harder.
“What?” Eren taunts. “You jealous that I kissed your Jeanie?”
“Yeah,” you pout, brows knitting, but Jean can see the arousal written into your features. You liked it.
“Get up,” Jean says to you, voice hard and unforgiving.
You follow his instruction, standing on shaking legs. Jean can see the snark in your eyes before it comes out of your lips. “What, finally going to pay attention to me now?”
As soon as the words have left your mouth, Eren’s hand is around your jaw, wrenching it open for him to spit into your mouth. “Don’t fucking talk back, not if you want to cum.”
“You were doing so good,” Jean rubs a hand over your hip, guiding you to lay on top of him on the bed, “what, are you that desperate for us that you can’t mind your manners?”
“I just–”
“Want both of your slutty little holes filled?” Eren scoffs, kneeling on the bed behind where you’re straddling Jean’s hips. “Yeah, we know.”
You frown and lean down to Jean, searching for consolation, but he shoves you to sit back up, admiring the way your chest bounces with the movement.
“Can’t be nice to you all the time,” Jean’s voice is low, dangerous, “not when you act like a brat.”
He can see the heartbreak on your face, revels in it, but it’s short lived. Your eyes fly open as Eren works the plug out of you, tossing it to the side and wrapping an arm around you to take your neck in his hand. Eren looks down at Jean, exchanges a conspiratorial smirk with him.
“Why don’t you ask Jean if you can sit on it while I work you open, hm?”
Your eyes glisten pleadingly at Jean, but something’s come over him. He realizes he likes drawing those begging moans out of you, likes holding you over the edge between the tips of his fingers. Jean shrugs.
“Show me how bad you want it.”
While Eren reaches over to scrounge around for the lube in Jean’s bedside table, you start to work your hips over Jean’s cock, slicking it up with how wet you already are. Jean grabs you by the back of the neck, pulls you to him to drink down the little whimpers and moans that escape your lips.
“Jean, please,” you sigh into his mouth, “I need you.”
Jean’s resolve wavers, but he stands firm. “Beg.”
“I–” hot tears of shame are welling in your eyes now, Jean wants to lick them from your cheeks– “please, I need it, need your cock in me, please, Jean.”
“What do you think, Eren?” As Jean asks the question, it strikes him just how often he refers to the other man simply as “Jaeger”, not by his first name. In his mind, ‘Jaeger’ is his friend of many years, and ‘Eren’ is the man that he had just inexplicably, passionately kissed. “Think she’s earned it?”
“Let’s see how she takes my fingers,” Eren replies, slicking his fingers up with lube and forcing two into your already-stretched hole with ease, making you squeak in surprise, “oh fuck, she’s already so stretched out for us. Yeah, give her what she wants, let her warm up to it.”
“Thank you, t-thank you,” you stammer, out of your mind with want as Jean slides the head of his cock into you with a long groan.
“Shit,” Jean growls, holding onto you tight to prevent your hips from pushing down on him too fast, filling you up too quickly with Eren’s fingers hard at work in your other hole. Maybe he is the nice one, after all. “So fucking tight for me, aren’t you?”
“Mhm, for you,” you hum, lip tucked in your teeth.
“Think she likes you more than me,” Eren smirks from over your shoulder, working a third finger into you and making your jaw drop. For his part, Jean bottoms out, hissing as you pulse around him. He can feel Eren’s fingers scissoring through your walls, eyes rolling back into his head at the sensation.
“You okay? Is it too much?” Jean notices one of those tears that had sparkled in your eyes earlier threatening to fall, grabbing your face and forcing you to look at him. You look beautiful, all stretched around him and fucked out, mind blank.
“It’s a lot,” you nod, sniffle, “but I’m okay, I can take him. Want to, want– need you both.”
Eren’s eyes darken, and Jean can feel him remove his fingers, feel the accommodating stretch of your walls able to breathe again. Jean takes your hips in his hands, rolling you along his cock to grant both of you some of the friction you desperately need. You mewl, leaning over to wrap your arms around his shoulders. Eren’s lining up behind you, running a soothing hand over your back.
“Deep breaths, baby,” Jean instructs you, holding you to his chest. You sniffle and nod into his shoulder, muscles tense and twitching.
“Tell me if it’s too much, alright angel?” Eren leans over to press a surprisingly tender kiss between your shoulder blades and gives Jean a signaling nod, which Jean returns.
Jean can feel it the moment Eren pushes in, feel your body stretching itself to accommodate both of them. You squeal into the skin of Jean’s shoulder that you’ve taken between your teeth, and it hurts, but he lets you, rubbing circles on your lower back.
“Doing so good for us, baby,” Jean hums, pressing his lips to your ear, “too much?”
You shake your head, whimpering as Eren pushes in further.
“God, she’s– shit, it’s so fucking tight,” Eren growls, jaw clenched and a little vein protruding in his neck from the effort of holding himself back, reining in the part of himself that just wants to snap his hips forwards into you.
“Yeah, she is,” Jean chokes out, feeling suffocated by the way you’re pulsing around him, by the pressure of Eren’s cock shoving at him. He’s not sure where he ends and where the both of you begin, if there’s even any separation between his skin and Eren’s and yours anymore.
“Feel so– full,” you hiccup, nails digging into Jean’s shoulders. Your watery voice makes Eren pause, rub a hand over your back.
“You doing okay, baby? How you feeling?”
“Feels….” you take in a deep, heaving breath, “good. Feels so good.”
Eren grins, something feral. “That’s our girl. So good for us, yeah?”
“You like being full, hm?” Jean can feel a smile mirroring Eren’s on his face.
He doesn’t miss Eren’s choice of words. Our girl. And you are their girl, you love being full of them. Of course you do. You’re their insatiable little plaything, so good at taking them in each of your holes. You love it, you love them.
“It’s– fuck, I’m in,” Eren’s staring at where you’re all connected. Jean wishes he could see, but the tightness of you around him is enough, the way he can feel Eren through your thin walls, pressing against his cock. Eren pumps his hips experimentally, and all three of you moan in sync.
“Pl-please move, Jean, fuck- no, Eren, just–” you’re babbling nonsensically, music to their ears.
“We’ve got you,” Jean hushes you, fucking his hips up into you and cutting you off, “just sit tight and be our good little girl, alright?”
“Oh g-god.” Your words wrench from you in a sob, jolting with the thrust of Jean’s hips up into yours. It takes some work, but soon enough, they’re pumping in and out of you at the perfect pace, synced up so you’re never empty, not for long. You’re wailing, voice scratchy from all the crying you’ve already done that night, clutching onto Jean like he’s your last lifeline.
“Feels so fucking good,” Eren grits out, digging his fingers into the flesh of your hips, “so good for us.”
“Not gonna last long, not like this,” Jean agrees, sitting you up so he can see you, see your wet cheeks and your open mouth, “so pretty like this, aren’t you? All stuffed full?”
“She loves it,” Eren growls over your pathetic, shaky moan of agreement, landing a smack on your ass, “fucking loves us, don’t you baby? Tell us, tell us how much you love it.”
“I-I love it,” you manage, voice wrecked, “love you— fuck- love you both so much.”
Jean’s eyes widen, roll back in his head a little. You’re so perfect, obedient and willing to take both of them, let them abuse your holes. The thought makes him bite down on the inside of his cheek, not willing to be the first to break and ruin this perfect moment.
“Jean, I– shit, I’m gonna cum soon,” Eren pants, pupils blown wide and mouth hanging open when he meets Jean’s eyes. “Make her cum.”
Jean nods determinedly, somehow finds the presence of mind to slide a hand in between your slick bodies, swiping at your clit insistently. Your body blooms for him, back arching as you throw your head back against Eren’s shoulder. He feels you clench violently around him, knows you’ve already been on the edge since they started with you, knows you won’t take much goading to break for them.
“That good?” Jean forced out through his clenched jaw, trying to keep pace with Eren amidst your vice-like grip on him.
“Yes, so fucking– oh my god, J-Jean, I’m– Eren,” you’re babbling, close to the point of hysteria, eyes blank and teary. Jean’s free hand wraps around your hip, grabbing hard at the flesh there. He’s so gone he barely catches it, just barely, but he notices Eren’s hand. Eren lays his palm over Jean’s, deliberate and steady, grabbing onto the other man’s hand and squeezing down. Jean meets Eren’s eyes, fucked out and hooded.
“Come on,” Jean rubs faster, harder, his eyes flitting back and forth between yours and Eren’s, “show us what a good fucking girl you are for us.”
Whatever was tethering you to your sanity falls away, and you cum harder than Jean’s ever seen, mouth hanging open in a silent scream as your muscles lock up, legs trembling on either side of Jean’s hips. He grips your hip harder, trying to maintain a pace so you can ride your orgasm out on top of them. Eren follows quickly behind you, biting into your shoulder with a loud, long groan. When Jean feels Eren’s cum leaking out of you, feels the mess they’ve made between your legs, he falls over the edge too, slamming your hips down into his and grinding up into you with a moan.
The three of you collapse into a heap of limbs and sweat and stickiness, chests heaving and muscles twitching. Jean can feel the burn of Eren’s skin and the slick, plush give of yours, enveloping him from every angle, and for the first time in months, he lets his eyes flutter shut, letting himself enjoy the simple pleasure of touch.
But nothing is forever, and after a few minutes, he feels you begin to stir between them, mumbling about needing to go to the bathroom. Eren reluctantly rolls off the bed to help you to the bathroom to clean up, leading you out on shaking legs. Alone again, Jean throws his hands over his face and sighs, deep and hefty.
He shouldn’t be here, he should have never let you both goad him into this.
It occurs to Jean that he needs some air; the apartment feels suffocatingly small knowing that both of you are only a few layers of plaster and a door away. He pushes through regret and self-doubt, pulling his sweatpants back on and scrounging around in his laundry basket of unfolded, clean clothes to find a shirt.
“What are you doing?” Eren’s suddenly in the doorway, scowling at him.
“Going out.”
“You worked this morning. What, do you have plans or something?” There’s a clear note of annoyance in Eren’s voice, but Jean’s too exhausted and shaky to look into it.
“Jean?” You, Eren’s shadow as always, peer around his shoulders, a cute little furrow of confusion between your brows. “Where are you going?”
Jean nearly growls in frustration, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Out. I’m going out.”
He hates the way you flinch, grab onto Eren’s hand for stability in the wake of his snapping at you. Eren speaks next, but Jean doesn’t recognize his tone; it’s firm, but somehow, it’s lacking Eren’s perpetually angry intonation.
“Sit.” Eren’s got one finger pointed to the bed, ordering him as if this isn’t Jean’s own room. He drags you over behind him, plopping on the bed as if you all do this every day. Jean glares at Eren, softens his eyes at the way you’re looking up at him invitingly.
“We just want to talk a little,” you pat the comforter, smiling softly. That breaks him, and against Jean’s better judgment, he’s sitting where you’ve indicated, t-shirt still fisted in his hands.
“About?”
“We don’t want you to think– well, this…” Eren gestures his hands between the three of you, frowning deeper, and eventually sighing, “I don’t know how to say it.”
You pick up for Eren, smiling at him. “We don’t want you to feel like you’re out of place here, that’s all.”
Jean cocks an eyebrow. “In my own bedroom?”
“No, asshole,” Eren rolls his eyes, “with…with us.”
“What does that mean?” Jean’s heart nearly stops. A small, soft hand over his makes his breath catch in his throat.
“We’re not, like, experienced with this, so maybe we’re doing this whole thing wrong,” you look to Eren anxiously, who nods at you reassuringly, “but…we have room for you. If you’re open.”
“Like…” Jean barely trusts his voice to carry above a breath, “in what sense?”
“It’s not just sex,” Eren mumbles, flushing pink, “to us, at least.”
“We like you,” you clarify, smiling again, “and however you want us, if you want us, at least, you can have us.”
Jean blinks stupidly, looks to Eren to see if his face betrays anything, anything that could explain the conversation taking place, if it’s a joke, if he’s unsure. To his surprise, Eren looks up at him, green eyes earnest and burning into his, and takes the t-shirt out of Jean’s hands, giving one of Jean’s hands to you and taking the other for himself.
“It works,” Eren says, finding some conviction, “whatever you want to call it, this works.”
“For both of you?” Jean can hardly believe his ears, can hardly fathom the feeling of your soft, delicate little fingers and Eren’s calloused palms wrapped around his hands.
“For both of us. But…does it? For you?” Your voice wavers, your nerves betraying you.
“I mean, I don’t know what it is. I don’t understand it,” Jean admits, positive that his eyes are comically wide in the face of this new information.
“Me neither,” Eren shrugs, “but we don’t have to be so serious about it–”
“Not for now at least,” you smile at Eren encouragingly, nodding and urging him to press on.
“Not for now,” Eren agrees, squeezing Jean’s fingers ever so slightly, the smallest, most tentative reassurance, “we can figure it out later.”
“If you want it,” you bite your lip, looking up at Jean through thick lashes, “want us. We won’t be upset if you say no. No pressure.”
Jean thinks for a moment, thinks about everything you’re offering him. You, who he’s pined after for months, so beautiful and sweet to him. He thinks about sharing coffee with you in the mornings, holding you tight to his body and drifting off to sleep, letting you play with his hair. He doesn’t know if he loves you, but whatever he feels is pretty damn close to it, close enough to drive him crazy and keep him up at night.
And Eren. He’s been friends with Eren for near a decade now, known him for as long as he can remember. What this agreement means in terms of his relationship with Eren, Jean hardly dares to press, knowing how Eren is: flighty, argumentative, brash. None of that is written into Eren’s features now, though; Eren’s watching him intently, earnestly, chest stilled as if he’s holding his breath, waiting for Jean’s answer.
Something old and something new mixed together into something entirely unfamiliar.
“We don’t have to put a label on it now, or even go through the semantics,” Eren’s voice is spent, nearly breathless.
“We’ll give you some space if you need–”
“No,” Jean cuts you off, looking between you both, “no, it’s– it’s just a surprise, that’s all.”
Eren snorts. “How many times do we need to fuck you before you get the hint?”
“Eren!” You slap his arm, looking between him and Jean meaningfully. “Not really the time for jokes, is it?”
“I mean, fucking in the bathroom of Scout’s isn’t exactly wining and dining me,” Jean rolls his eyes. Eren laughs at that, unintentionally tightening his grip around Jean’s fingers and making Jean’s heart thud a little in his chest.
“You two are beyond annoying,” you huff, crossing your arms over your chest. Eren and Jean exchange a wicked smirk.
“Regretting this already?” Eren teases you, digging his fingers into your side and making you giggle.
“Get over here,” Jean pulls you onto his lap, feeling emboldened to press a quick succession of kisses to your jawline, to your cheek. God, maybe he does love you, the weight of you in his arms feeling almost perfect. Eren leans over and tackles you both, tickling you wherever he can reach, Jean pinning you to his chest despite your protests and thrashing.
That’s what’s missing, Jean realizes. It’s not about you and Jean, or you and Eren, or he and Eren. He understands Eren’s bluntness earlier: the three of you just work, regardless of the weirdness of it all or the awkward conversations that lay ahead. It works, and for now, that’s enough.
Eren relents in his torture, scooting up the bed and dragging you with him, pulling Jean’s covers over you both like he’d done it a hundred times. Jean’s last little inkling of self-doubt perseveres, and he hesitates, until Eren tosses the covers on your other side back, patting the sheets meaningfully. Jean swallows his pride, swallows his insecurity, and pulls you into his side, very mindful of Eren’s arm tossed over both of your shoulders, of Eren’s fingers weaving absentmindedly through the hair at the nape of his neck.
And in the morning, when Eren mimics Jean’s loud snoring and you’re playfully throwing little crumbs of toast at them over the counter, the little voice in Jean’s head that had warned him to keep his distance will be completely silenced for the first time in months.
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annie-creates · 2 months ago
Text
I deserved it
Pairing: Agatha Harkness x reader
Genre: angst
Words: 1000
Note: This story is inspired by this amazing song so I'm very greateful to the person who used it for an Agatha edit. Please be aware there's a talk of scars in case it makes you uncomfortable.
When Agatha Harkness entered your apotheke on the outskirts of your town, you thought it must have been a mistake. She would never step into a mile radius of yours willingly. But she wasn’t alone, she had a young boy with her. A kid who was a little too excited to get on the path of death for your liking, but at the same time it intrigued you. It was clear Agatha herself didn’t really want to be here, but once he told you about the coven list, you understood she really didn’t have much of a choice. If she wanted to find the witch’s road, she needed a coven with you in it.
Against your better judgement, you came to the meeting point, other witches already gathering. Quite a weird group in your opinion, Agatha must have been desperate. You couldn’t fathom she’d choose any of them willingly. That’s how you got yourself into the shenanigans of trials and tests, each one crazier than the one before. You weren’t all exactly friendly with each other either, most of you having some old beef with Agatha. Which at least didn’t leave you alone in your reservations towards her.
In the chaos of the last trial Teen got hurt and you all rushed outside to tend to him in the calmer surroundings. Everyone seemed desperate to find something to help, but surprisingly most of all Agatha, who pushed Jen to come up with anything that would help. You stand by his side, calling to your healing powers your hands starting to glow.
„Don’t touch him!“ Agatha screams at you, the cruelty in her voice taking you back.
„Do you want him to live or not?“ You spit back after the initial shock, masking your hurt expression.
In the mean time Jennifer makes her makeshift potion, slowly healing his wound. You take a few steps back, still hurt by the refusal of your help. You watch as they take him to sleep, opting to help Lilia with setting up a campfire instead. She notices your sudden quietness but doesn’t comment on it. The day has been hard on all of you.
“He might get a scar from this one,” Alice comments as she and Jennifer return, leaving Agatha looking after the kid.
“I bet he’ll find it pretty cool,” you answer halfheartedly.
“Do you guys have any magical scars?” She asks, stirring up a friendly conversation. “You’ve already seen mine.”
“I have these from the bounds,” Jen admits showing her wrists with lines that were hardly visible now.
“Look at this,” Lilia shows the side of her neck. “It’s from a vampire… right before I knocked out his other tooth.”
That gets everyone laughing and you must chuckle a little. What a weird group, and yet you kinda did click together. Maybe the choosing wasn’t completely random after all. All covenless witches, renegades who didn’t fit into the society of the outside world. You hear Agatha’s steps before she sits down by the fire, an opportunity they can’t pass on.
“Do you have any battle scars Agatha?” Alice asks lightly.
“Check this out,” she unbuttons her sleeve rolling it up. “Knitting needle right to the elbow.”
“Wow,” Jennifer admires. “What about you Y/n?”
You slowly look up at her, being a little lost in your own thoughts to follow the conversation too closely. You debate yourself for a minute with a loud inhale and exhale, deciding to also share a little piece of your troubled past. So you open the first few buttons of your shirt. There, in the middle of your chest, lies a deep pink scar.
“Oh my god, where did you get that?” Jen asks surprised.
“Well… a long time ago, I had this… person. And I wasn’t able to protect someone very dear to them… so she promised to cut out my heart and never forgive me,” you admit, your eyes glossing over as you remember the painful memory.
“Wow that’s cruel,” Alice whispers taken back by your dark story.
“I guess I deserved it,” you shrug, suddenly feeling colder.
The other women shake their heads clearly disagreeing but it’s not their place to argue with you on your self-esteem and worth. Agatha stays quiet, remembering the day she almost cut your heart out for the loss of her son. Even now, decades later she couldn’t understand how you could fail the one time she really needed you, and it only strengthened her decision that she can’t trust anybody when it comes to important stuff.
You get up after a minute, too lost in your own mind to entertain the ladies. You walk through the forest, immediately missing the warmth of the fire. Were you a good person? Reliable? The people in your life now would surely say yes, the witches on the road didn’t know you enough to judge, and Agatha would definitely have a different opinion. So what’s the right answer? Could you even believe in yourself? If not, how could you ask others to?
Your mind travels back to earlier today when Agatha forbade you from helping, rather entrusting Teen’s life in the hands of a stranger than yours. Did she really think so little of you? That you’d hurt the kid? The answer came walking behind you, subtle rustling of leaves revealing her presence. With a spiteful feeling you think she came to make sure you didn’t poison the boy or something.
“You know, this road is like Switzerland…” Agatha waits for you to turn around and look at her. “So I won’t attack you here… If I don’t have to.”
“Oh what a relief…” you scoff, folding your hands over your chest.
“But don’t expect the same courtesy when we’re outta here,” she warns you. “I don’t want to have anything to do with you.”
“Wouldn’t imagine anything else,” you sigh.
“You were right you know?” she adds, already on her walk away from you. “You deserve much worse than just a scar.”
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bellaxgiornata · 5 months ago
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Accidents
Pairing: Matt Murdock x Mom!Reader Word Count: 1.7k [Collection Masterlist]
Warnings/tags: fluff, humor, and Matt getting an unwelcome surprise
Summary: While distracted talking to you, Matt forgets the first rule of diaper changes.
a/n: Yet again another blurb that grew into the length of a one-shot... I also couldn't get the mental image out of my head of this happening to Matt, so here you go! Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!
Collection Tag List: @danzer8705 @glowstick-lesbian @flowher @geminadeckerwritesstuff @shiorimakibawrites @beezusvreeland @ebathory997 @maryyymothhh @4happilyeverafter @sleepysleepymom @kezibear @charmedkim @midnightramble @carolinaxvz @1988-fiend @marcysbear
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Leaning forward towards your laptop on the coffee table with your legs curled up on the leather couch, you reread the paragraph you’d just typed. For the past few weeks this was where you’d been stationed at home fielding emails from work when you were supposed to be on maternity leave. 
While you'd been working this afternoon, you’d occasionally paused to glance across the living room, your eyes landing on the bassinet that you’d pulled out from the bedroom earlier. Every few minutes you felt compelled to check and make sure your one month old little boy was still peacefully napping. And every time you did, you longed to be finished with the work you weren't even supposed to be doing–let alone thinking about–so you could get back to just spending time with him. 
Releasing a tired sigh, your attention returned to your laptop. As you worked, you became so absorbed in composing the email to your colleague that you hadn’t heard the apartment door open behind you. Neither had you heard Matt hanging up his cane on the wall hook in the entry hall, or the sound of him slipping out of his dress shoes over the loud click click click of your typing. It wasn’t until you felt hands gently landing on your shoulders that you suddenly jumped a couple of inches on the couch in surprise, your head flying over your shoulder as your heart rate spiked.
Matt leaned over the backrest, a cheeky grin on his lips. “Evening, sweetheart,” he greeted.
“Shit, Matt,” you said, throwing a hand over your heart as his hands released you. “I didn’t even hear you come in.”
“I know,” he replied. “You seemed very deep in concentration.” His brows dipped beneath his dark glasses, his head canting to the side as he paused in thought. “You’re not working again, are you? Because it sort of sounds like you’re working.”
Blowing out an irritated sigh, you nodded. “Try telling my boss that. I swear, every afternoon there’s something she can’t seem to figure out without my help. Though technically what she’s contacting me for isn’t violating any of the terms of my leave, so I can't exactly refuse her.”
Matt’s mouth pulled into a frown as he began to undo the knot of his tie. “Unfortunately,” he muttered. “Though I wish she’d leave you alone. You’re already doing enough as it is.”
“You're not the only one wishing that,” you grumbled.
Turning around and focusing back on your partially written email, you were vaguely aware of Matt making his way around the apartment, slipping out of his suit coat as he walked. But when he paused just in front of the bedroom door, a smile slipping onto his face as his head turned in the direction of the bassinet beside it, your fingers hovered over the keyboard. 
Watching him over the screen of your laptop, a small smile spread onto your own lips. You remembered how he had been so nervous about becoming a father. You remembered all the late nights he'd paced the living room talking a mile a minute, worried about all the what-ifs he feared would happen and how he was afraid of being a disappointment. But even as you’d listened to his nervous chatter, you'd never once doubted him. You’d never questioned the fact that he'd be a great father. 
“Someone’s sleepy,” Matt observed, attention still on the bassinet.
“He’s been out for a couple of hours now,” you told him. “Downed a full bottle of milk and passed right out. Though I give him a couple of minutes before he wakes.” You shook your head, eyes dropping fondly down to your sleeping son. “I swear he’s got a sixth sense or something,” you said. “Because he always knows every single time you come back home.”
“Like father, like son,” Matt joked.
You rolled your eyes as Matt disappeared into the bedroom, sliding his tie out from beneath his collar. Attention returning to your almost finished email, you hoped you could finally write the last paragraph so you could send it and forget about it.
“Hopefully he at least grows a better sense of self-preservation,” you whispered.
Matt chuckled in the bedroom, the sound drawing forth a smile as you continued to work. Though you’d only managed to type a couple of sentences before the sound of soft, irritated cries rose from across the room. Eyes raising from your laptop yet again, you glanced at the bassinet. Sure enough your baby boy was awake.
“I swear, he always knows,” you muttered under your breath. 
Before you could even rise from off the couch, Matt appeared back in the living room. He’d apparently only managed to remove his dress shirt and glasses before he’d been interrupted, leaving him standing there shirtless with the belt buckle on his dress pants undone.
“I’ve got him, sweetheart,” he told you. “Just finish your email. Pretty sure he just needs a diaper change. Nothing I can't handle.”
“Are you sure?” you asked. “I can get him if you want to finish getting out of your work clothes.”
Matt waved you off as he made his way over to the bassinet. “It’s fine,” he assured you. “Plus, I missed the little guy today.”
Silently you watched Matt, distracted by him bending over the bassinet and scooping your son up into his bare arms. He carried him across the room to the changing table you’d both struggled to set up just before you'd given birth–a comical memory now.
“By the way,” Matt said, gently lowering your son onto the changing table before unsnapping the bottom of his onesie, “Foggy, Marci, and Karen were wondering what time would work best for us to have them stop over this weekend.”
“Oh?” you asked, perking up on the couch. “So they’re finally coming to meet the little guy?”
“Now that things have slowed at the office a little,” Matt said, undoing the dirty diaper on your son as he glanced back over towards you. “Yeah, they were hoping to. Is that alright?”
“More than alright,” you told him. “I could use some company that isn’t a crying baby for once.”
Matt’s eyes narrowed at you. “You have me, don’t you?”
A teasing grin slid onto your face as you fought back a laugh. “I said what I said, Matty.” 
The corners of his mouth curled up into that smartass grin he often had before he hit you with a witty comeback of his own, but before he could retaliate, you saw what Matt failed to notice just a second before he realized what was happening. Eyes going wide, you abruptly pointed at the baby behind him as a stream of fresh piss shot up into the air. It wasn’t until the stream hit Matt square in his bare chest, his mouth dropping open in shock, that he realized his son was peeing on him.
“Not again !” Matt exclaimed, hurriedly focusing back on your son.
Throwing a hand over your mouth to cover your laugh, you rose from the couch and rushed over as Matt fumbled to grab a fresh diaper from beside himself in order to cover your son’s continuing stream. Struggling to fight back your amusement, you couldn’t help but find it funny that this wasn’t even the first time this had happened to him.
“The man without fear indeed,” you said, still choking back your laughter.
“What?” Matt distractedly asked.
“You,” you replied, coming to a stop beside him before lightly pushing him out of the way with your hip. “You're quite fearless to change a baby boy's diaper while repeatedly forgetting to keep him covered so you don't get peed on.”
“Well I was a little distracted,” he grumbled.
You held out a clean baby wipe towards Matt, still biting back the amused smile on your face. Matt accepted the wipe from your hand before beginning to clean off his chest.
“You know,” you began, focusing on finishing the diaper change, “for someone with heightened senses, you’d think out of the pair of us that it would be me who kept accidentally getting peed on. But no. Somehow it's always you.” 
“Hilarious,” Matt deadpanned.
“I think so,” you teased. “But why don't you jump in the shower?” you suggested, picking the baby back up into your arms when you'd finished securing a clean diaper on him. “I'm sure you don't want to smell like pee for the rest of the night.”
Matt stopped wiping at his chest, his hand dropping back to his side as his shoulders slumped. With his attention returning to you, he asked, “You love when this happens, don't you?” 
You shrugged your shoulders, still grinning. “I mean, it's kind of funny how you don't ever seem to learn,” you answered. “Because you’d think after the second or third time you’d remember the dangers of not covering him during a diaper change. Especially after that night last week.”
Matt shook his head, his expression still entirely unamused. “No, not you,” he said. He raised a hand to point a finger at the baby in your arms. “I was asking the little guy.”
Your gaze dropped down to your son before it returned to him. “Matt,” you said, once more struggling to fight down a laugh, “he's barely a month old. He can't even laugh yet. There’s no way he’s doing it for shits and giggles.”
“Uh huh,” he said, turning and making his way towards the bathroom now. “I bet that’s the real reason he always wakes up when I come home.”
Your brows jumped up onto your forehead. “To pee on you?” 
“Yes,” Matt called back over his shoulder, the hint of amusement now in his tone. “Just to pee on me.”
Grinning down at the little boy in your arms, you eyed him curiously. “Is that true?” you cooed at him. “Do you do that on purpose? Did you just wake up to pee on your dad?”
Your son only looked back up at you, his mouth opening wide in a yawn before he slowly closed his eyes again.
“Huh,” you mused, carrying the now sleepy baby back towards the bassinet. “Maybe there’s some merit behind that idea after all.”
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qqueenofhades · 4 months ago
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AAAAHHHHHHHH It's TIM! 1000% strong MN girl here and boy it's been real fun to watch Tim (and Peggy! Our amazing lieutenant governor) take a small small Democratic majority and do incredible things. My kid ate two meals at school every day for free. DELIGHTED that he's the VP pick. LET'S GOOOOOOOO!!!!
Listen, I am just ECSTATIC. Ever since I seriously became tuned into the veepstakes, he was my number one pick (I mean, I was not immune to the brief flirtation everyone had with Beshear/Buttigieg/etc), but yes. Walz was my top pick and I was trying desperately not to get my heart too set on him in case it fell through, but he was the obvious best choice of the contenders by a country mile. He has an almost absurdly Midwestern pro-America background (military veteran, public school teacher, football coach from a small rural town, etc) AND he has managed to enact a long list of progressive policies in Minnesota with a very narrow majority in the state legislature. Also, you're going to be seeing a lot of this video, for good reason:
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Also.... let's be real, Shapiro would have been an incredible distraction/drag on the ticket, unfortunately. We don't need to deal with his retrograde views on Gaza and his other baggage, and while he is a very popular governor in Pennsylvania, it's less certain that his appeal would translate to other states. We can argue (or you know, let's not and move on) about whether or not that was fair, but this is just not the year to try to win the most critical high-stakes election ever by pissing off young voters. Shapiro has done plenty of good things and has time to develop his career further, but he would have been a BAD pick for 2024 and I was alarmed at how many Respected Pundits (tm) were pulling for him. Reuters even claimed that picking him would "defang Republican attempts to make Israel-Gaza a wedge issue for Democrats," which is such a mind-bogglingly stupid statement that it makes you wonder how anyone writing it actually got paid for their political insight, but it also explains a lot about mainstream media these days. Picking Shapiro would have been an absolute gift to the Republicans and bad-faith actors and others (plus like, I don't want to have to spend time winning back the young voters who are actually once more engaged in the process!) and would have led to the media eagerly jumping into the feeding frenzy (because they're desperate to have a reason not to cover Trump's increasingly crazy-ass shit) and other Democratic-on-Democratic infighting. And it goes without saying that WE CANNOT AFFORD THAT.
As well, picking Shapiro just because you need to win PA this election cycle is yet another example of why the Electoral College sucks, and the polling averages in PA have been moving solidly blue anyway. You can just park Shapiro there and have him campaign in the state as the sitting popular governor, rather than expose him to the liability of a nationwide campaign where, as noted, all the other stuff would be a drag. If it's true that the establishment was pushing Harris to pick Shapiro and she picked Walz instead, a) GOOD! and b) if anything, this election cycle needs to fucking teach us that we have got to stop going with the Conventional Wisdom Tee Em. Walz was already out there, he was already popular with the public/energizing the grassroots, AND he was the guy who coined the "Weird" attack line that is actually effective and organically popular against the Republicans and drives them batshit. So for Kamala to lean into that and take him as her running mate is... zomgz... smart, and I am not used to the Democrats playing smart and aggressive and not just passive-defensive. I don't understand. Wow.
Anyway, now watch the New York Times (and the others, lbr, but especially the NYT) desperately try to dig up scandalous stories about that time Walz didn't stop at the 4H booth at the county fair, or walked past someone without saying "Ope just gonna sneak by ya first" or some other terrible Midwestern sin, but fuck those guys. I am EXCITED I am ENERGIZED I am THRILLED. This is a GREAT new ticket that came together at incredibly short notice and completely changed the dynamics everywhere, Walz is gonna make JD Vance cry (unsure whether I want to see Harris demolish Trumpster or Midwestern Dad to turn the cranks on Weird Couchfucking Fascist Skidmark more, but both, both, both is good). LET'S GO GET THOSE WEIRD MOTHERFUCKERS, Y'ALL!!
HARRIS/WALZ 2024!
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mayghosts · 4 months ago
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High Infidelity: Wound Open (1)
Summary: and the cycle repeats!
(Previous) (TOC) (Next)
Warnings: toxic relationships
AN: READ PILOT FIRST IT MAKES MORE SENSE guys I'm really trying to release more routinely, I promise there will be more coming ❤️
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You walked to the counter slowly, your feet sticking to the floor as you tried to avoid looking at Kate. Part of drowning your losses in fro-yo, was staring at the multitude of flavors, and then picking the same cherry and vanilla tart swirl every time. All of it is part of a routine to you, argue with Cait, ‘agree’ to go on a break, get your fro-yo, wallow in self hatred and isolation, let her appologize, get back together and then it just happens again.
Kate being here was never supposed to be a part of the routine. You sluggishly dragged your feet over to the toppings, mini marshmallows, cherry sauce, chocolate sprinkles and cool whip. Same as last time. It will be the exact same toppings next time.
As you reached for the cool whip spoon, you found yourself grabbing Kates hand from across the counter. “…Sorry” you pulled your hand back, looking up to watch Kate scoop a big lump of cool whip ontop of what looked like a big cup chocolate peanut butter swirl. She hummed back at you before reaching for the chocolate chip spoon. Awkwardly, you finished up your toppings and headed over to the register.
The flourencents hummed and the sound of the slamming register drawer broke you from your trance. The bored college student behind the register handed you your change, which you dropped in the tip jar before heading outside to sit in your car.
Patting your pockets and digging through your wallet, you came to the realization that you had locked your keys in your car. Slumping against the side of the building, you let the tears fall again. Sometimes, you couldn't help but feel that everything is absolutely pointless without Caitlin.
You snapped your head around as you heard the bell jingle to the shop door. Once again you found yourself making eye contact with Kate. She stalled for a minute in the doorway, seemingly trying to find the words to say before she gave up and just sat against the wall with you.
While you weren't exactly opposed to her company, this was very different from your typical routine. By now in the cycle you were supposed to be back in your dorm, wallowing in sadness and reliving the argument over and over again.
“I locked my keys in my car.” You turned your head to look at the side of her face as you spoke. Her face was illuminated by the yellow light pouring from the window above her head. She was silent for a second before she let out a quiet giggle that she attempted to hide with a cough. You gently smiled at her actions, before looking back at your fro-yo. It was silent for a moment before Kate looked at you again, “Want to go for a drive?”
Your hair whipped in the wind as Kate floored it, driving down the long straight road. Passing mile marker after mile marker, the remains of your fro-yo sat rejected in her cupholder. Resting your head in the open window you watched as the trees zoomed by in a blur of green and orange. You tilted your head to watch Kate as she drove. Two hands on the wheel, long blonde hair flapping around in the wind, she seemed so soft. You had always wondered how Kate and Caitlin got along so well. They had always seemed so different to you, but then again you knew Caitlin in a different way than you knew Kate.
You savoured the silence that remained between the two of you while it lasted. You knew that whatever peace you had with Kate now would be gone as soon as Caitlin called her and broke the news.
Caitlin had always been such a controlling factor in your life. Your friends were Caits friends, your closest family figures were Caitlins parents, your favorite movie was also Caitlins favorite. The list goes on. Without Caitlin being a present figure in your life, you found yourself without parents, friends or a favorite movie.
Frank ocean played quietly over her car speakers as Kate pulled into your dorm parking lot. “Thanks for driving me back.” you grabbed your melted cup of fro-yo and started to get out of the car. “Thanks for letting me drive you.” A small smile graced her face and in that moment you couldn't help but think how dreamy this whole night was. The rising sun cast oranges and pinks over the parking lot as you hummed back in response. “And don’t forget to call Triple AAA tomorrow morning, okay?” “goodnight Kate,” you smiled to yourself as you walked through the lobby.
The misery and self loathing didn't hit you until next morning, and you have Kate to thank for pushing back the misery time line.
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absurdthirst · 6 months ago
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Right Hand Man {Dave York x F!Reader}
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 14.8k
Warnings: 1920s AU, mentions of arranged marriage, domestic abuse, masturbation, voyeurism, infidelity, cuckolding, fingering, vaginal sex, oral sex (male receiving), pregnancy, childbirth, fighting, death
Comments: Positioned as your husband's right hand man, Dave watches. Knowing you are unhappy and you want him. Waiting until the time is right for him to make his move.
Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers
**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.
|| MasterList || Dave York MasterList ||
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Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.
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You sigh as you look across the dining room to your husband. The man you’ve been married to for three years. It feels like an eternity. The table is almost as long, positioning you on the opposite side so you have to practically shout to speak to him. He prefers that, you suppose, so he can have his peace and quiet. He’s a rich man, focused on business and not silly little things like books and art and poetry. None of your interests are his interests yet you married him because you were forced. Your parents arranged the marriage to him and you had to go along with it. In this day and age, a girl can’t afford to go it alone. You sip on your wine, expensive, of course. So expensive the dust needed to be wiped off of the bottle. Yet you barely notice the heady taste of it as your eyes flick over to the man sitting next to your husband at the other end of the dining table. David York. Dave, to your husband and those close to him. Your husband’s right hand man in business and the man you think about when your husband is inside of you.
Talking about business over dinner is never Dave’s favorite thing, but it keeps him occupied. Keeping him from glancing down to the end of the table to where you sit. He shouldn’t want you, shouldn’t know every time you lift the wine glass to your lips. Too many times, in his opinion. He shouldn’t hear the soft sigh that seems to reach only his own ears. You are a wife, the wife to, technically, his boss. He shouldn’t want you, but he does and he ignores it just like he has from the moment your husband brought you home to this elaborately overdone mansion to be a virtual prisoner.
You sigh again as Dave completely avoids looking at you. You know he’s loyal to your husband, Edward, but you can’t help imagining him losing control and taking you as his own. It’s what fuels you on lonely nights when dear Eddie is out fucking every whore within a ten mile radius. Any floozy who likes sparkly things. Like damn magpies. You were hurt when you were first married, now you’re just glad they do the job that is supposed to be yours. Outsourcing is what you affectionately call it when trying to preserve your dignity around the other wives when Edward takes you to the country club. Edward has fucked you, of course he has, in his desperate bid for an heir but you’ve been successful to avoid getting pregnant. Using every old wives tale to avoid it, you’ve been successful thus far. Although it’s a special occasion if Eddie does try to fuck you. Usually he’s too occupied with his work or his whores. You down the rest of your wine and stand up, bringing the eyes of the men at the other end of the table to you. “I’m going to bed.” You announce and Eddie doesn’t say anything as his eyes turn back to his papers.
Dark eyes fixed on you, noticing the pretty shade of lipstick you are wearing is wine smudged. Making it look like you’ve been thoroughly kissed. He clenches his jaw at how dismissively your husband treats you, but it’s not for nothing when Eddie murmurs his name. “Escort my wife to her room.” He suggests dismissively, even though it’s not a suggestion. For some strange reason, Eddie wanted you escorted through a home that was also supposed to be yours, but Dave doesn’t ignore the opportunity to spend a few moments with you. “Of course.” He nods and stands, buttoning his suit jacket before walking down to your end of the table.
Your heart pounds as Dave walks past you to open the house and you stumble slightly as you make your way past him and down the hall. Dave walks silently beside you, walking in front of you as you head upstairs to your quarters, and you admire his broad shoulders in his well tailored suit. Opening the door to your bedroom - Eddie has his own suite on the other side of the house - you walk in and turn to look at Dave, "thank you for escorting me back to my room." You say, biting your wine stained lips as the man stands there quietly. You wonder what's going through his mind and you desperately want to break him. To see if he feels the same way you do. The fact that you want to rip that suit off and make him moan your name. He's dangerous and that makes you want him even more, the capability he exudes. You decide to play with fire, reaching for the zipper of your dress as you pull it down, letting your dress slip from your body to pool at your feet, displaying the stockings, garter belt, and bra that are keeping you together beneath the expensive flapper dress that is all the style nowadays.
Every muscle in Dave’s body tightens and he wants nothing more than to jump on you. To devour you whole and make you scream his name while he pounds into you. Still, he shows no outward emotion. He can’t right now. He would lose his advantage and there were still pieces he was moving around the board. “Goodnight, Mrs. Holt.” He inclines his head respectfully and turns around to exit the room, thankful that his suit is cut in a way to hide the semi he’s sporting.
You stare at the door he closes behind him and you inhale sharply. You feel embarrassed and then the anger hits you. You offered yourself on a plate and he won’t touch you. You’ve only ever been with Edward, a deal made by your parents and his when you were a teenager. A deal you never had a say in. You were married off to Eddie as soon as you completed finishing school. Huffing, you decide to get ready for bed and form a plan to seduce David York.
Dave strides back into the dining room to find your husband moving towards his office. “I’m going to go to the club.” He tells Dave and he knows that your husband is actually going to his mistress’s townhouse. He doesn’t know if you are aware of it, but Eddie has taken to an actress and bought her a townhouse to keep her in town. It’s nothing that would probably surprise you, but it’s not Dave’s place to talk to him about his deplorable behavior. If Dave had a wife like you, he would never leave your bed. You would be in his room, it would be shared. Instead of telling him that he needs to stay home and pay you some attention, he nods. “Very well, I will forego my own plans this evening to keep an eye on things here.” He tells Eddie.
You slide into your bed, the silk sheets are luxurious but what good is luxury when you are in a gilded prison? Many would ask why you wouldn't try to leave. You have. You have told Eddie many times that you want to divorce him, to let him be the playboy he is without you waiting on him, but all that got you was a slap around the face. He told you that the only way you'd be leaving him would be in a casket. You nursed your bruised skin and carried on, trying to conceal the pain both inside and outside. Dave has been your only solace, granting you a glimpse into what could be. What you'd want if you weren't trapped in this marriage. You sigh, tossing in your bed, until you decide to get a drink to calm yourself down. Sliding into your robe and slippers, you make your way downstairs to the kitchen. The staff have all retired for the night so you appreciate the quiet as you enter the ornate kitchen to get a glass of water.
Sitting at the kitchen table, used by the staff. Dave sits with a bottle of scotch and a crystal glass. Even though his boss is a piece of shit, his wealth afforded a lot of luxuries that Dave had never known existed. He didn’t have the luxury of being born into the class that you and Eddie lived in. Dave had been born in the slums, scrapping and fighting from a small age for survival. It has served him, while he still was on the darker side of morality, he has risen from his humble roots. Sitting in a wealthy man’s kitchen, drinking his expensive liquor before sleeping in silk sheets. He stares at the amber liquid in the glass, wondering when he had stopped enjoying these things.
Your eyes widen as you see Dave sitting there sipping on what looks like scotch. “I didn’t expect you to still be here. I’m guessing Eddie has gone to see one of his whores?” You ask as you grab a glass and pour yourself some water. Dave’s dark eyes meet yours and you see the answer there. “Well, at least I have some peace and quiet.” You sigh and lean against the kitchen counter as you take a gulp of the water. “You’re still here? To babysit me?” You snort, “or you don’t have a home to go to?”
Dave’s stare at you is narrow, his eyes dark before he looks away. Down at his drink again. “Why drink at home when I can drink this for free?” He asks sarcastically, draining the rest of the scotch and pouring another two fingers. “I’ve got a room here.” He reminds you.
You nod, “yes. You’re the one who can come and go. Me? I’m trapped here.” You down the rest of your water and set the glass on the counter. “I was thinking about throwing a party. We haven’t had one for a while. Get the champagne flowing and Eddie can invite his girls right under my nose.” You chuckle humorlessly, “and I can get drunk and wallow in my self pity.” You sigh dramatically, “unless someone decides to distract me from my turmoil.” You say, undoing your robe and you stare at Dave for a moment, wanting to offer him another chance now that Eddie is gone.
It’s tempting. Fuck, he just knows you would melt under his touch. You’re innocent and it’s very telling that Eddie doesn’t talk about you like he does his other women. He likes that you’re nearly pure. Dave can tell you want to explore and do filthy things. “Choose someone I don’t like.” Dave grunts, making you frown. “Why is that?” You huff. Dave holds his glass up to the light and examines the liquor inside. “Because I’ll have to break the fingers of whoever touches you.”
Your eyes widen and your stomach clenches with arousal at the dark look in his eyes. You know he’s saying it because Eddie would kill anyone that touched you and he discovered it. Especially since he’s growing desperate for an heir to his estate. “Eddie’s right hand man protecting what belongs to his boss.” You snort, “of course.” You scoff and shake your head, “goodnight, David.” You make your way out of the kitchen, tying your robe as you slink back to your bedroom, embarrassment swirling in your gut as you put yourself on a platter for the man again and he refused to touch you. You’ll plan a party. That will distract you from wanting a man that doesn’t want you back.
Dave hisses after you leave the kitchen. Reaching down and adjusting the way his now hard cock is pressing against his trousers. Your nightgown was silky and thin, giving him no illusions and paired with the image of you in your undergarments has him throbbing. “Damnit.” He murmurs, wishing that he was in a position to do what he wants, but he’s not there yet.
****
The party you planned is in full swing. Eddie greets the guests with a champagne toast before the band begins to play and the swinging jazz is loud enough to echo through the estate. You sip your champagne, the tassels of your dress swinging as you sway to the music. You feel happy for the first time in weeks since Dave’s rejection and you’ve kept to yourself since that night, avoiding the man and your husband with experienced precision. Eddie is already off with Jasmine Parker, a socialite who you know is already vying for your position as Mrs. Holt and you are tempted to make it easy for her to take your place but Eddie would never allow it. Your parents are one of the founding families and he wants your status as his crowning glory on his empire. You glance at the couples dancing and kissing or more and sigh, feeling immensely alone. Deciding to take a break, you make your way to your quarters and set your champagne glass down. Stripping out of your dress, you take off your bra and panties and remain in your garter and stockings. It’s chilly tonight so you grab your furs, leaving on your pearls as you lay down and grab your glass of champagne, taking a sip before resting your head on your pillow. The jazz music has faded as you slide your hand along your body, imagining someone that adores you is touching you. Imagining that Dave is the one touching you with those strong capable hands. You whimper as you squeeze your breast, pinching your nipple and sliding your hand lower until you spread your thighs, pressing a delicate finger against your clit.
He’s not working tonight, so where you’ve disappeared to is none of his concern, but Dave looks at his watch when you don’t return to the party quickly. Frowning, he sets his champagne glass down, aware that your husband has no idea that you’ve disappeared from your own party. He checks the power rooms and then quickly makes his way over to your wing of the house, determined to find where you’ve gone.
You whimper, spreading your legs a little wider and moaning as you rub your clit. This is the only kind of pleasure you’ve ever known. Eddie has never made you feel desired or made you see stars…unless it’s his hand hitting your head. You sigh, a soft whisper of Dave’s name leaving your lips as you imagine him touching you. You imagine he’d be rough but giving, wanting to control your pleasure for his own satisfactions.
Your words in his mind, Dave moves silently down the hall to your rooms. He never agreed with having you on the opposite side of the house, but now he understands it. The sounds from the party are non-existent. He hears a moan and clenches his teeth in fury. He had turned down your obvious overtures and now you’ve found some other poor sap to risk getting his spine snapped. Even if Eddie wouldn’t order it, Dave will beat the life out of whoever had touched you. Fist tight to his side, the other hand turns the handle to your room and he barges in, eager to interrupt your little tête à tête.
You gasp, spilling some champagne as Dave barges in the room, fists clenched, and the shock dissipates almost immediately when you see he’s alone. You smirk and tilt your head back against your pillow, continuing to rub your clit as you work yourself up to an orgasm in front of your husband’s right hand man.
He can’t even speak. Nude except for a fur stole and pearls, your hand is between your thigh and the other clutching a flute of champagne makes you look like the classiest of whores. But a whore, you are not. You’re a woman who has been denied pleasure and Dave feels his restraint snap. Flipping the latch to your door so no one else can enter, he strides over to your bed and grabs your hand that’s between your thighs and pulls it away.
Your eyes narrow and you practically growl at him as he stops you from pleasuring yourself. "Are you going to control the way I touch myself too?" You hiss at him but he silences you by sliding your fingers into his mouth. Those dark eyes on yours as he tastes your arousal from your digits and you heave a breath at the lust that slams into you. "I just wanted a taste." He explains after he releases your fingers and you nod, dumbstruck. "Continue touching yourself." He demands, stepping back and you whine, "David." He shakes his head, "I want to watch you make yourself cum." His voice is full of command that makes you gush again and how can you deny him? Your hand shakes slightly as you press your damp fingers to your folds, rubbing your clit as your eyes meet his and your mouth falls open while you work yourself towards your climax.
Your nipples are hard, making his palms itch to fill his hands with your skin. To squeeze them and pinch the sensitive buds. But between your thighs, that is where the real show is. His dark eyes fix on your hand, occasionally flicking to watch your expression again. “Fuck.” He hisses.
You feel powerful, having him watch you as you take your own pleasure. His hissed curse pushes you closer and you keep your eyes on him as you whimper, getting closer and closer until finally, you fall over the edge. His name is not unexpected to fall from your lips but you know you’ll fluster later thinking about this moment. The way he unraveled you without a touch. “Dave.” You gasp as your fingers furiously rub your clit to work yourself through your orgasm.
Dave’s entire body hurts with the desire to claim you. To make you cry out his name because of him. Because of what he does to you. He can’t. You aren’t his. You are Eddie’s, even if the bastard doesn’t appreciate you. Your eyes are closed and there’s a softness to you as you catch your breath. “Beautiful, princess.” He grunts. “Now go to sleep.” He orders, turning around and walking away before he fucks up and crosses a line he can’t go back from.
You stare at him as he opens the door and exits your bedroom. "You bastard!" You scream at him, throwing the champagne glass at the door as you choke on a sob. You feel used now. He watched you in a vulnerable moment and didn't make a move. He's messing with you. Maybe he's testing you on Edward's behalf. You sob as you stumble into your en-suite, feeling so alone despite the hundreds of people partying below. You hate David York.
When he closes the door, Dave sighs. It had been so tempting but he just can’t touch you. 
****
“I will be gone for a week.” Eddie adjusts his collar and straightens his tie. “Business.” The smirk on his face tells Dave the business is that budding little socialite actress that he had been fucking. He nods. “What do you want me to do?”
Edward grabs his briefcase, “you stay here. Make sure my darling wife doesn’t escape. I don’t want her leaving the estate. You understand?” He asks Dave, “she hasn’t given me an heir yet. It’s…getting tedious.” Edward huffs and shakes his head, “I will have to have a doctor see to her soon if she does not conceive when I decide to fuck her next.”
He wants to tell Eddie that it’s hard to impregnant someone if they never fuck them, but he just nods silently. “Knew I could count on you.” He smirks and then chuckles. “Drink the scotch, it will help you get through the week with my boring wife.”
You know that Eddie is going into the city to see the latest woman that has caught his fancy. You don’t care. It’s saving you a week of hoping he doesn’t come to your room to ask for sex. You expect to have the estate to yourself when you see Eddie’s car disappear down the driveway and you make your way downstairs. You’re surprised when you find Dave sitting in the kitchen, sipping a cup of coffee that the housekeeper prepared for him. “What are you doing here, David?” You ask petulantly. Annoyed that Eddie let Dave here to babysit you and make sure you won’t escape.
“Keeping an eye on things.” He knows you are annoyed with him, you’ve made that quite clear by giving him the cold shoulder since the party. As long as you or Eddie don’t know how often he jerks off thinking about you spread out and playing with your cunt. “Here for the week, so deal with it.”
You huff, grabbing a glass to pour yourself a glass of orange juice that the housekeeper squeezed fresh this morning. “Well, it’s going to be a boring week for you.” You hum and lick your lips.
“Don’t mind boring.” He chuckles and shakes his head. “Better than a busy week.” He admits, happy for the downtime, especially since he’s almost got everything prepared to walk away.”
You cross your arms, "well, it's going to be boring for me. Hanging around this house. Nothing to do except drink and read." You sigh, picking up your glass and taking a sip. "Not like anyone here will entertain me."
Dave snorts, enjoying the obvious attempt you are making to goad him. “Poor little rich girl.” He sympathizes mockingly. “Maybe I should send the housekeeper, maids and cook away to give you something to do?”
You narrow your eyes at him, “I did not - you misunderstood me. You always seem to do that.” You huff and shake your head, “you’re infuriating. Following Edward around like his lost puppy. What are you waiting for? Him to throw you a bone? Money? He’s just using you like he uses all of us.” You spit at him, “we are all pawns in his game and you’re doing his dirty work.”
Dave narrows his eyes at you for a moment, not liking your view of him, but then he chuckles. “You think he’s using me, Princess?” He snorts. “That’s rich. Very rich. Considering.”
“Considering what?” You narrow your eyes at him again and slam your glass down, walking over to the kitchen table to press your palms to the tabletop. Your eyes burn into his as you lean over him. “What do you mean?” You demand to know.
Even if you said something to Edward, he wouldn’t believe you but Dave doesn’t think that you would willingly tell your husband this. “Considering…..” Dave smirks at you. “I’m using him. Have been since I saved him from getting beat to death.” He chuckles. “I drink his booze, sleep under his roof….” His eyes drop down to your cleavage. “Watch his wife make herself cum.”
You inhale sharply, shifting to stand up straight. You remember the first time Edward brought Dave home. He said he’d met him at a work function and clicked with the younger man. “You- he said you met at a work function. Wow…he’s even lied to me about that. I don’t think the man is capable of telling his wife the truth. Maybe that’s why she lets other men watch her cum.” You snort and turn away from Dave to grab your drink. It’s refreshing to hear someone say they are using Edward when your husband thinks he has everyone figured out and under his control.
Dave chuckles, watching you pour your drink and take a sip. “I was entertained.” He hums, drinking the rest of his coffee and standing after he folds the newspaper. “But soon, I’ll be leaving your husband’s employment.”
You turn to look at him, trying to hide your disappointment. As much as you and Dave have this - this unspoken thing - between you, you know you’ll die of boredom without him bothering you. You will be left in your quarters without anyone to talk to or spar with. You’ll be utterly heartbroken without him. You hate the idea of him going but you hate the idea of telling him that more. “Where are you going?” You inquire, trying to act like you don’t really care.
“Work for myself.” What you aren’t aware of, is that Edward isn’t very well liked amongst his business partners. Too brash and easy to dismiss. Dave has been watching and acquiring contacts. Networking under his nose. Almost ready to pull the rug out from under him.
“You can’t leave.” You tell him and he snorts, “and why not, Princess?” He asks and you blurt out, “you can’t leave me here alone. I don’t want you to go.” The words are out before you can stop them and you immediately regret them, knowing he’s got the upper hand once again.
“I’m not leaving yet.” He promises, even though he doesn’t know why he is assuring you of that. “Soon you’ll be busy having Edward’s children and raising them.”
You scoff, “he’d actually have to fuck me to get that to happen and even if he did I would try everything to prevent it.” You say without thinking and your eyes widen. “I didn’t - oh God. Don’t tell him that I- Dave.” You plead and he shakes his head, “your secret is safe with me, Princess. Just be a good girl.” He urges and you frown as he leaves the kitchen. Every interaction with the man confuses you even more until you don’t know where you stand with him.
Dave spends the afternoon in Eddie’s office. Using the telephone in there to make several calls and once he sets the phone down in the cradle once last time, he smirks to himself. Tapping his hand on the desk that exudes the image of power and considers buying one for himself once he has his own mansion. Tilting his head when he hears a noise, he pushes back from the desk and stands. Wanting to make sure that you’ve not decided to throw another party last minute.
You sway to the music coming out of the radio and smile at the familiar song. Swaying your hips, you lift your hands over your head as you start to dance, letting your mind go blank as you enjoy the freedom without Eddie in the house. Even if it can get lonely with only the staff to keep you company.
You had made comments about being lonely, but Eddie had always waved it away as you being spoilt because you weren’t being doted on. Watching you dance to the music, no one else on the floor, Dave is struck by just how alone you are. Isolated and confined by the man you had been married off to. His heart pounds and before he can talk himself out of it, he’s quickly moving quietly across the floor to sweep you up into his arms. The staff has gone home, so it’s just you and him in the house.
You gasp as you feel someone grab you and your first instinct is to fight until you see it’s Dave. “Goodness, you scared me.” You confess and he chuckles as he starts to lead you, swaying you to the music. Your fingers flex against his bicep, his jacket discarded somewhere and you feel secure in his arms, you feel safe. This is what you have yearned for during your nights alone. “I didn’t know you could dance.” You murmur, looking into those beautiful dark brown eyes that hold secrets you’ll never be privy to.
“Never done it.” Dave admits with a small smirk. “Watched it plenty, practiced by myself.” He knows you won’t judge him for that, now when you have just been dancing by yourself as well. “If I’m going to be a wealthy man one day, I should be able to dance.”
You like his ambition, the sparkle in his eyes. “Just promise me one thing.” You request as his hand rests on the small of your back. “Tell me, Princess.” He orders and you look into his eyes for a second. “Don’t forget who you are. Be true to yourself.” You urge, knowing what money can do to men. It can corrupt, it destroys. You don’t want to see him change when he’s strong and charismatic and…and sexy.
Dave lifts a brow, surprised by your request and he nods. “Grew up dirt poor and fighting to survive.” He reveals quietly. “Don’t think I’ll ever forget that but when I finally have a wife, kids of my own, I want to give them the world.”
You hate the thought of him married to another woman, giving her the life she deserves and all of him. Having his children. Dave is a rare gem in your otherwise lackluster jewelry box of family, friends, and acquaintances. He’s authentic and you love that.
Your expression falls and Dave frowns, letting go of your waist when you look away and grabbing your chin gently to turn it back towards him. You flinch and that pisses him off, knowing that Eddie had slapped you around too often for Dave’s liking. He could beat on a woman, but too much of a coward to take on a man his own size. “What?”
You push his hand away from your chin. “You don’t care. You’re here to babysit me for Eddie. Even throwing myself at you…you reject me. Lord above, you’ve seen me - well, you’ve seen all of me and yet I’ve seen none of you. Not even your true thoughts and feelings. I feel exposed when you just look at me. It unnerves me and yet it makes me want to beg you to fuck me but God forbid I stoop so low to beg. You’d surely laugh at me and I couldn’t - that would be too much to bear for a woman who constantly lives as an ornament in her own home.” You choke and turn away from him, not wanting to stay and hear him reject you again.
Dave grabs your arm harshly and spins you around to face him again. Making you gasp out in surprise and the retort that he had died on his lips. Surging forward as he crushes you to him, Dave’s mouth falls over yours in a completely devouring kiss. Giving into the emotions and wants that he has been so careful to keep secret until now.
You gasp into his mouth, shocked for several seconds until you melt against him. He kisses you like a man starved of affection. You’ve never been kissed like this. Edward only kisses you in public to keep up pretenses. Your fingers find purchase in his slicked back hair and you press yourself against him as you let him devour you.
Dave licks into your mouth like you are the sweetest treat. Sampling you and groaning at the flavors that make you up. His hands tighten on your body and he starts striding back, guiding you towards the door and pressing you against it while he plunders your mouth greedily.
Your hands slide down to grip his shirt, pulling him even closer as he presses you into the ornate wooden door. “Dave.” You gasp when he pulls back to let you catch your breath and he trails his kisses along your jaw. “Please.” You beg, needing more from him.
You deserve more than a quick fuck against a door. You deserve to be taken apart and shown how desirable you are. “Where do you want me to fuck you, Princess?” He growls, sliding his hand down to cup your cunt through your dress. “Here? On your husband’s desk? Your bed?”
“Oh God.” You can’t deny the idea of him taking you on Eddie’s beloved desk makes you soak your panties but you want to be fucked by Dave in a bed. “Bed. My bed.” You manage to spit out as he bites down on your neck and rubs your pussy through the silk.
He chuckles darkly, happy you had chosen that option. He wants to spread you out. Pulling away, he decides he’s going to show you how much he wants you. Ducking down, Dave flips you over his shoulder and stands straight despite your shriek of surprise. Striding out of the ballroom and towards the stairs that will take him to your room.
Your hands scramble to grip him so he doesn’t drop you but he carries you up the stairs and practically kicks your door open, throwing you down on the bed. You don’t get a chance to move when he is dragging you down to the edge of the bed, pulling off your shoes. “Want you naked.” He demands and you nod, “undress me.”
He’s not gentle. Not when he’s going to see you naked again. The image is burned into his mind and he wants to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. Fabric rips but he just pulls harder in his haste to have you bare. “He’s a fucking idiot.” Dave hisses when he has you out of your dress to work on your undergarments. “I’d be right here. Everyday. Devouring you instead of fucking off.”
His words make you moan. A sound that’s been foreign to you in your prior couplings with your husband. Dave brings out a side of you you’ve never known. His hands work fast to remove your underwear, ripping the stockings and untying the garter belt. When you’re fully bare in front of you, you realize he’s still dressed. “This isn’t fair. You’re still clothed.” You huff, shaking your head at him as he looms above you.
He rolls his eyes but his tie is already gone so he slips the suspenders off his shoulders and starts to unbutton his shirt. “You want me naked, Princess? Over you, inside you like I’ve imagined a thousand times?” He smirks when he moves to shrug out of the shirt. “Jerked my cock raw the night you played with your cunt in front of me. Hottest goddamn thing I’ve ever seen.”
You are hypnotized by him as he removes his clothes. “I - I thought you were revolted by me that night. That you didn’t want me.” You confess breathlessly as he works in his trousers and you are so eager to see him.
“Princess, if you could hear the thoughts I was having…” Dave snorts. “The fucking arguement of why it was so stupid to touch you just then. I would have sold my fucking soul for an hour between those pretty thighs.”
You moan at his words and shift to kneel on the bed, reaching out to unbutton his pants, letting them fall to the floor and you reach into his briefs to pull out his hard cock. “Fuck me.” You choke at the sheer size of him, and you squeeze him. “I would’ve sold my soul if I knew you had this hiding in your pants.” You confess, looking up at him.
He chuckles, aware that for all his boasting, Dave has your husband beat in cock size. “You don’t even know if you can take me, Princess. I know that little cunt is tight.” He smirks. “Why don’t you get it nice and wet by sucking my cock like a good little whore?”
His words should insult you. You should slap him for being so crass but instead, it makes you moan. You moan and shuffle closer, your eyes fixed on his as you take him into your mouth. Jaw stretched as you wrap your lips around the head and taste the salt of his pre-cum that gathered.
“Fuck.” Dave hisses, looking down at where you are taking his cock into your mouth. It’s clear that you have no experience in it, Eddie had claimed you were disgusted by the idea, but it was just him you were refusing. “Relax your jaw.” He grunts, caressing your cheek and then sliding his hand down to cup your chin. Feeling your throat move. “Don’t gag.”
You follow his order, relaxing your jaw and you close your eyes to focus on not gagging as he rocks his hips. You want this to be good for him. You want him to enjoy every second of being with you. Your eyes open again just as he thrusts a little too hard and you gag as he pushes down your throat.
Pulling his hips back, Dave waits for you to catch your breath. “Is your cunt dripping? Throbbing from how turned on you are?” He coos, smirking down at your watery face. “You like it. You want me to use you, don’t you?”
You want him to use you, to make you feel things you’ve never felt before. “Yes. Please Dave. I need - I don’t even know what I need. No one - Edward never- please. Use me.” You beg and surge forward to take him into your mouth again.
Dave grunts, grabbing the back of your head and this time, he isn’t gentle. The way you eagerly open up for him has his hips snapping forward and he ignores the way you gag and gasp, enjoying the way your eyes water and your body heaves. Your cunt will be dripping wet by the time he touches you. Holding onto your head, he starts fucking your mouth, showing you how your husband should have been putting that smart little hole to use.
You choke around him, spit flying from your mouth and you moan when his cock twitches violently in your mouth. This is what you want. Passion. Need. Desire. Not just doing a duty. You moan his name, it's muffled around his length but you love when his dark eyes meet your watery ones and he lets out a dark chuckle.
“You love it.” He hums, rubbing his thumb through your spit. “Fuck, I bet you could cum from sucking my cock. Filthy.” He wants to spill down your throat, but he wants to fill you up more. Reluctantly pulling his hips back, he taps your cheek. “Flip over and push your ass up in the air. Legs spread. I want to see that cunt.”
You gasp, trying to catch your breath as a line of spit keeps you connected to him. “Fuck. Yes baby. I- I want you.” You promise and shift to kneel on the bed, settling down onto your elbows so he can see your dripping pussy on display for him.
Goddamn, your cunt is slick and shiny with arousal and Dave’s cock twitches. He reaches out and slaps your ass harshly, loving how you cry out in surprise. “Fuck.”
You cry out again when he smacks you and you love it. Sometimes Edward would smack your face if you displeased him but this - Dave smacking your ass- has you dripping for him. “Please baby. More.” You beg, wanting to feel more from him.
He chuckles, slapping your ass again and grabbing it with both hands. Squeezing it and pulling your cheeks apart to get a better look. He’s had plenty of women, but none that he’s wanted as much as he wants you. He slides a hand down to your cunt and groans at how wet you are. “Such a little whore, aren’t you? My whore.”
You should slap him for speaking to you like that but you can’t. You moan and nod, “yours, Dave. All yours. Your whore.” You promise as his fingers rub your hole to gather up all the arousal that has gathered there.
Dave groans at how wet you are, sliding two of his thick fingers inside you and hissing at how tight you are.
You pant as he pushes his digits deep and you know you’re going to enjoy this more than your own fingers inside of you. “Oh God, Dave.” You whine as he starts to pump his fingers inside of you. “Yessss.” You hiss when he curls them just right and your thighs shake slightly.
“Fuck, he’s been slacking.” He grunts. “I would have had this cunt worn out. Split open on my cock every night until you can't walk.” You aren’t his, but he would be so possessive of you if you were. Pushing him away, he would be so eager to bend you over and feed you his cock into all your holes.
You gasp at his words, gushing around his digits and his thumb presses against your clit. “Oh God. Oh shit. Da-Dave.” You cry as you clamp down on his fingers and moan his name, “I love - I love it.” You choke as he works you through your orgasm. The first you’ve ever had from another person.
Dave hisses at how tight you get, squeezing his fingers like a vice. “That’s it, Princess. You cum for me. Want you to be cock drunk when I’m done with you.” He’s got no intention of stopping now. Not when you have moaned his name because of him, he’s greedy for it.
You press your cheek against the cool sheets as his wet fingers caress your ass. “David.” You plead softly, “I need you to fuck me. Hard.” You beg, needing more from him. You’ve wanted him for so long. You need him now.
“I’m going to, Princess.” He doesn’t say anything else as he kneels behind you, ready to mount up. He knows that you are about to cheat, but you don’t care. He pumps his cock a few times and notches himself at your entrance, pushing deep with a grunt of your name.
You practically sob as he stretches you out. “Dave. Dave. Dave.” You chant as he stretches you more than Edward has ever. You feel like he’s splitting you in two but you fucking love it. You choke as he starts to move, thrusting hard and fast inside of you. You whimper as he thrusts deep, his fingers digging into your flesh and you swear you see stars.
He’s not gentle, you don’t want him to be. His hips slap against your ass while he ruthlessly buries his cock as deep as he can every thrust. Taking you, possessing you in the only way that he knows how and loving every single time you clamp down around him.
He pants as you push back against him, wanting him to take what he wants from you. “Yesss.” You hiss into the sheets, “that’s it baby. Oh God. Keep - keep going.” You plead as his fingers dig into your hips.
Dave groans, rubbing your hip and then slapping your ass right before he pushes deep again. “Good fucking god.” He hisses. “You are perfect. Fucking perfect.” So innocent, yet so fucking filthy. He twitches inside you. “You gonna cum on my cock for me?”
You nod, frantically trying to show him how good you can be for him. “Yes. Yes. I’m gonna - oh shit, Dave. You’re - it’s so good. I love - oh fuck.” You choke as he rocks into you, “I want you to- to show me what I’ve been missing.”
“This cunt is mine.” Dave growls, snapping his hips forward again. “Not his. Mine. Do you understand?” He rocks his hips and reaches around to grab your tit and squeezes. “Understand? You’re my whore now.
“Yes. Yes. Yours. All yours.” You promise as he squeezes your breast and you whimper his name, “I’m yours baby.” You vow as he fucks you into the mattress. Your wedding band glistens in the lamplight but you don’t pay it any mind, too focused on the man fucking you hard.
Dave grunts, knowing that he is getting close to cumming. Trying to hold back until you finish. Knowing that he needs to prove himself better than the piece of shit you’re married to. He slides his hand down to rub your clit as he pounds into you like it’s the last thing he will do.
Your nails dig into the bed sheets as he thrusts deep enough that you swear you feel him in your stomach and you are glad the staff have gone home so they don’t hear your cries of pleasure. “Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh! Ohhhh!” You squeal as you clamp down on his cock, thighs shaking and you collapse onto the sheets.
You soak him, making him groan. The squelching of his cock loud as he rocks through your orgasm and chases his own. “Fuck, fuck.” He spits out your name. “Gonna cum.”
You should tell him to pull out. To spill on your sheets or your skin. Yet the idea of him filling you up has you climaxing again, clamping down on his cock and he seems to be unable to hold back as he thrusts deep and spills inside of you, painting your walls. “Yessss.” You cry out, closing your eyes and tears push out of them as you moan into the sheets.
Dave growls as he fills you, bending over and covering your body with his while his cum paints your walls. “Fuck.” He pants, his forehead resting against your shoulder and he hisses in pleasure when your walls flutter around him. “You’re perfect.” He murmurs again.
You remain pressed into the mattress, his hot breaths against your skin make you shiver slightly and you revel in the bliss of being touched now you’ve always wanted. Especially by Dave. “God. You too. You too baby.” You murmur, not considering the consequences as you enjoy your betrayal of Edward, the birth of your freedom.
He doesn’t pull out immediately, staying buried inside you. His hand sliding back up to your breast and pinching your nipple. He chuckles when you squeal and nips your shoulder. “Shit.”
“I’ve waited a long time for you to do that.” You confess breathlessly and his chuckle vibrates against your skin. “Me too.” He admits and you turn your head to look at him. “I was convinced that Edward had you keeping me prisoner here for him.”
Dave snorts. “He might have thought that. But I was keeping an eye on you. If I was here, he was less likely to slap you around.” He murmurs softly.
You stiffen slightly at the reminder and Dave misreads and pulls out of you, not touching you as you shift to look at him. “He’s a bastard. I didn’t - my parents promised me to him when I was sixteen. We got married when I completed finishing school. He’s all I have ever known and - and he’s - I don’t think I can survive a lifetime being his wife.”
“I know.” Dave nods seriously. “He’s a bastard and his deeds are worse than you know.” He admits. “I know all his skeletons, and he’s never deserved you. Never deserved to touch you. I know I don’t deserve to touch you either, but I would never hit you.”
You sigh, reaching up to caress his cheek. “I shouldn’t trust you, but I do. You have done nothing but protect me. I know you’ve tried to talk to Eddie about him hitting me. You’ve fought my corner and I am so grateful to you for that, sweetheart.” You confess, sliding your hand down his neck until your palm rests over his heart. “Eddie can never know about this.” You say, “he will kill me.”
He’s a little insulted that you believe that he would let that happen, but he doesn’t push it. Knowing that sometimes seeing is believing. “Nothing will happen to you.” He promises vaguely, sure that you will think that means that Eddie won’t know. “You might be his wife, but you are mine.”
You can’t stop the smile on your face as he declares you as his. “Yours.” You promise, shifting onto your knees so you can lean in to kiss him. “I’m yours, baby.” You promise, “and we have at least a few days to enjoy ourselves.”
Dave smirks. “So you want me to send the staff home?” He asks, curious to see what you want. “Or just limit ourselves to the night when everyone has left?”
“Send them home. I don’t want them blabbing to Eddie about us and I definitely don’t want to miss a moment without touching you while I can.” You say, kissing his neck, “I want my fill of you.”
Chuckling, he reaches down and rubs your tit again. “So we’ll send them home and play house? The little woman gonna cook, clean and let me fuck her?” You snort but Dave knows you know how to cook. You’ve been taught to be a proper wife. “We’ll have a good week, Princess. I’ll take care of you.”
After you explain to the staff that you want a week to yourself to exercise the cooking and cleaning skills you were taught with a promise that they would still be paid, you and Dave are left alone to enjoy each other’s company. You decide to make dinner, getting the chicken from the icebox and you start chopping vegetables to show Dave what a good wife you could be if only Eddie hadn’t trapped you in this gilded cage.
Dave grunts and he walks into the kitchen, finding you in your bare feet and a house dress that he knows you aren’t wearing anything under. Even if it’s not traditionally lingerie, it’s sexy. To see you so relaxed. His cock twitches and he has found himself addicted to you. Fucking you all over the house, but he hasn’t taken you in the kitchen yet. He smirks to himself as he comes behind you and grabs your hips to press you against the cabinets. “Never figured a shapeless house dress would be so appealing.” He groans in your ear. “But I know all you have under it is your wet cunt, still slick from my spit.” He had taught you that a real man eats a cunt and you had begged him for it every morning so far.
You whimper as he kisses along your neck, “fuck. I- I love it. Wanted - wanted you to be able to touch me whenever you want.” You confess as you set the knife down on the counter and turn your head so you can press your lips to his.
Dave has touched you whenever he wanted. Done what he’s wanted with your body and you’ve loved it. Screamed his name every time when you’ve cum and confessed you’ve never cum so much in a week. His tongue slides into your mouth insistently and he presses his hard cock against your ass. Grinding against you as he kisses you and only when you’re breathless does he pull back. “Can you keep making dinner while I fuck you?” He asks, smirking as he slides the material up and sinks his hand between your thighs. “Keep cutting your vegetables while my cock is buried in your little cunt?”
You pant as he rubs your clit and you close your eyes for a second until he withdraws his hand and you whine. "Keep cutting." He demands and you pick up the knife with a shaky hand, moving extra slow to not cut yourself as he rubs your clit while his lips press against the nape of your neck.
“That’s it, Princess.” He praises roughly, loving how you will do anything and everything he asks of you. His fingers work your clit and he pulls his other hand back to work the belt of his trousers open. Foregoing suspenders today. “Gonna feel so good. Might want to eat with you on my cock.”
You pant as he touches you until he’s withdrawing his hand and you whine, annoyed until he lifts your dress higher and kicks your ankles apart, gripping his cock until he positions himself at your entrance. You gasp, nearly dropping the knife as he pushes into you. “Oh shit. Dave.” You moan at the sudden way he enters you.
“Oh shit is right.” Dave grits out. “You’re so tight, Princess. Your greedy little cunt just squeezes my cock tight.” He praises. “So fucking good. Keep chopping.” He orders, drawing his hips back and filling you again, just as quickly. Groaning your name as he sets a steady, even pace.
You cling to the knife, closing your eyes as he rocks into you, and you whimper, loving how it feels to have him inside of you like those. “Fuck Dave.” You whine and he growls, “keep cutting.” You obey, shifting to continue cutting the vegetables, and nearly chop off the tip of your finger as he hits something incredible inside of you.
Dave hisses, closing his eyes as he thrusts into you again and again. He’s already filled you up so many times, he’s sure you’re pregnant. You would have to be, but he doesn’t care. He wants you to be. Just to show the world you are his. “So fucking good, Princess. You gonna cum?”
You groan as he rocks into you, “fuck baby. I- Dave. Oh shit.” You choke, the knife clattering to the counter as he works you closer to your orgasm. “Yes - yea -yes. I’m gonna - oh God!” You squeal, lifting onto your tiptoes as he pushes you higher on the counter and he makes you cum hard.
He loves it. Loves how tight you get and how hard you cum. Soaking his length and squeezing it so damn tight he can barely move as you flutter around him. “Perfect.” He groans and rocks you through it before you relax and he can get his own.
You clench your fists as he tries to move inside of you. “Cum for me, Dave. Need - need to feel it. Please.” You beg, turning back to look at him over your shoulder. “Cum for me, my love.” You order, needing to feel him paint your walls for the umpteenth time.
Dave growls your name, feeling incredibly possessive as he fucks into your frantically. Needing to claim you, mark you as his own again and his hips bang you into the counter as he chases his orgasm. Thrusting deep and stiffening as he pumps you full of his seed with a groan of pleasure.
You moan as you watch him, panting as he thrusts slowly to ride out his orgasm and you love how good it feels to have him touch you like this. Your time is coming to an end. Eddie will be returning in the morning and you know you’ll be aching for Dave when he has to retreat from your bed.
Dave pants, dropping his head onto your shoulder as he catches his breath. “Fuck.” He moans softly, chuckling. “It keeps getting better.” He muses, pulling out of you gently to tuck himself away.
You nod, feeling his cum start to drip as he pulls out of you but you don’t care as you grab the knife and resume cutting up the vegetables. “Dinner won’t be too long.” You tell him as he adjusts his suspenders and lowers your house dress. You desperately wish Eddie wasn’t coming back. That you could stay in this domestic bliss with Dave forever. That’s not going to happen though. Especially when you don’t notice the front door being opened.
“I’m home!” Eddie calls out, making Dave stiffen slightly. “Where the fuck is everyone?”  He shouts. Dave doesn’t look at you, just disappears through the doorway to go greet your husband. “Your wife was bored so I sent the staff home.” He greets Eddie with a smirk that is completely for show. “Let her cook and clean.”
Your back stiffens as you hear Eddie shout out and you hiss as you catch your finger with the knife, blood starting to drip from your skin. You set the knife down just as Eddie walks into the kitchen, Dave’s cum slick on your inner thighs. “Hello darling.” He greets you and comes over to press a kiss to your lips. “Look at you, acting like a domestic goddess.” He mocks you as he grabs your wrist, “can’t even cut some vegetables up.” He scoffs, “I’ll call the staff back right away. I want things done properly around here.” He says as he lets go of your wrist, blood trickling down your finger.
Dave can tell you are upset and he catches Eddie’s attention. “Come let me tell you how everything’s been going.” He tells him. “Have a drink and you can relax. I know you are tired from work.”
You watch the men leave, your eyes burning into Dave’s back as he walks out of the kitchen and tears sting in your eyes. Was this all a game to him? To seduce you and leave you in this terrible marriage. Tears stream down your cheeks and mix with the water as you wash your hand and bandages your finger up, finishing up the vegetables and putting the chicken in to cook while you bathe to wash Dave’s cum from your thighs.
Dave forces a smile on his face while he listens to Eddie boast about the little whore he had been fucking all week. Lying about his prowess when he knows the other man does a shit job with fucking. “Decided I needed to come home and finally get my useless wife pregnant.” He huffs. “Although if she doesn’t give me a son soon, I’m going to leave her.” Dave pretends to look understanding but he wants to choke the man. “I don’t think that you’re gonna be able to right now.” He tells him. “She’s been complaining about womanly things.” He confides.
****
Dinner is served in the dining room, Eddie and Dave seated at one end of the table, you at the other. You had changed into an evening dress and laid out the dinner for you and the men. “Needs more seasoning. It’s a bit overcooked.” Eddie tells Dave who doesn’t glance over at you. You miss those dark brown eyes already. You reach for your glass of wine, downing it, and you don’t know how long you can suffer being prisoner in this house with Eddie.
Dave hums and cleans his plate, eating every bite of the delicious food. Everything was perfect, your husband just enjoys finding faults with you. Dave knows he’s never loved you, never really wanted more than your connections, your name attached to his. “I’m going to stay tonight.” Dave tells him. “My housekeeper has the week off since you were supposed to be back tomorrow.”
“Of course. Stay. You might want to take one of the rooms on the other side of the house.” Eddie whispers and you don’t hear as you stand up, “I’m going to clean up and retreat to my quarters. Dessert is on the counter if you wish to have it.” You tell the men after they stand up and Dave looks at you for the first time since Edward returned. “Goodnight Eddie. Goodnight David.” You say and take your plate to the kitchen to wash it up. You feel a little sick at the fact that the week with Dave will always be in your mind, a taste of what freedom could feel like.
Dave frowns slightly, unhappy that the idiot had ignored his lie that you were experiencing your monthly bleeding. Instead of pressing it, which would seem strange, he just grunts. He has no intention of sleeping anywhere but your bed.
****
You are in your nightgown, ready for bed, when there’s a knock at your door. You grin, thinking it’s Dave and you rush over to the door, flinging it open and your stomach drops when it’s Edward standing there, glass of whiskey in hand. “To what do I owe this honor?” You ask, unable to withhold an attitude - something you’ve picked up from Dave over the week. Eddie steps into your room, shutting the door behind him and you swallow harshly. “I want to fuck my wife after I’ve been gone all week.” He declares and you shake your head, “I am having my monthly bleed. You can’t - you don’t like it.” You remind him of his disgust for your natural cycle - a reminder of your failures as his wife, you suppose. “I don’t give a fuck about that. Need to get you pregnant.” He grunts and steps closer, “lay down. I won’t be long.” He promises, working on removing his suspenders. You know it would be suspicious to argue, to refuse him. You want to scream at him that no one is allowed inside of you except Dave. Only if you said that, you and Dave would be on the line. You could run away, you could push him back, but you won’t. You need to do this and you willingly do it to protect yourself. You shift to lay down on your sheets, staring up at the ceiling as Eddie shoves your nightgown up. There’s no arousal, there’s no pleasure. You wince as he pushes inside of you, closing your eyes as you imagine Dave, the way he looks when he first thrusts into your cunt. The awestruck look in those gorgeous eyes as he ensures you always climax before he does. The look of concentration as he adjusts his thrusts according to your moans. It makes you wet enough to accommodate your husband as he ruts into you. A tear escapes and rolls down your cheek but Edward doesn’t notice. His fingers dig into your flesh and you clench around him, trying to spur him on to finish faster. Eddie grunts several more times before he lets out a low moan, his hot seed coating your walls and you keep your eyes shut, trying to imagine it’s Dave filling you up. He lowers your legs and tucks his cock away. “Keep lying down. Need you to give a son, goddamn it, woman.” He growls and you nod, staring up at the ceiling as he exits your bedroom without another word. You quickly sit up, making your way into your en-suite to wash his cum out of you, scrubbing your skin clean until it burns and finally, you collapse back in your bed and curl into a ball, praying he didn’t get you pregnant, that you aren’t trapped here forever.
Dave scowls from the shadow of the alcove beyond your room as Eddie walks past him. Imagining dragging him back and beating him to death in front of you. Instead, he says nothing, waiting another few minutes to make sure the bastard doesn't decide to come back for another round before he moves from his spot. Silently approaching your door and slipping inside, locking it behind him to keep everyone out. The sight of you curled up on your bed breaks his head and Dave moves over to you quickly.
When Dave curls around you, his strong arms dragging you back into his chest, you break down. Turning, you sob into his chest at the fact that you could never be with him. Eddie won’t let you know. He’d rather kill you than let you divorce him, and now, he’s going to get you pregnant so you can’t leave him. Dave rubs your back, holding you close and kissing your hair until you fall asleep, tear stained face relaxing as you let the man you love hold you.
Dave holds you all night. He doesn’t move, doesn’t shift you away from him. Even if his clothes are not as comfortable as stripping down, he doesn’t let you go. Knowing you need the comfort he can bring you, and he enjoys that you find comfort in him. Never experiencing that until you. He doesn’t even sleep, just continues to rub your back when you shift and murmurs soft words to ease you back to sleep.
****
It’s been a month since the night Edward came into your room and you stare at the calendar on your vanity. Counting down the days until your next bleed and you’re overdue. “Shit.” You hiss, unsure of how to feel. If you are pregnant, you’re almost certain it’s Dave’s. Edward has fucked you in the past three years and your cycle has always been exactly on time. You bite your lip, unsure of what to tell your husband or Dave and when your housekeeper comes in, you request that she has the butler send for the doctor. You need to know for certain if you are with child. After that…you’ll figure it out. While you wait for the doctor, you feel ill and end up lying down on your bed, thinking of Dave. He has to return home more often than not to keep up appearances but when he stays in the house, he stays in your bed. His hand over your mouth to smother your moans as he takes you in the middle of the night while Eddie sleeps. In the daytime, he keeps his distance, barely speaking to you in front of Edward and you miss the days he’d sit and talk to you for hours about everything and nothing.
Dave has his ear to the ground in every corner of the house. Keeping an eye on what Eddie is doing and how you are being treated. There’s been no abuse since he’s been back, although he’s fucked you a few more times. Each time, Dave has come into your room when he leaves, comforting you and holding you while you cry. While he silently continues to get ready for his departure from Eddie’s employment. When the housekeeper rushes to call the doctor, Dave frowns slightly, wondering if you’ve caught something and makes his way to your room.
You wipe your eyes as the door to your room opens and you look in the mirror of your vanity to find Dave standing there. “Is everything okay?” He asks and you shake your head, lower lip trembling. “I- I - I am late. To bleed. I think I’m with child.” You confess, standing up on shaky legs to wrap your arms around Dave, needing his comfort.
Dave’s eyes widen and he immediately looks down to your stomach even as he folds you into his arms. “It is okay.” He promises you, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “If you are pregnant, then you are pregnant. I knew it could happen. I will not be upset.”
You sniff, shaking your head, and you cup his cheek. “What if…what if it’s Edward’s? It’s - there’s a chance. I can’t - I’d be trapped here forever.” You choke, starting to panic.
“I doubt it’s Edward’s.” Dave comforts you quietly, holding you tightly and shaking his head. “If it is Edward’s child by some small chance, it makes no difference with my plans. You will not be stuck with him.”
You frown at his words, wondering what he has planned but before you can ask, there’s a knock at the door. You pull back from Dave just as your maid enters to announce the doctor’s arrival. You glance at Dave, anxious for your examination. The doctor orders for you to lay down on the bed, and you wish Dave could come over and hold your hand. “You are dismissed, Mr. York.” Your maid tells Dave, her eyes suspicious as she wonders why Dave was in your room. Dave nods, his eyes meeting yours for a second until he exits the room. You want to demand he stays but that would be strange to the staff. The doctor takes your blood and you wince as his hands push your dress up. Pressing his hand to your stomach, he hums and pushes two fingers into you, making you grimace. “We need a urine sample as well.” He declares and you get off of the bed after he shifts away from you. Peeing into the small cup, you pray that if you are pregnant, the baby is Dave’s. At least you’ll have some part of him when your affair has to end because of Edward. You come out to find the doctor examining the samples with the heavy equipment he had brought up and he’s there for a while until he says “you’re pregnant, Mrs. Holt.” You nod, absorbing the news, unsure of if you should be happy or not.
“Your husband will be most pleased.” He’s aware that Edward wants a son and he is pulling out some pills for you to take. “To help with the nausea to come and settle your nerves.” He explains. “You are not too far along so if you experience heavy spotting, please call.”
Your maid takes the pills and nods, “we will call if there is anything amiss.” She promises and you nod, a little dumbstruck by the news. You’ve done everything you could to avoid getting pregnant by Edward. You pray the baby is Dave’s. Even if you’re stuck with Edward, at least you’ll have a part of the man you love and the happy memories. Your hand slides down to your stomach and the doctor soon leaves. “Congratulations, ma’am.” She smiles at you. You offer her a weak smile back. “Shall I bring you something to eat?” She asks and you nod, “yes please.” She exits your bedroom, leaving you to absorb the news. Second after she leaves, your door opens and Dave slides into your bedroom. “What did he say?” He asks, anxious as you were, and you look at him, “he confirmed it. I’m pregnant.”
Dave nods seriously, trying to gauge your feelings as he steps closer to you. “Pregnant.” He murmurs softly. “So I guess I can’t fuck you?” He asks and you shake your head. “Sex is still allowed, but Dave…” he cuts you off and lunges forward to press his lips to yours harshly. Wanting to remind you that no matter what, you are his.
You moan into his mouth, your fingers gripping his suspenders to pull him closer so you can press your entire body against him. You belong to him, your heart belongs to him. His ring isn’t on your fingers and you’re not sure if it’s his child inside of you, but the rest of you is entirely his. “I love you.” You murmur breathlessly as he pulls back to work on removing your clothes, exposing the stomach that hasn’t just rounded with the baby inside of you. Potentially his baby.
Dave groans as he caresses your stomach and leans down. “You know how I feel.” He tells you before biting your nipple through the fabric of your bra. He doesn’t have too long before the maid returns but he wants to make you feel good. “Unzip my pants, Princess.”
You do know how he feels in the way he touches you, the nights he spends wrapped around you. It’s a tragic tale. A story of two people that love each other but can never be. All you have for now is his touch. You won’t waste a second. You fumble to unzip his pants and you reach in to pull his half hard cock out of his briefs. You hook your fingers in your panties, pushing them down your legs but keeping your stockings and garter belt on as you grab his tie and guide him back towards your bed. “Fuck me, David.” You order, wanting to lose yourself in his touch while you can.
He chuckles at your impatience, though he feels the same way. Following you onto the bed and he wishes he had time to lay you out, to feast on you. To make you limp from pleasure before he ever slides inside you. “We’re gonna have a baby.” He murmurs, reminding you that he’s with you, even if the baby is not his.
You watch him spit in his hand and pump his cock a few times to get harder and you shift to lay on the bed, your head against your pillows as he shifts to hover over you, his hand trailing along your inner thigh. He pushes you open to accommodate his body between your legs and he guides his cock to your cunt, slowly pushing in and you moan at the look on his face as he claims you as his.
Dave groans your name. Reaching down to pull you up to his lips as he starts to move. Loving how you are so sensitive to him. Clenching down his cock and whimpering his name.
Your hands slide along his arms, caressing the hair at the nape of his neck before you loop your arms around his neck, dragging him down on top of you, wanting to feel the weight of him. He shifts to his elbows, keeping his weight off of your stomach and you moan when he kisses along your neck. “Gotta be quiet, sweetheart.” He reminds you and you nod, biting your lip as he moves inside of you.
Dave rocks into you again and again. Watching you as he does to make sure he doesn’t hurt you by accident. Even as rough as he has been on his harshest with you, he wants you to enjoy yourself. Doesn’t want to hurt the baby.
Your nails dig into the back of his neck as he pushes you closer to your orgasm, falling over the edge when his fingers find your clit, and you whimper his name, trying to keep quiet. 
“Dave!” You choke, clamping down on his cock.
****
“Oh God, Dave!” You moan, your hand finding his as he moves inside of you. It’s the middle of the night and Dave snuck into your room to see you. His body curls around yours as he rocks into you from behind, his fingers rubbing your clit to work you through your orgasm until his hand slides up to your bump. You’re due any day now. Secretly terrified that the baby is Edward’s. Your husband is over the moon, telling everyone his son will be here any day now, and you want to scream at him that it could be Dave’s child. It might not be a boy either. Edward has been strangely affectionate towards you, no longer hitting you or belittling you. He has been disappearing to his whores still but he hasn’t been cruel to you during your pregnancy. Dave has been here, decided to move in after Edward insisted he move in to protect you during his extended “business trips.” Obviously, you and Dave loved the idea and for the past nine months, you and Dave have continued your affair under the nose of your husband. “Cum for me.” You murmur, turning your head to nudge your nose against Dave’s jaw as it clenches with his imminent orgasm.
“I love you.” Dave groans out, knowing how much you love hearing that. You’ve grown more beautiful as the months have gone by and he has enjoyed seeing you swell with his child. He knows it’s his child, he feels it. The baby inside you responding to his voice, his presence. He takes such satisfaction from the fact that you have been safe here and Dave hasn’t wanted to move forward with his plans just yet because of your pregnancy. So he has been taking care of you this entire time while waiting for the perfect place
He pushes deep into you and groans into your neck as he cums, painting your walls with his seed and you sigh in bliss. The baby moves beneath Dave's hand as he caresses your bump. "I love you." You whisper, silently praying that the baby is Dave's. You turn your head to kiss the man you love, nudging your nose against his as he relaxes behind you. "Not long now." He murmurs and you nod, "baby is coming any day now." You feel apprehensive, scared for the pains of childbirth and terrified to find out who the father is once and for all.
Dave doesn’t pull out of you, staying buried inside you as you sigh again. “Don’t worry.” He murmurs, rubbing your stomach gently. “I just wish I could be with you.” Even if he was your husband, he wouldn’t be allowed to be in the room while you are giving birth, and he hates it.
You feel yourself tear up at the fact that he won't be in the room with you. You place your hand over his, "I wish you could too." You murmur, closing your eyes as he remains inside of you, surrounding you. 
****
Your scream echoes through the house, your forehead soaked with sweat as you bear down once again. "That's it, Mrs. Holt. Keep pushing." The midwife orders and you shake your head as you grip the sheets. "I- I can't." You choke, "so tired." You murmur and your maid slaps you awake. "You can." She demands and you start to sob, "please. I need Dave." You beg, lost in the haze of your pain. "You need to push." Daisy, your maid demands, and you scream through gritted teeth, pushing as hard as you can on the next contraction until finally, the pressure releases and you gasp in a breath as the pain immediately recedes. A cry fills the air seconds later and it's a blur as the midwife wraps the baby up and carries it to you to place it on your bare chest. "It's a boy." She declares and you look down at the baby in your arms. Your eyes scan his features as he wails in your arms, and you start to sob again.
Dave doesn’t even act like he wasn’t listening to every scream, every cry. Sitting by himself outside the door. Edward had disappeared to go be with his lover as soon as you had started moaning in pain. Telling Dave to send word once his son had been born. At least he hadn’t had to pretend that he didn’t care. He hadn’t demanded to be in the room, but he hadn’t left. Looking up from the drink in his hand every time the door opened. Now, with the cry of a baby, he leaps to his feet and pushes into the room as he calls out your name.
You look up with tears streaming down your cheeks as Dave barges into the room, ignoring the cries of protest from the other women, and he immediately comes to your side, kissing your forehead. "Are you okay?" He asks, wanting to make sure you aren't suffering from more than childbirth itself. "I-" You can't speak as you adjust the baby at your breast so Dave can see his face. He looks just like his father. Dave's signature nose and there's no denying who his father is. He doesn't look like Edward at all. "Your son." You mouth, eyes crinkling with happiness as you cradle the baby.
“My son.” Dave murmurs in awe, caressing your cheek and staring down at the babe in your arms. He doesn’t give a damn if they know now that you have been unfaithful to Edward. All that matters is that you and the baby are safe. “Our son, Princess. You have done such a good job.” He kisses your forehead and leans in to kiss the baby. “I love you.” He whispers softly as the baby quiets down when he hears his voice. He had talked to your stomach a lot during the late night hours when he couldn’t sleep.
Daisy isn't dumb. She knows about you and Dave but she has kept it to herself. Edward has treated you horribly during your marriage and she has never seen you so happy when David is around. Your secret is safe with her. You want to kiss him but the midwife is pushing down on your stomach for the afterbirth and you are exhausted. Once the placenta has been accounted for, the midwife carries the baby off to bathe him and weigh him, and Daisy helps you clean up and changes the sheets to let you rest in the bed. Dave remains in the room the entire time, and eventually, the midwife is letting you rest and placing the baby in the bassinet. No one says a word as they exit the room and leave Dave watching over his family. The silence only lasts a few minutes until the baby starts to cry and Dave walks over to the bassinet, quickly scooping his son into his arms. He walks over to the window, looking at his son before he looks up at the stars. "You are destined for incredible things, my boy. You will be the best of me and your mother." He promises, leaning in to kiss the baby's forehead as he settles down in his arms. Dave stands there for a while watching the baby sleep until the door flings open. "Dave, you did not send word! The butler sent a car for me. Let me see him." Edward rushes over to Dave and you are woken up by the noise and your sleepy eyes widen as Dave holds the baby.
“It’s a boy? The driver told me it was a boy.” In his excitement, he doesn’t question why Dave is holding his son and is shocked when your lover pulls back so Edward can’t touch him. “You will not touch my son.” Dave growls, finally allowing his hatred for Edward to shine through his eyes as he looks at the other man in disgust. “That’s right, he’s mine. Your wife is mine. I got her pregnant. I filled her with my seed and satisfied her in ways you could never imagine.” Dave chuckles at the shocked look on Eddie’s face as the maid rushes over to take his son from his arms. “You are through, Edward. I’ve managed to take all your business partners. They will be ending their dealings with you. While you were off fucking your whores, I was replacing you. In business and in your life.” He smirks. “Your wife is in love with me and I’m going to marry her. Give our son my last name and raise him.”
Edward’s eyes widen and he looks over at you, waiting for a denial but you don’t say a word. He knows it’s true. The man he’s trusted most in the world with everything has pulled the rug out from under him. “You motherfucker.” Eddie growls, advancing on Dave and Daisy holds the baby, backing up against the wall. Dave easily dodges the hit and raises his arm to punch your husband in the jaw. “I don’t want to fight you. Just want you to let us walk away.” Dave says as Eddie bows over in pain. “No. No. You can’t take her. She’s mine. She’s my fucking wife. Her family money. It’s mine.” He growls as surges forward to hit Dave again.
Dave blocks the clumsy attempt and his next punch knocks Edward down onto the carpeted floor. Making him groan in pain and Dave points at him. “I’ve killed men, Ed, don’t make me kill you.” He growls, not wanting you to be more upset than you already are. Daisy rushes towards the bed and gives you the baby after you start crying. “Stay down.” He warns, but Edward is too crazed by anger. “You bastard!” He hisses as he struggles to his feet. “You were nothing but a thug when I met you. I made you and you betrayed me?” He lunges forward again and Dave strikes first, punching him in the gut and then giving him another uppercut that damn near knocks the man out as he drops to the ground. “It’s done.” Dave spits.
You shake your head, “please Eddie. Just walk away.” You beg, cradling the baby who is crying at the noise, and Eddie sees you sitting there with a child that is not his and he sees red. “You fucking bitch. You’re a goddamn whore! I should kill you and that bastard in your arms.” He growls and surges forward towards you but Dave grabs him, swinging him around and Edward hisses, grabbing the knife from his belt. Dave spots it immediately and grabs Edward’s arm, twisting it and he doesn’t think. He just acts as he shoves Edward towards the window. The glass breaks as Edward flies out of the third floor window, glass shatters on the floor and Dave watches as the man he considered a friend many years ago plunges to his death. You scream, the baby crying in your arms and you watch Dave inhale deeply, chest heaving as Edward is flung out of the window.
Dave looks down at the broken and bloody body for a second before he looks back at Daisy, his eyes dark. “I- he attacked you.” Daisy stutters, terrified of what she’s just witnessed. “He went crazy and you couldn’t reason with him, Mr. York.” She knows that is the truth, but if the police know that you and Dave had cuckolded Edward, they would arrest him for murder.
You’re shaking as you try to calm the baby, trying to soothe him as your heart pounds. Edward is dead. “Da-Dave.” You stammer, needing reassurance from him, to know he’s okay. You saw the knife and you were terrified that Dave was going to be killed.
His gaze slides from Daisy to you and he softens immediately, rushing over to you and crushing you and the baby to his chest. “It’s okay, it’s over.” He promises you. “He’ll never hurt you again, he’ll never touch our son.” He kisses your forehead several times and then presses his lips to yours before kissing the baby. “It’s okay.” He croons gently. He’s a harsh man, but he would never hurt those he loves and you and his son are at the top of that list. “It’s okay, baby boy. You’re safe, you’re safe with mama and papa.”
You sob as he curls around you, protecting you from everything outside of this room, even your now deceased husband. “I love you.” You murmur, kissing him softly and you cradle the baby. “Please don’t leave me.” You beg, needing him here, needing him to be here with you and the baby. “We need to name our son.” You tell Dave, pulling back to look at him.
“I’m not going anywhere.” Dave promises. “What do you want to name him, baby?” He asks softly. Soon the police will be here but he wants to pick out a name first. “We can wait until we are married.” He offers. “Give him my last name officially.”
You nod, “yes. I want him to have your last name. I want to call him Samuel. After your father.” You tell Dave softly. He had told you about his family and you reach up to caress his cheek. “No matter what happens. I love you. I am yours, David York.”
“I love you too.” He promises softly, pressing his lips against yours once more. He had fallen in love with you and tried to stay away. Unable to resist the temptation of you and now he has you, a beautiful son and you will never have to worry about him lifting a hand to you. He will kill for you and his son, he’s already proven that.
****
You remove your earrings, looking at Dave in the mirror of your vanity as he works on taking off his tie and cufflinks. “Last one married off.” He chuckles, setting down the cufflinks on the side. “Five children. Five weddings. Makes me think of ours. The little courthouse wedding we had after the police let you out of questioning and Edward was buried.” You haven’t thought of your ex husband for many years. You and Dave had to wait until Edward was buried before you could be married then your first son was officially a York and so were you. Edward’s estate became yours as his widow and you decided to sell the estate and find somewhere new with David. “I’ve been thinking about that.” Dave hums as he walks over to you and reaches into his pocket. He kneels down and your eyes widen, “baby?” You gasp when he opens a velvet box to display a beautiful diamond ring. “Marry me again. Renew our vows. I want us to have the wedding we should’ve had.” He declares and you sniff, tears gathering in your eyes. “Yes. Always yes.” You promise, leaning in to press your lips to his after you cup his cheeks. “I love you, Dave.” You murmur and he nudges his nose against yours, sliding the ring onto your finger next to the simple gold band he got you for your wedding. “I love you too, Princess.” He promises, “I’d do anything for you.” He murmurs softly and you smile, “even kill.” You remind him and he chuckles, “even kill.” He says and helps you stand up, wanting to remind you how much he loves you. You never imagined that you’d be rescued from a loveless, abusive marriage but Dave was your knight in shining armor.
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