#please do add their name if you’re going to use a picture!!

[beloved-boterbloem]

Reblog game! Reblog with your f/o and their source and I’ll assign them a flower!

> closed! <

[cherriegyuu]

so high school | kmg | part 1

pairing: hockey player mingyu x f!reader  genre: smut (in later part), fluff, a bit of angst, bad attempt at comedy word count: 8.8k summary: when you’re suddenly thrown in Mingyu’s direction, you have no choice but to stay by his side, and maybe it’s not as bad as you think playlist: click here a/n: i wanted to write a story that was light, summeryish. it was based off of taylor swift’s song so high school (i’m not that creative with names), i wanted to write that sort of cute romance we all just love. i truly hope you like it, this one is precious to me. thank you to @joonsytip for helping me with this one. please, remember to comment and reblog, it does mean the world to me and i would love to know your opnions.

< part two >

If there was one thing you hated about college, it was having to choose electives. For starters, you really didn’t want to be there. You were a good student because you had no choice, not because you absolutely loved college — not that your major was boring and you hated everything about it, but it really did seem like a universal experience to hate your chosen major at some point in college. But the problem was that taking the courses related to your major was hard enough as it was, you didn’t want to have to worry about subjects that might or might not add to what you were studying. Of course, you always tried to choose something that had at least a minimum to do with your major — Art History.

But there were times, like the previous semester when you procrastinated too much to choose one, that it simply wasn’t possible, and you had to put up with classes on Cultural Management. At first, you thought it would be geared towards galleries and the like, but it was something much more specific about public cultural heritage and that wasn’t what you wanted. At least the subject was easy enough. Just reading a few pages of Kira’s notes and listening to half of the lectures was enough to get you through with a high grade.

Trying to be a little smarter, and do something you actually enjoyed doing, you signed up for the semester’s classes as soon as they opened. You were already sitting in front of your computer when the clock struck 10 am. You chose a class that all of your classmates, or at least the ones you talked to, were interested in doing: Model Making.

It was something you enjoyed doing when you were younger. Your parents knew that if you simply disappeared or were too quiet — aka you weren’t yelling at Jeonghan — you’d be in your room surrounded by modeling clay, chopsticks, glue, brushes, and paint, or whatever materials you were using at the time. 

However, all of your dreams were shattered when you ran into Kira at the campus entrance. 

“You know, the teacher for this class is crazy. Your life is going to be hell” was like a cold shower.

After that, it was as if everywhere you went, people were purposefully talking about the subject, about how the teacher was absolutely crazy and that getting a good grade with her was almost impossible, and how she “seems to take a sick pleasure in failing students.” So when the day of class finally arrived, the first of the next six hellish months, you dragged yourself into the classroom. You chose the seat furthest away from her, hidden behind a student, and did your best to stay as out of sight as possible. 

The guy sitting in front of you turned around. He was smiling widely. You weren’t sure if he was trying to be friendly or what. 

“Do you know if what everyone’s saying is true?” 

There was something about him that was familiar. You obviously knew who he was, it was no secret. Everywhere you went, people were either whispering about him or there was a picture of him and the other guys on the team taped to the wall.

Kim Mingyu, star of the ice hockey team. The youngest to become captain, top scorer, the big sensation who would lead the university to the long-awaited championship. All that blah blah blah about the chosen athlete, and the latest savior of the nation.

So yes, you knew who he was, there was no way you couldn't know. But at that specific moment, while he was sitting in front of you, his body turned in the chair at a strange angle because he was obviously too big for that tiny chair, there was something about him that was strangely familiar.

"That the teacher is crazy?" he nodded, his eyebrows slightly arched and his lips almost forming a pout "I haven't heard anyone say otherwise, so I have no choice but to believe it."

You lowered your eyes and focused on the lit screen of your cell phone, which showed a new message from your brother. You didn't look away because you wanted to know what Jeonghan wanted, as far as you were concerned his message would only be read at the end of the day, if that. You didn't want to keep looking at Mingyu when you felt that everyone in the classroom was looking at you.

You knew it wasn't exactly true, there was no way an entire class, full of students talking to each other, could be looking at you at the same time as if you were doing something scandalous or even remotely wrong. But you knew there were a few people, and that was more than enough. It was a very familiar feeling, one you preferred not to revisit.

Even though you completely ignored Mingyu's presence or his gaze on you, he still hadn't turned around. Not even when the teacher entered the room and everyone fell silent.

The problem with being a child who didn’t have many experiences is that you become a fearful person. Everything seems big, larger than life, and sometimes everything seems infinite and far beyond reach. It’s a much easier choice to retreat into that familiar corner and pretend the world outside simply doesn’t exist. The bubble you created for yourself was small and admittedly, sometimes suffocating, but it was also comforting.

But everything can change when you meet people who aren’t aware of that bubble, or who didn’t create those spaces for themselves. They weren’t trapped inside it.

One class was more than enough to start a crack in your perfectly intact bubble. A selective introvert, as you liked to say. For a loud hockey player when he was surrounded by his friends, Seokmin was strangely shy.

When the teacher was choosing the pairs, you closed your eyes, praying to anyone who would listen not to pair you with a bad student, someone who wouldn't do anything and you would have to do all the work alone. The prayer, or whatever it was, was not heard because the teacher decided it would be a great idea to pair you and Seokmin. Maybe you were under the wrong impression, falling into the old suspicions and stereotypes, but you doubted very much that you would be able to get any kind of help from Seokmin.

And to be quite honest, after a bad experience with a group mate, to the point of ending up at the police station, because the guy simply couldn't accept the fact that you taking his name off the work was completely his fault and you simply didn't think it was fair that you did everything alone and he still got a good grade, you were okay with doing everything on your own. You were sure that if you opened your email, and clicked on your spam box because God was a witness to the number of emails you had received from that idiot, there would probably still be some unread emails from him, bragging that even with your “attempt” to jeopardize his education, he had managed to get a good enough grade to pass the class. 

Despite everything, Seokmin was nice and seemed interested enough, although a little lost, but maybe a little push in the right direction would be enough. 

“I took this class because I thought it would be easy,” he said laughing, a little shy, “I guess I was wrong.” 

You nodded, absentmindedly turning the page of your notebook with the notes you had made. 

“I took it because I like the idea of ​​building models.”

The classroom door opened with a bang, slamming against the wall. Everyone turned to him, some girls laughing. Mingyu was obviously late, his hair still wet from the shower, his backpack inside out on his shoulder, his shirt completely wrinkled as if it had just come out of a cow’s mouth. The teacher stood up and walked towards him slowly, her arms crossed over her chest.

“He’s screwed.” Seokmin laughed softly, or as softly as he could.

The teacher didn’t have a welcoming look in her eyes, if anything she seemed to be glaring at Mingyu, and not even the best smile he could throw in her direction would make a difference. In addition to being crazy, the teacher was also apparently known for not accepting tardiness.

It was impossible to look away as Mingyu tried, without any success, to open his mouth to explain, but the teacher wouldn’t let him say a single word. You and Seokmin suppressed a laugh when the teacher looked in the direction where she thought the noise was coming from before turning back to Mingyu, who seemed more desperate by the second. He looked lost standing in front of the older woman, his head lowered like a child who had misbehaved and was listening to a lecture.

Finally, the teacher dismissed him with a wave of her hands and turned back to her desk, completely ignoring Mingyu. He finally turned back to the desks, his eyes scanning the space before finally settling on Seokmin. Or… on you? There was no reason to believe he was looking at you, none at all. When Mingyu smiled, you went back to looking at your notes, flipping the pages almost compulsively, looking for anything and nothing.

You had no idea why your heart was behaving like that, beating almost animalistically inside your chest, or why you felt a single drop of sweat run down your spine — despite the air conditioning being on and you feeling cold. You could have sworn you could hear Mingyu’s footsteps going up the stairs, despite the sound of the students’ conversations around you being obviously much louder.

“At least I got something good for being late today.”

Mingyu pulled out the empty chair next to you and sat down, his knee bumping against yours. You flinched a little and moved away, making yourself closer to Seokmin.

“Sorry,” you said to Seokmin and turned to Mingyu. “Could you…?”

You waved your hand to make him move away. He looked confused for a second until he pushed the chair further away from you. On the other side, Seokmin covered his mouth, trying to stifle a laugh, while Mingyu glared at him.

“The teacher who chose your group?” Seokmin asked, still trying to suppress a laugh.

“She just said to sit with whoever wasn’t already in a trio”

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. Great, you were stuck with two jocks who had probably hit their heads on the ice so much that their brains had turned to jelly in their early twenties.

“What do we have to do?”

“Build 3 models based on architectural periods.” When Mingyu widened his eyes, you added, “It’s the entire semester’s work. We don’t even have to come to class anymore, just the last one to hand it in.”

You started gathering the few materials you had taken out of your bag. The notebook and pen quickly disappeared into what Jeonghan called a black hole. “What goes in there never comes out again. If you look hard enough, you’ll find a wallet I lost in high school.”

“Look, I know I’m going to do this alone. I'll find a way to let you know the periods I chose and the artists and you guys study for the presentation.” 

You stood up, pushing the chair back with your knees, making a lot more noise than expected, which in turn made most of the people turn to see what was happening, including the teacher. 

“Wait,” Mingyu said, holding the strap of your bag. 

Not that you could get out of there anyway, he was between you and any possibility of leaving. But you thought he would get out of the way if he saw that you wanted to leave.

“I'll help, it's my job too,” with his free hand, he pointed to Seokmin behind you. “Ours, actually.” 

Despite the sincere look on his face, you laughed.

“Look, I don't want to offend you guys, okay? But the three of us know that won't happen. There will always be a practice, a game, a party, something that will stop you from doing your part of the work. I don’t mind doing it alone, it won’t be the first time, and considering I still have two more semesters to go, it won’t be the last. It’s okay, really.”

Mingyu stood up and for a moment you were sure he was going to get out of your way, but somehow he managed to block your path even more. You couldn’t help but wonder if he had always been this tall and wide. When he was around the other players it didn’t seem like it, but him standing in front of you…

“I said we’ll help” 

He took his phone out of his pocket and unlocked it, turning the device towards you.

“You know, your hands are huge, and this is a very delicate job” What exactly were you talking about?

“He’s more skilled than you can imagine,” Seokmin said. 

Once again, you closed your eyes and took a deep breath. The teacher was definitely crazy, and it seemed like she had some kind of personal vendetta against you. Or was it a curse cast by Jeonghan for staining his white shirts? Whatever it was, it was a problem that, at the moment, had no obvious solution.

“If I fail this class because of you two idiots, maybe one of you will lose a hand.” You snatched the phone from Mingyu’s hand, dialed your number, and quickly handed it back. “Maybe both of you”

You put your hand on Mingyu’s shoulder and pushed him back. You tried your best to avoid any kind of contact, but it was the only solution you could find to pass.

“It’s not a matter of life or death, you know?” he said, laughing.

“I’ve never failed in my life, and I’m not going to start now.”

Mingyu pushed the door open with perhaps a little more force than necessary. He wasn't angry, but he wasn't happy either, a strange feeling somewhere in between that he didn't like very much.

That first day he had seen you in class was like he had been transported back to high school. He could almost hear you saying, in the most disinterested tone in the world, "I've been waiting for you for two hours, could we please go home?" At that time he had also felt invisible to your eyes.

But so many years later, in that classroom, he thought you would recognize him. Mingyu thought, as naive as it may seem, that despite your disinterest at the time, at least you would know who he was.

Of all the people he could meet in that class, you were the last one that ever crossed his mind. It had been years since he had last seen you, since Jeonghan's last game, when he was crowned champion for the third time - an unprecedented feat until that moment. Mingyu had even tried to beat that record, but his runner-up position in the third year had prevented him from doing so. 

He had gotten used to seeing you from afar, always the unreachable sister of his captain, who always seemed to be much more interested in the books you carried around with you than in anything else. 

The truth was that you had never even directed a word in Mingyu's direction. Besides Jeonghan, he had only seen you talk to one other person, Seungcheol. It had never been clear to him if it was by choice or if it was because Jeonghan always said you were off-limits. Maybe it was somewhere in between. 

However, when you entered the room, looking for an empty chair, Mingyu expected you to recognize him, even though so many years had passed. When you walked up the stairs and seemed to be heading towards him, Mingyu, like a silly teenager, expected you to at least greet him. But you walked right past him as if he wasn't even there. 

Even so, he tried to talk to you. Something about the teacher being crazy and the look in your eyes said that you couldn't wait for him to shut up and look straight ahead again.

After that, it was like he saw you everywhere, and believe him, he wasn't looking for you. In the café that opened on the other side of the campus, in the library, when he went to return a book, in the hallway of the building, on the lawn. Mingyu spent five years without having any kind of contact with you and, suddenly, you were everywhere.

He chose to see it as a divine sign. As if the guy up there was saying "Now is your chance". And then, as if all these signs weren't enough, he was given the chance to do an assignment with you, almost like a gift.

"The door didn't do anything to you," Seokmin said laughing.

"Do you want to be the door?" 

Maybe the divine signal was broken, maybe the guy up there was messing with him because in less than 5 minutes you managed to extinguish any and all excitement Mingyu could have about doing the assignment with you. All you had to do was open your mouth.

“Dude, she just doesn’t remember you” Seokmin laughed again, having a little too much fun with the whole situation “If you say, ‘hi, I was your brother’s teammate’, she’ll still not remember you, but maybe she’ll be less hostile”

Mingyu highly doubted that was the case. There was a rumor that you hated everything and anything that had to do with hockey, your patience was less than zero. Jeonghan was the king of the ice, the best the sport could produce. You were the ice princess without ever having even put on a pair of skates – or so the gossip said. 

“It doesn’t bother me that she doesn’t remember me” It did bother him, but he wouldn’t admit it “It bothers me that she thinks I’m stupid”

Usually, under completely normal circumstances, Mingyu would even prefer to be seen as stupid and without anything in his head. It was easier, it prevented people from creating any kind of expectation about him. Strangely, he wanted you to see him as intelligent.

“You’re a bit contradictory, aren’t you? You’ve spent the last 3 years cultivating the image of a dumb athlete, who gets good grades by pure luck, despite the almost impossible subjects, but now you want her to think you’re smart”

“I didn’t know you knew how to use the word contradictory”

You stared at the lit screen of your cell phone. The unknown number was glowing and the inviting green button was almost begging you to answer the call. It was already the third time he had called and it would also be the third time you had ignored him.

“You know, it won’t hurt if you answer his call,” Kira said beside you, but she also knew that trying to convince you was a losing game.

Exactly 11 days had passed since the fateful class that had put you in a group with Seokmin and Mingyu. While you had no direct problems with either of them, besides them being hockey players, Mingyu’s insistence irritated you in a way that didn’t make much sense — not even to you. You should have felt relieved that he wanted to do the work, and that he was interested in participating. But the truth is that you knew how this worked, you had been in that situation before and hadn’t had the best experience.

Maybe you were a little too hard on him, it's true, but it's like the old saying goes: a scalded cat fears cold water.

“I want to keep as far away from him as possible.”

Kira rolled her eyes for what seemed like the twentieth time. She understood, to some extent, your dislike for players and also knew that a lot of it came from your brother, but in the case of Mingyu, specifically, you were definitely going too far.

“Look, the rumors are that he's a good student, actually. Always with high grades.” Kira tried to argue.

You knew the rumor well, even before you were put in the same group, in fact, much to your chagrin, Mingyu had chosen to be in the same group as you. That helped a lot with the huge reputation he had around the college. Handsome, athletic, good student. But you didn't believe it for a minute.

You didn’t know if Mingyu really had any good grades, but if he did, you were sure he hadn’t gotten them in the most… fairway.

“And he’s not unpleasant to look at at all.”

It was your turn to roll your eyes at him. Yes, Mingyu was gorgeous, breathtaking, the kind of guy that made you wonder if he was even real. You had eyes and they worked just fine, you didn’t need Kira to remind you that he was handsome. Saying Mingyu was handsome was like saying the sky was blue, obvious, and expected.

“You know I don’t mess with athletes.”

Finally, Mingyu had given up on the call, but that didn’t mean he had given up completely. Your phone only had a few seconds of respite before the screen lit up again, but this time with a ton of messages.

Unknown - 11:32

hi, it's mingyu

Unknown - 11:32

again

Unknown - 11:33

answer me, I want to talk about the project

Unknown - 11:34

you said you want to do it alone, but it's not going to happen, you know? I can't leave my grande in the hands of a complete stranger

Unknown - 11:35

I see you with your phone in your hand, take my call or reply to my texts

You lifted your head so quickly that you felt a twinge in your neck.

"Shit"

You looked around the cafe, trying to find Mingyu, but most of the tables were empty and none of the people standing in line looked remotely like him. You brought your face closer to the glass, trying to find the tall, broad figure, outside, and still didn't see anyone who could be mistaken for him.

yn - 11:37

I could report you for stalking

Unknown - 11:37

crime: wanting to do a college assignment

yn - 11:37

following me around, calling me non-stop, texting me. It could be considered stalking, yes

Unknown - 11:38

again, crime: wanting to do a school project

Unknown - 11:38

also, I wasn’t following you, I just happened to see you

yn - 11:38

I already said I'll do it alone

Unknown - 11:39

and I already said it won't happen, so if you could tell me your plan on how to do it, that would be great

“We have to admit, he's persistent”

Mingyu's messages became common and also at the most random moments possible. You were sure that the only time he hadn't sent a text was when he was at the game last Friday. You knew this because you had watched the game, with the computer with the sound turned down so that Jeonghan wouldn't suspect anything. 

You hated to admit it, but he was good at what he did. Dared to say it was even glorious. It was hard to believe that a man of that size, so wide, could infiltrate the smallest spaces and score the most unbelievable goals possible. He and Seokmin together were almost magical. They still couldn't compare to the duo of Jeonghan and Seungcheol, but that was already a very high level to reach. 

Mingyu had given up on sending you texts only about work, not that you had answered any of them, but he also started asking about your course, inviting you and Kira to go to one of his games – you still wondered how he had found out about your friendship since all of your social media profiles were locked and so were Kira's.

You had to agree with Kira, he was persistent. You could even say tireless. If you were him, you would probably have given up a long time ago, choosing to let the crazy guy do the work alone. But Mingyu was nowhere near giving up. You knew this because every time you miraculously ran into Mingyu, you had to run away from him, practically having to run away from him at some point.

It worked very well for a week until one day he simply appeared in front of you. You were distracted, your eyes glued to your phone. Jeonghan was gliding across the ice with skill when the player from the other team hit him hard, his body flying before falling to the ice. You felt the air get stuck in your lungs until he stood up, clearly irritated by what had happened. You felt like laughing when you saw the name on the other player's shirt, the one who had pushed Jeonghan. Choi. Best friends in real life, rivals on the ice.

“What are you looking at so focused?” a voice said next to him.

You felt like your heart was going to jump out of your chest as you tried to lock your phone and put it back in the bag. You wished you had been more graceful in the whole situation, to look less like someone who had been caught red-handed doing something they shouldn't have.

“Jeez, do you have no manners?” your voice came out louder than expected, causing some people around him to turn to see what was happening.

Beside you, Mingyu smiled, pleased with himself for having gotten some reaction beyond furrowed eyebrows and a look of disgust.

“Were you running away from me?” he raised his hand and corrected himself, “Not right now because you clearly had no idea I was here, but in general.” 

You rolled your eyes and quickened your pace. You didn’t really have anywhere to go or anything to do, there were still 50 minutes until your next class and there was no time to run home and hide. Would it be too pathetic to hide in the bathroom and wait for him to leave? With your luck, he would be waiting outside, even if it meant missing a class. 

“Why would I do that?” 

Mingyu crossed his arms over his chest. For the first time in your life, you wished someone was ugly, devoid of any kind of muscles or attractive qualities. You wished he was ugly, terrible to look at. You wished the sun wouldn’t make his skin shine, you wished you didn’t find the mole on the tip of his nose cute, wished you hadn’t wondered if maybe all this insistence of his didn’t have some extra reason, besides wanting to get the work done and obviously annoying you. Of all the things, you wished you hadn’t been disappointed when you hadn’t seen him for a day.

It was ridiculous, you knew it was. But whatever it may be, there you were, your heart pounding, feeling it throb in your neck. You wouldn’t fool yourself into thinking it was just because you were surprised by him suddenly being by your side. You could fool others, but at least you had to be fair to yourself.

“I don’t know, you tell me.”

Even though you knew it wasn’t a good idea, you stood still. You knew it would only attract more attention, it was almost inevitable when Mingyu was by your side. 

“Okay, I was. I don’t want to be seen with you.”

Mingyu looked confused, his head lolling to the side as if he was seriously thinking about what was happening. The question mark was clearly written on his face. It was almost as if one was floating above his head.

“Mingyu, look. You, in and of yourself, are not the problem. I mean, in part, it is, but you know, it's that old story, the problem is me, not you.”

“I honestly thought the problem was just the assignment.” He scratched his head, his eyebrows still furrowed. “You think I'm stupid and that kind of thing.”

You took a deep breath, your eyes closed for a second. You hadn't explained the situation to him, you had no reason to, so he had no way of knowing. But you also didn't want to expose your life to a stranger, so you weren’t willing to just tell secrets you’d never said out loud.

“If I tell you I’ll let you guys do your part, will you stop following me? It’s a little weird, and maybe even a little creepy.”

Your words were honest, it was weird and creepy at the same time. It didn’t make sense. Wouldn’t it be much easier for him, and for Seokmin, to just let you do everything yourself so they could focus on whatever was important to them? In your opinion, it was the easiest thing for everyone.

But Mingyu looked like a dog with a bone. A terrible analogy, but it made sense, at least to you.

“Yes,” a direct answer, great.

“Let’s do it like this then, let’s chat via text about the artists we think are cool, which are the most interesting. Once we’ve reached a consensus, we’ll get together to start making the models.”

You took a step back and held out your hand. A peace offering.

“We have a deal then.”

If regret killed, you would have been dead and buried so long ago that you would have turned into fertilizer. Logically, you knew that trusting Jeonghan was a mistake. You loved your brother with all your heart, but you also knew that he wasn't the most trustworthy person for certain things.

If you were in trouble and needed help? He was definitely the right guy for the job. He wouldn't say a word in a judgmental tone and, depending on the situation, he would go far enough to pretend it never happened. Now, if it was a request that he considered silly, then it was a lost cause. 

Besides all that, Jeonghan liked to play pranks, and you were one of his favorite victims. Things could even get a little out of hand when he and Seungcheol got together. It was like having two completely devilish older brothers. In truth, Seungcheol alone wasn't even that bad, but when he got together with Jeonghan it was like someone had opened the gates of hell. 

Even knowing all this, you had talked to him. You knew the house was his, that he could come and go as he pleased, but thought that if you played the little sister card well enough he would let it go.

"Some friends from college are coming over tomorrow, can you please not show up at home?" you asked, making your best puppy-dog-that-fell-out-of-the-moving-truck face.

"You don’t want me to meet your boyfriend?" he laughed, looking away from his phone for a second before returning his attention to the device.

You closed your eyes. Something was going on. Jeonghan was really into his phone, much more than usual. Either some nonsensical rumor had been published, which he would have already shown you and laughed along with you when he read the absurdities written; or he had a bone in his body, also known as a girlfriend. He always got more into his phone when he had someone more serious in his life.

It was useful information to have, so you put it in a little box in your mind labeled "something to blackmail Jeonghan with later" For now it was just speculation, but it could be important.

"How many boyfriends do you think I have?" You grimaced, shaking your head. “But no, none of them are my boyfriend. They’re just some guys I have to work with. I thought about doing it here because we need space and I’m sure I’ll yell at one of them sooner or later.”

You weren’t in the habit of bringing people home. Jeonghan was a person who really liked his private life to remain that way, private. Even with Kira, who was your closest friend, you had a hard time taking her home. Not because Jeonghan had asked. He knew that if you were asking, it was because you needed to or because you trusted those people enough to know who your brother was without it becoming a problem.

In fact, you weren’t sure of anything, not that you needed them or that you could trust them. But Jeonghan wasn’t one of those celebrities who had huge photos of themselves scattered around the house. It’s a little creepy, to be honest, he had said once. So the few photos he had around the living room were in normal-sized picture frames, which his mother had put up when she visited, so they could be easily hidden. The lie about the rich brother who works in the stock market was always on the tip of your tongue in case someone could question why you lived in a penthouse.

"I don't understand what's wrong with me being here then" His indifferent tone of voice was dangerous.

Maybe it would be better to give up.

"First because I don't need supervision, the virginity ship sailed a long time ago" 

It might be a good idea to talk about something he didn't like to talk about, like your past relationships. He could joke all he wanted, but at the end of the day, he was just a guy who didn't like knowing that his younger sister had boyfriends.

"For the love of god I don't need to know that in detail" He grimaced, pretending to vomit. He was such a good actor that he had even turned pale.

"And secondly, because they play hockey. Since there's no way they don't know who you are, I'd like to not witness another fanboy" 

You knew you had said the wrong thing when you noticed that gleam in Jeonghan's eyes. Even his expression had changed when you told him that your groupmates played hockey.

Still, you chose to believe him when he said he would be out of the house all day, that he would even go to Seungcheol's house after practice — which you thought was a lie, considering the whole situation with not putting down his phone and running when a notification came in. He had gone as far as to say, “let me know when it's over, so I can come home.” That's why you sent a message to the group chat with Seokmin and Mingyu asking if they had Tuesday night off.

A part of you, a very big part, thought they would deny it and make up any excuse not to show up, but it was almost as if they both had their phones in their hands waiting for your message.

And so, the three of you were sitting at Jeonghan's huge dining table. It was the kind of furniture that existed only to take up space, you always ate in the kitchen.

“You live well” Seokmin commented.

It was funny, and almost cute, how completely clumsy he was. You had bought different types of materials to test, thinking about which one would work best. Seokmin had changed several times, the last attempt was the biscuit.

“My brother earns well” you shrugged, hoping he wouldn't ask anymore.

To your surprise, he didn't ask. Which was a relief, you didn't want to lie.

Even without looking up, you knew Mingyu was looking at you. He didn't try to hide it at all. It was uncomfortable, but at the same time, it was flattering.

You rested your chin on your hand and stared at him too. Ever since the first day you had seen him in class, you had the feeling that you knew him. You didn't know where from, you didn't know how. It wasn't from college, it wasn't from the posters spread around, or from the fame he had. It was from before, before college, but you didn't know where. You were sure he wasn't in any of the courses you took and he wasn't from your school either, there was no hockey team.

“Where do I know you from?” the words came from your lips, but it was a question asked much more to you than to him.

Mingyu simply tilted his head to the side and didn't say a single word. Seokmin, who until then had his head down, his brow furrowed in concentration trying to shape the white mass in his hands, looked up, almost startled by your words.

It was as if a light bulb had been turned on over your head. It was so ridiculously obvious that you would be able to kick yourself.

And with perfect timing, as if it had been sent from heaven, programmed to the exact seconds, you heard the living room door open. A second later, Jeonghan was in the room.

“Mingyu?” Jeonghan said, his eyes darting from side to side, trying to understand what was happening.

“Captain,” Mingyu said, smiling.

You wished a hole the size of Mount Everest would open up beneath your feet and swallow you whole as you watched Mingyu stand up and greet Jeonghan as if they were old friends who hadn’t seen each other in years.

That was obviously true.

“You know each other” It wasn’t a question, it was a simple statement.

“Yes? Mingyu is a few years younger, but we played on the same team.”

Suddenly a brief movie flashed through your head, of all the times you had seen Mingyu — or at least the times that were never erased. Mingyu walking next to Jeonghan one of the times you were waiting for your brother in the school parking lot, him at the games, sitting on the bench completely irritated by the fact that he couldn’t play and the team was losing. He was a boy who was clearly too skinny, but somehow he had become that man in front of you.

“She doesn’t remember me,” Mingyu said with a laugh.

Was that a hint of resentment you heard in his voice? You hoped not, but maybe if you were in his shoes you would be resentful too. You hoped he hadn’t talked to you that first day because he expected you to recognize him and every time after that. Because most of the time you had been a complete jerk to him.

“Wow, you saw him literally every day for at least two years.”

It wasn’t like you weren’t already embarrassed enough on your own, of course, Jeonghan, in his best big brother role, had to add fuel to the fire. You hoped your cheeks weren’t as red as you felt them hot.

If the smile on Mingyu’s lips was any indication, you were completely screwed.

“I only remember Cheol. He was the only one you let get close to me.”

It was a futile attempt to defend yourself, but it was the only excuse you had. It was also the truth.

“That’s true,” Mingyu agreed, sitting back down.

It wasn’t a big secret that Jeonghan had forbidden all his teammates from getting close to you. It wasn’t like you desperately wanted their company anyway, so it was a win-win arrangement.

“You were a pain in the ass,” which was just another shovel of dirt for someone who was already buried, right?

“I was protecting you? The guys on the team…” he tried to defend himself, feigning offense.

You simply waved your hand at him, dismissing any kind of explanation he might have offered.

“They were teenagers full of testosterone and hormones. Not much has changed, you know.”

The three of them were startled when Seokmin slammed the table, his eyes wide as he stared at Jeonghan. For a few minutes, you had forgotten he was there.

“You are Yoon Jeonghan’s sister?” His voice had suddenly become shrill to the point of echoing in the room.

The laugh that escaped your lips was partly incredulous and partly desperate. Mingyu remembered you, but he hadn’t told anyone—not even his teammate—probably because he remembered it was something you kept people from knowing. In a way, you knew your secret's safe with him. But you didn’t know if you could trust Seokmin in the same way.

“He’s kind of slow sometimes.”

Mingyu pushed Seokmin out the door, hoping he would finally stop talking. His friend hadn’t realized the discomfort he had caused you yet. Jeonghan, as always, didn’t seem to care and on some level, he actually seemed to enjoy all the attention he was getting.

“It’s been a while since someone got this excited to see me,” he said, laughing when Seokmin went to the bathroom.

Either Jeonghan hadn’t realized how quiet you had been, or he had simply chosen not to do anything about it. Mingyu couldn’t be sure of the older man’s intentions, not at that moment or when they were still at school.

But you? You were like an open book, almost begging to be read. You obviously didn’t say a word, but your face showed how uncomfortable you were with the whole situation, how embarrassed you were for not remembering Mingyu as soon as you saw him.

Without you noticing, Mingyu spent a lot of time observing you. In a way, it was easy to know what you were thinking. Of course, a lot had changed in the years you hadn't seen each other, but many things were still the same.

“He won't tell anyone about your brother.”

Mingyu pushed Seokmin again, this time towards the elevator, and turned to you, who was holding the door, your gaze almost lost.

“It's okay.” you took a deep breath before straightening your spine and forcing a smile. “Eventually, everyone will know.”

He shook his head and put his hand on your shoulder, leaning his body forward slightly so his eyes were leveled with yours.

“You have my word,” he promised, voice low “Seokmin won't open his mouth. Your secret will still be a secret.”

You nodded, but Mingyu knew the gesture was just to make him leave faster.

“You should go,” you said before closing the door, without waiting for Mingyu's response.

If he could, he would suffocate Seokmin right there in the hallway, but then the security cameras would see him and that would become a problem. He entered the elevator in silence and pressed the button for the ground floor. Beside him, Seokmin was practically thrilled with the discovery he had made an hour ago.

“When you said you knew her from your old school, I would never have imagined that,” he said, laughing. “I thought she was a girl who went to the same school as you.”

Mingyu chose to remain silent. He expected Seokmin to eventually get tired and simply stop talking, but he should have known better. His friend had too much energy to simply stop. In fact, it was a surprise that he had managed to stay quiet for two hours before Jeonghan arrived. And even after he arrived, Seokmin had remained standing in the same place. He spoke faster than ever and looked at Jeonghan as if he were seeing a god in person, but still, standing in the same place.

God knew it was almost impossible to convince Seokmin to stay still for long.

“I don’t understand why she hides the fact that she’s his sister. It’s basically the nicest thing anyone can say. Imagine going around saying ‘my brother is Yoon Jeonghan’”

Mingyu sighed and crossed his arms and sighed, rolling his eyes. Of course, he would.

“Remember that time your sister complained that a girl tried to befriend her because she wanted to go out with you?”

“It happened a few times, actually.”

Mingyu stayed silent, waiting for all the dots to connect in Seokmin’s head without him having to actually say the words. Under normal circumstances, Seokmin would have understood and kept quiet, but he was too excited after meeting an idol god to realize the full context Mingyu was trying to give him.

“That happens to her all the time. She didn’t even go to the same school as us. She really does everything so no one knows she’s his sister. Didn’t you notice there’s no picture of them at home?”

Seokmin laughed, as if the question was too stupid, causing Mingyu to narrow his eyes.

“Dude, you’re the one who’s into her, not me. I don’t care about whose picture is in her house.”

Would anyone find it a problem if Mingyu strangled Seokmin until he passed out and then took him back home? In Mingyu’s eyes, he would be doing everyone around him a favor. It would be a night of silence and peace for everyone involved — in this case, just him, but no one needed to know about it.

“Either way, you can’t tell anyone about this,” he warned once more.

He had made a promise to you and he would rather cut off an arm than break it.

“Not even to the team?”

Mingyu scratched his head before crossing his arms again, with much more force than necessary. Finally, the elevator reached the ground floor and Seokmin was faster than Mingyu to get out, almost running down the hall to the gate.

Mingyu briefly greeted the doorman with a nod before following his friend.

“Especially to the team. No one can know. It's like a federal secret, you know?”

Mingyu grabbed Seokmin by the arm, making his friend stop and look at him. He hoped it would be enough for him to understand that he wasn't kidding, that it wasn't some kind of joke.

"Jeez, so much drama."

He got away from his friend and quickly opened the car door and got into the passenger seat.

Once again, Mingyu took a deep breath, his eyes closed. Maybe he shouldn't have promised you anything, not when the promise had nothing to do with him, and when there was a possibility of everything going wrong, then he would have to bear the burden of someone else's mistake.

"Seokmin," your voice was a warning tone. He opened the car door.

"I won't say anything!" his friend almost shouted.

"You're terrible at keeping secrets," he sighed, almost defeated.

"Nobody knows that you're actually super smart," Seokmin scoffed. "I never told on you, you know."

When you finally managed to get Mingyu and Seokmin to leave, you were beyond exhausted. It was late, already past 10 pm and you had to wake up early for class the next day. At least you would fall into bed without much trouble and you were sure that you would black out almost instantly. Except for the idea that from that moment on it was likely that the entire college would know who your brother was.

You always knew that this day would come, you just hoped it wouldn't be during college, a college that had a good hockey team — well, it was almost unfair, they were fantastic — and that lived and breathed the sport. If the news really needed to get out, you wanted it to happen when you were far away from there, in an environment where few people would like the sport. Of course, you were living off stereotypes, but you preferred to believe that you wouldn't have many colleagues who liked the sport, or that if they did, they would be indifferent.

With a sigh, you began to gather the materials that were scattered around the table, cleaning up the mess left behind. Seokmin wasn't wrong when he said that Mingyu was more skilled than expected. The prototype he made was delicate and almost perfect. Working with him wouldn't be complicated at all. With Seokmin too. He was more absent-minded, but he wasn't bad either. He could do the rough part of the work and you would refine it until it was perfect.

“Sis”

Jeonghan's voice sounded behind you and you chose not to answer. You were irritated with him for so many reasons that you didn't even know where to start, or what to say to him. You had made it explicitly clear why you didn't want him home. And, although he had never necessarily liked your reasons, Jeonghan had always respected you. If you said you didn't want something, he accepted it. But this time he had crossed all the limits.

“Sister” he tried again, this time a step closer to you.

You rested your hands on the table and leaned your body forward. 

“You know, I know that I live in your house, that you’re the one paying for my college, and that all the comfort I have here is because you pay for everything, so you can kind of do whatever you want. But this is my life.” 

You continued to put the things in the box and went to your room. You didn’t close the door because you knew Jeonghan would follow you. 

“I don’t understand what’s wrong with people knowing that I’m your brother.” 

You shook your head as you sat on the bed. He clearly didn’t understand, he never had, but he had always respected it. Apparently not anymore. 

“It’s not middle school anymore and you’re not 13 anymore. Just tell them all to go to hell,” he tried to reason, sitting in front of you. 

Jeonghan’s eyes were affectionate, without a hint of judgment. He just wanted to understand what was going on, because it was so important to you that people didn’t know.

“I didn’t change schools because girls were all over me because they wanted your number. I can’t say it didn’t affect my decision and it was the perfect excuse. But that wasn’t all.”

You didn’t know how to continue, didn’t know how to say everything without Jeonghan getting upset. Because you were sure he would.

“I didn’t want to be compared to you anymore.”

Your voice was almost a whisper and you didn’t dare look up, or in Jeonghan’s direction. You didn’t want to see the look of disappointment on his face, because you knew he would be disappointed. Not because you were feeling that way, but because you never told him anything.

“The teachers always talked about how smart you were, that despite sports you always got good grades. And I remember how you were back then, and you barely tried, but you were good at everything. I tried so hard and it was never enough.”

With each word that left your mouth, your voice got lower and weaker. When you said the words out loud, when they weren’t just cloistered in your mind anymore, they sounded almost pathetic. Jeonghan had never put any kind of pressure on you, quite the opposite. Your brother always made sure that you were you, an individual different from him.

All the ideas and traumas you had were not directly caused by Jeonghan but somehow had to do with him.

Jeonghan sighed loudly and leaned forward until he could hold your hand.

“Being good at school doesn’t mean anything, it’s just school. No one cares about it after a while.”

The laugh you let out was one of complete mockery. Jeonghan really had no idea what could be going through your head, the things that had happened and were still happening. Not that you blamed him for that, he had no way of knowing if you didn’t tell him what was going on, but part of you just wanted him to pay attention. If he paid attention, even the slightest bit, he would know.

The fact that he didn’t understand was painful.

If it were just the school teachers, it would be fine. Like he said, no one cares about school after a while. Do you know who cares about school, regardless of the moment? Parents. Parents who aren't necessarily bad, just parents who think that comparing one child to another is an excellent incentive. An incentive so good that they still do it.

Deep down you know that it's not out of malice, that it's not because they want to see you down, but it's an inevitable consequence. And, in a way, they were already so intrinsic in the conversations, little notes that didn't even seem like real comments, that you were sure that Jeonghan didn't even notice them.

"Okay," you said, just wanting to end the conversation. "I'll talk to both of them tomorrow, and apologize to Mingyu."

Jeonghan nodded, knowing full well that the conversation was over and that even if he pressed, he wouldn't be able to get anything else out of you.

"I have to leave early tomorrow," he said, "but if you want, can we have dinner together and talk about it?"

"I'll accept dinner, but I'll skip the talk."

taglist: @wonwooz1-blog, @mirtaspace, @feat-sun, @belladaises, @immabecreepin, @miriamxsworld , @aaniag , @byunparklimchoi , @k-drama-adict , @maiamorrrrrrrrrrrr, @roguesthetic , @sofix-hc7 , @moonlightgrleric, @mixling-blog , @haowonbins , @valgracia , @slut4donghyuck , @muantuankim, @shuabby1994 , @sukiscones, @Plumings, @aaasia_111, @bouclesdefeu , @hyangg11, @sea-moon-star , @writingbarnes @strawberryroseee , @lovely-fics-for-me, @lixisoul99, @jjeongddol , @whoa-jo , @poiibbtt , @seokqt , @palmsugr , @hyneyedfiz , @ho34gojo , @Lixisoul99, @babybae-shisui , @wmewtew , @cixrosie , @dxntletmegxyoonie

if you enjoyed reading, please reblog and leave a comment, it really does mean the world to me and i would love to know your thoughts. thank you! 💕

if you want to be tagged in my next fics, please fill out this form

you can read my other fics here ➝ masterlist

[tojisun]

do you think biker!simon has an instagram account to share some videos or photos of his motor? even he shares his own photos, he won't take off his helmet i suppose hehe :3

YEA I DO!!! biker!simon’s instagram account was made so he can follow his friends (not just the squad but also those that he met in meet ups) and also biking events. he first gained traction because of the bit he’s got going on wherein no one knows how he looks like until now, but then clips of his tricks during meet ups get posted and naturally people are drawn to him. add the fact that this well-built man with a sexy voice is also just a big bike nerd? yeah, people are enamoured for sure.

it’s not like he’s influencer famous, which he’s fucking thankful for, but simon becomes a household name for bikers and fans alike. then, your name came along and all of a sudden, a power couple just bloomed right before simon’s followers’ eyes. of course they’ve got to extend the support your way.

at first they’re following you because of simon; because they see just how cute he is whenever he talks about you – always posting you on his account or story; always finding ways to include you in the topic (with limitations of course) and tag you in posts. and god his followers adore seeing simon act so smitten and in love.

but you’re just too beautiful and sweet and kind.

what started as curious support became genuine; often they’d even ask simon where you are when simon’s account goes live during a meet up (all his followers know by now that every time simon’s live during a meet up, it’s actually johnny using simon’s phone), and simon would wag his finger in front of the camera as if to say “secret.” it’s johnny who would thankfully grace them with a normal reply, doing so by flipping the camera to show you to them. and, well, they wouldn’t be able to blame simon for wanting to keep you all for himself because they’d see you perched on his bike, wrapped in leather while wearing your and simon’s matching helmet, looking all parts divinely and untouchable.

simon would mass like comments that always compliment you. his favourite? “@yourname please please step on me. i promise i’ll bark”. simon laughed at the ridiculousness of it before liking the comment and replying to the original commenter with “get in line, lad.”

HHHH BUT YEA!! i absolutely see simon having a decent-following instagram account that is full of pictures of you, the two of you driving around, and his bike.

-

i searched through the trenches (my room) and was able to find my old phone!! i revived it for a short smau of biker!simon and what i think his account would look like (also featuring a short one of reader’s account!). check under the cut <333

click through the individual pictures for better quality and so that u can see the captions teehee!!

-

i enjoyed making these omg!! hope u loved them toooo <333

[lulunothulu]

“Picture Proof”

Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Reader

Summary: when you see there’s been an accident on one of Jake’s missions, you beg him to send you proof he’s alive.

Contents: talks of death, but mainly just worry/anxiety and fluff

‘Reports have said that there has been significant damage to the pilot and their jet. No names have been given but we will keep this situation updated. This has been…’ ‘Multiple sources have told us that the pilot is at the hospital in critical conditions—’

You stare at the TV screen, eyes going foggy with tears.

There was an accident. A pilot got caught in a bird strike, their jet went down. Jake was supposed to be flying this morning. What if it was him?

Jake is fine. He has to be.

You couldn’t stop the tears from coming. Everything in your heart told you Jake was fine but until you heard from him, you wouldn’t know for sure.

Pulling your phone out, you text: Jake, please text or call me when and if you see this.

Two hours pass and still no word from Jake. You’re shaking at this point, trying to keep yourself from driving to base and walking to his normal hangar. Worry fills the pit of your stomach when you haven’t heard from him another two hours later.

You started praying by the end of those four hours. You weren’t one to pray, but you were now.

“God,” you cry. “Please don’t let it be him. Let him come back to me. Please.”

———

You were pacing now, Jake hadn’t texted or called you back in six hours and your mind was already trying to accept the fact that he might’ve been the pilot that went down.

Heart pounding, hands sweating, and mind racing, you text him again.

Jake, please PLEASE text or call me back when and if you see this. I love you.

Your vision blurs when you see the iPhone blue bubble turn green. Nononono. Please don’t have taken him.

A son chokes through your clenched jaw as you drop to the floor, hands on your temples to hold in some of the sobs. You feel a guttural scream erupting from your chest but you stay silent.

“The navy would’ve sent someone to the house if it was Jake,” you tried to reason. “Jake is fine.”

You smile to yourself, begging yourself to believe it.

“Jake is fine, he’s just busy doing pilot shit.”

You take a deep breath before squeezing your eyes but and nodding softly.

“Jake is—”

The text chime scares you out of finishing that sentence and on your phone screen you see a text from Jake.

Without skipping a beat, you unlock your phone and read his text.

Hi baby, I’m just now seeing this. We were in the air longer because of a flight gone wrong. I love you too.

Relief washes over you and you’re sobbing again. You clutch your phone close to your chest, sobbing even harder when you reread his text to you.

You: Send me proof you’re okay.

It takes a second, but Jake sends you a selfie. He’s in his flight suit and gear, hair unruly and eyes relaxed, mouth slightly apart. Behind him, the huge American flag inside the hangar.

You smile down at his picture and half sob and laugh when he adds:

Still looking hot as ever, aren’t I? ;)

When you don’t respond right away, his caller ID fills your screen. You answer and hiccup, “Hello?”

“Darlin’,” he drawls. “I’m so glad to hear your voice.”

“You’re glad?” You laugh, wiping your tears away. “I was terrified it was you that got caught in that bird strike. When you didn’t call or text me…”

“Oh baby I’m so sorry,” he says softly. “I couldn’t text you right away because Mav wanted everyone accounted for and then Cyclone wanted to have an emergency formation…it was a mess. I only now just got released.”

“Okay,” you say, choking back a sob.

“Darlin’?” Jake says in the other side of the phone. “Y/N, talk to me.”

“I’m just glad you’re alright,” you croak. “I’m so fucking glad you’re alright.”

“I am too,” he tells you. “I’ll be home in a few minutes, okay? We can cuddle and watch some of your girly movies tonight.”

You sniffle and nod. “Okay baby.”

“Okay,” he says, you can practically hear him smile. “I love you.”

“I love you more.”

“Now, as a man who may have gotten hurt today, you better take that back.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Never.”

Short and sweet but still effective 🥹

[hauntedhowlett-writes]

along for the ride

pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x female reader

rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)

word count:

summary: when joel finds out tommy put out a craigslist ad to get him a date for valentine’s day, he doesn’t expect it to go as well as it does.

author’s note: i finally finished something! was it anything from my extensive wip list? no! don’t think about it too hard! anyways, if you enjoy this fic, please consider giving it a reblog, a comment, or dropping into my ask box 💕

warnings/tags: explicit sexual content (18+ minors dni), no use of y/n, pre-outbreak!joel miller, no mentions of sarah, little shit!tommy miller, blind date, internet safety whomst, vaginal fingering, oral sex, woman on top, p in v, dirty talk, pet names. let me know if i’ve missed any!

“I have a surprise for you,” Tommy says at dinner. Joel pauses, fork scraping against his plate.

“That can’t be good,” he sighs. “What now?”

“Why do you assume it’s somethin’ bad?”

“Last time you said you had a surprise for me, I had chickens in my backyard.”

Tommy laughs. “It’s nothin’ like that this time.”

“Well, then, spit it out,” Joel demands.

Tommy reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a folded piece of paper that he opens on the table, smoothing out the creases before sliding it over to Joel.

“Reservation confirmation?” Joel reads. He recognizes the name of the restaurant, the kind of place where the waiters dress in all black and the menu doesn’t have prices listed beside the items. 

“Yep. I got you your first Valentine’s Day date,” Tommy replies proudly. Joel glares at him.

“What do you mean?”

seeking valentine

36M looking to treat a lady to a date to remember. pic attached. email tmill@aol.com with a pic and bio for consideration.

[img01.jpg]

You’re half a bottle of wine deep when you stumble across the Craigslist ad. When you click on the picture, your interest is further piqued by the handsome man that appears on the screen. He’s standing in front of a black pick up truck dressed in jeans and a t-shirt that stretches across his tan muscles. His brown hair is cut short, just enough length for you to notice that it’s beginning to curl across his forehead and by his neck. His beard frames a bright smile that crinkles the corners of his dark eyes.

Whoever he is, he’s hot. He’d be the perfect way to get over being dumped two weeks ago by your boyfriend of two years.

Your logic was lost somewhere between your second and third glasses of wine, which is why you click on the e-mail address in the ad and start typing. The reply is normal, at first, facts about yourself like your name and age and occupation, but you quickly end up derailing the message with an explanation about why this handsome guy should pick you, making sure to include that you’ve already got a reservation at a popular restaurant for the occasion. The picture you add is a recent photo from a cousin’s wedding that your aunt had e-mailed to you. 

Before you can think better of it, you click send. You take one last look at the man’s photo before shutting your laptop and stumbling off to bed to dream of brown eyes and tan skin.

Joel taps his fingers against the white tablecloth, eyes fixed on the door of the restaurant. This is stupid, he thinks. Why did he agree to this? Why did he let Tommy convince him this was a good idea? He should have just told him no and been done with it but somehow he’s here, sitting at a table for two in a fancy restaurant and feeling like a sore thumb in the only suit he owns. 

He’s lost enough in his thoughts that he doesn’t see you when you first come in, doesn’t realize you’re here until the hostess is walking up with you close behind in a beautiful dress and he suddenly remembers exactly why he agreed to Tommy’s idiot scheme. 

“Joel?” You ask. He stands, nearly knocking the table in his haste to greet you. You lean in for a brief hug and he catches the warm vanilla scent of you before you pull away and smile at him. 

He rounds the table to pull your chair out for you and makes sure you’re settled before returning to his seat. A waiter swoops by to offer the wine menu and explain the pre fixe menu for the evening while he pours two complimentary glasses of champagne into the crystal glasses beside your plates. An awkward silence settles when he leaves, Joel’s leg bouncing anxiously beneath the table as he tries to think of something to say.

“This is weird, right?” You finally say. “This feels weird.”

Joel breathes a sigh of relief. “That’s just what I was thinkin’.”

"Oh, thank god." You take a long sip of your champagne. "I can't believe I actually responded to a Craigslist ad for a date."

"I can't believe my stupid brother came up with this whole thing," Joel replies. "I could'a killed him."

Your eyes go wide. "Wait, your brother made the post? Why?!"

"He seems to think that at thirty-six, I should have had a date for Valentine's Day by now," Joel explains. "Why did you respond to the ad?"

"I had been drinking a lot of wine and having a lot of feelings and the internet was unfortunately not helping the situation."

Joel laughs, tension leaving his shoulders as he does. "We're an interestin' pair, huh?"

"Cheers to that," you reply, lifting your glass for him to tap his against with a gentle clink. 

As the dinner progresses, the conversation starts to flow with surprising ease. No topic goes untouched, from jobs to hobbies to a long list of favorites. When you’ve exhausted those topics, you move on to swapping stories about your friends and families. By the time he finishes paying a hefty check (and declining your offer to split the cost), Joel feels like he’s known you for a lifetime.

"I had a really nice time, Joel.”

"Me, too," he replies. Christ, you're pretty, bright eyed as you look at him with a soft smile. He reaches for your hand, pulling you closer until your chest brushes his and can wrap an arm around your waist. "This okay?"

"Mhm," you hum with a little nod. Joel's gaze drops to your mouth and he finds himself wondering what your pretty lips would feel like as he kissed you. Would he be able to taste that chocolate torte from dessert on your tongue?

“Joel?” You whisper. He didn’t even realize how close he’s gotten, a few scant inches separating you now. “Are you going to kiss me or not?”

He chuckles. “You want me to?”

“Please.”

Joel kisses you, warm lips moving in perfect harmony with yours. It’s chaste, until it’s not. It’s chaste, until his tongue sweeps against your bottom lip and dips inside to tangle with yours. It’s chaste, until his hands are pulling you closer with a tight grip on your hips and—

“Get a room!” 

You break apart, startled by the shout from someone passing by on the sidewalk. You can’t stop the laugh that breaks free, your shoulders shaking with the force of it.

“You wanna get out of here?” Joel asks. “I can walk you to your car.”

“I took a cab, actually.”

Joel smirks. “You want a ride, sweetheart?” 

Your face grows hot from the look in his eyes, the double meaning to his words not lost. He holds a hand out and you slip your palm against his, fingers folding together so that he can lead you to the parking lot down the street from the restaurant.

Joel opens the passenger door of the truck you recognize from the photo in the ad, helping you step up into the cab and going so far as to pull the seatbelt down, reaching across your body to fasten it. He looks up at as he pulls away, hand dragging across your stomach and making you shiver.

He shuts the door and gets in the driver’s seat, pulling out of the parking lot and following your directions toward your apartment. At the first red light, he settles his broad palm on your thigh, just above your knee, giving you a little squeeze. Feeling bold, you spread your legs the tiniest bit and Joel takes the invitation for what it is, sliding his hand higher. 

The light turns green and the sudden movement presses you to the back of the seat, jostles you enough that your legs fall open further. You move to close them, but Joel’s hand moves again, high enough now that if you moved the slightest bit, you could probably get some relief from the ache that’s been building since he kissed you.

His pinky stretches, barely grazing your pussy, but it makes you gasp nonetheless, squirming in your seat from the want. At the next red light, he abandons all pretense, slipping his hand beneath the elastic of your panties and dragging his fingers through the embarrassing amount of wetness that’s already gathered there for him.

“Fuck,” he groans. You turn your head to look at him, his sharp jaw clenched tight as he circles your clit with his index and middle finger. “This wet for me already, baby?”

You moan in response, unable to form words as he touches you, alternating between soft strokes and fast circles over your sensitive clit. Your hips chase his every movement, desperate for relief from the pressure building in your core. 

“Joel,” you whimper, grabbing his forearm, digging your nails into the muscle. Your eyes squeeze shut against the overwhelming sensations.

He turns the truck and hastily throws it in park, pulling his hand from you just as you were cresting that wave. You whine at the loss but he shushes you, undoing your seatbelt and getting out of the truck with a slam of the door. It takes you a second to realize he’s stopped because you’ve reached your apartment complex.

The passenger door opens and Joel is there, gripping the door tightly. “Let’s go.”

You lead him to your door on unsteady legs. He follows you inside your apartment, pressed close to your back while you set your bag on the table by the door. 

“Where’s your room?” He asks, hands already rucking up the fabric of your dress. “I gotta finish what I started.”

You hurry down the hall to your room together and you silently thank your past self for cleaning up before your date. Joel wastes no time reaching for the hem of your dress, tugging it up over your head and tossing it into a heap on the floor.

“Fuck, even prettier than I imagined,” he groans, dropping to his knees. “Soon as you walked in wearin’ that I knew I was a goner.” He eases your panties down your thighs, helps you step out of them without toppling over. “On the bed.”

You obey without hesitation, crawling across your familiar mattress and lying on your back, head on your pile of pillows. Joel removes his suit jacket, eyes dark as his gaze roams across your body and makes your skin prickle under the intensity. His shirt and pants follow in quick succession, leaving him in a pair of boxer briefs that highlight an impressive bulge.

Joel joins you on the bed and you’re hypnotized by the movement of muscle beneath tan skin. He urges your legs apart, calves draped over his broad shoulders to give him room to settle between your thighs. He looks up at you, holding your gaze as he takes his first taste of you with a deep groan you feel through your whole body. 

Your head drops back to your pillow with a shout, legs tensing around Joel’s head. You bury your hands in his hair, holding on tight while he devours you. His tongue circles your clit before dipping down to your dripping center to curl inside of you. A thick finger follows, pressing deep and withdrawing slowly.

“You taste so fuckin’ good,” Joel says. “How’s that feel, huh?”

“So good,” you moan. “More, please, Joel.”

“Since you asked so nicely.”

He eases another finger into you, curling them along your front wall with pointed focus. That knot of release tights again, your muscles growing tense with it the longer he moves with your body. He wraps his lips around your aching clit, alternating between sucking the sensitive bud into his mouth and working it with his tongue until you’re shouting a string of curses and shatter beneath him.

Joel works you through your orgasm until you’re gasping for breath, more puddle than human. He crawls up your body, leaving kisses on what seems like every inch of you as he does and you pull him close when he’s face to face with you, kissing him deeply and chasing the earthy taste of yourself from his mouth.

His hips press against yours, grinding his length against your inner thigh. The kiss turns sloppy, his breath coming in sharp pants and thrusts growing frantic, skin dappled with sweat in the warm air of your room. You tilt your hips, pushing a hand against his shoulder to get him flat on his back with you straddling his waist, stomach flexing beneath you.

He’s deliciously disheveled beneath you with messy hair and kiss swollen lips. His hands find your thighs, sliding upward over your stomach to find your breasts, pinching a nipple between his fingers and making you hiss. Your hips rock over the softness of his belly and you reach behind yourself to palm his cock.

“Look real good like this,” Joel pants, flexing into your touch. 

“Well, you did ask me if I wanted a ride,” you tell him. 

You lean over towards your nightstand, tugging the top drawer open and rummaging around for a condom. Foil packet in hand, you lift off of Joel for a moment to allow him the chance to hastily shove his underwear off before settling back down on top of his thighs and taking his length in your hand with a slow stroke that makes his mouth drop open, cock pulsing against your palm. You lean forward, licking the flushed tip clean of the pre-cum gathered there. 

“You’re killin’ me,” Joel says through gritted teeth. “Wanna feel you, quit teasin’.”

You decide to put you both out of your misery, ripping the condom wrapper and rolling the latex over him. You lift up and he holds his cock steady with a fist around the base as you position yourself over him on your knees and slowly take him into your tight heat, twin moans echoing in the room as you do.

When your hips are flush with his, the wiry curls at the base of his cock grow damp with your arousal as you rock above him, grinding your clit against him and clenching around his length. He holds your hips in a loose grasp, not urging your movements but feeling them as you chase your pleasure. 

“Christ,” Joel moans, head tipped back and eyes squeezed shut. He plants his feet, thrusting up as you grind down and making you gasp. “Ain’t lastin’ much longer, baby.”

You lean forward, changing the angle and allowing him to pound inside of you, his cock pulsing as his release nears. You’re right there with him, the drag of his cock against that sweet spot inside of you making you tip over the edge with a shout muffled into the sweat slick skin of his neck. 

He slams himself deep, cock pulsing as he spends himself into the condom inside of you. You collapse against his chest, the two of you catching your breath in the aftermath. When you roll off of Joel and onto the mattress, he’s quick to pull you back against him, your head resting on his chest.

“That was—“

“Yeah,” you interrupt breathlessly. “It was.”

After a moment, Joel quietly asks, “What now?”

“You can stay…if you want.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, fingertips brushing along your shoulder. “I want that.”

Joel’s phone rings at an ungodly hour the next morning. He struggles to find his discarded pants in the dark but when he finally unearths the obnoxious device, his greeting is a snapped, “What?”

“He lives!” Tommy cheers from the other end. “It was a fifty-fifty chance you were dead or in bed.”

“What do you want, Tommy?”

“Just checkin’ to see how the date went. Must’ve been pretty good, seein’ as how I’m at your house and you’re nowhere to be found.”

Joel rolls his eyes. “Fuck off,” he says. He’s about to hang up when he hears Tommy shout, “Wait!”

“What now?” Joel asks.

“Ain’t you gonna thank me?”

Joel snaps the phone shut, tossing it into the piles of clothes and crawling back into bed with you.

Joel Miller masterlist

All masterlists

[justmeinadaze]

Inescapable: Letters (Steddie X You)

A/N: I give you treat my dear friends. A glimpse into inmate Steddie. I'm going to write a full story but for some reason the idea of them writing back and forth burned into my brain. Think of this as a prequel so to speak.

Enjoy!

Warnings: Older (Early 30s) Prisoner Steddie & Young (Early 20s) Fem college student Y/N, Everything is in letter format. Mentions of smut, some dirty talk, angst (because I'm me), both men were convicted even though they are innocent, near the end we get some glimpses of toxic behavior, Jealous Steddie <3, cliffhanger esc ending.

Word Count: 2918

"You can build a prison of stone and steel, but you merely present the prisoner with a challenge. Any truly determined man will find a way out but love, love is the perfect prison. Inescapable."-- Wilson Fisk (Daredevil)

July 1996

Mr. Munson and Mr. Harrington, 

I know you don’t know me but my name is Y/N Y/L/N and I’m a student here at Hawkins University. I’m supposed to be doing a project for my criminal justice class and with your permission I’d like to do it on you. 

I’m working towards getting my law degree and so many kids in my class are doing theirs on people like Bundy or Gacy. How does that help teach them? I’ve done research on your case and I feel like you both are innocent. Add in the fact that the judge wanted to make “an example” out of you two… it’s ridiculous. 

Neither of you had a prior history of violence and Mr. Harrington, your parents are prominent members of Hawkins! UGH! I just don’t get it. 

Sorry. I went off on a bit of a tangent there… I just hate how you both were treated. 

If you don’t want me to utilize your case for my class I’ll completely understand. If you don’t respond I’ll take that as a no as well. 

Thank you,

--Y/N.

################

July 1996,

Sweetheart,

You have no idea how good it made us feel to have someone reach out to us, let alone agree that we are innocent. Society forgot about us a while ago but thankfully Steve and I have each other. 

And now you we hope : ). 

We have no problem with you doing your project on our case. What do you need from us? Details I imagine but what else? Are we allowed to know more about you? We know your name is Y/N, you’re a law student, and judging by the intoxicating scent that wafted when we opened your letter you smell really fucking good. 

Please feel free to be open with us.  We’re nice guys we swear.

-Eddie

Y/N,

I hope Eddie didn’t come off too strong with his letter. I told him we need to be respectful but like he said people kind of forgot about us. It’s nice to feel appreciated. 

We have no problem with you using us on your project and you don’t have to tell us anything you don’t want to. I understand that talking to someone in our circumstances can be a bit scary especially for a young lady like you. 

Are you only going to be speaking with us or do you need to talk to our families to? My parents gave up on me after I was found guilty so they probably won’t be much help. Eddie’s uncle Wayne Munson is a nice guy. You can tell him we sent you and he’ll answer your questions. We also have some friends people who were around the time we were arrested who can help to. 

We look forward to hearing from you, 

-Steve

P.S. You can call us Steve and Eddie. We already feel old enough : )

####################

July 1996

Eddie & Steve, 

Thank you so much! You have no idea how important this is to me. I don’t just want to do this for my class but I’d like to use this case for my graduation project as well. But we don’t have to think about that now. I barely like to think that far ahead so I use the excuse of that is two years away. 

Eddie didn’t come on too strong : ).

I AM a law student and a sophomore at Hawkins U. I’ll be 21 in a few months so I can finally move up to being a bartender at the restaurant I work at. College is expensive but soon it will be worth it. I’m attaching a picture with the letter just so you have an image of who you’re talking to. 

Growing up I heard all about you two. Hawkins High used to have your Hellfire Club, Eddie, but they disbanded it a couple of years before I graduated. The parents said they didn’t think it was right for their kids to belong to a club created by someone such as yourself. Since Dustin Henderson wasn’t there to advocate for you guys anymore…

I don’t have to reach out or talk to anyone you don’t want me to. I know most of the people involved in your case aren’t even in Hawkins anymore. 

I’m so sorry. It must be hard having everyone you know disappear. 

My parents aren’t exactly fans of my chosen profession. My mom hates lawyers since her divorce lawyer wasn’t able to get her more alimony from my father and my dad is cop so enough said hahaha!

I’ve been with my boyfriend for a few months. He’s a film major and keeps begging me to allow him to do an interview with you two. I keep telling him no. You’re people not circus animals. 

Let’s start with you two telling me whatever makes you comfortable in regard to your case!

-Y/N

####################

December 1996,

Sweetheart,

Merry Christmas! 

Did Wayne give you the presents we bought you? My uncle said it’s important for college girls especially soon to be lawyers to have tape recorders. I’d love to hear if you liked it and if you can use it in your classes. 

It’s been a couple of days since you called. I hope everything is alright. We miss the sound of your voice…

Y/N, I know I can come off a bit forward but I hope I didn’t scare you away by talking to you the way I did during our last conversation. I can’t help it, you know? You’re just so gorgeous and you’ve been so good to us that my brain promptly goes into flirtation mode. 

Anyway, yeah, I want to hear how your Christmas went and if Derek’s family was good to you.

-Eddie

Honey, 

Merry Christmas! 

Ed forgot to mention that we did get your gifts and are incredibly thankful for the books. Since I was arrested I’ve opened my mind when it comes to reading and Munson’s fantasy books at least take me away mentally to a different world. 

He’s right by the way… you are incredibly beautiful. 

Would you be open to seeing us in person? 

Just a nice friendly visit where we can talk about your project and get to know you more. 

If not we completely understand.

-Steve

##########################

February 1997

Eddie & Steve, 

I’m sorry I haven’t come by or answered the phone. After our last visit, I just…

I love Derek but I care about you both so much. When you kissed me We have to keep this professional. Not just because of my boyfriend but because I’m studying to be a lawyer. How would it look if I fell in love started a relationship with inmates I’m working with?

Please understand.

-Y/N

#######################

February 1997

Sweetheart,

We understand but you have to also understand that we’ve never met anyone like you. You’re so kind and beautiful. You listen to what we have to say and actually care about us. I can still feel your lips against mine and nothing in my life has ever tasted as sweet. 

Can you still feel me, princess?

For the first time in almost 11 years, I actually have some hope. 

Does he make you feel like we do, honey? Your heavy breath against my mouth when I kissed you tells me no. I know we’re trapped here for the next 14 years but, baby, we can still take care of you. We just have to be a bit imaginative with certain things but….

No one has to know, baby, not even Derek. 

-Steve & Eddie

#######################

February 1997

Baby, 

Fuck, sweetheart, you have no idea how hearing you touch yourself over the phone got us going. If we could have private phones we would have stroked our cocks for you so you could hear how much you turn us on.

I can still hear your heavy pants in my ear while you fucked your fingers. 

I’m playing with myself right now at the thought of how tight that young little pussy is. Fuck… picturing those sexy hips slam against me as you ride my dick. Do you like it rough or nice and slow? Delicate, just like you, pretty girl. 

Shit. I just came so hard. 

Would you let Steve and I fill you up? Make you really ours?

I wish we could fall asleep with you between us. I’d give anything to hold you in my arms and play with your hair. 

Can’t wait to see you again, princess. 

-Eddie.

############################

April 1997

Honey, 

How did your test go for your class? I’m sorry we weren’t more helpful but I’m glad you brought your stuff to show us what you’ve been working on. It makes us so happy to see you working so hard and achieving your dreams. You deserve all the good things in this world. 

I’ve been thinking about you since we last saw you. Aren’t you glad now you wore that sexy skirt?

God, I can still smell you on my fingers. I loved feeling you cling to my arm as I thrust them into your tight little cunt. We have to work on silencing those moans a bit more : ).

I keep having dreams about your pretty mouth wrapped around my cock just looking up at me with those big, beautiful eyes while I fuck your throat. 

Do you think about us? Tell us all your fantasies, baby. 

We love you. 

-Steve

#######################

April 1997

Eddie & Steve, 

You are such bad boys, you know that? I like it though…

Sometimes when I’m writing to you, Derek will walk by and I feel naughty but giddy. I’m doing something I definitely shouldn’t be doing. When we have sex, I don’t see him anymore. 

I just see you two. 

I wish I could take care of you the way you do me. I want to feel you both inside of me, stretching me open. I want to choke on Steve’s cock and ride Eddie till I can’t walk. I want to feel you both cum inside me and make me yours. 

I love you to…so much… 

I hate to ask this after everything but Derek would like to film you guys for his project. I’ll be there to so you won’t be alone with him and I can use the footage when I start working on my graduation project later down the line. 

After everything, if you don’t want to I completely understand. 

I’ll call you both tomorrow. 

-Y/N

##########################

May 1997

Please, 

I’m so sorry! The prison said you aren’t allow visits for the next month after what happened and you aren’t taking my calls. 

I didn’t know those were the questions he was going to ask you, I swear. 

After the stupid bullshit he pulled, I broke up with him and kicked him out of our apartment. 

I know you both are innocent and I don’t feel the same way he does. 

I love you so much. 

-Y/N

################

May 1997,

Don’t break up with him. He’s right. We’re fucking criminals and—

Y/N,

Eddie is still upset but we do believe that you didn’t know he was going to blind side us. We just needed some time to compose ourselves. The questions Derek asked about those kids, Nancy, and then seeing him kissing you when we walked in just fucking… It was too much. 

Add in the fact that he made some points, you know?

By the time, we get out of here we’ll be in our late 40’s essentially starting over. It’s going to be so hard for us to get a job and other things like a house or a car. People will always look down on us for something we didn’t do but they believe we did. 

You’re going to be this badass attorney with men your age groveling at your high heeled feet to give you the world. 

We’re scared about dragging you down with us. You deserve the world, baby girl.

Just give us a bit more time, ok? During this time, I want you to think about if being with us is the life you really want. Really think about it, Y/N. 

We love you to… no matter what.

--Steve & Eddie

###########################

August 1997

Eddie & Steve, 

I’m sitting in my first class this semester and I am already exhausted. I started my new job at The Hideout and I left at like 3am. I got some good tips though so that will help with tuition. I can also send you guys anything if you need something. 

I heard your appeal was denied again. 

I’m so sorry.

With cases like yours, it’s so hard to get those pushed through and approved. 

I’m thinking about you two every minute. When I crashed, I kept wishing I had your arms around me. 

I’ll call you tonight before my shift. 

I love you!

-Y/N

########################

August 1997, 

Baby, 

Yeah, we’re kind of over it now. After so many denials, you just kind of give up trying. It was like that with my dad and his case. Then again he was just a repeat offender and I’m a murderer so.

You didn’t tell us you were working at The Hideout. I used to play my guitar there with my band when I thought I would be a rockstar. I’m not gonna be anything now.

I’m sorry, sweetheart. I guess we’re just a bit low right now. 

I wish we could be there with you to. I want to fall asleep to your voice talking to me about everything. I could listen to you talk for hours, babe. 

Don’t overwork yourself. 

Love you,

--Eddie 

Honey, 

You never have to worry about sending us anything in here. We make enough money and then Wayne gives Eddie some to get by. 

My mom was there at our appeal. It was nice seeing her face again after all this time even though she didn’t talk to me or stick around to meet with me at the prison. 

I imagine my father didn’t know she was there. 

I agree with Munson, don’t over work yourself. 

We miss you. 

--Steve

######################

October 1997,

Y/N, 

We didn’t mean to scare you, baby, when you came to visit. We just… you were supposed to come visit us last week and you didn’t. You don’t answer when we call. 

We get worried. 

Please, sweetheart, answer the phone so we can talk. 

We love you, pretty girl. 

--Eddie

#######################

October 1997,

FUCK YOU! 

You don’t get to treat me the way you did when I took time out of my day to come to see you! Steve, you have no right shouting at me and degrading me in front of all your cell block friends. Eddie, you don’t get to grab my wrist and command that I “Lower my voice” when you both are sitting there talking down to me. 

The three of us know you weren’t worried about me but fucking jealous I’ve been brushing you off for someone else! 

I have shown you both nothing but respect and opened my heart to you from day one!

I’m sorry your both in the situation you are in. I genuinely am but I have given you no reason to think I’d ever hurt you by fucking cheating on you. 

I wouldn’t put my career and heart on the line like I have just to fucking throw it away that way. 

--Y/N

######################

October 1997

Little girl, 

I know you get off on being a bad girl but we swear to God, Y/N. You don’t get to talk to us the way you did during our visit. We understand that you have a busy life but that doesn’t give you the right to not show up or not answer the phone when you say you will. 

We may be convicts but we still have feelings. 

Telling us to “fuck off” or saying that bratty shit you said like “I’m sorry I’m busy” is not ok. 

Respect is earned. 

Let’s also not forget, Y/N, that you cheated on your boyfriend with us. It’s not farfetched for us to think you may spread your legs for more tips at the bar you work at. 

Don’t play this game with us, princess. You won’t win. 

Eddie & Steve

#########################

October 1997

Edward Munson & Steven Harrington, 

I always win and I have more self-respect than you both seem to think I do. 

We’re done. 

--Y/N

#########################

October 1997

Ed and Stev, 

I hate you sooooooo much. I fell in love wit you and did things with u I’ve never done with ANYONE! Except fucking obviously : ). I never did get to feel those “big cocks” streting tearing me open. Why is that? Oh yeah…because youre in jail!

I was willing to wait bcause I loved you. I didn’t care if you’d be 40 someting when you got out. You will NEVER find someone like me again. 

I’ll move on though. Always do.

Hey check out this cute boy I met. I took a picture of him sucking my neck. I’m not drunk enough to send a video but you can use your imagination. 

You’re good at that especially when u r imagining me cheating on you with men like him. 

Assholes…

--Y/N

######################

October 30th, 1997

Trick or treat, little girl.

See you tonight. 

--Steve & Eddie

##########

Donate to me

@nailbatanddungeon @dashingdeb16 @hardladyheart @thwippyparker @micheledawn1975 @utterlyinsanity

[redstarwriting]

happy birthday

miles morales x reader

request?: yes

request: “I LOVEDDD THE HC’S OMG OMG WORK OF ART!!! i was wondering if you would write something expanding on getting miles’ doodles tatted as an adult!! i would love to read more abt it, it’s so cutee”

requested by: anon​

word count: 2.2k

genre: fluff

Warnings: language, tattoos, mentions of tattoos and needles, Miles is so sweet it's sick

A/N: GLADLY!! i've been itching to get a new tattoo since the minute i got my first like three years ago and writing this just made me want to get another one so bad LMAO. i hope you enjoy!

also in case you were wondering what hcs anon is talking about, it's my pda/general affection hcs i wrote for hobie and miles! you can check it out here if you haven't already and feel compelled to :)

───────────────────────────────────

“Miles! Baby, can you give me a tattoo?” you ask, and he smiles. This has become a common practice in your relationship. From the time y’all were kids in love to now, you would always ask him for a tattoo. Of course, he didn’t actually give you tattoos, he just drew on your arm. He’s mentioned you, and even urged you, to get a tattoo every now and again. Especially when he offered to design them, but you always say his temporary ones are more special than any other tattoo you could get. He isn’t upset about it. He genuinely loves drawing on you. “Of course, babe. Come here,” he says, motioning you over to him as he grabs his markers he has specifically for your “tattoos.” You go over to him, sitting between his legs and extending your arm. “Can you draw it right next to the uh… elbow pit?” you say, and he laughs. “Elbow pit?”

“Yeah, like the inside of my arm and not on the bicep part or the elbow pit part, but the forearm part by the elbow pit,” you explain, pointing to the area you’re talking about. He chuckles. “Elbow pit.”

“Well, what else would it be called?” you ask, smiling, and he grins, starting to doodle on your arm. “I’ll text and ask my mom what the scientific name for it is after I’m done here,” he says, and you lean your head back against his shoulder. “Oh, god, please don’t tell her I called it an elbow pit.”

“Oh, I’m totally telling her you called it that,” he teases, placing a quick peck on your lips before returning his attention to your arm. He draws a spiderweb, of course, but in the shape of a heart. He adds his Miles touch to it by making it look like the web was spraypainted, and having it pop with black and red. You don’t even look at the tattoo as he draws it, you just stare at his face. You love watching him when he does his art. You assume it’s similar to the way his face looks when he’s swinging around the city as Spider-Man. He’s in his element, laser-focused and yet has an ease about him that mesmerizes you. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” he says, smirking and turning his attention to you. You feel your face heat up but roll your eyes. “Can’t, arm’s a bit preoccupied.”

“You can get creative; I have an idea. Maybe use the one I’m not drawing on?”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say, and he shakes his head. “What do you think, amor?” he asks, and you look. You smile. “I love it, Miles. Thank you,” you say, kissing him on the cheek. He grins, wrapping his arms around your waist as you admire his art. “What time is it?” you ask, and he glances at his phone. “11:15. Why?” 

“Ganke and I are gonna go get some lunch today.”

“Should I be worried?” Miles jokes. “No, dummy. We’re just talking about… something happening soon,” you say, and a sly smile spreads across Miles’ face. “How soon?”

“I’ve said too much,” you say, trying to get up. Unfortunately for you, your boyfriend is Spider-Man and can easily hold you in place. “Nuh uh, how soon is this something happening?” he looks at you with a shit-eating grin, and you roll your eyes. “Wouldn’t you like to know, spider boy?”

“I would. Is it, and this is just a wild guess… something happening tomorrow? A special something happening on a very special day?” he guesses, and you sigh. “Don’t tell Ganke you found out…”

“I knew it!”

“We’re supposed to be planning your birthday party, yes. For tomorrow. On your birthday. Are you happy you spoiled it for yourself now?” you feign annoyance, and he laughs. “I am, actually. Now I know to look good for you tomorrow.” You roll your eyes. “You always look nice, Miles.”

“Only for you,” he grins at you, turning your face to look at him. The two of you share a kiss before it’s interrupted by his police scanner going off. He frowns slightly. “It’s okay, Miles. I gotta go soon anyways,” you give him a quick peck for squeezing out of his arms. He sighs. “Fine, fine. Guess I’ll go save the city. Be the best thing that ever happened to New York and all that.”

“My hero,” you joke, and he grins. “You know it,” he says, slipping his mask on and sliding his everyday clothes off. “I’ll see you later, Miles. Stay safe. Love you.”

“You stay safe, too. Love you more.” He leaps out of the window, and you make sure he’s gone before you call Ganke. “Yo, what’s up?”

“You gotta plan Miles’ birthday party tomorrow.”

“Woah, what?” You sigh. “I already have the roof of our building booked out for it, I ordered the cake already and will pick it up tomorrow and have all the decorations. You just need to invite everyone, okay?”

“You mean I have to reach out to people in different dimensions, tell them to clear their schedules for tomorrow, and hope for the best?” Ganke asks, and you hum into the phone. “Yep! Thanks, Ganke! Also, if Miles asks, we went and got lunch, okay?”

“And where are you really going?”

“I’m getting a tattoo to surprise him for his birthday tomorrow,” you say, grabbing your keys and putting some money in your pocket. You put Ganke on speaker, sending a quick text to Hobie. “You need to stop using me as a cover-up, (Y/n).”

“Who else am I supposed to use? Gwen?” you say, and Ganke sighs. “I mean, yeah, you know she would be down to help you with something like this.”

“Ganke she is so bad at keeping secrets like that, and you know it,” you say, admiring the art on your arm again. “Then use Hobie.”

“Wait that’s actually a good idea,” you say, “Especially since he’s the one giving me the tattoo.”

“AND YOU STILL USED ME?!”

“I PANICKED! He was asking questions! Just, listen, invite as many people as you can think of, alright? Please, and thank you.”

“Fine. Go get inked or whatever they say,” Ganke says. The two of you give some quick goodbyes before hanging up. You receive a reply from Hobie, and a portal opens in Miles and your bedroom. You step through it and find yourself in Hobie’s flat. “Can I just say it’s about damn time you got one of ‘is works tattooed onto ya,” Hobie says, motioning to his couch. You sit and he gets his whole get-up ready, all the cleaning wipes and gloves and the tattoo gun all ready to go. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. I’m getting it now and that’s what matters,” you say, and he clicks his tongue. “I can guarantee ya this is just gonna be the beginning. Kinda becomes an addiction,” he says, sitting next to you, and fiddling with his gun. “Then I guess I’ll just need to have Miles draw on me even more.” He chuckles. “Lemme see it.”

You show him the drawing, and Hobie shakes his head. “Your man is corny,” he says, and you shrug. “I like it.”

“I know,” he dips his gun in ink, and looks at you, “Ya ready?” You nod, and he begins tattooing Miles’ art onto your skin. The two of you talk the whole time, really, and you let him know about the party tomorrow. He, of course, agrees to come, and can’t wait to see Miles’ reaction. It takes a few hours, but eventually he finishes up and it looks exactly like Miles just drew it on your skin. Hobie places fake skin over it and gives you the rundown of how to take care of it. He turns away from you to put something away, and you quickly slip $100 under a pillow on the couch. You know he won’t accept any money from you because he’s ‘not a capitalist pig,’ so you have to be sneaky with it. “Thank you so much, Hobie,” you say, and he winks at you. “Anythin’ for my mate’s better ‘alf.”

He opens the portal again, and you two say bye until tomorrow. You’re back home, literally, in no time, and you quickly throw one of the hoodies Miles left lying around on. This way he won’t see the tattoo, and you can play it off like you missed him. Especially since you did kind of miss him and it is sort of a staple in your relationship that you wear his clothes when you do. That’ll make him melt and he’ll forget all about the art on your arm. And you were absolutely right. 

It ended up being a late night for Spider-Man, and when he got home, he saw you curled up on the couch, sleeping with his hoodie on, and all he could think about was that you missed him. He carefully picked you up and carried you to your shared bed. You started to wake up as soon as he was getting in bed after taking a shower and cleaning up, and he began desperately trying to get you to go back to sleep. “What time is it?” you groggily ask. “It’s like 3am, (Y/n/n), I’m here now, we can go to sleep, okay?” he says, slipping into bed next to you and pulling you on top of his chest. “Happy birthday!” you sleepily say, burying your face into his chest. He smiles. “Thank you, amor. Let’s get back to sleep now, yeah?” You make a muffled mmhmm sound and are out like a light almost immediately. Miles smiles to himself, wondering how he got this lucky.

You can imagine his disappointment when he wakes up the next day and you’re not snug against his chest, but he feels better the minute he sees a little note on his chest that explains you’ll be home, you just had to go do something for him. He gets up and decided he can do his Spider-Man duties until you text him and let him know he needs to come home. It may be his birthday, but the city still needs it’s defender. So that’s exactly what he does. He cannot explain how grateful he is that none of the big bads were trying to start anything today, because if he didn’t get to see you and eat a slice of cake, he was going to scream. The day went slower than he wanted but also sped by when eventually he got a text from you saying to come home. He immediately obliges, swinging in through the window and putting on some of his nicest clothes. He walks out of your room and sees you chilling on the couch. “Miss me?” he asks, walking over and bending down to kiss your lips. You giggle. “Obviously. Hey, before we go up to the roof where there totally isn’t a party waiting for you, I wanna show you something, okay?”

“Okay,” he grins, and you grin back. “Cover your eyes.” He does as instructed, and hears you shift slightly. “Okay… open them.” He opens his eyes, and immediately sees his “tattoo” on your arm. Only it was covered in a clear wrap. And it’s real. His eyes get big, and he looks at your face. You give a small smile. “You always encouraged me to get a real tattoo, so… happy birthday.”

“Yo! It looks so good, hold up,” he gently grabs your arm and softly traces it through the saniderm. “When did you get this?”

“Yesterday.”

“You weren’t actually with Ganke, were you?”

“No, I was with Hobie,” you say, and he shakes his head. “I got a little liar on my hands, huh?”

“It wasn’t lying it was covering my ass because you ask too many damn questions,” you say, and he laughs. “I love it, (Y/n/n).” You smile and the two of you share a kiss. “We should probably get up there. Some people are waiting. Oh, and pretend like you haven’t seen it yet. Hobie wants to see your reaction.” Miles laughs. “Alright. Well, I hope he knows I’m not gonna stop drawing on you. And that he fully traced my art,” Miles says, and you shake your head. “I’m sure he knows, Miles. You really like it?”

“Like it? Baby, I told you I love it. I love you; I love this tattoo; I love that this is a birthday present from you… everything about this? I love it. I don’t even need to go up there to make the day better because all I need is you,” he says, and you smile. “Hobie was right. You’re so corny.”

“Nah, hold on, he said that? Forget everything I just said it’ll be a perfect day when I punch him.” You laugh as the two of you make your way up to the party. But the whole time, Miles keeps finding his eyes drifting to your tattoo. Something about having his art on you permanently makes his heart swell with pride and happiness. And he and Hobie were both right.

It’s not the only “tattoo” that will become real.

───────────────────────────────────

[despairots]

can you write...you force miles 42 to take selfies but hes not into it but hell do anything for you?

━━━━━━━━ hey, smile!

earth42! miles morales x gn! reader. just fluff and miles being absolutely hooked for you. spanish translations my not be accurate since they’re from google translate! i always forget to add the translations at the end of oneshot so i’ll try to remember but its school so and i live in canada gasp

does anyone remember that meme with the “hey, smile!” camera shutter? cause i do and i felt like it match so giggles. anyways you must love earth 42 miles — i do too but earth 1610 still my boo.

he hated taking photos, like he really did, and most people knew that he did. but god, he must love you so much to the point where he agreed to do this with you.

miles grumbled at the constant question of, “can i take a photo of you?” from people all a like, especially you and his mother.

his hands caressed your waist, keeping you slightly away from him as you kept trying to take photos with him, “mi vida, please.” he sighed with his hands now on your face, making you look at him.

“eres cojo, miles.” you scoffed with an eye roll, “even your mom agrees, right, mrs morales?” you looked over to his mom with a smirk, she laughed at the two of you.

“[nombre] tiene razón, millas.” she placed a hand on her waist, a smile showing that she was enjoying the lovers quarrel. “mamá!” miles groaned at his mother.

you giggled, giving miles a quick peck on the lip before going over to his mother, “mrs. morales, since miles, here, doesn’t want to take pictures, wanna show me his baby pictures?”

you threw miles an evil smile over your shoulder as mrs. morales squealed in excitement, miles wouldn’t admit it but he did want to take a picture with you.

he went behind you, hugging your waist as his head was in the crook of your neck to hide the light pigment on his cheek.

“aww, he’s so cute when he was adorable.” he could technically feel the way you smiled.

“but he’s a lot cuter now.” you chuckled as you felt miles grumble into your neck, he’s accent, the way he held himself up, the braids in his hair, everything about him was photogenic.

“you guys are so cute.” mrs. morales commented, pinching miles cheek who let it happen. “take [name] to your room while i prepare dinner. es mejor que tu habitación esté limpia.”

“si mamá.” he took you by the hand, guiding you to his room, “you’re such a mommies boy.” you sat on his bed, smiling up at him as he just smirked.

that smirk, you wanted to kiss it off he’s face, your boyfriend is so cute.

“i love you so much, cariño.” miles kissed you on the nose as you glarrd at him for not kissing you directly, “not even a kiss on the lip.” the pout on your lip made you even cuter.

miles lightly chuckled, pushing you onto your back to cuddle, one of his hand caressing your cheek with love in his eyes.

“why don’t you like photos, cariño?”

“i don’t.” he always had a quick response, “then why don’t you take photos?” you propped yourself up by your elbows, “never crossed my mind, mi vida.” he grabbed you by the waist, pushing you back down and pulled you towards him to cuddle.

you smiled and grabbed your phone from your pocket, swiping left to open the camera app, taking a few photos of miles, thinking that he didn’t know.

he obviously knew but he didn’t tell you. he loved you, adored you. he spoiled you so much, whenever you two went shopping, he used his money, his card.

even if you went shopping by yourself—to be groceries or something— you’ll be using his card.

he worshipped you like angel from above that was sent down for him, and as his the prowler and possessive (even though you are too), he wouldn’t let anyone touch you, anger you.

he knew what to calm you down, make you happy, respected your needs, he wanted the best for you. after his father had died, you completely shut himself off until you came back to the city.

you giggled, miles looking over your shoulder seeing that you were sending the photos to his mother. he smiled and placed a warm, chaste kiss on your cheek.

“i love you, mi vida.”

you turned around to look at him, hands on his cheek as you placed kisses all over his face. first on his forehead, his eyelid, his nose and then a quick kiss on the lip.

“i love you too, miles.”

“no nickname?”

“i love you too, cariño.”

[theragethatisdesire]

cabin in the woods - eren x reader x jean - 18+!!!

part three of our polyverse woo! i wanted to write something intense for spooky season, but not like, a slasher fic, and you know eren would have the biggest primal play kink ever so here we are. the besties have been in their little poly relationship for a year and this is their anniversary trip <3 (and they're just so cute i need to put them in my pocket). enjoy what @fictional-d-supremacy and i came up with and....i don't even know what else to say. i love this one, prob in my top 3 of all time, i just love poly!erejean <3

pairing: eren jaeger x reader x jean kirschstein

wc: 9.5k (good lord)

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.

*deep breath* CWs: primal play (for some people, it may read as dubcon, so please familiarize yourself with what this means, you are responsible for your triggers!), consensual sex, established relationship, use of names (pet, baby, angel, princess, slut, bitch), breeding kink, biting, fingering, oral sex (fem and male receiving), anal play, anal sex, double penetration, mlm (eren and jean are in an established relationship and kiss at one point), degradation, objectification, multiple orgasm, threesome, bi!eren, bi!jean, dirty talk, creampie, polyamory

OKAY now that that's out of the way.....have fun babies!

-

There’s something about the crisp autumn breeze drifting in through the open windows, twisting through Jean’s Jeep with the same rhythm as the car itself winding up the side of the mountain, that sends a vicious shudder down your spine. You try to roll your window up to fight the chill, but Eren whines from behind you and thuds a heavy boot against your seat in protest.

“You said if I let you have shotgun, we could keep the windows down the whole time.”

“It’s freezing!”

“But I get carsick,” Eren grumbles, glaring at you in the rearview mirror. Jean sighs in a tone that sounds a lot like exasperation, reaching over to turn your heated seat on.

“Better?”

“A little,” you smile softly at him, laying your palm over the warm hand he rests on your knee, “are we almost there?”

“It’s just around this corner,” Jean assures you, hazel eyes flitting back over to the gravelly, curving road. You take a moment to admire him: strong brow, regal, elegant nose, pouty lips that you know to be soft from experience. The simple knowledge that Jean is yours, yours to kiss and touch whenever you want, is enough to send a thrill through you. Your moment of adoration is cut short by Eren throwing his arms over the seat, digging his hands into your shoulders in a rough massage.

“You’re going to love this place, babe,” Eren says behind your ear. The buzzy excitement thrumming through his voice makes a small grin tug at the corner of your mouth; Eren’s moods are contagious more often than not, and he’s been miraculously cheerful all day. “Mama Kirschstein’s got the hook-up.”

“You’re still calling her that?” Jean rolls his eyes, “she’s been telling you to call her Jane for the last eight years.”

“Are you sure she doesn’t mind us coming up?” You eye Jean nervously, reaching up to squeeze one of Eren’s larger hands for reassurance. “I know she had a bit of trouble, y’know…”

“When I told her it was our anniversary, she offered us the house for the weekend. I didn’t even ask,” Jean veers left onto a narrow dirt path, “I know it took her a minute to come around, but she adores you now. I promise.”

“She’s always adored me,” Eren adds unhelpfully, ruffling your beanie and consequently wrecking your hair, “but I guess she was able to find room in her heart for the both of us.”

“Eren, stop it– ugh, thank you. What has got you in such a good mood?” You turn over your shoulder to look at him, practically brimming with energy. Eren’s always despised road trips, yet he’s been the picture of eagerness all day.

“Just excited to spend some time alone in the woods with my two favorite people, what’s so wrong with that?” Eren grins widely at you, sharp canines glinting in the early afternoon light. Something about his smile seems…not insincere, more like overly sincere. It’s not at all out of the realm of possibility for Eren to have some grandiose, ridiculous surprise waiting for you in his suitcase, or for him to simply be bouncing out of his seat in anticipation of all the weekend away, anniversary sex you’re about to have. You chalk it up to one or the other, ignoring the strangely stern look Jean shoots him.

“Oh my god!” You cover your mouth to muffle the excited squeal that comes creeping up your throat upon sight of the cabin. The “cabin” turns out to be an isolated, sprawling home with several wings, beautiful beyond your wildest dreams. Massive slabs of stone make up the columns supporting an overhang that covers a ten-foot-tall door, the garden beds on either side of the walkway have been manicured to perfection, and there’s a winding stone path that leads to the back of the house through a covered walkway that connects the main house to the garage. It’s practically been ripped out of Architectural Digest. “It’s like it’s not even real.”

“Kirschstein money always gets the panties dropping,” Eren scoffs, practically kicking his door open the moment the car rolls to a stop, “I forgot how nice this place was.”

“Shut up,” Jean grumbles, rolling his eyes at Eren before setting his adoring gaze on you, “you like it, princess?”

“I love it,” you gush, jumping out of the car to get a better look, bag forgotten in the trunk. You can hear the boys bickering about luggage somewhere behind you, but all you can focus on is the vast nothingness around you, the sleepy chirping of cicadas in the trees, and the warmly lit home that belongs to you and your two gorgeous boyfriends for the weekend. Who says no one ever had it all?

“Are you excited?” Eren comes charging up behind you, arms encircling your waist and lips pecking every square inch of your neck he can reach.

“I’m so excited,” you giggle, shoving him off so that you can run to Jean and throw your arms around his shoulders, “thank you both so much—oh, we have to call your mom and thank her! Can we? Please?”

“In a bit,” Jean chuckles, scooping you up into his arms so you can wrap your legs around his waist, “don’t you want to see the inside first?”

“Yes–”

“I don’t know, Jean,” Eren saunters over, something mischievous flitting over his face that, if you were any less drunk on raw excitement, you would know immediately not to trust, “she may want to get a look at the woods before the sun goes down. What do you say, baby? Wanna go for a hike?”

“Eren,” Jean says, a very thin note of hesitation in his tone that you, in your giddiness, stampede right over.

“Just a quick one, Jean? Is that alright?”

“However long you want, angel,” Eren answers for Jean and smiles at you charmingly, entirely ignoring Jean’s widened eyes.

“Let’s do that,” you whip your wide, happy eyes back to Jean, a pleading grin on your face, “and then you can give me a tour of the inside. I just want to get a few Instagram pictures before we end up not putting clothes on again for the entire weekend.”

Jean smiles at you, some odd combination of endearment and something darker that you can’t quite make out—pity?—crossing his face. “Anything you want. Drop the bags on the porch, Eren? I’ll take her out back.”

Eren’s grin grows impossibly wider, a little glint in his eye. “Be right there.”

After your awkward, giggle-filled struggle to monkey-climb from Jean’s front onto his back without dropping to the ground, Jean, arms hooked firmly under your legs, walks you around the house, identifying little points of interest as he goes. He points out his childhood rope swing, tattered and still dangling from one of the massive oaks in the front yard, a few flower bushes that he remembers helping his mom plant. You can feel the swell of your heart in your chest as Jean walks you through his memories, snorting to himself when he recounts the tale of Eren nearly choking to death trying to hold his breath in the hot tub and growing misty-eyed when he points out his grandparents’ initials carved into a wooden bench in the garden.

You reach a point of the property where the meticulously groomed grass gives way to fallen leaves and patches of barren earth, a visible line between civilization and nature. A small wriggle from you lets Jean know you’re ready to hop down, and he bends at the knee slightly so you can slide off of his back.

“It really is a beautiful property,” you tell him earnestly, “I can’t thank you enough for bringing us here.”

“What’s mine is yours,” Jean, in that heartbreaking way of his, looks down at you like you’re the only thing he could ever want for, “you know that.”

“Still. Thank you.” You have to consciously focus on your breathing; you wonder if Jean knows he has this effect on people, if he knows that the way raw love lays itself bare in his eyes chokes whoever’s in his line of sight.

“It’s as much a gift for me as it is for you,” Jean leans down to nip at your ear, two large hands finding their way around your waist, “I’ve got you both away from work, out in the middle of nowhere, all to myself…”

“Jean!” It comes out as a clunky, airy giggle, half of the letters still jumbled in your throat where the breath is caught. He smirks against your neck, sinking his teeth in here, licking over a sore patch of skin there. The mountain breeze follows in his wake, kissing over the wet spots he leaves behind and raising goosebumps on the back of your neck.

“Getting started without me?” Eren’s voice startles you, makes you jump in Jean’s grip. Jean responds to your flightiness by spinning you on your heels and pressing your back to his chest, arms locked firmly under your breasts and head tucked onto your shoulder.

“We were waiting for you,” you answer, letting your eyes graze over Eren appreciatively as he approaches. As long as you’ve known him, autumn has always looked good on Eren. Something about the decaying colors around him makes his eyes that much more vibrant, the glow of them in the late afternoon sun almost reminding you of a predator at night, tucked behind bushes. Big cozy flannels only make his frame look broader, and the curl of his grown-out bangs around his pink ears makes you want to pinch his cheeks.

“Didn’t look like you were waiting,” Eren eyes Jean in annoyance, but the curl of his lip gives him away.

“She’s still here, isn’t she?” Jean counters, planting a sloppy kiss on your cheek.

“Where else would I be?” You laugh, shoving him back from you. Eren and Jean’s eyes meet, some dangerous, tangible glimmer passing between them. “What?”

“Nothing, angel,” Eren whistles, spinning you around yet again and locking your shoulders underneath his arm, beginning to walk you into the woods, “don’t you worry your pretty little head.”

“I’m not worried,” you roll your eyes, letting him drag you further into the forest, “you guys are just being weird.”

“Are we?” Jean’s arm comes sneaking around your waist, “I don’t think we are. Do you, Eren?”

“Not at all,” Eren shrugs, pulling out his phone, “looks like we still have two hours til sunset. That seems like enough time for a hike, don’t you think, Jean?”

“Oh, that’s definitely enough time.”

You tilt your head up, a slight scowl indenting your forehead, flitting your eyes between the two of them. They’re hardly paying attention to you, staring at each other in a way that you’re not unfamiliar with. That explains the oddities of their behavior today; typical boys, just excited to jump into bed later. You barely contain another eye roll, instead opting to let them have their teasing fun and focus on the grandiosity of the forest around you.

The canopy is tall, taller than you would have expected; it feels like the dwindling population of leaves above your head is in a different world than the crunch of their fallen comrades under your feet. That pesky breeze is still there, keeping your nerve endings jumpy with the ever-present chill, but the warmth of the colors around you almost makes up for it. Everywhere you look seems to be on fire, yellows and oranges and reds blending the landscape together into a closer approximation to an abstract painting than a scene out of nature.

Easily half an hour ticks by as you stroll, all three of you having fallen into a comfortable, contemplative silence. You don’t miss the way Eren’s hand will occasionally drift from your shoulder to the back of your neck, ghosting over the skin and running through the baby hairs there, making you shiver. Jean follows suit, his arm around your waist slipping a bit low once in a while, palm cupping your ass and squeezing appreciatively. You ignore them both in favor of taking advantage of the beautiful scenery, but you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t affecting you. That familiar warmth curls in your stomach, molten and hungry, and the tips of your fingers twitch in your pockets, aching to replace the fabric that surrounds them with skin.

Eventually, you all reach a picturesque clearing with a gorgeous overhang, and you see your opportunity.

“Wait, stop right here,” you finally break the silence, squirming in the boys’ arms to snag your phone out of your back pocket, “this is perfect.”

“Instagram time?” Jean tries and fails to keep the bored tone out of his voice.

“We only have, like, five pictures together, and we’ve been together for over a year.”

“That’s not true,” Eren protests, “I have an album full–”

“How many of those pictures are share-able?” You cock a knowing eyebrow at him.

“Um, probably like…two.”

“My point exactly.”

Through a bit of manhandling and arguing over who should hold the phone, you make out with at least three usable selfies (the boys refused to entertain your self-timer idea), which far exceeds the amount of photos you expected to leave this trip with.

“Why don’t you let us take a few of just you?” Jean suggests, reaching for your phone with an honest smile and giving Eren a subtle nudge.

“Really?”

“Sure,” Eren jumps in, nodding and smiling along, “a few pictures of our pretty girl out in the woods on our special trip.”

“And it would be cute for your Instagram, right?” Jean adds, patting you lightly on the bottom.

“Okay,” you agree, too thrilled at their sudden interest in your quest for a nice Instagram post to think too much into the way Eren’s tongue swipes along his bottom lip, the way Jean’s holding your phone so tightly his knuckles are turning white.

“Just walk out that way, there you go.” You can hear Jean’s voice, with a strange little tremor to it, growing quieter behind you when Eren ushers you off in the opposite direction. You leave your phone with Jean, alternating between a little jog and a walk away from them, moving further into the clearing and keeping your back to the boys.

“Was that cute, or stupid?”

Your nervous giggle echoes in the clearing, the rustling of leaves the only answer you receive. You make a few different poses, feeling a little silly but willing to endure it in the interest of getting a couple of nice photos. You notice the distinct lack of sound around you, how for just a moment, it feels like the universe consists of just you, Eren, and Jean, alone in these woods and miles from any other human. It hits you that that’s not entirely untrue; the last house you’d seen had to have been fifteen minutes before you’d gotten to Jean’s driveway.

You call back to them, wanting at least a little feedback and, honestly, beginning to feel a bit creeped out by the uncharacteristic silence ringing in your ears. “Are they turning out good?”

Nothing.

“What the hell?” you finally whip back around to face them, stomping your foot petulantly, “are you two like, messing with me?”

When you turn to meet them, however, all the fire in your throat dies out as quickly as if a bucket of ice water had been tossed on it.

Jean and Eren are smiling at you, which wouldn’t be too odd of a sight, if it weren’t for the threatening glitter in their eyes, the way Eren’s tilting his head ever so slightly to the right. You’ve never seen an expression like this on either one of them, never seen something so…dangerous cross their faces.

“Run.”

“I’m sorry?” You scrunch your nose at Eren, confused. His smile only grows wider.

“Run.”

“Run?”

“Don’t tell me you forgot,” Jean shakes his head disapprovingly, eyeing you down through the streaks of sunlight bleeding into the clearing.

“Forgot what?” Your words tremble as they make their way out into the still air. They’re your boyfriends, the men that wake you up with feather-light kisses and hoist you onto their shoulders at concerts, so why are your fingers beginning to shake?

“About that little book of yours we found,” Jean answers, cocking his head. “Surely you didn’t think we’d forget, did you?”

“No, I know she remembers,” Eren grits out through a clenched jaw, bristling under the soothing palm Jean runs over the back of his neck.

The memory hits you like a train. Coming home to find Jean and Eren hunched over a smutty novel of yours, blushing furiously and frowning in concentration. Confronting them only to find out they’d stumbled across the primal play chapter, that they’d noticed that these pages in particular looked a little well-worn. Jean had asked you if you would ever try it, Eren had raised his eyebrows when you admitted that yes, you would absolutely live that fantasy out if given the chance. Your face had burned as you nervously giggled, brushing the idea off in the sense that it was unrealistic to act out such a scenario in the middle of the city.

But you’re not in the city now. You’re in the forest, alone with your two boyfriends who are looking at you like they might rip you to shreds.

“No,” you murmur, so quietly that if the woods weren’t so still and silent, it wouldn’t have reached their ears, “I–I didn’t…I remember.”

“There it is,” Eren says, eyes glinting at you and arousal practically dripping off of his words as they make their way to your ears, “knew you did.”

“Weren’t lying, right? You wouldn’t lie to us, would you, pet?” Jean’s voice is steely and sharp with the implication that you had better not lie to him.

Words are lost on you amidst the thundering of your pulse in your ears, and you simply shake your head back and forth slowly. Some survival instinct from deep in the recesses of your brain tells you not to take your eyes off of them for a second, has every muscle in your body twitching. Despite the uneasy adrenaline coursing through your veins, a firm knot of arousal has taken hold in your lower stomach, simmering and spitting in excitement from the hungry looks on Eren and Jean’s faces.

“We’ll give you a ten second head start,” Eren says, dragging his eyes over your frame and licking at his bottom lip, “just to give you a fighting chance.”

“Sound good?” Jean tilts his head, raising an eyebrow at you. You know this is your moment to laugh this whole thing off, to return to the cozy interior of the cabin and put your feet up, have some hot chocolate, be kissed softly and held gently between their two strong bodies. This is Jean giving you an out, if you want it.

“Okay,” you agree, fingers fluttering nervously by your side.

“Good girl,” Jean nods approvingly, clenching and unclenching his fist, “ready?”

You nod back to him, knees shaking under your frame and a cold sweat breaking out over the back of your neck.

“Then fucking run,” Eren growls, grinning feral and wicked in the afternoon sun.

To your own surprise, you turn on your heel almost instantaneously, tearing off into the woods as fast as you can. The boots you’ve decided to wear are certainly not built for speed, but the thick soles are perfect for carrying you over the rough terrain, supporting your ankles and keeping them from twisting as you sprint through the woods.

You veer left, suddenly realizing that everything around you looks…the same. There’s no identifying markers, no path back to the cabin, no way to tell one tree full of decaying leaves from another. It brings you pause, your feet coming to a halt. It strikes you that you hadn’t been paying very close attention during your initial hike through the woods, and that even if you tried, you aren’t sure what direction will lead you back to the cabin. Eren and Jean have actually trapped you out here.

The crushing realization nearly makes your heart stop. You’re unable to suspend your disbelief enough to remember that these are your boyfriends chasing you; the only thought your brain can hold onto is that you’re being chased, and that you need to run.

The thudding of footsteps approaching shakes you out of your realization, has your feet moving at lightning speed the second you hear it. You don’t slow to look over your shoulder to see which one of them it is, just let your feet carry you far away as fast as you can manage. It dawns on you that the feeling coursing through you, bringing warmth to your face, is some unbelievable mixture of fear and arousal.

You can’t tell the color of either feeling apart, can’t tell where one ends and the other begins. Maybe they’re bleeding into each other, a symphony of passions ripping their way through every cord of muscle in your body, through every electrified nerve ending as you run away from what you want more than anything in this moment.

The footsteps behind you begin to fade, and as your breathing gets heavier and harsher, you realize you won’t be able to keep this pace; your best shot is running hard in short bursts and stopping to rest in between. You reach another clearing, much smaller than the one you had started out in, and lined with an assortment of bushes and a fallen tree. Just as you hunch over to catch your breath, you hear the return of those stomping footsteps, far behind you, but there all the same. The sharp pain ricocheting through your chest is warning enough to stop you from running again, and your eyes dart around in a panic, finally honing in on an area of the brush that looks thick enough to conceal you in your dark clothing, if you strip out of your light purple flannel.

As the footsteps draw closer, you hurriedly dive into the tangle of leaves and branches of the brush, ripping your flannel off of your arms as you go. You wince at the scrape of thorns and sticks on the soft, bare skin of your arms, but claw your way deeper, crouching down to conceal your body and twirling on your tippy-toes to peer through the leaves into the clearing.

It’s Jean, tall and imposing as he marches into the clearing. His chest is heaving under his shirt, hair mussed from running through the autumn wind. You marvel at him, so large and threatening, eyes blown wide and flicking from one area to another suspiciously, looking. Looking for you.

“Pet?” Jean whirls around, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “Are you hiding from me?”

You don’t dare make a sound, positive that your heart is pounding so hard that if someone looked at your neck, they’d be able to see the frantic push and pull of your pulse through the skin. Jean surveys the area, narrowing his eyes at the brush where you’re hiding, but miraculously, turning his head the other way. You need to keep moving, especially considering that you’re so close to Jean, but with the increasingly small distance between you, there’s no way that you’ll be able to quietly sneak out of the brush. Just as you’re formulating a plan to wait and see which way he runs next, so you can run in the opposite direction, Jean’s eyes catch on something that makes your breath hitch.

“Uh-oh,” Jean exhales, stepping closer to you and crouching, his grin growing darker. When his hand comes back into your line of sight, you nearly gasp, one hand flying to the naked top of your head. He’s holding your beanie, grinning down at it. Hardly another moment passes before Jean’s eyes flicker to you, darkening as soon as you make eye contact through the leaves.

“Shit,” you breathe, scrambling back onto your hands and crawling desperately through the branches and leaves behind you, grimacing as a particularly sharp thorn scratches deep into your cheek.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Jean laughs cruelly, jumping over the fallen tree trunk and towering over you as soon as you’ve escaped the brush. You stumble to your feet, but Jean’s quick, snagging you by the elbow before you can run off.

“Jean, please,” you gasp, looking up at him with wide, panicked eyes. It occurs to you that now that you’ve been caught, you’re not begging to be let go of– you’re begging to be held. Now that you’re so close to him, face to face with the shine of sweat on his collarbones, the rise and fall of his broad chest, your arousal is tangible, pumping through your veins thick like honey. You wet your lips, feeling the source of your panting move from your lungs to your core.

“Oh,” Jean’s bottom lip pushes out, “what’s the matter? Want to be my little princess again, is that it?”

“Uh-huh,” you nod frantically, looking over your shoulder and then Jean’s to see if Eren’s approaching to spoil your plan, “please Jean. Want to be your princess.”

“Aw,” Jean hums thoughtfully, cocking his head and looking down on you with pitying eyes for just long enough that you smile softly in relief, feel a rush of anticipation shoot through you. Unconsciously, you tilt your chin up, expectant and ready for him to catch you in a kiss. In the next instant, he’s gripping your arm even harder, with a jerk that makes your eyes water. “Too bad. You’re not my little princess out here.”

Your heart drops to your stomach, a clammy sweat breaking over your skin. Just as you’re about to plead one last time, Jean gives you a cruel smile.

“Eren! I’ve got her!” Jean shouts into the woods, turning his head over his shoulder to help the sound carry.

“Jean!” Your betrayal and frustration make your voice hoarse. Jean leans in to you, grinning wickedly.

“If I were you, I’d run. He’s not going to be nearly as nice as me.”

You wrench your arm out of his grasp, turning on your heel and darting further into the woods, grimacing at the feel of your wetness soaking through your panties. Jean’s footsteps are quick to catch up with you; or, at least, you think they’re Jean’s. You’re not going to break your stride to chance a look. You can’t outpace him, but you’re small and nimble enough that you think you may be able to outmaneuver him. You zigzag wildly through the trees, and it seems to be working, as Jean’s footsteps grow softer and softer behind you. Your lungs burn and your eyes water viciously, but you don’t dare relinquish the small distance you’ve managed to put between yourself and Jean, forcing your aching muscles to push harder and harder.

Suddenly, you spot it: a treehouse, with a little wooden ladder dangling from the bottom. It sounds like Jean’s footsteps are far enough behind you to afford you plenty of time to scramble up the ladder, at the very least to plan your next move. It wouldn’t be so bad if he saw you, either; the treehouse, as derelict as it may look, affords a nice sheltered spot for Jean to corner you in…

Your feet make the decision before your mind has the chance to catch up, and you’re beelining towards the treehouse, approaching it quickly. When you step on the first rung of the ladder, you feel the porous, rotten wood give a little underneath your weight, but the pounding of footsteps approaching urges you on. You make it two more steps up when one of the treacherous wooden rungs snaps under the pressure.

“Shit!” You squeal, clutching the ladder harder in an attempt not to tumble to the forest floor. You persevere, looking forward to whatever could await you if the boys were to follow you up to the treehouse. Two more steps up and you’re halfway there, but a pair of strong arms lock around your waist and pull you towards the ground with a harsh yank, ripping a yelp from your throat.

“Not a bad try,” you instantly recognize Eren’s voice, but what you don’t recognize is the rasp to it, the gravelly, dark tone, “but you didn’t really think you could run from me, did you?”

You thrash so violently that you think you must have hit him, because he drops you suddenly with a hiss. As soon as your feet hit the ground you take a few blind, wobbly steps in the opposite direction, only to run smack into Jean’s chest. You look up, wide, watery eyes blinking at Jean as your dizzied brain tries to grasp onto what’s at hand. You’re caught. They caught you.

“Going somewhere?” Jean sneers, grabbing you by your wrists and whipping you around to face Eren. The sight you’re greeted with has you squeezing your thighs together, a thick swallow sliding down your throat.

Eren’s eyes are blown wide, the bottomless black of his pupils nearly eclipsing the beautiful green you’re used to admiring. There’s a little sheen of sweat covering him, making him almost glow in the late afternoon light, and the veins in his neck are prominent with his heavy breathing. He runs his tongue over the now-split portion of his lip, courtesy of you, smearing a bit of blood over his mouth, and drags his eyes along every inch of you like he isn’t quite sure where he wants to start.

“I thought I told you to run,” Jean says, hot and taunting against the shell of your ear, “but it didn’t look like you tried very hard. Almost makes me think you wanted to be caught.”

“Of course she did,” Eren answers for you, stepping forward to run a thoughtful thumb across your cheek, making you flinch when he brushes over a cut on your face, “you want to get fucked, don’t you?”

You’re not sure what to do, whether you should nod your head enthusiastically or choke out a stuttered word of confirmation or maybe bite back; you feel frozen, overwhelmed by their looming figures and the fiery hot adrenaline still pumping through your veins. Eren decides for you, rubbing his thumb over your lips, and shoving it into your mouth. A coppery taste washes over your tongue, and you realize it’s your blood, fresh from the cut on your face. You suck his thumb in obediently, let him fishhook his thumb in your cheek, tugging your mouth this way and the other. Eren spits right in your mouth, nearly missing and splattering it all over your chin and cheeks.

“Nasty little bitch,” Eren snarls, shoving his mouth to yours.

What he does to you can barely be described as a kiss; it’s more like Eren devouring you. Teeth clack together, his tongue shoves into your mouth so violently you nearly bite down in your surprise. Eren sucks your tongue into his mouth, groaning low and hungry when you whimper.

“You taste good,” Eren murmurs hurriedly into your mouth, biting harshly on your lip and grinning against you when it makes you whine, “can taste the blood from that cut on your cheek.”

Jean stutters out a groan from behind you, his restraining grip on your wrists tightening. You feel his mouth begin to venture down your neck much like it had before, but his teeth are more demanding as they sink into your soft skin this time, more intent on taking, on marking you. One of Eren’s hands finds its way to your chest, grabbing harshly at your breast through your shirt. The ache of his strong fingers makes your back arch towards him, a breathless gasp leaving your lips.

“Show me,” Eren pants, finally backing away from you and ripping at your tank top, yanking it towards your head. There’s a shiny mixture of saliva and your blood staining his chin pink; shamefully, it makes a fresh rush of heat fly through your body, makes the wetness collecting between your thighs that much more prominent.

“We’re outside–” you try to protest, but a corrective slap to your ass from Jean shuts you up.

“No one’s around,” Jean says, mouth back on your shoulder as soon as Eren’s removed the offending garment from you, “it’s just us.”

“No one’s going to hear you scream,” Eren voices what you’re thinking with a nasty grin, bringing a hand to each of the cups of your bra and gripping the plush fabric hard enough to turn his knuckles white, tearing the connective fabric with a loud rip. 

“Eren!” You squeal in surprise, practically jumping in Jean’s arms.

“That’s it,” Eren groans, leaning down and lathing his tongue across a deep cut above your right breast, something you hadn’t noticed in your fearful escape from the bush earlier, “let me fucking hear you.”

Jean’s got your wrists contained in one of his large hands, not minding the swing of your ruined bra around each of your arms, reaching his other hand around your waist to fiddle desperately with the clasp of your jeans.

“Eren,” he says sharply, drawing Eren’s attention to the fact that your pants are still on. Eren smirks.

“Pick her up,” he answers, voice gravelly. Jean lifts you off the ground, your back pressed to his chest, feet dangling in the air. Eren rips both of your boots off, tossing them to the forest floor. Still pissed about your bra, truthfully, you jerk a foot out harsh enough to hurt him if it should make contact, trying to keep your movement spastic enough to make it look like an accident. Eren dodges and looks at you murderously, returning to his full height to grab your chin harshly.

“Did you just try to fucking kick me?” His forehead is pressed nearly to yours, voice low. Busted.

“You tore my bra.” Your voice has none of the conviction you were trying to find in the depths of your chest, coming out breathy and weak. A sound that can only be described as a snarl rips from Eren’s chest.

“Yeah, I fucking did,” Eren smacks your cheek just hard enough to stun you, make sure you’re really listening to him, “we caught you. Understand that? We’re going to do what we want with you because you’re ours. Keep smarting off, and I’ll rip your panties off next and shove ‘em in that bratty mouth of yours. Got it?”

Speechless, you nod desperately, squirming as the heat between your legs begins to grow unbearable, that tacky, sticky arousal surely beginning to leak down your thighs at this point. Eren makes quick work of your jeans and your underwear, hissing appreciatively as your panties stick to the wetness between your thighs.

“You’re so wet, pet,” Jean reaches around to swipe his hand through your folds. That alone is enough to make your knees buckle, make a wanton moan slip out from your lips.

“I–I want– oh.” You try and fail to articulate a sentence, cut off entirely by a loud groan when Eren’s teeth sink into the supple skin of your breast. Eren grins around the mouthful of flesh he holds between his teeth, raising his eyebrows at how riled up you already are.

“Pitiful little thing,” Jean chuckles, voice husky, “look how bad she wants it.”

Jean reaches down and shoves two fingers straight into your slick cunt, ripping a strangled moan out of your throat. Your hips buck into his hand of their own accord, desperate, tinny whines and whimpers leaving your mouth in quick succession. The stretch of Jean’s fingers is so welcome after all the build-up, that you don’t think you could put it into words if you tried. On behalf of your useless mouth, your body makes a great show of trying to show them just how good their attention feels, rolling and rocking into their touch, no matter how harsh.

Eren digs his fingers into the fat of your hips, your thighs, your ass, gripping you close to him and biting into whatever flesh of your upper body that he can reach as hard as he can, surely coming close to drawing blood. They aren’t the type of bites that require suction and the lathing of a tongue to soothe and leave hickeys; no, these are the type of bites that bruise on impact, little purple half-moons of teeth marks decorating your arms, shoulders, and breasts.

Jean coos in your ear approvingly each time your hips cant towards his hand, seeking more and more friction as the knot in your stomach tightens with each curl of his fingers. You can feel him pressing into your lower back, hard and promising, and your pussy flutters around his fingers at the thought of being split open by him, by Eren, by anything more that they’re willing to give you.

“Want to fuck her,” Eren huffs, “she close?”

“She’ll cum soon,” Jean affirms, licking through the shell of your ear delicately. You revel in the way they talk about you as if you’re not here, as if you possess no consciousness worthy of interacting with. You feel stripped of your higher thought processes, reduced into some pathetic, pliant creature only in search of pleasure– and you love it.

“Please,” you attempt to beg, only to be silenced by Eren’s long fingers wrenching their way down your throat.

“Stop talking,” Eren grumbles around a mouthful of your flesh, “pets don’t talk, do they?”

That draws a heady whine from you, your hips twitching forwards into Jean’s hand eagerly, a blatant attempt to pull forth the orgasm that’s been brewing between your hip bones for the last five minutes. Jean chuckles at your struggles, works his fingers just a bit faster.

“Go on,” Jean whispers, “it’s just us out here. Be as loud as you want, pet. We’re going to need you good and wet, so go ahead, cum hard for us.”

“C’mon, what are you waiting for? Fucking cum already.” Eren echoes Jean’s sentiment from your breasts, licking at another smear of blood just under your nipple.

Your body thrashes in their grip, begging for and yet resistant to the overwhelming waves of pleasure wracking through it. Loud squeals escape from your full mouth, even from where Eren’s got your lips stretched wide around three of his bulky fingers.

“Let us see what you can do, pet,” Jean murmurs, thick and warm against your ear, “just for us, come on.”

With one more vicious curl of Jean’s fingers, your back is arching violently, a muffled scream echoing into the canopy of trees around you as your release hits you hard. You can feel the wetness smearing between your thighs, feel the effort Jean’s exerting into keeping you still and in one place as you buck against him. Eren growls in approval and sinks to his knees, biting harshly into your thigh before sucking your clit into his mouth. That only serves to make you fight harder, the overstimulation getting the better of you.

Eren’s only able to lap at the sensitive folds between your legs for a moment before your twitching thighs threaten to knock him in the head, jerking closed of their own accord. Eren chuckles and smacks the inside of your leg a few times, rising to his feet and smirking at you.

“You squirming? Too much?” Eren sneers, gripping your jaw in his hand and forcing you to keep your half-lidded eyes on him. You push against his grip as hard as you can to shake your head no, earning yourself a pleased glimmer amongst the darkened green of his eyes. “More? You want more?”

When you nod frantically, Eren grins so wide his canines wink at you in the setting sun, flits his gaze over your shoulder to meet Jean’s eye.

“Get her on the ground.”

Jean complies, forcing you to your hands and knees in the dirt. Something about being so exposed, bare and open for them in the ground like this, has your blood running hot in an entirely new way. Neither of them have taken so much as their outer layer off, pinning you between them like…like their little pet. You can feel yourself grow even wetter; it may as well be dripping down your thighs at this point. You hear one of them kneeling behind you, can feel the head of a cock swiping through the mess between your legs.

“So fucking wet,” Eren hisses from over your shoulder, grabbing at your hips and kneading the skin. A hand comes to your chin, tilts your head up.

“Open up, pet,” Jean says, biting into his bottom lip. Obediently, you drop your jaw, tongue out, and blink up at him invitingly, more than eager for the weight of him in your mouth. Jean groans at the sight, slipping the tip of his drooling cock onto your tongue. You swipe your tongue over the tip, eyes rolling back at the taste of salt and sweat and Jean. Jean wastes no time in pushing to the back of your throat, tapping your gag reflex.

Any hope you had of suppressing the cough that threatens you when Jean pushes into your throat is ripped away by Eren shoving himself into you from behind, pushing you an inch too far down Jean’s cock and making you retch.

“All stuffed full of cock, aren’t you?” Eren grunts, driving into you and setting a brutal pace off the bat. You’re powerless to do much else besides squeal and whine around Jean’s cock, punctuating your muffled moans with the occasional gag when Jean taps the back of your throat.

Jean spits several times into the palm of his hand, never losing his pace thrusting into your mouth. If you had any more presence of mind, you’d frown up at him questioningly, but any doubts about his intentions are resolved when he leans over you, spreading his spit over your asshole.

“I want to take her too,” Jean says to Eren, who leans down to spit directly on your only unoccupied hole, lubing you up, “get her ready.”

Eren only offers an affirmative grunt, circling your hole a few times before pushing his thumb in up to the hilt; you’d taken them both only last night, so you don’t require all that much prep, but Eren’s thick fingers are a shock all the same. You squeal around Jean, who shushes you and runs his fingers soothingly along the crown of your head. You lean into his gentle touch, only for him to tighten his grip around the tangled wreck of your hair and shove you down onto his cock harder.

“Told you you’re not my princess anymore,” Jean chuckles darkly above you, driving his hips forward to the same rhythm Eren pounds into you from behind, “not out here.”

Eren’s been busying himself preparing your asshole, up to what feels like three fingers, but with the girth of Eren’s hands, you can never be sure. To have every bit of you full and used is an out of body experience; it’s not something you don’t experience regularly with the both of them, but to be taken so brutally out in the open, to be fucked in such an animalistic way, nearly shuts your brain off.

Eren gives you a few final thrusts before pulling himself entirely from you, causing Jean to follow suit and leaving you empty and whining. You’re tugged to your feet before you can even begin to form a sentence to beg for them back, stumbling in the crunchy leaves under your feet. Eren scoops you into his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist to keep you firmly pressed to him.

His cock drags along the folds between your legs, and he presses his forehead to yours, short, heavy breaths leaving him in huffs.

“Ready, pet?” Eren mutters into your open, waiting mouth, “ready to take what you were made for?”

Before you can offer anything more than a half-hearted plea, Jean is pressing into you, the all-consuming stretch of him rendering you mute. Eren never stops boring his gaze into yours, something sparking and spitting and wanting in his eyes, demanding more from you. He drinks down your squeal of surprise, spreads your ass cheeks open so Jean can get at you deeper, digging into depths you rarely find yourself aware of.

“She’s still so tight,” Jean growls, sinking his teeth into your neck, smiling around the mouthful when you moan wantonly.

“Give him some more, hm?” Eren, forehead still tacky and stuck to yours, grabs for Jean’s hand, angling it under your mouth. Through your desperate little hiccups of pleasure, you understand; you spit into Jean’s hand, opening your mouth so that a thick line of drool can slick his fingers up further. Eren grins, evil and satisfied. “Good job, pet.���

Jean uses the saliva you’ve given him to wet the last few inches of himself, pushing in to the base with a loud groan. You can almost feel the tangible eye contact they exchange; they love to look at each other unraveling when they’re inside you. “Your turn.”

Eren—no, Jean?—digs his fingers into your hips, making you whimper at the thought of the bruises sure to follow his grip, slides his cock into you slowly and forcefully, like he’s proving a point. The stretch of him– no, of both of them inside you, isn’t anything new, but in this setting, after all the build-up? You’re wailing, openly, your cries echoing off the trees as you thrash in their firm hold, overstimulated and overwhelmed and overpleasured all at once.

“Sh, sh,” Jean shushes you sternly, pinning your head back against his shoulder with a firm fist to the nape of your neck, “take it, don’t fight it.”

“Feel so fucking good, pet,” Eren says gruffly, giving a tentative half-thrust and making all of you moan, “like you’re fucking made for taking cock.”

“She is,” Jean coos, beginning to rock into you in the same easy rhythm as Eren, “just look at her. Not one thought behind those pretty eyes.”

He’s right; your eyes have glazed over entirely, mouth hanging ajar as they take and take and take from you. You can feel an orgasm quickly taking shape in the pit of your stomach, wrapping around itself and squeezing, threatening to pull you under. You’re so blissed out you can’t even be sure of what you’re feeling. Full, exposed, primal, half-conscious; all of those words surely would make the list if you could pull any of them to the front of your mind at the moment.

Your thighs are quivering around Eren’s waist, tightening viciously around his hips as they drive into you, suspending you between two walls of hard muscle. You know your cunt follows suit when Eren groans loudly, jaw dropping slightly.

“Feels good, doesn’t it? Slutty little thing,” Eren grunts against you, eyes flicking back and forth between you and Jean, “begging to get your cunt filled like a bitch in heat.”

“That is what you want, isn’t it?” Jean practically whispers into your ear, words wrapping around the knot in your stomach and holding it together, “want to get bred, don’t you, pet?”

Eren’s eyes go wide for just a moment, his gaze fixated on Jean. You can feel him pause briefly, twitch inside of you, and then before even a full second has passed, Eren’s determined scowl has twisted his face again, and he’s hammering into you like his life depends on it.

“Is that what you want?” Eren demands of you, eyeing you.

“Tell him,” Jean says to you, like the devil on your shoulder, “tell him how badly you want it. Go on.”

“I–I–” The tears running down your face collect in your mouth, making you hiccup and spit and choke on your words. Eren grabs your face fiercely, forcing you to look at him.

“Say it,” Eren snarls, “tell me you want this slutty pussy stuffed full of cum, our cum.”

“I want your cum,” you whimper pathetically, words stuttering and tripping as they spill from your swollen lips, “want to be full of it, want to get bred.”

“Fuck,” Eren nearly throws his head back, somehow moving his hips faster. Your legs dangle uselessly beside him; every muscle in your body contracts and relaxes wildly as your orgasm sinks its claws into you, threatens to pull you under. The only things tethering you to your body at this point are Eren’s eyes on you, bright and feral, and Jean’s hands around your hips, keeping you in place for them to pound into. You can feel the tidal wave coming up in your throat, your moans and whines growing more and more frantic, your head feeling lighter with each passing moment.

“Such a good girl– good little pet for us,” Jean slurs, hips beginning to falter in their rhythm, “show us how bad you want our cum, let us feel you–fuck–”

“So fucking good,” Eren laughs almost hysterically as you finally snap and cum around them, slapping your face lightly and egging you on, “there she goes.”

Every nerve ending in your body feels like it’s on fire, little shocks of electricity flying down your limbs and making you jerk and flail and contract. You can feel your fingers digging into the skin of Eren’s biceps until they meet something wet and warm, and you know you’ve drawn blood, but you’re spiraling through rapturous pleasure so intensely that you couldn’t release your grip if you tried.

The way you tighten viciously around them has Jean falling over the edge right after you, his hips stuttering and coming to a still pressed against you. He tugs your face to the side, pulling you in for a sloppy, honestly disgusting, kiss, panting heavily into your mouth and mouthing around praises that he’s too spent to fully pronounce. You can feel Eren’s eyes on you both, feel the way his thrusts are starting to grow more frantic. Jean turns your face to meet Eren’s gaze, resting his head on your shoulder.

“Look at her, Eren,” Jean shakes your face a little for emphasis, “needs cum in both her holes, not just one.”

As if to emphasize his statement, Jean pulls out of you, a gush of his cum joining the mess between your legs. Eren throws his head back and groans, nods urgently.

“Said we’d stuff her full, right? Breed her? That’s what she wants, isn’t it, pet?” Jean sneers, landing a smack to your cheek.

“Uh-huh,” you babble mindlessly, body trembling with the force of the aftershocks of your orgasm, “p-please Eren, breed me, I need it–”

“Gonna cum in you,” Eren pants, grabbing your hair so hard you wince, “can you take it? Take all of it ‘til you’re bred and full of me?”

“Yes,” you whimper, nodding against him, “yes, please, I–”

“Give it to her,” Jean’s fisted his hand at the nape of Eren’s neck now, pulling all of you so close that you’re drinking down each other’s breaths, “she’s worked so hard for it, give her what she needs.”

That’s all it takes; Jean’s encouragement has Eren spilling inside you with a lengthy, choked groan. With what little energy you have left, you pepper soft kisses along his neck, knowing how his muscles must be burning with how they’re twitching under his skin. Eren’s fingers are digging into you so hard it hurts, already aching, but you let him cling to you, ride out his orgasm as Jean threads his fingers through the hairs at the base of Eren’s neck soothingly.

You all stay this way for a moment, Jean supporting the majority of your body weight as Eren begins to sag into you, arms wrapped tightly around your waist. The breeze swirls by, leaving cold kisses on every inch of your bare skin, reminding you that you’re out in the open, making you miss your sweater.

“Guys?” You speak feebly into the crisp air, blinking sleepily.

“Holy shit,” Eren laughs breathlessly into the crook of your shoulder, pulling you close to him in a sticky hug, “that was–”

“Crazy,” Jean agrees with a disbelieving chuckle, helping you down onto your shaky legs.

“I am…very naked.” You point out weakly, swaying on your sore thighs. Jean’s quick to slide an arm around your shoulders and tug you to him, while Eren wrangles his hoodie over his head to offer you.

“There’s not another house for five miles in either direction,” Jean assures you, lifting your arms so that Eren can pull his hoodie over you, “wouldn’t ever let anybody see you like this, you know that.”

“Better?” Eren, still a little winded, tugs the hoodie down around your thighs, looking you over. He swipes a thumb across the cut on your cheek, an impish smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “We really roughed you up, didn’t we? I’m sorry, angel.”

“I liked it.” Your eyes are already falling shut; you barely have the energy for a sleepy smile when Eren presses his lips to your hairline. Jean scoops you up into his arms; all the cardio that he does at the gym is making itself known.

“Was it good, princess? Have fun?” Jean murmurs against your forehead.

“So much fun.” You open one eye to see Jean and Eren glance at each other, see the spark of love between them. It comforts you; even amongst the near-constant shivers wracking through your body, the warmth of their presence and the steady rocking of Jean’s steps lull your eyes shut.

“Thank god she ended up running just about to the backyard,” Eren huffs from somewhere to your right, still sounding very much like he hasn’t caught his breath, “I’m fuckin’ beat.”

“It’s because you don’t do enough cardio, bro.” You can hear Jean’s insistent eyebrow raise and visualize Eren’s answering eye roll, chuckling to yourself in Jean’s arms.

“Cardio’s for bitches, I’m bulking right now–”

“Did you listen to anything the team trainer said in college? Honestly–”

“That was three years ago–”

Somewhere amongst their arguing you doze off, letting yourself go limp in Jean’s arms. When you wake again, Jean’s walking you up a flight of stairs, angling you this way and the other to avoid hitting your head on the railing. Jean flits his eyes down towards you and acknowledges your consciousness with a soft smile, carrying you into a bedroom and sitting you on the bed. Wordlessly, Jean and Eren go about their usual routine of cleaning up after a particularly rough session: Jean runs a bath while Eren fetches some antiseptic for the scratches on your face and arms, Eren nearly gets distracted when you start running your fingernails through his hair but Jean gets you both back on track, somehow fitting all three of you in the largest bathtub you’ve ever seen.

Before you know it, you’ve been scrubbed clean, all the grime gone from your skin and the twigs pulled from your hair, and sandwiched between Eren and Jean under a heavy duvet.

“All better, right?” Eren murmurs against your forehead, pressing a kiss to it.

“All better,” you hum, nuzzling into his chest, “but I don’t want to waste the weekend. We’re only here until Sunday– do we really need to nap?”

“I threw dinner into the smoker while Eren was drying you off,” Jean says, words floating over your shoulder from where he’s curled up behind you, “we have at least two hours ‘til it’s cooked through properly.”

“And you need a nap,” Eren grins mischievously, “you had a big afternoon.”

“I’m not the only one,” you giggle up at him, “I heard you wheezing on the walk back.”

Eren scowls, only to have the furrow in his brow smoothed over by Jean’s thumb. You watch in awe as he instantly melts into Jean’s palm, such a volatile man so easily soothed by a gentle touch. As Eren’s mood begins to settle, you feel the atmosphere in the room change; the blankets feel just a bit heavier, the rise and fall of Jean’s chest against your back quells your breathing into the same rhythm, and the circles Eren’s thumb is rubbing into your hip have your eyes beginning to flutter.

“Naps for all three of us,” Jean says, leaving no room for argument, "I set an alarm. I won’t let you sleep through the weekend, I promise."

Something about the warmth and familiarity tucked under the covers with the three of you has your mind ambling on towards sleep, even after your weak attempts to protest. As you drift off, you can hear the quiet, wet noises of Jean and Eren exchanging a goodnight kiss above your head, feel the reassuring squeeze of their arms around your waist, the brush of lips against the nape of your neck, the tip of your nose. There’s a little murmured “I love you” from each of them, and though your mouth wants to form the words to respond, all you’re able to manage is a soft, contented smile as you drift off.

[chuluoyi]

UNHOLY MATRIMONY — 06

✩°｡ ⋆ a longer dream

- fushiguro megumi x oc/reader - oc/reader's character name is hara sena, pronouns still refer to “you” and i won’t mention it often—just for the sake of aesthetic rather than repeatedly writing "y/n"

in another life, in which fate is still screwing his life over, Fushiguro Megumi finds himself in an arranged marriage―with you.

genre/warnings: arranged marriage au, mild angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, descriptions of aggressive behavior (hair pulling, hand stomping—but not to the reader)

notes: an early release! please believe me when i said that i really wanted to add megumi's reaction in the previous chapter. i cut it because it got too long already.

oh and with this i’m announcing that unholy matrimony will be on break next week to ensure the best experience :( chapter 7 will be posted on november 6, i promise.

listen to: i will stay with you - gummy :)

series masterlist | next. love unspoken

This can’t be right.

Megumi must have heard wrong.

It was barely seven in the morning, he had just woken up, and the first thing he heard was... you were asking for a what? Divorce?

"What, why?" he immediately snapped.

You kept your head low. "Because there's no reason for us to be together anymore. This whole thing―" you gestured to everything around you as you tried to contain your emotions, "―started just because I have no choice but to obey my father so that he wouldn’t take my mom as a hostage."

Honestly, Megumi didn't understand. Maybe his brain was lagging because it was meant to be a tranquil Sunday morning. But he couldn't make the heads or tails of whatever you were spouting now.

"Now that my mom is no longer in the picture," you continued, your voice steady and your eyes devoid of doubt. "He has no other means to control me. He can't have his way with me anymore."

"Hold on—" He was exasperated. Nothing's making sense. "This doesn't necessarily lead to divorce. Sena, what are you thinking?"

“I’m setting us free, Megumi,” you interjected, fixing a fierce gaze on him. “Neither of us wanted this in the first place. And now we can do it. Zen’in must have a better bride in mind for you, or you could also ditch them altogether. We can go our separate ways.”

How had it escalated into this? Weren’t the two of you just spent the night? How did you spew all of these so callously?

Megumi clenched his jaw. “No.”

"Why?!" Now it was your turn to express frustration. Honestly, you really thought he would agree. You had offered him his freedom on a silver platter—so why didn't he take it?

“You are not in the right state of mind,” he asserted, his gaze fixed at you squarely. “You haven’t thought this through. You can't make decisions solely based on your impulses, Sena.”

“I have thought this through, Megumi!”

“Clearly, you haven’t,” he retorted firmly. “If that’s the case, then tell me, should we get a divorce, what would you do?”

You fell into silence, unable to give an immediate response. “It’s—I will—”

“See?” he let out a scoff. “Is your life with me so unbearable that you’re considering a divorce?”

Your brain short-circuited, evidently and truthfully you didn’t think that far ahead. Your primary focus was to alleviate the guilt in your gut, and you believed that returning to where it all began would be better for both of you, especially him.

But was your life with him that miserable? “No.” You stiffened, biting your lower lip. You didn’t want him to think like that. Living with Megumi was far from horrible at all; in fact, it was quite the opposite.

“Then what brought this on?” he inquired once again. His tone remained calm, but it was clear that he was holding his simmering anger back. “We are perfectly fine. So what’s the deal? Give me a straightforward explanation and I’ll agree with you only if you can explain what you will do from then on.”

Why must he do this? Why did he have to be against it so much? It took everything out of you to keep your resolve from breaking.

Your heart couldn't help but soar when he opposed your idea of getting a divorce. You found yourself hoping for something more, with him.

“We are… not fine.” You ran out of arguments to convince him, as the thought of staying suddenly made more sense, against your better judgment. “I… you—you didn’t want to be married to me—”

“But now I do!” His voice rang through the apartment, leaving you momentarily speechless, trying to absorb his words.

Megumi was at his wits end. As surprising as it may seem, he had developed feelings for you, and perhaps now, those feelings had intensified into something more intense. He had these passing thoughts about how to express his feelings, and certainly this wasn't the scenario he had in mind. However, now that things had escalated to this point, he must get this across somehow.

“I know you’re having a hard time. Losing your mother isn’t something you can get over so easily—I get it. I understand that, Sena.”

Tears welled up in your eyes.

“But I promise you,” his unwavering gaze held you captive. “You are going to be fine. We are going to be fine. Forget how we started—we have made it this far regardless of that.”

Staying with you meant he would remain embroiled in the Zen'in's successor struggle, a reality he was fully aware of. But the idea of you leaving was simply inconceivable in his mind.

Now you were openly sobbing. You were happy. You knew it was still wrong, but you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him the whole truth—the binding vow with Gojo. You just can’t.

You had never hoped so bad for a wrong to become right before now.

"You have me," he declared, and Megumi's hand reached for your damp cheek, cradling it gently. When your teary eyes met his, he fondly caressed your cheek.

“I will stay with you.”

That was the breaking point. You lost the hold over your emotions. If you didn't know anything else, one thing was abundantly clear—you had lived for this very moment.

And when Fushiguro Megumi pulled you into a searing kiss, you knew that life as you had known it had come to an end.

Because from now on, through endless maze, fear and loneliness, you placed your trust in him to be by your side.

"Tsk."

Naoya clicked his tongue at the first hearing held at his own Zen'in estate. Most of the elders had gathered in the main hall, with him sitting at the front row. The next seat next to him was empty.

"Can't we just start?" he spat impatiently, glaring particularly at his uncle, Zen'in Ogi—the father of the Maki and Mai—who was the head of the council to determine the next successor of Zen'in clan.

His uncle simply regarded him with a stoic expression. "We'll commence when Fushiguro arrives here."

To be frank, Zen'in Ogi harbored a strong dislike for Naoya. Not only was this young upstart trying to seize the position of the clan head that could be his by the order of seniority, he was incredibly disrespectful too. Given the choice—which he had, anyway—he still preferred Fushiguro even though he was an outsider rather than this manic twat.

"If the bastard doesn't come then it's his loss," Naoya hissed through his teeth. "Why should we wait for him? What a waste of time."

An attendant suddenly went into the room to inform that Fushiguro Megumi couldn't attend as he had prior engagements. Naoya sneered upon hearing that. "See? Even he doesn't take this the least bit seriously."

Zen'in Ogi vowed to wipe that smirk off his face, even if it was the last thing he did. To him, Naoya's behavior and lack of decorum during his brother's funeral was a blatant insult to their proud clan, and there was no way he would let him rule at the top, even though he was his brother's own flesh and blood.

Hence why he took great delight in seeing the shock on his face when he announced that the majority of the votes had gone in favor of Fushiguro instead of him.

"This isn't the final decision, of course," he remarked, casting a glance at Naoya's seething anger. "We will hold two more hearings, and by then, you can still cast your vote for the candidates you favor."

What the actual fuck—

"I advise you to get your act together, Naoya," Ogi whispered to him as the crowd dispersed. "You're hardly demonstrating why we should choose you with your rather... ah, unbecoming behavior."

Naoya clenched both his jaw and fists as his uncle walked past him. The nerve of that rotting bastard!

No one seemed to respect him any longer in this place. It seemed like everyone had started to think he could be overthrown from his rightful place.

So be it then. He just had to make it clear that he was the one in charge.

And when he spotted one of the serving girls, whom he had observed had been following several elders, and even himself, for several days now, Naoya finally had enough and pursued her as she hastened her steps.

But he was naturally faster and grabbed her hair in an attempt to catch her, causing her to yelp.

“Master Naoya!” she cried. “P-Please let me go—!”

“Shut up, you wretch!” he snapped at her with such fury that the girl could only tremble in shock. He then forcibly dragged her by the hair toward the disciplinary pit, paying no heed to her cries and pleas for him to stop.

He flung her across the hard tiles, and the girl curled up in fear. "P-Please... spare me..." she pleaded, her voice trembling with terror.

With an air of dominance, Naoya gazed down at her, and then he ruthlessly stomped on her hand, causing her to scream in agony.

“S-Stop! It hurts!” she sobbed. “P-Please!”

He crouched down, still keeping her hand pinned beneath his shoe.

“I’m acting o-on orders!” she shouted amidst the tears. “M-My mistress is the one w-who told me to come h-here!”

Naoya's lips curled into a sneer as he released his grip on her and then firmly grasped the young girl's chin, forcing her to meet his gaze.

“Now, you fool, tell me everything.”

It was monumentally stupid. Megumi knew it, but couldn’t help but let his face burn in embarrassment regardless.

“Megumi.” You tilted your head to the side, eyes looking at him so innocently, yet hesitantly. “You want us to… uh, share one bedroom?”

The way you pronounced the word “share” was enough to drive him on edge. He knew it. You didn’t want it, but he wanted this, and yet he didn’t want to force you into it.

These three statements that negated each other made him want to crawl back to his room.

But as the saying goes, sometimes you have to fake it until you make it, right?

“Yeah, is there a problem with that?” And so faking his confidence it is.

“T-There is!” you hastily retaliated. “This is too sudden!”

“And what about it? Your bed is big enough for both of us. If not, then the one in my room it is.”

“But!” This inquiry was beyond you. Not that you were totally opposed, but this prompt change of situation left you reeling.

Okay, let us get it straight.

Confessing feelings to each other? Well, yeah, in practice, yes.

Marital status? Still wife and husband. Check.

And so, this was the cue for moving in together next, yes?

At least in the romance novels you read, yes. But quite literally, ever since Megumi’s dramatic declaration—that made you swoon amidst everything else, yes—the two of you found yourselves stuck in an awkward situation once again. He failed to look at you in the eye for two days straight after that, and now out of nowhere, asked you to share a room with him.

“Are you sure?” you asked, idly twirling a strand of your hair with your fingers.

“I am,” he replied instantly. "What's the issue here? We're married. We should have done this right from the start."

“Wouldn’t want you to burst from sheer embarrassment is all,” you quipped, successfully making him fidget. A smile tugged at your lips at his reaction.

"You could hardly even look at me," you added teasingly, and it seemed a vein on his face was on the verge of bursting.

“And you—”

You didn't have the opportunity to add more anecdotes to the list because suddenly your right arm was pulled, and before you could react, you found yourself cornered against the sofa.

"Well," Megumi's face was now inches from yours, his voice slow and laden with an indescribable intensity. His green eyes blinked, and suddenly, you found it hard to breathe. "Now, I'm looking at you, aren't I?"

What… is this situation? You could no longer think, and the only sound you heard was your uncontrollable heartbeats.

Even Megumi himself couldn’t keep the blush from creeping up on his face as he kept his hot gaze on you. When his cheeks began to feel as if they were sizzling and burning, much like the barbecue he had with Yuji the other night, he finally withdrew, moving away slowly. You took a deep breath and exhaled forcefully, your heart still racing.

"Stupid, don't look so scared," he grumbled before tousling the top of your head, causing you to wince.

Now he had truly done it, hadn't he? He had made it glaringly obvious just how hopelessly infatuated he was, or at least he hoped he had conveyed it to you.

“I’m not scared…” You looked away shyly. “Megumi, you idiot.”

“Why am I the idiot? You’re the one being so clueless.”

In his eyes, you appeared so petite and vulnerable. The way you puckered your lips made him want to pin you to the wall.

It was unlike anything he had felt before. This urge to protect, make you happy, and ruin you at the same time was just too much.

But in the end, the first two always won.

"Okay, forget about it," he said afterwards, prompting you to look up. "We don't have to share a room if you're that uncomfortable about it."

“Uh, but—” now you were the one stammering. “No, it’s—okay…”

He raised an eyebrow, not understanding what you meant, so you took a gulp of breath, suppressing your embarrassment.

“Let’s sleep together from now on,” you declared. “In the same room, okay? I’m okay with it…”

“Really, you don’t have to—”

“I want to.”

A reminiscent of what he told you just two days ago. You couldn't forget how those three simple words made you feel, as if you were granted a fresh opportunity at life, despite the hardships you'd endured.

In the ensuing five seconds, you locked eyes and then erupted into a chorus of laughter.

“It’s so stupid, why is it so hard?” you sighed, smiling all the way. “We can’t be stuck at this stage forever.”

Megumi looked at your smile and, once again, tenderly placed his hand on your head.

“Yeah, we probably shouldn’t,” he muttered. “But even this is enough for me though.”

“What is?”

A gentle, weightless sensation filled his chest, a welcome relief after enduring two weeks of shared suffering. Seeing you no longer as tormented fueled his desire to to sustain that newfound happy expression on your face.

“Your smile,” he replied simply. “Just keep smiling. That’s all that matters.”

You swore you felt your heart leap out of your chest at his genuine words. But, damn you, you concealed your emotions the only way you knew how.

“Okay, so now you can’t deny it any longer,” you huffed in a playful condescending manner. “You’re positively smitten by me, correct, dear husband?”

A sheepish snort escaped from him. “Yeah, yeah, wife. I’m all yours.”

Megumi was eager to walk down this road with you from now on. It wouldn't be without its challenges, as there were still many things for you to tackle. Your mother’s murderer, Tsumiki’s curse, Zen’in’s mess. Through it all, he had you in his thoughts. And as for you...

You were content if this dream would last just a little bit longer.

next : love unspoken

🏷️ taglist

@moonmalice @hellothere9597 @qtnfer @firstplaidpeachnickel @waddlingwanderer @chilichopsticks @satorus-slut @dcvilxswish @lees-chaotic-brain @tojirin @bluebreadenthusiast @pandabooster @cole-silas @becsmarvel @giuli-in-earth @fuckimgenderfluid @haitanisrarity @kimura-uzuri @bicchaan @lunavixia @stevenknightmarc @rory-cakes

[lorarri]

★ . . . 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 , 𝐋𝐇𝟒𝟒

summary , after 12 year's Y/N's parents finally divorce leaving Y/N in a tough position when he mothers new boyfriends comes into the picture

pairing , step dad! lewis hamilton x fem! young teen! reader

series masterlist | main masterlist | f1 masterlist | lewis hamilton masterlist | next part

yourinstagram

liked by nanayn leejunho 87,662,787 others

yourinstagram no matter what goes down I know I'm safe with my girls

comments have been disabled

MUM ❤️

hi baby

are you excited about your special day?

Y/NNIE 🐰

hi ma

yeah

I'm so happy I get to spend it with the girls

MUM ❤️

oh

Y/N I thought we agreed that you would spend your birthday with me and Lewis

we booked a reservation at your favourite restaurant

the one that we used to go to all the time with your father

Y/NNIE 🐰

sorry mum me and the girl's have already have everything planned out

and it's to late to cancel

why don't you and him go instead to the reservation

make it a date or whatever

MUM ❤️

he has a name Y/N

and the day isn't about me and Lewis

it's about you

which is why I want you to spend the day with me

with us

you can't avoid him forever

please Y/N Lewis is a lovely man

if you just talk to him

I think the two of you would get along

Y/NNIE 🐰

and what play mom's new boyfriend and daughter?

I'm not interested in playing house with the man who destroyed our family

MUM ❤️

Y/N...

me and your father had been talking about divorce since you were 12 sweetheart

Lewis is not the reason we split

Y/NNIE 🐰

then why does it feel like it

yourinstgaram

liked by hanni danielle 98,787,787 others

yourinstgaram sweet 16 with the people I can trust 🤍

comments have been disabled

yourinstagram . 10min ago

seen by nanaln minji haerin 435 others

Y/NNIE 🐰

dad please come pick me up

mom's boyfriend is staying at the house I don't like him

dad please

I miss you

dad?

lewis just proposed to mom...

I don't know what to do

dad please

did I do something wrong?

do you not love me any more?

please say something anything

I'm sorry read

lewishamilton

liked by nanaln charles_leclerc 89,672,156 others

lewishamilton my one and my wife to be 🤍

comments have been disabled

─ requested by . . .

anon ─ Hi, I was reading your stories and I have a request/idea for your F1 stories that I was wondering if you could do only if you’re comfortable doing it. Basically the readers mom splits from her father for whatever reason you choose and then she marries Lewis making him the readers stepdad who is like 13 or 12 and they just have a hard time connecting and interacting because she misses her biological father but over time they start to bond. And her mom is happy or something idk. (female reader btw) This is it really, if you need to add or change anything then go ahead but yeah that’s it really.

[cxrsed-angel]

I ♡︎ DILFS

word count: 3k

Warnings: smut 18+ only (minors DNI), Daddy kink (kinda expected), established relationship, age gap (reader is between 24-25, Joel is in his 50s), oral (male receiving), fem!reader

A/N: I've always thought Joel was hot but Pedro Pascal playing him really did it for me, trying to improve my smut so I hope this is better than my last one. <3!!

You were going through an old building as a short cut you didn't realize it at first from the decay and rubble, but the more you looked around, you could see that it used to be a mall. You looked inside a store seeing if you could find anything useful when you spot it. It was a sign from fate; you go and grab the shirt and hold it up to look at. Considering what it's been through, it was in pretty good condition, like it was saved for you. You quickly take off your backpack and put it on. It was a little small; you assume it was a baby tee from the fit of it, but you had a long sleeve under, so you were still covered. You hear Ellie call your name and grab your stuff and run over to them. Joel starts walking, leading you out once he sees you, “Took you long enough come on lets get out of here” You see Ellie looking at the shirt, trying to read it.

 “I heart-i heart, whats a DILF?” Ellie asks more so to anyone than directly to her you could see the gears turning in her head trying to figure out what each letter means. 

You wish you could take a picture of Joel's face when he heard that, he turned around so fast, “Where the hell did you find that at” “C’mon Joel you know this is my brand, my whole motto, this is me, it was fate that brought me and this shirt together and Im never taking it off.” 

“Dead I Like, Deadly I-ok I give up what is it” you both ignored Ellie trying to figure out what DILFS are. 

“I can't take you anywhere, how do you always manage to find the most ridiculous shit during an apocalypse.”

 “Hey! what is it, I don't get it.” You hear Ellie shouting at you clearly annoyed, but youre more focused on Joel at the moment. 

“Aw Joel don't be jealous you know you're the only DILF for me” 

“Can you shut the hell up.” You giggled slightly at the clear annoyance in his voice. You loved messing with him when you can, and when it wouldn't put you in danger of course, you added some much-needed fun to his life. 

You finally leave the mall and walk out onto the road; you were so excited about your DILF shirt, you had an eye for things like this. You knew you couldn't take back everything you find but if it was small or something you really liked you took with you like when you found an old hello kitty watch, it didn't work, but it was still cute. Another time you found a Britney Spears poster in decent condition that was currently hanging up in your room, but the DILFS shirt was definitely your favorite after the poster. You were happy to add it to your little collection. 

“Can someone please explain what is a DILF I don't get it and why is Joel one?” Ellie asks for the billionth time, getting frustrated at you both for not listening to her. 

“Its da-”  You were interrupted by Joel his deep voice, a little upset at you for almost telling Ellie, you didnt think it was too inappropriate but he clearly disagreed. 

“Absolutely not youre not telling her she doesn't need to know, way too young for that, Im surprised you even know what it means” he responded, looking back at you mortified at where you had learned it from. 

“Hey! I was born before the pandemic you know” you tell him, reminding him that you’re not that young. Although compared to him, you were. 

“You were what 4, 5 when it happened can’t have remembered much before.” you heard the sass in his voice but you continue trying to prove that it shouldn't be surprising that you know what a DILF is. 

 “Okay, Im not ancient like you but still I had older friends, and we would talk about-” He interrupts you again, staring at you with frowned eyebrows. 

“Please stop there I really don’t want to know what you and your friends talk about, can we just change topics please.” If they told you about DILFs, he really didn't want to hear what else teens talked about in this world. 

“Dude c’mon, why can't you tell me, Im not a little kid.” Ellie says again, trying to get both of your attention and get you to explain it to her. You know now she’s not gonna let it go since Joel told her no. But you decided you’ll explain it later, especially after the whole playboy magazine situation, and she was around the same age you first heard it from your friends so you didnt see the issue.

“Alright from here until we get to where we are headed we are quiet, no one says a word unless you're dying got it” you could tell Joel had heard enough, and considering that you were outside you told it was best to listen to him and not distract him or yourself. 

“got it” “yes sir” you lean towards Ellie. “He’s in a mood today huh” deciding to bother him one last time before you would have be serious. 

She was about to respond until you walked right into Joel, giving you a yet intimidating glare frowning his eyebrows at you.  “alright alright, i’ll shut up.” 

After a couple hours of walking, Joel found a small safe building to sleep for the night, and you had been talking to Ellie until she fell asleep; you walk over into the room Joel was in, deciding to tease him again.

 “Hey daddy whatcha doing?” you call out in his direction, watching as he rolls his eyes at the name. 

“Stop.” he responded flatly, clearly not amused by your jokes, but you decided to keep them going. 

 “What's wrong Daddy does it make you flustered?” You thought he was going to give you another flat response or tell you to shut up. But you were wrong, instead, he stands up and walks over to you, standing closer than you anticipated, you try to step back slightly, but his arm around your waist prevents you from going too far. You feel the blood rush to your cheek and ears, your mouth goes dry, not knowing what to say or how to respond.

“Oh look who’s flustered now, sweetheart.” His deep voice teases you back, having more of an effect on you than your teasing did on him. You feel yourself get hotter, your brain is unable to focus anything except on how close he was and his rough hand around your waist forcing you closer to him, though you didn't mind. You continue blinking up at him, speechless.

“Youre so quiet now what happened, thought you were teasing me baby?” 

You continue to stare at his brown eyes, the only thing you brain was thinking way, wow hes so hot. You look up into his face, taking in his features. The wrinkles around his pretty brown eyes, the scars and cuts around his face. God you always thought he was attractive but it still amazes you how hot and pretty he was. You could look at him all day. 

He wraps both his hand around your waist, pulling you to him,places his lips on yours. You loved kissing Joel. It was rare having him kiss you while you weren’t in the safety of the QZ. He usually couldn’t relax enough to kiss you, needing to be alert and focused just in case. So this took you by surprise but his kisses always made you feel warm and safe, and in that moment, you didn't have to worry about anything. All that mattered was him. 

You wrap your hands around his neck as you deepen the kiss, pressing your lips against his rough lips, closing your eyes as you melt into his embrace; his hands lower down your waist and squeeze your ass, which surprises you so much that you let out a small gasp against his lips. Joel pulls away slightly, smiling at you “youre cute” His actions confused you; you rarely ever are intimate outside the walls, but you trusted him and if he felt comfortable you knew you were safe so you decided to mess with him “hmm I dont daddy youre pretty cute yourself.” 

He guides you over to the makeshift bed, leading you by your waist, making you walk backward, as you continue kissing him, parting your lips slightly, allowing his tongue to slip inside yours. 

 “You ain’t gonna stop are you” he asks he sits down and pulls you down onto his lap; you couldn’t tell iif he seriously was tired of you calling him that or if he just teasing too. 

 “what you don't like it Daddy?” you ask, trying to gauge his reaction you didn’t want to push it too far or actually make him uncomfortable. 

 “I never say that now did I, sweetheart?” again, he confused you does that mean he liked it or that he didn’t mind you joking about it? you stare at his face trying to see. 

Your thoughts are interrupted by him pulling your lips onto his again. But more aggressively than earlier, moaning into his mouth and rolling your hips against him as he gropes your ass through your jeans.

“Joel” You moan against his lips before you lean your head into his neck.

 “Aw baby what happened to daddy huh” you pull away, looking up at him with wide eyes, surprised. Did he like it? You look at his face and see his eyes full of lust, and you realized he liked it. He liked it when you called him daddy. You look down, suddenly getting shy and embarrassed about saying it. It was one thing saying it as a joke and teasing him about it, but to moan, it was different; it was dirtier. 

He saw you getting shy and flustered in his lap, avoiding eye contact with him. Unlike you, he could read you like the back of his hand; he could easily tell you were embarrassed.

“c’mon baby no need to be shy, I can tell you like too don’t you” he softly stroked your waist when one hand and squeezes your ass with the other. you take your gaze off the floor onto him. nodding in agreement with him.

“C’mon baby need you say it, you like calling me daddy don’t you” you could tell he wanted you to say it out loud, his hand rubbing small patterns on your waist encouraging you, reassuring you that you didn’t need to be embarrassed. 

“Yea i like it daddy” you mutter quietly, still ashamed to say in a serious setting. Not quite ready to admit to yourself that calling Joel daddy turned you on as much as it did. 

You didn't think you would like it or find it this attractive. Maybe it was your lack of a father growing up, and Joel being older than you. You didn't know why; all you knew is that once you said it, you felt yourself getting wetter. 

“hmm good girl” he takes your face into his hands, kissing you again; you slip your tongue into his mouth, his deep voice letting out a moan against your mouth. You couldnt help but grind and roll your hips against him, searching for any type of release. 

He goes to lift your shirt but stops slightly, rolling his eyes “Want me to fuck you in the I heart DILFS shirt dont you?” you look at him, nodding laughing a little “you know me so well.” 

He sighs and shakes his head. Although there’s disappointment in his voice, you can tell there’s also amusement. “ I do, dont why I tolerate you” 

 “You love me, cant live without me, I bring adventure into your life you’d be so bored without me.” you remind him why he puts up with you.

“Shut up” he mutters, though you sensed the amusement in his voice because he knows you’re right. As much as you annoyed him, he couldn’t imagine living without your teasing and antics. 

You unbutton his shirt and take it off, lightly grazing your fingers across his chest, admiring his chest and body, you see more scars and healed wounds but you also see his muscles. You’ve always loved his body. You remember the nights in your apartment placing, kissing along his waist, his chest, his stomach. 

You thought about placing marks on his chest but were interrupted by him unzipping your jeans and lifts your hips up to slide your pants off, you get off his lap, taking off the rest of your pants.  You unzip his pants, pulling them down, you stare at his bulge through his boxers and press kisses onto his dick, teasing him through his boxers. 

“Wanna suck you off” you mumble quietly, focusing on how much you need him in your mouth. You weren’t even sure he heard or understood you until you hear his deep voice speak to you, breaking you away from your thoughts. 

“What’d you say darling couldnt hear” You know he heard you he just wanted you to say it louder. 

“Can I please suck your dick daddy” you look up at him batting your eyelashes while you rub your hand against his hard dick. You feel his dick twitch against your hand while he bites his lip, suppressing a moan. 

“Goddamn darling you’re killing me” his texas accent getting stronger as he gets harder in his boxers, you loved hearing his deep texas accent come out as he gets more turned on by you. 

He pulls down his boxers, and no matter how many times you’ve seen his dick, you’re still in shocked at how big he is. You can’t help but to stare for a couple of seconds taking it in, you smile up at him before teasing him licking the tip gently as you lightly stroke him, you continue placing kitty licks on his dick. He shivers against your tongue, and you love it, love watching him fall apart because of you and seeing how much your mouth affected him. 

 You gather some spit in your mouth before you drool some onto his dick. He rolls his eyes back as you slowly stroke his cock in your hand, using your spit as lube. You hear his deep voice moaning as you lean down and lick the tip while still stroking him. You start to slowly speed your hand when you feel his hand lightly tugging your hair making you stop and stare up at him.

 “you’re gonna have to speed it up sweetheart.” 

That was all he said before his hand grabbed the back of your head and forced your lips onto his cock. You hollow your cheeks and take him in further, feeling your nose brush against his hair at the base of his cock. He moves his hips gently fucking your throat 

“Fuck you feel so good” he murmured under his breath, his voice deeper than his usual tone. You closed your eyes as you felt yourself starting to choke on him,he started to thrust his hips faster into your mouth. 

“C’mon baby look at me, look at daddy.” 

You couldn’t help but moan around him at his words, feeling yourself getting more turned on as he called himself daddy. You listen, looking up at him through your eyelashes as you continue taking him down your throat. 

“Atta girl, so pretty looking up at me like that.” you feel yourself getting warmer from his praise, loving how vocal he was, you wish you were back at his apartment so he could be louder without the risk of drawing unwanted and dangerous attention. 

He moves the hair that was falling in front of your face behind your ears “you look fucking gorgeous sucking my dick darling” feeling butterflies in your stomach as he compliments you.  

You take him out of your swollen lips when you start feeling dizzy from the lack of air; you continue to stroke him in your hands as you catch your breath until he puts his hand on your head, guiding your mouth back onto his cock. His deep voice moans out your name under his breath as he gets closer to his release. 

“fuck darling i’m close keep on-yes like that baby god you like this huh like having daddy’s dick in your mouth sweetheart?”

You nod as best you could, trying to agree, but all that comes out is your moans against his dick. You could tell he was close as his started to get slightly louder, but you could tell he was trying his best to be quiet. His deep voice, making your head go fuzzy in arousal. He start making you gag as he thrusting into your mouth faster , sloppy fucking into your mouth as he closer to his release. After a few more thrust you hear him moaning your name as he cums into your mouth. You feel his cum shoot into your mouth and down your throat.

You held your head onto his cock until he finish before you slowly took him out your mouth. He holds your cheek in his hands, lightly caressing them. 

“Open baby girl let me see.” you happily open your mouth, showing how you swallowed his cum. “Good girl baby c’mere” he pulls you onto his lap again before placing a kiss on your lips , softly biting your bottom lip before pulling away. He holds you in his lap for a couple of minutes. you lay your head on his shoulder as he softly rubs his hand up and down your back.

“if we were at home you know i’d take care of you right baby” his deep voice makes you lift your head off of him, looking into his eyes. Before you met Joel, you thought older men didn’t have much of a sex drive, you didn’t know if it was just Joel or all men in their 50s but he proved you wrong. There have been many nights in his room where he would fuck more than one time; the first time caught you by surprise. Of course, you both paid the price in the morning; both sore, aching muscles had to spend the next day in bed, not being able to do much. So you know he would have fuck if you were back at home. 

“Of course i do” you play with the hair at the back of his neck for a little while before getting off his lap so he could put his clothes back on, and you do the same. You didn't mind; you knew sucking him off was as much risk as he could take, and you didn't really feel comfortable enough to fuck out in the open like this. After you both have your clothes on, you lay down with Joel, wrapping your arms around his waist as he turned, pressing your back into your chest, falling asleep. Trying to rest before you’d have to walk back to the QZ in the morning.

[a-kaash-me-outside]

not fair - ch1

in which your boyfriend is perfect in every single way... except for one and kei can't just sit back and watch you suffer... ch1 | next [masterlist]

// "i don't know if you could handle me" ~ ᴛsᴜᴋɪsʜɪᴍᴀ ᴋᴇɪ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ~ 9731 ᴡᴏʀᴅs

a look into this chapter/tw: 18+ super nfsw!, cheating (seriously, major plot point), use of character first names (idk what got into me when i wrote this 3 years ago), degradation, choking, face-fucking, dom/sub undertones, face slapping, stop light system, squirting, dirty talk, mentions of unconscious fucking, the smallest amount of plot that becomes more prevalent as the chapters continue on, soft after sex kei, cross posted from ao3, afab reader she/her pronouns

send an ask and i’ll add ya to the taglist! ~ ♡ ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢs ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴs ᴍᴇᴀɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ♡

It wasn’t unusual for Kei to be over while Tadashi was out of town. It happened quite frequently, actually. You two were best friends, even before Tadashi was in the picture. You never let anything come between you two, not even Tadashi. Tadashi understood too. He was never jealous of the time that you spent together or accusing towards the two of you and flirting remarks you would pass. You and Kei were just… well, you and Kei.

But tonight was different. Tonight, you were in yours and Tadashi’s bedroom, which wasn’t the unusual part. Tonight, you were both on the bed, which also wasn’t the unusual part. Tonight, you were sitting with your chin on Kei’s chest and your leg between his legs, your knee resting on his crotch. This wasn’t even an unusual position for the two of you, who often would press yourselves together in intimate positions. Tonight, you finally admitted to Kei that Tadashi has only made you come twice in the entire time that you’ve been together. 

“What? Like, dating? Or?” Kei asks, his eyebrows furrowed together, looking thoroughly disgusted and confused, “because it could just be that you’re both too soft n-.”

“Like, ever, Kei,” you interrupt, looking just as confused and disgusted as Kei was. 

“That’s horrible,” he scoffs, “You just let that happen?”

“I don’t let it happen, Kei. It just happens.” You rest your head completely on his chest, sighing dramatically. “He’s amazing. He’s incredible. He’s so nice and he’s kind and he’s pretty and he’s everything that I need!” 

Kei scoffs again at your words, “but he can’t make you come?”

“But he can’t make me come,” you repeat, shaking your head against Kei’s chest and then look back up at him. “I just, I haven’t gotten off from someone else in so long. Only me, alone, in the bathroom.”

“That’s so sad,” Kei says, the disgusted look still lingering.

“What else am I supposed to do about it?” you groan, frustrated. 

“Get someone else to fuck you,” Kei shrugs. He doesn’t laugh or hint at a joke. He’s being serious.

“Wha- What? I can’t do that…,” you hide your face from Kei, ensuring that he doesn’t see the redness on your cheeks.

“Sure you can. Look, you have needs, okay. He can’t satisfy them. You just have someone else do it.”

“I don’t trust anyone enough to do that.” You feel horrible even contemplating the option. A terrible light bulb goes off in your head. 

“You…,” you start, hesitantly. Kei’s eyes widen immediately at the start of your sentence. 

“No. No, absolutely not. He’s my best friend,” Kei shakes his head.

“You’re my best friend,” you say, softly. “I don’t trust anyone else! You said it yourself. I have needs, Kei. He can’t satisfy them. I have to find someone else to do it.”

“You’re really going to use my own words against me?” 

“Yes,” you state so matter-of-factly. 

“No. I won’t,” he shakes his head, looking away from you, but not moving you from on top of him.

“Kei, please! I couldn’t do this with anyone else, but I’m just,” you take a deep breath, ready to lay all of your shame out on the table. “I need this. I’m so desperate, please.” Kei introduced this idea to you and so quickly you needed it to become a reality. You needed it to become a reality with Kei. 

Kei looks you over, your chin pressed against his sternum as he breaths. “Fine. You want to know the real reason?” Your interest is piqued. You tilt your head, curiously. 

“Hm?” You can’t believe you’re even having this conversation, but now you’re in too deep. 

“I don’t know if you can handle me,” Kei pushes you off of him and promptly gets off the bed. 

“Wha- What do you mean?!” You’re offended. He’s acting like you’ve never had sex with a condescendingly cold person before. You scoff at this statement, rolling your eyes dramatically, and standing up with him, following him.

“I mean, I don’t think you can handle me,” he repeats himself, not wavering his tone or message. He adds after a second of your angry face, “You’ve been with Tadashi for almost 2 years. You guys have probably been having vanilla, missionary sex, maybe doggy style if you’re feeling extra spicy, the entire time you’ve been together.” He waits for your objections before continuing, interrupting them, “I know I’m not wrong and I know Tadashi. He’s just as nice and “sorry, (y/n)!” in his day to day as he is in bed.” You’re silent. You know he’s not wrong. 

Tadashi has always been so accommodating and kind in every aspect of your relationship. He tries so hard in bed, he really does, but he’s made you cum maybe twice in your entire relationship with the help of yourself, though he would probably claim many more times than that seeing how often you fake it. You hate yourself for it, but you’ve tried so hard to teach him, to show him, to tell him exactly what you want and how to do it, but he never gets it. It’s exhausting and has been way easier to just to fake it and then finger yourself later in the bathroom after he’s gone to sleep.

You want Kei so badly. You want to come so badly and you know that right now is your only chance. “I- I can handle you.” Your voice is much more timid and much less convincing than you anticipate it being. 

“I don’t think you can.” Kei’s voice, in contrast, is steady and low, already causing your core to feel warm. 

“I can, Kei, I can. Please,” you hold onto his arm, looking up at his face, pleading, “please.” You sound much more confident, and also much more despairing as you whine for him. He looks at you for a few moments, his eyes trailing up and down your body and finally stopping on your eyes, searching for the overwhelming excitement and consent that he needs to move forward.

“Are you sure you want this?” he asks. This is the final time he’s going to ask or question you. He needs you to be absolutely positive because he’s not going to hold back. You nod desperately. “Verbal consent, (y/n), I’m serious.”

“Yes, fuck, yes, Kei, please. I need this. Please, I can handle it, anything, please.” The string of words leaves your mouth quickly. Kei waits another few seconds after, giving you plenty of time to change your mind before closing the gap between you both. His lips are on yours and his tongue is in your mouth so quickly. He’s holding your jaw as he tastes every inch of the inside of your mouth. He sucks your tongue into his mouth, hard, allowing you to explore his mouth. His tongue is harsh against yours, but it feels so good. He pulls away abruptly, already lifting your shirt over your head and running his hands down your body, his hands sculpting around every curve. 

“If at any time this gets too much for you,” he presses kisses into your neck, nudging your chin upwards as he starts to softly roll the skin between his teeth. “Yellow means we’re moving to somewhere you’re uncomfortable with.” He licks your neck, pressing his entire tongue against your skin. When he pulls away, the air is cool against the freshly wet flesh. “Red means that you’re uncomfortable and you want to stop immediately.” He moves down to your collarbones, nibbling on them and breathing heavily against them. 

“If you can’t speak,” he grabs your hand and taps 3 distinct, hard times against your skin with two fingers. “3 taps, hard so that I can feel them without a doubt, and two fingers to know it’s intentional.” His eyes are on yours, his look stern and serious. “Do you understand?” You nod, overwhelmed with all of this information.

“(y/n), verbal consent. I don’t fuck around,” he says, his eyebrows raised expectantly. 

“Yes,” you nod confidently, despite the questions forming in the back of your mind. Maybe you couldn’t handle him. You weren’t expecting this level of safety precautions, maybe just a safeword considering how he made out that you couldn’t handle him. Maybe he was right. 

“Repeat.” Kei’s lips are back on your throat, sucking the skin so hard that you feel the bruises forming almost instantly. His hands are reached around to your back, one hand sliding down over your ass and the other unhooking your bra before you notice what he’s doing. He tosses it to the side and presses himself against you, your nipples dragging against the fabric of his shirt as he massages into the flesh of your ass. 

You can’t exactly think straight, but it’s important that you remember these even when you can’t think. “Y- Yellow means caution, that I’m starting to f- feel uncomfortable about something.” Kei digs his fingers into your flesh as he moves his head down, capturing your nipple in his mouth and twirling his tongue around it. “Fuck,” you moan, tilting your head back. 

He pulls away from your nipple, the cold air feeling even colder on your spit sheened nipple, causing it to get even harder. “What else?” 

You answer quickly, just wanting to feel his tongue on your nipples again. “Re- Red means that you- that I- I want you to stop because I’m- I don’t like it- I’m uncomfortable.” Your nipple is back in his mouth. He’s sucking on it with such purpose, the suction sending waves of pleasure through your body. 

“A- And, I’m going to, ta- tap on you to- to show you, but please, please don’t stop, Kei.” You grab onto his shoulder and tap with two fingers against his back, 3 times with enough force for him to feel them. He listens to you, nodding as you tap against him, but keeping your nipple in his mouth. He rolls it between his teeth, bringing his hand up to pinch the other one between his fingers. “Fuck,” you breath. 

He stops, coming back up to face you. “Good.” His fingers are making quick work of your button and zippers and are quickly in the waistband of your jeans, pulling them to the ground, but leaving you in your underwear. On his way back up, he runs his hand up the inside of your leg, following your ankle to your calf to your inner thigh leading to your pussy as he uses one finger to rub once between your slit, pressing harder into your clit, rubbing two circles before stopping and stepping backward. You can’t help but moan at this tiny, delicate touch. He’s still fully dressed and you’re suddenly aware of what you probably look like. Your instinct is to try to cover yourself up from Kei’s hungry eyes, but he starts rubbing his cock through his pants. Your eyes are drawn to the bulge in his jeans. You feel your panties get even wetter as you see how big the bulge is. You’re almost positive that Kei could see how much wetter you got, how the dark spot on your panties grew when he started rubbing himself. 

He pulls his own shirt off and you marvel at how toned his body is, how perfect his skin is. He takes a step towards you, his hard bulge only inches away from your thigh. Your breath stills. “Take them off, baby,” he encourages. You listen to him, beginning to lower yourself to your knees, but he holds your elbow, not allowing you to drop. “From here.” You’re confused at first until he uses his hand to rub in between your lips through your panties. “I want to be able to touch you.”

You nod, your breath skipping as you try your hardest to focus on undoing his buckle. It seems like such a difficult task right now, your mind completely infatuated with the feeling of Kei’s long finger rubbing against the doused fabric of your panties. You seriously can’t figure out how to undo his stupid buckle, but he just lets you struggle. You think that he’s being nice as he pulls his finger away, allowing you a moment to think straight, but he brings the finger up and sticks it into your mouth. “Suck,” he says, low. You listen, sucking on his finger, trying to multitask and undo his buckle. “Sloppier, baby,” he coerces. You listen again, your fingers on his buckle stilling and focus on the spit drooling out of your mouth. He pulls the finger from your mouth and places it back between your lips, pressing harder into your clit and moving faster, pushing your panties in between your lips until your bare lips are exposed and your panties are bunched up between them, completely hidden. Kei’s finger slips past the panties, dipping into your flood for just a moment before running his finger back down the strip of your panties, pushing at your hole. Your moans are fluttering as you try to sink onto his fingers. He holds on in place harshly. 

He starts counting down. You’re confused, so confused. You don’t know why he’s counting down or what will happen when you reach the end of it, but you’re hoping for the finger to enter you. “3… 2… 1…” You close your eyes in anticipation, but he pulls his hands away completely. 

“I- Kei- No, please, why?” you beg.

“I told you what to do and you were too busy and concerned with what you wanted. Now I’m not going to touch you,” he says so matter-of-factly. You wanted to laugh. You thought it was a joke. You needed it to be a joke, but now Kei is taking off his own buckle, which he does in 10 seconds, might you add. He’s taking off his own belt, throwing it gently to the side and undoing his zipper and button. 

“Kei,” you whine, “It’s… It’s not fair.” You’re pouting. You know he doesn’t find it cute and amusing when you see his facial expressions. “It’s just… You were making me feel so good.”

He scoffs, “Just from that? Tadashi must be treating you worse than I thought.” Your cheeks burn at the mention of your boyfriend’s name. You want to tell him to stop saying his name, but you know he won’t listen to you anyways. Instead, you just nod at him. He laughs.

“Please, Kei. I couldn’t focus,” you complain, trying to excuse yourself, but he’s not listening or he doesn’t care or maybe both. He pulls down his jeans, only the thin fabric of his boxers are covering his hard, long member. You swallow, hard, looking at how big he is. Tadashi isn’t necessarily small, but he’s definitely not big, and more so, he’s definitely not this big. Your eyes are glued to Kei’s boxers as he pulls them down, releasing his cock. A gasp escapes your lips, a sharp inhale into your lungs as you truly take in how big he is. He’s not just long, but he’s thick. You’re getting even wetter as you think about everything you want to do to him and what you want him to do to you. 

“Can you listen this time?” he asks, condescendingly, a disgusted look on his face. You nod excessively, so quickly that your vision blurs. You’re ready to do anything that he asks you to do. You just want to touch his cock. He smirks at how eager you are. “Take your panties off for me, baby. Nice and slow. Turn around when you do it.” He knows exactly what he wants. 

You start pulling your panties down, slowly, like he’s asked of you. You want to have them completely off, but you know you have to listen to Kei especially after last time. When the panties are to your knees, you’re facing completely away from him. “Bend over.” His words are so commanding and harsh. You do as he says, bending over to pull your panties all the way down to the floor. You can feel how exposed your pussy is from behind in between your legs, can feel the air highlighting every inch of wetness.

You hear Kei step closer to you as you stand their frozen, your panties around your ankles. You can feel his cock graze in between your legs just briefly before he controls it, ensure that no part of you is touched. He leans forwards, pressing his hips against your ass and brushing his cock between your lips for the smallest fraction of a second. “What does Tadashi call you while he’s fucking you?” The question stuns you, your knees buckling and your heart beginning to race. You know that you’re almost fucking his best friend, but you don’t need to be reminded of him every few minutes. Still, you know that Kei wants an answer and you want Kei to be good to you, so you answer. 

“H- He calls me sweetheart,” you stutter. Kei actually laughs, stepping back away from you and holding his stomach as he repeats it. 

“He calls you sweetheart when he’s fucking you?” he asks, trying to make sure he heard that right. 

“Yes.” You suddenly feel more embarrassed at this admission than you do at the position you’re in. He grips onto your hips and you want him to enter you so badly, but instead he turns you around to face him and gently pushes you onto the bed, lying flat on your back, your head propped up against a pillow. 

“Spread em,” he gestures towards your legs as he spits into his own hand, slicking his cock as you spread your legs open, exposing yourself to Kei. 

Kei is towering overtop of you, a knowing smirk on his face as he moves the fist he’s made around his cock, stroking slowly, squeezing his hand as he gets to the head and letting the pressure off as he returns back to the base. You know how desperate you look underneath him. You don’t need to see it in his glasses to know, but you do, and it makes you even wetter. Your legs are spread apart, the breeze from the fan making you painfully aware of how warm and flooded you are and how erect your nipples are. Your hands are beside each retrospective hip, gripping onto the sheets, waiting for him to enter you, but he doesn’t move, doesn’t even get closer. 

“Touch yourself,” Kei sneers. You don’t know what to do. You heard his words clearly, but your body isn’t making any move to do what he’s asked of you. You wanted Kei to touch you, you didn’t want to do it yourself. He takes a step towards you, his hand around his cock moving faster. “Let me see you play with yourself, sweetheart. Show me,” he coos, his tone changing to endearing in such a short amount of time. Hearing Kei call you what Tadashi calls you shakes your entire soul. You feel so conflicted but so hot. You want to hear it again. It sounds so much better coming out of his mouth. It makes you want to please him. You want to make him proud. 

You nod at him, timidly moving your hand down to clit and rubbing small, diffident circles into it. Your fingers don’t feel nearly as good as Kei’s did a few minutes ago. It doesn’t help that he’s watching you so intently either. It’s embarrassing to be completely open and on display like this, lying underneath someone who wasn’t your boyfriend, but, rather, your boyfriend’s best friend, your best friend. You have to shake the thought out of your mind before your body doesn’t allow you to get off. You close your eyes, trying to focus on the sensations of your fingertips brushing against your swollen clit. Your eyes are only shut for a few seconds before Kei is clearing his throat. 

“Eyes open. Look at me,” Kei clarifies. His hand hasn’t stopped moving as he’s scanning your body, evidently very happy with what he sees. Even with this gorgeous sight in front of you, it’s hard for you to lose yourself in the moment being stared at so eagerly. “Both hands.” He tilts his chin up at you, gesturing at your hand that’s still gripped onto the sheets. 

With your other hand, you cup your tit, rolling your hard nipple in between your fingers while maintaining your pace with the other hand. “Good girl,” he says under his breath. A moan escapes you. He raises his eyebrow, cockiness seething from his smile. “Yeah? Are you my good girl?”

You nod obnoxiously, a strangled noise coming out of your throat as you move your attention from your nipples to your wet hole, teasing yourself with your fingertip. You’re getting into it now. The situation is weighing on you but in the best way possible. You look up at Kei and your mind is still screaming that he’s not your boyfriend, but the louder the voice gets inside your head, the wetter your desperate pussy gets. He’s not your boyfriend, but he’s here, watching you tease yourself and torture your own clit as he jerks off above you, because your boyfriend can’t get you off like Kei can; no one can get you off like Kei can. He knows it too. Even when you would try to get off in the bathroom after having sex with Tadashi, it never felt this fucking good. 

“Do you want to be a really good girl?” he asks, his hand now gently rubbing on your inner thigh. 

You know that he’s just using those words, that phrase, to get exactly what he wants, but it only makes you want him more. You would do anything to be good for him. You want him to use you, to satisfy his every need with any part of you that he wants to. “Please, please, Kei. I’ll do anything.” Your own voice surprises you at how desperate it sounds. 

“Sit up.” His tone has switched back to the harsh, commanding asshole that he was before as he grabs onto your arm right as you’re about to insert your finger fully into yourself. You let out a defeated sigh before sitting up, looking at him innocently. “Stay still,” he demands. Kei walks over to you, getting closer and closer until the tip of his head is pressed up against your lips. You go to open your jaw to take him into your mouth, but he stops you, holding your head still. 

“What did I say?” he growls at you, grasping a fistful of your hair as punishment. “Repeat it.” 

“Stay still,” you repeat, your lips opening slightly around his head, allowing some of the precome to line the inside of your lips. You want so badly to lick your lips, but you know that Kei wants you to just sit there, so you don’t move. Your head is still as he swipes the spongy head across your lips, stroking the length as he does so, causing more precome to drip out of the slit and onto your lips. He pushes forwards, but you keep your mouth still, the tip only entering into your mouth when he nestles it in there. It touches your closed teeth and you shutter, trying to keep as still as you can.

Kei moans as he drags his sensitive head across the fronts of your teeth, your cheek bulging as he slides it into the side of your mouth. The combination of his grunts, his hands in your hair, and the thought of him using you for his pleasure all have your pussy aching to be touched. You want to touch yourself so bad, but you know that Kei will be angry. 

“Open,” he finally tells you. You let your jaw fall open as you look up into his eyes, fluttering your lashes at him, but he doesn’t look at you like you’re adorable or cute or pretty, he looks at you like he’s starving. “Tongue out.” You instantly stick your tongue out. “Good girl.” Your pussy throbs. That’s all you wanted to hear from him. You want to hear it again. 

“Lick the precome from my slit, sweetheart.” There’s that name again, shaking your being. Kei positions his cock at the tip of your tongue. You’re not expecting the name and the specific language has you blushing. You do as you’re told, focusing the tip of your tongue to lick the precome from his slit. The salty sensation on your tongue makes your mouth water for more. Kei drags his head down your tongue before taking a step back. He hasn’t told you to move your head or your tongue, so you don’t, despite everything in your body telling you to whine and pout at how far away his cock is from your mouth now. You’re so focused on where his cock is that you don’t notice that he’s bent over towards you or the glob of spit that falls onto your tongue until it’s already coated it. 

You barely have any time to react, only savoring the taste for a moment, before Kei stands back up and rests as much of his cock as he can on your tongue without actually entering your mouth. The slickness of his spit on your tongue and your warm breath from panting causing Kei’s cock to pulse. You can feel it. Kei looks down at you and lets more spit drop from his tongue. You’re not sure if he missed or if this is where he was aiming, but the spit lands right beside your mouth, dripping down your chin and onto your chest. 

He’s thrusting his hips slowly, gliding the underside of cock across your tongue. Your jaw is already starting to ache from staying open so wide, but you don’t dare relax. It’s like Kei can read your mind. “Wider,” he grunts, angling the tip of his cock down. You force your jaw to open uncomfortably, but the smirk that Kei gives you is worth any amount of discomfort that you feel.

Kei gives you no warning as he forces his entire length down your throat in one swift movement, groaning as he feels how tight your throat is around him. You try to gasp in surprise, your gag reflex triggering as his cock slides down your throat, but he’s blocking your airway. You take in air from your nose, but it’s not enough. Kei doesn’t budge in the slightest, just strokes your hair as he mutters “good girl” over and over again. You focus on his words and your breathing and the fact that you’re making him feel good right now. 

“Tongue out,” he demands, his hands grabbing your hair now instead of stroking it. Your nose is pressed up against his stomach and your tongue is sticking out as far as you can force it out of your mouth. You can feel it grazing his balls, every time you flick your tongue, his grip in your hair gets tighter and his groans get more guttural. 

Drool is leaking out of the side of your mouth as Kei’s cock pulses in your throat. Your head feels light and you’re pushing back into Kei’s hands, desperately trying to get air. You need to get a good breath or you’re going to pass out. He pulls you off of his cock. You’re coughing and inhaling deeply several times trying to recover. Kei gives you these few seconds of reconciliation before starting to get annoyed. 

“Open,” he nods down to the spot that you were in before. You assume the same position, chin tilted up, tongue so far out that it’s painful, jaw aching from forcing it open so wide, your lips swollen and sheened with spit and precome. “Good girl. Fuck, you’re such a good girl.” You love to hear the praise coming out of his mouth. It’s making you drip. 

You’re expecting his cock, but see his eyes close to yours and now you can’t breathe for another reason. He spits in your open mouth, but not on your tongue this time. The spit goes directly down your throat and you let it slide all the way down. His fingers are wrapped around your throat putting pressure directly on your airway, quickly getting so tight that you can’t breathe again. “But I decide when I’m done with your throat. I decide when you get to breathe again. I decide when I pull your pretty fucking mouth off of me. You don’t get to make those decisions. If I want to fuck your throat until you pass out and keep fucking your throat when you’re unconscious on the floor, I’ll do that.” You want to moan at these sentences, at the thoughts that are now flooding your head, but you can’t. No noise comes out of your throat at all, it can’t. Your hand comes up and wraps around Kei’s wrists, your eyes roll back into your head as his grip gets tighter. He’s waiting intently to see if you want to tap out, but when he doesn’t feel any pressure against his wrist, he tightens even harder, his fingers shaking. “Do you understand?” he commands. You nod as best as you can. When he pulls his fist away, you take in so much air that your head starts to pulse. Your breaths can’t be large enough. “Now open.”

You assume the same position. Your breathing finally slows when he rests his balls on your tongue. You’d never done anything this dirty with Tadashi. This was foreign territory for you. “Suck.” You can feel him above you, stroking his cock as you take one of his balls into your mouth. The entire situation feels so dirty , but you can hear Kei’s moans and grunts and you never want to stop. You continue sucking, focusing on the ball in your mouth and your tongue against it. 

“Take both in your mouth, you fucking whore,” Kei says, getting into this very quickly. The degradation makes your clit throb and pussy clench. You open your mouth wider, taking the other ball into your mouth. Your mouth has never been this full before. Your nose is pressed against the underside of his cock, but you can barely focus on that. “Stop,” he grunts. You release both balls from your mouth with a pop , your tongue still sticking straight out, waiting for whatever he wants to do with you next. 

“Good girl. Deep breath” You listen to him. He slides his cock into your mouth as soon as you’ve taken a good breath, grunting at every inch that slides down your throat. He holds it there again. You close your eyes, focusing on your breathing, and making sure that you make it through. Then you feel a sting on your cheek, startling you. Kei’s palm had made contact with your cheek. Your eyes snap open. “Eyes on me. Look up at me, sweetheart.” You moan around his cock and he inhales at the vibrations around his length. A single tear rolls down your cheek as the residual sting lingers. Your breathing is okay, manageable this time until Kei plugs your nose. 

“You better open your throat wider or I’ll have to fuck your unconscious body and you won’t be able to cum. It’ll be just like Tadashi, huh?” Your eyes open even more so at this sentence. Kei pulls his hips back, taking most of his length out of your throat before slamming back in. You missed your small window for air. You sit, patiently waiting for him to start moving again. You breathe as much as you can as soon as he pulls back. You’ve forced your jaw open even wider and have allowed your throat to open, allowing the smallest bit of air in. 

Kei’s thrusts into your throat get more and more frequent each time until he’s pistoning into your mouth. His hips are thrusting into you, abusing your poor throat, at such a fast speed. Every few thrusts, he buries his cock as deep in your throat as he can, holding it there until he feels you starting to fall, your eyes rolling back, and your jaw relaxing. 

“Gag on my cock,” he commands, continuing, “I want to feel you gag on my cock. It feels so good when I feel your abused throat constrict around my cock. I’m too big for you, aren’t I? You’re so used to small cocks, aren’t you, sweetheart? You can barely handle how fucking big I am.” It’s true. It’s all true. 

He hits the back of your throat, your body convulsing slightly as you gag. You can feel the muscles in your throat tighten around his cock. He loves the feeling so much that he does it again. And then again. Your stomach is twisting as he hits it for the 4th time. He glides his cock down your throat. The noises that he’s making are magical. 

“Swallow.” You swallow whatever liquids you can. “Yes, fuck,” he groans, “again.” You swallow again, significantly less fluid in your mouth. “Again.” You swallow again. “God, your throat feels so good, I might not even need to fuck you.” You can’t help but to whimper, swallowing again around his cock. “Fuck, I could just cum down your throat right now and leave you on the bed for when Tadashi comes home. Maybe he can help you.”

You want to shake your head no. You want to beg for him to stay, to touch you, just to tell you to cum. If he just told you to cum right now, you think you could. You’d do anything for him right now, but you can’t. You can’t do anything except let him use your throat for whatever he wants to use it for. He laughs at the panic in your eyes as he pulls out of your throat, stroking his cock above you. “Or maybe I won’t even use you to cum, huh? Maybe I’ll just make you watch as I blow my load onto your pretty face. Tadashi would love coming home to that, wouldn’t he?” 

You don’t know how to answer that, so you don’t. Kei doesn’t like that. You feel a sting across your cheek, harder this time. “I asked you a question.”

“I- N- No. No, he wouldn’t like that,” you answer truthfully, even though you don’t think it’s the answer that Kei wanted. It’s exactly the answer Kei wanted.

“But would you like it?” he smirks, waiting for your answer. He hasn’t stopped stroking his cock, moaning as he swipes his thumb over the head. “Don’t lie to me…,” he pauses, “sweetheart.” His smile is pure evil.

You nod timidly before verbalizing it. “Yes. I would like that a lot, Kei.” 

He laughs again, shaking his head. “Tch. Pathetic.” Your entire body feels warm and embarrassed. He leans over you, getting so close to your ear that his low whisper sounds like a scream. “It sucks that I want to ruin you, then, huh?” A shiver disperses through your entire body as you shake your head no. No, it definitely doesn’t suck that he wants to ruin you. 

“I want you, now.” Kei finally decides. He pushes you back on the bed again. “On your side.” You’re conscious of how little you know about sex positions, particularly ones where you lay on your side. He pulls you to the edge of the bed, laying almost completely on your right side, save for the small parts of your back that are touching the bed. He positions himself between your legs, lining himself up with your throbbing pussy. It hasn’t been touched since you didn’t listen to Kei. You know your hole is tight, but so lubricated that it’ll swallow him just as easily as your throat did. He takes your leg and rests it on his shoulder. 

He rubs his head in between your lips, pressing up against the hole. “Please.” It slips out of your mouth, but you’re not going to apologize for it. Kei rubs his thumb against your clit, using your own wetness to lubricate your swollen nub, his finger moving effortlessly against it. You can’t stop whimpering. 

He doesn’t stop to ask if you’re ready, or prep your hole with fingers, he just starts sliding into you. He’s not even halfway inside of you when you decide that you’ll never be this full again. It takes your breath away. You can’t breathe, but you’re trying. You’re gasping for air as he inserts his entire length into you. “Kei, Kei, Kei, fuck, Kei.”

“I haven’t even started fucking you, sweetheart.” He presses a kiss into your leg next to his face as he slides completely into you, not stopping until his hips are pressed up against you. You’re waiting for him to let you adjust to how thick he is inside of you, but he doesn’t. He starts moving almost instantly, rocking his hips backwards and then thrusting into you completely. You’ve never had anything so deep inside of you before, not even your own fingers or a dildo. 

Kei picks up the speed, rocking his hips into you repetitively, in such a rhythmic pattern that you’re already almost there. You know, and he does too, that all he has to do is angle just a bit down and he would be obliterating your g-spot. Even without it, you can feel your arousal heightening so high. His thumb is still rubbing circles into your clit. “Kei- Kei, I think, I-,” you breathe, stuttering over your words, so filled with cock and pleasure that your head is foggy. 

“Already? You’re already going to cum? God, you really are starved of some good cock, aren’t you?” he teases, picking up speed even more. “I’m not even hitting your g-spot. I’m not ready yet. You’re going to cum without me even trying?”

You know you should feel embarrassed, but you’re not. You have no shame in letting yourself go. “Fuck, Kei, I’m coming, fuck.”

Your eyes squeeze shut. Your head presses back so far into the bed that you know how messy your hair is going to be. Your toes curls and your knuckles are white against the sheets. The entire time, no noise comes out of you, despite your mouth being completely agape. The pleasure is obliterating you. You can’t think of anything at all except for the pleasure. How good everything feels. Kei hasn’t stopped fucking you. He’s slamming into you as you ride your orgasm to completion. As soon as you’ve stopped cumming, you want to cum again. You need him to make it happen again. 

“I’m not stopping until I’m finished. If that means that you’ve cum so many times that your orgasms hurt by the last one, then so be it,” he thrusts into you again and again. His hand has moved from your clit and is instead wrapped around your leg, using it as leverage to fuck into you even harder. Every time you think he can’t fuck you harder, he proves you wrong. He’s almost growling at this point, fucking you so deep and hard that you exhale every time he pounds into you. 

“You’ll never cum from anyone else again,” he slams into you, “Every other guy that you ever take will never compare to me, will never be as good as me. Their cocks won’t fit inside you like mine does. They won’t fill you up as much as I can. I’m ruining you. I don’t even think you’ll be able to make yourself cum after this. Every time you want to feel pleasure, real pleasure, you’ll have to call and beg for it. When you’re in bed with Tadashi, so late at night, and he’s sleeping next to you, you’re going to have to call me and beg to meet up with me so that I can get you off.” His words are just making you get closer again. You know that he’s just talking dirty to you, but you know how much truth weighs in those words. He’s right. 

“You know that, don’t you?” he asks, breathless from how relentlessly he’s fucking into you. 

You nod at the sentence, still thinking repetitively over the words he said to you and how true each of them is. Kei reaches down to start rubbing your clit again. He can see you’re close. He can feel that you’re close. Your pussy is gripping his cock, the rigid, wet walls milking him as you have your second orgasm.

“Yes, yes, Kei, fuck. I’ll never feel this full ever again. Please, please, will you fill me after this time? Please, I can’t imagine never fucking you again. Please,” you moan through your orgasm. You want confirmation of something to look forward to. You need him again. 

He laughs at how unapologetic you are at begging for him again before he’s even finished with you. He doesn’t answer but instead asks a question. “Tadashi fucks you doggy style, sometimes, doesn’t he?” He fucks you through the end of your orgasm. 

You nod, hesitantly, still blown away by cumming twice already. “Sometimes,” you reply. Kei snickers. 

“On all fours,” he directs you. “I was serious when I said I wanted to ruin you, baby.”

You assume the position on all fours, a position that Tadashi will sometimes have you take him in. You’ve never understood the hype around this position, but you’re hoping Kei teaches you. A sting spreads from your ass as Kei spanks you. You’re already feeling the hype. You whimper. 

“Again?” he asks, smirking. You nod, wanting to feel the pain but knowing that he’s going to do it regardless. He spanks you again, harder this time. He doesn’t ask if you want it again, just spanks you for a third time, even harder. You won’t be able to sit tomorrow if he continues on. You kind of want him to continue on. You’re not met with another sting, but Kei’s cock thrust completely inside of you until his hips are pressed against your ass in one motion. You choke on your own breath, coughing in surprise. 

He brings his hands up and snakes one into your hair, grabbing a fistful, and the other on your shoulder, using it to pull you back onto him. You hear your skin slap against his, hard. You can feel the sting on your ass from where Kei spanked you as it smashes against his thigh. He’s so deep inside you, you think you can feel him in your stomach. 

Kei’s chest goes flush against your back. He whispers into your ear, “The next time he’s fucking you, you’re going to say my name.” It’s almost hypnotic, how low and intriguing his voice is. “You won’t be able to get me out of your mind,” he tells you, each thrust into you punctuating his words. He straightens back up, gripping your hips as he fucks into you. His fingertips are going to leave bruises. “Do you know why?”

You shake your head no. You want him to tell you why. You want him to say anything to you, anything at all. 

“Because you’re my bitch,” he says so seriously, moving quicker as your wetness grew, slicking him even more at the sentence, “and Tadashi has never hit this…” Kei thrusts, angled into your g-spot. The sensation makes it feel like lava has erupted in your stomach. “and it’s all you’re going to think about when you’re in this position.” He knows exactly where it is and he won’t stop smashing the head of his cock into it repetitively. “How this is what it could’ve felt like, but he’ll never make you feel like this. So you’ll be thinking of me the entire time and you’re going to say my fucking name.”

It’s too much. Everything about this situation is too much. You’re speechless. You’re aware of every part of your body that Kei has gripped onto or smacked. Your eyes roll back into your head. You don’t even know what’s happening, only that Kei’s cock feels so good against your walls and slamming into your g-spot. You feel a warm sensation run down your legs slowly at first, but then explode onto the sheets beneath you and Kei’s cock and his lap as you scream for him. “Kei! Fuck! Yes, Kei. I won’t ever think of anyone else. Only you. Only you, Kei, fuck. Oh fuck.”

“Fuck, you just squirted all over my fucking cock, fuck.” For the first time tonight, Kei sounds like he can barely speak. He can’t think of a witty retort about how good he made you feel, he can only keep repeating those words. “Fuck, you squirted so fucking much all over me, baby. Fuck, good girl. Fuck.” He pulls himself out of you. If it weren’t for the mind-blowing orgasm you just had that you need a minute to recover from, you would’ve whined endlessly until he was back inside of you. Kei looks so focused right now and you’re realizing that his hand is on his cock, wrapped around right where his head meets his shaft, squeezing, not stroking. His chest is heaving and he’s swallowing excessively. He had to stop himself from cumming too early. (Define too early?) He’s made you cum 3 times already, feeling your pussy tighten around him as he didn’t even stutter, and has fucked you for over an hour, not even mentioning the abuse your throat went through.

You think he’s waiting for the sensation to pass before entering back inside you, but he drops to his knees, pulling your hips towards him. “You’ve earned this, sweetheart,” he murmurs into your skin. You feel his nose press up against your ass, his tongue sticking out and licking from your clit to your hole. He doesn’t use the tip like Tadashi does, he uses the flat side of his tongue, exploiting every part of the surface of his tongue. Your arms shake as he sticks his tongue into your hole, fucking it, moving his face back and forth. “Fuck, Kei.” 

He moves back down to your clit, flicking it with the tip this time, fast, before sucking it into his mouth and running his tongue over it again and again as he suctions onto it. “Holy fuck. Oh my God.” Your face is down in the bed, your arms refusing to support you anymore. The sounds that are coming from behind you are almost enough to make you cum on their own. Kei is slurping all of the juices that he’s created since he first started touching you.  You can’t see him, but the sounds are incredible. You can’t see him. 

“Kei, Kei, can I lay on my back? Can I see your face? I want to see your face.” You know you’re not in any position to ask him for anything, but you hope he listens to you. You want to watch him eat you out so badly. He hums into your pussy, nodding as he flips you over, spreading your legs even further. He looks up at you, his mouth completely clamped over your entire pussy, his tongue working particularly hard, creating an insane amount of pressure on your clit, swirling around it, in between your lips and slit, fucking into your hole as deep as he can. His eyes never leave yours. You try to keep up with him, but it’s too fucking much. Your head falls backward, staring up at the ceiling. Kei’s arms reach up, grabbing onto your tits, rolling both of your nipples between his long fingers.

“Look at me,” he mumbles into your pussy quickly before continuing his expertise. You listen to him. It’s the least you can do. You look at him, your eyes watering at the pleasure that he’s creating for you. It sounds so messy, so sloppy, so fucking good . 

“Don’t- Don’t stop. ‘M gonna-,” you moan so loudly that it scares you as Kei works even harder, sucking your clit into his mouth and nibbling it softly before using his entire mouth, his lips, his nose, his chin to rub against your pussy, spitting on it repeatedly to slick it up. “Fuck!” you’re screaming now and you can’t help the sensation release from you again, the clear liquid spraying from between your legs onto Kei’s face. You can’t even feel apologetic, but you don’t think he wants you to. He doesn’t stop rubbing your clit through your orgasm, you clench your thighs together, completely overstimulated, but he doesn’t stop. He keeps rubbing your clit through the pain and into another wave of pleasure that quickly crashes into another orgasm. You’ve never come that quickly together before. There’s no squirt this time, only insane pleasure washing over you as you pant and scream Kei’s name. 

You’re out of breath. You can barely move. You’re so tired from all of the times that you’ve come, but you know how hard Kei is and you know how badly you want his fucking cum. 

“I want to be all the way inside of you,” Kei states. You’re confused and he can see the confusion on your face as he cleans his glasses with the blankets on the bed. 

“How? I mean, like, weren’t you… already all the way inside me?” you ask him, innocently.

“Deeper,” he says, laying down on the bed next to you and flipping you on top of him so your soaked pussy lips are wrapped around his length. He grunts at the feeling. You lift off of him as much as you can muster with how weak you’re feeling right now. He helps you, grabbing onto your ass and lifting gently until you’re up high enough for him to line himself up with your hole. 

“Sit,” he commands. You listen to him for the millionth time tonight, lowering yourself onto his cock. His cock hasn’t grown since he fucked you doggy style, but it feels so much bigger. It’s so much deeper inside of you as you’re seated on his cock. Your walls grip him on the way down.

“Fuck, you’re tight. How does Tadashi last so long in you?” he asks, genuinely wanting to know. 

You laugh for the first time all night, “He doesn’t.”

He holds onto your hips, looking up at you and how breathtaking you are. Your tits are out, moving with every breath that you take. It makes Kei’s cock twitch inside of you. “Bounce on my cock, baby.” He’s asking so much of you with the state that you’re in right now, but he knows you’ll listen to him. “Be a good girl. Bounce on my cock. I’ve done all the work tonight, sweetheart.” That’s all it takes. You get a sudden surge of energy as you nod, using your knees in the bed as springs to slide up and down his cock. 

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath. His fingernails dig into you again, bruising the already bruised skin. How are you going to explain all of these marks to Tadashi? You don’t even care at this point. You want Kei to keep making more. He’s guiding you up and down, though you’re doing most of the work. “Faster, baby, fuck.”

You listen. You bounce up and down on his cock faster, getting higher before slamming down against his lip. Your tits are bouncing just as wildly. He moves his hands from his hips to your tits, grabbing onto them and massaging them as you milk his cock. You purposefully tighten around him on the way up and relax on the way down. Your tight pussy desperately gripping at each inch of his length, coaxing the cum out of his cock. “God, fuck. Milk my cock, baby, yes.” Kei’s lines are becoming less demanding and more appreciative. They’re still commanding, but less harsh. He moves his hands back to your waist, lifting you almost completely off his cock, your head only tightly squeezing his head. 

“Ready?” he asks. The bliss on his face is still there, but there’s so much devilish intent now too. You don’t have time to ask questions or to even tell him yes as he fucks up into you. His hips are moving so quickly up that even though your body isn’t moving, the ripples of energy are tearing through you, shaking them violently. 

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck, Kei.” You’re already there. You’re already ready to cum just from penetration alone. 

“Not yet.” This is the hardest demand yet for you to listen to. “You can only cum when you feel my load fill you up.” You swallow hard, but nod frantically. 

He’s grunting so loudly as he claps into your pussy from underneath you. He’s getting so deep inside of you with every thrust. You’re speechless. You’re so on the edge the entire time that he’s fucking you like this that you can’t focus on anything else. He pulls you down completely on his cock and stops thrusting for a second. He’s breathing heavy as he snakes his arm around your waist, pulling you onto his chest, his cock still just as deep inside of you, but this time when he fucks into you, he hits you g-spot on the first thrust. “Kei, Kei, Kei,” you can’t stop saying his name, “I can’t- I can’t hold it.” You barely even notice the tears running down your cheeks as the pleasure is so built up inside of you. 

“Fuck, baby, fuck, almost.” His thrusts are getting sloppy, his cock is pulsating, you feel so fucking good wrapped so tightly around his cock, but he needs to feel you cum. He needs to feel your pussy tense up as he drills into you, knowing that he’s the reason you look so pretty, your face contorting from pure pleasure. He wants to feel you milk him, coaxing his big fucking load out of his balls and deep inside you. He can make you cum. He doesn’t have to ask you. He can just make you cum, even despite you trying to be such a good girl and listen for him. 

He holds your hips steady, slowing down for a few seconds, catching his own breath, letting himself relax. You’re both grateful and so sad about this. You’re grateful because you would have cum just then, but you’re sad because you wanted to cum so bad it hurt. He stills for a second and then he’s fucking into you again, but differently this time. His arms are shaking from holding you down against him so tightly, not letting you move, despite your numerous attempts to squirm, as he thrusts up into your tight, aching pussy mercilessly. You’re sobbing into his shoulder.

“I- I- I can’t hold it, Kei, please.” You’re trying to be so good for him. It’s making his balls tighten, but he doesn’t want to come yet. He can’t come until you milk it out of him. Do it. Cum, he thinks as he picks up speed, like sprinting the last half mile of a marathon. It’s as much as he can give and he wants it to be enough to push you over the edge without having to ask. You’ll feel so much better tightening around him while you apologize to him for not listening. 

“I’m going to cum, Kei, please, please, please, I’m sorry, fuck. I can’t hold it any longer,” the string of words come out so fast that they practically overlap each other. You cum around his cock, your pussy throbbing, gripping so tightly onto his cock as he keeps up the intensity of his thrusts. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” you scream out. You start repeating his name over and over again, unable to think of anything else in the world. 

With your pussy clamping so hard down on his cock, it’s exactly what he needs. He feels his balls tighten, his cock throbbing inside of you as his hips start to stutter messily. “Fuck, sweetheart, fuck, you’re making me cum, fuck,” he grunts, snapping his hips into you as hard as he can as he unloads inside of you, strings of cum filling up your insides, squeezing out of your pussy as he tries to fuck them deeper into you, but has already overfilled your abused pussy. He’s still cumming, feeling it leak out of his cock, when he pulls his cock from your pussy, letting it land on your ass and back down on his own cock. He slides his cock back into your pussy, going as deep as he can as before exhaling a final breath. 

You’re both quiet for a second, not talking about anything that just happened, just breathing. You’re still pressed up against his chest, cum dripping out of your pussy and onto Kei. You know that you should both clean up, but you’ve never been this tired in your life. You can’t even roll off of him and you don’t think he could push you off. 

“When will Tadashi be home?” he asks, panting, trying to regain himself. 

“He doesn’t get back until tomorrow morning,” you hum happily, listening to his accelerated heartbeat. You don’t move, but he doesn’t ask you to move. Your breathing is more irregular than his is as you close your eyes. “Can we nap? I need to nap. That took so much out of me.”

Kei’s quiet for a moment. There’s no laugh or retort, he just nods, wrapping his arms around your waist and stroking your hair. He grabs the cleanest blanket that he can from where he’s pinned to the bed, draping it over top of both of you. You hum at the warmth. He knows that this is a part of the whole degradation thing, the comforting at the end. That’s why he’s doing it.

“Goodnight, Kei,” you smile up at him lazily, kissing his chest before laying it back down. “Oh, wait, Kei,” you look back up at him. 

“Hm?”

That’s why he’s doing it. 

“Thank you,” you smile at him, blinking slowly. You’re so tired that you don’t even notice his heart skip a beat as you thank him. 

Right?

[nakaharaass]

Losing your virginity with Itachi headcanons

a/n: last month i started watching Shippuden for the first time (I read almost all the manga like ten years ago), and I've fallen again in the Itachi phase I went through back then. Also, English is not my mother tongue, so there might be spelling or grammar mistakes, or weird expressions. Likes and reblogs are appreciated! ♡

Characters: Itachi Uchiha.

Genre: nsfw, a bit fluff.

Warnings: fem!reader, penetration, oral sex (fem receiving). (Tell me if I should add something else).

Wordcount: 1.1k

You knew each other since you were kids. At first you were friends, but your relationship evolved, and now you’re lovers.

I can’t imagine Itachi having sporadic encounters. I see him as somebody who wants the whole relationship experience. If you want his body, you must accept him as your boyfriend.

That being said, your first time was also his first time.

Up until now, you have made out with each other, but things have never gone any further.

It was you who proposed doing something more. Itachi is very respectful, and he didn’t want to pressure you, so he had never said anything before

In the middle of your make out session, you wanted to do more, and he eagerly agreed.

Itachi keeps things simple on your first time: missionary style in a bed. There will be more times to experiment, now he wants to play safe. Plus, he thinks it’s a pretty intimate position, that allows you to look at each other. He doesn’t want to miss any of your reactions.

No doubts that while he was in Anbu, Kakashi lent him some of his erotic novels. That’s all his previous knowledge.

Lots of kissing while you undress each other. Itachi is going to take his sweet time admiring every inch of your body. And he constantly compliments you, saying how beautiful you are.

He’s completely selfless in bed, and he cares more about you own pleasure than his own. And this is a special occasion, so he’ll worship you as you deserve.

I picture him as a boob guy, so he’s going to pay a considerable amount of attention to each one. He massages one, rubbing the nipple, while he sucks and kisses the other one, slightly biting your other nipple.

Then he continues going down your body, and he eats you until you cum at least twice. He wants you to get really wet for what’s coming later.

As it’s his first time, his skills may not be the best yet. But being a ninja, he has full knowledge of the human body, and he definitely knows where the clit is.

He’s also very intuitive, and he will pay attention to all your reactions, and see what works out and what doesn’t.

While he’s eating you, he loves looking up at you and see your boobs, and your facial expressions of pleasure.

Please, pull his hair. It turns him on.

Then he introduces two fingers and starts carefully stretching you a little.

I didn’t say it before, but he’s consent king. Every time he’s doing something different, he’s asking you if you’re comfortable or if you want to stop.

No, but really, you may even think that he’s asking you too many times.

“Please, stop talking, and do something else with your tongue.”

jk, but if you say something like that, while grabbing his hair and guiding him back to your pussy, he will get incredibly turned on.

Please, moan his name, it’s music to his ears. It also boosts his ego thinking that he’s the one making you say such lewd noises.

He has to force himself to stop eating you. He could do it all day because you taste sooo good. He has found his new favourite dessert.

Once he’s done with you down there, he gets ready to get inside you.

He asks you once more if you want to continue.

When you agree, he slips his dick along your slit, before getting slowly inside you. At the same time, he incessantly kisses your lips and your neck, while massaging your boobs. He understands that getting used to his size may be a bit uncomfortable for you, so he wants you to be as excited as possible.

Talking about size, his girth is average, but it’s a bit longer (16.5 – 17cm), with the head slightly curved upwards. Perfect to hit all the right spots.

Once he gets fully in you, he stops so you get used to the new feeling. He continues kissing you, with brief pauses to praise you, and tell you how much of a good job you’re doing. He’s very vocal praising you.

When you move your hips wanting more, he gets the hint, and he starts a slow but constant pace.

Itachi’s on cloud nine. He can’t believe how good it feels to be inside you, how well your walls adapt to him. But he has to use every ounce of self-control to not go any faster. The last thing he wants is to hurt you.

More kisses all over your upper body. He will leave hickeys too.

He wants to hear you moaning his name.

Bonus points if you pull his hair or scratch his back.

Dirty talk too. While he thrusts into you, and rubs your nipple, he whispers in your ear how much of a good girl you are, with that soft and low voice of his.

He smirks if he notices that his voice increases your arousal.

He pays attention to your expression when he thrusts into you. When he notices that spot that makes you moan his name even louder, he makes it his mission to hit it constantly.

When you’re close, he rubs your clit to increase your pleasure.

He won’t cum until you do it first.

He doesn’t moan much during sex, but he lets a low one escape when he’s done.

When you two are done, he will slowly pull out of you. It’s your first time, so he’s being extremely nice. There will be more times in the future to overstimulate you (this boy is already planning things 🤭).

King of aftercare (is there anything he’s not king of?)

Lots of kissing and cuddling. It’s ok if you doze off a bit, but he won’t let you fell asleep. At least you have to get up and pee. He read that it’s healthier to do it after having sex, so you can’t refuse.

He also brings you water, and some snacks if you tell him that you’re feeling hungry. He starts preparing a hot bath for you two.

He cleans you up thoroughly before you get into the bath (think about Japanese baths), and he uses this as an excuse to caress and massage again every inch of your body. He will melt if you do the same to him (poor baby is touch starved 🥺) (I promise to write something where reader worships him because he deserves it).

You take a long bath. He embraces you, and he lovingly caresses your tummy, while you draw circles on his forearms.

Itachi is on seventh heaven. He wishes this moment to last forever.

You get out when the water starts to cool. You go to bed and cuddle until you fall asleep.

[jayjj7]

chapter 36. clarification

prev. | next | masterlist

a/n: thank you guys for 400 followers❤️ i also just had some bomb ass chicken

it felt like it’d been a year since you’ve been at danielle’s house, in reality it’s been a week. two people with completely different mindsets and goals never mixed well. from your perspective, danielle was dating minji and was cheating on her with you but you couldn’t help but still be drawn to her. from danielle’s perspective, she had no idea what went wrong, maybe she did start to believe what minji said about you using her. either way, danielle still wanted to be with you, at least care for you.

“come in please” danielle answered the door rather quickly, lights dim inside, the dark night outside not helping.

you walked in and were greeted with the familiar yet almost nostalgic sight of danielle’s couch where you spent countless hours talking and hanging out. the sight of it almost bringing you to tears. all you wanted was to be loved by danielle but you didn’t want to be a home wrecker.

“do you want some water?” danielle asked walking into her kitchen, avoiding eye contact.

“no thank you, i don’t want to be here for long, i don’t think minji would like that” you respond trying to keep your composure and not have your jealousy not shine through.

this comment threw danielle off but ignored it as she went to sit down across the couch from you. this never happened, danielle always sat right next to you, always smiled, always shinned, but not anymore.

seeing how different she was acting caused for your stomach to turn, the feeling of going down a rollercoaster and your insides spinning was the closest feeling to describe this.

“i just wanted to say that you are irresponsible and a really selfish person towards…her” you struggled to say minji’s name.

danielle nods in response, her heart sinking as she stared at you. her mind and heart was racing and she wanted to ask a million questions but didn’t want to interrupt you.

“we should’ve never done any of this” you point from yourself to her quickly to avoid your shaking hands to be revealed.

“y/n what are you talking about?”

“danielle you know what i’m talking about-“

“who is danielle?” she shakes her head, frustration getting to her.

“y/n why did you just get up and leave?” danielle asks, tears forming in her eyes.

you had a response in mind, you knew what you came here to do but seeing her like this broke your heart.

“you left with no explanation! i’ve been worried sick about you ever since! i’ve tried texting you but you blocked my number and i don’t know why!” tears stream down her face.

“stop worrying danielle! that’s the problem! you worry too much!”

silence filled the room as danielle processed what you said to her.

“you shouldn’t be doing this much when you have a girlfriend! i don’t want to be a home wrecker!” you add on to clarify.

“girlfriend?” she responds in confusion.

“you and minji!” her question bothered you, acting oblivious to the mention angered you.

“me and minji aren’t dating? to be frank i’m incredibly mad at her right now” danielle admits.

“yes you are! look at your lock screen, don’t play dumb with me right now!” you rub your forehead and try to calm yourself down.

danielle turns her phone on and is greeted with the picture of her kissing minji’s cheek. at that moment everything made sense to her, why you left, why you were angry, why you called her irresponsible.

“you’re really dumb y/n” danielle laughs as she wipes her tears.

taglist : [ @modanisgf @greenniee @milfcr @idkwhatim-doinghere101 @urwyf3 @flolio @imahallucination11 @pandafuriosa60 @kaypanaq @nnewjeansstuff @haerinkisser @brocoliisscared @starrynini05 @l-e-e-woso @kimminjiswife @herlv3r @linnnsworld @multiliker @jisooftme @beanwtf1 @trovao-penguins @sweetcandycum @elliesrosetoy @justaharmlesspotat0 @masuowo @glock19enjoyer @milkncinnamonrolls ] taglist is open !! comment to be added !

[apocalypse-shuffle]

RED HOOD | BATFAMILY (assorted canon)

────────────────────

────────────────────

“Long Overdue” (Jason Todd & Batmom!Reader) and (background Bruce Wayne x Batmom!Reader)

| Reader was with Bruce in the past but grew distant after Jason’s death. No one tells her when he comes back from the dead until Bruce is forced to bring her in on a raid when they’re overwhelmed. -Jason and Batmom!Reader reunion.

| SFW, canon typical action/violence, cursing?, crying?

| This is like half fanon half UTRH/Batman:Hush. I’m really just fucking around with canon rn. Also the pictures used are just for aesthetics and have no contextual meaning to the story. (pic source - Batman: Three Jokers comic)

| 2k+ words

| parts: one, spurt, two, three, four, five, six/six point five, seven.

Ma. God, no one called you that anymore. The way your eyes begin to prickle is a clear indication.

With you Dick wasn’t the type. Once he’d worked himself up to it he’d called you mom; slightly different from the few ways he referred to his bio mother, but something shared between the two of you all the same.

And Tim? Well he wasn’t your child plain and simple. Tim still had his parents for one, and for two he was intrinsically Bruce’s. By the time he’d figured his way into the Batcave you’d been gone, most of your shit moved out of the manor, and desperately waving divorce papers Bruce refused to acknowledge in the air. You didn’t have anything to do with his indoctrination outside of exactly one instance of him finding you to ask if you’d reconsider the separation. Some Batman needed a Robin and Bruce Wayne needed his wife type shit.

Either way Tim didn’t call you any rendition of mom because you weren’t his. The most you got was him addressing you by your maiden name and then eventually your first and you were content with that.

Then if he didn’t call you mom, the girls sure as hell didn’t either. Outside of Barbara the others never even became regular conversation partners. Cass was a rare sighting in your life and Stephanie and you’s relationship would never progress past the casual advocacy you tried giving her because she was another dead Robin to add to what’s now technically a list.

At the end of the day, out of all the people who considered you a mother, only Jason added that ‘a’ and you wanted to grip that name tight and hold it to you. Break your ribs open and force it into your chest cavity. The need to fulfill that ache cuts deep and you take a step forward.

Jason startles though, undoing all his own forward progress, and you falter. That’s right. Jason didn’t like for people to touch him. Definitely didn’t like hugs either. Not surprise ones at least. Before his death you’d gotten close enough he didn’t mind when you swooped in, but now?

“Can I-? Can I hug you?” You press trembling lips together for another horrible swallow. “Please…?”

Jason jerks, two hastily aborted movements at once, before his obstructed voice meets your ears.

“Fine.”

You practically fall on him before pulling him into you. Unfortunately he’s just as stiff as his voice and you have to take a second to figure out how to slot against him.

Jason fits in your arms differently than he used to - broader and taller by a mile - but after a few beats he relaxes into them just the same. The subtle addition of weight makes a sob bubble up your throat.

You rap your knuckles on the side of the helmet.

“Take this shit off.”

He hesitates and a sharp pang manages to worm its way into the already shitty cocktail of emotions you’re feeling. It hits your spine like lightning, forces you up and has you an arms length away in half an inhale.

Maybe before now you’d been going through too much all at once for the trepidation to hit, but it was hitting now. You’d never seen Hood without- well without the Hood. Only Jumbie raised from the dead the way Jason did, and while you’d take your son anyway you could get him you wouldn’t accept some Thing parading around in his skin.

Reading your burst of movement for what it is, Jason backtracks, rising arms dropping to his sides. “Maybe I shouldn’t…”

“Jason Peter-” you inhale deeply, catching yourself, and hold a hand up to stop him. You both ignore the obvious way it trembles. “-only… if…if you want to. I’m not trying to force anything.”

He’s slow to nod, weight shifting from his left to his right leg and back again before he says something too low for you to hear. You’re about to ask him to repeat when he speaks up, this time aiming his voice somewhere around your shoulder while bowing his head.

“No, I- Alright. Just hold on.”

Haunches suitably raised and heart in your throat you pay close attention as the helmet comes up, Jason having released some catch in the back.

It goes over, the helmet clatters to the ground, and the man who stares back at you is…hard to place.

The low fluorescent lighting of the narrow room combined with the concrete walls casts soft enough shadows over his face that while his features are warped they’re not discernible. Which means you can’t completely rule out the uncanniness wafting off of him as just your brain (along with your entire perception of the universe) splinting in half.

It makes your face heat up. He looks familiar, but you can’t say you wouldn’t have passed him straight if you’d seen him on the street. He’s too big for one, even for how you’d all imagined he’d look grown up, standing more than a foot taller than the last day you saw him. Taller than malnourishment would’ve ever let him be.

The sob you let out makes you both flinch.

One hand snaps to your mouth, the other waving him off.

“I’m sorry I- I don’t-. This is just-”

Even with the way he’s leaning away from you he shakes his head. “I get it, it's fine.”

His voice is faint, cut up and hoarse like he hasn’t used it in a while, and it’s the prettiest thing you’ve heard in ages.

“Oh,” you laugh. The wet kind that makes your throat sticky. You can only stare at him, blurry form and all, words lost to you.

Eventually, after watching your fervent effort to wipe away tears that are in no way inclined to give you a break, arms crossed Jason takes a half step forward with a shrug.

“We can…try again?”

The next little laugh you let out you practically choke on but you nod all the same.

When Jason’s the first to move your heart starts speeding away like an overexcited middle school drumline. You roll with it though, pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes so they’re dry enough for you to actually see him clearly for a few seconds.

When he’s directly in front of you your hands come up slowly, giving him plenty of opportunity to move away. Or maybe to vanish.

When he does neither, only giving you a guarded look, you allow yourself to touch.

Problem is, the domino mask he’s wearing very quickly gets in your way and on your nerves when you move to frame his face. Quickly feels like if it’s not gone, if you can’t see his eyes, you’ll throw up.

To stop yourself from taking the risk and ripping it off you have to take a deep breath. Have to force down the thick build up of saliva gathering in your mouth so it pushes back the bile climbing up your throat.

“I’d like to see my son, Jason. All of you.”

To emphasize your point you tap the tip of your nail against the mask. There’s no intention on your part to cross his boundary but Jason’s hands snap up to hold onto your wrists all the same.

You look into the white lenses of his domino, fingers buzzing along the corner of the mask closest to them. His mouth twists into a frown.

“Please?”

You beg with the same ferocity a grieving mother once used when begging for her child back.

“You’re asking for a lot.”

He lets go and he takes a couple steps back and you don’t cry.

No, instead you swing your hands behind you. Clasping them together in a poor attempt to stop the buzzing sensation that travels from the tips of your fingers to take over your entire hand.

“Mmm,” you incline your head. “Well. I did help a boy get over first date jitters with a made up song once. Let that same boy talk me through an entire dissertations’ worth of his analysis of Their Eyes Were Watching God - as choppy as it was - because TWMS wouldn’t allow him to present it in class. Let him skip going to that same school and cry to me for hours after the death of Gloria Stanson. Remember a knife hidden in the corner on the highest shelf in his closet, and I remember not revealing any of that when I gave his eulogy because he once asked me to keep the important things between the two of us. So you don’t have to show me, but I think I make a pretty good qualifier when it comes to keeping this safe.”

You point straight to where his heart is tucked safely behind layers of gray armor before shrugging.

From the way his brows furrow over the domino you know he’s at least thinking about it so you step away to pick up your disregarded mask and stuff it in your waistband.

One blink. Six.

“You remember Rena?”

In front of him again, you rock back on your heels. “Mhm. And the ‘how to tie a tie’ lessons me and Bruce walked you through even though you didn’t wear a suit to that date. Remember that too.”

Jason’s smile is crooked on his face but it’s nonetheless present as he makes a noise of agreement.

“I’d just wanted to spend time with you two, I was never planning on wearing a suit to go to the skating rink.”

“We figured.”

You’re rolling onto the balls of your feet when that small smile drops and he shakes his head.

“I’m not that same boy anymore.”

You take in the way he could raise his hand and so easily touch the ceiling without having to jump. You clear the phlegm from your throat.

“I can tell.”

Jason grunts and makes a general gesture indicating something somewhere behind you.

“And I got no interest in trying to live up to whatever fucked up embalment Bruce’s got going on with my burnt suit in that case.”

That suit. Bruce’s memorial. His warning. Your breath hitches as you think of the smell of crisped blood and methanol. If Jason didn’t want to talk about it you sure as shit weren’t going to.

“I will one hundred percent take that into account.” You keep it simple, rocking on your heels again. He wasn’t asking for anything unreasonable so there wasn’t really any debate to be had. “You wanna be treated as you are? I can do that.”

Moments pass once you’ve said your peace where Jason does nothing but stare at you. The only indication he’s at all alive being his shoulders still moving - and you are watching. Eyeing that tell tale up and down like your own life will end at its falter. The pattern is slow enough to come off as pacivity but the time between each rise and fall is too measured to be uncontrolled. Exactly three point eleven seconds one way and three point eleven seconds the other. Every time.

Then he sighs, curses, and the little veil of dissolvent for the adhesive that adheres the mask to his face is in his hand. A different vial and color than when he was Robin; you don’t know why you thought it’d be the same. Or why it makes your heart clench that it’s not.

Between one thrum of the fluorescent lights and the next Jason is peeling away the domino, and you would be lying if you claimed to know where it disappeared to after that. Too caught up on what he’d been hiding to track it.

Blue. Nothing more and nothing less. Just blessedly familiar, vibrant blue. Not the dull gray they’d become by the time you were given the chance to put a gruesome sight of a child six feet under.

The “Oh wow,” tumbles from you without permission and then there’s zero hope for the waterworks you’d been holding back. The levee fails and you’re bawling before you know it. Barely holding back snot and who knows what else since you already feel like screaming.

At that point there’s no carefully thought out sentence for you to spew, no more hesitancy, no more measured breathing, and linear thought. Just the crushing need to have him close to you again.

You’re rushing forward before you know.

Wrapping your arms around Jason the next go around is both the best and the worst thing. You accommodate his new size faster, already writing over the ways he used to fit against you with the ways he does so now, but he’s still so stiff and he’s not reciprocating the hug either.

Maybe you should let go. You crossed the boundary too fast. Were too reckless. You literally have training on this and now you’re crowding him.

Okay, you’re pulling away. It’s a herculean effort but you’re forcing your arms from around his middle. You’ve got to, you don’t want to scare him off. Not when you just got him back.

There’s a soft “Not yet,” mumbled into your shoulder and then arms finally come around yours and you don’t hesitate to snap your own back into place.

He’s hugging you back.

You cry a little harder and bring one of your arms up to drape across his shoulders, pulling him closer. When you start rocking and Jason copies your momentum you press a kiss onto his temple.

“Hi,” you stutter out. Another sob. “Hi baby.”

Since he’s finally letting his arms wrap around you you don’t hesitate to run dark fingers through the truly unruly mass of black curls on his head. His hairs’ damp - most likely from sweat - but cool. Probably being tempered by the cold air blowing into the room.

It’s when you press a kiss to his forehead that you feel something else wet and your breath stutters.

“It’s okay. I got you, everything’s okay,” you whisper.

“God Ma-” his voice cracks and then you can hear the sobs he’s trying to muffle into your suit. “No it’s not.”

“I know,” you sob. “I’m sorry- so so fucking sorry.”

You sniffle and pull away to see him better. Jason’s face is flushed, his eyes wet, and cheeks streaked with tears shed. You hold your hands up to frame his face for a second time and run your thumbs through the tear tracks. His chest heaves as his body tries to regulate his breathing.

Jason clears his throat, gaze boring into yours. “Hi,” he says.

You smile, finally beginning to map out his face. First you move to frame his cheeks, too feel the warmth in them. To see if they still feel familiar. They don’t; you force yourself to accept that fact without letting it show in your expression, letting out a measured exhale before continuing. You find his jaw is more defined now too, cheeks devoid of the baby fat of five years prior.

From then on brushing your thumbs along his brows, over the bridge of his nose, traveling over his ears and skirting around his hairline - it all fills your mind with incoherent cheers.

Your thumbs hover over Jason’s eyes and you hum when he closes them for you.

The skin underneath your shaved off pads is soft. The thin layer of protection allows you to feel how his eyeballs shift, to see the way his veins show stark under light skin, to clock the life thrumming through him.

It makes your heart feel so goddamn light. You can’t stop smiling at the sight of him. Eyes still wet but clear.

“I feel like such a horrible mother,” you hiccup, hands slide down so you can once again cup his face. “I barely recognize you.”

Jason’s breathing shakes nearly in tandem with yours and his eyes squeeze tighter shut, head turning away.

“Don’t.” He takes a second to look up. Look right through you. Lashes wet and glassy eyes open, voice grating over his next words. “Don’t blame yourself. It’s not your fault. I don’t blame any of you for that, but especially not you.”

What you want to do is argue. You should’ve never let him put on that suit in the first place, one fucked up son should’ve been the end of it. You should’ve dropped the case you were working the second you’d heard he’d run away and you should’ve found him. Instead you keep your thoughts personal, pinning them to your brain as if it’s a cushion so that you’ll never forget, and pull your son closer. An action which he allows, resting his head on your shoulder.

“I’m glad you’re back,” you whisper into his hair. The way he instantly shakes his head makes the cool strands tickle your jawline.

“You can’t mean that.”

“If I didn’t mean it I wouldn’t have said it, Jay.”

Jason tenses before responding, words spewing without warning.

“Yeah except I’ve killed people, and I don’t regret it, and Bruce hates that - and you probably do too - but his way isn’t good enough. The people in this city deserve better so I’m doing what’s necessary-”

And that has you bristling. He must notice too because he stops short and edges away, face steeping. Caught somewhere between wanting to leave and wanting to fully kick start an argument.

…TBC

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed! I had to split this bitch in two cause it was 5,000+ words and I’m not in the business of under-indulging myself.

Listen, I’ve looked into it. Every mother/mother figure Jason’s ever had he’s referred to as “Mom”, but me personally, I didn’t grow up addressing my own mother that way so I wanted to play around with “Ma” (differentiate a little). What's funny though, is that I’ve read Dick referring to his mother as both “Ma” and “Mom” so that’s fun.

• TWMS = Thomas Wayne Middle School

btw: if you’d like to leave a comment I’d very much appreciate it. this is a sideblog tho so I won’t respond.

Tagged: @aarinisreading, @niphredil-14, @mxtokko, @calsjack, @brunnetteiwik