#chain him to my bed for weeks | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

theragethatisdesire · 10 months

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

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

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

pairing: eren jaeger x afab reader

wc: 9.1k

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

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

have fun ;)

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

“Come on, Eren. It’s just one night!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fine!”

“Fine?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

If Eren can be dramatic, so can you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sasha–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Eren, I don’t know if you should-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He spits directly in Eren’s face.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No,” you snap, “I’m going home.”

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

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

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

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

“What the hell was that, Eren?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Excuse me?”

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

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

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

“You’re my–”

“The other thing.”

“I needed you.”

“Again.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you still?”

“Still?”

“Need me.”

You blink, eyes still watery. “How?”

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

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

“I still need you. Now.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Eren chuckles. “You need something?”

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

“You want me to stop fucking with you?”

“Please, Eren, I need you–”

“That’s all you had to say.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I need– fuck– I need more.”

“Magic word?”

“Please, Eren, fuck!”

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

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

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

“Close?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He’s not my-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Maybe he wants to apologize.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I just–”

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

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

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

Your chest aches. “I know, but Eren–”

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

“You might have me there.”

“Better than horseface?”

“Watch it.”

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

“Mamma Mia,” you blurt, hopeful.

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

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

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

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

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sugume · 2 months

Text

YOUR BIGGEST FAN — GETO SUGURU

✧･. on vacation with your family, you discover that your biggest fan may not be a mystery after fall.

( TW ) f!reader. camgirl!reader. stepbrother!Geto (in a plot device way, no nii-chan and stuff.) unprotected sex. cream pie. phone sex. squirting. fingering. mutual masturbation. cunnilingus. deception. mentions of bullying. misunderstandings. hurt/comfort. explicit content.

word count - > 6.6k

authors note. can you see I wasn’t creative with the username? I have a love-hate relationship with this fic because I feel like it goes from 0 to 100 real quick lmfao. This is heavily inspired by the book Eyes on Me!

“I bet you look handsome.” You smile at the black screen with the default profile picture floating in the middle.

‘Nah.’ User @Sssman72 types into the chat the takes up the left half of your computer.

“Stop! Don’t say think bad things about yourself,” You laugh, making sure your tits jiggle in the flimsy red lingerie you're wearing. “I know your handsome baby.” You reassure your favorite client. The man who alone gives you 50% of your income. He’s the one who bought you this pretty lingerie set you're wearing.

‘You look tired babydoll...how was today?’ He types.

“I’m fine, I promise, just had a long day, was on a few other private chats with some other customers the entire day.” You confess. In all honesty after this call you were planning to pass out and try to get a few hours of sleep before you had to fly out to your family's vacation home. Today on your live stream, you told your followers you were going on vacation for the next two weeks and wouldn't be online. You didn't plan to get on a call with @Sssman72 but he had texted you as you were getting ready to go to bed that he had a bad day and wanted to see you. Before you had a chance to protest, he spent you 500 and said it would only be 30 minutes. You gave in because first he was your biggest supporter and you wanted to be there for him in some way with all the money and gifts, he sends you and second, you didn’t mind chatting with him, you thought he was the sweetest and you struck lucky the day he joined one of your lives.

‘I’ll let you go then, I want you to get some rest before your flight, sorry for keeping you up beautiful just needed to vent about my ass job.’

“I’m always here for you handsome, I'll make sure to send you those pictures you requested through the week.”

‘Make sure you enjoy your break babydoll, don’t gotta worry about me. Goodnight.’

You say your goodbyes and end up falling asleep in the lingerie bought you as soon as you shut your laptop.

—

“How’s college y/n?” Your stepfather asks when you slide into the back seat of the car. Your mother fitting the last of your luggage into the trunk.

“it’s fine, some of my classes are difficult but nothing I can't manage.” You answer as you buckle in.

“Oh yeah? Thats good. You mom tells me you started a job a few months ago, how's that working out for you?”

You tense under the small blanket you’ve thrown over yourself.

“u-uhm yeah its good—yeah it’s been fun.”

“I’m sorry sweetheart, I don't remember what you mother told me you did again.” He chuckles.

“Uhm—I'm a bartender, m-my friend works there and got me a position.” You tell him the lie you've rehearsed hundreds of times. You start to sweat under the blanket. Did he buy it? What if he and your mom found out what you did? Are they planning to ambush you when you get to the house? They're going to make you drop out and chain you up in the basement when they find out. You throw the blanket off, suddenly too hot and alert. Guess that nap you were planning on taking during the drive wasn’t happening.

“Oh, that’s fun sweetheart, I remember I bartended awhile when I was in college, got fired for stealing the alcohol though,” He laughs at the memory before turning to look at you. “You wouldn’t do that though, you’re a good girl.”

You nod, thankful that your mom decided now to take your stepdad's attention away and get in the car.

“Alrighty were good to!” She cheers. Your stepdad turns back around in his seat before starting the car.

“Finally, thought we were going to get a fine parked here another minute.”

“Oh, shut up! Y/n are you excited to go back to the vacation house? You haven’t been in years!” You mom asks as you guys pull out of the airport.

“Yeah, I can’t wait to, I missed the hiking trails and the waterfalls. None of that in the big city.” You answer truthfully. You did miss the silence of the secluded house you vacationed at every summer since your mom married your stepdad. It was the company that you hated. As if your mom heard your thought, she says something that makes your heart drop.

“Suguru feels the same way, we didn't even have to blackmail him to come! That boy...”

“Suguru is coming?” You scream.

“Coming? Sweetie, he’s already arrived this morning. I’m so excited were all together as a family again.”

“Are you fucking serious mom? Turn the car around and bring me back to the airport!” You screech. You were not going to spend the next week with your bully of a stepbrother.

“Y/n!” You mom gasps.

“Sweetheart, he’s changed.” Your stepdad tells you as if that's going to make it better.

“That’s what he wants you to think! He’s the worst human being on planet earth, please don’t make me spend the next few weeks with him, please mom,” you lean over the consul. “Please dad.” You pout at your stepfather. You know he gets weak whenever you call him dad.

“Sweetheart...”

“No! You aren’t sweet talking your way out of this, he’s changed. He isn't the same teenager with a chip on his shoulder, he’s matured. He even told me the reason he’s coming is to apologize and bond with you y/n.”

“He’s lying mom! He doesn't care about me; I wouldn't be surprised if he told you that just so he could drown me in the lake. You guys own the land so nobody would find my body!” You start to tear up. You were going to jump out of the car if your parents didn't turn back around. Your stepbrother was your biggest tormentor since the day you met him. From picking on you at home to getting the girls to bully you at school. He made your life hell for four years. The day you left for college you screamed how much you hated him and told your parents that the four of you would only be in the same room again when you lay in a casket.

“Oh, don’t cry sweetheart. Your mother is right, he’s changed, I wouldn’t have allowed him around you if he hadn’t. Give us a week and if you want to leave, I promise I'll drive you back to the airport and you’ll never have to see him again, please?”

“No.” You cross your arms and look out the window despite knowing that they’ve won. You can’t jump out of the car now that you are on the highway, and you didn’t bring your own car to drive yourself back to the airport.

“We’ll give you the master suite, the whole attic floor to yourself.” They bargain. You act like you’re thinking of accepting the offer. With the master suite taking up the entire third floor you could lock yourself up there and ignore Suguru. You could also film videos and even go live because the room is soundproof. You perk up at that. You could just spend your vacation on stream and chatting with @Sssman72. He’s somehow always free for you and told you that if you get bored you could call him. He’ll make up for your stepbrother’s awful behavior.

“Fine, I’ll take the master suite.”

—

“Okay that's the last of your luggage, we’ll be having dinner in a few hours on the dock.”

“Kay, thanks.” You watch your stepdad shut the door. Once he does you release the tension in your shoulders. You lock the door before running to throw yourself onto the huge king bed. You sink down. You didn’t see Suguru when you arrived, you mom told you he was probably in town. You hope he stayed in town for the next two weeks.

After laying it bed thinking about how much you hate Suguru with a passion you pull out your phone and open the porn app. You click on messages and open your chat with @Sssman72.

‘Hey...I know I told you I was on vacation but I already wanna go home. You don't have to answer lol.’ You send. He immediately starts typing.

‘Of course, I'll answer you babydoll. What’s wrong?’ Your face heats at the pet names. You wish you knew what he looked like, all he told you about himself was that he was in his twenties and worked for his father's company. You want to know more, what he looks like, what he sounds like. If the messages he sends make you sweat, you wonder what’ll happen if he spoke to them to you. In your head he’s a handsome bachelor who just so happened to find you and deem you worthy of his time and money but hell, he could be lying. He could be some old rich man in his eighties who likes young girls like all the rest of your viewers. The romantic part of you ignores that and is convinced he is who he says he is and that one day you’re going to meet in person and fall in and have a bunch of his babies.

‘You know that stepbrother I told you about?’

“Mm, that asshole who bullied you?’

‘Yep, that asshole. Anyways I bet you won't guess who's here on vacation with me?’

‘Are you serious?’

‘Dead serious...my parents didn’t tell me until I was already trapped and now, I have to spend my vacation away with a man who hates me for no reason.’

‘Wow that’s crazy lol. Did your parents tell you why he chose to vacation with you if he doesn’t like you?’

‘Apparently he’s here to make amends...he’s probably here to kill me so he gets all the inheritance.’

‘Well, what if he’s really there to make amends baby?’

‘You should've heard the groan I just let out. I can’t believe you’re on his side babe. When I tell you that he too evil for that I mean it.’

‘Hey, you know I'm always on your side babydoll, I'm just giving you a man’s perspective on it. Maybe he realized he’s fucked up and he feels back so he wants to apologize for all the wrong he caused you’

‘Yea well from a women's perspective he’s an asshole who doesn’t care about anyone else but himself!’

‘Don’t say the baby...hypothetically what would he have to do to get you to forgive him?’

‘Hypothetically he's going to have to get on his knees and beg for my forgiveness every time he sees me until I deem, he's forgiven. And he’s also gonna have to send every dollar in his bank account to me AND be my slave for the rest of his life...hypothetically.’

‘Lol you never know babydoll, he just might be willing to do anything for your forgiveness. I know I would.’

‘That’s because you’re perfect and care about my feelings...now I'm gonna go get some sleep before having to eat with the devil. Pray he doesn’t poison me and I survive the night.’

—

You sit at the dinning room table waiting for Suguru. Of course, he’s late, he doesn’t care about anyone's time but his. You say so to your parents.

“Y/n stop being so harsh and give him a chance please.” You roll your eyes and go back to scrolling on social media.

“Sorry I'm late.” You jump at the deep voice before whipping your head to the left where your stepbrother stands looking so...so different.

“Suguru! No need to apologize! Come sit.” Your mother points to the empty seat opposite you. Suguru glances at you and smiles before walking to the seat. You gasp. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him smile at you or anyone else. Actually, you know he hasn’t smiled at anyone, he was know for being so stoic. You watch intensely as he pulls out the chair and sits. He looks like a different man, his hair is long, down past his shoulders, the black shirt he's wearing stretches around a huge chest. He looks like he spends half his day in the gym. And those eyes—those eyes that always had heavy eyebags and glared at everyone that looked his way, look at you with gentle look you can’t place. They even crease with the smile that he’s wearing. Your eyes widen, he has a fucking dimple. He looks like a gentleman, he looks handsome. You can't stop staring at his smile.

“Y/n? You alright?” You Stepdad breaks through the haze you were in. You look at your parents and back to Suguru who all have concerned expressions on their faces. You feel your entire body heat in embarrassment.

‘Uhm—yea I'm fine.” You look at your parents, refusing to look back at that smile. Suguru has different plans.

“Hey y/n, it’s been a long time yeah?” Suguru says in that deep voice that has your heart beating faster. Out the corner of your eye you watch as Suguru reaches over the food, holding his hand out. Does he really think you’re about to give him a damn handshake?

...Are you seriously thinking about shaking that huge hand? No, you won’t.

You purse your lips and cross your arms over your chest. You swear you see him glance down at your cleavage but the next second, he's holding eye contact. You blink and look away with a ‘hmm’. He lowers his hand.

“Alright guys let's eat, okay?” You mom breaks the tension. Everyone grabs their share, and you eat in silence for a while, nobody brave enough to speak and you simmering with anger at Suguru. You throw glare at him every time you look up from your plate which happens more times than you’d admit.

“You got something there.” Suguru points the sharp end of the fork at you.

“What?” You ask.

“There,” He grabs his napkin and starts to reach for you. You tense suddenly locked in place. Suguru brings the napkin to the corner of your mouth and wipes it. “There you go.”

You stare at him like he's grown three heads. Maybe he’s dying and wants to make amends? Why else would he be treating you like this. Maybe someone took over his body? That has to be it.

“Uh thanks?” You mummer, unsure what to say.

“You're welcome little sis.” You choke on your spit. What the hell did he just call you!? He must be messing with you; you’re suddenly filled with rage. You glare at him, hoping he disintegrates with the sheer force of your stare.

“You’ve grown up.” Suguru says after another blinking contest, you lost.

“Yea, have you?” You snarl. He stops smiling.

“I have,” he says seriously, setting his fork down. “I want to talk about—”

“I don’t care.”

“Please—”

“No!” You slam your hand on the table, and he goes silent. You’re overcome with guilt before you remember that he bullied you for a year, that he told the entire school to bully you after he graduated. Fuck him.

—

You slam the door the door of your room speed walking to the bathroom. You strip your clothes before turning on the tub. You finally breathe when you settle into the scolding hot water. You needed to wash his gaze, his touch, off your body. The entire dinner after your conversation was awkward, your parents didn't really speak, and you refused to glance back up at Suguru who wouldn't stop staring.

You hated him. You hated him. You—you can’t bring yourself to hate him. For some unknown reason you can’t bring yourself to hate him despite everything he's put you through. Why? You shake your head. You don’t want to think of Suguru while you're trying to relax. You phone dings. You pick up and a smile replaces your frown. @Sssman72.

‘How are you babydoll, you alive?’

‘Yes, wish I wasn’t though.’

‘Why what happened during dinner?’ You sigh and send him voice message detailing everything that happened.

‘Oh wow.’

‘I know.’

‘You gonna give him a chance to explain?’

‘I don’t know I don’t want to but also, I want to hear his explanation...can we call I really don't want to type all of this out?’

‘Course, give me a second. I'll call you.’ You wait a few minutes before you hear the familiar ring.

“Hi handsome.” you smile at the blank profile. Right now, you’d do anything to see him, to hear him comfort you, to be in his arms. He could be the ugliest man in the world, you wouldn’t care.

‘HI beautiful. Talk to me.’ He types into the chat box.

“I don't know. like I said I want to hear him out but also, I don't want to hear it because what it it’s bad, what if it doesn’t excuse it? But also, what if it does and I feel like shit for being mean back—it's just so stressful.”

‘I know babydoll. I wish I could be there right now and hold you. I would do anything to take that hurt away. I'm sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.’

“Stop, don’t apologize you didn’t do anything. If anything, I should apologize for using you as a therapist when you paid to see me naked.” You laugh.

‘Beautiful girl—I would rather pay to hear all your problems and be able to comfort you than see you naked again.’

“Wow you don’t want to see me naked, I'm hurt. Just kidding, thank you for saying that handsome.” You feel your heart skip a beat at his message. Maybe you can convince him to turn his camera on tonight.

“I kinda wanna take my mind off everything right now.” You murmur into the phone before turning on your camera. You hold it above you and smile so he can see everything.

‘So, fucking beautiful, prettiest girl in the world. You gonna give me a show?’

“hm,” You use your free hand to tap your chin. “Only if you do something for me.”

‘And what is that?’

‘Can you turn your camera on? And before you say no, you don’ have to show your face—maybe you can just show your dick or something else. We can masturbate on the phone, please handsome please.” You whine giving him your best puppy face. You watch as the chat bubbles disappear and reappear. You’re about to back out but all the sudden you’re looking at a dim lit room and a huge cock between a big hand. Your eyes widen and the sight.

"Y-you probably won’t be able to type and jack off at the same time” You suck in a breath. Please turn your audio on please...

‘I’m gonna turn my audio on but I won’t talk, okay? Think you can get off on my moans babydoll?’

You nod.

‘Good girl now show me that pretty pussy, make it squirt for me.’

You lift yourself up to sit on the corner of the tub, propping one leg on tub and spreading the other that rests in the water. You flip the camera so your mystery man can watch you finger yourself. You hear him groan and spit onto his hand.

You moan softly at the sound, teasing your entrance. You wish he was talking to through it, but you’ll settle for this for now. One day...

“Mmm, wish you were the one fingering me right now,” You circle your clit before gliding your fingers out your cunt.

“Wish you were here, holding me n' fucking me.” You curl your fingers into your g-spot and moan. You look back at your phone, watching your stranger play with the tip of his long cock. It looks so big compared to his hand, you know you’ll struggle to take it. Your pussy clenches around your small fingers that do close to nothing compared to your dildos at home.

“Wan’ your cock in me so bad, it looks so big you’ll have to force me to take it, you’ll have to hold me down and make me take it.” You cry out. You watch as he squeezes his hand up and down his cock. It looks painful. He grunts louder.

“M’gonna cum for you handsome, m’gonna give you what you want and make a mess,” You speed up your fingers to match how fast he slides his fist up and his cock. You moan louder, thankful that you got the suite and aren’t in the room next to your stepbrothers, how embarrassing it would be if he could hear you pleasuring yourself.

You clench harder around your fingers. Your stranger starts to grunt and groan louder. You shiver at his deep voice on the edge of cumming.

“Please please let me cum please! Can I come for you please?” You cry, your pussy starts to squelch, spurts of liquid coming out.

“Yes, cum for me.” Your mystery man groans in an all too familiar voice but before you have time to think about it, you’re squirting, the grip on your phone loosening and falling into the water.

“N-no!”

—

“Yes, this phone is done for, your mother and I are heading into town we can try to find a company that sells phone, but you know how small towns like this are.” You stepdad stares at your phone that’s been sitting in a container full of rice since last night.

“Fuck, I need it for work! What am I going to do?” You look up at him in distress.

“What do you need your phone for bartending?” He looks down at you incredulously.

“My boss is sending me some important email and I didn't bring my computer.” You lie.

“Well, you can use Suguru’s laptop, I saw him using it this morning in the sitting room. Think he left it there before he went on his run.” Your stepdad points down the hall as your mother rounds the corner.

“Ready to go honey?” She asks your stepdad.

“Coming! Use Suguru laptop to check your email, if we come back and you haven’t got the email you can use my phone. Bye! Have fun and be nice!” Your stepdad waves before following your mother. You wave back.

Of course, you had to use Suguru’s laptop. Maybe you can just log in, tell your stranger that you’re okay and that you won’t be able to contact him until you get a new phone and then delete the history before Suguru comes back from his run. It’ll only take a few minutes...you hope he doesn’t a password.

You run to the sitting room, but you don’t see a laptop anywhere. Dammit, he always has to make things hard for you. You walk up the round staircase and down the hall until you're standing in front of Suguru’s room. You look around, as if Suguru's gonna pop up out of nowhere and attack you from going into his room. You shake the thought off and open his door. You stop and stare at the bed, you feel like you've seen that duvet. You chalk it up to a bunch of man having the same bedding before turning to scan the room for a laptop. You quickly spot the laptop on his desk and run to it. You sigh in relief when it opens to the last tab he had opened. Thank you Suguru for not caring about who gets into your shit. You click new tab and start to type in the name of the website you use before you freeze.

You only need to type in three letters before the website popped up in top hits. You stop breathing. No... He couldn’t know what you do. Is that why he came here? Was he going to expose you to your parents? Was he acting nice to butter you up before crushing you? Your vision starts to blur. All boys watch porn, maybe he just happens to watch porn on the same website you film on. You can block your account from him so that he never finds you. You swallow before clicking the tab. You shakily move they pointer over to the search bar before you spot something in the left corner that makes you dizzy.

Right where the username of the viewer is supposed to be is the username @Sssman72. Your heart stops and you feel wetness hit your hands. This can’t be real. You move to chat and cry out when you see your username. The last text he sent was asking what happened. No—this is a dream; you’re going to wake up and this is going to be a bad nightmare. You refuse to believe the man you’ve been slowly falling in love with over the last six months is your stepbrother, your bully. The man you confessed all your darkest secrets is the man who never showed you an ounce of kindness. Is this a part of his master plan? Is he going to blackmail you and hold all the nudes you’ve sent him and all the secrets you’ve told him over your head. You’re going to become his slave, doing whatever he wants of you until you die. You curl into yourself and cry harder at the thought.

“Y/n? What are you do—” Suguru stops when he sees what's on the screen. “Let me explain please baby.” He reaches out to touch your shoulder. You flinch away from his touch.

“D-don’t call me that,” You sob staring at him with such heartbreak in your eyes he wants to drop and beg for your forgiveness. “You-you, it was you the whole time.” Your voice breaks.

Suguru nods slowly trying to reach out for you again. You take a few steps away. “Was this some masterplan to hold me under your thumb for the rest of my life!?” You scream at him.

He’s grateful your parents went out of town; this would be an absolute shitshow if they were here.

“No babydoll—”

“I said don’t call me that you asshole! Stop pretending. I hate you Suguru! You win okay, you win!” You tell him before you run out of his room. He curses before running after you, you run up that stairs and into the suite but before you can shut the door Suguru shoves it open. You drop to your knees to pull your suitcase from under your bed.

“Please listen to me y/n. I wasn’t faking—stop packing and let me explain.” Suguru pleads as he watches you throw your clothes into your suitcase.

“Y/n, baby, please listen to me please” He grabs your arm, and you try to fight him, but he pulls you down onto the bed with him. He hugs you around the waist and you push in this chest trying to break free. His heart aches. He hates seeing you hurt, he hates that he was the one who made you cry like this. He hates that you only associate him with the version of himself that he created to stop anyone from seeing what he was truly feeling. He hates that you won’t accept the real version of him now that you know it was him. He holds you tighter as you scream and cry. He whispers sweet nothings as you whisper how much you hate him. At some point you stop fighting and wrapping your arms around his neck. You sniffle into his neck, and he rubs your backs and rocks you.

“Why?” You ask hoarsely after all the anger leaves your body. Now you feel numb, like you're watching your life from a third perspective.

“I never hated you, I never lied, and I never planned to blackmail you—I know you don’t believe me baby but everything I've ever told you on that app was real. Everything I feel for you is real.” You pull your face out of his neck and stare up at him. You don’t believe him.

“I have never hated you y/n. I swear it. I hated the fact that my father replaced my mother with yours not even a year after she died. Baby, I never fucking hated you. I was just a teenager who didn’t know how to express my emotions so I took them out of the person I knew I could hurt the most. It was bad I know; I feel like shit to this day. When I graduated and got away from my father, I realized how bad I was to you, and I got into therapy. I wanted to be better for myself, for you, for everyone around me. I didn’t know that the bullying continued when I left. I didn’t know how bad people had taken it until that day I came back home. When you told me off about it, I was so confused. I’m so fucking sorry. I want to reach out and apologize for everything and the day I planned to do it Satoru—my best friend, you remember him—well he sent me the link to your account and so I made an account and it all just spiralized out of control after that. I was too embarrassed to tell you it was me and then we started to form a connection, a real connection, and I didn’t want our conversations to end so—fuck I'm sorry. Everything I told you; I meant it. I fucking meant every word.”

You sit there stunned, trying to comprehend everything he said. You never knew about his mother. You thought she had passed away long before your mom and his dad had met. But you remember when your stranger told you that. God, you remember when your not so mystery man told you about his family the seemed so familiar to yours. And he didn’t tell all those people to bully you after he left? Did he mean every word? Every word of affirmation he gave you. Those times when he told you that you were capable of being loved and that you were going to find someone who would love every part of you, the good and bad. Was that the same Suguru? You try to wrap your mind around the fact that the man you love is your stepbrother.

“I know it’s a lot of information.”

“It is.”

“Do you believe me?” He looks at you with furrowed brows. You do. Despite everything you find yourself nodding. He sighs and you feel the tension release from his shoulders that your arms are wrapped around. You suddenly realize the position you two are in and feel your face heat. Your arms are wrapped around his neck and your legs are on either side of his thick thighs his cock, the cock that you saw last night, is right underneath you, if you lower yourself an inch, you’d be sitting on it.

Suguru grips your waist with one hand, the other cupping the right side of your face. You look up at him and sniffle. He leans down until your foreheads are touching.

“If you give me achance, I'll treat you like the queen you are. I’ll love you the way you’re meant to be loved. One chance is all I ask for.” He mummers rubbing your noses together.

You hesitate, one part of you wants to run away with him because he’s the man you’ve wanted for the last six months. The other part of you wants to run away from him, he’s your stepbrother, he lied, and you don't know if he would’ve ever told you the truth. But isn’t that what he came here to do? Can you blame a little boy for being mad at the people who replaced his mother?

You give him his answer by grabbind his neck and push his lips towards you. If this does go to hell at least you’ll have a story to tell your feature children.

Suguru kisses back before standing and pulling you off him. “What—”

“You said you wanted me on my knees, didn't you? I’m ready to serve you in any way you want. I can have my savings transferred to your account by tomorrow night.” He says as he drops to his knees. You stare at him with wide eyes as he holds your legs and starts kissing from knee to right where your pussy starts.

“Suguru—”

“Shh babydoll let me take care of my girl, show her how sorry I am for hurting her.” He mummers before dropping your leg and picking up the next one. He repeats this a few more times before finally asking you to lift your hips so he can pull your leggings and panties off. Suguru throws your pants behind him before standing up to pull your tank top off. You reach behind to unbuckle your bra and toss it on the floor with your other clothes. Suguru chuckles, reaching up to kiss all over your face.

“Take your clothes off too Sugu.” You giggle, reaching for his sweatpants. You get a firm grip and yank them down. His thick cock bounces out. Your mouth goes slack. The phone call didn’t do it justice. It somehow looks bigger than before and if you weren’t wet before, you are now. That thing is going to be inside you soon.

“Like what you see beautiful?” You nod dumbly as you watch Suguru step out of his pants and take his shirt off with one hand. He’s so fucking sexy.

He drops back down to his knees and pulls you until your ass is hanging off the bed. “Lay down and let me please you.” You comply and watch as Suguru lifts your legs up and buries his face in your cunt. Your hands fly down to his long shiny hair.

“Suguru!” You moan as he licks you from asshole to clit. He sucks on your clit before biting both lips. Your pussy clenches. “Feels s’good Sugu!” You grind down on his talented tongue. Suguru hums into your clit before setting one of you thighs in his shoulder and bringing his fingers to your entrance. He teases you, only pushing his fingers into the joint before taking them out. You cry out in frustration before pulling on his long hair when he finally slides two big fingers into you.

Yours definitely don't compare to his long thick ones. Your back arches off the bed as Suguru fingers jackhammer into you all the while his mouth sucks on your clit.

“S’good Sugu! Don’t stop!” You scream letting go of hair with one hand to cover your loud mouth.

“Don’t hide those sweet moans from me babydoll. If you want my cock, you’ll let me hear you scream my name as you cum on my fingers and mouth.”

You bring you hand back to hair and grind hard as you get closer and closer to orgasm.

“Gonna cum! M’gonna come!” You cry, as you release all over Suguru's face. He moans and sucks even harder before adding another finger. You cry at the sudden intrusion. It doesn't take long before you’re coming all over again, this time liquid shooting out of you and onto Sugu’s chest.

“Yes baby, that's it—what a good girl,” He praises as he slurps up all your juices. “Such a fucking good gril f’me.”

“Gimme a kiss.” You say between heavy breaths.

“Does the pretty girl want kiss?” You nod, pulling Suguru down with you by the shoulders.

“Want you to kiss me while you fuck me for the first time. Want it to be special,” You confess shyly. Suguru leans down and pecks you on the forehead, then the nose, and then both of your cheeks.

“Don’ tease meanie!” You laugh when he kisses the corner of your lips.

“M’sorry baby, can you forgive me?” He pouts.

“Hmm—I’ll forgive you only if you kiss me right no—” You don’t even finish your sentence before Suguru shoves his tongue down your throat. You kiss him back and your tongues fight for dominance. Suguru wins and smiles into the kiss. You can’t believe this is happening. Your bully, your stepbrother, your mystery man is kissing you right now. Your about to make love with said man.

“You okay babydoll?”

“Mhm, just can’t believe this is all happening.”

“Me too beautiful, you sure you want to do this right now? We can always wait.”

“No, I want to. I want you.” You raise your hand to tuck his hair behind his ear. He smiles, showing you that adorable dimple. You kiss it.

Suguru kisses your lips once more before he grabs his cock, rubbing it up and down your cunt.

“Fuck—I don’t have a condom.”

“I’m on the pill—please Sugu.” You beg, frustrated from all this foreplay. You’ve been on edge since last tight in the tub.

“Alight beautiful,” He pushes the head of his cock into you. “Fuck me—you feel so good. Always knew you would.” You feel his fist guide his long cock into you. You moan. He fits you perfectly.

“Sugu—feel’s s’good, want more!” You cry, fisting the blanket’s underneath you.

“Does my baby want more—does she want to orgasm on my cock?” You nod watching Suguru lift your legs to his shoulder. He leans down, bringing your feet to the side of your head. You whine at the stretch.

Suguru groans as he pulls his cock in and out of you.

“S’too much!” You moan into his shoulder. He just laughs and picks up his pace. The fancy headboard above the bed starts to slam against the wall. You watch with blurry eyes as the stock photos hung on the wall shake.

“Said you wanted more baby, ‘m giving you more.” he says before biting into your neck. Hard. You scream, back arching at the pain. Your hands fist the sheets even tighter, knuckles turning white. Suguru unlatches his jaw. Lifting his head to admire his mark. Now all your customers will know you belong to someone. To him. He kisses the mark.

“Sugu, It’s too much. Hurts! m’gonna cum!” You cry, tears soaking the blanket breath you.

“Oh, don't cry baby—shhh—you’re so beautiful y/n. So damn pretty.” He whispers, coaxing you to orgasm. Your eyes roll to the back of your head. You stop breathing for a second as your pussy contracts around Suguru's cock. Suguru follows in suit, spurting his cum deep inside your pussy.

“Fuck,” he draws out, collapsing onto you.

“T-that was—”

“The best sex ‘ve ever had.”

“Same.” You smile before wincing.

“What’s wrong babydoll.”

“You're about to break my damn hip if you keep my legs up any longer,” Suguru lefts himself enough to bring your legs to his sides. “And you probably ripped a chunk of my neck off with that little trick of yours.” You grumble.

“It’s not bad, promise.” He kisses the bite mark softly.

“And all the pictures fell of the wall.”

“I’ll put ‘em back up baby,” He laughs into your ear. “Just let me hold you for a second.” He kisses your cheek before snuggling deeper into you. You throw your arms around his shoulder while you both try to wrap your head around everything that happened.

#𐙚 ࣪ ˖ sugume writes #𐙚 ࣪ ˖ smut journal #geto suguru #geto x reader #jjk geto #geto smut #jujutsu geto #geto scenarios #geto x y/n #geto x you #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut

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mostly-imagines · 8 days

Text

Guard Dog vol. II

jason todd x fem!reader

aka don’t fuck with jason’s gf pt. II

3 in 1 blurbs

warnings: mild standard gotham violence, in the 3rd section: attempted sexual assault and panicky thoughts afterwards from reader

“Sweetheart, this is…not good.”

You turn your head over to him, where he’s frowning, hands on his hips as he inspects your bedroom window.

You tilt your head, looking it over from your place on the couch. “What’s wrong with it?”

He sighs, “Well for one, the lock is broken. But even if it weren’t, this thing would be so easy to break.”

“It’s the lock the place came with.” You shrug. At least it has a lock. In Gotham that’s kind of asking a lot.

“Yeah, I can tell.” He frowns at the window once again, moving over to stand behind the couch. “I’m getting you better locks.” He looks to you, “I can install them tomorrow?”

You tilt your head up to look at him, “You don’t need to get me new locks, Jay…”

“Okay.” He kisses your head, “I’m getting them.”

You sigh in defeat, though your smile makes it lose its credibility. “Tomorrow’s fine. I assume you’re staying the night, then?”

He makes his way to the kitchen as he says, “Well, I’m not leaving you alone here with this piece of shit the only thing between you and Gotham.”

“I’ve lived here for two years.” You say flatly.

“Don’t remind me.” He mumbles as he moves behind the counter. “Actually, your door chain’s broken too, isn’t it?” It is, but that’s his own fault.

You had a long day a couple weeks ago and had a very long, very hot shower the second you got home. Unfortunately, it had slipped your mind to text him that you were home safe and he’d broken through the chain in one try to make sure you were okay.

You hum, “It wasn’t doing much anyways.” Clearly.

He grimaces as he heats up the stove for dinner.

You laugh lightly, “What?”

He looks back at you with a frankly adorable frown, “I don’t like that.”

You’d never thought much of it. You hadn’t had any—well, many—problems living here before, and you still had your deadbolt and handle lock.

“It’s okay. I’m safe here.”

He looks like he strongly disagrees. He comes back over, sitting next to you, taking your face in his hands. “Will you please let me set up some security measures around here?”

“Did Jason Todd just say please?” You say in faux-shock.

He rolls his eyes at you, “I’m serious.”

You sigh, contemplatively. “I don’t want my apartment looking like the Home Alone set.”

He laughs at that, “It’s not going to. You won’t even notice most of them. Just do it for me, please?”

“I’ll agree, but only because I know you’re going to do it anyways and I’d like to pretend I have control over this.” That’s not true, you’d agree to literally anything if he said please that sweetly again, but that’s your business.

“Fair enough.” He smiles, kissing your cheek.

No, it’s not fair at all.

It’s late. You’re not even sure how late but the city has calmed from its usual noises, indicating that your boyfriend will be home soon.

You’re coming up heavy on cramps tonight and according to the mockingly empty spot in your medicine cabinet, you’re out of ibuprofen. Yeah, it’s late, but the store on the corner is a three minute walk and fuck your stomach hurts. Jason wouldn’t like it if you went out without telling him though, so maybe you should wait until—

The sound of the living room window sliding open breaks you away from your thoughts, followed by a clatter of something hitting the ground.

You walk back into the dimly lit room, finding your boyfriend sliding the window shut again, holsters abandoned on the ground. He turns and collapses onto the couch face first, body immediately gone limp.

“Hey, baby.” You bite back a laugh, coming over to rub his muscled back from behind the couch. He groans into the cushion in response. “Why don’t you go get in bed?”

He hums almost imperceptibly, sitting up and rubbing his eyes roughly with his palms.

He stands and takes your hand in his as he passes by, tugging you towards the bedroom. The deep ache in your abdomen reminds you of your earlier train of thought. You pull your hand back, stopping in your tracks.

He turns back to you with a frown, wanting to know what could possibly be getting in his way of falling asleep, holding you close.

“I gotta go pick up some ibuprofen. I’ll be right back.” You say quietly, not wanting to disturb the quietness of the night for him. His frown deepens as you head towards the door, watching you.

You’ve got your purse in hand and are reaching for the handle when you hear his footsteps following in suit. “Hey, it’s okay. Stay here, I’m just going to the 24 hour store on the corner.”

He shakes his head, “You’re not going out in Gotham alone at two in the morning. Put your coat on, it’s cold.”

You do as you’re told, shrugging the coat on as you glance over at him. “Jason, it’s okay. You’re exhausted, go to sleep.”

He ignores you, throwing a sweatshirt on to cover up his armor, and follows you out the door; albeit far more sluggish than usual.

He was right though, the night air is bitter and slaps your face with every step forward you take. He lingers a few steps behind you, honest to god almost falling asleep mid step a couple times.

Frankly, you’re not even sure what kind of fight he’d be able to put up in this state. Though, he’s surprised you plenty of times before. In any case, his head snaps up every time there’s any sign of movement around, instantly on alert.

He trails behind you as you browse through the narrow aisles, hands stuffed in his sweatshirt.

As you’re standing at the store counter paying, his neck is craned forward, resting on your shoulder. You rub soothing circles into his hand with your thumb, though you’re sure it’s not doing anything to help his exhaustion.

You’re walking back home, the bite of the air a bit more forgiving in this direction. There’s another man walking down the sidewalk approaching, hands in pocket.

Jason’s too tired to bother with subtlety, glaring directly at the passerby before he could even think of trying anything. And it works, because the guy averts his gaze real quick and speeds up past you.

He continues working at his post from just behind you all the way until you’re back inside your apartment.

He takes the medicine container out of his pocket and cracks it open for you, wordlessly filling up a glass of water after. You gulp down a couple of the pills, and he takes the glass and bottle out of your hand the second you’re done, setting them on the counter.

He turns to you, eyes barely open, mumbling, “Can we sleep now?”

You smile at his fatigued state and take his hand, leading him to the bedroom.

Your neighbor likes you. You know it, Jason knows it.

The worst he’d done was flirt with you, badly, and shut his mouth real quick whenever your boyfriend emerged from your apartment.

And Jason let that go; he knows better than anybody that you’re heavenly and sweet and clever, of course this fucking guy likes you. Jason set an unspoken rule with himself, that he won’t get violent with any guys unless they put their hands on you. Something he knows for absolute fact your neighbor has not done.

At least he hadn’t until a couple of hours ago. You’d been in the hallway at the mailslots, your boyfriend nowhere in sight, when he decided it was the perfect time to make a move. Make several moves, actually.

You’re sitting on the couch, knees to chest, still trying to wrap your mind wround what had happened when Jason sees you. You stopped crying a while ago and you’ve entered the phase of…well. That happened.

Your hear keys jingling outside the door, followed by your boyfriend's entrance. He’s carrying some grocery bags and has a book tucked under his chin.

He lets the bags slide off his arms, and sets the book on the counter with them, beaming, “You’re never gonna guess what b—“ His smile drops when he sees you. “What’s wrong?”

You shake your head, “Nothing.” But your blinking feels off all of a sudden, and you can’t remember what you usually do with your face when you’re not lying. It doesn’t matter though, you could be an academy award winning actress and you’re still sure Jason would be able to see right through you with a single glance.

He frowns, “Don’t lie to me.” He moves towards you, kneeling down in front of you. “Please. What’s wrong?” His eyes are pleading now, already worried.

You don’t want him to worry about this. He already worries about you too much and he’s got all his vigilante stuff and…you just want to believe that this is a manageable situation and not a problem. Not something that affected you.

“It’s just…it’s not a big deal, okay? I can handle it—”

His posture stiffens and his voice suddenly goes low and serious, “What happened?”

You know where this is going. “Jason. Promise me you won’t do anything.”

His brow furrows, and his frown turns to something closer to anger. “Did someone put their hands on you? Who?”

“Jason—”

“Who did it?”

“The neighbor, b—” he immediately snaps to a stand and starts towards the door. You hurry to grab onto his hand before he can escape your proximity, “Jason. Please don’t.”

The break in your voice is enough to make his rage falter and turn back around to face you.

“Baby, if he touched you—” His eyes are pleading, begging you to let him go take care of this. If not for you, then for him.

“It wasn’t—he didn’t do anything. He didn’t get to. I hit him and he backed off.” Which is…sort of true.

He stares at you. “In the hallway?”

You blink. “…Yeah?”

He takes off towards the bedroom wordlessly. You follow quickly on his tail, watching him sit on the edge of your bed, opening his computer and clicking through it quickly.

You slide over next to him, and see that he's pulling up a file under the name of your building and today’s date. It takes you two seconds too long to realize what he’s doing, the thought only sinking in right as you see the hallway security camera footage on the screen.

“Jason—” you try to close the computer but he bats your hand away.

He forwards through the footage, as you scramble trying and failing to reach past him, various building occupants coming in and out of frame rapidly.

“—please just listen to me.” But he did listen to you, and he heard that someone tried to hurt you. That was all he needed to hear.

He stops when he sees you enter the frame, watching closely. He sees you flipping through the mail. He sees your neighbor slither out of his apartment and stand far too close to you. You take a step back only to be met with two steps forward by him. He says something to you, probably asking where your boyfriend is.

The angle doesn’t show his face, but it does see yours, and you look incredibly uncomfortable. You don’t answer him, which evidently was enough of an answer in itself.

Your neighbor tries to brush some of your hair out of your face but you snap your head away, stumbling back a little. He uses your lack of balance as an “excuse” to grab onto your waist, pulling you close to him.

Your hands are out in front of you and you’re shaking your head as he pushes towards you. His lips land on your neck and you try to move backwards, but he grabs your wrists and holds you in place.

You fight against his grip, and upon realizing that your struggling doesn’t matter to him at all, you dig your nails into his wrists so hard you draw blood. He groans in pain and his grip on you loosens.

You snap your hands away and push yourself away, locking yourself in your apartment. Your neighbor lingers for a moment, shouting something at the door before trudging back into his apartment and slamming the door.

Jason snaps the laptop shut, coming to a stand once again. His fists clinch at his sides. “That was not nothing.”

No, it wasn’t. But you feel so helpless right now. You sure as hell felt it in the hallway, and it keeps lingering in you and you’re not sure why. You couldn’t do anything then, you can’t do anything now…it feels like all the bad things in the world are closing in on you and you just have to let it happen.

“I…I don’t want anyone to die because of me…” your words aren’t quite matching your thoughts, but this is the closest you can get right now.

He pulls back to look at you, brows furrowed. “It’s—it’s not because of you. It’s because of him. Baby, if I were on patrol and saw him grab some other girl like that I’d do the same thing.”

You know that. You know that. But communication seems impossible right now even though it’s the only tool you have to stop things from closing in.

“No, I know that. I know…it’s just…” Things are closing in anyways. Alright, this is happening now. Your eyes start watering and your voice trembles.

“Fuck, baby.” His hand flies to the back of your head, other arm wrapping around your middle, pulling you to him.

You feel a bit silly, crying over the potential death of someone who tried to hurt you, in front of the Red Hood of all people.

“I’m sorry, I—I don’t know. It’s—it’s too many bad things. I can’t…”

“Okay. Okay. It’s okay. I’ll stay here. I’m staying here with you, okay?” You nod into his chest, tears dampening his shirt.

This is a temporary solution, you know that even now. But you think once it expires, it might be easier to accept whatever Jason’s going to do later.

He’s quiet for a few minutes, holding you in his arms as you sway back and forth lightly.

“Will you forgive me if I kill him?” He whispers into your hair.

You roll your eyes but smile nonetheless. “Don’t.”

“Is that a yes?”

You pull back to look him in the eyes, face setting. “I’m getting the feeling you’re going to do something regardless of how this conversation ends.” He says nothing. “Just, please, don’t kill him.”

He holds you tighter and you do the same, laying your head against his chest again. You feel him press a kiss to your head as he takes a deep breath.

You think on it for a moment, figuring it needs saying, “And don’t get in trouble.”

Your neighbor comes home late that night, trudging through the front door with a perpetual frown. He opens the door to his notably unlocked apartment. He drops his bag on the ground with a thump and flicks on the lamp next to the door. He shuts the door and turns the lock when the red elephant in the room pipes up.

“Hey, bud.”

He jumps, spinning around, “Who the fuck—oh, shit.” He freezes the second he sees him, sitting in the armchair across the room. The Red Hood nods, loading the gun in his hand.

Your neighbor stutters, “What—what are you doing here?”

He looks up at him, cocking the gun. “You put your hands on your neighbor, yeah?”

He looks fake-shocked at the accusation. “What? No, I would ne—which neighbor?”

He can’t see it, but Hood’s face drops into a deadpan. “That is really not helping your case.”

Your neighbor eyes the gun nervously.

Hood sighs, “I’m not going to kill you. I’ve been told it’s bad manners to execute someone the first time you meet.” He glances down the nail marks on his arm and steals his jaw. “No. What’s going to happen is you’re going to break your lease and move out. Within the next week.”

The neighbors eyes widen, “A week? Are you insane?”

Hood tilts his head a bit before shaking it, “Nah, you’re right. By tomorrow night.”

“This is my apartment. I live here, I’m not going anywhere. And unless you’re secretly Saul the landlord under there, you can’t do anything about it.” He crosses his arms, clearly feeling very proud of himself. Well, killing him isn’t the only option, is it?

“Yeah, I thought you’d say that.” Hood clocks him hard on the head with the frame of his gun. He goes down quickly and loudly, clutching his head, groaning. “The alternative is getting beaten half to death and hoping whatever hospital you end up at knows what they’re doing.”

Honestly, neighbor boy is pressing his luck as is. Maybe it was a bad idea for Jason to bring the gun.

“Fuck! Fine! I’ll go!” He wails.

Hood kicks his abdomen with the side of his boot, though not nearly as hard as he wanted to. “Shut up. You’ll disturb the neighbors.”

The neighbor groans again, quieter. He mumbles something about Hood being crazy but it gets lost under the grunts of pain.

Hood crouches down next to him, patting him on the head with the barrel of his gun. “Don’t worry, bud. I’ll check up on you. And if I ever see you so much as look in the general direction of another girl I’ll put a bullet in your head. Sound good?”

Your former neighbor drops his head to the ground, hand still clutching the growing swell on his forehead.

#these are all wildly different lengths my b #jason todd loves his gf #jason todd the doberman #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #jason todd x you #jason todd/you #jason todd/reader #jason todd fanfic #jason todd fanfiction #red hood x you #red hood imagine #red hood x reader #red hood fanfic #red hood fanfiction

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amomentsescape · 4 months

Note

Hey I love yanderes and slashers and used to have a sleep walking problem where I would try to crawl through windows, can you do a yandere slasher x reader where the reader has developed Stockholm syndrome and been loving to the slasher so they trust them and let them have more freedom. Then they see them try to crawl out a window in their sleep? How would they react? Would they believe the reader? What would make them believe them if they didn't? If they didn't believe them the how would they react to finding out the reader told the truth?

Thank you so much! And merry Christmas! 🎄 🎄🎄🎄🎄🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅

Slashers with Reader Who Sleepwalks & Tries to Leave

Yandere! Slashers x Reader (Separate)

Warnings: Yandere behavior, of course. Mentions of abusive behavior

A/N: Merry (late) Christmas! I hope you all had a great holiday! For this request, I decided to leave Eric out. He's just the complete opposite to a Yandere in my opinion, and it was nearly impossible for me to write him as such. I hope that's okay!

Freddy Krueger

He knows you would never purposefully leave him

Like, he actually knows

His (undead) life revolves around sleep

He knows when you're awake and where you're actually sleeping, even if he keeps you stuck in his dream world

So when he finds you trying to escape out of the little window he built for you, he just laughs

He had already known you sleep walked

He'd been haunting your dreams for weeks prior to actually taking you

Freddy just keeps watching you, not really doing anything about it

You're stuck in his world either way

Might as well see how far you'll go

He'll almost use this as a test of sorts

He'll let you wander to wherever you want to go in your sleep, and he may even change the environment to something you don't recognize

When you wake up, his name better be the first thing that falls from your lips

If it's not...

Well, he'll just have to try harder at getting you to need him

Michael Myers

It took a very long time for Michael to get to this point

The fact that he lets you sleep without chains is a huge decision on his part

He doesn't trust easily

And any feelings of trust he did have come crumbling down the moment he wakes up without you beside him

It didn't take long to find you

There you were, pushing and prodding at the boarded up window

He's truly pissed

And a little hurt

He really thought you were growing to actually like your situation

But when he spins you around and sees your eyes staring blankly through him, he tilts his head

You don't seem... right?

He'll shake you harshly until he sees the life come back to your eyes

When you finally look up at him with a similarly confused look on your face, he starts to realize

He understands you well enough to know when you're not acting like yourself

When he finally explains what you were doing after you repeatedly asked him, you sigh

You explain that sometimes at night, you wander around without realizing it

A sleepwalker, huh?

Sadly, the chains will need to come out again

Jason Voorhees

You wouldn't actually leave him, right?

You seemed so caring

He actually believed you when you said you needed him

But here you were, trying to leave your shared home in the middle of the night

He almost breaks down as he picks you up and takes you back to your room

He finds it a bit odd that you don't fight back at all, but he assumes you just don't care to

He locks you up and makes sure that you can't go anywhere

How could you do this to him?

When you wake up the next morning in chains and not in your shared bed, you begin to cry for Jason

He tries to ignore you, but he can't bring himself to hear your sad voice calling out to him

You try your best to tell him that you don't remember what happened, and that you would never leave him

And maybe he's too trusting, but he believes you

You just seem so sad and so genuine that it's impossible for him to think it's anything other than honesty

You couldn't be that stupid anyways

You'd get lost in those woods alone at night, he knows that

So he just has to believe you

He loves you, and love means trust, right?

Thomas Hewitt

But you were being so sweet to him just hours before

How could you lie to his face like that?

He wakes up without you in his arms, and he just about loses it

Frantically searches for you around the house and finally finds you at one of the nailed in windows

He pulls you away quickly, staring at you sadly

He's waiting for an explanation, but you don't say anything

You just stare

You weren't acting like yourself

He pushes you back towards the bedroom and you walk the rest of the way yourself, climbing back into bed with ease

He's confused, but decides to see if it will happen again

You can't leave anyways

The whole house is locked up, and you don't even know where the keys are

You act just like your normal self the next day

And that night, you're back to walking around with a blank stare

He figures this just might be a thing you do

Doesn't really try to stop you, but he does follow you most nights to make sure you don't accidentally hurt yourself

On nights he wants you in bed, he ties some old fabric around your ankle and holds you tight while you sleep

You might not ever know about your late night adventures unless he decides to tell you

Bubba Sawyer

He's quite literally blubbering to you

He's crying, he's frantic, he even shakes you a bit, and you just stand there not responding

He keeps waiting, and when you start to just wander around again, he loses it

What's wrong with you? Why are you acting like this?

He ties you back into bed and stays up the rest of the night, watching you

The next morning, he confronts you stressfully

You keep telling him over and over that you don't know what he's talking about

But he refuses to believe you

(He wants to believe you, he's just scared)

He only finally realizes you were being honest when in the middle of the day during your nap, he finds you wandering back to the window with his whole family watching you

You weren't stupid

Why would you try to leave when literally everyone could see you in broad daylight?

His family begins laughing and saying things like "looks like you got yourself a sleepwalker"

So you weren't purposefully trying to leave him?

He cries tears of joy and spends the next couple of days pampering you and giving you just about everything you want

He does his best to show you that he's sorry

Brahms Heelshire

It's quite literally known that Brahms has abandonment issues at this point

So when he catches you climbing up onto the window sill

He loses it

Will grab you and roughly pull you off, your body falling to the ground

This immediately wakes you up, your eyes searching around frantically

When you see Brahms standing above you, you try to reach for him, but he only shoves you away

You look so sad and confused at this, but Brahms is too stubborn to give in

He starts tying you up again each night, still very hurt that you would try to leave like that

It takes weeks for you to gain his trust again

And the one night he lets you sleep freely, he catches you by the window again

But instead of grabbing you immediately, he decides to just watch

He wants to see how far you'll go so he knows just how severe your punishment will need to be

But instead, you just give up on unlocking the window (it was jammed), and you just turn around and walk straight back to bed, not even registering Brahms being right there

This is odd

You need to explain the concept of sleepwalking to him the next day

He still remains skeptical for a while, but he'll come around

You just need to be extra attentive for a while...

Norman Bates

Norman already knows a lot about sleepwalking

(It's what he thought was going on for a while when he couldn't remember large chunks of time throughout the week)

When he finds you opening a window in the middle of the night, he bolts at you, ready to lock you back up in one of the motel rooms again

However, when you don't respond or reveal any emotion on your face, he immediately knows what's going on

He's surprised

He didn't know you'd be a sleepwalker

He decides to just lead you back to bed, knowing that waking you isn't the best idea

Sits you down the next morning and talks with you about it

When you seem very apologetic, he uses it to his advantage

Has you cuddle up with him even more than normal and stay by his side at all hours of the day

He still gives you some freedom

But he's always watching

He does take some precautions and ties your wrist up in the middle of the night

He has to, for your safety of course

Billy Loomis

To be honest, you don't make it very far

Billy has an iron grip on you at all times, and he's a light sleeper

The moment you get up, he's awake, observing you carefully

Sometimes you have to pee in the middle of the night, but he still makes sure you aren't lying to him

His ability to trust is practically in the ground

The moment you turn the wrong way, he's up and chasing after you

Were you that dumb? You knew he watched you every time you got up from bed

He grabs your wrist quickly and points a knife at your throat as a threat

He can't bring himself to actually hurt you though, not that you knew that

Or did you?

Because you just stand there not even moving away from the blade

Billy becomes very confused

He takes his hand and begins to wake it in front of your face, looking for some sort of reaction

You don't give him one

Are you still... asleep?

He shakes you a bit until you finally look at him, confusion written all over your face

You're a sleepwalker, aren't you?

He just rolls his eyes annoyed and drags you back to bed, not explaining anything

Just another thing he needs to look out for now

You sometimes wake up to bruises on your hips and waist from how hard Billy holds you in the night, but he's just trying to protect you, right?

He doesn't mean to hurt you, he just refuses to lose another person in his life

Stu Macher

Stu literally sleeps on you, so it's nearly impossible for you to leave the bed most nights

But if you somehow wiggle your way out, you wouldn't make it outside the house

The windows have been nailed so that they only open a small amount

When he finds you the next morning, curled up under a partially opened window, he just smiles

Call it naive, but he just assumes you were getting too warm in the bed

When you wake up in a confused state however, he becomes concerned

What do you mean you don't remember opening that window?

He honestly just becomes more worried that there's something wrong with your memory rather than you trying to leave him

He'll likely talk to Billy about it

He just hears laughter from the other end of the phone

"Sounds like they sleep walk," he'd say

Stu does a bunch of research on it later

He doesn't really mind though

All of the unsafe objects are already hidden away, and every possible exit is locked down

You aren't going anywhere

If anything, he finds it fun to wake up some mornings and look around for you

It's like a game, and Stu loves games

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dante-mightdie · 3 months

Text

part 4. of toxic simon

a/n: got a few ideas from my requests on what to add for this part so thank you very much, ash loves you <3

cw: kidnapping, weapons, murder, angst, comfort, themes of smut

It had been a few weeks since simon had walked in on you and alex. since that night, there had been a dramatic shift in the price home. the once broody lieutenant was now just the pure embodiment of rage and misery.

he barely left the guest room for the whole of his leave. and when he did, he was causing problems. never in front of your father, however. he's not stupid. but he constantly felt the need to size up alex in front of you. looming over him with that fucking mask on, flexing his muscles.

alex never indulges in simon's desperate attempts to pull a viscous reaction from him. to make you see that your new man isn't that much nicer than him, darl'. so you might as well come back to what you know.

no, instead alex leads you out of the room. not without a soft mumble of 'let's go sugar. you don't need to be hearing this.' simon wonders if you've told alex about him. about how he smashed your heart into a million little pieces.

he's gotten low a couple of nights. resorting to snapping mirror picks in his tight black briefs after his shower. you there were no identifiers that it was ghost. no, only you knew it was simon.

he's a bastard. he knows he wont get a response from you. he will, however, get to listen to the hushed bickering coming from you and alex that night when he sees the photo.

alex got called away on duty after a big fight between the two of you. It was clear that you hadn't made up by the time he left, either. simon can tell by the way you moped around. barely speaking to anyone in the home. simon tried to speak to you, hoping to score back some points whilst things were rocky between you and your man. you just brushed him off, sulking back off to your room.

later that night when simon was laying in bed, his phone buzzed with a text from you.

'simon' was all it read

simon rolled his eyes, feeling like a kicked puppy after you ignored him, he decided to ignore your message. puts his phone down and rolls over to go to sleep, ignoring the constant buzzing of his phone from behind him.

simon was sure he got a few good hours of sleep before being violently woken up to a strong hand shaking his shoulder.

"simon. simon, get up." he recognises your father's panicked voice calling out to him. he's groggy for a few moments before your father says two words that hit him like a bucket of ice water,

"she's gone."

simon feels and ice cold chill run down his spine at your father's words.

"my daughter she's fucking gone. someone took my fucking daughter."

simon had to stop price from tearing the whole house up, grabbing his shoulders and promising him that they will find you.

simon and price are on base the very next morning. along with alex, gaz, and soap. everyone is deadly silent, standing tall and ready as their captain briefs them on how they're going to get you back. Alex has a tick in his jaw and simon is sure he's going to snap if anything goes wrong

10 minutes before they ship out and simon is having a cigarette, trying to ease his nerves. he hadn't even checked his phone yet and it only just clicked in his brain that you text him last night. those messages were still unopened on his phone. with a weight on his chest, simon unlocks his phone and feels his heart sink when he sees those texts,

'simon? is that you?'

'simon seriously I can hear noises downstairs'

'are you outside my door?'

'simon, please. i'm scared.'

you were calling him for help.

simon has been fighting down bile for the past 45 minutes. the helicopter ride certainly not helping ease the horrendous amount amount of guilt he's feeling. neither is watching alex bounce his leg nervously, or price chain smoke cigar after cigar.

it's a long trek from the drop-point to the abandoned warehouse where they suspect you're being kept. simon trudging through the mud behind everyone else, praying that no one says a word to him.

"if my intel is good, she's in that building there." alex says, pointing down to the building.

"this is a weapons free op, boys. shoot to kill. do what you need to do to get my girl back home safe." price commands out in his gruff voice, but you can hear a slight edge to his tone. a streak of nervousness that simon has never seen in his captain.

It's a clean sweep once they breach the entrance, bodies dropping in quick succession. room after room being swept and an anxious feeling hanging on everyone's shoulders each time they don't find you.

simon makes his way to the basement floor, taking out the hitmen guarding the heavy metal doors at the end of the dark hallway. he pushes the door open slowly, gun raised and ready to take out an immediate threats.

there were no threats in the room, simon quickly realised, just you. poor, terrified you huddled up in the corner with chains attached to your wrists and ankles. shaking violently like a feral cat. the fear in your eyes causes simon to immediately lower his gun and raise his hands in a 'I-mean-no-harm' way.

he takes a couple hesitant steps towards you, careful not to frighten you even more.

"hey..." he whispers, "it's just-"

"she's here!"

simon was cut off by the sound of alex alerting everyone to your safety. he immediately rushes past simon, knealing in front of you. the second you recognise him, you're reaching for him as sobs start to make their way from your throat.

"It's alright, baby. I'm here, I got you. You're safe now." alex coos to you as he scoops you into his arms, leaving simon to stand behind him like a ghost.

the sight of you reaching for alex instead of him makes simon feel as through someone is prying his rib cage open with a crowbar. he felt truly left in the dust. but he can't blame you, no. this was his fault.

he lost.

#mw2 #ghost #cod mw2 #simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #captain john price #john price #toxic!simon #alex keller x reader #alex keller

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draconic-desire · 1 month

Text

Oculus Infinitum

Yandere Satoru Gojo x Reader

He’s infinity; in comparison, you’re nothing. So of course using your cursed technique on him backfires.

Warnings: 18+, MINORS DNI! Yandere behavior, unhealthy relationship, implied kidnapping, forced imprisonment, nsfw, non-con/dub-con, afab!reader, slight mindbreak

Infinity is often interpreted as the largest numerical magnitude to exist. And while that fact may be true in theory, infinity is better defined as the endless division of infinitesimally smaller and smaller values. One can be separated into half, half to a quarter, and so on, until the space between fractions almost ceases to exist.

Almost.

Gojo is a lot like infinity. Blame it on his technique, sure, but you suspect it runs much deeper than that. His actions never reach an end; instead, each one sinks further and further into your skin, fangs so small you barely feel them until it’s too late and the venom irreversibly invades your veins. He’s chipped away at you, piece by little piece, until you are the opposite of infinity; you are nothing.

On a surface level, most would say you have it pretty good. You (are trapped in) live in a huge home, filled with opulent furniture and all the luxuries you could ever want. You’re (expected to) allowed to cook meals for the two of you, including your favorite dishes. You still have (basic rights) privileges, such as free roam of the house, your own selection of clothes, access to the television and your phone (minus the ability to call or text, of course), even outdoor time with Satoru’s supervision. Why would you ever need to leave?

You had escaped, once.

Calling it an escape would be generous. Nothing ever happens without Gojo’s knowledge, without Gojo’s permission. How foolish you had been, to think you could evade his Six Eyes. Despite weeks of planning, he’d dragged you back home within the hour.

The chains hadn’t been removed for an entire month after that, and their lingering presence on each post of Satoru’s bed serves as a constant reminder that they’ll never rust.

Currently, you’re in the (not your, nothing is ever truly yours anymore) house’s lofty kitchen now, preparing dinner for his return home from work. Glancing up at the clock, you see it’s nearly time for him to arrive. You click the stovetop on and place a pot of water over the open flame, watching the blue fire flicker. Your thoughts immediately go to Gojo’s eyes, twin infernos of endless blue. Those eyes never seem to close, never seem to be too far from your own. They have the ability to lock you in place and throw away the key forever.

Moments later, the sound of the door opening and closing, along with the click of multiple locks, echoes from the hallway. Long, casual footsteps alert you to his presence behind you. His velvet voice, so languid and carefree, fans your ear as he settles his hands on your hips. “There’s my girl. Already making dinner for me?” He places a surprisingly chaste kiss to the top of your head. “Missed ya, baby.”

You add rice and a bit of salt and stir the pot in front of you in silence. When did you stop fighting him on that? On losing your full name to simple titles like girl and baby? The old you would have gagged at those pet names. The old you that kicked and bit the hand of your captor like a rabid animal, always fighting for freedom.

His grip tightens when you fail to immediately respond, though you hear him force a light tone to his voice. “What, curse got your tongue?”

Tension immediately floods your muscles. Gojo is a vain man; your silence maims his huge ego, something the most powerful jujutsu sorcerer will not stand for. You must react. “No, Gojo. I was just lost in thought, is all.”

You worry your lip when the quiet drags on. “I-I’m sorry?”

Gojo barks out a laugh, but his smile is strained and all fangs. “Back to Gojo again, huh?”

A mistake you notice too late. The spoon falls from your grip as you turn your head slowly. He’s still wearing his blindfold, but you know those infinite abyssal eyes are currently boring into your soul, daring you to speak. “Ah, no! Satoru, I mean—”

“Shh, baby. I get it.” His hands move to your shoulders, which he begins to massage. “Is it because you’re mad at me for neglecting you?”

To an outsider it may sound like he’s teasing, but you know all too well the creep of annoyance laced into his deepened, husky tone. “Or are you just being a brat?”

Swallowing, you place a hand on his toned forearm in an attempt to calm him. You feel him practically melt into the touch. “Truly, ‘Toru, I’m fine.” Your honeyed tone makes you sick, but you’ve learned it can subtly manipulate your captor in the right setting, usually this domestic fantasy world of his. “You’ve been so busy with work, and my mind has just been wandering. Why don’t you go sit while I finish up with the food?”

He hums absentmindedly, fingers swirling patterns across your abdomen. “I have a better idea…” Hot breath caresses your ear, eliciting a shiver. “Let me make it up to you.”

A deft hand snakes its way down the back of your bare thigh, barely ghosting across your skin. You can feel him, solid as a rock, yet you know there will always be space between you. He can touch you, but you’re powerless to do the same.

Just like in everything else, you can’t hold a candle to him. Your cursed energy is inconsequential, a tiny spark against his infinitive well of power.

Talk of your innate cursed ability is a topic you actively choose to avoid. Your technique, when activated, allows you to briefly control the thoughts and consequent actions of a single individual—but only after you’ve kissed them. And it often backfires tremendously, with the kiss causing overwhelming feelings of obsession or insanity in the receiver. From more than enough uses you’ve learned to see it as more of a curse in and of itself, and one you prefer to keep hidden.

Especially from the man behind you. Gojo—Satoru, you correct yourself—has enough twisted love that you wouldn’t dare try to possess his thoughts. The mere idea makes your throat tighten with panic.

Satoru’s technique, on the other hand, causes every nerve ending along your skin to explode as his hand falls beneath your skirt and skate across your barely clothed core.

“Been thinking about this all day,” he groans. “Are you wet for me, baby?” Before you can respond, Satoru easily moves your panties aside and spears you with his middle and ring fingers.

The invasion makes you jolt instantly. An involuntary gasp leaves you as he presses deeper, his fingers sheathed to the knuckle. You hate how your walls immediately tighten around him, slick with your arousal. No, you don’t want this, but Gojo gives you no choice in the matter but to practically ride his hand as he lifts your skirt with his other hand to get a better view.

“I’ll never get tired of this.” His thumb passes over your clit, pulling yet another shameful moan from your lips. Your tense demeanor only causes your pussy to accidentally squeeze him tighter, spurring him on. You try to pull your thighs together, but Satoru wrenches them apart easily with his other hand. “Oh, no, none of that. This pussy is mine.”

You squirm, grasping for something to get you out of this mess. “Satoru, stop, the food will burn—”

“Forget it,” he commands, ripping your skirt off. “We’ll order takeout after.”

Your heart drops. “After…?”

“Aw, you thought I’d stop here?” His condescension floods your ears. “No, babe, I’m only just getting started with you.”

His persistence, like infinity, has no end.

Without warning, Satoru removes his fingers from your core and swings you over his shoulder, smacking your bare ass and wrenching a yelp from you. You blanch when you realize he’s carrying you to the bedroom.

“Wait, Satoru—!”

You are unceremoniously thrown onto the bed, said white-haired sorcerer towering above you. He pounces immediately, locking your limbs in place. Satoru must see the fear, the readiness to engage in fight or flight, across your face, because he brushes a tender hand across your cheek to wipe away a tear you didn’t realize had fallen.

“Don’t tell me you’re scared,” he teases, but it somehow sounds like a threat. His fingers, still coated with your arousal, hook around your thong and slide it down your legs. “You’re acting like this is our first time or somethin'.”

Oh, it was far from the first time that he had touched you or been inside of you. But something about today, about this time, sends fear skittering across your whole being. Perhaps it’s all the reminiscence lately, or the fact that your thoughts drifted to your innate technique for the first time in weeks. Panic sinks its claws into you.

Breath ragged, heart pounding, you grab his face in both hands and react without thinking; for the first time since he kidnapped you, you willingly kiss Satoru Gojo and activate your technique.

Satoru immediately reacts, deepening the kiss and pressing you more firmly into the mattress until you feel as if you’re nearly suffocating.

Release me, you project into his mind, threading a hand through his white locks and squeezing hard.

The world suddenly goes very, very still.

Satoru freezes. Slowly, painfully, he parts his lips from your own and straightens his arms against the mattress to hover above you once more. His breath comes out in jagged huffs. The only sound that remains is the unending tick, tick, tick of the clock on the wall, bringing you closer to your doom.

For a second, you almost believe your technique worked.

That is, until he quickly sheds his blindfold, and you are meet with those stunning, terrifying, brilliant, paralyzing blues. He whispers your name with a foreign stillness that chills your bones to ice. “Do you…have a cursed technique?”

What an idiot you are to have thought you could sneak past Satoru Gojo’s barriers and Six Eyes. You can’t touch his physical form; why would his mind be any different?

It takes all of your willpower to withhold the panicked, hysterical laugh threatening to escape you. “Look, I can explain—”

Satoru leans back on his knees, one hand carding through his hair as he looks up to the ceiling. “God, babe, I knew you could see curses and harbored cursed energy, but here you go surprising me!” He laughs, a gleeful chuckle that has you reeling.

“You’re not…mad?” you dare to ask, inching your knees towards your chest. Maybe your technique failed, but you can still buy some time and get into a safer position.

Satoru gazes down at you, head tilted and a full grin on his lips. “Mad? Baby, why would I be upset when for the first time in our relationship, you were the one seducing me?”

Oh, no. No no no no no.

Grabbing your ankle, he drags you back to a supine position, your pussy on full display for him. He licks his lips at the sight. “Plus, you trying to get inside my head was cute and all. Weak, but you gave it your best!” He laughs again, and you realize that he never took you seriously, not even for a second.

The thought should enrage you—it would have infuriated the old you—but all you can manage now is a low whine as his hands go for his belt.

Satoru pulls himself free, his already hard cock pulsing in anticipation. Precum beads at the tip as he lines himself up with your entrance. “What was it you asked me for? Release, right?”

Your eyes bulge at his implication. “Wait, Satoru, I didn’t mean—!”

You barely have time to react as he buries himself in you completely. A choked sob bubbles up your throat as you breath through the stretch of him.

Satoru moans in ecstasy as he begins a steady pace, thrusting mercilessly into that squishy spot deep inside your core that has you seeing stars.

“Kiss me again.” It’s light and breathless, but it’s an order, not a request. Fear makes you comply immediately, though your kiss is a hesitant, timid thing compared to your earlier attempt to sway him.

He’s having none of that. No, Satoru had a taste of your affection, and now he’ll tolerate nothing less than your full reciprocation. If only you could truly peer into his mind and see that no amount of your cursed energy would change him; your being was already permanently imprinted on his brain. You were his perfect doll, held in the palm of his hand.

Nails rake down his back as you arch against the mattress. Every time he thrusts, he grinds against your clit, and you feel yourself chasing your finish. You hate this, you want it to stop, but you can’t help—

“Please, Satoru,” you plead without thinking, meeting his limitless eyes. You feel yourself drowning in them, a blue sky that never ceases.

For a split second, his rhythm hesitates. “…Say that again,” he whispers, almost reverently. “Beg for me.”

You’re not quite sure what you’re asking for. “P-please, I can’t take it anymore, please let me—!”

“Choose your next word carefully,” he warns, voice shifting to a low growl as his hand moves to your throat, adding ever so much pressure.

Tears streak your vision. The embarrassment of your technique failing and the lewd position he has you in all crash down upon you, and another piece of you breaks. “Please let me cum,” you concede.

To your dismay, his pace slows, and you cry out in protest as your orgasm fades. “I just need you to do one more thing for me, baby.” He leans into your neck, nipping and sucking at all your sensitive spots, torturing you even further. “Tell me you love me.”

Alarms should be blazing through your head, but the fog of your arousal clouds your judgement as you seek your climax.

That piece of your soul he took shatters into a million shards as you whisper, “I love you, Satoru.”

The two of you shatter simultaneously. You register all too late the warmth invading your core as Satoru pumps his cum deep inside you.

He’s never come in you before.

Your name is murmured over and over like a prayer against your neck—or maybe it’s a curse. You jolt in overstimulation when he pulls out and bends down to place a kiss against your puffy folds. “So good for me, baby. This perfect pussy belongs to me.”

He kisses you a final time, long and slow. When he pulls away, a languid smile sweeps across his features. “You’re all mine, (Y/n). Even your mind.”

With the use of your innate technique, you’ve dug your own grave for good. Satoru will never let you go now.

After all, infinity is indivisible.

1K notes · View notes

spyder-junkie · 10 months

Text

EARTH-42 MILES MORALES X READER PART 2

part three ??

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4

Honestly the death of his father traumatized Miles.

It taught him to hold on to the things he loves, things that make him happy, because nothing is forever.

And honestly he was looking for something to fill his father’s void, something to satisfy the itch being prowler couldn’t scratch.

So not even two days later, Miles shows up at you window.

He wanted to scope you out, see if you were something he’s like to spend his time on.

With any person hes ever thought of pursuing, the thought of having to tell them hes Prowler loomed over his shoulder.

But you already knew.

Hes dressed normally this time, and hes come at a reasonable hour.

You smile when you see him, opening the window immediately for him to crawl in.

“I aint’ catch you name.” is the first thing he says, dusting off his jeans.

“Y/n.” You reply, sitting down at your desk.

“What can I help you with, Miles?”

He pauses for a moment, almost forgetting what excuse he came up with.

“Check my wounds for me? You wrapped ‘em so well ian wanna unwrap em.” He says, face calm.

You look at him for a moment before shrugging.

“bien, siéntate.” You mumble, going to grab your first aid kit.

“You speak spanish?” Miles asks, sitting down on your bed and pulling his shirt from his body.

The big gash on his side is covered in bandages, blood stained.

“A little, I take a class at school.” You smile, bending down infront of him. He spreads his knees, letting you settle onto the ground infront of him.

He shuts his eyes tight as you unwrap the bandage.

“Thats a pretty chain.” You mumbled, using a cottonball to dab at the wound.

Miles’ hands come to to touch the chain hes wearing. It was one of the many things he half-hazardly bought with his work money.

“Where’d you get it? Ive been looking for something similar.” You ask.

“I honestly can’t remember.” He mumbles, from his tone you could only assume he was telling the truth.

“Thats okay, anyway Youre all good.” You say just finishing his bandages, standing up and putting your things away.

“Oh.” Miles mumbles, not realizing how little time that would take you.

“Anything else I can help you with, Prowler?” He shivers at the way the name rolls off your tongue.

“Guess not.” He says, standing up and walking towards the window. His hands are in his pockets.

He leaves, climbing back out your window and disappearing past the block.

After two days a package shows up at your door.

When you open it, you realize its a chain, identical to Miles’ and brand new.

You giggle a little while clasping it around your neck.

You dont see Miles again for two weeks.

“You know we can just schedule meet ups instead of you showing up to my window at night.” You say, watching as Miles in his normal clothes climbs out if the darkness and into your room.

He ignores your statement, taking his shoes and jacket off and sitting at your desk. He leans back, legs spread wide and eyes closed.

You shake you head, sitting down on your bed and facing him.

“Whats troubling you?” You ask.

“Nothing important.” He says quickly. He opens his eyes and looks at you.

“Youre wearing the chain.” He mumbles.

“Yeah.” You reach up and touch it. “It’s really nice, I thought you didn’t know where you got it from.”

Miles shrugs

“How much was it? I can pay you back-“

“Eres Bonita, you shouldnt have to pay for your own shit.” He cuts you off.

You pause.

“Thank you.” You smile, looking at his hard expression, he nods.

Its silent for a while, Miles just recollecting with his eyes closed.

“Youve been with the cops yet?” He asks calmly. The question startles you.

“…excuse me?”

“You got my name, you know my face, you could rat me out n’ get that reward money.” He says, opening his eyes to look at you.

“is that…what you want me to do..?” You ask, looking at him in confusion.

“Im asking why you haven’t already.” He stated.

“Oh. because I dont want to.”

Miles furrowed his eyebrows.

“I like you, Miles. Plus you helped me out when I needed you. What you do as the prowler doesn’t really concern me.” You say.

Miles stares at you a bit longer, gears turning in his head.

“You can believe me, Im not lying. Now its late, and I am kind of tired. Stay if you want, but my dad usually pops in at 7 to say hes leaving for work.” You say, moving the covers so you could properly get into bed.

You look over at Miles, whos still sitting quietly at you desk.

You lock eyes with him, holding out your hand.

He stares for a while longer, before slowly getting up and sitting on your bed.

He doesn’t get under the coveres, opting to sit with his back against the headboard. He lets you curl up besides him, laying your head in his lap.

His hand ghosts over your shoulder, rubbing soft circles with his thumb as your eyes close.

“Goodnight Miles.”

“…..goodnight y/n.”

When your father wakes you up the next morning as hes leaving, the bed is empty and Miles is gone.

You rub your eyes a little bit, looking to see if he left anything behind.

On your bedside table there was another note.

“ maybe we should schedule meet ups. xxx-xxx-xxxx -miles”

You smile to yourself, immediately putting his number in your phone.

tags:

@caffeine-mess @arachnenotes @erensbbg @nightshxdex @el-chiste @3alvatore @sh-tposter2021 @miatjie @agstuffsworld @ella34435 @iluvdi0r @pulling-out-my-eyes @vakiui @bigpepperpicker @swaggybae @tsukisaiki @osebb

#spider man: across the spider verse #earth 42 miles morales x reader #miles morales x reader #miles morales #earth 42 miles x reader #earth 42 miles

3K notes · View notes

livingemkayde · 5 months

Text

between blurred lines

best friend's dad!/dad's best friend!joel miller x f!reader

(pre-outbreak)

↳ warnings: this is rated for 18+ only! minors, please do not interact. smut, unprotected pinv, fingering f! receiving, cockwarming (!?!?!?) uhh dom!joel, significant age gap, dad's best friend mixed with some best friends dad (?!!?!?!?). i think that's it, let me know if i forgot anything.

↳ a/n: I LOOK PRETTY GOOD FOR A DEAD BITCH (she's alive!). im back from my tumblr break bearing a gift! i missed you all like crazy. gonna spend finals week catching up (procrastinating) on all the reading ive missed out on for the last month. i hope you guys like this one.

AND a very special thanks to @joelsversion for beta reading this in it's very early rough, rough stages. my ride or die fr 🤞

↳ summary: joel miller has always been...there. never different, always sporting a brooding scowl etched into his handsome face. he's your best friend sarah miller's dad, arguably worse, your dad's long time buddy. things are never different. not until this summer. not until now.

↳ follow @livingemkaydenotifs if you would like to be notified about more fics like this. love ya'll big time

↳ if you would like to read more of mine: masterlist

“You shouldn’t be in here.” “No,” you agree breathlessly. “I shouldn’t.” He slots himself against you, his other hand grips your hip and pushes you back into him. You gasp softly. “Let it go.” You realize he’s talking about your dress. You squeeze your eyes shut. His lips skate against your neck in a way that makes you dip your head to the side in a silent surrender. “Let it go,” he repeats.

You grew up with Sarah Miller.

Soccer teams, high school football pep rallies, prom, homecoming, college acceptance season. Even though it turned into long distance facetime calls, and text chains nine messages long once college hit, Sarah Miller will forever and always be your best friend.

It’s good to be back in Texas. Both you and Sarah moved back into your childhood homes the second after graduation hit. It’s good to be back, good to see her, your parents, and…Joel.

You hadn’t seen him in a while. The last time you remember spending more than five minutes in his passing presence was when you and Sarah decided on that Chinese place for a post-high school graduation ceremony meal. He’s close with your dad. In an old school kind of way. In a lets raise our kids together kind of way and a the wives can go shopping together kind of way — before Sarah’s mom split, that is.

Joel Miller, always brooding, always gruff and quiet. He’s never different. Though, you can’t help but think things might be different now—

No. You almost have to remind yourself out loud. He’s not different. He never is. He’s Joel Miller and you’re — you’re just a kid. You’re as old as his kid.

Sarah, despite your hardened efforts, managed to drag you out of bed and into the shortest dress you own for a night at some club halfway across town.

“Sarah, are the shot glasses still in the top cabinet?”

You reach for the knob, barely getting onto the balls of your feet before slipping on the cold laminate tiles in the kitchen. Your open palm balls into a fist and makes the cabinets shutter. Sarah responds with something from her room equally as unintelligible as your question was to her. You can feel your dress starting to ride up a little in your efforts, but you rifle through the Miller’s cabinets like it’s your own home. In some ways it is.

“Hey, kid.”

You spin around, and quickly shuffle the hem of your dress back down. He nods his head in a lazy greeting.

“Hey.” You’re breathless for some reason. It’s not because of the shot glasses.

“Been a while,” Joel says, shuffling into the kitchen and setting a mug in the sink. He looks the same. Tousled hair and a beard just beginning to tinge gray. He’s always — always the same.

You clear your throat. “Yeah. Been a while.”

“Congratulations.”

“Thanks.”

“Good to have you back,” he mumbles, settling back against the kitchen counter. You can see his arms flex when his palms settle onto the countertop. He’s strong, so much bigger than you. You never really noticed the big broadness of him until now. You’re not used to guys like him. All the boys you ever really experienced were clean shaven, soft in a way that told you they’ve never hauled ass through a day’s work. A lifetime of work.

“Good to be back.” He clocks your outfit. You try to change the subject. “How are things?”

“Same ol’ same ol’.” He grabs a beer from the fridge. “Your dad’s gettin’ into golf. Tryna make me go out with him.”

You laugh. “Not your scene?”

“No, not quite.” He shakes his head, sipping on his beer with a smirk that almost makes your knees weak. “What’d you study again?”

You scoff playfully. “Like you remembered in the first place.”

“Play along.” He smirks.

A knot sticks to your stomach, just below your navel. His voice is sickly sweet. Syrupy and Texan. His voice is like medicine.

“Education. Just applied for jobs in the fall.”

“You teachin’?”

“That’s the plan,” you let out with a breathless kind of laugh.

“Smart girl.”

His head cocks, and tilts it to the side. Your breath catches in your throat, palms sweaty against the black fabric of your dress. “Hardly.”

He pauses, eyes you. It’s fleeting—you might think you dream it. You pick at the skin of your own thumb.

“Your dad know you’re goin’ out?”

You scoff. “I’m an adult. Don’t need my dad’s permission.”

“Don’t be a smart ass.”

You eye him, a smirk plays on his lips.

“I’m not—just…grown up, I guess.”

Something unreadable spreads across his face. “I guess.”

You hitch a tough breath.

“What’d you need?” He swigs at his beer.

“Oh.” You look back towards the cabinets, then. “Shot glasses.”

“Moved ‘em,” he nods and stalks forward, backing you against the counter. He’s got a dark swirl of something warming behind his gaze. You don’t try to scoot away. Even when he reaches up next to your head and you hear the clink of two shot glasses brush up against each other in his fingers.

“Don’t have too much fun,” he whispers while he pushes the glasses into your hands and leaves the kitchen.

You desperately, for your life, cannot keep up with Sarah Miller.

She drinks entirely too quickly, efficiently, and practiced for your poor alcohol tolerance to keep up with. She’s a machine, and after three shots in, you’re already wasted. It wasn’t even midnight when your vision started to pull in a sideways direction and everything seemed a little slow. You knew things were taking a turn for the worst when the blonde quaffed frat guy with a Texas A&M polo shirt started sounding a little too funny. He was glued to your hip the entire night, though you aren’t sure you even remember his name correctly. You have your bets set on Colter, but then again, after your second shot, everything started to sound a little fuzzy to your rosied ears.

And when Colter called you and Sarah an Uber at three a.m., you didn’t have the guts to ask him his name, only shooting him a half hearted thanks over your shoulder—your liquid courage having sobered up by the time the Uber rounded the corner to the Miller’s house.

Even though Sarah Miller can throw back shots like it’s her day job, she passed out onto her bed as quickly as you both left her childhood bedroom while running late for your driver to the club.

Before she promptly fell asleep, she mumbled something almost unintelligible into the pink sheets of her twin sized bed. But you could make it out enough to spring back from her words while your heart skipped a beat.

“Get a shirt from my dads room.”

So you knock, quietly, almost too quietly, and when you rap your knuckles against the wood of Joel Miller’s bedroom door a little harder, it pushes open slightly. The crack of it floods black, you can’t see inside, only the dim night sky illuminating the window sill and curtains in its wake.

When you push it open a little further, the door creaks so loud you push your eyebrows together with worry and freeze in your timely steps. But it’s empty. The bed isn’t entirely made, the covers a little rumpled and haphazard. You spot his dresser and make a quick beeline for it, itching to get out of your uncomfortable dress.

The drawer slides open with a shift of wood on wood and you snatch up the first black t-shirt you find sitting neatly on top of the pile. Subconsciously, you bring it to your nose—sunlight, and evergreens, and a little hint of musk that peaks through the laundry detergent. The worn, soft cotton of it makes you sigh deep into the dark bedroom. You close your eyes, ball your fist up around the collar and lean into the dresser with your palm fitting against the edge of wood. Just as you turn around and move to close the drawer in your exit, a voice pulls your eyes up from the darkness.

“What’re you doin’?”

You jump, almost instinctively bringing his shirt to your chest. A sinking, uneasy feeling settles right under your throat. It’s almost like you’ve been caught red handed—you most definitely were.

You don’t say anything. The light pouring in from the hallway surely illuminates you enough. Joel’s eyes trail down to your bare legs, then to his shirt you have clutched in your hands.

“That my shirt?” He points to your chest with a vague gesture of his hands. You look down at the material balled up in between your shaky fingers, then back to his eyes.

“I don’t—” You shake your head even though you know your efforts are fruitless. The least you can do is tell the truth.

“Sarah—she’s—she’s sleeping. Told me to get clothes in here.” You make a slight nod of your head towards his open dresser. He doesn’t say anything, but he takes a step towards you.

“Sorry, I can just—” You point towards the door behind him, and move to leave.

“‘S fine,” he mumbles in that deepened, soaked drawl. All honey, and velvet, wrapping you up into something warm and inviting. It tugs at something just beneath your belly.

When he gets closer, your breath punches out in a staggered rise and fall of your chest. Your fingers don’t move from clutching his shirt. When he nears, he slips a hand past you, brushing your waist, and shuts the drawer closed with a soft thunk.

Your breath catches in your throat, his eyes trail your figure.

“Fun night?”

You clear your throat, nod, slowly, still studying his darkened gaze. “Yeah.”

You clock how close he is when you put your weight on one hip and his jeans brush up against your bare thigh. His breath swirls on your eyelashes. He tugs on his shirt in your hands and lets out a hearty sigh. Shifting from one foot to the other, then again. It seems like you both stay like that for years.

Brown. His eyes are brown—maybe a little darker than they normally are. His eyes try not to roam, but that hint of something is gone before you can blink.

He backs away then, towards the door. Most likely seeing you out. He settles near the entrance and looks back at you. Your bare feet shuffle through the carpet. He nudges the door open with a rough palm on the doorknob, leaning against the frame as you approach.

You’re about to leave, but he catches your elbow, and you spin back to him in a desperate kind of way.

“You look pretty,” he whispers to your surprise. “Forgot t’mention it earlier.”

Pretty.

He thinks you’re pretty. You didn’t even think pretty was in his vocabulary.

You didn’t think he would notice.

You don’t say anything. Your eyebrows furrow with want. You study him, eye his brown stare and the way his chest rises and falls under the navy blue t-shirt he’s wearing. And you slowly—slowly push the door shut. You both watch it close. It clicks, the sound of it deafening to your ears.

He would never, ever make the first move. You’re smart enough to know that for certain, but—pretty. He thinks you’re pretty, and after all this time, it’s still always Joel.

So you turn your back to him, swipe your hair over one shoulder and turn your head to the side. You can hear him silently swear under his breath.

“You mind?” you say, gesturing to the zipper of your dress. His soft steps pads on the floor. You can almost feel his chest against your shoulder blades.

His fingers toy with the zipper, hot and rough but—hesitant. He pulls it down slowly anyways, exposing your back to the crisp air conditioned air, and the heat of his gaze. The straps fall as the zipper does, he curses again, succumbing to your decided fate.

You hold the front of your dress to your body on instinct, even though the only thing you want to do right now involves him ripping it off you.

He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t do anything else—doesn’t back away or come closer or leave. So you reach your hand backward to find him and gasp softly when his fingers tangle with yours. You pull his hand to your body. He locks onto your waist like a leech.

“What’re you doin’?” He rasps against the shell of your ear, almost like he’s pleading with you. He sounds like he’s in pain. Maybe he’s torn between pleasure and good judgment. You want him to forget about the latter entirely.

Your stomach drops, you glance to the side again.

“I thought—”

“You thought, what?”

Your face goes hot, stare at your feet instead. His hand doesn’t leave you.

“I don’t…”

“You thought this was a good idea?”

You don’t say anything. For some reason you didn’t think it was a bad idea. Not when his hand reaches around to grab your hip.

“What would your daddy think?”

“I don’t really care what he thinks.” An admission more than anything.

He sucks in a breath. A quiet contemplation. The look on his face doesn't read pissed, but it's a far cry from happy. You don't know what is behind his gaze.

“Nothin’ but trouble.” He breathes out in a heavy sigh. “Ain’t ya?”

His voice is so much deeper now. His accent shows through, silken and so southern it makes you grip your dress a little harder on instinct. You’ve lost count of how many times your breath has gotten caught up in the tightness of your throat.

“‘S one word for it.”

He almost growls, his hand skits down to the hem of your dress and pushes his fingers under it, trailing upward, but stopping before he meets lace.

“You shouldn’t be in here.”

“No,” you agree breathlessly. “I shouldn’t.”

He slots himself against you, his other hand grips your hip and pushes you back into him. You gasp softly.

“Let it go.” You realize he’s talking about your dress. You squeeze your eyes shut. His lips skate against your neck in a way that makes you dip your head to the side in a silent surrender.

“Let it go,” he repeats.

You drop the hand on your chest and his t-shirt with it. Your dress falls to the floor in a black blanket of smoke. You gasp when his hands are on you, inching slowly from the hem of your underwear to grasp your breast in a rough, teasing palm.

A small sound escapes past your lips. His other hand, quick to respond, slots over your mouth, silencing you and your whiny moans.

It’s — rough. The way he pushes his palm into your face to quiet your whimpering, forcing your head back to rest against his shoulder. The way he pushes your underwear down your thighs to rest with his forgotten t-shirt, and your all too tight, too short dress. It’s rough, but so, so gentle.

It feels like heaven.

You pitch your back, arching into him in a desperate way. Writhing against him when he finally pushes a calloused finger in between your dripping folds.

“Jesus.” He shakes his head. You can feel the scratch of his beard against your temple. You wonder what that scruff might feel like between your thighs. “Been wantin’ it all night, huh?”

It’s a question, but not one he needs an answer to. The mess between your thighs is evidence enough.

Joel. You try to plead, but he’s relentless in his quieting attempts. The pad of his finger brushes against your clit and you’re keening against him. You can feel him smile.

“Quiet,” he whispers into your ear, then lifts his hand from your mouth, hovering, waiting until the inevitable moan to escape past your lips. But you try your hardest, bite at the skin on the inside of your lip, and he rewards you. He’s a gentleman like that. He sinks his middle finger into your cunt, rubbing tight circles on your swollen clit with his thumb. Everything about him is just so, just right.

Maybe, usually, with other guys, you’d be disappointed if they’re stingy with the foreplay. But you walked throughout the bar all night with slick dripping through soaked lace just at his words in the kitchen. Smart girl. So you push back into him and beg him—

“Joel.” You’re breathless. You plead at him with your body, with everything you have. “Please,” you whisper simply.

Something like desperation and want and a little twinge of anxiety settles in your stomach when he releases you. He walks you back to the edge of the bed. It smells like him when you lay down and the softness of the blankets kiss the edges of your face. You can hear the clink of his belt buckle and you suck in a tiny breath.

“How do you want it, baby?”

You push him back, and his eyes go wide. It’s the first reaction you’ve gotten out of him the whole night. A peak behind his brooding mask. And when you settle each leg on either side of his hips, he groans. It makes you a little more brave.

“Like this,” you whisper, placing your hands on his chest. He grabs at your wrists, and pushes them under his wide palm to his stomach so you lean forward down to him. He pushes his boxers down and you try not to look, but you make a small sound at the sight.

“Look good—” he grunts. You take his tip and notch it at your entrance. “Always look so pretty.”

Your heart pounds in your chest. Everything is different. Everything is new.

Pretty.

“Fuck,” you whisper, glancing down at just the sight of him. The size of him.

“You’re okay, angel.”

Your gaze snaps to his face. He nods. You believe him.

“I—ah—” you whimper. “I can take it.”

“I know you can,” he grunts when you sink down an inch and take the tip of him. Your hips cant at the feeling, taking more of him through groans and pressing whines. He lets you set the pace. Let's you take your time. Even when he’s panting through his gritted teeth and tight lips.

You sink down on him until there’s nothing left to take. It’s almost painful. But he’s right there, playing with the pearl of your clit, massaging your hips. He knows how much you can take and when you can take it. He seems to know alot about you while knowing very little.

“Shit,” you groan. “Oh my — god.”

You can hear him muttering something along the lines of perfect.

It feels that way—perfect. He fits inside you with a tight stretch but nothing compares to the feeling of his throbbing length resting inside you. You would die here with your wanton moans and you would wake to find nothing less.

“Joel,” you whine, clenching around him, the stretch starts to sweeten.

“That’s—fuck—yeah, good girl,” he whispers. He sounds like something sweet and dark and rough. You fist at his t-shirt. Just like the one left forgotten by the door. You don’t remember what you came in here for anymore. Not when you’re dangerously close from his thumb rubbing slow circles on your clit.

“Fuck. Yeah?” He can feel it. From the inside. “Y’gonna come, baby?”

It’s embarrassing. That you could come like this, with him waiting patiently inside you. You don’t have it in you to lie, you don’t have it in you to bounce up and down or move at all. He turned your legs to jello.

“I-I don’t—”

“C’mon,” he grunts and grips your hips to keep him flush to your body. “Know ya want it.”

It only takes one swift rock of your hips. His hands, broad and sprawled out across the plushness of your sides. Your body stalls out on top of him. He sits up to wrap his arms around you and brings you close on instinct. If your brain wasn’t so hazy and you weren’t so lightheaded your heart might swell at the thought. You bite out something sounding somewhat like his name—it’s a garbled whisper and cut of words but you think he gets the gist.

“I—Ngh—fuck,” he whispers into the crown of your hair. You can feel him throbbing inside you. You chuckle something halfway coherent and let him flip you over, settled on your stomach with your face in the sheets. His fingers skip over your backside.

“Joel,” you breathe. “I—”

“Relax,” he says behind you, spreading your folds and staring at the way your cunt clenches around nothing. “Just relax, angel.”

So you do, you sink boneless into the mattress and let him press you down into the sheets. He feels so broad. He feels so good. You tell him quite as much, in not so many words. You feel the weight of him settle behind you, his hand coming up to brace himself by your head.

“God, you feel so fuckin’ good.” He sinks in, inch by inch. It’s not so much of a stretch anymore. Carving a place for himself inside you. It feels like he belongs there. You think to yourself that he probably does. You’re squirming beneath him, wringing your fists in dark blue sheets.

You clamp your eyes shut when he bottoms out. Even more so when he finds a pace he likes and sets it. You don’t have to beg him anymore. Your legs shake beneath his hips, even more so when he hikes your leg up on the bed so he can push deeper.

Something deep rolls through you again. It shocks you. Most of the guys you’ve been with haven’t made you come once, let alone twice.

“I can’t—” you whine. “I—fuck.”

He picks up the pace.

“Y’can,” he grunts. “Know y’can, c’mon, baby.”

You nuzzle your face in cotton. His hips chase his release and you know you’re close when he nudges against your g-spot.

“Don’t stop,” you whine. “Please don’t fucking stop, Joel, please, it—ah."

When you come, he grunts through ragged breaths. White hot pools in your stomach and you whine so loudly you’re worried about the neighbors. His hand comes to brace against the back of your neck. You’re so fucking soaked he slides through you easily.

“Jesus, fuck,” he growls. He bears down on you and your hips and sinks to his elbows when he can’t keep himself up anymore. You feel the cotton of his t-shirt brush against your back. It sends a shiver up your spine. He comes, pulling out and spilling over your back. You try to hide your disappointment.

He lays beside you for a minute, you barely reach your hand up from the bedsheets to brush against his bicep. He studies your face and pants through a slack jaw. He’s scruffy and broad and — perfect.

Your gaze flick to his mouth, then his eyes. You silently realize he never kissed you.

“Gonna get me killed,” he whispers. It’s almost weirdly affectionate in a way only Joel Miller could say. Still stuck in a limbo between pleasure and reality. You smile, softly.

He climbs off you, and slinks to the bathroom. You wait with baited breath until you hear the water run. He emerges with a soft looking towel, damp with water, clinging to his fingers. You watch him and shiver when the towel touches your back.

“Okay?” he whispers when you sit up and turn to look at him.

“Yeah, okay.”

It feels like something is supposed to happen now. You’re not used to this. Everything slowly comes back as the pleasure ebbs and you blink back to reality. You open your mouth, then close it. He does the same.

You can hear Sarah’s door open and you both freeze. His brown eyes search yours through a furrowed brow. Your heart goes back into normal rhythm when you hear the bathroom door shut. Then nothing.

He snags a new shirt from his dresser and tugs it over your body.

The Texans.

“Cute,” you gesture to the shirt. It’s soft underneath your fingers, worn. A gentle kind of faded navy blue. Joel picks up your dress off the floor and folds it into your chest while scoffing.

“Shut up,” He shakes his head, but he can’t hide the smirk on his face. “Get outta here.”

It’s all oddly playful. Like you both can’t believe it and are giddy at that fact.

“Same time next week?”

Something deeper flicks across his gaze at the doorway. “Is that a promise?”

“You can’t answer a question with another question.”

You turn when you leave the doorway and settle into the hallway. He’s got his hand on the doorframe, leaning into it—towering over you and already burning something hot through you. Again.

“I just did,” he grumbles with a smug look, and then shuts the door.

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chrollohearttags · 7 months

Text

kinktober day nine

character: connie springer

show: attack on titan

kink: anal

word count: 1.9k

content + themes: sex toys (rose, spreader bar, butt plug, anal beads, etc), spit play, fingering, squirting + creaming, choking, reader calls him daddy and papi, baby oil, creampie in a, he is so fucking vocal my goodness, rapper connie/hairstylist reader bc I haven’t written for them in a while.

📝: I hope y’all are still fucking with my kinktober posts. Even though I’m a little delayed with them.

── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.─── ── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.

dating a rapper was not something for the weak. It was one thing you had heard constantly since your time, working as a hairstylist in the heart of Miami. In a city filled with would-be Instagram models and ladies looking for a come up by marrying some famous athlete or musician, you’d hear the horror stories of how their pursuits had gone wrong. Some left with emotional scars from being led on, others left with a child and little to no support from the fathers. It was a mess to say the least. But the same could not be said when the famed artist and one fourth of the Dead Boys Society, Connie Springer aka Prince Cee, entered your salon…or rather you’d say, for the same reasons. From the second he laid his eyes on you, he was smitten. He was rather familiar with your work and asked to come in for a color job and to put some designs on his head to match his nails he had just gotten manicured. You were more than happy to oblige. Thinking that if for nothing else, he’d make great publicity for your business. What you didn’t count on was falling as hard as you did for the artist! From the second he entered your shop, Connie was such a vibe. Sweet, respectful and so hilarious. He had you cracking up the entire time. As a way to thank you on such short notice, he gave you free tickets, extra pay and asked if he could have the honor of taking you to dinner later in the week. Rather forward, but you liked that in a man. Skip almost six months and some change…and that same man who had walked in that day was now yours officially. Caught up in what could only be described as a whirlwind romance turned beautiful relationship, he had changed your life for the better! Traveling, being lowkey and making love to one another when the time permits. Fucking on islands or the at high rise condo you called home.

by far the healthiest relationship you’d ever had and you had no plans of coming up off of him anytime soon. Especially when the things he did to you…no other man could ever dream of. It was almost your one year anniversary and Connie had gone all out planning a surprise. Gifting you expensive jewelry, eternal roses, a stay in the Maldives and the keys to your second salon. Needless to say, you were overcome with joy. And he didn’t leave empty handed either but you gifted him a new chain, grill and watch. Along with a giant gift box full of his favorite things; shoes, designer clothes and ten bands. You loved a little different when you dated in your tax bracket. But perhaps the best gift of all was not any of those but it was what awaited at the hotel. A bed scattered with rose petals, wine and…some other treasures. Ones that he was going to take great pleasure in using on you. Intense kissing ensued the second you got behind shut doors. Clothes being torn off and tongues clashing in a haze of passion. Fast forward and the next thing you know:

“Ooh..fuck. Connie…”

here you were, howling at the ceiling with your legs spread ten inches apart, courtesy of the bar between your ankles with metal cuffs surrounding them. Your wrists lie suspended in the middle of it and you were entirely under his control. Not that you minded too much. Especially when the plethora of sensations he was inflicting on your body hit all at once. Rubbing on those sensitive, erect nipples whilst the steel of his tongue ring scoured all over your delectable little cunt. Repeatedly prodding at your clit and drumming up a trail of creamy arousal, that was currently dripping down to that puckering asshole..which was also a little preoccupied with a bejeweled plug. It was so sexy and Connie was having his absolute way with you. “Don’t worry, mami. Just keep puttin’ it in my face. Imma let you come soon. Lemme’ enjoy this shit a lil’ bit longer.” That drowsy drawl of his instantly causing your privates to thump. It was something about that voice that got you all worked up. Currently sprawled across the bed in nothing more than his boxers and jewelry, Connie grasped your plush thighs with his hands, sucking on those fat lips and folds..purely enjoying the flavor of your essence. “..’Dis pussy so good, baby. Goddamn.” Even so, he craved a little more tonight. It was no coincidence that you were sporting that toy in your other entrance. Because whilst he was having his fill of your sweet sex, he’d work to train that little hole; stretching and stuffing you with a string of beads designed for this, lubing you up and finally, letting you sport that cute plug. Just for his viewing pleasure though, he’d slick that pretty brown skin of yours up with oil. It was like an adult flick, just for his viewing and tasting pleasure. He’d slowly push two fingers into your core, gently working them in and out of your tightness..his hand intermittently slipping between his thighs to stroke his cock. He was getting extremely aroused at the thought of what was to come. Growing far more excited as he thought about getting to explore that pretty little asshole. Puckering and eagerly awaiting him..suddenly, he’d withdraw and drag a trail of saliva along with him, feeding you a kiss to let you get a sample.

“Mmm, damn. Can’t wait to fuck you, baby..can’t wait to fuck that lil’ asshole.” Almost drowsy and drunk off of your essence. Connie then reached over to retrieve the tiny bottle of condensed lubricant to coat himself and your hole. In one fell swoop, he’d shuffle those boxers down his waistline and let his length spring forth. His swollen tip pulsating red and emitting slippery precum as he laid it flat across your slit. Waiting patiently, you’d find yourself huffing in anticipation..wondering how it would feel. He’d done ample prep so now, it was time for the real thing. Spread wide open, (y/n) chewed profusely at your bottom lip as he’d slowly remove that plug; toiling his thumb pad over the entrance.

“You ready f’r this dick, mama? Hmm?..” questioning sweetly whilst slicking you up with a trail of spit. “Beg for it. Tell me how much you want that shit..” and you had no issue doing so. Begging him and whimpering in that sweet little tone. “Fuck me..put that dick in my ass, please..wanna feel you so deep.” It was as you were pleading your case, you’d feel a rather interesting sensation. That swollen member pushing through your tight bundle of nerves, filling you in an instant. Those brown eyes expanded to the width of quarters and your breath hitched within the back of your throat. It was unlike anything you’ve ever felt..warm, full and so goddamn good! But you weren’t the only one loving the sensation of your body right now. Tossing his head back, Connie shuddered with only half of his shaft embedded in you. But still stuffing you to the brim..he didn’t know for sure how long he’d last in it, as this was his first time doing anal as well but he’d enjoy every moment! Grasping the backs on your pinned legs, he’d ensure that you were okay for him to start moving and then proceed..

“There we go…just stay still and keep them’ eyes on me, okay?” Those rose petals pressed to your skin as you slicked with sweat and oil, lying there as you allowed him to delve deeper. Starting out with a slow pace, Connie began bucking his hips forward and developing a rhythm. Sucking his teeth to try and grit through it. He didn’t want to bust too quickly and embarrass himself but it was too much..so he’d eventually speed up and gather his bearings. That’s when he’d truly find his footing; fucking you the way he was supposed to!

“Just like that, baby. Just like that..feel good, mama? Yeah, you gon’ come for me, ain’t you?” Cooing whilst slipping a thumb between your lips. Nodding with a pathetic whimper. “Yes, papi. Keep fucking me..that dick feels so good in my ass.” “And you takin’ that muhfucka’ so good, baby. Shit…”

encouraging you as he could feel himself swelling inside of you..growing by the second. He couldn’t take it. Especially when he felt you twitching around his entire shaft and watching that pussy drip with cream from the impact. It was unbelievable how wet you had gotten from getting your asshole pounded. Those strokes turned from gentle and repetitive to fast and sporadic. He couldn’t stay still any longer nor could he feign off his urges to fuck you like an animal! Grasping for both your bars and the headboard, he’d free your wrists from the confines with one click, only to prompt you to use them elsewhere. “Grab that toy, baby. Play with that pussy real quick. Know she wet as hell f’r me.” Not even halting to give you the instructions. Only digging deeper and deeper. Grasping for the pink rose device, you’d make haste in clicking the on switch as you placed the suction part directly on your clit. The zaps of vibration combined with that euphoric fullness had you ready to shoot from the bed but alas, you weren’t done quite yet and neither was he! Those hazel eyes glaring down at you in absolute adoration as he whispered sweet nothings over your lips. Telling you how pretty you looked, how you were his good girl and that he loved you so much. Constantly rumbling on without a single breath. He was running on pure adrenaline and just at the moment; knowing that his impending climax was near.

“Fuck…fuuuuck me. Yes, stretch this ass. Don’t stop, please..”

“Not ‘till I nut all in this bitch, baby. Not till I fill you—“

at that very moment, his inflated words came to a halt and you’d watch as Connie’s face began to contort in pleasure. You knew he had just broken stride and next thing you knew, he’d halt in his tracks, but those warm strings began pumping into you, just as he promised. Stuffing you with ropes full of cum. It was the best thing you’d ever experienced. Shortly thereafter, that rose would bring you to your peak and a stream of squirt shot up against his abs. Finding yourself flailing around in pure bliss. Reality seemed to have faded for both of you in that split second, but you’d come back to as you basked in the afterglow together. Caressing the side of his face, (y/n) pulled him..

“I need a kiss. C’mere.” Shoving his tongue into your jaws as he clutched a hand around your throat. Hands down, this was the best night of your life. One you’d cherish for a long time.

“Happy anniversary, ma. I love you.”

── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.─── ── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :

@greenieweeniesworld @spaceforher @anubisisthebomb @crazychaoticizzy @makaylasierra789 @momobaby227 @certified-stargirl @thickbihhwitdagapp @kameko-ko @valentineluvu @mukurosbracup @prettypink-princesss @bleach-your-panties @astrokatsuki

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unclewaynemunson · 7 months

Text

Pt2 of the badly kept secrets of Eddie's heart monitor

After the first two weeks, Steve seems to have suddenly decided to stop visiting Eddie. No explanation, no goodbye: one day he's there, and then he... Isn't. It takes a few days, sometimes, Steve has a life of his own after all, but a whole week goes by with nothing. And another one. Eddie only knows he's alive – and in town – because the others told him when he asked. Maybe Steve's gotten tired of being surrounded by all that hospital sterility. Or maybe he's gotten tired of being around Eddie. Or maybe... Eddie groans and takes up a stare-down with the fucking heart monitor that's still attached to him at all times, his biggest enemy.

Unfortunately, he has way too much time on his hands, alone in this room and unable to do anything but lie in bed and stare at the ceiling. It makes it far too easy to let his thoughts spiral. Maybe – no, probably, certainly, undoubtedly – that goddamn heart monitor was the ideal help for Steve to decipher Eddie's biggest secret without any difficulties.

Yes, that must be the reason why Steve is staying away. Sure, the guy could tolerate being around “the freak” for a few hours a week out of pity, but of course he wouldn't want anything to do with him anymore upon finding out exactly what kind of freaky thoughts he really has about Steve. Steve was polite enough to pretend like he didn't notice the heart monitor speeding up every single time he got in Eddie's proximity, but of course, of course he noticed. He noticed and now he hates Eddie.

And honestly? He has every right to hate Eddie, with the way Eddie has been exploiting every opportunity to get Steve to touch him. Even though he'd regret it right away whenever the heart monitor couldn't shut the fuck up, Eddie never learned from his mistakes. He was even stupid enough to find meaning in the way Steve's touch would linger after helping him lie down or sit up, stupid enough to find tenderness in the way Steve held his arms when helping him out of his bed and to the bathroom. Obviously, Steve never wanted any of that. Obviously, that only made Steve uncomfortable, but the poor guy was too polite to lash out to the dude chained to a hospital bed healing from having all his organs chewed inside out.

Eddie sighs and closes his eyes; not because he wants to sleep, but because the staring contest with the heart monitor isn't really getting him anywhere. Maybe it's for the best that Steve is staying away. That way, Eddie might be able to get over him more easily. He doesn't deserve Steve's friendship anyway.

***

“I wanna visit Eddie today.”

“Alright, have fun,” Steve answers. “Tell him I said hi.”

Robin sighs dramatically. “No, dingus, you're coming with me. I need a ride.”

“No!” It comes out of his mouth a little too quick, a little too loud, and Robin raises her eyebrows at him.

“No, I can't,” he explains in a calmer voice.

Robin raises her eyebrows even further, making them disappear beneath her bangs altogether. “You literally just told me you don't have plans after work.”

“Yeah, but...” He lets his voice fade out and settles on muttering something incomprehensible.

“I did not understand one single word of what you were saying,” Robin points out. She sounds annoyed, but there's a vaguely amused smile playing around her lips, betraying how she really feels about the whole thing. “Seriously, what's up with you and Eddie? Did you have a fight or something?”

“No...”

“Until two weeks ago, you were at the hospital basically every spare minute of your time. You even canceled two dates just so you could spend more time with Eddie! And now, all of a sudden, you'd rather spend your evening on your own at home watching TV than visit your friend?”

“He's not my friend,” Steve protests.

She gives him a punch against his shoulder.

“Okay, I'm pretty sure he hates me, Rob.” Steve finally caves in. “He gets, like, very uncomfortable whenever I'm around. And I don't wanna add to his discomfort any more than necessary, so it's better I stay away from him.”

“Well, I don't know what on earth gave you that idea, but that is by far the biggest load of bullcrap I heard all week,” Robin says matter-of-factly. “He's asked about you every single time I visited him. He'll be happy to see you, dingus, you're coming with me today. No excuses.”

***

Like clockwork, the steady beeping of the heart monitor falters as soon as Eddie locks eyes with Steve. To make things even worse, what little color that is on Eddie's cheeks leaves his face immediately.

Despite the paleness of Eddie's face, Steve can't help but notice how good he looks in comparison to when he last saw him two weeks ago. He's sitting straight up, leaning against a pillow, and the look in his eyes is far from drowsy.

“S-Steve,” Eddie stutters out. “Hi.” He clears his throat. “And – and Robin, of course, hi! Good to see ya, Buck.” He stretches out his arms to embrace her, and Steve awkwardly comes up behind her. It feels weird not to follow Robin's example and give him a hug, but when he bows over the bed and wraps his arms around Eddie, the beeping immediately picks up speed again. To make things even worse, Eddie quite literally recoils from his touch, leaning away as far as possible and letting his arms hover in the air around Steve more than actually hugging him back.

When Steve looks at Robin, he notices that her eyes have grown about twice their normal size while they flash back and forth between Eddie, the machines around his bed, and Steve.

He locks eyes with her and tries to silently convey a See, I told you so about Eddie resenting him. She answers with a barely visible nod and relief fills Steve's chest. He's lucky to have Robin right by his side, his best friend, the one person he can always count on understanding him. She'll get them out of here in no time and leave Eddie in peace and –

“Oh shoot, sorry, I forgot I need to get a, um, a thing from the car,” Robin says. “I'll be right back.”

As she stumbles out of the room, Steve wants to scream at her that that was very much the opposite of what he wanted her to do, but she disappears before he can do anything about it, only leaving an awkward silence in her wake. So Steve has no choice but to turn back to Eddie and take his familiar place in the chair beside his bed.

“I kinda didn't expect to see you anymore.” Eddie is the one to break the silence. He sounds more distant than the last time Steve saw him. It must be worse than Steve thought: Eddie had been happy to be rid of him and now here he is again, after a meager two weeks of peace.

“Sorry,” Steve mumbles. “She insisted I come with her.”

“So you didn't wanna come?”

Steve chuckles darkly at the irony in that question, not really knowing how to answer that.

“Alright, I'm just gonna say it,” says Eddie when it becomes clear that Steve doesn't quite know what to say. “You figured out what I – how I felt about you, didn't you? Cause of the heart thing.”

Steve looks away, stares intently at the ugly dark blue linoleum carpet under his feet.

“Yeah,” he quietly confesses. There's no use denying it now, he figures.

Eddie heaves out a long sigh.

“For what it's worth: I'm really sorry, Steve, I didn't mean to make you-”

“It's fine,” Steve quickly interrupts him. He doesn't think he could bear Eddie's pity right now. “Don't worry about it. I just wanted to give you some space, y'know, get outta your hair for a bit. I didn't want to make this any more painful for you than it has to be.”

“Really?”

The heart monitor stutters again and Eddie's voice sounds weirdly strained. Steve can't help but look up. He's met with big brown eyes that are looking at him like Eddie actually cares about him. For a moment, Steve imagines to see tears, but then Eddie blinks and the illusion is gone.

“I um... I appreciate that, man,” Eddie says.

Another awkward silence dawns over the room.

“Wait,” Eddie says after a few seconds. “So you're not angry?”

“No!” Steve immediately replies – and it's true. He understands why Eddie doesn't like being around him, that too much has happened in the past for them to just move on and hold hands or some shit.

“It's not your fault,” he tells Eddie. He looks away again, back to the floor in front of his sneakers. “If it's anyone's fault, it's mine, right?”

Eddie huffs out a sound of disbelief. “Why, cause you're just too damn sexy, Harrington?”

Steve frowns. “Well, no, cause I was an asshole and I was mean to your friends during all of high school and it's stupid of me to expect you to just get over that shit and-”

“What the fuck does that have to do with anything?”

There's that stutter in the heart monitor again. It makes Steve wonder if he's putting Eddie's health at risk by simply existing next to him. Maybe it would be better to leave Eddie alone and wait in the car until Robin is done with her visit. What the hell is taking her so long anyway?

He keeps his eyes stubbornly focused on the blue floor. “Isn't that why you got so uncomfortable having me around?” he points out. “Look, I get it, man. I was an asshole, it's true. And it was selfish of me to keep showing up here only because you were too polite to say to my face what you thought about me. I was only thinking about myself and about how much I liked being here with you, it wasn't fair.”

All of a sudden, the soft touch of a hand lands on his shoulder. He hates how that makes his own heart speed up. If he were the one attached to a heart monitor, Eddie would've seen right through him in an instant, that's for sure.

He looks up and meets Eddie's wide-eyed, somewhat shocked face.

“You - you thought you were making me uncomfortable?” Eddie asks him, sounding like he's completely gobsmacked.

Steve frowns. “Isn't that what we've been talking about for the past five minutes?”

“Steve,” Eddie says. “I am so sorry. I didn't – I never – Look. Listen.” He removes his hand from Steve's shoulder and roughly wipes it over his face. His heart monitor accelerates even further. “Please don't hate me for what I'm about to tell you, okay?” He doesn't wait for a reaction, only uses his pause to take a deep breath, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment before opening them again and looking right into Steve's.

“I'm gay, Steve. And that evil computer over there-” He points towards the heart monitor, “-keeps betraying my big, fat, gay crush on you. Every time you walk in here, or read my book to me, or do so much as smile at me, I just – God, I'm such a goner for you and there was no hiding it because of that stupid fucking thing.”

This time, Steve is quite sure he is not at all imagining the tears in Eddie's eyes.

“I thought that's why you stopped visiting. Cause you figured out how gay I am – about you – and you didn't want anything to do with that. With me. Being gay. For you.”

Eddie swallows. He lifts a hand and pulls a strand of hair over his face in a poor attempt to hide the truly terrified expression that's all over his features.

“Jesus, Eddie,” Steve breathes out. He can't even begin to comprehend how spectacularly wrong he has been about everything. It's almost like he's in shock. Only a minute ago, he thought Eddie despised him. And now, he has to process the revelation that the guy in fact has had a crush on him – a “big, fat, gay crush” – all along. That the reason his heart was behaving so weirdly was because Steve's proximity made him lovesick. That he recoiled from Steve's touches out of fear that the monitor would give him away and make Steve realize he was gay and in love with him.

“Please say something?” It sounds like a question, small and so afraid of what is about to come.

“Eddie, I – Jesus. This is... A lot. To process,” Steve manages to choke out.

“I know,” Eddie says. “I'm sorry I made you think I hated you. But... Please don't hate me. I really missed you visiting. We can be friends, right? You won't even have to touch me ever again, we can just hang out like bros, and I'll try to get my feelings for you under control, and you can-”

Steve finally gains control over his body again: he leaps forward and presses his lips against Eddie's with slightly more force than he had meant to do.

A surprised yelp escapes from Eddie's mouth, and the beeping of the heart monitor goes even crazier. It makes Steve's own heart do a goddamn cartwheel, that audible proof of what he is making Eddie feel.

He completely understands why the heart monitor is going batshit crazy right now; everything about this is fucking amazing. One of his hands finds its way to Eddie's surprisingly soft hair, and he revels in the feeling of touching Eddie again and in the taste of Eddie's lips against his own, and maybe he should just climb into Eddie's bed to–

“Thank God for that.”

They quickly jump apart to find Robin standing in the doorway, an annoyingly smug grin on her face.

“You two could really not be more stupid if you tried, huh?”

Steve squints at her while his hand blindly finds Eddie's on top of the sheets and curls itself around it. He feels his cheeks heat up, but he doesn't care. Nothing matters anymore, except for Eddie's hand warmly resting in his own.

“Did you even need anything from the car at all?” he asks Robin, raising an eyebrow at her.

“No, of course not,” Robin scoffs. “Just needed you idiots to finally get your shit together. I don't think I've ever met anyone more dense than the two of you, seriously! There were at least three moments when I almost barged in here to just smash your faces tog-”

“You were eavesdropping on us?!”

“Obviously.”

Steve opens his mouth, indignant and ready to tell her exactly how mean and evil she is, but she merely raises a hand and the look in her eyes is terrifying enough to shut him up before he has even started speaking.

“Hey, listen,” she says. Something in her face softens. “I'm really happy for you guys. Seriously, no matter how stupid you are, you two deserve every bit of happiness in the world.” She takes a step backwards towards the door. “I'll go wait in the car, dingus. Go kiss each other some more.”

And before Steve or Eddie can say anything, she winks and closes the door behind her.

Taglist: @estrellami-1 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @saramelaniemoon @lololol-1234 @carlajim98 @7-starboi @acedorerryn @hallucinatedjosten @goodolefashionedloverboi @zoeweee @resident-gay-bitch @my2amgaythoughts @didntwant2come @steveshairspray @noodle-shenaniganery @thedragonsaunt @finntheehumaneater @queerriotgrrrl @co5m0 @dino-nuggets-posts

#in which robin is all of us #don't mind me rambling about stranger things #they're idiots your honor #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #stranger things #fruity ficlet

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dazednmatthews · 6 days

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number neighbor!matt x reader: semi face to face (part four point five)

the thrum of the facetime ring had y/n very rightfully shitting bricks.

it wasn’t that she was scared of matt, nor would she ever let him know what she really thought of him, but the thought of finally talking to him semi-face to face was something that sent a weird hum through her veins.

they’d been talking for close to three weeks now, annoying him becoming a quintessential part of her days. she wouldn’t admit it to him, but she liked matt. as a friend. he was funny, and despite what she constantly told him, he wasn’t boring at all. she would have stopped trying a long time ago if he was.

on the third ring, matt picks up. the lighting in his room is warm, pale yellow filling her screen. the motherfucker is laid in bed, shirtless of course, hair fluffy and curling into his eyes.

it makes her sick to her god damn stomach the way the silver chain sits on his collarbones. and the way she can see stubble aligning his jaw. and the way the blanket just barely covers his chest. she wants to hang up.

she’d lost her ability to speak suddenly, so when matt raises an eyebrow, she knows he’s about to start something with her. “hello?” he draws out the ‘o’. “are you going to say something or am i gonna talk to myself during this?”

it’s enough to snap her out of whatever the fuck trance he had her in. “it’s been twenty seven seconds and i already wanna hang up.”

he smirks slightly, “i think that’s a lie.”

“whatever,” she grumbles. “why don’t you have any clothes on? classless.”

“i have pants on. wanna see?” y/n holds her hand up to the camera, flipping her middle finger. matt laughs. it’s a nice laugh. oh fuck. “am i distracting you?”

“i will hang up if you start this shit again.”

“fine, fine.” matt sits up slightly, angling the camera more on his face. he leans forward, eyebrows furrowed. “let me see your room.”

y/n is sitting at her desk, avoiding open makeup bottles and random pens strewn about. she shrugs, flipping the camera. her room is filled to the brim with things. her walls are covered in posters; from her favorite horror movies and icons and just films in general to her favorite musicians. she even has a funny minion poster in the corner that her best friend got her for a gag gift. she loves it just the same though.

“other than that fucking minion poster,” matt rolls his eyes. “you kind of have good taste.”

she scoffs. “kind of? bye. my taste is impeccable.”

matt eyes the poster right next to her closet door. “you like mac miller?”

she nods fondly. “he’s one of my favorite artists.”

something in his voice changes. “me too.”

“you wanna be me so damn bad. it’s flattering.”

it’s matt’s turn to scoff. “i actually couldn’t think of anything worse.”

y/n ignores him, giving him the full tour. she shows him the extent of her cd collection, which he of course, has something to say about all the disney channel soundtracks. she simply states that, “good music knows no bounds. it’s not my fault shake it up had the best ghost writers.” and yeah, matt does laugh at that.

she shows him the various pieces of art her sister has drawn her, which he’s actually really loves. they bicker about whether or not astrology is real, again, when she shows him her crystal collection. predictably, it ends up with her calling him a bastard and him telling her she’s insane a thousand times.

when she gets to her book case, he looks surprised. “you read?” his eyes are scanning the screen. “those are all yours?”

y/n’s face twists at the borderline insult. “are you calling me fucking stupid or something?”

“no!” he sounds kind of frantic. “i didn’t mean it like that. i just meant i didn’t know you enjoyed books like that.”

she shrugs, flipping the camera back to her and sitting back at her desk. “there’s a lot you don’t know about me, matt.”

she pretends to find something interesting in her reflection, not seeing matt’s eyes turn slightly soft. “yeah. i see.”

when it’s his turn to show his room, y/n’s surprised at how clean it is. there’s a bed and a desk with a monitor, headphones next to the keyboard. his bed is big and looks comfy, dark red silk sheets on it. it makes something in her stomach flip. she tells it to shut the hell up.

she teases him for the few stuffed animals he has on his bed. “aww, matt. you big softie.”

“yeah, yeah, what the fuck ever. they’re cute.”

“mr. tough guy, making room on his bed for his plushies. adorable.”

“go to hell, y/n.”

there’s not really much else in there but a couple framed pictures, so it’s over pretty quick. and when it is, something weird happens. the two sit on the phone, for hours. they talk about any and everything, bicker about the same things and tell each other more about themselves. y/n learns that he has the cutest little dog named trevor, he also likes to read from time to time and that he’s obsessed with watching tv.

she tells him about her parents and how they aren’t as close anymore, her siblings and how she wishes she could see them more and that she has an unhealthy attachment to word searches.

it’s nice, she decides.

it only ends when there’s a bang at matt’s door, followed by it flinging open. “matt, can you take me to the gas station? i want twizzlers.” one of his brothers says.

the other one flops down next to him on his bed, poking matt in the stomach. “i need chips in my system, like now.”

matt closes his eyes and sighs. “you both are so fucking annoying.” he turns to the side. “i’m on the god damn phone.”

the middle one in that one picture matt sent, chris she thinks, pokes his head into the frame. “oh shit, is that the girl that you’ve been texting?”

the other triplet, nick, let’s out a laugh. “you mean the one he never shuts the fuck up about-“ and suddenly the audio is cut off and matt is out of his bed.

y/n is taken aback by the statement. matt talks about her to his brothers? she would definitely be putting that in her back pocket for later.

she watches matt leave his own room and hears the sound come back. “i’ve gotta go, y/n. they’ll only get more annoying and i don’t feel like cleaning up a crime scene if i kill them.”

she smiles in amusement. “that’s fine, i should probably finish my laundry anyway.”

there’s a moment of silence and then she can hear the smirk in his voice way before she sees it. “yeah i noticed. do you wash that pair of lacy black underwear on your floor on delicate or regu-“

“goodbye, matthew!”

her face heats up as she presses the end call button, cutting off his maniacal laughter.

as y/n sits in silence for a second after he’s gone, she wonders if matt felt the shift between them just as much as she did.

a/n: yes the inspo is the still of matt from the new tiktok cause that shit got me soooo bad. anyway hope you guys liked this!

TAGLIST:

@sturnioloco @peachmels @sugrhigh @rootbeerworshiper @hollandsangel @sturnolio-luvs @mattsobvimyfav @misscocodiorsblog @ilovechrisssturniolo @pepsiboyy @braindead4l @mxqdii @fawnchives @hearts4chriss @certifiednatelover @nmegamett20 @imaslut4kehlani @dominicfikue @wovenribbons @streamermattsgf @pr1ncessmatt @pinksturniolo @yourfavoritefangirl @nickmillersn1gf @freshxsturniolo @sturniolobltch @mattspolitank @lookingformyromeo @alorsxsturn @imwetforyourmom @kiarastromboli @sleepysturnss @mattscoquette @sturncakez

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dotster001 · 5 months

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When You Escape Him; Savannaclaw

Summary: Yandere Savannaclaw boys x gn!reader. He adopts a child that looks like the two of you. You run to give you both a chance at life. You never expected him to find you.

CW: yandere, dark content, you don't make it far in two out of three of these, murder (if you think about it for two seconds), no wait there's also actual murder, abuse of power, laugh with me, Ruggie 's cracked, emotional manipulation,

Heartslaybul Octavinelle Scarabia Pomefiore Ignihyde Diasomnia Non NRC Staff

Three years into your relationship, he had come home and placed a baby in your arms.

"They were left in a box, all alone. And, well, he looks like if the two of us had a child," he sheepishly stared at the ground. "I just, I just figured it must be a gift from the seven."

You knew what he was trying to do. He was trying to tie himself to you through this boy. He looked just like him, and you were disgusted and scared.

Until he opened his eyes for the first time, and you found yourself staring into your own.

And you knew. You had to give this child the opportunity for a better life. A life without him.

In the end, your son did the opposite of what he had intended. And the first moment you could, the two of you had escaped.

Every day that took you farther away from the Sunset Savannah was a blessing. Getting out of the palace had been a miracle. Not alerting a single guard to your exit was a marvel.

Your time in Twisted Wonderland had taught you one thing. You were running out of miracles.

But you only needed one more. Tomorrow, you would leave the hotel with your son before the sun rose. You would slip into the trunk of a car that you'd traded the last of your jewels chains for. The driver would take you over the border, and then you could slip away where the second prince couldn't touch for fear of war.

You were too nervous to sleep. You held your son in your arms, and paced, whispering about the life you could have once you were free from Leona. The child had only been your son for three weeks, but you were going to free you both. Give you both a loving home.

You should sleep. You couldn't guarantee the next time you'd have a bed. And your eyes were so heavy, your mind foggy, but the anxiety pulsing through your veins made you nauseous whenever you tried to lay down.

Your vision was starting to get as foggy as your mind. The walls seemed to be wavering. Perhaps you should sit down.

The first grain of sand that hit you, you snapped completely awake. The walls weren't wavering; they were shimmering and collapsing.

You were lucky you were on the first floor. As fast as you could, you grabbed one of the tshirts you had stolen from Leona, and covered your son's head, pressed him close to your chest, then ran straight into the shimmering sand….

….and straight into a solid mass.

"Gotcha."

You felt a hand grab you by the hair as you heard the now completely sand hotel collapse behind you. You were yanked to the side of the hard mass, as he shouted.

"Tell my brother that I have them. Prepare for cleanup."

"Yes, your highness!" The nervous soldier standing beside Leona stuttered. Now that you weren't pressed straight into Leona, you saw he was surrounded by an entire troupe of soldiers. You watched the one he'd addressed rush off to the crowd on the other side of the pile of sand. You didn't recognize that one. He must have been promoted once the old one was fired.

If Leona didn't kill them, that is.

As you stared at the other crowd of soldiers, you recognized Farena's regal silhouette, feeling nauseous as he nodded at Leona across the way, issuing orders to soldiers who moved to get rid of all evidence of the former hotel.

Leona brought your attention back to him, taking the baby from your arms, and pulling his shirt off the little one's head. He babbled happily, and Leona infinitesimally softened. A face that was usually reserved for you.

"I can't believe you made me do all this work," he muttered, his tone becoming hard again. "You're gonna have to try real hard to make it up to me."

"Why is Farena here?" You whispered. You didn't think poorly of Farena. In fact, a part of you believed that, if you had had the chance, he would have helped you. But here he was, cleaning up Leona's dirty work.

Leona growled, and you snapped your mouth shut.

"The kingdom likes me better when you're with me. Of course he'd make sure I wouldn't lose you."

It was patronizing, like he was explaining something simple to a small child. A child he hated.

But Leona didn't hate you. Maybe it would be better if he did.

He snatched your wrist, and began walking the three of you towards a car you hadn't noticed before. He opened the car door, and shoved you inside, getting in behind you. Then he handed you your son.

You hesitated to take him, and he grinned.

"I'd hold him now. It's going to be an awfully long time before you can even look at him again."

You knew Ruggie couldn't afford to come find you. Especially when you were hiding in the Queendom of Roses.

So you'd quietly raised your son there. You'd reunited with Ace, and rekindled the friendship you'd lost when Ruggie started to hoard you. You'd fallen in love. Gotten married. He'd adopted your son as his own.

You came home from work one day, and found him lying motionless at the bottom of the stairs.

"Ace!" You screamed, rolling him over and feeling for a pulse. Nothing. You looked for any marks, any sign of an intruder, but nothing.

Your son. Where was he? He should be at home, he had a project that was due tomorrow. Where was he?

You stood up and began to run up the stairs, but your body froze, before slowly turning around. And there he was.

"Leona already took our son home, shi hi hi."

Leona. You were so stupid. Of course he'd go to Leona. If anything, the fact it took so long to find you was a shock.

He shoved Ace's body with his foot, your foot moving in time to his, still being trapped in his spell. You used all your muscles to stay upright, nearly falling down the stairs with your lack of balance.

"I always hated him. Loud. Stupid. Couldn't mind his own business," he hummed, looking back up at you. "Did you leave me for him, or did he come later? Doesn't matter. Either way, you've really hurt my feelings."

He paused, his brow furrowing, actually looking angry for the first time. "We're going home, Y/N."

He turned and walked out the door, you following him, until he reached a black car. He turned, placed cuffs on you, then released you from the spell, pulling you into the car.

"I know you missed me, babe," he hummed, moving so he was sitting right next to you, resting his head on your shoulder. "And I would have come sooner, but Leona's an ass. Made me promise to calm down first so that I didn't accidentally hurt you or the boy."

He groaned. "He was probably right. I never thought I'd find a lover, or be a dad, and then both things were gone in a day. He didn't have to wait so long though. I calmed down in the first year."

You thought back to Ace's body at the bottom of the stairs. If that was calm….

"Where's my son?"

He laughed.

"He doesn't get to be your son. Not until you can be my partner again."

"That's not fair!"

"Life's not fair, baby! My entire life has been an unfair shit show. So now it's time to do something for me! It's my turn to get something I want."

His smile came back to his face, and he giggled. The years must not have been kind to his mind.

"Now, if you can prove that you can be a good little spouse, then I'll let you prove you can be a good parent. You also owe Leona. It's thanks to him I could come get you. How are you at secretary work?"

He continued to chat about all the things you had to do to make it up to him and Leona. You don't know when, but at some point silent tears started rolling down your face.

And Ruggie laughed.

It wasn't until the day he'd brought home your son that you'd even realized what kind of a life you lived now. He never hurt you, physically. But the terror of the outside world he'd instilled in you…

And his family hadn't helped. They'd gifted jack the second floor of their home so that you could start your family, but still remain close to “the pack”.

His parents stayed with you everyday, while he went out to work with his brothers and sisters. They'd tell you all the stories of how happy they were, how wolf beast men mated for life, how you would also be so so so happy.

You would always just smile and nod. Even if you thought you were happy, you couldn't hold back the uneasy feeling every time they spoke of "forever".

And as you held your son, and realized you hadn't left the house in three years, you had lost all your connections, and you had a crippling fear fill your stomach whenever Jack wasn't home. And with that realization, came the secondary realization that you'd only begun to live this way, when you moved in with Jack after graduation.

It was the one day you knew everyone, including his parents, would be gone.

So why was it that you were now hiding in an alley, praying that your son wouldn't wake up, and alert a pack of hunting wolves to your presence? You were grateful they weren't real wolves, or they would have smelled you by now. As it was, Jack always mentioned you had such a unique scent that he could find you anywhere. You hoped that was just something he liked to say.

You hadn't seen any of them pass your alley in a while, so you took a shuddering breath, and peaked out into the street.

It was quiet. But they were nearby. You weighed your options. If you ran, you might get to a safe house, or find a cab, before they could catch you. But they'd definitely hear your steps, and Jack was an incredible runner.

Or you could walk quietly, and hide in alleys here and there. But that would take time. Time where they could find you. Time where a friend of the family could spot you, and call someone.

If you could get somewhere with a pay phone, you could call Vil and explain the situation. You were told he grew up in the area. But if he sided with Jack, he'd lead you on the wrong path, or worse, set his fans to detain you while you waited for Jack to get there.

If you knew Ace's phone number, you knew he'd get you out of there. Yes, you'd get an I told you so speech, but he wouldn't think twice about saving you.

Too bad Jack took your phone and contact book for “your health”.

You heard a soft sigh from the boy in your arms, and looked down in momentary fear. Just sighing. Not awake. Good.

You looked back up, mentally trying to figure out where a phone was, and were met with a pair of glowing gold eyes, staring from across the street.

You ran.

You never really stood a chance, even if you could anywhere compare to Jack's unparalleled abilities, holding a child in your arms made it impossible to win.

You felt his arms wrap around your body and hold you tight.

“It's okay, I've got you. You're safe now.”

You must have really scared him. He didn't usually say so many words at a time.

You let out a sob, and he gently rocked you side to side for a moment, whispering how it was okay, you were safe, he's sorry he wasn't there to protect you.

At some point, he must have gotten his dad's attention, because Mr. Howl was gently prying your son from your arms, so that Jack could scoop you up and carry you home.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #leona kingscholar x reader #leona kingscholar #yandere leona kingscholar #yandere leona kingscholar x reader #ruggie bucchi x reader #ruggie bucchi #yandere ruggie bucchi #yandere ruggie bucchi x reader #jack howl x reader #jack howl #yandere jack howl #yandere jack howl x reader

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