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deceitfuldevout · 7 months

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Highest Bidder

Dark!Robert Fishcher x Sugarbaby!Reader

Word Count: +3,066

Warning(s): +18, Non con, Loss of virginity, Human auction, Housewife kink, Breeding kink, Misogynistic remarks, Insults, Just plain abuse, Robert is a warning himself.

Author's Note(s): I have been thinking about this for a hot minute. Inspired by @mypoisonedvine Robert Fischer fic go check it out!!

You couldn't stop checking your phone for an update. He was supposed to be here an hour ago. Did he bail? Part of you had hoped so. It would make things a lot easier. Years ago, if someone had told you that you'd be auctioning off your virginity, well, the first thing you'd do is laugh in their face.

That was before everything went to shit. Your parents ended up in neck-deep debt trying to pay off your college, borrowing money from some sleazy loaner company. Soon having no choice but to debate on filing for bankruptcy. Everything they've worked hard for, gone. You didn't want them to worry about that anymore.

This wasn't a huge deal for you. Personally, you've never had any luck with guys and would rather get this over with. Growing up you were always the awkward, ugly duckling of the friend group, so a boyfriend was out of the picture. Only sharing an innocent kiss with a childhood friend, but that was a long time ago. It was only after you reached your 20's where you began to bloom.

He'd bought your outfit and covered the cost of everything. He wants you ready and waiting for him, all wrapped up like a pretty present. He's very particular about these things, even making a list of errands to run before the big day. He requested for photos of the hair and makeup you'd be wearing for the evening. Scolding you every time you did something he disliked. He wouldn't even try hiding it. You reread his previous text message: Change the makeup. It makes you look like a cheap whore. You scoff at the response...how rude.

Even before all of this he would try to test your patience. Sending messages like, 'Do you know who I am? You should be more grateful that I'm giving you this much attention," or "Anyone would be lucky to be in your position,' which made you physically roll your eyes. This morning, he had given you a call as a reminder of where you would meet. He send you the hotel address with money for a cab.

He made sure to give you call in the afternoon as a reminder of what to do after arriving, ending it with, "I don't want to hear any complaining when I get there." before hanging up. You grumble a stray of curse words, this had better been worth it...

You couldn't believe your eyes on how luxurious the hotel was. It's entrance had been decorated with marble and brass statues. There wasn't a drop of it that didn't scream 'money'. You sheepishly sign in, allowing a worker to carry your bag to the room. It had taken a while before you could reach the top. Part of you was impressed, he had really gone all out.

As soon as you enter the room there was this sort of romantic ambiance to it. From the lighting, to the breathtaking scenery of the city. It was all so...dreamy. But this was no dream. You were going to have sex for the first time with some old, rich geezer, gross. You take note of a shopping bag left on the bed, opening it to find a lingerie set.

You held the fabric, inspecting the material. White lace, with hints of glitter that shine in the light. At least the old man has good taste. You take a look at yourself in the mirror, humming at the sight of it. Not bad...hell, you looked fantastic.

Suddenly the door knob jingles, then a heavy knock follows. You leapt from the bed, approaching to open the door for him. But before you could reach the knob it slams open. A man enters, sporting a well-tailored suit, dressed to the nines from head-to-toe. His hair is combed back, a few strands dangle against his forehead. As you scan the man's face, you couldn't help but notice how handsome he was.

There's a light rosy hue to his cheeks. You first notice the striking blues of his eyes and how long his lashes are. He looks like he'd have no problem at all searching for someone. So what is he doing paying for someone like you? For a moment, you were in awe of his presence. Staring back at the man like a deer caught in headlights.

The meeting today had taken its toll on Robert. He was supposed to meet with you hours ago, but there had been an emergency with the company's shareholders. He could practically feel his blood boiling, to the point where it felt almost difficult to breathe. He tugs his tie off and yanks for his shirt to open, a few buttons go flying. He lets out a huff, scanning the room with his blue orbs for something, more specifically, someone.

"So you're the one I've been talking to eh?" a hint of humor in his voice, "Let me guess, you're a good girl caught up in the wrong crowd? Is that it?" he taunts, "I'm sure you've 'never' done this before," the corners of his mouth turn upward into a sinister grin. His eyes are emotionless. Cold as ice. Yet why did they seem so comforting? As if you've seen them before.

He drops his suitcase at the end of the bed, turning towards you. He eyes you up and down, as if he were deep in thought, "Give me a spin," and of course you follow his orders. He raises a brow, "Come here," he commands. You stare back at him, unsure of what he'd just said. Robert sighs, he doesn't have time for this. He's slightly drunk and exhausted from work. Right now he just wants some hard, animalistic fucking.

He tugs your underwear to the side, examining his prize. He bunches up the waistband of your panties before yanking the fabric down. You held your breath, now riddled with anxiety. This was a bit too...casual for comfort. He fists the fabric, holding it to the side while the other hand held your hip.

His voice is deep, much deeper in person, "Hold it for me," he wants to get a good look at his purchase. His thick fingers slide down your pubic area, grazing against the bare skin, he hums, "Even waxed yourself like I told you to, good girl." he slaps the side of your hip, as if he were examining livestock. Your stomach coils at the realization. Never in your life have you felt so...objectified. Still, now wasn't the time to back down. He pushes you against a desk. Until you were now leaning on the table.

He spreads your folds with his thick digits, examining them closely. He held your clit between his fingers, pinching it lightly. You let out a whine from the sensation, bucking your hips from the sudden discomfort. He retreats his hand before flipping you over. His chest now against your back. He pushes you against the table, bending you over for a better view. He was in no rush.

He rubs his fingers over your bare slit. His thumb caresses your bundle of nerves. As soon as he retreats you finally snap the fabric back in place. Now lowering your head with embarrassment. He grips your chin, lifting it until you're face-to-face, "No don't hide from me now..." he plops himself on a chair, tilting his chin up, "Why don't you make yourself useful and help me get this off?"

If you weren't getting paid you would've scoffed at his rudeness. It was obvious he was into power play. Being in total control of everything. Now wasn't the time for letting your emotions emotions get involved. You help him remove his coat and tie, even unbuttoning the rest of his shirt. He's still wearing his pants, now unclasped. He stares you down, a smirk now lingering on his cold features, "Take off your clothes,"

When you start to quickly unclasp the garter belt, Robert's voice booms, "Stop." he orders, "Do it slower," he leans back in the recliner, already palming his erection. You shyly unclasp your belt, letting the straps fall off each shoulder. His hand grazes on an exposed breast, sending shivers down your spine.

He chuckles, "Oh...don't tell me you're that sensitive?" a crude remark. Your brows furrow, why did he have to tease you so? He notices your obvious discomfort, "Don't worry darling, your only job is to fuck," as if that would make things better, "Do you know how to suck cock?" he questions. You give him a hesitant nod, "No...I've never done it before this is my first time--"

"I didn't ask for a whole life story,"

"...No," your lips press in a thin line. He was really pushing it, "So you've never had sex or sucked cock before, tell me, what have you done?" he pulls out his member, already hard and leaking. It's tip was flush pink, the same as his lips. He spits into his palm before working himself up, he knows you're nervous. He wants you to be intimidated by him. He pumps his shafts with slow strokes, "Tell me, what gets you off..." he sighs.

You look down to your feet, suddenly his voice booms, "No, do not look away," to which you began to tear up. His voice is soft now, "Sweetheart, look at me," he huffs. You look up at him now with tearful eyes, he groans, "Oh...that's it..." stroking his cock faster. A finger points directly at you in a 'come hither' motion. You walk towards him, still eyeing his shaft. How was that going to fit?

You felt warm despite the lack of clothing, there's a pooling sensation between your legs. He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you into his lap. His tongue darts against a breast. He teases the bud with his teeth. He made sure it was swollen and sensitive before giving attention to the other breast.

You never knew it could feel this...good. As soon as your hands reach for his hair he instantly stops, Robert remembers the reason why you're here. It wasn't to see him. You only wanted one thing, and he doesn't have time to play pretend. He just came here to collect what he's owed. At the end of the day, you were just a hired whore. He swats both hands away, giving you the cold shoulder. He lifts himself from the seat, throwing you against the carpet. You're confused at the sudden mood swing. It frightens you. Where the hell did that come from?

"It's a shame, you were doing so well," Robert sits up, his leaking cock now presses against his abdomen. He's pissed. He paid you for your time, you were suppose to focus only on his needs. Every word that came from his mouth dripped with anger, "It seems like you need a reminder on whore etiquette," he knows you've probably fucked a few before him, this was all part of your little roleplay act.

"I'm not a whore!" you detest lying, what made him not believe you? Forget it...this wasn't worth an argument, "You know what? You can take your money back asshole! Fuck this and fuck you--" a hand grips around your neck. He'll have to show you a thing or two of what comes with selling yourself out, especially to a complete stranger. You've always knew deep down that you'd regret your first, but this was downright terrifying.

This man, he didn't even see you as a person. As a human being. To him, this was all a transaction that was paid for, "What did you think that website was for? It's a human auction. Not just your cunt. Meaning I own your ass for the next few hours," he leans in, pressing his nose against yours, he growls, "Remember your place..."

Robert pulls you up by the hair, throwing you onto the bed. You scramble to get away but he's much stronger. He began to wrestle you. To which you land a slap on his cheek, hard enough to leave a mark. You pause, now too scared to move. He touches the tender skin, it would surely leave a bruise tomorrow. Which just so happens to be an important meeting, "You little bitch..." he grips your jaw until it aches, forcing your mouth to open.

He takes the opportunity to spit inside, covering your mouth and pinching your nose. You felt like you wanted to gag. Finally, after fighting to hold your breath, you swallow. He grins, "See? even if you try to fight me, I always get what I want..."

You, of all people, should know this about him. Instead you try putting up a fight, "I hate you! I hate you! Let me go!" thrashing around. Both of his hands now pressed against your throat. He scolds, "If you want it to hurt I'll make it hurt like nothing else..." he flips you over, pressing his body against your own, making it harder to breathe.

He lets his pants slide down. Tugging off his boxers. He spits a wad into his hand, that should be enough to get comfortable, for him. But for you? Well, he wants it to hurt you. Otherwise, how will you learn? Whores like you deserve to feel pain. That's what you get for teasing him in your photos. He growls into your ear, "Time to try my pussy..."

He yanks down your panties before pressing his leaking tip against your opening. He muffles your cries in his palm. You couldn't hold back the tears. This man is going to break you! As retaliation you tilt your head to the side and bit into his forearm. He grunts from the pain, it only encourages him to carry out your punishment. He thrusts harder, grinding down his hips to reach as deep as he could go.

You sob from the pain, going limp from shock. All you could do was cry into his hand, bracing yourself against the cushioning below. You turned your head to face the mirror, taking a good look at your own sad, pathetic reflection. You were being dominated by a complete stranger. How did it get to this point? When did you become so pathetic? So desperate to the point where you became a whore for hire?

He held you close to his chest. He knows now you're too tired to fight him off. He kept jutting his hips back and fourth, moaning in your ear with a deep grumble. You could smell the alcohol and cigarettes on his breath. It repulses you. The only sounds that could be heard in the room were of skin-to-skin slapping, Robert's insults, and your muffled cries.

"Fuck....fuck m'gonna cum..." he grunts. He rubs his nose against the crook of your neck, inhaling the sweet scented perfume. He drags his face across the soft, supple skin. He can tell by the shimmer that you applied an expensive lotion earlier. Of course you wanted him, what woman wouldn't? He's handsome, rich, successful, he's the entire package.

So why were you begging for him not to finish inside? You were just being stubborn, that's all. He'll have to remind you of who's in charge, "I bought this pussy fair and square. If I want to put a baby in it, then bitch, I will," he sinks his teeth into your shoulder, biting until the skin breaks. He doesn't stop thrusting his hips. Plunging his cock deep inside to coat your womb. He moans, furrowing his brows from the feeling of your velvety walls.

"You think you're better than me huh? Old enough to fuck but not old enough to get knocked up, yeah fucking right" he huffs, "You just wanted an excuse to be whore..." His voice becomes hoarse, as the pleasure began to increase, "Fuck...fuck I'll buy you a big house just so I can fuck you in it...hm...yeah you'd like that wouldn't you?" he doesn't stop his vigorous thrusts, "I’ll fuck some babies into you hm? You'd like that? I’ll give you a baby with blue eyes…something to remind you of me…" he flips you over, locking an arm around your neck.

All you could do was whine as you wait for the inevitable. Robert licks a stripe against your ear. He grunts with satisfaction, "Want you to remember this for the rest of your life....every time you think about your first time, you'll be thinking of me...." he fastens his pace. All you could do was stare back at your reflection. A tear trickles down your cheek. You couldn't help but agree. It was true, this moment would haunt you for the rest of your life.

Robert knows it. That's what gives him such an ego boost. He felt like he was on top of the fucking world. He growls in your ear, "Remember this, I.Fucking.Own.You." before unloading his spunk deep inside. He muffles a moan in the crook of your neck, bowing his head down to feel the bliss of it all. Fuck, he never came so much in his life. Was it the adrenaline or the pussy? He doesn't care. All he knows is that it's money well spent.

He slowly begins to pull out, hissing from the pleasure your pussy gave. He moans at the sight of his shaft dipped in a crimson tint, "Fuck me...if that isn't a sight for sore eyes..." he's made sure to mark his territory. He flips you over, you're too scared to even look at him.

He slides his hand from your stomach to your pelvis, "Hold on...I want to see it.." giving your lower abdomen a light push, forcing the rest of his seed out. It's mixed with a string of red. His lids are hooded, there's a twitch to his features. He grins, "Fuck...guess you weren't lying about me being your first..." he chuckles, "And here I thought you were just another lying whore..." playing with your emotions.

Robert lifts himself from the bed. He retrieves his belt on the floor, tying your wrists to the bed post. He doesn't want to risk you running away from him. Not while he still had a few hours left. He fixes himself in the mirror, coming his hair back to how it was before. Making sure that there wasn't a single strand out of place. He admires himself in the mirror. He felt like a fucking champ. Like nothing in the world could stop him, and so far there hasn't been.

Robert knew this was a good idea the moment he saw your profile online. He'd been tracking you down for quite some time, it's been a while. His obsession growing with each message sent. He had to own you. Mind, body, and soul. It was a good idea to install the hidden camera in the hotel. He could only stare at you from his office, viewing you changing into the set he'd purchased, admiring yourself in the mirror. He had to wait another agonizing hour before work was finished.

He notices the way you'd tried being presentable, all for him. How you would constantly check your phone just to see what his orders were. Submissive, compliant, needy. So fucking needy. That little pussy of yours needed his cock to break it in. He doesn't want it to end, he tosses a few bills onto the mattress, you don't even flinch. Your mind had already escaped.

Robert leans in, caging your body with his arms, "Why don't I keep you as my little plaything, hm?" he knows you've recently graduated. But what use was a degree compared to what he could give? What greater reward than being his pretty little housewife? You might as well put those looks to use. He plants a kiss against your lips, humming in satisfaction, "Need a good girl to balance me out..." he begins to rant, "And if you ever think of leaving me, I'll send a video of us fucking to your parents,"

But the thing is, you never told him who your parents were. It was then when the pieces began to fall into place. How could you be so stupid? His username was R-Morrow.

This was no other than the owner of Fischer Morrow, the man responsible for your landing parents in deep debt. Of course they trusted him, because he's your childhood friend. You lift yourself up and face him. Your voice in disbelief when you question the identity of the strange man, now with a tearful look, "R-Robbie?" you whisper. He pauses for a moment, head turning to the side as he looks your way, "Did you miss me?"

"...Why? I-I don't understand..." you began hyperventilating. This wasn't happening. Your childhood friend had taken your virginity. At one point, he was your entire world. He approaches you, no longer a lanky young boy but a man. He cups your face, pressing his forehead against yours. He sighs, "Don't you remember the promise we made? To find each other?" his eyes bore into yours, "I could only dream of it, but now?" he wraps his arms around you, holding you close to him, "Now you're finally mine..."

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sweetestdesire · 3 months

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CAUGHT IN THE ACT

WARNINGS: hair pulling, extreme domination, mentions of masturbation, degrading speech, etc. 18+ readers only

PAIRING(S): Trevor Zegras x Fem!Reader

SUMMERY: in which Trevor Zegras catches Fem!Reader in a compromising position.

"Stop fighting with me! I've been given explicit instructions, and you're going on this date whether you like it or not."

Trevor groaned dramatically as Y/N tugged on his arm. "I already showered and everything, what else am I supposed to do, Y/N?"

"Um, put on a decent outfit?"

"What if I don't even want to go?"

"Too bad. You had the opportunity to back out when Mason asked you if he could set you up, and you didn't, so now you're going." She mimed dragging him down the hallway to his room. "As your best friend and roommate, I'm in charge of making sure you show up and look good."

Heavy footsteps fell on the floor as Trevor stomped after her. "As my best friend, I'd think you'd be on my side about not wanting to go."

Y/N and Trevor had been best friends since they were kids. Growing up next door to each other, they’d spent years playing basketball in his driveway in the summer or making snow forts in her yard in the winter. Even though Trevor was two years older than her, he had always let her be part of his life. He might have teased her mercilessly, but she knew he was always there for her. He had helped her with crushes, coached her through her first date, first boyfriend, and first subsequent heartbreak.

Y/N knew people thought it was strange. Here they were, early-20s, and living together platonically. She knew a good number of people assumed they would get together one day, but Trevor had never felt that way about her. It was kind of weird, at first, to bring dates back home and to know that he was across the hall from her bedroom, able to hear every little thing that happened.

Y/N let herself into Trevor’s bedroom as he trailed behind her. “Just watch. She's going to be super hot and sexy and funny. It'll be your last first date, you'll fall in love and have eight kids and tell everyone about how it was just love at first sight. And I can be cool Auntie Y/N and ride a motorcycle and buy them alcohol when they start going to parties in high school."

"You've never even been on a motorcycle."

Y/N grinned at Trevor from across his room as he stood in the doorway, head tilted in a pout. "I'll learn to ride a motorcycle.” She said.

"I don't know why you and Mason think that I need to be dating someone." He entered the room and flopped onto his bed. "Maybe I'm happy living the single life."

"At the very least, you need to get laid, Trevor." A startled noise came from his throat and she giggled as she opened his closet, searching through his clothes. "You used to have a parade of babes coming through here. Now you're all grouchy. It's clearly sexual frustration."

"That is so very wrong. Besides, not all of us need a 'parade of babes' in our rooms. Unlike you, I like to have a night off once in awhile. Rest up, you know."

Y/N snorted. "Are you calling me a slut?"

"Nah, you already know you're a slut."

They both lost it, and she threw a shirt at him playfully between giggles. "Try this on for me."

Y/N heard him shift off the bed behind her and reluctantly begin changing as she dug through his closet for a few more outfit options.

"So who is this girl, again?"

"Mason’s friend, Lauren. I've met her a couple times, she's super pretty and really sweet. Curly hair, kind of a boho-chic vibe. Lots of flowy dresses and such."

"Not exactly my type, then?"

"I thought your type was 'has boobs.'"

"I'll have you know I'm a man of discerning tastes."

"Ah yes, of course. And what is your type, then, exactly?" Y/N turned around, arms full of clothing as Trevor finished buttoning the shirt she’d thrown at him.

"You know..." Trevor trailed off. "Sporty, kind of."

"Oh, sure." Y/N rolled her eyes. "The shirt's not doing it for me. Take that off and put on this t-shirt with this shirt over top of it."

"Yes, ma'am."

"And these jeans." She tossed the jeans across the bed.

"Are you going to watch me change?" His hands worked down the buttons as he spoke, eyes crinkling.

"Oh, excuse me while I preserve your modesty." Y/N turned sarcastically as he laughed.

"Gotta leave something to the imagination.” He said. "Okay, how does it look?"

Y/N turned back around and looked over Trevor. "You'll thank me tomorrow after she leaves." She stepped across the room, adjusting his shirt and helping him roll the sleeves up to his elbows. "Now, tuck the front in just a bit. Perfect."

Trevor spread his arms as she looked over him. "Presentable?"

He looked great. As her eyes moved up and down, Y/N had the thought that Trevor was far better looking than he had any right to be. His jeans fit nicely, held up by a nice belt. And the rolled-up sleeves of the shirt he had over it showed off his forearms and highlighted his large hands.

Okay, she hasn’t been entirely honest. Y/N’s entire life, she’d harbored a crush on Trevor. She’d also spent her entire life stuck being seen as, at most, a younger sister. He'd helped her through her first date and first boyfriend, but her first heartbreak had been the day she’d seen Trevor with his first girlfriend. Her second heartbreak had been the day he'd blushed, embarrassed, as his friends teased him about hanging out with her.

“She's just my friend.” Trevor had shouted. "I don't like her like that!"

That had been years earlier, though, and while Y/N had never fully gotten over her little crush on Trevor, she’d successfully moved on with her life. She’d dated casually, had a few relationships, and certainly had her share of one-night-stands parade through her bedroom in their apartment. She’d also learned how to sneak them out in the morning, much to Trevor’s chagrin. He loved to give them a hard time the next day.

But, back to that particular moment, where Trevor was standing in front of her, waiting for her review of his outfit. In that moment, Y/N felt the small rekindling of the torch she’d carried for him paired with the sadness of knowing she was sending him into the arms of some other woman. She pushed those feelings away quickly, and grinned up at him.

"You look amazing. Want me to make sure you've got bacon and eggs ready for breakfast tomorrow?”

Trevor swatted her arm playfully and she jumped, more out of surprise at the sudden feel of his hand against her skin. "You seem pretty sure she'll be coming back here."

"I would if I were her. I did a hell of a good job cleaning you up."

Trevor arched an eyebrow at her. "You would?"

"You know what I mean." She refused to let him fluster her. "Anyways, you're right. Maybe you won't come back here."

"Ouch."

"Maybe you'll end up at her place."

He scoffed. "Sure, we'll see about that."

Y/N had to urge Trevor out of the house in time to make it to his date. When he finally left, she sighed. She had met Lauren a few times and she was gorgeous, and funny, and always looked put together. She tried not to be jealous. Trevor had seen her in all manners of complete unsexiness, from being an awkward, gangly teenager to sweating buckets after working out to that very moment, in ratty yoga pants and a messy bun. Y/N was quite certain she'd be back at their place after the date.

Y/N wandered around the apartment aimlessly before flopping onto the couch, not used to the time alone. Trevor hadn't been out much since he’s gotten injured, and she had gotten used to having him around all the time. Suddenly, everything seemed incredibly quiet and lonely. Normally, Trevor and her would have dinner together, and then they’d watch an episode of something, and then maybe he'd play video games while she read a book or headed out for the night. It wasn't like they spent all their time together, but it certainly seemed that they’d gotten into a comfortable routine.

Her plans had fallen through for the evening, though, and Y/N hadn't bothered to make new ones. Her best friend from college was supposed to be back in town, but her flight had been delayed. She had been looking forward to seeing her, so was feeling particularly let down. Regardless, she decided to make the most of having the apartment to herself.

After showering and slipping into a comfy pair of sleep shorts and a tank top, Y/N popped a batch of popcorn for dinner. Cracking open a beer, she settled in on the couch, picking a movie she knew Trevor would never want to watch. While he preferred comedies or thrillers, she wanted love and drama.

It certainly wasn't planned that the movie she picked had a heart-droppingly gorgeous male lead that ended up in a panty-dampening sex scene with the equally erotic love interest. Watching the two of them paw at each other in a clandestine love affair was more than Y/N could handle. Between that and the reminder of her attraction to Trevor, she was in a state of full arousal by the time the movie ended.

Wiping her fingers after finishing her popcorn, she glanced down the hallway towards their rooms. Trevor wouldn't be back for a while. She was certainly not a beautiful, cat-like actress in a satin emerald dress about to be pounded against a bookshelf, but just for a moment, she wanted her own steamy scene. She flipped the TV off and shuffled through the apartment to the bathroom.

Trevor and Y/N each had their own private drawers in the bathroom, and she left a small bullet vibrator in hers for the occasional bathtub excursion. She dug it out quickly and made to go into her bedroom, but paused at the door. Glancing behind her, she eyed Trevor’s bedroom door. Her heart started pounding, strong enough that she could feel the pulse in her neck and hear the thundering in her ears.

"No.” Y/N said out loud. Her and Trevor had their own spaces. It was her best friend she was thinking about, and he didn't deserve something so disrespectful as her masturbating on his bed. Especially since he might be bringing someone back to fuck there.

Y/N started back into her own bedroom, but paused again, throwing another look over her shoulder at Trevor’s room. Then again, she said to herself, it would be incredibly hot. She didn't give herself another opportunity to back out. She opened his bedroom door and bolted into his room. Gingerly, she crawled onto his bed over top of the blankets, lying on her back with her head on his pillow.

A scent that was distinctly Trevor enveloped her. Whether it was his body wash or cologne or a mix of that with his own sweat left on the pillow didn't matter to her. Y/N closed her eyes, inhaling as she imagined having Trevor in the bed with her. Balancing the vibrator on her stomach, she wriggled her hips, sliding her panties and sleep shorts down at the same time and taking care to put them on the edge of the bed where she knew she’d find them again. She held the vibrator in one hand as she let the other caress her stomach. Her hand moved underneath the fitted tank top, sliding up her stomach to her breasts. She had forgone a bra, and the friction of her tank top against her hardened nipples was intoxicating.

Y/N took her hand away from her breasts, trailing it down to the pool of moisture between her legs. The excitement and nervousness of being in Trevor’s bed was more than she could handle. She worked her fingers against the slick lips of her pussy, dipping them just inside her dripping entrance, before turning her vibrator on and immediately pressing it to her clit.

A muted sigh escaped her lips as the vibrations relieved her intense arousal. Her breath came heavily, and Y/N pushed her hips forward just slightly, grinding back against the vibrator. Trevor’s pillow was soft under her head and his blanket was cool against her naked lower half. She spread her legs a bit more, her hand wandering back up to her breasts. Tweaking her nipple, she stifled a moan.

Y/N pictured Trevor towering above her. He had long been a prominent image in her masturbatory fantasies. The addition of being in his room, surrounded by his things and his scent and in his bed where he fucked his other girls... it was more than she could handle. She wanted him so badly in that moment. She wanted not just the lingering scent of cologne, but she wanted his body, to feel the heat of him against her, pushing inside of her.

The slow knot of an orgasm begin to unravel deep in her stomach, and Y/N tensed in anticipation. She adjusted the vibrator against her clit, waiting eagerly to cum. She was so close, so ready, just teetering on the edge of orgasmic bliss when she suddenly heard the apartment door bang closed.

"Hey, I'm back!" Trevor called out.

Y/N had never moved so fast in her life as in that moment, panic coursing through her body as she sat up. Her fingers were slick and she fumbled with her vibrator, barely managing to turn it off. She snatched up her sleep shorts as she bounded off the bed, peeked into the hallway quickly to make sure he hadn't started towards his room, and practically hurdled across the hallway into her own room. Panting, she tossed her vibrator onto a pile of clothes and rushed to slip her shorts back on, nearly tumbling over as she tried to maintain her balance.

"Y/N?" Trevor’s voice was at the end of the hallway.

She popped her head out of her bedroom door, plastering a smile on her face that probably made her look a little crazy. "Hey!" Her voice was too loud, too upbeat. "How'd your date go? Did Lauren come back?"

Trevor eyed her warily. "Uh, no. She's nice, but we didn't have a ton of chemistry. So much for a last first date."

"Awe, I'm sorry to hear that."

"Are you okay?" He frowned. "Is someone in there?"

"Nope!" A slightly obnoxious giggle bubbled out of her lips. "Just... you know, probably should have eaten a better dinner and not drank a beer. Guess I can't hold my liquor that well!"

"That's bullshit." Trevor shook his head. "You're being weird. You sure everything's okay?"

Y/N nodded, not trusting herself to speak again, as Trevor walked down the hallway and into his bedroom. Her jaw clenched as he flicked the light on.

"Okay then. I thought you'd be hounding me for details."

"Tell me everything.” Y/N said obediently. "What happened?"

"Well, she's a vegetarian, I don't know if you knew that. So we probably shouldn't have gone to a steakhouse." He took off the dress shirt as he talked to her. "Also sounds like she met some guy on vacation that she has a thing for, but he doesn't live here. Never said anything for sure, but couldn't stop talking about him."

"That sucks."

Neither of them were looking at each other, and their eyes fell on the same thing at the same time. Her stomach dropped as she realized her panties were sitting on the edge of Trevor’s bed, just as he looked confused at the misplaced scrap of pink fabric hanging off his blanket.

"Y/N, are these..." Trevor picked up her panties, frowning down at his hand. "Why are these in my room?"

She froze in horror as any number of excuses flew through her brain. They got stuck to the sheets in the wash. Haha, it's a prank, bro. None of the excuses made it out of her lips as Trevor frowned down at his bed. The blankets were just the slightest bit ruffled, and there was an indent in the pillow where her head was.

"Were you in my room?"

Y/N grasped frantically at the flimsiest of straws, hoping he would end the conversation and they would never speak of it again. "No?” She didn't know who she thought she was kidding. The panic in her voice, the flush on her cheeks and chest, and the damp pink panties in his hand were more than enough to incriminate her.

"And you're definitely not hiding someone in your room right now?" His voice was low, the sarcasm barely hidden.

Y/N’s mouth was dry as she shook her head. Trevor stepped forward, making his way into the hallway. Shaking, she took a step back into her room as he poked his head inside. He glanced around, his eyes falling on the vibrator sitting on the pile of clothes nearby.

"So you weren't fucking someone on my bed, you were masturbating on it?"

Y/N couldn't physically speak. Her throat was as frozen as the rest of her, staring at Trevor. She hoped she didn't look as terrified as she felt, but she was sure her face was pale aside from the patches of skin that she could still feel burning. Whether the burning was residual from the almost-orgasm or a new reaction to the embarrassment she was feeling, she didn't know.

"Y/N, what the fuck?"

"I'm so sorry." The words came out stuttered, barely above a hoarse whisper.

"Why would you do that?"

Tears pricked in her eyes and an invisible grip seemed to clench inside her chest. Her lips were parched and she couldn't form another sentence. Y/N shook her head, trying not to let the tears fall.

Trevor was only a few steps away, standing in her doorway, and his face softened a bit as he seemed to notice her eyes watering. "Y/N, talk to me. Tell me why."

"It's not obvious?" Her voice was strained, as Trevor’s gaze stared directly into her embarrassed soul. Her hands trembled and she balled her fingers into fists.

"You don't think you owe me an explanation?" His voice was dark again, serious.

She tried not to choke on her words, despite knowing she had just fucked up years of friendship. "Because I'm attracted to you, Trevor." The words hung between them. "And because it turned me on."

Trevor glanced down at his hand. He was still holding her panties, the fabric tight between his fingers. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Y/N swallowed hard, trying to relieve the dryness in her mouth. "I've had a crush on you my entire life. You said you didn't like me like that."

"When did I say that?"

"You said it to a couple of friends years ago. They were teasing you for hanging out with me."

"Y/N, I would have been maybe 15 when I said that." When she didn't respond, he sighed. "You never admitted this to me because of something I said when we were kids?"

"When else was I supposed to say it? When you had a girlfriend? When you were done sleeping with some random hook up?" Y/N finally managed to string together a sentence without stuttering, but it was short lived. "I did something stupid and rude tonight, I know that, I'm sorry. But I never wanted to say anything because you're my friend and I didn't want to make things weird."

"So you just rubbed one out on my bed, thinking that wasn't the definition of weird."

The words stung and she felt one of the tears escape from her eye. Y/N wiped a hand across her cheek hurriedly, staring at the floor.

"How often have you done this?"

"Just tonight."

"I'm supposed to believe that? This was the first time and I just happened to catch you?"

Another tear fell. "I'm telling the truth." Y/N went to wipe the second tear, but Trevor stopped her. His fingers wrapped around her wrist firmly, but not painfully. She still winced, but he released her wrist and his hand moved up to her cheek, wiping the tear out from under her eye.

"Do you know how difficult it is for me to listen to a string of guys fucking you from the other side of the hall?" His voice was a low growl.

"You had your own string of women to fuck.” Y/N spat back. Her face burned, angry at her eyes betrayal as another tear slipped down her cheek.

"None of them were you."

Y/N finally looked back up at him, unsure of what to say. He was so close, just inches away from her. When had that happened? His fingers brushed under her eye again, drying her cheek, and the distinct scent of Trevor that had enveloped her on his bed was filling her senses yet again.

"What are you saying?"

"It's not obvious?" Trevor taunted.

Y/N’s body didn't know how to react. Trevor was so close, tantalizingly close, and part of her yearned to press against him. Another part of her wanted to recoil, bury herself in her blankets, and sob at her mortification. It was like being an awkward kid again, when Trevor would tease her until she got angry and tried to storm off, only to tell her he was joking and beg her to stay.

She felt goosebumps rise on her arms as he looked down at her, waiting for her response. Y/N couldn't bring herself to speak and just shook her head, casting her eyes back down the floor.

"Awe, come on, Y/N." The mocking tone to his voice was familiar, but she still didn't know what he wanted to say. "Alright, tell me this. Did you cum on my bed?"

Y/N grimaced, her eyes slamming shut as more tears threatened to leak out. He laughed at her reaction. "Come on. Did you cum?"

"No.” She whispered.

"Why not?"

"You got home before I was done." Even shut, a tear managed to sneak out of her eye. She bowed her head, but again, Trevor’s hand came to her face and wiped the drop off her cheek. He tilted her head up slightly, and she reopened her eyes to look at him.

"All that, and you didn't even finish on my bed?"

"Trevor, please." Y/N’s voice cracked as she tried to hold in a sob. "I'm sorry. Please stop making fun of me."

"I'm just joking." His voice was low, husky, and his body was closer than ever. She could feel his breath on her face. "You have no idea how hot you look when you're embarrassed, but I’m sorry for making you cry."

"Is this happening?" Y/N finally managed to ask.

"Do you want it to happen?"

Y/N nodded. Trevor’s lips were suddenly on hers, his kiss demanding and insistent. She inhaled sharply as his tongue probed her mouth, exploring her lips. The gap between their bodies closed as his arms wrapped around her. His cock nudged against her, already straining against his pants.

A startled gasp escaped her mouth as he bit down on her lip. Y/N’s pulse quickened as his hands explored her body, brazenly groping at her breasts and deliberately rolling her hardened nipples between his fingers. Trevor chuckled against her mouth as she pushed against him, eager for more.

"Stop laughing at me.” Y/N hissed. He responded by pinching her nipple hard, eliciting a high-pitched cry from her.

"I'll laugh at you all I want.” Trevor replied.

His mouth covered hers again, and his hands traveled down her body. Without so much as a moment of hesitation, Trevor slipped his hands down the back of her shorts and cupped an ass cheek in each of his hands. He squeezed, kneading her ass as he pushed against her body, grinding his cock against her.

Teeth grazed her lips again and he sucked her bottom lip into his mouth. Y/N cried out and he sucked harder before letting go. His hands squeezed her ass again, his fingers gripping her hard, before he let go and took his hands out of her shorts.

"Bed.” Trevor said simply.

"Mine or yours?"

He laughed, a wicked look crossing his face. "Yours first." A hard kiss punctuated his sentence. "I've listened to you fuck a million guys in here. Now it's my turn."

A flutter ran through her body at the implication being they’d fuck on his bed later, and another at the idea of Trevor listening to her get fucked from behind the closed door of his room. Y/N directed him to sit on the edge of her bed, then stood in front of him.

"How many times did you listen to me get fucked?" She asked.

His eyes darkened. "Enough to know I could make you cum harder and scream louder than any of them." An arm extended, reaching for her, but she stepped back.

"Were you jealous?" Y/N teased.

"Incredibly."

She bit her lip and toyed with the hem of her tank top. "Did you ever jack off listening to me?" Y/N flushed a bit, her voice going quiet again.

"Almost every time." His voice was earnest, eyes full of honesty and desire. "I imagined you getting fucked in every position you can imagine. Now, can I see if your tits are like what I pictured?"

Y/N swallowed hard, unable to think of a response. Meeting his eyes, she slid the tank top up over her head, revealing her breasts to him for the first time. It was his turn to be speechless for a moment, his eyes savoring the view of her body as she stood half-naked in front of him.

"Are they what you imagined?" She finally asked.

"Better." He reached for her again, and she moved to him like a magnet to metal.

As soon as Y/N was within reach, his hands were on her tits, and she moaned softly as he cupped her breasts in his hands. She let him fondle her for just a moment, before closing the gap between them even further by straddling his lap on the edge of the bed. She steadied herself on his shoulders as Trevor took the opportunity to dip his head down, kissing the top of her breasts.

"You missed your calling as a stripper, you know.” Trevor teased, licking between her breasts.

"Pretty sure you aren't supposed to touch the strippers.” Y/N gasped. His mouth found a nipple as his hands resumed their position on her ass, and he traced his tongue around her nipples, making her shiver. She ran her hands through his hair, holding him against her chest.

"Are you saying I should stop touching you?" He murmured.

"God, no." Y/N rolled her hips against him, and they both groaned as her pussy ground against the length of his cock. The softness of her shorts provided friction against her swollen clit, and she found herself repeating the action again and again as he ravished her breasts.

It clearly was working for Trevor, too, and his mouth left her tits as his head tilted back. Y/N wanted to be greedy; she wanted his mouth back on her nipple and his cock inside her and to cum on him again and again. But she also wanted to hear the noises Trevor would make if she put his cock into her mouth.

Y/N moved off his lap, standing between his legs as she reached down and unbuckled his belt. Trevor’s hands joined hers and he unbuttoned his jeans as she carefully unzipped them. His hips moved up just enough to let her pull his jeans down, and she dropped to her knees as she guided them down his legs.

Once his pants were off, Y/N gripped his cock through his boxers. A small grunt came from his throat as she traced her fingers up and down through the fabric. He was rigid, thick, and hot. From her position kneeling in front of him, she reached up and slipped her fingers into the waistband of his boxers. She thought briefly about going slowly, tantalizing and tenderly revealing his cock, but she was too full of fire to maintain that. Instead, she pulled them down quickly, freeing his cock in one movement.

The stiff appendage jutting out towards her was beautiful. Y/N admired his cock for a moment before flicking her tongue out to taste the pre-cum that dripped from his tip. Trevor exhaled loudly as her tongue made contact, and she took his tip into her mouth in response. Hands came to her head immediately, fingers pulling at her hair as she wasted no time sucking Trevor’s cock.

His breathing came heavily as she bobbed her head, feeling the thickness of his swollen cock filling her mouth. He was quieter than she expected at first, but that changed as he began pulling her hair harder and directing her to take his cock deeper in her throat. His tip pushed against the back of her mouth and she opened her throat as much as she could, swallowing his shaft as she reached up to cup his balls.

Trevor groaned loudly as she did, his hips thrusting forward just slightly. The sounds he was making shot waves of arousal through her body, and Y/N couldn't help but slip a hand into her shorts as she sucked his cock. Her slit was drenched and a soft, humming moan vibrated against Trevor’s dick as she touched herself.

"You look so fucking hot right now."

Y/N glanced up at him, eyes wide as her lips encircled his cock. Trevor looked back down at her, able to just see her hand in her shorts. Her fingers darted into her wet pussy quickly, and she let out another muffled moan against his cock, her eyes squeezing shut.

"Fuck." His hands tightened in her hair as she took him deep in her throat.

Y/N let him thrust into her throat a few more times before pulling back and letting him slip out of her mouth with a wet sound. “I can't wait any longer.” She gasped.

"Good." Trevor helped her up off my knees, pulling her in for another searing kiss as he pushed her shorts down.

Y/N wiggled her hips, letting them fall to the floor, and tugged at his shirt. Trevor removed it swiftly, bringing it over his head and tossing it towards the floor. They shifted onto the bed together, collapsing onto the covers as their arms wrapped around each other and their lips connected again, urgent and breathless. Trevor’s cock brushed against her bare thigh, tantalizingly close to the dripping pool between her legs.

Trevor grabbed her possessively, and he twisted her onto her back, his hands wrenching her legs apart. She half-expected him to sink into her immediately and moved to stop him so she could get a condom, but instead his head dipped down and his mouth nestled against her slit.

Gasping, Y/N arched her back slightly, and Trevor went to work eating her pussy. He lapped at her wetness greedily, his tongue licking along her slit and his mouth buried against her. Feverish moans escaped from her lips with each breath as he concentrated his ministrations on her clit. His tongue danced around her, and the agonizing ascent towards orgasm began in her stomach again. The climbing sensation built and built, the promise of cumming finally within her grasp.

Y/N glanced down at the head between her thighs. An expression of bliss filled Trevor’s face, his eyes closed beneath tousled hair as he feasted on her pussy. "Don't stop.” She begged, her fingers clutching at his hair. "I'm so close. Please, Trevor.”

Trevor could’ve stopped, could’ve continued the intense teasing he'd subjected her to since catching her masturbating on his bed. To his credit, he didn't. Instead, he sucked on her clit while pushing a finger inside her and curling it to hit her G-spot.

The effect was almost instantaneous, and her thighs clamped against Trevor’s head as she came. After such a long wait and the denial of her orgasm from earlier, it was one of the most intense she’d ever experienced. Her back arched as she ground against Trevor’s face, a blistering cry filling the room as her body shook. Heat radiated from her core as she came, writhing against Trevor.

As the heat gave way to a dreamy relief, her legs released Trevor’s head. Y/N slowly became aware of his tongue still gently lapping at her pussy, and that her hands were still entangled in his hair.

"Sorry." Y/N let go of his head, still trying to catch her breath. A gentle kiss was placed on her clit, which was still so sensitive it made her twitch. Then another kiss on top of her mound, and a third above that.

"Never, ever apologize for cumming like that." Trevor’s lips brushed against her skin as he spoke. "That was like magic."

Y/N could only groan in response, her body still overwhelmed with pleasure. He crawled up her body, a look of mock concern on his face. "Did I break you?"

Another groan, and she pulled him down to kiss her. She could taste the slight sweetness of her juice on his lips. "Fuck me.” She mumbled against his mouth.

Trevor didn't reply, just nipped at her lip one last time before pulling back and grabbing her pillow. His hands guided her to her knees and she flipped over, the pillow under her stomach as she propped herself up on her hands and knees. Second later, Trevor was behind her, the tip of his cock probing at her pussy.

"Ready?" Trevor asked, though his voice was struggling, as though he couldn't possibly wait another moment.

Y/N was more than ready. "Fuck me, Trevor.” She ordered.

He buried his cock inside her in a single thrust. Both of them made noises of relief as he finally sheathed his cock inside her, and his fingers dug into her hips as he paused there.

"Fuck, you feel amazing." His voice was husky, gasping.

In response, Y/N pushed her ass back against him. He grunted and thrust back against her, penetrating as deep as he could, and she let out a lustful breath.

"Fuck me.” She begged again.

Y/N wasn't sure how he had held back for so long. When Trevor began to fuck her, there was no stopping him. She squealed as he ravaged her pussy recklessly, shoving his length as deep as he could. The pillow beneath her was excellent forethought, as it wasn't long before her arms could barely support the force of his penetrations and she collapsed onto the bed.

Trevor wasn't having it, though. The fingers digging into her hip on one side left as he hunched over her, pounding inside of her as he reached around and grabbed her breast. Using it as leverage, he pulled her back up, almost lifting her to a full kneeling position. His other hand snaked down to her clit and he fingered it furiously as his mouth found her the back of her neck, nipping the skin there.

Y/N was at his complete mercy as he tunneled inside her, filling her as deeply and roughly as he could. She was sure the entire apartment complex could hear him making her scream. He didn't have me in that position very long, despite how amazing it felt. As gently as he could, Trevor lowered her back onto the bed, pumping inside her harder and harder until she was flat on her stomach with both his hands trapped beneath her. The motion made her aware that another orgasm was approaching, and she tried to hold still as he rubbed her clit.

"Close again.” Y/N moaned. "Shit, Trevor. I'm gonna cum again."

"Fuck, Y/N.” He gasped. "I'm close. Cum for me, baby, c’mon.”

Y/N didn’t know how he did it, whether there was a slight change in the motion of his fingers or if the pinch of her nipple triggered it, but as he ordered her to cum, she did. Trapped beneath his body, she strained against him as she burst over the edge, his cock still impaling her as she rode the waves of pleasure bubbling through her body. It was in that slight moment of blissful mindlessness that she distantly heard Trevor grunt as he came, his frenzied thrusting slowing as he finished.

Trevor’s arms grasped her tightly as his weight pinned her against the bed. Y/N could feel him softening inside her as they both tried to regain their footing in reality. When it became too much, she shifted against him.

"Can't breathe.” Y/N whispered.

"Fuck, sorry." His hands slid out from beneath her and he rolled onto his back.

Y/N drew in a deep breath and flexed her fingers and feet, the tingling sensation from the aftershocks of her orgasm slowly dispelling. Propping herself up on her elbows, she looked uncertainly at Trevor as he laid naked beside her. His head was turned towards her, studying her.

"Is this a thing now?" His voice was sleepy, but reflected the same apprehension she had.

"Do you want it to be?"

Trevor nodded, extending a hand towards her, inviting her to lay closer to him. "Do you?"

"I've wanted this for years." Y/N curled up next to him, their warm skin pressing together.

"Me, too." He laid a kiss on her hair. "Rule one, though. No masturbating on my bed without me."

"Rule two. Don't give me a reason to masturbate without you."

Trevor kissed her hair again. "I won't."

The two cleaned up and crawled back in bed together, both exhausted. As Trevor’s breathing deepened, Y/N told herself to remember to thank Lauren for being his last first date.

#trevor zegras x you #trevor zegras x y/n #trevor zegras fanfic #trevor zegras blurb #trevor zegras smut #trevor zegras fic #trevor zegras x reader #trevor zegras fluff #trevor zegras imagine #trevor zegras #trevor zegras x fem!reader #trevor zegras one shot #anaheim ducks

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futureman · 10 months

Text

his favorite girl, part i

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: joel agrees to teach you how to play guitar for a college course, but you can't keep your eyes off him long enough to learn. he really likes that.

warnings: 18+ MDNI, language, guitar teacher!joel, no outbreak, big age gap (reader’s 22, joel’s 56), slow-burn, sexual tension, finger kink, slight dubcon, touching, smut for later chapters, some fluff, mostly angst

word count: 3.3k

a/n: my first chaptered fic! dedicated to joel's fingers! i've been playing guitar a lot more lately so...yeah 🥲 thinking this'll probably be 3 or 4 chapters? as always, thoughts and feedback are always appreciated! hope y'all enjoyy

Don’t stare at his fingers. Don’t stare at his fingers. He’s doing you a huge favor by teaching you to play guitar in the first place. The least you can do is pay attention and stop staring at his fingers.

But it’s a lost cause, and you know it, because you’d have no hope of learning without staring at his fingers.

Even so, you’re convinced he’ll somehow know that’s not the real reason you’re watching them so intently. The way they hop gracefully from fret to fret, strings biting into his well-earned calluses, producing the most beautiful chords that ring out perfectly with every strum.

It’s a wonder any of that is even possible for him. You don’t mean to knock his talent—he obviously honed his craft through decades of fine-tuning and dedicated practice—but his fingers are just so thick.

With your clumsy, beginner’s touch, you’re constantly fumbling with the strings, unable to press down hard enough or keep your other fingers out of the way for them to vibrate the way they need to. They just sort of…fizzle.

But there’s a finesse to how he plays. It also helps that his guitar is a lot bigger than yours. It's a totally innocuous thought, but it still warms your cheeks a little. A big guitar for a big man. Broad and tall, with those thick, thick fingers—

“Hey, you still with me?”

You’re not sure when he stopped playing, but you really hope it was right before he said something. Otherwise, he definitely knows exactly what you were thinking about, and that would be humiliating.

Not a great start to your first guitar lesson, but how were you supposed to know your teacher was going to look like that? When your music theory professor recommended him, he conveniently left that part out, which, whatever, makes sense. But it still would’ve been helpful to know ahead of time.

Joel Miller. 56 years old. Has a ton of experience and takes on very few students, so you should consider yourself lucky. That’s all of the information you were given before you stepped into his house this afternoon, and were greeted by possibly the hottest man you’ve ever seen. He was supposed to be your ticket to an A on your senior thesis. But you’re totally flubbing it.

“Y-yeah, sorry, just got a little distracted,” you laugh awkwardly, wishing you had said anything else but that. You couldn't be any more obvious if you tried. “Won’t happen again, promise.”

He’s kind enough to pretend you’re not a filthy liar and taps the neck of his guitar to redirect your focus. “S’alright. We’ll just take it from the top. You remember the fingerin' for the first chord?”

You gape at him dumbly for a second. He’s kidding, right? You might as well leave now if he’s going to keep saying fingering with that devastating Southern drawl of his.

“Um, yeah, I think so,” you sputter, lying for the second time in a row. You're struggling to recall anything from your lesson but, god, you can only remember his fingers, not their placement. With no confidence whatsoever, you press your fingertips down firmly on the three strings you think he showed you. “Here, right?”

He quirks a brow. “You askin’ me or tellin’ me?”

Ah, so he’s that kind of teacher. The 'learn the hard way', 'fail on your own until you succeed' type. Well, he’s about to learn that you’re not that kind of student.

“…Telling?” Your voice lilts with even less confidence. He chuckles, nodding at your finger placement.

“Let’s hear it, then,” he says expectantly, the slightest hint of a smile on his face. You can’t tell if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, but you’re about to find out. You strum slowly, and the sound reverberates around the room.

Wrong.

His smile widens just a fraction as you grimace, quickly wrapping your hand around the neck of the guitar to stop the horrible noises still playing from it. You look over at him, wincing, but he doesn’t seem frustrated. If anything, he seems patient.

“Not quite,” he shakes his head, moving his instrument out of his lap so he can shift closer to where you’re sitting further down the couch. The cushion dips with his weight, and you tip into him slightly, but he remains completely unfazed. “Lemme show you again—and pay attention this time, alright?”

You start to nod apologetically, but then he throws an arm behind you on the back of the couch, and all hope of retaining whatever he’s about to teach you goes out the window. Instead of showing you on his own guitar, he gestures for you to hold yours up, gently arranging your fingers on the frets.

His fingertips whisper against yours like he’s hesitant to touch you, softly tugging them into place before pressing down, showing you the right amount of pressure to apply.

They feel just as warm and rough as you’d imagined, dwarfing yours by a long shot, and the realization makes your fingers accidentally twitch out of place. Your eyes dart up to gauge his reaction and lock with his, deep and brown, and very amused.

“Doin’ alright there?” he teases, and now you know he’s on to you. You try to play it off, blaming it on your inexperience.

“Just haven't gotten used to using those muscles yet," you mumble, moving your hand away from his to flex your fingers. "Not sure I've ever had to stretch them like that before."

"'m sure ya have. Probably just didn't realize it at the time. That kinda muscle soreness comes from prolonged repetition—repeatin' an action over 'n over," he explains in that syrupy-sweet accent, completely unaware of how his words are affecting you. "Bet ya use those fingers for a lot'a different things every day, just nothin' long or strenuous enough to leave you achin'."

You bite your lip to keep from reacting. He has to know what he's doing right now. How he sounds. This conversation is starting to veer into dangerous territory, but the weird thing about it is that he genuinely doesn't seem to realize that everything he's saying has a double meaning. To you, at least. You knew all this fingering talk was going to get you into trouble.

"Uhh, yeah," you agree, side-stepping that line of thought to bring yourself back to the lesson, but it's getting harder to stay focused. "I guess I just thought playing would mostly be memorization, but there's a lot of physicality to it, too, huh?"

"Yeah, s'pose that's true," he muses, looking down at the calluses on his own hand. This time you refuse to take the bait, your breathing already too shallow, heart nearly pounding out of your chest with how close he's sitting. But he’s still completely calm and collected. "Your hand hurtin' a lot right now?"

You shrug, inspecting your reddening fingertips. "Kinda, yeah."

"It's like that in the beginnin’," he says kindly. "But the more ya play, the tougher the skin gets, and ya won't feel it as much."

He surprises you by taking your hand again, massaging the tender skin between his thumb and index fingers. God, that feels so much better already. The heat of his fingertips seeps into yours, soothing the painful indents left by the unforgiving strings, and you let out a breathy sigh of relief.

You feel his entire body tense palpably next to you. It might be your imagination or just wishful thinking, but you swear you can feel his warmth radiating into your side, somehow even closer than before. Your brain’s starting to fizzle more than the sound of your shitty guitar playing, and the room feels a little hotter. Hazier, like a daydream.

"That feel good?" he murmurs, lips practically brushing the shell of your ear.

Definitely closer.

“Y-yeah, feels nice…really nice,” you stutter, voice lowering almost to a whisper as if you were sharing a secret. “The, um—the rest of my hand is a little sore, too. Is that normal?”

You can feel him grinning at your obvious attempt to get him to keep touching you, and he gives in easily. Surprisingly so, and it's becoming clearer that he's as into whatever's happening right now as you are. You’re not sure what happened to the unfazed man from before, but you’ll happily welcome this change in demeanor.

“Yeah, s’normal,” he trails down to your palm, engulfing your hand with his own. “Don’t worry, I'll take care of ya.”

Your eyes flutter closed as his thigh presses into yours, and the arm behind you lowers around your shoulders, his hand skimming the side of your neck. Shit, what is going on? You’re pretty sure guitar lessons don’t usually go like this, but you can’t bring yourself to dwell on it. Not when he feels this good.

Everywhere his skin touches yours feels electric, sending jolts up your spine, and making you forget where you are and what you were doing in the first place. He ducks down to press his lips to your bare shoulder, and your mind goes completely blank.

All that's left is...sensation. Something dragging roughly across your skin, then soft—a little chapped—and wet. Sharp. You're abruptly aware of him sucking a hard bruise at the crook of your neck, soothing the sting with his tongue, and you're unable to stop the whimper that escapes your lips. It's soft and inappropriate. A single, hushed syllable.

"Joel."

He lets out a pained groan that rumbles from deep within his chest, and the hand around yours tenses. That boundless patience he had earlier feels like it's about to run out, and the thought makes your blood run hot.

God, how is he real? How is this real? You just met this man—this much, much older man—less than an hour ago, and, yet, this is probably the hottest thing that’s ever happened to you. He continues to mouth up your neck, nipping at the underside of your jaw.

"What else hurts? Tell me, 'n I'll make it better," he mutters humidly, urgently against your skin.

You want to tell him where it hurts the most. That unbearable ache between your legs, the burning in your belly that you didn't even realize he was stoking. But you're so wound up, all you can manage is a frustrated sob.

"Use your words, beautiful. C'mon, lemme hear 'em," he says as if you're his instrument, meant to produce dulcet tones and resonate at his hand.

"It—fuck...it—here," you drag the hand clutching yours down, next to where the body of your guitar rests on your thigh. Where you've already soaked through the thin fabric of your pants. "Joel...need you to make it better."

The gentle vibrato of your voice, the way it shakes tumultuously around his name, and even more so when he cups your heat. His lips return to your throat to feel it, to taste it as you moan for him. And those fingers. You knew they’d feel good, and they’re so close to where you need them. Just a little bit more—but there’s still too many layers between you and his rough touch.

“M-more…need more, just—,” you whine, and he mirrors the sound back at you raggedly.

“‘Course, beautiful. Told you I’d take care of ya, didn’t I?

You're too far gone to even notice yourself desperately grinding into the palm of his hand, or the fingers at your cheek turning your face toward his.

Or your guitar quickly slipping out of your lap, more and more with each swivel of your hips. It hits the carpet with a hollow clang and, suddenly, the spell is broken. Then, it all comes crashing back.

He’s saying your name, but he sounds...different. Less breathy, less needy, and more like your patient, collected guitar teacher. Joel Miller. 56 years old, remember? Way too old for you, for your body to be reacting to him like this, and the man whose help you still desperately need to help complete your thesis.

Your eyes snap open and you realize with abject horror that you’ve been daydreaming this entire time. You can’t even imagine how long he’s been trying to get your attention while you’ve just been sitting here, fantasizing about his hands on you.

Not even ten minutes ago, you promised you wouldn’t get distracted, but you did. Again. And so much worse this time.

By his furrowed brow and the way he won’t even look at you, you must have accidentally said something out loud, too. Something totally inappropriate that you really shouldn’t have. But then, his hand twitches and your blood turns to ice.

That—fuck, that's not where it was before you zoned out. It was still on yours, arranging your fingers on the frets for the chord he was teaching you. He…he was asking about your hand, if it hurt, and then—

As if you’ve been burned, you quickly release his hand from where you’re clutching it between your legs—not just in your daydream, but in horrifying actuality. You’re screwed.

Not only is he probably going to kick you out of his house and refuse to be your teacher anymore, but he’ll likely tell your professor. And he’d have every right to. There’s no way you’ll be able to get anyone else to teach you after this.

The reason you’re here, everything you’ve worked so hard for, flashes before your eyes, catching fire and turning to ash. Your love for music, your degree—in the span of a single guitar lesson, you destroyed all of it.

And what would he think? Your father, your inspiration for choosing this path. He’d be so disappointed in you, though maybe not as much as you are right now.

All of this for what? The attractive, middle-aged guitar teacher you’ve known for less than an hour? He doesn’t even want you and, even if he did, that’s not what you came here for. Stupid, stupid.

You can feel his eyes on you, but you can’t bear to look at him, to say anything at all. Instead, you lean down to retrieve your guitar from where it still lies face down on the floor, and slowly stand up.

“I, uh…,” you croak out, fighting the urge to cry and look like even more of an idiot. You shake your head, unable to finish your sentence, and start to walk away, but then something miraculous happens.

Joel’s hand shoots out, his fingers wrapping around your wrist to keep you from leaving. You turn back to him, eyebrows raised in shock, dropping your gaze to where his skin is touching yours. He doesn't let go.

“Look—,” he starts, and you wince. It’s never a good sign when someone starts a sentence like that. If all he’s trying to do is let you down easy, he shouldn’t have stopped you. He’s just shaming you even further. “—‘m not too sure what just happened here, but if you just—if ya sit back down, we can talk about it or…just keep goin’ with the lesson…”

You didn’t see that one coming.

“You want me to stay?” you ask dubiously. “Why?”

You search his eyes for the answers to all of the things you’re not understanding, but come up with nothing. He’s sitting on the couch watching you, still holding your hand like nothing’s wrong. Acting like none of this is a big deal, as if you didn’t basically just shove his hand down your pants without his consent.

“Still got a lot to teach ya. We didn’t even get through the first line of music,” he chuckles, his voice filled with such kindness. So much more than you deserve.

“Yeah, and that’s my fault. I—,” you pause, still trying to gather your thoughts, “—I crossed a line…made you uncomfortable. You really don’t have to do this.”

He sighs, rubbing his thumb soothingly into your wrist, and the gesture makes you shiver. Somehow it’s calming, even as the gears continue to turn in your head. You still can’t seem to grasp any of this or shake the feeling that there’s something wrong with this picture.

“Well, isn’t this supposed to be a favor for some big, important grade? Don’t ya need this to pass your class?”

He’s not wrong. Without his help, you’re basically fucked for the rest of the semester.

“Yeah, I...actually really do,” you answer hesitantly.

Hope blooms in your chest. Maybe your thesis isn’t totally lost. If you’re lucky, maybe you’ll even be able to focus on your lessons.

“I think we can keep this professional. Don’t you?” he implores, brows raised.

He’s right again. That’s the only way this is going to work, but it’s still a reminder that he’s not interested in you in the slightest. You’re not sure why that feels so bad.

“Totally,” you breathe out, but your expression must betray your words because he rushes to reassure you.

“It’s not that I—look, I mean…you’re a beautiful girl ‘n all, but…,” he trails off, and…what?

Beautiful. He can’t have just said that out of the blue. Beautiful, of all the words he could’ve used to describe you right then. This man is driving you crazy—and he won’t stop.

“Can’t help feelin’ like maybe I gave ya the wrong impression. I took advantage of ya,” he looks away, pained, like this was all his fault. You have no idea how he came to that conclusion, but he’s got it all wrong.

“What—no. No, if anything, I took advantage of you. You were just trying to be a good teacher,” you shake your head furiously. “Look, I did this. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t pull away, now, did I?”

His eyes meet yours again, darker than before, and you know for a fact you’re not making it up this time. The setting sun is casting shadows around his living room, across his 80s-style leather couch and carpet, illuminating every one of his handsome features.

And, yet, his eyes are black, endless voids that threaten to consume you. Whatever power he has over you feels dangerous. You knew you couldn’t have imagined it all.

But it's gone as quickly as it came. He clears his throat, dropping your wrist as if he finally came to his senses. Your patient, unaffected guitar teacher is back.

“I, uh, think maybe that about wraps it up for today,” he says with finality, standing up. “It's already eight, anyhow. You should head on home.”

Gently plucking the guitar from your hands, he zips it up in its case and gives it back to you. You nod, feeling grateful, but cautious...and also extremely curious. His hand finds the small of your back, leading you to the front door, and you try your best not to react as his fingers urge you forward.

You know you’ll be thinking about them later tonight, even though you really shouldn’t. About them finishing what you started earlier, taking care of you like you still want him to. Part of you hopes he’ll be thinking about yours, too.

His hand drops and he turns to you with a small smile, leaning on his arm against the doorframe.

"But, uh, same time tomorrow? And maybe put in a little practice time before then—stretch out those fingers so you're ready to play."

“Sure,” you reply breathily. “Same time tomorrow.”

thanks for reading! part ii coming soon 🥰

(p.s. how are we feeling about finger sucking...okay bye)

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #joel miller

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justmeinatree · 10 months

Text

Step Into The Light

Summary : you’re one of the dancers in the lights up video. harry takes a particular liking to you.

Word Count : 600

A/N : she’s a baby. a little teaser. ✌️

they wanted individual shots for the lights up music video. individual shots of harry with each of the main dancers. which was all fine and dandy until it was your turn. “y/n, nice to meet you,” he remembers you saying with a smile as you shook his hand. this was hours ago, before the shooting began.

you had finished all of the group scenes, and harry couldn’t keep you off his mind. the way he felt a particular heat under your touch whenever your fingertips ran along his skin. the way he leaned a little closer to you whenever you were right by him for the shot. it’s like his body was being pulled to yours, craving you in some kind of way.

so now, he was supposed to stay composed and professional as he had to dance and grind one on one, alone with you. at least earlier he could keep the thoughts at bay. with everyone else around, it really felt like a video shoot, with lots of things and people to think about. but now, here you are, back pressed to his front, your hips swaying back and forth, head leaned back against his shoulder.

you had given him the okay to touch earlier, so he doesn’t hesitate to let his hands glide down your arms, to your hips. his left hand stays firmly planted on your hip, right hand splayed out over your stomach, making its way up between your breasts, over your neck and jaw, fingers hooking into your chin to turn your face towards him.

harry’s eyes lock with yours, turning you around to face him, head lowering to rest his forehead against yours. you rest your hands on his chest, hearing the director calling something out, but your brain is too foggy to register anything.

you assume he’s putting on his best act, having done this 7 times already with other actors. but then you notice harry’s teeth sinking hard into his bottom lip, his hands gripping into your hips, and he pulls you into him. you feel his cock fattening up, your eyes locking with his as you hear a faint whine leave his lips.

“sorry love, fuck m’really sorry,” he whispers against your ear. from the angle and distance of the crew, harry knows they can’t see anything. but he definitely shouldn’t be getting hard like this. and to press you against him, he’s honestly mortified.

“don’t worry about it,” you murmur back just as quietly, breathing out a soft chuckle. but you can see the blush rising on his cheeks and you really don’t want him to feel bad, you were just as turned on. but you had a body that didn’t make horniness quite so obvious. “would it make you feel better if i told you that i was dripping right now ?”

harry’s eyes search yours, trying to read you. and he can see it, your pupils are blown wide, your chest is rising a bit quicker as your breathing picks up. his mouth quirks into a small smirk, really seeing that he’s got the same effect on you as you’ve had on him.

in the moment, there’s nothing he wants more than to drop to his knees and have you drip into his awaiting mouth. and if there wasn’t an entire crew of people 15 feet away, he’d do it without a second thought. harry’s so enthralled by the thought of it that he doesn’t notice himself whispering out “wanna taste you so bad.”

and since the universe loves to make you suffer, “CUT ! thanks, next please.”

Part 2

……

Masterlist

#harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles smut #harry styles masterlist #harry styles writings #writings #justmeinatree

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writeroutoftime · 11 months

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women run the world

pairing: anthony bridgerton x fem!reader (requested by: anon)

summary: after comforting eloise about a woman's lack to education, anthony makes a less than ideal comment that does not end well for him

warnings: none besides anthony's stupidity

words: 1.1k

a/n: another request from forever ago, but it is finally seeing the light of day! anyway, we love anthony, but sometimes he doesn't always think before he speaks, also this GIF just made me laugh and I thought it fit well with this fic lol. this was a lot of fun to write, so I hope you that you enjoy it! as always, please let me know what you think, and have a fantastic day!

oOoOo

Dearest Reader, Even within the most ideal love match our society has to offer, there is always the possibility for miscommunication - as was the case between one Lord and Lady y/n Bridgerton. However, this author has discovered that Lady Bridgerton has set the record straight for Lord Bridgerton, and for that, she has my sincerest gratitude. Lady Whistledown's Society Papers

Eloise slammed her book shut, groaning in frustration, which pulled you and the other Bridgertons from their own little bubbles.

"Whatever is the matter, Eloise?" Daphne asked calmly, looking up from her newest arrangement on the harpsicord.

With a dry chuckle, Eloise opened her mouth. "Why is it that the men in this country are afforded every opportunity for education, yet so many of them squander it when there are countless women dying for a chance to continue their education? I mean, what do I have to do for a chance to go to university?" she ranted.

"We live in a time where those in charge have small minds, and are fearful of what women could do if given the chance to achieve more." you offered gently, knowing the reasoning would do little to soothe her anger. "I happen to think you would thrive at university, and I know you could show everyone that us women are just as equal as men."

Before Eloise could offer her thanks, an almost indistinguishable chuckle came from the chair next to you. Your head immediately whipped to the side, eyes directly on your husband as he continued to read his newspaper.

"Was there something amusing that I said?" you dared to ask, voice low and spine stiff.

Anthony folded his paper before looking back at you. A whisper of a smile still on his lips. "I simply find the thought of women at university alongside men an outlandish thought." he began. "Do you not think women would already be allowed in if there was this equality between the sexes? I mean there are distinct physical differences, so it goes to reason that there would be differences in other areas as well."

The moment the words left his lips, the entire room went silent, and all seven other heads in the room snapped towards Anthony in varying degrees of shock. The women looked appalled at the words their brother had spoken while Colin and Benedict (and even young Gregory) shook their heads, knowing Anthony was in for it.

It was no secret to the Bridgerton family, nor to the ton, that you held rather "revolutionary" ideas about women's equality and place in society. At least, you thought the Bridgerton family knew, but it seemed as though your husband did not fall into that category.

Jaw tense, you took a deep breath, trying to find the apprioate words for this situation. "Anthony, is that how you truly feel?"

It was as though Anthony sensed he had misspoken, but was unable to stop the words that tumbled out of his mouth. "I-I suppose so."

The anger melted off your features only to be replaced with an eerily calm look as you spared your husband a glance. "You're right, my dear, there are distinct differences between our two sexes. In fact, you have just proven mine and Eloise's point that our society is ruled by those with small minds. If you could only see that the world around us would not function without the women in your life. The fact that you seemingly do not see that makes me question who it is I married. Excuse me." you finished before you stormed out of the drawing room and towards your bedroom.

Silence permeated the drawing room, and no one knew what to say next. Anthony sat frozen in his chair, staring at the spot you had just been in, unsure how the conversation had spiraled in such a direction. Unsurprisingly, it was Eloise who spoke first, directed towards her eldest brother.

"Truly unbelievable, brother. Are you going to continue to sit there or are you going to go after your wife?" she asked, rolling her eyes.

To his credit, Anthony had the decency to look sheepish as he slid off his chair and went to go after you, leaving his younger siblings laughing at his expense. Though none of them followed either of you, they could only imagine the scolding her would receive.

Anthony hesitantly knocked on your bedroom door, pushing it open slightly after a few moments with no response. "y/n?" Anthony prodded, peaking into the shared room. His eyes fell on your curled up figure on top the bed and he sighed heavily. "My love, I wish to apologize."

"Apologize for what? For what you said or because you made me angry?" you tested, wanting Anthony's apology to be genuine and for the right reasons not because he was told to.

Your husband looked frozen in shock, and you watched as the gears in his mind worked overtime to figure out the correct answer. "Uhhh, both?" he finally answered, though it came out more like a question.

With a huff, you crossed your arms and narrowed your eyes. "Is that what you truly believe, Atnhony? Because if it is I don't know how this marriage is going to succeed. I thought you knew what I believed when we agreed to be together. Or was that all just to placate me in order to wed and bed me?"

"No, no, that's not true at all!" Anthony rushed to get out, and in an instant he was kneeling by your side. "y/n, I know my words were pigheadish and utterly inappropriate. I suppose I sometimes let the opinions of the ton guide my thoughts, even when they are wrong." he began, quickly holding up a hand before you could interject.

"I know, I know that does not excuse my actions. I want you to know that I fully support you in all possible ways, and I love you for your mind." he told you, offering a gently kiss to your knuckles. "You may scold me as long as you see fit, but please know I am by your side in all manners."

You were silent for a few moments, analyzing and decoding Anthony's confession. But you knew by the way his eyes soften and looked up at you with love and adoration he was completely sincere. Of course, that doesn't mean you still couldn't have your fun.

"Good." you simply said, leaning down to hover mere inches from Anthony's lips. He gratefully moved to close the gap, but you placed your hand on his chest to stop him. "Because women run the world, Lord Bridgerton. And don't you forget it." you whispered before you pushed away and left the room, leaving Anthony panting with a shiver down his spine as he watched your retreating form.

#anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton imagine #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton imagine #rita writes

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1eoness · 11 months

Text

professor!re4r leon fucking u.. i think (or at least wanting to fuck u)

cw content : leon size kink kennedy (jk) | sub-afab-fem-reader and dom!leon kennedy | age gap(ur 19-20 he's 27), leon masturbating, penetration, slightly weird ooc leon:( ♡

[to clarify, i am a minor (17). anyone <17 and anyone >17 uncomfortable with interacting pls dni]

authors note bc i love rambling; btw i'm writing this in public at some boba cafe can u believe that lol im literally supposed to be studying but hwatever fuck it leon make me go blaahhhhhh. btw what do i call this? a fic?blurb?drabble? idklmfao by the way i have NO idea on how to write professor x reader shit so im sorrhy if this sucks ass.

synopsis : conflicted and flustered professor!leon kennedy of your local college struggles to improve his class' average because students like you—incompetent, airheaded, spoiled and klutzy— make it difficult for him :(

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

you heard the rustling of laptop bags and stationery as leon's students left for that morning lecture. though, they moved slow and drowsy; for leon is sure nowadays this generation can't afford to wake up at 6:00 in the morning to prepare for a 7 a.m. lecture on "deviance and crime control."

especially you.

kennedy is a sharp man. he harps on students even if they get a B on any assignment, but he swears it's on his tough love (to which a lot of students aren't really aware of, just that they know this stoic pretty-face of a man has high standards.)

he is also keen on attendance. something girls like you seem to take lightly. it was absurd, really. most professors don't give a shit, do they?

it would've been fine with leon if you missed lectures even twice a week as long as you emphasized your understanding of his lessons through putting stellar effort on your schoolwork. but the best you've gotten on his class was a B- drawing close to a C+.

so, he needs to have a chat with you. urgently.

"l/n, i need to speak with you." leon spoke, confrontative as his black jeans peered from your right peripheral vision. he stood tall beside the edge of the table where you sat. jesus, was he trying to give you a heart attack? (he always had this habit, he'd just pop out of nowhere. he has silent feet.)

yes, you may have missed his lectures from monday to thursday to go to macedonia with your family: but if leon were given the opportunity for a vacation he would snag it too, right?

you looked up at the young professor, wide-eyed and a bit intimidated. what the hell did you do this time? you closed your laptop, gave leon your full attention. leon has also noticed this about you; you're quick to pay attention but you have the memory span of a dumb rabbit. maybe even the IQ of one too, if leon was rude enough.

so you sat there, hands on your lap as you fiddled with the pleats of your blue plaid skirt. the color makes his heart beat a little—he loves the color blue. and the way it looked on you... wait, no. what the hell was he thinking?

"you couldn't even spare the few minutes to e-mail me that you'd be missing four- four, of my classes in one week." he emphasized with a slate tone, and the way his eyes peered down at you added that he needed your reasoning of the situation. he'd love to hear what you had to say for yourself. "i had to talk to your friend, ashley, for some clarification. even the president's daughter has the dignity to show up to my class with a verbal apology." leon scolded as his fingertips met the pages of your notebook. did you even care about his classes? :(

much to your chagrin, your lips were pressed in sheepish silence. hopeless, even. you didn't even have anything to say for yourself? how pitiable.

you simply can't miss class, that wasn't right! just because you thought you could hide in the shadows amidst leon's collective of 73 students (yes he counts), you aren't out of his eyes. in fact, you stood out to him even if you were just an incompetent scholar.

he sighed at your silence. "fair enough, an apology can't compensate for your lack of presence or decorum." he then placed your paper on the desk, you had gotten a D. you were never a bad student but this was your first D ever! your eyes widened and he caught on even though he could only see the crown of your hair. "surprised? because i'm not." leon uttered flatly while his pale fingers flipped through the papers right in front of you. you even spotted a few contractions— when did you even pass this?!

but you weren't a bad girl to him, no. you were capable of shame and guilt. you looked sideways, unable to meet his eyes and training your vision to the floor. you felt low, disappointing a professor that gave you numerous chances to break out of your awkward shell.

"you're a smart girl, you know that?" he finally sighed softly. he wanted you to look at him, make him another promise that you'll start putting effort in his class. he needed to maintain his class's average or else he'd prove he was an inept professor, and he can't do that when he lets 'students like you' get away with shabby attendance and subpar schoolwork. "i don't just give students chances. but that doesn't make you special." and it was true—he's voluntarily failed 6 of his students before. "you'll do something about this, right?"

"yes, professor kennedy.." you muttered modestly.

"hmm?" he hummed inquisitively as he took your paper back. he was willing to give you a chance. "listen to me. i'll give you the chance to redo your paper. i know when students rush their work and if i see even a hint of redundancy in it—i will take all my chances back. and you are never taking absences from my class. i don't want you entering even a minute late, or leaving a second early. i hope we're clear, l/n."

naturally, you were scared. so you nodded up at him after countless confirmations that you will do you work and that you'll show up to class no matter what. he has to use your word against you, he's sorry but it's for your own good.

once he was satisfied, he gave you a nod and turned his side, dismissing you. after all, leon was a busy man. you're not his only student.

it was when you walked out the building and then 20 minutes away from it that you felt like crying. you hated being scolded by him :( but just when you were about to go through your bag for your handkerchief, you were stuck with an inconvenient realization. you forgot your handkerchief.

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ -♡- ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

leon just stared at the table where you sat from just now, backpack strap over his shoulders since he was just about to leave. he gripped onto either of them slowly as he stared down at your handkerchief in contemplation.

a twofold baby-blue hankie embedded with a subtle floral print. tentatively, he picks it up with his hand and examines it. for a minute his mind went blank, conflicting between chasing you and just returning it to you or to leave it by the lecture podium for her to retrieve tomorrow (when you hopefully attend his lesson again.)

..but blue was his favorite color.

"damn it." leon, with a barely audible mutter, shoved the handkerchief in his jacket pocket. he felt like the most guilty man in the world, poor boy.

...

leon sighed.

he wasn't celibate.

his hormones were in shambles once he got to his place. perhaps part of it was because he knew he hasn't graded the recent tests yet.

manspreading, tie loose, shirt stuffy and jeans undone while his hair wisped in slightly disheveled directions. cold breaths followed out his pretty mouth.

"nnn..fuck.. uhh-" leon whimpered into the baby blue cloth, laced with your perfume. he felt so guilty, so perverted. he shuddered every time he could see over the edges of the cloth, seeing his cream-leaking tip from previous orgasms spurt teasingly. "ahh- fuuuck, p-please-"

his grunts were high. he was close to crying, staining your pretty handkerchief with guilty-pleasure-ridden tears. spilled milk, it trailed down his pretty shaft as he pumped it over and over. his motive was you— you were just so fucking stupid and had so much naivete, it absolutely vexed him knowing how endearing you were.

until a slip of leon's mouth surprised him, earning a small squeak from him as he accidentally muffled your name in your cloth. "fuck, y/n- a-ahh.. u-uhh..hmfff.." he was frustrated; whining and cumming while his mind stirred with the thought of you and your pretty eyes and the photographic memory of your dumbstricken face.

he gave out a tired whine into the cloth, so, so close to crying his frustrations out. he just wanted to eat you. christ, and he was so hard for you it made his head ache..

he could only watch his girth that pulsed with white. he pried the sweet handkerchief off his lips, breathing roughly and wiping his tears. he felt so, so sorry for you. the color of the cloth looked exactly like the skirt you wore yesterday. and yet to top it off, he (ashamedly) wiped his cum off with your dainty cloth. oh, he's so sorry..

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ -♡- ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

he didn't want to come to this point. or maybe he did and god was force-feeding him with culpability (he's atheist). he offered once to tutor you personally. one-on-one, no distractions. and so suddenly, someone's skirt was on his clean carpet floor..

your blouse draped over your shoulder and was pulled above your bra carelessly. he handled you with so much ease, squishing you into position while he tried to slowly push his thick length into your syrupy hole. you bit the knuckle of your thumb, and whimpered timidly that he was too big. but look where you were now.

"fuck- you're so- you feel so good.. shut up and take it all, yeah?.. hmmff-" there leon goes, harping you again. you were so loud but it wasn't even your fault, not when he was pistoning his cock into you and paying no hesitation to his pace. you were simply too sweet for him not to please. "sweetheart, hold onto me.." he mutters.

he was pushing every squeak and cute little wail out of his pathetic student, rutting his tip into that spot. "n-nnghh- aah!~" you were running low on words.

"yeah?- mhmm...ffuck, right here? huh?" the feeling of him thrusting against that spongy part more and more sent your mind further into autopilot. you were past squirming around and pushing him away, you just had to take it.. and take it.. and you were doing so good ♡.

"l-leoonn.. m-mm!- fffeels t-too good-" you babbled, mind stuffy with the pleasurably-shameful feeling of being gorged with your professor's thick girth. he shuddered at the way you uttered his name so adoringly. to leon you were so dirty but so, so cute. he had you puddled into tears beneath him while he fucked into your cute little hole with fervor. he just wanted to stuff you full, make you his, adore you forever.

he whined softly into your shoulder. you kept clenching down on him and it made him impossible to think. his phone was ringing on his bedside but he doesn't even give a shit—if anything he tried to drown it out by thrusting into you faster, to which made him lament into your skin. he even adjusted your hips up impossibly further.

"l-leeonn, n-no..— n-no more, please!!-" you blabbered adorably, voice mumbly and whiny as you clawed at his shoulders or back— you didn't know anymore.

"shhh shh.." he cooed over your cries with a quiet and honeyed voice, planting a soft kiss to where he could reach on your face or head. "i know, i know, it feels so good, hm?.. just let it feel good, baby—ahh, fuck-.. uhh..." he moaned lowly into your shoulder, unable to stop the way he rutted his cock into your creamed-up cunt. you seemed to be enjoying it, so why were you complaining? leon thinks to himself smugly but he knows he can't act on his pride. after all you made him like this—submitting to his carnal urges...

you didn't wanna cum a third time, huh? silly little girl.

leon growled quietly into the crook where your neck and shoulder met. you've never heard that sound from him. he held you down, constraining you, and squished you further into his mattress. a helpless and surprised yelp lolled out your tongue as he went impossibly quicker while he cursed like he was about to break down in tears. leon was mercilessly grinding his cock into all your sensitive spots, not letting your pleas of retort contest him. "fuckfuck- u-uhhh, take it, baby, c'mon... do it f'me, it's gonna feel so good-.. ahh!-"

he couldn't even finish his sentence—just piping his cum in you roughly as if he were proving a point, growling whinily along the way. he even kept fucking you shallowly while you were a dumb, sniffling mess with no sense of self-assertion as you creamed all over his shaft uncontrollably a third time. consecutive and quiet whimpers could be heard from you while you soaked in your overstimulation, needing him desperately to reassure you again through the overbearing pleasure of being pushed past what your cunny can handle.

"poor baby." he muttered to himself breathily as he gave the last of his tired, frustrated thrusts and pulled out of you; giving you the time to breathe while he pats your hair down comfortingly. his fluttering eyes finally closed as his head found refuge in your neck, slightly limp with exhaustion as he huffed cold breaths on the wet patches of your skin.

he pulled his head away after a minute of regaining what's left of his strength. leon looked down at you with subtle puppylike eyes, like he was sorry for ever being so harsh on you; even before he fucked the shit out of you. you quietly took your handkerchief to wipe some sweat off his neck— and his cheeks went a little rosy, remembering what he did to it that day you "lost" it ♡.

seems detergent can't wash something like lust away!

#leon kennedy smut #leon s kennedy #guys im sorry if my writing is pretty vague idfk lmao #re4remake leon smut #THIS IS SO BAD AAAAAAAAHHHHHHH #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x reader smut

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charmedreincarnation · 4 months

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Hey guysss! A lot of people have been asking for me to make a challenge for a while now. I honestly didn’t want to, not because I’m against them or anything but because the law will be different for everyone. Sometimes, it feels like tumblr needs a reminder - you are the only person who knows what you need to do to succeed. I wish I could imprint this realization on everyone's minds. I’ve also gotten so manyyyy asks about things that genuinely just feel like your doubts repeating in your mind constantly so I’m gonna talk abt my beliefs bc y’all are spiraling really hard. I get it you want your desires for Christmas and new years. It’s okay take a breath, you're alive and will be okay.

Firstly: at the beginning I used to spend countless time spiraling into depression, constantly changing my methods every time I saw a new success story, and every time I found a new foolproof' tumblr method. Methods that were supposed to guarantee results in a day so when they didn’t I felt rlly useless. It was annoying, to say the least, and I don’t want to help others do the same thing, but really all I can do is reiterate what I always say and hope you apply it to everything!!

A lot of you guys wanted something that didn’t involve the void state, so that’s what this will revolve around! But feel free to make this void orientated if you desire, and I’ll also add a void section so all my babies can eat!

Ok so you’ve over consumed, you have dropped the void, and now have switched to just assuming and knowing that you would wake up with your dream life - embracing states. Great! At first, it will seem like you're doing nothing but you aren’t! For example, I knew I was dwelling in the state of wish fulfilled when I went to work without shedding tears, when I looked in the mirror and didn't think I was ugly because, well, I'm beautiful! I didn't care abt not performing well on a test because I could revise my past etc. this isn’t to say ignore the 3D: don’t do that, please try and make sure you’re safe and okay. But know life is malleable. Slowly, things that used to bother me—my parents, grades, anxiety, self-deprivation—started to fade away. Even though my dream life hadn't reflected in my 3D yet, I felt the switch. That's when I decided, I know what to do.

I also remember finding this cute website a long time ago that I want to share that summarizes it in such a great and simple way.

So Before I knew or understood what LOA was, I found this gem of an article on I am Love'- "How To Shift Into A State & Stay There". I think I have a post abt it somewhere on my blog but I’m too lazy to find it so here it is again.

Basically it explains that the essence of shifting into a desired state and staying there. What resonated with me was her choice to dwell in the state of knowing that her desires are hers, no matter what.

The way she used colloquial language made the content relatable and easy to understand. It's like having a conversation with a friend who's guiding you through hard concepts with “dumbed down” language because at the beginning states made 0 sense to me.

Posts like this really helped me particularly because when I discovered Neville, it required three attempts on my part to not only intellectually grasp his teachings, but also to truly comprehend him as a whole, given his non-contemporary speaking tbh.

I recommend it if you find yourself stuck or not really grasping the law yet (which is more than okay) but, if you're looking to understand the loa better or just learn more give this article a read.

There’s also a particular quote from Neville that really got me to dive into his work after finding this article and it was- “The being that you really are, descended to the weakness of the flesh, causing you to experience the state you are now in. Contemplate another state, and the same being who brought your present form into being will restore and make alive the other state, the state desired. This he will continue to do until his purpose is fulfilled. That purpose is to follow a certain pattern back into the unity of being. You see, in the beginning we were drafted. We did not volunteer to fall into these states. We were made subject into futility, not willingly but by the will of him who sent us. But when we return we will discover that we are the very being who subjected us. We are now the sons, destined to return as God the Father!”

Now that you understand and are ready to apply state, Here’s a routine I’ve created to hopefully help you guys! It is very simple and not time consuming at all.

Scripting and writing: I love writing and feeling like the author of my own story, literally bringing my creation to life. I would write when I felt like it. Whenever I wanted to dwell in my state, I would simply write, "I have my dream life." It's so simple, yet it embodies everything I need. If you’re more of a picture girl, use Pinterest instead. Or both if you prefer it doesn’t matter.

Edward arts' "I am creator meditation": Again, do this whenever you like it. It's one of the few meditations that didn't bore me to death and seemed to work with my ADHD. I also love reading, so I would read his pdf whenever I felt like it and take mental notes. Reading his work was a reminder I was doing everything right, it resonated with me very well.

During doubt and overstimulation: When things get overwhelming, close your eyes and let the emotions pass. They’re just thoughts! repeat the words "I am" until your heart returns to its normal rhythm. It's a simple yet powerful way to ground yourself amidst the whirlwind of emotions. And guess what? You can use this technique for doubt too! So the next time you're feeling overwhelmed, remember the power of "I am". It's a gentle reminder of your existence, your resilience, and your capability to be whatever you want despairs any emotional turmoil.

Thank god: (yourself!!) When reminded of your desires. Thank you god. When you see your desires, (eg:Pinterest, online or you’re just reminded) thank you god! When you see an image of your desires, thank you god! When you dream or think about your desires. Thank god! Always thank the person fulfilling it aka you ;)! If you’re religious just thank the god you actually follow.

Nightly reflections: At night, ask yourself , "What would I do if I woke up in my dream life right now?" repeat this question throughout the night. Then, imagine whatever scene you want. What would you do if you could not fail? What would you do if you had all the money in the world right now. What if you looked in the mirror and saw the most ethereal being and it’s just you? What about if you woke up in your dream house with your dream family and pets? This is inspired by one of the first shifting methods I created that helped me fulfill my imagination before I knew what that meant. When you’re ready to sleep just remind yourself it is done, and drift off into your desires.

As I've always said, I've been a great daydreamer. I knew exactly what I wanted my life to look and feel like. I envisioned my walk-in closet filled with luxurious outfits, waking up in my dream room on a soft mattress with my pets purring nearby. I saw the decor reflecting my personality in every corner of my large, and pretty room. I imagined walking into my bathroom, seeing all my cool Sephora products lined up for my skincare and shower routine. I love taking care of myself because I know I deserve it. I saw myself looking in the mirror, knowing I'm "that girl" who turns heads wherever she goes.I visualized going downstairs in my boujee dream house,and seeing my family stress-free, smiling, and eating well. I saw plans being made on my phone, my friends were excited to see and talk to me. I went to my kitchen, filled with expensive ingredients ready for me to cook meals for my loved ones - because I love cooking. I saw myself checking my bank account and seeing multiple seven figures in my savings, checking, and investment accounts and opportunities easily presenting myself to make more if I wanted. I saw myself running errands in my car, shopping, getting Starbucks, having expensive lunch with friends, and making a trip to Target. Despite the simplicity of the day, I would come home and be like, "Ugh, what a long day!"like that one khloe kardashian meme. What if all this happened today? Visualize and feel the scenes so clearly that it felt like it's already happening.. not just in your imagination.

Most importantly: Define the law for you! Stop parroting bloggers and intertwine your own beliefs with the law. The only principle of the law is that through persistence assumption will harden into a fact. Other than that anything goes except for facts that are wrong.

Here’s old notes I found in my phone lol just so you know what I mean by define the law for you: ignore the writing I was kinda dumb and new to the law 😭😭

Now this is for my void babies if you made it this far.

Read this post.

This is it copied bc the links are wonky sometimes

“My previous method is based on the persistent assumption, which a lot of people don’t know how to do right and it might take some time even for those who have the right self-concept and the mindset, so today I was in the process of manifesting this method.

And I was successful!

This method is for everyone. It’s the easiest Void method.

Do you know that you get into the Void state at night automatically? At that time the whole perceived world disappears for you. Every single perception and assumption you have disappears while your consciousness in the calm and natural Void state.

Use it to your advantage. Now that you know about the Void that you enter when you sleep, the perfect state to manifest anything that you wish to perceive, with no “resistance”, no illusions of annoying solid things around, you only need to remember your scripted starting point in your DR and practice watching it all coming out of the Void.

Practice that scene with your eyes closed, say to yourself:”That is what I perceive. Next time I’m in the Void, I’ll experience this”. You won’t even need to be fully aware of yourself that way when you get into the Void while you are asleep. Your subconscious would do all the work as it now would have the instruction and a clear image of you expecting it.

Personal experience: as I was receiving information on this method, I almost stepped into my DR! I wasn’t even in the absolute void state, I was only creating the scene for this method and I felt it materialise with my senses!

I have great feeling that it’s going to give fast results for others! Try it, teach your subconscious what it needs to bring forth while in the Void, let it do your work for you!”

Lastly, I’m gonna talk abt my beliefs real quick bc the fear of shifting vs manifesting makes me sad for y’all. I understand you don’t wanna leave behind the people you love and that’s not fear to feel ashamed of having! I personally hate the npc mindset a lot of have people have adopted. The only thing we know for sure is that assumptions create realities, and consciousness is the real reality. Everything else boils down to assumptions, except for principles. For example, shifting is not lucid dreaming, even if you assume it to be. That is the principle. I’m just going to copy what I told my mutal bc I’m lazy and need to finish Christmas stuff 😭😭 but Our imagination and the 4D realm are products of our consciousness, which is indeed real. Our view of reality is shaped by our consciousness, since we can't experience everything all at once.

Unless, of course, you shift into a super omnipotent god. Even then, you’d probably still struggle with the concept of infinity because, well, infinity is infinite. And it’s constantly a never exnding expansion. As humans, we're finite beings, and our understanding of the infinite is naturally limited. Because you can’t and won’t ever experience everything at once, infinity is always expanding. Our awareness can be thought of as fragments of consciousness; it's like being a drop of water in a massive ocean. Even though our perception is limited, the infinite is always there, always existing. We simply adjust our awareness to perceive this infinite reality.

And through our consciousness, we are able to tap into other realities or 'multiverses', which give us a broader understanding of existence. This exploration of consciousness and the multiverse is a significant part of my journey into the world of manifestation.

The law of consciousness explains why, when you "shift" or change your perspective, you don't physically move. It's all about altering your state of awareness. This is also why time doesn't really matter in the grand scheme of things. You can become aware of any time or day you want, as long as you choose to be aware of it. It's like having a mental time machine. This law is why infinite universes exist. As long as you can be aware of it, you can assume and embody the state of that person. Whether that's someone with a billion dollars on Earth, or a person who lives in the Attack on Titan world, it's all about your awareness.Our awareness is just a fragment of the larger consciousness – hence the idea of the multiverse. Each universe is a different fragment, a different state of awareness. And we have the power to “shift” into any of these states, therefore shifting into any of these universes.

I’m telling you this bc there’s no need to be afraid of manifesting or being in a reality with robotic versions of the people you love. Ariana grande and Marilyn Monroe for example talk about loa without acknowledging it and we see their success. Neville Goddard and his followers saw each other’s manifestions and I manifest for my friends and they mnaifest for me.

Take a deep breath and let go of the tik tok clone mindsets y’all have they don’t exist. You can manifest and assume anything you want in your imagination. Y’all literally want to manifest things like millions of dollars, revising deaths, living in new countries, having immorality in your waiting rooms, and never aging which is all possible of course. So be for real, why assume and know that you can achieve all that, but it won't manifest exactly how you want? I've also wondered about what happens to the "old version" of people when they manifest their dream life. As far as I'm concerned, they dont exist because you choose not to be aware of them.

I really want to talk about this too, as I've received similar questions and, oh my god, I thought I was alone. I've always been a bit delusional and lived in my head, but when I became conscious of the law, did anyone else feel a sense of self-embarrassment? I don't know what that was, but I'd genuinely feel my soul wanting to throw up envisioning my desires that aren't mine, even though I've always been a daydreamer. It's kind of like when you feel you can't have them or it's strange to envision yourself with something you can't have, so you just purge yourself. 😭

I was thinking back to why that happened and laughing at myself because we need to be serious right now. Why are you getting sick by your own mind? Imagine if Van Gogh, anytime he pulled out a canvas and held a brush, was jump-scared by the brush. Picture him holding out the brush and just staring at the canvas crying because "well, the painting is going to suck 😐," "I don't know what to paint☹️☹️," "I already know it won't be like what I envision in my head 😡😡." Like, bro, the canvas is blank, just fucking paint. That’s why I really like his quote that's like...

“If you hear a voice within you say you cannot paint, then by all means paint and that voice will be silenced.” So If you’re scared of failing, if you’re scared of your desires, or scared of how it will come to fruition, for that reason alone is more so to and manifest it anyways.

But happy holidays guys! make some tea, scroll through Pinterest, read a good book and watch some Christmas films and remember if you can imagine/think your desires you can embody them bc where are you getting it from??

Here are some helpful documents I have read plus a cute vid I saw on insta reels : (let me know if the links are being weird)

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#law of assumption #manifesation #manifesting #void state #my asks

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whatsk-poppinhomies · 9 months

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Pairing : Bang Chan x F!Reader x Lee Minho TW : pregnancy ; cheating ; lots of arguing ; physical fighting ; lots of angst ; mention of blood ; a famous whatsk-poppinhomies cliffhanger ; Word Count : 5.8k Request : Anonny : Y/n is pregnant by one of them but he either cheats or fucks up or they break up before they know she is pregnant. She starts dating the other who is willing to accept the kid as his own but when her ex finds out she is pregnant, there will be drama (your choice which drama. maybe he wants her back, doesnt want the baby, is mad at the other one since they are in the same band etc) AN : This is such a fun request, just the right amount of angst and I can also make it fluffy at times, but mostly angsty. It took me a little bit to figure out who I wanted to be the "good guy" in the fic, but I finally came to the conclusion of who it would be, and I think, I HOPE, you'll enjoy this. Thank you for requesting!!

There were always rumors, scandals, posts all over the internet about how cute Minho and some other female idol would look together. There were pictures posted, even edits made of the two where his eyes would linger on her just a little longer than usual, his lips pulling up at the corners when she’d flip her hair or do something almost sickeningly cute. It was a smile that you thought only you received, but whenever you brought it up he’d get irritated, telling you that you were being ridiculous and reading into things too much.

He had never given you a reason to not trust him though, so you’d always apologize. His reasoning always seemed so valid too. He was supposed to act that way when he was MCing, it’s not like he could show the world that he was annoyed and not having a good time. You’d always let it slide, hugging him and giving him a kiss as you continued to apologize for over thinking. It would be so much easier if you could just come out about the relationship, but, again, his reasons were solid as to why you shouldn’t. It was dangerous for you, it would only be a hassle, you wouldn’t be able to live normally ever again… And for that suggestion, you apologized once more.

Trust was important, especially when he was almost always away from home, either on tour or doing promotional meets with fans or mini concerts. It wasn’t hard to trust him either, especially when he had made it seem like he was miserable if he was anywhere but at home with you. That’s why you wanted to surprise him with a little visit while he was doing one of his little promotional tours around the country. The other guys had even helped you set it up, making sure that Minho had not a single clue that you were coming until you showed up.

“Surpri…se…” The word that had started out as a cheerful announcement slipped into a whisper before you went completely silent. Minho stood in the center of the dressing room, his hands on the hips of the female idol that wasn’t even a threat, at least, that’s what he had told you before. Their lips had been locked, her chest pressed against his, and there was no reason… There was no bullshit excuse that he could come up with that could explain away what you had just seen.

“Honey… I-” You didn’t give him time to talk, turning away from the room and walking as fast as you could down the hall that would lead you to the exit door. “Y/N, come back!” You heard him call after you, his footsteps getting louder and louder as he got closer until his fingers were wrapped around your wrist, tugging you back towards him and making you stop. “Listen…” He pleaded breathlessly, but you shook your head, your mouth hanging open as you let out a short gasp of disbelief. “I didn’t think you were coming… No one told me…”

“Oh? You want to blame the guys for me finally catching you? That’s asinine.” You pulled your hand away from him, crossing your arms over your chest just to be sure he wouldn’t try to grab you again. “I’m glad I saw it… At least I won’t be made a fool of anymore. You were really good at hiding it though, I give you that. And you were damn good at pretending that you actually gave a shit about me.”

“I do give a shit about you, that’s why…” You sighed loudly, running his hands through his hair. “That’s why I hid it from you… I didn’t want to hurt you…” He whispered, taking a step closer, but you kept the distance, backing away from him. “You weren’t supposed to find out… Not like this at least. I was gonna tell you… I’m… I’m not proud of it… I was gonna stop things with her. I love you… I just needed to say goodbye to her. That’s what that was…”

His arms reached out to you but you swatted them away, unable to hold back the look of disgust that washed over your face. “Don’t even bother. She can have you… I don’t… I can’t even look at you right now. You make me sick.” The words shot through your lips like bullets, and while you felt so strong right now saying them, you knew that once your back was turned to him and you gave yourself the time to actually let it sink in what had happened, you’d be a wreck.

“Don’t say that… We can talk about this. Honey, come on… Just talk to me… Don’t leave.” Minho pleaded, stepping closer to you once more, and you hated that he had the nerve to get upset, to have the gull to start crying as if you were the one that's hurting him. You scoffed, pushing him away from you and taking two steps back just to make sure the space between the two of you was wide enough that hopefully he’d finally get the hint to stay away. “Honey…”

“What’s goin’ on out here?” Chan asked as he stepped out of his own dressing room, his eyes that had been bright and sparkling the first two seconds immediately losing their shine when he felt the tension in the hallway. “Seriously… What’s going on?” His voice lost that cheerfulness it had once carried, and now he was more serious, his eyes darting between you and Minho.

“I don’t know, you tell me, Christopher.” You snapped, and his eyes widened in shock at the tone of your voice. “Or better yet, if you’re truly so fucking clueless, how about you ask Minho… or you could ask the girl he was swapping spit with in his dressing room. I couldn’t care less though, I’m going home.” You turned on your heel, heading to the exit door once more, and you could hear Minhos strained voice calling your name, but you didn’t look back… You didn’t want to take that last look at what you had lost.

The promotional tour had ended, but throughout it you had received multiple texts from Minho asking to talk or meet up. There were calls from the other guys too, but you were busy, far too busy with packing up all of his things, throwing away every single reminder of the relationship that you had put so much faith into just for it to fall apart in one fell swoop.

It was crazy how fast you had fallen in love with him, and how long it took for you to lose that feeling. Even though he had hurt you, even though you had literally seen it with your own two eyes, you loved him. You had to constantly remind yourself that if you were foolish enough to go back that you’d just end up hurt again, probably even worse than before. You weren’t a fool, you wouldn’t let him hurt you, and you knew that if he got you back, he’d just think he could do it again, and he would do it again, he’d just be sneakier this time.

The sound of the lock on your door being undone had you turning your head, and you knew that the only person who had the keys was Minho, and it was a good thing that he had come. His things had been piled up next to the front door for a week now and it was about damn time that he finally came to collect them.

“He was too nervous to come over…” Chan said as he sheepishly walked through the front door, closing it softly behind him and eyeing the multitude of black trash bags on the floor before looking back at you. “I’m sorry he did that to you. If I had known, I would have told you…” He whispered, and you slowly nodded your head, although you failed to believe that he would actually go against one of the guys just to protect your feelings. “Do you need anything? Have you eaten?”

“I don’t need you to pretend to care on his behalf. The only thing I need is for his shit to be gone so that I can forget about all of you and you all can forget about me and we can all just move on with our lives and I can pretend I wasn’t the idiot that got played by him.” You sniped, pushing yourself up off the couch and grabbing one of the many bags. “I’ll help you take his stuff to your car if that’ll get rid of you all faster.”

He blinked a few times before grabbing the bag from your hands and softly placing it down on the floor once again. “I’m not pretending to care. I’ll get his shit out of your house…” His hands ran over his face as he let out a long sigh. “I understand why you’re saying these things, but I don’t think you really believe that we’d just forget about you. We’ve been texting you nonstop… You had to have seen it.”

“I have seen it, and I’d really like for you all to stop. It was easy for him to forget about me and we were dating… I think it’ll be way easier for you and the rest of the guys.” You retorted, picking up the bag again and pushing it into his arms. “You’re all making it harder for me to just move on, and I need to move on…” You promised yourself that you wouldn’t cry, you didn’t want to cry, he didn’t deserve a single tear to be shed over him, yet here you were, sniffling with tears welling up… You really were a fool.

“It’s hard to move on because you’re not giving yourself something to take your mind off of him.” Chan murmured, dropping the bag once more, carelessly now though, and moving closer to you. His arms loosely wrapped around you, and as much as you didn’t want to be close to anyone that was close to Minho, the hug was comforting, you hadn’t had anyone there to really comfort you through the entire thing, and it was nice to just be able to cry and let it all out.

“I don’t know how to stop thinking about him… He’s everywhere…” You mumbled against Chans chest, a blubbering mess now as you gripped onto his shirt that was becoming soaked with the tears that you shed. “I hate him… I hate all of you… You just remind me of him too…” You weakly pushed against his chest, but he held you closer, soothingly brushing his fingers through your hair as he shushed you.

“It’s gonna be okay… I promise it will.” He cooed, his cheek resting against your forehead. “Whenever you start to think of him, just call me… I’ll talk to you, I’ll get your mind off of him. We can talk for hours if that’s what you need. If you want to go out, I’ll take you out, wherever you want to go. Even if you just need to get out of the house… I’ll take you to the studio, you can sit and watch me work on songs. I just want to help you…”

“Why are you trying so hard…?” You whimpered, looking up at him with glassy eyes that had his heart slowly breaking, and he wanted nothing more than to wipe your tears for you as he told you the truth, but he knew that you weren’t ready for that, and he wasn’t ready for it either. He needed you to be better first.

“Because he made the mess and he’s got too much pride to clean it up himself. I care about you though… And I’m gonna make sure you’re okay.” He said softly, hesitantly reaching up to brush the tears from your cheeks. “I’m gonna take his shit to the car, and if you want, I can stay here and we can talk or just… I’m gonna order food for you, whether you want me to stay and eat with you or not… But… I want to make sure you’ve eaten. Okay?”

You nodded weakly, taking a step back as you swallowed thickly before clearing your throat. “You can eat… stay… eat with me…” You stammered, rubbing your hands against your thighs, the embarrassment of what just happened finally setting in. “I’m sorry for that… Don’t… Don’t tell him I cried… Please…”

Chan chuckled, ruffling your hair before placing his hand on the small of your back, leading you to the couch and waiting for you to sit before dropping down onto the cushions himself. “I’m sure he already knows you’ve cried, but I wouldn’t tell him anyway. I haven’t really talked to him about anything other than work since that happened.” He explained, pulling his phone out to order food. “So what are you feeling? What do you wanna eat?”

///

Becoming close to Chan wasn’t in your itinerary, it wasn’t planned at all, but you found yourself craving his presence, wanting to hear his voice all the time, comforted by the warmth that emanated off of him when he sat beside you. He had become such an important part of your healing process, that after a couple weeks, it didn’t even feel like you needed to be healed anymore, you just wanted him around.

Your mind had been so busy for so long, and it was a good thing, you needed to keep your mind off of everything for a bit, but you didn’t realize how busy you had been until you got the notification on your phone from your period tracking app. Make sure to log your periods for better accuracy. You stared at the notification with furrowing eyebrows, your mind becoming a calculator as you tried to remember when the last time was that you had gotten your period.

How long had it been? You quickly opened the app, going back to the last logged date and then to your calendar to see just how long it had been. 8 weeks… how could you not notice for almost two months that you hadn’t gotten your period at all? You couldn’t have possibly been that frazzled… right?

“Hey Channie… Can you get something from the store for me when you have the time?” You texted him, not knowing who else to go to, and the last thing you wanted to do was get the tests yourself. You needed to take what little time you had to process what you would do if those tests gave you the most life altering reading.

“Yeah sure! Is everything okay? You need some girly things, huh? I can get you your favorite snacks too and we can hang out.” He texted back, and you wished, you really wished that girly things were what you needed, and you were nervous to even tell him what you actually needed. What would he do? Would he be upset? Would he be angry? It’s not like you planned for something like this if it were the case… It wasn’t 100% your fault. But you knew 100% who’s it would be. It’s like you couldn’t forget him… you’d never be able to forget him.

“Uhm… No. Well… I’d really like it if we could still hang out… But I need uhm… pregnancy tests…” You sent the text as fast as you could, waiting long enough for it to say delivered before turning off the screen and throwing your phone to the end of the bed. This was just what your luck would bring you, right? You would never be able to escape Minho, not fully. You would never move on, and the worst part was that you were really starting to feel like you could, like you would… The feelings that were beginning to bloom for Chan… They would never be returned…

Your phone vibrated next to your feet, and you were scared, so scared of his response, but then it started vibrating more, longer, and you knew it was a phone call. What if he had told Minho? Your hands shook as you grabbed your phone, your eyes closed until the screen was right in front of your face, slowly opening your eyes to see Chans name on your screen.

Hesitantly you answered, bringing the phone to your ear with a soft sniffle. “Why didn’t you answer? Are you okay?” He asked, worry lacing his voice and you could hear wind whipping around him through the speaker. “You’re crying… Did something happen? Tell me…” He urged, and you could barely get the words out of your mouth to answer him.

“I thought… That you’d be mad… Or that you’d tell Minho… I don’t want him to come back, I don’t want to give him a reason to come back in my life…” You just barely whispered into the speaker, your knees pulled up against your chest, holding onto them tightly. “I’m so scared, Chris… I don’t want to do this alone, I can’t…”

“I’ll be over soon… Don’t worry. Even if it’s positive, you won’t have to do it alone. I’m still gonna be here, I’d never leave you… I hope you know that, and remember that. You’re stuck with me.” He chuckled softly, and your laughter that followed was a little too sad, but at least you were laughing, and at least you knew that you had him.

///

“SKZ Leader Christopher Bang, also known as Bang Chan, seen heading into OBGYN office with mystery pregnant girlfriend.”

The report had caught Minhos eye as soon as he saw it, and for many reasons. Chan had never mentioned having a girlfriend, and he had definitely never mentioned becoming a dad any time soon. Judging by the pictures that had been posted, the supposed girlfriend looked to be pretty far along, at least 6 or 7 months into the pregnancy. Chan would have slipped up by now, and Minho couldn’t think of a reason why he’d want to hide such big news from the guys. He’d talk to him about it, maybe Chan was scared that the guys would be upset… Maybe that was it… Minho would congratulate him first, let him know that he wasn’t mad, he was actually quite proud. He knew that Chan would make a good father, especially considering he was basically a dad to the other 6 guys.

“Hyung!” Minho called out when Chan came into the practice room, running over to the leader and patting him on the back. “You didn’t tell me you had a girlfriend… You’re hiding a lot of things. You’re gonna be a dad too!” Minho expected the initial fear to wear off after a couple seconds, but Chans eyes stayed wide as he stared at Minho a little longer than he liked. “You… Didn’t see the headlines?” Minho asked, and Chan quickly shook his head, pulling out his phone and groaning loudly when he saw that it wasn’t just headline news, it was on the front page of NAVER.

“Fuck… I gotta call Y/N…” Chan mumbled, and Minho felt like he had been punched hearing your name come out of Chans mouth. It had to be a coincidence, there was no way that Chan could do something like that to him… right? Now he was nosy, listening in on the call that Chan was making, trying to make it seem like he was paying attention to his own phone so he wouldn’t leave the room. “I want you to stay in the house no matter what until I get there, okay? Keep the doors locked just in case they followed us after the appointment, and don’t answer the door for anyone. No… No, I don’t think he knows. He’s the one who saw it… He came to me… No, he doesn’t recognize it’s you. I know… I know, it’s gonna be okay, darling. I love you… I’ll be home soon. Promise… Yes. I love you more… Okay… Just relax, I got you that ice cream you’ve been craving. Mmhm… Yup… Alright, I love you so much. Hugs and kisses… Mwah.”

Listening to the conversation had Minho looking back at the report, really looking at the pictures now. The nose, the hair, the eyes… It was all you… It was you. The pain that he had felt after the initial gut punch now turned to anger as he pushed himself away from the wall and went straight over the Chan. “Who were you on the phone with? Huh? Tell me right now. Tell the truth!” Minho shouted, already pushing Chan back, shoving him until he was cornered against the mirrored walls that reflected the scene.

“Stop… It was my girlfriend, you’re being ridiculous.” Chan tried to keep calm, attempting to slide away from Minho, but he was pushed against the mirror once more, the image momentarily warped as the glass vibrated. “Stop it!” Chan said more firmly now, trying to keep Minho back, but his anger was fueling him, driving him to continue pushing against Chan until the mirror started to crack, and even then, he wouldn’t stop.

“Your girlfriend is my ex! You lousy, no-good, piece of shit!” Minho screamed, catching a glimpse of the crack that was making its way up the mirror, bound to shatter at any moment now. “When did you start dating? You thought you could just move in on my girlfriend because she was upset?! You’re a fucking asshole, you know that!”

“Well why the hell do you care anyway?!” Chan shouted back, finally getting angry enough to push Minho away from him, but he didn’t want to hurt him, he just wanted him to stop. He needed him to stop. It would be no good if either of them got hurt, and the reports would be no better if it came out that they were fighting like this. “You cheated on her! She’s happy now! It’s not like I started dating her as soon as you broke up anyway… It just happened… I’m taking care of her, you should be happy that someone actually loves her.”

Minhos fists balled up at his sides, but then the math started adding up in his head, but it didn’t actually add up… You had caught him cheating only 5 months ago, and if his visual assumption of how far along you were was correct, that would mean… “Who’s the father? Is it you? How far along is she?” The questions came out in rapid succession, and Chans eyes fell to the floor, it was answer enough, but he wanted to hear it. “Answer me!” Minho shouted once more, his fists clenched so tight that his knuckles were turning a ghostly shade of white.

“I’m the father! Whether the DNA says so or not, and that’s what matters!” Chan sniped back, and Minho swore he saw red, his fist flying before he even had the chance to think about what he was doing. His knuckles connected with Chans face full force, causing the leader to stumble back, his bottom lip busted and blood trickling down to his chin. “You can fight me… You can beat the shit out of me… But I’m not leaving her. The kid isn’t yours… She’ll have my last name. She’ll call me dad. She wouldn’t want a cheater as a father anyway.”

“Fuck you…” Minho muttered before his arm pulled back to punch him once more, but the practice door swung open, and in a second all of the guys were around him, pulling him away from Chan. There was so much going on, but Minhos eyes never left Chan. He wasn’t his leader, he wasn’t his band member… He sure as hell wasn’t his brother… He had stolen his family away. “Must be nice to just have the family already made for you, isn’t it?!” Minho shouted as he was being dragged out of the practice room by Changbin and Jisung as the other guys stayed behind to make sure Chan was okay.

///

“What do you mean he found out?!” You shrieked from the couch, your heart racing as your eyes darted to the door. Would Minho come to the house? Was he on his way now? “Are you okay? Are you coming home?” You asked, completely on edge, and your nerves being so high was setting off your daughter who refused to sit still now.

“Just relax, darling. I’m fine, and he’s not going to come over. The guys have him out in the hall right now trying to calm him down, they know what’s going on… They’re not going to let him leave.” Chan tried to reassure you, but it was all for nothing when you heard Changbins voice in the background. “He ran off… I think he’s going over to Y/Ns… You should probably go…” You heard Chan sigh loudly before his voice was heard again. “Keep the door locked… It’s locked right? Don’t answer it, for the love of god, don’t answer. Just stay quiet… I’ll be home as soon as I can, I swear. Stay on the line with me though.”

“God dammit!” You shouted, carefully pushing yourself up off the couch and heading into the bedroom. “I knew we should have gone to an office out of the city… I told you this would happen.” It’s not that you were trying to argue with Chan, it was the last thing you wanted to do, but you had told him from the get-go that it wasn’t a good idea to go to any of the doctors close to his work.

“Sue me for wanting you to have the best doctors in Korea.” Chan snapped back, and you heard his car door slam shut and then the rumbling of the engine as he turned the key. “Don’t blame me for this shit. It’s not my fault that you ended up pregnant by him, I didn’t have to do anything for you, but I love you enough to be here and you’re gonna get bitchy with me because he finally found out. It was bound to happen at some point.”

You scoffed loudly, running a shaky hand through your hair. “It wasn’t just for me, asshole! It was to protect you from your crazy ass fans. But I guess they were bound to find out at some point too?” You retorted, your eyes prickling with tears of anger as you sat on the edge of your bed. “I didn’t ask you to be here, if I remember correctly, I wanted you all out of my fucking life. You insisted on staying! So don’t you dare try to blame me either!” You took a shaky breath, pulling the phone away from your face so he wouldn’t hear you crying. “If that’s the way you feel though… Don’t come home. I’ll just talk things out with Minho, maybe we can work out an agreement for child support or something and you all can be gone like I wanted.”

“Stop. I never said that, don’t twist my words.” He mumbled, and the engine revved as his car sped up. “I don’t want you talking to Minho at all, I’ll handle him when I get back home. I’m coming home. I’m not… I’m not mad at you… I love you, and I love the baby… I got punched in the fucking face and now I have to worry about Minho weasling back into your life and I’m just stressed… That’s all.” He sighed softly, his fingers drumming lightly against the wheel as his turn signal ticked. “Please don’t cry, darling… Not over my words, I didn’t mean them. I really didn’t…”

“I’m stressed too…” You whispered back, your head leaning against the headboard as you watched through the little slits in the blinds of your bedroom, waiting to see Chans car pull up. “I just wanted things to be easy… For us to be happy. I guess I’m stupid for wanting that though… Especially knowing that-” There was a loud banging at the front door causing your heart to skip a beat before you jumped up out of the bed and peeked through the blinds. “He’s here… What do I do? Channie, what do I do?”

“I’m almost home, just stay in the bedroom. He doesn’t have the key, he can’t get in.” Chan rushed the words out, and while they were supposed to calm you, you could hear the panic in his own voice. “Fucking traffic! Come on!”

“Y/N I know you’re home!” Minhos voice shouted from outside the house as his fists came down against the door once more. “We need to talk! I know she’s mine! Let's just talk about this!” It seemed like the more he spoke, the louder he got, and you were shrinking into the bed deeper and deeper with every single word. He wouldn’t hurt you, you knew that, at least not the way he had hurt Chan, but you didn’t want to be on the receiving end of his anger either.

“Get away from my house.” You heard Chan both through the phone and outside the window, and you quickly hung up to run to the front door, but your movements became slow once your hand was on the lock. If you unlatched it too quick, Minho would come in, you needed to wait for Chan. “She doesn’t want to talk to you. You don’t need to see her, you don’t need to be here, so just go back to the dorms or go practice.”

“Easy for you to say. It’s not actually your kid. You get to play the hero for Y/N and my daughter… Must be real fucking nice.” The argument continued outside of the door, and Chans voice was so close, he could come in… But Minhos voice was just as close… You didn’t want to take any chances. “You wouldn’t even know her if it weren’t for me! You were just waiting for your chance to steal her away from me!”

“What are you talking about?!” Chan screeched, and you felt your heart rate spike, your hand shaking as you started to unlock the door. You didn’t want anything to happen to Chan, he had already been hit once, you didn’t know how far Minho would go. “You cheated on her! She left you! Just go away!”

You quickly pulled the door open and both their heads whipped in your direction. Chan was the first to come in, pushing past Minho and wrapping his arms around you to pull you away from the door. “You really need to go, Minho…” You whispered shakily, your hands moving to Chans and holding onto them tightly.

“No. I’m not going anywhere.” Minho said flatly, walking into your house and slamming the door behind him. “You start dating my friend while you’re pregnant with my daughter and you both were going to try to hide it from me!? Now you expect me to just walk away like this isn’t happening?!” His eyes lowered to your stomach, his breath hitching in his throat as he took one small step closer to you. “You don’t think I’ll just walk away from this… do you? I’m not that kind of person.”

You looked up at Chan who rolled his eyes at Minhos words, and then your head dropped. “I wish you would… I wish you had never found out. It took so long for me to get over you, and things were going just fine.” You mumbled, sniffling softly. “It’s not fair… You cheated on me, and then you want to try to come back… Why? I don’t want to confuse her…”

“We can get back together.” Minho stated as if it were the obvious choice, his hands reaching out to grab yours, but Chan was adamant on that not happening, his own fingers lacing with yours and moving your hands to your side. “I don’t want her to be confused either, but she deserves to have her real father in her life.” He eyed Chan smugly as he said it, and you felt him tense up behind you, his breaths heavy against your neck. “You know that I love you, more than anything else in the world. We could be a family, the perfect family…”

“Will you shut up?” Chan said quite sternly, pressing a kiss to your cheek, something that made Minhos hand twitch as it clenched to a fist at his side. “You don’t know how hard it was for her to get over you, and I will not just sit by and let you fuck it all up!” He carefully moved you behind him as he stood face to face with Minho, his chest puffed out, flexing his muscles and chesting Minho back towards the door. “She doesn’t want you, she doesn’t want you back, and she doesn’t want to play family with you!”

“Oh I’m the one that would be playing family? You’re trying to play father to another man’s kid! You took advantage of my one mistake… Did you tell her though? Did you tell her that after that I’d sit up at night crying because I fucked up so bad? Did you tell her that I haven’t been with anyone else since that day?! Or did you only tell her the shit that benefited you?” Minho sniped back, his own chest puffing out, and truthfully, you were scared for both of them. You didn’t want anyone to get hurt.

“I told her what would benefit her. I’m sure you wouldn’t understand that though considering you didn’t even think enough about her to not cheat when she was yours. So don’t you dare try to come into our house acting like you give a shit now because you found out she’s pregnant. The kid is sadly only yours biologically, but that doesn’t mean shit where it counts.” Chan retorted, taking a step back, being the bigger person to try to keep a physical fight from happening. “Now if you were smart, you’d leave… I suggest that you be smart and that you get out… now.”

Minho huffed loudly, his eyes like daggers as he looked between you and Chan, shoving his hands into the pockets of his pants as he leaned against the door. “You know I’ll be back… She’s my daughter… And if you won’t let me be a solid part of her life, I’ll just go to court. I’m going to see me kid, whether you want me to or not.” His tongue clicked against the roof of his mouth as a coy smile spread across his lips, his eyes solely on you now. “Can’t wait to meet her.”

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suzukiblu · 4 days

Text

WIP excerpt for tabetharasa behind the cut; alpha Jazz, a dark alley, and a very pretty omega. ( + non-chrono link for mobile users )

Jazz has no idea why Red Hood thinks he smells anything but delicious, but there’s a very reckless and dubiously-ethical part of her that would be willing to prove it to him. Not that she would, obviously, because that would be, again, incredibly unethical and highly inappropriate and also a total dick move.

She just could, that’s all. Just if it came up or whatever.

“Well, it’s not,” she says, mildly put out by whatever’s going on here, and Red Hood growls. His scent blockers continue to be useless. Just–absolutely useless, yes.

Ancients, he smells so good. What is she even supposed to do about how good this omega smells?

Maybe offer to walk him home, or at least offer him her jacket so he has enough alpha scent on him that no one bothers him on his way back to his den. Although he’s a crime lord–or a vigilante? one or the other, whatever–who’s built like a truck, so that probably isn’t really a concern, she supposes.

Then again, some people seriously do have no sense of decorum.

Or survival instincts.

“Shut the fuck up!” Red Hood snaps. Jazz frowns. That seems like a disproportionate amount of anger in his tone. Maybe he's sensitive about his pheromones. Well, if people have been telling him he smells like death . . .

Though “death” doesn't necessarily smell bad, in Jazz's opinion.

Admittedly, that's a liminal's opinion and besides the point anyway. But still.

“Alright,” she says. “But can you get to your den safely? Or . . . somewhere you can den down, anyway, I don't know. I assume you have a headquarters or a safehouse or two, something like that. Or at least can afford a heat hotel or know a decent clinic.”

Red Hood hisses at her. It crackles through his modulator, but the sound of it still makes her jeans a little . . . uncomfortable, she'll just say. Sue her, she likes omegas with a bite to them. Johnny 13 definitely didn't win her over by being the sweet and polite type; he won her over by being a blunt asshole in a leather jacket who'd convinced her that he was a sincere and straight-up person.

She wonders how “sincere” the average Gotham crime boss really is, but it’s a little difficult to concentrate on that question with the scent of old books and burning cedar filling up her nose. And also that note of lilac. That note of lilac is a problem.

A serious problem.

“I realize heat drop is probably imminent and you must be uncomfortable, but it’s a valid concern on my part, given your condition,” she says, which normally she’d make sound politely disapproving but really can’t make sound any kind of disapproving right now. Again: the lilac. “So can you?”

“Fuck makes you think I'd let you anywhere near my den?” Red Hood snarls. Jazz blinks; tilts her head.

“Nothing,” she says. “What makes you think I was asking to go anywhere near it?”

Red Hood–stalls, briefly. Jazz tries to be polite about how incredibly obvious a tell that statement was.

Flattering, but incredibly obvious.

“I mean, I'd be happy to escort you if you’d like,” she says. “Or lend you my scent, if you need it. But I'm not trying to presume anything.”

“Fuck off,” Red Hood snarls. “Nobody escorts an omega like me.”

“Do you think maybe you have some self-esteem issues?” Jazz asks. Heat is almost definitely making him a bit more volatile and emotional than normal, considering the kinds of things he’s been saying to her, but it still seems like a valid question. Being on their cycle doesn’t make people different people; just makes it a bit harder for them to censor and control themselves.

Or a lot harder, sometimes.

Judging by how strong Red Hood’s pheromones smell right now . . .

Well, he might be having a harder time than he’s used to having, so far as “controlling himself” goes.

Jazz certainly is, all inappropriate knotheaded puns aside.

Do Poison Ivy’s pollens make cycles hit harder, actually? Or does the suddenness of the effect disorient or throw people off, maybe?

Well, that’s a worrying thought, since Red Hood seems to be out here alone.

“‘Self-esteem issues’?” Red Hood repeats incredulously, his pheromones briefly sparking with bewilderment. Jazz decides not to press it, since he might be feeling a little vulnerable right now.

“Yes,” she says. “Is there someone you can call, if you don’t want an escort or to borrow my scent? I could wait with you until they show. No offense, just Park Row’s not a very nice neighborhood.”

Red Hood laughs.

“No fucking shit!” he says, spreading his arms. “It’s Crime Alley!”

“I know, sorry, I just keep accidentally calling it ‘Park Row’ in my head. Still new in town,” Jazz apologizes. She assumes a crime lord would prefer his territory be correctly referred to, anyway. Seems like a thing. She knows standard humans don’t actually have haunts–even most liminal ones don’t, including her–but sometimes she does . . . well, not forget, exactly, but just . . . expect them to anyway, she supposes?

She spent way too long in Amity, yes.

Even without Crime Alley being Red Hood’s actual haunt, though, it’s still disrespectful to call it the wrong name. It’s still his territory either way, and she imagines someone on their cycle especially wouldn’t appreciate the mistake.

“What is your damage?” Red Hood snarls, his voice modulator crackling threateningly as he visibly bristles, and Jazz catches notes of that electric and unexpected edge in his pheromones again. Still vaguely familiar, but still not quite what it seems like it should be. Just . . .

Really, if she didn’t know better . . . well, she’d think he was liminal. But that seems like a very unlikely coincidence for her first week in Gotham, so . . .

Then again, her life is her life.

It’s not really the time to be asking Red Hood about his levels of ecto exposure, though, and she’s pretty sure they’ve both got more important priorities right now.

“We don’t really have time to unpack all that, to be honest. You really do need to get home,” she says. “Or at least call someone to pick you up. If you go into heat drop alone in Crime Alley, I can’t imagine it’s going to end well.”

Red Hood hisses. That might’ve sounded like a threat, Jazz realizes belatedly.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” she says, apologetic again. “But it’s not safe, is it?”

“If anyone I don’t want near my ass tries to touch me, I’ll put a bullet up theirs,” Red Hood growls, low and crackling.

“That seems like a lot of trouble when you’re on your cycle, though,” Jazz says. He’d have a body to deal with, and maybe someone would call the cops–well, she supposes it is Crime Alley, so maybe not . . .? But it’d be self-defense anyway, and if he is a crime lord, maybe he has people for that.

Hm.

She really needs to get familiar with this area as soon as possible, yeah. And just Gotham in general, really. Every city has its own idiosyncrasies, but Gotham is its idiosyncrasies.

Well, so is Amity Park, of course.

“I think you belong in Arkham, lady,” Red Hood says. Jazz feels like a Gothamite should be more understanding of someone taking supervillain attack side effects and hostile heated-up crime lords in stride, but apparently not.

“Technically, you’re not wrong,” she says with a wry smile. She’d offer him a handshake, but that’s not really appropriate for an alpha to offer to an omega in heat. Especially not an unmated alpha, which Jazz very definitely is. “I start Monday. Jazz Fenton, psychiatric intern. At your service.”

Red Hood manages to very clearly stare at her without actually taking off the helmet. It's actually an impressive amount of expressiveness to get across, under the circumstances.

Or there could be a touch of liminal empathy happening, admittedly. That's possible too. Especially with another liminal involved.

Jazz briefly considers what knotting a liminal omega might actually be like if an empathy loop got established somewhere in the process, which is a lie, because what she’s actually imagining is picking up this liminal omega and showing him exactly how delicious she thinks he smells.

Definitely inappropriate.

“They will literally eat you alive,” Red Hood says.

“I mean, there’s a risk of it,” Jazz allows, because nothing is a perfect guarantee. It’s just not a very large risk. Comparatively, she means.

“You applied to Arkham on purpose, lady?” Red Hood says disbelievingly.

“Oh, no,” Jazz says, shaking her head. “They made me an offer. Somebody read my thesis and liked it, apparently.”

Well . . . “thought we should interview you for either a position or to have your file established for whenever the convictions start rolling in”, whichever. The interviewing psychiatrists had a range of reactions during her interview, she supposes is the best way to put it.

Jazz really doesn’t think it’s fair to classify her parents as actual supervillains, but an increasingly long list of professionals has, admittedly, not agreed with that assessment.

She can’t imagine what they would’ve thought if she’d told them about Danny, considering.

Well, it’s not her problem if someone else is going to be close-minded about things like that.

“I’m sorry, I’m really not trying to be pushy here, but are you sure you don’t want to call anyone? Or want my scent. Or . . . literally anything,” she says, gesturing a little awkwardly with her shopping bags. “I do get told my pheromones are pretty discouraging to unwanted attention, if that helps?”

“Sure they are,” Red Hood snorts. Jazz tries not to look disapproving, given his compromised state. That kind of thing can bother omegas in heat, she knows.

“That’s what people tell me,” is all she says. Obviously it’s not just the default parts of her scent that make it a strong deterrent, but as for the force of the emotions and claim she can put into it . . .

Well. She just hears it’s “discouraging” to other alphas pretty regularly, that’s all. And also some betas, depending on their sexuality. And, um . . . well, a little closer to “catnip”, for omegas, but . . .

“I’ll believe it when I smell it, knothead,” Red Hood snorts again. “Prove it.”

Jazz isn’t sure that’s a good idea, considering–again–his compromised state, but, well . . . he’s clearly a strong omega himself, and maybe she’s a little miffed by him just assuming she’s lying about something like that, that’s all. She knows plenty of alphas do lie about their pheromones or even lay on fake ones, but . . . well, it’s hard not to wonder if he just thinks she’s a lesser alpha because she’s female, or because of how she’s dressed or looks or speaks, or just because.

Her inner alpha doesn’t love the experience of one of the most gorgeous-smelling omegas she’s ever scented sneering at her worth as an alpha without even giving her a shot to prove it, either way.

“Are you sure?” she asks.

#dpxdc #anger management ship #hardcover ship #wip: alpha jazz and a dark alley #tabetharasa #omegaverse

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hamletthedane · 8 months

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Hamlet’s Age

Not to bring up an age-old debate that doesn’t even matter, but I have been thinking recently how interesting Hamlet’s age is both in-text and as meta-text.

To summarize a whole lot of discussion, we basically only have the following clues as to Hamlet’s age:

Hamlet and Horatio are both college students at Wittenberg. In Early Modern/Late Renaissance Europe, noble boys typically began their university education at 14 and usually completed at their Bachelor’s degree by 18 or 19. However, they may have been studying for their Master’s degrees, which was typically awarded by age 25 at the latest. For reference, contemporary Kit Marlowe was a pretty late bloomer who received a bachelor’s degree at 20 and a master’s degree at 23.

Hamlet is AGGRESSIVELY described as a “youth” by many different characters - I believe more than any other male shakespeare character (other than 16yo Romeo). While usage could vary, Shakespeare tended to use “youth” to mean a man in his late teens/very early 20s (actually, he mostly uses it to describe beardless ‘men’ who are actually crossdressing women - likely literally played by young men in their late teens)

King Hamlet is old enough to be grey-haired, but Queen Gertrude is young enough to have additional children (or so Hamlet strongly implies)

Hamlet talks about plucking out the hairs of his beard, so he is old enough to at least theoretically have a beard

In the folio version, the gravedigger says he became a gravedigger the day of Hamlet’s birth, and that he’s be “sixteene here, man and boy, thirty years.” However, it’s unclear if “sixteene” means “sixteen” or “sexton” (ie has he worked here for 16 years but is 30 years old, or has he been sexton there for thirty years?)

Hamlet knew Yorick as a young child, and the gravedigger says Yorick was buried 23 years ago. However, the first quarto version version of Hamlet says “dozen years” instead of “three and twenty.” This suggests the line changed over time. (Or that the bad quarto sucks - I really need to make that post about it, huh…)

Yorick is a skull, and according to the gravedigger’s expertise, he has thus been dead for at least 7-8 years - implying Hamlet is at least ~15yo if he remembers Yorick from his childhood

One important thing sometimes overlooked - Claudius takes the throne at King Hamlet’s death, not Prince Hamlet. That is mostly a commentary on English and French monarchist politics at the time, but it is strange within the internal text. A thirty year old Hamlet presumably would have become the new monarch, not the married-in uncle (unless Gertrude is the vehicle through which the crown passes a la Mary I/Phillip II - certainly food for thought)

Honestly, Hamlet is SO aggressively described as being very young that I’m fairly confident the in-text intention is to have him be around 18-23yo. Placing his age at 30yo simply does not make much sense in the context of his descriptors, his narrative role, and his status as a university student.

However, it doesn’t really matter what the “right” answer is, because the confusion itself is what makes the gravedigger scene so interesting and metatextual. We can basically assume one of the following, given the folio text:

Hamlet really is meant to be 30yo, and that was supposed to surprise or imply something to the contemporary audience that is now lost to us

Older actors were playing Hamlet by the time the folio was written down, and the gravedigger’s description was an in-text justification of the seeming disconnect between age of actor and description of “youth”

Older actors were playing Hamlet by the time the folio was set down, and the gravedigger’s description was an in-text JOKE making fun of the fact that a 30-something year old is playing a high-school aged boy. This makes sense, as the gravedigger is a clown and Hamlet is a play that constantly pokes fun at its own tropes and breaks the fourth wall for its audience

The gravedigger cannot count or remember how old he is, and that’s the joke (this is the most common modern interpretation whenever the line isn’t otherwise played straight). If the clown was, for example, particularly old, those lines would be very funny

Any way you look at it, I believe something is echoing there. It seems like this is one of the many moments in Hamlet where you catch a glimpse of some contemporary in-joke about theater and theater culture* that we can only try to parse out from limited context 430 years later. And honestly, that’s so interesting and cool.

*(My other favorite example of this is when Hamlet asks Polonius about what it was like to play Julius Caesar in an exchange that pokes fun of Polonius’ actor a little. This is clearly an inside-joke directed at Globe regulars - the actor who played Polonius must have also played Julius Caesar in Shakespeare’s play, and been very well reviewed. Hamlet’s joke about Brutus also implies the actor who played Brutus is one of the main cast in Hamlet - possibly even the prince himself, depending on how the line is read).

#hamlet #hamlet meta #hamlet’s age #this obviously does NOT imply anything about being 30yo btw #any age is a good age to be driven to madness by guilt and grief #It’s just very usual for shakespeare to describe somebody well past their apprentice age as a ‘youth’ SO MUCH #and that makes those lines very interesting #shut up e #willy shakes #posting this while EXHAUSTED going to see a million errors and tone problems tomorrow sorry in advance yall #**very unusual #long post #posting Hamlet meta like it’s 2014 hell yeah

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hayakawalove · 3 months

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Valentine's Day

A/N: Will I ever stop writing poly satosugu? No. No I won't.

Summary: You had been with your two boyfriends for years, and each February they brought a smile to your face. This year seems a bit different although.

TW: Smut, polyamory, choking, AFAB reader, female reader, alcohol mention, alcohol

W/C: 5,664

Your boyfriends were theatrical, Satoru especially. Suguru, if given the chance, much preferred to do things under the radar and special. But then again he was not above putting on a show for you. Especially if Satoru was involved.

Because of this, it kind of surprised you when neither of them mentioned Valentine’s Day. It was the 12th already and so far there had been no mention of the holiday. You thought it might be because they were busy, but that didn’t mean they would forget, right? You knew you could have said something, but the boys usually planned things. Because of that, you didn’t want to get in the way of anything. So you decided to be discreet about it. You wandered into the kitchen and found them both sitting at the table, meager discussion floating from their lips.

“Hey.” You murmur, fiddling around the kitchen.

“Hi bunny!”

“Hey baby.”

Your eyes flick up and notice the two giving you smiles. Satoru’s eyes brightening up significantly, his smile akin to something like the sun. Suguru’s head tilted, his grin matching something much more graceful. The moon perhaps. Your sun and moon. You supposed that made you their stars, didn’t it?

You narrow your eyes before looking down at a spare cup.

“What do you guys wanna do this week?” You ask, hoping not to be too obvious.

You fill your cup up with water and lean against the counter.

“Oh, there was that new movie I was telling you guys about. It comes out on Tuesday.” Satoru thinks out loud.

“Whatever you want to do baby.” Suguru responds with a tight lip smile, his eyes gently closed.

Had they really not had anything planned? It was odd, but you didn’t want to push it.

It wasn’t like you particularly minded doing nothing for Valentine’s Day this year.

That’s what you told yourself at least.

It was finally Valentine’s Day and you had willfully resigned. This year you were just not going to do anything, and you tried convincing yourself it was okay. You requested the day off in advance, figuring that something would be planned, but it didn’t seem needed anymore. So, you were going to use the day to do nothing.

When you woke up in the morning, your bed was empty besides you. You had long gotten used to the feeling of your bed being filled to the brim, hot and stuffy after a long night's sleep with multiple bodies. Not seeing the two boneheads made you sad.

Your eyes float over to the corner of the room, where you stuffed each other their Valentine’s Day gifts underneath a pile of your clothes. Even if you weren’t going to be doing anything today, you still wanted to surprise them with it.

You get out of bed and patter around the house trying to see if they were anywhere else. Much to your dismay, the house was empty.

Your stomach grumbles while you pad your way to the kitchen. Normally, Suguru would be whipping up a storm in there while Satoru sat nearby to pester him. The kitchen was empty today, much to your chagrin. With a sigh, you grab leftovers and sit on a stool, flicking your phone open once you see Satoru’s name pop up.

“Hey! Thought you were gonna sleep forever.”

“Might’ve if I wasn’t alone.” You grumble.

You hear Satoru chuckle and you look at your food distatefully. The conglomerate of leftovers suddenly becoming the most unappealing thing in the world to you.

“Poor bunny.”

“Where are you both anyway?”

The line is quiet for a second as if Satoru was speaking to someone.

“Just had to pick up a few things for tonight.”

“Okay. Will you make sure to get milk too? We’re out.”

The line cuts to silence once more which confuses you. Usually Satoru had a lot to say, normally you had a hard time getting any words in during a phone call with him. After a couple seconds of silence and what sounds like the phone being muffled, his cheery voice comes back. You and Satoru begin talking again before something rouses you from the conversation. Your doorbell jolts you from the call, but you quickly glaze over it.

“Aren’t you gonna get that?” He asks.

“No, probably has the wrong address.” You say and pick at your nails.

“I'm not so sure.”

For the sake of entertaining him, you hop off your chair and make your way to the door. Once you open it, you find a black shopping bag on the ground. You look at it in confusion before leaning down to pick it up.

“Yeah, no, this definitely is the wrong house.”

Satoru sighs loudly causing you to pull the phone away.

“Just look in the bag!” He complains like a child.

“Alright alright.” You sigh before shutting the door, lugging the bag inside.

Usually you wouldn’t put up much of a fight, but today you were less than amused.

Once you arrive to your room, you plop the bag down on your bed and rummage through it. There was a white card on the top, peaking your interest. Your name was scrawled in gold on the front, the font looking much too fancy, as well as text on the other side. It read, “Your treasure awaits”.

Your heart begins to pick up. Satoru was on the line still, but there was no noise coming from him. With shaky hands you open the bag more, finding something else. As you pull it out you notice it’s a tight black dress, exactly your size. At the bottom of the bag there was another white card. On the front end it said “Suguru’s favorite place.” Flipping it over you see what’s written on the back. “You slid into my heart.”

“Satoru, what is all this?” You question.

“Looks like you have to find out.” He says joyfully, clicking the line, leaving your mind reeling.

You pull the dress on and look at yourself in the mirror. It looked really good on you. The boys really enjoyed picking out outfits for you, flaunting you like their own dress up doll. You didn’t mind really, not when they always paid for it. You hold the card in your hand, eyes flicking back and forth over the lettering. Suguru’s favorite place? He wasn’t very picky, he enjoyed lots of places.

Suguru really enjoyed the museum, you knew that. Images of him walking beside you, reading you all the placards filled your brain. He also liked the cafe that was nestled between stores several streets over. None of those made sense with the clue, though.

With a deep breath you close your eyes and think back. Each thought brought you back to one place. A park he liked seeing.

You stuff their gifts in a bag before setting off.

It was a quaint park. The grass was always green and there was a large field that families enjoyed picnicking at. Off to the side was a playground for children, a long plastic slide crossing the play area. You journey to the playground, eagerly walking to the slide, thinking back to the note that was left in the bag. You see another small bag on the slide and your stomach twists in excitement.

Opening the bag you notice a small box and another note. The note reads “Satoru’s sweet treats” and on the back says “I’m such a nerd for you”. You chuckle to yourself and open the box, seeing a bright necklace packaged inside. The chain was dainty and it held a diamond at the very end, one that shined brightly in the sun. It was hard getting the necklace on on your own, but you were able to manage after a couple minutes.

The next location wasn’t any easier to figure out. Satoru had many places he liked going to for sweets, so it was hard to narrow down.

You think you understood the game now. There would be a present at each location with a card hinting at the next spot. You couldn’t help but notice how the game was so very like the two men. Cheeky, but swirling with romance.

You had no idea why you were so worried they had forgotten the date.

After much inner debate you decided to go to his favorite candy store. It was fairly decent in size as it had to accompany the wide range of treats stored inside. It looked mostly empty when you entered, rows of colorful concoctions lining the walls. Your legs carry you down the aisles while you think back to the hint on the card. It made you want to check for their selection of nerds and sure enough, there was another bag nestled between boxes. This time it was filled with a bracelet, matching your necklace. The employees blush and comment to each other when you walk up, requesting help for your bracelet. They wished you a happy Valentine’s Day and you’re left to exit the store. The idea of Satoru and Suguru coming inside to hide your gift and explaining to the workers what they were doing made you chuckle to yourself.

The day continued much like that, each time you were led across town to find more gifts. The final note was the most confusing. All it said was “back to where it all began” without any other clues on the back side. You thought back to where you and the two had spent your first date. It was a secluded forest, a canopy of trees surrounding the three of you. You remember Satoru laying on his back, Suguru reclined with his hands keeping him up behind him, and you sitting with your legs crossed. You talked for hours.

Once arriving, you find the last bag. Inside was a hair clip, donning an amethyst and a turquoise. The two men fit so well together it was no wonder their birthstones did as well. The card inside the bag only had a phone number on it, so you flipped open your phone to dial it. A nice man answered, asking if you were Satoru’s and Suguru’s girlfriend. With a blush you confirm, hearing an engine starting on the other end. He told you he would be there shortly to pick you up.

This game was fun, and you really enjoyed all your gifts, but you were hoping you would be seeing Satoru and Suguru soon. Material items were nice, but they meant nothing if your partners weren't there by your side.

The car ride was relatively short but still felt extremely glamourous. You rode in a black sleek car, cushions softer than any other vehicle you had been in before. The driver drops you off at a five star hotel, bidding you a farewell before speeding off. You get the room number from the front desk and rush to the room. You nervously look at the door in front of you before knocking on it gently. While you wait, you bounce on your toes and heels and let your mind wander. The game had lasted hours, and your nerves were about to swallow you whole.

The door swings open, the force making your eyes widen in surprise. Satoru stood there in a white button up, eyes wide and frantic.

“Hey.” You speak, your eyes slowly trailing across his body.

Satoru’s hand flies out and grabs you, pulling you into the room. Your back is pressed against a wall and his lips are on yours. Part of you wanted to tell him to slow down, but the way his mouth felt against yours had your mind swimming.

Satoru’s tongue glides out, sliding against your bottom lip before you part your mouth open. His hands roam across your body, not settling anywhere for too long. His presence was overwhelming, suffocating and somehow not enough.

More, you needed more. If it was possible to fuse souls you were sure you would’ve by now.

Your hands clutch his shirt, if it wasn’t as expensive as it was there was a real chance you would’ve torn it.

“Satoru, I was only gone for five minutes.” A familiar voice speaks behind Satoru.

He pulls his lips from yours and stares deeply into your eyes, the tension palpable.

“Couldn't resist.” Satoru speaks, his tone heavy.

He pulls away from you and you feel yourself deflate, body aching for more.

“Our girl is just too beautiful.”

Satoru pulls you away from the wall, presenting you to Suguru. His hands hold your waist still while his chin rests on your shoulder.

You look at the man in front of you. Suguru was dressed in a black button up, his hair swept up into a bun. His fox eyes slowly slide down your body, taking you in.

“You look beautiful baby.” Velvet words grace your ears.

After all this time, still, still he made your heart flutter.

He takes a step forward, lifting up your hand. He intertwines his fingers with yours, before pulling your hand up to place a kiss on your knuckles.

“Happy Valentine’s Day princess.”

Suguru’s words float over to you, but you’re almost too distracted by the both of them to fully understand what he said.

“Thought you guys might’ve forgotten.”

Suguru pulls you away from Satoru and further into the room, and you notice a table in the middle of it. There were two candles placed on top, with three plates spaced evenly. Only now do you recognize a heavenly scent filling the room.

“Us? Forget Valentine’s Day?” Satoru laughs, pulling your chair out for you.

Satoru sits in one of the chairs opposite you, watching as you take everything in.��

“It’s possible! I was about ready to order take out all by myself and watch the notebook on repeat.”

“Unfortunately you’re stuck with us.” Suguru graces you with a small grin.

“What’s for dinner?” You ask, watching Suguru carefully lift off the lid over your plate, then moving on to remove his and Satoru’s.

“Steak! Although Suguru insisted on making it himself.”

Suguru raises an eyebrow at Satoru before sitting down next to him. Scents from the meal slowly waft up to your nose, making your stomach grumble.

“I’m pretty sure you told me you liked my cooking better than anyone else’s.”

“And you caved immediately!” Satoru responds cheekily, making Suguru huff in annoyance.

Suguru was stuck trying to defend himself while you and Satoru were ignoring him, beginning to cut your steak. He eventually gave up, grumbling to himself before popping open a bottle of champagne.

“You should’ve seen him. He was running around the big fancy kitchen trying to prepare everything. I wish I caught it on tape. Do you think I could ask the hotel for their security footage?” Satoru rambles, popping a piece of steak in his mouth.

“I can picture it perfectly. How’d they let you in anyway?”

“Satoru bought their silence, he’s a sneaky dog.” Suguru answers, pouring champagne into both of your glasses, purposefully avoiding Satoru’s.

The meal tasted just as wonderfully as you could’ve imagined. It melted on your tongue, Suguru’s cooking never failing to amaze you. You were glad that Satoru convinced him to cook. You had fun eating at restaurants with them, but nothing quite compared to Suguru’s cooking.

“How long do we have the room for?” You ask, looking around at the wide open space.

You had never been in such a fancy hotel before, you didn’t even wanna know how much one night costed.

“Satoru just gave them his card so we can stay for as long as we like.”

“Is there anything your money can’t buy?” You cast a look over to Satoru who was happily humming while eating.

“Nope!”

The rest of the meal you and Suguru poke fun at Satoru, teasing him for treating money so fickly. Your laughter filled the room, making it feel even more homey when paired with the food.

Then again, you were sure anywhere would be home as long as they were with you.

Champagne flowed through your veins and you swore the bubbles did too. It felt like your skin was burst alight, your body floating on happiness.

You hum and reach out a hand, grabbing onto Satoru’s hand.

“Wanna dance.”

His eyes light up at your request and he turns to Suguru. The two men share a look before Satoru is hopping out of his chair, quickly heading towards you. The air of excitement he held only floated over to you, raising you up even higher.

You felt so good.

You kick off your heels and tiptoe carefully to the middle of the room. Satoru’s arms latch onto you, getting in position. It wasn’t long before Suguru strolled over to sit on the bed and watch, his phone held tightly in his hand while he played music.

You couldn’t follow the beat even if you tried, luckily Satoru was there to guide you through it. He teases you, his airy laughter tickling your ear. You could feel Suguru’s gaze on the both of you as he watched his lovers sway back and forth. Satoru’s body felt warm pressed against yours, his firm hand gripping your lower back.

Suguru leaned back and continued to leisurely sip from his glass, affection pouring over his features. He was thinking back to your earlier conversation. Could you really think they would have forgotten? Never in a million years would they forget you.

The room was spinning. No, wait, shit, were you spinning? You didn’t care. Your laughter echoes off the walls as you stand on your tiptoes to attempt to reach Satoru’s height.

You stop for a breather, hand clutched tightly in Satoru’s shirt. Suguru excuses himself to remove the plates of food, wanting to clear up space.

“That was so much fun.” You say breathlessly.

“Yeah? Want to have some more fun?”

You arch a brow but your question was answered before you could even ask it. Satoru had backed you up against the bed, making you collapse on it. You pull him down with you, relishing in the feeling of his full body weight against yours.

“Yes.”

His lips are on yours in an instant, fanning the flames under your skin. You could tell he was restraining himself a bit, his hand clutched tightly next to your head.

“Touch me, Satoru.” Your words leaked desperation.

“Fuck, don’t say that. We gotta wait for Suguru.” His actions don’t align with his words.

His tongue caresses against yours, his skin tingling once his tongue dips into your mouth. He had kissed your mouth billions of times, but each time he did he swore there was new territory for him to mark and explore.

“Can’t keep your hands to yourself tonight, Satoru.” Suguru chides from behind him.

Satoru pulls away and you feel an ache underneath your lips, begging for his lips once more.

“She started it.”

“Yes, we do have a needy girl on our hands, don’t we?”

Satoru moves out of the way, exposing Suguru to you. Your breath hitches at the sinful expression he holds while staring down at you.

His hands reach out to grab you, pulling you up to stand. His presence is overwhelming as he turns you around, pressing you against the empty table. You follow his motions to guide you down, his lips ghosting over your skin.

“Look so wonderful for us darling.” His words muffle against your skin as he places chaste kisses against your neck.

You can feel yourself shake beneath him, desperate for more. He was teasing you, but what kept you through it was knowing how satisfying everything would be once he deemed it time.

“Need it Suguru.” You whimper, fingers dug into his shoulders.

The heated atmosphere shifts, now drowning you in a lake of fire. Suguru pulls you up from the table and makes you lay on the bed. Your skin is prickling in anticipation, staring up at him. He leans down to press his lips against yours, quelling the fire inside. His tongue feels plush against yours as he drags it through your mouth. Suguru pushes your dress up to pull it off your head, only parting from your mouth to get out of the way. His tongue glides against yours and you taste the bitter bite of the drink, and you wondered if you could get intoxicated off the taste of it alone. Then again, you could always get drunk on him.

Suguru pulls back and kneels against the bed, spreading your legs open for him. He dips his head down, pulling your underwear off you at an agnoizing pace. Satoru whistles, causing you to snap your head up to look at where their gaze lay. Your underwear peeled from your pussy, strings of need attaching to it.

“Fuck.” Suguru whispers under his breath as he glides the clothing down your thighs.

You’re suddenly filled with insecurity, wanting to close your legs. Their eyes stared deep into you, mesmerized by your lust.

“Don’t just look…” You whimper.

Suguru refocuses himself and smiles, trailing fingers up your thighs to spread you out.

“My apologies princess.”

You want to scoff but the noise doesn’t make it out of your throat in time before a whimper escapes. You can feel the eagerness building up inside you as his lips ghost over you. The first time you feel his tongue press against you, you let out a guttural moan. It appeases Suguru, his tongue diving in deeper. He laves it against your clit, tasting the sweet nectar you leaked. You watch as the tendons in his hands flex as he clutches your thighs, bringing you down further against his mouth.

Your hole clenches pitifully as he pleases you. The warmth of his tongue teases your clit, moving in a circle.

The bed dips beside you and you see Satoru next to you, his hard cock in his hand. His eyes were glued to the way Suguru devoured you.

“Satoru.” You say in a whiny voice.

Precum leaks from his tip like a faucet, the sight making your heart pound.

You reach up and grab his cock, experimenting with a couple slow strokes. His chest heaves in response, echoes of low moans falling from his lips.

Suguru wraps his lips around your clit and sucks, your heels digging into his shoulder blades. He could feel the way you trembled beneath him, causing his cock to stiffen below.

Not yet, this was about you.

You pick up the pace, tugging Satoru much faster, mind caught between the bliss of Suguru’s mouth and bringing Satoru to the edge.

“How’s he making you feel bunny?”

You hang your head back, unable to focus on anything besides the primal desire within you. Suguru’s tongue strokes against you, working you up.

“Good- so so good.” The words sound foreign coming from you, your throat dry.

“Gonna cum on his tongue, right?” Satoru asks.

You moan louder, your thighs a mess of spit and your fluid.

“Yes, fuck need to cum.”

You squeeze the tip of his cock before sliding your hand down. Satoru whimpers lowly as he tries to not thrust into the palm of your hand.

Suguru dips his tongue once, twice, into your hole before bringing it back up, teasing your clit once more. Your mouth hangs open as you look back down at him, truly believing god himself was between your legs. Your legs twitch on either side of his head while you shamelessly grind further into his tongue, so close you could almost taste it. It rushes over you suddenly all at once and you’re cumming on Suguru’s tongue, body thrashing underneath him as he tries to hold you down. It gives him a burst of excitement seeing how you lose yourself beneath him.

He reluctantly pulls away from you, watching how you glisten below him. You try to regulate your breathing but fail miserably. Heavy hands work their way across your skin, attempting to bring you back down. It looked like the two were exchanging places. Suguru sits next to you on the bed, nudging a piece of your hair out of the way. His eyes were filled with warmth, nothing but admiration and love in the way he looked at you. It almost made you want to shy away from how intense it felt. He looked at you like he didn’t give you an earth shattering orgasm less than a minute ago.

Satoru’s thighs nudge your legs open wider, bringing your attention back towards him. His hairline was lined with sweat, desperation to feel something, anything corrupting his body. His cock stood at attention, in front of you.

“Please let me fuck you princess, need it, need you.” His voice sounded helpless.

You dig your teeth in your lip and nod, eager to feel him inside you. His tip slides down your opening and you force your eyes shut. Pleasure courses through your body, the idea of feeling more made your mind reel.

Satoru slides inside you slowly, his cock beginning to stretch you out. Your mouth hangs open and suddenly you can’t breathe. You could not get enough oxygen. It felt like you were surrounded by their love, surrounded by the lust you three shared.

He moans, struggling to keep his composure. His fists clench against the bed as he bottoms out completely.

A moment of silence is shared between you while you appreciate the other, enjoying how each other's skin felt.

“Ready, bunny?” He asks breathlessly, his patience running thin.

You nod, trapping his hips in between your legs.

He thrusts in, starting to fuck you.

Your moans bounce off the walls around you. You try to grasp onto something, anything to ground yourself. The force of his cock was knocking all the screws loose in your head, you couldn’t think.

His eyes squeeze shut as he goes. It looked like he might have been mumbling something under his breath.

Your clit throbs at the neglect, needing to feel pressure. You grab one of Satoru’s hands, guiding it between your legs.

He lets out what sounds like a breathless chuckle. Taking the hint, he begins to circle your clit with his finger.

Suguru moves on the bed, kneeling behind your head, his cock above your face. It’s inches away, the mere sight of it making you salivate.

“Wanna do something for me, beautiful?” He asks.

Your elbows prop up bringing you closer to him. You close your eyes and stick your tongue out, sliding up against his sensitive balls. He grunts lowly above you. Your mouth felt like heaven to him as you carefully suck his balls.

Satoru picks up the pace, the sight of you pleasing Suguru searing into his brain. He couldn’t focus on all of it at once, it felt like his brain was short circuiting. His hips stutter as he leans forward, desperate to get Suguru’s cock in his mouth.

Suguru’s chest heaves. The sight in front of him bordered on something holy. His two beautiful partners were in front of him, cherishing his cock. How lucky was he?

Your mouth gently glides over, paying attention to both sides of Suguru’s delicate flesh. Satoru slides his tongue against Suguru, feeling his cock twitch in his mouth.

Suguru pulls Satoru off, an audible pop ringing out. Satoru pouts up at Suguru, wanting to suck him off even more.

“Fuck, you have to stop or I’m gonna cum.” Suguru chastises, his eyebrow twitching.

You place several kisses around, ignoring him. Only when you feel Satoru start slamming into you harder do you come back to the moment. He holds your hips, keeping you in place as he molds your pussy to his cock.

You hear lip smacking above you, the sound of Satoru’s moans being muffled against Suguru’s lips. Suguru holds his face steady while his tongue swirls inside Satoru’s mouth. The taste of his own precum mixed with Satoru’s saliva made his brain feel hazy.

“Feels so good, feels so good!” Satoru pulls apart to chant.

Suguru smiles as he watches his boyfriend fall apart in front of him.

“She does, doesn’t she? You should be thanking me Satoru, for allowing you to let you use her first.”

His words have your pussy clenching around Satoru’s cock, making it borderline impossible for him to keep fucking you.

Satoru whimpers helplessly, his hands digging into your tender flesh.

“T-thank you Suguru, thank you!” Satoru’s gulping down oxygen.

Suguru hums, seemingly placated for now.

“You’re so welcome.” Sickingly sweet.

Satoru’s movements lose all rhythm, all reasoning thrown out the window as he chases his high.

“Gonna cum.” He murmurs, looking down and watching how your body all but sucks him in.

“Ask for it.” Suguru orders.

“Please let me cum now, please I can’t, she’s feels so fucking-“

Suguru slides two fingers into Satoru’s mouth and he eagerly wraps his hand around his wrist while sucking.

“What a good boy, of course you can.”

You feel Satoru’s hips stutter before his cum shoots out inside you.

Satoru moans loudly, all noises slightly garbled from Suguru’s fingers. Ecstasy fills your veins as you watch the sight above you. Beautiful beautiful men. His cock stills inside you while he pulls off Suguru’s hand. His body weight feels heavy against you as he leans over, pressing soft kisses along your throat. Suguru whisks himself off the bed leaving you only a moment of reprieve before he took Satoru’s place. He spread your pussy and grinned to himself.

Oh how he and Satoru loved to make a mess out of you.

“How we feeling pretty girl?” His voice calms your body.

You can’t find any words to say so you just grumble and wiggle below him. He chuckles before nodding his head, dragging his hands up your body leaving goosebumps trailing behind.

“So good for us, always so sweet.” He utters praises in between kisses down your chest.

“Just hold on a little bit longer princess.”

His tip rubs through your folds and you feel your body react instantly. Suguru pushes the head inside and revels how your back immediately arches up, hands clawing at his exposed chest.

“Relax, relax. I’ve got you.” He speaks so quietly you swear you feel your heart stop beating for a moment

He lowers himself down until your skin presses against each other. His nipple and belly piercings drag against your sensitive skin as he sinks deeper into you. Suguru’s lips part, mirroring yours while he watches your face contort into complete pleasure.

You try not to acknowledge the fact that his caramel eyes are flicking across your face. You wouldn’t be able to stand it if you saw how much he adored you.

He presses a kiss to your forehead before he begins to fuck you. His cock drags in your walls, Satoru’s cum making it easier to slide through. Suguru tries to keep his composure as he watches you beneath him. He snakes a hand between you two and massages your clit.

Your body jolts beneath him as you moan into his neck. Both of them made you feel so good it almost made you wonder. Were humans allowed to feel this good?

Suguru hits deep inside you, his quiet moans mingling with yours. You look up and make eye contact with him, his pools of caramel swallowing you whole. His fingers speed up and you could feel yourself falling closer. You reach up and wrap a hand around his throat, bringing him down closer to your lips. Your lips smash together while he winces, your hand still wrapped around his throat.

“Fuck, yes, just like that baby.” His voice sounded husky, a combination of the pressure on his throat and the lust that consumed him.

You were going to be sore tomorrow but you didn’t care. You feel yourself start to cum and Suguru keeps pumping into you, bringing you down even more.

“Good girl, good girl.” Your chest twists and turns at his voice.

Suguru listens to the melody of your moans surrounding him while he slams into you. His cock forces itself into you even deeper as it twitches, cum draining out into your tight walls. His cum mixed with yours and Satoru’s, creating something sinful as it leaks down your body. You could hardly catch a breath as he started to drag himself out of you.

You suddenly felt extremely empty and exposed, feeling the two men’s eyes bore into you.

They share two kisses before Satoru is cleaning up between your legs, his loving cooes escaping his lips.

After you get all cleaned up you cuddle in the bed together, basking in each others presence.

“Oh, my gift is gonna seem lame now.”

Satoru turns to you and Suguru’s eyes widen. They hadn’t really expected anything from you. You bought them something every year, but they always told you you didn’t have to.

“You got us something? Where?” Satoru’s voice peaks.

“It’s in the bag by the table.” Your eyelids start to feel heavy.

You sink further into the bed, enjoying the feeling of Suguru’s fingers stroking your side.

Satoru hops off the bed and brings the bag over, rummaging through it. A big box of chocolates, definitely for Satoru. For Suguru, a teddy bear.

“Too cheesy?” You ask, feeling self conscious.

They had got you this hotel room, even going so far as to create a whole game to lead you to them, all of it was better than perfect.

Satoru tackles you on the bed, quickly placing kisses all over your face.

“It’s perfect bunny!” His words are slightly muffled from your face.

Suguru grabs the teddy bear and grins, holding it close to his chest.

Joy bursts from your skin and you try your hardest not to show your excitement.

“Happy Valentine’s Day.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day.” They say back, pulling you close.

#my writing #suguru x reader x gojo #poly satosugu #suguru x reader #suguru geto x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk

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meanbossart · 12 days

Text

Another much overdue ask compilation! Some short-ish lore asks (Gale, Gort, DU drow relationships and pet-companion preferences) and a couple of art/advice ones sprinkled in. THIS IS BY NO MEANS ALL OF MY ASKS so as usual I appreciate everyone's patience!

I actually think he'd give them a pass entirely as soon as he noticed. Correct me if I'm mistaken but half-drow get No love from underdark drow and are usually surface babies right? So that fruit is miles away from the tree lol. I think he generally has a bit of a soft spot for mixed kinds since he himself feels like an amalgamation of sorts.

Thank you! They're kind of a pain in the ass to draw at times for that very reason but man I do like the look 😩if other people like it too then that makes it all worth it!

THAT'S TRICKY TO ANSWER BECAUSE OFTEN TIMES I'M NOT... REALLY TRYING. I've draw a ton of horror comics for mine and my partner's series' SAD SACK and SORTIE, so I think it just comes naturally to me 😅 also I do genuinely find expressive and, uh, rugged faces more attractive? (I think they look rugged, again that's what people tell me at least.)

I think the secret might be adding bits of realism in there. I get a lot of comments about the wrinkles and eyelashes I add to my art, as well as the way I draw individual teeth (though I've lately been making an effort to simplify my style in favor of drawing faster, so I haven't done that as much or in as much detail.)

Both symmetry and the lack of it can also add to that effect. I have employed both facial unevenness and almost point-perfect symmetry to achieve something a little frightening or otherworldly in my work. [MORE UNDER THE CUT]

Thank you so much!!! The contrast is very much intentional, that's what DU drow's character is all about ;)

Hahah well I somewhat doubt Bhaal would care that his spawn gets named, but either way he stripped himself of his name as soon as he killed his foster parents and abandoned the Underdark. He had a drow name that I jotted down somewhere but it's completely irrelevant because nobody has used it since he was a child, and he doesn't remember it (even pre-tadpole/having his brain scrambled.) Here's a little write up about his origins that might shed some more light on that: https://meanbossart.tumblr.com/post/739688837431836672/did-drow-ever-have-a-childhood-before-the-temple

And about his original drow-given name and the reason behind it: https://meanbossart.tumblr.com/post/741350986692591616/drow-had-to-have-been-given-a-name-by-his-adoptive

Everyone just referred to him as his supposed race, or as Bhaalspawn or Bhaal's child, and any other similar titles. Orin called him "kin" and "brother" and Gortash likely called him his associate. Post-tadpole the camp grows entirely used to calling him "the drow" and he has no desire to change that or to choose a proper name.

THANK YOU BOTH SO MUCH😭 no reason to be intimidated, I'm just some rando drawing BG3 fan art LOL I've been drawing since I was a child, and started taking it semi-seriously when I was 16 years old, so twelve years ago! That's around the time where I got my first non-display tabled and used that well into my twenties, prior to that I only did stuff on paper and liked to do inks color with pencils. I never really ventured into traditional painting at all except for a little bit of water-coloring in college.

Traditional and Digital art are very much different beasts. Which one you want to start with is, in my opinion, just dependent on what you want to do. Digital art gives you a lot of tools that makes learning easier, but you might find yourself having much steeper of a learning curve if you ever decide to do traditional art instead. If you want to be good at both, you need to practice both, since the skill doesn't entirely translate from one medium to the other.

Naturally you will be able to draw well on either, it's just... Different. I will say though, that I think if you're still learning you should use whatever allows you to look directly at what your hand is doing, so either traditional or display tablet/Ipad. I have no idea what a non-display tablet would do to a beginner, but remembering my experience with it I feel like it might be a huge detriment to developing the skill (feel free to share your experiences in the replies if you disagree, as I would definitely be curious to read them!)

YOU KNOW ME BABY IT WAS MESSY AND COMPLICATED the tldr.: is that they were "buddies", absolutely no romance intended there on either mine or DU drow's part, but due to his nature the friendship was extremely weird.

Here's a couple of replies where I go into more detail about it: https://meanbossart.tumblr.com/post/739191190871818240/i-dont-have-a-particular-question-in-mind-sorry

https://meanbossart.tumblr.com/post/744952815768764416/so-not-sure-if-youve-covered-this-but-i-thought

That's definitely reserved for the vamp LOL DU drow very much enjoys when Astarion teases and fusses over him, and while Astarion probably got a kick out of acting that way around such a big and scary looking guy at first, I think by "now" (later and post-game) he's pretty much immune to DU drow's looks and just enjoys doing it in earnest.

He's not at all averse to being touched (even rather intimately) by close friends, but he wouldn't be quite THAT vulnerable with anyone else.

HE REALLY DISLIKED GALE... He irked him out by seemingly fostering a rather persistent romantic interest in him for at least half the time they spent together (very much based on my interpretation of their in-game interactions at the time, though my Gale might have been a little bugged.)

But also they had a... Fairly in depth relationship still? Gale was a staple in my party, and even though I antagonized him constantly by the end of the game it still felt like they had so much weight in each other's lives, if that makes sense. I might need to do a bit of an "update" on the DU Drow/Gale lore sometime, I feel like I've had some thoughts since that warrant more exploration of their dynamic (you can find a lot of old asks about it if you just search the Gale Dekarios tag in my blog though).

The gist of it is that DU drow found him arrogant and duplicitous, his constant optimist irritated him to no end and felt like it veiled a stream of self-pity (two things DU drow despises) Gale's attempts to get through to him only added insult to injury. By the end of the game he decided to pursue the crown of Karsus and this only lost him even more respect in Drow's eyes, seeing as he doesn't value godly power at all.

I was pretty overwhelmed by the game at the start so I actually missed a lot LOL including Scratch. I did get the owlbear cub though, which DU drow gladly welcomed into camp since it was injured - but I think he would have wished for it to remain a wild animal and to return back to it's home after it had grown up a bit. He didn't really make a "pet" out of it more than he just looked after the little guy in the way it's mother might have, probably with Shadowheart's help.

He wouldn't be opposed to proper pets though if one were to stumble into his life. He'd definitely be more of a cat guy because of their independence and strong little attitudes.

It is very hard to build proper rapport with him. He will be "friendly" to most people who have a good sense of humor about them, but friendSHIP is another thing entirely.

I think it's kind of circumstantial. He's very economical in his relationships and doesn't really seek them out at all - so a situation where he's forced to be in someone's company might be the only way to develop a bond with him, as he doesn't appreciate insistence either and that's more likely to push him away. He doesn't value status or titles either (kind of looks down on them really) so that won't help.

I think he just likes people who are true to themselves and their nature, sometimes even if the nature is one he disagrees with at it's core. This is why he liked Gortash, why he and Shadowheart got along so well, and why him and Astarion fit together so seamlessly despite seeming so different. Likewise I think it's why he didn't jive with people like Gale or Wyll, because they seemed to be rather... Dishonest with themselves and their own end-goals.

#ask compilation #DU drow lore #ask

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corroded-hellfire · 9 months

Note

practically begging for a drabble in the universe as as you wish where they finally get the place to themselves and don’t have to be quiet

You say drabble, @munson-blurbs and I write over 5k words. Please enjoy this little glimpse at what happened right after part one 🥰

Warnings: smut, p in v, unprotected (wrap it up), oral, m and f receiving, older!eddie, babysitter!reader, breeding kink

Words: 5.1k

[As You Wish masterlist]

Eating outside in February in Indiana wouldn’t be your first choice, but when your last class gets out after everyone else has had time to claim indoor spots to chow down, you’re forced to eat your lunch at the picnic table that’s getting most direct sunlight. At least you’d been able to grab a nice hot bowl of soup to keep you warm. The sun comes out from behind a cloud, and you think that maybe your luck is changing when you look up and see Peter strolling over to you.

“Not again,” you groan under your breath.

“Hey,” Peter says as he takes the seat opposite you. His smile looks genuine enough, but you know it’s hiding the smarmy intentions beneath.

“Hi,” you reply before shoving another spoonful of soup in your mouth.

“Aren’t you cold sitting out here?” Peter takes his hands out of his pockets and blows his hot breath on them.

No, I’m perfectly comfortable, you moron, you think to yourself. Peter is a nice enough guy, but ever since he started hounding you about why you wouldn’t go on a second date with him, he’d been insufferable. Why couldn’t he just let it go?

“A little,” you admit. “Couldn’t find a space inside.”

“My car is parked just over there,” Peter says, nodding his head in the direction of the parking lot to your left. “You can eat in there; I don’t mind.”

“No, thanks. I’m fine here.”

Peter sighs and tilts his head to the side as if he’s a confused puppy. “Why are you afraid to be alone with me?”

You almost choke on your latest sip of soup. “Afraid? I’m not afraid, Peter. I’m alone with you right now, aren’t I?”

Peter shrugs and it takes everything in you not to roll your eyes.

“So, why no second date then?”

The moment the words leave his lips, you drop your spoon into your bowl with a clang and bring your hands up to rub over your face.

“Peter,” you say with a deep sigh, “we’ve been over this.”

“I just want a straight answer from you,” Peter says, as if this isn’t something you’ve already given him many times over.

“How about a list?” you snap, unable to hold back your frustration any longer. “You talk with your mouth full. You called nursing a ‘girl major.’ You stared at the waitress’s chest the entire time she was at our table. And when the people next to us started speaking Spanish, you mumbled something about learning to ‘speak American.’ Which, Uncle Sam, isn’t even a God damn language. So,” your voice is rising and attracting the attention of other students, but you couldn't care less, “if you would kindly fuck off, maybe you can leave with your testicles intact.”

With that, you gather your food and rush off to the nearest payphone. Your fingers, still slightly numb from the cold, dial the number as though on autopilot. To your utter relief, he picks up.

“Scott’s Auto Body, this is Eddie speaking.”

It’s been two days since you two hooked up, devouring each other carnally in his bed while his wife wasn’t home, and you were left unsure about how to proceed. Yes, Eddie had confessed that he had feelings for you–feelings much deeper than the lust that had consumed you that evening. But, as with anything, there were consequences to these actions. And what if the consequence was that he no longer wanted you around? That you only served as a painful reminder of the way he broke his marriage vows?

“Yo? Anyone there?”

You clear your throat, forcing yourself to speak into the receiver. “H-Hi. It’s me.” You bite your lower lip and cringe. Me? How the hell is he supposed to know who ‘me’ is?

“Hey,” Eddie says, and you could swear there’s relief flooding his tone. “How are you?”

The concern in his voice mixed with the fact that he knew it was you simply by a stuttering greeting has you flustered and gripping the phone even tighter.

“I’m okay,” you manage. There’s a beat of silence before Eddie replies.

“Are you?”

“Do you remember that time you told me if I, uh, wanted to bail on something, or…”

“Is someone bothering you?” His tone is firm but kind and it reminds you all over again of why you fell for him.

“More annoying than anything,” you admit.

“Is it that prick you went on a date with months ago?”

Did you mention that recently? Or did Eddie remember that from when you told him a few weeks back?

“Unfortunately,” you say.

Eddie sighs. “Jesus, take the hint, pal.”

“Oh, he’s had more than hints,” you tell him. “He’s been given very direct answers multiple times.”

The only sound that comes from the other end is the faint banging and scraping from the garage. You lick over your cold, chapped lips as you wait for him to say something.

“Where are you?” he finally asks.

“Having lunch on campus. It was peaceful at first.”

This time there’s no silence as Eddie quickly shoots back with, “Do you want me to come get you?”

“Only if you’re on your lunch break. I’ll even buy you something to eat,” you offer. “What are you in the mood for?”

“You.”

The answer and how he gave it so immediately has your face burning despite the bitter breeze blowing outside. You shuffle your boots on the ground and take a self-conscious glance around, as if someone could hear what he just said to you.

“Eddie,” you lightly admonish.

“Love when you say my name.” The way he clears his throat after the admission has you wondering if he meant to say it aloud at all. It gives you butterflies either way. “Be there in twenty, pretty thing.”

Before Eddie gets there, you grab two sandwiches for you to split. To save yourself any possible embarrassment, you pretend that Eddie’s infectious grin is more for the food than it is for you.

It’s more difficult to do this when roaming eyes accompany his smile; the chocolate hues soaking in every last millimeter of your body. “Hi,” he murmurs, reaching over to help you with your seatbelt. You don’t need any assistance, and he knows this, too, but it grants him the opportunity to brush his fingers against yours.

“Where to?” he asks, unwrapping his sandwich from the thin plastic covering and taking a bite. The nickname ‘baby,’ is on the tip of his tongue, but he has to hold back. At least until the two of you figure out what the fuck is going on.

“Home, please,” you say softly, tearing off a piece of your own PB&J. You silently curse yourself for getting such a childish sandwich, but considering the way Eddie’s practically inhaling his, he doesn’t appear to be bothered.

He’s only driven a few blocks when he breaks the awkward silence, leaping right onto the back of the elephant in the room. Or car, rather.

“So, um, about what happened on Saturday,” Eddie starts, but you quickly cut him off.

“I know…you’re married.” You lower your head, too heavy with shame. He’s going to say that I shouldn’t babysit the boys anymore. He’s going to call it all a huge mistake. “It never should have happened.”

You feel your head move slightly as Eddie takes his forefinger and turns your chin to face him. “But it did. And I’m not mad about it.” His voice is firm, confident…it’s something you’ve never witnessed before when he’s talking to his horrible wife.

“…you’re not?”

Eddie shakes his head with a small smile, unable to hide his amusement at your obvious surprise. “Not even close. I’m only mad that we can’t, y’know, actually be together.” His hands grip the steering wheel tighter as he says it; it can’t be a coincidence.

But we can, you think, pressing your lips together in an effort to silence yourself, just leave her and be with me.

Instead, you nod and mumble, “I know.” You take another small bite of the sandwich, hoping the sticky peanut butter will glue your tongue to the roof of your mouth and keep you from saying something stupid and clingy.

Eddie looks at you with wide eyes. “Do you…do you regret it?”

It’s a loaded question. Do you regret letting Eddie Munson fuck you in his marriage bed—the one he shared with his wife—splitting you open while moaning about how good you felt? Not at all. Do you regret that it stirred up feelings that can’t be reciprocated because of his marital status? Absolutely.

“No, I just wish…” you trail off, forgoing your original thought, lest it sound like an ultimatum. Instead, you pose a question of your own. “Saturday night, when you told me you cared about me…how did you mean that?”

He sighs, coming to a complete stop at the stop sign. Throwing the car in park, he turns to you with a look of longing and desire.

“Like this.” Eddie leans in and kisses you, tucking his upper lip under yours. His hand caresses your cheek, and he finishes it off with a soft bite to the plush of your lower lip.

The honk of an irritated driver snaps you both from your passionate stupor, and Eddie uses his right hand to shift gears and his left to give a one-finger wave. You assume that that’s the end of the conversation until he speaks again.

“I’ve cared about you since I saw how great you were with my kids,” he admits. “Tried to convince myself that it was just because, y’know, if something happened to you, it would affect them, but…”

“But?”

“But it was so much fuckin’ more than that.” He doesn’t have enough time to list all the ways he cares about you, the ways he dreams of loving and protecting you. “And now that I really know you, shit, I can’t imagine a world without you in it.”

Eddie stops the car again, ignoring the angered shouting of the person in the vehicle behind you as he turns on the flashers. Before you can open your mouth to ask what he’s doing, his lips are on yours again. His large hands cup your face, the callouses giving you goosebumps as they glide over the soft skin of your cheeks. The butterflies in your stomach seem to float up into your head as you feel lightheaded when the two of you separate.

Not wanting to truly bring that wall down and let him see just how much this is affecting you, you attempt to play it cool—hide how flustered his tender kiss has you.

“And, uh,” you say, clearing your throat before you continue, “what you said about wanting to hear the noises I make…?”

Immediately, Eddie’s eyes darken, and it ignites a fire in your otherwise cold body. He leans in towards you and his voice is low and silky as he says, “I wanted to hear every. Single. Sound.”

It’s getting more difficult by the second to restrain yourself when he makes you want to climb into his lap right then and there.

“And do you? Do you, um, still want it?”

A groan comes from deep in his throat as his eyes never leave yours. “So fucking bad, baby.”

The intense hunger his eyes hold almost has you snapping and throwing yourself at him, but you manage to hold onto that last single thread of restraint you have. Instead, you figure this would be better in a place that isn’t being invaded by the frigid air or when anyone could look in at you two since you’re still in the middle of the road.

“Is anyone at your house?”

Instead of giving you an answer, Eddie puts the truck into drive and presses down on the gas pedal so hard that you think it will fall through the floor of the car. The sudden speed has you pressed to the back of your seat, and you laugh at how impatient he is to get you back to his place.

“Fuck, I love that laugh,” Eddie mumbles more to himself than you.

When you get to the house, it’s so hard not to tear into one another on your way to the front door—even with the biting chill in the air. But there are neighbors and the last thing that needs to happen is someone assuming anything is going on between Eddie and the babysitter and make Brittany out to be some kind of martyr.

As soon as the door is closed behind you though, Eddie has his chest pressed up against your back, his warmth seeping into you.

“Fuck, baby, I don’t know where to touch you first,” he growls in your ear.

“How about…here.” You reach down for his hands and bring them under your shirt. Sliding them up your tummy, you settle his palms right on your breasts. There’s a big goofy grin on Eddie’s face as he gently squeezes at the bra-covered flesh.

“Love these, sweet girl.”

Closing your eyes, you let your head drop back against Eddie’s shoulder as he fondles you.

“You have any idea how many times I thought about your hands on me like this? And other ways?” you ask, your breath bitching when his thumb brushes over your nipple.

“And what about your hands on me?” Eddie asks before pressing hot kisses against the side of your neck.

“Mmm, thought about that too,” you admit. “But I mostly thought about my mouth on you.” You unzip his coveralls and drop to your knees, pushing his boxers down so you can take him in. Precum pearls at the tip of his cock, threatening to drip down the shaft along the thick vein that runs through it.

You wrap your hand around the base, giving kitten licks to his leaking slit.

“Don’t tease me, please,” Eddie whines, cupping his own balls briefly just for the extra sensation.

You move them out of the way, settling in a bit more. “You mean like this?” you ask salaciously, pressing little kisses along the underside of his erection before sliding your tongue along it.

The man whimpers like a damn puppy, clenching his fists and flexing his thighs in a feeble attempt to hang onto his sanity.

“O-Okay, yeah, please, fuuuuuck,” he groans as you take all of him into your mouth. His legs twitch, and his knees nearly buckle and have him crumpling to the ground. “Yeah, right there…shit, thas’ perfect.”

Eddie’s pretty moans encourage you each time you bob your head and envelop him in the warmth of your mouth again. One of his hands rests gently on the top of your head; not grabbing or forcing, simply resting there as if he needs to be touching you in every possible way that he can.

“Christ,” Eddie says with labored breath as he looks down at you with heavy-lidded eyes. “I’ve imagined those pretty lips wrapped around m-my cock so many times. But fuck…nothing beats the actual sight of it. Love watching as I disappear inside your sweet little mouth.”

His words have you moaning around his cock, sending delicious vibrations throughout his body. It’s enough to have him teetering on the edge. The hand that isn’t resting in your hair comes up and rubs over his face as he drops his head back and stares at the ceiling with unfocused eyes. Whimpers spill from Eddie’s lips like a prayer, and you start to move your head faster, trying to let your jaw hang looser.

“Shit, baby,” Eddie manages through panting breaths, “I-I’m not gonna last.”

Keeping up your motions, not pausing for a moment, you moan around him to let him know what you want. You’ve dreamt — both daydreams and sleeping dreams — about him finishing inside your mouth and you need it to come true.

“Yeah?” Eddie asks. Another moan around his throbbing dick is how you deign to respond. “So close, princess. Being such a good girl for me—shit. My sweet girl has such a sinful tongue.”

His words have you practically dripping, and you need nothing more than for Eddie to peel your soaked panties off of you. One of your hands slides up and cups his balls, which has him practically keeling over.

“Fuck! Babe, I’m gonna—I’m gonna, shit, I’m cumming.”

Eddie’s warm release fills your mouth, and the tangy taste is like heaven on your tongue. You make sure to milk him for everything that he’s got before you pull off and swallow it all. A little bit dribbles down the side of your mouth, but you catch it with your thumb and pop it into your mouth, making sure to get every last drop.

“Holy shit,” Eddie says, trying to catch his breath. “C’mere.” He tosses his coveralls and boxers aside and helps you off your knees and into the bedroom. “Show me that perfect fuckin’ body of yours.”

Anyone else ever saying that to you in your life would make you self-conscious and be tempted to hide yourself. But Eddie makes you feel safe and desired in a way you never thought possible. He wants to see you like this. It’s a dizzying thought.

You comply, heat blooming up your body towards your face as his gaze is trained on you while he makes himself comfortable up against the headboard. Every little movement, his eyes track it. It’s like you stripping down bare is a class he has to take and he’s the most studious student there ever was. By the time you’re slipping off the last offending item—your drenched panties—you’ve already forgotten that the heap of your clothes is there at the foot of the bed.

Crawling up the mattress to him, you’re about to straddle his waist when he shakes his head. He scoots down a bit so his head is resting flat against his pillow.

“Want you to ride my face, sweet girl.”

The request catches you by surprise and you can’t help the pinch that forms on your brow.

“Are you sure?”

Instead of a sexy or witty remark, Eddie looks you dead in the eye so you know how serious he’s being. “If you don’t sit on my face right now, I will die.”

Leave it to Eddie to bring the theatrics into the bed with you. Still, you give him a skeptical look as you raise an eyebrow.

“You might die if I do,” you say.

“Bullshit,” Eddie says as he reaches for you. Despite your reluctance, you let him pull you up higher towards his mouth. Eddie knows you though and can tell there’s something else you want to say. He looks at you imploringly, doe eyes blinking up at you.

“No one’s ever even eaten me out before you did,” you admit. It surprises Eddie, but he puts a pin in that for later—right now he really needs you to sit on his face.

“Well, let me show you what you’ve been missing out on, babe.” He gently tugs you up so that your pussy is hovering over his mouth. “Now, I’m gonna eat you out, and I need to hear your beautiful noises, yeah?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Fuck,” he moans as he wraps his hands around your thighs and lowers you onto his lips. His tongue glides through your folds and fucks in and out of your hole. You seize the opportunity to grind your exposed clit against his nose.

“Eddie, feels s’good,” you whimper.

Eddie moves away for a second, and you frown at the loss of sensation. “I know you can be louder than that,” he grins before resuming his previous position.

Nerves flood your body. You’re not used to being loud during sex; no guy before Eddie had even given you that urge. You will yourself to relax and let him take care of you, your hands gripping the headboard as you ride his face.

“Yes, Eddie! Holy fucking shit,” you cry out, feeling his hold on your thighs tighten. “You’re gonna make me cum all over your face.”

Eddie just gives a muffled hum of approval, moving his tongue but keeping his head still so you can keep rhythmically pressing your clit against his nose. His tongue is magic, fucking in and out of you like he can’t get enough.

Your release hits you hard, and you lean back to brace your hands on his thighs as you ride out your high, practically screaming your moans loud enough for Peter to hear back on campus. Ironic that his persistence for a second date drove you into the arms—and bed—of another man.

You keep whimpering “Eddie” over and over again as you come down, a pathetic little mewl that has him melting. He gently lays you on the bed and hovers over your gorgeous body, pressing kisses to your lips, smearing them with your own slick.

“Love how you say my name, sweetheart,” he murmurs, a slight growl in his voice. “Also love how you taste.”

The word “love” plays on a loop in your head. You want to hear him say it about you. You want him to make love to you, not just fuck you. Could that fantasy ever come to fruition?

The touch of Eddie’s hand on yours interrupts your longing thoughts. He brings your palm to his cock, and you instinctively wrap your fingers around the hardened length.

“Got me hard again, baby,” Eddie hisses, “like a damn teenager or somethin’.”

You can’t hold back any longer, and the words spill out of you. “Inside me, Eddie,” you plead. “Please.”

“You don’t have to beg, but I’d be lying if I said I hated it.” He smirks, watching as your hand glides up and down his erection. He hasn’t been this turned on since…well, since he came home to you wearing his clothes two nights ago.

“Please, need you inside me, wanna feel how nice you fill me up.” You open your legs wider, and Eddie situates himself between them. Your pussy clenches around nothing, desperate for some friction.

He’s got one hand on your right breast, the other holds his cock. “Ready for me?”

“Yes, yes, God yes.”

You feel him push into you, and you instinctively arch your back. His calloused hands slide around your waist as he gives slow, gentle thrusts until bottoming out.

“How’s that? Y’good?”

“So, so good.”

His thrusts get deeper and more intentional, and he grins when he hears the small moans escaping your lips.

“E-Eddie?” Your voice is a strong whisper; it’s all you can manage with the way he’s pounding into you.

“Yes, princess?” A shiver snakes its way down your spine at the nickname. Princess. You’re Eddie’s princess.

You stumble over your words, flustered by the new pet name and anxious about how your next request will be received. “Can you, um, say what you said the other night?”

Eddie’s brow furrows in confusion as his hips keep a steady pace, unruly thatch of pubic hair deliciously grazing your clit. “I said a lot the other night, baby,” he chuckles. “You’ll have to be, uh, a little more specific.”

You try and push away the embarrassment, reminding yourself that you’re safe with Eddie. “When you said y-you were going to fill me so good and knock m-me up,” you try again, squeezing your eyes shut in anticipation of a bad reaction.

Eddie groans and gives an involuntary hard thrust of his hips. “Holy shit, you’re telling me you like that?” He throws his head back when you nod. “Fuck, baby girl, you have no idea how hot that is to me.”

“So hot,” you agree with another feeble nod of your head.

Eddie grips your waist and flips the two of you so he’s leaning back against the headboard and you’re in his lap. “Shit, Princess. You want my babies, huh? Want me to fill you with my cum, huh? Won’t let any drip out of you, gotta keep it all in there.”

Your eyes practically roll back in your head. All you want is his babies, to walk around with a swell to your belly because Eddie Munson fucked you until he got you pregnant.

“That’s it,” he continues through gritted teeth, “I know you can take it. Such a good girl, wanting all of my cum.”

“Y-Yes, Mr. Munson,” you whimper pathetically, “I’m your good girl.”

Mr. Munson has his brain short-circuiting, and his hips snap upwards at a rapid pace. He wants this to last forever, but the way you look and feel has him on the edge of release once more.

“Fuck, ‘m gonna cum. Call me ‘Mr. Munson’ again, baby,” Eddie pleads, pupils blown wide as he begs to hear your beautiful voice.

“Mmm, want your babies, Mr. Munson!” You watch as he throws his head back at the sound of your moans, keeping his frantic pace. “Ri-Right there! Yes, yes, yes!”

The two of you come down from your highs together, you slumped against his chest and his hands resting on your bare back.

“M’pretty sure that’s the best sex I’ve ever had,” Eddie finally manages through heaving breaths.

You peek up at him with incredulous eyes. “Really?”

“Hell fuckin’ yes.” He leans down and presses soft kisses along the expanse of your neck. “Everything about you turns me on so ridiculously much. It’s insane. The more I learn about you, the hotter you get.”

You grin to yourself and nuzzle your head against his chest. “Was the best for me, too,” you admit.

“Yeah?” Eddie cocks an eyebrow in disbelief. There’s no way he can compete with the younger guys throwing themselves at you…is there?

“Are you kidding?” You look up at him with a shy smile. “All you have to do is look at me and I get wet.”

“Good to know,” Eddie says with a playful smirk. He turns away for a moment before whipping his head back around, peering at you dramatically. “How ‘bout now?”

You press your lips to his in what’s supposed to be a romantic kiss, but your smiles get in the way.

“Hey, uh, did you…” he starts, clears his throat, and then tries again. “Was I really the first guy to eat you out?”

You nod, downcasting your eyes in embarrassment. “No one ever offered, but I never asked or anything, so…”

Eddie takes your chin in his hand and pulls your gaze back to him. “You never have to ask me,” he murmurs, nudging his nose against yours. “I love being able to make you feel good. If I ever turn down eating your pussy, call an ambulance, because I clearly need medical attention.”

Giggling, you go to rest your head on his shoulder when you catch sight of the clock on his bedside table. “Oh, I have to go get the boys,” you say, trying not to sound too disappointed.

“Pretty sure we left a trail of clothes around the house. You go get the troublemakers; I’ll clean up.”

You nod and lean up to press a tender kiss to his lips. He cups your face in his hands and just stares. “Don’t want to let you go,” he murmurs, just short of a whine.

“I won’t be long,” you whisper against his lips.

“Hurry back,” he calls out dramatically, but he’s only half-joking. All he wants is you in his bed, tangled in the sheets, touching each other like you’ll never get enough.

You reach for your purse and dig out your keys. “Wait, I don’t have my car. You picked me up from campus.”

“Take my truck, baby,” Eddie offers, taking his own set of keys from the coveralls laying on the ground and tossing them to you. “We can take the kids to the park or something then the Munson men will bring you back to your car.”

“Such gentlemen.” You giggle when Eddie bows, still fully naked.

It feels like a scavenger hunt to find all the articles of clothing you’d shed, but you’re finally able to get dressed and dart out of the house to pick up Ryan and Luke from school.

When you return back, small Munsons in tow, the scent of just-fried bacon wafts past your nostrils.

“That is the best smell in the world,” Luke declares. He walks towards the kitchen as if he’s in a trance.

You follow behind him and Ryan and see Eddie washing a frying pan out in the sink.

“Daddy!” Luke clings to Eddie’s hips, surprised to see his dad home early. He squeezes him tight, and Eddie has to swallow his emotions before turning around to greet him.

“Hey, buddy.” He drops the pan and sponge in the sink and scoops Luke up and presses a kiss to his head, then ruffles Ryan’s hair.

“Bacon smells good,” Ryan says, peering at the counter where the strips lay on oil-soaked Bounty sheets.

“Thought it could be a snack for the ride to the park. How’s that sound?” Eddie asks, already knowing the answer.

Both boys cheer, with Luke breaking out into some sort of kung-fu inspired happy dance. His little feet shuffle back and forth along the kitchen tile while his little hands punch the air.

Eddie just laughs and tells his sons, “Go change out of your school clothes and grab your heavy coats.”

Once they’re out of the kitchen, you raise an eyebrow at Eddie and speak softly to him. “Hungry after such a vigorous workout?”

“A little.” He chuckles and gives a shrug. “But really, I was paranoid that it would smell like sex in here.”

You giggle and cover your mouth, worried that you’re too loud. The last thing you need is for the boys to ask what’s so funny.

“You’re so fucking cute,” he whispers, kissing just under your earlobe.

Ryan and Luke come back into the kitchen before you can respond, so you just stand there flustered. It goes unnoticed, since the boys ramble on as the food gets packed up, sneakers are tied, and doors are locked.

“This is the best day ever!” Luke announces, opening the car door and climbing into his booster seat.

“I agree.” Eddie throws a wink in your direction, and your stomach does a flip as you buckle your seatbelt.

Maybe there is more than just lust between you and Mr. Munson.

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