#involuntarily) throwing away their humanity | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sincerelyneo · 27 days

Note

will you be reposting the jeno fic you had on your old blog? it was my fave 🥺

here it is <3

fireproof | l.jn

“‘cause no body saves me baby the way you do”

💿now playing: fireproof by one direction

❯ summary: Your brother Jaemin loves throwing parties when your parents aren’t home — but you hate it. In an attempt to escape the loud music and sweaty bodies you try and head out. But there’s no way your brother’s best friend, Jeno, is letting you wander around the streets so late.

❯ pairings: jeno x fem!reader

❯ genre: smut, brother’s best friend, college!au

❯ words: 8.4k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, smut, masturbation, minor mentions of drug use, drinking, marking, slight protective brother jaemin, begging, spanking, mentions of marking, unprotected sex (don't do this!), oral sex (m/f receiving), fingering, reader uses she/her pronouns, jeno fucks his best friend’s little sister.

a/n: i changed the title hehehe

This party fucking sucks.

You’re not even drunk. The vodka is watered down, you're sure of it. Your friends ditched you about half an hour ago — disappearing with some of the guys they had been speaking to and seeing.

"Come to the party with us, they said." You mimic to yourself into your plastic cup. "It'll be fun, they said."

You scoff taking another swig but pull your face at the awful taste that lingers in your mouth. There are better things you could be doing on a Saturday night, you think. You’re almost positive you saw a new show released on Netflix today. Or better yet, you could be reading some sort of erotic novel that would spice up your Saturday night more than this shit.

But the thing is, this party is at your own fucking house.

Your brother is throwing it.

Every time your parents go away for one weekend he can’t help but jump at the opportunity to trash the place. You don't see why he can't just have a few of the boys around, have some beers and then call it a night. But no, that isn't exactly Jaemin’s style.

Of course, he has to invite a bunch of random weirdos that seem to be snorting cocaine off of every surface in this house, and smoking whatever kind of weed they could find. And sure, you’re not impartial to a good night but this... this is not your idea of a good night.

At all.

Sighing, you push through the masses of people, seeing the sweaty bodies that are dry humping one another or eating each other's faces off so much you feel like you’re going to throw up at the sight.

Stopping in your tracks, you reach into the back pocket of your denim jeans to pull out your phone, seeing that it is half-past midnight. If you know Jaemin — and you did — this was only the beginning of the night. The party is definitely far from over.

Fuck sake.

You put your phone back in your pocket and continue to manoeuvre around the bodies in the hallway. Your stomach growls and you think about how you're drinking on an empty stomach. The only thing open at this time is a Mcdonald's but you don't necessarily want to be that person that sits in McDonald's by themselves on a Saturday night.

Still, you head for your front door and try your luck at an escape. As you reach your hand out to grab the door handle you smash headfirst into a body. Well to be more specific a chest. A hard chest.

"Ow, fuck!" You lift your hand up, rubbing your forehead.

"Sorry little Na, didn't see you there." You immediately recognise that voice. The deep slowness in which he talks. It’s the only voice that has a straight hotline to your core.

Yeah, you couldn't ever forget that voice.

You stop rubbing your head and slowly look up, following the lines of his muscled chest that you can see through the tight white t-shirt he's wearing with a pair of denim jeans and converse. Yes you had already checked him out tonight, but you’re only human. And when your eyes meet that sharp jawline, hollowed-out cheekbones and those damming brown eyes, you involuntarily clench your thighs together.

You shun yourself because you know you can’t have him. And that’s the reason why you hate him.

He's your brother’s best friend.

Lee fucking Jeno.

The worst man on this planet. for many reasons like for one he’s insanely hot. Like too hot. Who on this planet even needs to be that hot? But to make it worse he knows he's hot. Girls are always flying off his arm fueling his ego. He's also selfish and arrogant.

But the reason you hate him the most, the reason you despise him so much, and avoid him at all costs is because of the burning need — it's past being a want it's a fucking need — to just devour him. Every part of you screams out whenever he is in the same room.

And you hate it.

You have zero control over your words and actions with him — and he knows it with how much you’ve embarrassed yourself in front of him over the years. Your cheeks tend to grow red without your permission, and oh does he love to point that out.

Ever since your brother brought him home in his first year of high school, they have been inseparable — and you’ve been madly in love.

Well, you’re not in love with the boy. You just, you know, want to rip his clothes off. And let him fuck the living daylights out of you.

"Aw, there they are." He distracts you from your thoughts.

His eyes are burning straight through you. As if he can tell what you’re thinking, how you’re feeling. And right now, you have very infuriating dampness in your panties that wasn't there 30 seconds ago.

"Those rosy cheeks, are they for me, little Na?" You swat his hand away as it attempts to reach up to caress your cheek or some stupid shit like that.

"Stop that Jeno!” You snap at him, getting angry is your default with him.

It the perfect remedy to keep him away from you, so you don't do something stupid like fuck your brother’s best friend

“Please just get out my way.”

"Such a pleasant girl, aren't you?" He winks.

He fucking winks, and your pussy screams in delight. If you were any other girl, you’d be swooning right now. You’d be on your knees begging for it.

Well, you won't be on your knees for him.

Ever.

Especially not tonight.

"Just get out of my way, Jeno,” you push him rather hard.

You knew it wouldn't make him budge if he didn't want it too but he dramatically moved out of your way of the door. You yank it open and dart through onto the front lawn. Halfway down the driveway, a sharp tug on your arm spins you around and you’re faced with Jeno... again.

"Fuck sake, what do you want?" You shake your arm out of his grip but he doesn't let go.

You give up, huffing and dropping your shoulders. The two of you are just staring at each other, so much so that you didn't even realise how close you really were. Your chests are almost touching, there is a hair width between you. And due to your height, if you looked forwards you’d be looking at the bottom of his neck, right where you see him gulp before meeting your eyes again. They seem to burn into yours, suddenly growing intense.

He is the first to look away but he doesn't just look away, no. You watch as his eyes flash down to your lips. Your breath hitches, he sees that and when he looks back to your eyes again, he flashes you a knowing smirk.

Motherfucker.

"Come back inside." He says as he throws his head to the side, signalling to your house.

"No," you all but stomp your foot.

"You're such a fucking brat, you know that right?" He growls, closing that gap so that your chests touch. There’s an electricity running through you, begging for him.

"I'm not a fucking brat, I just don't want to be here at this shitty party!”

You don't break his eye contact, chests still touching. He can sure as hell feel each heavy breath you take and probably every beat of your heart that seems to have sped up since he moved closer.

"Just go inside, go to your room, anything. Just don't fucking leave, your brother would have my balls if I let you go out alone this late at night.”

You roll your eyes at the mention of your brother. You love him, you really do, but hearing the word brother leaves Jeno’s lips reminds you exactly why he’s even here.

It’s not for you — it’s for Jaemin’s sake.

"I don't see why either of you care, you've got plenty of booze and girls to keep you occupied to not even notice me gone,” you stand your ground, trying to tug your arm once again but he still won't let go.

However, he has loosened his grip so it isn't so harsh, but it's still locked around your wrist. In fact, you’re sure you feel him drawing little circles on the inner skin with his thumb and that thought alone has you squirming no matter how much you try to ignore it.

"I think I'd always notice when you're not there," Jeno says under his breath, his face lowering to yours.

If you didn't know better then you’d think he was about to kiss you. But that can't happen. Can it?

Everything but your core is saying no. Your whole body is screaming to open up your mouth and say please. But you ignore it — you always do— and try to keep a brave face. But as he gets so close, too close, your eyes automatically flutter shut.

You expect his lips to graze yours but they don't, instead, you feel his cheek against you , only faintly, as his lips skim your ear lobe.

"I think I'd always notice when you're not there because there won't be some childish little brat moaning about not getting her own way."

Your eyes shoot open as he pulls back, laughing at your flushing cheeks. Your eyes narrow as you finally tug your arm hard enough this time that he has no choice but to release you.

"I do not moan about not getting my own way and I am not childish nor a brat,” you sneer at him.

"Sure,-" he huffs, laughing, crossing his arms over his chest. "Whatever you say."

"Why can’t you just go inside and leave me alone,” you cross your own arms over your chest.

"No can do." He stands there like some sort of bouncer, you look to your right and see the path only a few steps away. He watches you and says a low, demanding, "Don't."

But you do it.

You spin on your heel and run for it. But you only make it two steps before two large arms are wrapped around your waist from behind and you’re being sprung back into a hard chest. Jeno’s one arm sits tightly around your waist, his fingers digging into your hip and you squirm against him. To stop your wriggling, his other hand flies up to grab a hold of your throat, tilting your head back to the rest of his shoulder.

His eyes flash to his hand around your neck and he takes a deep breath that causes his eyes to flutter shut. Then you feel something growing behind you causing your own eyes to grow wide. He leans forward, lips skimming yours barely.

“I said don't." It sounded more like a growl than anything and a small whimper escaped your lips. "Are you going to walk inside or am I going to have to carry you?" He whispers still close to your mouth. If you lifted your head slightly, you’d be kissing.

"I'm not going back inside." You sternly reply, he just laughs and his hold loosens on you.

But he doesn’t free you. Instead he throws you clean over his shoulder in a fireman's lift.

“Put. Me. Down. Jeno." You scream, hitting his back, but he doesn't listen. Carrying on heading back inside your house.

Your cheeks are bright red and you stop your attack on Jeno’s back and decide to clench his shirt in your fists and hide your face in it.

"What's going on here?" You hear Jaemin’s voice and your head flies up.

"Your sister tried to escape," Jeno says laughing, bending down to lower you to the ground.

When he stood back up, you were so close your bodies touched again, your breasts rubbed against his firm chest and your nipples stiffened. His eyes glanced down to them and they darken, then he looks to you again and grabs your shoulders, spinning you around to face your brother. You automatically lifted your arms up and over your breasts to cover the obvious arousal.

"Come on Y/N, you know you can't be walking around aimlessly at night." Jaemin chastises you.

"I'm not a child Jaem," you roll your eyes with a shake of your head.

"So what? Grown ass people still get kidnapped!”

You groan, I'm going to my room."

You push past him and head towards the stairs. You turn around seeing Jeno’s smug face knowing he’s got his own way about you coming back inside.

But you won’t give him the satisfaction. You’ll just sneak out the window and have your perfect escape. He won't know.

Not like he’ll come to check — right?

You spin on your heel as you hear the sound of footsteps following behind you. Jeno’s there, eyes locked on your ass until he sees you looking back down at him and then cocks his head to the side and smiles innocently.

“What are you doing?” You spit.

"Just making sure you actually do go to your room." He flashes his infamous eye smile that has plagued your dreams since you first met him. "And that your windows are locked. Don't want you running away now do we?" he winks at you.

He’s so irritating!

With a huff, you turn around and storm your way up the last couple of stairs, making sure your stomps are extra loud. You can just hear Jeno snickering behind you and that only rattles you even more. When you reach the landing you turn immediately and head to the last door of the hallway and pull it open, stepping inside of your bedroom. You go to slam the door shut but a sneaker covered foot stops in between preventing it.

You immediately roll your eyes and groan.

"Leave me alone Jeno." You groan, leaning up against the door with your back, pushing it.

"Let me check your windows then I'll leave."

"What kind of request is that?” You sigh, running a hand through your hair.

"Just let me."

"No."

The two of you enter a stare off — one you both know he’s going to win. And he does, because you don’t even let two whole minutes pass before you’re huffing out a “Fine.”

He makes his way over to your window, making sure it's locked, then he chuckles, drawing your curtains too. The only thing lightening the room was your bedside lamp that you had an awful habit of leaving on. That, and it was the perfect deterrent to make it look like someone was in there, keeping strangers from having sex on your bed.

“All done?” You ask, breathy.

He smirks, his eyes flashing to your lips again and you swear to god if he does that one more time you’re either going to kick him in the balls or jump on him and kiss him.

You force yourself to take a step back and take a deep breath which makes him laugh.

"Well goodnight little Na, don't go sneaking out because I will know about it." He walks off to the door and before he exits you say,

"And how would you possibly know that?"

He looks over his shoulder, his eyes flash up and down your body, "I just will,” he winks then closes the door behind him.

You huff out and stomp your foot like a child. God you needed to grow a backbone and stop letting that idiot mess with you.

Storming into your bathroom you slam the door shut. You strip off your clothes and turn on the shower. Whilst waiting for it to get up to temperature, you sigh.

"Let me just lock your windows for ya." You pull a face copying him. "Want me to check that for ya?"

Once you’re done in the shower you climb out of it and dry yourself with a towel.

"He's so fucking annoying ugh," you say to yourself as you pull the bathroom door open and saunter into your bedroom naked.

You don't even check to see if anyone was in there, too busy ranting about him. And when you feel the cold draft of your bedroom it makes you realise you had just walked into your unlocked bedroom naked. Immediately, you covered your body remembering the party going on downstairs; but on first glance, it appeared no one was in there. Still you quickly grab your oversized grey t-shirt from the end of your bed, throwing it on over your head, but skipping your underwear.

Your room was fairly simple with white furniture, a wooden floor, soft pink bedding, a few cuddly toys. The bed lies against the far wall, opposite the door and you leave your lamp on to have a little bit of light to help you sleep.

Trying to fall asleep you flip over so your back faces the light. You try a few different sleep scenarios but everything keeps going back to Jeno.

And the way his hand gripped around your neck.

You flip over again, keeping your eyes shut, yet, Jeno just waltzes into your mind continuously. Like he won't leave you alone. You feel so much anger coursing through your blood, yet you have this strange pulling into your core.

You need to give attention to it — so you do. And as soon as you slip your hand under the covers, the fantasies start rolling in. Jeno’s arms around you, grabbing at your waist, your hips, your ass, your breasts.

Your breath hitches.

His tongue in your mouth, along your skin, tracing your neck and stomach, then between your folds lapping at you. Your eyes shoot open as you clench your thighs together and immediately feel the wetness.

It was just too much to ignore. This wasn’t going away. You already knew that.

You just needed some relief and then you’ll be free for the night. Jeno never needs to know and it’s not like you haven’t done this exact same thing before over him.

Your right hand finds your centre first, sliding between the folds and instantly feeling the slick wetness there. Slowly and sensually, you begin moving your fingers in a circular motion. Eyes closing instantly, flashes of Jeno now being played before you.

In your mind, it was no longer your hand but his. Rubbing your clit, sending shivers down your spine and causing a small panting moan to escape you.

Your left hand begins clutching at the sheets and as you feel your nipples peak and rub against the soft material of your shirt, you have no choice but to swiftly move your hand up and under to take hold of your own breasts and squeeze. You moan again as you begin to work your fingers faster over your clit.

Now in your head, Jeno stood before you shirtless. Seeing the ripples in the muscles of his abs, he flexes his arms, making you grow weaker. But you always felt like this whenever you saw him shirtless at the pool, or the beach.

And you couldn't deny how fucking sexy he was — you wouldn’t?”

"What’re you thinking about?"

You pause instantly, back arched, orgasm growing close and eyes squeezed shut. You can't decipher whether that voice was in your head or in real life so you just grow still and relax, trying to pretend it didn’t happen.

Your breathing which was already heavy, grows even more so, this time with panic and worry. You don't want to open your eyes, scared of what you might see because you recognised that voice.

At least, you’re really fucking hoping Jeno’s voice is all in your head, because you’re seconds away from orgasm.

"I asked you a question."

Your eyes fly open. He’s definitely not in your head.

Ripping your hand away from your clit, you pull the other away from your nipple and force yourself into a seated position with your hands splayed behind to hold you up. You scream on instinct, he doesn't so much as flinch as he stands at the end of your bed.

His eyes are dark, head low and looking up at you through his lashes. He has that smirk on his face, and his hands are fidgeting, rolling his fingers against his palm. Your eyes roam his body as your scream continues and you wish you hadn't, only because your scream turned into a moan as you spied his hard erection pushing against his jeans.

You gasp and look back at his face.

"What're you doing Jeno?" You whisper-shout, even though the party downstairs would make it difficult for anyone to hear you anyway.

Still, you didn’t want any party goers walking in on a flustered you in bed with Jeno and his very large, very prominent erection, standing at the base.

Fuck. It's so big. You can tell from how it's breaking at the seams of his jeans to be let free. Your mouth waters at the sheer thought of his dick — wondering what it looks like, how it feels in your hands, in your mouth — how it tastes.

Fuck no. Absolutely not.

You shake your head, trying to rid the thoughts and ignore the fact your core is pulsing right now, begging for one last touch so you can explode into orgasm. You really fucking needed it.

"I asked you what you were thinking about?" He says lowly, and it causes your breathing to still.

“H-how long have you been standing there?" You whimper.

He shrugs, “That doesn't matter, what does matter is-" he moves his head up, looking you dead in the eyes as he cracks his neck and then his fists in each hand. "-What you were thinking about whilst touching yourself? Was it me?"

He smirks again and you stood up, throwing the duvet off of your legs.

"Not a chance," He says sternly. You look at him again, face paling.

"What do you mean, no?" you ask, cocking your head.

"I mean don't you fucking move-" His tongue came out to lap at his bottom lip as his eyes moved down your body, down your legs.

You instantly went to grab the duvet again but he grabbed it first, ripping it from the bed and throwing it across the room. You get down on all fours, crawling to try and get it before him.

"Jeno!" You exclaim, reaching your hand out for it but it was too far away. You look up at him on all fours, and from this angle... God. You gulp.

"Give me my cover."

You try to wash away every fantasy of being in this position before him but you can't ignore the way you need his hard cock, seeping at the tip and begging for you to lick it, to suck it.

Stop. No. Not now.

His hand comes to the side of your face, pushing a piece of your hair behind your ear and you shiver at the touch.

"Lie. Back. On. The. Bed." He commands.

Your eyes flutter shut for a moment and then slowly, you move to follow his command until you are back down on the bed. You keep your legs closed and hands on your stomach.

You weren’t sure why you’re listening to him — obeying him . But something in you, some instinct is just screaming at you to let this play out, see what he wants.

"Touch yourself." He says and you blanch, your eyes growing wide and you sit up again, but one stern look from him has you lying back down again. "Touch yourself and tell me what you think of, how you feel, tell me everything Y/N."

Your name. He never bothers to call you that. Usually emphasising how you’re his best friend’s little sister with the nickname he’d given you. But honestly, you’re thankful for the nickname because hearing your actual name from his lips, all nasally and sensual, sends you spiralling.

It makes you putty in his hands. And as for your hands? Well, they slowly spread your legs wide revealing your soaking wet cunt to him. You keep your eyes pierced on him, watching how his breath hitches, eyes glued to you. The way he automatically grabs his cock through his jeans and squeezes is like a reflex. Closing his eyes only briefly before they're back on you, on your core.

You feel yourself growing red, the heat of embarrassment consuming you whole as you slide your hand down your stomach. As soon as your fingers make contact with your clit, your hips are bucking off of the bed and your back starts to curve. Building up your arousal doesn't take long. You were already half there, teetering on the edge.

Except this time your eyes lock onto Jeno’s for real whilst your fingers are moving, soft moans leaving your lips. You spy his own hand on his cock, he hasn't pulled it free but he moves his hand back and forth over his shaft. You can see the way his arms tense as he moves and watches you.

You throw your head back with another moan. Seeing him stood there isn't enough, you need something more. You need him climbing on top of you, replacing your fingers with his. His hot breath against your neck as he rubs you harder and faster.

"What are you thinking about?"

"You." You say breathily.

"What about me?"

Your eyes shoot open to stare at him, he looks tense and flustered. Just as bad as you. His hand stops moving on his cock and you make a mental note that he might've been close. Too close. And this might be over too soon.

"Your fingers on my clit, rubbing me," you throw your head back as the fantasy flashes again.

"Yes, and what else?" He growls.

"Your mouth." You breathe again.

"My mouth, huh?" He bites and your fantasy continues.

"Yes. Everywhere." You cry out, orgasm seconds away. "Your mouth on me, about to- God, Jeno I'm gonna cum,” your back arches, hips bucking, fingers moving so fast and rough.

"Look at me." Your eyes fly open at the command. "I want you to cum whilst looking at me."

And you do. The sheer dominance radiating off of him is the final straw that has you crashing down.

Your orgasm rips through you as your hips lift so far off the bed. You moved your fingers through your orgasm, riding it out but finally, your hips fell back to the bed and you let out a heavy breath.

Before you could even open your eyes again, you felt two large arms wrap under your thighs gripping your hips, and suddenly you’re yanked to the end of the bed. Your eyes snap open, and your head lifts up as you spy Jeno on his knees at the end of the bed, his mouth centimetres from your dripping pussy.

"J-Jeno,” you mumble, just the sight of him has you moaning.

You’re not sure if getting yourself off in front of him was the moment you both decided to cross the line; but now him manoeuvring between your legs, you knew you definitely had. Regardless, you know now you aren't ever going back to the dynamic you had before.

"I’m gonna make those fantasies come to life baby.”

He doesn't miss a beat. His tongue comes out and swipes a long lick up and through your folds. All common sense leaves your head as you fall back against the bed.

"God, you taste so good. I fucking knew you would."

He’s thought about this? You know you have.

He repeats the motion again, this time focusing on your clit, making sure to run a smooth stripe along it, circling it only slightly, enough to have you wriggling. One of his hands splays over your stomach, holding your hips down.

"I want you to cum on my tongue. I want to taste every drop of you,” you gulp, looking down at him between your thighs. You don't miss the dark pupils in his eyes and that daring look, the one telling you to follow his instructions.

"Jeno, oh my god,” you cry out, your head flying back as his mouth attacks your clit. He sucks it in, flicking his tongue all over in a frenzied motion.

You know he knows all the right ways to make a girl squirm. And you are fucking squirming. All over the fucking bed, you’d be breaking free from him if he didn't have his large veined hand holding your stomach down. Your stomach is now on show. Your t-shirt has risen up to just below your breasts and you see the way his eyes watch the movement as you move about, tits bouncing around.

And as if he can hear your thoughts he says,

"Take your top off."

You do it without question, lifting the hem and throwing it over your head. Now you’re laying there completely naked. His hand that was on your stomach comes up and takes hold of one breast, instantly taking your nipple between his fingers and you hear him, no you feel him, moan into your pussy.

The vibrations cause you to cry out, hands knuckling the bed sheets.

"You're so fucking hot Y/N, God." He murmurs before attacking you again, his mouth working wonders.

And that tongue. You’re so close. You can feel it.

Then you feel as he slides two fingers into you. Jeno curls his fingers inside of you, hitting some sort of sensitive spot, and as soon as his fingers massage that area inside you and his mouth returns to your clit, you explode.

You don't even know if the music downstairs would cover your screams as you fell into ecstasy. His hand on your breast doesn’t move, but the one that had been hooked on your hip moves to splay against your stomach holding you down as he laps at you, riding you through your second orgasm until you couldn’t take it anymore. He pulls his fingers out, then his mouth away from you at just the right time.

You lay there spent. Completely.

Eyes fluttering open. Jeno stood between your legs looking down at you. His cock looked painful in his jeans. You had once felt exhausted and ready to fall asleep but as soon as you saw his erection you shot up in your seat. You immediately fumble with his jeans until his hand comes to your jaw, pulling your head up to look into his eyes. He stares for a moment before blinking, taking a deep breath.

"You don't have to- I didn't do that for you to-"

"I want to. I want this." You nod eagerly,"I want you.”

You lick your lips and it's as if something snaps in him, that moment of care vanishes and he lets go of your chin.

"Well then, suck my cock,” he says, standing there and you do as you’re told.

You unfasten his jeans, pull them down and then his underwear. His large erect cock springs free instantly and without a second thought you take hold of him in your hand. Your hands look tiny against his dick.

You move your hand slowly up and down his cock, and notice how his thighs tense, then his stomach and you follow your eyes up until you meet his face. His head is hung low, eyes dark and hands clenched by his sides. Keeping your eyes on his, you lean forward and spy the precum, flicking your tongue out and taking it in to swallow down with a moan that makes him grunt.

You moved so that your face was closer to his balls, then you stroked your tongue all along his length, and felt the way he flexed beneath your muscle. There’s a cocky smirk covering your face when you move back to the top and suck his tip into your mouth.

"Do you like sucking my cock?" He asks, his hand threading into your hair to start pulling on the roots to yank your head backwards.

"Do you like it when I suck your cock, Jeno?" You flip the question with a smile the power in your hands. You continue working him and he flexes his hand in your hair.

"That's how you wanna play?" He grins at you.

You pretend to think for a moment, "I’m not playing anything." You move your head closer down his length, licking another long stripe hearing how he curses under his breath and thrusts his hips towards you. "I just want to suck your cock."

With that, you take him into your mouth, sliding down until you reach your limit. You can't take him whole, he’s way too big for that, but you take what you can. He coughs and splutters a bunch of inaudible words, but you just pull back up and repeat the motion, continuing to take him back into your throat.

His hand stays threaded in your hair, keeping a rough hold so that you can't pull away — not that you wanted to.

You love every second. Even as you feel him tensing, his hips moving as he thrusts into your mouth. You look up through your lashes to see his head thrown back as he moans out and hisses every so often when you drag your teeth along his cock. You can tell he likes it as the precum coats your tongue. That and the way he doesn't tell you to stop.

"Do. That. Again."

And you do, watching his head fall forwards."Such a pretty sight, my cock filling your mouth. What do you think your brother would think about this?" he smirks and your face falls pale.

You almost stop sucking his dick but he doesn't let you, slamming his hips forwards so his cock hits the back of your throat.

Your brother.

Not a thought you want to think about right now but it is something you needed to consider. This was his best friend. You’d finally gotten the man so forbidden, always out of bounds. The whole time you didn’t know that he wanted you as much as you wanted him.

You moan uncontrollably, and it must send vibrations along his cock as you feel it twitch in your mouth, his thrusts become sloppy and his grip on your hand grows tighter.

"Fuck, Y/N, I'm gonna cum." He grits out. "Are you gonna let me cum in that pretty mouth of yours?"

You look up at him. You can't speak so you try to nod.

"God, you’ve always been the death of me," He thrusts several more times as you slide your tongue all over his length and tip.

You do it a final time as you take him to the back of your throat, gliding your teeth along him which must've been his undoing as you felt the hot steaming cum splatter against the back of your throat.

You pulled him out your mouth slowly. Even as he is softening he is still thick and large. You kitten lick the tip as he hisses, causing him to loosen his grip in your hair and you sit back, making sure to obviously gulp so he knows you swallowed every last drop of him. Leaning forwards, his hand comes to your chin and he moves his mouth so close to your you think he might kiss you but instead he says,

"Good girl."

You hate the way those two words made you clench your thighs together. You thought the two orgasms were enough but no, you’re ready for more. You need more.

He’s quick to remove his shirt, and as he lifts his arms his abs flex. You are point-blank gawking at him standing before you, making him smirk.

That snaps you out of it. Remembering you are sitting here, soaking wet and naked before him. You crawl back on the bed and then realise you have no duvet so you have to pull your knees to your chest and cross your arms over your knees to cover yourself.

He watches you, laughs and then shakes his head. He then moves, shoving off his jeans and underwear the rest of the way off until they both land on the floor.

"Wh-What are you doing?" You ask stuttering, thinking he should actually be getting dressed to leave.

"What do you think I'm doing?" he asks.

Can't he ever just give you a simple answer?

Then you notice how his cock has sprung to life again and his hand moves to touch it. Moving up and down the length as he cracks his neck.

"You're h-hard again?" You stutter, eyes glued to the impressive size of him.

"I'm always hard for you baby." He winks and for once, it didn't make you want to punch him.

"Jeno, we can't." You shake your head.

You’re already way past the line. Sex would destroy the whole scale. Still, the idea of him, his cock inside of you, whispering filthy things in your ear... it isn't something you can ignore.

"You want it." He says point blankly.

You gulp and remain silent. He moves onto the bed, kneeling and then crawls towards you until he is over you. His hair has fallen over his eyes — so fucking hot. "I know you want it, why try to deny it?" He cocks his head to the side, smugly.

"I-I'm not." You fidget.

“Yes, you are." He ducks his head low, burying it in your neck. You feel his warm breath and your heartbeat rackets so loud. "You don't want to want me to fuck you,” His teeth graze your neck, sending you into a panting mess as he sucks and bites.

He then pulls away and laps at the mark you know is there, the one he put there as a reminder tomorrow when you come to your senses that you did this.

"So I’ll ask again. What do you want?" He looks down at you, plump pink lips swollen and wet from his constant licking and biting them.

You’re going to let your brothers best friend fuck you. And you’re going to love every second of it.

Not wasting another moment longer to think, you grab hold of his neck and lift your head whilst pulling him to you to smash your lips together. There’s heat, fire, and explosions of electricity.

Your hands claw at his neck, his back, his sides. Anything to pull him closer. His crotch, his hard cock, grinds against your soaking hole and you groan out whilst continuing to kiss him. Both so desperate for each other. His hands skim down your body, kneading your breasts, your hips. He grabs hold of anywhere and everywhere.

His lips detach from yours, giving you a moment to see how swollen they are before they're attacking your neck. He peppers kisses along your jaw, not sweet kisses but hard and sloppy kisses. Sucking and biting the skin causing your back to arch into his chest, pushing your breasts against him, making him moan. He thrusts his hips forwards, his cock sliding between your folds, hitting against your clit making you quiver.

"Fuck, we really shouldn't be doing this." He continues kissing you down your neck, reaching your collar bones that he also decides to leave marks on.

"Jeno please," you cry out. Both of his hands move to your hips to hold you still.

"Please what baby?" He smirks before moving lower to take one of your nipples into his mouth.

"Fuck Jeno,” you cry out as he flicks his tongue over the bud, biting it harshly so you cry out again then soothing it with a soft warm suck.

"Please what baby?" He repeats.

"Fuck me. Now!”

"And what about your brother?" he brings him up again and you roll your eyes.

"Stop bringing him up," You moan as he takes your other nipple into his mouth, repeating the process.

"He'll kill us if he finds out." he grins.

"Then he can't find out," You pant out of breath as Jeno moves.

His face is so close to yours that your lips are only just touching, his chest is pushed against you and his cock sits lodged between your folds. You try to shift to gain some friction against your clit but his grip holds you still. His eyes flicker across your face then he says,

"I won't tell if you won't?" His lips caress yours in the faintest of movements. You flick your tongue out to wet your lips, but in the process he bites onto your muscle making you wince then moan, "What do you think, huh?”

There’s no room for discussion — your body won’t let you.

"I won't tell if you won't."

He doesn't miss a beat once he gets your approval. His lips are on yours as his hips thrust forwards. His cock thrusting inside of you, tearing you open as you pull your mouth away to cry out.

"Holy fuck."

He stills once inside you, making sure to push as far as possible until his pelvis meets your skin. Your legs wrap around his waist instantly.

"You feel so fucking good." He breaks from your kiss to breathe. "I always knew you would but this-" he looks down to where you are connected and he thrusts further, trying to get deeper but he can't possibly. "-this is better than anything I could've imagined."

"Move, please." You grunt trying to lift your hips to encourage some movement. His eyes fly open, dark and daring.

"Beg me." He smirks and does a tiny thrust, a teasing thrust.

"Fuck off,” you pant, trying to do it yourself but he uses his hips to pin you to the bed.

"Beg." He smiles and cocks his head to one side. "Me."

You hated his arrogance. But fuck, you want him so bad. So badly that you will beg.

"Please fuck me, Jeno." He pulls out of you and you suck in a deep breath.

"Again." He grins now.

You can't bear to look at him but looking down means watching as he holds just the tip inside of me.

"Please. Fuck. Me." You pant, half moaning, begging for him.

He thrusts so hard into you, you wince and moan out in pleasure. He hit so deep inside that you’re sure you’ll bruise.

"Anything for you, Y/N,” he whispers in your ear before sucking and biting on the lobe.

Then he's pulling out and thrusting into you. Again. And again. And again. Harder and harder each time. Faster and faster. You lose your breath, becoming a big ball of pants and moans — just like Jeno.

God, the sounds he makes. You’ve never heard someone so vocal before, but fuck it's hot. The small grunts he makes when he fucks you, the groans when you clench around his cock and feel yourself building. He moves his hands under your ass to lift it, plummeting into you from a new angle, going so much deeper.

"Your pussy is so tight. Fuck,” He says between thrusts, and gritted teeth.

He seems to have found a weak spot right under your ear that has you clenching like mad around his cock. And he loves it.

"How have you just been there in front of me this whole time? How have I stayed away from you?" He seems to be asking himself because he doesn’t press you for a reply.

He removes his lips from your neck and sits back on his heels, his cock still inside of you, slowing his thrusts and he lifts your legs up, moving them over his shoulders. His head moves from side to side, placing a soft kiss on each ankle and for one second. You’re dumbfounded as he looks at you, a daring smirk written across his face.

He wraps his arms around your thighs, locking your legs in a straight position against his chest on either side of his head, and then he begins pounding into you again. However this time, he moves one of his hands to your centre, his thumb moving closer to your clit. You feel how it grazes your nerves. He strums it once. Twice. Three times then you're wriggling around like a mess, back arching off as your orgasm tears through your body and you explode into euphoria. Again.

He rides you through it, fucking you as you clench and squeeze around him. A string of curse words come out of him, you feel him so close but he doesn't cum. He stops stroking your clit as you batted his hand away, you didn't realise you had been clenching the sheets with white knuckles until you relax your hands and feel a cramp in your palm.

Jeno slows his thrusts until he stills inside of you, his chest is moving up and down with each of his heavy breaths. You move your legs off of his shoulders, enjoying the movements as your legs feel strained too.

But as soon as your feet hit the bed, he grabs you and flips you so you land on your stomach. He pulls your hips up and slides into you again.

"Fuck!" You scream as he slams into you unapologetically. One hand holding your hip, the other trails along your back as he begins fucking you from behind. He leans over you, still ploughing, and comes closer to your ear.

"I always wanted to fuck you like this, you are always strutting around showing off, your ass? Do you like teasing me?"

You don't even know what you like right now. Mind too focused on needed Jeno to fuck you any way he pleased.

He grins, then shoves your head back down into the mattress, straightening his back and fucks you harder than you think you’ve ever have been before. You couldn't keep up with the movements, head a complete daze from all of the orgasms that he had given you.

You come to a conscious mind when a hard slap lands on your ass, it makes your pussy throb so he does it again, and again, rubbing over the area and soothing it before doing it again. Each time it makes you clench around him.

"Jeno," you cry out between thrusts.

"Yeah, baby?" His voice sounded so much deeper, which told you he was close. That and the way his thrusts grew random and unstable.

"Want you to cum in me," You moan, clenching the sheets again.

"I'm not wearing a condom," He grits through his teeth.

"I'm on the pill,” you manage to say between heavy breaths. You needed him to cum in you now.

He shakes his head, "Last thing I need is to get my best friend's little sister pregnant." And that was that because he thrust a few more times, then pulls out, and instantly, all over your ass and back you felt a hot liquid splatter about.

As soon as his grip left your hip you fell straight down onto the mattress, and your body was thankful for it. Everything hurt. He'd destroyed you. Fucked you, well and truly. And you couldn't stop the smile on your face.

"I'll go get a cloth." He said through some heavy breaths then climbed off of the bed and went to your bathroom. He emerged a moment later, used the warm cloth to clean up his mess although you notice him take a minute to look at it.

"Admiring your work?" You asked him through a laugh, he looked at you and shook his head chuckling.

"Trust me, if I could take a picture I would,” he wipes it away. Then he returned to the bathroom to throw the cloth in the hamper but as soon as he stood in the doorway of you heard three loud knocks on your bedroom door.

"Y/N? You in there? Have you seen Jeno?"

You shot up in bed, suddenly not tired or spent. Jeno’s eyes grew wide too.

You lifted your finger to your lips and gestured to Jeno to stay in the bathroom. He didn't hesitate as he shuts the door.

Jaemin would fucking kill him and you, without a doubt. Only moments ago you had his best friend’s cum covering your ass.

"One second," you shout, jumping out of bed and grabbing your T-shirt. Then you rush over to the door, paint on your best sleeping face and yawn whilst opening it.

"Oh, you were asleep?" Jaemin stood on the other side, hands braced on either side of the door frame.

You fake another yawn. He looks behind you and you turn too, fearful Jeno was standing there but then you spied your duvet cover on the other side of the room. Jamein frowned and looked back to you.

"I was hot." You shrug.

"Shit sorry," He quickly says. "I just can't find Jeno anywhere.”

"He’s your friend not mine.”

"I don’t understand why you two hate each other," He rolls his eyes and you can't help but scoff at the irony.

Hate wasn’t exactly the word you’d use for the guy that was just 8 inches deep inside of you.

"Well, he's probably off getting high or fucking some girl.”

“Better not be in our parent’s bed again,” he huffs, and your eyes go wide. “Fuck, he better not be doing it in my bed either,” he says to himself.

And with that, he storms away heading for his room. Chuckling, you shut the door and Jeno emerges from the bathroom, a towel now wrapped around his waist and he stands there facing you.

"That was close."

"Too close." You sigh.

He dresses himself as you climb back in bed, getting your duvet back on and covering yourself with it. He walks over to the door and pulls it open, peeking outside to check the coast is clear, then once he does he turns to look over his shoulder at you.

"Our secret?" He says.

"Our secret." You nod and he steps out, not looking back and shuts the door.

You lie back on your bed, head falling into your pillows and laugh.

But then you shake your head processing it all, moving your hand to cover your mouth, looking at the ceiling.

You just fucked your brother’s best friend.

#jeno smut #jeno x reader #nct smut #nct x reader #nct dream smut #nct dream x reader #jeno scenarios #nct scenarios #kpop smut #nct hard hours

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bunnyreaper · 7 months

Note

oh can we pleaseeee talk about forced breeding with johnny 🙏🏻🙏🏻

im imagining such a manipulative best friend soap here, who can talk his way into anything.

like you two are super close, you share everything, which is why he feels comfortable complaining about the fact that he hasn't gotten laid in forever. and at first it's just a one off comment, but then he keeps fucking whining about it, to the point where you offer to help him get off just to get him to shut up!! but you tell him straight up, no sex.

so he comes to your room late at night, in a tight shirt and grey sweatpants that he's definitely wearing too low on his hips, bcs he's clearly trying to tempt you. you let him in and decide to offer him a blowjob, which he eagerly accepts cooing about how you're the best friend a guy could ask for.

he pulls down the sweatpants as he sits on his bed, and you kneel before him surprised by the size of his cock that's already hard for you. he lets you ease in at first, as you stroke him slowly before going in with little licks and gentle sucks, but after a while his hips start to buck, his hand comes to the back of your head to hold you in place as his pace increases.

he pulls you off of him with a pleasured hiss, diving in to kiss you senseless (not something you discussed but any protests are silenced by his mouth as his tongue slips inside. then he begs and whines some more. "lemme fuck yer thighs, yeah? please lass?"

the puppy dog eyes and the desperation in your friends voice does you in, as you pull off your own sweatpants and lay on the bed for johnny to start thrusting into your thighs. his grin is ridiculously satisfied as his precum smears all over your thighs, sticky and viscous and making him moan. honestly, you get a little lost in the blissed out look on his face--the fact he's feeling that just from pushing inbetween your thighs. and you're only human, even if johnny is just a friend, the sensation of him rubbing against you is filling you with need.

johnny must be able to sense it, as he angles his hips to push his cock past your panties and through you folds, making you moan involuntarily. "jus' wanted to see if you wet wet, nothin' more, promise." he whines as he starts to rut into your soaking folds, his hips moving wildly.

and then he's stopping, peeling off your panties and putting himself back between your thighs. "just the tip, yeah?" he pants. "johnny, no." you huff, but it's getting harder to resist as his cock head nudges against your clit over and over again. "please, just the tip, 's nothin'" as if sensing your impending defeat, he slides in anyway just the tip as he shallowly fucks you open for just a few strokes...

before he plunges in, hard and deep as he repositions you, throwing your legs over your shoulders as he presses you to the mattress and presses his forehead to yours. "feels too good, bonnie, and you were fuckin' swallowin' me, your pretty little pussy wanted me so bad. couldn't resist." he groans wildly as he fucks you recklessly, forcing moan after moan out of you as his cock strokes your insides fucking perfectly. you find it hard to recall why you ever said no in the first place, until johnny's rhythm goes, and his groans grow deeper and deeper.

"johnny, you gotta pull out, i haven't taken my pill--" you try to plead with him, to reason with him through the feral look on his face, but nothing seems to work, even as you weakly push at his chest. you try to use your legs, but as you reposition to get better leverage he starts hitting deeper, fucking away your resistance with every thrust, and you find your legs clinging to him just for some support.

"aww fuck am gonna cum bonnie, gonna fill you full, gonna--" he comes with a shout, cock slamming into your cervix as he floods you with pump after pump of cum. "ha, knew yer wanted it, could feel you milk me, squeezin' out every last drop."

he collapses on top of you, not letting you squirm away from where his length plugs your hole with all his hot cum inside. "feel so much better lass, thanks for letting me breed that little cunt o' yours. yer too good to me."

#this went off the rails oops #john mactavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish #soap x reader #bunny mail #cw dubcon #cw dubious consent

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nothomegal · 7 months

Text

"Safe and sound"

(Pyramid Head x GN Reader)

Summary: after being caught and claimed by the executioner, Silent Hill became a rather tranquil for you. However, a one particular entity, or rather entities, of this town kept bugging you anyways... Pun no intended.

Warning: mention of bugs and/or insects crawl on (Y/N)(?)

World count: 1.2k (kinda short ik hshalsdha)

(sorry if this is freaky, but I literaly dreamed about something similar and I just had to write it down hahdajkdha)

Waking up in this place is a bittersweet experience, on one hand, it's nice to wake up with some extra energy to tolerate the surrounding nonsense, but on the other one, it hurts and sucks to realize that one is still trapped in this hellhole. And today, (Y/N) woke up with the negative thought, but the sight of the broad muscular chest of their lover made their 'morning' a bit better, and also more flustering.

The shift from sleepy and grumpy to shy and akward seemed to amuse the beast, as he let out an low rumble, which resembled a purr.

—"Y-Yeah yeah... Good morning to you too."— you say a bit shy, looking away and gripping his clothes.

Though they don't look away for too long, because soon a large hand grabs their jaw and moves their head just enough for Pyra to see their face. Oh how much he adored that flustered and innocent expression of theirs, a great contrast from the faces of pain and horror he've seen on his daily basis before meeting (and then pursuing) (Y/N).

The mentioned person simply stares back at his massive metal helmet, slowly and involuntarily melting into his warm touch.

—"Do you really like to stare at my face so much?"—

As an answer, Pyra gives them a little squeeze on their cheeks and let out another low amused purr when (Y/N) tries to pull away.

—"He-Hey! Nyo, shtop!"—

Pyra messes with them for a bit longer, clearly enjoying to see them getting upset as they speak funny. This little playfight ends up with the beast wrapping his arms around his little human and pulling them back against his torso, letting them know that he's not ready to let them go, not just yet.

(Y/N) simply sighs and accepts their fate, this is still better than having their face licked and end up with saliva all over it. They start to get comfortable but...

—"Ah...- Aah-!"— you yelp suddenly as your body shivers violently.

Pyra instantly let go of them, allowing (Y/N) to sit up and put their hand underneath their shirt to then pull it out, holding...

A creeper.

That goddamn stupid roach-

—"AGH! For fuck's sake!"— you exclaim as you throw the insect against a wall.

Call this animal cruelty or whatever, but when these little shits keep crawling under your clothes and shirt every damn time you lay down and doze off for a moment, one kinda becomes annoyed with it. And feel their insect limbs and scaly body cling and brush against your soft skin or make the low hissing noises whenever you try to pull them away is straight up disgusting! Ew!

(Y/N) then lift their shirt, to make sure they spot any sneaky ones, and of course there is another one because life sucks. Yet this one resulted to be more stubborn.

—"Ugh, just get off! Is there really no other creature whose warmth you could leach on?!"— you grumble angrily as you try to shake the insect away, yet it kept clinging to your sleeve tightly.

Thankfully their struggles didn't last long, a single growl from the massive beast was enough to set the little roach-like thing into flee, quickly crawling away from them and disappearing into a random crack on the wall.

After a second check and coming out clean, (Y/N) let out a relieved sigh as they fix their clothes a bit.

—"Thanks... Sorry for the yelling, but I'm just tired of waking up with these little shits on me."— you admit tiredly. —"I mean, I'm no snowflake and definetely can handle them crawling on me, but when they go under my shirt..."— you instinctively shiver after mentioning that.

Pyra does nothing at first, not even a movement or a sound. (Y/N) knows that sometimes he goes into this stiff position, and it never fails to kinda freak them out because it's impossible to tell if he's thinking or holding back his anger.

He eventually moves, which caused them to flinch a bit because it was way too sudden. Pyra then began to slowly uncover his torso by opening the upper part of his vest while (Y/N) simply stares at him with a confused and kinda concerned expression, oh god don't tell his possesion over them made him feel lustful again-.

Luckly, Pyra seems not interested in any heated activities (for now). He remains completely still again with his vest opened, revealing his torso all the way down to his toned and scarred abdomen as he 'stares' back at (Y/N), like expecting them to do something.

They remain quiet and hesitant, eyes flickering between his torso and his helmet until it finally clicks.

—"Hold up... You want me to get in there?"— you raise your brow.

A metallic clank resonated from Pyra as he tilts his helmet slightly, movement resembling a nod. (Y/N) blinks a couple of times before doing as told, they're not sure what Pyra's plan is but they won't question it, and if he wanted to take them he'd ripped off their clothes a while ago-.

They slowly slide inside of his vest, their body getting a little spine chill at the sudden warmth of the beast's bare skin, it feels even warmer when exposed. They settle down, their head resting on his chest and their body slightly curled in a ball. The monster then closes his vest, wrapping the clothes around (Y/N) and keeping it closed with his arms wrapped around their smaller form.

Do you know how an owner sometimes let their cat hand out inside of their shirt? Well this is basically the same, but instead of the owner and a cat, it's a giant piramid headed beast and his little lovely human (Y/N).

Despite how weird of an idea it may seem, this is incredibly comfortable and cozy, (Y/N) just can't help but to nuzzle into Pyra's chest as they let out a content hum.

—"Not gonna lie, that's a very clever idea."— you momentarily stop nuzzling, then give a small kiss on one of his pecs before comfortably settling in place again. —"Thank you, really."—

A pleased rumble resonated from Pyra's helmet, making his chest and (Y/N) vibrate a bit. They slowly start to doze off again, and the little gentle nuzzling from the beast against their back isn't making their task to stay awake any easier. The sound of his breathing also resulted incredibly soothing, the way his chest raise and fall with each large breath he takes only lulls them further into sleep.

They feel one large hand slide up and rest in the back of their head, pressing them further against him in a protective manner. They involuntarely smile, childishly grin at the though of them being the only living thing to ever witness and experience this side of the fearsome executioner, who will do anything to keep other creatures away from them, him being the one and only allowed to be this close to (Y/N).

A sane mind would tell that such obsession and posessiveness is absolutely awful, but who said (Y/N) is sane? They lost it the moment they accepted to be taken away by the monster, or maybe they never even had any sanity in the first place! Who knows? Who cares? They surely not, not when they can enjoy being in the beast's arms, bathing in his warmth, listening his heartbeat...

Being kept truly safe and sound.

#nothomegal fic #nothomegal oneshot #pyramid head #pyramid head x reader #gn reader #slasher x reader

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heli-writes · 2 months

Text

A dragon's heart, part 3.

Pairing: Barbarian!Bakugou Katsuki x female!reader

Summary: The dragonblood tribe is known for being cruel, barbarian warriors that slaughter, loot and rape all places they pass through. They are feared among the villagers and even bigger cities. Having lost most of their women to a plague, they're trying to ensure their tribe's survival by kidnapping women from other places. However, they're not the only monsters in human form out there. When y/n experiences this first hand, she has no choice but to ask for help from no other but the barbarian leader Katsuki Bakugou himself.

Disclaimer: mentions of injuries

[Please don't read if you are sensible to or triggered by the topics mentioned above.]

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Series Masterlist

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Katsuki always gets up early. There's something about it that makes him feel calm. The fresh morning air, the silence of the forest. His dragon and y/n are still sound asleep when he gets up and goes to the river to get some water. Upon his return, his dragon yawns loudly and watches him with a lazy eye. Y/n is still knocked out and Katsuki wonders if anything can wake up that woman. He heats some of the water in a pot and throws some herbs in it that he collected along the way. When the water is cooking and y/n still isn't up, Katsuki stomps over to her and harshly kicks her feet.

"Oi! Get up!", he yells and y/n jerks up. Her hair hangs over her face and Katsuki's sure there's some drool on her chin. "If you keep lazying around, I don't know why I am keeping you around!", Katsuki barks at her and y/n ducks her head away a little bit. He swirls around and stomps back to the tea he is brewing. Y/n rubs her eyes and looks at him disorientedly. She turns over to see the dragon who has raised its head at Katsuki's loud voice. She peels Katsuki's cape away from her and shivers at the cool air.

After getting up, she walks over to Katsuki sitting by the fire. She hands back his cape with a quiet 'thank you'. Katsuki gives her a mean side-eye and hands her a cup of tea. It's piping hot and y/n burns her tongue when she tries it. She almost chokes at the sensation and Katsuki snickers.

Y/n sees how he has a grin on his face. Involuntarily she has to laugh too. "You ass!", she giggles and pushes him a bit. Katsuki doesn't move an inch at her shove but he bursts an even bigger grin. Then, he grabs her head and puts her in a chokehold rubbing his fist over her hairline. "Hey, that's mean!", y/n whines and tries to get out of Katsuki's grip. Eventually, Katsuki lets go of her and y/n fixes her hair. There's a slight blush on her cheeks. She's not sure whether it's because she struggled against him or because Katsuki is so close to her right now.

Katsuki has a cheeky grin on his face when he hands y/n her tea back. Y/n eyes him suspiciously and takes another sip. It's more cool now. He must've put some cold water in it to make it more drinkable for her.

When they're done with their tea, Katsuki starts gathering his hunting gear again. "Are you leaving again?", y/n asks him. She walks closer to him. "Do you want me to stay?", she wants to know. Katsuki looks up from what he's been doing. Y/n points at herself. "What about me?", she repeats again and points towards her. Katsuki grunts. "You", he tells her while pointing at her. "Stay here!", he continues pointing to the ground.

Y/n crooks her head. "I guess that means I should stay.", she contemplates and then gives him a short nod. Katsuki nods back at her, content that she understood what he meant. "He stays with you, so you don't go running off again.", he adds pointing towards his dragon. Y/n looks at the dragon, then back at Katsuki. The question mark on her face is very visible.

When Katsuki disappears into the woods, y/n assumes he needs to go pee before flying off with his dragon. However, he doesn't come back. And y/n is left alone with the giant dragon looming over her. Actually, that's not true. The dragon continues to lay lazily at the edge of the clearing watching her with one eye. Y/n feels a bit lost. She's not sure what to do, so she tidies up a bit around the campsite. She checks the vegetables and herbs she collected yesterday. She brews some more tea. When she's done, she takes a bowl of it over to the dragon.

"Uhm, do you want some?", she asks the dragon. The dragon opens both eyes and then opens his gigantic snout. Y/n is taken aback a little bit by its sharp teeth but then pours the content into the dragon's mouth. The dragon lets out a content grumble. Y/n has to giggle. It seems like dragons also enjoy tea. The dragon nudges y/n with its nose and y/n falls back by the force. Y/n has to smile. "Maybe dragons aren't as scary as I thought they were.", she thinks to herself.

*~*~*

Katsuki lets out a frustrated groan and rams his fist into the nearby tree. "This fucking deer is a lot faster than I thought.", he thinks to himself. He thought he could catch up to them by foot but so far he wasn't able to get close to the flock. Eventually, he figures he won't catch up to them. Actually, he could but leaving y/n alone with his dragon for too long doesn't strike him as a good idea. Thus, eventually, he turns around even though it's still quite early.

He's tired when he returns to camp. Also, he's starving. This time, he didn't catch a bunny or anything else on his way back. He found himself worrying over that stupid woman and hurried back without stopping. When he stomps onto the clearing, the smell of something hearty and spicy fills the air.

Y/n is standing in front of the fireplace and stirs in a pot. She looks over her shoulder when she hears the rustling of leaves behind her. When she spots Katsuki, she turns around and gives him a sweet smile. "Welcome back!", she tells him. Katsuki's heart skips a beat and he looks at her with a grim expression for a second. Then, he snaps out of it and angrily points at her.

"What are you doin'? What did I tell you about lighting fires?", he yells. Before being able to continue his ramble, his dragon moves his head over to him and blows some hot steam into Katsuki's face. At that, Katsuki at the dragon dumbly. Did his dragon... just defend her?

Katsuki is ripped out of his thoughts by y/n's laugh. Katsuki can't deny that it's a heartwarming sound. He scoffs. "Whatever", he mumbles to himself. Y/n walks over to him and takes his hand. She tells him something he doesn't understand and pulls him over to the fire.

Before he knows it, he is seated on the trunk and y/n hands him a bowl of stew. Y/n watches intently how Katsuki tries some of her cooking. "And? Do you like it?", she asks. Katsuki just scoffs and puts more stew in his mouth. "I guess he does", y/n thinks while taking a bowl for herself.

Katsuki doesn't eat two but three bowls of y/n's cooking. He would've preferred meat in the stew but he doesn't complain. He's actually content y/n is pulling her weight by doing something for the both of them. It doesn't go unnoticed by Katsuki that she tidied around camp, too.

After their meal, y/n and Katsuki tidy up the dishes in silence. They're working hand in hand as if they've done this already a hundred times. Afterwards, Katsuki packs away most of the stuff around camp and y/n wonders if that means he's leaving the clearing tomorrow.

Then, they sit by the fire. Y/n stares into the flames wondering what will become of her. She kind of doesn't want Katsuki to leave. Would he take her with him? Does she even want that?

Katsuki senses the woman's distress but is unsure what it's about or how he could help. Tomorrow, he would have to move camp if he wanted to catch up to that deer. He considers taking her along with him. Today, she didn't make any attempts to leave again. Maybe he could take her with him. So far, she's proven herself kind of useful and his dragon seems to like her. At least he hadn't tried to eat her while Katsuki was gone. Maybe y/n could find a place among his people. After all, every woman who becomes part of his tribe means one more chance for the next generation.

Katsuki gives her a side glance. The flickering of the fire reflects in y/n's eyes. Katsuki thinks she looks weak. Compared to the women in his tribe, she's small and there's not enough fat on her body. Living in the harsh mountains his tribe calls home, it will be hard for her to survive. Then again, she's not ugly Katsuki thinks. One of his men probably would take her on as his mate despite her obvious physical flaws.

Somehow, that thought leaves a bitter taste in his mouth and Katsuki shifts a bit. Y/n looks up and meets his gaze. She gives him a small smile. Then, carefully, she slides over and rests her head on his shoulder. Katsuki immediately stiffens but y/n doesn't seem to notice that. They sit in silence for a while and Katsuki doesn't dare to move a muscle. He would never admit it but he doesn't want to scare the woman away.

They stay until suddenly small drops of water hit their skin. "It's raining.", y/n says to herself. Katsuki pulls off his cape and puts it over y/n's head. He gets up and moves the bedroll towards the dragon. The rain is starting to pick up. The dragon lifts up its wing and Katsuki puts the bedroll safely under the wing. He gestures to y/n to move over and y/n rushes to get under the dragon's wing.

They sit on the bedroll together leaning against the dragon's tummy. Y/n listens to the drumming of the water on the dragon's skin. Along with the rain, came the cold. It creeps under the dragon's wing and y/n hurdles closer to the dragon and Katsuki in order to stay warm. Katsuki pulls the cape off of her and puts it over both of them. Y/n leans her head back onto his shoulder. Eventually, Katsuki moves his arm and puts it around her allowing y/n to huddle closer to him.

Y/n should probably be embarrassed to be this close to a man or at least ashamed since she's unmarried. However, these are standards the wandering folks don't submit to. While they get married for life, they are way relaxed when it comes to premarital things. In a way, y/n thinks, that marrying has a bigger meaning to them than to the rest of the kingdom. Her people getting married means they choose each other forever. They don't marry for wealth or politics or because their parents said so. Often, a couple stays unmarried until their first or even second child is born. Being out in the cold all the time, it happened quite often that women fell pregnant before marriage. However, there was little judgment among the group. They take the saying 'it takes a village to raise a child' quite seriously. It doesn't matter where a child comes from.

Thus, y/n feels no shame in huddling closer to Katsuki. She thinks his skin smells nice and that he is warmer than any other person she has cuddled up before. Katsuki however is a little embarrassed. Actually, it's been a while since he has been with a woman this close. For one, there aren't many women around and for second he's got more important stuff to do. His mother has plans to ensure their family's lineage thus Katsuki does not have to think about finding a mate, unlike most men in his tribe.

It's still early and both of them aren't tired enough to go to sleep. So for now, they just sit in silence listening to the rain and the raspy breath of the dragon. They're both lost in their own thoughts. About their people, the future and maybe also a little bit about each other.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Tag list: @graviewaviee @cosmicbreathe @tsukikoxo @nnubee @witchbishsblog @elajede @bsallergy @frxcless @berryvioo @eyesforbkg @shamelesjaroflaffytaffy @pastelbaby1111 @iamlizardgod @plvt0fvtvre @hello-peanutdoodle-blog @guccirosegold @kookiemyfeelsposts @sweetblueworm @54fangirl @sakurarr1122 @rv19 @leeliyah @king-dynamight @confused-smol-fan @xmaudx @waterstarz @pinkwhiskerglitter @adeline96 @zoom1374 @fingui @giuli-in-earth @colouringfrogssittinginleaves @futuristicallykawaiiturtle @tragedyofabrokensoul @dynakats @rebel-loves-anime @cloudxluv @itsssyagurll @sunshineandwitchery @cloudxluv @hollykanuki @atouchofmidnight

[Please comment if you'd like to be tagged in future chapters]

#mha #bnha #bakugou imagine #bakugou katsuki x reader #bnha bakugou #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #barbarian bakugou x y/n #barbarian bakugou x reader #barbarian bakugou imagine #fantasy au bakugou #mha fantasy au #bnha fantasy au #bakugou katuski x y/n

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transmutationisms · 11 months

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serious question but do you personally believe there is a way to approach psychiatry in a way that uplifts and upholds patient autonomy and wellness or is the entire trade essentially fucked haha. Btw this is an ask coming from a 3rd year med student—with a background of severe mental illness—who is considering a residency in psychiatry after receiving life-saving care in high school pertaining to said conditions. (I have peers who have been involuntarily hospitalized and treated horribly in psych wards, with approaches i patently disagree with, but was lucky not to experience. I don’t like modern american medicine’s approach to mental illness; “throw pills” at it to “make it go away” ie. a problem of overprescribing, inadequate and non-holistic approach to mental health, and i feel a lot of that can be attributed to the capitalistic framework. I also def agree with you that so much of what can be considered normal human responses to traumatic events/normal human suffering can be unnecessarily pathologized—a great example being the whole “chemical imbalances in the brain is the ONLY reason why im like this” argument that ive unfortunately fallen hard for when i was younger and am still currently dismantling within myself…and like dont even get me started on this field’s history of demonizing POC, women, LGBT, etc). Like i deeply love my psych rotations so far, and i utterly feel in my gut that this is the manner in which i would like to help people—a lot of whom are just like me—but im wondering if there is a way to reconcile these aspects in a way that one can feel morally okay participating within such an imperfect system, in ur opinion… ngghhhhhh i just want to be a good doctor to my patients…

(ps i love all ur writing and analysis on succession!! big fan mwah <333)

i don't mean to sound unduly pissy at you, specifically, but i do have to say: every single time i've talked about antipsych or broader criticism of medicine on this website, i immediately get a wave of responses like this, from doctors/nurses/psychs/students of the above, asking me to, like, reassure them that they're not doing something immoral or un-communist or whatever by having or pursuing these jobs. and it's honestly frustrating. why is it that these conversations get re-framed around this particular line of inquiry and medical ego-soothing? why is it that when i say "the medical encounter is not structured to protect patient autonomy or well-being," so many people hear something more along the lines of "doctors are mean and i wish they were nicer"? why is it that it's impossible to discuss the philosophical and structural violence of academic and clinical medicine without it becoming a referendum on the individual morality of doctors?

i'm choosing to read you in good faith because i think it's possible to re-re-frame this line of questioning to demonstrate to you the sorts of critiques and inquiries i find more interesting and more conducive to patient autonomy and liberation. so, let me pick apart a few lines of this ask.

"is the entire trade essentially fucked?"

if you're thinking of trying to 'reform' the project of medical psychology within existing infrastructures and institutions, then yeah, it's fucked. if you're still assuming that affective distress can only be 'treated' within this medical apparatus (despite, again, no psychiatric dx satisfying any pathologist's understanding of a 'disease' ie an aberration from 'normal' physiological functioning) then you're not challenging the things that actually make psychiatry violent. you're simply fantasising about making the violence nicer.

"I don’t like modern american medicine’s approach to mental illness; “throw pills” at it to “make it go away” ie. a problem of overprescribing, inadequate and non-holistic approach to mental health, and i feel a lot of that can be attributed to the capitalistic framework."

i hate when i talk about psychotropic drugs being marketed to patients using lies like the chemical imbalance myth, and then pushed on patients—including through outright force—by psychiatrists, and the discussion gets re-framed as one about 'overprescribing'. my problem is not with people taking drugs. i am, in fact, so pro-drugs that i think even the ones administered in a clinical setting sometimes have value. my issue is with, again, the provision of misleading or outright false information, the use of force and coercion to put patients on such drugs in order to force social conformity and employability, and the general model of medicine and medical psychology that assumes patients ought to be passive recipients of medical enlightenment rather than active participants in their own treatment who are given the agency to decide when and how to engage with any form of curative or meliorative intervention.

'holistic' medicine and psychiatry do not solve this problem! they are not a paradigm shift because they continue to locate expertise and epistemological authority with the credentialed physician, and to position patients as too sick, stupid, or helpless to do anything but receive and comply with the medical interventions. there are certainly psychotropic drugs that are demonstrably more harmful than others (antipsychotics, for example), and some that are demonstrably prescribed to patients who do not benefit from them and are even harmed by them. conversely, there are certainly forms of intervention besides pharmaceuticals that people may find helpful. but my general critique here is aimed less at haggling over specific methods of intervention, and more at the ideological and philosophical tenets of medicine that cause any interventions to be imposed by force or coercion on patients, then framed as being 'for their own good'. were suffering people given the information and autonomy to actually choose whether and how to engage in any kind of intervention, some might still choose drugs! my position here is not one of moralising drugs, but making the act of taking them one that is freely chosen and available as an option without relying on physician determination of a patient's interests over their own assessment of their needs and wants.

"so much of what can be considered normal human responses to traumatic events/normal human suffering can be unnecessarily pathologized"

true, but don't misunderstand me as saying that drugs or any other form of intervention should be forcibly withheld from those who do want them and are made fully aware of what risks and harms seeking them could entail. again, this would still be an authoritarian model; my critique is aimed at increasing patient autonomy, not at creating equally authoritarian and empowered doctors who just have slightly different treatment philosophies.

"dont even get me started on this field’s history of demonizing POC, women, LGBT, etc"

ok, framing this as "demonisation" tells me that you're not understanding that, again, this is a systemic and structural critique. it is certainly true that a great many doctors currently are, and have historically have been, outright racist, trans/misogynist, ableist, and so on. framing this as a problem of a well-intentioned discipline being corrupted by some assholes is getting it backwards. medicine attracts prejudiced people, not to mention strengthens and promotes these prejudices in its entire training and practice infrastructures, because of its underlying philosophical orientation toward enforcing 'normality' as defined by 18th-century statistics and 19th-century human sciences that explicitly place white, cis, able-bodied european men as the normal ideal that everyone else is inferior to or failing to live up to. doctors who really nicely tell you that you're too fat are still using bmi charts that come from the statistical anthropometry of adolphe quételet and the flawed actuarial calculations of metlife insurance. doctors who really nicely deny you access to transition surgery are still operating under a paradigm that gives the practitioner authority over expressions and embodiments of gender. the issue isn't 'demonisation', it's that medicine and psychiatry explicitly attempt to render judgments about who and what is 'normal' and therefore socially 'healthy', and enforce those standards on patients. this is not a promotion of patient well-being, but of social conformity.

"i deeply love my psych rotations so far, and i utterly feel in my gut that this is the manner in which i would like to help people"

let me ask you a few questions. you say that you like your psych rotations... but how do your patients feel about them? is their autonomy protected? are they in treatment by free choice, and free to leave any time they wish? are they treated as human beings with full self-determination? if you witnessed a situation in which a patient was coerced or forced into a certain treatment, or in which you were not sure whether they were consenting with full knowledge or freedom, would you feel empowered to intervene? or would doing so threaten your career by exposing you to anger and retaliation from your higher-ups? what higher-ups will you be exposed to as a resident, and then as a practicing physician? could you practice in a way that committed fully, 100%, to patient autonomy if you were working at someone else's practice, or in a hospital or clinic? could you, according to current medical guidelines, even if you had your own practice?

when you say "this is the manner in which i would like to help people", what do you mean by "this"? can you define your philosophy of treatment, and the relationship and power dynamic you want to have with any future patients? is it one in which you hold authority over them and see yourself as determining what's in their 'best interests', even over their own expressed wishes? have you connected with patient advocates, psych survivors (other than your friends), and radical psychiatrists and anti-psychiatrists who may espouse heterodox treatment philosophies that you could consider? do you think such philosophies are sufficient for protecting patient autonomy and well-being, or are they still models that position the physician's judgment and authority over that of the patient?

"im wondering if there is a way to reconcile these aspects in a way that one can feel morally okay participating within such an imperfect system"

and here is the crux of the problem with this entire ask. you are wondering how to sleep at night, if you are participating in a career you find morally distasteful. where, though, do your patients enter into that equation? do you worry about how they sleep at night, after having interacted with a system of social violence that may very well have traumatised them under the guise of providing help? why does your own guilty conscience worry you more than violations of your patients' bodies, minds, and basic self-determination?

i can't tell you whether your career path is morally acceptable to you. i don't think this type of guilt or self-flagellation is fruitful and i don't think it helps protect patients. i don't, frankly, have a handy roadmap sitting around for creating a new system of medicine and health care that rests on patient autonomy. affective distress is real, and is not something we should have to bear alone or with the risk of having violence inflicted upon us. what you need to ask yourself is: how does the medical model and establishment serve people experiencing such distress? how does it perpetuate violence against them? and how do you see yourself countering, or perpetuating, such violence as someone operating within this discipline? what would it mean to be a 'good' actor within a violent system, if you do indeed believe that such a thing is ontologically possible?

#sorry for LONG ASS POST #psychiatry

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bloodashre · 6 days

Text

"You're the idiot!"

Aziraphale's heart pounded. He'd never said anything like that before, certainly not to Crowley. The demon snapped back around, his face a mix of confusion and anger.

"What?"

Aziraphale hesitated. "You're always calling me an idiot-"

"-because you're always acting like one-"

"-when really, you're the idiot."

Crowley was incredulous. "Me? I'm not the one who decided to throw away 6000 years of friendship and - and love - and - and fly off back to Heaven."

"I had to, Crowley. They needed me."

Crowley rolled his eyes. "They needed to use you, you mean. Or make you their scapegoat. Or - to tear us apart. Well good on them, it worked."

"Not Heaven. Humanity."

Crowley stared at him. "What do you mean?"

"Well I was... Well to be honest, I was too proud to tell you the truth."

"OK, and what is the truth?"

Aziraphale hesitated. "I - I -"

"Oh would you just say it already angel?" The last word left his lips before he could stop himself.

"What did you mean when you said love?" Aziraphale flashed his blue eyes at him. Crowley was taken aback. "What?"

"A minute ago, you said I threw away 6000 years of friendship and love and -"

Crowley shook his head. "Nothing, it was - it was nothing. You're deflecting, angel." Aziraphale's eyes widened and he smirked. "So are you." Crowley cleared his throat."There's just nothing to talk about," he stiffened. "That was just -"

Aziraphale grinned and pressed his lips against Crowley's, the way he'd always denied wanting to before Crowley had kissed him.

Crowley thawed on the spot immediately. He couldn't help it. This is what he had wanted when he had first kissed Aziraphale. He could feel everything else stop, but it wasn't the same as when he stopped time. It was like time was still going, but the two of them were in their own separate bubble that was moving at its own pace outside of time. Despite enjoying it, he had never truly understood Aziraphale's desire for food on the same level as him. But this - this he understood. He never wanted to let him go again.

The angel's hands caressed his cheek and another his back and he felt himself shiver involuntarily like he had the last time. Even though he had had desires before - alcohol, knowledge, occasionally food, music - he had never wanted anything this much in his existence before. He wanted what humans had.

His insides screamed for his touch, to be close to his angel. He pressed his lips back against the blond's, his body taking over all control. He gently pulled him in tightly, like there was no closeness that would ever be enough for him.

Aziraphale let himself go and fell into the - his demon's touch. It was the first time he had ever allowed himself to think of Crowley as his. Yet no matter how he had it tried to deny it for the last 6000 years, it was all he had ever really wanted. Crowley pushed back against him softly and he could feel himself sinking into the strongest temptation he had ever felt. The first time Crowley had given him food had been nothing compared to this. He kissed him back until the pressure in his chest was so tight that he had to pull away.

"I wanted to go to you," he breathed when they broke apart. "I nearly did."

"Why didn't you? All this time, angel, we could've -" Aziraphale smiled and rubbed a hand gently across his cheek. "I had to go. When - when The Metatron and I were talking - after - after - well, after anyway, he told me what they were planning. And I just couldn't walk away. And I knew if I told you, you would try to stop me, or it would give me away or - well, at any rate, I had to make a choice. And -"

"-You chose Heaven."

"No. Well, I mean, yes. But then no. And then yes, but also no. OK, so yes, initially, that did happen. But then, well, you kissed me, and I really thought for a moment about taking it all back, but there was so much pressure and you and me, well it was never going to work."

"Right," Crowley said in a disappointed voice.

"And then when The Metatron and I were walking, he told me what they were planning and I reconsidered for-for a moment."

"Okay..."

"Well I stood there and I thought about what you had said and how - how I felt and I really was going to walk away for a moment. But then I thought about you and how good you are -"

"I keep telling you, I'm not."

"But you are. You are what Heaven ought to be, Crowley."

"I'm - what?"

"Look at all the good you've done over the years. You - you never should have been cast out, Crowley."

"Careful, someone might hear you."

"But it's true. And I thought about it you knew what I knew in that moment and what you would do. And I knew you would fight. And that the best way was from the inside, where I could gather the most information. So I went."

"You what? The whole time?"

Aziraphale's cheeks reddened and he smiled sheepishly back at Crowley. "You know what angel? I think I just fell even more in love with you." His own words caught him by surprise.

"I-"

Before he could protest or take them back, Aziraphale was kissing him again. "I love you too, Crowley," he whispered. The demon's eyes fell closed and he felt himself melting into him once more.

#crowley #good omens #aziracrow #aziraphale #fanfic #oneshot #mine #go season 3 #I've got so many of these #ineffable idiots #ineffable husbands #another season 3 idea

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evan4ever · 6 months

Text

Sick

Kai Anderson x sick reader

Warnings: Kai being a (slightly more caring) jerk, vomit, sick reader, mentions of pregnancy

a/n: it’s short but I just loved the thought

—

You felt feverish all night and even into the next day. You knew, by 1 pm, that you had to be running a fever of over 100 by the way your body shook yet your forehead glistened with sweat and your teeth chattered. Your body was hot but you felt freezing. But you didn’t bother attempting to ask Kai for medicine or even a thermometer so you knew the severity of the fever. It would be burdening him and he was busy, especially today.

You barely could keep your attention on Kai during the meeting in the basement. Your eye would flutter shut every so often as your mind focused on not allowing you to give in to the new feeling of vomiting. Your mouth salivated, a warning sign that you were very close to throwing up, but you focused harder and harder to keep it down — at least until the meeting was over. This only made you sweat more and tremble more.

You felt the occasional eye(s) on you, wondering what your problem was or if you were okay. If you could, you’d open your eyes and glare back at them, not wanting their attention on you to bring Kai’s attention to you when everyone’s should be on him.

“Y/n.” You heard your name, your eyes shooting open and immediately landing on Kai who only stared at you with anger.

Fuck.

You cleared your throat and readjusted your position on the floor and nodded to him, a quiet “I’m sorry” being heard just enough for him to shake his head and turn away from you, continuing where he left off.

But that short moment you focused on him rather than on not vomiting led to your stomach turning into a tight knot, your throat involuntarily gagging and you knew you couldn’t keep it down any longer.

Your hand immediately clutched your mouth to hold any vomit that may come up in and you grabbed the couch with you free hand, pulling yourself to your feet and booking it for the staircase. You didn’t care that you interrupted Kai, or that every single human in the rooms eyes were on you before you disappeared up the staircase. You just needed to make it to the bathroom.

Running as fast as your feet could carry you, you made it into the main floor bathroom and threw yourself over the toilet, allowing your body to vomit into it. And it did, over and over again.

You still trembled as you held yourself over the toilet the best you could, vomiting once more before you finally felt some sense of relief. You groaned into the toilet bowl, using some toilet paper to wipe your mouth before flushing the vomit down and pushing yourself from the bowl and into a sitting position next to the toilet.

“Are you pregnant?”

You jumped at the sudden voice from the doorway, looking over to see Kai standing in it, his eyes on you. You cleared your throat and shook your head, almost wishing you were.

You knew Kai wanted his “special” child. And you were lucky enough to have been chose by Kai to carry it when the time would come. So if you were pregnant, the treatment from Kai would be much better than what it’ll be when you announce that you’re not pregnant, but sick with the flu.

Kai sighed, crossing his arms and leaning himself against the doorframe.

“Why are you so sick? Haven’t you been taking care of yourself?” He asked, annoyed at the inconvenience you’ve caused him. “I had to cut my meeting short.”

“You could’ve carried on without me.” You stated as you turned away, trying not to sound as upset as you were. He replied with nothing, so you glanced at him only to see him just staring at you from the same stance. You sucked in a sharp breath and opened your mouth to apologize to him but another vomiting episode began, your body leaning back over the toilet to ensure it be caught.

Your muscles stiffened as they were used extra to throw up everything your stomach held inside of it, and even after every bit of food and drink had been thrown up, you dry heaved and threw up stomach acid.

At some point, Kai had made his way to you, collecting your hair that had been falling inside the toilet and holding it up. You were even more surprised to feel his hand against your back, gently, rubbing it as you continued dry heaving.

“You have nothing left to vomit, y/n.” You heard him from above you, nodding as you slowly pushed yourself back from the bowl again, careful not to allow yourself to gag.

“fuck” you breathed out, feeling Kai let your hair fall before he wrapped your arm over his shoulder and wrapped his own arm around your torso, pulling you to your feet easily. You let out a groan, the feverish feeling returning.

Kai noticed it too, his eyes quickly meeting your with concern. You narrowed your eyebrows not understanding his expression but his free hand found your forehead and then your cheek, and you understood.

“You’re burning up.” He states, your head nodding to agree. His concerned eyes change back to his previous cold eyes, letting out an annoyed sigh before helping you to his room, where you’d been allowed to sleep since he’d chosen you to carry his future child. He helped you next to the bed then let go of you, your arms catching yourself on wall and rolling your eyes at him. “You can rest in here. I have to finish some things downstairs. I’ll check on you later.”

Though you were slightly grateful for the tiny bit of concern he showed you, you were also annoyed because now he expected you to lay down when you were desperate for some kind of fever reducing medicine. But you didn’t dare object to the care he’d shown you, otherwise you’d receive the opposite treatment from him and that’s the last thing you needed.

So, you nodded at him and pulled his covers back, glancing at him once more, his eyes just watching you, before crawling into the bed and pulling his comforter over your body just below your chin. Your eyes met his again, a silent hope for his approval which was granted with a nod of his head, watching as he turned and left the room, turning the lights out before shutting the door behind him.

You sighed hard after he left down the stairs, slapping your arms against the bed as you now lay flat on your back and stare at the ceiling fan as it spins around and around. Your mind wandered to yours and Kai’s interaction in the bathroom, how the first thing he asked was if you were pregnant. He was hopeful, you knew it already but heard it in his voice. He wanted his baby so bad and your body hadn’t given it to him yet. But, yet, despite the disappointment when you told him no, he was still caring for you in the little ways Kai knew how. It wasn’t often or a familiar feeling, but it HAD happened before, Kai caring for you. There were very few occasions but when he acted like he cared, for the moment in time, you couldn’t help but fall so deep in love with him that it made every bad, painful, horrible thing he’s done to you in the past seem like nothing.

It was dangerous.

But he was addicting. And that’s how he kept you addicted. Showing you the slightest bit of love when you didn’t realize you needed it the most. A smart man, indeed.

You heard a knock at the door and looked up, meeting Winter’s soft and careful eyes as she approached you. Your eyes fell on the items she held and you shot her thee most thankful eyes you could, her smile being a you’re welcome.

“Kai, actually.” She nodded as she sat next to you, your body now leaning against the wall as you took the Tylenol and pepto bismol from her. You glanced at her confused. “He sent me up with them.” She smiled, setting the bucket next to the bed and handing you a bottle of water. “Some tea is being made, too.”

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise, quickly popping each medicine in your mouth and taking a swig of the water to swallow them down.

“Wow.” Was all you muttered, resting your head back against the wall.

“Right.” She chuckled lightly. “He can be so… full.. of surprises.” She admitted, you agreeing with her.

“Keeps me wrapped around his finger.” You sighed, your eyes falling on the bucket and smiling at the fact that he knew to even send that up with you in case your body decided to vomit again. It was such a small detail to think about but, it meant a lot. “Makes me love him more than I should.” You whispered so just Winter could hear, your eyes meeting hers sincerely.

She looked at you with pity, knowing what you meant and also knowing it would eventually be your demise. Not many, if any, survived Kai. Winter truly believed that neither you or herself would be any different.

And you knew exactly how she felt but despise her feelings, you knew you’d never get away from him.

“Get some rest.” She squeezed your hands before standing and exiting the room without a second glance, leaving you to your thoughts while the medicine worked on your ill body.

Some time later, another gentle knock at the door brought your attention back to it as Kai now entered, holding the mug full of your favorite hot tea in his hands. You couldn’t read him. He looked neither happy nor mad. He just… was.

His eyes held yours as he approached you and sat the mug by your bed. You pressed your lips together and held his eye contact for another moment before finally clearing your throat.

“Thanks” you nodded.

“You should feel better soon.” He stated. You nodded, thankful for him. “Yeah. I’ll be downstairs if you need me.” He said so simply before turning to leave.

You tried to stay quiet but couldn’t help yourself.

“Stay” you blurt out, silently cursing yourself, but you started so you weren’t going to stop now. “I mean, if you want.” You cleared your throat in uncertainty as he stood still, facing away from you. You stared at him a moment, then continued. “Just stay… please.” You said, now in a whisper.

Kai was never readable. No one ever knew what he was thinking or what his next move or reaction would be. So you sat in his bed, your body tense with nerves, awaiting his next move.

But to your surprise, you watched as Kai easily slipped his shirt over his head. Your eyebrows shot up, almost having no time to react before he was crawling into his bed next to you, his arms pulling you to him. You weren’t sure how to react, so for another minute your body remained tense. That was, until you felt him hold you tighter, silently telling you it’s okay to relax.

And so you did. And you laid in his arms, something you’ve only done a handful of times.

And it felt so nice.

—

Tags: @evanpetersmood @witchsbitchestime @demxnicprxncess @yes-divine-ruler @shjjpm @evanpsrealwife @iruzias @jangsuzchap @quicksilversg1rl l @submissiveforahsmen @angelmenace @lovelizzie-blog1 @justa19 @daylas-life @simp4petermaximoff @totta69

(I need to redo tags!!!)

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save-the-villainous-cat · 9 months

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HERO BEING SEDUCED INTO A VILLAIN

(seduced by the villain ofc) /prompt

“Very good,” the villain praised. “A little deeper.”

There was a crack and the hero gasped, sweating and panting. It felt unreal, it was wrong and it was beyond what they’d expected to be capable of.

“A bit more, sweetheart.” Another crack and then, the hero couldn’t watch anymore. With tears burning in their eyes, they swallowed. Suddenly, they were overwhelmed with emotions. It was too much, too strange. “Perfect.”

The villain’s voice was a purr and their words were like honey. Reassuring, definitely, but sometimes a little too sticky to be good. Their hand around the hero’s was warm and they squeezed gently, thumb drawing little squares into the skin.

“I…” The hero stared at the body.

“You killed them,” the villain whispered. They sounded impressed. “Quite intimately.”

They felt like they had to throw up. The hero looked at the blood and the knife in the supervillain’s chest. The villain’s hand was still around theirs and it still felt weirdly freeing, yet so wrong. But the supervillain had killed with no mercy, right?

“Are you sure they’ve got no pulse?” the hero asked, heart pounding in their chest.

“Pretty much. You stabbed through their lungs and into their heart. Seems deadly to me, love.” The villain kissed the hero’s neck as a reward, catching skin between their teeth to be a little rougher. “You’re being so good.”

“God, this isn’t right. I shouldn’t have killed them,” the hero said but the villain pulled them away gently, hands gliding down to their waist.

“They were a horrible person,” they said as they continued to kiss the hero from behind. “They deserved it.”

“I…” The hero’s head spun.

“Don’t you remember what they did to you?” The villain turned them around easily and went through the hero’s hair with their fingers. “Have you forgotten?”

“No, I just…this feels wrong. They’re—” The hero looked back at the body on the floor, bleeding out. However, the villain caught their jaw and turned their head right back to them.

“Sweetheart.” Their eyes dropped slowly and the hero knew that promised a loving kiss. It felt good to be close to someone after all these months of self-loathing. Somehow, the villain understood and the hero knew they were the only one who ever could.

It was unquestionable loyalty. The hero knew the villain would do anything for them and the hero felt like they had to repay that kindness. Encouragement was like a drug to them.

“You did so well,” the villain whispered and, indeed, they leaned down to press a soft kiss to the hero’s lips. “You’re so perfect.”

Involuntarily, the hero blushed and returned the intimacy, lips against lips, hand in hand, chest against chest. They hesitated at first but the villain’s hands around them steadied them, took their mind off the violent scene. Although they tried their best not to pay too much attention to it, they couldn’t help but notice the blood on the villain’s suit.

Slowly, the villain got bolder though, kissed more passionately, grabbed inappropriate parts of the hero’s body.

“You were doing so well…” they whispered again and the hero couldn’t help but sigh when they had to hold onto the villain so they wouldn’t fall over.

“You think so…?”

“I know so. Killing someone is hard, I understand. But this was a necessity, my love. This had to be done. Your enemies deserve it. They’re horrible people, all of them.”

The villain got a lot lewder as their hands started to find all sorts of ways to get under the hero’s suit.

“I’m so proud of you.”

The hero shuddered, clearly enjoying the praising and with all the touching, they nearly forgot where they were. Nearly.

“Wait…not here…” they gasped and thank god the villain agreed.

It turned them into someone obsessive soon after but the hero truly didn’t miss their humanity once the villain convinced them to kill that too.

#alanin glutamin arginin asparagin threonin tyrosin phenylalanin tryptophan all stuck in my head I can’t stop drawing them noooooo #writing snippet #heroxvillain prompt #heroxvillain snippet #heroes and villains #hero #villain #hero x villain #heroxvillain #an answer for an ask #request #suggestive

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anika-ann · 4 months

Text

A Night at the Museum (A.B.)

Type: one-shot, fluffiest fluff; canon-divergence from Defending Jacob

Pairing: Andy Barber x reader WC: 5000

Summary: You always loved wandering through your museum after closing time – there was something so peaceful about it, a new layer of beauty to space and all the art that adorned the walls.

Tonight however, the peace is interrupted by a charming handsome man who has no business to be there… will you throw him out?

Warnings: 18+ for allusions to smut, TOOTH. ROTTING. FLUFF., uncomplete list to keep some mystique - so read at your own risk (but no supernatural elements)

A/N: a story dedicated to lovely @chase-your-dreams-away ✨, to everyone who enjoys a tooth-rotting fluff and to all you lovelies who support my writing shenanigans - you know who you are, giving me love and life 💕 Happy Holidays, if you celebrate! // divider by @firefly-graphics

Every single step you took felt so light it was almost as if you were floating.

The endless beauty adorning the walls, the soft intimate lights reserved for occasional night visiting hours only accentuating the already romantic atmosphere of the art museum, walking through the halls and galleries equalled a magnificent experience that made your soul shiver and yet feel at peace. You let the serenity wash over you as you roamed the art museum, already having helped usher the lingering visitors outside. The sound of your heels echoed in the vast galleries, your eyes drawn from one beautiful piece of art to another, even as you had seen them all a hundred times.

There were simply sights in this world that would never get old, you mused, a small smile playing on your lips, a slow steady pace bringing you to another section – and having you freeze in your step.

Just standing there without a care for the outside world, apparently immersed in admiring a painting – one of favourite, you realized distantly – stood a man. A man who most definitely did not worked here. Your heart skipped a beat.

“Excuse me, sir,” you called out lowly, anything louder than a that feeling wrong in the otherwise quiet gallery. “It’s after hours. You can’t be here.”

He startled too at the first sound of your voice – his head snapped to you, piercing but kind blue eyes wide with surprise, as if you brought him down from a haze, from a deep thought; from thorough appreciation of art. You would have smiled at that, since you knew the feeling too well, but you were too distracted by the man’s handsome face.

Awfully, unbearably handsome, with a ruffle of dark hair and a clearly well-kept beard, a dark blue suit that only highlighting his beautiful eyes, hands slipping from his pockets as he straightened upon facing you; his biceps bulged a bit with that movement, visible even under the suit jacket. There was a good-natured expression on his face, a pleasant note in his voice as he responded on the same volume, if not slightly quieter.

“Oh. Sorry.”

His voice was as lovely to hear as his face was to look at; almost like he had belonged here, the central piece among the sea of art, a sculpture capturing the peak of a man crafted by talented hands of the old masters.

As you walked closer to him, your chest ached a little; he wasn’t just handsome. He was drop-dead gorgeous. And while that didn’t authorise him to be here, it sure made your approach more amicable. You were only human, after all.

“I was actually heading out,” he continued, “but I just… got a little caught up in admiring the art.”

The corners of your lips rose involuntarily. You could see that easily happening to anyone – it was after all a painting close to your own heart and soul. Some might call it too simple – an image of hands, one larger, rougher than the other, held out palm up to the other, softer, smaller one, fingertips barely brushing, the mahogany brown background with a few lighter strokes of brush adding an aura of warmth. But its simplicity and what some would call imperfections were deceiving.

Many would argue that hundreds of art students all over the world drew a hand study every day. Masterfully executed or not, this particular piece of art could indeed be called plain; but it wasn’t. As things stood, the painting was no Creation of Adam, your all-time favourite, but it had earned a rightful place in the art gallery and n your heart, and it wasn’t only because of how old the painting was or who had created it.

If you were being honest, you were never able to quite put your finger on why, but it always tended to touch something deep inside you. So truly, you understood the man perfectly.

He had no business being here so late – and yet. Perhaps for his pretty face and his breathtaking physique indeed, perhaps for his warm gaze having returned to the painting with curious, soft eyes – you couldn’t just have him dragged away, keen on hearing his insight instead.

“How so?” you inquired.

His gaze snapped back to you, surprised. He examined you for a bit, as if he couldn’t figure out whether you were asking or just bidding your time before security found you, but in the end, he just smiled, slightly embarrassed.

“Oh, I couldn’t say. I don’t know the first thing about art, so I can’t even appreciate it properly-“

“Of course you can,” you interrupted him, regretting your hastiness when his eyes widened, watching you intently. You smiled apologetically, gaze dropping before it returned to the painting, the sight of the beautiful man too much – and you were used to looking at art every day. “What I mean is… sure, the knowledge of history of art and art technique can help you recognize a painting’s value to the world, but not its value to yourself.”

You cringed internally; you sounded like a fool, a pretentious one at that, contradicting your own words. And yet, his voice was soft when he spoke again without a hint of offense.

“I’ll take your word for it… but still. Might help to have a guide… what do you like about this painting?” he asked, gaze returning to the art in question. “That is, if you like it at all.”

“I like it a lot, actually. It’s one of my favourites.”

“How so?” he echoed your earlier words, something about the way his gaze flickered to you making you feel warm all over. He sounded genuinely curious. About what you thought. He seemed interested in your very personal insight; and in the intimate lightening of the gallery, you reluctantly gave in, all too aware of how close you seemed to stand now, side by side, barely two feet apart.

“I like how it makes me feel. I like wondering what made the artist capture this particular moment in time – not sooner, not later. Not when the hands touch further or part completely. And what the moment even is. All that wondering just leaves a lasting impression.”

“Yeah… I suppose that’s what I could say as well,” he mused, tilting his head slightly to side as he considered your words. “Tell me more.”

It wasn’t an order – despite the wording, it sounded more like a plea. Something pleasing hummed in your chest, a gentle stroke to your ego.

“It’s the position of the hands. Hands can be so expressive, we can say so much with them, with a touch. And I don’t mean it in the sense of sign language, where people literally use them to form words agreed upon earlier, but… they can convey feelings, capture so much more than words themselves often can,” you tried to explain, feeling heat rise to your cheeks. You sounded like a crazy person who read Jane Austen too much – and you were all too aware. You often couldn’t help it, when you talked about art – but the poor man didn’t sign up for this. You chuckled bashfully. “I’m sorry, I’m rambling.”

“Not at all,” he opposed, causing you to risk a side-way glance. His gaze lost nothing of its warmth, quite the opposite; his lips melted in a gentle smile and he was certainly paying more attention to you than the painting. You’d lie if you said it wasn’t flattering. And the electricity you seemed to feel in the air sure wasn’t unpleasant either. “I never thought of it this way, but I certainly cannot argue with that. And I argue for living.”

“Ah. A lawyer then?” you said, his hands rising in surrender in response.

He had really nice and big hands. Someone should paint them. And he should put them on me.

“Guilty as charged.”

“And with a sense of humour, I see.”

There was something a little shy and definitely intimate about his laugh, his gaze firmly on yours. “I have been told I only have old man jokes these days.”

“Well, that’s just rude. You should have that person arrested for such insult.”

“That’s not how this works.” He was laughing again, crinkles around his eyes. He had such a gentle laugh, quiet, fitting for the space. “Now… what do you think is happening here then?” he beckoned to the painting.

You pursed your lips, accepting his prompt.

“Well, that’s one of the things I love about it so much – it can be whatever you want it to be. A man and a woman… there’s this atmosphere of longing. Tenderness to the touch. Uncertainty, as if they aren’t sure if they are allowed. The man especially. Maybe they are future lovers…” You felt your cheeks heat, blush spreading as the man’s eyes flickered to yours. “Maybe not. Maybe it’s a goodbye.”

“How do you figure?”

“The blurry lines,” you whispered, your smile turning dreamy. You truly did love this piece – it conveyed so much emotion, offered so many interpretations. Made you feel so much. “They’re not accidental – the moment is hazy. Maybe it’s a memory, a painful one, a memory of a goodbye smeared by unshed tears. Maybe it’s a dream – dreaming about what can’t be, no matter what the heart desires.”

“Wishful thinking,” he murmured under his breath.

“Yeah.”

“Maybe he’s an artist asking his muse to be let into her favour.”

Your head snapped to him in surprise; but for once, he kept looking at the painting. Still, your breath caught; that definitely was a lovely interpretation.

“Maybe.”

“What else?”

Your gaze returned to the painting, even as your gaze was drawn to him instead, distracted, your thoughts consumed by the image of his handsome profile and the well-fitting suit – and those damn hands. He stood even closer now, slightly behind you; you could almost feel his warm breath on your cheek, the woodsy tones of his cologne wrapping around you like a blanket. You could get in trouble, lingering here, with him – but deep down, you felt you’d happily do so. And probably thank him for it.

He spoke again before he gathered your wits, a warm smile in his voice. “Could be a lonely artist who set his eyes on the most beautiful of women…”

You felt the back of his hand brush yours. No accident; a lover’s caress. You felt tingles spread thought your whole body from the point of contact, your heart thundering in your chest even as it shouldn’t have.

He shouldn’t have such an effect on you. Not after two years of much more intimate touches, teasing brushes of his fingertips, his palms roaming your body firmly, his lips appreciating every inch of your skin. A simple touch of a hand shouldn’t have made you shiver, but it did. With Andy, it always did. Especially when he talked like that, your face growing warmer by the second at his praise. Because it was clear he was no longer talking about the painting on the wall. Not when he ran his fingers over the back of your hand before turning it so your own hand slipped into his easily, and squeezed.

“…and was somehow insanely lucky that she accepted when he asked her out two years ago. And ever since then, his life’s been full of happiness he thought was no longer in cards for him. How’s that for knowledge of history?” he asked cheekily now, full grin spreading on his lips as he pulled lightly on your hand to spin you around to face him, his free hand already cupping your cheek as you giggled, letting the façade fall.

“You’re a charmer and a flatterer,” you muttered as he leaned in for a kiss, palm cradling your face and guiding you closer to his lips, soft whiskers tickling your face as your lips finally met.

His hand released yours, sneaking around your waist instead, deepening the kiss, making your toes curl in your pumps even after having received thousands kisses like this from him.

You had met pretty much like this – with you working late and him charming your wits out of you and having you lose yourself in his beautiful blues, mesmerized by his almost startlingly handsome face, even if he had been the one who had got a bit lost in the museum complex. Sparks flew, hearts fluttered, hands wandered – much sooner than they ever had in your previous relationship. But the whirlwind of passion was wrapped in an intimacy on an emotional level too – you had never fallen so fast, body, mind and soul, but Andy Barber was simply special. Bless his heart, he hadn’t really known much about art back then – but he had a quick mind and willingness to learn, eager to listen to you as you talked about your long-life love, watching you with a curious adoring gaze, a patient smile on his lips.

He told you he’d pick you up after work so you could celebrate the two-year anniversary of your first date. So as soon as you shoed away the last visitors, you hurried to the staff room to freshen up at least a bit. Andy hadn’t told you where he would take you up until two hours ago – where he called you on your short break to inform you that he was, in fact, a sneak who had an exceptional way with words.

Bribing your colleagues with god-knows-what, he had arranged for you to have the museum for yourselves up until midnight – a private tour with the softened lights saved for the evening, likely wandering hand in hand, beauty surrounding you as well as love. You had no doubt he had brought refreshments too, having left work right after lunch, probably preparing one of his excellent recipes; the premise of spending your special night like this with him had you giddy and soft for the rest of your shift. So when you saw him standing there like that, you couldn’t help but re-act your first encounter for a bit – but you didn’t expect him to lean into it so fully, letting you relive the awe of a handsome stranger being so impressed by whatever you had to say.

The nip of teeth on your lower lip brought you back to reality, heat swirling in your belly, having you press into Andy’s firm body further, not an inch left between you just as it should be, especially since your head was already beginning to spin with the lack of oxygen.

He was the one to retreat, smiling against your lips, nose caressing yours, your palms smoothening over his shoulders lovingly.

“You started it,” he opposed, pecking your lips again and then once more for a good measure, a little breathless himself. When you met his gaze, you saw nothing but adoration in his eyes. “I simply played along. …hi, by the way.”

You chuckled and returned his greeting, meeting his lips once more.

“Hi stranger. Happy anniversary.”

His smile was almost blinding as he tucked the lose strand of your hair behind your ear, fingertips stroking your cheek.

“Happy anniversary, sweetheart,” he whispered, eyes roaming your face so attentively – as if he was admiring what had been no doubt etched into his memory by now – that your felt your skin heat up again, gaze lowering timidly. “You’re beautiful. I love you.”

I love you. It was a simple admission – but that didn’t mean it still didn’t send your heart flutter, especially when he looked at you as if you were the single most precious piece of art in the whole complex.

“I love you too—what?” you questioned, when his eyes suddenly flickered behind you, back to the painting, and a frown twisted his features.

“There’s something missing,” he mused, causing your chest to spasm with panic. You spun on your heels and escaped his embrace so fast you nearly toppled over. Your eyes frantically searched for any sign of what was wrong – a missing plate with description? Had piece of the golden frame broken away? A- “I do like the painting, but it’s just… it’s missing something.”

You huffed out a breath of relief, turning back to Andy swiftly, hitting his chest with the back of your hand, earning a burst of silent laughter.

“Sorry-“

“You are not! Don’t do that, Andrew!” you whisper-yelled, your ribcage actually aching a bit from the sudden scare. “I’d be in real trouble if there was something missing, you know that! But do enlighten me, Mr. I Don’t Know The First Thing About Art. What is missing here?”

He had the decency to look a tiniest bit guilty as he gently touched your shoulders, spinning you back to the painting, wrapping his arm over your middle to pull you flush to his front.

“Don’t get me wrong. It’s beautiful. I know you love this one. But I… I think finally figured out what the scene is about,” he explained slowly, voice dropping back to a whisper, only a trace of gentle laughter in his pleasant timbre.

“Oh?” you inquired nonchalantly, still pouting a bit even as your exasperation evaporated as quickly as it had appeared. You could get fired if something got lost on your watch, so that was a mean joke – but you should have known better. You had known him for two years now after all.

“Uh-huh,” he hummed, guiding your hands to lay on your stomach, placing one of his warm palms over them, chin resting on your shoulder. “Well, obviously, they are a man and a woman.”

“Is that how you win all the cases at court? With your excellent observation skills and dead-on-point arguments, Mr. Obvious?”

Andy continued, unbothered by your snarky teasing.

“And he’s an old, maybe a little dorky man, who is crazy in love with this gorgeous woman with passion for art…”

The corners of your lips twitched as you turned your head to him, nose nudging his cheek as you understood where this was going. “You’re not that old… but you’re plenty sappy for sure.”

“Who said I was talking about us?” he teased, squeezing your hands again as he nudged you to look forward again despite your prolonged ‘riiiight’. “But he’s a little bit like the artist, asking a muse for her favour… he’d feel like the luckiest man on Earth if she’d allow him.”

You leaned your weight back onto Andy’s warm body, tilting your head, as a full smile spread on your lips along with the sweetest warmth curling in your heart.

“Well… I know you said it’s not us, but… if it were, he wouldn’t have to ask. He’s already plenty in her favour.”

You let your eyes slip shut, revelling in the feeling of being in the arms of the man you loved, almost tasting his own affection for you on your tongue, feeling it float in the air. You felt at peace; safe, warm and loved. Nothing could measure up to the serenity of the moment. Whatever Andy had planned for you two, as nice as it no doubt was, it didn’t matter much – you could just stay like this for hours, with his lips occasionally reaching to kiss your cheek, your temple.

“I adore you, Andrew Stephen Barber,” you sighed. “Sappy and all.”

His chest rumbled behind you as he hummed, his finger softly stroking your hand, pulling you somehow even closer to him. “Well perhaps he’s asking something else then.”

You felt your eyebrows rise, eyes fluttering open, smile still plastered on your face – you were probably grinning like a loon at this point.

“What’s he asking then? And what was that thing you said was missing?”

He caressed your fingers again. You felt him gulp behind you before he straightened and took your left hand, bringing it to your shoulder, to his lips, his hold on you never faltering.

“Maybe he’s asking if he could gain her favour forever.”

You chuckled breathlessly. Sap. For someone who had already been married once, even if mostly for convenience of an unplanned child, and then got divorced, he sure stayed a romantic.

“Forever is a long time,” you hummed noncommittally, not at all opposed to the idea though.

Andy was without doubt your Prince Charming in a three-piece suit, the wishful image of a happily ever after having crossed your mind more than once. With him, forever sounded sweet – and entirely plausible.

“Yeah, I know. But I want to try my luck asking anyway.”

That was the only warning you got before Andy suddenly released you from his embrace and used the gentle hold he still had on your left hand to turn you to face him, the strangest expression on his face.

Adoration. Affection. Worry. A nervous smile.

Nervous? What reason-

The realization slammed into you the very second Andy began to drop to one knee, a voiceless ‘oh my god’ knocked out of you along with your breath. A little blue box held up in his free palm, he gazed up at you as you watched him with wide eyes already filling with tears.

God, had you had any capacity to do so, you’d feel like a dumbass for not figuring out sooner what all his talk had meant. Why the missing thing. Why this was the painting he decided to stand in front of, this one among hundred others that adorned the walls of this place. Why the hand that had been right under his had been your left one, the whole time, and he hadn’t been caressing all your fingers. He had been – perhaps subconsciously – tracing a line of a ring which he hoped to put on your ring finger.

“Andy-”

“Sweetheart… I’m supposed to be great with words, but now when you’re actually facing me when I kneel here, they all… disappeared. But know that I love you. I love you with everything I am, with my whole heart. I will never understand art as well as you do, but I promise I’ll never stop trying and never stop listening, because I want to understand everything you love. I promise I will always do all I can to stay in your favour, in the favour of a woman who might as well be a muse herself,” he whispered hoarsely, his eyes turning glassy as a huge lump grew in your throat, several tears escaping you and rolling down your cheeks even as you were biting your lip – as not to cry, a not to laugh giddily.

He wanted to marry you. He wanted to spend the rest of your lives with you and he wanted to make it as tangible as possible. He made this damn moment all about you, a true promise, a true testimony that he meant what he was saying. You bit your tongue hard as not to blurt out your answer before he could even ask the question.

He choked a little as he said your full name, thumb pressing to the edge of the box for it to open and reveal a no doubt beautiful ring – but you couldn’t bring yourself to look at it, not when his lips twitched in a smile, his hand a little clammy as he still held yours. Or perhaps it only felt that way because your own were trembling, your heart threatening to beat its way out of your chest?

“Will you marry me?” he asked at last, finishing the question with a wide grin as you started to nod halfway through, the yes escaping a little too loud in the enormous room, the echo drowned in Andy’s relieved laugh, his hands – indeed shaking – slipping the ring on your ring finger meticulously before rising to his feet and framing your face with his palms and smashing his lips to yours, a grin to a grin, salty tears to salty tears.

Your fingers found purchase into his locks, holding onto him for dear life as he kissed you with vigour, nearly bending you backwards in half, one hand gripping your nape, the other moving to your lower back instead for better balance as he continued to steal your breath all for himself, an insistent press of his lips tasting like heaven and a promise of happiness.

“I love you.” A kiss to your lips. “I love you.” A kiss to your nose. “I love you so fucking much-“

You giggled against his lips, returning the affection as much as you could, your heart pounding in your chest, pressed against Andy’s ribcage – his heart was racing too, as if he had run a marathon or argued the case of his life in front of a full courtroom.

“I love you too-“

“Thank you-“

You laughed breathlessly, yelping when his hands slipped under your thighs and he lifted you to up to spin you around, a brilliant smile on his face.

“You’re a sneak, Andrew Barber,” you teased him, the world still spinning even as he set you down, taking both of your hands to place a tender kiss to your fingers.

It was the first time you actually took a proper look at the shiny ring – and your breath caught in your throat, eyes burning, nose tingling with fresh tears.

“Andy…”

It was gorgeous – and most definitely not a mindlessly picked piece of jewellery with the biggest diamond in a ten-mile radius to show off. No. Much like he had shown dedication to the proposal itself – you were getting married, holy damn, Andy just PROPOSED – he must have put plenty of thought into choosing what was to adorn your finger for hopefully a very long time; forever even. Delicate but intricate in design, a bigger centre stone with what seemed to be a thousand of tiny gemstones surrounding it as a halo in an unpredictable but beautiful pattern. He must have spent a fortune on it – it was a piece of art itself. Probably one of a kind.

Just like the gem of a man who now stood in front of you with a mix of pride and bashfulness in his expression as you admired your new accessory – a new promise.

You met his gaze, eyes probably shining brighter than the ring.

“It’s gorgeous,” you sighed, unable to resist and leaning in for another kiss, hoping to pour all your gratitude and delight into his lips. “I see what you did here, Andy. Thank you… and I really really adore you, you have no idea. I’m the lucky one.”

He shook his head with a grin, nudging your nose with his, hugging you close. “Let’s agree to disagree, sweetheart…”

A smirk pulled at the corner of your lips. “Mr. Barber… are you already disagreeing with your future wife?”

Judging by certain sensation against your belly, you weren’t the only one who felt a shot of euphoria through your veins when you said it; Andy’s pupils dilated, gaze flickering to your lips, this time with less than sweet intent, hand wandering from your lower back to the globes of your ass instead.

You giggled and let him pull you to him until you realized the direction you were facing – not. Because like this, Andy’s hand appreciating your ass was perfectly visible to the camera.

“Andy, wait-“

“I wouldn’t dare to disagree… guess we can both thank to our lucky stars then…” he muttered, completely ignoring your protest, lips nearing yours, suddenly painfully slow, butterflies fluttering in your stomach despite the rational voice in he back of your head that your really shouldn’t give in. But how when his palm sprawled further, long fingers reaching to your quickly heating centre.

“An-“

He swallowed your noise of protest and plea at once, your knees buckling an inch when he stroked over your covered slit.

“Celebrate with me?” he whispered against your lips, his hips rutting against yours making you whimper.

“Andy, the cameras-“

“-are off, I bribed the guard, I swear-“ he cut you off as his other hand slipped under your pencil skirt, already tracing the line of your panties on your thigh.

“Andy-“ you whined as his lips retreated only to pepper soft slow kisses down the column of your throat, your head tilting back on its own volition as your body craved his touch, your core now throbbing. He’d better not be joking about the cameras, otherwise you really would-

“Come on, love, you gonna let me pin you to the wall like the masterpiece you are deserves?” he whispered and it was a terrible, terrible line, but he nipped at your pulse point and your feet obliged as he back you into the wall, fingers pushing the soaked fabric of your underwear to side, finding your hot and wet and waiting for him. A groan escaped his lips, his hard cock rutting into you as his fingertips teased your slit. “Gonna let me paint you all pretty with my cum, like a good little wife?”

“Jesus, Andy-“

“Gonna say yes to me one more time today, won’t you?” he demanded huskily, a knowing teasing lull to his voice as he kissed you again, letting you taste his sinful smile. He knew you would. You could never tell him no, not when you knew what awaited you was pure bliss, a loving but no less filthy ecstasy.

It was wrong. It was beautiful. It was insane and you’d happily take the leap. You were getting married. What other answer was there, especially with such a reward in your reach?

“Yes,” you sighed, head hitting the wall lightly, the hard warm planes of Andy’s body indeed pinning you in place, right between two damn exquisite painting. “Yes, I will.”

And then, because that beautiful bastard seducing you in the least appropriate place deserved a retaliation, you breathed out the last coherent words you could form before Andy made you forget how to do so:

“I will always say yes to my husband.”

Misc characters masterlist

Full masterlist

Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed 🥰

Once again, Happy Holidays to all who celebrate 💕

Headboard info: framed picture from this artist (edited) - https://displate.com/displate/5918780, gif from Tenor

#r #andy barber x reader #andy barber imagine #andy barber x you #andy barber #defending acob au #andy barber fluff #andy barber fanfiction #andy barber fanfic #a night at the museum #anika ann #gift fic

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bitchlessdino · 10 months

Note

MY BELOVED!! happy 3k you beautiful human!! ilysm <3333333

now, who would i be if i didn’t request multiple members and made it v biased? 😃 so i would like to request a woozi x seokmin x dino x reader fic in which they are all friends and maybe one or two of them live with mc and stumble across their dream-diary (woops) and see explicit dreams about them that they now want to make reality 🤭 make it as dirty and with as much degrading as you like giggles. i am normal!! i swear. LOVE U

Pairing: woozi x seokmin x dino x afab!reader

Genre: smut

Word count: 1.6k

tags: heavy degradation, mentions of unprotected sex and creampies, choking, oral (rec.), hair pulling, foreplay heavy

author note: ILY MITCHIEEEE and thank you <3333. a little taste of what we're getting into this staycation. I'm also trying to get back into the format of writing less is more so I sincerely do hope whose reading enjoys. and remember asks are open!

Tag: @shiningstar-byulxx @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @honglynights @homerunhansol @dkakapizzaboy @junhui-recs @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan @lovebot4han @6969lilithcat @wonuhour @camisun93 @tommolex @emmmui @toruro

You’re a vivid dreamer. Your dreams are so vivid you wake up the next day recalling them as if they were actual events in your life. They can get so overwhelming, mornings are defiled with built-up sweat and other bodily fluids that soaks through your sheets. Unfortunately, many of these dreams just happened to be some of the “not safe for work” variety, getting you into the habit of leaving a towel under you before ending your day.

To make matters worse, you would replay these images in your brain until exhaustion–not without some restraint–making you feel guilty for the familiar faces that involuntarily got involved. Eventually, you realize you had to deal with these dreams one way or another.

Over the past few months of these types of dreams, you’ve kept a dream journal. It detailed some of the most intimate and out-of-pocket occurrences within your subconscious and for a while, it has helped take control of the situation. The wet dreams never stopped, but there is a bit of that reassurance that you’re able to process these images in a healthy manner. But none of these notes were ever meant to get out. Not a single one.

“I’m home with dinner! If I hear you’ve already eaten without me, Seokmin, I’m fighting you. You know I don’t like eating alone–what are the three of you doing?”

You watch your roommate and neighbors next door, Jihoon and Chan, scramble to hide whatever they had earlier within the depths of the couch cushions. You narrow your eyes at their suspiciously guilty faces before setting the pizza box on the kitchen counter and cautiously approaching them.

“Are you hiding something from me?”

None of them look like they would talk, probably in fear of your wrath, that was until one understood better than the others that there was no point in hiding the imminent truth. “I told them it was invasive!”

“Lee Jung Chan, you snitch!”

You glare at Jihoon for the animosity in his outburst towards Chan and in turn, it made the man go shrink in shame. “We didn’t know what it was at first,” he admits in a timid voice, “Seokmin thought it was a diary of you shit-talking us.”

“Way to throw me under the bus, bro!”

Now your eyes are shooting through your roommate, the one with access to your room at all times to borrow something with only the condition of him giving you a heads up. It just had to be the one day he decided to not ask that you forgot to properly store the journal away when you were leaving the apartment in a hurry for work.

He shrinks just the same as Jihoon before pulling the bounded book out, open to a page dated a humiliating night: the first night you dreamt of Seokmin fucking over the fire escape. You rip the book from his hands, fuming both in anger and mortification and clutches it to your chest. You are prepared to be mad, prepared to scream at them, foam at the mouth, but nothing would come out.

Instead, you feel like curling up in a ball and hiding away from the world, only ever leaving your room to eat or use the restroom. You don’t know what to do. You just feel naked.

All three men can tell underneath your silent frustration is shame, and they could feel more at fault. Seokmin is first to approach you, which makes you quickly retreat a step seeing how closer he got, but soon enough calm down by the caress of his hand over your hair, hearing him quietly apologizing again.

What none of them didn’t expect was for you to apologize, standing still in abhor of yourself for having such thoughts and even having all three make an appearance more than occasion. You admit your actions make you sick to your stomach. That you know in no way any of that can become a reality for you, that these dreams were simply disgusting, and you loathe yourself for having them.

They all grow silent, the air charged with the harshness of your words. It shocks them, rolling over to a state of bemusement and utter astonishment at how little you thought of yourself.

Seokmin peers closer at you, fingers threading over your hair. His gaze may be soft but pierces through you like sun rays on dry concrete. “Do you really think that?”

You can’t help but confirm, ready to defend yourself once more until Seokmin's hands are on your hips and his forehead kisses yours. There is a look in his eyes you can’t explain and you can’t help but feel weak at the knees, almost buckling from their sheer tension. His name comes out so softly from his lips, Seokmin can’t help but smile.

“I don’t think you understand the gravity of the situation…you have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“E-excuse me?” You attempt back up from the bank but are pulled by the waist, meeting his hips incredulously.

“I said, you don’t have a damn clue what you’re talking about.”

You’re able to pry yourself from him only to be met with the bodies of the other men you only realize now cornered you, becoming a makeshift pair of walls behind you. They share the same gaze Seokmin, all exhibiting this subtle darkness that turns your stomach inside out. It steals your breath. It speeds up your heart rate. A wave of vulnerability overtakes you and you are now surrounded by men who all knew already have a physical effect on you.

“How can we make that clear for you,” Jihoon speaks up, gliding a hand over your shoulder.

“Maybe the way to do it is to make those dreams a reality,” Chan joins, lips dangerously close to your neck.

You aren’t sure how things escalated the way they did. All you know is that split second you were entangled in a situation beyond the comprehension of involuntary self-manufactured imagery. Jihoon has you by the throat, platting with your breath take in as he kisses your lips feverishly. Chan kneads the fullness of your breasts, biting in your neck with conviction and desire while the sweat of his toned chest rubs against your naked backside. And finally, Seokmin has taken your legs between his face, nose pressing against your clit harsher the deeper he delves inside you with his tongue, understanding what your downfall tastes like.

Your mouth is stretched open in gasps, whines, and whimpers, and Jihoon manages to swallow every one. You inhale the stench of pure animal instinct and merely melt against the body behind you, not minding how his tight pinches and descriptive narration cease your lungs from expanding (as if Jihoon wasn’t already doing that enough).

“Is Seokmin eating your dirty little pussy well?” Chan’s low tenor sends shivers down your spine, making you squeeze your abdomen tight in response.

“Your journal was so interesting we couldn’t help ourselves. Sorry again. But not that sorry.”

Chan has always had a mouth on him but hearing him speak while everything was happening was pure sin. That’s what made the situation differ slightly from the dreams. The dreams were pure sex and no dialogue. You would think that made it dirtier, but it was missing what real-life Chan’s voice is currently giving: the whole picture.

“We’re only sorry a dirty little slut like you didn’t get the treatment you deserved until now.”

You can feel Jihoon’s smile against your lips as you let out a loud moan, causing him to dig his fingers a little harder against your neck, cutting harsher into your breathing. Chan chuckles, lips now trailing over your shoulders. “You like that, don’t you? Being called a little slut?”

You nod frantically, his pinches only getting tighter until his palms are whipped across your flesh. “You like that too, slut? I bet you’d like anything we do to you. Are we making you feel as good as you dreamt?”

Jihoon finally pulls away from you to let you answer, forcing you to face the younger man and squeeze the response out of you. “Well? You’re not gonna keep him waiting, are you, whore?”

His hand releases your neck and relaxes against it, now favoring your hair, in which he’s already wrapped around his knuckles.

“N-no, sir.”

“Then tell Chan what he wants to hear.”

You swallow your nerves down, turning into a puddle under the dark watchful of the eyes of the man in question and utter a soft “yes” and crumble in front of them to see and hear. Ripples of arousal go through you, clenching around Seokmin’s tongue when he finds your sweet spot. You clutch your chest as if a line of pearls are dangling off your collarbone, releasing your ivory nectar lining his mouth and taste buds. He moans into your heat, caressing your thighs. “Our needy mess tastes so good…”

You look back at him longingly, tempted by the glossy sheen of his lips, and Seokmin is quick to realize it. He connects your lips, pulling you from Chan to fall on top of him instead. “Such a fucking mess,” he mumbles, “need you cumming all over my cock…”

Chan’s hand slips through your hair as Jihoon’s nails grated over your ass’s flesh, you clench around nothing when they join you. Although they’d made cum once today, you severely doubt that it’d be the last. “I’m sure they’d love to be filled up with all our cocks. Isn’t that right?” Chan questions.

When you let out another weak “yes,” they join your weak display of need, pressing against parts of your body that only ache to be filled, ache to be ruined, ache to be stretched and pulled until your body is fatigued beyond comprehension.

“I hope you can handle it,” Jihoon comments in feigned concern, “handle us reusing you and take turns fucking our cum back into you, that is.”

Part of my 3K Follower StayCation!!!

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duskspring · 6 months

Text

Undeniable - Swisstom Fic

A sequel to my last fic, though you don’t have to read that one to get the gist

Summary: Swiss’ rut is driving him crazy, while Phantom has his for the first time and doesn’t know how to act either

Content (18+): Heats/ruts, blowjob, facefucking, anal sex, breeding kink, top!Phantom, bottom!Swiss

Word count: ~1.8k

[Read on AO3]

It takes Swiss three large steps to get from Aurora’s door to Phantom’s. He settles for the space since he doesn’t even have the patience to walk down the hall to his own room.

As soon as Phantom walks inside, the multi ghoul slams the door shut behind them.

“Do you think Aurora has a new perfume? She’s never smelled so good-“ Before Phantom can ramble on, Swiss has him pushed against the wall, arms caging him in.

The larger ghoul clenches his fist around nothing repeatedly, trying to not mindlessly follow his instincts for just a moment, “We’re gonna- No. Shit. I wanna fuck you. Need it so bad. Please, say yes. Just say yes.” On his own turn rambling, Swiss is out of breath and panting the entire time, knocking his head into the wall above Phantom as he awaits consent. The half second it takes to get a response seems eternal.

“Yeah sure!” Phantom’s own rut seems to not have fully hit yet, his reaction sounding like his usual cheery self.

It’s all the same to Swiss, who instantly crashes his mouth onto the other’s, forcing his tongue into the Phantom’s mouth and nipping at his lip.

The smaller ghoul gasps through his nose in response, trying to take a good breath, when he for the first time becomes aware that Aurora isn’t the only one who smells way better than usual.

Something changes in him at that moment. No longer does he feel like simply going along with what Swiss wants. He has his own needs now.

Subconsciously he moves his hips up to grind against the multi ghoul, who throws his head back and full on roars at the electric current this sends through his body.

Phantom takes this as a sign to do it again, to which Swiss responds by stepping up even closer, erasing any semblance of distance between them. Swiss’s thigh slots in between his bandmate’s legs, while mindlessly humping away at his side.

Both their breaths are ragged, though where Swiss grunts and groans, Phantom whines. He would’ve begged had he been able to find the words.

“Oh, baby ghoul,” Swiss moves to continue making out, a gesture that is instantly reciprocated. Their tongues move against each other much like their hips do.

Phantom has had sex topside a few times before, but never like this. Every nerve ending in his body is on fire, screaming for more. He’s also still acutely aware of how nice Swiss smells, the scent comforting yet also driving him wild. Every other time he’s been with someone like this has been oh so careful, as if he would fall apart otherwise. But not Swiss, not right now.

It has clearly reached a point where he needs more. He grabs Phantom by his collar, turns around and shoves him onto his own bed.

The quintessence ghoul, meanwhile, is becoming all the more aware of how restricting his pants are, trying and failing to undo the button holding it in place with his shaky hands.

Swiss isn’t as patient, stepping up to him in two strides and simply ripping the pants right off of him. He kneels before his friend, nuzzling his face into his boxers.

“Still good, ballerina?” He looks him in the eyes and licks his dick through his underwear.

Phantom’s hips buck involuntarily, both at the sensation and the nickname he likes so much, “Please, yes. Need you.” He whines.

Swiss doesn’t need to be told twice, “Gonna take such good care of you, bug. So good for me.” He inhales the other ghoul’s scent as he pulls his boxers down.

Phantom’s dick is already at full attention. Impressive by human standards, but nothing Swiss couldn’t handle.

He wastes no further time, drunk of Phantom’s scent and the sight of precum already leaking out of him.

He licks from his balls up to the tip, wrapping his lips around it and prodding the slit with his tongue. Phantom keens, once again bucking his hips.

Swiss would normally take more time, tease more, talk more, but right now he truly cannot be bothered. He wordlessly presses Phantom’s hips down into the mattress and takes full control.

He effortlessly swallows down the entire length and starts a quick, unrelenting pace of bobbing his head up and down.

The quintessence ghoul nearly rips his bedsheets apart with his tight hold. They actually do end up ruined when Swiss hollows his cheeks.

Phantom feels like he’s losing his mind. It’s so, so good, yet somehow not enough. His instincts seem to take over for a moment when he doesn’t think twice about grabbing Swiss by his hair and attempting to thrust up into his mouth. Swiss allows him to do so, letting go of his hips, fully entranced by this new more dominant side to his usually people pleaser bandmate.

The wet slurps and occasional slight gagging sounds, as well as Phantom’s unrelenting pants and whines, echo off the walls to create a beautifully obscene song for just them. And everyone else on their floor, if not the entire ministry.

It’s not a surprise when after not too long Phantom simply can't stand it anymore. He looks down and his eyes meet Swiss’, “Swiss… Ah, ah, please. So clo-“ He doesn’t even attempt to keep his volume down when he cums, allowing himself to only focus on the pure sensation. He forces Swiss’ head all the way down on his length, holding him there for the remainder of his climax. He’s never come so hard in this life.

Swiss himself also moans when Phantom cums down his throat, dutifully swallowing it all while continuing the most thorough bobbing motion the smaller ghoul’s grip will allow, just a little longer to draw it all out.

Eventually said grip fails, Phantom’s hands falling to his sides as he tries his hardest to catch his breath.

He whimpers in overstimulation when Swiss comes up but keeps lapping at his cockhead.

“Such a good boy.” He growls.

Phantom sits up in a hurry, putting his hands on Swiss’ face and pulling him in for yet another passionate kiss. His energy levels have recovered in record time, a nice side effect to a heat he isn’t used to.

He laps at the inside of Swiss’ cheeks, wondering if he’ll be able to swallow down any leftovers from his own release.

He gasps when Swiss moves his hand to his dick once again, finding it already completely filled out for the second time that night.

“What do you want, little bat?” Swiss asks, never stopping his hand’s stroking movement.

Phantom bites his lip, hips bucking up to try and speed up his friend’s rhythm.

“I can’t help you if I don’t know what you want.” Swiss teases, his pace slowing down to a near halt.

“Fuuuuuuuck,” Phantom whines, his head thrown forward against Swiss’ shoulder and eyes shut tightly, “Wanna… wanna fuck a kit into you.”

It’s Swiss’ turn to whine at that. But he doesn’t just whine, oh no. His vision goes white for a moment and he seemingly forgets how to breathe. To his own amazement, he managed to come untouched by just the words.

Without another thought, still in the haze of his own orgasm, he rips his now stained pants and boxers off of his body and moves up on the bed. There he lies, face down and ass up, reaching back to spread his cheeks and present himself even further.

“Do it then,” He says in a frenzy, “Fuck a baby into me.”

Phantom, of course, doesn’t hesitate. He spits into his hand to slick himself up a little more, earning an impatient noise from the multi ghoul. He grabs his dick, releasing a small gasp at just that simple touch. He soon relents, forcing himself into Swiss without prep, lucky that the heat helps with that.

The two moan out in unison, bodies still on fire and brains begging for more.

The younger ghoul has to find how to position himself for a moment, having never topped before. Once his legs are steady and he holds a good grip on Swiss’ hips, however, there is no stopping him.

His hips move at a speed only an energetic youngster like himself could achieve. He drills into Swiss like his life depends on it, and honestly to the ghoul who isn’t used to a topside heat it does indeed feel like that.

“Harder, bug. Please.” Normally Swiss revels in having his partners beg for him, but god fucking damn does it feel good to fulfill that role himself for once.

Phantom immediately obeys his request, ploughing into him even harder, although it comes at the cost of his rhythm.

He whimpers, “Need- need it. Need- Swiss- Fuck.” His brain is complete mush, merely chasing sensation.

“Then take what you need, pup.” All of Swiss’ muscles clench in anticipation for his inevitable second orgasm. Phantom loses it when he feels the added pressure around his dick.

“Thank you, thank you, thank…” His whispers trail off.

“That’s it. Cum in me, baby. Fill me up.” Swiss rambles not much less deliriously, his hand eagerly stroking his cock in time with Phantom's thrusts.

“Yes! Yes, I’ll give you all. Please, please, please let me knock you up-“ The small ghoul nearly chokes on his spit at his final few thrusts, releasing a purely animalistic sound as his hips stir with his climax.

The first thing Phantom becomes aware of when he comes to again is the heat against his back where Swiss is wrapped around him from behind.

The multi ghoul draws lazy circles on his stomach, though the serenity of the moment is somewhat shattered by his still hard cock poking against Phantom’s ass.

“Swissy..?” He mutters, still half out of it.

“It’s alright, bug. I’ve got you. You can rest.” Swiss’ voice sounds deeper than usual, tired yet so, so sexy.

It seems Phantom isn’t the only one who needed a moment to recover post orgasm.

Still, now that Phantom is awake he wants more. He simply can’t help himself but to grind back against Swiss, who, in turn, immediately stops him with a hand on his hip.

“Are you sure about that, bug? You shouldn’t start what you can’t finish.” He warns.

The quintessence ghoul turns around in Swiss’ arms to face him. He feels like he’s never seen anything or anyone so beautiful before in his whole life. Swiss seems to bask in the afterglow of their coupling, eyes slightly tired and a lazy smile on his lips.

Phantom doesn’t say anything, only moves to give his bandmate a soft kiss on the lips. Swiss reciprocates carefully, not wanting to push things further than his friend would be able to handle.

But all of that once again goes out the window when Phantom rolls him flat onto his back and straddles his hips.

“I’m not done with you yet.” He smiles the happiest smile Swiss has ever seen anyone wear.

How could he possibly deny him?

[My masterlist]

#I realize the banner makes it look like some kind of emotional fic. get clickbaited it’s just smut #also my first bit of smut on this account. let’s hope it’s not ass #the band ghost fic #swiss ghoul #phantom ghoul #swisstom #ghost fanfiction #the band ghost #nameless ghouls #ghost bc

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thetrashbinseries · 4 months

Text

— Fahrenheit Part Two ( bangchan x reader )

rated - mature | minors dni

parts - one, two, three

warnings - idol universe, name changed idols, mature themes, drug use, alcohol use, sexual themes, mentions of mental illness, slight angst, explicit smut, 'daddy' and 'babygirl' petnames, light spanking, heated physical domestic argument

x x x

Jake shot me a text as soon as he touched down in his hotel, leaving me to navigate the aftermath of our little gathering solo. I silently cleaned up the traces of the night, letting my thoughts swirl in the quiet aftermath. Shouldn't I be on cloud nine? Chris, I assumed, had already landed by now, maybe snagging his stuff from the baggage claim. Why the resistance to me picking him up? Couldn't he save some cash and avoid those Uber headaches? As I mulled over Jake's words from our earlier chat, a wave of guilt washed over me. If someone messed with my career, I'd probably cut ties too.

But did it have to be face-to-face?

Suddenly, two knocks jarred me, throwing my dogs into their usual frenzy of barks. Now? It felt too soon, like breaking a speed record from airport to doorstep, factoring in landing, baggage, and Uber waits. My motion light, unnoticed until now, flickered on as I was lost in thought. My palms got a little clammy as I fished out my phone, checking for messages from a friend dropping by. But all my friends were back in my hometown.

Unscheduled visits are a rarity out here, that’s part of the reason why I picked such an isolated home.

Scrolling through my phone, the doorbell rang out, setting my pets into a louder commotion. Activating the security camera app, I saw Chris on the screen—dark hoodie, black beanie, and chill gray sweats. Hands in his pockets, a visible exhale, like he'd been holding his breath. Just one piece of luggage, small enough to be a carryon. Skipping baggage claim altogether, I guessed.

Maybe he didn't want to risk airport paparazzi, but at this hour, it'd be a ghost town anyway.

I unlocked the door, slower than planned, giving it a cautious swing open. Stepping back, I left room for him to enter, the question of how to react buzzing in my head. Hug him? Kiss him? Do a little happy dance? God this is awkward. Chris sniffed, a hint of red on his nose, and began shedding his shoes and beanie, shaking out his curly hair. He looked wiped, but it had been ages since I'd seen him without the makeup mask. His eyes told the tale of tiredness, the faint shadow under barely-there brows, and the shifts in his skin tone—all untouched by the glam squad. Even a touch of facial hair peeked through, a secret sign of the real guy behind the polished pretty boy image, something he religiously stayed on top of. All the things that make him very human. The things not many people get to see.

"What changed?" I threw the question at him, arms crossed in the entryway. Our eyes connected for the first time since he rolled in. I caught a flicker in his right eye, a giveaway of stress and insomnia. His tongue darted out to moisten his lips, a nervous move, just enough to reveal a hint of his dimple near his mouth's corner.

Undeterred, I pressed on, "Channie—"

His eyebrows pulled together instinctively, a tough look in his eyes. "Don't call me that," he shot back, a stern expression etched on his face.

Frustration bubbled up, my voice amped up involuntarily, control slipping away.

"What the fuck is your problem? What? Did you catch a red-eye just to come argue with me?"

"Yes! I caught a red-eye fucking flight to—" Chris cut himself off mid-sentence, sucking in air sharply through his teeth, muttering something under his breath in Korean. He ran his hand down his face, eyes closed, releasing a breath before locking eyes with me again. The anger lingered, but it was transforming into something I couldn't quite put my finger on.

I could feel hot tears threatening, but I held them back, jaw clenched, nostrils flaring, refusing to show any weakness. Was this the end?

"Of course, I hopped on a flight to have it out with you. Isn't that what you wanted?" “Don’t you gaslight me Christopher Bang, I’m not your little fucking fans–”

He looked exasperated, hands out, "What do my fans have to do with this?! You said it's simple, am I coming or not? I'm here, just like you wanted, because it's all about you, isn't it?"

I turned away, striding off, the red haze building within me. I wanted to lay into him for talking out the side of his neck like this, but I wouldn't stoop to that level. His voice echoed down the hall.

"Yeah, walk away. It's your specialty—running away."

I halted, closing my eyes, back turned to him, grappling with the urge. I fought it hard; he was on the brink of hitting below the belt. Logic eluded me at this moment.

"I'm going to smoke before I physically violate you."

Attempting to walk away again, his footsteps echoed behind me. Chris wasn't the type to follow for an argument—that was typically my role. I expected him to detour to the kitchen for a drink or something, anything other than what he actually did. His hand seized my forearm, yanking me hard enough to turn me three-quarters around. I saw red, wind knocked out of me as my back slammed into the wall, caged between his big, loud hands thudding against the wall beside my head. A flinch—a moment of confusion. Had he struck me?

Quickly assessing, no parts of my body ached except between my shoulder blades from the impact.

Breathing heavier than anticipated, Chris mirrored the sentiment.

"Physically violate me, then," he uttered, his voice dangerously low, just above a whisper. My body was confused, my brain a tangled mess. His intense gaze bore into my face, forcing me to look away. He tilted his head, compelling eye contact once more.

"It's not rocket science, Y/N."

The phrase echoed from our earlier phone argument, reigniting my hostility. I raised my head, meeting his eyes with a narrowed gaze. "I hate you," I snarled, trying to slip underneath his arm to free myself. Chris wasn't having it; he gripped my wrist behind my back, pressing my chest against the wall. His muscular frame kept me in place, his chest against my back. I twisted my wrist, but he tightened his hold. His breath grazed my shoulder, his words so close to my ear it felt like he was feeding them straight into my brain.

"I hate you too, baby," he murmured. His free hand ghosted the tendrils of hair that had escaped my messy ponytail, tender and gentle unlike the firm grip on my wrist. As his fingers swept the hair away, soft lips pressed against my skin, eliciting a sigh from my lips. Each kiss left thorns of heat, moving along my neck, down to my shoulder.

"I hate you," I repeated, losing my edge.

"Mmm, shut up—I know," Chris replied. Finally, he releases me, his hands finding their way to my waist beneath my baggy sweatshirt. Despite being in my home for a few minutes, his touch is still cold against my warmed skin. I feel a shiver as my nipples harden, and he seems to sense it, cupping them, squeezing. My knees almost buckle as I lean back, my head perfectly resting on his shoulder. Our bodies intertwine, fitting together like a perfect puzzle piece. His fingers pinch the pebbled flesh, drawing a moan from me and an audible sigh from him.

He wraps an arm around my waist, pulling me closer, and I can feel his hardness against my backside. It's not a gradual thing; he's already rock stiff, hips grinding into me as his hands explore my body with a passionate messiness.

What were we arguing about again? Lust swirls, making me dizzy with how good my body feels. My eyes lose focus and regain it with every recovery breath as he squeezes at the extra padding on my hips and waist. No part of my body goes untouched, and I try to shake off my reservations. No, that was a hang-up of mine. Christopher Bang is here to touch, lick, and squeeze every inch that belongs to him.

A tap on my hip brings me back to reality—a gentle reminder between us whenever things heat up in unconventional places.

Against-the-wall activities are actually pretty uncomfortable in real life.

Who knew?

He takes my hand, and I follow him like an excited puppy, almost stumbling over myself to reach his body once we get to the couch. It's my turn now; my hands have a mind of their own too, you know.

Such a soft face without makeup, I'd almost forgotten the hardness of his body—had it become even more solid? My hands run over his abdomen, feeling something different—less lean, more meaty. Usually, I go straight for what's mine, but now I'm curious. Gripping the bottom of his hoodie, I can sense the muscle shirt underneath, so I yank them both off, the scent of his body wash, cologne, and deodorant hitting me all at once, etching the experience into my mind on nearly every sensory level, except for...

Taste.

As his clothes drop to the floor with a muffled thud on the carpet, he turns to face me. His skin is less milky, more sandy tan, and wheat-colored under my warm lights, unlike the artificial ones he's usually bathed in. He must've soaked up the sun in LA, and I can still see it reddening in the places where blood has surged the quickest.

He's completely under the spell of carnal sensuality—deep in the well, unable to see anything around him, becoming the parts of himself he wouldn't dare confront in the daylight. I notice because I pay attention to things like that—I see the way he looks at me, as if I'm his most treasured plaything. His mannerisms change, slower, with certainty in every touch. He says things you wouldn't dare repeat once he's back to his Earth self, lest he deny, deny, deny, laughing loudly overtop of you, or cringing away from embarrassment.

Yes, as I drop slowly to my knees, watching him, I see the way he stands in his masculinity, divine, a god in his own right. Just when I think the moment can't get any hotter or I might combust, I hear him—a puff of air through his nose, a lazy, almost entertained, but not quite—chuckle. His lip quirks ever so slightly upwards.

"You hate me?"

Heat radiates from my body; I'm certain I'm letting off steam at this point. I feel it, especially in my face, fingers wrapped in the waistband of his sweatpants, hanging loosely as I look down, unable to maintain eye contact, feeling regret building up in me. I can tell by the way he says it that he never believed it—but still...

"I didn't think so," Chris' voice answers the unspoken questions in my head. His fingers graze the bottom of my chin, urging me to look at him. "Look at me while you do it."

My engine roars to life without hesitation. I tighten my grip on his sweats, yanking them down with determination. He kicks them off, backing up to sit on the couch, but I'm not waiting. I take the caramel-colored, thick head of his dick between my lips, halting his retreat. The sweetness of his precum floods my mouth, turning bitter as it reaches the back of my tongue and throat. Flattening my tongue against the bottom of his girthy shaft, I open my mouth, letting him rub his sensitive, unsheathed tip against the warm, back wall of my throat.

Obediently watching him.

He likes that, making it clear by placing his hand on the back of my head, urging me to stay while he thrusts further, pulling out just a centimeter to plunge into my throat. Small gasps escape his lips every time my gag reflex spasms around him. I run out of breath, choking backward, and he lifts his hand, allowing me to right myself.

"C'mon, babygirl—thaaaat's it—fuck." Chris grips what's left of my ponytail, guiding me back onto his dick, all the way to the back, with no true mercy. A few more tiny thrusts, and I'm coughing again, my mouth and jaw drenched with slippery saliva mixed with the constant ooze of his precum. He glances behind him, ensuring his seating, then lets himself fall back onto the couch, hand tangled in my thick hair as I wrap both hands around his cock—a pretty, deep brown, a stark contrast to his body tone.

When I start focusing on stroking his sensitive tip, he drops his head back, emitting the most delicious groan. Pulling back on his sheath, dribbling spit onto his tip, I begin jerking him again, taking advantage of the smoothness the extra skin provides. I follow with my mouth, taking in whatever my hands can't reach, and when I start with the suction, another groan escapes him—this time, broken, his hips rising a little off the couch, encouraging me to keep going.

"Oh God—that feels fucking—incredible; don't you—fucking stop." His chest moves with each gasp as I twirl my hand a certain way. I try to stay consistent, but it's been a while, and my neck strains from the bobbing, lips growing numb. But fuck, he's so hot; I don't wanna stop.

I engage in a slow rhythm, savoring the silky feeling of his dickhead against my swollen mouth and eager lips, pressing loud, wet kisses against it. He's lifted his gaze to watch, and I seize the opportunity to run my tongue along his length, exploring the prominent ridge beneath.

"Oh my God—" His head drops back, words and vowels drawn out in ecstasy.

I lean back on my heels, hands taking charge, a twist here, a firm grasp there. When I lean forward and start slurping again, with all intentions of taking this man’s soul—his hips withdraw, and he halts me with a breathless, "Fuck," sounding like he just finished a sprint. "You almost made me cum," He taps my shoulder twice, a signal we both understand, prompting another switch in our silent dance.

I’m more than happy to obey, feeling how wet I’ve become when he pulls my sweats off as I climb onto the couch on my knees, my arms resting on the head of it that rests against the wall. I can feel his hands, now warm, even hot almost against my ass as he spreads me open. I curl my fingers into the couch with anticipation, and then comes the feeling of both of his fingers entering me first. I let out an eager moan, reveling in the relief and satisfaction of being touched by someone so skillfully. He’s curling two fingers, stroking my spot, I can feel his pinky and index splayed against my juicy, wet pussy lips. The filthy sounds amplify as he increases the pressure, prompting me to move against his touch, the base of his hand firmly against my asshole.

“Mmm, baby, you know how much daddy loves to eat this pretty little cunt—but the way you’re clenching around my fingers, fuck I—I gotta feel you.” Chris slows down, he speaks again, reminding me of his proposition, “Is that alright babygirl? Hm? Can daddy fuck you now?”

“Mhm, Mhm!” I can’t think straight, why was he asking? Of course he could fuck me ten ways from Tuesday in a handstand for all I care! Just—

“Fuck me.” I beg, unsure if I meant to finish that thought out loud.

“You’re so fucking sexy, you know that?” The weight of his knee presses onto my leg, his foot securing his position against my other thigh, his thumb against my asshole as I begin to feel his dick stretching me open, eliciting the weirdest, downright feral sound from deep within my gut. He’s raw, and I swore I could feel every vein, every ridge, and his head passing through every sensitive quadrant of my pussy until his balls tickled the lips covering my entrance. It was then that my walls squeeze around him, desperate to feel him move. I could almost make myself cum just like that—I begin moving against him, caught in the intensity of the moment, like a cat in heat, and he’s so deep, I feel him in places that make my eyes flutter.

Thumb leaving my sensitive hole, Chris takes firm hold of the sides of my tummy, rutting into my heat, sending a shiver through my spine that puts me into an arch. He seizes the chance to hold the front of my neck, adjusting me for a slower, more profound connection, exploring every inch of me. It takes a lot of stamina in the legs for this—of course he’s got that. I rest my hand on his thigh beside me, feeling the firmness, digging my nails in as I grit my teeth together, the pleasure overwhelming me as our bodies, beginning to get slick with the fluids between us, rock desperately against one another.

I'm released, and I lurch forward, barely snagging myself on the top of the couch. Just then, I sense it against my left hip—

tap tap

My vision snaps back into focus as I hear him breathing as heavily as I am, flopping down onto the couch. I take the lead, hovering over him. We both gaze as his dick is swallowed up by my pussy, inch by beautiful inch. I let out an incoherent sound, a mix of a grunt and a moan, my arm draped over his shoulder, fingers entwined in the curls at the nape of his neck as he thrusts. My touch shifts from gentle exploration to grabbing fistfuls of his thick, silky, curly hair at the base of his skull. Using my knees for stability, I sync with his rhythm, adding those addictive hip circles that set every part of me ablaze like a pinball machine. The alarms blare, the lights flash – this, right here, is my favorite way to connect with Chris, where we're on an equal playing field.

As we delve deeper into each other's gaze, the intensity heightens, but there's always a moment when one of us surrenders, head lolling back, eyes rolling together. His hands work my hips in rhythmic circles, like a baker kneading dough on a board. Yet, I sense when he's had his fill as he takes back control, lifting me up and snapping his hips into me at speeds that defy reality. My cries become a constant stream, shameless screams of his name, erratic and desperate.

"Yeah, thaat's it—" I can feel my walls softening as my body begins to literally feel like it's filling up with water that’s threatening to consume me any second now. I’m gasping, trying to form the words to tell him I’m almost there, that he can’t stop, or even slow up, he’s got to keep going, I’m certain if I don’t get there, I’m going to die.

“D-Daddy, don’t—” I can’t say anything else, I can only hope he gets it.

And he does.

Chris always gets it.

“Gonna stop---all your bitching, hm?” He’s holding my waist to allow me the freedom to focus on my impending orgasm. “Gonna let me do my fucking job from now on, yeah?” “Mm--yeah!” “Say it,” “Chris!” I whimper in protest, “I’mma s-stop fucking---bitching!”

“That’s my girl.” He slaps my ass, sending a shock through my body, but before I can recover, he strikes again, and again, and my body becomes quickly hyperstimulated. I start letting go, my breath held hostage in my chest as Chris lets out a stream of curses, hitting his peak and spilling inside of me. I can feel it, it’s carrying my climax out even further, and when I finally collapse, with him still inside, I can feel my entire body buzzing, and I’m muttering something that doesn’t make sense to myself or him.

We're both catching our breath, heart rates settling down, but Chris finds joy in this aftermath. He chuckles, his fingers tracing lazy circles on my lower back, exploring the dimples above my tailbone. "What are you saying?" he asks.

"I love you. I love you, and I never want us to breakup. Ever," I say, more composed now, my cheek resting on his shoulder, eyes closed, the pull of sleep threatening to take over like it always did after a proper orgasm. His arms wrap around me, securing them with a grasp on his own wrist. I feel a sense of security.

"I love you too. I didn't come all this way to break up with you," he reassures me. I lift my head, likely with my hair wild and untamed.

"Really, Channie?"

He laughs. The nickname is cleared for use again. He kisses my lips.

"Of course not. Why would I cross the country just to break up with someone? That seems like a lot of...effort," Chris continues. He tilts his head back to gaze at me, tucking his chin in. Once he sees my focused attention, he looks ahead as he talks. "I want to be with you, or I wouldn't have made you my girl—"

"You didn't," I interrupt, sitting up. I pull away from his lap, wrapping the knitted throw over myself as I nestle into the couch beside him.

He looks puzzled, "I didn't? Really?" He shrugs, raising his brows. "I always thought you were."

The relief floods in.

So, we were on the same page.

Curiosity takes over, and I inquire, "When did you start thinking of me as your girlfriend?"

"Mm." Chris looks up in thought before locking eyes with me again. "The first time we had sex."

I'm taken aback by the memory. It wasn't a smooth ride, ended up in a heated argument. "When I got caught outside the building after our studio session? Chris, you almost jeopardized your whole career after that."

Chris tugs at the blanket's end, and I hand it over. As he slides underneath, he takes my foot into his lap, rubbing circles into the center. "That's not how it works—don't get me wrong, it was... difficult. It still is, which is why I couldn't just decide to show up when you asked. I've been allowed, by contract, to date for a few years now."

"Then why are we sneaking around like you're ashamed of me or something?" I hug the blanket tighter, feeling exposed.

Chris seems thrown by this revelation. "Ashamed of you for what? You're beautiful, talented. I don't—did I give you that impression, babygirl?" He shakes his head. "I'm protecting you. You've just been signed to a major label, and we've got a good thing going, yeah? Why mess it up now when we can wait for things to level out for the both of us?"

He makes some valid points. It's reassuring to hear he's not ashamed of me. I start to feel the familiar peace his presence brings. It's been four months since we were last in the same country, let alone the same city. I grew impatient after he came in on business and then left again, making excuses not to see me. That's why this time, I escalated it and added pressure.

"Level out, what does that mean?" I ask. Chris sits back, mindlessly running his thumb over the pads of my toes while looking at the coffee table's candle.

"I think we'll know once we both get there." He looks up to me. "I'm sorry, babygirl. I wish I had a better answer for you right now." He sounds sincere enough. I believe him. He's given me no reason not to trust him before, right? His fingers stop on my soles, and he tilts his head slightly, eyes narrowing as if trying to see something better. He leans forward, picking up the knitted beanie near the ashtray.

My heart drops when I realize what it is.

But why? I didn't do anything wrong. RIght?

"This new?" He turns it around on his hand. "Where'd you get it? I like it."

Caught in the moment, I blurt, "A gift." I reach forward, taking it before he can spot any stray hair that doesn't match mine. He's not checking that closely, at least not yet. I turn it over in my hands. "I've been keeping it cold in the house, so it helps keep me warm," I say, tossing it onto the beanbag chair. I turn to him, nudging his shoulder as I scoot closer.

"Sooo, how was KCON?" - fin

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honeysuckleharringtons · 5 months

Text

Part Two: "Déjà Brew" ~ S. Harrington

Summary: (Then) Back in Hawkins, Reader is still reeling from the news she's just received. Turns out, sometimes the love of a mother might just be the very help you need when times are tough. — (Now) At Brew and Me, Reader struggles with the stress of motherhood and working. Turns out, a visit from her least favorite patron might be the thing she needs to cheer her up.

Pairing: Nurse!Steve Harrington x Fem!Byers!Reader

Word Count: 2,120

Content Warning: teen pregnancy, mentions of food, mentions of medical-related things, small mention of childhood cancer (not related to any of the main characters in this series), lmk if i missed anything!

Extra Notes: ngl, the writing in this chapter sucks but i promise it gets better!!

Originally Written: 10/08/2023 through 10/12/2023

honeysuckleharringtons' masterlist can be found here!

'brew and me' series masterlist can be found here!

[ Then, June of 1987 ]

You'd been holding onto the knowledge of your pregnancy for roughly two days, and since then, everything had felt upside down.

You'd looked for every reason possible to not see your boyfriend. You only spoke to your mom and siblings when spoken to. And worst of all, despite the human being growing inside of you, you felt absolutely empty.

You truly wanted to be happy about this. After all, a new human life was forming in your stomach. But the pain of anyone in your small town finding out you were a sinner, and the gossip about how you'd thrown your life away for some guy, it was just too much to bear.

So instead of facing your problems, you'd holed up in your room, lights out and window closed. You only left your room to grab snacks—which lay uneaten on your nightstand—and to use the bathroom. To your family, you were a passing ship in the night, a ghost barely seen. And just when you thought you'd run out of tears, more slipped out of your eyes and onto your pillow, which you were holding like your life depended on it.

It was sometime in the afternoon when Joyce knocked on the bedroom door. You'd cried for so long that you lost track of time, only realizing it was afternoon due to the setting sun peeking through the curtains. "Honey?" she called, barely getting the word out before gently opening the door. She must've registered quickly what was happening, closing the door behind herself in record speed. "Honey, what's the matter?" she cooed, a loving hand meeting your shoulder.

It's now or never, you thought to yourself. Pulling yourself up, you wiped the excess tears away with the pads of your thumbs. "Mom," you sniffled, the word sounding weaker than ever, "I've done a terrible thing."

"I'm sure it's not that bad, my sweet," she said, taking your hands in hers. "You know you can always talk to me, right?"

You nodded, though you were questioning if that statement really was true, considering the bomb you were about to drop on her. More tears involuntarily slipped down your cheeks, your eyes darting anywhere in the room besides her face.

Joyce ran a soft hand through your hair, clicking her tongue lightly. "Honey, I want you to know that you don't have to feel pressured to tell me what's wrong. But I am always here if you do want to tell me."

You forced the words to come out, and you were nearly hyperventilating before you'd even said them. "I don't really know how to tell you, because I'm not quite sure how you'll take it."

Her lips left a soft peck on your forehead, a silent reassurance that she was there for you. An unsteady breath exited your mouth, before you finally said the dreaded words you'd been thinking about for the last forty-eight hours. "The terrible thing is… I'm pregnant. And I have no clue what to do."

You braced yourself for impact, waiting for her to throw you out into the street or scream at you or slap you or anything really. You'd gone over every possible reaction in the book, hoping to find a rebuttal to each one.

Still, the screams never came and her hand never even touched your skin, other than the moment she pulled you into her side. "Oh, honey," she whispered, a tone of sympathy clear in the words.

Tears started to fall once again as she held you close, a gentle hand rubbing soft circles on the small of your back. You'd surely covered the both of you in tears and snot, but truth be told, that was the least of your concerns, given the situation.

"Y/N, you're gonna be okay," she reassured. "I promise, there is nothing you could ever do to make me stop loving you. And from here on out, there's nothing that is going to stop me from loving this child. I'm going to be here for you every step of the way. Okay?"

Through your crying, you managed to ask, "You aren't mad at me?" Genuine confusion took over you at her response to the news. You'd been convinced she'd be angry, never considering that she was the one becoming a grandmother.

She clicked her tongue again. "No, I'm still very frustrated with you for doing something this irresponsible. But that doesn't mean I don't love you or this baby."

It felt like all the blood had drained from your body as you lay practically limp in your mother's arms. The air was heavy as she waited for you to say something, anything, but the words never came. Words seemed a million miles away as the discovery of life inside you started to feel all too real.

Some time passed before she spoke again—whether it was two minutes or two hours, you didn't know. Her hand rubbed soft lines over your disposed arm, her touch as warm and welcomed as your favorite childhood blanket. "Honey, I've been where you were before. Maybe not exactly your situation, but I know what this feeling is like—the worry of what the dad is gonna think, the anxiety of caring for two people. It's terrifying. But I've got good news for you," she paused, kissing the top of your head. "You don't have to do it alone. Because I'm gonna be right here."

You weren't sure you gave her a response to that. Full-on sobs were now wracking your body, despite her kind words. Your tears flowed and your chest heaved, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't seem to stop. Panic and fear coursed through you, and as much as you wanted to be happy about this baby, the only true feeling you had at the moment was resentment toward yourself.

[ Now, November of 1991 ]

"Max, honey, do you know what time it is?" you asked, quite frantically. "I left my watch at home this morning."

A knock sounded on the counter behind you. "It's time for me to be your boyfriend," Steve said smugly, giving you a smirk as you turned to face him.

Max glared down at her watch, rolling her eyes at the cheesiness occurring in front of her. "Actually, it's almost 7:30," the redhead answered, pulling down the sleeve of her flannel shirt.

A grateful sigh slipped past your lips. "Ah, sweet freedom," you said before turning your attention back to Steve, who was sporting a curiously teasing look across his face. "What? I've got a hot date with a bubble bath and my feet and backbone couldn't be happier."

"Sounds sexy," he snickered.

Max huffed in fake annoyance as she passed the latte in her hand over to the brunette girl on the opposite side of the counter. "Have a nice evening," she smiled, then turned to you and Steve, to which she quipped, "If I had a dollar for every time one of you told the other something that was inappropriate to say in a coffee shop, I'd make enough money to pay off my student loans."

"Hey, it's not my fault your boyfriend is off playing basketball at Princeton and training for the NBA," you shrugged, joking of course.

Max gave you a fake pout. "That is below the barista belt, Y/N. That's just cruel."

You shot her a playful smile, giving her a sisterly pat on the arm. "Why don't you get started on the tables, hon'?"

And with that, Max was grabbing her cleaning supplies and heading to clean off the abandoned tables. You gave Steve your attention once more, curious as to if he was interested in holding up to his end of the bargain.

He surprised you with the response that came out of his mouth. "I will have a salted caramel latte with almond milk," he said proudly, sure that his answer was right. "Are you ready for that date yet?"

Your lips formed into a thin line, a look of regret coming to your face. "I hate to tell you, Doc, but nut allergies are a very common thing in my family."

"You work with almond milk all the time," he rebutted, a hand on his hip.

Your eyes narrowed in on him, not ready to back down from his challenge. "I don't like caramel."

He scoffed. "Who doesn't like caramel?"

You shrugged. "Me."

"Why don't you just admit that I was right and tell me where you wanna go next weekend?"

"Because you're wrong and I'm busy next weekend," you answered, both responses true.

He finally broke eye contact with you to look over at Max. "Hey, Max, is a salted caramel latte with almond mix Y/N's favorite item on the menu?"

"Everyone knows she hates almond milk," she answered. "I'm disappointed in you for not knowing."

His attention turned to you again, his eyes narrowing in on yours. "How do I know she isn't being paid to say that?"

An exasperated sigh left your mouth. "We make five bucks an hour and you expect me to have extra money to throw at Max? No offense, Max."

"None taken," she laughed, still scrubbing away at one of the tables. "I don't have money to throw at you either."

Steve shook his head in some mixture of disbelief and playfulness. "Would you just get me my coffee? To-go, please."

Your brows furrowed as you got to work on the drink. "What's with the to-go order? You hardly ever get your coffee to-go."

"If you must know, I happen to have a hot date of my own," he said vaguely, a sly smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Sounds sexy," you jested. "Who's the girl?"

"A cancer patient in the PEDS ward."

Your expression went from curious to downright confused at his statement. "Do I wanna know how that constitutes as a hot date?"

"She's got a crush on me so I get asked to sit with her on nights that her mom works," he explained, slipping some cash into the tip jar. "It's a hot date because every time I go in her room, she asks me to crank the heater all the way up. I think that's just because she likes the way I look when I'm sweaty."

A gentle smile appeared on your face as you passed him his latte. You thought about your own little girl, who'd be here any minute, and how much you regretted nights like those where she was left to her own devices, left to stay with your mom or one of your brothers instead of the person she needed most.

You shook off the thoughts, taking the money from his opposite hand and placing it in the cash register. "Have a brew-tiful night and enjoy your date, Doc."

And with that, Steve gave you one last playful smirk and headed out the door, but not before a certain little girl ran past him and over to you. Joyce followed suit behind her as Steve held the door open, then began his journey out to his car and, presumably, the hospital.

"Mommy!" Mandy squealed, running around the counter to greet you.

You picked her up, happier than ever to see her, placing a kiss on her soft hair. "Hey, sweetpea," you smiled, love overflowing from you as she wrapped her tiny arms around your neck. "What did you get up to today?"

"Grandma took me to the park!" she answered excitedly, her hazel eyes lit up with delight.

You gasped, playing along with her enthusiasm. "No way! You'll have to tell Mommy all about it."

"Now, don't get mad," Joyce started to say as she walked over to you.

Your brows furrowed. "Mad? Why would I be mad?"

A regretful look came across the woman's face, explaining, "We passed an ice cream truck on the way here and-"

"Mom, you know I always give her one of the leftover cake pops at the end of the day. She can't eat too much sugar."

"I know," Joyce said, "but Jon's in town for Thanksgiving so he's offered to give you us both a night off."

It was selfish, but you'd never been so grateful for your brother to be home. You sighed, setting your daughter back on the ground. "Well then, let's put all that energy to use, shall we?"

And with that, Mandy was hot on your trail, following you around as you worked to close up the shop. You just smiled down at the girl, prouder than anyone had ever been to be a mom. Sure, it was biased, but you were quit certain you had the best girl in the whole world.

-> taglist: @dungeons-are-too-cold @ducky-died-inside @awkotaco24 @liberhoe @princesseddie @aftermidnightwriting @manuosorioh @esoltis280

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